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May, 2010... Fantasy became reality. Worlds overlay for the briefest moment. Outworlders became stranded on earth as more than half the human populace vanished. Our World, our universe, was transformed.

Fiction is now reality. Humans and those now bound to this world will either learn to coexist, or battle for supremecy.

JUNE 13, 2019 - Family emergency  took a bad turn so had to stay away but now things are finally calming down. Hope to get going again shortly. Thanks for understanding. ~ZEPH

Vacily Rezanov

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105 One of Our All Stars

About Vacily Rezanov

  • Rank
    Nicely Seasoned


    Viggo Mortensen
  • RACE
  • JOB
    New York Legion Deputy Director of Operations
    New York City
    Vanguard of Humanity
    Appearing as a man in his fifties to sixties, he is ruggedly handsome. His brooding eyes are a cool grey, once dark hair is now steel grey with frosted highlights. He is distinctly Russian, but the accent of his homeland has been somewhat watered down, the trills and rolls of his tongue deadened by his adopted mid-western accent.

    He is of average height, roughly 5'11", weighing in at a solid 200 lbs. His physique is that of a much younger man, athletic and strong and despite his stiff movements associated with a much older man is able to move very fluidly when needed. His surprisingly vigorous form is, however, usually covered by dark suits. Always trying to look professional, he may also on occasion wear a felt hat if the weather warrants it and rarely is seen dressing down.

    For those who may witness seeing Vacily shirtless in the locker room, aside from be astounded by his defined muscularity the tattoos of his youth also become apparent. Classic brands of the Russian Mafia and Military service cover his arms, chest and back all written in Cyrillic.
    Vacily is an idealist. He follows a strict code of ethics and is devout in his beliefs of the way the world should be. This strong conviction is often his downfall, unable to remain open minded when it's needed the most.

    One's first impression of the man is one of arrogance. He comes across as haughty and proud, which is often the case but deep down he is a moralistic person with a well balanced sense of judgment. It is important that people are able to trust him and Vacily goes to great lengths to support that confidence. Often this intimidates people but Vacily is able to be very amiable when required. He can be moody as well (due to his electromagnetic condition). Control is all important to Vacily. The management of everything around him, the command of him self. When his ability begins to countermand his own resolve Vacily can become down right crotchety.

    A man of fine tastes, Vacily is devout in what he takes pleasure in. No other brands compare to what he prefers (even if they aren't the best). He hates to be told otherwise and by that token can be rather confrontational when confronted by aristocratic snobs. While he enjoys luxuries, Vacily is by no means soft. He trains every day, pushes himself and demands the same of those who work under him. Always striving for perfection, or as close to it as one can come.

    LIKES: • Stolichnaya Vodka • Sobranie Black Russian Cigarettes • Classical Russian Music • The works of Nikola Tesla • Communism (Idealized) • City Lights • A good book •

    DISLIKES: • Capitalism • American made cars • Coffee • Technology • Aristocracy
    He always carries his special brand of cigarettes: Sobranie Black Russian. His cell phone is kept in a specially designed case able to effectively shield the constant bombardment of his residual static charge.

    There are also, tucked in an extra compartment of his custom made sterling silver cigarette case, twenty round pills that look like chromed ball bearings. They are a specially designed drug that inhibits his ability, reducing his over all electromagnetic charge, allowing his body to heal itself. He takes them when needed and the effects are that they severely weaken his powers. They are made by Genomorph Laboratories but since Doctor Gale's transfer to Pharos, now obtains them directly through him.

    He carries a standard 9mm handgun with three extra clips on his shoulder holster (one of the clips containing silver bullets). He also carries three razor sharp folding knives balanced for throwing which are tucked into his shoulder holster. They are silver bladed and used as a last resort.

    18 East 78th Street, Manhattan, Upper East Side, half a block away from Central Park. Second Floor Apartment.

    Black coloured Jaguar XE sport sedan.
    (See Staff Approved - DO NOT EDIT - Place Ticket to Update)
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    Nearly a century old, Vacily's physique is yet of a man in his forties. His strength and dexterity is comparable to an athlete in their prime and he possesses enhanced durability due to an increased density of his muscles and bones. His healing factor is increased, three times that of a Human, but older now it is more like twice. Realistically he's still quite strong, roughly three times that of your average athletic male. These 'super-human' attributes are due to his participation in a Super Soldier experiment during his forties (see history). In short, he was the lone survivor to benefit from enhancements of the which the Soviet scientists had little control over. The drugs not only increased strength, speed and durability, they also improved his senses, sharpening his vision, intensifying his hearing, enhancing his sense of smell, etc. Basically 20/20 vision, excellent hearing, all still in the Human range and so on. Vacily functions at the highest level of Human performance or rather he did. Older now, he functions a little bit more in the accepted 'human ranges'; at least for a much younger man. At his age, his abilities are definitely abnormal.


    To most it is a merely a weapon, but to Vacily it is control. In a world blind without technology, all the power lies in those who can darken those eyes. Vacily is one such person. He can manipulate electromagnetism to the point that he can cause a chain a reaction that would black out a suburb (An EMP blast) or wield it with such precision that he could etch a mural in the side of a building. He can also produce magnetic fields, able to manipulate any form of metal (some better than others). This ability is so attuned with his own senses that he can actually sense (see, smell, feel) metal. With his eyes closed he can describe metallic objects with great detail, even navigate his way through an area possessed of the usual metallic components, such as wires in the walls and such.

    When manipulating metal the weight and mass are reliant upon the amount of energy at his disposal. It could virtually be unlimited were it not for the fact that his body does indeed have limitations.

    Vacily's ability has existed long before the 'RESONANCE'. The amount of ‘power’ coursing through his body at any given time ranged between 15 to 30 mA (milliamperes). Now, a normal human body has an electrical field, everyone has one. This is also known as ‘static electricity’, and during low-humidity weather the movement of conductive materials contacting one’s skin can generate quite a bit of voltage but pretty much ‘0’ amps. A tiny spark resulting from touching one’s finger to a piece of metal is 500 Volts, painful shocks are several thousand. On average Illya has at least 3000 Volts flowing through him. This is 60 Watts of power, which means he can power one average light bulb by skin contact. For most of his young life this was the extent of his power, mere parlour tricks he used reluctantly.

    Under certain conditions he could shock an individual, but it would be no different than one receiving a slight distracting jolt, and the effect could not be done repeatedly. This 'mutation' was further enhanced by his 'participation in the Soviet Psychic Experiment and perhaps was the reason the 'super-soldier experiment' actually worked on him.

    After the Resonance, this power greatly increased, and every year since has gotten stronger. He has thrown cars, produced full scale lightening bolts and even rocked a cargo ship.

    The drastic increase of his electromagnetism after the Resonance annihilates his own hemoglobin effecting his endurance. The more he uses his powers the more he risks doing permanent damage to his body. Already, his endurance has been greatly effected and he requires a drug which is a specially designed 'electromagnetic inhibitor' to assist in normalizing and maintaining his body's natural electrical levels. He makes sure to use his power sparingly. When he over does it, days after he experiences a loss of control, producing anomalous electrical fluctuations.

    To use anything electrical requires a great amount of concentration for Vacily but needless to say it has become a way of life for him. He is intact so intone with his electromagnetic control that he can actually modify circuitry on the scale of a microchip. He can actually visualize the components in his mind, a sort of perceived connection, allowing him to accurately alter any electronic devices (with the exception of adding to these components, obviously he can only modify what's already there unless he opens the device up.).

    Due to his condition, Vacily's blood is so toxic, that it would cause serious to harm to any vampiric creature that might drink it. Even by his scent any 'blood sucker' would not find him at all appetizing.
    Vacily's extensive career in the military, the KGB and the C.I.A. has left him a variety of skills, ranging from sniping, artillery, explosives, hand-to-hand combat, knife fighting, and advanced tactical skills. He's also able to fly a variety of aircraft and has knowledge of advanced seamanship.

    Due to his work in the field across Europe Vacily is able to speak, aside from English and Russian, German, French and some Italian. He also knows Latin, Ancient Greek and is familiar with Sanskrit and can converse in Bengali.

    Vacily's interest in the Indian language coincided with his study of yoga after the Resonance. He uses the practice to calm his body and regulate is abilities. Over the years he has greatly progressed in the discipline and has been able to master many of the most difficult poses. The added flexibility and the over all discipline of the exercise has also enhanced his fighting skills.

    While lacking a degree, Vacily is by all rights an electrical engineer and is especially well educated in the design and modification of electronic components such as computer systems and the like. While he forced to limit the use of his fantastic abilities for the sake of his health, he can regularly use his electromagnetic manipulation to alter electronic components.
    Born in Russia, Vacily was a member of the Russia Mafia before he changed his ways and joined the military. His first position was a radio operator and he excelled at electronics. In time, there was little he couldn't repair and was able to put these talents to good use in the field. He eventually attained the rank of Captain in the Red Army and ended up working for the 'Secret Police' (pre-KGB) at the age of 25, 1945. It was within that organization that he was enlisted into the Soviet Psychic Program a year later, specifically a branch of which boasted the production of super-soldiers but in truth it was just all propaganda. Most of the serums administered were placebos and nothing much came of it, until a new experimental drug was given to Vacily. He proved to be the one in a thousand subjects able to process the drug and went on to the other phases that would make him stronger, faster, better than any of his predecessors.

    Vacily's new abilities would, however, turn him into one of Russian's most prized assets. In shadow world of spies he had become a cold war legend and was eventually approached by the C.I.A. and offered a deal. At the age of 32 (1962) he was offered asylum in exchange for infiltrating his own government. For the rest of the cold war, Vacily worked covertly for the American government until 1975 when he finally defected. At 55, still incredibly fit and unnaturally youthful he was brought to his new home and given a place in the CIA and the American Military where he attained a rank of Colonel. He was given the nickname 'Surge' by those aware of his 'electrical talents', which was a play on his middle name, Serge. The name would follow him through his entire career.

    After the 'RESONANCE', Vacily was further altered. His electromagnetic powers greatly increased, but to the point that they would eventually begin to wear down his body and kill him. Only constant medication maintains his health now. This was also the time that he joined the VANGUARD, his experience and merit allowing him to climb the ranks quickly. In time he would attain the position of Deputy Director of Operations.

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  • Primary
    Atticus Gale
  • Role Play Sample
    Moscow, Soviet Union, September 25th, 1953

    The chill of winter was in the air on that grey Autumn afternoon and though reluctant to bid farewell to Summer, Vacily yielded by buttoning up his jacket. "Winter must be coming." Announced the dark haired girl sitting idly on the backyard swing hanging from an old deciduous tree, it's branches all but bare with but a few golden leaves yet lingering. "Papa's buttoning up his coat."

    She spoke in Russian, her words directed to her mother, a beautiful woman, with the distinct dark traits of her Roma heritage. She did not reply, just smiled and sipped her tea, while her husband continued to read the newspaper, the bold cyrillic headline saying, 'Krushchev's New KGB'.

    "We should buy some more tea, before winter sets in." The woman mentioned, making simple conversation. The man nodded and pretended to keep reading, his eyes had wandered toward his daughter. How he loved to watch her swing in the backyard, but times were changing. She would be turning twelve soon and her maturing mind had long outgrown the confines of their private courtyard. How he wished he could bottle that fleeting innocence and store it away so that she would never lose it, but all too soon it would be gone. She no longer cared to touch her toes to the sky, nor had she requested for him to push her for some time now and he wondered where those years had gone, then all at once he would remember.

    Stalin's 'terror state' had taken its toll on everyone, but it wasn't his regime that had stolen his time away but more appropriately the plot to kill the man, a task appointed to Vacily by an esoteric order within the Secret Police that had now become the KGB. The world would forever believe his death to be of natural causes, the truth only to be know by two others besides, Vacily. Now they were dead, and he was the last, or so he thought. Vacily wanted to stay in that perfect memory, one of the last days he would ever spend time with his beloved wife and daughter, but as always his dream would turn nightmare, a reality conjured by his arrogance, pride and foolish patriotism.

    The distraught and devastated cries of a man echoed through the house and it was only when Vacily became aware of his own choking sobs that he realized those cries were his. With blood stained hands he cradled the body of his daughter, Rajisa, willing her to come back but she would never return. They had took her, the very ones who had set him on his course had learned the identity of the assassin and were now attempting to put him to rest along with the rule of Stalin.

    Soft snow flakes sprinkled the coffins and melted across Vacily's face, a facade of tears trickling down his cheeks. There would be no more, only hatred from that point on, and how it pained him to stab at the very ideal that was the foundation of his core. He believed in communism, the ideal of it, but now he would do all in his power to undermine his own government and punish all those responsible to stealing away all that mattered to him.

    "Major Rezanov." Bid the new world Czar, "I am very sorry for your loss."

    President Krushchev's condolences were genuine and from the heart. He was unaware of the plot, and sought only to give words to comfort one of the person's integral in the reformation of what would become known as the KGB. They shook hands. Vacily's expression as bleak as the harsh Russian winter, thrust cool blue pools into the eyes of Krushchev and offered a somber nod, while all the while his blood boiled within.
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  1. Vacily Rezanov


    ‘Proof?’ Vacily wondered, anxious anticipation rising with the noticeable incline of the tunnel. How Remy actually came by this information was a source of concern but such questions were best reserved for a more opportune time. Presently he was more concerned with the town. He had to warn them, but as he fished his mobile device out of his pocket his heart sank; the phone registered ‘no service’. Such were the realities of the ‘new world’. Phone service these days was sketchy at best, Winchester’s cell tower was probably as old as the hills. That and being underground was limiting the signal. [vacily]Shit. Soon as we’re topside we gotta warn ‘em. We at least owe the townsfolk that much.[/vacily] Vacily promised, ready to get out into the open air. He was anxious to get this fight started, rolling the steel hatchet in his hand to dry the sweat on his palm. Best case scenario, he’d get a cell signal near the mouth of the tunnel but if not, he’d have to get closer to town. This meant cutting through the horde. [vacily]Been a while since I’ve dealt with the dead.[/vacily] Vacily admitted, hinting his curiosity of the young man’s plan. He was all about stealth. Gunshots would only draw the zombies closer in mass. They were strongest in swarms, so the best tactic was to keep them scattered.
  2. Vacily Rezanov


    The cavalier’s disclosure piqued the old man’s interest. He’d seen a lot since the night sky first split in two, but zombies taking orders? Vacily took it that the creatures were able to follow commands, which according to his research in the past was freaking impossible. Of course, back then, his scientists had followed the only path they knew. They never even touched magick, and as time went on it seemed that little ingredient was the key to… well… making magic. There was no other way else to put it. The obviousness of it all now simply made all past efforts seem fool hardy, but it hadn’t all been vain. At least that’s what he told himself. So, ‘they’d’ found a way to reanimate higher brain functions. Vacily had always figured tha it was only a matter of time before zombies were successfully weaponized. He’d tried it himself, utilizing various forms of sound waves to manipulate their behaviour. To force them to congregate, disperse and target. The project had ended in disaster, like all the others. A controlled zombie horde was the ultimate army, but they could never get past basic instinct; curb their insatiable appetite. Time and time again, the zombies attacked their handlers. Entire herds were lost and with them, months and months of research. As thoughts of grief yet attempted to make sense of his son’s death the theoretical parallel between between Caleb and the research was mercilessly shot down. The truth stung, but Vacily respected a blunt tongue. [vacily]A false lead? A trap.[/vacily] Now he knew, but was still no closer to exacting vengeance on his son’s killer. Or was he? Rami wouldn’t have bothered to come all this way if he wasn’t trying to make a connection. He knew more than he was saying. If the horde above them was being directed then Rami had to be close to discovering something. Something so valuable that it they were willing to destroy an entire settlement, along with them. [vacily]So what’s the plan?[/vacily]
  3. Vacily Rezanov


    Vacily was as unsurprised by Rami’s divulgence of his report as he had been unimpressed by the cash of weapons. He could ‘taste’ the mass of metal, feel it rippling through the air. Predicting it’s nature had been a simple deduction based on present company, an arsenal that hardly sang of preparedness, but rather reeked of paranoia. This was the stash of a wanted man and any sane one would be distancing themselves right now but he was the only lead Vacily had. The only one who could help him find to his son’s killers. Rami spoke and he listened. The cavalier mentioned 'M-virus experimentation. He and Salvatore had found tracings of some kind of research program during their investigation. Avenging his son was all that mattered to him right now but it was becoming obvious that these ‘zombie researchers’ were inexplicably connected to this hidden enemy within the Order and Vanguard. [vacily]Chancellor Avara had established a possible connection between some kind of research program and a few of the murders.[/vacily] The old man shared, leaning back on the edge of the table. [vacily]Tell you the truth kid, I don’t give two shits about ‘zombie experimentation’. I can tell you from experience that road doesn’t go anywhere. Our main concern is to establish a connection between these research facilities and those people responsible for the murders. One will lead us to the other. Was this what Caleb was investigating?[/vacily] Considering the zombie horde above them Vacily wasn't sure whether or not he'd make it to the scene of Caleb's murder anymore. He was getting impatient and wanted answers. Anything to make sense of his son's death. To bring him that much closer to his vengeance.
  4. Vacily Rezanov


    Vacily agreed with Rami. [vacily]It’s not.[/vacily] he grunted. A herd of this magnitude, at this exact time, was simply too coincidental. ‘But how in the hell did THEY find them?’ The old spy considered as he closely followed, duffle bag slung across his shoulder. His electromagnetic inspection of his jeep had been thorough. Vacily had detected no tracking devices, metallic or silicone based. ’Satellite tracking?’ Not likely. ’Remote viewing, scrying, clairvoyance?’ Perhaps. One could never dismiss the supernatural these days. He rubbed a hand along a cool earthen side of the tunnel, unable to tell it’s age. Could have been dug a century ago or last year for all he knew. ‘Where did it go? Was the more important question, but Vacily figured he’d find out soon enough. Vacily always knew where north was. He knew precisely the direction they were moving but not being familiar with the layout of Winchester it didn’t help him one bit. Along the way he had swapped his firearm for a hatchet. An unorthodox choice, but such a weapon in Vacily’s hands was far more useful against the mindless creatures. The gun was placed in a holster and slung over his shoulder, just in case. There could be more than just zombies to contend with. Vacily wanted to be prepared.
  5. Vacily Rezanov


    Vacily remissly nodded. The man’s words were ever heedful and he tired of measuring the weight of their words with coffee spoons, or rather ‘shot glasses’. Bottom line, he should have been grateful of the monk’s help, even if his actions were self-serving. They at least, for the most part, shared a common enemy in those that killed his son. He swallowed another ounce in a futile attempt to dull the pain. The mere thought of Caleb was salt in an open wound and like an angry lion Vacily sought to ease that pain through violent means. [vacily]Well, I think it’s time to turn…[/vacily] The dog growled, ears pricking up. Lightly placing his glass on the table, Vacily paused and strained his ears. The snap of a branch, a strange rustle through the dried leaves of the nearby bushes. With the lithe movements of a much younger man, the Director sprang up and deftly moved to a nearby window. Interior lighting made it difficult to see but one did not need to look long to distinguish the shambles and the sways of zombies in the moonlight. [vacily]What the hell?[/vacily] He whispered. There were hundreds of them! It had been years since he or anyone for that matter had seen such a mob! Moving quickly to a south facing window, Vacily stared in horror. The creatures spanned as far as the eye could see, a mindlessly purposeful mass meandering north toward the city. [vacily]Bozhe moy![/vacily] He gasped. [vacily]We have to warn them.[/vacily] he stated, digging his handgun out the duffle bag as he ran to a north facing window to spy the accessibility of his jeep. Completely over run. They could hear them clearly now. The rumbling thuds of thousands of feet, bodies rubbing up against the outer walls of the building. It was only a matter of time before instinct kicked in. Before one or two of the creatures caught a scent and found the door.
  6. Vacily Rezanov


    Eyes fell to the ‘glass half empty’. He admired a man who could savour his drink. All the assholes who’d ever judged a man by the amount they could hold had sooner or later died from it. He could down the entire bottle and dance a straight line while whistling ‘Kalinka-Malinka but he wouldn’t. Vacily didn’t drink to get drunk, he drank to enjoy, to remember. Sometimes to honour, and sometimes to mourn. Since the ‘Usilivat Soldat’ experimentation of 1946 his body metabolized poisons at an inhuman rate, he couldn’t get drunk, not normally anyway. Besides, Vacily had never found peace by dulling his wits and another time, another place the friendly debate might have sparked a storm… but not today. Perhaps it was the calm nature of the man, maybe it was this place, so far from the modern world. It wasn’t often that Vacily ventured too far from the electrical cityscapes. He felt strange, almost euphoric. Free from the constant build up of the residual static his mind was clear, muscles relaxed. It was only force of habit that drew his hand to the plastic container within the inside pocket of his coat. Cracking the lid, shaking a shiny pill into the palm of his hand. The rattle of the chrome capsule sounded heavy and metallic. An element that might kill a normal man, but not Vacily. Habitually tossing the ‘dampener’ in his mouth he washed it down with a swig of vodka. Wincing from the strong metallic taste, as he did the cavalier’s unsavoury words. ‘Why should any possess their power now? Too few knights to guard all the secrets.’ Vacily believed the two had found their impasse. Fortunately his passions were no longer invested in the subject to the degree they once were. Growing up in the Soviet Union, joining the KGB, defecting to the CIA, his entire life had been and still very much was a classified collage of clandestine rendezvous. Exposing secrets had been his life’s work, his speciality, were he to choose one. [vacily]Who is more dangerous? Those who seek to control the secrets or those who hide them?[/vacily] Vacily posed to the younger man, the twinge of a smile of his own to lighten the weight of his countering query. It was a question that had ever haunted his actions. [vacily]Most times, they’re pretty much dead even, don't you think?[/vacily] He took another sip, leaning back in his chair, curious of the cavalier’s response.
  7. Vacily Rezanov


    ‘Enlightened?’ The old man nearly laughed. Almost a decade of yoga had only made him more cynical but he didn’t knock people for walking the path. Maybe the kid actually found something, he sure as hell wouldn’t know. He paused when his Russian words were received by what he could only assume to be an Arabic tongue. Back in the 1980’s when the Soviet government under Brezhnev sent troops to support the pro-communist Taraki, Vacily was a CIA operative on the scene. He got used to the back-throat sounds of the Afghan Persian language known as Dari and learned enough to distinguish the Indo European branch from the Semitic. Other than that it was all gibberish until Rami translated for him. He appreciated the sentiment but if there was a metaphorical message in the proverb it was lost on the Russian. Of course he’d rise. Another shot splashed into the glass. A slight nod and twist of the old man’s lip acknowledging the cavalier’s clarification of the mixed-up terminology. He immediately made the connection with the Templar Knights, the more popular moniker. Caleb had been heavily interested in the mysticism surrounding the archaic Order and just like then, Vacily didn’t dispute the notion of their ancient artifacts holding power. It stood to reason that in this changed world such things may be empowered by magic. Only the multitudes that preferred to keep their heads buried in the sand, or up their asses, as Vacily preferred to say, remained ignorant to this obvious relationship. [vacily]Aren’t you Vanguard?[/vacily] Vacily needlessly reminded him, an ambiguous tone to his words. [vacily]Our faction is founded on the same principles are they not? Why deny your fellow Legionnaires the power that is rightfully there’s?[/vacily] Vacily had always respected power and by that he understood the illusion of it’s control. These relics, if indeed they were imbued with magical properties, might in fact be unwieldy by those lacking the proper knowledge. Rami’s sect then possessing that knowledge should be bound by duty to channel that power on their behalf but for some reason, as Vacily saw it, that didn’t seem to be the case. [vacily]Better us than the Order of Light.[/vacily] He further suggested, pressing the Cavalier to convince him otherwise.
  8. Vacily Rezanov


    Vacily just bobbled his head indifferently at Rami’s assumption concerning blood shed. He really wasn’t so sure he cared all that much about minimizing the body count anymore. Once he caught the scent of the killers he’d hunt them to the ends of the earth but he wasn’t there yet… ‘Patience.’ When the young man so adamantly stated his wayfaring nature the older man’s eyes trailed off, an introspective chuckle ensuing. [vacily]Would that anyone could know themselves so well.[/vacily] he muttered, as if quoting someone or something from the long road of his past. The cold grey eyes momentarily softening then all at once sealing up once more into their impenetrable steely stare. He wasn’t at all surprised that the old museum was one of his dens. The cavalier and the old structure seemed to share the same bones, built from another time. Vacily had stayed in worse places, with far poorer company and though he’d never admit it, the old man felt at ease in the well preserved homestead, as if he took comfort in the history of the place. The delay of a night was shrugged off. Though beset with vengeance, Vacily yet had the clarity of thought to know to avoid stumbling about in the dark. He acknowledged Rami’s plan with an approving nod, pondering his words and considering his need for sleep. Rest would not come easy, but weary from travel and the incessant analysis of Caleb’s murder, he knew it would eventually come. Dead silence followed broken by Vacily’s announcement, [vacily]Going to grab my things.[/vacily] before ducking out the door and heading back to the jeep. Pulling a duffle bag out of the back he tossed it over a shoulder and secured the vehicle before his return. [vacily]Yeah, far better location for the headquarters.[/vacily] Vacily finally agreed as he pulled out a bottle of booze before dropping the heavy bag near the bottom step of the stairway leading up to the second level. The bottle of vodka landed with a hollow thud on the old the table in the corner of the room. Locating a couple of ‘truly’ old fashioned glasses on a shelf he placed them on the weathered surface and ceremoniously poured the Stolichnaya. He didn’t bother asking Rami whether or not he wanted a drink. It wasn’t a matter of want, it was a matter of ritual. [vacily]Vasheztorovia![/vacily] Vacily toasted, briefly raising the glass above eye level before tossing the contents down his throat in one seasoned swallow. [vacily]To your health.[/vacily] he translated, not that most Westerners weren’t familiar with the popular, “Nostrovia!”, a mispronounced English translation of “Na zdorovie.” which basically meant, “You’re welcome”. It was now modern day slang for “Let’s get drunk.” but Vacily offered the proper, ‘Vashe zdorov’ye’ in salute to solidify their bond in the camaraderie of combat. For if not tomorrow, in the days to come, there would be blood. The silvery liquor flowed into Vacily’s glass once more and he eased into an old wooden chair creaking as his unnaturally aged bones should have. [vacily]Artifacts of the Order?[/vacily] He questioned, pondering what Rami had said prior to him collecting his gear. [vacily]The Order of Light?[/vacily] he clarified. This was all new to Vacily. His work with the Vanguard was very political these days and any covert missions he oversaw were often campaigns for territorial gains or to increase public popularity. [vacily]What are they hoping to gain?[/vacily] Even if he had been wrong with his interpretation of the reference to ‘Order’, the question still remained valid. What indeed did the Vanguard seek to gain by collecting old artifacts?
  9. Vacily Rezanov


    Vacily scowled at the comment. It was only by sheer dumb luck that he stumbled upon the museum and made the connection, otherwise he would have still been driving around. Then again, the cavalier didn’t leave much to chance. The prospect of which only served to piss the old spy off even more. [vacily]You’ve got some stones on ya, I’ll give ya that much.[/vacily] The older man growled, ever alert eyes scanning the dimly illuminated interior. As his vision adjusted to the low light Vacily surveyed his surroundings, casting a cool gaze to the pitch black of the south facing window. It was a desolate location. A forgotten museum at the edge of a derelict university and beyond that were the remnants of Winchester’s deserted southern sector. A third if not half of the city sacrificed and abandoned. The mall, the shopping centre, the station; ghosts being reclaimed by nature. Eyes sweeping the length of the room, his attention was suddenly drawn to the opposite window facing the street lit city. The distant sound of an engine, red specks of taillights visible through the trees. It was heading west and away. A reminder that their location wasn’t too remote and still within the secure perimeter. Safe at least from the ‘reapers’, keeping the zombies at bay, but nothing of the size and strength of a lycanthrope. Such sightings were far and few between these days but one could never be too careful, hence the sensors running along the razor wired fence. [vacily]Nice place. Planning on settling down here?[/vacily] Vacily jabbed. A dubious grin following as he could actually see the rugged ranger living in such a place. The old hardwood floorboards creaked under the weight of Vacily’s heels as he meandered about the historically preserved room. [vacily]Didn’t even know the damn place existed.[/vacily] The comment was pertaining to Winchester and not the museum. Specifically the cavalier controlled bastion that was keeping the place alive. He didn’t know a lot of things about their sect. Like most people in his position these warrior-monks were seen as nothing but a historical convention, a functionless tradition. Rami, however, had proved to be otherwise.
  10. Vacily Rezanov


    CONTINUED FROM: 'WAR HAS BEGUN...' Vacily’s homecoming was bittersweet, heavy on the ‘bitter’. The Patriarch of the Vanguard was on the warpath and every soul that was able to steered clear of the raging storm that was Delaney G. Grant. But not Rezanov. He ploughed straight on ahead into the path of that tornado before she could land in on his superior and counterpart. The director of operations for the Twelfth Legion, rigid within the doorway of his office watched with bewilderment as his deputy intercepted Grant. There were few words that could adequately describe the emotions that flashed in her dark inky blue glare but she accepted the sacrificial lamb with an choleric huff. After all, what else could such a gesture be but a pitiful offering to appease her wrath? Behind the closed doors of the deputy director’s office Grant unleashed her fury. News of his alliance with the chancellor of New York’s Order of Light had come to her attention, exacerbating her outrage over the whole Washington fiasco. Not only was she already ‘fired-up’ as Rami had wanted but Vacily was an accelerant. He took his lumps and burns but in the end managed to worm his way out from beneath the crushing brand of the scapegoat. There were more than enough to choose from in Washington and Vacily laid out a juicy web of partial truths that the Vanguard could sink their teeth into. He then played the ‘bereavement card’ to step out of the situation. Wasn’t much of an act. The death of a son he had just discovered was more truth than he could stomach and Delaney had granted the time off with her blessing. Almost a full day later Vacily’s Vanguard-branded gun-metal grey jeep serpentined through the gentle rolling hills of Maryland’s portion of the Piedmont Plateau. A French term, which the native Russian had learned, literally meant ‘foothill’. The scenic drive was a pleasant distraction from the reality of the impending war descending upon Washington. Even as the remains of the day gently ebbed from the sky he knew that Grant was mobilizing the might of several Legions upon the alleged traitors of the former capital city. It was a conflict without gain, one designed to weaken their grip. Passing the state border, Vacily was lost in thought. His disciplined mind, a slave to strategy was as unfamiliar as the Virginia road stretching out before him. Still, he was not without his wiles. Though it had been some time since he’d trekked the wilderness the old soldier was well prepared for whatever the wilds might throw at him. The lengthening shadow of the jagged peaks enveloped the highway. The Blue Ridge Mountains, their distinctive smokey slate colour dark against the smouldering backdrop of fiery ambers and auburns. The small city of Winchester was beyond. Nestled in the Shenandoah Valley between the approaching pinnacles and the Alleghenies, a range part of the vast Appalachians. Vacily nonchalantly swerved to avoid some debris on the darkening highway. The diminished population combined with infrequent travel left many of the interstates in disrepair. Gone were the days of carefree summer travel. A cold hard fact of the new world. A fact that some were yet reluctant to accept, such fools often the victims of monsters of one kind or another. The grizzled trooper in his marked vehicle had little fear of bandits although it would have been a welcome distraction from the persistent torment of vengeance. There were far more deadly things lurking in the woods these days, but patrols in the area hadn’t reported anything extraordinary in months. One could never be too careful though and so the shotgun mounted in the center of the vehicle remained unlocked and loaded. Not such an uncommon site these days on a dark, lonely road. The city wasn’t too far off now. Vacily had read that it was part of the ‘First Military District’, enduring three of the former United State’s civil conflicts. A settlement with a rich history, steeped in American lore and part of the reason, he assumed, it continued to endure. That and it turned out it was one of the first settlements outside of a majorly populated area to house a Vanguard Bastion in the Eastern Alliance. Like many other lesser populated areas, the crashing economy and lack of security had forced part of it’s citizens to leave. Another portion had suffered from the effects of the ‘m-virus’ in the early years as well but with the support of the Vanguard the city maintained. Curiously the bastion didn’t fall under the jurisdiction of the closest Legion which was Washington, nor any other for that matter. Some high clearance research before he embarked on his trek revealed it to have been founded by none other than the cavaliers. Vacily had never considered the order to establish a precinct but the more he thought about it, the more sense it made. Legionnaires answering solely to the Cavaliers. Night had fallen. Descending into the valley Vacily could observe the abandoned areas of the city by their lack of light. A bright perimeter fence encircled it and within that border it was sparsely illuminated outside of the core sector. Reflective signs gleamed in the jeep’s high beams. There was a checkpoint ahead. Two watch towers flanked a tall gate, the wire fence reinforced with heavy steel bars and topped with razor wire. At it’s base, a vicious row of tire splitting spikes rose out of the road. As Vacily slowed to a halt a spotlight from the tower on his right beamed down on the jeep. As he lowered his window an armed guard in a Vanguard uniform ordered him to exit the vehicle and approach the fence. He respectfully complied, dark military boots treading across the pavement. Vacily was wearing his Vanguard issue gunmetal grey coloured leather jacket and a pair of jeans. No distinctions of rank. Black, military style boots treaded across the pavement to the small opening in the fence through which he passed is ID and orders. “Lieutenant Sergei Leksikov, Twelfth Legion.” The young man had read aloud. It was upon hearing that he was from New York that the supervising officer emerged and carefully scrutinized the paper work. She was barely older than the guard and went by the book, compensating for inexperience with thoroughness. The allowance of an armed man into any settlement was no trivial matter and lone trooper arriving in the middle of the night while not entirely uncommon was still unusual. It rose a few questions and she addressed them with authority beyond her years that made the old man proud. Of course, he was prepared for the scrutiny. Even a seasoned officer would have been hard pressed to spot the deception. Vacily’s career as a mole extended far beyond most and in the end, the lieutenant was admitted into the city. The spiked barrier smoothly receded into the ground as the two overlapping sections of reinforced fence slowly pulled apart. The jeep pulled ahead into a designated area and a few troopers flashed lights into the interior of the vehicle. Standard security which all checked out. “Welcome to Winchester, lieutenant.” One of the troopers greeted before directing him to the bastion barracks near the center of the city. The false orders Vacily had concocted along with one his many false identities had him traveling into the Southern Coalition. He had noted that the senior officer at the gate had been a little perplexed by Winchester being designated as a stop-over point. The reaction had surprised him as well and left the incognito director a little paranoid as he pulled away and headed down the main street. ‘These were even stranger days.’ Winchester was in a word, charming. Beyond the perimeter battlements the architecture was centuries old. Pristine remodelled brick buildings aglow in the street light stood as a reminder of happier times. A few citizens strolled about, walking their dogs and just enjoying the autumn night. Everything was closed, most of the shops and businesses dark. Security lighting was kept at a bare minimum to conserve energy, the majority of the city was powered by a solar field at the south end of town. Before the Resonance, Winchester was a prime vacation spot but now the hotels lying outside of the city’s primary defensive wall lied in ruin. It was difficult to obtain information documenting those dark years when the world first changed but from what Vacily learned, the city was hit hard by the viruses. The last documented cases of lycanthropic and vampiric assaults were five years ago and since then the Vanguard and local law enforcement had maintained law and order. Of course, that didn’t necessarily mean they weren’t around. People had a way of accepting the good with the bad. The last communication Vacily had received from the Cavalier was some gibberish writing he eventually figured to be Hebrew. Cryptic to the end, it translated to a single word and two numbers, “Genesis 17:5”. It was all Vacily could do not to throw his hands up in defeat at the biblical reference which meant absolutely nothing to him. Winchester wasn’t a small town. Before the Resonance it supported a population of over twenty thousand, now roughly reduced to ten. Vacily ended up driving around aimlessly for an hour and just when his frustration levels were at their upmost level he came upon a historic site on the south side of the city. It was an old stone house with sign before it saying ‘Abram’s Delight’. A closed museum. The biblical reference referred to ‘Abraham’ which originally was ‘Abram’. ‘Could this be it?’ Damn, the cavalier had a flare for the dramatic. Vacily turned off Pleasant Valley Road, one of the main drags through the city, and followed a narrow paved lane ending in a loop beside the old building. To south were several dark structures, the Shenandoah University, abandoned and over grown. Parking the jeep and turning off the engine, Vacily stepped out of the vehicle. Keen eyes peered into the darkness, the only light emanating from the main road to the west. Only enough to contrast the utter blackness, but fortunately it was a clear night and the moon was bright. The white walls of the stone structure glowed in the pale luminescence and a stone path, stark against the black of the overgrown lawn guided him to the door.
  11. Vacily Rezanov

    War has begun...are you ready?

    If there was one thing Vacily didn’t like, it was his own words being used against him. There was a smugness about Rami that set the Director’s blood on fire. As he continued to lecture the former Colonel, he rose like a storm, dark and powerful before the cavalier. Droplets of sweat streamed from his temples, teeth grit, grey eyes flashed unnaturally with static bursts as rage was repressed. He wanted blood, and he wanted it, ‘Now!’, but despite it all the man’s counsel was infuriatingly sound. It was a game the old man knew well, had been playing since before the cavalier was a glint in his father’s eye. A game that had taken the life of his wife and daughter all those years ago, his beautiful girl… and now all these many years later, his son! Just when he was done with all the cloak and dagger the cavalier up and threw the shroud over him again. He wanted him to work the system from within, while he pulled the strings. Bubbling anger came to a head as Vacily’s fist drove hard into the side of his thigh. The pulse of it reverberating down his leg, deep into the concrete foundation of the monument. The rebar groaned as unstable electromagnetic waves tugged on them — twisted them. [vacily]You seem to know a hell of a lot.[/vacily] Vacily growled. He didn’t like ‘answer men’ either, nor being ‘manipulated’. A person might as a well sign their own death warrant if ever that turned out to be the case. Hairline cracks spidered through the concrete as a powerful force began to act on all the ferromagnetic metals around the man. Minute bolts of electricity licked through the darkness, flowing from his body to the ground. [vacily]What I ‘NEED TO DO’ is avenge my son.[/vacily] He reminded the man, eyes flicking momentarily to the dog which would be dead in a heartbeat if it moved toward him. Then just as fast as the tempest was born it subsided. Eyelids fell closed as a long calming breath filled his lungs and slowly streamed out through pursed lips. He did this several times and with each breath the static in the air dissipated. Vacily shifted his weight and stepped off the paved foundation, moving toward the jeep with defiant purpose. [vacily]We’ll do it your way. It’ll mean war. Hope that’s what you got in mind, ‘cause that’s what your gonna get.[/vacily] ’Winchester.’ That’s where he’d figured the cemetery was. A threat danced on the tip of Vacily’s tongue but he saved it. His actions had spoken louder than any words of what he’d do to the man if he anyway betrayed him; if in any way he found himself dangling on a hook. Vacily had fallen pray to noble intention before and if history repeated itself the cavalier would experience first hand the penance of a paladin in hell.
  12. Vacily Rezanov

    War has begun...are you ready?

    ’… watchful of this as well…’ Cigarette dangling, the twinge of a sardonic smile curled Vacily’s lips. [vacily]So you’re my priest now? I’m a little beyond absolution father.[/vacily] he mocked, but the cavalier wasn’t done. His cool demeanour unfettered by the restraints of anger he warned of, continued to ‘educate’ the director, while Vacily believed he already possessed the answers. He and Salvatore Avara had been collaborating for some time, putting aside their differences to focus on a common enemy. It seemed, however, that the cavalier had brought to light their worst fear. One that both he and the Chancellor foolishly believed an impossibility within their devout factions. [vacily]Traitors among us.[/vacily] he spat, eyes falling to the ground. Dissension had always existed within the Vanguard and the Order. Vacily never pretended to believe either faction devoid of betrayal for personal gain but this meant that this hidden enemy was influencing members to usurp the entire organization. Killing them from within, while picking off those that threatened to expose them, perhaps disguising the executions as serial murders. He recounted the names recited. With the exception of his son’s they could have just the same been a Welsh basketball team. As for the allusion of the other ‘three’, the mysteries of the cavalier order were lost on Vacily. ‘If they, or Rami, didn’t work for the Vanguard, then who? Shit. Santa Claus? The Easter Bunny?’ It was so hard to stay focused. [vacily] All I know is that there are two types of Vanguard. Guys like me and those immersed in all the masonic lore. Caleb wanted to be the latter.[/vacily] he cracked a smile as glistening grey eyes gazed into memory, [vacily]I think he was disappointed to learn that he wasn’t the descendant of ‘old stock’. Not even close. According him, I, and people like me were the ‘evil’ within the faction.[/vacily] He shrugged his shoulders, [vacily]Maybe he was right.[/vacily] Vacily took a long last drag of his cigarette, dropped it to the stone and crushed the golden filtered butt under foot. [vacily]Right now, I could really give two shits about the Vanguard or the Order. I believe Caleb was killed for something he knew. It’s a theory Salvatore and I were working on. I need to get to where he was killed.[/vacily] he activated a map application on his mobile device and handed it to Rami. [vacily]Just enter the coordinates and I’ll do the rest.[/vacily] Vengeance was a personal thing. The risk was his own.
  13. Vacily Rezanov

    War has begun...are you ready?

    ’Too loud?’ Vacily’s brow furrowed as he dispassionately surveyed his surroundings. He didn’t have time for this ’mystical’ bullshit. Opening his ornate cigarette case, he flicked a sleek, black coloured Sobranie in his mouth and lit it, stern features of equal intensity aglow. ’Unregistered vehicle?’, [vacily]Well no shit. Never thought of that.[/vacily] he grumbled. A man in his position didn’t always have the luxury of utilizing private transportation. The Vanguard kept tabs on everyone, with the exception of the cavaliers. They alone seemed exempt by the order of their somewhat unbalanced patriarch. It was that solitary gunslinger persona that had attracted Caleb to the order of cavaliers. Approaching the monument he studied the hierophant and his loyal beast. Whether they were four legged or two, Vacily never trusted animals, especially the kind that didn’t now fear. That was Rami, the proverbial ‘lone wolf’, beholding to none but his God. Were they really so bound by their convictions? Vacily didn’t really know, had his doubts, but for the most part Rami seemed legit. When he presented him with the blood stained package the old man’s features turned sallow. His fingers pressing into the holstered sidearm within the paper parcel Vacily knew what it contained. He wasn’t ready to look upon those detached items, the time for mourning would come but right now he needed his rage. Tucking the package under his arm he extended the cavalier a grateful nod. [vacily]There’s a leak in Washington.[/vacily] Vacily agreed, [vacily]But they’re also gunning for your kind. In case you haven’t noticed, cavaliers aren’t all that popular in certain circles. There are those, like Cole, that’d like nothing better than to shut down your order and that fiasco of an exit of yours just fuelled the fire.[/vacily] The old man grit his teeth, choking down his anger. He owed the man for the care of his son’s personal effects and perhaps for even stirring up the hornet’s nest but there were rules of engagement that needed to be followed. [vacily]Dammit![/vacily] He growled under his breath before steely grey eyes met the cavalier’s. [vacily]Rami, you can’t go off all half-cocked like that. Something stinks in Washington but it’s not so black and white.[/vacily] Vacily took a long drag on his cigarette and blew out a stream of smoke, silvery in the low light, before frustratedly wiping a hand across his face. Putting his back against the cold stone he looked up to the night sky as if searching for the answers but the old men held no stock in such things.
  14. Vacily Rezanov

    War has begun...are you ready?

    The blazing crimson cross of the Vanguard was sharply defined against the jeep’s gunmetal grey door. On it’s roof the signature emerald green lights blazing, distinct siren parting the traffic. Cruising down the highway Vacily’s jaw clenched, fingers dug into the black leather steering wheel as he listened to the fiasco over the radio. He and the Cavalier were going to have some words over this lone cowboy bullshit! Already the repercussions of the event were hitting the news and it was pretty. The Commissionaire was preparing to make a formal statement over the matter and Vacily sure as shit bet it wasn’t going to paint a pretty picture of the Vanguard. He checked his phone and frustratedly tossed it back onto the passenger seat. Still no word. He took the next exit that would take him north and turned off his siren and lights. They had at least twenty minutes on him and Vacily wasn't expecting to catch up with them now until Baltimore. Baltimore. That’s where Caleb had grown up. He was going to show him around this summer, reveal all his old haunts, well, most of them. He’d seen pictures of him as a kid but they were all out of context, images of a stranger. A ghost. The phone’s screen jumped to life and Samuel Barber’s ‘Adagio for Strings’ resounded. As he read the text it became instantly apparent that the ‘lone wolf’ had split off from the pack. Good thing for him. Four gunmetal grey coloured helicopters screamed over him, two Pave Hawks flanked by two Comanches. They were north bound on an intercept course for the Vanguard caravan. Mendez’s men, ex-special forces turned agent, their talents now used to round-up those with enhanced abilities. They were gunning for Rami, but his legionnaire loyalists would end up being the target. Vacily couldn’t say just how relentless the team of assassins were. If the opportunity presented itself they’d strike, of that he was certain. He’d met Mendez on a few occasions, a man passionate in his convictions. Put to the task, he always got the job done. There was nothing that could be done for those legionnaire’s now. They had made their choice and Vacily could only wish them god-speed to New York and safety. All he could do now was honour their sacrifice by exposing all who had died at the hands of this new enemy. Above all, he would avenge his son. Everyone and everything associated with his murder would burn. Vacily arrived at the cemetery a good two hours after Rami. He had to drive around a little before he found the entrance. Overgrown and unkept the wrought iron gate was obscured by bright foliage. Through it, he followed a narrow paved road slowly being reclaimed by nature. Low hanging boughs and underbrush scraped against the sides of the jeep as Vacily navigated the winding paths, searching for ‘Greeley’s Tomb’. Autumn hues of gold, crimson and olive shone in the low hanging sun, the ember glow of the setting sun sifting through the tombstones. There was a kind of mesmerizing tranquility to cemeteries, Vacily almost felt at peace and then the news aired over the radio. The Washington incident was being beaten to death by the media. It’s what they did. Commissionaire Lacombe had made his statement and painted a dark picture of the Vanguard’s order of Cavaliers, among other bullshit stories. He’d already heard it all before and shut it off. When he first tuned in to the broadcast he might have been inclined to agree with Lacombe on a few points. The drive gave him time to mull things over, see things from Rami’s point of view. At first it only made him want to throttle the guy even more but as the pavement rolled on he slowly came terms with the cavalier’s rash actions. Actions that a younger version of himself would have made. The old pot calling the kettle black sort of thing, or so the English expression went. Vacily was simply tired of trying to figure it all out with so few pieces of the puzzle at hand. He further realized that his pent up vengeance for his son’s murder had lashed out at the closest target. Misdirected his rage toward Rami would afford him nothing. All that really mattered right now was finding these bastards and nailing them to the cross. Headlights cut through a darkened corridor of evergreen trees, their shadowy hands scraping along the jeep’s roof. At the end of the road was a turnabout and a large tomb, far more grand than the others he already checked. This had to be it. Vacily parked and turned off the engine. He stepped out of the vehicle, closing the door behind him and strolled toward the gothic crypt. There was the name as big as life. [vacily]Rami?[/vacily] He called out. Vacily couldn’t see the man yet but he knew he was there, he could taste the metal of the man’s weapons. [vacily]Sorry I’m late. Had to stop and disable the jeep’s GPS tracking system. Son’s a bitches keep on moving the shit around. Heard you got away none the worse for wear.[/vacily] Vacily’s ears were still ringing from the car bomb, fine scratches from flying glass scored his face and he could still taste the smoke.
  15. Vacily Rezanov

    War has begun...are you ready?

    Vacily’s quick pace broke into strides as he hastened after the Cavalier. The first thing he’d do was warn his superior. Who was that? Many of them answered directly to the Patriarch herself. ’Shit!’ Grant was borderline psychotic! She held the Cavaliers in such high esteem that she took their word as gospel. The Patriarch wouldn’t care about the details, it would be all out war against an uncertain enemy… legionnaire against legionnaire. He had to stop him. Cole and the others could have just as well been acting on the best interests of the city. Perhaps the only thing the Deputy Director was guilty of was her hatred of the Cavaliers. It was difficult to know for sure and if Rami was about to do what he suspected it would be too late. Vacily paused as he felt the vibration of his phone and his heart sank even before he looked at the screen. There it was. Too late. By the time Vacily reached the lobby the shooting had begun. How quickly they chose their sides but it had been a long time coming. Cole and people like her had been planting the seed of dissension in the ranks for some time now. The disapproval of the Patriarch’s devotion to the old ways was no secret and Grant had probably been itching for an excuse to toss a match in the powder keg. Fire in the form of a self righteous man with a cause. [vacily]R—![/vacily] The man’s name barely escaped his lips as Vacily found himself under fire. The wall behind him erupted with bullet holes. Exploding dry wall rained down as he dove for cover behind the wall of an adjacent hallway to the lobby. Blood sprayed across Vacily’s face as he slid across the highly polished floor behind the safety of a reinforced wall. There he checked his body for wounds but would quickly learn that the blood wasn’t his. [vacily]Dammit Rami![/vacily] He cursed, the words drowned by gunfire and explosions. The ex-soldier instinctively reached for his sidearm but stayed his hand. The last thing he wanted to do was take the life of an innocent legionnaire. They didn’t even know what the hell they risking their lives for! As the fighting moved outside, Vacily followed, cautiously running to the doors and pausing to check if it was clear. He inched open the door and found himself flying backwards through the air as car exploded right in front of him. His arms flew up in front of his face, flesh protected from the flying shards of glass by his gunmetal grey coloured leather jacket. More followed, a domino effect of exploding cars in the wake of the Cavalier and his army’s departure. When it was all over, Vacily peered through the smoke to see an approaching Alia Cole, weapon drawn, eye’s wide. Commissionaire Lacombe and Mendez were with her, equally surprised by the destruction. [vacily]Proud of yourself.[/vacily] Spat Vacily, coughing, gesturing at the bodies on the floor as he slowly rose to his feet, [vacily]You did this![/vacily] he accused, [vacily]You all did![/vacily] [npc]We didn’t expect this.[/npc] Gasped Cole. [vacily]What the hell did you expect? That’d he’d just go quietly. He’s a goddam Cavalier for Christ’s sake![/vacily] Mendez and Lacombe accompanied a team of legionnaires outside while Cole stayed behind to help Vacily out of the burning building. [npc]I really didn’t want this.[/npc] she explained, her tone bordering on an apology. [vacily]We’re a little beyond ‘wants’.[/vacily] Cole nodded. Now that the Patriarch had joined the fray she was beginning to have second thoughts on the whole matter. Holstering her gun was a step in the right direction but Vacily honestly still didn’t know whether or not she was guilty of treason. Right now all he cared about was avoiding any more blood shed. [vacily]Commissionaire Lacombe.[/vacily] He called, the big man lowering his weapon and slowly turning to face him. [vacily]You can stop this. Call off the arrest warrant.[/vacily] [npc]And just let him go?[/npc] [vacily]Yeah. Do you really want a street war between Vanguard and Police in Washington?[/vacily] They really hadn’t thought this through, it was evident. Lacombe looked to Cole for guidance but she had no wisdom to impart. [vacily]Let him walk.[/vacily] Vacily repeated. This was the test. Could they actually let Rami leave the city and trust in the truth? [npc]The man broke the law.[/npc] [vacily]Our law.[/vacily] Vacily corrected. [npc]So now our laws are different?[/npc] Lacombe argued, [npc]You see there’s the real problem. There’s what’s dividing our nation. You’re not above the law! And neither is he.[/npc] There wasn’t anything else to say after that. Vacily could only shake his head in disgust before he turned to leave. [npc]Where are you going?[/npc] Questioned Cole. [vacily]To get to the bottom of this.[/vacily] Vacily answered in earnest. He left her to wallow in her mess. If she had wanted to stop him she’d lost her window of opportunity and so Vacily ran off to locate his car and give chase. He wasn’t sure what he could do but he sure as hell wasn’t about to stand idly by and watch while his people and the police killed one another.


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