#eyooooo!

[axnewxera]

@darkhxntrxss

The silence of the 70th floor office was suddenly broken by a deafening screech, a siren signifying some sort of emergency. Rufus slowly looked up to scan his surroundings, wondering what in the world was going on.

He hadn't been the president for long, and with the former president having been murdered so recently alongside an Avalanche break-in, security had been significantly raised.

"Sir! We are locking down the upper floors of the building," a guard reported, scrambling into the large office. "We have an intruder. Many of our guards aren't reporting in. We believe they are heading this way."

"Let them," Rufus said slowly, standing up from his desk with Darkstar by his side. "Tell our security to let them through without a struggle. I'll deal with this."

[reverxnce]

[expvrgction] After that encounter with what could only be referred to as the father of all things wrong, Ezekiel would perhaps need someone to speak to. For instance, a friendly, albeit unusually tall bloke. Clad in agent uniform issued to UK intelligence service members, fair skin, blue eyes and black hair tied into a braid. "You seem like you're on edge, lad. Need some space? Someone to talk to? Food or drink?" (Ezekiel, meet Kahann. He currently goes under another name right now though.)

@expvrgction

Ever since the...the incident, to say that Ezekiel had been out of sorts would have been a gross understatement. It had really done a number on him. He had seen one of his worst fears in the flesh. Something like that was bound to stick with someone for a while.

He was sitting now on the Church verandah, fiddling idly with his rosary beads, not looking at all like himself. His hair was unkempt, his cheek unshaven and cassock creased and unbuttoned. And that was to say nothing of the bags under his eyes that brought all the more weight to the already vacant, sleep-deprived expression.

Upon hearing a new voice, the owner would usually be subject to a warm welcome from a bright-eyed and smiling Reverend. On this occasion, though, he didn't even look up.

"No, thank you," he mumbled weakly, almost tearful sounding, the only movement he made being the idle rolling of the beads between fingertips.