Elfen High 2: Gotterdammerung

[Nightkill the Emperor]

"What horror is this?" Calliel was aghast at the sights below him.

There was a giant rectangular encampment, surrounded by what appeared to be grey stone walls on which angelic guards were patrolling. Inside were angels, obviously the prisoners of this truly hellish creation, dragging themselves around. The inside of the camp had been churned into thick mud that had spread to smear and stain everything in its path. Worse than the sights was the dreadful stench that rose into the air, it was obvious that there were no sanitary facilities within the compound and the angelic waste had blended into the mud to form a dreadful ooze. Even that failed in sheer awfulness to overcome the sounds of despairing wails and moans from the prisoners within.

Calliel sat down, groaning and holding his head tightly. He blinked again. He was no longer in that dungeon. He was safe, he was freed. Where was he now? He looked around, seeing himself tightly fastened onto a hospital bed, Aziraphale just a few metres away from him on his own bed. "ISSR base, I'm afraid." Rick Sanchez said apologetically, watching them from behind glass. "You guys were going quite badly, and with all the falling angels lately, I figured I needed you here when I saw you two having seizures. I managed to teleport you two out."

Aziraphale would start being stirred awake as well. Calliel turned to his friend. "Are you well?" he asked him quietly in Heaven Latin.

Aziraphale looked over in Calliel's general direction. His gaze was unfocused and unwavering. Blood dripped out of the sides of his lips, black. He was completely naked, his body mutilated and burned. A few stray scraps of metal were stuck in his skin. He was silent.

Darkness.

"YOU WILL BE LIKE US," he said.

With a poof and a horrid scream of pain, he teleported out of his restraints.

"THERE IS NO ESCAPE," he added as he appeared behind Calliel. He wrapped his left arm around Calliel's throat, grabbing the left side of the angel's face with his right, and poking his head around to look at his former friend with blank, blind eyes.

"Help," he whimpered. Suddenly, there was a loud chattering sound. Slowly and methodically, a metal bug dug its way out of the flesh of Aziraphale's right arm and crawled up towards Calliel's face.

That, folks, is why you don't interrupt surgery.

Calliel's face burned with fire, incinerating the bug. He punched his friend in the face, hopefully knocking him back to sanity for a few moments. Armoured ISSR soldiers rushed in, grabbing Aziraphale and cramming him back in the bed, nailing him down with the restraints, but laying them with an anti-magic field so he couldn't teleport out.

Calliel lay in his bed, groaning as he experienced another vision. Ivy was there, smiling.

And I know Nat will really enjoy torturing Calliel. Have fun giving him a fun dream.

[Nude East Ireland]

Mordred was - in turn - punched in the face by Eamon.

"Calm down, asshole," he replied. He glanced at Crowley. "You know him?"

"I have absolutely no idea." Crowley muttered, standing up a bit. "Who are you?"

Mordred calmed down a bit, standing up slowly. "Ah. You must be the other one. I'm Mordred. I may not have met you in this universe- I thought you were the Crowley of my world, I apologise."

"Apology accepted, I suppose." said a bemused British wizard.

Mordred sighed. "My name is Mordred. I'm king of Camelot. Or was. Your other self abandoned us." he muttered. "In any case, welcome to New Tbilisi. I ended up here after my kingdom was destroyed."

"Alternate universe?" Alice asked. "Great, those always end well."

"Fascinating," Francois interjected, approaching Mordred. "What is it like in your universe? Why are you here? Specifically, why are you inside of Elfen High's basement in this Georgian colony?"

[Nationstatelandsville]

Aziraphale looked over in Calliel's general direction. His gaze was unfocused and unwavering. Blood dripped out of the sides of his lips, black. He was completely naked, his body mutilated and burned. A few stray scraps of metal were stuck in his skin. He was silent.

Darkness.

"YOU WILL BE LIKE US," he said.

With a poof and a horrid scream of pain, he teleported out of his restraints.

"THERE IS NO ESCAPE," he added as he appeared behind Calliel. He wrapped his left arm around Calliel's throat, grabbing the left side of the angel's face with his right, and poking his head around to look at his former friend with blank, blind eyes.

"Help," he whimpered. Suddenly, there was a loud chattering sound. Slowly and methodically, a metal bug dug its way out of the flesh of Aziraphale's right arm and crawled up towards Calliel's face.

That, folks, is why you don't interrupt surgery.

Calliel's face burned with fire, incinerating the bug. He punched his friend in the face, hopefully knocking him back to sanity for a few moments. Armoured ISSR soldiers rushed in, grabbing Aziraphale and cramming him back in the bed, nailing him down with the restraints, but laying them with an anti-magic field so he couldn't teleport out.

Calliel lay in his bed, groaning as he experienced another vision. Ivy was there, smiling.

And I know Nat will really enjoy torturing Calliel. Have fun giving him a fun dream.

Like a mirror, reality shattered in front of Calliel's eyes.

"Our Father in Heaven," Calliel heard his own voice say. It was not his any more, but it had been once - it had been taken from him and given to another, leaving him speechless.

"Hallowed be your name.
Your kingdom come."

Calliel awoke to find himself in an empty white void. He was falling, yet rising, pulled in every direction and pushed right back into place. To call it disorienting was an understatement.

But he was alone in his thought, alone in his tears. There was nothing to haunt him, but himself.

There was a terrific roar like thunder in the sky, and the void rent itself open, pulled itself apart into blackness. A hand clamped down around Calliel's throat, colors dancing madly, madly before him. Reflected in the black eyes of the Android Leader, who now held Calliel limp in his grips, were the fires of Hell, the lies of Heaven, the pain of death, and the tears of the survivors. Inside the eyes, inside the heart of his former friend, Calliel saw, for a moment, Aziraphale's mind.

Burning and screaming and madness and pain. London a-fire, the sky burnt from the world. Thunder and crashing and dying, clouds of black gas choking the life out of millions. Crawling, festering, hungry insects, scrambling through piles of bloated and bruised corpses. Chaos and death, everyone screaming out at once in insanity. There was no escape from the blazing Earth, from the war-torn Heaven, from the Hell crushed under Uriel's foot. Dust. Everything was but dust in the end, dust and a cacophony of screaming minds.

"Your will be done,
On Earth, as it is in Heaven."

Darkness.

Madness.

Pain.

"I hate you!" the Android Leader growled, "Do you understand? You did this to me! You betrayed me! You could have helped me, YOU INSUFFERABLE COWARD! YOU LEFT ME FOR THE HUMANS, YOU LEFT ME BEHIND!

I HATE YOU!"

The Android Leader crushed Calliel's throat in his hands. In an instant, like a light switch flicked off, Calliel died.

Darkness.

---

The vision ended.

"Kill me," Aziraphale begged in a whisper, desperately clawing out towards Calliel, "Please."

[Nightkill the Emperor]

"I have absolutely no idea." Crowley muttered, standing up a bit. "Who are you?"

Mordred calmed down a bit, standing up slowly. "Ah. You must be the other one. I'm Mordred. I may not have met you in this universe- I thought you were the Crowley of my world, I apologise."

"Apology accepted, I suppose." said a bemused British wizard.

Mordred sighed. "My name is Mordred. I'm king of Camelot. Or was. Your other self abandoned us." he muttered. "In any case, welcome to New Tbilisi. I ended up here after my kingdom was destroyed."

"Alternate universe?" Alice asked. "Great, those always end well."

"Fascinating," Francois interjected, approaching Mordred. "What is it like in your universe? Why are you here? Specifically, why are you inside of Elfen High's basement in this Georgian colony?"

"Portal walking." Mordred replied simply. As EH went, this was a fairly good explanation. "Would you like anything to eat? We have some good steak if you need it."

Crowley shrugged. "Yes, please. Let's head in."

They went into a local tavern, one with a two-headed cow's bare skulls hanging over the door. Crowley glanced at it with amusement as they sat themselves down. Brazeneck tapped Alice's shoulder. "I'm going to have a look-around at this place, maybe get some more information. You guys stay here with Crowley." he said quietly, grabbing a piece of steak off the plate and munching on it as he walked out.

Crowley picked his knife and fork, because non-Americans have manners. "Alright." he said, leaning back. "Faerie University folks. Aside from this insanity, tell me about yourselves." he addressed them. "Each of you- who are you? What's your job, what do you do? What can you do? I haven't kept tabs on Brazeneck, though he was a good student of mine before he started up his own school."

[Nightkill the Emperor]

Calliel's face burned with fire, incinerating the bug. He punched his friend in the face, hopefully knocking him back to sanity for a few moments. Armoured ISSR soldiers rushed in, grabbing Aziraphale and cramming him back in the bed, nailing him down with the restraints, but laying them with an anti-magic field so he couldn't teleport out.

Calliel lay in his bed, groaning as he experienced another vision. Ivy was there, smiling.

And I know Nat will really enjoy torturing Calliel. Have fun giving him a fun dream.

Like a mirror, reality shattered in front of Calliel's eyes.

"Our Father in Heaven," Calliel heard his own voice say. It was not his any more, but it had been once - it had been taken from him and given to another, leaving him speechless.

"Hallowed be your name.
Your kingdom come."

Calliel awoke to find himself in an empty white void. He was falling, yet rising, pulled in every direction and pushed right back into place. To call it disorienting was an understatement.

But he was alone in his thought, alone in his tears. There was nothing to haunt him, but himself.

There was a terrific roar like thunder in the sky, and the void rent itself open, pulled itself apart into blackness. A hand clamped down around Calliel's throat, colors dancing madly, madly before him. Reflected in the black eyes of the Android Leader, who now held Calliel limp in his grips, were the fires of Hell, the lies of Heaven, the pain of death, and the tears of the survivors. Inside the eyes, inside the heart of his former friend, Calliel saw, for a moment, Aziraphale's mind.

Burning and screaming and madness and pain. London a-fire, the sky burnt from the world. Thunder and crashing and dying, clouds of black gas choking the life out of millions. Crawling, festering, hungry insects, scrambling through piles of bloated and bruised corpses. Chaos and death, everyone screaming out at once in insanity. There was no escape from the blazing Earth, from the war-torn Heaven, from the Hell crushed under Uriel's foot. Dust. Everything was but dust in the end, dust and a cacophony of screaming minds.

"Your will be done,
On Earth, as it is in Heaven."

Darkness.

Madness.

Pain.

"I hate you!" the Android Leader growled, "Do you understand? You did this to me! You betrayed me! You could have helped me, YOU INSUFFERABLE COWARD! YOU LEFT ME FOR THE HUMANS, YOU LEFT ME BEHIND!

I HATE YOU!"

The Android Leader crushed Calliel's throat in his hands. In an instant, like a light switch flicked off, Calliel died.

Darkness.

---

The vision ended.

"Kill me," Aziraphale begged in a whisper, desperately clawing out towards Calliel, "Please."

Calliel took several gasps of pseudo-pain, terrified beyond belief. In his hand, he started to weakly charge up an energy blast, ready to kill Aziraphale. Sanchez was talking with some scientists, the soldiers couldn't stop him. He was, without exaggeration, stronger than them. He was, after all, an angel.

And he owed his friend a favour. He pointed his hand in Aziraphale's direction, ready to fire- then he halted. He took a deep breath, the light leaving his hand. No. He wouldn't kill here, not like this.

Because other than the horrific visions and dreams, he also saw his son and his wife as she had once been, looking at him. He couldn't kill knowing they were looking at him.

Calliel was a warrior. That's what he was, that's how he had been raised. That's what his life had been- a battle. A long battle for God, but a battle nonetheless. Death and murder was common in this life, but he refused to deal it now. Now he wasn't a warrior- he was a father and a husband. And a friend.

Angels don't use the term "friend" often at all. It's not part of their culture or society. They don't exactly have friends. But Calliel realised Aziraphale was a friend. And if there was the slightest hope he could recover...he lay his hand to his side, tightly closing his eyes. "Stay strong, my friend." he muttered. "Just stay strong and believe."

[Nude East Ireland]

"Alternate universe?" Alice asked. "Great, those always end well."

"Fascinating," Francois interjected, approaching Mordred. "What is it like in your universe? Why are you here? Specifically, why are you inside of Elfen High's basement in this Georgian colony?"

"Portal walking." Mordred replied simply. As EH went, this was a fairly good explanation. "Would you like anything to eat? We have some good steak if you need it."

Crowley shrugged. "Yes, please. Let's head in."

They went into a local tavern, one with a two-headed cow's bare skulls hanging over the door. Crowley glanced at it with amusement as they sat themselves down. Brazeneck tapped Alice's shoulder. "I'm going to have a look-around at this place, maybe get some more information. You guys stay here with Crowley." he said quietly, grabbing a piece of steak off the plate and munching on it as he walked out.

Crowley picked his knife and fork, because non-Americans have manners. "Alright." he said, leaning back. "Faerie University folks. Aside from this insanity, tell me about yourselves." he addressed them. "Each of you- who are you? What's your job, what do you do? What can you do? I haven't kept tabs on Brazeneck, though he was a good student of mine before he started up his own school."

"Well, I'm Francois Dubois. Head of the occult studies department, a veteran history and mythology, and curator of the University's museum on magic history and artefacts," Francois began. "I've been with the school since 2017, and before that I had a positions at several universities and museums around France and Germany. Before that I was in employ of the Irish government as a special liaison to a number of archeological sites around Africa. Around that time I learned about my abilities; I'm a master at telekinesis and telepathy."

The other two were quiet, while Francois basked in the news of his achievements. "This is... well, this is my only job. I'm the dean of students at the University and I graduated from there at the top of my class in junior year. I'm a pyrokinetic, and a healer-in-training."

Eamon shrugged. "President of the student council, member of the board of trustees, no powers or abilities of supernatural nature; but I'm damn good with a gun and sword."

[Nightkill the Emperor]

"Portal walking." Mordred replied simply. As EH went, this was a fairly good explanation. "Would you like anything to eat? We have some good steak if you need it."

Crowley shrugged. "Yes, please. Let's head in."

They went into a local tavern, one with a two-headed cow's bare skulls hanging over the door. Crowley glanced at it with amusement as they sat themselves down. Brazeneck tapped Alice's shoulder. "I'm going to have a look-around at this place, maybe get some more information. You guys stay here with Crowley." he said quietly, grabbing a piece of steak off the plate and munching on it as he walked out.

Crowley picked his knife and fork, because non-Americans have manners. "Alright." he said, leaning back. "Faerie University folks. Aside from this insanity, tell me about yourselves." he addressed them. "Each of you- who are you? What's your job, what do you do? What can you do? I haven't kept tabs on Brazeneck, though he was a good student of mine before he started up his own school."

"Well, I'm Francois Dubois. Head of the occult studies department, a veteran history and mythology, and curator of the University's museum on magic history and artefacts," Francois began. "I've been with the school since 2017, and before that I had a positions at several universities and museums around France and Germany. Before that I was in employ of the Irish government as a special liaison to a number of archeological sites around Africa. Around that time I learned about my abilities; I'm a master at telekinesis and telepathy."

The other two were quiet, while Francois basked in the news of his achievements. "This is... well, this is my only job. I'm the dean of students at the University and I graduated from there at the top of my class in junior year. I'm a pyrokinetic, and a healer-in-training."

Eamon shrugged. "President of the student council, member of the board of trustees, no powers or abilities of supernatural nature; but I'm damn good with a gun and sword."

"I'm Aleister Crowley." came the simple reply, as nothing more clearly needed to be stated. "Good to meet you." He finished off his steak and stood up. "Alright. Let's see- random civilisation ends up down here. The school's opening portals more and more frequently- I find this concerning. Perhaps the energy we get from Purgatory is growing stronger?" Crowley theorised. "If so, that could be very interesting. Now-"

Gunshots were heard, dozens of them. Then, instead of screaming, responding gunshots.

Crowley and the others ran out of the tavern, looking out to see men in plain white clothing- white pants and shirt, with white cowboy hats- riding on horses. Horses who had dark red eyes firing red energy bursts, and also had two semi-automatic machine guns attached to either side of their body.

The Georgians responded to this bullshittery by hiding in the trenches and aiming their own machine guns at the horses. They held far more swords than the opposing side, and would use rapid speed to even deflect some bullets- which is normally bullshit.

Crowley held his hand over his head in thought and grinned. "Ah-ha! They've lived down here so long magic's fused with them! They're superhuman now!" he laughed. Then paused. "Unfortunately, that also means the other side is. Come on. Get in the trenches, we should help them out."

[Individuality-ness]

"Sure, we'll be right down."

I need Liri to post a response to Alison up above before I describe how they get down and save his ass. So let's cut to Corvallis down below:

Soon enough, one could hear a sound coming in from outside the door. It sounded like sirens — perhaps help was on the way?

Some noise could be heard outside of the burning lobby, and suddenly a group of men came in through the door, hoses in hand.

"Oh...alright!" Ludo was disturbingly enthusiastic, jumping into the air as the gravity that kept her own body on the ground vanished. She was floating, mini-pistol in hand, and soon she was gliding throught the room, towards the nearest window, using her powers to drag Alison along. "Out the window we go! Yay!"

The Jewish interdimensional traveler was giggling and squeeing, like the immature semi-divine being she was, as she crashed through the already pretty ruined window and into the air, many feet above the ground, the heat of the fire suddenly assaulting her pale and sensitive skin. "Ewww...I'm going to get all sweaty..."

She was frowning now, grieving over her undergarments which would most likely be soaked in sweat before she managed to find a place for Alison and herself to land on. Oh, Alison!

With a quick gesture, she pulled the other girl towards her.

"Eep!" the bunnygirl squeaked as she was dragged out of the window and onto a safe spot across the street from the hotel.

They were now back near the meter, looking at the burning hotel. The sweltering heat thrown off from the burning fuel was exasperating, and just thinking about it would make either of them sweaty. Now they were sticky, covered in body oils and stinking sweat. Gross.

A black Jeep full of Arab men, with the driver wearing a black headdress, was now pulling away from the street, as if running away from the hotel lest it blow up or something. The back of the car had someone with a burlap sack over his head, but neither of the girls would notice this.

"I really need to get the dumb cunt to give us a shower after," Alison muttered. "Let's go save Corvallis's ass."

And she ran towards the hotel, not noticing that her phone was blinking a red dot of a tracking signal moving away from their location... and in the direction of that black Jeep.

---

Most people reading this in an alternate universe would think that they were going to a cave or something like that. It’s how the media likes to portray desperate people trying to bring down the establishment: always far from civilization. Hippies are in communes somewhere rural where everything is provided for them without them working hard. Extreme right-wingers live in the Deep South. Terrorists go hide in caves in the wilderness. This is the narrative that everyone’s told us, and we know it to be true, because how could you ever imagine them doing something else?

Welcome to Syria in 2030, where the (real!) terrorists live in the middle of a bustling city, in open view of a nearby military base. They walk down the street, purchase groceries, build bombs, get medical care, and pretty much live like normal people.

Well… except for the fact that they’re motherfucking terrorists, of course.

But Corvallis would not know this.

Corvallis had his head covered throughout the entire trip through the hot sun to their base. The next time he was able to see anything at all, he was underground in darkness, the walls looking roughly chiseled out and a flashlight shining above him.

Looking down, he would have noticed that he had been bound with some nanocarbon rope to a chair which was secured to the floor. The red blinking lights of cameras could be seen all around the room, and there were a few burly, strong men standing in front of the only exit: a stairway that seemed carved into the walls. No escaping this place. Or at least without help.

The guy with the dark headdress earlier — Malak, to give him a name — was looking at him, his bright blue eyes looking at him through the darkness.

“Mr Sanchez, what is your purpose in Syria?” he asked the tied up prisoner. “Tell me, now!”

[Constaniana]

Loki paused and glared at William. "Now that you've said it, I know it's going to happen." he muttered. "Hmm. Perhaps this is a bit of a large group. Daisuke, Ciel, you may go back upstairs, watch the school and so on. The rest of you, best to hang around with me. Also," he gestured at Fen. "This is a new student. I think Crowley would rather I don't traumatise her too much, but I think there was a purpose to the school teleporting her with us. Could be random chance, but I've seen a lot of these random chance incidents in my time and they usually end up being important. So she'll stay with us. New girl, allow me to introduce you. I'm Loki, that's Rosalind, that's Divia, that's Caspian..." he went on, introducing everyone.

"Good, we all know one another now. Let's go on." he said, walking forward with them for half a mile now. If they glanced down, they'd notice a few half-broken rocks laying around the path, and would notice the sand was highly white, almost like snow. It stuck to their shoes, colouring them white.

"This is some weird-ass snow-sand," Dunefiend remarked, kicking it a little. "Is it caused by pollution or some crap? The McDonalds pouring their unused grease down the sewer drains?"

[Nightkill the Emperor]

"Oh...alright!" Ludo was disturbingly enthusiastic, jumping into the air as the gravity that kept her own body on the ground vanished. She was floating, mini-pistol in hand, and soon she was gliding throught the room, towards the nearest window, using her powers to drag Alison along. "Out the window we go! Yay!"

The Jewish interdimensional traveler was giggling and squeeing, like the immature semi-divine being she was, as she crashed through the already pretty ruined window and into the air, many feet above the ground, the heat of the fire suddenly assaulting her pale and sensitive skin. "Ewww...I'm going to get all sweaty..."

She was frowning now, grieving over her undergarments which would most likely be soaked in sweat before she managed to find a place for Alison and herself to land on. Oh, Alison!

With a quick gesture, she pulled the other girl towards her.

"Eep!" the bunnygirl squeaked as she was dragged out of the window and onto a safe spot across the street from the hotel.

They were now back near the meter, looking at the burning hotel. The sweltering heat thrown off from the burning fuel was exasperating, and just thinking about it would make either of them sweaty. Now they were sticky, covered in body oils and stinking sweat. Gross.

A black Jeep full of Arab men, with the driver wearing a black headdress, was now pulling away from the street, as if running away from the hotel lest it blow up or something. The back of the car had someone with a burlap sack over his head, but neither of the girls would notice this.

"I really need to get the dumb cunt to give us a shower after," Alison muttered. "Let's go save Corvallis's ass."

And she ran towards the hotel, not noticing that her phone was blinking a red dot of a tracking signal moving away from their location... and in the direction of that black Jeep.

---

Most people reading this in an alternate universe would think that they were going to a cave or something like that. It’s how the media likes to portray desperate people trying to bring down the establishment: always far from civilization. Hippies are in communes somewhere rural where everything is provided for them without them working hard. Extreme right-wingers live in the Deep South. Terrorists go hide in caves in the wilderness. This is the narrative that everyone’s told us, and we know it to be true, because how could you ever imagine them doing something else?

Welcome to Syria in 2030, where the (real!) terrorists live in the middle of a bustling city, in open view of a nearby military base. They walk down the street, purchase groceries, build bombs, get medical care, and pretty much live like normal people.

Well… except for the fact that they’re motherfucking terrorists, of course.

But Corvallis would not know this.

Corvallis had his head covered throughout the entire trip through the hot sun to their base. The next time he was able to see anything at all, he was underground in darkness, the walls looking roughly chiseled out and a flashlight shining above him.

Looking down, he would have noticed that he had been bound with some nanocarbon rope to a chair which was secured to the floor. The red blinking lights of cameras could be seen all around the room, and there were a few burly, strong men standing in front of the only exit: a stairway that seemed carved into the walls. No escaping this place. Or at least without help.

The guy with the dark headdress earlier — Malak, to give him a name — was looking at him, his bright blue eyes looking at him through the darkness.

“Mr Sanchez, what is your purpose in Syria?” he asked the tied up prisoner. “Tell me, now!”

Corvallis blinked. "Ah...shit. Well. Shit. Shit. Fuck. Shit." he said, sighing. "Am I allowed a bit more? Shit. Shit. Fuck. Shit. Oh man, you would not believe how crappy my day has been today..." he muttered. "Can one of you guys get me a drink? I know you're Muslims and you don't have beer, but if you did, would you please provide it? Also, there's a joint in the upper left pocket of my shirt. If you could please light it and put it in my mouth, I would be incredibly grateful."

He leaned back in his chair. "Oh man," he said, closing his eyes. "Sorry about this, I just really needed something to calm me down. Um. Yeah. Why I'm here. The bitch brought me here. She's a werewolf, you see. And kidnapped me, brought me along. There's this superweapon scattered across Syria and we're collecting the pieces. It'll give her strength beyond measure. I was sort of her hostage. Now I'm your hostage. My employment appears to have been changing."

[Swith Witherward]

"I know Thor's been in a wheelchair ever since King Arthur crippled him. I was there, you know," said William. "Though if his hammer actually is here I suppose it would be a good idea to retrieve it, before some opossum takes a leak on it and gets superpowers or some rubbish like that.

Loki paused and glared at William. "Now that you've said it, I know it's going to happen." he muttered. "Hmm. Perhaps this is a bit of a large group. Daisuke, Ciel, you may go back upstairs, watch the school and so on. The rest of you, best to hang around with me. Also," he gestured at Fen. "This is a new student. I think Crowley would rather I don't traumatise her too much, but I think there was a purpose to the school teleporting her with us. Could be random chance, but I've seen a lot of these random chance incidents in my time and they usually end up being important. So she'll stay with us. New girl, allow me to introduce you. I'm Loki, that's Rosalind, that's Divia, that's Caspian..." he went on, introducing everyone.

"Good, we all know one another now. Let's go on." he said, walking forward with them for half a mile now. If they glanced down, they'd notice a few half-broken rocks laying around the path, and would notice the sand was highly white, almost like snow. It stuck to their shoes, colouring them white.

"Thank you, Loki." Fen's ears reddened at the thought of having a purpose. Weird school. She gave her companions a chipper smile.

She plodded down the beach with the group but her eyes were drawn to the ground. The color was unusual although there were plenty of places on earth where sand had pale hue. She scooped a handful of it up as they went and lightly ground the stuff against her palm with her thumb to see what it consisted off. Sand was normally broken and ground down bits of coral, small dead creatures, bone fragments and fish shit.

"Can someone tell me a bit of the back story about the hammer?" she asked the group at large.

[Nightkill the Emperor]

Loki paused and glared at William. "Now that you've said it, I know it's going to happen." he muttered. "Hmm. Perhaps this is a bit of a large group. Daisuke, Ciel, you may go back upstairs, watch the school and so on. The rest of you, best to hang around with me. Also," he gestured at Fen. "This is a new student. I think Crowley would rather I don't traumatise her too much, but I think there was a purpose to the school teleporting her with us. Could be random chance, but I've seen a lot of these random chance incidents in my time and they usually end up being important. So she'll stay with us. New girl, allow me to introduce you. I'm Loki, that's Rosalind, that's Divia, that's Caspian..." he went on, introducing everyone.

"Good, we all know one another now. Let's go on." he said, walking forward with them for half a mile now. If they glanced down, they'd notice a few half-broken rocks laying around the path, and would notice the sand was highly white, almost like snow. It stuck to their shoes, colouring them white.

"Thank you, Loki." Fen's ears reddened at the thought of having a purpose. Weird school. She gave her companions a chipper smile.

She plodded down the beach with the group but her eyes were drawn to the ground. The color was unusual although there were plenty of places on earth where sand had pale hue. She scooped a handful of it up as they went and lightly ground the stuff against her palm with her thumb to see what it consisted off. Sand was normally broken and ground down bits of coral, small dead creatures, bone fragments and fish shit.

"Can someone tell me a bit of the back story about the hammer?" she asked the group at large.

"Thor's hammer." Loki explained. "His most prized possession, one of the most powerful weapons of Asgard. My brother relies on that hammer for much of his power. It is able to heal wounds, summon lightning, do a fair bit of carpentry and destroy foes. When my brother awakes from his coma and realises he has lost his hammer, I know not what he will do."

Loki glanced down at the sand, using his feet to brush it aside. Underneath the sand was a completely green ground. Not green with grass, exactly- just flat out green. Loki blinked. "Strange environment this school has."

[Nude East Ireland]

Alice whipped a bast of fire at the hostiles, before Eamon jumped in-between her and the action, handgun drawn.

"Hey, asshole, move!" Alice yelled, grabbing onto Eamon and trying to shove him to the side. The lad turned, grabbing Alice's collar and pulling her close.

"No! You listen to me, Alice, we've lost enough people. Get in the trenches now, damn it!" he replied. Alice was silent and still, before bolting for the trenches. Francois used his telekinesis to lift a large stone out of the ground, which the two used as cover. Once they got to the trenches, Alice hopped in, and Francois sent the rock flying at the enemies. Eamon fired off several shots with his gun, before running for the trenches and jumping in next to Francois. Alice ran down further, providing support for the Georgians by launching large fire blasts at the attackers.

"Say Aleister," Francois yelled over the gunfire, "This reminds me of that Blue Ono fiasco!" He proceeded to kick up some large rocks and hurl them at the attackers.

Eamonhad holstered his gun, grabbing an unmanned machine gun and opening fire.

[Swith Witherward]

"Thor's hammer." Loki explained. "His most prized possession, one of the most powerful weapons of Asgard. My brother relies on that hammer for much of his power. It is able to heal wounds, summon lightning, do a fair bit of carpentry and destroy foes. When my brother awakes from his coma and realises he has lost his hammer, I know not what he will do."

Loki glanced down at the sand, using his feet to brush it aside. Underneath the sand was a completely green ground. Not green with grass, exactly- just flat out green. Loki blinked. "Strange environment this school has."

Fen was a bit disappointed to see the green ground. It reminded her of a painted gym floor for some reason. She absentmindedly cooled the stuff in her hand and squished it into a little ducky sculpture as she walked. Realizing she was falling back on old nervous habits, she crumbled it and wiped her palm on her hip.

"So... we find the hammer and get it back before Thor wakes up and pitches a fit? Is there a chance whatever put him in the coma has it?"

[Individuality-ness]

Corvallis blinked. "Ah...shit. Well. Shit. Shit. Fuck. Shit." he said, sighing. "Am I allowed a bit more? Shit. Shit. Fuck. Shit. Oh man, you would not believe how crappy my day has been today..." he muttered. "Can one of you guys get me a drink? I know you're Muslims and you don't have beer, but if you did, would you please provide it? Also, there's a joint in the upper left pocket of my shirt. If you could please light it and put it in my mouth, I would be incredibly grateful."

He leaned back in his chair. "Oh man," he said, closing his eyes. "Sorry about this, I just really needed something to calm me down. Um. Yeah. Why I'm here. The bitch brought me here. She's a werewolf, you see. And kidnapped me, brought me along. There's this superweapon scattered across Syria and we're collecting the pieces. It'll give her strength beyond measure. I was sort of her hostage. Now I'm your hostage. My employment appears to have been changing."

One of the men slapped Corvallis.

Malak looked at him. "No. We will not taint Allah's holy air with your heathen smoke or your body-altering drink. Now who is this... werewolf... that you refer to?"

The man next to Corvallis slapped him again.

"Who is she?" Malak demanded of him, bright blue eyes piercing the darkness.

[Nightkill the Emperor]

Corvallis blinked. "Ah...shit. Well. Shit. Shit. Fuck. Shit." he said, sighing. "Am I allowed a bit more? Shit. Shit. Fuck. Shit. Oh man, you would not believe how crappy my day has been today..." he muttered. "Can one of you guys get me a drink? I know you're Muslims and you don't have beer, but if you did, would you please provide it? Also, there's a joint in the upper left pocket of my shirt. If you could please light it and put it in my mouth, I would be incredibly grateful."

He leaned back in his chair. "Oh man," he said, closing his eyes. "Sorry about this, I just really needed something to calm me down. Um. Yeah. Why I'm here. The bitch brought me here. She's a werewolf, you see. And kidnapped me, brought me along. There's this superweapon scattered across Syria and we're collecting the pieces. It'll give her strength beyond measure. I was sort of her hostage. Now I'm your hostage. My employment appears to have been changing."

One of the men slapped Corvallis.

Malak looked at him. "No. We will not taint Allah's holy air with your heathen smoke or your body-altering drink. Now who is this... werewolf... that you refer to?"

The man next to Corvallis slapped him again.

"Who is she?" Malak demanded of him, bright blue eyes piercing the darkness.

Corvallis thought fast. "Well, she's Alison Carter. But I warn you- she's tough and very difficult to fight. She's a strange werewolf in that her power comes during daylight- nighttime is when she should be attacked. She has some Mage powers and is good at fighting long range. Trust me when I say that trying to hit her with a sniper rifle is the worst thing you could do. But just kill her- she kidnapped me and tortured me and I want my bloody revenge on that whore." He snarled.

Corvallis was very posed about the lack of pot in him right now.

[Individuality-ness]

One of the men slapped Corvallis.

Malak looked at him. "No. We will not taint Allah's holy air with your heathen smoke or your body-altering drink. Now who is this... werewolf... that you refer to?"

The man next to Corvallis slapped him again.

"Who is she?" Malak demanded of him, bright blue eyes piercing the darkness.

Corvallis thought fast. "Well, she's Alison Carter. But I warn you- she's tough and very difficult to fight. She's a strange werewolf in that her power comes during daylight- nighttime is when she should be attacked. She has some Mage powers and is good at fighting long range. Trust me when I say that trying to hit her with a sniper rifle is the worst thing you could do. But just kill her- she kidnapped me and tortured me and I want my bloody revenge on that whore." He snarled.

Corvallis was very posed about the lack of pot in him right now.

Malak walked closer to him, flashlight in hand.

"Where would I find this 'Alison Carter'?" he asked, focusing the flashlight's bright beam into Corvallis' eyes. It was a bright LED flashlight, giving out a bright white light that hurt the eyes if stared at.

[Nightkill the Emperor]

Alice whipped a bast of fire at the hostiles, before Eamon jumped in-between her and the action, handgun drawn.

"Hey, asshole, move!" Alice yelled, grabbing onto Eamon and trying to shove him to the side. The lad turned, grabbing Alice's collar and pulling her close.

"No! You listen to me, Alice, we've lost enough people. Get in the trenches now, damn it!" he replied. Alice was silent and still, before bolting for the trenches. Francois used his telekinesis to lift a large stone out of the ground, which the two used as cover. Once they got to the trenches, Alice hopped in, and Francois sent the rock flying at the enemies. Eamon fired off several shots with his gun, before running for the trenches and jumping in next to Francois. Alice ran down further, providing support for the Georgians by launching large fire blasts at the attackers.

"Say Aleister," Francois yelled over the gunfire, "This reminds me of that Blue Ono fiasco!" He proceeded to kick up some large rocks and hurl them at the attackers.

Eamonhad holstered his gun, grabbing an unmanned machine gun and opening fire.

Crowley looked out now almost with boredom. This was a battle, indeed, he supposed. But it wasn't that considerable of one, ultimately. He started walking out toward the trenches, planting himself down next to a man wearing a kilt. A Scot then. "Alright, who are they?" he asked.

"The Slavers, we call them." the Scot explained, though his accent had some distinct Russian influence. "They're slavers, you see."

"No, really?" Crowley asked sarcastically, but the Scot didn't seem to notice.

"I mean, I don't particularly like the darker races either, but those guys take it to an extreme, yeah? They enslave and kidnap and torture. Can't stand them."

"Where do they come from?"

"America." came the response from the chuckling Scot. "And there's a lot of Boers with them too. Bloody Boers." the Scot rolled his eyes. "And the Jerrys."

Crowley nodded. "I see." he said, standing up and throwing a grenade made of pure light into the crowd of Slavers. It exploded, blinding those looking, sending them into a panic. Crowley ran toward the FU people. "Alright. I'm going to try something risky." he explained. "One of you, come with me for backup. We're going to do something very, very stupid."

[Nightkill the Emperor]

"Thor's hammer." Loki explained. "His most prized possession, one of the most powerful weapons of Asgard. My brother relies on that hammer for much of his power. It is able to heal wounds, summon lightning, do a fair bit of carpentry and destroy foes. When my brother awakes from his coma and realises he has lost his hammer, I know not what he will do."

Loki glanced down at the sand, using his feet to brush it aside. Underneath the sand was a completely green ground. Not green with grass, exactly- just flat out green. Loki blinked. "Strange environment this school has."

Fen was a bit disappointed to see the green ground. It reminded her of a painted gym floor for some reason. She absentmindedly cooled the stuff in her hand and squished it into a little ducky sculpture as she walked. Realizing she was falling back on old nervous habits, she crumbled it and wiped her palm on her hip.

"So... we find the hammer and get it back before Thor wakes up and pitches a fit? Is there a chance whatever put him in the coma has it?"

"No shit, Sherlock." came the response of the immensely old and powerful Asgardian god. Loki frowned. "Now, just to figure out who could have done i-"

Loki was shot in the head by an anti-tank missile and went flying right backwards. Not dead or even severely injured- but certainly unconscious.

A brigade of white men wearing plain white clothing and white cowboy hats came out of the foliage, holding shotguns or assault rifles in their hands- but one of them had an anti-tank rifle, the one that had knocked out Loki. "Who are you?" growled out one forty year old man with a raggedy beard and a glare. "What are you going down here, these are our hunting grounds."

[Nude East Ireland]

Alice whipped a bast of fire at the hostiles, before Eamon jumped in-between her and the action, handgun drawn.

"Hey, asshole, move!" Alice yelled, grabbing onto Eamon and trying to shove him to the side. The lad turned, grabbing Alice's collar and pulling her close.

"No! You listen to me, Alice, we've lost enough people. Get in the trenches now, damn it!" he replied. Alice was silent and still, before bolting for the trenches. Francois used his telekinesis to lift a large stone out of the ground, which the two used as cover. Once they got to the trenches, Alice hopped in, and Francois sent the rock flying at the enemies. Eamon fired off several shots with his gun, before running for the trenches and jumping in next to Francois. Alice ran down further, providing support for the Georgians by launching large fire blasts at the attackers.

"Say Aleister," Francois yelled over the gunfire, "This reminds me of that Blue Ono fiasco!" He proceeded to kick up some large rocks and hurl them at the attackers.

Eamonhad holstered his gun, grabbing an unmanned machine gun and opening fire.

Crowley looked out now almost with boredom. This was a battle, indeed, he supposed. But it wasn't that considerable of one, ultimately. He started walking out toward the trenches, planting himself down next to a man wearing a kilt. A Scot then. "Alright, who are they?" he asked.

"The Slavers, we call them." the Scot explained, though his accent had some distinct Russian influence. "They're slavers, you see."

"No, really?" Crowley asked sarcastically, but the Scot didn't seem to notice.

"I mean, I don't particularly like the darker races either, but those guys take it to an extreme, yeah? They enslave and kidnap and torture. Can't stand them."

"Where do they come from?"

"America." came the response from the chuckling Scot. "And there's a lot of Boers with them too. Bloody Boers." the Scot rolled his eyes. "And the Jerrys."

Crowley nodded. "I see." he said, standing up and throwing a grenade made of pure light into the crowd of Slavers. It exploded, blinding those looking, sending them into a panic. Crowley ran toward the FU people. "Alright. I'm going to try something risky." he explained. "One of you, come with me for backup. We're going to do something very, very stupid."

"Francois," Alice and Eamon said in unison. The Frenchman had no qualms, and shrugged.

"I suppose I'll go with you," he said. "Lead the way, Al."

[Nightkill the Emperor]

Corvallis thought fast. "Well, she's Alison Carter. But I warn you- she's tough and very difficult to fight. She's a strange werewolf in that her power comes during daylight- nighttime is when she should be attacked. She has some Mage powers and is good at fighting long range. Trust me when I say that trying to hit her with a sniper rifle is the worst thing you could do. But just kill her- she kidnapped me and tortured me and I want my bloody revenge on that whore." He snarled.

Corvallis was very posed about the lack of pot in him right now.

Malak walked closer to him, flashlight in hand.

"Where would I find this 'Alison Carter'?" he asked, focusing the flashlight's bright beam into Corvallis' eyes. It was a bright LED flashlight, giving out a bright white light that hurt the eyes if stared at.

Corvallis kept his eyes closed. "You know, probably the same hotel you kidnapped me at. Which was quite unpleasant, by the way. Manners go a long, long way. I'm sure the Koran has a big section on hospitality- in fact, I'm absolutely certain of it. Now, which group are you guys part of, out of plain curiosity? As you can see, I'm a bit tied up here and would get bored easily."

[Individuality-ness]

Malak walked closer to him, flashlight in hand.

"Where would I find this 'Alison Carter'?" he asked, focusing the flashlight's bright beam into Corvallis' eyes. It was a bright LED flashlight, giving out a bright white light that hurt the eyes if stared at.

Corvallis kept his eyes closed. "You know, probably the same hotel you kidnapped me at. Which was quite unpleasant, by the way. Manners go a long, long way. I'm sure the Koran has a big section on hospitality- in fact, I'm absolutely certain of it. Now, which group are you guys part of, out of plain curiosity? As you can see, I'm a bit tied up here and would get bored easily."

There was silence for a few minutes. One of the men, wearing a white headdress, came up to Malak and whispered in his ear, which led to a fierce whispered discussion in Arabic.

Finally, Malak turned back, and addressed the prisoner sitting in the chair while a group of three Arabic men ran up the stairs, presumably to return to that hotel and kidnap Alison and possibly Ludo.

"Because you are our prisoner, we know you will not escape. We also know from our source that you and your uncle do not particularly like one another, so you're not likely to tell him. So we will tell you. Abdullah Rathore."

Another group of three men walked up to Corvallis, one of them putting another burlap sack over his head. Corvallis would be able to feel himself being moved, although to where he won't know.

Malak's voice could still be heard through the sack though. "Enjoy your stay here, Mr. Sanchez. I hope that we don't hurt you too much."

[Nightkill the Emperor]

Crowley looked out now almost with boredom. This was a battle, indeed, he supposed. But it wasn't that considerable of one, ultimately. He started walking out toward the trenches, planting himself down next to a man wearing a kilt. A Scot then. "Alright, who are they?" he asked.

"The Slavers, we call them." the Scot explained, though his accent had some distinct Russian influence. "They're slavers, you see."

"No, really?" Crowley asked sarcastically, but the Scot didn't seem to notice.

"I mean, I don't particularly like the darker races either, but those guys take it to an extreme, yeah? They enslave and kidnap and torture. Can't stand them."

"Where do they come from?"

"America." came the response from the chuckling Scot. "And there's a lot of Boers with them too. Bloody Boers." the Scot rolled his eyes. "And the Jerrys."

Crowley nodded. "I see." he said, standing up and throwing a grenade made of pure light into the crowd of Slavers. It exploded, blinding those looking, sending them into a panic. Crowley ran toward the FU people. "Alright. I'm going to try something risky." he explained. "One of you, come with me for backup. We're going to do something very, very stupid."

"Francois," Alice and Eamon said in unison. The Frenchman had no qualms, and shrugged.

"I suppose I'll go with you," he said. "Lead the way, Al."

"Time for us to get kidnapped." Crowley said cheerfully. He ran out into the midst of the Slavers, Francois following. "Look at me, I'm a target!" Crowley yelled, before both he and Francois were whacked over the head by clubs.

When they woke up, they found themselves in what resembled a dune buggy, tied up with anti-magic rope. Crowley blinked, shaking Francois with his shoulder to confirm the Frenchman was awake and then inching away. "You up? Good. So, I got ourselves kidnapped. Let's head to their base, see what's there."

[Nightkill the Emperor]

Corvallis kept his eyes closed. "You know, probably the same hotel you kidnapped me at. Which was quite unpleasant, by the way. Manners go a long, long way. I'm sure the Koran has a big section on hospitality- in fact, I'm absolutely certain of it. Now, which group are you guys part of, out of plain curiosity? As you can see, I'm a bit tied up here and would get bored easily."

There was silence for a few minutes. One of the men, wearing a white headdress, came up to Malak and whispered in his ear, which led to a fierce whispered discussion in Arabic.

Finally, Malak turned back, and addressed the prisoner sitting in the chair while a group of three Arabic men ran up the stairs, presumably to return to that hotel and kidnap Alison and possibly Ludo.

"Because you are our prisoner, we know you will not escape. We also know from our source that you and your uncle do not particularly like one another, so you're not likely to tell him. So we will tell you. Abdullah Rathore."

Another group of three men walked up to Corvallis, one of them putting another burlap sack over his head. Corvallis would be able to feel himself being moved, although to where he won't know.

Malak's voice could still be heard through the sack though. "Enjoy your stay here, Mr. Sanchez. I hope that we don't hurt you too much."

"He fucking died!" Corvallis protested, having been, and I must stress this, on the goddamn fucking Moon when Abdullah Rathore fucking, and this must be restated, died. As in fucking dead.

"This is fucking bullshit!" protested Corvallis.

"Ah, aren't second lives great?" asked a cheery Welsh voice.

Corvallis nearly committed suicide with a chair he was tied to. With some difficulty, the terrorists got him to stop. I'll leave it to your imagination to think of how he almost did it.

In the meantime, Indi, let's move the action back to Alison and Ludo.

[Individuality-ness]

In the meantime, Indi, let's move the action back to Alison and Ludo.

Obliged.

Now, let's start from where we left off:

"I really need to get the dumb cunt to give us a shower after," Alison muttered. "Let's go save Corvallis's ass."

And she ran towards the hotel, not noticing that her phone was blinking a red dot of a tracking signal moving away from their location... and in the direction of that black Jeep.

So, remember that hotel? The one where the lobby was set on fire by suicide bombers? Yeah, that hotel.

Essentially, what the bunnygirl was doing was running across the street towards a burning fire, all to save that stupid dumb cunt, which she thought was in the hotel in need of her assistance. In her head she was calling Corvallis a total dumbass, but she didn't want him dead either. Having a dead Sanchez on her hands would be very difficult to explain away if it ever came out.

And so it goes that the bunnygirl ran into the burning hotel looking for Corvallis, without noticing that her phone was following a tracking signal (that Corvallis activated) that was leading towards a settlement outside of Damascus.

I don't know what Ludo was doing. Liri needs to do that part. But Alison ran towards the hotel, and began to scream for Corvallis off the top of her lungs, trying to get him to yell back so that she could find him and get him out of there.