Chapter 15: The Sacred and Profane

[Jack O. Trades]

As he drove around the streets once more he looked into the back seat noticing someone was missing "Oy! Where's castella, and Rocko!?"As a man began to talk about how they got left behind he only growled snatching from his pocket another controller "Late, late, always bloody late!" And with a press of the button the men who had been left behind let out a scream as their coats exploded leaving little more then red gore in their place. In the rear view from a distance he smiled wickedly as he saw the burst of red on the hill, mentally congratulating himself for the foresight to plant several explosives within their kevlar. Of course it probably helped that they didn't know about it "Oh well, the show must go on....." As he looked at the large package in the back seat he began to laugh quietly himself "And a show there will be."

[Calithin Crest]

"I think we should take them somewhere sketchy and interrogate them. That's what I think needs to happen. This is all a little ridiculous... I don't mind some fun and games, but I was enjoying those fireworks and now they're ruined."

I look at the goons Momo has managed to capture and frown.

"I just want to know who did this."

[Momo Kurokawa]

To Anthony West
Before the captured person who had been manning the fireworks could reply, he exploded. The explosion was enough to take off the tentacle that was holding him. However, the machine had a dozen similar appendages, so it was not a major damage to the machine. The lost tentacle writhed on the ground a little, sparking and sizzling. Finally it stopped moving. All that remained of the goon was bone, ash, and some scraps of clothes.

"Genetech can analyze the remains and maybe figure out who it was." Momo suggests. She turns on a loud speaker for her squid machine.

"Anthony West, I need you here...right now!" She shouts into the microphone.

She then turns to Calithin. "It seems well thought out. Whoever it is needs money for explosives and these kinds of tricks. Most poor terrorists couldn't organize something this well."

[Calithin Crest]

"Well, gee... That helps. Who do we know that's rich and crazy? Hmm... How about EVERYONE."

A little blood has gotten on my shirt from the blown up goon, and I just get more upset by the minute.

"Sorry, Momo. I don't mean to take this out on you. I just... Really like fireworks."

[Momo Kurokawa]

"Most wouldn't attack a partyof the Blessed. I think most people who make money like to make money. If they attack the Blessed, they are attacking those who support a world wherein people can make money." Momo reasons. "It is against the self interest of most wealthy people, no matter how crazy."

She thinks a little longer about it. "The Creditors would be able to track anyone who buys weapons or explosives on the legal market. But...even the members of the illegal market with access to such things are well known. I think that they might have information."

Momo can think of three people....maybe four people. "Kaschei, the Artz Family, the Red Dragon, and maybe even Keitoleinen's company Sota....that would be a start."

[Calithin Crest]

"Well, I don't think my father did this. That doesn't make any sense at all. But I do recall seeing Kaschei and the younger Artz around here earlier. Maybe sending someone to talk to them wouldn't be a bad idea. Someone dispensable."

I sigh and close my eyes for a second.

"I need a cookie... I'll... See you around."

I wander away from Momo to find a baked good and ease my distress, as unlikely as it seems that I'll be able to do either.

[Momo Kurokawa]

"I will go talk to Kaschei." Momo volunteers. But first, she has to wait for Anthony. She remains in her mecha, looking over the charred remains of the man who had been blown up. Momo considers the situation carefully. Kaschei was at the party and left, so he seems suspicious to her. She ponders it while she waits.

[Emmet Fawkes]

To Boni (Sorry for tying you up!)
Bonifaz! Finally, Bishop figured he'd run into him, but not so soon. Lady luck was on his shoulder, it seemed. The man was renowned, respected, feared and powerful—extremely powerful, it was good to become more affiliated with him. Yes, he was known because of his father's legacy, but he was esteemed and known just as well, filling in his father's big shoes. Smiling beneath his mask, he straightened the collar of his guards uniform and felt that this was going in the right direction. Just what he wanted.

“Likewise, my good friend,” Bishop agreed, nodding his had enthusiastically. Honestly, he came here to do something LIKE the purple-suited man, but with more pizazz, with more theatrics, more lights, something that would make him known but not followed, not yet anyway. With everything he did, he made a point, he'd do something that would make his views shown. Something to promote the nihilistic gang without screaming out his name. “I have to hand it to you, your a hard man to find, even in the same organization.” He was a part of null, but until now, never even saw his back let alone his face.

For a moment, he seemed deep in thought as he chuckled lowly, tapping his mask. “I don't really have a name, to be honest with you,” He told him, pausing. “But people call me Bishop, you can call me whatever you like. I like nicknames.”

The man held out his hand. “I'm one of your Null Hitman, honored to be in your presence.” His voice was smooth but raspy—as polite as he could be.

[Bonifaz Artz-Lehrer]

"I think it would be safest to leave and soon. I am not keen on spending any time in Manalist prison, especially for something I was not involved with." Bonifaz remarks. His ego feels al little puffed up by how this guy has treated him with respect. Bonifaz tries not to let it go to his head, even though it does feel wonderful. He closes his eyes and tries to focus on the situation and not his hungry ego.

Bonifaz starts walking towards behind the stage area, so at least they aren't so in the open or easy to find for the time being. "I came here to gather some information and concluded that I wanted to have some sort of terroristic debut at the Manala Mas party. Though, I may change my plans now. I was not thinking explosion though. I was thinking small pox or ricin." He says with a slight laugh.

"Oh well, it doesn't really matter if a point is made..." He says with a shrug.

[Emmet Fawkes]

Bishop nodded. It was wise not to stick around in the open—a well-known man and a masked man were two sore thumbs sticking out. Prison was something he didn't want to go back to, and with the commotion, there were creditors and important people that opposed people like them. They'd be looking for anyone suspicious. He followed Bonifaz to the back of the stage area, away from the groups of people discussing what had happened. He ignored the firework sounds, anything now, any explosions, wouldn't surprise him.

Taking a deep wheezing breath beneath his mask, he adjusted it so that he could breath better. It was bothersome to wear sometimes. He felt safe enough around Bonifaz to take it off, but he wouldn't unless asked. Bonifaz was his boss, of course. “I see I see,” He said slowly, “Small pox and ricin is deadly enough, friend, explosions make a big bang but its a little... subtle.” No need to act crazy now, even though he coughed back some of his hee-hawing, it was hard. Everything was comical to him, the most morbid things were comical.

As Bonifaz shrugged, saying that it didn't matter if a point was made, he was taken aback and wheeled around, holding his hands wide. “Doesn't matter... Your the last person that I thought I'd hear that from.” He questioned exasperatedly, “Cruelty and injustice, intolerance and oppression.” For a moment, he fell silence, chuckling as he regained his composure.

“Your like lady justice, Bonifaz.” Bishop told him pointedly. “This kiddy terrorist isn't making a point, and that's where its all just for nothing. He needs to be trumped.”

[Bonifaz Artz-Lehrer]

"I think there is a point in any occurance of senselessness. Senseless violence, senseless loss...these senseless explosions. The point is...that nothing in this world is sacred. There is no point, there is no goodness. We make up all sorts of interesting social lies to keep everyone in place...but in the end, we are all nothing. We are just exceptionally creative at trying to fool ourselves of that one truth." Bonifaz replies. This is his reasoning and why he isn't too upset over the explosions and all that has transpired.

"I am not upset over this, but I am not happy either. I am not sure that this will be effective in doing anything but sending the Manalists into a frenzy to find those responsible, or blame anyone who can easily be blamed. For the rest of the people in this world duped into believing in that religion...it will make little difference. And for the Manalists and the Blessed themselves, it will only strengthen their faith and resolve." Bonifaz says with a sigh.

[Kyra Majarae]

Kyra made her way away from the mansion and growled when she fell out of the bush. That was the most ungraceful thing she had done. She walked back to the mansion and snuck to her limo and the driver sped off. She was fuming in the back seat and staring out the window. 'This is making me furious....I couldn't lay a single finger on him, but I got his bitch.....oh well maybe that will give him some rage points against me.' She laughed evilly to herself.

She yelled at the driver to stop when she was close to another strange looking vehicle. She stepped out of the stopped vehicle and waltzed her way over to the van. Quietly as she could, except for the soft steps of her stilettos. She cleared her throat when she reached the side of the van. She stopped and waited for the opportune moment.

[Emmet Fawkes]

Bishop listened, attempting to reason his own vengeful spirit. He always thought that if things were done badly against him, they needed to pay, they needed to pay now. Was that so selfish? The man blamed everything in this piss-poor world: the council, the Manalists, the system that was so faulty and corrupt, he wanted them all to pay and suffer for the pain brought to him. Not that he'd admit any of that. It was selfish. He acted on a whim, without thinking of the big picture. Society was a mess, and they couldn't do much to fix it.

“As senseless as this all is...” The man started, breathing softly. “Even if every inch of us, amount to nothing, we have to keep kicking. Even if it means being senselessly violent, and causing senseless loss, at some point, it'll make a point. And if it doesn't, then what's the point of organizations dancing Manalists? Why don't we roll over and succumb to their food-chain laws?” Bonifaz's reasoning made sense, and it aggravated him, it made him angry at his own intentions. He wasn't upset over the explosions either, to him, they were pointless. They couldn't make a difference.

“Your right though,” He said, laughing curtly, licking his dry lips. “Manalists will scapegoat, glean over it, call it an accident, call a meeting, and say that they stand stronger because of their faith.”

Sniffling shortly, he waved his hand. “But were being too depressing, Boni, you said you wanted to plan something special for the Manala mas party?”

[Bonifaz Artz-Lehrer]

Bonifaz likes Bishop. He seems reasonable enough. He has dealt with some chaotic, mentally unstable people in his life. The organization had a way of attracting them. Bonifaz doesn't have any great drive to live or to make a social change, or at least he tries to tell himself this. He tries to take everything as it comes, but, act as a fasciliator to open people up to the lies all around them. It is a contradiction that he has trouble with.

"My original thoughts were to attack the Blessed at Manala Mas...or to have some Manala mas related attacks. First of all, it is a consumer holiday precious to the Blessed and to the poor deluded people who think it is not about consumerism..but about family, gifts, and Father Manala." Bonifaz explains.

"I was thinking some sort of attack that sends the Blessed to the hospital. I figured ...since they are getting rid of hospitals this would be a good idea. Last year, The Speaker gave some speech about hospitals being for the weak and that ..it is best that the strongest survive. Well, I suppose I would like to reveal at least to the Blessed, that they are not as strong as they would like to believe. My first thought was small pox, but I am open to suggestions."

Bonifaz looks back at the party goers, who are still outside. There have been no more explosions for a while and it seems now that a portion of the party is trying to figure out who was behind it all. Others continue to socialize. More soldiers, machines, and equiptment start to arrive.

"I am also not sure if I should go through with plans after this incident. Security will be a lot tighter at the next party. Hmm...well, what do you think?"

[Emmet Fawkes]

Likewise, Bishop could tell that Bonifaz wasn't a reckless cowboy. He wasn't like the Russian mobsters and he wasn't like the other organizations thriving on selfish means, he had integrity, and he liked that in people. Null was full of unstable people, people he'd call freaks, but the pot couldn't call the kettle black. He respected leader-type figures, they had something he lacked, it wasn't the charisma or intimidation or power that he lacked—it was the drive, he had none. The world was too poisoned for him to think of any goodness, Bonifaz was right when he said there was none.
“Who would bite the hand that feeds, right?” Bishop reasoned sarcastically, those who were Blessed, those who weren't impoverished thrived on what Manalists gave them. They gave them faith and like lambs, they'd hop on after the shepherds, that's what people did when they were afraid. “Advertising has us chasing cars and clothes, working jobs we hate so we can buy shit we don't need. No purpose or place.” He scratched some of fleeting scars on his neck, “I never knew consumerism would swallow us like a black whole, its sort've ironic in less of a ha-ha way.”

“Your thinking on the right track though, Boni.” He said, pulling his black leather gloves on tighter. “I want the Speaker, the Moderator, all of them, to open their eyes as well as you do. They need to see chaos, they need to see that their not Gods, their not immortal, and their not strong. The Blessed aren't bulletproof, but their human, as human as they can get. If their hurt, they don't want to roll over and di like dogs—their ideas about the strongest and fittest survive go out the window as soon as their lives are in danger. No one wants to die. Small pox without medication is deadly, but we need some other virus... something deadly, that makes them desperately need those hospitals their condemning.”

Bishop took a breath, small hissing noises coming from the holes from his mask. He was surveying the area past the stage as well, people were still talking, but there was more productive movement from soldiers and who-knows-what coming to hunt the terrorist. The Blessed all looked shaken up.

“Security will be tighter,” He mused, but smiled. “But I'm sure you can get passed that with all your experienced assassins and what-not. There's always a way around things. But... discussing all this here is probably a bad idea, like you said, I don't want to go to prison either.”