Ahren is right though.
It's definately like Yoda said, "Do or Do Not, there is no try."
Personally, I'm going to take the less popular road and ask why she's being kept in the Hero biz, and if she really needs to be a Hero, why keep with the lethal implements? I get that she needs to be trained to protect herself in case this prophecy comes to pass, but it's clear she's not the killing type, and keeping her on this path is trying to make her become one. There's a dozen different Naturally aligned ways for her to non-lethally continue as a hero, and that's not even getting into the different effects she could potentially produce with her magic. And she can still train with the knives in her off time, she'd just be training without, y'know, killing people.
The Abrams is one of the most effective war machines on the planet. - R. Lee Ermy.
Q: How do you wreck an Abrams?
A: You crash into another one.
Quote:
Interesting points, and I see what you're saying except for one thing: She has no choice how she fights - the blades manifest magically, and there's been at least one case where she was unable to dismiss them when she wanted to. They aren't weapons she picks up and puts down at will.|
Originally Posted by M_I_Abrahms
Personally, I'm going to take the less popular road and ask why she's being kept in the Hero biz, and if she really needs to be a Hero, why keep with the lethal implements? I get that she needs to be trained to protect herself in case this prophecy comes to pass, but it's clear she's not the killing type, and keeping her on this path is trying to make her become one. There's a dozen different Naturally aligned ways for her to non-lethally continue as a hero, and that's not even getting into the different effects she could potentially produce with her magic. And she can still train with the knives in her off time, she'd just be training without, y'know, killing people.
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The question of whether someone with her mindset should be out there "heroing" at all is a valid one, but the WAY she fights... that's not a choice she has.
Quote:
Yeah, I think it's make or break time for Cerise. Girl gotta step up or step away.|
Originally Posted by Red Valkyrja
You just want to smack some sense into that girl.
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Nice work with Cerise and Ahren... the frustration really came through
Quote:
I guess I missed that part. Still, though if she's not comfortable using lethal force, I don't think she should be pushed into it. Being a Hero is a rough life, when you really look at it. It wouldn't be a bad thing if she realized that it wasn't the life for her.
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Originally Posted by Sooner
Interesting points, and I see what you're saying except for one thing: She has no choice how she fights - the blades manifest magically, and there's been at least one case where she was unable to dismiss them when she wanted to. They aren't weapons she picks up and puts down at will.
The question of whether someone with her mindset should be out there "heroing" at all is a valid one, but the WAY she fights... that's not a choice she has. |
The Abrams is one of the most effective war machines on the planet. - R. Lee Ermy.
Q: How do you wreck an Abrams?
A: You crash into another one.
Quote:
Here you touch on the core of Ahren's point to her, make up your mind: Be a Hero or don't, but pick one. Like soldiers, police officers, protective services, and others who deal with life and death situations in the course of their job/duties, the Heroes we create, play, and write about have to make hard decisions. The weight of said decisions makes the responsibility all the greater, but ultimately they have to choose a course of action, act on it, and deal with the consequences later. Again, I agree completely that Cerise is in an exceedingly difficult situation, nevertheless she must choose her path and find a way to deal with the consequences that come with it. Not everyone rushes toward the sound of trouble, most people run away from a burning building, every day people look the other way when someone else is in danger... as I see it, the Hero is the one who plants their foot and turns to run toward the danger in spite of their fear.
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Originally Posted by M_I_Abrahms
Being a Hero is a rough life, when you really look at it. It wouldn't be a bad thing if she realized that it wasn't the life for her.
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The thing is, she really doesn't have a choice. She can choose to follow in her sisters footsteps and become a hero, or not.
But with the knowledge of her families history, eventually it's like going to come down to 'Fight or Die' when this generation has to deal with The Beast.
Part XXVIII
The Ghosts Reborn Base
Ahren’s eyes widened with surprise. He’d expected tears from her. He’d anticipated a young woman’s emotional display, maybe even a child’s tantrum, but this was so much deeper and raw. He had planned to roughly dismiss the tears when they came, but this.... this was not the shallow display he'd expected. His young partner was revealing a wound that went to her soul and he made the switch in roles instantly. He was known as The Teacher to the Ghosts, for many reasons. He had the ability to be a patient mentor, a stern taskmaster, or a trustworthy counselor.
He shifted position from crouching in front of her to leaning forward, resting on one knee. He reached out one hand, not to touch her, but to rest it on the chair next to her, to let her know it was there if she needed it. His expression was calm and attentive, and he cocked his head slightly to let her know he was listening. He didn't speak - nothing he said would be heard at that moment anyway - he just waited. Quiet, still, and listening, he waited.
She lifted her eyes to him, shiny green eyes, rimmed in red, still choking on sobs. For a moment she just gasped for air, then the story poured out of her like a torrent, a swirling storm with images of ancient pacts, demons, sisters, and the ghost of a long dead ancestor appearing with glowing red magical blades. And at the end, a prophecy of death for her, doom for her entire family, and too many questions still unanswered. And he realized in a sudden flash of insight that it wasn’t that she lacked the heart to do what she had to do in a fight, it was that she was fighting every step of the way the destiny that lead to tragedy for three women he cared about, and their entire family line. Ahren took it all in, nodding and murmuring encouragement as she spoke.
When she was done, Ahren stood, and offered her his hands to help her up. "You're not alone in this, Cerise," he said. "You're not, and your sisters aren't. You're one of the Ghosts Reborn, you are not alone."
Later that night, Ahren settled into his quiet workspace. He’d escorted Sooner Red back to her room in the base and left her with instructions to sleep. Then he’d stopped by the Ghosts’ library and selected a stack of thick, dusty books. He slid the books onto the corner of his desk where they joined a computer, a legal pad, pens, pencils, and highlighters in a cup, and a pad of sticky notes. Before spending three lifetimes as a hero in Paragon City, Ahren had been a teacher of history. And before that, he’d started on a path he still walked today - a student of history. While his own preference was American Military History, the basic principles for any area of historical study were the same: research and read between the lines.
He selected the first heavy book and, with reverence due to it’s age, opened the cover. Before delving into the book, he checked the list written in his neat, efficient hand on the first page of the legal pad:
1 Family Flynn / ó FloinnThen he began to read.
- follow maternal line?2 Binding magic / breaking of
3 sisters / three sisters / daughters
4 Beast? = demon?--Conall Cian?5 Demons, killing of
Cerise lay in bed staring up at the ceiling. She was emotionally drained and mortified by the way she’d behaved with Ahren. Both her sisters adored him, and, honestly, she felt the same. She hated the idea of letting him down, but the look in his eyes earlier that day had been even worse than disappointment.
With a resigned sigh, she swung out of bed and pulled a long cardigan on over her pajama pants and skimpy tank top. She padded in her socks down the long, industrial grey hall to the Ghosts’ kitchen. Milk and cookies, she thought. She needed milk and cookies.
The enormous kitchen could have been at home in a large hotel, all shiny stainless steel and gleaming white tile. After a brief search, she found a stash of chocolate chip cookies, and indulged herself by placing three of them on a saucer, then filling a tall glass with milk and settling down at the nearby table. She never bothered turning on the lights, she just sat in the dim light cast in through the doorway as she bit into the first crispy bite. She closed her eyes to fully enjoy the chocolate, but she was interrupted by the sound of someone moving toward the kitchen.
She blinked in the sudden light when Six-Four swung into the room and flicked on the overheads. He glanced at her, nodded, and muttered a perfunctory, “How’s it goin, kid?” He tossed a folder onto the table and strode to the refrigerator. He dug around in the freezer before grabbing a bag of frozen peas and applying it to his face.
The tall, rough man flustered and intimidated the normally irrepressible Cerise. She drew in on herself, though her attention was caught by the papers that had scattered out of the folder - drawings and photographs of that Hellions symbol that seemed to interest both Six and Ahren so much - the black hand over-writing the goat's head normally there.
On this night, Six-Four's blue on white Ghosts Reborn uniform was torn and bloody and his face was marred by swelling and spectacular black, blue, purple, and red sunbursts of bruising. Through the damage to his uniform she could see cuts, bruises and burns. Knowing how remarkably fast the man could heal, for him to still have that much damage showing, he must have taken quite a beating.
“Oh... wow! Are you ok?” she burst out.
He pulled the bag of peas away from his face, poked experimentally at his cheekbone, winced, and replaced the frozen bag. “I will be. One of those damn Titan robots got frisky with me. I ****** hate robots.” His gaze flicked her plate. “Where’d you score the cookies?”
Cerise pointed to the incongruously cheerful bear cookie jar on the counter, and was a bit dismayed when Six-Four piled cookies onto a saucer of his own and sat down at the table with her, roughly shoving his scattered papers back into the folder. She’d heard many stories about Six-Four. Not all of them good stories. In fact, if someone did say something good about him, it was usually referring to his determination or his skill with blades. Despite everything, she still found him fascinating - like a deadly snake.
“I’m not gonna bite you, kid,” Six announced suddenly, and she realized she’d been staring.
“I know, I’m sorry, I... ah...” she stumbled over her words, then realized her cardigan had fallen open. She blushed and pulled it closed over her tank.
Six’s face darkened for just a second, then he pushed his chair back. “It’s ok. I’ll just go.”
“No, no... I’m sorry.” Cerise said, then met his eyes, “Really, I’m sorry. Please stay. Can I ask you a question?”
Six pulled the bag away from his face again. The swelling was gone, and the bruising had faded to dull yellow and green. He set the bag aside and pulled his chair back to the table. “Sure,” he said. “Shoot.”
She swallowed nervously, then blurted out, “Have you ever killed a person?”
Several expressions crossed Six’s face all at once, then his face cleared to an blank mask. “You know I used to be a soldier, right?”
“Well, ya, I guess. But I mean... as a Hero?”
Six picked up a cookie, looked it over as if trying to find just the perfect spot. He bit into it, chewed, swallowed, then looked back up at Cerise. “As far as I’m concerned, as soon as some ******* decides to start hurting others, stealing from them, experimenting on them... they have given up their fundamental right to freedom and deserve to rot in prison.” He took another bite of cookie. “But when they start taking lives, when they come into my home, my city, and make life cheap, they have given up their right to continue breathing. And if the only way to stop them is to kill them, damn right I will.”
Cerise almost let the conversation end there, but... “Ya, but HAVE you?”
Six cocked his head at her, “What do you think, kid?”
She nodded, “And you’re ok with that?”
He grabbed the remaining cookies in one big hand and shoved away from the table. He picked up the bag of peas in his other hand, pulled open the freezer with the pinky of that hand, and tossed the bag back in. He moved like a hunting cat back across the tile and leaned onto the table, ducking his head to look into her face. She froze, staring into his fiery blue eyes so close to hers. “Cerise.... I sleep like a baby. I wouldn’t loose a minute of sleep over the lives of some of the denizens of this city.” He straightened up, tucking the folder under his arm. “And you shouldn’t either.”
Without a backward glance, Six-Four strode out of the kitchen and out of her sight.
She thoughtfully finished her cookie, drained the last of her milk, and made her way back to bed.
Hahahahahhaahahha!
You write Six so very well.
Quote:
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Originally Posted by Sooner
Have you ever killed a person?
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Quote:
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Originally Posted by Sooner
"I sleep like a baby. I wouldnt loose a minute of sleep over the lives of some of the denizens of this city. ... And you shouldnt either.
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"Goodbye, Jean-Luc. I'm gonna miss you... you had such potential. But then again, all good things must come to an end..." -- Q
THAT was a great exchange!
Quote:
On so many levels. Now Ahren has a clue as to what the sisters were keeping from him.|
Originally Posted by bamaWolfie
THAT was a great exchange!
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And perhaps Cerise's facination with Six-Four now becomes a study in 'harsh realities'.
It's a bouquet of win ! 
Very, very nice how this is all unfolding. Well done indeed !
Part XXIX
The Ghosts Reborn Base
Cerise hadn’t really slept. After her lecture from Ahren and her unsettling conversation with Six-Four, she’d spent the night in thought. The only thing she was REALLY sure about was that she never wanted to disappoint Ahren again. In fact, once she was up and dressed, with her hair fixed and her make-up applied, she decided to seek out her mentor and talk to him.
The Ghost’s base was enormous, and there were any number of places he could be, but she was right with her first guess - the library. However, she hadn’t expected him to already have company. Ahren was standing, arms crossed and a look of concentration on his face, as Rastafari Man spoke.
The green-clad hero leaned casually against a heavy wooden table laden with books and computers, but the expression on his face was urgent. ““Something called 'the Web'... frickin spiders. Anyway, he said I should gather up a crew and try to slow it down, or destroy it. I dunno, He talks, I wander. The point being, you think you can get some Ghosts together to help out? Its gotta be people you know you can count on, we’re going right into Grandville.”
Ahren’s eyes flicked to Cerise, and she could see the question in them.. It made her heart hurt to see the doubt in his face, but she lifted her chin high, met his gaze, and nodded once. An entire conversation flickered between them in just lifted brows and cocked heads, but after just a moment, Ahren nodded. “Sooner Red and I can come along. How many more do you need?”
Now it was Rasta who glanced at Cerise, full of doubt, and Cerise knew he blamed her for his friend getting hurt. “I could buzz Sooner Spirit,” Rasta offered,” Rasta offered.
“Sooner Spirit is busy elsewhere,” Ahren said firmly. “Sooner Red can do the job.”
Cerise nodded, full of determination never to let Ahren down again.
Rasta looked at Ahren, the over to Cerise, and then back Ahren. He took a long draw on his cigar before replying. "Too busy to save the world? Fine, whatever.." Rasta agreed, with perhaps just a hint of reluctance still coloring his voice. “I got four already to go. You two makes six. Oh that's right, he won't let us go unless we have eight, so think you can find another two? ”
Ahren nodded. “I can.”
“Ok, meet us in IP, there's a sub waiting to take us into Grandville. And NO, It's NOT Yellow.”
Grandville
Cerise fought along with some of the most respected heroes in Paragon City as they entered the black, man-made city of Grandville and sought to stop Recluse. Ahren had gone uncharacteristically silent at first, and Cerise wondered if that had to do the results of his previous visits to the Rogue Isles. But then he came back to himself as the assembled heroes put a serious crimp in Recluse’s plans and then captured Arbiter Sands.
They ran roughshod over Aion’s lab, through the heart of Nerva Archipelago, and Aion’s home in Cap Au Diable. Then, it was back to the heart of Lord Recluse’s power. Cerise was nervous and excited as the Longbow ship fought its way to the dock in Grandville. She stood on deck, leaning on the rail with Trickshooter and Major T. Ahren came to stand with them, staring into the city where nature had been banished and black metal decorated with red banners was the world.
He inhaled, then spoke thoughtfully. "A true hero fights not because he hates what's in front of him, but because he loves what's behind him." He stared into Grandville for another moment, then turned. “Everyone set?” he asked, but his eyes were on Cerise.
“Yep,” Trickshooter answered, and Major T followed up with “Good to go.”
“Red?” Ahren asked, “what about you?”
“I’m ready,” she answered with more confidence than she really felt.
“Good. We’ll have to work together, be strong, have each other’s backs. This isn’t JUST Recluse, but his nutjob lieutenants as well. And most of his Arachnos troops, from the look of it. We all need to be at our best here.”
Cerise nodded and looked up at him. “I’m ready.” she said again.
As Ahren walked away, Trickshooter leaned over, “What was THAT about?”
“Don’t ask,” Major T said with a shake of his head. “We don’t want to know.”
Rastafari Man had succeeding in recruiting a team of very experienced and powerful heroes. The massed Arachnos troops proved to be no barrier to them at all and Grandville stood exposed and vulnerable until the team found themselves perched on a vantage point above Ghost Widow, Sirocco, Captain Mako and Black Scorpion.
While Rasta outlined his strategy for dealing with Recluse’s powerful advisors, Cerise leaned in over Ahren’s shoulder. “Are we sure about this?”she whispered.
He nodded. “We’ll be fine. Just follow the plan.” he advised.
“Follow the plan,” she whispered to herself, and glanced down to the goose bumps on her arms and bare legs. She nodded and glanced down at her empty palms, where soon her glowing red blades would appear. “I can do this,” she muttered even more quietly.
The battle against the four powerful villains went by surprisingly quickly. They'd had a real scare against Ghost Widow, but then she fell, and rest after her. It felt completely unreal to Cerise to be standing in the heart of the Arachnos threat, with no one yet able to stop them. She pushed the broken shaft of one of Trickshooter's arrows with a red booted toe, and looked up at the statue of Recluse looming over the city. "Yet..." she thought.
The heroes barely had time to celebrate their hard fought victory over Ghost Widow, Sirocco, Captain Mako, and Black Scorpion before a giant wasp of an Arachnos flyer bore down on them, rockets blazing. Several of the heroes were tossed aside by impact of the initial attack, then they swarmed up and over the black flyer, seeking weak spots in the armor. Rastarari Man let loose with a tremendous electromagnetic pulse, and the flyer shuddered as its electronics shut down. A swarm of Arachnos Banes ejected from its belly, and the team divided its attention between the old threat and the new before Major T managed to hack through an armor panel on the flyer and caused a deadly wound to the fuel system. The team scattered as the flyer twitched, swerved, and then plummeted to the ground to break apart.
"Hustle up people!” Rasta shouted. “According to my brother, there's another Flyer en route and it's ETA is 20 minutes!
The team charged forward, ready to barge into Recluse’s home, when the leader of Arachnos himself came out to meet them. From the black panels at his feet, towers rose into the air, and burst into life. Recluse spoke, “I see that my minions have fallen. Unfortunate, but meaningless. They have served their purpose and delayed you long enough for the Web to become fully active! Now, even the mighty Statesman will bow down before me! Bow down before my POWER! You heroes will not save the world this day. You shall merely be the first sacrifices on this, the altar of my victory!” Each of the towers erupted with light, and Recluse was surrounded by a swirling glow of bright colors.
Rasta and Ahren both held up their hands. “Wait a moment, please,” Ahren requested softly. “Rasta, the towers... that must be ‘the Web.’ It’s empowering him some way.”
Rasta took a moment to light a cigar before nodding in agreement with Ahren. “I just love it when they basically tell us how to defeat them. Let's waste those towers.”
Cerise leaned forward. “He’s not going to stand around while we do that, though.”
“I’ll take care of him,” Major T offered with his normal bravado.
“No, T, that’s my job,” Ahren said firmly. “I’ll keep him busy, you guys concentrate on taking down the towers.”
“But, Ahren... he’ll kill you!” Cerise objected.
“He’ll try. But I’ll have you guys backing me up. And I bet I’ve got a couple moves he hasn’t seen before.
Her months spent partnering with Ahren had taught her not to waste her time arguing with him. She just redoubled her determination to be there, watching his back. Besides, Cyd and Caryn would kill her themselves if she let something happen to him.
A few last minute strategies swirled around the group and then Ahren stood up, tall, strong, confident. He strode into the central square of Grandville on an angle away the team's first target. “Hey! Freak! Let’s dance!” he yelled.
Recluse roared out a challenge and charged towards Ahren. He moved faster than anyone had anticipated, and before anyone could react, one of his spidery legs had slashed savagely across Ahren’s body in a wound that cut deadly deep into his chest and belly. Blood gushed out and flowed over the blue and white of his Ghost Reborn uniform. The fight was nearly over before it started, but Ahren flinched back, concentrated, and the microscopic nanites that gave him his powers closed the gaping wound. Ahren threw a punch that whizzed past Recluse’s helmet, and the battle was underway.
The tower was well protected by thick metal plates of armor. Cerise concentrated on trying to slice through connections and looking for weak spots. The team took turns watching Ahren’s back, which was fortunate because , Recluse was terrifying enough even without the added power from the towers. Ahren was constantly forced back, maneuvering, dodging, and still he was taking a beating. Cerise could see that his powers were barely keeping up under the onslaught and Ahren had given up even trying to attack, he was just trying to stay alive and keep Recluse’s attention. And if Ahren was struggling that hard under Recluse’s attack, the rest of them would be like newborn kittens against him.
She ripped her attention away from Ahren and back to her task when Arachnos repairmen swooped in and started repairing the damage. “Stop them!” Major T shouted, and Cerise redoubled her efforts while the team chased off the repairmen.
Cerise glanced up at Ahren again, and that’s when she saw... something. Just a change in the light, it appeared nothing more than a wisp of smoke, or a shadow, but that shadow was closing in on Ahren. Time slowed to a near stop. It was a Bane, it had to be. She could just barely make out its shape as it lifted its wickedly barbed mace overhead. It was going to hurt Ahren. Ahren was concentrating everything he had on staying alive against Recluse. He was fighting for his life, and all of theirs, and had no room at all to divide his attention. If she even called out a warning to him, that could tip the balance and allow Recluse to kill Ahren. Then the terrifying villian would turn on the rest of the team. No one else saw the Bane. No one else had that split second to act.
She bolted away from the tower, her legs powering her into the air. She saw Ahren’s eyes flick towards her, and even that distraction allowed Recluse to slice Ahren’s face with a wicked claw. She didn’t speak, didn’t cry out a warning, she just flew on the wind of her magic to close on the enemy attempting a coward’s attack on her friend.
There was no time to attempt to disable her enemy, no time at all. She either stopped him, right then, or Ahren and all of them were doomed. Her body twisted to the right as she flew. She slashed, backhand, with her left blade, a shallow cut that sliced through the straps holding the bane’s armor in place. And then a second slash, powering in with her right hand as her body twisted back to the left. Her glowing red blade pierced the bane’s body directly under the sternum, cutting skin and muscle like they were soft butter and then plunging through the diaphragm and into the chest. Her blade sliced through the great vessels of the heart before exiting his body between two ribs. She pulled back, deliberately and ruthlessly twisting her wrist just to make sure as the dead man fell and his blood ran over her hands.
Behind her, the team at the tower erupted into cheers. For just a moment, the timing made Cerise think the cheers were for her, but then the red beam vanished and she realized they had taken out the first tower. Recluse cursed, and Ahren spoke, “You’re goin down, Richter,” he taunted.
Cerise indulged herself in one shuddery breath, then turned and darted back to her team. There were still three more towers. One enemy was dead, but Ahren was alive and fighting and her team was safe. She decided she could live with that bargain.
Quote:
Though protecting what is important to you can be brutal and unpleasant, this quote embodies the most noble reasons to fight.|
Originally Posted by Sooner
"A true hero fights not because he hates what's in front of him, but because he loves what's behind him."
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As for this installment of the story... brutally realistic. Good work.
Quote:
I could have!| Ill take care of him, Major T offered with his normal bravado. |
>.>
<.<
No... Seriously!
Stop laughing
"Goodbye, Jean-Luc. I'm gonna miss you... you had such potential. But then again, all good things must come to an end..." -- Q
I believe ya Major T!
@tiggy
Beware the attack cat
I would love to see a Regen from their hayday face Recluse and the towers, just to see how they'd do.
The Abrams is one of the most effective war machines on the planet. - R. Lee Ermy.
Q: How do you wreck an Abrams?
A: You crash into another one.
Quote:
*chuckles*|
Originally Posted by M_I_Abrahms
I would love to see a Regen from their hayday face Recluse and the towers, just to see how they'd do.
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I think my scrapper is still living in that fantasy world (according to the way Sooner wrote him)
"Goodbye, Jean-Luc. I'm gonna miss you... you had such potential. But then again, all good things must come to an end..." -- Q
Quote:
Darlin.... I write it the way I see it...|
Originally Posted by Major_T
*chuckles*
I think my scrapper is still living in that fantasy world (according to the way Sooner wrote him) |
This was great!!! Knew the girl could do it!
Knew she'd deliver when it mattered most
Excellent as always
Part XXX
Grandville
High above the battle, in the spires of Grandville, Conall Cian lurked with Excruciatrix at his heels, watching and observing, taking it all in. Recluse would recover from the setback the heroes were about to deal him. Besides, Conall still needed Sooner Red and her sisters. His ***** mistress Ciara was growing more powerful by the day, and affecting his own life and his plans more and more as she did. He needed Ciara dead. And he needed the Nation sisters for that. So, he watched.
Little Cerise had grown since hed pulled her *** out of that Carnie house. The raw skill and potential he'd seen months ago was now polished and strong. She'd become every bit as powerful as he'd hoped. He'd had his doubts when he learned she was mentoring under Ahren, but it seemed Ahren had become a battle hardened veteran and Cerise had grown under his tutelage. He watched her smoothly and surgically kill one of Recluses banes just before it struck Ahren. Conall smiled. That was exactly what Ciara needed - some of THAT treatment.
As the battle below continued, he moved down for a better view, waving Trix back. Recluses grand plan depended far too much on the fragile towers, and once they started falling, his plan collapsed with them. He did enjoy watching his little "friend" Cerise fight, though he could see that she was bothered by the blood stains on her gloves. The white of the Ghosts Reborn colors was stained dark red, and he had a suspicion she might just discard that uniform rather than try to clean it. Nonetheless, she kept fighting.
The towers fell, as was predictable, and then Recluse was up against eight of Paragon Citys heroes. He fought hard and well, as he should given his power and experience, but Conall knew from personal and painful lessons of his own, these heroes were determined, powerful, and skilled. They pushed Recluse back and back until he was trapped in one of the myriad dead end passages of his own city. And despite putting up an impressive fight, it was inevitable he would fall.
Then something changed. As a creature of magic himself, he was sensitive to the way it flowed and moved. As a magically bound creature of Ciara Banenighe, he was especially sensitive to the way her magical energies moved. So, at the moment Recluse fell, Conall became aware of a tremendous change in the flow of magical energy. Cerise Nation was suddenly filled with magic. It smashed into her and erupted around her in a glowing corona. She shone brightly with it. But when it faded, Conall noticed that while magic was flowing into her, there was a trickle flowing out as well. And that trickle... went straight to Ciara Banenighes magical prison.
Conall's laugh began as a quiet chuckle. Suddenly, he understood. He understood why Ciara wanted the girls, and he could clearly see how his long servitude could end. Her greed would be her undoing. Ciara wanted the Nation sisters? Oh... he would see to it that she had them. He faded into the shadows and let his laugh roar out. His ***** mistress would die and his enemies would set him free. The daughters ó Floinn would set him free.
The Ghost Reborn Base - Library
Ahren settled back in his chair, letting his eyes adjust and his mind roam free. Why had he never thought to investigate Conall Cian? He hadn't found much, but it was there. First he found the clan ó Floinn, and then he traced it back. It had once been a large and powerful clan but then something split it up. Then he'd found a reference that puzzled him until he realized some translator had been too literal. He battled through a horribly written account of one branch of ó Floinn had been plagued nearly to death by the black death, except sometimes it was referred to as a "black washerwoman." After struggling laboriously through the awkward phrases of the thick book, he'd finally found reference to a "bean nighe," also known as a washer woman, who was a Celtic omen of death. And THAT finally led him to realize he'd been reading a poorly translated name: Ciara Banenighe. Once he had that name, he'd been able to quickly determine that the being known as Ciara Banenighe was almost certainly the beast. And then he'd checked deeper.
It was really just a hunch, but he'd learned over the long and challenging path of his life as a hero in Paragon City that there were very few true coincidences in the life of a hero. Ahren had a large and seriously overdue score to settle with Conall Cian. And now, he learned that the three women that he'd partnered along that path had a problem with a demon of their own. What were the chances those two demons were somehow connected? And he'd found it. References extending back centuries to Ciara Banenighe and her wolf. Sometimes he was called by name, sometimes he was called her attack dog, or her red wolf, and there were some ancient references simply to "the red haired one" that might still be Conall. Ahren wondered how the demon he'd known liked belonging to another.. and suspected Conall liked it not at all.
Ahren left his hand on the book, marking a spot, as he thought. Cerise would be fine. He suspected she'd never feel easy about taking any life - as no hero should. But she seemed to have found that place where she could accept that sometimes there was no choice. She'd discarded her bloodstained uniform as soon as they'd returned home, but otherwise, she'd bounced back nicely. And a few kind words from him, recognizing how important her actions had been to the safety and success of the team made her light up with joy. Yes, she'd be just fine.
And that was important, because he'd found an answer. Or at least part of one. It seemed that Ciara Banenighe, the black washerwoman, could only be killed by the three sisters ó Floinn. The Nation girls would have to go to their own personal demon and then, somehow, the three of them working together could kill Ciara. Of course, it had to happen. From what he'd read, she simply could not be allowed to go free. But still, part of him wondered what it would mean to Ciara's red wolf, Conall Cian, if his mistress died. When they ended one problem, would they make another problem worse? In destroying their own Beast would the three daughters ó Floinn release a worse one?
Ciara Banenighe's Prison
Ciara sat quiet and still on her throne. In the palm of her left hand she held the two red spheres that had gone dark first. Both of them glowed with a sluggish and dim red light. She balanced the third on the tips of the claws of her right hand and stared at it. Her full lips quirked in a smile, her eyes sparkled, but otherwise there was no indication that the final paving stone had been placed on the path that led to her freedom. The third sphere had flared brightly just a day earlier. It had glowed enough to illuminate the entire room, then Ciara had heard an audible snap and it had gone dark. The third sister had finally embraced her full power. The walls of her prison were flimsy like damp tissue paper, and she could travel all the way to the threshold before the barriers stopped her.
But she sat so quietly because she debated within herself. She could sit back and wait. The daughters ó Floinn would die after a natural human lifespan, and when the last of the three died, the pact would die as well. Less than a century more and she would be free. That was a certainty and only required her patience. Or, she could send Conall to kill them. That would be quick. She could be free tomorrow. At worst, she was putting Conall in danger. She wasn't certain she was willing to risk her prized wolf that way. She'd wanted the three girls to embrace their power, and they had. But they were now powerful indeed, and if he happened to come across the three of them together, he was unlikely to win. Conall was a rare prize, and she was reluctant to risk losing him.
Or, there was the third choice. She still wanted the magic of clan ó Floinn. It was a ripe, juicy prize and while the pact was intact, the power was concentrated in the three sisters. If she could bring them to her, she still had the chance to steal that magical source for her own. If she waited until the pact ended naturally, the chance to easily take their family's power would be lost to her. Clan ó Floinn had scattered across the globe since she'd been imprisoned. Could she really be certain of finding all of them? And if she didn't, she would not have that energy. And giving up without that wonderful source of power was a loss she was not willing to accept.
She held up the first sphere and spoke aloud, "The safe path, slow but certain." She held up the second, "The quick path, by which I may lose a valuable asset." She held up the third, turning it so the light swirled around it and fragmented off the flaws within. "The dangerous path, with the greatest risk. If I succeed I can have it all." She studied the cabochon sphere, and nodded. She stood in one quick and smooth motion and stalked to where her captive human waited in his cage.
The young man opened his eyes at her approach. His eyes narrowed a fraction, but then he deliberately looked away and his eyes closed. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. She smiled and her head tipped to the side as she studied him. A very handsome specimen of human male, by their standards. And the relationship between him and the middle daughter ó Floinn meant that he remained of value.
"Take it away," she said abruptly, "I grow bored with it. But," she cautioned her imps. " keep it alive and well. I may yet be able to use it against the daughters ó Floinn"
The young man's eyes opened again, slowly, deep brown eyes over wide, high cheekbones. Those eyes found hers and she smiled. If he'd been a demon, his eyes would have blazed with the anger and defiance held under tight control. Instead, he stared at her, then closed his eyes slowly and deliberately once again, and went still. The only sign of his agitation was a muscle in his jaw bunching under the skin, then relaxing.
Ciara laughed and turned away from her captive human and held the three spheres up to eye level. "You will come to me, and I will take your power, and I WILL be free. Yes... you will come to me, daughters ó Floinn"
Colleen Nation's Home
Colleen turned the small package over and over in her hands. It had traveled all the way from Ireland to arrive at her home on that sunny afternoon. Normally she'd be delighted to get a card or package from her overseas family, but this one... made her nervous. She lifted her gaze to the window and allowed herself a moment to long for the days when her late husband Daniel was alive and with her, and her daughters were little. When things seemed so simple, and so much less frightening.
She carefully cut through the tape on the heavy cardboard box. A folded square of stationary lay on top. Colleen recognized her Gran's writing, and her tension ratcheted up another notch as she read.
Dear Colleen,Collen set the note aside and removed a carved wooden box from the package. The small cube of wood felt heavy with age. It was covered with intricate knotwork in an astonishingly tiny pattern. It may well have been some craftsman's masterwork, the detail was so exquisite. She ran her fingers over the smooth dark wood, strangely afraid to open it. With a resolute sigh, she lifted the lid and cocked her head with surprise. Inside was a narrow gold ring set with three red stones. The knotwork on the box had obviously been inspired by the even more delicate design covering the band. She studied the ring without touching it. There was strength there in that narrow band. Her nerves let go as soon as she saw it. She began to believe - for the first time since she felt her oldest daughter start drawing magic - that things would be okay.
I looked back into the family history as you asked, and there may be hope for us all yet, if your daughters are strong enough. There is more to the legend, as you suspected. It seems that the beast cannot be killed while the pact remains. But if I understand what I read, it may be that if this item is brought into the presence of the beast by your daughters - the three daughters ó Floinn, the beast may somehow be made vulnerable. I wish I knew more. All our lives depend on your girls.
Love,
Gran
Unconsciously and under her breath, she began to sing the chorus of the legend, "Celach the strong, Cahan the swift, Carra the fair, the magical daughters ó Floinn," over and over again.
She lifted the ring out of the box between her thumb and index fingers, not at all surprised by the spark of magic that flared at her touch. "I know you're not for me," she spoke aloud, "but for now, you can stay with me." She slid the ring onto the ring finger of her right hand, and felt the magic that lived in that ancient piece of metal reach out to her, take her measure, and then accept her. It settled onto the base of her finger, and Colleen could have sworn she felt it fit itself to her. She lifted her hand and studied the three red stones. "Cydney, Caryn, and Cerise," she said aloud, "the magical daughters ó Floinn"
End Book I
"Goodbye, Jean-Luc. I'm gonna miss you... you had such potential. But then again, all good things must come to an end..." -- Q