Elfen High 2: Gotterdammerung

[Nude East Ireland]

"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."

"Brilliant," Francois replied. "Now, how do we get out of this?"

[Nightkill the Emperor]

"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."

"Brilliant," Francois replied. "Now, how do we get out of this?"

Crowley took a breath, blew it out and then started to laugh. "I have absolutely no idea. That's a nice feeling. Consider it a vacation, Francois. We aren't in any real danger, after all. Just some stupid bunch of racist idiots trying to lead us around. We'll be fine."

Francois and Crowley were awake their transport had stopped and some white men had entered in, grabbing them roughly and pulling them out. As they walked through the fields, they saw black men, women and children farming and sweating and working there. Crowley frowned. "Interesting. Must have ripped these lads out of...what, the 19th century? 18th? Probably in the case of the Americans. But there's the Afrikaners and Germans, so they probably got modern technology that way. Interesting. Very interesting. Francois, were you alive during the second world war, or is that too early for you?"

[Nude East Ireland]

"Brilliant," Francois replied. "Now, how do we get out of this?"

Crowley took a breath, blew it out and then started to laugh. "I have absolutely no idea. That's a nice feeling. Consider it a vacation, Francois. We aren't in any real danger, after all. Just some stupid bunch of racist idiots trying to lead us around. We'll be fine."

Francois and Crowley were awake their transport had stopped and some white men had entered in, grabbing them roughly and pulling them out. As they walked through the fields, they saw black men, women and children farming and sweating and working there. Crowley frowned. "Interesting. Must have ripped these lads out of...what, the 19th century? 18th? Probably in the case of the Americans. But there's the Afrikaners and Germans, so they probably got modern technology that way. Interesting. Very interesting. Francois, were you alive during the second world war, or is that too early for you?"

"I served with the Free French Forces," he replied. "At the start of the war, I had been traveling abroad. I was working for the early Irish government until 1940, when the British government came to me. At the time I was an amateur telekinetic and telepathic, but having at least some experience made me valuable as an agent. I was snuck into France soon after my recruitment. My kill count was 227 Wehrmacht soldiers and 49 S.S. officers. I was able to save 305 Jewish persons, and helped them escape to Great Britain and Ireland. Those weren't fun times."

[Nightkill the Emperor]

Crowley took a breath, blew it out and then started to laugh. "I have absolutely no idea. That's a nice feeling. Consider it a vacation, Francois. We aren't in any real danger, after all. Just some stupid bunch of racist idiots trying to lead us around. We'll be fine."

Francois and Crowley were awake their transport had stopped and some white men had entered in, grabbing them roughly and pulling them out. As they walked through the fields, they saw black men, women and children farming and sweating and working there. Crowley frowned. "Interesting. Must have ripped these lads out of...what, the 19th century? 18th? Probably in the case of the Americans. But there's the Afrikaners and Germans, so they probably got modern technology that way. Interesting. Very interesting. Francois, were you alive during the second world war, or is that too early for you?"

"I served with the Free French Forces," he replied. "At the start of the war, I had been traveling abroad. I was working for the early Irish government until 1940, when the British government came to me. At the time I was an amateur telekinetic and telepathic, but having at least some experience made me valuable as an agent. I was snuck into France soon after my recruitment. My kill count was 227 Wehrmacht soldiers and 49 S.S. officers. I was able to save 305 Jewish persons, and helped them escape to Great Britain and Ireland. Those weren't fun times."

"That's impressive." Crowley acknowledged. "I fucked bitches."

They entered a sort of shed, one that was, of course, bigger on the inside. And full of high-tech, advanced technology. Screens everywhere on the walls, the room illuminated by a sort of blue light and in the centre of the room, a single vat.

Just one dark vat. The contents could not be made out in the dark, but there was something there. Even Francois could feel its presence. Crowley winced, feeling a headache coming on. "Alright. You brought us here for a reason. What is it?" he demanded.

"We're just following orders, I'm afraid." came the response of an accented speaker, pointing a gun into Crowley's back.

"Who did your orders come from?" came the slow and quiet response from Crowley.

"The Lord Uriel."

Crowley stared at the vat. "No." he said quietly. "Oh Christ, I know what you're going to do. No. I won't let you!" he roared, trying to break out of his bonds and murder them all. "I know who's in there." he said, closing his eyes and almost weeping to himself.

Francois would feel the source becoming stronger and stronger inside the vat.

Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud. The sound came like a heartbeat, audible inside the room. But also audible everywhere in the school. Every human there heard the sound of the thud in their mind.

---

In his office, Daisuke paused. There was it. Yet again, that noise.

---

"Did you hear that?" muttered one of the white soldiers near Fen, Caspian and Rosalind. "That noise?"

---

"Crowley..." came the noise out of the vat. It was a distinctively English voice, sounding almost gleeful. Crowley looked horrified.

"I fucking well killed him!" he barked. "Years ago!"

The vat opened. Out of it and out of the smoke emerged a handsome English man, wearing Peter Davison's clothes for whatever reason. He grinned at Crowley. "Good to see you again." he almost laughed.

Crowley stared at him expressionlessly. "Doctor John Dee."

[Individuality-ness]

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."

Divia was mad. She didn't particularly like Loki — he was a heathen god, after all — but that doesn't mean that he deserved to be shot by a missile. Only the Lord can give out divine punishment. Not these... what the heck are they?

"Who are you to shoot one of the Lord's fellow creatures?" she asked the men indignantly. "Even if he is a heathen god, you have no authority to give judgement or to hurt any of His creatures."

[Nationstatelandsville]

"Did you hear that?" muttered one of the white soldiers near Fen, Caspian and Rosalind. "That noise?"

"No," Rosalind answered tersely, promptly driving her knife into the soldier's balls.

She immediately jumped into the air and latched onto the man's arm, biting into the back with his hand with her teeth. Specifically, she caught the bone of his index finger in her teeth and crushed it with all her might.

This was a mere distraction. While doing this, she grabbed onto his gun and tugged on it, hoping he would release it in pain.

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."

Aziraphale merely looked at Calliel with an expression of pure pain and utter betrayal.

"Your wife," he began, before dissolving into a fit of heavy coughing. After a moment of relentless hacking, helurched and spat a very vital looking piece of organ upwards, smacking into the ceiling.

It was better than choking.

"Your wife," he gasped, "your wife is gone. Oh God, Calliel."

Hot tears were now flowing painfully down his cheeks.

"I'm gone," he said.

[Nude East Ireland]

"John Dee?" Francois asked. "What... what's he got to do with this? With Uriel?"

The Frenchman stared at Dee, a bit peeved at the situation. "Listen you old gasbag, give us some information."

[Nightkill the Emperor]

"John Dee?" Francois asked. "What... what's he got to do with this? With Uriel?"

The Frenchman stared at Dee, a bit peeved at the situation. "Listen you old gasbag, give us some information."

"I'm an enemy of Mr. Aleister Crowley's." explained John Dee calmly, grabbing a nearby cane. "Cane. Always need a cane, feel quite naked without it." he muttered.

"I killed him centuries prior, in the Catacombs of Paris." Crowley said shortly, by way of explanation. "It was a hell of a confrontation. But why are you here, how-" Crowley paused. "Oh."

"I think he's starting to see it." Dee said, rubbing his hands together.

"Azazel's revival technology." Crowley said. "That's what Uriel used on you, isn't it? They were working together, I always wondered for what ultimate purpose." he muttered. "I mean, it likely wasn't Uriel's interest in Hell cuisine."

"Yes, I do like the fetus burgers, those things are somewhat exquisite-"

"I was referring to the bitches." Crowley said flatly.

"Haven't you ever put one in a fetus burger?" Dee asked.

You have to understand these two had been around for a while and had a slightly different view of sex. Perhaps, they were Englishmen.

Dr. John Dee rolled his sleeves down. "So-" he said, waving his cane at Crowley. "Where are we? I detect we're underneath your school, yes?" he waved his cane in the air vaguely now. "Well then. I'll have fun burning it down, burning down your heart with it."

Crowley's face went flat. "Dee?" he asked.

"Yes?"

"Go fuck off. Francois, get ready." he said, inching closer to the Frenchman.

He kicked a nearby guard in the groin and then ran out of the door, running into the gardens. "Cut off my rope, please!" he begged of a slave. "And my friend's, too. That'd be very good, we can help get you out-"

The slave looked cautiously at the shed where now a few angry white men were emerging, but Crowley rolled his eyes. "Oh, I haven't got the time for this. Please cut me out now and I'll slaughter them all."

Immediately, the slave started to rip off Francois' ropes, but was shot dead as soon as she finished doing so, the white men holding out their shotguns and now aiming at Crowley. "Francois, hurry up and get mine off!" barked Crowley.

[Nude East Ireland]

Francois grabbed the knife. As he was cutting through Crowley's ropes, the Frenchman sent several farming tools hurtling towards the soldiers, smashing into them and impaling them.

"Shit, shit, shit," he muttered underneath his breath. FInally, he cut Crowley free, though several bullets skimmed along his shoulder, causing him to grab it in pain. "Fuck me," he muttered, before using his powers to rip the shotgun from a dead white man's hand and guide it into his own. Quickly he aimed and fired a buckshot into the face of a charging soldier.

"What's the plan now?"

[Nightkill the Emperor]

Francois grabbed the knife. As he was cutting through Crowley's ropes, the Frenchman sent several farming tools hurtling towards the soldiers, smashing into them and impaling them.

"Shit, shit, shit," he muttered underneath his breath. FInally, he cut Crowley free, though several bullets skimmed along his shoulder, causing him to grab it in pain. "Fuck me," he muttered, before using his powers to rip the shotgun from a dead white man's hand and guide it into his own. Quickly he aimed and fired a buckshot into the face of a charging soldier.

"What's the plan now?"

"Plan? You're funny." came the response as Crowley looked out at the growing number of soldiers and the magic power relaxing in that shed. "Alright." he rubbed his temples. "I'm going to create a diversion." he said, his hands glowing blue. He threw them down, a sand cloud blowing up in the air, hiding them in it. With a spin, Crowley spread it through the entire settlement.

Then he grabbed Francois' hand and ran, running as fast out of the town as they could. "This won't be the only town." he said flatly. "Look, mostly black people and white soldiers. I think this is a plantation of sorts, or perhaps a farming town. These people would have had ages to develop and grow. They could have built a bloody empire of sorts. There's going to be other towns, no doubt about that. We have to go to one of them and just hide for a few moments before finding our way back into the school proper. GPS isn't working down here- far too much magical interference."

Then he paused as they were on the town outskirts, his sand still spraying around through the entire town and lowering vision for the soldiers. "The forest then. We can try to find our way through the forest, look for safety there. It's a vast one, but God knows what's there. And Dee, while he's a psychopath, he wouldn't burn this forest down like he did to London once. I think these trees are explosive and he'd rather not be caught in the crossfire." He saw the sand start to settle down and ran into the forest, noticing the glass shards embedded into the trees.

He shook himself off, since he and Francois stood out like a sore white thumb due to the unique colour of the sand. "Going to need to wash ourselves off soon." Crowley muttered. "Alright, you have any questions? I'd assume you do, since you rather just put your life in my hands."

[Nightkill the Emperor]

"Did you hear that?" muttered one of the white soldiers near Fen, Caspian and Rosalind. "That noise?"

"No," Rosalind answered tersely, promptly driving her knife into the soldier's balls.

She immediately jumped into the air and latched onto the man's arm, biting into the back with his hand with her teeth. Specifically, she caught the bone of his index finger in her teeth and crushed it with all her might.

This was a mere distraction. While doing this, she grabbed onto his gun and tugged on it, hoping he would release it in pain.

The soldier roared in pain, falling on the ground and proceeding to bleed to death, which is rather what happens when you take a knife to the balls.

He did drop his gun- but now his buddies were firing randomly into the crowd, including anti-tank rifle man.

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."

Aziraphale merely looked at Calliel with an expression of pure pain and utter betrayal.

"Your wife," he began, before dissolving into a fit of heavy coughing. After a moment of relentless hacking, helurched and spat a very vital looking piece of organ upwards, smacking into the ceiling.

It was better than choking.

"Your wife," he gasped, "your wife is gone. Oh God, Calliel."

Hot tears were now flowing painfully down his cheeks.

"I'm gone," he said.

Sanchez paused. "Knock them back out and do what you had been doing. Apologies." he said with a nod. The doctors proceeded to do so.

"Sir, Franklin Jameson is trying to get inside." said one ISSR soldier. "He wants to see his mother and the angels."

Sanchez rubbed his eyes. "Alright." he muttered. He had a hell of a headache- it had been a long day. "Send him in."

[Nationstatelandsville]

The soldier roared in pain, falling on the ground and proceeding to bleed to death, which is rather what happens when you take a knife to the balls.

He did drop his gun- but now his buddies were firing randomly into the crowd, including anti-tank rifle man.

Rosalind did the smart thing and ran like hell. She occasionally turned to fire back, but spent most of her time running.

Sanchez paused. "Knock them back out and do what you had been doing. Apologies." he said with a nod. The doctors proceeded to do so.

"Sir, Franklin Jameson is trying to get inside." said one ISSR soldier. "He wants to see his mother and the angels."

Sanchez rubbed his eyes. "Alright." he muttered. He had a hell of a headache- it had been a long day. "Send him in."

D kicked the door open, because he had begun taking tips from a certain alien who couldn't open the door any other way. He lowered his bazooka and scowled.

"I was going to test this out!" he grumbled, "And, anyhow, fuck you guys for taking the angel from me. I knew what I was doing!"

D neglected to mention the bloodied crowbar that had somehow ended up bursting into flames at one point.

He strolled up to Aziraphale and glanced at him, "Sedatives? I wish I had thought of that. How's his condition? Oh, and Sanchez, your dick - still compensating for it? I can whip you up one of those nukes from earlier if you like."

[Nude East Ireland]

Francois grabbed the knife. As he was cutting through Crowley's ropes, the Frenchman sent several farming tools hurtling towards the soldiers, smashing into them and impaling them.

"Shit, shit, shit," he muttered underneath his breath. FInally, he cut Crowley free, though several bullets skimmed along his shoulder, causing him to grab it in pain. "Fuck me," he muttered, before using his powers to rip the shotgun from a dead white man's hand and guide it into his own. Quickly he aimed and fired a buckshot into the face of a charging soldier.

"What's the plan now?"

"Plan? You're funny." came the response as Crowley looked out at the growing number of soldiers and the magic power relaxing in that shed. "Alright." he rubbed his temples. "I'm going to create a diversion." he said, his hands glowing blue. He threw them down, a sand cloud blowing up in the air, hiding them in it. With a spin, Crowley spread it through the entire settlement.

Then he grabbed Francois' hand and ran, running as fast out of the town as they could. "This won't be the only town." he said flatly. "Look, mostly black people and white soldiers. I think this is a plantation of sorts, or perhaps a farming town. These people would have had ages to develop and grow. They could have built a bloody empire of sorts. There's going to be other towns, no doubt about that. We have to go to one of them and just hide for a few moments before finding our way back into the school proper. GPS isn't working down here- far too much magical interference."

Then he paused as they were on the town outskirts, his sand still spraying around through the entire town and lowering vision for the soldiers. "The forest then. We can try to find our way through the forest, look for safety there. It's a vast one, but God knows what's there. And Dee, while he's a psychopath, he wouldn't burn this forest down like he did to London once. I think these trees are explosive and he'd rather not be caught in the crossfire." He saw the sand start to settle down and ran into the forest, noticing the glass shards embedded into the trees.

He shook himself off, since he and Francois stood out like a sore white thumb due to the unique colour of the sand. "Going to need to wash ourselves off soon." Crowley muttered. "Alright, you have any questions? I'd assume you do, since you rather just put your life in my hands."

"What is your history with John Dee?" Francois asked, shaking the sand off of himself. "You two seem to know each other rather well. Friends-turned-enemies? Or just enemies?"

He also checked his shotgun. "This gun is unique. Made down here by the Slavers, no doubt. How long do you suppose this place has been a war zone?"

[Nightkill the Emperor]

"Plan? You're funny." came the response as Crowley looked out at the growing number of soldiers and the magic power relaxing in that shed. "Alright." he rubbed his temples. "I'm going to create a diversion." he said, his hands glowing blue. He threw them down, a sand cloud blowing up in the air, hiding them in it. With a spin, Crowley spread it through the entire settlement.

Then he grabbed Francois' hand and ran, running as fast out of the town as they could. "This won't be the only town." he said flatly. "Look, mostly black people and white soldiers. I think this is a plantation of sorts, or perhaps a farming town. These people would have had ages to develop and grow. They could have built a bloody empire of sorts. There's going to be other towns, no doubt about that. We have to go to one of them and just hide for a few moments before finding our way back into the school proper. GPS isn't working down here- far too much magical interference."

Then he paused as they were on the town outskirts, his sand still spraying around through the entire town and lowering vision for the soldiers. "The forest then. We can try to find our way through the forest, look for safety there. It's a vast one, but God knows what's there. And Dee, while he's a psychopath, he wouldn't burn this forest down like he did to London once. I think these trees are explosive and he'd rather not be caught in the crossfire." He saw the sand start to settle down and ran into the forest, noticing the glass shards embedded into the trees.

He shook himself off, since he and Francois stood out like a sore white thumb due to the unique colour of the sand. "Going to need to wash ourselves off soon." Crowley muttered. "Alright, you have any questions? I'd assume you do, since you rather just put your life in my hands."

"What is your history with John Dee?" Francois asked, shaking the sand off of himself. "You two seem to know each other rather well. Friends-turned-enemies? Or just enemies?"

He also checked his shotgun. "This gun is unique. Made down here by the Slavers, no doubt. How long do you suppose this place has been a war zone?"

Crowley yanked an apple off a tree. "Friend at first, yes. Then an enemy. We chased each other across the Earth for a time- he's a ruthless and brilliant individual." Crowley muttered. "Insane though. He tried to ally himself with the angels, becoming a sort of agent for Uriel on the ground. I had to end our game of cat and mouse two centuries ago underneath Paris." Crowley paused. "Paris...I was just there. In the Catacombs." He paused. "Hope it's just a coincidence."

[Nightkill the Emperor]

The soldier roared in pain, falling on the ground and proceeding to bleed to death, which is rather what happens when you take a knife to the balls.

He did drop his gun- but now his buddies were firing randomly into the crowd, including anti-tank rifle man.

Rosalind did the smart thing and ran like hell. She occasionally turned to fire back, but spent most of her time running.

Sanchez paused. "Knock them back out and do what you had been doing. Apologies." he said with a nod. The doctors proceeded to do so.

"Sir, Franklin Jameson is trying to get inside." said one ISSR soldier. "He wants to see his mother and the angels."

Sanchez rubbed his eyes. "Alright." he muttered. He had a hell of a headache- it had been a long day. "Send him in."

D kicked the door open, because he had begun taking tips from a certain alien who couldn't open the door any other way. He lowered his bazooka and scowled.

"I was going to test this out!" he grumbled, "And, anyhow, fuck you guys for taking the angel from me. I knew what I was doing!"

D neglected to mention the bloodied crowbar that had somehow ended up bursting into flames at one point.

He strolled up to Aziraphale and glanced at him, "Sedatives? I wish I had thought of that. How's his condition? Oh, and Sanchez, your dick - still compensating for it? I can whip you up one of those nukes from earlier if you like."

Sanchez just facepalmed and counted to ten quietly and slowly under his breath a few times. "Alright. I know you don't give a rat's ass about whatever I'm about to say about his condition or anything else, since you likely know it just as well as any of us. So just do your thing, Franklin."

[Nationstatelandsville]

Rosalind did the smart thing and ran like hell. She occasionally turned to fire back, but spent most of her time running.


D kicked the door open, because he had begun taking tips from a certain alien who couldn't open the door any other way. He lowered his bazooka and scowled.

"I was going to test this out!" he grumbled, "And, anyhow, fuck you guys for taking the angel from me. I knew what I was doing!"

D neglected to mention the bloodied crowbar that had somehow ended up bursting into flames at one point.

He strolled up to Aziraphale and glanced at him, "Sedatives? I wish I had thought of that. How's his condition? Oh, and Sanchez, your dick - still compensating for it? I can whip you up one of those nukes from earlier if you like."

Sanchez just facepalmed and counted to ten quietly and slowly under his breath a few times. "Alright. I know you don't give a rat's ass about whatever I'm about to say about his condition or anything else, since you likely know it just as well as any of us. So just do your thing, Franklin."

D smiled. It was not a nice smile.

"First off," he said, "that's D. D. Say it with me now - D. Good. Exactly three people on the face of this planet, any planet, in any universe, are allowed to call me 'Franklin'. One of them is dead, and the other one is dissatisfied with your sexual prowess. Speaking of which, where is my mother? She would be useful here, seeing as though our good friend Fuckup here has a bunch of creepy crawlies in his brain."

[Nude East Ireland]

"What is your history with John Dee?" Francois asked, shaking the sand off of himself. "You two seem to know each other rather well. Friends-turned-enemies? Or just enemies?"

He also checked his shotgun. "This gun is unique. Made down here by the Slavers, no doubt. How long do you suppose this place has been a war zone?"

Crowley yanked an apple off a tree. "Friend at first, yes. Then an enemy. We chased each other across the Earth for a time- he's a ruthless and brilliant individual." Crowley muttered. "Insane though. He tried to ally himself with the angels, becoming a sort of agent for Uriel on the ground. I had to end our game of cat and mouse two centuries ago underneath Paris." Crowley paused. "Paris...I was just there. In the Catacombs." He paused. "Hope it's just a coincidence."

"Coincidences, I find, aren't really coincidences," Francois replied. "Let's just hope that we get out of this alive."

[Constaniana]

"No," Rosalind answered tersely, promptly driving her knife into the soldier's balls.

She immediately jumped into the air and latched onto the man's arm, biting into the back with his hand with her teeth. Specifically, she caught the bone of his index finger in her teeth and crushed it with all her might.

This was a mere distraction. While doing this, she grabbed onto his gun and tugged on it, hoping he would release it in pain.

The soldier roared in pain, falling on the ground and proceeding to bleed to death, which is rather what happens when you take a knife to the balls.

He did drop his gun- but now his buddies were firing randomly into the crowd, including anti-tank rifle man.

What sort of quarry do they hunt around here that they need anti-tank rifles? Sir Nilark had thought before Rosalind started attacking the soldiers. The knight's thoughts swiftly sank into a frothing mess of obscenities from various languages and dialects as he began dodging the various bullets shot at him.

"Well, as I was going to say before that brat went mental and started stabbing people, we're lost travellers. We were searching for something an acquaintance of ours had misplaced, and wound up here," the Englishman said.

[Liriena]

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.

Ludo was happy to follow Alison into the hotel, still levitating and paying little to no attention to the inferno before her. "Ms. Alison, be careful! You might trip and sprain your ankle!"

The fire did not affect her, thanks to her already mindless habit of popping in and out of existence, although she did feel increasingly hot and sweaty, to the point that she was considering removing her hat. She was not even sure why she insisted on participating in Ms. Alison's adventure in Syria, but some things in life were better off underthought.

She absentmindedly explored the burning wreckage of the hotel, her mind distracting herself with thoughts of the Cosmos and feline eugenics aimed at producing the perfect breed of fluffy, brightly colored and cuddly kittens. She really wanted a new baby kitten for her cottage, since the six cats and eight dogs she already had were getting old.

With no sign of Corvallis as far as she could see, Ludo's attention was drawn to a half-burnt newspaper lying on a table besides a blackened corpse. Syrian corpse...no biggie.

As she waited for Alison to complete her own search, she read the news, or at least she intended to, until she realized that the newspaper was from last month. ...Syria.

"Ms. Alison, have you found your 'dumb cunt'?" She shouted across the room as she threw the crumpled newspaper into the flames and sat on a couch with practiced grace, sighing in utter disappointment. "I really need to catch the midnight train from Switzerland to Liechtenstein, and I want to get on board before they run out of chocolate and strawberry cake."

[Swith Witherward]

The soldier roared in pain, falling on the ground and proceeding to bleed to death, which is rather what happens when you take a knife to the balls.

He did drop his gun- but now his buddies were firing randomly into the crowd, including anti-tank rifle man.

"Shit! You fucking crazy bitch!"

Fen really couldn't think of much else to say. She wanted to help the injured man but the rest of them were so incredibly miffed that she thought better of it. She decided to leave Sir Nilark to his own devices.

She grabbed onto the unconscious Loki and awkwardly hauled him onto her back. It wasn't necessarily a gesture of kindness. She figured he would be a good shield, being a god and all. She raced down the beach with Loki piggybacked, his head cracking against her own skull as she kicked up her heels. The damned helmet didn't help any, but it at least kept her focused with each jostle.

Her only option was to distance herself from the angry men (who probably wouldn't have been angry if the strange girl hadn't tried to take off balls.) Fen veered and headed into the water, the surface freezing under her feet as she sprinted out to ocean. It was only a narrow bridge but it would melt behind her, thus preventing her pursuers from utilizing it in her wake. She knew nothing about firearms so she wasn't sure of the range. She'd just keep running until the thudding sounds of bullets striking Loki's back stopped.

[Nationstatelandsville]

"You fucking crazy bitch!"

There was a horrific, earth-shaking shriek.

D smiled, "Mom's up."

The door to Aziraphale and Calliel's room was kicked open violently enough that it flew across the room and smacked into the wall, smashing into pieces. Entered Megan, dressed in hospital robes, the side of her head bandaged. She grabbed Sanchez by his collar and lifted him off his feet.

"WHERE!" she shouted, "IS! MY! DAUGHTER!"

[Nightkill the Emperor]

Crowley yanked an apple off a tree. "Friend at first, yes. Then an enemy. We chased each other across the Earth for a time- he's a ruthless and brilliant individual." Crowley muttered. "Insane though. He tried to ally himself with the angels, becoming a sort of agent for Uriel on the ground. I had to end our game of cat and mouse two centuries ago underneath Paris." Crowley paused. "Paris...I was just there. In the Catacombs." He paused. "Hope it's just a coincidence."

"Coincidences, I find, aren't really coincidences," Francois replied. "Let's just hope that we get out of this alive."

"Alive is my middle name. Well, no, my middle name is Alexander and my first name is Edward. But Alive and Alexander share the same first letter in Latin script, so there's that to be considered." he acknowledged. "Now then-"

There was a stomping sound heard, and a snort and a growl. Crowley paused. "Francois." he said quietly. "We are not alone here. Just stay cal-"

Then a bloody pack of velociraptors screeched, running out of the cover of the trees and charging toward them. But there was something to these ones- their bodies were a sort of wooden-looking shade of brown, and their tails were black with a golden line sticking through them. Crowley paused. "Well, fuck."

[Individuality-ness]

Obliged.

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


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.

Ludo was happy to follow Alison into the hotel, still levitating and paying little to no attention to the inferno before her. "Ms. Alison, be careful! You might trip and sprain your ankle!"

The fire did not affect her, thanks to her already mindless habit of popping in and out of existence, although she did feel increasingly hot and sweaty, to the point that she was considering removing her hat. She was not even sure why she insisted on participating in Ms. Alison's adventure in Syria, but some things in life were better off underthought.

She absentmindedly explored the burning wreckage of the hotel, her mind distracting herself with thoughts of the Cosmos and feline eugenics aimed at producing the perfect breed of fluffy, brightly colored and cuddly kittens. She really wanted a new baby kitten for her cottage, since the six cats and eight dogs she already had were getting old.

With no sign of Corvallis as far as she could see, Ludo's attention was drawn to a half-burnt newspaper lying on a table besides a blackened corpse. Syrian corpse...no biggie.

As she waited for Alison to complete her own search, she read the news, or at least she intended to, until she realized that the newspaper was from last month. ...Syria.

"Ms. Alison, have you found your 'dumb cunt'?" She shouted across the room as she threw the crumpled newspaper into the flames and sat on a couch with practiced grace, sighing in utter disappointment. "I really need to catch the midnight train from Switzerland to Liechtenstein, and I want to get on board before they run out of chocolate and strawberry cake."

"No! He said that he needed help, but he's not here. Where the hell is he? We need to get out, and then I'm going to see if I can contact him. He's going to need an ass-whooping for this."

Alison was just a little worried about that dumb cunt. If he tricked her so that he could escape and tell the ISSR or Crowley while she was lured to die, she was going to have to punish him. She didn't want her plans to be ruined.

The Metatron tis-tisked inside of her head. This is why you don't let your thralls out of your sight, he said. Now you're going to ruin everything for me, all because you let the thrall go.

No! It's not my fault! We needed him to see what was going on! Alison's brain cried back.

But you lost him. If you fail and get captured, is it not your fault?

SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP

Meanwhile the fire raged on. The ceiling started to fall now, as the structure weakened due to the heat. And there was a worrying sag just right above Alison's head, where she was standing. Alison didn't notice though, too caught up trying to not think of this as a failure all because Corvallis had dissapeared, seemingly without a trace.

[Individuality-ness]

"No," Rosalind answered tersely, promptly driving her knife into the soldier's balls.

She immediately jumped into the air and latched onto the man's arm, biting into the back with his hand with her teeth. Specifically, she caught the bone of his index finger in her teeth and crushed it with all her might.

This was a mere distraction. While doing this, she grabbed onto his gun and tugged on it, hoping he would release it in pain.

The soldier roared in pain, falling on the ground and proceeding to bleed to death, which is rather what happens when you take a knife to the balls.

He did drop his gun- but now his buddies were firing randomly into the crowd, including anti-tank rifle man.

Aziraphale merely looked at Calliel with an expression of pure pain and utter betrayal.

"Your wife," he began, before dissolving into a fit of heavy coughing. After a moment of relentless hacking, helurched and spat a very vital looking piece of organ upwards, smacking into the ceiling.

It was better than choking.

"Your wife," he gasped, "your wife is gone. Oh God, Calliel."

Hot tears were now flowing painfully down his cheeks.

"I'm gone," he said.

Sanchez paused. "Knock them back out and do what you had been doing. Apologies." he said with a nod. The doctors proceeded to do so.

"Sir, Franklin Jameson is trying to get inside." said one ISSR soldier. "He wants to see his mother and the angels."

Sanchez rubbed his eyes. "Alright." he muttered. He had a hell of a headache- it had been a long day. "Send him in."

Divia ducked, out of fear. No one wants to be shot by a metal slug going tens if not hundreds of meters a second, that would hurt and it would probably kill you.

She shut her eyes, clasped her hands on her ears, and began to pray for the Lord to forgive and to intervene to stop the violence. She didn't want to see this, but she didn't want them to be damned either.

[Nightkill the Emperor]

"You fucking crazy bitch!"

There was a horrific, earth-shaking shriek.

D smiled, "Mom's up."

The door to Aziraphale and Calliel's room was kicked open violently enough that it flew across the room and smacked into the wall, smashing into pieces. Entered Megan, dressed in hospital robes, the side of her head bandaged. She grabbed Sanchez by his collar and lifted him off his feet.

"WHERE!" she shouted, "IS! MY! DAUGHTER!"

Sanchez blinked. "At Elfen High. She'll be safe there. No matter what we think of Aleister Crowley, he really is not stupid enough to risk your wrath. I was going to bring her along, but she tried to kill me when I did." Sanchez said with a sort of shrug. "Um...can you put me down now?"