Sarah Tintagyl Posted November 13, 2009 Report Share Posted November 13, 2009 William Aloin looked down from his position on top of the grand balcony that looked down over the stage of the theatre below. It was a beautiful sight, the symphony had already begun to play the overture from the opera Carmen and the characters had begun to take the stage. He had never paid attention to opera or drama before, but over the past two weeks he had attended every show that Tintagyl Theatre had to offer and in that time had learned to love just how beautiful the music truly was. Beethoven's symphonies, a few Greek dramas that had been set to music, modern plays and musicals that detailed the histories of the world, but his favorite was Carmen by Bizet and he figured that this was just the type of overture whose beautiful music should accompany the fireworks in store for tonight. Tonight, he thought, Brisbane would burn. As the music grew in grandeur he only laughed. The world called them Tintagylians, but that showed how much the world actually knew about them and how much the world actually cared about Australia and the Hansa in general. For William and those above his peonage, the past decade and more was nothing but failure. Indeed it had been failure after failure, first a problem with nuclear cobalt by rogue Ubersteinian agents, then the destruction of Helsinki, a failed Empire, and right when the Hansa was about to be returned to their European roots, it was snatched away from them and the world was bathed in flames, Brisbane naturally could never have been spared from that. But just as things seemed to be turning in their favor, William's leaders that is, Queensland and New Anglica had emerged and their labeling of these 'freedom fighters' as a Cult. After that, their second worst nightmare became a reality, the Commonwealth returned. The second worst nightmare because the worst nightmare was still sulking to herself somewhere in the Indian Ocean. But there was a way to fix even the worst scenarios and that was through fear. While Hannah Asgeirsson had essentially disbanded the Diet, the Diet had never had real power another showing that the world was stupid. Couldn't anyone tell that their Princess had supreme power over the Hansa? Couldn't they see through the facade of beauty and sex that this was only a vile dictator? Thinking about it only made him angrier as he reached into his pocket and took out a small trigger, it would change here and now. Over the last two weeks as he had acquainted himself with the beauty of opera and music, he and an number of men had rigged the symphony hall with pounds and pounds of explosives and after the button was pressed, a disaster beyond the government's imagination would occur. He chuckled to himself, it was a line from La Phantome de L'Opera, he had been integrated more than he had first imagined. Slowly his thumb neared the trigger, closer...closer...closer...closer...until the skin touched the smooth black surface of the button, he...screamed. "What the hell!" William screamed as she flung his hand back in pain, the trigger falling to the marble floor of the balcony. Embedded in his hand was a blade, no larger than a letter opener, but sharp as a bayonet, with a sapphire tip on the end. He looked up in anger at the other side of the balcony as a black figure stared back. Slowly the figure began to cross around the edge of balcony, it was dressed in a black frock coat of years long past, the Industrial Age, perhaps the Enlightenment or further. But there was no time to deal with this, William jumped back towards the trigger, but the spectre broke into a run towards him and as he bent over towards the trigger, he received a heavy kick from the figure's black boot. William hit the ground hard, having missed the trigger and now he was mad. Reaching down he took out a switchblade from his belt and thrust towards the figure. It ran across the frock coat hitting skin just above the stomach. The figure grunted and held its torso in pain as the blood began running down. It grunted its stupidity for not predicting this move, but things had hurt much worse than this, much much worse. Flinging back its cloak, the spectre had its own weapon, a saber of the Lillian Guard, just as decorated as the knife that it had thrown. Unsheathing the sword the figure charged ahead, William parried, and the sounds of metal clanging together echoed behind the sounds of the melody below. The figure swung steady at him, keeping a distance between the length of the saber and the knife, making sure to keep the advantage. William was much more wild with his attacks, every chance he got he charged forward trying to plant his knife into the black figure's heart. But at one change, the figure dropped the saber against the ground and grabbed Williams hand while kicking him hard in the crotch. He cried out in pain as the knife dropped from his hand. The figure pushed him against the railing of the balcony, over the stage as he looked up into its face, covered by a shroud. "You're one of Asgeirsson's agents aren't you? Who tipped you off?" The figure shook its head and lifted him up, teetering above the rail. "I said who tipped you off? Can't you speak?" He yelled back angrily. "Piruilla ei ole vapautta puhua maassani. Said the spectre in Finnish. (Devils do not have freedom to speak in my country). As the figure let go of Williams body and he began to fall towards the stage below. He splatted on the stage to the screams of the chorus girls and the crowd. They looked to the gilded ceiling, but nothing was there. In the morning the paper would say that it had been a suicide. Much to the amusement of a particular reader, but death of this kind was nothing more than regular now. If blood could show after death, her beautiful white hands would be anything but white. But was that not a baptism of fire, come ten years too late? Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Subtleknifewielder Posted November 13, 2009 Report Share Posted November 13, 2009 OOC: As usual, Sarah, you continue to impress. Since you say OOC only, I will refrain from commenting IC. Not that I would be able to anyway, the way you handled it. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
karthikking Posted November 13, 2009 Report Share Posted November 13, 2009 OOC:was a marvelous read, good job Sarah. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Razgriz 2K9 Posted November 13, 2009 Report Share Posted November 13, 2009 OOC: Excellent work Sarah Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Sarah Tintagyl Posted November 13, 2009 Author Report Share Posted November 13, 2009 (edited) So this was Brisbane. She had been sitting on the top of the newly constructed Hanseatic Stock Exchange looking out over the Pacific Ocean in the distance as a bright son rose over head, majesty could not even begin to describe the sheer beauty that ran across her eyes. In hindsight, she should have known that the city was going to change a great deal since the Fall and of course after that the subsequent nuclear explosion. Looking below, down tens of stories to the streets of the cultural district below, the roads were already crowded with tens of thousands of people on their way to work in the Hanseatic Capital. They had been through so much, she had, the man just entering the stock exchange had, the young single mother taking her child to daycare had, maybe that was what made them so strong of a people, the Hanseatics always had the ability to press on, no matter what the circumstances were. The girl looked to her side and shook her head, an elderly man lay dead next to her, a pristine blade of steel with a sapphire handle at the top stuck out from his chest. It was a shame that he had taken that route, but embezziling money from honest Hanseatic businesses to fund the 'Tintagylist' operations was going to land him jail time after she had been done interrogating him. He hadn't been cooperative, he had tried to escape, and then he had pulled a gun on her. That was when he had to die, but no one ever really came up to the roof of the Exchange so by the time they found him, she'd be gone. The girl sighed looked down at the city, it was a never ending cycle it seemed, every time the Hansa seemed to get ahead, someone was there to bash it back down and if not internationally, then internally. It wasn't that Hannah was doing a bad job as Potentate, in fact, she was just what the Hansa needed, but she was doing it wrong. The world was ripe for a return, the world was ripe for a new order, but first, the enemies of the Ancien Regime had to be crushed. "Its been too long Josef. Far too long." She said into the sun. "You wanted me strung up on a poll and you almost had it. Why didn't you take the chance?" She stood up and let the morning ocean breeze run through her hair, lifting her arms and taking in the energy of the sun. Finally turning, she went back down the elevator shaft leaving the dead businessman on the roof, on his persona, one million Hanseatic Marks taken illegally through investors. The girl walked out onto the streets of Brisbane and began the long trek across the city to the western outskirts, crossing down familiar roads and avenues towards a single street lined on one side with a large red brick wall, ivy growing up and down the sides, while trees crawled over the top of the wall. Soon, the brick lead to a large black gate, emblazoned with a large "S" and "T" on the front of the iron barrier. It wasn't the same gate, this particular home had suffered massive damage during the episode with Dranagg and a great amount of it had to be rebuilt, though the architects had done a fantastic job at the recreation. However, even though the home itself had been damaged, she wasn't here for nostalgia...well no, that would be a lie, but a different type of nostalgia. Solidor Manor was nothing more than a well kept relic at the moment, and was lightly guarded from the outside. The girl walked back around to the side and finding where the wall was a bit lower, she jumped up and brought herself up to the ledge, crossing to the other side of the compound. After this it was just a quick run across the finely cut lawn and gardens to a small building in the back which had remained closed after the fall. The first code to the building was public, but the further in she went, the closer she came to the steel door that only she knew the code for. The number pad beeped as she pressed the numbers and the doors opened into a light, the girl smiled wickedly at what lay in front of her. Shut up and drive Taking a key off the wall, at the press of a button the car opened up and sprang to life. "I know. I'm happy to see you too baby." The girl jumped into the car and grabbed the wheel and pushed down the gas pedal. The car roared as the engine flexed its muscles while the girl took in the ecstasy that just came from gripping the wheel and the leather against her back. There was only one way to travel and that was to travel in style. The guards in Solidor Manor would only be able to report to their superiors that one of the most prized possessions of Solidor Manor, escaped? It was going to be a long day. That night, the white lights of the Lamborghini Diablo pulled up to the edge of the dock warehouses in Brisbane harbor. It wasn't often that such a nice car would be caught along the riff-raff which hung around the harbor late at night. As the car shut itself off and the doors sprang open, a group of thugs, which in this section of the harbor probably worked or had their bills paid by the 'Tintagylists'. Out of the car stepped the black spectre and as soon as its silhouette was outlined by the orange lights of the harbor, the thugs began to make their assault. "You know this is private property right. Some rich-$@! punk like you doesn't need to be down here. Unless you want to get yourself hurt." "Nah I think he already wants to get hurt Mike, he wouldn't have come down here unless he wanted to get hurt." "You know what. I think you're right Glen." Mike stared at the figure. "Is that it? You want to get yourself hurt, cause I really like that car you drive. So I think you're going to have fun sleeping at the bottom of the harbor tonight." Mike had silver teeth. There were four of them. One had a short steel rod in his hand, the others most likely had knives and were probably good at what they were paid to do. Murder. The figure was also good at murder, but they didn't know that and so it was better to just stay silent. The place where the figure was heading towards was a warehouse down the road, if these idiots wanted to get in its way, so be it. It just kept walking, heading right between the thugs before Mike spoke back up. "Hey! I was talking to you! Learn some !@#$@#$ respect!" Mike, who also had the lead pipe took a swing and the spectre's hand caught it right before it slammed into its face. Mike stood in awe as the next think he felt was a sharp pain driving into his stomach. The sapphire blade had found its mark again. It didn't take long from this point that everyone else jumped down onto the figure, but this is where the saber could come into a bit of use. Spinning like a top, the figure kept the thugs at a distance as Mike fell back towards the ground, but defense wasn't going to get the thugs out of its way and as they flung themselves on the figure, they were met with a flurry of punches to the face, along with a hilt crashing down on their heads. The silver hand guard that had its first taste of blood in a long time bashed against their skulls as hard as it could sending them to the ground, after that it was just a quick stab between they were down and the figure could move on. But as soon as the three other thugs were taken down, the black spectre looked up to see a gun staring back and a grin on Mike's face. "Yeah, its like a big $%&@ you to the face." The figure jumped forward in a quick effort to dodge the bullet but as the gun went off, blood splattered out of it palm onto the ground, leaving its right hand completely immovable. But the next move, didn't require the right hand, as it dug its left hand into Mike's neck and held him their, squeezing tightly. "Yeah." Said a feminine voice from behind the shroud. "Its like a big $%&@ you to the face." And pulled out her own gun and dropped him to the floor, the life just leaving his eyes. The echoing of her boots heading to the warehouse was the last thing Mike could hear in the night. Edited November 13, 2009 by Sarah Tintagyl Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Angela Spencer Posted November 14, 2009 Report Share Posted November 14, 2009 OOC: Was the car put after my soldiers left? I did sack the house. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Sarah Tintagyl Posted November 14, 2009 Author Report Share Posted November 14, 2009 OOC: Was the car put after my soldiers left? I did sack the house. OOC: Hence why it was buried deep within the outer parts of the complex...they never found it. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Angela Spencer Posted November 14, 2009 Report Share Posted November 14, 2009 OOC: Hence why it was buried deep within the outer parts of the complex...they never found it. OOC: Since I would have had all the blueprints to the complex, I would have found it. But whatever, on with your RP. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Silhouette Posted November 14, 2009 Report Share Posted November 14, 2009 OOC: Well, you know, I really doubt that's something anyone would leave lying around. Seems like the sort of thing Sarah would have had burned... Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Sarah Tintagyl Posted November 14, 2009 Author Report Share Posted November 14, 2009 (edited) OOC: Well, you know, I really doubt that's something anyone would leave lying around. Seems like the sort of thing Sarah would have had burned... OOC: nvm. Edited November 14, 2009 by Sarah Tintagyl Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Sarah Tintagyl Posted November 14, 2009 Author Report Share Posted November 14, 2009 The figure continued to walk through the abandoned streets of the lower harbor in Brisbane. A night fog slowly had begun to creep from the warm air out of the Ocean, meeting the cooler air from the mainland. Every step that the figure took was into a white and gray nothingness, a fog so thick that she could cut it with the bloody sapphire crested knife. The corrupt stock broker, before he died, had listened pretty well where Josef Hok's operations were taking place and to be honest, the figure expected better surroundings for someone like the Council Merchant, maybe not a palace, but something a bit more flamboyant than this. At the end of the open corridor lay a large container, probably once used for shipping coal, or iron ore, maybe at the very most large quantities of fruit or food. It was a large container, thick steel sides and a huge padlock on the front, which brought the figure to her first problem, getting through the padlock. Removing her shroud, the girl reached up into her hair and took out one of the small bobby-pins holding a tuft of her blonde hair in place. During her time in the Imperial Union, the girl had become a master lock picker as with her training in the special operations divisions, though the secrets of a terrorist were always well hidden in that regard. The girl sat for a good seven or eight minutes, fiddling around with the mechanical sounds in her head before the sounds clicked and the lock broke open. Throwing the padlock off to the side, the girl yanked on the handle to open the container as the world of an old arch-nemesis opened up to her. The container was absent of people, but on the other hand, desks, tables, and chairs were covered with papers, marks, and weapons. It was more of an information cache or even a weapons cache than a headquarters. Flipping on a light, the girl walked over to the center table, looking down at the papers in front of her. There were blue prints, there were letters, letters to the previous Queenlander government, to the New Anglican Protectorate and more states who could have been termed enemies of the Commonwealth. After Hok, there was a lot of work to still be done, the figure laughed. But her laughter was cut off as she stared down at a few of the other prints in the container. "Apophis." The figure held her mouth, there was a larger insurrection here and with the Diet out of power they had turned to Hok to bring their pseudo-republic back into order. She sighed thinking of the consequences, in truth, she had been going to and from the Hansa for the past year. In that time, she had continued to change into a new being. The blood of the guilty had always been on her fingers and running down her arms, it was something she had learned to accept, it was what had changed her through a relatively short life filled with grief. "What are you doing Josef. What are you trying to do with my country?" "Hey!" The sound of another voice and a large man looking into the container. "You're not allowed to be here this container is private property." "You mind telling me who owns it?" Said the girl. "None of your damn business." He took out a gun and aimed it towards her. "Cute thing like you, earns a pretty mark." "You don't say?" The figure raised her head and looked at the man, the light illuminating her pale features as the man dropped his gun. "No...you're S-S-Sar..." A gun shot went off and the man dropped to the ground. "In the flesh." She smiled and walked out of the container. The wolves were on the move and had to be killed before it was too late. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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