((Open RP)) Rosies RP Prompts

Courtney sat beneath a tall shade tree on the Salamancian Campus of Paragon University gazing out at the setting sun. The campus was all but empty, as most of the students had left for the holiday with their family. A few lonely stragglers roamed the campus of course and Courtney felt a strange kinship with them. Being a displaced ex-Seer from Praetoria she could identify with them.
She was dressed simply, a white t-shirt, faded jeans and comfortable sneakers. A pair of sunglasses adorned her face to keep the glare out of her sensitive eyes, and a light jacket which kept out the autumn chill.

Courtney had recently freed herself of the personality of Amanda Winters, unfortunately her talent for pistols went with her. She had wronged the former Syndicate leader, she knew that within her heart, and she had made it right by allowing people inside of her mind to capture the woman's psyche in a spirit crystal that the Circle of Thorns were fond of. Then she had help placing it within a body from Crey's Revenant Hero project that didn't have a personality ingrained within it yet. The investigation and preparation took weeks to set up, and was accomplished in less then three days. Courtney felt emotionally drained as well as physically. Her head still hurt a week later, made it hard to concentrate sometimes. And she couldn't help but wonder, what else she had lost besides Amanda's incredible skill with firearms.

The slim red head stood up from the stone bench she'd been sitting on and walked among the fallen leaves, their burnt red and orange colors brought alive by the fading sunlight. She thrust her hands into her jacket's pockets and strolled casually across the courtyard. It had also been oveer a week since she'd seen Renato, which no doubt deepened her melancholy mood. He'd been instrumental in helping her find the information needed to free Amanda and Courtney. In fact, he was the one who had promised Amanda they would free her from inside Courtney's mind. Something Courtney had not thought possible at the time. Now here she was, free of her at last.

Courtney had went by Renato's place in Salamanca only to find it empty again. She wasn't sure where he was, and she wasn't worried, well at least not yet. She tried to avoid scanning for him unless it was an emergency, as she did not like invading his privacy. She knew he was working on his own issues, regaining his fire, something she still didn't completely understand, but wanted to be supportive as possible. She wasn't really friends with anyone else at Paragon's Own Incorporated, just a professional relationship at the moment. So here she was, the day before Thanksgiving wondering the streets alone.

Her aimless wanderings had taken her down the main street leading to the Green line tram. She knew that Renato's company had gotten a contract to work on getting the Yellow and Green line's to work together. A very lucrative contract from what she understood, but some unforeseen delays had pushed back the opening until after the holiday. Maybe she'd hop the tram over to Founder's Falls. There were some really nice parks in that area of town.
A scream cut through the air, and immediately her mind was in motion, scanning the nearby area. There behind the building to her right, several minds one in pain radiating fear. She took off in that direction. Once she arrived she saw a brightly clad man, no older then 20 battling three Cabal witches, one a Maven. She concentrated on her, using her powerful telepathic abilities to freeze her in place, which worked well, as she held her head struggling to gather her wits, the exertion caused a sharp pain to shoot through Courtney's head.. Despite the pain, she turned her attention to another witch, and briefly caused her to blank out, seeming to fall asleep standing up. The young man quickly dispatched one of the witches he was fighting and then turned his attention to the Maven, seeing her incapacitated as she was. Within a few moments the battle had come to an end. Courtney leaned against the side of the building rubbing the bridge of her nose, trying to bring the pain in her head under control.

“You okay Miss?” the young man asked.

Courtney simply nodded, wincing slightly as she did so. “I'm fine.” she answered.

“Pardon me ma'am, but you don't look okay.” he said insistently, coming to stand next to her. “I do want to thank you for your help though.”

Already Courtney's pain was subsiding, she was getting better daily. She did look up and smile at the young man. He was handsome, standing a little over 6 feet with dark hair, a well trimmed beard, and bright blue eyes. He wore a large overcoat, stylish for the Renaissance period, with arcane symbols on it, thick pants and a well tailored shirt. Clearly one of the many magical practitioners who frequented Salamanca due to the prevalence of the Witches, Red Caps, and other magical beasties that want to bring it into Croatoa.

“You're welcome Mister....?” she said in a calm tone, her headache a dull ache now.

“Leyline Walker,” he answered, and with a flourish performed a very elegant bow, “at your service good lady.”

“Courtney,” she said and added, “But, call me CJ.”

“Of course CJ,” he said, “strange you do not have a moniker such as I carry though, certainly you have powers.”

“I do, its Seer Taboo.” she said to him, “sorry I don't really hide my identity, as it was well known where I came from.”

“Seer eh, that would mean Praetoria then I take it.” he said in a conversational tone.

Courtney groaned inwardly, 'Here is comes' she thought to herself, on the outside all she said was, “Yes I do.”

“Well met Lady CJ,” he said smiling, “It is indeed fortunate that you happened upon me in my hour of need and from such a distance too. I know there are some who blame the whole for what is coming, but I believe that actions speak far louder then words. And your actions here this eve have told me all I need to know about your character.”

Courtney smiled at the young man, her heart warmed by his kind words. Apparently not everyone hated the merest mention of Praetroria. Truly this was a season of giving thanks, one that where she came from was not observed. She was again reminded of her coming here, and of Renato speaking to her that day in Pocket D, and of where she was now. They were together, and as Renato always reminded her, there wasn't anything they couldn't do together, she had corrected a great wrong from her past.

“You have my thanks then as well Leyline Walker,” she said, a sudden lift of her earlier melancholy mood. “Its nice to know that not everyone judges people by rumors.”

He took his leave, flying into the darkening sky. Courtney turned away from the Tram, heading back to Renato's apartment, the place she considered home. Perhaps she would order a pizza and listen to some music, curl up with a good book. She had a lot to be thankful for she realized.

((Cyrsei, I'm constantly present here on the forums despite being rather quiet, but if you're willing to consider me I can get the prompts up every Wednesday at 7:30 AM PST, guaranteed!))

For just over four hours he'd been standing there. Standing atop the Grandville Radio Tower, one hand on one of the four giant spires that surrounded the scalding red beam that ripped into the clouds. He was, and always would be known by many titles. The Behemoth, the Overlord, the Prince of the Black Kingdom, and most interestingly 'Plague of the Six Winds.' Admittedly, he'd never quite figured out why man had given him that last one, but he enjoyed it's sinister, mysterious feel. Nalrok Ath'Zim, son of Zaerus, ruler of the Black Kingdom reached up quietly and adjusted his nethersteel mask. Somewhere below him, Recluse and his four Lieutenants were mulling and worrying over 'the coming storm.' He briefly wondered to himself if he could find humor in that; the weather forecasts that played throughout the Isles had mentioned a 'cold, icy storm' moving in from the West.

As he always had, he stood at an imposing ten feet tall. He looked quite traditional, given the way demons had been portrayed in the past: massively tall, large and sharp-looking horns that began at his hairline and curled backward into vicious spikes, glowing white eyes, scaled and reddish-black skin, enormous wings bearing holes that showed his age and lust for combat, clothing made of a rough and durable leather that was capped here and there by thick steel-like metals, accentuated by a belt that bore a shining horned skull on it's buckle. His deep burgundy hair whipped about him in the cold winds, and he took a moment to reach back and tuck it under the chains holding his shoulderplates up.

A snowflake fell. It twisted and pirouetted about in the high winds and Nalrok watched it intently. It itself was in turmoil, being tossed around by nature. He raised a gauntleted hand and idly lowered it only after the snowflake had landed on his metal-bound pointer finger. Raising the hand to his face, he waited patiently as the snowflake slowly melted. The coming season was one of great joy and celebration for mankind and it's allies, a time of giving and decoration. Everywhere he looked there were hints of the 'holiday season'; lights strung around buildings and stores, large and prickly pine trees adorned with tinsel, ribbons, and (in cases he thought to be quite bizarre) popcorn on a string. With a quick pinch and rub of his finger and thumb the moisture from the melted snowflake was gone. But, nature, as if sensing his dismissal of the icy speck, responded in kind with a sudden flurry of frigid snowflakes.

"Well then," he rumbled with a voice that spoke with wisdom and depth, "Let it snow if you must." And with that, he pitched forward off the side of the tower and exploded into billions of white, sinewy tendrils. The tendrils snaked down the tower with great speed, and quickly turned parallel to the earth and fired out over the horizon.

They appeared in Cap Au Diable, twisting and writhing into one semi-solid humanoid shape. In seconds, Nalrok had formed from them and was striding quietly up the cement ramp to Aeon City. He began to turn the pages of his mind, reading through the last five or six years with silent analysis. In the time he'd spent in the Isles, since returning this new and modern Earth, Nalrok had found a great many interests and a great many allies. 'Blackjack' Anderson, the young and rather ignorant human gang leader he'd met when he arrived flashed in his head. A grin creased his face. Leucothea, the strikingly beautiful crimson-haired stormweaver passed through his thoughts. She had run in to him in the Rikti War Zone, and in a stunning display of power had aided him in putting the War God Hro'Dtohz through a severe bout of injuries. Sharessa came to his thoughts, a small undead necromancer woman whom he'd had a brief, interesting 'fling' with, as it were. Immediately after came her would-be owner Solrac, a mutt of demons that he wished he could forget.

Alexander Schwertmann, he thought. Alexander Schwertmann was an officer in the Third Reich, and a figurehead in the research branch of the SS Paranormal Division. Schwertmann had taken one of Nalrok's six tomes in an attempt to imbue himself with the soul-draining power Nalrok himself possessed; the most impressive part--

A bullet ricocheted off of his left horn. He slowly turned left and locked eyes with an Arachnos Wolf Spider. The Spider began to run, only to fall to his knees and scream as his soul was ripped from his mouth. Nalrok caught the soul as if it were a butterfly and crushed it. Where was he agai-- oh yes.

The most impressive part was that Alexander had succeeded in granting himself Nalrok's ability. Nalrok himself was so impressed that he chose to infuse the officer with a portion of his own lifeforce. In two weeks time Schwertmann had singlehandedly committed numerous war crimes, and later joined Nalrok when the Third Reich fell. Years after, Schwertmann was ambushed by a group of hired hitmen and shot to death. With the aid of friends he'd made (and created pacts with) in Arachnos, Crey and numerous biotech companies, Nalrok was able o salvage Schwertmann's body, brain and soul. Rather than walking the world as human, Schwertmann was more cyborg than man and adopted the moniker 'Kybernetis Einheit.' It meant 'Cybernetic Unity,' he'd told Nalrok. Nalrok appreciated the name and to this day Schwertmann has aided him in battle and in planning.

His ominous presence in the streets of Cap Au did little to betray his true intentions of just going for a walk. People ran, villains backed up and aimed their various weapons and powers at him, but very few actually made a move. The Arbiter nodded to him once, and he nodded back. Several minutes of walking passed, and he found himself at the edge of Aeon City. Quietly, he surveyed the Black Market truck and it's many patrons. Snow lashed about him, and a gentle roll of thunder rippled across the sky.

He spread his wings and fell forward, flapping and propelling himself into the late afternoon's clouds, the memories of his past still churning about in his head.

As he broke through the ceiling of the storm, greeted by icy air and the dim light of the winter sun, Nalrok decided that perhaps the saying he'd heard from so many humans was accurate after all. The world was of experience, regardless of where and what you are. As that old saying went, life was not about destinations so much as it was about journeys. Despite his dreams of eventual planar conquest, of slaughter and pain, of worship and rule, there was much to be seen and felt in the world created by man. His desire to destroy all that was brought forth by humankind was indeed great; his desire to experience it all was equally so. He was making good progress on both the former and the latter, and was enjoying that. He folded his wings and let himself begin the long, high-speed journey back to the earth whereupon arriving he would flip just before landing and leave a nice impact crater wherever he came down. As the frozen clouds parted to allow his passing, he turned over the prospect of something(s) being under him when he landed.

He was eager to find out.

((Thanks Lady C, and sure I can try if you wish. I will need to make sure I actually have a story ready to go on Wednesday. I love your RP Prompts, Its helped me develop my own couple of characters I write about a lot. So, for this month I can try. Fortunately my work is not as busy as others during this time frame. Make sure though that you are not so busy, that you forget to take in the meaning of the season. ))

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"What, did you think you could run away from this?! The game is Chess not checkers!"


[Some time earlier]

Using a planter for cover, Shepard crouched and peaked around the edge. Two green ocular lenses peered down a long hallway. A security guard on duty paced quietly forward and back, outfitted with a tactical vest and an assault rifle held close to his chest. Beneath his visor, Shepard glared knowing the men he'd killed prior were paramilitary; men that were mercenaries and belonged to no government in particular. It sounded so... familiar.

As soon as the guard made his second passing Shepard moved. He rolling softly forward while maintaining relative silence and as he rose to his feet. The man honed in on his pray and moved quickly as he slid to the side and jammed the barrel of his handgun into the throat of the guard. Coughing and choking, the guard panicked but could make no audible sounds before Shepard rose his offhand hand and planted it upon the individual's face, slamming the head within his palm against the wall. The guard was knocked unconscious and out cold, his well being was not of Shepard's concern. He continued to move.

His hand gun was kept close with his right palm gripping around the handle and index finger hovered closely over the trigger. The offhand, his left, cupped over his right and the weapon hung in a tilt as his body twisted to exposing mostly his side to any one that would catch notice. Not that they would stand for long as he quickly made it an effort to dispatch them.

"Hey!" Making a pass, a new guard entered and quickly spotted a non-authorized personnel.

Just then his head turned to the elevator watching it open. No one was inside, Shepard's arms snapped forward aligning the gun's barrel length with the new set target. One shot. The Five-Seven barked and stung at the target's chest, if it weren't for puncturing his throat and lung passage-way shots would of been fired more accurately and could of possibly caused Shepard many problems. Instead the man's assault rifle roared a few rounds into the sealing before he stumbled back and fell over. At this point Shepard didn't even look to see where the shots were being fired and instead made a dash for the elevator as quick as possible. Just as he clicked the button under Presidential Suit, alarms began to sound.

The elevator was slow but it gave him time to think. The walls encasing around him made it difficult for the sonar signal to pierce through and reach back, everything was distorted due to the sound and constant changing of environment. It was better to save the batteries and so he flicked the visor up and let his eyes readjust to full color. Planning was in order. No doubt every person on duty this evening would be heading to the top to meet him there.

His cellphone rang, Vanessa was on the other end.

"Matt, Matt what's going on? Everything is lighting up in here, security acts like world war three just started." There was a pause, Matt could feel her looming behind him in some kind of odd sixth sense. "Where are you?"

"I'm fine. Just, get yourself out front as soon as you can. I'll meet you there."


The elevator came to a subtle stop and a beep sounded out. With his game face back on Shepard brought down his visor again, a soft beep echoed in the back of his ear, and once the elevator stabilized, the vision of the whole floor came into sight. Blobs of white
masses moved around and into position. Instinctively Shepard pivoted around and ducked back what little cover the panels gave him, just in time to dodge a hail of gun fire that rained sideways into the compartment. Shepard watched as the wall on the other side began tare apart, peppered with the ballistics of automatic weapons. Sifting his left hand back and behind him, Shepard pulled out a flash bang and looked back over his shoulder to get the layout of the floor. There was ample cover scattered throughout, it was almost an outdoor atrium save for the glass that masked the sealing.

Shepard tossed the flash bang and banked it against a solid surface out ahead and diagonal from his own position. He could hear the shouts and call outs but in the end a loud bang gave the signal for him to move, and he did just that. Quickly sprinting and moving in for a slide, Shepard hid behind the closest thing he could find that wouldn't expose himself to the enemy. But lights surrounding him illuminated the entire room making his next move vital and important. It was then he caught a power box, lines leaving the bottom of the contraption disappeared into the floor and no doubt spread throughout the floor. If not, further. It didn't matter, it was worth a shot considering the opposition numbered in quite a few and he only had two more flash bangs left.

His thumb brushed the magazine release, the magazine slipped out and into his off hand where he gave it a twirl before pocketing it away for safe keeping. Immediately his left hand searched for another magazine of duplicate size and capacity, only the tips of the bullets, as he peered down from it's top, were colored in read. 'Incendiary', Shepard thought to himself glancing back to the glowing white luminescent box on the wall. Taking aim, Shepard pulled back the slide ejecting the normal round from the chamber and in return loading one of the red-tipped to replace it.

The hidden man, with his enemy looming closer, took aim and took in a deep breath. As he pulled the trigger, he exhaled and the gun snapped up ever so slightly upon expelling the armed round. The bullet struck it's mark and packed enough punch into the powerbox to disrupt the flow of electricity that powered the various lamps throughout the atrium. The side effect of the incendiary round caused a bit of a fire to start no doubt gaining most of their attention as soon as the lights went out; the one bright light was enough to wash out the details of the room until they would break eye contact with it. One of the soldiers in particular however was in the back and more quick to adapt to the change in scenery, quickly looking around for the slightest movement in the corner closest to him.

Shepard was there but the guard had no chance, the guard's reaction was slow. Standing up and holding the Five-Seven at ninety-degrees in front of his face, only the left side of his body was exposed but careful precision and control made the round hit it's mark. Both arms were cocked at ninety-degrees, with the handgun hovering close to his face but both hands on the gun provided pristine control over the recoil and allowed quick reset for re-targeting.

"Oh! Damn it! That burns like hellfire!" Cried the guard, squirming as the round penetrated his chest armor, catching lite to his clothes and stinging him at the same time.

The rest were quick to turn around and see the silhouette of their fellow guardsmen. But as they did so, Shepard pivoted around snapping both arms strait out and taking multiple shots in key precise areas of the body with expert precision. Each time switching from target to target, he'd turn about on the pivot of his right or left legs, crouching or standing to alter his profile and in turn making him difficult to focus on or receive enemy fire. The conflict left the guards disoriented and confused, unable to retaliate effectively and at least they maintained their composure to prevent them from firing on each other. With the second to last one going down, a bullet to his neck cutting off the pathway, the first guard Shepard struck was the last and still struggled out of shock to make sure he wasn't dying.

Shepard approached the man quickly, a black mass of shadow proceeded forward and as the guard desperately hurried to attempted at bringing up his rifle, Shepard's knee found it's way up between the man's legs easily knocking the ground out from underneath.

Coughing and writhing about, Shepard held the guard's face at gun point. "W-who are you?" Cried the man, looking up to see two barely noticeable green eyes peering back at him.

"I'm the wolf stocking it's prey." Replied Shepard, switching back to a regular magazine while in the middle of knocking the man out cold with a steady strike of his elbow to the guard's rear back-head.


With that, Shepard looked around catching a flight of stairs. The atrium was but two floors bellow the actual office-sweet that belonged to Jason, no doubt with his own personal security detail. Taking in a long deep breath, Shepard exhaled softly and moved forward climbing a flight of stairs to the next floor above. He took each step with careful but feral patience. Making sure to be extra alert in the event any guard or more decided to reign hell down upon him. Every bench he passed or spot that deviated from the strait set of stairs, Shepard took into consideration. But in the end, Shepard reached the top and sighed with relief. His muscles were tight and hot, he could feel the burning in his abs and biceps and oddly enough it felt exhilarating.




"Well, ******* find out who it is!" For the most part the voices were soft beyond the next set of double doors that stood in his way. He could see the blots of white meander from one side to the next while a man in the center stood what seemed to be furthest. Most of the room was washed out due to the distance most likely from the door and the signal weakness as it traveled far and attempted to bounce back. But Shepard's target was in there.

The one who shouted must of been second in command considering hearing another muffled voice, "I know who it is, a man who should of died a long time ago." There was a pause, Shepard's eyes beneath his visor narrowed and glared almost instinctively honing on the one in the center who grabbed a large two handed weapon. Most likely a shotgun. Which was confirmed as he heard what sounded like the cocking of a slug primed for fire.

"Check the door!" Shouted another, the same voice demanding obedience just before.

In response one of the guards found his way to the door and opened it. Shepard acted quickly sidestepping out of view and off to the side against the door being opened. He moved slowly and silently with the door as it slowly opened further. Light shinned in, the floor was on separate box but that just gave him a better idea. Once the man had stepped out far enough from the doorway Shepard moved in to close it and snag the man by wrapping an arm around his neck, the guard's gun dropped softly to his side and the figures inside the room were already under the impression that their squad mate was compromised.

The guard's radio sounded off, "Brian, Brian come in. What's your status." The volume was low. Once again Lady Luck or Death herself for that matter was enjoying the entertainment. This man, like all the others, weren't the typical stupid mercenaries. Sure they were still canon fodder but turning down the volume on their walkies in the event of splitting up prevented being caught. Well almost. Unfortunately for this one, Shepard was lying in wait instead.

"Brian, dammit!"

Shepard quickly positioned the secured guard in front of the door and gave him a violent push forward, lifting up one leg and kicking at the guard's back to give him a better lift. He didn't remain there to standing and instead immediately rolled off to the side as soon as the guard flew through the doors and ripping them off their hinges or snapping the lock mechanism free. Either way, a hail of gun fire rained out towards the now open doorway plastering the victim with bullet holes.

He slipped his hand gun into the loop of his belt and went for the cellphone at his side. Pressing a few buttons sent out a single note and everyone inside the room began to scream. Lights flickered with the overheads going out and the bulbs exploding. Time was limited save for the lamps that burst from a raw electric current that caused a backfire. The overhead lights however would soon resume normal practice, giving Shepard only a minute or two to move in.

Reaching back for his handgun and a flashbang, Shepard moved in and swooped around the door edge while the others were busy trying to catch their bearings and find out if the one they shot was their man. Two of the many were immediately taken out due to being within close proximity, Shepard gained two headshots with relative ease and snapped his arms close to him with elbows locked at ninety-degrees to two rounds each at other targets. Once at a safe distance and just before the lights began to flicker back on, Shepard tossed the flashbang he held carefully which blinded the rest.

Three now stood in the room, disoriented and confused. Jason in the center towards the back while two remained closely together hoping to guard one another's back as soon as their senses returned to normal. It was then that Jason was quick, rolling to the side and taking shot at the closest individual he saw upon rising back to his feet. The shotgun blast knocked the target clear off his feet.

"Got you Shepard!" Jason growled, cocking his shotgun once more to reload a fresh slug into the chamber. The shotgun leveled with the head of the individual, ready to spread brain matter all over the floor.

"Eric! I think Jason got em!"

It was then a cold sensation ran down the back of Jason's neck, sending a mildly chill running down his spine. "****!"

Shepard moved in from Jason's side, placing both hands on the shotgun to prevent it from being used as a club. It was then Jason saw the face of their predator, washed out and shrouded with the aid of darkness. Sparing little time for chit chat at that moment, Shepard swiped his left elbow down into the crook of Jason's right arm, causing an involuntary action of relaxation; his grip nearly lost from the shotgun. But with this very moment of opportunity, Shepard lifted the weapon and slammed it's topside into Jason's face before grabbing the butt and twisting it out of Jason's grasp.

Quickly switching his hand placement on the gun he swung the butt of the gun around and out smacking the last of the security guards in the face; effectively knocking him out cold. At that very moment the overhead lights came back, Shepard's visor lifted and Jason saw that familiar face.

The two didn't know each other personally. But both had their avenues of expertise when it came to research. Jason had his very own skillset and connections, he had seen the face of the man who now stood in front of and over him. It was both frightening and yet comforting, the man was much like himself; served his country and fought for peace. Albeit, motives were different and Jason acknowledged that but at this very moment, Shepard was almost exactly like himself. Both were now estranged. Jason felt they were almost kinsmen, fighting the same war on the same side while being on two different teams.

Jason coughed and sniffed, his nose was broken and blood oozed from it. "Damn it. Ya'know, getting rid of me wont solve anything."

Shepard breathed heavily but was silent as he looked down at the former CIA agent. Hands cracked as his bones tightened and relaxed as Shepard opened and closed them. Finally, the stout young male leaned down and took Jason by the neck lifting him up to his feet and choking him. Jason of course instinctively reached for Shepard's arms and held on for dear life. "Your right, but it's a start."

"Face it Shepard, you're attacking the wrong person. And what do you think the US Government will say if they find out you've killed one of their finest. I'm telling you, you're going to kill the wrong guy and it will come to haunt you ten-fold."

"Shut up!" Shepard tightened his grip, slurring Jason's voice as his vocals were being pinched. "I want to know how Malta got a hold of our contact details. What happened?"

Jason coughed and nodded, "Ok ok! I'll tell you. It was a mistake..." Looking up he could see Shepard lifting a single brow. "I was in charge of handling your dossiers, you and the rest of Bravo team. My assistant, dammit, it was my fault that my assistant over estimated what I was doing. He sent Alpha team's dossiers to HQ and ultimately assigned them to their graves."

Shepard tightened his grip, "Why?! What did Malta have to do with it?!" the muscles in his arm rippled as he clubbed Jason with a left hand dropping Jason back down. Jason fell to his knees as Shepard reared up and swung a wicked right fist into the man's face. During this whirlwind of abuse, Shepard picked Jason back up who was now struggling under his own wait to remain standing.

"Julia Anderson! She wanted the information."

Shepard paused, "Anderson, Armatech's CEO?"

"You know about Armatech right?"

"Yeah yeah." Shepard nodded, "Malta's Public face. A corporation, one of many, Malta uses to acquire technology while staying incognito."

"Right, Julia had interest in the nanotechnology... speaking of." Jason coughed and flicked a free hand at Shepard's arm. "You seem a little lighter than normal."

"Shut up." Shepard shoved Jason away and into piano, stepping forward and slamming a hand down down onto Jason's head to smash his cheek into the keys. "Why?"

"You know why! It's obvious. Malta had interest in the government's nanotechnology, Armatech was their key to tying up the loose end. Julia wanted information on the teams that would be sent as means to collect results of the technology's performance in a combat environment." Jason smirked weakly, his face was bruised and swelling by now which would make him repulsing to anyone that wasn't Shepard at this point; Shepard was fueled by vengeance. "You know about Julia right... She had a sister, Melissa... One of the Knives?"

Shepard blinked....



"Hey Melissa, what do you think?"

Women clad in tight leather. One blond and one redhead, the blond was calling out to the redhead.

"What do you think?" The Blond added, "He's kind of cute right?"

"Just do what we came here to do. Stop playing around..." The redhead seemed pained by the whole ordeal. Although she maintained a monotone voice, the way she shied her head away from man on the ground. There was a hint of regret.

"Ya know," The blond knelt down and beside the fallen male, "It's a pity you were a target. We could of had lots of fun with you."

Shepard's eyes closed and everything faded to black.



"You're familiar with Knives eh? Makes sense, Malta hires them which keeps them operating in the shadows while carrying out assassination orders." Jason choked and cried out as he cleared his throat, "Look, I had no idea what Malta would of done with those dossiers. Let alone know that it would get Alpha team particularly setup for a trap. I'm so very sorry..."

"..." He was silent, looking down. Espionage had become a particular practice of his and via acting through it, he began to understand it. "I don't care if you visited everyone's graves on every Sunday..." Growled Shepard. "You still knew who was behind it, that doesn't change the fact that you were responsible." There was a threat behind those words. He was bitter but there was still something lingering on his mind.

"Let me go and it'll be the last you see of me, Shepard. I promise. You kill me, and the government will find out sooner or later."

"I thought you defected."

"Retired, more or less. I stationed myself here but still maintain contact. They'll ask for answers if I go missing."

"Grr, ****." Grumbled Shepard. "Being an enemy to everything I stood for wasn't what I had in mind." Gritting his teeth, he began to walk away leaving Jason alone by himself. Unnoticed by him however, Jason reached for his shotgun creeping closer to it. "But there's just one thing I can't seem to forget."

"Huh?"

"Tell me about Johnson. Commander Markus Johnson... reports said you saw him last." Shepard stopped and turned to look over his shoulder. The name sent another chill down Jason's neck and his eyes widened. Pivoting around, Shepard faced Jason once more not really caring about how Jason was closer to the shotgun than he was when he first turned his back on the former CIA Agent. "I saw the video... I saw a man put a bullet in his head, I saw... you."

Jason gulped, it was difficult to anticipate what nonsense the former CIA agent would spew next to clear his name. Either way Shepard wasn't going to really hear it. The barrel of his Five-Seven leveled with Jason's head, "W-wait Shepard.... Don't do th-"

The words were cut short with a single bark of Shepard's handgun. Jason's body fell lifelessly to the ground, a clear bullet hole right through his head. "I'm sure the government would of loved to hear you explain that one was well." Shepard muttered, turning about only to hear what sounded like the pattering of feet coming up the stairway. Lights from the atrium shined around, back and forth, while a slight distraction of a rope falling just outside the closest window caught his attention.

"Shot came from here." Shouted someone from the atrium. "Move, move, move!"

Windows burst open as men repelled down from outside and entered their way into Jason's sweet. With one still making his way down. An exit was in order and the path was right there in front of him, out the window. There was little time for error, Shepard moved by entering a mad dash for the window just as others caught a glimpse of him moving.

"Target sighted. He just killed Jason! Go, go go!"

Shepard's way became blocked as a soldier descended down and burst through the window. Just as two feet came into contact with the floor, Shepard threw up his right knee and forearms forward in a tackle easily sweeping the assailant back off his feet and out the window he had just entered. The two easily let gravity take over and Shepard used the assailant as a cushion to land on when the two finally stopped on top of an air conditioning unit. The smack was loud and rattled the net-like top that shielded the fans underneath from most debris. The impact was hard enough and delivered enough force to bend the blades. No doubt the assailant, who Shepard finally got a good long look at, suffered numerous fractures and was probably dead or in the process of dying while being unconscious.

The long look Shepard got was enough to identify any insignias and color designs that would give them away. The insignia was new however, didn't belong to Knives, Malta, or even any NSA service the Government would own. The introduction was brief as Shepard rolled himself off and landed in a crouch beside the air conditioning unit, avoiding what could be a rain of gunfire from above. Idiots trying to shoot from the windows. No shots rang out but lights danced along the surface of the current platform he was positioned on. There were headlights in the distance all in lines and moving to exit the estate. Meanwhile Shepard's cellphone began to ring and this told him to move quickly. Making a sprint for the next ledge which upon approach, reached out and hung off the edge before dropping to the next floor in a roll to cushion the blow.

Before long, Shepard landed in the parking garage just in time to just barely avoid getting struck by Vanessa's car. She came to a screeching halt seeing a man with some kind of gadget on his head, immediately recognizing Shepard's face. Though she was hesitant, Shepard jumped into the passenger seat and shut the door. Immediately lifting his hand out to direct her attention ahead to start moving, while at the same time pulled off the visor tucked on his forehead off and into the palms of his hand. The two made their get away, but Vanessa could never forget the gleam in those green eyes that glared so intently ahead. She wanted to ask what this was about but figured there would be a better time to do so.

"Everyone is in a panic, thought I'd have to leave you here." She sighed, innocently laughing and turned it to a sigh as eye contact was attempted to be made but not returned.


((another big one by me and rushed. My apologies. ))