i built this city just to bring it to its knees

I've faced my mistakes the price I will pay I am my own Armageddon

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|| JAXINN ;

        He’d been so focused on moving forward to avoid his tail, Jax almost didn’t have         time to register the need to stop.  He skidded to a halt on his heels, the force of it         causing the hood of his sweatshirt to fall backwards onto his shoulders.  

        Panting from his run, he blinked the moisture from his eyes, hoping that maybe,         perhaps, this was some kind of fucked up mirage.                                                                                                I don’t have that kind of luck.                                                                                              I haven’t even been drinking.                                                                                              Maybe I  should  have  been.                                                                                              I     need     to     warn      Ru. 

        He  fought the urge to Slide and run– he know what Caine was capable of and he         wouldn’t even make it ten feet before he was caught again.  Plus he  knew  from         very painful experience not to make situations with Caine any worse.  Instead he         righted himself as gracefully as possible and swallowed hard, doing his best to         keep his voice steady.   He clenched his fists, and stood light on his toes; ready         to run at the first sign of trouble.                                                        You aren’t a damn kid anymore.  He can’t hurt you.                     If only that were true.

                                  ❝ To my friends, I am.                                                                  Fortunately that doesn’t include you anymore.                                  But good to know you haven’t kicked the habit of stalking people                                             on rooftops.  Figure the time away may have cured that.❞ 

“ ALWAYS SO OVERDRAMATIC. ” He allowed a hint of disappointment to creep into his tone. Jaxinn had always been such a promising recruit to the Survivorist goal, but in the end, he was one of the greatest failures. Caine, however, did not have the luxury of not playing nice--it wasn’t even in the realm of possibility. No; his mask was one that had been attached to him. It could not come off without taking the rest of him with it. 

This was something that former associates seemed not to recognize. They could antagonize or prod to their heart’s content, and he would not shatter, because the fact was this:

They were, in the end, nothing to him. This was not about intimidation, or the establishment of his continued influence on a broken orphan boy that he had picked up, molded into something. That would have been a wasted effort, because Jaxinn had already proven himself nothing more than another failure... one of many. This was a means to an end. This was merely the simplest way of getting what he wanted.

He sauntered close, his pace measured and the soft smile of mentorship secure on his lips. “ I’m relieved to see you’re doing well. I’ll admit I was concerned when we parted ways. A consultant for the EPD, I heard! That’s no small feat. I hope they’re treating you well. ”

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|| RUARI ;

           THE SURVIVOR’S WORK. ruari couldn’t hold            back a scoff at that – not that he’d wanted to,            in any case.       eyes rolled at the explanation,            and  ruari  made  no  move to take the money. 

                       ‘    survivor’s work? y’still callin’ it t’at?

     “ IT WAS A good experience. Unfortunately, I             wasn’t able to go past the roughs,     but it was            still  nice to  get  some  perspective and  have            some time outside of the chaos of the city.   It            sounds like a lot has  gone on in  the past few            years. When did you get back? ”

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|| ??? ;

“Funny. He never mentioned you.” Not that she’s really spoken with the pastor to begin with. Not enough to start discussing family, anyways. She figured Caine wouldn’t need to know that, though. She offered a little smile, as though trying to cover the initial hostility, “I’ve been here for awhile, actually. ” 

     CAINE LAUGHED EASILY, the sound rolling off his tongue like honey.

       “ No, I don’t suppose he would have.       My mother’s the one that won’t stop            talking about me. ” He holds his hand out to her with the same smile. “ I’m           Caine.   I used  to be  the youth  pastor here,    but I was  on something  of a            missions trip out in the Roughs for the past three years. ”

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|| ELIANE ;

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    THERE was a small, awed pause as Eliane stepped through the doors of the chapel. Sunlight outside shattered into colors as it passed through the stained glass windows. The building wasn’t excessively large, but there was a stately, regal air to the place, almost a weight that hung in the air between the intricate archetecture.

      She had to stop herself from absently twirling her earring. The last thing she wanted to do was stand out. Well, more than she already probably did.

      Pathians didn’t really have churches, and growing up, her family had never been religious. This was a rather new experience for her, and she couldn’t help but feel out of place. Pathism was an individualistic religion, more focused on meditation and individual progress than any sort of gathering or creed. It felt comfortable to her, but she also knew that she should probably be familiar with things outside of her comfort zone. 

      Harmony had said there was value in all religions, and Eliane thought that just about everyone she knew was a Survivorist. She at least wanted to know a little bit of the faith.

     CAINE WAS EXPECTING an old friend to drop by to catch up after his        absence from the congregation, but it was still early for that.   Other than that,        he had expected it to be a quiet day.  As a result, it came as a slight surprise        when he heard the door open. He went to investigate.

       The young woman was familiar to him, at least in the vaguest sense.  She’d        been present in  Ruari’s pub the night he  went there to do some reconnaiss-        ance, but apart from that he knew little of her. He had, however,   noticed the        earring earlier. 

   “ Eliane, was it? Can I help you with something? ”  If she was friends with         Jaxinn, he would have to be certain to win her over. The boy was nothing        to him now that he’d gotten his information,   but the possibility of rumour        was still an annoyance. Still, better to cover his bases than let something        so trivial get in the way of his goals. 

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|| pocketdice

     “ ARE YOU NEW to the congregation? Sorry, I’m Caine. My          father is the pastor here, and I’ve been away for a while. ”

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|| misteranalyst ;

     “ EXCUSE ME, I’M looking to file a vandalism report.           Do you know where I should start? ”

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|| rthrace ;

     “ SORRY TO INTERRUPT. I have an errand for you,           Rose, if you’re still doing that sort of thing. ”

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|| ??? ;

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THE Heavy rain sounded far away from inside the sanctuary of the chapel. Flickering candlelight gave the impression of warmth, despite the cold weather outside and there was no sound besides Malia’s own shaky breaths. She was alone.

                                                                                                              Good.

Every time she closed her eyes, she saw it happening all over again. The glint of the knife, the blood on her hands, the light leaving his eyes.

                         He’d only been twelve years old. And she had failed him.

Malia gritted her teeth and tried to force the images out of her head. She had never failed before. Not like this. Not a child. Maybe if she had waited for Jace… if she hadn’t been so stubborn. Maybe he’d still be alive.

Her hands were clasped tight together, so tight it almost hurt, her chin resting on top of her knuckles. She looked up at the statue of the Survivor, took in a deep, shuddering breath and whispered:

                                                         ❝What am I supposed to do now?❞

IT WASN’T EVERY day that Caine walked into a chapel and found a young woman crying in the pews, but he would be a liar if he called it an anomaly. It had begun to rain outside, and he was grateful for the warmth of the chapel. The familiar sight of the Survivor’s scarred arms outstretched on the stained glass should have been even more comforting, but the innermost parts of Caine admitted that religious symbolism had long since lost its novelty and become nothing more than that: a symbol, a weapon that could hold power with the right use. 

He was constantly vigilant and noticed the young woman almost as soon as the doors slammed shut behind him--his father’s church did not allow for quiet entry--but pretended not to for the sake of interest. Some people were best left to suffer their losses in solitude, but some...

She was young, younger than he had initially guessed. Caine looked apologetic as he neared her pew.

“ Oh, I’m sorry, I was here to collect some papers for the sermon next week, I didn’t realise-- ” His expression showed that he registered her tears, drawing thin with surprise and concern. “ I’m so sorry for disturbing you. I’ll be on my way. Unless... ” He gave her a small smile. “ You kind of look like you could use someone to talk to. ”

[hackerjaxmoved-blog]

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|| JAXINN ;

                    Jax knew someone was following.  He’d had enough police tails to tell when            there was someone over his shoulder.                                                                                              The question here was w h o.                    The mists were unseasonably thick and the sun and just dipped below the            horizon, giving them a soft orange glow– which was the whole reason he’d dipped            out of the window of his room at Ru’s to go for a run.  But what started as a trip to            clear his head was slowly turning into something else.  

                                  He let his feet carry him without thought; moving effortlessly over the                                   rooftops of the Sixth for several blocks before he even dared to chance                                   a look behind him.  He swung himself around a support beam to mask                                   the glance– letting the person following you know that you know they’re                                   there is a dangerous game. 

                                                                             Damn rustin’ mists.

                       It was too dense for such a quick look, so his best option was to keep running,           something he was more than willing to keep up.  After all, the night was still young.

THE MISTS WERE blessedly thick, wrapping their ethereal tendrils around his frame. It had been too long since he was able to breathe the cool, thin air in the heights above Elendel. He had almost forgotten the rush of free-fall, the dark tassels of his mistcoat streaming out from behind him as he fell toward the city streets below. The air rushed from his lungs as he gained speed, and he tossed a coin from the pouch at his hip to slow his descent.

It was a dangerous game of push-and-pull he played with gravity, as if daring the earth to draw him back, fighting the forces of nature to press his limits as far as they would go. 

Caine’s habit was to stay airborne, but there was little point in simply descending from the ether. Better if his quarry knew it was being hunted. 

He hit the ground hard, the shock of the fall absorbed by his boots, and moved into a roll. From there, he continued on foot across the rooftop, tapping steel and discarding another coin to give himself an extra push across to the opposite building. 

           He landed in front of Jax and bared his teeth in a kind smile.

                                  “ It’s been a while. You’re going by Jax, now, right? ”

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|| RUARI ;

     FIVE YEARS since he’d last heard that voice – a voice that, once, had      been as familiar as rain hitting the glass, or sirens echoing in the street.      It was familiar still, but not welcome.    Ruari’s fist clenched around the      washcloth,   and he turned slowly to regard the man he’d hoped never      to see again.                             Always such a pleasant tone, masking that  f i r e within.

     ‘ I t’ought you’d left th’ city. ’               He’d hoped it would be for good.

     WELL, HE COULDN’T  say that he wasn’t expecting a welcome        like that. There had been a number of fires left burning in the wake of        their ended friendship.  Still, Caine put on his most pleasant smile and         sat down at the bar, pulling out a few doxings.        Enough for his usual         lager and a tip.

            “ I did. After three years doing the Survivor’s work, I figured it was                    time to come back. A lot has happened since I left, it seems. ”

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|| RUARI ;

           ‘ We’re closed. ’

     “ If that’s how you treat paying customers,           no wonder business isn’t booming. ”

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               Thunder rolled, rumbling the promise of a storm, and lightning fractured the sky into jagged fragments. Mist danced across the pavement of a broken city, shattered by the sacrilege, the profanation of the sanctimonious and the sinners.

This was not the goal. The goal was equality, absolute and omnipotent. The goal was all-consuming, anarchic.

                                                                            (archaic.                                                      but the rest of the world                                                      didn’t need to know that.)

Chaos. Catastrophe. The beauty of the broken, the exquisite in exonerating a city of fools. It had fallen to new masters, replaced the old with idols made of a different metal. These people—crippled under the sting of another whip—needed a new vision.

He had that vision, and he had the voice they needed.

He rolled a coin across his knuckles, languid.

Heathens. Suckling like newborns at the first promise of something—at an incompetent legal system, or the spike-kissing idolaters who thought themselves better than the rest. Still, the people scraped and bowed. Sickening. He knew what they needed. He knew how to deliver them into true freedom. They would thank him, worship him—

oh, but not above the Survivor. never.

                                                                  But they would become their own masters. They would thank him. They would see the error of their ways, how they’d submitted to sacrilege after all the Survivor had done for them, all of his sacrifice.

He burned steel, feet thumping against the ground as he hit it in a run. He tossed the coin into the air and it flipped neatly, clattering to the ground as thunder hammered the sky—he launched himself into the air, freefalling onto the rooftops and rolling on his shoulder to absorb the impact. Coming up into a crouch, he surveyed the skyline of Elendel. Lightning flashed, illuminating a dark silhouette. A tasselled coat stirred in the storm’s winds. Mist gathered around him, cloaking him in an ethereal haze. His return was long since overdue.

                                                    The city had gone to the dogs in his absence, but it was his, and he would bring it back to its knees.

( in reverence, of course. )

The thunder cracked the sky, rattling windows like teeth.

                                         The storm was here.

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lxdrian:

   “ Is ‘t still good for y’ if you’re allergic t’ marewills, t’ough? ” Not that Ruari was allergic,    himself or anything, but it wasn’t a full day out unless he got a smart ass comment in    for the count. He walked aside Caine, eying the fair goers warily — he was never much    a fan of large crowds, but it wasn’t to be avoided in events such as these.

     “ Well, in that case, I happen to know for a fact that you, my friend, are not      allergic to them. Scars, you're starting to get all pasty. Do you ever go out-      side? ” He smiles at a pretty girl who passes them by, and stops at a food      vendor, announcing his order and handing over more than the required       amount of doxings, indicating that the vendor should keep the change. He      turns back to Ruari. “ What do you do inside that's so engrossing? ”

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lxdrian:

      “ I don’ spend m' time sulkin' inside. Jus' enjoyin' it differently       t’an all a’ you.” Ruari sniffed, adjusting one of his fingerless       gloves slightly. “ Anyway, what’s t’ angle? Assumin’ we’re here       for somethin’ other t’an fun.  ”

     “ It's something of a disservice to me that you so readily assume the worst. ”      The man laughed quietly. “ There's no angle, this time. Nothing wrong with      stopping to smell the marewills every once in a while. In fact, I think it could      only do you good. ”

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lxdrian:

      “ Ah,'s t'at what t'is is? A bloody street fair? Lovely.       Don’t like real air much. ‘s too fresh, can’t stomach ‘t.  ”

     “ Somehow, that explains so much. C'mon, it won't kill you to         enjoy the great outdoors. The Survivor died for this and you're         off sulking inside. ” He laughed in amusement.

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lxdrian:

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       “ Wha’ are we doin’ here, mate? Assumin’ ya dragged me        here for a reason. Better be a good one, too, y’know Real        Hustle ‘s on righ’ now. ”

     “ It's called a street fair, Ru. Now, I know that fun is usually         against your moral inclinations, but I thought you needed         to breathe some real air. ”