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ʜᴀʟ ❖ ᴄʏᴏn - Closed

In war, all soldiers are soldiers of peace, of prosperity, of paradise.......

Tags: action, crime, dark fantasy, urban

Character Approval: Yes

Player Level: Advanced

New Players: Closed

Creator: joonsexual

Created: 01-17-2013, 02:38 AM

 

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Game Log in M-1: COLLECTOR'S PRIZE

Agent Maktub Maalik (Lead), Agent Alarick Reindhart, Agent Kyle Alan Gear, Agent Skylar Quilliam



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  1. Characters in this post:
    TEAM ASSIGNED: AGENT MAALIK






    "Some very precious artwork from the early 2000's have gone missing from my collection! I've been moving things around in preparation for a tour (I had agreed to lend the pieces to a museum for the upcoming month), but during transit, a bunch of wild hooligans managed to hijack the armored cars! Please help me!"— [CLIENT #224A]

    OBJECTIVE: Locate and retrieve stolen private property! Apprehend any and all suspects!


    LOCATION: BERLIN, DISTRICT-BASE 2
    WEATHER: CLOUDY / SUNLESS
    TEMPERATURE: 6C / 43F

    DATE / TIME: 22 MARCH 5614 / 0830


    SETTING: Berlin, District-Base 2 is a mess of old factories, abandoned warehouses, and depressed homes. Most of its residents have relocated and the few who remain are either too old to leave or too poor to afford the housing in District-Base 3 or 1. Residual snow is still lingering here and there, but most of it has melted.

    Intelligence has tracked the thieves (and the artifacts) to an industrial section of District-Base 2. The factories are old, uncared for, and mostly forgotten. Some of the warehouses are rusted closed while others have been obviously ransacked. The place is littered with worn and dead machineries—some are still fighting to keep their shapes while others are nothing more than scraps. There are no homes in this section of the district (the risk of a civilian casualty is low).


    INTELLIGENCE: A local gang of slum-delinquents are the prime suspects. Their hideout is the abandoned industrial scene located in District-Base 2 (coordinates are provided on Addendum-2A). The gang is relatively small (seventeen known members) and have no connection to synergists. The leader of the gang is a man by the name of: Markus Errol (31).

    THREAT LEVEL: LOW / RANK C-1

    MISC DETAILS: Do NOT damage the artifacts (two paintings and one sculpture—images included in Attachment-B2). Arrests are preferred.

  2. Characters in this post:
    To say Alarick was displeased with the group that he was assigned to allude to the fact that he actually managed to have such thought conceived in his mind. The man rarely every seemed to be in a darkened mood about anything anymore, and found that the further he stayed away from negative emotions that it was inevitably easier to deal with life. Unfortunately Agent Gear would be a near constant drain on his moral integrity, Agent Quilliam would be a drain on his patient, and Agent Maalik would be- well- probably substantially more bearable.

    Yet what Alarick couldn’t offer complaint about was the fact that he was out on the field even if it was with three other agents (one of them a G), and out on some superfluous mission. “Art thieves really? Don’t they have normal people capable of doing that? Isn’t it bad news sending synergists in there that can use water and fire?” He asked- well- no one. Currently he was lying on his leather chaise in his condo and speaking to his cat who gave him a distinct look of: ‘shut the **** up and feed me’.
    “If you insist Mister Grey, but I assure you- your waistline is not thanking you with these extra cans of tuna.”

    THE DAY OF THE MISSION:
    If he thought the mission read in a black and white manner of boredom then the mission itself was somewhat flaccid. Berlin was not the ‘out-of-Halcyon’ destination that Alarick would have cared for, and he cared for it less once he was there. The only spot of this gloomy place was the fact that it was truly gloomy in all aspects, and that lent him some help in his synergy department. Ah cloudy days were the best, because all clouds contained moisture and he could manipulate said moisture to cause quite the downpour. So at least he had a backup weapon. Which might be helpful if Agent Quilliam was the loose cannon that most accendo agents seemed to be.
    “Ah chilly weather, warehouses all around us, the sound of malevolence in our ears- what a beautiful setting Berlin is.” Alarick stated in sarcasm- obviously. While he leaned on his cane it was more for show than actual therapeutic value. He just had a limp, and it could be worked through once adrenaline started moving as they engaged the enemy. It was also of some use that the cane had a sword imbedded in it- making it both heavier than it should be and deadlier than it appeared. He brought a hand to his glasses and tapped the frame, and clicked through the area maps that had been uploaded before he left. “It seems as if there is unusually high traffic in the Northern quarter of these warehouses. I’m suspecting that they might plan to start auctioning it off- to you know- illegal buyers and what not.” It was then he pointed forward. “One block forward and two to the left.”
    It was then he gave Gear a small smile. “Started doing some intel of my own.”
    It was then he pressed his digit to the advanced glasses and the faint sheen of cerulean left them as they actually back to their use. “Or we could head to the Berlin airport and book a trip to the Caribbean. My intel also tells me that they are nice this year.”
    “Any takers?”
    “Nope?”
    Alarick offered a slight smile after that.

  3. Characters in this post:
    Agent Maktub Maalik had never worked with any one from his current team, but he had done his homework on each and every member.

    First, there was the graduate—Skylar Quilliam, 21 and born with a known temper. Then, there was Alarick Reindhart, 32 and put out of commission since 5612. Like a good, thorough agent, Maalik had read through the files. He knew Skylar's exact grades in everything from classical history to algebra. He knew about every write-up she had received and every altercations she was cited for. He even knew how much her parents made. So, he definitely knew about the physical condition of Alarick and the story behind it—behind the loss of a fast-track career.

    “Ah chilly weather, warehouses all around us, the sound of malevolence in our ears—what a beautiful setting Berlin is."

    Maalik grinned at the observation, but said nothing. This was also his first time in Berlin and the depilated warehouses, the rusted machines, and the general stench of old was far from pleasant, pretty Halcyon.

    'He probably hasn't left Halcyon in the past two years.' And the thought was a sobering one. 'This is his first mission in two years...' Turquoise-eyes glanced over at the cane and the blackness of the piece reminded Maalik of the last member of his team and his connection with Reindhart.

    Gear—Agent Kyle Alan Gear—was a friendly face in a sea of unfamiliar people. But Maalik wasn't the only one who shared a connection with the brunette. And the very thought of it made Maalik frown. If he had known about this relationship, he would have demanded a change in line-up, but this was an evaluation mission—a "mock" assignment that he could have easily finished on his own.

    (Not to mention, the Captain of SA would have laughed him out of his office. This was a low-priority, low-level mission that anyone with half-a-brain could accomplish. It wasn't something that required rocket scientists.)

    "Maybe after the job is done, Agent Reindhart," Maalik grinned widely at the other man. "Well, now that we're here, let's set some ground rules. First, we stick together. Second, we avoid any and all civilian casualties." He looked at each of their faces, his eyes searching theirs for a glimmer of understanding. "The latter should be easy because we're in an industrial area. Not very many people, as you guys can see."

    Looking away, Maalik looked over to where Reindhart had mentioned. It seemed likely that the stronghold would be over there—lots of buildings, lost of cover. "Agent Gear, I want you to scout around, but keep within cover. Report everything you see."

    In addition to the winter-time SA uniforms (which were just the same as the regular uniforms, but made with a thicker, heat-entrapping material), the group had been given headpieces (think bluetooth!) for easy communication and a watch-like accessory for map-awareness and GPS. "As for the rest of us, just be on guard for anything suspicious.

    "Alright? Well, then, let's go." And, with that, he started walking towards the direction Reindhart had mentioned.

    Even though Maalik was a little worried about the team dynamic, his concerns were put on the back burner. This was an easy mission—an easy way to teach the graduate mission basics and, as a fringe benefit, a nice way for Reindhart to slip back into field duty.

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    DAY OF THE MEETING:

    Gear was both happy and not so happy about the teams. He was glad he'd see the familiar face of Maalik but didn't jump at the chance to spend time with Alarick. It was too awkward. but it was an order and there was not use trying to fight it.

    He picked up his bag from his appartment, freshly packed with new clothes, and went to the dispatch center. Next stop: Berlin.

    ---------------------------

    DAY OF MISSION

    Berlin was freezing, especially compared to Peru, where Gear had been just before the meeting with the other seven agents. He could see his breathe but he didn't really care anyway. he didn't mind the cold too much. Besides that, District-Base 2 was dreary and dark, but that was a good thing, since Gear could stay invisible to any potential targets.

    He looked at the other members in his group, Skylar Quillam, the newly graduated Accendo synergist, Alarick, an injured but campable Pulvius agent, and the leader, A-2 Sabulum user Maalik. It was then that Gear realized he was the only member of this cell that was an angelic synergist. He never really liked that term. It made them seem more supernatural than usual and somehow connected to God. Even though Gear wasn't particularly religious, he didn't like to be compared to anything Divine.

    "Agent Gear, I want you to scout around, but keep within cover. Report everything you see."

    With the order from Maalik, Gear departed from the group, disappearing into the shadow as he walked. he traveled for a little while, only noticing little unrelated things, like a couple who snuck out of their districts to get it on. he scared them, on purpose, but was never seen. he saw some trucks near a warehouse to the southwest of the group's original position, and some more to the northwest of the same building. he counted five trucks in total, just enough for the gang and the cargo

  5. Characters in this post:
    Skylar followed the men quietly. She still found the grouping displeasing, especially when Agent Reinhart was in her group. Seriously, she respected him for his rank and his experience – after all he must have completed a certain number of tasks to achieve this level, but she held doubts about his current abilities. The redhead was not arrogant; she simply disliked being in a seemingly less privileged group compared to the other trainee’s.

    Moreover, the nature of the mission was not something she had anticipated. Tackling art thieves? It sounded unbelievably boring. Being repeatedly reminded – by the agency’s message and Maalik – to cause as little damage as possible indeed got on her nerves. If she could choose, the young girl would definitely opt for a more thrilling and force-demanding task.

    Crossing her arms and letting out a small yawn, Skylar Quilliam put on an uninterested and weary face. It was a habit – whenever she had to restrain her discontent or anger, she attempted to detach herself by acting slothfully.

    “Do they even need an agent for a thief chase?”
    the redhead asked after Agent Gear left, though she was not expecting an answer.

    Following Agent Maalik, the novice scanned the surroundings. It was her very first time to be outside Halcyon. That was probably the only exciting part about her first mission. The view before her eyes, however, was rather gloomy. What a pleasant first impression, she sighed silently, running her fingers through her short hair, Let’s hope the crooks will hop out and pick a nice fight soon.

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    While the rest of the team treated the mission with an air of laxity, Maalik kept his senses sharpened and his guard on high-alert. This may have been nothing more than a joke for the other members, but Maalik was still tasked with protecting his team. He was still responsible for them—rookie mission or not.

    “Do they even need an agent for a thief chase?”

    "Some times, the local authorities don't have the manpower or the resources to stop such crimes," Maalik explained as they walked, careful to keep his voice only minutely louder than a whisper. "In such cases, SA provides affordable aid and assistance."

    It was then that he felt it—the feeling of a returning vibration. From the moment they had arrived, Maalik had wasted no time in syncing with the earth. He could feel the rumble of footsteps, the heaviness of three people stepping on loose dirt—thirty, no twenty-five feet away.

    But instead of sharing his discovery, Maalik stayed silent. He was only here to ensure the safety of the team and to observe the graduate's adaptability. He wasn't supposed to intrusively or aggressively direct the course of the assignment. Plus, there was no urgency or immediacy of danger.

    "This is also a good opportunity for graduates, like yourself, to experience a mission."

    Twenty-feet away, just around the corner of the upcoming warehouse.


  7. Characters in this post:
    The quiet hunt – or walk, as they were not even expected to use much force – around the old warehouses was boring her. The weather was not appealing at all. The whole sight was depressing. Seeing the dollops of cloud piling up above their heads, something popped up in the Accendo synergist’s almost idle mind. “If I were one of the trifling crooks,” Skylar spoke in a low voice, “I would not keep the paintings in one of those poorly equipped or over-ventilated buildings today. Even fools know too much moisture is harmful to the paints or whatsoever.”

    In her eyes, art traders and collectors were more or less freaks. They could get heart attacks over the most trivial things, such as seeing an exiguous spot of dirt on their paintings. She almost suspected if they had microscopes in their eyes. How much a tiny flaw on a painting could cost the art owner would just be a joke to the redhead. Some could say Skylar was completely ignorant when it came to visual arts; the girl did not care at all.

    Even though she had pointed out what she thought, Skylar Quilliam did not mind checking the old warehouses out with the rest of her team. Running into cocky gangsters would surely be more entertaining than discovering the lifeless canvases instantly.

  8. Characters in this post:
    As much as Alarick agreed with Skylar’s assessment of their current ‘art thief’ mission he wasn’t about to voice his opinion on the entire matter. Instead he just walked along with the other two, and kept his eyes open for any unexpected surprises- well as if surprises could be anything else.

    He tilted his head up as Agent Maalik went about his mentoring-business and Skylar answered quite formidably with her thoughts. That blue eye watched as the clouds above them swirled and churned like a witch’s brew near over spilling. Slowly he glanced back down again to see three silhouettes gracing their wonderful warehouse visage. This was a commercial district with no long term human inhabitation- Alarick judged. And considering what area of Berlin they were currently strolling through- this was not a place for sightseeing or idle jogging. If the agent had to put his money on anything it was that these three were a part of the gang, or inevitably had something to do with trading of illegal merchandise.
    And as reserved as Alarick seemed he was not a fellow that would allow someone to have enough time to deem him a threat and wiggle their gun in his general direction.

    “Agent Maalik, Agent Quilliam- maybe we should leave the Q and A portion of this mission till later.” He stated softly as he gestured towards the three that loitered directly in their sight. A hand went inside his jacket and Alarick firmly grasped his flask with one hand.
    About that time there was a hesitation from the gang members in front of them and inevitably one pointed and yelled something in German towards the trio. While two of them seemed to be currently unarmed the third one was pawing at his jacket- if Alarick was to guess he didn’t think that there was a rose underneath there for them.

    Without much thought- though two years off the field some things still came naturally- Alarick uncapped his flask and relieved it of its’ contents. Instead of hitting the ground- the thick stream of water instead seemed to be pouring itself into an odd spherical shape. The gun wielding gang member only had a moment to draw his weapon until the liquid orb smothered his head which rendered him quite breathless. He dropped his pistol and flailed against the water that had now taken residence over his entire face. Yet for his entire attempt to ‘pull it off’ his hands just sunk into the orb before coming back just a smidge wetter than before.
    “I would take them out before they have time to yell, shoot a gun, or otherwise call attention to our presence.” Alarick stated through narrowed lips- eyes thick in concentration.

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    Gear was still away from the rest of the group when he came across a pair of people he suspected to be a part of the gang his team was tailing. He didn't see any shadows to shadow walk with so he decided to use the high road and try to hear any pertinent information. He ran up the wall and grabbed on to it's ledge. Luckily it was low enough for him to still hear the men.

    "Wo sollen wir wieder hin?" he heard one of the men say.

    "Zurück in die Fabrik du dumme Jungen" The other said.

    Damn they're speaking German. Gear realized. He had taken a bit of German in the Academy but the teacher was rather boring and he could constantly sleep. If it was spanish or Italian, he'd be good. He did manage to decipher something about going to a factory. So he decided to check his information from before. He headed back the way he came, but he only went about ten feet until he fell through the roof of the building he was on. Shit.

    He heard the men shout something like "What was that?"

    They came in and immediately began to look around. Gear managed to get into a shadowy section of the room but didn't expect the men to just leave.

    He stayed still and waited for the inevitable.

    When the men came up the steps to the second floor, Gear saw them through the fllorboards, which were broken down. He saw that the stairs were ok to climb but that the floor leading to them was very much dilapidated. The men still risked it, being much nimbler than their bulky forms led Gear to believe. They got to the steps, and began to look around, first to the corner where the invisible SA agent was hiding and finally to the man sized hole in the roof of the building. Then men then walked up the the hole and began to look at it inquisitively. It obviously wasn't a raccon or other small animal, the hole was just too big.

    The men then realized they had been followed and decided to look around for just who was the culprit. Gear didn't give them much time to search, sneaking behind one man and giving him a swift punch to the back of the neck, knocking him out. As he hit the floor his buddy turned and pulled a blade on Gear. Gear, who prided himself on a very nice knife collection, noticed it was a sevn inch long trench knife that looked as if it could have been from the same century of the stolen artwork.

    The man follishly lunged at Gear. Gear noticed that the man wasn't even a man, he was probably seventeen, and very poorly trained. He had completely left his left flank open, which was a mistake Gear took advantage of, giving him a quick, but rather gentle, kick to the side. "You need to protect everything dude." This boy really need ed some training, which Gear was happy to give, since the kid would probably be in jail by sunset tomorrow anyway. The kid understood, and quickly defended his left side but his stance still needed some work. ao Gear rushed him and dropped the boy to the floor. The boy quickly jumped up and corrected his stance somewhat, but Gear was growing tired of this game and decided to use his degree to containt the boy. He used shadows to pull the boy towards him, and to remove his knife form his grasp, and restrained him with the same shadows. Gear said, "I assume you know english, seeing as you understood my instrcution earlier. My name is.... well none of your concern really, but what is of your concern is the amount of jailtime you may be forced to indure after the authorities are called and arrest you. If you tell me where your hideout is then I may be able to put in a good word for you and your pal here. if not, the authorities should be around in a few hours to pick you up."

    The boy was silent for a moment, but then said, in very broken English, "North-Wess Fabrik. Stahl. Paintings there."

    The factory was not the one Gear had been loking at before, but it wasn't far. He decided to go check it out before he went back to the group, but he wanted to check in. He tapped the device on his ear and contacted Maalik.

    "Agent Maalik, I know where the artwork is, I'm going to go check out the layout a bit unless you think it'd been better for Agent Quillam to try her observational skills."

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    "What are they doing here? Sidereus Agents?" The redhead frowned as four uniformed agents rounded the corner, their matching outfits bright with new against the old of Berlin, District-Base 2.

    "Probably for the same reasons we're here." His companion, a blond with long hair and a crooked grin, answered, his voice thick with Irish accent. He breathed out and smoke puffed from his lips, escaping into the cold and then vanishing before his eyes. "Maybe."

    The redhead's frown deepened and the space between his brows wrinkled with distaste. "I don't like this."

    "You don't like anything."

    The redhead ignored the jab. He was used to the blond's remarks and, even if he wasn't, he wasn't the type to become pointlessly riled up. "Tenebrae," he nodded towards the agent that split, vanishing into the shadows without a second's pause. "What do you want to do about that?"

    Crushing the finished cigarette with the toe of his shoes—pointed, Italian leather—the blond grinned widely at the redhead. "What we always do. Show 'em a little old-fashioned hospitality."

    And, with that, the two disappeared from the rooftops, the used cigarette still sending small, faint tendrils of smoke into the air.

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    Maalik didn't need to be told twice to act.

    One of the men lunged at the group, his fists raised to reveal brass knuckles, but before he could make impact with any of the agents, he collided with a wall—eight-feet tall and made of solid, sturdy earth. Tumbling backwards, the brunette blinked in confusion, eyes not entirely sure of what he was seeing.

    "Syn-Synergists!?"

    The word was the same in every language and the look of paralyzing fear was the same on every criminal knowing they were at their end. The brunette was quick to get to his feet (most likely to run), but his companion was even quicker with a gun and the shots he fired forced Maalik to summon defensive walls.

    "Agent Maalik, I know where the artwork is, I'm going to go check out the layout a bit unless you think it'd been better for Agent Quillam to try her observational skills," Gear's voice carried clearly and loudly through the earpiece, but Maalik only heard bits and pieces of the report over the gunfire.

    "Gear, do what you need to. Get the artifacts and then meet us at the rendezvous point."

    The sound of a gun being unloaded signaled the Egyptian with an opportunity—out of bullets, out of chances. Without wasting any time, the agent reacted intuitively and split the ground. A crack, about an inch-thick, snaked its way to the two men and unbalanced them, sending them to the ground as the floor shook and wavered and threatened to split further.

    "I think it's safe to say that we've been found out," his expression was grim, but this was what the mission was supposed to be about: testing the new graduate's strength.

    'Damn, I was hoping we wouldn't have to run in like this.'


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    "Are da buyers here yet?" The man with a scar asked in crude, uncertain Russian. "Not yet? It's already past da time!" But no matter how loudly he grumbled about the punctuality of the anonymous buyers, the answer was still the same: Not yet, but maybe soon.

    Markus Errol didn't like the air or the taste of Berlin very much. Things were too cold and too old. Even the prime district was somewhat outdated with its trends and products. But the buyers had been picky about where they would meet and agreed to double the amount if the place could be in Berlin.

    'Must've be German, them lousy buyers,' he thought irritably, shivering a little as a stray breeze slipped past the warmth of his coat. 'Stupid fucking Germans.'

    "You," he pointed to three of his men—Russians. "Go watch da perimeter. Don't want anyone ter interfer, got it?" He wasn't sure if the Russians understood what he was saying (he barely understood what he was saying), but the three nodded and headed out the door. So, they had to have understood something.

    "If you see anyone, shoot 'em," he called out just as the door swung shut.






    Fifteen minutes later, Markus was still shivering and standing around in the factory with absolutely nothing to do. He hadn't gotten word about the buyer and his men still haven't returned—not unusual, the grounds were fairly large.

    "Hey, jus' exactly—"

    "They're here."

    Spinning on his heels, the man turned to face the door and, coming in with one of his men, was a tall, blond with an eyepatch over one eye. "Sorry for being late, but something caught my partner's interest," he spoke with a distinct Irish accent and his body said he was anything, but apologetic. "So, let's see the pieces."

    "Show me da money first."

    "Right, I've already given the case to your associate here," he nodded to the briefcase in the other man's hand. "Ten million, just like we agreed to. And now—"

    But gunfire in the distant interrupted him, cutting him short.

    "Shit, what's goin' on?" Markus growled, his hand reaching into his pocket to check up on his guards (exactly what idiotic thing were they doing?), but, evidently, that was wasted effort as the blond, very helpfully, supplied:

    "Oh, did I forget to mention? The thing that caught my partner's interest was the arrival of synergists."






    Markus hugged the briefcase close to his chest as he ran from the warehouse—running the opposite direction of the fighting. He wasn't going to fight any synergists.

    No, he didn't have any plans for fighting a bunch of fucking magic-men. And, lucky him, he wouldn't have to.


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    Alarick released the pocket of water that was currently encasing the gang member’s head. It fell all around him in a sort of ‘bored’ splash, and managed to heavily soak his clothes in the process. Unfortunately for Alarick the man was still conscious though he was wheezing heavily enough not to notice or care that the Pulvis Synergist had his cane at the forward to clock him unconscious. These men didn’t deserve death- they were just paltry thieves- and hells they may not have even been that maybe just hired muscle.

    “Really Agent Maalik? Because here I thought that gang members let each other know that they were quite healthy and unharmed by unloading bullets at a frantic pace.” It was obviously sarcasm, but he honestly couldn’t stop it bleeding from his lips. They needed to be as incognito as possible with all of this, and here their senior agent was allowing a clip of bullets to be fired at him before he acted. And here he was assured that they would have called Alarick the rusty one.

    “Still we can’t stop the damage that has been done. So why don’t we move forward. All we have on our side now is the fact that they don’t know what is coming for them- just that there is something. If we move fast enough and let Gear- God help him- do his job then we might still have the drop on them.” It was then he turned towards Skylar. “Agreed Agent Quilliam?”

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    Gear figured that Maalik and the others were in a bit of a situation, but he listened to his leader, like any good agent would, and headed towards the steel factory. He didn't see anybody on the way there, but once he reached the block before the factory, he saw someone.

    A man ran down the road with a suitcase in his hands. Errol, I presume? Gear almost went after him but didn't. Errol was a secondary target. The artwork was their primary, so the petty crime boss was nothing to them.

    Once Gear got to the steel factory, he decided to take a high road entrance, spotting an open window on the shadowy side of the building. He got in and then looked down, spotting 2 men, a blonde man with an eye patch and red head, who he figured were the buyers.

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    "Look at him go," the blond grinned as he blew another stream of smoke into the air, the gray curling into fast-fading vapors. "It's like he's actually scared or something."

    The redhead, on the other hand, was less amused. His lips were thin lines of disapproval on his face and the space between his brows wrinkled together with concentration. And then, like a jackal hearing the footsteps of a hungry lion, the redhead looked up, his eyes narrowed at a dusty, dirtied window behind them.

    "We have company."

    Without any warning, the the steel walls of the factory twisted and bent, folding down on itself. The glass in the window shattered and the floor rumbled, shaking with the ferocity of an impending earthquake. "Show yourself."

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    Shit! Synergists?! Was all Gear could think of as he tumbled through the air.

    It was obvious that the redhead was a Sabulum user- and a skilled one at that to be able to bend metal to his will. And Gear would've been prepared for if that was the only thing to contend with, since he was used to sparring with Maalik.But the blonde had yet to reveal his degree- if he had any. But Gear wasn't about to assume that he wasn't- to prevent anymore situations like Alarick's.

    He debated over what to do, run and get the others, or head out to face the two mysterious men. He decided to confront the men. He walked out, his hands already covered in shadow essence but held behind his back. No use using a metal blade against a man who can bend metal.

    "What's up guys?" he said with a smirk on his face.

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    The walls shook and swayed under the force of the earth's instability, threatening to collapse. Pieces of metal rafters unhinged themselves from the roof and fell downwards, landing dangerously close to and around the places the three men stood.

    "Oi, it's that shadow-walker from before!" The blond grinned wider, his teeth unusually white. "So, he's alone then."

    Both things, the redhead had already known.

    "I don't have time for this." The floor split and the crack speared forward at the agent. "Tommie, get the things. We're done here."


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    Gear felt the earth shifting under his feet and jumped to the side to avoid being cuaght in the fissure. Maalik had done the same trick on him several times, so he new how to counteract it, for the most part. he still stumbled a bit but he regained his footing fairly quickly. He jumped up and pulled out his crossbow and let loose a fury of shots at the men. He got three shots off, not knowing whether he hit the men or not, before retreating into a shadow walk to contact Maalik.

    "Hey Maal, if you guys aren't too busy I could use some help over here. I've confronted enemy synergists, one Sabulum and the other has an unknown degree, I'm assuming. I'll try to hold them off a bit but the Sabulum synergist is on par with you Maalik. come as soon as possible."

    After that Gear ran out and fired three more shots at the men, then he molded shadow essence over his body to protect himself from the inevitable damage to come.

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    The synergist leapt out of the way, dodging the fissure with practiced footwork. He moved like a veteran—familiar with combat, knowledgable with reactions.

    He drew a crossbow—too slow—and fired. The redhead raised the ground and an impossibly tall wall of earth and rusted metals separated him from the agent. Tommie, on the other hand, was cursing loudly in the background.

    "Fucker." A line of red showed up on his cheek and, at the ends, slowly gathered forward. "He actually fucking hit me! What the fuck, Riley? What the hell are you doing!?"

    The redhead shrugged and the wall separating him from the agent collapsed in a thundering movement. It was loud, forceful, and every bit a reminder of Riley's strength. And while the redhead stood his ground, completely unfazed by the shaking, Tommie stumbled with his balance, nearly tripping on his own feet.

    "Grab the paintings. I'll meet back with you later." There was a sense of absolute certainty to his word as if he didn't think the match could end in any other way. And as he repeated his order, the floor shook again, preparing for its next move.

    "You're brave to fight me, agent, and I applaud your efforts," Riley spoke dully and without great enthusiasm—like a man who's been robbed of his feelings. "But I can't let you interfere any longer."

    The floors shot up in spikes—jagged and fast. There was no real pattern to the protrusions, but the danger was not lessened. "Your friends won't be able to help you."

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    Maalik, rather wisely, ignored Alarick's running commentary and, instead, focused on the issue at hand: Reinforcements.

    They hadn't moved more than ten feet ahead before they were ambushed by six more men—each armed with automatic rifles. Some were old with scars while others were young and terrified. Maalik was quick to disable these new arrivals—knocking everyone off-balance with a well-placed, well-timed fissure.

    Unlike before, he wasn't going to give them a chance to even lift a finger. The fallen weapons were swallowed into the ground, eaten up by the earth it came from. "We're not here to increase body counts," Maalik warned as he fended off an attacker, knocking the man into a pile of metal debris. "Put them out of commission and only kill as a last resort!"

    It was then the earpiece buzzed with urgency. Gear.

    Gear was a well-trained, well-practiced agent. He shouldn't have any problems with such a low-level mission, but his voice read panic and genuine fear. 'What is happening over there?'

    He glanced over at Skylar, who seemed to be following just fine, and then at Alarick, who looked completely at home in the field. "Gear, we're moving to your location now."

    Looking around him, Maalik said, "We'll have to do this quickly. Agent Reindhart, go ahead to Agent Gear's location. Miss Quilliam and I will join you shortly after."

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    As the spikes came up, Gear attempted to dodge as much as he could, but the one's he couldn't just hit his shadow essence armor, not that it wasn't painful. He was going to be bruised beyond belief. But no puncture wounds today. After the tremors stopped, Gear punched though the thinner parts of the rock so he could move out of the area. He jumped and and hopped along the rocks towards Riley and gathered shadows along the ground near the man, but not enough to be noticed. Once he had gathered enough of it to do something with he shot it up, attempting to ensnare the man so he could go in to incapacitate the man, lethally or otherwise.

    When Gear Heard Alarick was ordered to come help him, he retreated for a moment, keeping his focus on the shadows ensnaring the man. "Agent Reindhart, watch out for a blonde man wearing an eye patch. He may be a synergist and he has the paintings with him. The man inside with me is a Sabulum."

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    "Tch."

    Riley lowered his hand and the spikes—which were many—stopped erupting from the ground, but the pause was merely a temporary reprieve. Riley had no intentions of sparing the agent.

    The metal overhead creaked and groaned under the stress of the ground's movement, catching Riley's attention and capturing it long enough for the man to fall victim to child's play.

    The shadow pulled at his feet, but Riley didn't resist. Instead, he stood there—rooted to the spot he had been in since the beginning. "Kid, didn't that school teach you anything about my degree?

    "You can't trap me."

    The ground seemingly exploded. Cracks shot to every corner of the room, tearing the floor into pieces. Riley, at the source, disappeared from view as the floor fell and shook and collapsed. Chunks of rock, cement, and metal shot up as the floor broke. The walls, unable to withstand the pressure of the earth, swayed and snapped—sending the roof to the ground.





    (N/A: I didn't move Riley out of the entrapment. Rather, he disappears from view because... the floor is collapsing and things are falling down.).



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    Tommie could hear the warehouse fall behind him in a loud, final groan.

    'Guess he really brought the house down,' the blond mused. He didn't look back to confirm because, in honesty, he didn't care. If Riley didn't survive then he wasn't strong enough to stay alive. "The world belongs to the powerful after all," he chuckled.

    Packing away the goods in an old, leather trunk, Tommie took out another cigarette and lit it up. He didn't use a lighter, but, then again, what does an Accendo synergist need a lighter for?


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    When the building started to truly collapse, Gear gathered up as much shadows as he could to cover himself. He wasn't used to having this much of a fight, even against synergists. He had been away from combat missions for too long, seeing as for the past 2 years, since Alarick's injuries, Gear had only done solo recon/intelligence missions. He never worked with anyone or got into any major combat, preferring to stealthily taking care of any guards.

    The rocks, cement and metal fell down on his shadow shield and made the thing bend a lot more that Gear would've liked. He could still tell Riley was ensnared, so he tightened the shadows on his legs and bent more shadows out to try to get his arms, but the fact that he was not able to see him didn't help him succeed in that task.

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    The roof met the ground with a force that pushed a tremor throughout the area and as the last of the pipes and rods and rafters settled in, an eerie quiet blanketed the scene. Neither men had moved to leave the warehouse and, in the after a minute, neither men had emerged victorious.

    It was as if the two were buried with the rubbles of industrialization.

    But things are rarely as they seem.

    One part of the rubbles shifted, groaned, and shuttered as if it was fighting to keep from moving. But the resistance was short-lived.

    Metal, dirt, and cement shot into the air, exploding and cracking in the way it might under extreme pressure. Dust caught into the air and a gloved hand reached out. Bits of red hair showed through, but Riley, glued to the floor, wasn't in a position to climb out.

    He glanced at his feet and then in front of him, but all he could see was the destruction of the building—its pipes, its frames, and its fixtures. There was nothing in front of him, but the shadow at his feet said otherwise.

    "You had your chance to run. You could have escaped. Yet you stayed to make sure I couldn't leave. And what has that gotten you?" Riley asked aloud. The other man was 20 feet away, guarded by synergy energy. "You're surrounded by all things earth and at my mercy."

    He raised his hand in front of him and the rubble moved, but, this time, instead of bursting out, it was fighting to move in.

    "Tell me, what has your bravery won you?"

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    ‘What in hell is Gear doing?’ Alarick thought viciously as he listened to the sheer destruction of the building furthest away from him. Apparently the mission was scrambled now, and if there was any hope in espionage it was entirely gone. What the man hoped was that Gear managed to corner Errol- which wasn’t mentioned to be a synergist- and had paintings in hand. Of course that wasn’t much of a learning experience for Agent Quilliam. ‘Well hello new recruit watch as someone plays hero and fails to use teamwork- this is not what you are supposed to do- ever.’

    The man would have slammed his palm into his face if he wasn’t a) wearing glasses and b) needing to enact on their current plan. “I will do- be safe you two.” Alarick remarked before running to Gear’s position. Yes he could still run- he didn’t much care for it as he was afraid that it would wear away what little cartilage there was in his leg.
    Gear’s voice broke through his run and he placed his finger to his ear- not that he really needed too but he was attempting to somewhat buffer the outside noise. “Well noted- I don’t see anyone like that currently, but just hold on.” Alarick stated as he bolted towards the quickly collapsing building. ‘A Sabulum- really? What am I going to do against that? Oh well time to use this a bit early.’

    The destruction came swiftly into his sight, and Alarick used the only trick that would somewhat give him an advantage in this situation. It took a pause right at the edge of the building, but he inevitably managed it. It was almost as if playing one of those retro arcade games where you were the hook hand and attempted to grab some sort of stuffed animal at the bottom. It may slip through your grasp a couple of times, but once you managed to get it squarely ensnared then there was no more fuss.
    Rain began to trickle down from the overcast sky- a bit here and there- but it was almost as if someone had just poked holes in the tarp. A moment later it was as if the entire thing just came undone and from it was released a massive deluge. “Try to manipulate that,” Alarick grumbled- abusing his degree somewhat to not get a speck of rain on his coat. “Now to find Gear.”

    “Where is your location? I think it is time to pull out- this area his highly unstable.” Alarick advised- not that that mattered. He wanted to berate the other man: where is Errol? Where are the paintings? Seriously- can you not mess up a mission? But he kept his mouth shut- there would be a time for that much later.

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    And then a reprieve was offered. The earth, the metal, and all the remnants of the factory stayed still as rain—heavy and sudden—fell from the skies. It trailed down Riley's face, slipped into his clothes, and the frown on his lips deepened.

    He hated rain.

    Dropping his hand to his side, the redhead concentrated on the ground before it could soak any further. Vibrations were useless when the soil turned to mud. But his efforts were wasted as a faint, but distinct voice carried through the silence, cutting through the windless-rain with surprising clarity.

    'Backup. Pulvius synergist, then?'

    With his feet still firmly planted on the floor, Riley looked around him. He could feel the binds weaken—byproduct of the situation—but calculations left him wary of forcing a break. No, he'll let the other man pointlessly drain his energy away. It was a more fitting end for someone like him: Doing foolish things even in the sake of hopelessness.

    Closing his eyes, the redhead focused his energy into the ground, a quiet tremor pushing through the increasingly moist floors. Thirty-two feet, south-east.

    It was too far for Riley, from his current vantage, to do anything, but ten feet closer and he'll take two for two.

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    Her thin lips bent into a slight smile when more gangsters showed up in front of them. The less experienced gangsters were shaking with fear; the long rifles looked like wooden toy bows in their trembling hands. The enemies confronting them were merely humans – stupid weaklings – but were still better than nothing. She had been worried that she would be bored to death. The youngster was the only one wishing for direct clashes. The serious look of her supervisor suggested that he was not amused.

    To her great dismay, the A-ranked agent took an instant action to disarm the men. “Tsk,” Skylar advanced to take on the few racketeers after Maalik told Agent Reindhart to assist Agent Gear. The nervous rivals cracked their knuckles, seeing the girl heading towards them. In a flash, the redhead downed one with a strong bash. It was easy. “Damned lil’ tomboy!” two other men attempted to assault the young agent from behind. Without throwing a glance, she swept them off their feet with an agile spin-kick. The men fell hard on their backs.


    Like a carnivore having hunted down its preys, the redhead gazed down at the men. Cruelty flickered in her eyes. But then she remembered Agent Maalik was somewhere behind her and might be observing her. Biting her lip hard, she reluctantly gave up killing the rivals and broke a few of the males' bones instead.

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    With Alarick gone, Maalik made quick work of the men still up for a fight.

    Minutes later, the three that had surrounded Maalik struggled with the hardened earth around their feet and ankles. "There's no point in struggling. You'll only hurt yourself," the agent offered, his tone pointedly cold and professional. "Your participation in the crime has been noted."

    Looking away from the men, Maalik's eyes searched for the graduate. Evidently, Skylar wasn't afraid or shy of combat. "Miss Quilliam, if you're finished, we should join with Agent Gear."

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    Nodding at what Agent Maalik said with an impatient frown, she stamped on the disabled gangsters' rib cages then kicked the poor men aside. "Roger," she folded her arms behind her back. Although she had not muttered a word of discontent, her expression openly told her dislike of either the mission or her supervisor - or both. It was always better to get things done quickly though. There was, hence, no point wasting time on grumbling. Skylar put her arms down, jumped over the debris and followed the tanned male.

    "It's perfectly reasonable to fight synergists without holding back, right?" she asked the one in fornt of her while hurrying to the scene. Synergists, with no doubt, were more challenging to deal with than humans. The presence of a supernatural being in the rival camp was a surprise. It did make the task more complicated, yet it added some thrill to the boring mission at the same time. Just as hoped, the naïve redhead personally viewed it as another war game.

    In terms of attitude and self-discipline, Skylar was still a far cry from a professional agent.

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