The Cold War of the Blessings

[Wolokai142]

"Submit. Or, Resist."

 

Previously... : https://forum.eclipse-rp.net/topic/91247-the-war-of-the-blessings/

 

~~~

 

Interval 1: September 30th, 2022 - "Disassociation. Mimic. Mimic."

Interval 2: "Prodrome Phase. Anchor. Anchor."

Interval 3: "Principle. Error. Error."

IntervaI 4: "The Board. Places. Places."

Interval 5: Coming Soon

 

 

 

Edited November 19, 2024 by Wolokai142

[Wolokai142]

S E P T E M B E R | 30th | 2022

1 Month+ Since the Palmer Taylor Attack

 

 

The air was clean. All was well. The bass thwubbed in time, low but still loud enough to be felt in the upholstery of the seating. There was nothing really going on, nothing today at least. Any bullets needing spending were spent already. All chases concluded, all cops killed, all affairs settled.

Best way to end a Thursday.

She had her head tilted back, her eyes closed gently and a quiet, rhythmic wheeze rising and falling through her chest and out of her nose, her lips very partially open as she snoozed away, unaware. A rarer thing than unicorns, a peacefully sleeping warrior such as this. What cause had she to close her mind to the dangers of the world around them? Surely at any moment there would come the adversary from around the next corner, looking to pave a new foundation of bone donated from their own corpses upon the dying vestiges of the ones who made the same attempt before them. More souls to be forgotten amongst the dead, while they would live on out of spite, out of pride, out of principle. 

A people of fury...of legend...who would never fade away.

But no such danger lurked this way...no such dangers had for a long time. Like something out of a story book...the great evil was defeated, the knights reigned triumphant over the monsters who had put their fortress to siege. No more was there a council, no more wars, no more raids from the Loyalists. 

They, had won.

But like all good things in this world,

 

"Eyo you said you wanted pickles right?" Flint said as he unceremoniously got back into the driver's seat, shuffling a few bags around and dropping a brown paper bag on his passenger's lap. He started to unwrap his own heart attack supreme as her eyes opened slowly, a very gentle sigh rising from her throat.

"I said, no...pickles," she whispered, her left hand reaching up to rub her eyes groggily, her fingers pressing into her eyelids and down into the corners.

"Well you got pickles," He said back, quirking his eyebrows up once quickly with a smile "Your favorite. Bone-appa-something bitch, eat up."

She raised an eyebrow slightly, letting out a yawn shortly after and stretching as best as she could in her condition within the seat, looking down at the paper bag. "You know..." she grumbled playfully "I don't think this is exactly the -wisest- thing for me to eat right now? Aren't you supposed to be, like...feeding me vitamins and greens? Foot massages and all that internet search shit?"

"What more you want?!" Flint retorted, robbed again of his first bite as he turned slightly to look at her "I already been doing the whole damn Martha Stuart routine for you for months now. That's not enough?"

She shook her head, tilting it as she felt a smile growing on her lips "Trying to feed me a diet of milk and fast food, is not exactly what I'd call 'Home-Garden Network' material Flint."

"I think that thing's soakin' up your brain power. You can't tell me that calcium for strong bones and red meat don't help in the growth process."

She opened her mouth to comment that the simplicity of his logic (while adorable to her) wasn't really going to help with a complex situation such as this, when she heard a voice from behind her at the window. "How's my niece?" the voice asked, his body partially blocking the sun that was shining in towards her. She turned her head to address him, smirking. She couldn't really quite see who it was because of the light, but she could tell just by his voice and how he carried himself who was there.

"Would be better," she started, jerking a thumb back towards Flint "If discount Martha Stewart over here would stop getting his ideas on how to take care of me from Web-MD"

"Bitch?" Flint said through stuffed cheeks, taking a minute to swallow before pointing his free hand at her "You hear this shit? Out here trying to treat my girl like a Queen, then she get heated when you don't cut her lettuce the right way or bring her her 'favorite' heated blanket. That's crazy."

She shook her head, giggling before finally bowing her head to look down at her swollen belly. She laid her hands upon her stretched out shirt, humming very softly in the back of her throat. 'Rowena', maybe...for her mother. Or 'Regina'. 'Rebecca'? Maybe something mysterious, or edgy, like 'Raven'.

"Red."

She looked up slightly, looking towards Flint. He wasn't looking at her, carrying his conversation onwards with the man outside of their window. Neither of them seemed to have been talking to her.

"Red."

She looked around in concern, peering behind her in the seat and then looking towards the rearview mirrors.

"You lose something...?" Flint asked, suddenly noticing her behavior as her breath became a little heavier through her nose.

"I just...I thought I heard-"

"Red."

She pulled the sun visor down, checking the mirror inside and seeing only her tired eyes looking back at her.

She felt a dangerous tug in the back of her heart, a sinking feeling that she had sworn she had felt once before...a feeling almost alien to her now. She was about ready to turn back towards Flint, a request to take her home bubbling its way up her throat before a voice called out, running footsteps approaching them. "Eyo hold up!"

A blue bandana clad man with sandy blonde hair panted heavily through the cloth, leaning over and outside the driver's side window as she breathed "Damn girl, can you wait up...?"

She looked towards him, a look of concern in her eyes as she asked "What are you...?"

"I just saw you walk out of the store, how the hell did you get over here so fast...?"

She shook her head, blinking as she felt her heart starting to thud rapidly. "I didn't...I was here the whole ti-"

"Also, when did you start wearing the mask again?"

Her eyes widened as fast as the light behind the man became blindingly bright. She didn't even realize they were in the air until she felt the burger from the bag in her lap hit her square in the face, ketchup and pickle pelting her eyes and cheeks.

The car rolled across the street, the shrill crashing of glass and the subsequent explosion that followed with it deafening her in a second. Fire roared across the metal of the bonnet as they impacted the ground with a crunching crash, falling upright. She felt her chest rising and falling heavily, hyperventilating as she whipped her arm out to the left, grasping desperately at air. "F-Flint...!?" she cried, looking over and feeling a crushing pressure in her ribs. Flint was gone. The seat lay empty, blood soaking and caking the entire expanse of where he had been once before, but no other trace of him there now.

She let out a choking sob, tears dripping down her face in the same cadence as the blood that was seeping from somewhere in her hair, matting the silver with crimson highlights. She looked past the empty seat, watching as the store let off a second explosion from within, the crackling flames roiling up from the interior as smoke towered high up into the sky. Bodies were flung about, this way and that, people she had known, people she had loved...strewn about like discarded dolls in a shaken up doll house, left un-picked up by their owner.

A gasp tore out of her as she felt a squeezing pressure around her neck, her seat belt being ripped from its holding as she was dragged up and out through the window, thrown onto the ground. She let out a pained cry as she shut her eyes tight from the impact, pain rushing up her side. She threw up a hand and yelled "W-wait! Please!! My baby!!!", putting a hand down to her belly as if to shield it from harm.

When her hands passed through empty air, however...her blood ran icy. She looked down in horror, her plump belly gone, her form clad only in a familiar red jacket and tight, black leggings. When she looked up, a figure stood above her, clad in an identical outfit. She beheld her smiling gaze, her piercing, dilated eyes, and her long, flowing silver hair with a look of absolute terror. 

It was herself.

Like looking into a mirror that could see into the past, or perhaps the future, or the present...perhaps all three. Perhaps, none at all. She watched as the shadow raised its right hand, a pistol clutched in its hand. It pressed the barrel against her forehead, the hammer clicking as it was pulled backwards.

"You always read the last chapter of a book first, remember?" A grin stretched far across her face as her finger slowly squeezed in on the trigger, her giggle an echo that shredded the flesh within her heart. "So, remember when I said that we-"

The muzzle flash was brighter than she'd imagined it would be.

 

She woke up with a heaving start, her chest rising and falling rapidly, beeping on both sides of her rapid and loud with alarm whistles. She looked this way and that, trying to move her body but to no avail. Her limbs refused to move, as did her head. All she could see was blinding lights piercing her vision. 

"HELP!" She screamed, shaking violently in place. "HELP, PLEASE!"

That's when she heard it.

The laugh.

-Her- laugh.

Her eyes flicked forward, staring straight up from her position. It took several moments before she could finally see past the lights overhead, when she felt her eyes widen rapidly and a gasp tremble through her lungs. She stared up at a mirrored ceiling, and what she saw could only be described as haunting. 

She was strapped down to a long table, tubes and IV's hooked into her at several points in her body. Her torso was wrapped heavily in bandages, her arms as well and one of her legs. The leather that belted her in place was tight, unyielding. But that's not what caused her the greatest distress.

It was the fact that her reflection was 'SMILING' at her. It leered at her, eyes wide and smile stretched near ear-to-ear. It raised an arm, the leather straps falling from her bandaged form as if they were nothing, and it started to get up. "FUCK! HELP!!!" She screamed, the monster in the mirrored ceiling gently slinking off of its table and landing in a crouched pose far above her, quickly crawling onto its hands and knees and pushing its forehead down to press against the mirrored surface. It raised a hand, curling it into a mighty fist before bringing it down onto the glass, a solid crack forming within the pane as the woman on the table could do nothing but shrilly scream in panic.

A punch. A crack. A punch. A crack. Eventually a shard of glass fell free from the ceiling, falling dangerously close to the right side of her immobile head and shattering on the ground beneath her. 

She could do nothing but simply stare, her eyes transfixed in pure, undiluted fear as the monster above reached its hand through, her lips parting and showing off jagged rows of teeth, her eyes opening to the point where they could've fallen from their sockets as an expression of utter delight was contorted into her skin.

 

"Sedative, please." A voice crackled through the intercom. A sudden 'Pop-hissssss...' echoing loudly in her right ear, and her body suddenly feeling like it was oozing slowly into a warm water bed. Her eyes drooped, blinking slowly as slowly she lead her vision back to the mirrored ceiling. She looked upon herself up there, strapped down and alone in the illuminated room, the straps binding her tight to the surface of the hospital bed she found herself to be in. There was a long, eerie silence before the intercom crackled back to life, and the sound of slow, paced clapping echoed through, the words she had always dreaded hearing coming through just behind it:

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Welcome back, R-2."

[Wolokai142]

M A Y | 15th | 2023

9 Months+ Since the Palmer Taylor Attack

 

"Vision?"
"Check."
"Auditory Senses?"
"Check."
"Physical Therapy?"
"Cleared."
"Reflexes?"
"Concerningly high."
"Blood pressure?"
"Fluctuates between statuses of normality, rest, stress, and other factors."
"What about her mood...how is the subject reacting?"
"Before or after the implementation of MKU3?"
"Both."
"Graphs indicate normalcy...it is a false positive."
"We cannot physically tell if the subject is angry or happy or sad...?"
"Negative, subject's behavior displays the cognitive irregularities most often seen in pathological lying, but due to the specimen's 'condition' we cannot make accurate determinations..."
"What does that mean doctor?"
"It means that MKU3, as it did so with MKU2, has severely aggravated the subject's condition to the point of a near total breakdown of their psyche'. The walls between them have deteriorated to a point of complete near-nothingness."
"You're saying that at any point we could be dealing with one...or the other? In a rapid fashion?"
"NO sir, at this point if I were to make a metaphorical guess....I would say there are multiple hands on the wheel. And the subject is spiraling rapidly outside of our control."
"What is your recommended course of action then?"
"Euthanize."
"The subject is that great of a threat to us?"
"No sir, not just us. Everyone. Everything. If the subject breaches containment...and with its record this is highly likely, then there will be little we can do to stop it. The subject's very existence, the knowledge it carries, what it has done and what is going on within that self-shredding brain are nothing but evidence that could lead to our exposure. We should have never induced her!"
"SUBJECT, doctor, remember your place we are on recor-"
"I told you not to listen to Miles but you wouldn't listen! I TOLD you the consequences of submitting her under the reformed program. Her psyche is unstable, her CONDITION renders her uncontrollable, extremely volatile and we are risking-"
"Turn off the tape, and get her out of my sight."
-RECORD - [Sounds of extreme scuffling and grunting mixed with furniture toppling]
"YOU NEED TO EUTHANIZE HER, YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT YOU'VE DONE!!! YOU'VE AGGRAVATED THAT THING IN HER HEAD TO THE POINT OF A TOTAL PSYCHOTIC BREAK! IT IS OUT OF CON-"
"GET HER OUT OF HERE AND HAVE HER SECURED IN DETAINMENT FOR DEBRIEFING!"
"GET YOUR HANDS OFF M- SHE IS GOING TO REACH PSYCHOSIS, AND SHE IS GOING TO KILL, EVERYONE! SAN ANDREAS IS AT AN EXTREME RISK, WE HAVE TO STOP! WE HAVE TO-"
[REDACTED - End of Log]

~~~

"R-2," The man said with a warm smile and a look of sympathetic gentleness. There were two cups of coffee resting near his clasped hands upon the metal surface of the table, light whisps of smoke still rising off of them that carried the faint scent of vanilla. To his left was an open manila folder, papers and pictures pulled and strewn out in front of her in some organized yet slightly haphazard fashion. Pictures of Los Zetas, Aztecas, Triads, Philipe Sanchez, Lewis Langley, SADOC, and Palmer Taylor...before, -and- after just to name a few.

Her eyes were tired, weary, blinking and unfocused. The sedative they had her on was enough to keep her cognitive...but enough to keep her down. Her gaze meandered to the corners of the room behind him, trailing over the hulking forms of the monsters who stood there. Clad in thick, black leather and bull masks that were faded, torn, patched and scarred. Legionäres...the top Enforcer's of The Blessings. They were the personal bodyguards of their highest caste, and dispatched to destroy their most ruthless and heinous of enemies, something not even normal Enforcer's could hope to do...

...enemies like her.

But they had not killed her, however. Instead, they had cared for her...treated her...nursed her back to health. They were saving her from the destruction she wrought against San Andreas and the Hive below, and now found herself here. Several months of physical therapy, tests, questions, all in a repeat cycle. 'What is your favorite color? Who were your parents? What is the color of the sky? Do you remember Missouri? Do you enjoy hurting other people? Who is Lewis Langley? Who is Leah Lennox? Who is Lex Roth? Who is Lola Devalera? Who is Solomon Cobb? Where is-'

On and on, the questions didn't stop. It didn't help that she was starting to see shit now too. Whatever it was that they had done to her...whatever they put in her system...it was making her see something. Something dark...something dangerous. Something-

"Your health screens are looking rather good, all things considered," The man said, nudging a cup of coffee in her direction, around a polaroid that depicted a rather large amount of bodies clad in green and tactically blue-clothed individuals standing around it, AK's in hand and staring at the camera. "Though of course this isn't your first time being shot at or shot directly. The LSPD has left quite a considerable amount of bullets in you, Mister Sanchez most notably. Bad luck maybe or...good luck considering that you still seem to be walking amongst the living."

He was an aged gentleman, she could tell. His hands were calloused and thick, as if he could crush concrete and rebar in his bare hands. His posture was one of practiced authority, his tone old like the feeling of walking through a 1970's downtown library where one would find the smell of old pages and the fragile crinkling of the brownish, stained pages within the books there.

The only thing misplaced about him was the lion mask he wore on his head, it took of an old, faded look. She couldn't see his eyes behind the glassy irises...but she knew that he could see her very clearly. See right through her even. His was an aura of death and danger...a feeling of unease and nervousness running through her blood despite the sedative pumping the brakes in her head. She knew who she was...but wanted to hear it anyway. Hear him confirm the status of his legend, the one responsible for everything that had happened in her life from childhood to now. She wanted to hear him say it, say he was the one that lead her and her family to its demise, that put their mother in her grave and their father amongst them in their ranks, soulless and entombed within a mask like theirs.

"Who are you...?" she asked, tired, oblivious to the coffee or just not even caring.

"A 95% prison break record as well...not that its surprising. SADOC isn't equipped to hold you like we are, regardless of their ever growing security measures. Combine this with your concerningly long combat record within the criminal underworld of Los Santos...it is quite the concern that you are exceedingly hard to kill." He looked up from the files, peering straight at her "That makes you an unsolvable problem. And we do not have those."

"Who are you...!" She asked again, tired, the sounds of light heeled steps shuffling behind her a moment.

"Can you see her?" He asked, tilting his head slightly, peering around her as if searching for something though besides the other two Legionäres that stood behind her, nothing appeared amiss. "I've been told you've been subconsciously reacting to something, noted stimuli as if there is someone in your containment chamber though we repeatedly see nothing...and I must wonder if the good doctor was accurate...that your condition 'is' growing aggravated. I'm rather curious to see i-"

She yanked her hands up though they didn't get far, the handcuffs and the chains that secured her to the table clanging tight and taught as she roared "WHO ARE YOU!?"

Nobody moved, nobody spoke. The lion-masked man stared at her for a long moment, quiet and stoic. It was a long moment before she could hear the heeled steps behind her, a soft mumbling...a shuddering breath...a giggle?

"You know who I am...Miss Moraine," The man said, re-clasping his hands and leaning back slightly "I am Your Benefactor. I am CEO, Lead Administrator, General, and Lead Scientist of The Blessings Initiative of America." He held a hand out towards her, palm up as if motioning to her as a display "And you...are Agent R-2. My greatest creation since R-0." He looked down back to her file, flipping it back to near one of the beginning pages and reading it off as she stared at him, her thoughts nothing but soggy cereal floating around in her head. "100% Combat Effectiveness and Lethality...extensive knowledge of explosives, infiltration expert, population destabilizer, assassination prowess...goes on and on." He shrugged slightly, leaning forward over the table as he spoke "This file contains everything there is to know about you...everything you've done, everything you've been. Birth certificates, high school diploma, every process, every test, every deployment. Everything we've done to you, for you, and everything you've done against us, and the entities of Vice City and San Andreas." He tapped a picture of her mugshot below with a finger "I release this to Lewis Langley...and the GOV will have the first documented case of the death penalty on its hands. You -will- be put to death for what you've done should this ever get out...and that would be the 'least' of our problems."

She watched him gather up the file, the pictures, the graphs, her face, scooping them up and placing them in the folder to be closed. He took the small cord dangling off of it, wrapping it around the button to keep it closed and non-chalantly tossing it into a trash can to his left upon the floor. "Ironic...I suppose," he said, reaching into his dark suit jacket and pulling a small box of matches from within, plucking and striking one that hissed with its small light, illuminating the various scars on his fingers "You are the single greatest threat to us, to our organization and everything we stand for..." he placed the wooden end of the match into the opening of the box, tossing the entirety of the package into the trash can with the folder...and watched as it grew alight with spreading orange and red "And yet...to try to kill you, or stop you...has been nothing but an impossible endeavor. One that's costed me time, resources, and too many lives." He scoffed a small laugh, shaking his masked head before turning it up to her to address her directly "Even now...I could put two in your face right now, have the entirety of your body harvested, organs spread out to every country in this world, burned, melted, and flittered away into the wind into nothingness....and yet, you would still find ways to haunt us, to destroy us."

She watched the trash can light up from within, watching as the written history of her life burned away. He went on, his voice drawing her gaze back to him with a flick of deadened eyes "Likewise are your endeavors against us pointless. Vice City, Palmer Taylor...Rhea while I commend the immensely heinous and creative effort, did you really think that Langley, or anyone was going to budge? Fear of the unknown, and the inability of the human mind to accept conditions other than the delusions of safety in which they must live to retain their sanity and stability is one of which our species will never endeavor to move away from. You told Mister Langley that a Nationalist-Terrorist organization was coming to invade his state. You blew up a power station and launched an assault against said state in an effort to persuade him into action against us. And yet...here we are." He held his hands out to the room, shaking his head "Rhea, your fight was a good one...a commendable one. But on the night of August 30th, 2021...I sent the Colonel after you to deliver you a message, to open your eyes to a lesson you needed to learn. You chose to ignore it, and escalate it far past the point of necessity." He sighed then, looking down for a moment as the trash can continued to burn from within.

"The point is, Rhea..." he said, looking back up to her "It was never about a 'coming' invasion. We were already there. We were there before 'you' even got there. We've been in San Andreas for longer than you know, and what was 'supposed' to happen did eventually happen but...after a very aggravating fashion." He stood up then, clasping his hands behind his back and taking a slow meander around the room, his gaze and focus never leaving her "You needed to realize and understand...that this crusade you've been on, this mission for revenge? It leads nowhere Rhea. Palmer Taylor did nothing, except hurt people. Langley has forgotten it, everyone has forgotten it. Exactly what the Colonel said was going to happen, happened. We are always going to be here, everywhere. Our existence is incomprehensible to human kind. Even if you were to shine a light on us, they couldn't understand what it is they were looking at...and that would fill them with fear, and the alternative of simply feigning ignorance and turning away from it would present itself and be taken."

He leaned over slightly, standing to her right as his voice dropped lower "No one -wants- us to be real Rhea. They don't want The Blessings to exist. We represent a very real danger to everyone's 9-5, white picket American dream...even if we are the ones supplying that to them."

"Liar..." a voice suddenly said behind her, the back of her head starting to hurt, a coming headache pulsing through her brain as the voice repeated in a more sing-song fashion "Llliiiiiiaaaaarrrr.....!"

Her Benefactor continued his pace behind her...oblivious to the voice. Couldn't he hear it? "The point of these past few years Rhea is that this vendetta you have against us...it needs to end. I could've had you erased immediately after Vice City, and against the screaming panic of my advisors I let you live because quite frankly...I'm a connoisseur of art, and I hate to see  good art burn." He stood behind his chair, leaning his hands down across the surface and towering over the surface as the light from the trash can started to fade. "I can't kill you Rhea...for a myriad of reasons. Nor can I let you continue to try and stall our efforts." He pressed an index finger against the table, poking it in time with words of emphasis, almost pleading in tone "I need, you, to under-stand. Your war against us is over. Your efforts are misplaced, and this continuing cycle of violence needs to stop."

He finally sat back down, shaking his head with a weary sigh through his masked lips "But my efforts are wasted in trying to convince you to stop...I'd have a better chance of trying to stand upon the railroad tracks and ask a runaway train to slow down. We're too far down this rabbit hole now...too far gone. Again, against the words and advise of my advisors, I submitted you into the MKU3 program...not to try and reign you in as an Agent back into our fold...but at another opportunity at a lesson. Maybe one you can teach yourself."

He looked up, staring at her as the sounds of shuffling and heels were still heard behind her head. Why couldn't he hear it? "Instead of trying to stop the train...I'm going to try and 'redirect' it down another track, a longer one...and give you enough time maybe to find it within yourself to slow or stop the train yourself. Because dear...the way we're going? I've seen the ending to this movie already...and I don't think you're going to like what happens at the end of the line."

"What do you want...?" Rhea asked, the giggling turning into cheerful whistling somewhere in her ears.

Her Benefactor was quiet, staring towards her from behind the visage of his rageful mask, the contorted, soundless roar of it echoing painfully in her ears "It's simple, Miss Moraine..."

"...I want to make you an offer."

~~~

The wheelchair squeaked loudly as she was pushed down the hallway, her head bouncing about as she was hunched over, glassy eyes staring at the floor. She was flanked by two armed guards, and a few people in white lab coats, the lights above silver and fluorescent in nature making her feel cold and empty inside. The odd thing she noticed though straight away...is that there were no Enforcers with her detail...something she found odder than the voice that followed behind her over the sound of clacking heels.

"What a load of bullshit," the voice said, the others around her not seeming to react in any sort of way as they made their way down the hall "What kind of offer is that? You call that a way out? Unreal dude..." 

"Can you please stop...?" she huffed in response, the person pushing her wheelchair stopping suddenly.

"...what the-? Her sedative is wear- why is it wearing off we gave her a heightened dosage."

"It's fine..." one of the guards said with a sigh, turning to face the detail "Containment is just another hundred meters up, doesn't matter."

"It does fucking matter you moron!" The man said in response "Call containment detail, there's protocol!"

"You know what I think...." The voice said, her tone light and daydreamy. Rhea could hear the heels clacking on the floor next to her as the detail argued amongst themselves "I think I got a better idea..."

"Bro, would you chill?" The guard said, his voice growing aggravated as the man looked at him almost pleadingly "She's fine, she's in coo coo land, let's just go, dump her off, and then we can all get back to doing the usual yeah?"

"The reason we need to sedate her is because she is IN coo coo land dipshit!" He cried out, turning to one of the other lab-coated persons and pointing a finger down the hall "Get to an intercom box and call it in, R-2's sedation is ineffective. Deploy the Enforcers, now!"

"Are you deadass?!" The guard shouted back "We coulda fucking been there by now, and been done with this already! What's the fucking prob-"

"DO YOU KNOW WHO THIS IS?!" the man shouted back, pointing down at her.

"And what idea...is that...?" Rhea groaned softly. She felt a sudden grip of her chin, her head getting yanked up suddenly. Her eyes widened considerably, staring into the visage of a pristine looking fox mask. Seers of red color enflamed her vision as a voice purred behind that smiling vulpine face as she simply whispered to her "It's such a lovely day outside...don't you think we oughta go enjoy it?"

The last thing the guard in front of her saw was Rhea's mouth partially falling open, and her eyes dilating rapidly.

~~~

"...Damage report?"
"All KIA. Two guards and three lab technician personnel in the containment hall, five more dead in central processing, and a large number of injured within the garage areas. The reports are still coming in."
"And the subject?"
"Gone. We have done a search of all CCTV and are still going through the general recovery protocols, but it is safe to say that the subject is no longer within the facility."
"Do we know where the subjects is heading?"
"There is a 93% chance of probability that the subject is returning to San Andreas. Should we notify the local police and Government agencies?"
"No, at the request of Our Benefactor the subject is to be unhindered."
"....Sir?"
"The order has not been misdelivered. Agent R-2 is to be left alone. No attempts at returning the lost asset to containment will be authorized, nor any of the Enforcement to be dispatched after her. All other San Andreas operations are to continue regardless of R-2's interferences, or lack thereof."
"...Forgive me if I speak out of place sir...but did he say why? R-2 presents a significant danger to our protocols, efforts, and the civilian population itself...what are-"
"The order has not been misdelivered....we will maintain. Our Benefactor has stated it simply enough:

'The train has left the station'."

[Wolokai142]

 

[Wolokai142]

JULY | 23rd | 2023

11 Months+ Since the Palmer Taylor Attack

 

Rhea panted, stumbling through the streets and clutching her head tightly. Her steps were beleaguered and her veins icy and burning with poisoned blood as she slowly made her way uptown somewhere in the Alta Area. She didn't know where she was going, but knew all too well at the same time. It took her two months to make her way back from wherever it was The Blessings were housing her. Two months of weary moving, hitchhiking, cross-country traversal. She hadn't even thought to mark where it was she had come from, knowing that The Blessings would be gone by the time she could trace her steps back anyway. Not like it mattered...this place, this nightmare-scape she had somehow once again found herself stumbling about in, lost and unsure of how to get where it was she wanted to go. Ironic for having lived there for so long but...in Hell, when every cragged ridge and foul street looked the same...getting lost in both body and spirit seemed to be par for the course.

Hell had no destinations to go to, no places to venture towards or flee from. It was the same no matter where you went...the same noise, the same story. Death. Blood. Death. A circle, a tragedy of concrete sin molded by .45 ACP and thunderstorms of brass and oily, greasy red. 

The denizens here, imps and demons clad in human skin wandering about oblivious to the inferno that roared around them. From the cop to the criminal to the civilian, all were oblivious, all were ignorant. All complicit, all zombies. Why can't they see...? Why can't they see!? See underneath the camouflage of beautiful sunsets and club scenes, between the bars of prison cells and the mesh of the backseats of police cars? At the altar of marriage and up to the sky before the black tarp of a bodybag is zipped up over what was shoveled off the sidewalk by the sheriff's deputy.

None of them could see...what SHE could see...

A curse...?

No.

A Blessing.

She stumbled onwards through a hell not of her own making, through the crowded sidewalks. Laughter, smiles, color-bangers and sleight of hands. A throbbing, diseased heart she had a hand in poisoning and only bothering to help curing until after it was far too late. 

Palmer Taylor was too slow...too methodical. She'd never be caught for it and never be held accountable for her crime, but the damage it did do served the purpose she had intended...but just a little too late.

Perhaps Her Benefactor was right....perhaps this was inevitable. Was she really just raging against an unfathomably deep darkness? Was there really nothing that could be done except sit by and watch it happen? If this was the lesson he had intended for her...the lesson of inevitability and inaction, she had gone far beyond the point of learning it a million times over.

So what was the true point then? Why fight...why keep going...? The amount of times she continued to get up, despite the futility of it all, despite all she had suffered regardless of her promises...to what end would the effort be for? To what length would her strength hold? Just...why?

 

"Principle." She said from behind her, loud and yet far at the same time. It was like a deafening echo in her brain she could hear from miles off. She jumped, whirling about to face the sound of approaching heeled boots, the familiar seer of red linen and the orange and grey fur of a familiar, foxy visage. The face of a demon worse than all others in this brick and stone maze of a hellscape she was trapped in. "Principle," Red growled, pacing up slowly around to the side of Rhea, the visage staring forward towards their path before rounding on her heel, turning her mask towards the pained, ashen-haired woman "It's the reason. It's the 'why'. You can say or think whatever it is you want about this situation. 'I promised Rowena', 'I promised Caroline', 'I promised myself'...doesn't matter really. What matters is the principle of it all."

Rhea tracked her movement carefully as Red took a step or two to the side, turning to lean onto a nearby railing and stuffing her hands in her pockets to let out an irritated sigh through her mask. "We get up not because it's the 'right' thing to do...it's the 'only' thing to do. Principle isn't about a moral compass or good or evil or right or wrong...it's cause and effect. Action and reaction. What is done has consequences...it's nature." Rhea could feel Red smirking under her mask, that hateful, sneering grin stretching wide and far beyond what should have been capable "Ironic...the thin line between us and them. Principle it is, that drives them to hunt, to eat, to live. The principle of life, of purpose that grants them reason...for no reason at all." She turned her mask to face her as Rhea shuffled her way past, following her steps as she went "It's in our nature, that's all."

"Do you ever get tired..." Rhea huffed, the headache feeling as if it was going to split her head in two, stopping to compose herself before moving forward along, turning onto a much quieter, nearly empty street. Her reflection mirrored to her right as she slowly walked along the base of a towering building smothered in reflective windows. "Do you ever get tired," Rhea softly huffed again, stopping to turn her face towards her disguised one as her lips curled into a snarl "of never shutting the fuck up?"

Red stared at her for a long moment, her expression unreadable for several tense moments before she burst out into a fit of giggles. Rhea let out a small grunt of disgust before turning to continue her mindless trek, unsure of where it really was she was trying to get to. Home obviously...a place to rest, recuperate, plan her next move. But again to what end...? Would she simply sit by and let the invasive forces who had claimed her own retain their occupation...? Would she blow up another piece of infrastructure to try to get Lewis to act...? What could she do...why would she even do it?

"I told you..." Red growled, the steps of her heels growing rapid and quickened as Rhea started to turn towards the sound "It's PRINCIPLE." Rhea felt the ground come away, her legs swept as her back hit the pavement with a heavy thud. The wind as knocked out of her, an airless gasp of widened-eye pain echoing in silence into the air as her head exploded with pain. The fox-mask clad demoness climbed upon her in a full mount, grasping her by the shoulders as she hissed down to her other half "Whether you WANT it to or not...nature WILL correct itself. The principle of everything and its reason for being cannot be changed...consequences can not be ignored. No matter how many times you want desperately to stop, or how hopeless or directionless you feel, you CANNOT escape your own nature, your own reason. You WILL persist, you have no other alternative or choice. You WILL persist." She tilted her head, Rhea still trying to catch her breath as the woman below searched desperately with her eyes at some unseen answer, panic and fear gripping her as Red paused for a moment to slowly slide her hands across the skin of her shoulders, gracing the contours of her collarbone before finally sliding around her neck.

"Or do you need more proof...?"

The hands tightened suddenly, grasping around Rhea's neck and drawing a fraction of a choking gasp out of the woman's lungs. Red started to choke her, violently, purposefully, a murderous intent in the glassy eyes of her mask. Rhea kicked her legs out wildly from underneath, trying to squirm herself free but to no avail. The edges of her vision started to turn a violent crimson, streaks of blood-colored lightning flashing across her vision as her mouth was contorted open in a soundless scream, a gurgling wheeze and a choking froth all that emerged from her throat. She tilted her head up slowly as Red taunted from above her, voice low and murderous. "If there's some reason to you...some purpose or principle to your existence...then something should stop me...no?" She tilted her head, lifting Rhea up slightly by the neck to slam her back down, the back of her head thudding against the concrete. Rhea could feel liquid burning at the back of her skull, the red in her vision starting to turn an inky black. "Or perhaps your purpose IS to die...? Would that be a better alternative for you?" 

As Rhea looked upward, her eyes passed over the mirrored window...and beheld a sight that made her blood freeze.

She was choking herself.

Her own hands were clasped upon her throat, no other was mounted upon her. She thought about Red's words, the nature of her own existence. She made a promise, several promises sure...but that wasn't her purpose for living, for existing. She martyred herself so young...so early at the very start of her life for a singular reason. She knew deep down her mother was right...the path she would walk she would walk to the betterment of others...and to the detriment of herself.

There was no other who could. As great or as little of a difference she would make...her existence was important. She herself was a reminder to all who knew of her the nature of balance. No great evil could exist...without an equal good. Her existence was mandated to continue so long as her enemies did, and she would suffer no obstacles that presented itself to that end.

Rhea found a strength in her arm, shoving her hand behind her towards the small of her back. Her fingers grasped the firm ridge of the grip of her pistol, drawing it free in a flash and pressing the barrel up against Red's forehead. A cackle tore free from the masked woman's lungs as Rhea semi-weakly pulled the hammer back on her pistol. 

The muzzle of the fox mask drew close to her nose as she hissed in delight down to her equal "There you are....!" as a sudden ringing in Rhea's ears drew her eyes shut. The pain in her head and brain swelled to the point where she let out a pained yell until it suddenly fell quiet. The pain melted away, her breath returning to her as she gasped loudly and coughed hoarsely. She sat up slowly, retching as she struggled to get her coughing breath under control.

She turned in her sat up position, looking towards her disheveled self in the mirrored window. Eyes bloodshot, hair a tattered mess, blood dripping from somewhere in the silver locks of her mane. Her hand finally dropped from her throat...as did the gun barrel she had apparently pressed against her head before shutting her eyes and bowing her head to rest for a moment.

Funny thing...purpose, principle. A self-governing reason for existence. Everything with some part to play in an a psychotic show of nature. Whether it was part of God's plan or something more sinister, Rhea would never understand. What she -did- understand was that Red was more or less right...again, and she hated it.

There was really no escape from this, no matter how badly she wanted out. So long as The Blessings existed and remained in Los Santos, she would have to remain as well. Her purpose dictated by powers beyond her control, her understanding. She felt powerless against it, a piece on a chessboard moved by monsters unseen. Could this really be her reason for living? For being so tough to kill...? Her purpose was to fight Blessings, sure...but to what end? Was she not meant to 'end' the struggle, and simply fight within it? 

Something within her churned at the idea, a feeling of emptiness and hunger gnawing at the lining of her soul. As she got up, holstering her weapon and drawing her jacket down over it to hide it she thought 'no', this couldn't be it. Something else was bound to her...some other destiny or fate. All that she had survived and all that she had endured had a reason for happening. Some direction, some purpose...if only she knew wh-

 

The headlights blinded her, forcing her to take a step or two back rapidly. She threw up her hands in defense, unsure of what was happening until the lights veered away from her, a tire screech echoing in her ears before all fell silent save the purr of a large, armored-looking black cruiser type vehicle.

She blinked the spots out of her eyes, confused and dazed before watching the rear door open, a voice speaking out to her.

A voice she recognized.

One she wasn't sure was still 'friend' or 'foe'. It was mixed feelings all around.

"Hello Miss Moraine! Can you get in please, I'd like to talk to you about something!"

She stared him down for a long moment, her lips tightening before she quietly inched forward, getting into the back of the vehicle. As she shut the door behind her, she felt a tinge of something in the back of her mind. Right place, right time...? Or something more....something worse...

"10-4, returning to City Hall," the front passenger spoke into their radio, drawing Rhea to let out a weary sigh from her nostrils, her neck and throat achy and red with pain.

Purpose and principle indeed.

Edited October 25, 2024 by Wolokai142

[Wolokai142]

JULY | 23rd | 2023

The Same Night

 

"So, Miss Moraine!" he began, recrossing his legs to the other side. "We've not seen or heard from one another in nearly a year! How have you been? Doing alright for yourself?"

Rhea blinked, still massaging her throat and looking towards him as if he had grown a second head. "Are you fucking kidding me?" She hissed softly, drawing a confused glance out of the man beside her and a slow turn of the head by one of the agents in the passenger seats ahead. "I begged you, for a year, to hear me out about The Blessings. I pleaded, I cried, and my thanks was having to watch your power plant get blown sky high and to get chained to a desk for 36 hours to be interrogated by every detective and investigator on the payrolls." She turned towards him a bit more, her fists clenching "After which when I was finally released, given no amenities or compensation, I was shot near to death by Blessing Agents and have spent the last year or so in a critical state. And in that time, who knows how much of a catastrophe the Blessings have been brewing under your fucking nose without me here to keep an eye out for it."

He tightened his lips, that sheepish 'not my fault/take no responsibility' expression starting to form on his face. She hated that fucking look. "Well....I mean, you have to understand you 'were' the only one with any decent knowledge of what was happening. You were the only prime suspect in this whole-"

"I pissed myself." Rhea growled.

"...Yes, well-"

"Four times."

"Look I'm sorry about all that," he said, pinching the bridge of his nose "But, from where I'm sitting Miss Moraine we didn't have much of a cho- wait, you were shot?"

"Twice," Rhea sighed. She was prepared as always with her cover story if he pressed. She wouldn't mention the hive or the Colonel...mostly that this chapter of the war had concluded, the hive was surely finished off and destroyed by whatever Blessing crew was sent to clean up her attack. She wouldn't mention anything about the year really...her recovery, her exposure to MKU-III, her benefactor's offer. For all she knew, coming up on a full year since she destroyed Palmer Taylor there was no telling the extent of the Blessings' infestation now. Anyone could be one of them...even his agents, even him.

She'd have to play her cards close to her chest.

"Well...you're alive now, so that's good!" he offered, flashing that irritating optimism she despised "And good thing for it, I was honestly really concerned when we couldn't get ahold of you. Been trying for a good few months now."

To this, Rhea squinted her eyes in a suspicious gaze, turning her head slightly away while zeroing in on him with a glare. "...You've been looking for me...why?" Did he find out...? No, couldn't have. Unless Lola or her conspirators opened their mouths but even then...there was no evidence, no proof. She left no trails for anyone to follow and anything word of mouth was purely hearsay. 

Though...not that would've stopped anyone. The law was a tricky, fickle thing. Worked when you needed it to...ignored when it was convenient. 

"Well...it's a somewhat complicated thing," he began, uncrossing his legs to sit up "And entirely awkward...given who you are and the uh...'relationship' between you and us." Rhea kept her skeptical gaze while he ruffled his own hair for a few short strokes, sighing "I'll get straight to the point...we need your help. Your info and warning about Palmer Taylor, as wildly skeptical as we were about the whole ordeal...turned out to be true." Rhea tilted her head, looking towards the front of the car. If they were going to City Hall...they had wildly either circled or were going 'away' from it. "Since then, though we're not taking what you'd like to call a 'paranoid' approach, we do try to get ahead of several developments that look like they could lead to more serious problems..."

Rhea scoffed softly, turning her gaze back to him "Tried to tell you," she breathed "Living with a certain amount of caution is healthy."

He waved her comment away with a "Yes yes...told you so's and all that." He leaned back, tapping his hands on his knees with a light sigh before looking towards her "I won't apologize for mistakes of the past...because even you know us believing in a bunch of mask wearing clowns blowing up Government buildings sounded hilariously tabloid-ish...and I'm sorry it took a precedent to be set for us to get here but...we're here now." He leaned towards her suddenly, drawing his face closer to hers and lowering his voice "Because of what you knew...and given your background, I'm thinking there's some skill and ability within you that we could use to help with situations going on now."

Rhea's brow raised significantly, a look of surprise on her face. HELP them...?! He was giving her an opening?? Her, the prime suspect? She traced his visage for any sign of deceit but the more she stared the more she slowly realized...he was being serious. All of a sudden...their avoidance of their destination was becoming all too sensible. 

This conversation could never have happened.

"You want me...to help you," Rhea said in a low voice "...why? How?"

He looked towards the front of the car before looking back, lowering his voice even more "Because despite what everyone thinks of you, I think deep down you want to help our city. You wanted to help before and we laughed at you, I'm looking to make amends for that." 

And then he laid it out, his offer. What he needed, what she'd provide, what it would take. The more he talked the more surprised she felt...and the more paranoid. 

A trap. That's what this sounded like. A trap for her.  Lure her in, make her a scapegoat, destroy her in the process. It was all too convenient but...oddly straight forward. Sure all the signs were there but she had never taken him for the kind of sort to pull tactics like this...tactics like hers. He had the drive, the capacity sure but...the city hadn't corrupted him morally. If there was anything she could believe it was that he did have the best intentions for his city, for his people. 

The fact that he was willing to come to her about this meant that maybe he was desperate...or that he was finally willing to bet on the right horse. She figured maybe this was one of those 'keep your friends close, and your enemies closer' type deal...but if he was truly willing to hear her out, maybe that meant he'd be willing to listen to her about The Blessings as well. Perhaps...a bargain -could- be made...

After he finished detailing the offer, Rhea took very several, long moments to think it through. 

The Benefactor had already given her an offer...now the other side of the law was giving her one as well. Two major powers...each wanting her. For better or worse her potential had been realized, and now walking unseen was no longer an option. Instead of putting a spotlight on The Blessings...all lights would be on -her- now.

It was a dangerous game, standing in the very middle of a clean and set chess board, another game ready to play.

The stakes were much higher now...a vicious consequence waiting for her at the end depending on what moves she made and what side she made moves for. Either way was a death sentence.....................

................unless....

 

Her eyes widened, looking up. It clicked, just like that. A sudden realization, a thought. 

There was a way through.

A way to win.

It would be a long game, a careful...nasty game, but victory for her would be possible. She'd have to play slow, carefully, reveal herself and cloak herself all at the same time. The depths she'd have to go to and the connections and deals she'd make...the risks and the rewards.

Death was almost a certainty.

But then again...it always was.

It was at this moment that Rhea Moraine understood at full length her purpose and principle of the past 15 years of war. It was here, at this moment, that this junction...that all her preparations, training, and efforts would come to culmination.

The board was set, the players were ready, pieces ready to go.

It was time, at long last, to begin.

She looked up towards him, mustering the entirety of her resolve, the commitment of her full purpose to the fateful two words that would be the beginning of the beginning for many...and the beginning of the end for many more.

 

 

"I accept."

 

And with that, The Cold War of The Blessings had begun.