Chapter 15: The Sacred and Profane

[Anya Louteius]

As she watched this bizarre man effectively save her from her female assailant she wracked her brain to understand what he meant. As her eyes darted from the pen she had left on the seat to the clearly insane man giving a speech she reached out for it to clutch it to her chest nervously. As she saw him running back into the van, the door closing behind him, she shut her eyes tightly as she clicked the pen once. Inside the mansion it began setting off all the remaining bombs as plumes of flames exploded from the windows and large chunks of wall was blown to bits (the explosions are sporadic and random so anyone inside the mansion will only get caught if they want to be). As each bomb went off the one that followed was bigger, and louder then the last. With a dread and a guilty sense of fascination she new that by the time it was finished the building would collapse within itself.

Opening her eyes once more despite the tears she smiled timidly at the mad clown. He was smiling at her with a mixture of pride and fascination. She couldn't help but feel a sense of pride herself despite the feelings broiling deep in her chest. She watched him stand up and slide his jacket off of himself and drape it over her and she knew she didn't need to say anything. She passed his test, he approved. As she moved onto one of the seats she curled up onto it snuggling herself into the warm purple jacket. She would trust this man, she would break her monotonous life thats only ever changed with a hit of something. She knew that as time went on he would teach her how to truly live, like he did every day.

She knew he would set her free. This thought comforted her as she fell into a gentle slumber under the gaze of a madman.

[Emmet Fawkes]

In spite of his pride, Bishop threw out his hands to the sides of the teleportation booth, as if it would steady him from some kind of crash. The entire thing was weird, and he felt sort've dizzy. He decided he'd definitely hitch a ride on once of those booth's again whenever he had the chance. The large house was baffling, and he liked it at first glance, it'd be interesting to explore. Shaking the frivolous thoughts from his head, he followed Bonifaz towards the house. It was a nice place. A little too quiet for him, but the lake was a nice touch. Beverly hills for a wealthy, powerful man. He was excited at the people he'd meet—Null always had interesting people, attracting the weirdest ones from all over, maybe some of them would be fun.

The man didn't press him anymore on his scars, and he was grateful. “Knowing them, they'll probably ignore the whole thing, smooth it over saying that there were faulty wires, faulty something, just blew up by itself.”

[Bonifaz Artz-Lehrer]

"Oh, probably." Bonifaz replies. They enter the house and Bonifaz sits down on the couch in the TV room. He turns it on, but instead of news or anything of interest, he only sees an idiotic Manalamas claymation. The story is about how Manala Claus gives toys the Blessed children, who proved themself as worthy throughout the year. One small boy is given a gift from Manala Claus, which he rejects because being great is the greatest gift he could ever have. Manala Claus realizes his folly and decides never to give kids gifts again, which is why parents now by gifts in place of Manala Claus.

Bonifaz keeps the program on, but isn't paying attention to it. He calls for Heikki or the Creditor, Amelia, to get him some tea.

"Get me some tea!" He demands. A short time later, a pink haired woman says some jibberish and gives him a golf club.

"She isn't functioning...right.." Bonifaz says of the Creditor android. He hits her with the golf club and she retreats into the other room for now.

"So...this is my home. My father is aware of some of the goings on here, but, he doesn't care that much...he even supports it. You see, in this world, because all drugs are illegal, it is hard for him to make money.. though, we managed to negotiate with the anti drug commission, so here in Germany, there is limited availabily of prescription drugs. Not a very large market for our company..thus, he supports what I do...somewhat."

[Emmet Fawkes]

Bishop entered the house, instead of taking a seat, he circled around some of the furniture. For a moment, he seemed to be inspecting things before he finally seated himself on a chair, leaning back comfortably as he kicked his feet up on the foot-rest. The TV flicked on, and he watched intently at the ridiculous Manalamas claymation. What was this shit they were putting on? Did they think everyone was stupid? Then again, he questioned the sheep mindlessly consuming in the world. Maybe they were stupid enough to just nod their heads at every silly thing that they aired on TV. Nothing else existed. What just happened at the Banquet never happened. It didn't exist. There were no terrorists. Just this snot-nosed brat sitting there with Manala Claus, a spawn of every Manalist the boy represented. Those were the ones that were really evil. He was a gallant crusader seeking justice, compared to them.

The house was impressive though. Looked nice from the outside, and even better on the inside. He completely ignored the crap airing on the television, it wasn't worth his time. When Bonifaz demanded tea, he glanced around for anyone who might appear. A maid or something? Butlers? How pleasant! He already felt at home. His own hideout was in the middle of Germany, somewhere past the slums, it was an old amusement park that was practically falling apart. This was homey to him.

Bishop watched the pink-haired woman garble about something and give him a golf club, he couldn't resist himself and ha-ha-haw'd at the display. Crippled over, he finally got a hold of himself and slumped against the chair again. “At least she's an entertaining gal,” He commented, still stifling giggles, “I didn't know you had one of those Bubblegums here. Aren't they all lawful?” He paused thoughtfully.

“What's your father like? Is he a passive-aggressive man?” He suddenly questioned, playing with the bottom of his mask. “Sounds like he doesn't know about half the things you do, and if he knew, would daddy still support you? He must support your fight against prescription drugs and hospitals being outlawed. I'm assuming, he wouldn't... uh, supporting your means?”

[Bonifaz Artz-Lehrer]

"Her name is Amelia 20. I don't know her story, but I found her here in Germany. She was talking to herself and acting strangely. I don't know if she even understands why she is here, but she is strangely loyal. She paints too...strange abstract things. Maybe the Creditors rejected her, or maybe she got into a fight she couldn't win." Bonifaz says of his Creditor companion. "Or maybe it is all an act and she is going to kill me or something. But, I don't know that Creditors are capable of acting."

He turns his thoughts to his father then. "No, he has his own agenda. He has some mental health issues which impact his judgement, but, he was abusive, mean, and authoritarian. He is a Nazi...or at least wants to be one. He lives in the past and collects artifacts from World War Two. He hates the Moderator...since, he is a Jew. But it goes along well with his paranoid thoughts that Jews control the world. I think...he might even think that the Manalists are a Jewish conspiracy." Bonifaz says with a laugh. But it is no laughing matter. His father is a real problem.

"My old man...well, he isn't stupid. I guess if he could he would try to build some sort of National Socialist movement. He certainly has the money. But, he just can't find any followers. Not any decent ones like those in Null. He wants change. I guess he supports me..because it's better than nothing. Every once in a while I promise that we'll someday go after the Moderator and all is well in his crazy little world." Bonifaz laughs. All is not well and Bonifaz would like to kill his father. However, his father is well protected and it wouldn't be easy.

"What about you? Tell me more about your story."

[Emmet Fawkes]

Amelia 20. Bishop was curious about creditors. Were they simple androids? Did they feel things? What were they like inside, physically? They were interesting creatures, maybe he could find out more about them. From what he'd seen of the pretty-faced Creditor at the Banquet, they saw things in a very black-and-white fashion, especially when it came to justice. They were like robotic policemen, without biases, they were meant to exterminate and nothing less. Exciting creatures, indeed. Breaking from his thoughts, he nodded to Bonifaz. “A painting android? Fancy that.” He said, snickering. He licked his lips dryly, crossing one leg over the other. “From what I've seen of Creditors, they're piss-poor actors. But I know next to nothing about them.”
Bonifaz's father sounded like a nut case. Then again, when people grew old, so did their minds. They were far more knowledgeable, wise and swift as any youngster, but most elders lived in the past. He wondered how old Mr. Artz-Lehrer was. Nazism was something that intrigued him, too. The entire concept that Hitler fabricated. Heil Hitler, rest his poor soul! A man after his own heart, yes sir.
“Your father sounds like a handful,” He sympathized, as well as he could, but added, “But he sounds like someone I'd like to meet sometime. He's an esteemed pharmacist, I'm surprised to find out that he's so brooding, that he's gone a bit nuts.” He twirled his finger around his point to emphasize.

“The world of today needs young, aspiring leaders. Old men, no matter how much dough, no matter how much power, can't command the attention of these rebels looking for change.” He pointed out, flatly. People wanted confident young leaders who were charismatic, who could lead and succeed, who could swear to change the world and relate to the young subordinates. Elders were wise, but no one could see eye-to-eye with them. Laughing bitterly, he sniffed. Bonifaz laughed, but he didn't seem to thrilled about his father. It didn't sound like they had a good father-son relationship at all.

“What's there to tell?” Bishop sighed honestly, holding his hands out. “A little baby boy was born to a drunk mother she-prostitute who sucked down booze like it was going out of style, and a father who was dying of Gray Disease. He looked like a corpse walking, it was sad, really. Oh, and, well... there's blank spots, I... can't really explain it, maybe I blocked things out? I'm no psychiatrist. Plopped into a prison, I was there for most of what I remember, then released. I did something horrible and passed out. Along came some of your Null members and for some reason I can't put my finger on, funny thing -- still can't -- they picked me up. Fed me, babied me, taught me. Here I am.” Taking a deep breath, he scratched his head. “I searched and searched, Boni, believe me. But for some reason, the prison... don't ask me why, deleted my files, everything. Gone.”

Adjusting his feet on the foot rest, he arched his eyebrows beneath his sanctuary.

"I have my own questions now. What's your story, Mr. Artz-Lehrer? Were you born into fame?... Why did you question the world, not that it isn't hard to see why."

[Jumala Keitoleinen]

"Well folks. I guess that's a wrap. Thanks for coming to the party and hope to see you next year. Oh, and if anyone does construction, I'll be taking bids on reconstruction of the mansion." Keitoleinen says cheerfully over the microphone. However, he knows that something unpleasant for most people in the world is up.

He orders his servants to start with the clean up and says goodbyes to the guests.

"Oh, I guess there is an Economic Council meeting after this...so, we will probably discuss..stuff." Keitoleinen says. He glances over to the table of leftover mammoth meat.

"Anyone who wants left overs can take some!" He announces. He then enters his mansion. Most of the damage was to the top floors, but it still is going to be quite costly. A few people were injurred in the attack, but as far as Keitoleinen can tell, no one was killed.

Keitoleinen sits on his sofa while people start to leave.

[Bonifaz Artz-Lehrer]

To Null members or anyone who might be interested in working with Null

"I think you might figure out why I do what I do.. with time. Like many things in this world, I doubt you'll like what you see. But, for now, just know that I had a life that was good enough. I was born into a wealthy family, but our wealth has declined with each set of s drug laws. There is nothing tragic about my life...except maybe boredom. My father was abusive, but nothing I couldn't endure. My mother died when I was young, but, I never knew her so it never mattered. It's been a good life." Bonifaz admits. It is true. He doesn't know disease, imprisonment, fear, loss, or tradedy. He was well fed and educated. He was provided for and his only worry was his father's abusive nature and extreme politics.

"I should be one of those Blessed...mindlessly celebrating and indulging. I enjoy comfort and material things. But, they are just things. I am not satisfied by wealth and mindless indulgance. Perhaps it is just a matter of temperment. Maybe I was born an angrier person..or someone who couldn't be tamed by money and material things. Maybe that is the only difference between them and myself...or maybe there is no difference at all." Bonifaz replies. His intentions are not purely for some idea about social change. He wants people to listen to him. He likes being respected. He wants women to want him and for people to think he is brilliant.

"Who knows. Well, anyway, my family never got along well with the Manalists so perhaps that is the only reason I grew up questioning things." Bonifaz states. He decides to leave it at that and focus on some organizing things.

While sitting on his couch, he emails some known contacts about a meeting in Munich. That they should come immediately. With this bit of business done, he resumes his conversation.

"I was able to purchase some land in Hungary for the purpose of growing opium. The temple there will overlook the activity...if we can supply an ailing priest with some medicines. So, that's the deal. It won't amount to much, and I need more labor power, but, it's another way to get some money for the business and this organization." Bonifaz explains. "Hungary has traditionally been where most of the medical opium has been grown. So, there are fields and what not...and people who have some knowledge of growing poppies and harvesting their opium." He continues.

[Jack Kruschev]

I hear Momo and turn to start to sprint.

Nearly tripping several times, I get to my destination and see a broken, mechanical squid and put on a confused look.

"What?"

[Calithin Crest]

((To Tuesday))

I end up not finding any cookies, which is ridiculous. The party winds down and when people begin to leave I decide I should probably try to find Tuesday so we can go too.

I walk around the decimated house and seriously hope that she isn't dead or kidnapped or seriously injured in any way. You cannot get the reputation as the guy whose dates die. If Ted Bundy got out of jail he would never have a girlfriend again.

"Tuesdayyy... You alive? Hello? Oh boy... I really hope you are..."

[Evana Majarae]

The only thing she could find herself concentrating on was the sound of her own footsteps. For some very odd reason, she had a gut-wrenching feeling that something bad was going to... or had already... happened. To who or what, she didn't know, but the feeling was a bit unnerving. In an attempt to subside her probably inaccurate paranoia-based worry, all she could do was focus on the muffled thuds of her heavy boots.

Her (currently) gray eyes scanned the ground as she crossed over it in a slow paced walk, her head was tilted downward so her chin was only an inch from her pale collar bone. Whoever or whatever was around her, she didn't administer. No, the heavy feeling in her stomach was throwing her off. '...But what could it be...?' She asked herself. Again and again the question turned over in her mind but no answers arose to give her satisfaction in the enigma.

Finally, Evana came to a halt to look at her surroundings. She gazed calmly with her usual stone expression at the area. Unfamiliar buildings and landmarks covered her at every turn. Out off all the faces she could make out from the people casually strolling by or in tightly knit groups of conversation, none came across as familiars. Her eyes twitched a little as they frantically began to search for anything to bring her comfort and calm her down. 'I've had to have been here before.... Right?'[/i] She thought to herself.

Nothing....

How this was possible, she didn't understand. But it was official... she was lost. Although the first stages of her paranoia was beginning to kick in, on the outside she looked as calm as could be.

[Emmet Fawkes]

Boredom was a tragedy in itself, Bishop knew. In spite of himself, he was jealous that Bonifaz was born into such glory, and that he was born in such decrepit states. But you couldn't make an omelette without breaking some eggs, if he'd been in any other situation as a youngster, he wouldn't have grown up to be the man he is today. Surprised to hear the Bonifaz' father was abusive, he sucked back a breath , licking his lips. Even those who were wealthy were unhappy, Bonifaz' father was no exception. He wondered what Bonifaz looked like as a tyke, but couldn't really come up with a mental image.

“Child abuse is a terrible thing,” he rasped thoughtfully, holding back any snide remark he might have, “Both of us trying to find meaning in a meaningless world! Why be disfigured outcast when I can be a notorious Crime God? Why be an angry man when you can be a respected Leader?”

Nodding reasonably at Bonifaz' response about his family never getting along with Manalists. His own family were Manalist pigs, sucking up whatever was kicked at them, like unworthy leeches. It'd be funny if it weren't so pathetic. Watching silently as the man across from him sends emails on his device, he contented himself with fiddling with his blade, tossing and catching it this way and that. Bored bored bored, he was bored quickly, conversation was thrilling, but he was usually always on his feet.

“Never rub another man's rhubarb!” Bishop quoted, as if it had some great meaning. The fact that it made no sense didn't faze him, but he cackled harshly for a moment. Opium! What a wonderful drug! Illusions galore! “Wonderful investment though, buying Hungary to grow poppies and harvest its Opium.” He commented, flipping the knife once more. “I'm not really knowledgeable about Null's affiliations, I just hop along and do my job like a good little boy. I like this job—I really do, I like it. Since you harvest Opium, would I be wrong to assume you traffic with the Russian Mafia?” Rambling on, he switched positions on the chair and draped his legs over the opposite end.

[Kyra Majarae]

Kyra came to in the back of the van she had no one around her, which she thought was odd. She wasn't about to find out what was going to happen to her, she had better things to do. After waiting a bit and recollecting herself fully, she kicked open the back of the van and roled out. She was thankful there were no cars on the road. She stopped tumbling and when she got up she ran for it. She made sure to hide in the shrubs and brush so she couldn't be seen and her black outfit and hair hid her well.

Once the coast was clear she started walking at an even pace and saw a young girl ahead. She stopped for a minute and stared. Why did that young girl look so familiar to her. When the girl's face turned toward her she froze. It was her youger sister, Evana. She wasn't sure what to do. Should she approach her? Would Evana hate her? She had abandoned her, but not on purpose. She bite her lip and then decided she should face her now. She walked up to the girl and smiled softly. "Are you okay? You seem lost?" She smiled at the girl and up close she had seen that the once beautiful Evana had faded into a wreck that was caused by stress and abuse. She wanted to hug her sister, but she wasn't sure how Evana would react.

[Evana Majarae]

The girl was going to do the best thing she could think of- just keep moving. Hopefully some time soon she'd venture back into known territory and find her way again. Although, this new area she had found would later have to be explored... maybe when she was ready for it. Traffic on the road next to her sped by but she didn't give it a second thought. With one last glance at the place she started to move.

Almost as immediately as her muscles twitched to get her body in motion, she was stopped. A woman stood before her. A woman with long black hair and a beautiful face. Evana couldn't help but stare a little at her. She caught herself doing that and tore her eyes off of her for a few seconds. Small talk was always the hardest thing for her to manage. "I am fine." She said a bit colder than she meant to, forcing herself not to stare at the girl for too long.

[Kyra Majarae]

Kyra was aching inside to embrace her. She took a deep breath and smiled a little. "Forgive me for asking....but is your name Evana Majarae?" It had been so long, but Kyra could never forget her sisters face. Never...

She smiled at the girl, hoping she would remember as well, it wasn't likely, but she had a faint hope for the first time. It was strange what meeting lost loved ones could do to you. She felt so awkward, she was sure the girl felt the same way. Kyra would be so embarrassed if this wasn't Evana. She waited for the girl's response, the cool air blowing her hair in the breeze, which always felt nice.