Corruption.

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As he leant against the wall, he felt a pleasurable sensation coming from his inner thigh. He looked down, there was no one there, then he realised, it was his phone. He laughed, he couldnt help it, he looked at the message and his laughter stopped abruptly. He had been forwarded a message orginally from someone called 'silk'.
He read the message then deleted it, if there was to be an attack, he wouldnt see it.

He removed a cigarette from his pocket and placed it between his lips, he then took out a bottle of lighter fluid. He didnt use it for his lighter or even drink it, he spilt half of it on the wall and then he put the rest at the bottom of the wall. He lit the cigarette, he had walked a couple of metres before he turned and spat it out, the wall ignited.

The wall was concrete, so what he did seemed senseless. Not to Paris though, it would divert the attentions of the agents and it would let the rebels know they wernt alone, if they carried out the attack.

But right now, he had more pressing matters, a meeting at the Old Flag, he wasnt sure he could trust this 'silk'. Also the whole thing might be a trap, it was located close to the MoL, wouldnt that be the ideal place to set a trap, or would it be too obvisious?
He took the Mac-10 out of his belt, he reloaded the clip with hollowpoints, if it was a trap, he might be able to shoot his way out, although this was probably wishful thinking. He took his left arm out of his sleave and put it in his shirt, he also held the Mac-10 in that hand. His shirts were so loose, no one could tell, he looked just like a regular one armed man.
As he drew nearer the bar he contemplated what to with 'wall-puncher', he would not meet him, well not yet anyway. He would send him a card, to whet his appetite, to get him thinking, and to unnerve him.

He was now outside the tarvern, he banished everything from his mind and concentrated on what may lay ahead, Paris thought he was much to good looking to die. He pushed open the door and he was greeted by the sight of a blonde, quite good looking barmaid, he smiled radiantly at her, and she grinned back at him, how could she resist he thought. He walked over to the bar and sat down infront of her, " a white russian please, with baileys, not kahlua". As she turned round to get his drink he glanced around and saw a man close to fire, he was waving his hand around, perhaps he was being attacked by a fly? The sound of the glass being placed infront of him returned his attention to her. She had blue eyes too, maybe he had a thing for blondes, unfortuanately, he never met girls without blonde hair, so he didnt know. "and what will you have to drink?".
"A Vodka and Tonic or a Gin and Tonic, i dont know".
"Why not have both?"
"Are you trying to get me drunk?"
"Do I need to?".
She turned round to pour herself a drink, he again glanced over at the odd man nearest the fire, that must be silk he decided, he was getting up to go over there when he was pushed by a man going past him. He tensed and was about to shoot, when he realised that this man had blue stains on his teeth, surely not an agent then. But blue-tooth made his way over to silk. Paris was momentarily confused, before he realised that he was not the only one the message would have gone to. He turned and apoligised to the barmaid, who told him her name and wrote her number on his arm, although all he heard was "do you know how to play 500" and "read the rules first". Pretty odd rebel code he thought, he sat down away from them, he would observe their meeting and decide if there was a trap or not, if not, he would follow them and introduce himself. If it was a trap? Well he would cross that bridge when he came to it.
 
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OOC: Sorry Placebo, don't think any editing is gonna happen now...
And I'm off to bed, don't let this get to far without me!

Silk noticed the strange man walk around and lean over, asking to join.
He also noticed the only other patrons leaning against the wall signalling at the gun in the man's hand, aimed at him.
"Sure friend, pull up a chair." he said, drawing his own out and pushing the man away suddenly, a knife springing into his hand and he was behind the man with the knife around his in one swift motion.
"Now," he asked casually, "what do you want to join our card game for? We here are simple folk, and we don't want no intruders who don't sympathize with us, you hear."
He pushed the man into a chair and held the knife to his throat.
"So what do you want, tell me and my associates and I wont be forced to kill you."
The men around the wall, and even the attractive barmaid, all drew guns and aimed them at the man.
 
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Taking the piece of paper, Mamoru opened it and quickly drank in the information. Reaching into his sleeve, he withdrew an odd instrument, but with a few expert fluctuations of the wrist, the handles were manipulated and the blade brought to sight. Snickering, he rolled the slip up as tightly as possible and slid it into the groove that the blade resided in, then flipped the handles once again to conceal the blade back within the grooves.

"It's a hell of a lot more fun. I just wish we had a few more people here with us; you know, I'm getting bored without someone to beat in a drinking contest! I don't know if they'll come or not, though. Must've run scared at the idea of going against me in a drinking game. I just wonder why it's you and me, I mean, it IS written pretty well."

Sliding the butterfly knife back into his sleeve, a slow nod was given when Silk informed him about the device on the wall. Shrugging, he propped his elbow up on the table, snickering.

"It's not that bad of a hideout, honestly."

Motioning for the bartender to bring him anything to get the horrific taste out his mouth, Mamoru leaned back a bit in his seat, lids falling over green oculi.

"I can't believe those idiots would try to do anything like that without any proper connections or training. As far as we're concerned, all but a few of us are nothing more than trigger happy monkeys with a gun. Though, if they were more like guerillas, we might have a chance when we unify."

His emphasis on the word guerilla was certainly put out there for Silk to hopefully comprehend; Mamoru was quite knowledgeable with such tactics; his childhood hadn't been for nothing, after all.

"Keh, I'm going to be wishing I hadn't drank that when I go to the bathroom later."

Pushing his chair back a bit, green oculi shifted to the sight of another man joining them at the table. His physique tensed slowly, but he made no further action, even when the others had drawn their guns and aimed at the poor bastard. Pulling out another piece of blue candy, he bit down on the tip of the licorice and looked at the male.

"Hey, mind if I go to the bathroom while you guys take care of this? That shot really messed with my system, wouldn'tcha know it?"

Standing from his seat, he nodded in acknowledgement that Silk and the other inhabitants of the bar had the situation under control. Of course, after an awkward glance, Mamoru couldn't do much else but sheepishly grin.

"..uhm, where is the restroom, actually? Hehe.."
 
All went dark.
Spectre drew his handgun swifty, and activated his retinal night vision implants, green eyes lit up in contrast to Seraphim's red. The retinal implants, very useful. Everything was some shade of green to Spectre, and entirely visible despite the darkness in normal vision.
The agent cocked his .50 and drew his small ninjato, then stood at the ready, gun in his left hand and blade in his right.
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Captain James Beardmore was crouched behind a desk on the first floor(second to you Americans), as the rebels were breaching the facility.
His unit was in defence of the atrium, equipped with various weapons, such as compact assault rifles, shotguns, handguns, mounted automatic machine guns, submachine guns and the like, and some snipers were readied on the second floor. In all, there were one hundred and twenty personnel guarding the entrance, with a battalion of reinforcements on the way.
Beardmore, as a loyal officer, was not going to let down his superiors. Or he and his family would suffer the consequences, no doubt. And those consequences would be dire.
The ragtag rebels would never get past the ministry's finest.
"Arms at the ready!"

"They're not gonna get past us!"

A few more seconds, and the enemy would be within the firing line. They were walking straight into a trap.
 
Yukio kept that subtle smile on his face as he watched the girl sign to him, and saw how apparently surprised she had been. Perhaps that could be attributed to his knowledge of sign language. Oh, Ansell would be proud of this moment! After Nimble introduced herself as well as the monkey, Yukio would sign, familiarizing himself with their name signs. "Nice to meet you, Nimble. And, nice to meet you, Jack." Yukio may not have been entirely fluent, but it wouldn't take him too long to re-master the language. After years of absent use, it would only make sense that he wasn't incredibly skilled at it. He frowned as Nimble spoke of her deceased parents, forit struck a chord of similarity between them. Yukio had been without parents since his childhood, yet he was fortunate enough to be wealthy, with servants who felt more like family than hired aid.

He glanced to the monkey as it signed to him, blinking repeatedly. He had only previously signed to the monkey, as a formality. He didn't actually comprehend the idea that Jack...could efficiently use sign language! Now it was Yukio's turn to be taken off guard. It made him feel momentarily uncomfortable, when faced with a creature of such high intelligence. He was used to treating animals as well...animals. Yet, Yukio would have to do his best to consider Jack's mind to be nothing short of human.

"My caretaker does not approve of me eating that, but I can have it made for you." He signed to Jack, before Nimble yanked him away and got into a huddle, seemingly signing to one another. Yukio glanced away, arms folded over his chest as he allowed the two to converse privately, it would be rude for him to see what they wished to say to one another in private. Yet...as his azure eyes scanned the matching skies...they eventually fell upon something alarming. Smoke. Located where the Ministry of Love should stand. His eyes widened, and he turned back to Nimble and Jack, calming his nerves long enough to take the written message from Nimble and read it.

He smiled, kneeling down to be more at eye-level with the girl, and signed to her. "You are welcome to accompany me to my home. You will find very few locked doors there. If you see something you do not like, you are welcome to leave at any time. I wish you no harm." He paused, gathering his thoughts and memory of the language before continuing. "I must return to my home quickly. If you wish to follow, please do." With that said, Yukio would stand straight, and began to walk, with a quickened pace, in the direction of his mansion. It was take about another fiften minutes of decently paced walking before he, and perhaps his two newfound companions, would come upon the massive walls and gates that hit the large estate from public view.
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"You are welcome to accompany me to my home. You will find very few locked doors there. If you see something you do not like, you are welcome to leave at any time. I wish you no harm. I must return to my home quickly. If you wish to follow, please do." Nimble's heart leapt into her chest. She would have a chance to learn more about this peculiar man. Jack wasted no time in following the man. Nimble was so flustered she gave no thought to the list of personal taboos she had just broken in her interaction with this person. Tokugawa Yukio... She hadn't seen many names like it. She wondered what kind of people were the "Samurai Royal Family". She wondered if they lived in the mansion with this man. She hoped that he would hire them as servants. Nimble hadn't seen anyone who knew Sign since she left her country. Even then, Deaf people were considered deformed, therefore they were outcast. When Nimble and Jack were discarded after the experimentation they had gone through, the Deaf community took them in and taught them Sign.

Jack thought of cheeseburgers and fig bars. Jack rarely reflected on the past. Jack preferred to let Nimble do the thinking. He would do the listening. Jack liked simplicity.

Nimble's mind turned to Jack. Heh heh... she probably would have the chance to give him a bath. A somewhat sadistic smile crossed her face before she assumed the blank expression she wore when she wasn't signing. (Signing required for her to use facial expressions and body language to convey tonal inflection and to differentiate between statements and questions.) She knew how much Jack hated baths. Jack loved to pull pranks on her during better times. Baths were a small way for her to repay him. Then she began to worry. What if Jack pranked the Tokugawa Yukio? She couldn't let that happen. Jack probably wouldn't be able to resist.

Nimble and Jack thought of pleasant things during the entire walk to the mansion. They were walking briskly, so Nimble would wait patiently until they arrived at the mansion before asking him her millions of questions. Jack looked as if he was going to eat the two he was trailing. Haricot bean soup, lentil soup, mushroom soup, tomato soup... there was no deterrent for Jack to stop thinking of food at this point, except the interest he had about the mansion. Occasionally he wondered what sort of prank he would pull on Mr. Blonde-hair as the three of them walked on.
 
(Too much posting >_<.....ok let's see what I can do)

Hours later he regained his consciousness, found himself lying on the blood stained floor. With much effort, Saint stood on his feet and leaned against the wall. No matter how much he grieved for them, no matter how much he yelled or fought, nothing was ever going to change. Feeling the urge to self administrate a punishment, Saint drew his gun and placed the cannon under his jaw, he was determined to commit suicide. As he closed his eyes, all his life flashed before him. The day he became an agent, Seraphim's constant reminders and punishments, his lack of respect towards authority and how he took all his resentment and rage against the innocent. Then two voices echoed in his mind, the voices of those little girls full of joy, the only thing worth in his already putrid life.

"No....they are alive....I know it....I must have faith..."

Faith for a man who denied the existence of such word? Something deep was happening within Saint's soul as he embraced his new found humanity. He put the gun away and placed it in its holster underneath his jacket. He knew what he had to do, and that was seeking for Big Brother and his advice. He knew that Big Brother couldn't be the one who ordered this tragedy, he knew it was most likely to be an order from one of his former comrades. Having made up his mind, Saint went to his room and searched for a clean clothes. He took of all his clothes, went for a shower and then put on a new suit. Black jacket and pants, white shirt with collar, black necktie, black leather belt and black shoes with brown soles. Before leaving, he shattered the glass covering a picture he took of him with the two girls, it was a family photo taken at the park. He placed it on one of the pockets of his jacket close to his heart. Then he sighted his old weapon, a Desert Eagle coated with gold and silver, his name carved on the cannon as well as the handle made of pine tree wood. He took his guns, dual Desert Eagles, one silver and one golden, and left the building.

Suddenly he got a call, an emergency was happening at the HQ. Saint smirked, it seems that his warnings about a possible attack were ignored. Satisfied, he went to his car and headed towards the HQ. As he arrived he noticed that part of the building was set in flames. He parked the car near the entrance, and when he was stopped by one of the guards he drew his ID Card and headed inside without stopping.

"Agent Saint, State of Emergency, move or face punishment."

Everything inside was a blazing inferno, explosions at every corner. Saint saw that the elevator was out of service so he went downstairs to use the cargo elevator to gain access to the 13th floor. As he passed by the basement corridors he stumbled across a rebel carrying a M60 machine gun. Saint drew his dual desert eagles and leaned against the wall taking cover from the bullets. The rebel was wearing a gas mask, bulletproof vest, green shirt and black pants with brown leather boots.

"This won't be easy..."

Noticing the lights above, Saint shot them and the corridor went black. The rebel desperately searched for the agent. Saint picked a steel pipe and slowly approached the rebel and stabbed him with the steel pipe, piercing his heart.

He cleaned his hands with a white handkerchief he and then tossed the handkerchief on the body. Having finished, Saint took the cargo elevator and reached the west wing area of the 13th floor. His target was the Conference Room but with the rebels attacking the front door, his only route was passing by his own office and reach the Conference Room through the second door linked the President's Office. He reached the cellphone in his pocket and called Agent Spectre.

"What's your position? I am coming with back up."
 
,"Seraphim whats happening, are you ok" Odin yelled over the racket of the gunfire and screams from the rebels as Black Rose sent two rebels who had grabbed her flying into the main desk. Without waiting for a reply Odin and Black Rose started to do a sweep of the lobby, they found only the bodies of the rebels and agents who had been hit. So they decided to make a move to the first floor in the elevator, when they got to the doors Odin could hear heavy breathing coming from behind a desk next to him,Odin peered over to find a low ranking agent crouched huddling a shotgun,"you ok there" Odin asked as the agent looked up at him and jumped,"i thought all the agents on this floor where dead apart from me", the agent said with a clearly shaken tone in his voice. "well your in luck" Odin grinned at the young agent, "you coming with us then or not" Odin asks with a kind voice,"well youll have to take the stairs the elevators have been locked down", as Odin heard that he put his finger to his ear and yelled a message to all alive members of the agents forces who were on the first floor to meet him at the top of the east wings staircase, Odin made his way to the stairwell to make sure it was safe to move up to floor 1, but as he put his head round the corner a bullet richoted of the ceiling and embedded itself into Odins arm,Seraphim i'm hit.We need reinforcements on the East wing stair well.And we need a medic."
 
It looks like Agent Saint was face to face with the devil. Good. May he rot and scream in the flames of his own traitorous heart. What a pitiful excuse for an Agent - but then, what could you expect from these low level peasants? Raphael could practically smell the stink of a coward, pissing his pants, as Saint blabbered like a baby, apologising, and then he left and his stink followed him. Oh, what a horrible sight he'd find when he arrived home. The little fool. He should've killed those little bitches after dispatching their Father, ah, but he kept them alive out of some ignorant need to protect them. Now they were dead, gutted, tiny legs spread as was befitting the future they'd surely have, if they had lived. Farewell, fair children. Be gone, you pathetic ghost. Raphael thought to himself as he drew his left hand up and ran it through his white hair. He had nothing to say to his fellow Agents, infact, he never spoke at all save to Seraphim. Raphael's mind was an empty wasteland where no thoughts of self lingered, all that was there was, well, this: A white beach, stroked by azure ocean waves, and a lone crystal pendant, cracked, tumbling back and forth against the embrace of the sea. Casually he would inch off the black glove from his left hand, revealing long white fingers and razor sharp nails. Seraphim's voice was the voice of Big Brother and a weapon, possessing no self, must give itself into the possession of it's master. Speak again, over and over. Raphael listened as he stared at his left hand, stroking the thumb with the razor nail. An explosion. The building quaked and trembled but he, the silent one, showed no response. War. The heat of battle - let it come.

Slowly the young man would stand up as the lights went out. His ear piece was tucked away in his left ear. Without a word he would follow Seraphim out of the Conference Room and be on his way in a different direction. " Help! We need assistance! Rebels have infiltrated the detention area! Agent Raphael ! We need help immediately. " The voice, one of a young guard by the name of Evan, came from the earpiece. Raphael would make his way down to the holding cells. It was below ground, heavily guarded, but it would seem a few had managed to break through. As he would step into the corridor, he would be greeted by the site of several victorious rebels on their way to save the hopeless souls locked within. Such was not to be. The back of the head, of the one trailing the group, would explode. Bone and flesh would litter the air as the two men, and the one woman, turned to see their companion crumble and fall. Raphael stood, the long barrel of the Ruger Mark II, reflected in his crimson eye.

" Katherine! Oh god, Katherine! " The woman, who had just died, was the brother of this strong hearted rebel. Nathan didn't want to believe it and in rage he would attack. Joseph, Ameline - could not hold him back. Poor Nathan.

As soon as he was within a foot of Raphael he was decapitated - by none other then the precious antique blade Raphael often carried. A relic of the days of Word War II - upon it's hilt it bore the mark of Nazi Germany - the Swastika. The headless body jerked as blood spurted from the stump of a neck. The head, now separated from the body, was kicked at the horrified terrorists. Raphael hurled the blade straight at it and it stabbed the head, right there, infront of the rebel's feet. He held the corpse of Nathan as he was fired on, in rage. The bullets, of the man's companions, struck his body and it jerked and writhed from the force of the invading matter. Raphael hurled it away, grabbed Joseph by the neck and slammed him into the wall - with a force so great, the neck snapped and he was killed instantly. All that was left was the brave young woman by the name of Ameline. Her eyes were filled with no fear - as she stood her ground; Athena filled with light.

" There will come a day when tyranny falls. When that day comes, the world will be reborn. I'll gladly die for it by my own hand. Just by my hand . You poor monster. You know nothing of compassion. But then, what would a corpse know of feeling? I'm not afraid of death."

She placed her pistol against her head and fired. Raphael stood beside her body and then he stepped upon her white face, smearing blood across it. Sleep well. Raphael would leave the detention area and would eventually join back up with Seraphim - it would appear the situation, in the entrance area, was not getting any better.
 
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There was a second explosion. The fire sprinklers came on, and shrill fire alarms pounded on Spectre's eardrums. The floor shook, knocking at least one officer in the conference room to the ground.

Hmmm...

"Sir?" Spectre did not wait for the order. He burst through the double doors and onto the stairwell, and ran as fast as he could down the flight of stairs. To him, thirteen floors was not too tiring, with his augmented endurance. Spectre ran as quickly as he could down the staircase, green imaging nulling the darkness.
Another boom. The stairs were now slippy. Spectre grasped the metal banister tightly, so as not to slip.

"All operatives, get to your designated defensive positions!" The head of security sounded desperate.

There.

After a considerable descent, Spectre reached the ground floor. Four officers -all wearing NVGs- were standing at the bottom, behind the sealed security door. "Sir," the officers gave nervous salutes, and Spectre returned the gesture.

"Now is no time for pleasantries," Spectre growled. He turned his glance away from the nervous officers and towards the sealed and almost soundproof tungsten door, and the bright light next to it.

"Still powered. Officers, take point. What is the situation?"

"We haven't a clue, sir. Our communications are being jammed. This is our assigned position."

Spectre inserted his I.D card into the keycard-pin lock, and typed in the override code. There was a satisfying "BEEP", the light flashing and then settling to a different colour, which was, again a lighter shade of green, which hurt Spectre's eyes.
The door opened slowly on a sliding mechanism.

"Very well. Follow me."

A firefight ensued beyond, between at least fifty government personnel, in light armour, behind a wall of ultra-silicone bags facing the lobby entrance, and on the other side, rebels in loose formation. Gunfire ripped through the air, tracers going both ways. "We're being flanked!" called out an officer, as a small group of rebels managed to penetrate through onto another staircase.
A large truck had apparently crashed into the atrium and exploded, smashing the reinforced titanium-glass doors.
So that was where the loud bang came from.
 
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"Wait Spectre, stop firing me Odin and Black Rose are trapped round the corner from your location with another agent" Odin growled as a tracers exploded into the silicone bags and the shards slashed Odins face,"God damn'it Spectre, I repeat im trapped round the corner from you, we havent been spotted yet by the rebels, provide some cover for us to join your squad"
 
Yukio would certainly be pleased to hear their light footsteps trailing behind him as he made his way to his home. A more logical being would have been a little curious about their willingness to just follow a complete stranger. But, Yukio, being the conceited man he was, figured it was attributed to his natural charm. He never seemed to think much of his kindness nor generosity, which was quite ironic. It was those actions that defined and ruled his character…and yet all he could see was his pulchritude, as if that was all he was as a person; a pretty face in the mirror.<o:p></o:p>
Once he arrived at the massive gates and walls that surrounded his estate, he would wait for a familiar voice to ring out over the outdoor intercom.

“Young Lord, have you finally returned?” “Yes, Ansell. I’m sorry for worrying you. Please open the three gates, and have the security system ignore the two following me.” “Pardon me?” “I’ve brought guests. Have Karina and Annabel prepare a guest room, and start to run a bath for my guest. And have Rusk start preparing some food in the main kitchen. One of them has requested burgers.” “Yes, mi’Lord.” Ansell would respond over the intercom, and eventually, the first massive gate would be opened. Yukio would turn to Nimble and Jack, motioning for them to walk past the gate. After they had walked past it, the first gate would close, and the second one would open. After the repeated notion, the third gate would open…revealing a surprising, awe-inspiring slice of paradise.<o:p></o:p>

Yukio’s place of residence appeared like something out of a dream. It even seemed as though the sun shown more brightly within the tall walls that surrounded this estate. The house was massive, antique in it’s architecture, which in and of itself was a fascinating fusion of Japanese and modern British architecture. There were large gardens that surrounded the entire residence, spotted with thin, sparkling streams and ponds. Flower gardens were also present, with several servants tending to its up-keeping. It was amazing to think that such a place of serenity still existed in this time and place. Perhaps that was why Yukio’s residence was a location of immunity. Like the shrines in Kyoto during World War II, they were not bombed nor attacked due to the General’s appreciation of its peaceful beauty. Perhaps Big Brother felt a similar sort of respect for Yukio’s family mansion.<o:p></o:p>

It took Yukio a fair amount of time to walk over the freshly paved trail to the entrance of his mansion. Two servants had dashed to the massive golden doors, and opened them as Yukio approached, as though they were welcoming the King to his home. Yukio smiled, and turned back to Nimble and Jack, signing the words: “Come in.” Once inside, Yukio would give a subtle nod to Ansell, as well as to Karina and Annabel. Kneeling before Nimble, he would sign to her. “These ladies will take you to your guest room, where a bath and clean clothes will be waiting for you. When you are finished, come back to the first floor, I’ll wait for you two there.
From there, I’ll see to it that you two are well fed.” His smile would widen, before he finished signing. “I bet you’re a pretty young lady beneath the dirt and rags.” His words were meant in the nicest way possible, as characterized by his smile. He’d draw back from her, and would walk over to a large, ornate sofa that was in the ‘lobby’ area of the mansion. He would grab his coat, and would place it upon the couch, causing all sorts of odd clinking sounds as a result. He motioned to Ansell. “Take care of the coat for me.”
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<o:p></o:p> "What? Injured?" It was then that the lights would return, allowing for a more playing field to be set. Although, with the increasing swarm of numbers for the low-rank Government officials, it became quite evident that this rebel threat would be shortly crushed. With the lights restored, Seraphim's displeased, and annoyed expression was surprisingly apparent on his contrasting features. No mid-level Agent should have been injured in such an amateur Rebel attack. Seraphim was going to see to it that there were many, many changes made within the Ministry of Love. Weakness and failure would no longer be an option. Security, was paramount.

It was then that Agent Raphael would return to the conference room, eliciting a faint smile from Seraphim. But of course, no one could ever really know what Seraphim's were behind those curling of lips. "Raphael, grab your medical kit and follow me." The order was given, and promptly afterward, Seraphim would step out of the conference room, and would access the Agent-exclusive elevator passage. His 20-digit access code was dialed, and the doors would open, granting him access. He calmly stepped inside of the elevator, rotating on a heel, and holding a hand out to keep the door from closing. He would wait for Raphael, before allowing the elevator to descend.

Once the doors were opened, Seraphim stepped outside, amidst the smoke and ash and sounds of alarming chaos. The practice drills Seraphim had endured in Germany were more frightening than this was. This was nothing more than an annoyance to Seraphim. His confidence was so evident, that he didn't even dare to draw one of his pistols, even as he was fired at by a nearing rebel. It was only until Seraphim had seen Odin and Black Rose, that he withdrew his duo of Para-Ordnances, and released four rounds. Each bullet found it's destination, between the eyes of four of the offending Rebels. With the area briefly secured at the West Wing, Seraphim motioned wot Raphael with a hand, to Odin. "Raphael, Odin is in need of medical assistance. Would you be so kind?"

And certainly, the image of the ominous and silently-wicked Raphael, was not the imagined vision of kind-hearted medics in white garb with invisible Angel Wings.
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"sorry I know a mid-level Agent like me shouldnt have been able to let himself get injured but my emotions took over,seeing all those young Agents slaughtered by the Rebel-ASSHOLES." "RAGGHHH THAT STINGS LIKE HELL" Odin started to speak quietly to Seraphim but yelled as Raphael yanked the bullet out of the wound without much care.
"brother are you ok" Black Rose asked with tears in her eyes due to the pain Odin was experiencing she did to,due to her psychic bond with Odin.
"hey Seraphim whats are next mission we where waiting for you or Saint to ring us with the details".
Odin was helped to his feet by Black Rose and they both ran for cover as the rebels broke through the barriers that had been hurridely put up to stop them getting into the lobby again, but they just blow their way through the silicone bags with ease using the looted heatseekers, Odin swung his arm in an ark and pulled out one of his treasured P99's and aimed straight at the armed bastards head he yelled at the pair to put down their weapons and lie face down on the floor and put there hands behind their heads.
 
The ministry was a hell hole, with Saint stuck in it. Obviously coming here wasn't a very good idea. Nevertheless, he felt that before quitting the organization he needed to search for answers. Suddenly he remembered about the blood sample he sent to the laboratory to get it analyzed. The laboratory was located at the lower levels of this building, the safest route was the elevator located in Saint's office which required him to go pass the Conference Room. Eventually he would stumble across the other agents. As he ran through this hellish war zone, Saint had to shot down a few rebels and nearly got ambushed by a group of them still he was able to reach the office that was linked to the Conference Room. He kicked the doors wide open and found out that no one was in there. Saint then headed towards the door leading to the his office, the Conference Room was close now.

"It seems they've safely secured themselves inside the office, though foolishly they allowed themselves to be cornered in this dead end. Though I am certain that Seraphim would most likely use the emergency elevator available only for agents."

Saint then sighted a few rebels passing by the office, unaware of his presence there. Realizing the benefits of working in secrecy, put his guns back on their holster underneath his jacket and searched the drawers of his desk, finding a 9mm Semi-Automatic Handgun with a silencer attached to it, it also had a laser pointer to increase accuracy. He retrieved the gun and three handgun magazines holding 15 rounds each. Armed with his silenced weapon, Saint headed towards the door leading to the Conference Room. As expected, it was locked, confirming his previous hypothesis. Without hesitation, Saint secured the door to his office with his desk, creating a barricade to delay the rebels. Then he headed towards the door to the Conference Room, drew his gun and aimed it to the doorknob, Three bullets were enough to break the lock and allow Saint to kick the door, thus gaining entry. He wasn't sure though, if the agents were still here...
 
In a desperate offensive, the rebels launched three RPGs at the facility, killing at least ten soldiers and clearing a path through.
The rebels heading towards the inner atrium, Spectre hid behind a pillar. Five - no- six.

The agent raised his blade, and jumped upon the second rebel passing by, slicing his throat with pinpoint accuracy. Then, he swept the surprised leader off her feet, and tossed a flashbang in the general direction of the others, quicker than they could train their weapons on him.

Vision filters: ON

Spectre activated the retinal filters, and despite the horrible BANG, subdued the startled rebels.

It was over, the terrorist attack crushed.
"Boss?" The agent proceeded to report his status to Seraphim.
 
" Yes, sir. "


Raphael would kneel and open his bag - a treasure chest of various medicial neccessities. As he was a skilled healer, ironic enough, he was the one in charge of saving lifes, Agent lives. His cold eyes would stare down at Odin and you could see, from the expression on his face, he was loathed to give any sort of care to this man. To be wounded, by a pack of flea-bitten dogs, was a disgrace. Was it so difficult to kill them all?

Raphael sterilized his equipment. He would have to search for the bullet. The probe was sterilized and inserted into the bloody wound. Pain killers were not given. Finally it was found and Raphael pulled out the prob. It must have been beyond painful. The hemostat were then sterilized and opened to the caliber of the bullet. It was inserted and swiftly it was pulled out, along with the scarlet bullet. The wound was cleaned and bandaged swiftly. Then the two sibling Agents took off and were victorious against the lobby assault. Well now, wasn't that nice? Raphael would carefully sterilize the rest of his equipment as Odin shouted and he, Raphael, seemed oblivious to the traitors as they were subdued. Equipment was placed back into his bag, as he gazed at the various corpses upon the ground. In truth, he had always enjoyed disection. Before the bodies were burned, or placed in mass graves, he would take a few hearts - perhaps a brain, to be perserved in jars, perfect for study during his free time.
 
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The Conference Room was empty, the agents had already cleared the area and were preparing for departure. Saint was disappointed to see he was too late to do anything, even he still had some loyalty left towards Big Brother, but not towards Seraphim. For him Seraphim was someone purely diabolical, greedy and cruel. As he explored his surroundings, Agent Saint saw that the emergency elevator had been used not a few moments ago, perhaps Seraphim and the others left using that as an escape route. Seeing this as his chance, Agent Saint headed towards another office linked to the Conference Room and found a computer from which he could access the main system. His desperation to find out anything about his daughters' sustained him in this death trap. Failing to find anything, Saint began to lose faith and a new deepening hatred towards Seraphim and Raphael arouse within his heart. He calmed down, knowing that anyone could arrive at any moment.

"I wonder, if other agents might still be here...."

Suddenly one of the rebels stormed into the office and aimed Saint with a shotgun. Saint rolled over the floor and hid behind some of the furniture, taking cover from the spreading bullets. The rebel kept fighting continuously until he ran out of ammunition, thus providing Saint with the opportunity to come out from behind the furniture, aim his gun and with a deadly accuracy, put a bullet on the rebel's skull. The sound of his gun was suppressed by the silencer, so no one nearby would be made aware of his presence. Seeing that he had nothing else to do, Saint headed back to the Conference Room and walked towards the emergency elevator. He pulled out his ID Card and slided on the card slot, inserting his 20 characters pin number, and then opening the doors of the elevator.

"The others might be down there....if I get enough chances I could access the laboratory from there and retrieve the results of the blood sample."
 
Daniel walked the halls alone. The moment the lights went out he was separated from his men. They had all scattered in every direction. He had no more control over them. He could the sound of gunfire and heavy foot steps in every direction. His men were dying and he couldn’t do anything about it. All that was left for him to do was to reach his designated exit.
Smoke bombs were going off throughout the building. They must have been using some sort of heat or night vision goggles to see. Daniel laughed to himself because he always believed that nothing could be better than the human sense. He walked straight into one of these smoke clouds and waited. Then he heard them. Foot steps. They were quiet. Three men trying to sneak up on him.
The moment the first one came with in reach, Daniel reached out with his left hand and grabbed the man’s face. The man immediately went stiff and fell to the ground. That’s when the other two attack him. There was a heavy struggle. On had grabbed him from behind and the other went to attack his front, but Daniel broke free and shot them both in the leg. His hood had come off in the fight.
He once again headed toward the exit. When he exited the cloud of smoke he noticed a security camera pointed at him. He looked straight at it just before shooting it. After that he was gone. He had made to the exit.
A couple hours later he was back at the rebel base. Drake and most of his men stood waiting alongside the only five survivors of Daniels party.
Upon seeing him, Drake called out, “It is good to see that you are alive. Our mission was mostly a success. We were able to save many people tonight.”
 
“Thank you, Raphael.” Seraphim would nod to his comrade, before he heard Spectre calling for him over the interlink. “Agent Spectre, the Rebels, for the most part, have been taken care of. If you wish to, help escort some of the still-breathing Rebels to the holding cells, and the corpses to the crematoriums. Or see to it that some other Officers take care of it. Good work.” And with that said, after Raphael had finished his operation on Odin, he would tap Raphael on the shoulder. “Follow me to the Laboratory, I can’t help but feel that something is amiss there.” With that said, Seraphim would head to the lower-level laboratory.
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Seraphim would swipe his ID card before the door to the Lab, motioning for Raphael to shortly follow suit. Seraphim had a definite feeling that venturing back to the conference room would have been a very grave mistake. Instead, he decided to pay a visit to someone who would be…quite overjoyed to see him. As he walked further into the laboratory, his senses would be assaulted by a strong scent of intoxicating perfume, charged with the image of an enraged, scarlet-haired woman charging at him with a scalpel in hand. Seraphim took a quick step grabbing, grabbing the woman by her wrist and twisting her around, holding her breathless form against him. …A mistake.<o:p></o:p>

“A…Agent Seraphim!?” Those deep green eyes filled with wondrous lust, coupled by an emotion that Seraphim couldn’t quite read…just yet. “Mm…I was hoping you’d return to me. And by the looks of it, you don’t want to waste any time.” Seraphim’s eyes widened, ever so slightly, and he could feel it as the woman slid her leg between Seraphim’s, caressing his thigh with the supply flesh of her own, which was wrapped in the silky red of her work attire. “Will I be so fortunate as to be thrown over my desk and given the most carnal sexual experience of my life?” Good, God! This woman was absolutely out of her mind! Seraphim’s cheeks, were stained with a curtain of crimson. How quaint, even the Demon Lord Seraphim was capable of feeling embarrassment. He quickly released her, and took a step back, trying to settle his own nerves. ….That woman would never change, would she? Every time he gathered up the bravery to step inside her laboratory, she would practically beg him for it.<o:p></o:p>

Khitri giggled, tossing her scalpel aside and folding her eyes as she stared at Seraphim, passing a quick glance over to Raphael…who was given a brief, seductive wink. “All right then, Seraphim. If you’re not here to satisfy my needs, then you must be here to pick up the results of that blood sample that Agent Saint had delivered.” “…Hmm?” Seraphim arched a brow, unaware of Saint having dropped off any such samples. Well then, perhaps this wasn’t such a wasted trip. He nodded, and as Khitri returned with the sample and report paper, he’d glance over it briefly. …Hmm. Well, this was interesting, wasn’t it? He’d glance back to Raphael, before handing him the paper and the vial of blood. “Hold onto that for me.”<o:p></o:p>

“You know, Seraphim…I wouldn’t mind entertaining the both of you. I’m sure I could handle it.” Her devilish grin grew wider as she surveyed the handsome faces of Seraphim and Raphael. This woman’s sexual drive didn’t come with an off switch, it would seem. Yet Seraphim knew better. He could sense it, a mingling and contradicting of thoughts within her undoubtedly complex mind. She was hiding something. Something big. “Khitri, you’re hiding something from me. I can feel it.” Khitri’s eyes widened in mock surprise. “Oh, heavens no! Why would I hide anything from my dear Seraphim?”<o:p></o:p>

And that when they would hear it. The voice of Seraphim spoken from within that laboratory. The problem? …Seraphim’s mouth was still closed. “Professor Khitri? Is there a problem?” Khitri’s eyes sgot as wide as saucers, as Seraphim bolted in the direction of the voice. It was coming from a small room with an operating table, where upon the table…sat a young man, with pale skin, a toned build, black hair…and red eyes. Seraphim felt his heart skip a beat, his breath caught in his throat. The more innocent looking face that stared at him from atop the operating table…was identical to his own. His hand was reaching for one of his pistols, without any thought, and if he was not stopped, he would do something he would later regret. “…What…what in Big Brother’s name is that?!”

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The sudden explosion knocked Agent Rover out of his chair, the entire piece of furniture tipping like a guillotined tree. The alarms frightened him terribly, the man covering his ears and wailing right on pitch with the deafening alert. Immediately, Seraphim began rattling off orders like an instruction manual, assuming everyone was concentrating on the sound of his malevolent voice even with all of the chaos just beginning on practically all floors. His conditioned back cracked ferociously as he landed on the weapon that was strapped to his back, and he groaned while rolling on the floor in order to try and flip himself up. Only catching part of the decree by the high-ranking Agent, Forrest was moderately confused once he replaced himself upright in his seat, scratching his head as he looked to his comrades in order to translate what exactly was going on.

“Impervious to the darkness? Don’t worry, I’ll take care of Floor 2, Agent Seraphim,” Agent Rover related quickly, standing up from his chair with enough force to knock it over once again. The wheels rattled apprehensively as cold blue eyes looked to the well-built agent across the way from him. “Agent Camo, will you accompany me down?” he asked, and it seemed that the fellow low-ranking agent consented with a mere nod. He too lifted himself from his seat while Agent Rover nodded to Seraphim, and then turned to traverse the entrance to the Conference Room. At once he heard commotion behind him, and knew the other agents were moving into action as well. Thus is why he had to be the first one with his foot out of the door, so he could get more action instead of eliminating the leftovers. That was never too much fun.

The lights flickered tantalizingly as the two stepped out into the corridor, shadows cast on the walls like unruly apparitions. “Follow me,” Rover motioned over the alarms. “We gotta get down there fast if we want to have fun.” In the perfect moment to strike a pose, Forrest shifted his weight to one thigh as he raised his leather-bound hand to the glasses that sat perched on his head. Lowering them to his icy orbs, the entire area before them transformed into a dark mass, with red and orange hues dancing at every corner signifying some sort of life form in the hall. Smirking, Agent Rover cracked his fingers, and then took off towards a secluded staircase at the end of the long hall, marked 'EXIT' in red letters and clearly disregarded by a majority of the Ministry’s staff just because of how out-of-the-way it was.

Agent Rover and Agent Camo made easy work of the grey and unlit staircases, running their free hands along the rail to ensure that they didn’t get off track. Gunshots, battle cries, and heavy footsteps filled their ear drums on their elongated descent to the second floor, but the powerful legs of both men kept them moving at a quickened pace so they didn’t have too much time to dwell on the unnerving racket. Each timed step had a myriad of echoes to precede it, and for a few spare moments Forrest thought that they were being followed. He found his steely eyes looking upwards at the endless spiral above them... no, there weren’t any other humanoids in this shaft, but he couldn’t help but feel...

“Rover! Right strafe!” a raspy voice said behind him, and the young vanguard’s instincts nearly catapulted him to the right. The metallic door ahead of them leading to the sixth floor was wide open, with two armed rebels bursting in. Ruthlessly, Agent Camo steamrolled these two men, tossing himself into the air and landing boots first on their necks. In the blink of an eye, he had a magnum pistol flipped out, ending the two stranger’s lives with one bullet for each skull right between the eyebrows.

“Whoops, almost ran into them, did I?” Rover asked with a nervous giggle, pushing himself up off of the ground and dusting off his pants. “Guess I should watch where I’m going.”

“You’re telling me,” Camo replied with a huff, stepping off of his victims and shoving the corpses into the smoky hall, then closing the door behind him. “Onward.”

Agent Rover raised a brow and then exclaimed an indistinguishable profanity, looking to the twin staircase beside him and immediately flying down, Camo hot on his tail per usual. The doors to the various floors glowed ominously, letting him know that he was indeed going the right direction in his mission to reach the second floor. However, with the first step down the next staircase, the entire world went yellow. Warm colors were never an affinity for the young scout, and thus he let out a shredding scream once his vision was lost.

“GRAH! I’m blind! Bliiiiiiind!” Rover cried, jogging in place to make it appear as if he was doing an awkward version of the samba. Camo simply stared at his counterpart for a brief moment, perhaps wondering why he agreed to go with him. He knew that Forrest was mildly insane, but then again, who didn’t? Every agent that worked for the Ministry was warped in some way, and most lacked the ability to even show emotions. Rover was one of the few that could do such a thing, perhaps because his own flesh and blood and not an adamant interloper trained him. Regardless, someone needed to be there to help keep his cool.

Agent Camo took two calm steps over and punched Rover in the stomach, his fist digging into a solid mass of equipment and muscle. Without uttering a single sound, he moved his hand to Forrest’s face and removed his heat-vision glasses, simultaneously removing his own and rendering them both blind as bats. Rover froze in place, one hand in the air and the other just inches from smacking Camo in the shoulder, blatantly surprised at this revelation. He lowered his arms and then pushed his chestnut hair back with his glasses, quickly scratching his temple as he looked to Agent Camo timidly.

“Ah... hehe, just kidding. I knew that,” he coughed, rubbing the back of his head and placing his free hand on the rail of the staircase that continued to swoop down and around. “Okay, no prob. Seraphy-waphy said this would happen, right? Turning up the heat and all ‘cause of the pansy rebels. Thankfully, I’m sweet at this line of work. Just try and stick close to me. Oh, and get your rifle out. I’m gonna go kinda fast so we can dip in and dip out, then it’s all good from there! Ready... set... g-g-g-g-go!”

Agent Rover made a beeline down the staircase, using his enhanced sensory to keep track of his steps, even counting them aloud to make sure. Doors flew open and smoke filled the passageway, but Forrest simply kept his head down and weaved in and out of the billowing smoke. Locks of chestnut and mahogany became engrained with the dark gasses, making Agent Rover seem even more at one with his surroundings. The environment was becoming a part of him, and he too was becoming part of the environment. Occasionally, the silhouette of a being that could not have possibly been an agent showed up at the foot of the staircase, but Camo simply fired his AK-47 over Forrest’s shoulder, ending the obstacle’s life as effortlessly as it began.

Or perhaps not.

With a gratifying leap into the air and a perfect reverberating landing, Forrest Collins checked his reflection in the window of the door that served as the portal to the second floor. “You think I look decent?” he asked, trying to avoid being seen while peering through the reinforced glass. There was no comment from Camo’s end, only a faint grunt and a cross of the arms. Forrest didn’t notice either, instead more concentrated on adjusting his outfit. “I mean, it’s not like I’m trying to make a fashion statement or anything, but I want the last thing for all of these punks to see be something they’d actually want to look at. You know?”

Agent Rover turned and faced his fellow man, not noticing any camaraderie taking place between the two. He coughed nervously, then turned to the door and cracked his fingers once more. “Okay, then. Make sure your scope light is on and... yeah, well I’m pretty much covered.” With that, Forrest took a few steps back, looking left and then right as if he were crossing the street, then unleashing a furious kick to the steel-plated door. The construct flew open in such a way that made it appear to be offended by such a violent blow. All of the combative sounds of the second floor combined with the alarm sent chills of excitement down the spine of Forrest, who unbuckled his semi-automatic from his side and began loading it with some frags.

“Let the extermination begin!” he howled, closing his chamber and cocking his weapon, then storming in with aptly placed hoots and hollers to signify the beginning of the literally heated skirmish.​
 
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