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Realistic or Modern Red Ledger: Part One

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#21
-Apathy is a solution. I mean, it's easier to lose yourself in drugs than it is to cope with life. It's easier to steal what you want than it is to earn it. It's easier to beat a child than it is to raise it.-

A slap of wet fabric broke the immediate tension following the pitiable request for the release of death from the Hound. Former hound, Axelle thought to herself as she dropped top, soaked with water, blood, and ash to the kitchen floor with an almost purposeful amount of force. A dog whining like that, broken after what must have just been a gunshot wound? If the Hound had been a child like she'd been when she felt the first bullet rip through her body, maybe she'd have been sympathetic. Maybe. This woman was squealing and loud. The Chameleon and the Biohazard should have been shoving their poisons into her instead of wasting them on each other. Axelle looked to the walls of the safe house on both sides, trying to determine how thick they were. This was Prague, an old city and one thing Axelle knew about the country was that the adage Czech's don't trust Czech's must hold true. The neighbors would be nosy. Peeking in on the comings and goings of the multicultural group ensconced within.

She'd have to kill them. Probably tomorrow evening. She'd go and kill them in their sleep and trap their homes. Petrol and fertilizer and aerosols. Things inside sheds and sinks that had been drilled into her mind to exploit. If the ICA wished to setup a FOB in any of the nearby homes, they'd be greeted with explosions and fire. There would be no point to wasting time with alarms and the sort of peeping devices that the Scholar enjoyed. Just fire and death. Axelle continued staring at the walls, considering the population segment she'd need to reduce to enact the safeguarding of the house before breaking her gaze.

The burn on her shoulder let her know it was starting to heal, a nerve reconnecting and sending the familiar sense of pressure that had once been described as pain. Taking the burnt tissue in her fingers, she peeled off the blackened flesh and dropped it in the sink before pulling the sweater over her head, polyester fibers staining as healing tissue soaked the material instantly. The sweater was grey. Axelle wished it could have been pink. Leaving her mess behind she left the crowded kitchen, pushing past anyone in her way as she stood beside Silas and the mewling Hound. The breaking woman was a threat to them all, even if the others didn't realize it yet. She'd kill anything that was threatening to them. She owed them all that for the safety and freedom she'd been gifted. She tapped Silas on his shoulder to get his attention, signing quickly.

'Too Loud I Kill Quiet. Then Shower My Turn Next Please'

Her head turned slowly, looking back into the kitchen to make eye contact with the bickering poisoners, dead eyes staring as she signed at them.

'Too loud too'

calliope-3 calliope-3 snakeg0dd snakeg0dd Vaalhalla Vaalhalla honeycoves honeycoves
 
font call font call font call
4Ø4:the//scholar
Camilla Isabella Beltran
Location // Prague
Status // Hungry || Focused || Disassociated
Last Slept // 30hrs ago
Outfit // Casual
Mentions // Kyo ;; Sera ;; Boone ;; Silas ;; Maera ;; Yelena ;; Conrad;; Axelle
Camilla waited for Kyo to come to and continued to wait for him as he got a hold of himself before dropping the piece of candy unceremoniously onto his lap. Her expression was guarded– hidden from discernment as she checked off one of the three medical emergencies from her list and aimed to triage the other two. When asked an obvious question, her eyebrow quirked up and she blinked her large doe-eyes slowly to try and combat the eye-roll she was inclined to do instead.
“Suuuure did. I’d suggest getting some sleep but I’m not sure how anyone COULD with all the chaos happening at the moment,” 404 got up, a frown turned down the corners of her lips briefly. She turned on her heels in a fluid movement and, ignoring the pounding headache behind her eyes steadily getting worse, approached the fringes of the kitchen seeing how crowded it’d gotten. “You’re welcome by the way–”
Part of her blamed herself for even letting the IDEA of leaving her office cross her mind and she glanced to the coffee pot to contemplate putting one in her room as well so as to eliminate the need to leave barring strictly necessary functions. Overwhelmed wasn’t a feeling she typically had– rather it was a permanent mainstay of her entire personality but one that she handled well. Cold, calculating eyes surveyed the scene unfolding around her: from Sera and Boone attempting to poison each other in the corner to Silas doing his best to comfort Maera, Maera herself descending into hysterics while Yelena and Conrad discussed their special ‘book’ that she definitely knew about but spoke nothing of, then to Axelle who loomed ominously over Silas and the Hound and signed to kill then shower. All the variables to a larger equation that required addressing but by who?
Moving swiftly and silently through the kitchen like the shadowy wraith she was, 404 opened one of the kitchen cupboards as well as a drawer. From within the cupboard, her arm reached all the way to the back where she kept a small corked bottle of amber liquid at the same time her hands in the drawer closed around a couple protein bars. She placed the bottle down between Sera and Boone and pocketed the protein bars only to then immediately open the cupboard under the sink and pulled out a bottle of hydrogen peroxide as well as a used spray bottle that was mostly empty.
“Tequila. Añejo. Enjoy.”
In the spice cabinet was an airtight jar of baking soda which was her next grab and it joined the other ingredients at the sink. Working with quick, surgical precision, Camilla emptied the rest of the water from the spray bottle down the sink, poured in the hydrogen peroxide with some generous glugs, sprinkled in the baking soda without getting the powder everywhere and added a couple small squirts of dish soap before closing it up and giving it a good shake. She didn’t need to check the mixing ratio of the contents as she knew they would be effective and continued on in her problem solving.
‘Primed and ready.’ The spray bottle hung off her belt and had barely settled before she was off.
Camilla reached into another drawer and yanked a sandwich bag from the cardboard container it sat in whilst closing it with a bump of her hip. She moved and operated in an almost disjointed fashion as her body and mind acted separately from each other; her mind issued the order, her body executed while she was already on another parallel process many steps ahead. She would address every need in the order of most expedient to one that required more attention and checked them off systematically in order to yield a desirable outcome. 404 placed a secondary smartphone she grabbed from her back pocket into the sandwich bag, sealed it, then grabbed the protein bars she brought with her and slipped both into Axelle’s hands. The song “Part of Your World” from The Little Mermaid started playing softly from the speaker but Camilla had already moved on before the third note.
404 was often quiet and had come a long way in forcing herself to speak to the others rather than resorting to her usual method of communication which was usually a brightly colored Post-It note addressed to the intended recipient. She didn’t find it very personable but it was efficient and so it was the preferred method as was the way with her. It was more recently that the insomniatic recluse involved herself with the others openly but old habits were hard to kill off, especially when she was made to be a supercomputer. Conceptualize. Execute. Conceptualize Execute. Watch for signs, identify the patterns, eliminate the threat, rinse and repeat.
404 wasn’t so much ‘Camilla Beltran’ as much as she was more aptly: A.I. in the flesh. Even after her own self-deprogramming and orchestrated escape from the ICA, her sole use was the generative program that solved problems no matter how complicated the problem itself was.
Input: query, output: solution.
Holding the spray bottle behind her as she continued on her way, she gave it a few sprays to cover the area where vomit had once been– now cleaned by Conrad. The spray bottle was used to administer the concoction of odor neutralizer which could be allowed to linger without the need to be wiped up later. Between Silas, Conrad, AND Yelena, Maera was taken care of so Camilla left them to it. As she passed them however, a bright pink Post-It note found itself posted over the hollowed out portion of the book Conrad and Yelena were holding. It read:
‘OFFICE QUIET. SEE SERA 4 SAFEHOUSE UPGRADE’
Teeth gritted, jaw tight, Camilla left the chaos and entropy behind as she walked out the back door that Conrad usually used to take his perch. She wouldn’t head up to the nest but the fresh, crisp air outside temporarily allowed her a moment to breathe while her pounding headache worsened. The incessant throbbing made her nauseous but at least it was quiet– one less stimulus to consider. With a shaking hand, Camilla tapped her pocket where she usually kept her cigarettes only to find it was empty.
“....fuck.”
tag here
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It's no big surprise you turned out this way

Boone frowned as the string of spit fell to the floor with a quiet plop. He turned to Axelle, who he wasn't even sure was paying attention, and pointed at the small, glistening spot on the floor. "Don't step on that." There was mounting evidence that his paralytic toxins could be dangerous when absorbed through the skin. The small amount compared to Axelle's size likely meant nothing. Not to mention, her regenerative ability might nullify it before it ever even took effect. He looked up at her. "Stuff's dangerous." He turned back around just to catch Sera imitating his voice and grating on his last nerve.

"For Christ's sake, Sera," He growled, "If you ever fucking LISTENED you'd notice I never said your voice was annoying. I said YOU were annoying. And you're still fucking talking." He raised his beer bottle to his lips, ready to take another sip, when he could hear a faint bubbling. Boone frowned. It shouldn't be foaming. He glanced back behind him, at Axelle, just in time to watch her drop a hunk of her own skin down the drain. His stomach flipped. "Not thirsty anymore." He mumbled, mostly to himself. Setting the beer down just as Camilla set down a bottle between he and Sera. The sound of the glass on the countertop reminded him of the chaos happening elsewhere as Cam rushed around. Maera was screeching about something, Silas was being held captive, Axelle was giving him a death stare—how long has she been staring like that?— Kyo still hadn't re-emerged, Yelena and Conrad prepped to provide medical care, and Camilla was rushing around trying to fix everything herself. He watched her disappear out the backdoor.

He turned back to Sera, his face darkened. "Do us all a favor, and fuck off for a few minutes, 57." He picked up her abandoned cup and spit in it, disappearing into Camilla's office with it in hand. He began digging through drawers for something. His fingers closed around a cool, glass vial. Perfect. He re-emerged, glass and vial in hand, and unceremoniously set both of them down onto the kitchen table in front of Yelena and Conrad. "It's the same shit we used on Sera. Makeshift sedative. Make all our lives easier." He glanced at Silas. "This is as openminded and receptive as I can be."

Boone stalked out the back door, following where he had seen Camilla leave.

"Mills," His voice was much softer now, losing the edge he'd had when speaking to Sera. He approached, his arm brushing against hers, and shoved his hands in his pockets. His fingers found a small box, and he smirked. "Do you have your lighter on you?"







search









boone hadley.


Tell me, where did you sleep last night?
In the pines, in the pines
Where the sun don't ever shine
I would shiver the whole night through








mood.
>:/

location.
Safehouse

mention.
Sera, Axelle, Yelena, Conrad, Silas, crew.








killing in the name by rage against the machine





© weldherwings.
 
font call font call font call
4Ø4:the//scholar
Camilla Isabella Beltran
Location // Prague
Status // Hungry || Tired || Relatively Relaxed
Last Slept // 30hrs ago
Outfit // Casual
Mentions // Maera ;; Axelle ;; Boone ;; Sera
Eyes shut tightly with her face turned to the sky, Camilla focused on just breathing deeply while her mind got to work categorizing the various scenes and scenarios that had played out that morning. Every moment that transpired from the second she stepped foot outside her office was kept in a permanent vault of information that could be recalled at any given moment should she ever have the need– and there had been PLENTY to take in. Perhaps it would have been wiser to stagger the arrival of two new additions to their Anti-ICA Band of Wayward Souls but what would have been the point? If Maera had stayed any longer then she would have been terminated and if Axelle had remained any longer then there was no telling what additional horrors she would have to endure all because they made her into some nigh unkillable machine. If some chaos and headache was what resulted from freeing two slaves of Dr. Otto-Schmidt and his fucked up program then it was well worth it.
‘Then again…one of them swears they don’t WANT to be saved.’ 404 frowned at the thought. ‘She will certainly take some time to fully embrace the meaning of freedom and even then there’s no promise that she ever WILL. I suppose we still need to at least…try. What would we be if we just gave up on her?’
The sound of the back door opening snapped Camilla from her thoughts; she blinked to clear her blurry vision, released the tension in her jaw to mask her discomfort, and glanced over to see who it was. Were they looking for a place to be alone with their thoughts as well? She slowly let go of a breath she didn’t realize she was holding seeing that it was Boone. He came out to join her and sidled up beside her enough so that their arms lightly brushed against each other: a grounding technique. Though the headache remained, the tension in her shoulders relaxed once again with the welcomed company. It was quieter outside and Boone was quieter as well– it was rather nice not hearing him yelling at anyone.
“You know,” Camilla spoke so softly that it barely peaked above a whisper. “I’m sure you’d maybe be a TOUCH less stabbable if you didn’t try to provoke Sera? And…I don’t know…attempt to poison her in the SAFEhouse? I don’t recall ‘genetically enhanced pin-cushion’ being one of your abilities but perhaps I’m misremembering…” She knew it was in his nature to be…bristly but sustaining physical injuries, no matter how seemingly mild, was still compromising if not dangerous.
She reached into her pocket upon being asked and pulled out her lighter. Camilla gave it a triumphant little wiggle, the ghost of a smile tugging up at the corners of her lips, and flipped it deftly between her fingers to run her thumb across the striker. A flame hissed to life and gently undulated in the soft breeze that blew by; she lifted her other hand to cup around the flame and held it up for him.
“Of course.”
 
mood :

distressed (Silas)
hopeful (Yelena)
sleepy (Maera)

location :
prague safehouse
outfit :

mentions :
honeycoves honeycoves Fabrikator.Nova Fabrikator.Nova CHUUYAS_HAT CHUUYAS_HAT

interactions :
calliope-3 calliope-3 noxrequiem noxrequiem Teh Frixz Teh Frixz Vaalhalla Vaalhalla
Yelena,
Silas & Maera
Silas stood rigid beside Maera, the weight of everything happening in the safehouse crashing down on him. He kept his breathing steady, but the tightening in his chest was hard to ignore as the situation spiraled further into chaos. Maera’s outburst had rattled him deeply, not just because of her words but because he could see her unraveling right in front of him. It was disturbing to witness, and he felt powerless. His fists were trained for combat, but this was beyond him. Maera seemed broken, maybe even beyond saving.

His thoughts were momentarily interrupted when Camilla passed by, giving his shoulder a light squeeze as she went to bring Kyo back. The simple touch grounded him for just a second, an anchor in the storm. His eyes softened, watching her go, but the calm didn’t last long.

Maera’s frantic grip on his wrist yanked him back into the chaos. Her fingers dug in tight, desperate, pulling at him as she begged for a release from life. His body reacted instinctively—his veins faintly glowing blue beneath his skin, the light intensifying as his adrenaline spiked. His skin hardened, thickening as a reflex, a defense mechanism that activated when he felt threatened, even though he didn’t want it to.

He winced, not wanting to hurt her, but the glow of his veins betrayed his heightened state. “Maera,” he muttered softly, trying to stay calm despite the pounding of his heart. “You’re safe here… We’re going to help you. Just breathe.”

He glanced at Conrad, who was rummaging through the medical supplies to treat Maera’s wounds. Silas wasn’t sure how much longer she could stay like this before she hurt herself—or someone else.

Axelle, standing nearby, caught his eye. Her movements were slow, deliberate—some kind of attempt at communication, though cryptic. Silas tried to piece together what she was signaling, but with Maera’s tight grip and his own adrenaline clouding his thoughts, it was hard to focus. His brow furrowed as he met her gaze and gave her a nod, trying to signal that he understood. Then, realization hit him like a freight train.

“Oh, no, no, no—she’s a friend. One of us,” he mouthed slowly, struggling to sign since Maera had his arm locked in her grip.

Meanwhile, Sera seemed to handle Axelle’s presence fairly well. It was impossible not to notice Axelle’s imposing stature, which naturally drew attention. Afterward, Sera offered to find a more spacious place for the group. Yelena chuckled softly and shook her head. “I appreciate the gesture, Sera, but I think we’ll be on the move soon. Just a little longer to endure,” she smiled. “Together.”

As Sera and Boone started arguing in the kitchen, Yelena leaned closer to Silas and Maera. “How’s she doing? Think maybe we should try lying her down?” Yelena asked quietly, her tone serious but measured.

Silas looked at Yelena, an idea crossing his mind. “Maybe it’d be better if she wasn’t conscious for a while,” he suggested, glancing toward Boone, who had conveniently left a vial of his saliva on the table—enough to sedate Maera for at least an hour. “It’s an option,” he added, nodding toward the vial, knowing he’d have to thank Boone later.

Yelena hesitated, her gaze shifting between Silas, the vial, and Maera. Her body tensed. “It’s risky,” she muttered, clearly weighing the decision. “But if it’s the only way to calm her down long enough for Conrad and me to treat her, maybe it’s worth a shot.”

Silas nodded, his expression unreadable but focused. “We need to get her to one of the rooms first. It’ll be safer for all of us, especially her.” He glanced at Conrad, who was still doing his best to manage Maera’s wounds. “I’ll take her back there. You handle the rest.”

Axelle signed again something about killing, and Silas was able to deduce that once again she was referring to Maera—well, it was the only thing that made sense. Suppose she could have been referring to Sera and Boone as well, but since she towered over Maera it seemed she was the subject in question. Admittedly, it made Silas chuckle just lightly. Axelle was a machine of war but this was not farthest setting from it, and the irony amused him the most.

Maera was too weak to fight back, allowing herself to be seemingly carried to the other room, her grip on Silas never letting up despite this. Taken to a separate room finally all three of her wounds were steadily bleeding now, adrenaline and terror the only thing keeping her conscious now. "It's alright, Maera," She could hear Yelena through the delirium, the warmth of the older woman's hand laying on hers as she continued to cling to Silas, "You have to let her go."

What? It was an almost inconceivable notion, one that gripped Maera with terror but also curiosity. Her Handler was everything to her -- Teacher, Leader, Master, and in moments that many might have considered otherwise, a parent. Aside from the ICA and the Doctor, her Handler had been her whole world and letting her go would mean letting it all go. A choked sob ripped through the girl now, her teeth gritting in a fearful grimace as she looked back and forth between Yelena and Silas, "I can't--I can't! Please, just ki--"

"Maera, aus!" Breathing hitching suddenly, and hand pulling away almost instantly, her wide eyed look now stayed locked on Yelena. A look of both concern and frustration had taken over the older agent as a tired sigh escaped her, "I'm sorry," She apologized, a gentle hand now petting the girl on the top of the head, "but you have to let go. I know you can do it, Maera."

Yelena knew what she had done, the command one the Hound was all too familiar with, however it seemed to have done the trick. Maera was no longer lost in her delirious state, reality having crashed back onto once her body had reacted instinctively.

Her eyes were no longer glossy, instead wet and glimmering weakly behind tears as she could now see both Yelena and Silas. Old habits died hard and it seemed the Hound would need a lot of work to get it out of her system.

The vial of Boone's spit had been given to her, Maera taking it ever-so obediently now that Yelena had snapped at her. Before she and Silas had left the room to just her and Conrad, dark eyes locked with Yelena's once more as she flashed her a look of guilt, "I'm sorry."

"I know, honey -- But it'll be okay now. You're in a safe place and everyone here is going to help." With those words the two were gone, and now all that were left in the room were Maera and 009.

Eyes growing half lidded, body beginning to relax as a wave of exhaustion finally rolled over her, Maera glanced up at the Sharpshooter before sleep took her, "Please... tell him I'm sorry, too."

Once they had Maera moved, Yelena handed Silas a small wad of cash outside of the bedroom. “Go get something for dinner. We’ll need everyone fed and calm after this mess,” she said, giving him a knowing look. “Get Sera and Axelle to go with you, if you can.” And promptly, she returned back to the room to help tend to the wounded pup.

Silas accepted the money with a nod. “I’ll handle it,” he said, the weight of responsibility settling on his shoulders—but at least it was something concrete, something he could control. He turned to face the door, striding to make his exit and without hesitation too. "Sera, Kyo, I'm going out to get food. Come if you want, don't if you want to stay here." He stopped at the doorway to throw a simple jacket on to conceal his knife harness, and looked back to Axelle. In the many times he's been around Axelle, he's been lucky enough to pick up on very few words and phrases that he could sign to her. Most of them included signs that had to do with missions and killing but there were also others he knew from just casually being around her. He squeezed his right hand and brought to his mouth twice, mouthing Food with a questionable look.

coded by reveriee.
 
mood :
Bored (Silas)
Hopeful (Yelena)

location :
prague safehouse
outfit :
mentions :
CHUUYAS_HAT CHUUYAS_HAT calliope-3 calliope-3 Fabrikator.Nova Fabrikator.Nova noxrequiem noxrequiem Vaalhalla Vaalhalla Teh Frixz Teh Frixz honeycoves honeycoves

interactions :
N/A
Yelena &
Silas - 033
As the minutes ticked by, Yelena remained focused, working alongside Conrad to stabilize Maera. Their teamwork was seamless—Yelena’s medical knowledge and calm demeanor balancing Conrad’s hands-on expertise and steadiness. Together, they patched up Maera’s wounds and slowed the bleeding. Boone’s sedative kept Maera calm, allowing them to work without interruption.

Outside, Silas stepped into the cool evening air, which brushed over him, offering a brief escape from the chaos inside. Maera’s breakdown weighed heavily on him, reinforcing the toll of trauma on this group of renegades. Despite the thoughts swirling in his head, Silas moved with trained precision through the streets, scanning his surroundings as he headed toward the nearest pizza place. Comfort food was always a good choice.

He was joined by some of the others, though his mind remained preoccupied with the tension back at the safehouse. After a short walk, they arrived at the small pizza joint and picked up several pies—enough for everyone. The scent of freshly baked pizza filled the air as Silas tucked the warm boxes under his arm, his steps quicker on the way back. There was something off, but he brushed it off as hunger and nerves.

Back at the safehouse, Yelena finally allowed herself a small exhale. Maera’s condition had stabilized—her breathing even and the bandages secure. “She’ll be alright for now,” Yelena said, offering Conrad a nod of gratitude and pulling him into a brief hug. “Thank you for your help.”

When Silas returned with the pizza boxes, the smell of food seemed to shift the energy in the room, if only slightly. He hoped it would bring some calm to the tension. The others were called to gather, and despite the lingering heaviness, there was a quiet relief in sharing a meal. Silas stood by the sink, eating a plain slice in silence. He listened to the others, though his mind wandered to everyone’s quiet struggles—his comrades, all bruised and battered in their own ways, but still standing.

Yelena allowed herself a small indulgence in the food as well, though her eyes remained fixed on the door to the bedroom, ensuring Maera was still resting. “Maera’s stable for now,” she reiterated to the others, giving a reassuring smile. “I know this isn’t easy or ideal for any of us, but all I ask is that we try. That’s all we can do.” Silas didn’t react to her words, his focus set on simpler tasks—eat, then find a way to unwind.

As the last slices disappeared, Silas settled onto the couch with Bram Stroker's Dracula in hand, his focus distant. Though his eyes traced the words on the page, his mind wandered—to Axelle’s strange offer, Maera’s collapse, Kyo’s fainting spell, the tension and bickering between Boone and Sera... Everything that had transpired weighed on him. Yet, for now, the familiar comfort of a book helped him stay grounded.

The sun outside dipped lower, casting a warm, orange glow through the windows as dusk began to settle in. The fading light signaled the end of the hour, but they all knew it was only a brief reprieve before trouble would come again.

coded by reveriee.
 


Conrad Adler






























  • mood


    tired.














Conrad had moved with quiet efficiency, his focus sharp and methodical as he had worked together with Yelena to clean Maera up and stabilize her condition. With practiced hands, he had patched up the Hound while the senior agent had helped walk him through it with all her knowledge. He wiped his hands clean of her blood on a rag as he glanced down at her sleeping form. She was calm now, in a deep sleep, and breathing evenly under Boone’s sedative. For now, the immediate crisis had passed, but the weariness in the Sharpshooter’s bones hadn’t.

Yelena’s soothing voice cut through the symphony of thoughts swirling inside Conrad’s head, “She’ll be alright for now.” He was caught off guard as Yelena offered a brief hug of gratitude. “Thank you for your help.”

His body tensed for a moment, still unaccustomed to displays of close physical affection like this. But he forced himself to relax, wrapping a singular tightly muscled arm back around her shoulder in turn. Forcing a small, tired smile on his face. “Of course.”

Silas had returned with several boxes, and while the atmosphere in the safehouse remained heavy, there was a subtle shift—a brief reprieve from the chaos. Conrad sighed and straightened up, rubbing the back of his neck as he made his way out of the bedroom, shutting the door gently behind him. The scent of pizza hit him as soon as he stepped into the common area, and he realized how long it had been since he’d eaten. The others were already gathered, subdued but grateful for the food Silas had picked up.

As Conrad picked up a singular slice, he locked eyes with Silas. He paused as he walked by the other younger man, his voice low and softer than usual as he spoke in a hushed tone. “Maera wanted me to tell you she was sorry, by the way.”

With the short message now delivered, Conrad stepped away. He took a bite of the pizza, savoring the warmth, though exhaustion was finally catching up with him. The simple act of eating was grounding, but it wasn’t enough to stave off the fatigue creeping in. His body felt heavier than it should. The strain was beginning to show in his movements, the slight stiffness in his leg from the lingering limp, the weight in his limbs that came with sleeplessness. The long night from before was catching up to him, adrenaline now fading as the safehouse settled into a quieter state.

After finishing his slice, Conrad stretched his stiff shoulders, feeling the tightness in his muscles. He glanced back at the others still eating and mingling amongst themselves in the kitchen and common areas. Things were much more relaxed now, and he figured they would all get on just fine without him for a few hours. Just a short rest, he told himself, enough to recharge for whatever came next.

Quietly, he dismissed himself, slipping back towards the bedrooms. He re-entered the room Maera was in, the cool, darkened space feeling like a welcome refuge. Maera was still unconscious, her breathing steady; the sedative was doing its job. Her face had relaxed in sleep, the tension from earlier moments now smoothed out, though her expression still held traces of unease. He watched her for a moment, feeling a pang of empathy. They were all scarred in different ways, haunted by the things they’d done or couldn’t prevent.

Holding back a sigh, he walked deeper into the room, taking care to not make too much noise. He was an incredibly light sleeper, so if Maera should wake up or require attention, he’d be up in an instant. It would be a case of two birds killed with one stone; he’d have some rest, while also keeping a close-enough eye on the girl.

He didn’t bother fully changing out of his clothes, just slipped off his jacket, boots, and holsters before lowering himself onto one of the spare cots. His guns were tucked slightly underneath the bed, always within easy reach. Old habits die hard, after all.

The safehouse, for all its chaos, was quiet for now, and Conrad could finally let himself rest—if only for a few precious hours. He knew when he woke up, it would be back to business—more decisions, more threats, more chaos—but for now, for this moment, he allowed himself a brief reprieve. His mind churned with the events of the day, but sleep tugged at him with an undeniable force. Within minutes, the exhaustion won. His breath slowed, and the safehouse fell silent around him as the long, sleepless night finally caught up.

























take me out


franz ferdinand







♡coded by uxie♡
 
#21
"I don't see how a world that makes such wonderful things could be bad."



If she wasn't already muted, Axelle would have been speechless. She didn't have to sign much, most of her communication only occurring during her deployments. 'Target Three Meters Away', 'Incoming Threat', and the ominous 'Mission Completed' all made up the majority of her signage to agents she worked with. She didn't sign at all during briefing and she really wasn't ever given a debrief. If she survived, then it meant her target was dead. There wasn't a need to pass the results of her action along to her post mission. Instead, she'd be taken to medical and monitored while she recovered from her wounds. Not out of any desire to ensure her well being mind you but she was still ICA property and a living experiment for genetic experimentation. Often she'd be tested on while in recovery, to the point where the injuries she would sustain in mission would be worse than what they did to her in the labs. But she wouldn't sign, she wouldn't blink. Just a silent testament to the endurance of a broken mind.

Then when she was deemed healed, she was released to her quarters. A simple room with a cot, an empty locker, and not much else. They didn't give her much because she never asked for anything. Here she'd either lay in her bed and sleep, or she'd work her body. Pushups, burpees, dips, jumping. Total body workouts that would leave the walls of her quarters coated in a layer of condensation and her body broken again. The ICA didn't even log those injuries anymore. The countless broken fingers and torn muscles. She could just keep ripping her body apart and it would come back stronger.

It was a brutal routine but it was routine and it was at least something that let Axelle feel. Any satisfaction she felt in life came from the elimination of a target or the new physical record to reach for. Rewards came from not being hurt further by the ICA.

And here it was then, that she was defining a mission, kill the threat to everyone, kill the Hound, but Silas and Camilla and even a Wolf were declining mission parameters and rewarding her with things she never assumed to ever have. The Hound was whisked away from her and sedated. A temporary solution to a problem. Then she had a phone placed in her hand, Axelle giving a confused look that shifted into something that resembled a confused, almost pained, gratitude.

Camilla had given her a glimpse into her memories. Being in a hospital bed, restrained. The walls were yellow and pink and blue, a children's hospital. She had been a fighter then, at six or seven years old. Screaming like a monster and ripping her nails out on concrete walls but in that place, she was frozen. An outsider, just a hospital nurse, she used to turn the TV on and it played bootleg copies of animated films. American ones translated to French so she could understand.

The colors and joy were like nothing in her life and for a little bit, the world didn't hurt. Her body knit back together in peace while she listened to girls like her sing their dreams in life. She got to see these things fleetingly but they were the points in her life where the mission wasn't the only joy to be found. Camilla had placed that joy back in her hands. She let the Hound go, standing in place while she watched the mermaid wish with all her heart to be part of another world. Few weapons could have stalled Axelle so effectively. A friend handing humanity back to someone lost in the darkest parts of themselves. She barely acknowledged Silas, signing back without breaking eye contact that she wasn't hungry.

She was of course, she always craved food. The ICA kept her at the edge of needed caloric intake to avoid starvation, but the hunger pangs were nothing to the banquet of nostalgia and escapism that sucked her in so effectively.

Losing track of herself and the others, she sat down. Keeping her back to a solid wall and the entry points in her sightline, Axelle lost herself in the tale of love playing out on the glowing rectangle in her hands. So much so she couldn't feel the gift of food being foisted upon her, a couple slices set in her lap. Or Silas settling on the couch to read. The world was technicolor animation right now and it was better for it.

snakeg0dd snakeg0dd Fabrikator.Nova Fabrikator.Nova Vaalhalla Vaalhalla
 
mood :

angry (Silas)
n/a (Yelena)

location :
prague
outfit :

mentions :
honeycoves honeycoves Teh Frixz Teh Frixz calliope-3 calliope-3 CHUUYAS_HAT CHUUYAS_HAT Vaalhalla Vaalhalla

interactions :
noxrequiem noxrequiem Fabrikator.Nova Fabrikator.Nova
Yelena &
Silas - 033
Silas continued his rest on the couch, trying to let the exhaustion of the day's turmoil fade from his body as he turned the next page in his book of an undead, gothic killer who drank blood. The quiet of the apartment seemed to offer some relief—everything had calmed down, and for a moment, he allowed himself to feel a rare sense of safety. But deep down, an unsettling feeling began to creep in, like a sea storm looming on the horizon. It wasn't the sound of the city outside that bothered him, but a kind of intuition, a soldier's instinct warning him that the peace wouldn't last.

Yelena was tidying up the remnants of dinner in the kitchen, her movements efficient and purposeful. She stacked the few remaining slices of pizza onto a plate and tossed the empty boxes into the trash with a practiced flick of her wrist. The precision of her throw inspiring and even surpassing Olympic levels. Grabbing a damp cloth, she began wiping down the countertops with smooth, circular motions, making sure no crumbs or grease were left behind. She cleaned the kitchen sink, rinsing it out as the hum of running water filled the space, then moved onto the dining table, wiping down the surface with the same meticulous care. She removed the one little centerpiece that adorned the family table and returned it to its spot once she finished her meticulous cleaning.

As Yelena worked, the light in the apartment dimmed a little further. The day was fading fast, and the shadows were stretching long across the floor.

"Time to let some light in, wouldn't you say?" She announced to whomever was close enough, whether they were listening to her or not. She moved towards the curtains, her hands automatically reaching to open them and let in the last bit of evening light.

She tore the curtains as if she were opening a musical show in a theater. The moment she pulled the curtains apart, the light cascading in— BANG! BANG! BANG!

The sharp crack of gunfire ripped through the air.

Yelena staggered back as the window shattered in front of her, cracks splintering and webbing across the glass. Her body reacted instantly, muscles coiling as she spun to move, but the damage was done. Three bullets had torn into her torso. Her hands instinctively flew to her stomach, where dark red blood quickly stained her shirt, spilling between her fingers.

She fell to her knees, gasping in shock and pain, eyes wide but defiant. Even now, mortally wounded, Yelena tried to ward off death and fight for life.

Silas was already in action. The moment the shots rang out, he leapt from the couch in one smooth motion, his heart pounding with adrenaline. His foot slammed into the narrow end of the coffee table, flipping it into the air. In one coherent motion, he caught it mid-air and hurled it down the hallway and ramming towards the front door, using the heavy wooden piece as a makeshift barrier to block any potential breach.

He didn’t stop. Silas charged into the kitchen, grabbing the edge of the dining table and flinging it toward the shattered window. The table crashed into the broken glass just as two masked men in tactical gear began rappelling down the side of the building, their boots hitting the ledge outside. The impact knocked them off balance, sending one tumbling backward and the other gripping the ledge, scrambling to regain his footing.

But Silas didn’t care about them. Not now. He rushed to Yelena’s side, dropping to his knees beside her. Blood soaked her clothes, and her breathing was labored, coming in short, sharp gasps. Their eyes met—hers filled with a quiet acceptance, and his filled with anguish.

“Stay with me, Yelena,” he whispered, his voice cracking. He pressed his hands over her wounds, trying to stem the flow of blood, but it was pouring too fast. He could feel her life slipping away in his arms. The weakness and loss of consciousness was settling in.

Yelena's face softened, her lips curling into a faint, reassuring smile. Even in her final moments, she exuded calm confidence, the warrior she had always been. “You...you’ve become something good, Silas,” she whispered, her hand weakly grasping his arm. “I’m proud of you...look out for them, Silas."

Her hand moved to cup his face, "You- You'll need them as much as they'll need... need you.” Tears welled in her eyes, and in his. She saw him as her own, a bond forged in battles, trust, and love, though neither of them had ever said the words before. She smiled gently at the "son" before her.

Silas bit back a sob, his rage mixing with overwhelming grief. “Yelena...Yelena, please... stay with me...” he choked out, knowing there was nothing he could do to stop what was happening. Yelena’s eyes fluttered one last time before they closed, her body going limp in his arms. For the second time in his entire twenty years of life, Silas wanted to call out for his mom. Only this time, not for the mom in his photograph, but for the one who now had slipped into the eternal rest.

Silas clenched his jaw, his muscles taut with the fury rising inside him. His veins began to pulse with an eerie blue glow as his enhanced body surged with power. The familiar hue flickered under his skin as rage took hold. He placed Yelena’s head down gently on the floor, wiping whatever tears had trickled down to his cheek before standing. His thoughts immediately went to Maera. She was the cause of this. She had to be. They were tracking her, or she was somehow able to get a message out to the ICA. Whatever it was, however she did it, Silas now blamed her. If it wasn't for the fact of revenge, Silas would take matter into his own hands and kill her himself. To reward her with the same fate as his guardian now. But there was no time for that now. Now, Silas was a loaded weapon and was aimed right at the target. A bull running full sprint with no hesitation.

Silas barked out an order to whomever was behind him, his voice filled with both grief and steel. “Conrad! Camilla! Get what you can and get everyone out, now! Use the hatch behind the bookcase. Move!” Silas figured the second emergency exit was better than the first, as the ICA no doubt was moving in to position to breach that entry point now too. The alleyway was unsafe. The best way out? The tunnel system now.

Silas stormed toward the window, his mind consumed with revenge. He leaped through the shattered frame, falling two stories before landing with a heavy thud on top of a parked car. The roof caved under his weight, but Silas didn’t flinch. He was already pulling his pistol—an H&K P30L—from the back of his pants and drawing his knife from its holster.

As he scanned the street, his senses picked up on movement. Armed men were closing in, their tactical gear marking them as professionals. Over their comms, a voice crackled—the unmistakable despicable tone of Dr. Otto Schmidt.

"Capture the children. Alive, if possible. Lethal force authorized if necessary. Especially for the Biohazard and Scarecrow."

Silas’s blood boiled at the sound of Schmidt’s voice, the man responsible for so much suffering. His hand gripped his knife tighter. In the distance, he spotted something—a figure sprinting across the rooftops, a large object swaying with their movements. The shooter, no doubt. Silas knew it instantly. His mind raced, plotting his next move.

But there was no time to act on it just yet. One of the armed men had closed in on him, an automatic rifle drawn and aimed directly at his chest. The soldier stepped forward, unhooking a set of steel restraints from his belt.

Silas’s eyes narrowed. The streets of Prague were going to run red.

With blinding speed, Silas surged forward, closing the distance between them before the man could react. His knife sliced through the air with deadly precision, aimed right for the man’s throat, taking the breath out of his windpipe. Before the man could even react to the slice, Silas wrapped his arm around the man's neck and used the dying man's body as a meat shield. Surrounding him were four more agents, all dressed in casual—yet tactical—attire. He didn't hesitate to squeeze the trigger of his gun, his aim impervious despite the limp body he was holding up. One of the agents was able to get a shot out but it hit the dead man in front of Silas. All four agents dropped quickly to the ground as Silas executed each one.

He sheathed his knife back into its holster, his eyes scanning the rooftops once again. The sniper had put a lot of distance between Silas and them now, but Silas was faster. In a mere second, he was already sprinting to catch up.
coded by reveriee.
 
#21
To crush your enemies, see them driven before you, and to hear the lamentations of their women.

The world knew it had been quashed inside Axelle, it must have known. It displayed this animal intelligence that was probably what some people called karma. Axelle didn’t believe in karma. She believed that flesh tore under a blade. That what had been done to her and the others was unnatural. That the weak died and the strong lived. Karma was a pitiable excuse uttered by fools that tried to justify their failures with empty promises. The only promise was that life was a wild, dangerous creature that would bite you as soon as you stopped holding it at bay.

The world tried to bite her again and she was going to bite back.

Interrupting her escape by putting a bullet through a friendly looking lion singing about how great it would be to become king, Axelle examined the hole the phone. Broken glass and metal embedded in her grip. She held onto the former phone, standing upright as she watched Silas launch the dining table out the window into the blinding light. He was difficult to follow, even from experience with him on missions. No sooner had he dropped alongside Yalena. Foolish wolf. Breaking safety like that.

Stepping over them, she reached out the window and grabbed the man gripping the ledge, forcefully pulling him up into the house and slamming him against the wall.

Without giving time to recover she pulled his mask down and pressed the phone into his gasping mouth. The metal cutting into skin as she shoved it past protesting lips. Her eyes move in close, watching the tears form on the assassin. Her fist followed the phone as the body stopped protesting, her hand bloodied by the teeth that broke trying to bite her through a broken jaw.

A strong thrust and the man stopped moving. Axelle pulling her arm free from the mess of gore and metal that had been a throat and jaw just in time to see Silas leap out the window.


And they called him the Soldier and her the Undying.


Grabbing the body and pulling him up onto her back for a shield, she ignored the dying Wolf and walked to Camilla’s room. Dropping the body at the altar that made up the Scholar’s battlestation. She signed quickly, blood dripping from her hands.

‘Wolf Shot Soldier Outside ICA Here Need Leave’

She prodded the body with her boot before looking back up. She knew what she would do but wanted to see if the Camilla had something better.

Fabrikator.Nova Fabrikator.Nova snakeg0dd snakeg0dd
 
font call font call font call
4Ø4:the//scholar
Camilla Isabella Beltran
Location // Prague Safehouse
Status // Numb || Focused
Last Slept // 34hrs ago
Outfit // Casual
Mentions // Maera ;; Axelle ;; Boone ;; Kyo ;; Silas
Quiet never lasted very long.
Camilla had enjoyed a rare dinner with the team despite her disdain for pizza– junk food in general. Everyone had been justifiably worked up by the arrival of Maera into their ranks but it was nothing a little carbs and tomato sauce couldn’t remedy. As strict as she was about the group’s meal planning to ensure optimal nutrition, even SHE couldn’t deny the allure of a freshly fired pizza.
Though now, pizza would forever be off the table.
The sound of three gunshots in quick succession and the shattering of glass felt like ice water being dumped straight into her veins. Camilla’s head whipped in the direction of her door, eyes torn from the monitors before her to hear the cacophony of input and information being broadcast all at once. When the body of a dead assassin was dropped unceremoniously at her door by Axelle, the Scholar got up and met the Agent with a curt nod: a project.
“Here,” Camilla pulled a pair of gloves off her desk and handed them to Axelle. “These should protect your hands to an extent. There’s an escape tunnel hidden behind the bookcase that should be opened now. Follow the red lights and they’ll lead you through an old tunnel system that’ll open up outside of the city. There’s an old silo that we can regroup at once the heat is off.” Her eyes looked down at the man with the entire lower half of his face seemingly missing. The sound of radio chatter coming from his comms system had her attention now.
“Get out– get to safety with the others. Grab what you need and stay together as best as you can. They’ll be shooting for Boone and Kyo if they’re spotted so be careful,” 404 then looked back up at Axelle and gave another nod in hopes that it would be some semblance of reassuring. “I’ll see you soon, friend.” Camilla signed the last word for emphasis before getting to work. She had to do her part.
Crouching to grab the dead man’s radio, Camilla tore it from his vest and brought it to her computer to begin rapidly typing away on her keyboard. Several commands were issued at once: all the new light installations switched from a pleasant warm tone to a sinister red to signal that there was an evac happening and it was NOT a drill, unlock the bookcase that led to the escape tunnel, open all agent doors so that the team wouldn’t have to waste a moment in their escape, frequency scan on the comms radio, and send drone mark-33 out to provide backup for Silas. Her eyes darted all around her screens until they started to turn their trademark white when her genetic modifications were running in full effect.
‘Execute command: servo engage.’ The gas lamps all around the compromised safehouse switched on at once and started to fill their former home with combustible gas from the mainline. Such an old building was constructed during a time when the archaic methods of lighting were used which was precisely why Camilla had voted to live there at all.
‘Channel scan: frequency found.’ Camilla cranked up the volume on her speakers and depressed the call button on the comms radio she’d grabbed off the dead man to force a screeching feedback sound to play on all the nearby radios used by the ICA assassins in a bid to expose their locations; her eyes were glued to her monitors which would pick up on channel changes so she could keep her audio searchlight trained on their positions. It was the best she could remotely provide at the moment to help Silas from getting ambushed until her drone arrived to his location.
Quickly rubber-banding the button to keep it pressed while the loud music played, Camilla quickly dashed out to the kitchen with a quick hop over the battered assassin’s body. Her eyes glanced at the still body of Yelena laying on the ground but gave it no further acknowledgement other than a clenching of her jaw. She was focused on the task at hand and that was to remind the ICA who they were dealing with– deft hands quickly turned the knobs on the stove to their fullest setting and a swift kick opened the oven to let the building fill with even more flammable gasses.
If the ICA had compromised their safehouse then there was no use sticking around but she would bury as many as she could on the way out.
 
Last edited:
Location
The safehouse in Prague

Outfit
Here

Characters
Camilla, Axelle

Sera (057)
Sera had been more than happy to accompany Silas out of the safe house to grab the group's dinner. She hated being cooped up in such a small space with people who were either clearly ambivalent or openly hostile to her presence. After eating a slice or two of the pizza, she curled up on an armchair and dozed off.

The second the first gunshot sounded, Sera made a mad dash for the bedroom, immediately snapping out of her post-nap grogginess as adrenaline coursed through her body. She quickly threw on her suit, praying she had enough time to get it on completely before someone breached the room. Her suit could modify along with her body without a second thought, making it significantly easier to blend into her surroundings than with regular clothes on, and she really didn't feel like running around naked outside the safe house today.

Her thoughts raced as she zipped and laced herself into the suit. She should have known her instincts to run when the hound showed up were spot-on. But instead, she had decided to take a little nap, trusting that the safehouse was truly safe. She shoved the clothes she was wearing into her bag and quickly swung it onto her back before quickly becoming one with her surroundings: body temperature dropping, skin texture changing, every color on her adapting to whatever was around her at the moment. Drawing a knife in each hand she crept silently through the hall, peeking into rooms to ensure there was no one waiting to ambush her or anyone else. Her body changed every second to perfectly imitate the areas she moved through.

She silently rounded the corner into the common room, making herself partially visible to Axelle as she rounded the corner before blending back in to ensure the Undying didn't attack her on the off chance she was somehow able to sense her presence. She saw Camilla turning on the gas stovetop in the kitchen and knocked on the wall before approaching to make her presence known, despite still being fully blended into the environment. "What do you need me to do or grab before we go?" She said in a quiet enough tone in case any enemies were near enough to overhear and come running.
coded by reveriee.
 


















good morning...





"So Long You're There With Us."


It was silent around the so-called house, not even a cricket humming. Everyone had just previously feasted on pizza-something he didn't necessarily like, but Kyomu dealt with it. It always had either too much cheese, no sauce, too little meat-heck, pineapples were a new fashion for toppings now a days?! They all disgusted him, but it wasn't as if anyone was asking for his opinion.

It was then when the quietness had peaked for too long, everyone calm and mainly at peace, when the ring of a bullet blasted through the air. Several followed after like an echo- a awful one in fact. A shrill cry unmistakably Yelena's caught Kyomu's ear, and he finally got himself into action. There was something clearly going wrong- the ICA perhaps? That had to be it, nothing else would be hunting us all down like a futile species on the brink of death.

Kyomu immediately reached for his raggedy bag, sifting through it before replacing some useless things on his belt with the little weapons he had. There was no use of grabbing for clothes, it'd only drag him down. Crashing sounded just near the kitchen, a voice-most likely Silas and some weeping- calling out to the crew. An order. An order to leave, and something with bookshelf.

He already caught sight of Camilla and someone else. And if he wasn't mistaken, there were some flickers of a warped figure gliding around. He made his way out of the room, seeing the bloodbath and a limp body. It was then he figured what exactly was with those sobs. Of course. Of course.

"Damn it..."






























"Fuck You!"












♡coded by uxie♡

 
I
n what had probably been weeks, Maera was able to finally experience a few hours of peace.

With the aide of Conrad and Yelena, her wounds had been cleaned and patched up, while Boone's sedative had done its job and put her into a heavy slumber. Physically she was finally allowed to rest, and mentally Maera had fallen into such a deep sleep that even her dreams had been peaceful.

While vivid, her dreams were too abstract for her to truly understand their meaning. Familiar faces and figures surrounding her, none of which she could distinguish, while incoherent babbling was thrown at her in a tone of encouragement and endearment. It was everything she ever wanted, but as Maera slept and the drug ran its course, she was soon falling out of her REM sleep and becoming more reactive. Her blissful dreams soon began to fade in and out on her now. No longer completely asleep, instead now stuck in the hazy middle ground of conscious and unconscious, Maera felt herself stuck in an almost paralysis state. Eyes closed, body heavy and limp, and unable to speak or call for aid, all Maera could muster at this point was a soft grunt.

Stuck in this haze, she struggled to tell if she was sleeping or not. It was terrifying at first, but there was something almost familiar about the loss of control. While it was comforting, Yelena's statement from earlier played through her head and despite the wave of guilt Maera couldn't help but think that the woman was right. Perhaps she did need to let go.

Her Handler was finished with her, and if that was the case the ICA was done with her as well. As much as it hurt and every instinct that had been beaten and conditioned into her demanded her to finish the job and terminate herself, Maera wanted nothing more than to stay here with Yelena and even some of the inhabitants here in the safehouse. The former agents had shown her kindness, and sympathy like no other, and that was something that the Hound would cherish forever even if she didn't fully understand it yet. Freedom was still something she was uncertain of, but if it came with the ability to surround ones self with people like this then perhaps it wasn't so bad?

A brief time passed now, Maera now calm and clear headed as the drug stricken paralysis now finally wearing off. Resting for just a bit longer until the numbing sensation in her limbs was gone, Maera focused her senses and took in the safehouse and it's inhabitants now as she quieted the rest of her mind once again.

She could smell all of them, and hear their movements and heart beats. Some were slow and calm, others racing with excitement or frustration. She could hear their conversations, and their laughter, and hanging around them like a cloud was a strange and delicious smell that she couldn't quite put her finger on. Concentrating harder as she laid still in the bed, Maera took in a deep breath, slow and steady. The musty walls of the old building stuck first to her nose, while the rotting wooden floorboards beneath their feet smelled wet and almost mildew like. She could smell the age in the building, and as she exhaled and took another, her senses began to reach further.

Beneath the door and out the hall she could smell the neighbors, the ones to the left of them were elderly but lived in clutter. She could smell the cockroaches, mold, and filth from their side. While on the right were a younger couple, male and female, definitely a couple as their scents were heavily entwined with one another throughout the apartment. However, there was something else, and it wasn't inside the building but right outside? Confusion and finally realization hit her, and as her heart began to race and adrenaline began to pump through again Maera's eyes snapped open as a look of fear filled her eyes.

"They're here!"

Bang! Bang! Bang!​

The sharp sounds of gunshots shrieked through her ears, her body wanting to instinctively flinch however her limbs were still heavy and numb from remaining effects of the drug. Every nerve in her body screamed to run, however the sharp, copper like scent of blood punched her senses. It was Yelena's. "No--!" With a struggling grunt, Maera tumbled painfully off of the bed as she made an attempt to stand. Much like when she had turned on her superiors at the Widow Academy, the Hound felt something well up within her as she felt a powerful feeling compel her to get up and help. Still too weak to move on her own unfortunately, she looked to Conrad in distress, but this time not for herself. "Help them! Please!"
"I have to do something--!"
Maera - The Hound
location:
Prague; The Safehouse - Bedroom
outfit:
interactions:
Conrad
 
#021
But there is no real me: only an entity, something illusory. And though I can hide my cold gaze, and you can shake my hand and feel flesh gripping yours and maybe you can even sense our lifestyles are probably comparable... I simply am not there.



Indecision was a feeling that rarely passed through Axelle’s mind. It was simple in there, adherence to a code of survival, obeying the programmed methodology of mission execution was all that really existed. Decisions were made quickly and efficiently. Any moral application of higher level thought just simply didn’t cross what remained of her undying mind. It was nice in a way, the sheer emptiness of anything to process beyond her next ten footsteps kept her moving at a speed similar to Camilla at times. Not from any sense of processing power but her brain simply had almost nothing to calculate. She wasn’t the computer, she was the process the computer ordered. Her mental space wasn’t dissimilar from a binary system. A one or a zero. Was she active or not.

Having Camilla tell her to go while signing friend to her. With a dangerous threat looming that obviously made Axelle question her friend’s capability of remaining safe had caused a break in her normally simple order of operations. Physically locking in place for a moment while she tried to process what to do, Axelle defaulted to following orders. Do what they say. Don’t think, just do.

So she did.

Moving to the kitchen, Camilla scurrying around her. Axelle froze when 057 revealed herself. More unintentional overloading of her system. A threat she’d missed completely. Sera could have hurt her, maybe even killed her and Axelle would have never seen it coming. She had to process that feeling, a shred of shame and resentment fluttering across the empty landscape of her scorched ego.

She compensated for this feeling by cocking her head at an angle, sizing 057 up and looking away. Burying whatever she was feeling under the usual layer of disturbing disconnection, Axelle walked back over to the main room, looking down at Yalena. Stupid way to die. She cocked her head again, turning to look at the gawping Scarecrow. These operatives, ICA trained but like precision tools, breaking when their parameters for function weren’t met. Axelle wasn’t precision. She was the ICA’s blunt ‘fuck you’ object.

A look of disdain flashed behind her eyes as she stared at Kyomu. She signed quickly at him, not really caring if he could read or not. She put her gloves on, blood squelching into the material.

‘Get Hound Follow Me Die Here Blood Trail False Die Here’

She emphasized Die, hard, flipping her hands palm up and down with exacting force, each motion of her hand snapping from one word to the next before suddenly dropping to a knee and grabbing Yalena’s corpse by the hair.

Her fingers entwined firmly in the beautiful, if dead, fibers of hair, Axelle started for the escape door, dragging the body with her. The bookshelf, she had half expected to have to rip through, swung open with a light touch, as did the door behind it. Both had been prepared for this moment. The tunnel red and foreboding ahead.

No more hesitation, her orders were clear and she would deny ICA the confirmation of a kill. She started down the tunnel with long, powerful strides. Leaving the blood trail behind her as the corpse slid over rough concrete. At the first split she’d drag the corpse down the opposite path then double back carrying her, a false blood trail for the hunters to follow. Then it would onto the silo. She’d decide what to do next after that.

The red lights pulsed in the tunnel as she marched off, her silhouette filling most of the tunnel as she put her back to the false safety behind her, holding out hope for false safety ahead.

calliope-3 calliope-3 Fabrikator.Nova Fabrikator.Nova CHUUYAS_HAT CHUUYAS_HAT Vaalhalla Vaalhalla snakeg0dd snakeg0dd
 
font call font call font call
4Ø4:the//scholar
Camilla Isabella Beltran
Location // Prague Safehouse
Status // Focused || Ready for Chaos
Last Slept // 34hrs ago
Mentions // Sera ;; Axelle ;; Kyo ;; Maera ;; Conrad ;; Boone ;; Silas
Glancing at the front door where a table was now haphazardly smashed against it, Camilla turned her wrist over to fiddle with her watch. She remotely armed the infrared tripwire running across the threshold knowing full well that the Assassins would be using thermal imaging in their night vision gear to try and locate Sera while she was blended. As soon as something broke the line, powerful lights would strobe while a sonic alarm would set off simultaneously to further disorient the intruders. As she turned to head back into her office, a disembodied knock prefaced Sera’s questions– if Camilla had been caught off guard by the invisible woman then it didn’t show on her face.
“Come with me,” She motioned down the hall to her room and led the way. “I don’t know if you can do anything with THAT–” The Scholar pointed down at the man with the lower half of his face bloodied by Axelle’s…warm welcome. “But it’s MOST of a face?”
Camilla’s jaw clenched in annoyance upon seeing Kyo staring at the scene unfolding all around him; they were in the midst of the crescendo of a chaotic orchestra. She pointed back down the hallway before disappearing into her room.
“Help Maera– Conrad should be there as well. You know the evac protocol– follow the red lights.”
Once in her office, Camilla flitted around like a small cyclone. She tossed a duffel bag onto the couch and gestured around the room.
“Grab cash and any toys that look fun or potentially problematic to our uninvited guests and anything ELSE you care about because there’s no coming back here once we leave. I’ve got their comms scrambled for the time being,” She gestured to the radio with the rubber band around it while sliding the closet door open where her suit hung in suspension by some wires in proper orientation to allow her a quick change. “But you can take it with you as well. Use it as you see fit. I’m sure you’ll have fun with it.”
Stepping back into the closet, Camilla pulled on her suit and bent over to fasten her boots with smooth, practiced movements and in efficient order. She was at her computer, furiously typing additional commands that would activate a hidden speaker upstairs. Fiddling with her watch once more, she spoke into it while affixing her weapons in their dedicated straps.
“Y-Yelena’s been hit! Quick get her upstairs! Conrad, I need a triage! Ohmygod there’s so much blood–!” While her voice was panicked and frightened, stuttering with teetering emotions and thick with false tears, there was no readable expression on Camilla’s face. She was completely methodical and stone cold while preparing for a fight to give the rest of the team as much time as possible to escape through the tunnels. With two of them already labeled as ‘shoot to kill’ targets and a recovering Maera, they couldn’t afford to waste any time. "Hurry! Th-They're coming!"
“Axelle will be headed into the tunnels if she hasn’t started already. It opens up outside the city– there’s an abandoned silo we can meet up at to regroup and figure out what the fuck we’re gonna do about all this. Boone and Kyo are flagged for lethal force by our friends here so be careful,” Camilla stuck her index fingers through a couple open loops on her vest and yanked out two wickedly sharp karambit knives that fit naturally in her grip. “Be extra careful about Silas– he’s…gonna feel Yelena’s death the hardest of us all and I can’t speak on his stability.” She didn’t know exactly WHERE to look to meet Sera’s eyes but she gave a small reassuring nod all the same.
The sound of boots thumping around upstairs drew the Scholar’s attention: the speaker diversion worked but it would only split the infiltration team. There would still be some assassins to deal with at the front and a full breach was certainly imminent. Camilla grabbed her headphones and put them over her ears; the noise-canceling function hadn’t been activated yet but everything was already slightly muffled in an almost relaxing manner.
“See you on the other side.”
Without waiting, Camilla stepped over the ICA assassin’s body at the threshold of her office and headed for the front where a splintered team of intruders were gearing for a breach. She sidled up against the wall near the mouth of the opening, careful not to trip her own trap while readjusting her grip on her karambits. Her eyes drifted over to glance at where Yelena’s body had been laying just a few moments ago only to find that it was already gone along with Axelle. The thought didn’t linger very long as the weight of the impending fun was about to begin. One hand hovered over the button on her headphones, ready to activate the noise-canceling…
And enact some good, old fashioned vengeance.
‘For Yelena.’
 


















good morning...





"So Long You're There With Us."


The stench of disgusting blood hit his nose, but it didn't really catch him much off guard from the chaos that was happening. Axelle seemed to be signing him something, but Kyo was clueless. But the indication from the situation was clear; evacuate with Maera-the Hound and take what is needed. Kyomu didn't really need anything, but he wasn't so sure about the others.

The secret passage way-well, the library hatch was indeed blaring red lights, and he was ready to just speed down it when the girl, once the ICA'S pet, was standing frozen. He contemplated his options before grunting. Kyo knew she wasn't going to move that fast, with or without persuasion, so he decided to take matters into his own hands.

Literally.

He turned back around towards Maera, sliding a hand on her back and another just on her legs. Gradually the shorter one was heaved onto his own shoulder. For him, she was mildly heavy, but he ignored any protests - if there were any -coming out of her mouth and instead called out to the other "agent" while heading towards the escape route.

"Well, I can't leave this item of mine can I, Camilla?"

He muttered, rolling his eyes jokingly before actually going into the much more needed action. Kyomu slid just past to where Axelle was going, seeing (two?) blood trails. In slight confusion, he shook his head and followed the way they were shown to do.






























"Fuck You!"












♡coded by uxie♡

 
#021
Much that once was, is lost. For none now live who remember it.


Fifteen years previous…

The bullet, specifically a 5.7x28mm, tore though the teenagers heart. Flesh tearing like paper as the metal ripped apart her insides, tumbling through her before bursting out her back, leaving a ragged hole behind. Escape hadn’t been far off, her last thoughts being how much her hands hurt after scaling the razor wire of the compound and how her pounding heart was pushing the blood out of her.

She’d planned for months, getting a routine down to the second. Memorizing not time of but time between. How long it took for her doctors to escort her to testing, how long she’d spend with the others in Widow or Sparrow. Op4 designation, how long her guard took in the restroom. All of it worthless in the face of escape. It took one man going to talk to a cute transfer at the central containment desk to notice Axelle slip her restraints and break free from her quickly unconscious handler. When you didn’t speak and acted stupid, they never anticipated when you would bite back.

As the round killed her, she fell, her body hitting the floor with a wet thud but her mind falling further, through the floor and past the darkness behind her dying eyes. She fell for what felt like forever, darkness enveloping her as she lost her senses, she wasn’t Axelle, she just was.

Darkness abated and voices sang to her. Golden warmth as pain vanished. More of her sense of self following. She couldn’t remember being hugged, but she imagined that this is what it felt like. A warm envelopment and a sense of reuniting. A face that she could just barely perceive in the warm light, whispering over and over

“Mon amour, ma puce! Je t'aime, ma puce..”

Axelle felt hands on her face, a golden enduring love. Her throat loosened. “Maman…”

A cold burn erupted inside her, like ice beneath her skin it stalled her. Axelle felt the light flicker. Dimming. More of her was returning in equal measure to the light dimming. She felt her muscles return, already struggling as they strained to return to the warmth. She pulled and fought, feeling her tendons snap under the strain. “Non! Laissez moi passer! Non! Non! Manna! Non!”

Darkness faded and fluorescent light replaced the warm glow, pain surging through her body as she blinked and gagged. Her throat unable to continue her protesting. She was on a slab, a pair of lab coats dragging a scalpel down her her thigh. Her skin split neatly as her heart started to pump. Blood spilled out, startling the workers that had been doing her autopsy. The pain forcing her body up, as she started retching.

Guards began flooding in, surrounding her. She couldn’t even react, just falling to the floor. Her hands slipped on the tile, coated with blood and bile. The guards looked at themselves, tentatively grabbing her and dragging her back to her unit. She looked down at the trail of blood, janitors following her, cleaning up as they went.

The world flickered back to a red reality as Axelle looked over her shoulder at the trail she was leaving with Yalena’s body. The patterns not dissimilar. She didn’t feel the gold anymore. She didn’t feel much of anything anymore.

The scarecrow appeared down the hall from where she was, navigating away from the false trails. He must have gotten the memo as the Hound was draped over his shoulders. She looked away, eyes back down the escape tunnel. With a free hand she gestured to him, go ahead. She didn’t need the scarecrow leaving footprints in wolf blood for the ICA to follow. At least not yet. She’d start trapping her path as soon as they reached the silo.

A strand of hair detached from the corpses scalp, The Undying readjusting her grip with a sharp yank as she continued her inexhaustible march onward.

CHUUYAS_HAT CHUUYAS_HAT
 
Location
The safehouse in Prague

Outfit
Here

Characters
Camilla, Axelle

Sera (057)
While Camilla shouted orders at Kyomu, Sera squatted down by the dead soldier Camilla had pointed out and took several pictures of what remained of his face and body before rooting through his pockets and taking pictures of his ICA badge before dropping it back onto his body. She knew cards like this could sometimes carry a small chip that could be tracked with advanced enough technology. Then she quickly swiped away the blood trail leading to the staircase before shutting it just enough so it looked closed, but could still be accessed by the motley crew of ex-agents. She grabbed the duffel Camilla threw onto the desk and started stuffing it with the shiniest gadgets she could find, hoping that shinier meant newer and most useful along with any cash she found while ransacking.

She laughed quietly to herself while Camilla faked her panicked breakdown, tilting her head at the radio Camilla had handed her and smiled as she turned it on and tuned it to the short-wave station their attackers were on. After hearing a full sentence from anyone she could replicate their voice perfectly along with their manner of speaking with a 99% success rate. It would be too easy to lure them off one, two, or even three by one and slide a dagger straight through their larynx to ensure their silence and then out through their carotid artery.

She snapped out of her thoughts as Camilla started briefing her on the situation, their group's current state, and likely plans. Axelle had looked at her strangely earlier, definitely had been a good idea to reveal herself when she had, as any later probably would have ended with her neck broken. Silas... she was not too close to begin with, but she had a vague idea of how he operated... well at least how he operated when not in his (as Camilla described it) "fragile state." Kyo was grabbing the bitch and would soon be out of melee range, she had no clue where Boone or Conrad were, but hoped she wouldn't run into them. Working with a team on the field is always difficult when stealth is your main asset.

After stuffing Camilla's bag as full as she could, Sera positioned it under her own bag, which had been specially made to carry her gear with the same material as her suit, for easiest concealment when carrying equipment. After which, Sera took one of her knives in one hand and the radio in the other and slipped out of the building into a dark alley to bait and eliminate the group's would-be captors.
coded by reveriee.
 


Conrad Adler






























  • mood


    no time to grieve. focused.














BANG! BANG! BANG!

The sharp, deafening cracks of gunfire tore through the quiet like a jagged blade followed by the shattering of glass and the unmistakable thud of a body hitting the floor. Conrad’s body reacted before his mind could fully register the sound—he was upright in an instant, reaching for his gear. He could feel the pounding in his chest, the rush of adrenaline setting his senses ablaze. Gunshots meant one thing—trouble had found them. The ICA had found them.

"Help them! Please!" Maera’s voice pleaded, ragged, desperate.

“Shit shit shit…” Conrad muttered under his breath, lacing up his boots with swift fingers. The sharpshooter rose to his feet in a fluid motion, slipping the shoulder holsters over his back and clipping the buckle into place before doing the same with his jacket. There was no time to slip into his tactical gear; the leather jacket would have to suffice in lieu of a bulletproof vest.

He only paused long enough to reach for his oversized duffle bag, ripping open the zipper to unveil the stash of weapons and equipment inside. Operatives would be descending upon them any minute now, and a sniper rifle was no good for close range. No, his sidearms and a simple bolt-action rifle would have to suffice for now. He slung the rifle over his shoulder, quickly zipping the bag back up and hauling it with him. He’d leave it by the bookshelf’s emergency exit to grab on his way out.

As Conrad opened the door and stepped out into the dimly lit hallway, the sharp scent of blood and gunpowder hit him. His icy gaze swept over the apartment, quickly piecing together the aftermath of the initial attack. Shattered glass littered the floor, reflecting the eerie red glow of the emergency lights Camilla had activated. The air was thick with tension, the kind that crackled like a live wire, ready to explode at any moment. It was pure chaos. And in the middle of it all, Yelena lay on the floor, her body still and pale, a pool of blood spreading beneath her.

Conrad stared at her body, his face carefully composed into a mask of neutrality. He couldn’t stop to process the grief or the anger swelling in his chest. His mind compartmentalized the loss, shutting down that part of him that wanted to scream in frustration. He'd revisit this later, maybe drown it in bourbon like so many other regrets. For now, action was all that mattered.

Ignoring the urge to rush to Yelena's side Conrad tossed his bag by the bookshelf and drew his rifle, its weight familiar and comforting in his hands. He glanced back over his shoulder at the chaos of the apartment, his eyes finding Camilla’s familiar ones through it all.

“I need to go back Silas up. I know I can trust you to have things handled here.” He gave the genius a small smile, but it was devoid of the warmth his golden retriever self normally had. No, he was in operative mode. All steady, remorseless killer.

Without waiting for acknowledgement, Conrad made his way toward the window, pausing only briefly as he glanced down at the street below. The enemy agents were swarming, tactical gear gleaming under the dim streetlights, moving with the precision of trained killers. He spotted Silas, already in the midst of the fight, moving with deadly efficiency, but Conrad saw the raw edge to his movements. Silas wasn’t just fighting—he was on the warpath.

Conrad’s breathing slowed, his body falling into the familiar rhythm of focus. He drew his rifle, the weight of it comforting in his hand, and lined up his shot. His instincts kicked in, his finger curling around the trigger. One of the agents was closing in on Silas, unaware of Conrad’s position. With a steady breath, Conrad fired. The shot rang out, precise and clean, catching the agent in the side of the neck. The man crumpled instantly, blood spraying across the street as he fell. Another agent pivoted toward the sound of the shot, but Conrad was already moving, his second shot finding its mark before the man could even raise his weapon.

Silas might have been out for revenge, but Conrad would make sure they both survived to finish this.

Immediate threats neutralized, the sniper slipped down the steps and out the front door, slinging the rifle back over his shoulder in favor of dual wielding a pair of modified SIG Sauer P226’s. Silas was already on the move again, at a full sprint Conrad couldn’t hope to match. He cursed under his breath, hauling ass to try and keep up with the other man.

"Silas!" Conrad called out, his voice steady despite the chaos. "We need to fall back. Camilla’s setting up the evac! We don't have time for this.”

But Silas’s eyes were locked on the rooftops, his body coiled with a deadly tension that Conrad knew all too well. Silas was hunting now, his mind consumed with the need for revenge. Conrad cursed under his breath, but he would have the Soldier’s back regardless.

As they moved through the alleyways, Conrad kept his gun raised, his eyes and ears tuned to every sound. The adrenaline coursing through his veins sharpened his senses, his training kicking in like second nature. They were in the thick of it now, but Conrad had been in worse situations before. They would get out of this—he would make sure of it.

























take me out


franz ferdinand







♡coded by uxie♡
 
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