The Captivity of Lying [original]

[Suzaku]

Saisei donned the BDU with vigor, apparently in a hurry for something. A thought had just occured to him. And if it worked...
Saisei attempted to recall the specifics as he was ushered out of the room, accompanied by three of the men. Yes, he remembered now. He flipped out a cell phone and dialed a number rapidly.

" Don't worry, I'm not calling in an airstrike." He informed one of the guards as he attempted to take posession of the phone. The owner didn't pick up. Well, it was probably better this way.

" Miss Cillian. We have known of your illegal activities and your posessein of a spirit for some time now. We have several of your comrades under our 'protection' if you agree to come to the cathedral in Flint, alone. If you come with others we will immidiately open fire on your acquantances. For the record, one of their names is James Carrus. I believe that he was involved in your little debacle at the execution, was he not? Their fates lie in your hands." Saisei shut the phone.

"You guys get together as many crusaders as you can and lie low at least a hundred yards from the cathedral. Don't open fire until they exit the cathedral. And if one that went in doesn't come out, then don't fire."

" I thought that there would only be one of them." One of the men asked.

" If we're lucky, then yes. If we're not then we'll have a little bit of trouble. But if my hunch is correct, then Cillian is the sound girl, and that means that her telekinetic friend will be in tow as well. Luckily I have a plan to deal with her."
Surprisingly, the men did as they wre asked and immidiately dispersed. Saisei arrived at the cathedral shortly, after a quick stop at his house. He entered the cathedral and dumped the contents of a large bag out in front of the cathedral. He set the body of James Carrus in front of the altar, as if he were an offering to God. Alongside him were the vacant-eyed corpses of three deceased victims of the execution incident. Their families would have to go without a burial. As he waited, he snapped an attachment onto two handguns. He finally knelt before the altar in reverance and silently waited.

[Tobuoi]

OOC: Btw, guys, this whole ditty has been loosely planned, thusfar. After this, though, it's back to freeform. :O

Cillian: They were back on the ground, now. The earth beneath them was quite dry and it was quickly getting dark. "Come on, guys," she instructed. "It's getting late and it'd be best not to startle our allies with false alarms, late at night."

They went from the dead forest to a street curb, where they stepped down into the vacant street. The pavement was old and cracked and the one street lamp flickered from time to time. Cillian vaguely recognized it. Still, she walked forward, bold and alert. There were several small, old buildings around them, most of them with their lights out. The homes, however, revealed faint, glowing lights from behind curtains. Cillian hoped that they didn't seem too suspicious.

They made their way towards the more central streets and observed. Though they were surrounded by buildings, the uptown area of Aurora* was not much more lively than the street that neighbored the woods. The streets were empty, save but a few pieces of garbage and a single, lonely car. However, there was one place that stood out: a pub. Cillian read its name..."Jay Jay's" [lol, I'm not feeling particularily creative today, can you tell?] It was their hideout.

Cillian stopped in the street and pointed to the place. "I'm pretty sure that that's it, but...keep down until we know for sure. I'll recognize one of the workers, if it is."

With that, she proceeded. Now that they were closer to the building, Cillian could see into the pub's back parking lot where a few other vehicles were parked...mostly motorcycles. She made her way up the few wooden steps, her boots clunking loudly. She turned to face the others, sighed, and pushed the door open, slowly. It creaked loudly and Cillian stepped up into the doorway. As soon as she was inside, the sound of clanking glasses, pool balls, footsteps, and strange music overwhelmed her. The air was full of thick smoke that not only clouded their vision, but irritated her eyes, slightly, and almost stung the insides of her mouth and throat.

Several heads turned up to look up at them while others continued with what they were doing. Cillian's attention, however, went directly to the bar. There were several young workers that she didn't realize, one of them being female, but after a few moments, her focus was drawn to a grizzly middle-aged man. His name was Jack and it had been several years since Cillian had last seen him. Fortunately, Jack had a remarkable memory, making him a perfect hideout director. Still, a nagging feeling in Cillian's head and stomach feared that he would not recognize her and she would have to find some way to tell him who she was. Why hadn't she planned for this earlier?

Without waiting for her companions or any other doubtful notions, Cillian walked past the several round tables, towards the bar, her eyes maintaing their focus on Jack. To her surprised relief, he caught sight of her and the change of expression in his face told her that he knew who she was...

OOC: Sorry to cut short, I just want to let you guys jump in.

[GuardianOfHearts]

{ There's a deli by me with the same name. :D }


As their little group of heretics moved through the quiet town, Arian kept in contact with Morgan, tracing anyone who came close enough to their gravitational "radar". But no one approached, or made any otherwise suspicious movements. No enemies, or at least, no Crusaders actively on the lookout for them. A still start to the evening.

The redhead crossed her arms over herself as the cooler breezes of the night took hold, grateful for the warmth of her long shirt and her battle gloves, which covered half of her arms again. She flexed her fingers, itching to release her blades; but no matter how wary she felt, she didn't want any more attention drawn to them.

The air inside the pub was contrastingly warm and stifling, and lingering with the constant traces of smoke and alcohol. Arian cast her hood over her face, hoping for some respite against the attack to her senses: she hated the smell and taste of both smoke and alcohol.

At least you'll be safe here, Morgan said, and Arian had to agree with that. She went over to stand by Cillian as her friend approached the bar, catching the eye of a grizzled man who gave a slight nod as he saw the heretics. Arian had never been here, so she didn't know who this man was, but she knew what he stood for.

Safe.

But for how long?

[Eikre]

Tuomas hung over his friend's chair, watching an IM conversation go rapidly past. Unfortunately for the English teacher within Tuomas, it was all spoken in very heavy "1337-5p34|<" After a few more moments of cringing, Tuomas spoke up, if only to stop the flow of English-bashing, "Okay, Dave, where am I heading to pick all of this up? Knowing the content..."

"It's all being dropped off at the local junkyard, farthest pile in. It's going to be stashed in four massive 'Ikea' bags. As for the DeSoto plating, it's going to be dropped off at the garage closest to the junkyard, and they'll be done well within 15 minutes of you setting foot within the place. They know what to do when they see your car. There's not to many DeSoto's running around period, let alone looking like yours." 'Dave' answered, and his eyes widened as a newsfeed from Flint was given in, via across IM and YouTube.

On the screen, a blonde who looked like she was only working there for her allure reported in the worst Newfie impersonation possible, "We have recorded footage of a Vatican raid upon an apartment complex." and a backdrop appeared of a Helicopter's view circling when the Vatican soldiers were storming the building. They seem to have been hunting some sort of spirit holders...if such things existed." And she chuckled to herself.

Then it got worse. A picture-in-picture came up, displaying a close-up photo of Tuomas teaching "Also they seemed to have enlisted a Canadian school teacher who outside sources have identified as one Thomas Zephite Mercuri."

Tuomas laughed when he heard his "name", and then realized how serious the situation was. Everything being shown, save for Tuomas thankfully, was a live feed.

"THAT'S what you're up to, dammit?!?" Dave asked incredulously as The reporter start babbling on about crap speculation. "Holy shit Tuomas. There's not much I can do now, but gods be damned if I don't wash my hands completely of all this crap." He waved a hand at Tuomas, in the universal "Shoo" motion. "And get the hell out of my house."

Tuomas left the house, dumbstruck at the audacity of the news channel. If the Vatican didn't shut them down in the next ten minutes, he'd be even further dumbstruck. Climbing into his car, he was vaguely aware of what he was doing as he mulled over what was going on. Now that this can easily go global, I gotta wonder what these 'heretics' are gonna pull off...or worse, the Church! Pulling out, and heading in the general direction of the junkyard mentioned, he continued to think about the situation, and attempt to outline possible moves depending on various short-term outcomes. Shaking his head free of all of these thoughts, he slipped a new disc into the CD player, Queen's Sheer Heart Attack album. In seconds, the Fair-grounds opening of Brighton Rock played over the speakers. Smiling as his childhood favourite album played over the speakers, it was his own portable moments of peace.

Pulling into the junkyard a few moments later, he weaved in and out of all the piles, and over some of the other more sprawled out mountains of junk. Eventually, as the opening snaps of "Killer Queen" he found the trademark massive blue bags belonging to the one sweedish furniture corporation in North America. He popped open the trunk of his car and scrambled out and up to the bags. Peering inside each one to make sure everything was in there, he made four trips, one for each bag. Safely stowing all four in the back, he closed the trunk, and drove off. Once outside the junkyard, he turned into a nearby garage. Getting out of his car, he talked to the mechanic, who signaled his boys to get to work on the car.

"You must be this Tuomas guy we've heard about. Well, the armour plating is gonna cost ye, but it'll make that car as tough as a tank. I believe you know the price." The red-headed mechanic said, in a sort of Irish accent. Wearing white gloves and blue overalls, both thoroughly grease-stained.

"Sounds good."

OOC: Hey, Tob, I'm back. YOU get on msn....

And no, I'm not letting you guys find out the entire contents of Tuomas' package. I'm going to mystify you guys by pulling a Yu-Gi-Oh and pull the one thing I need to tip the scales into my favor =D.

[Tobuoi]

OOC: I've been on, FOO. Well, more or less...school shit's been going on, naturally. I wanted to wait for Jopari to post, but I guess we can move on...>.>

Cillian: Cillian noticed Arian, close behind her. She approached the bar and sighed, literally feeling the tension drain from her chest. "Jack," she addressed the bartender, reaching up with one arm and holding the still-sore one with it. "We need..." Cillian cut herself, realizing that she was surrounded by potentially dangerous strangers.

"Go on, they en't got nothin' on ya," Jack said in response to Cill. "Besides, I know the whole lot and they'd sooner take out a Vat than one of you."
"We need a place to stay for the night," Cillian finished bluntly.
"Ah, of course. You're lucky, see...I'd been seein' to Ira Jier and Tersharis Oaklar for the past week, but they left this mornin'. Y'all woulda been crowded. Nevermind that, though. I'll take you downstairs so you can get some rest."

With that, Jack turned and called to one of his employees. He waved him over and dropped the rag that he had been wiping the counter with. Jack leaned over to bar tender's ear and spoke. Cillian couldn't make out what he was saying, but it was brief and probably not very exciting. In fact, Cillian didn't care enough to give it a second thought.

Jack came out from behind the bar and motioned towards them. "Well, then, follow me." He took the three of them through an "Employees Only" door and then, down a small flight of wooden stairs. At the bottom, there was another door waiting for them. Jack brought out a ring of keys from his dirtied apron and fumbled with it, searching for the appropriate one. Then, he stuck it in the door and opened it.

The basement was considerably larger than Cillian would've imagined. While the ceiling, floor, and walls were all cement, there were several sections that very closely resembled rooms. Jack went over to a closet and opened it, turning on the light and delving inside. Moments later, he came back out, carrying some sort of heavy crates. "This way," he commanded, leading them towards two rooms.

The rooms were parrallel, and inside, there were two small cots, each. Jack went into one of them and spoke. "You ladies can have this one," he grunted as he set down one of the crates. He turned around again and eyed Ian. "And the other's all yours. In the crates, there's water, juice, bread, crackers, candy bars, and so on."

Cillian nodded in acknowledgement and thanks but Jack wasn't done yet. He strolled off in the other direction. "Now, we shouldn't have any trouble, but should y'all need to get out of here, quick-like, there's an emergency exit back here." Several yards away, Jack revealed to them a shabby wooden door.

He came back and grumbled, "Well, I'll leave ya to ya."
Cillian thanked him once more as he made his way back upstairs to the bar.

"Well," Cillian started, quietly, "we should probably get some sleep. It'd be best if we got back on the road as soon as possible. There's a headquarters about fifty miles away and we're really in no condition to be fighting out here on our own."

[Jopari]

Ian was relieved to be away from the crowd upstairs. The assault on his senses had put him on edge but the cold surrounding cement of the basement was a haven to him. He glanced into his little room, eyeing the shoddy cots with a look of disdain, but then again, at least it was a bed. He'd slept in worse places.

"Well," Cillian said, keeping her voice low, "we should probably get some sleep. It'd be best if we got back on the road as soon as possible. There's a headquarters about fifty miles away and we're really in no condition to be fighting out here on our own."

Ian trusted Cillian, and he trusted Arian. They'd trusted him and it was the least he could do to trust them in return, but he wasn't sure about the patrons upstairs. "You're sure that we'll be safe here?" Ian asked her, his voice low to keep from disturbing the quiet of the basement.

Don't push your luck, Mack warned him from the depths of his mind. Ian knew that he couldn't question everything, but he felt a sudden unease and had survived long enough trusting his feelings not to discount them.

((Sorry about not posting often or long. I'm still getting situated after my move, but I'll try to keep up.))

[Eikre]

OOC: Are we considered dead yet? Or are we keeping this vaguely open?