A.R.E.S. - The Formation

[Trahir Trahison]

It was beyond exasperating. Immortal beings worried about a tenuous situation the humans couldn’t possibly maintain forever. Eventually if the quarantine zone were somehow cleared of the walking dead, it the catacombs were likewise clear of the abominations within, the military would have no reason to hold the areas. People were discussing and attack on the military depots when that would draw nothing but more attention to the area. It would make it more of a mystery the humans in power would need to look into and likely expand the borders of the quarantined area to include more of the city. Short sighted idiots, Trahir thought to himself. They won’t see it and if they do they’ll still go through with it, one following behind the other nose to tail.

“If you want to look at ridding the city of the military, find out why the dead are rising. Stop it. Then they’ll have no reason to be here. Unless of course you kick the proverbial hornet’s nest and give them a reason to swarm. If you are going to affect any change you should focus on the source. You gain nothing by ridding yourself of pests if you leave the door open for more to come.

“Realistically, your plan to somehow directly influence the military to move out will be completely ineffectual. Even if you were to somehow enthrall the commander of the units stationed here, they would be able to do nothing to remove the soldiers. Those orders come from Ottawa. There is no gain to be made in this endeavor as it it being considered.

“There’s a difference between taking a risk and being simply suicidal.

Regardless what plan you come up with, Ottawa will send in more troops, more agents, and then if that goes badly, they'll contact their buddies down south, the U.S.of A. Once they get their claws into Harper Rocks problems, you'll never get them out. At that point, I'm sailing off into the sunset on my boat. One of two things happens then. They either bomb the city back to the stone age, blame it on whatever country they want to go to war with, or we get discovered and yeah... forever is a long time to be a test subject while they try and figure out if there is a way to enhance their super-soldiers further using whatever supernatural critters they find in Harper Rock."

He shakes his head. "It's like you actually ~want~ to get caught. Ottawa is where your attention should be focused. One order passed from the Prime Minister and the military withdraws. Now there's one minor issue remaining. You are talking about removing the Quarantine Zone's wall. How do you plan on protecting the humans from what's in there when you do that or is our goal really to film a real life live action movie based on the fictional series The Walking Dead?"

[Azraeth]

At one point in his life, Moros had belonged to a debate team. Of course, that had been some years before, at Fort Vancouver High School (Go Trappers!). His parents hadn't been keen on the idea of he or his twin going to school to begin with, but after their grandparents had gotten involved, there hadn't been much choice in the matter. Esme and Ashton Carpenter had not given their son every opportunity in life to have him take those opportunities away from his own children. To his credit, John was smart enough to know he wouldn't win in a custody battle considering he and his wife's more peculiar practices. Thus, he'd agreed to public schooling and weekend grandparent visits. Largely without fuss. Where Azariel had been into sports, and things of that nature (Raeth could never quite suss out more than the general point of anything but hockey), Azraeth had gotten into mostly academic clubs, such as those devoted to various languages, math, writing and trivia. Aside from illustrating how painfully nerdy Azraeth had been, the Junior Philosopher's Club, and debate had given the young man an excellent grasp of understanding arguments, which had served him much later in life.

Not that arguments were precisely what drew old memories to Moros's mind. The man with the hockey mask reminded Az of his twin brother. Confidence bordering on, or trampling on the line between 'too much' and arrogance. Not that arrogance was a bad thing. Az didn't mind it so long as it was deserved. Only time would tell if it was, or if it was tempered with something a little bit sturdier, like reason. There was not an obvious answer to the question he posed though, which was fine by Moros. As far as he was concerned, having all of the answers made any subject boring. He couldn't say one way or the other how he or Nemesis, or any of them really would protect each other or the other vampires from discovery. He suspected if anyone knew, the threat of supernatural exposure would not have become more and more real with every passing month. He wanted to say that there were entire worlds of discussion to be had about that particular topic, and that the only realistic way to approach it was slowly and with caution. Like a sleeping Fae curled around the only blood for 100 miles.

Nemesis tackled the subject though, and handled it rather succinctly. The biggest hurdle A.R.E.S. members were going to face was seeing each other as teammates. Not just simply working together as far as it suited their own ends, but having enough faith in each other not to **** something up grossly. People who felt as if they knew more than everyone around them rarely did well in group settings. In a way, the first meeting, the interest check, was a test to see who had the ability to present clear and concise arguments – but more importantly, to see if someone knew when to concede. Az viewed himself, as usual, as a mediator of these things; it was a role he knew well and one he had taken many times in the past. Find the common ground, and pray to whatever gods existed above or below that it was solid.

One woman suggested the use of wraiths to infiltrate, though Argonaut seemed to think that was a bad idea. Az wasn't entirely sure about the logic, but he would need some more time to ponder. As it was, a woman in a kabuki mask spoke next. She had a point. "I think one of the prerequisites for joining this group is that one has to be willing to take some risk. Anonymity will only go so far, and while I would prefer for us to largely stay behind the scenes, and tweak the necessary threads when the time is right, I think it's a pretty safe bet that we're occasionally going to have to act directly. Rarely. But if anyone is here, thinking there will be no danger involved, they would probably be better served trying to live a normal nine to five life." Well. Not always nine AM to five PM. The idea translated, as far as Az was concerned. If someone wanted to be part of a faction, any faction, they needed to be willing to accept that there was danger and uncertainty.

The discussion turned almost fully to the nitty gritty then. What might work. What couldn't work. The problem with a lot of the arguments posed were that they were largely supposition. One could quote a dozen pieces of half evidence, but that didn't mean they were solid. Another thing Az had picked up in debate. Frequently, when an opponent decided to read a file to support their case, they would skip over bits. This was commonly accepted in the debate community for the sake of speed. While Moros nudged his partner to give a speech, he would frequently go through the other team's box (or boxes) of paperwork to read the parts that weren't highlighted. Frequently what he found was the evidence would contradict what had been said. Thus, people often paved the way to their own failure, or to put it another way, people sabotaged themselves by failing to properly prepare.

"I think there's a lot we don't really know. We don't know, for example, why there are so many undead coming out of the Mausoleum. We assume it is related to the same phenomena which causes zombies to rise in the Quarantine Zone. Why then don't more bodies pop up in the Old Town Graveyard? I think there are a lot of things we accept with pat answers, without bothering to really explore." Az realized he was rambling again. He tended to do that a lot, the curse of one who had written too many papers. He never quite veered off of topic, but he occasionally got lost in an anecdote or lead in to a main point. Be concise, man. He thought to himself before swallowing down some more words. He searched for what to say next. "What I'm getting at is we don't really know what the military knows. We have a ton of question marks about ourselves, and we don't benefit from top surveillance equipment, or unlimited resources. I think if we are to be successful, we need to start thinking like a government, or military, and be smarter about it. I think we also need radically more information about what we're up against."

Which was all nice and good on paper, but Moros suspected he should offer more...umph to the conversation. "I mention it because, for example, we could go to great lengths to close the Rift." Az had impacted the rift a few months back, when bits of the fade were breaking into the real world. He knew what the man in the hockey mask was suggesting wasn't impossible. But even that would require a ton of research, and testing before it could be carried out in any meaningful way. Moros wasn't opposed to the idea, but..."Only to find out that the military has evidence of vampires, and wouldn't leave even if we shut it down. I suggest a two pronged attack. First. We must find out what they know about us. Second, we must begin to acquire more influence here in Harper Rock. I'd love to hear some more suggestions about how to do that without the use of violence."

He doubted he would have to explain why it was important to get more of a foothold in Harper Rock. Regardless of the moves they made going forward, having some influence in the city was going to be extremely important towards the goal of keeping their actions secret, or as behind the scenes as possible. After all, they couldn't be a secret society if they didn't take a few pages out of the book of the Free Masons or the Illuminati. Moros certainly had a few ideas about the best way to establish a powerbase, but he'd already mentioned those. Thralls in important positions was one. Making alliances with the right people was another. But he tended to think of things almost purely from the perspective of the diplomat. He understood a world in which power was acquired through careful and intelligent cultivation of human resources. Of course, that meant he tended to overlook some other potential schemes which were equally valuable, if only because they never would have occurred to him.

The floor was open again. Time to see how that particular idea played out.

[Yuri]

Her first impression of them, intense. Their conversation that seemed to go around in not-so-merry circles picking at any thorns they come across intrigued the sorcerer. When first hearing them, one would think they were having a fight, but all it really was, was the way they spoke. The way some worded their words with a hint of hurt behind them and how much anger some had behind their words. Within the short duration of listening, it was not hard for Hei to discern that many had and was suffering due to this issue at hand, and this saddened her.

With placidness rivalling a nun’s, Hei came to realize that she could already help them with some knowledge. On what was truly going on in this town and might even be able to locate a few of the bases with the help of the dead soldier’s spirit. There was even a chance that he might know how to infiltrate the place, or at least tell them of a safe way to join the military without causing suspicion.

Now the question was, how should one go about revealing this plausible crucial piece of info? and let’s say she does, would they believe her? What if they don’t and instead turn on her? If it were her, she would certainly be doubtful of herself. She toys with the camera in her hoodie’s pocket, wondering if the evidence she had would be enough to make them believe her. Should she let them continue wasting their breath on something that she could help with and ultimately risk their lives to infiltrate a place she already had info on? Or should she give them what she had and put her life at stake while doing so?

The answer was clear.

Her goal was to help the spirits, and by giving them the knowledge they needed… so far, from what the sorcerer garnered, the beings here no matter what species, showed promise of a possible success that others before them had failed. (That’s what she guessed from listening to them anyways.) The fact that they had shown up at all to this meeting was something praiseworthy, and Hei shall thank them on behalf of the spirits and the many others who were suffering out there by doing her part in aiding them.

Hei raised a hand hidden by the long sleeves of her hoodie. She did not know how else she would draw their attention, thus what she did. When they finally noticed her, she would have flinched if it were not for the reassurance that she had her mask on. Withdrawing her hand, she stood up with natural poise and walked nervously round to the center, revealing her camera to all. She placed it with the screen facing up on the ground a few feet away before Nemesis who appeared to be in charge of this meeting.

“Perhaps this would be of help?” She spoke in a quiet but fortunately clear voice.

If someone chose to look, they would be met with a picture of a person dressed in white from top to bottom bent over a sliced open body with many wires attached to it. Some were tubes that seemed to be sustaining the body with nutrients while others were hooked to machines, appearing to be monitoring something.

[Shadis (DELETED 7818)]

Phoenix was silent throughout most of it, almost like the silent statue at the back of the room listening to the voices that gave rise to concerns. The main problem however was the military, or so it seemed. This Nemesis wanted to put actions into motions, that politics would be a waste, but would it really be a waste? What controlled the military? The government, it was government funded. If funds were cut off, they would have to lean upon other things, try to get funds elsewhere such as the rich. If someone were to convince the rich that if they did fund such projects, then they were only placing themselves in harm’s way. Because funding such projects would place targets upon their heads by those that wished to destroy the military. However, being vampire, the military threat would only be for the humans really. However, cut off the human supply and most vampires would be an Elliot, eating each other. Hunger was a powerful thing, this she realized.

If the military knew who and what they were, then shouldn’t this meeting have been brought up long ago? What about someone do their computer thing and get into their computers, download maps and layouts of their military base? It would make infiltrating their base so much easier, she thought to herself as her arms lifted to cross over her chest. Another man spoke, Moros and she angled her head slightly to the right. Yes, I agree, she told herself, they did need to move carefully. If there were military out there threatening their existence, then careful should be their motto. However, she figured, that there would need to be multiple plans, plans that were big and small. When preparing to do a ritual, there were sometimes smaller steps to help the bigger picture, to help complete it. While they were small steps they were essential ones. This meeting, although it was just to simply garner attention and find out who was interested, was a small step to creating a bigger plan.

The woman bit her tongue then as a man in a white mask spoke. She thought that while his point was valid, it wasn’t important. Those who didn’t show, obviously knew that there was a threat but choose to ignore it for reasons of their own. If they wanted nothing to do with it, then it was of their own volition. Her brown eyes, watched the crowd and to her it seemed as if they all wanted to do something and they all had something to say, but only those who did not fear debate spoke up. If the military knew about vampires and were able to out maneuver vampires, it was because they were coordinated and not broken up. A nod of her head was given when Nemesis spoke once more and she couldn’t help but wonder just as to how much research he had put into this matter. He seemed knowledgeable and whenever he spoke he made valid points.

She pressed her lips tightly together, if the military could use security cameras, then why couldn’t some of the tech savvy vampires? Use the cameras against the military. Another woman spoke and a roll of her eyes was given. Leave behind a legacy? That was some ********. All that was present and continued on with this mission, would all be considered martyrs that ruined the vampire presence within Harper Rock because they got all the vampires hunted down and killed. Legacy and inspiration? That, to Phoenix, was a pill of fantasy and pills of fantasy were useless. As this Moros said, they couldn’t be within this group and not be willing to risk their life. Risk was everything within this group, whoever didn’t realize this was foolish. yes, they had to be careful to keep from ruining vampire existence within Harper Rock.

While some people were willing to throw in suggestions, she couldn’t help but think about the infiltration. A man said that it wasn’t possible, a woman said it was. Either a thrall could infiltrate, or a vampire that gave off the appearance of a human being. However, if the military was experimenting, then whoever infiltrated would have to be comfortable with working on their own species, with cutting into vampires. A finger tapped upon her arm, but she remained silent. There were many collective minds within this area and she was sure that whatever she could think of, so could someone else. Phoenix wanted to keep her opinions silent for now, until she knew that what she had to say would be meaningful.

[Jesse Fforde]

<Jesse Fforde> Fox wanted to scoff. How often had he been screwed over by people he knew well, and thought he could trust? And now this masked man was telling everything they should feel comfortable in speaking and relating their experiences. Like this was some kind of addicts anonymous group and they should all open up about their feelings. Well, not that bad, but Fox didn’t know how he could trust a single person in this room besides the one standing right beside him. That was the first hurdle, he though. Trying to get a bunch of masked people to work together when the majority of them probably didn’t trust anyone else as far as they could spit.

The points thereafter, however, made sense. Nothing could be achieved by anyone alone, and those arguing that nothing could be done – why the hell were they here? Contributions needed to be made. People had to open up and toss their opinions into the ring, given their own experiences, if anything was going to be achieved. Being comfortable about it though, was a whole other kettle of fish. And, he did agree that violence was overrated. He had participated in that kind of frivolous, merciless blood sport and it had done nothing but sate his own violent urges. Violence never solved the problem – not without education to back it up.

Whatever response Fox had to this man’s speech had to wait – there were other people lining up to speak. Other people with things to say. Fox could be patient.


<Clover> Truly, they weren’t living. The man was right. Moros had said what needed to be said, what they should have known and understood. There was a difference between living and surviving. With hunters, both human and vampire alike, government agents and agencies, and unknown factors, they were hiding. And living openly didn’t necessarily mean breaking the masquerade. Living didn’t necessarily involve violence of any kind. After all, she loved killing, and yet she chose to kill in a human manner. She relied on blades and guns--they relied on human methods. The only things stopping them were outside threats.

They’d become experiments. They’d become test subjects. The whole city had been reduced to a government’s wet dream, or rather a scientist’s wet dream. They’d had time to band together and work as a unit, but they’d failed. Even Tiger knew she’d sooner chop off her arm than trust the rest of the city to do one good deed for her. She trusted her family; she trusted Fox. Instead of addressing the rest of the open room’s inhabitants, Tiger leaned over and whispered to her companion. “He’s not wrong.” And that was it. Those three words were enough to communicate everything she thought. Having a cohesive group wasn’t necessarily a pipe dream, but she really couldn’t see herself trusting any of them with her life, or the life of the one standing next to her, even if they could come and go from the shadow realm.

Tiger wondered if signing their names had been a mistake on her part, but she made no move to approach the paper and scratch out the ink that formed the letters in their codenames. Because Moros was right, despite the lack of specifics.


<Jesse Fforde> Despite Fox’s misgivings, he was still intrigued. The best way to go about this whole thing was to get involved without getting feelings mixed up. That’s how this faction looked like it could be different. With anonymity came a freedom of loyalties. This wasn’t a family. There was no leader asking for members to grovel at their feet; they could all lead in their own ways. What appealed to Fox about this group was how anarchistic it felt. How so very much like the fourth of November. It was surprising that no one had picked a Guy Fawkes mask.

Fox just nodded as Tiger whispered. No, he was not wrong. The leaders of this rag-tag association at least sounded as if they had a solid idea about what they wanted to achieve, and they didn’t sound like idiots, either. But like any group of people working toward a single cause, there were going to be disagreements. There were going to be arguments. There were going to be debates – and Fox hoped it would stay that way. Debates, rather than slipping into insults and subterfuge.

Perhaps he should have touched wood. As soon as he had inwardly voiced his hope for reasonable, level-headed, adult discussions, some fuckhead decided to stand up and call them all cowards. There was an audible scoff behind the fox’s mask, his own acerbic response only cut off by the quiet and yet noticeable arrival of another body. His own body tensed, briefly, as he turned to look. It was no one of interest – that he could tell – but as he turned to face the front again, he caught sight of a silvery white. Hair. Hair barely covered by the mask; skin only just seen upon the neck, below the ear, white as pearls. He nudged at Tiger with his elbow, nodding in the direction of the white-haired waif. Someone they knew, perhaps?


<Clover> Tiger tipped her head to the side. Fox’s scoff matched her own level of irritation, but the emotion fled as soon as it had arrived. The man in the ski mask must have thought he’d presented something new, but he hadn’t contributed much of anything; in fact, he’d subtracted from the conversation. He’d offered nothing constructive, or at least nothing that they couldn’t have figured out on their own. And his insults. He thought he knew why they were there, but he didn’t. Tiger had gone to the warehouse for very different reasons, and she’d stayed because she found Nemesis to be articulate and his cause to be worthy. They all had minds of their own; they all had opinions of their own. Even the man in the ski mask, she supposed, even though she disagreed with half of what he’d said.

Fox nudged her, and she turned to see him motioning toward one of the people. Pale hair. Pale skin. Tiger knew that there were others in the city. She’d met a young woman with the same color of skin and hair. Mel. Tiger hadn’t seen the woman in ages. And yet Tiger knew why Fox had nudged her. He thought they knew the woman. He probably thought the woman was family, and Tiger considered the same possibility. If the pale skin and white hair were any indication, the woman might have been Fox’s childe and Tiger’s sibling. Without speaking, Tiger nodded. Yes, she finally decided. Mel was a short woman with a more ethereal presence, whereas Tiger got a very different feel from the woman in their presence.

So engrossed in determining the woman’s identity, Tiger had missed portions of conversations. She tuned in only when hearing the word dissect. The word sent a shiver down the length of her spine, a shiver that showed her intrigue. They needed to know what they were up against, and her curiosity rose with each word. They were little puzzles. All of them were blank spaces. Knowledge was power, and they needed that power. What would it hurt?


<Jesse Fforde> Anonymity had been asked for, and Fox could respect the decision. If the white-haired woman wasn’t who he thought it was, there was no point in approaching her here. Later, when they were home, when they saw her, maybe they could ask. For now, he tried not to think about the involvement of other family members. The pros or the cons, or the way it made him feel. His arms had crossed over his chest though his body remained close to the one beside him; one foot solidly on the ground, the other raised, the sole of his shoe against the post behind them. In this way, his body leaned, and it leaned toward Tiger. It was a subconscious leaning, one that he didn’t realise he was participating in.

He found himself nodding as Nemesis spoke. Yes, yes. They wouldn’t and shouldn’t go in, guns blazing. Instead, they should start small. Take out the little guys, those who didn’t seem to have any contribution to the greater whole, but who would be needed when the end was nigh. Who wouldn’t be missed, to begin with, but whose missing presence could cause chaos down the road. Butterflies wings, and all that. He couldn’t stop nodding. No, even he didn’t know the extent of what existed; the fae, specifically, like to keep mostly to themselves.

The nodding stopped as another woman spoke up; she was talking about her wraith, that could indeed see. What people wouldn’t see was the roll of his eyes. How new was she that she didn’t know others in the room would be able to see her wraith? How young, that she wouldn’t know about spirit traps, and that their enemies would certainly know of them too? Unless she wanted to lose that wraith… now, he was shaking his head, which bowed as his fingers scratched at his temple. His tongue shifted in his mouth. Eventually… he would speak up. It was getting to a point where he was finding it hard to remain silent.


<Clover> The kabuki mask hid a woman that spoke the truth, a woman that said the words that had been on Tiger’s mind. How were they going to work together when vampires were against vampires, when humans were against humans? Nemesis was asking a lot. Just refraining from ripping one another apart, physically and verbally, took a great deal of effort. Tiger already hoped the man in the ski mask would be ejected from their little group. She had no desire to work with him, despite the half of his remarks that had been almost useful. Tiger preferred the words spoken by the woman in the kabuki mask; she preferred someone that spoke the words on her own mind, which shouldn’t have come as a surprise. People found it easier to get along with ones sharing their own opinion rather than those of differing opinions.

When she’d heard the different voice, she’d paid more attention. It was a man then, a man that suggested dissecting government agents. Tiger had obtained DNA samples from the agents she’d killed, samples in the form of blood and bone, but she’d always destroy the evidence. She’d cleaned her blades and cleaned her clothes. Nothing remained of her fights with the human agents. Nothing had interested her enough to keep any evidence. She’d been too busy with Andras or too busy with Fforde. There were other things she’d found more important, and maybe that was why the entire city had wasted years. They’d wasted countless opportunities. Maybe they should have redirected the effort onto the government and its agents rather than simply benefiting from, or taking advantage of, the quarantine zone. Had they really thought it would last forever? Perhaps.

[Clover]

<Clover> Again, another voice joined the conversation, a voice that countered the man, that spoke in favor of infiltration, and Tiger wasn’t sure whether to agree or disagree. She’d never been a part of such an intelligent debate; she’d usually had casual conversations or loud arguments. The fact was that they did want the government to back off, to lessen its presence in the area. They wanted the science geeks to retreat. Tiger would have accepted a shift in the attention, perhaps to more mundane issues, such as a corrupt city government. She’d zoned out again, already thinking of multiple possibilities and endless results. She didn’t feel like blurting anything out anymore.


<Jesse Fforde> More opinions were thrown into the fray; one woman who seemed against the whole thing, until the very last. The oriental get-up reminded Fox of the Japanese, the way they threw themselves on their own swords. That could be them, couldn’t it? If they tried and failed they could do so with dignity, and in a way that could inspire others to follow in their path. In order to do that, they needed a tag. They needed some symbol, some subtle way to let the city know that they were there, that they were doing something. There was no point in any of this, no way to inspire anyone, if there wasn’t a name behind the cause; a germ, a seed to plant in the minds of the persuadable. ARES, right? Fox as already thinking of symbolic possibilities. Had there been one on the flier…?

Again, the thoughts were fleeting, stored away to think about or question later. The conversation had continued; he agreed with much of what was said, both with infiltration and giving back what was handed out. If they could research vampiric tactics and use them against the vampires that could attack, then the logical conclusion would be to do the same. Dissect. Learn. Infiltrate later, when enough knowledge was gained. Knowledge enough to do proper and lasting damage.

Fox’s consideration of the reasonable suggestions and opinions – spoken with respectful tones and in non-hackle-raising ways – was interrupted by the fuckhead in the ski mask. Fox disliked the guy the more he spoke. You, he kept saying. You, in a tone and in a way that directly insulted every person who’d spoken up. You, as if he was only here to criticise rather than considering himself part of the movement. Fox shifted on his feet; his hands fists. He cleared his throat. Oh, so ******* close…

The co-leader spoke up; someone else to interrupt and dissuade Fox’s volatile frustration. Cooling it – giving him time to think about his words, rather than responding in kind.


<Clover> So they would learn what the military learned. They would follow in the hollowed-out footsteps left behind by scientists, human or otherwise, and they would discover the researched obtained by torturing and killing the city’s monsters, vampires included. It made sense. But yes, it was more difficult than it sounded or more difficult than it would have appeared on paper. Perhaps one, or more, of them would end up dead or wounded. They had no way of knowing how the story would progress, let alone how the story would end. Either way, Tiger wanted to do something to help hers. If helping her own and sating her curiosity meant working with the others in the warehouse, then she would play nice and work with the others, human or vampire. The decision wasn’t an easy one. Even though she’d already signed up for the job, signed up for playing nice, she’d taken time to consider and reconsider. Tiger didn’t really care for humans; in fact, humans were toys or food, maybe both. As for other vampires, Tiger didn’t really care for them either, with the exception of some family members and a couple outsiders.

The rift. The conversation went back to the rift. Tiger preferred the second suggestion to the first. The Moros character had no suggestion as to how to obtain more influence, but the suggestion itself meant a good deal. How were they going to obtain more influence? They had to be likeable, and Tiger saw nothing likeable about them. Then again, they were new. Their masks made them new.

“Share things we have in common with the majority of the people. Schmooze with some of the influential people. Invite them to listen to us,” she thought. Of course she didn’t say the words aloud. Tiger had no more interest in talking. She watched. She observed as Hei went forward and deposited a camera. The picture wasn’t clear, not from where she stood, but she had an idea of what was on the screen. Evidence, more than likely. Something disturbing. Something important.


<Jesse Fforde> Influence, yes. That’s what Fox had been thinking about earlier; some kind of symbol. Something left behind whenever they achieved some goal; a website set up with all the necessary firewalls to keep their identities and locations safe. The idea to speak up sat at the back of his mind as Moros mentioned closing the rift, and Fox twitched, head canted to the side. Was that really a good idea? Sure, it probably wasn’t great for vampiric security to have undead creatures appearing on a whim, but what would happen, then, if vampires died? The reason why they were all advised to stay within the city was because of the rift, right? If they died outside of the city, they’d be too far away. They wouldn’t come back. They wouldn’t come back if the rift no longer existed, either. Was that something they were all willing to sacrifice?

One of the women stepped forward and deposited a camera where everyone could see; some kind of evidence, and she was asking for opinions as to its validity and usefulness. But Fox was still stuck on former questions, wanting to voice his own quiet opinions. Again, he cleared his throat.

“First – recognition. I think we need a symbol. Guy Fawkes had his mask, and November 4th is his day. We need small incidents – even matching masks. We need a symbol, so we can leave behind a legacy,” he started. “Also – do we really want to close the rift? What would that do for immortals wanting to return from the Shadow Realm? Or are you suggesting we figure out how it works so we can open and close it manually?” he asked. Then, because he couldn’t help himself, he turned his attention to the guy in the ski mask. “Why are you even here? You only seem interested in throwing around insults and undermining a group of people you don’t know. You have no idea why we’re all here or what goals we have in mind. You’ve leapt to wrong conclusions. You speak as if you don’t plan on being included. So why are you here?” To put it plainly, Fox didn’t like the guy.


<Clover> Finally! He said exactly what was on her mind. Tiger cast a quick look in his direction and smirked, the expression safely tucked away behind her mask. She didn’t like the idea of the rift being closed, not if it meant uncertainty upon death or the loss of things they required. Zombie ears were used in rituals, weren’t they? And bones? Tiger had started out practicing her swings on zombies. Her childer had started out practicing their swings on zombies. Closing the rift wasn’t something she wanted to focus on, unless closing it left them with the power to reopen it again. Fox understood. Fox had the ability to read her mind, or so it seemed.

Despite the fact that he’d stolen the words from her thoughts and from her lips, Tiger didn’t think her companion should have called out the next Jason. They all had better things to discuss, or better things to do. He’d obviously been irritated to the point where he couldn’t contain himself anymore. Tiger meant to stroke his arm, but she stopped herself. She knew that if the action were caught, his words would have lost some strength, and she wanted them to hang in the air.

“This didn’t turn out too bad. Your public speaking skills made us all think. We need to find more like-minded individuals. We need good business relationships, good working relationships. We don’t need to have a connection with every single person in this city, but the right relationships, strategic relationships, will create a web of possibilities. And no, it doesn’t require removing our masks.” She paused, standing up straighter, and looked around the rest of the open space. There were so many different kinds of masks. “Time will help too. We need to show that we aren’t going anywhere. As for specifics, it’s at the drop of a hat. I’m not a fountain of knowledge…,” she trailed off, shrugging her shoulders.

Tiger really wanted to bring up the rift. The words were on the tip of her tongue. Instead, she shifted on her feet and turned her focus to other thoughts. They were going to be parting ways, returning to their own lives, and then what? They would plan another meeting? Tiger found herself eyeing the pale-skinned female once again. The girl looked so much like Tiger’s sibling. But once they left the warehouse, they were different people again. Tiger only existed amongst the group.


<Jesse Fforde> The roll of Fox’s eyes couldn’t be seen behind the mask, his arms still crossed over his chest. If he had to defend himself and the way he’d called out the man in the ski mask, he could. This kind of operation required tact; they were all anonymous, but they still needed to get along if they were going to achieve anything. If they couldn’t work together, or respect each other’s opinions (at least on the surface) then this was going to be a disaster. Someone who came in acting like God and putting down everyone who said anything was only going spike hackles and create a bitter, acerbic atmosphere.

But he let it go. Tiger was speaking; moving on from his own comments and picking up on different aspects of the conversation to comment on herself. He listened, and nodded, but had nothing more to add. He had said his piece – and probably had given himself away to anyone who knew him. Anyone who took any notice of sound; anyone who stored memories of voices as well as faces. Fox’s voice wasn’t clear. It was husky, always had been. Almost distinctive, but he hoped less so while muffled by the mask.

[Wendigo]

Arrogance. It was the one constant that could be relied upon. The vampyric condition exaggerated the human one, and if humans were arrogant to a fault, then vampires were arrogance personified. Some merely thought themselves above all humans. Some thought themselves lords of all they surveyed. Wendigo recognized that he was somewhere in the middle: more experienced than most, but lacking that streak that would lead him to falsely belief himself capable or worthy of leading.

In this situation, there was no reason for anyone to even acknowledge his experience... hidden as he was behind the face of a young man hidden behind a kerchief. No more reason, at least, than he had to attend to anything anyone else said. Even so, it irked him as few things could that so many would dismiss each other's ideas out of hand: it was indicative of that arrogant trait. Moreover, some vampires were downright contrarian: tell them they wouldn't survive in a vat of acid, and they'd jump in, return to life in seven days, and claim you were wrong: some of these vampires would need to try to infiltrate and fail before they would accept that it was impossible.

Likewise, the idea of uniting the vampire community against a common enemy was impossible. Like those who would prefer to burn themselves in acid, some were so contrary that they would prefer to side with the government than agree with another vampire. That was, in his mind, why the war against the Paladins went so well... because no one tried to lead it. Left to their own devices, vampires accomplished the goal (or at least stood aside and let others do it). If commanded to fight Paladins, some would have taken up their defense. It was best, he reasoned, to stay silent rather than try to correct vampires in error: some vampires needed to be allowed to burn themselves.

Undoubtedly, it was unfortunate that some of these would-be infiltrators -- these children who had watched too many spy movies -- would be captured. Some would be broken: they would give up whatever information they had. It would be best if they didn't have that information. Let them try to infiltrate and be captured... perhaps they could still be of use as decoys or the like.

Inwardly, he shook his head. The younglings always assumed their ideas were new, but they seldom were: after all, they were among individuals of superhuman intelligence, so it would be reasonable to assume some obvious tactic -- like sneaking a thrall through the gates or hacking military computers -- had already been attempted. After all, if it were easy, it would already be done. Therefore, the things that had not yet been accomplished were, by and large, those things that could not be done. Reason, however, did not factor in, and they thought themselves clever.

Still, with the exception of those too arrogant to see that it would take new tactics to make progress and those naysayers, the meeting had thus far been more productive than he might have hoped. He needed to take care not to upset that delicate balance by trying to teach a lesson (or worse, to pretend to lead) and instead just go with the flow of things.

"We're going to disagree," he began. "That's fine: it's our nature. There is no one road. We have different experiences... tactics... skills. We need all of those." He paused to consider his words before venturing into that delicate territory. "Smaller cells might be best," he suggested. "Like minds using multiple tactics. Autonomy towards a common goal." He neglected to mention that such an arrangement also minimized the threat to the groups when the foolish ones invariably failed. It was not unlike the system some terrorist organizations used, although the goal of this A.R.E.S. was not actually terror. He wondered if terrorists justified their actions similarly.

"Participation by choice, not obligation," he concluded. "Enough infighting as-is."

[Nikolae]

Nemesis scowled behind his sunglasses and the cloth covering the bottom half of his face as the attendees devolved into disagreements. He had hoped to stave off such things at least until they had all agreed to work together. Little was ever so easy, especially in this town, he had long since learned. But a man could hope. He shook his head as he listened, quiet throughout though he had more than few thoughts of his own. The Kabuki girl – and he nearly looked at his paper to try and figure out names, not that he even much remembered who had bothered to sign or not – at least presented his same logic; something needed to be done, and of course there was risk but then every night was a risk in this hellhole of a town. “The point of course is that we must do something.” He said, to her and to everyone really. “No one else is going to. I’ve sat back, in the shadows, enduring the relentless stupidity all species seem to spew on a regular basis. Watched human and vampire alike be slaughtered by one another and each other. And all the while strings are being pulled elsewhere. Things are happening amidst the pointless distractions and battles. I wouldn’t risk my wraith, its capture would reveal far too much of me and mine.” He noted warily, no doubt not the only one with something to lose here.

But then they all had something to lose, whether it be their own lives or the lives of those who depended on them. Better to take a stand, though, than sit back and watch it all burn around them. “Moros is right. We need to learn what their plans are before we try to dismantle the establishment, as it were. And if it is decided that they must be eradicated, perhaps a better solution might be to take over from the inside. Enthrallment, or simple blackmail and threats. Who knows. That is a discussion for a later time. Most of this… is a discussion for a later time.” He intoned, barely keeping his voice from being too cutting. His time as the leader of the Worthington’s had given him skills in proverbial babysitting but it was not something he enjoyed, nor something he would put up with from a group of skilled members of society he would in time depend on to watch his back when the **** hit the fan and blew all over them.

“Ottawa may be the ones making the calls. But maybe they aren’t. It wouldn’t be a leap to assume a government agency is doing its own thing beneath the nose of its boss, especially if that agency has something to gain and didn’t want to risk losing that advantage. It’s telling how few news reporters we get here, despite the rampant crime and wholesale slaughter – not to mention the paranormal sightings and undead clawing at their gates.” He shook his head. Conspiracies. Paranoia, his first borne would succinctly prescribe. Nikolae would have accepted the definition. Paranoia had kept him alive this long, after all.

He smiled to the pair of animals, and was relieved when the silent male finally spoke. He’d begun to worry the male was mute – not that that would have been a problem, except with the code of anonymity. He couldn’t read lips, refused to read a mind he wasn’t welcome in, and didn’t think texting would be very smart when caught behind enemy lines. “A symbol. A motto. An agreed meeting place. All these things must be discussed. And will be.” He glanced at Moros, hoping their closeness wouldn’t give them away. Doubtful, really, given how silent both of them had been in this town the last few years. While they’d made their mark in the early days of the vampires in this town, they’d lost interest and hope within two years time and stopped trying to mend things so quickly broken. “At the closure of this meeting I will text you all a link to a website where we may speak of such things. The website is secure, as secure as it can possibly be.” He smiled beneath his mask. He was an expert at hacking, and had tried every known way to break into the site once it had been built. “It is on the darknet.” He added, glancing meaningfully at the vampires in the room. He didn’t trust Crownet. Not at all. Especially after the Crow had made itself known as a sentient being. This Administrator was even further worrisome. Besides which, humans had no access to the Crownet so far as he knew. And it was imperative humans be a part of this endeavor they were undertaking.

The animal man was equally right in countering the argument for closing the rift. That would be a nightmare scenario. Though widening it had, perhaps, been shortsighted. Who knew what monsters would pop out of the damned thing next. “Clearly, we all can see that there are problems in this town. Problems no one has yet addressed. Problems we all here, hopefully, will work together to try and fix. Perhaps our motto should be that… Nevermind, we’ll do it ourselves.” He grinned behind the cloth covering his face and shook his head. It had a certain ring to it, if he were honest. Though it was also funny, at least to him. He nodded his head to the man who’d spoken of his skills with technology and contacts in the medical realm, a likeminded individual he was already beginning to find useful in such group settings. A small bit of relief came to him then, though certainly all here were passionate about the goals. If that passion could be aimed properly, this whole thing just might work.

“Please. Those of you who have yet to sign here, I implore you to do so and attach a burner phone that can be reached or an email so that you can be notified of our online meeting place. Should you not wish to join this gamble, I will not hold it against you. Obviously, I don’t even know who you are.” He shrugged and stepped back, half wishing he’d brought a chair. And half considering teleporting. But then, he wasn’t ready to display any of his talents. Not until he knew he could trust these faceless individuals. How ironic. How perfectly, eloquently, ironic.

[Cathy Dawn]

The Innocent Divergent stood up and spoke again. "I can probably get in. My restaurant is going to start delivering soon and catering as well. The army loves the food at my place and is always in there so I had told them I would be starting that up so they would not have to go so far in the future. They seemed to like that Idea. Then again every mortal likes that idea so I could use that as cover to get inside." She walked over and signed her name and put a burner number down as well as she looked around the room and her body trembled she was scared but she would do this. It would be hard but she would do this and make it through. She watched to see what others would say to her plan. Her curae made her tremble though and that part she hated.

[Trahir Trahison]

Watching Nemesis, Trahir listened to the others speak. His eyes remained locked on the leader of the group from behind the hockey mask he wore. After they all had their say, he motioned to the kerchief-ed man. "That one is smart. Smaller cells. And I'll take a spot in one with those not shaking like chihuahua's." He looked pointedly to the young looking woman in the masquerade mask.

Motioning to the one in the Fox mask he tilted his head. "I say "You" rather than "Us" because I'm not sure if I want to join yet, or if I'd rather take what I hear and bring it to the ears of others. What is being discussed has to have a reasonable chance of success and a purpose that makes sense to be worth risking eternity under a scalpel. Honestly, so far it really sounds like you want to stir up a host of issues, then say it's for glory and the only change made would be what? More people seeing zombies?

"In the interest of cohesion though, Let's go with "us".

"The military aren't keeping ~us~ out of Corvidae Flats or the QZ. They aren't keeping ~us~ out of the Catacombs. They are keeping the mindless undead in. What benefit is it to ~us~ to have them leave? It seems a lot of work for less than no gain. Are ~we~ going to police the zombies ourselves? ~We~ as a race don't even police our own actions half the time.

"I'm wondering really... what is the purpose?

"~We~ are being asked to risk a whole lot for this endeavor so I'd like to know what ~we~ stand to gain."