VIII-Vacant Monuments, Fallen Ruins [Maurelle]

[Ryan D'Alteau]

Drifting beyond all time, out of a churning sky!
Drawn to the beckoning light of the dark, eternal night!
Trapped in a hellish dream, spinning past worlds unseen!
And frightfully vanishing into the dark, eternal night!

______________________________Dream Theater - "The Dark Eternal Night"

The last time Texas-based crime boss Maurelle Lacroix had called for him had been the previous year. Having failed to do his job as per the woman's instructions - despite succeeding in the end - she had issued him with a demotion; one which amounted to him spending a day working at one of her many shell corporations as an office drone. Normally, the punishment wouldn't have been much of a big deal; Ryan would have simply got his head down and forced himself to go along with it. With his yearly salary amounting to more than Adele made in her legitimate working enterprise, sticking at the job in hand was worth the embarrassment.

But one of the main requirements of working for Maurelle was that he do so as someone other than Ryan Alcroft. Having filled out his resumé with the information of Calla McKnight - a female alter-ego he had invented in order to stay under the radar of organisations such as the Company and the RSF - as a joke, he hadn't expected Maurelle to show up at his doorstep for a face-to-face interview. With the advertisement the woman had placed being eerily upfront about the salary on offer, the cynical side of the young Brit was quick to take the job offer as a ruse.

But it hadn't been a ruse. The very same evening, Ryan - now dressed in an evening dress and masquerading as novice criminal kingpin Julieanne Downey - had toppled the largest drug cartel alliance operating out of the south. Jésus Morales had been born to Italian-American and Mexican parents and, somewhat stereotypically, had become a wealthy playboy with a cunning eye for illegal business deals. Maurelle had seen him as a threat and had organised a sort of "networking dinner" for over a hundred fellow criminals with the intent to kill him and anyone else who tried to interfere.

The two of them had succeeded, though not without difficulty. Unbeknownst to either of them, Morales' lover - a Korean woman by the name of Sun Mi-ja - was a powerful telepath and, after discovering Ryan's true identity, had ensnared him under her spell and, were it not for Maurelle's intervention, would have likely killed him. For her transgression, Maurelle had, rather than kill her herself or have Ryan do it, sent the telepath to someone who would have been delighted to do so for free. Adele.

It was by doing this that Ryan's fiancée became aware of her lover's new job and, rather understandably, had been a little upset. With Ryan responsible for assassinating the previous President, of all things, the last thing she wanted was for him to further compound his already extensive criminal record by falling in with organised crime. Nevertheless, Ryan had stayed at his post, only being involved in Maurelle's dirty work when she had need of him: her puppeteer-on-retainer.

The text message had been short and to the point, incriminating no-one while simultaneously telling Ryan everything he needed to know. Following the address of another office building on the mainland outskirts of Brownsville were two simple words: Bring Calla. Realising what was required of him, Ryan's first port of call was his bedroom. With Adele knowing about how he liked to indulge in his feminine side from time to time, he no longer felt as though he needed to hide what he was doing.

Although she was in a different room, Adele was actually at home during his transformation. After taking a shower and shaving (almost) his entire body, Ryan began the multi-phased process that would allow him to become Calla. First, he put on a set of genital prosthetics. Instead of flattening out his crotch with some specialised underwear, a few of his friends - whom he had met through Sophie Nystrom, the woman who had opened his eyes to the new facet of his personality - had pooled their money and bought him a better looking alternative for his birthday. It hadn't surprised him that the instructions had all been in Japanese.

With the heavily modified and padded set of what was effectively thin latex underwear in place, he next set about filling out his chest. Costing nearly two hundred dollars and usually marketed to mastectomy patients, the silicone breast forms did pretty much as their name suggested and, with a layer of adhesive on the back, the mounds of rubbery fake flesh were stuck to Ryan's chest until he wanted to take them off. Once his body was prepared, all that remained was to take care of the rest of him.

After picking out a set of pink-and-white, polka dotted underwear (because why the hell not?), a dark blue dress and matching shoes, Ryan got himself dressed before hiding his short, dirty blond hair beneath a wig of layered, wavy brown hair.

"I'm goin' out!", he called as he made his way for the front door. It was likely the last time he would be speaking in his normal voice for a good few hours, but he wanted to inform Adele that he was disappearing. "See you tonight!" As soon as he was outside, he headed down to the parking bay beneath the condo, clambered into his car and roared off into the distance.

The trip from the condo to the address Maurelle had given him was over with in forty-five minutes, during which time there had been numerous red lights and numerous other motorists giving him looks. With six women his age all knowing about this side of his life - in fact, they knew little else, having only really seen him outdoors as Calla - the reactions of the public had been something to which he had quickly been desensitised. They could think what they liked and he wouldn't care and, if they tried to get their point across in a more... stereotypical fashion, then they would realise the hard way that he was a well-trained former Company agent who could pummel all but the most highly-trained military men (or women, if it came down to it) into the floor without much issue. There were even some specials who had thought twice about taking him on.

After parking his car at the side of the building; rather a conspicuous thing to do, considering it was a Pagani Zonda F Roadster, he made his way into the lobby. He may not have been a Hollywood star, but the practice he had endured under the eyes of Sophie, Maurelle and the other six women had allowed him to act rather convincingly. Although he was over six feet tall, his steps possessed a distinct feminine sway to them. Sometimes, he felt he was almost too good at that particular part, but he continued regardless. "Hey." Instead of his usual accent - a masculine tone located somewhere between the west end of London and downtown Dublin - Ryan's voice whenever he became Calla was in another place entirely. People had often tried to figure out the source of the woman's accent, theorising that she was a British girl who had moved to the States and hadn't quite decided on the accent she wanted.

"I'm Calla McKnight, here to see Maurelle Lacroix?" Being one of the few appointments of the day, it wasn't long before the receptionist - who, rather strangely, was wearing a familiar-looking sleeveless bodysuit made from blue latex underneath the jacket of her business suit - gave the woman directions. "Her office is on the sixteenth floor, ma'am."

"Thanks." Not wanting to waste any more of her time, Ryan quickly set off on his way. The route to the office was straightforward; up the elevator, along about fifty metres of corridors and stopping when he saw the nameplate bolted to the door. The office, however, wasn't what he'd been expecting. Instead of a normal office, it looked more like a penthouse suite. Whatever the purpose of this building was, it was obvious that Maurelle had claimed the CEO's office for herself.

"Hey, Miss Lacroix." There was no point in maintaining the charade now that he was alone with the woman who had asked him here. Reverting to his normal voice, Ryan strode into the office and sat himself down at her desk. "'S been a while, huh?"

[Helena Rahal]

Falling skies and devil eyes, treats and deeds come alight

Today was going to be an awfully dull day in the life of Maurelle Lacroix... and that simply would not do. Sure it might have been that day in the month when the crime boss took stock of all her organization, but dammit, she was the largest criminal organization west of the Mississippi. She simply did not have dull and boring days unless that was her explicit desire! Today she was not feeling that desire at all.

So who better to entertain her than none other than Calla McKnight, the puppeteer bodyguard?! Except in all reality, Calla did not exist at all, despite what some official looking papers and a look into the Social Security database would tell you. No, she was not a real person at all, as sad as that was a truth to have, but merely an alter ego for none other than the infamous Ryan Alcroft. That didn't bother Maurelle none, not with having been in contact with Inaki Soler, or should she call them Isabell? It was so hard to keep track with names now, all the better for nicknames like the Puppeteer Bodyguard.

All it took was a simple text message and a demanding sounding set of instructions and shortly here entertainment for the day would arrive. Ah the power that came with being the head of her organization... yet she was also her because of that responsibility as well. Paperwork, performance reviews, payroll, and all that fun logistical crap that no one talks about when they are taking over the world over the criminal underworld. Ah but there was an escape for it... just waiting to deliver herself to Maurelle.

And no sooner was she starting to get bored with the paperwork did Calla arrive in her office. Maurelle hoped that she got a kick out of a not so subtle reminder of where Calla still ranked in the hierarchy of her organization, despite whatever whims Calla's girlfriend might have or not have. Maurelle still was going to run her organization as she saw fit and Calla would do whatever it was that was asked of her, as Maurelle expected of all her employees.

"Ah Calla, nice timing dear. I expected you a bit later, what with your transformation time. All the same, I am glad you have arrived when you did, I was in need of your ... uh... special talents." Maurelle couldn't help but grin as she addressed her employee. Ah this was just the sort of break she needed from the monotony of what her tasks for the day were.

Picking up the phone and hitting the combination to get the secretary for the day, she spoke in a hushed tone. "Please send in our special guest, her services are now needed." Was all Maurelle said before hanging up the phone once more and then looking at Calla. What fun she was going to have this day...

"So, how are things Calla? The New Year treating you well, had a good Christmas with the fiance maybe?" Oh it might have been a time wasting ploy, but she was curious what her employee had been up to since last they met. After all, she still wanted to know if that crazy bitch of a fiance that Calla had was wanting her dead or maybe that attitude had simmered.

[Ryan D'Alteau]

The love for what you hide, the bitterness inside is growing like the newborn.
When you've seen too much too young, soulless is everywhere.
______________________________Muse - "New Born"

"Ah, Calla. Nice timing, dear." Even when there was nobody else in the room, Maurelle was still intent on keeping up appearances. The only time she had ever called him Ryan had been when they had first met. Despite everything, Adele was still a little pissed off that she had been allowed into the condo without her consultation but, as with many things the two of them had done, it was now firmly in the past, where neither of them could do anything about it. "I expected you a bit later, what with your... transformation time."

Ryan, however, was still abundantly aware of the divide between his real self and the identity he had imagined simply to do a job. If there was no need for him to put on the act, then he wouldn't. It was as simple as that. "I've been gettin' better at it," he remarked. With every time he donned his array of obfuscating clothes and accessories, he was able to do it quicker. He knew precisely where everything went, how it was meant to get there and in which order. He wasn't going for speed records by any means, but there may have come a time where he would have to switch between Ryan and Calla during one of Maurelle's assignments.

In all honesty, he was a little scared at how easily he could transform his outward appearance from one gender to the other. With practice, there weren't many people in the outside world that looked at Calla twice and, after Sophie's subtle remodelling job on his throat, he was even able to summon a voice to match. "All the same, I'm glad you have arrived when you did. I have need of your... 'special talents'."

"Oh, y'do now, do you?" Narrowing his eyes slightly, he fixed his attention on Maurelle with a slightly cynical stare. He had learned to be suspicious about everything; never to take things at face value. His time with Adele had taught him that and the fact that his new boss was the leader of an organised crime ring served to send that need home with more ferocity. At any moment, she could stab him in the back and, if he didn't want to end up dead, he had to be ready for it. Until then, however, he would find a way to enjoy himself. "I never did ask: How're Morales' guys handlin' the change? 'S that why I'm here?"

He didn't get a response. Not yet, at least. Instead, Maurelle turned her attention to the intercom sitting on her desk. Pressing a button, she issued a short command to her secretary. "Please send in our special guest. Her services are now needed." There was someone else here besides him? Just how many special guests was she going to bring out of the woodwork? Immediately, Ryan's ears were trained on his surroundings, anticipating the sound of the door behind him.

As soon as he heard it, he would be ready to shift his mannerisms entirely. Nobody, except for Maurelle and Adele, was permitted to know that he was here. As far as anyone else was aware, Calla was just one of Maurelle's accountants; one who just happened to be rather young and attractive. Skill with numbers was a trait housed in many bodies. "So, how are things, Calla? The New Year treating you well? Had a good Christmas with the fiancée, maybe?"

"Both, really." Whoever was set to make their entrance was certainly taking their sweet time about it. "We flew all over th'place, visitin' family for Christmas. Lost track of 'ow much turkey th'two of us had." He wasn't about to tell Maurelle where he and Adele had flown. That would have just been stupid. Instead, he carried on, trying to stop her from asking. "New Year's..? Well, we actually didn't celebrate it together. Adele ended up getting invited t'some party at work while I, uh..." His New Year's celebrations had been a little strange. With the nearest member of his family being over a thousand miles away and his fiancée all but mandated to attend a party with her colleagues, he had elected to join Leah Marchand and her friends on a night out. As Calla.

"Well, Calla had a lot of fun." With six women close by at all times - one of them getting close to matching him for height - the people in the various clubs and bars were even less inclined to try and see beyond what his disguise had created. They had just seen seven women enjoying themselves and, in an odd way, that was what had happened. For all intents and purposes, Ryan had been left at home that night. "Though I guess it was a test too; t'see if I could fool people."

It wasn't long after that that the door to Maurelle's office opened behind him. Almost instantly, Ryan changed. Sitting straighter in the chair, he adopted a more professional air and, after elevating his voice, he was Calla again. "Anyway, Miss Lacroix, those are all the financial reviews for this quarter..." He wasn't sure if whoever was behind him was in on the secret. It was best to proceed as if they weren't for now. "Is there anything else you'd like me to go over while I'm here?"

[Helena Rahal]

What is blood thrown through the veins as if a course was deterred?

"I've been gettin' better at it," Ah, now there was a surprise that intrigued Maurelle just a tad truth be told. Was he getting better and quicker at transforming from Ryan to Calla or was he getting better at being Calla? Not that it actually mattered to her and if anyone in her organization had a problem with it, they knew better than to say anything. It took all sorts to make this machine she had created to work, Special and civilians, people of all different ethnicity, orientations, and what have you. If you had a skill, talent, or some means of being an asset, Maurelle simply didn't care about the personal life so long as it didn't interfere with performing the job. All the same, her curiosity wondered just how her employee was "getting better at it".

"Oh, y'do now, do you?" Maurelle looked up as Calla spoke, even if she was using her masculine voice and could see the look of suspicion. Sure enough there was a bit of a cynical nature to the tone and the look of someone who was less than amused by it all. Sooner or later Calla would realise that she had sold her soul to the devil by becoming Maurelle's employee, she had signed herself up to be anything and do anything Maurelle so desired. "I never did ask: How're Morales' guys handlin' the change? 'S that why I'm here?"

"You don't need to worry about that or what your reasons for being here are dear. While you're free to think whatever you will, remember that you are in the end subject to whatever I desire. I am the top of the food chain." Her voice was not raised but her eyes were focused squarely on her employee with her hands folded together in front of her on the desk. It was an authoritative standing that would remind Calla just who was in charge and how address her betters. "If you are really curious though, there are a few malcontents truthfully. Though it is nothing a wrong food preparation or drug exchange gone horribly wrong can not handle. Shame about allergies and the shady characters you find in the underground, wouldn't you agree?'

That was enough of that though and Maurelle had much more entertaining avenues to pursue than such heavy measures. The less they had to deal with the messy side of her organization this day it was all the better. Maurelle was happy to hear that Calla had had a bit of a good new years and had gone out as herself, a bit of a test of passing it seemed. Why she needed a test was beyond Maurelle, she already looked distinctively feminine and had a nice voice to go along with it, even if she was on the tall side. Yet models were often six feet or a bit taller, she could easily pass as a former model with the right make up.

It tickled Maurelle though as her special guest was arriving at how Calla adjusted her posture and voice. It was a very handy trick and one that Maurelle would either have to find ways to exploit or just explicitly have Calla do on a number of occasions. For now though, her special guest entered, wearing a black and red tank top and black boy shorts, with her own portable stripper pole.

"Tisha! So glad you could make it and looking as great as ever." Maurelle said as she picked herself up from her chair and rounded the desk, giving her guest a hug before beginning introductions. "Calla this is TIsha, a personal friend of mine who is here on a favor she owes me. Be sure to treat her well alright? Adhere to her every command as if they were mine! Tish, this is Calla, your student."

[Ryan D'Alteau]

Well, I've got a secret I cannot say!
Blame all the movement to give it away.
You've got something that I understand.
Holding it tightly; call on command!
Leap of faith! Do you doubt? Cut you in? I'll just cut you out.

______________________________Queens Of The Stone Age - "The Lost Art Of Keeping A Secret"

It seemed that, even without him, Maurelle was a more than capable figure of authority. Although his ability - and his talents for obfuscating his true identity - were definitely sought after, the rest of the people in her employ, whether specials or not, were well suited to their chosen occupation. Like Adele, the woman on the other end of the desk seemed to have no problems with killing people who either got in her way or displeased her. As well as setting them up to be riddled with bullets, she also made it clear that even things as innocuous as food allergies were, to her, a weapon with which she could dispense with her detractors.

"Tisha!" The mention of a woman's name finally piqued Ryan's interest. Shooting a quick glance over his shoulder, he saw that the woman was dressed in a decidedly informal ensemble; one very much ill-suited to being seen - and taken seriously in any respect - in an office. Her black-and-red fishnet tanktop was just opaque enough to spare her the ignominity of baring her chest in public, while her black shorts hugged tightly to her thighs, causing the material to flex and stretch as she moved.

Clutched in her left hand was what seemed to be a small lampstand; a metre-long cylinder of stainless steel capped at both ends by a plate of equally polished material. Showing the obvious camaraderie between the two, Maurelle rose from her seat and, after rounding the desk, pulled the newcomer into a brief hug. "So glad you could make it! And looking as great as ever."

"You know me," Tisha responded with a smirk, reciprocating the gesture one-handed to avoid bludgeoning her friend with her equipment. "I like to make people jealous of how I look." Realising that it was likely polite of him to no longer remain seated, Ryan stood himself up and finally turned to face his boss and her companion. Immediately, Tisha's attention was drawn to him, eyeing his figure with more than a hint of curiosity. "Is this yet another personal assistant, Maurelle..? You seem to go through them quicker than I go through sneakers."

With her slender, yet toned body, it was obvious that Tisha kept herself in shape whenever possible. After detaching herself from Maurelle, she set about fiddling with the metallic object while the crime boss made good with the pleasantries. "Calla, this is Tisha; a personal friend of mien who is here on a favour she owes me." After undoing a series of small clips at either end, Tisha began to gradually extend the object in her hands and, within moments, it was dwarfing her in size; measuring almost ten feet from one end to the other.

However, it was only when she set the thing down vertically and started to fix it into place that Ryan realised just what Tisha had brought with her. "Be sure to treat her well, alright? Adhere to her every command as if they were mine! Tish, this is Calla... your student." It was a stripper pole. Just what the hell was all this in aid of? Sure, Maurelle had made it clear that he was to masquerade as a woman around her peers, but to have him learn how to pole-dance? There was such a thing as taking something too far.

Dancing and generally being graceful were far from Ryan's strongest suits. As much as the mundane part of him tried to deny it, he was a trained killer; a person who had taken lives in order to selfishly prolong his own. Even before joining the Company, Adele had drummed the necessity of fighting for one's survival into his head until it was an irreplaceable part of him. Which left him at something of a loss as to why his latest lesson had taken such a risqué turn. Was his next assignment situated in a strip club? Or was this just Maurelle taking advantage of an opportunity?

"You got it, Maurelle." For what seemed like forever, Tisha and Ryan exchanged looks. Both of them now had their respective duties in mind. Tisha was here as a teacher, while Ryan was being put through yet another abnormal situation in order to continue earning his seventy-five grand a year job. If anything, he was dreading what he believed was to follow.

[Helena Rahal]

Death breeds death

Maurelle was content enough as her employee and her friend were giving one another a look over. It make her laugh inside, as much as she didn't realize it right now, her dear Calla was being very much a woman. Oh it tickled her greatly but she knew eventually that the two of them would work together, if they wanted to stay her in her good graces. Considering the benefits that the both of them received from the relationship each maintained with the Frenchwoman, they wanted to stay in her good graces.

For her part, Maurelle slowly circled her way back around her desk and slid back into her chair. Instead of staring blankly at the screen though, she pulled over one of the manilla folders from the side of her desk and opened it up. Production figures on some of the legitimate fronts of her organization that provided the much needed finances to roll an operation like this. It helped having someone like Marie van Kleij as someone who invested in her operation, even if she did not know the full extent of it. Still, Maurelle had to maintain her own streams of income if this little project of hers was to blossom even more than it had.

As she looked it over, everything seemed in place, much as she expected it to be. In fact, it occurred to her, why was she the one who was even still doing the financial and productivity reviews, wasn't that why she actually had financial experts on her payroll? Screw this nonsense, this was the last review she was going to do that was not something she was personally invested in. Heads of organization delegated, so she was going to delegate!

"Calla dear, put more effort into it. You want the men and women to be left flustered, always wanting more than the show but never getting anything else." Maurelle looked up from her now discarded papers and gave Tisha a knowing look before smirking. "Come now Tisha, I know you can get her moving far better than that. Don't make me have to get up and upstage you at your own profession now sweetheart."

Tisha nearly laughed her ass off at that. Oh Maurelle could shake it alright, Tisha had had a personal display of Maurelle's ability to create all sorts of frustration for whoever happened to be eyeing her. "Girl, keep that sweet tush of yours in that comfy seat of yours. I'm just putting your girl through her paces to make sure she can keep up."

Now that did made Maurelle laugh, she admired Tisha's spunk knowing full well who she was dealing with. Maybe that was because Tisha knew Maurelle a little too well and just how unpredictable Maurelle could be in the right mood. It gave Maurelle a thought and she smiled, before slumping back into her chair as she activated her abilities.

What she saw though... just as quickly as she slumped over, she exploded out of her seat and onto her feet. "Tisha, get down now. Calla, you're going to need this." Maurelle said as she ripped open her left drawer and pulled out a Glock 17 with three clips, tossing them to her bodyguard. "We're about to be under siege... in about thirty seconds."

[Ryan D'Alteau]

Circles on the surface speak of the ancient who fell from grace.
Through their use of magic, they became a legend of old days.
Waters of the dream world show pictures of the Land Of Before.
A continent of dream you could watch on a foreign shore.
______________________________Therion - "The Crowning Of Atlantis"

Once it had been fixed in place, the portable stripper pole was a deceptively sturdy piece of apparatus. Although it wasn't long enough to bridge the gap between the office's floor and ceiling, it fully-extended size was more than sufficient to dwarf Ryan by over four feet, giving him ample room to manoeuvre during his lesson and the capability to do whatever Tisha required of him. The newcomer hadn't wasted a single moment before setting the tuition in motion and imparting instructions onto her student.

Normally, when Tisha was asked to teach someone how to pass themselves off as a pole dancer, there was previous experience on which she could draw. Many women had spent their teenage years learning the dance moves to their favourite pop songs or had at least attended some sort of class that dealt with dance; whether it was something as "serious" as a prestigious ballet school or their weekly Zumba classes they took to maintain a target weight. Calla, on the other hand, seemed to have no experience under her belt at all.

With that in mind, the first thing on the agenda dealt mostly with posture and balance. Because Ryan was wearing a pair of heels, Tisha elected to alter her training to accommodate her student's fashion choices. While it carried the risk of having him only being able to pole dance while wearing heels, she had faith that his adaptive mind would at least be able to fill in the gaps and compensate for the differences. Unless the strength of both arms was required for him to perform a certain flourish, she quickly instructed him on how he should use a single hand to lightly grasp the pole in order to keep his balance.

Ryan, on the other hand, felt nothing short of awkward as he strutted around the pole at Tisha's behest. Even when the audience to this madness consisted of nothing but his boss and his impromptu tutor, he was fighting the rampant urges to break free of the character under which he was all but required to operate. He had no idea if Tisha was in on the whole "my new bodyguard-slash-assistant is actually a man" business and, as such, he kept quiet. Aside from the embarrassment it would have undoubtedly caused him, there was also the risk of his job to consider. What if Maurelle fired him for the misstep?

"Calla dear, put more effort into it!" Having spent the past few minutes eyeing the contents of a file on her desk, Maurelle had only kept a passing eye on what her bodyguard was being made to do. The sudden, yet lighthearted taunt caused both Ryan and Tisha to immediately stop what they were doing and glance over in her direction. While Ryan looked almost offended that his "best efforts" were seemingly insufficient, Tisha looked, if anything, amused by her boss' interjection. "You want the men and women to be left flustered; always wanting more than the show but never getting anything else!"

"But, Ms. Lacroix, I-..!" He what? He was doing the best he could? He'd never pole danced before? Almost immediately, his instincts began to start conjuring rationales - excuses - for his apparently poor performance. The steps and moves he had been taught thus far were little more than the basics; how to navigate an imaginary podium while looking as seductive and alluring as possible but, try as he might, Ryan simply couldn't coax his body into giving out an interpretation of the sexy nuance of his performance. Having courted his future wife in a way that was light years from what anyone would have called normal, he had seen no need to be overly flirtatious. He loved Adele, just as she loved her. It was as much a fact of the universe as the earth being two-thirds water.

Pole dancing for Adele's amusement was, in addition to being the aftermath of a drunken bet, a pointless use of his time. But, of course, his lesson wasn't for displaying himself before his fiancée. With how the situation looked, Ryan felt as though Maurelle and Tisha were both gearing him up for a job at a strip club; a job which, barring special circumstances, would have involved him entertaining other men. Manipulating Jésus Morales at the party-turned-massacre had been something he could do, purely because he knew that the plan wasn't to be alone in a bedroom with him. Contorting himself around a stripper pole, however, had very few suggestive qualities that weren't how he would have looked without his clothes.

And only Adele was allowed to have that particular privilege.

But Maurelle didn't stop there. So as neither of employees were left out, she delivered her next remark to the last woman to enter the office. "Come now, Tisha..! I know you can get her moving far better than that! Don't make me have to get up and upstage you at your own profession now, sweetheart!" Tisha couldn't help but explode into a flurry of laughter. She knew full well that, given enough motivation and incentive, Maurelle could quite easily outdance both herself and Ryan. As professional and businesslike as she may have looked behind the desk, she was a damn good dancer.

Deciding not to allow either of them the chance to form a response, Maurelle set the file down on her desk and slumped back in her chair. Her abilities were powerful, encompassing a borderline precognitive form of remote viewing, among other things. In reality, she was only away with the proverbial fairies for a few seconds but, to her, the vision which hit her lasted so much longer. The information which flooded into her mind was, while not as detailed as she may have liked, far more than enough to take preventative action. Sitting up straight with a sudden start, her hands rushed for the nearby drawer. "Tisha! Get down, now."

Tisha knew that tone of voice. Maurelle was all business again and, as per her instructions, ushered Ryan away from the stripper pole. If she was this insistent, then there was no time to take the thing down. So she retreated, rushing across the room until she was in a corner behind the desk. The bookshelves abruptly ended to accommodate a second door and, with it only leading into an executive bathroom, there was no harm in hiding beside it, obscuring possible lines of sight and giving her the ability to rush into the bathroom and lock the door if things got particularly bad.

"Calla, you're gonna need this." The object - or objects - in question was a handgun and a trio of magazines. Realising that he was about to be thrust into a firefight, he abandoned the stripper pole and, on his way over to the desk, caught the gun while kicking off his heels. Being unable to run as fast as he was capable would have done him no favours and, with his Company training, he effortlessly loaded the first magazine into the bottom of the gun's handgrip and pulled the slide back. "We're about to be under siege in about thirty seconds."

"Right." As Maurelle's bodyguard, the more violent facets of his duty were about to be needed. He knew Adele would have something to say about the chaos once she saw it on the news, but there were more important things for him to worry about. Like not dying. "You know where they're coming from?"

[Helena Rahal]

When the chips are down, will the fire light up in your eyes?

Maurelle took note of how effortlessly Calla caught the flying objects and locked the first magazine into place. That training that she had received for a certain organization that no one was supposed to know about certainly seemed to have held a bit. That was good for Calla was going to make use of all sorts of combat skills that were in her arsenal in the upcoming. Under her own breath though, Maurelle cursed the future and how fickle it could be, changing on the drop of a hat and without anything that could make rhyme or reason for the why.

"Yes, but give me a second." Maurelle told Calla as she asked about where their foes were about to strike from. There was more than that to worry about though, something that Maurelle was well aware of as being the head of this entire shindig. These were here people in this building and she had an obligation to protect them. Picking up the phone from her desk, she pressed the combination that linked her phone to the PA system built into the building.

"Attention all personnel, we're now in Zeta Protocol. All non combat trained personnel retreat with as much haste to the bunker. Those above the second floor use the maintenance stairwell to reach there. Once your secure, put the bunker into lock down until otherwise noted." Maurelle paused to take a quick breath before continuing. "Combat personnel, retreat to the second level and gather your arms from the armory. Then set up a defensive perimeter around the the two adjoining hallways. Let nothing reach the armory or elevators. Double time people!'

Maurelle then placed the phone back on the hook and looked towards her bodyguard, reminded of her question. "The initial assault is going to be on the ground level, two dozen armed men. No Special as far as I know though, they should not be able to make it through the second level though. The secondary assault though... will be coming from the roof and they have two attack helicopters. That's not the worst of it though... they have tank on its way, which we have fifteen minutes to defeat the other forces and find a way to destroy that crap before this building gets turned to rubble."

Maurelle gave Calla a moment to digest the situation that they now found themselves in, before asking the question that needed to be asked. "You're ready for this right? I'm going to need your powers as much as your ability with a weapon." Maurelle still needed to grab her own special weapon but first was making sure that the key component of her team was up to this challenge.

[Ryan D'Alteau]

Crashing steel and raging fury! Smash the quest, destroy the army!
Crush the legions of the twilight, templars of steel will burn!
Cry far away as we reach for the day!
Blasting our way through the punishment and the pain!
Reach for the world as the sky begins to fall!
Rising through the darkened ashes, praying that I'll see you all!

______________________________Dragonforce - "Operation Ground And Pound"

"Attention, all personnel!"

Ryan wasn't sure what to make of what had just transpired in the past few moments. Events were occurring which, in the lives of anyone else, would have been utterly ridiculous and, while they were still very much precisely that from his point of view, they at least had some context to them. Even now, months after Sophie had revealed it to him, Ryan was struggling to make sense of why he seemed so willing to dress up the way he was. Some would have thought of it as a weird fetish, while others would have seen it as the emergence of a sexual identity. Truthfully, Ryan wasn't sure it was either of them. He liked being the future husband to Adele and he doubted nothing would ever change or come between that.

So what was it, then? Currently, the official reason was that the whole Calla McKnight identity was a disguise; a way for him to escape the pressures of what his time with his fiancée had turned him into. He had just been a regular college student four years ago; one to whom no-one would have paid much attention. Now, however, the name Ryan Alcroft was one synonymous with an undesirable element in the eyes of the special-fearing public and the media. Granted, neither party had been able to publicly associate his name with what he'd done. but it didn't change the fact that, through his unique genetic gift, he had murdered federal agents, massacred a whole family and capped the whole thing off by assassinating the President.

He was far from what his parents would have envisioned him to be in his early-twenties but, with Adele being such an integral part of his life, he doubted he would have changed anything were he given the chance. Even with all of this in mind, he wasn't sure if he was adequately prepared to deal with a sudden armed siege. "We are now in Zeta Protocol. All non-combat trained personnel retreat with as much haste to the bunker. Those above the second floor use the maintenance stairwell to reach there. Once you're secure, put the bunker into lock down until otherwise noted. Combat personnel, retreat to the second level and gather your arms from the armory. Then set up a defensive perimeter around the the two adjoining hallways. Let nothing reach the armory or elevators. Double time, people!"

Being a wealthy crime boss, Maurelle wasn't short on resources. The private security force she kept stationed in the building in case of situations such as this were quickly mobilised, serving to put Ryan somewhat more at ease as he realised that he wasn't about to take on the invading force alone. Keeping his eye on the door, Ryan listened as his boss informed him of what she knew. "The initial assault is going to be on the ground level; two dozen armed men."

With no knowledge on the numbers Maurelle possessed, he wasn't entirely enthused by the revelation that a small platoon of armed adversaries were about to break down the front door; even if none of them possessed an ability. But, of course, that was the least of his problems. "The secondary assault, though, will be coming from the roof and they have two attack helicopters. That's not the worst of it, though. They have a tank on the way."

Once he heard that four-letter word, Ryan's gaze whirled around to incredulously eye his boss. All of a sudden, he didn't care that there was an apparent time limit for them to stage their defence. Being pushed into a pole-dancing lesson was something he had reluctantly been able to take in his stride. But facing down a military-grade armoured attack vehicle?! Unless Maurelle's security had access to rocket launchers, their chances suddenly didn't look as good as they'd once been.

"You're ready for this, right?" What kind of question was that? Just who was about to besiege the building, anyway? As far as Ryan was aware, civilians simply weren't permitted to drive tanks down the main road of a small city. The only time something like this ever happened was during a sanctioned parade... "I'm going to need your powers as much as your ability with a weapon."

...or an invasion. "W-.. Well... no!" He wasn't able to lie. Not really. He might have been trained to subdue - or kill - an opponent, but he was by no means a soldier in the army. Even with his ability, he doubted that he could bring his nerves under control for long enough to do anything with it. But, as was often the case, people were capable of extraordinary things when under pressure. Funnily enough, he was still able to maintain his Calla voice. "What the hell am I gonna do against a tank?!"

Starting to pace around, Ryan narrowed his eyes. Panicking was going to get him nowhere, he reminded himself. It was his job to protect Maurelle and, while his first night on the job had ended up with the opposite happening, he wasn't about to let himself be beaten again. While the punishment he'd endured the week after his initial failure had been... intriguing to say the least, it was something he wished not to repeat if he could help it. It certainly helped that, this time, failure would very likely cost him his life. If he was dead, he couldn't marry Adele.

Another thing which tipped the odds in his favour was his ability. Unlike anyone else in the building, he could sow dissent among the ranks of the invading force, having them turn on one another in the heat of battle. It would have been the first time he'd used his ability in an all out battle before. Usually, when he exerted his control over someone, he was well away from the proverbial front line, safe from harm. Nobody knew where he was. This time, however, he was going to be in the same building - or, at the very least, the same street - as his victims. If they knew that Maurelle was here, then chances were that they had some sort of intelligence on him, too.

"I'll... I'll try, though. You're gonna have to cover me if I need to mess with someone's head. I can't do that and defend myself at the same time."

[Helena Rahal]

The anger of angels who wont return

Maurelle was not surprised as Calla muttered out a denial of her readiness for the situation. Given more time between having to prepare her charge and the actual assault, she may have given Calla a good pep talk. The old adage that not everyone who is great was made so but had greatness thrust upon them seemed quite appropriate given the circumstances. Yet there was seconds to prepare, not minutes or even hours, so she was going to have to hope Calla could regain her nerves quickly.

With her eyes upon Calla, her bodyguard began to pace through the space of the office, looking distressed. Maurelle's eyes just followed each step, even as she heard the notification from her computer that the bunker had its lock down procedure initiated. At least her civilian personnel were going to be safe regardless of what happened during the assault, that bunker was the stuff head of states had built into their establishment. Maurelle decided that she was worthy of such protection and spared no expense for those in her primary operation buildings, if needed her employees could survive for a month in the bunker. That however was likely not going to be necessary.

The crash of glass being broken rang through the stairwells and Maurelle knew that the first phase of the assault had begun. While her foes might have had two dozen armed and trained men, they were going to be bottle necked on their way up to try and kill her. While there was only about twenty combat trained personnel in the building at the time, they had the positional and technological advantage. The ground force stood no chance of making its way up to the fourth floor where Maurelle still waited on Calla to regain her composure.

Finally something seemed to click within her employee and she gave her acquiescence as well as a request for protection. "Can do. I just need you to stay focused and ready to use that ability of yours when I tell you to. Leave the rest to me." Maurelle said with a smirk and walked over to the supply closet even as the roar of propellers coming in from the distance could be heard. It seemed the helicopters and the secondary assault team were in their approach.

Calm as could be, Maurelle reached behind a suit and revealed a keypad, inputting the six digit code before taking a step back. The wall around the closet began to hiss as it rotated slowly until a metallic set of boxes attached to the wall came into vision. Another hiss and a puff of steam from each of the boxes came followed by opening and revealing their contents, an arsenal that even a general of a NATO armory would be proud of. Pulling out what could only be described as a scythe looking firearm, Maurelle turned back to Calla.

"This beautiful contraption comes courtesy of my R&D department in the latest of military grade weaponry for my disposal. It has some military designation, but I simply call it The Widow Maker." With a smirked, Maurelle cocked the gun and looked towards the door. "Shall we wait for our friends on the roof or come greet them?"

[Ryan D'Alteau]

I fly the beast made of steel, thick knives that cut the night!
Gas tank is filled with vengeance, machine guns shooting spite!
Can't find the thing that makes this thing take a hard turn right!
I follow where it leads me! Blind bats with wings of might!
You will most likely die by the hands of my arm...
...when I come and fly and take off your face!
With the front of my Hatredcopter!!
______________________________Dethklok - "Hatredcopter"

In any other circumstances, Ryan - in spite of all his training - would have been a far cry from what anyone would consider bodyguard material. With his loyalties reluctant to stray from either Adele, himself or either of their families, he was often unable to bring himself to care sufficiently about the wellbeing of those who were paying him to keep them alive. But, on the other hand, she was paying him seventy-five thousand dollars a year. Unless he became a high-profile politician, it was impossible to increase his salary without breaking the law; more than he already was, at any rate. Maybe, he surmised, this was how mercenaries felt. They were always tied to their next payday and, with their acceptance of contracts being the only thing which kept them out of debt, they had learned to forego personal loyalty while working.

"Can do." It was good to know that Maurelle had his back as much as he had hers. Without anyone to keep a watchful eye over him whenever he used his ability, his destructive potential was severely curtailed. "I just need you to say focused and ready to use that ability of yours when I tell you to." It was harder than it sounded to accomplish the feat required of him. He had to somehow dispel the anxiety which stemmed from the sudden arrival of a platoon of armed assailants and at least one armoured vehicle and concentrate on separating the two halves of himself so that his power could be brought to bear. "Leave the rest to me."

Slowing to a halt, Ryan let out a lengthy sigh. Outside, the sound of spinning rotors grew louder as the attack helicopter accompanying the invaders prepared to land on the roof, depositing reinforcements who would likely try to approach Maurelle's office from above. Having placed the building into lockdown, the elevators had been sealed and seized at their last destination; unable to be commandeered until the crime boss rescinded her order. This left the soldiers with no alternative but to advance on their target using the stairwell. In there, it didn't matter how tight their formation was or how many angles were being watched. In there, it would only take one move for their entire operation to be thrown into disarray. Ryan could turn their own equipment against them and decimate their forces before they had a chance to react.

"If you say so," he eventually replied. Ever since taking up her job offer, Ryan had noticed how adept Maurelle was at planning her way out of a situation. Even when things looked as though they had gone drastically wrong - like the party - she had simply fallen back on a contingency and rectified the whole situation. Provided the two of them maintained control, there was every chance that they would survive the onslaught. Making his way towards the door, he began to survey the office in search of places where he would enjoy an advantage over the adversaries. If they were forced to defend the office, they would need every advantage they could get.

While Ryan returned his attention to the job at hand, Maurelle seized the opportunity to arm herself. Rather than grab another handgun from a drawer in her desk, she instead strode over to the nearby wall, where a numerical keypad had been bolted to an otherwise nondescript shelf. It was only when Maurelle punched in a six-digit code, causing the keypad to let out a lenghty beep, that its purpose was revealed. The shelf, which had been uncharacteristically empty, began to shift and slide away, rising into the wall to reveal a large storage locker filled with state-of-the-art weaponry. Taking pride of place in the centre of the collection was a mass of dark red metal, folded into a vaguely rectangular shape.

By pulling sections up from the main body of the implement and extending them outward, Maurelle began to gradually transform the slender brick into a weapon which wouldn't have looked out of place in a science fiction videogame. Taking on the form of a large scythe, the body of the weapon was partially hollow and, as Ryan glanced over his shoulder, he managed to spot a small tab of metal protruding from the pole on one side. Being completely white and starkly contrasting against the weapon's red-and-black colour scheme, there were only a few reasons why such a deliberate addition could have been made. "This beautiful contraption comes courtesy of my R&D department in the latest of military-grade weaponry for my disposal." Although it wasn't what he normally would have attributed with the title, Ryan couldn't help but deduce that Maurelle had her very own gunblade!

In order to retain as much of the scythe's functionality, the mechanisms of the gun had been condensed to fit into the long pole which served as the weapon's hilt. For all intents and purposes, it was a scopeless, single-shot rifle with the reloading characteristics of a shotgun and, with the small sight Ryan had spotted earlier, could even be used - albeit awkwardly - for longer-range engagements. "It has... some military designation, but I simply call it the Widow Maker." Pulling a small bolt, Maurelle readied both the blade and the rifle and, with her attention on the door, hefted the scythe into her arms. "Shall we wait for our friends on the roof or come greet them?"

"Let's deal with them on the stairwell." As much as the rational part of his mind was telling him to wait it out and let the soldiers come to him, the tactician in him wanted to strike the enemy while they were still at their weakest. By assaulting them while they were still making their way up to the fourth floor, he would be able to take full advantage of their inability to effectively retaliate. Missed shots could potentially strike their allies and their grenades - non-lethal or otherwise - were entirely out of the question. "If we let 'em out into the corridors, they get a chance to assume a formation again." Cautiously pushing open the door to Maurelle's office, Ryan slowly began to advance towards the nearest door which opened into the stairwells, taking note of every errant sound in case his actions needed to change.

[Helena Rahal]

The war inside, the alibi, fading faster than the speed of light

Maurelle was somewhat disappointed with Calla's answer to her inquiry, though she did not show it. Calla needs to grow into her place within the organization and not have their hand held all the way through. Calla was not the best nor Maurelle's most powerful asset within her organization, but she was Maurelle's favorite despite her short term of being on the payroll. There was something about her personality on top of that wonderfully useful ability of hers that just made Calla very appealing for Maurelle.

"Alright, to them in the stairwell it is. Mark your steps and keep your wits about you, we're about to enter the lion's den." Those were only words for her bodyguard. After all, it was Calla's duty to keep Maurelle alive and taking the point on this little escapade was part of the expected performances. True it was better to go to their aggressors rather than wait for them to make an attack on the office.

In doing so though, Maurelle's gunfire portion of her weapon was effectively made obsolete. It was not a gun meant for close quarters, though with the right training one could potentially use it that way. The problem was, this was a very new design given to her by the research and development team and Maurelle had not had the time needed to get intimate with the weapon. While she knew the basics of how to operate and utilize it, the more intricate ways to use the device were beyond her, for now.

Calla opened the door to Maurelle's office and skulked forward very cautious in her steps. Maurelle's followed behind her with her weapon being held in a way to use it in melee, the blade of the scythe shimmering from the sharpness. It was as if the very weapon itself was yearning for warm bodies to cut its teeth on and have blood spilled over it. Some said that weapons themselves were alive and holding this weapon, it was something that Maurelle was inclined to believe.

"Hold on." Maurelle whispered as they were turning the corner on the first half of the flight of stairs. This was no vision, she heard the hiss of a torch working on the door that locked the rooftop entry to the rest of the building. Stepping up in front of her bodyguard, she gave Calla a look. "We've only got a minute or two before they cut through the door. I want you to stay behind me and only take shots whenever there is a clear view."

Maurelle gave another look up the rest of the stairs and saw that the door handle now had a bight red circling it. It was just moments now before they were through, these were the last few seconds before the chaos to give Calla instruction. "Wait until I clear the entire path and give the all clear symbol. Then I want you to take control of one of the pilots and dispose of those helicopters." It was not much of a plan, kill or disable everyone standing in their way to the roof. However, it was efficient and piratical, then her favorite asset could put her abilities to use.

With a small gasp of air to steady her breathing, Maurelle tightened her grip on the gunblade's shaft. Her feet and legs were building with tension as she prepared to launch her assault the moment that door swung open. There was ten or more people ready to kill her on the other side of the door and all she had was a scythe and a scared killer for a bodyguard...

The odds were soo stacked in her favor, she pitied the fools.

[Ryan D'Alteau]

So I look around at all these stupid little faces...
...something I could never slap, but I embrace!
You'll never ever see! You'll never ever be!
You wanna fuck around? Then come and fuck with me!
______________________________Korn - "Reclaim My Place"

"Alright, to them in the stairwell it is."

Ryan wasn't entirely sure if Maurelle approved of his decision or not. Being one of her personal bodyguards, it was inevitable that there would be moments when their opinions about what should and shouldn't be done regarding a situation would differ. But Ryan was nothing if not careful and, as he began to advance with his boss in tow, his mind was analysing the aggressor's movements based on what he knew. His Company training had given him some insight into military tactics, while a combination of logic and videogames filled in the blanks. Taking the stairwell eliminated the risk of their targets tripping the building's lockdown and sealing them in one of the elevators and, while there were some drawbacks to making their way up to Maurelle's office in single file where they could be shot at from above and below, it was the more favourable option when compared to suffocating in a metal box.

While their adversaries were most likely equipped with submachine guns or small carbine rifles; weapons which were suited for closer-range environments, the weapon Maurelle had chosen incorporated a full-sized rifle. Modelled on a scythe, the device was restrictively long out of necessity and, as such, she would have been hindered by her own decisions the moment she stepped into the stairwell. Ryan, however, with just a handgun, enjoyed no such restrictions. "Mark your steps and keep your wits about you," she quietly advised, keeping her gaze locked on her bodyguard's vicinity. "We're about to enter the lion's den."

The den in question was situated just a short distance along the corridor outside Maurelle's office. For convenience and other such reasons that were far from ideal when being the victim of an armed siege, one of the doors in the corridor's walls led into one of many stairwells which stretched to and from various floors. Not all of the stairwells went to all of the floors but, perhaps due to who took temporary residence in the nearby rooms, the one to which Ryan was quietly led serviced each and every floor of the building, beginning in some seldom travelled corner of the lobby and ending at the point where the roof access began. "Yes, ma'am." If she wanted him to keep an eye out for people who wanted them both dead, then she could have at least been quieter.

After pushing open the door and ushering Maurelle through it, keeping an eye on the corridor in case they were being flanked, Ryan slowly made his way into the stairwell. Like in many buildings, the stairwell was a colossal vertical shaft which contained a spiral staircase winding its way around the walls in a linear pattern, offering no space for any real decoration. It was simply a room which did nothing other than serve a purpose. Today, however, it just so happened to be the potential architect of Maurelle's downfall. Of course, neither her nor Ryan were about to let that happen. Maurelle wanted to maintain her criminal dominance while Ryan wanted to be paid the money he felt he needed to supplement his lifestyle.

Were it three years or so earlier, Ryan might have taken issue with the situation. He would have likely balked at Maurelle's command to kill and tried to get himself as far away from both the deed and its consequences as he could. Time with Adele, though, had changed him; not always for the better, hindsight often told him, but in ways he would refuse to change were he given the chance. Making his way over towards the nearest guard rail, he leaned over and surveyed the steps below him. If a squad had chosen this particular stairwell, then he would have heard them coming long before the glimpses of gun barrels and body armour were visible against the bland off-white tiles and chrome tubes. It didn't take him long to be satisfied but, as he trained his ears on the space above him, it was an entirely different story.

"Hold on." He had picked up the crackling hiss of the cutting torch long before Maurelle stopped him in his tracks with a whisper. While his hearing wasn't by any means superhuman, a lifetime of playing videogames against opponents both human and mechanical had trained his ears to be out in search of an advantage; errant sounds from the mistakes of others usually allowed him to get the upper hand before they knew what was happening. "Yeah, I hear it. They're trying to get through from the roof?"

Being a novice to the criminal underworld - and not much better with the laws of physics - he was still at a loss as to how much of a headstart their attentive ears had given them. "We've only got a minute of two before they cut through the door," Maurelle explained, striding around to look him in the eyes. "I want you to stay behind me and only take shots whenever there is a clear view."

Just what was she planning to do? Unless she rushed her way out onto the roof and made herself a sitting duck, there was no way she could wind up a decent swing with her scythe. "And have you dash out into the line of fire of about half a dozen guys?", he retorted, eyeing his boss incredulously. Sure, he was going to obey her to the extent that would get him paid, but to have her consider courses of action that sounded suicidal to him? He was at least going to give her a counterpoint. "They'll tear you apart before you have time to blink."

But Maurelle wasn't having any of it. She knew just as well as he did that the situation which faced them was precarious for both sides. Any advantages they had were both marginal and fleeting at best; easily countered by just a single thing not going their way. "Wait until I clear the entire path and give the all-clear symbol." The what, now? There really wasn't any need for the SWAT team bullshit. All he had to do was wait until there was a pile of corpses outside and take potshots at whoever looked like they were about to put a bullet in the side of Maurelle's head. "Then I want you to take control of one of the pilots and dispose of these helicopters."

That was more like it. It was something which was going to indirectly - and anonymously - land him in the news, but it was definitely something much further up his proverbial alley. "Fine," he conceded with a small smirk. Already, he was coming up with a plan of how he could tip the scales into his boss' favour. Having effectively been given permission to use his ability, he was already placing it on stand-by; the edges of his scleras beginning to turn blue as he placed the astral half of himself into a set of metaphorical starting blocks. Through practice, he had effectively been able to quick-draw his ability, hurling his projection forward and tearing through a person's mental defences as though they were made of paper. Although being more meticulous with the application of his power resulted in a more powerful hold over his victims, there were times when even a rudimentary grasp over their actions was enough. All he had to do was do what was required before they could fight back. "Just... give me a second..."

Ryan gave no further warning as he slumped to his knees on the stairs, his body leaning against the wall. Almost instantly, his projection was sprinting towards the door which led out onto the roof. Unburdened by his physical vessel, he was so much quicker than anyone without abilities and, by the time Maurelle's expression turned to a mixture of confusion and slight annoyance, Ryan was already through the door and thrusting his hand into the back of the soldier currently leading the roof charge. With his body set almost rigid from a need to keep the cutter in place, his reaction to the invasion was somewhat subdued. Many of his squadmates were acting on their own orders; keeping watch on any potential counterattack points.

Ryan knew that he couldn't blow his cover too early. He also knew that finishing the work on the door would leave Maurelle exposed so, for a few moments, he waited, relaxing his hold on the man at the door just enough to hide himself from his perception. And then, without warning, the soldier's hands were made to reach to his waist. His shotgun had been hanging from a shoulder strap while he'd worked and, at first, his squad thought he'd finally breached the door. Until, that was, he stood away from the door and took aim at the man beside him. It took the firing of two shells from the semi-automatic shotgun for the entire squad to realise what had just happened and, by that time, three of them were bleeding from where the spray of pellets had riddled their torsos.

Also, by that time, Ryan was already gone, leaving the disorientated door cutter to meet an impromptu firing squad. The door was unlocked, but the soldiers were too confused to have realised. But distractions were what Ryan did best. Sowing dissent amongst his enemies to make them turn on each other before they'd even laid eyes on their true adversaries. "...there! Go!" He was back in his own body and fully awake. He'd provided a distraction to at least reduce his boss' risk of enduring an untimely death. It was up to her to make use of it.

[Helena Rahal]

They will not control us, we will be victorious, so come on!

Maurelle did not even have time to react before her errant bodyguard decided to have their own ploy. It was not something that she was very happy about, disobeying a direct order entirely. This was not adlibing or finding a more convenient solution, this was complete and total disregard for the command that they were given. There would be repercussions for this behavior if the two of them survived the encounter. If they thought the week in the latex suit was bad, they were going to have another thing coming for this set of actions.

For now, Maurelle waited while her wayward employee tried their tricks of the trade. It was what had attracted her to bringing them into the fold in the first place, that talent of their. Still, Maurelle had a plan that was entirely thrown for a loop now because Ryan decided to play cowboy and shoot from the hip. What was the point of even formulating a plan of attack if her underlings were just going to wing it?

Moments went by like years as she waiting for some sign from Ryan that he was done with whatever it was he was doing. God dammit, why couldn't he have just followed her orders instead of trying to be a hero or whatever. How was she even supposed to know when to proceed with an assault if he was not there with her. Instead, his body was slumped over, prone, and gosh forbid the assault made it through the door while he was gone. Then not only was she exposed, but his body was going to be a big fat target for the half dozen men looking to kill her and those that worked for her.

Her grip on the scythe gun was tightening whenever the voice of her employee followed a series of shots coming from beyond the door. Well... that certainly meant that the puppet master had played a nasty little trick on the assault team. Commendable as that might have been, she was still pissed that he had decided to do it without so much as consulting her first. The time for the verbal reprimand was not now as she needed to take advantage of the window of confusion that Ryan's little trickery had bought her.

The stairwell door to the roof access was now unlocked and using a source of agility unexpected carrying her chosen weapon, Maurelle surged into the breach. As the door swung open under the force of her charge, before her lay one dead man and three others who were straggling to get back. Two more were uninjured and it was these that Maurelle set her eyes on to dispatch first.

Firing a shot from the rifle, Maurelle flew from the door and towards her unsuspecting foes. As she brought the scythe to bear, she could see the awe in their eyes. This was not anything they had trained for or been even slightly prepared, though no one in the world outside of her R&D department was. It brought a grin to Maurelle's face, moments before it was spattered with blood as two heads were mericlessly detached from their torsos with a single swing of her scythe. The bloodbath was on.

[Ryan D'Alteau]

Paranoia is in bloom; the PR transmissions will resume.
They'll try to push drugs that keep us all dumbed down...
...and hope that we will never see the truth around.
______________________________Muse - "Uprising"

As Ryan watched Maurelle rush towards the door, he could see the abruptness in her movements; the suggestion that, although she appreciated the helpful distraction to a certain degree, she was slightly annoyed by what her bodyguard had done. For Maurelle, defending her holdings in downtown Brownsville was a meticulous affair, a situation in which the slightest deviations were liable to get them both killed. By indulging in whatever Rambo complex Ryan seemed to have today, he had brought unnecessary danger upon them. Nevertheless, what was done was done and, while his insubordinate behaviour would no doubt garner some sort of punishment at a later date, there were far more important things to deal with before such thoughts could fully enter her mind.

Namely, the group of confused soldiers who were trying to break into the building from the roof. Leaving Ryan to shake the soldier's final thoughts from his mind, she barrelled through the door, acting as quickly as she could muster in order to make the most of her new-found advantage. Having been tasked with dragging his traitorous comrade's body away from the door at the precise moment Maurelle charged out to meet him, one member of the squad was unfortunate enough to be caught completely by surprise; a slug from the French woman's rifle piercing the side of his neck before he had a chance to react. At the range of a couple of feet, it hadn't been necessary to aim the barrel in any purposeful manner and, after firing from the hip, she moved on; lithely slipping out of Ryan's line of sight.

Toggling the catch on the hilt was all Maurelle needed in order to unfurl the blade of her scythe and, while they were still surprised at how quickly their meticulously planned operation was being tossed down the crapper, she made straight for the two biggest threats on the roof: the duo who had been lucky enough to escape the business end of a shotgun. They might have been quick and remarkably well-trained for what appeared to be a mercenary group, but not even they could adequately defend against the honed blade hurtling towards them. With a single sundering arc, Maurelle swiftly divested the soldiers of their heads and, like a woman possessed, turned her attention to the rest of the group before the recently deceased had the chance to slump to the ground.

Rising to his feet, Ryan readied his own weapon and followed his boss out onto the roof. Unlike Maurelle, Ryan was almost clinical as he mopped up the stragglers. There was little point in any real flourish when a piece of metal careening through the air at over a thousand feet per second was usually enough to cause anyone to think twice about assaulting him. Having been ignored in favour of soldiers who were still capable of killing them, Ryan decided to put the wounded soldiers out of their collective misery, planting one shot each into their heads before doing the same with who he assumed to be the squad's resident combat medic. As annoyed as she might have been about what he'd done without consulting her, there was no denying that it had worked.

But there was still the matter of the invasion's airborne contingent. With helicopters - be they military-grade or otherwise - being equipped with adequate communication facilities, he knew that they were no doubt sounding the alarm on the behalf of their fallen allies. Maurelle had ordered him to excise them from the equation as soon as possible and, with a job to do, he quickly set to work. Rushing behind one of the exposed ventilation ducts to evade any retaliatory gunfire, Ryan took one last look towards the door and, satisfied that the reinforcements were still well away from reaching anywhere important, prepared himself to craft another projection.

Accessing his ability at speed was something he'd managed to perfect during his one-man siege of Marcus' family reunion and, aside from the infuriating downtime after the fact, he had found that he could jump to around half a dozen people before needing to compose himself. Normally, boarding an airborne helicopter was impossible for all but those select few capable of flight but, as Ryan extricated his consciousness from the rest of him, he knew that he was - if only partially - unshackling himself from the laws of physics. Having left his physical vessel behind, concepts like gravity held less meaning for him. He could run faster and jump higher than any mere mortal could even dream of being capable and, after a skyward glance to establish his aim, he pushed upward with his legs...

...and soon found himself in the passenger cabin of the helicopter which buzzed overhead. "The whole squad's down!" The response crackled vaguely in the pilot's ear as his report was taken on-board by the rest of the force. "I say again: roof squad is down. Lacroix and one unknown female ambushed them before they could breach! Please advise!" Was he going to be given permission to lay waste to the building? Ryan didn't care. With his ability, he could put a stop to any situation before it had a chance to endanger both himself and Maurelle and, after taking a few silent paces, he was standing over the pilot's shoulder. He knew that, as soon as he took control, he would have to somehow fly the helicopter. He'd never piloted a toy one before and here he was, about to take the reins of the real thing.

The moment at which Ryan assumed control of the pilot would have been seen from the outside. The normally level hovering the pilot had maintained thus far noticeably wavered for a few seconds as the relevant information began to filter into Ryan's mind. By surrounding himself with the pilot's memories, he was gradually getting a crash course in aircraft piloting and, as he was filled with the borderline encyclopaedic knowledge of what each button, lever and stick did, he gradually brought the craft under control. They were the most frantic few seconds of his day so far and, as Ryan found himself eavesdropping on the force's communications, he knew that there was one way in which he could help Maurelle the most.

The second helicopter had been brought in to land on a nearby rooftop to serve as the main method of extraction for the infantry, while the tank was still ambling its way along the main street; bogged down by an inadequately wide route. Having not enlisted the help of the local council or the police, the roads were still open and free to use by the law-abiding public and, as well as having to squeeze tightly through certain sections of the city, there was also the issue of dodging the civilian vehicles. Rotating the helicopter around, Ryan took off towards his first port of call: a nearby office building which he recalled dealt with financial advisory companies. Ignoring everything he heard through the radio, he began to speed up, angling the craft forward as he brought the helicopter's vulcan cannons to bear on the stationery craft. He may not have had any experience in firing such things, but the pilot's muscle memory was enough to keep his aim straight and true.

A loud, blaring buzz signalled the unleashing of a hail of bullets, effortlessly perforating man and machine alike and, within five seconds, the second helicopter was a smouldering wreck; its occupants possessing more holes than the victims of the soldier's shotgun blast. He was wreaking havoc reserved for terrorists and invading armies and, as the helicopter swooped back around to head off in search for the tank, Ryan found himself dwelling on just what he was being paid to do. As much as Adele had stated that he was nothing like her, he couldn't help but think that that was precisely what he was becoming, little by little. Gradually, his humanity was evaporating as he realised that he was willing to do more and more.

He knew it was wrong, but the act of murder wasn't really fazing him as much anymore. Even seeing the severed heads, while disgusting and sufficient to make him feel slightly ill, wasn't enough to dissuade him from the task he'd been paid to do. Just how far would this change go? The street on which the tank had found itself was one of the main highways in and out of Brownsville and, mercifully, the tank's presence had managed to repel all of the traffic which usually clogged it up on weekdays. Understandably, the tank crew demanded to know why he was there; almost three miles from Maurelle's building. Just the realisation of how far away from his body he was was enough to cause Ryan's control over the pilot to momentarily buckle. The further the helicopter flew, the more power he was unwittingly returning to the pilot and, with that power, came the capability to evict him.

But, before that could happen, Ryan was going to have the last laugh. Increasing speed, he pitched the helicopter forward once more, almost into a sweeping nosedive as he rushed towards the tank. Firing the weapons would still have left him with the problem of disposing of a helicopter and, while it was tempting to steal it and somehow sequester it at home, he knew that wasn't what Maurelle had requested. So Ryan decided to make doubly sure that both the helicopters and the tank would cause no further problems.

As Ryan awoke, back on the roof, the sound of a distant explosion confirmed the success of his endeavour. But having to endure the trip back to his body as his projection withered away was nothing short of torture. Three miles was a lengthy distance, even for him. "It's.. done." He was far too drained to maintain the masquerade of Calla McKnight. But, with nobody on the roof who wasn't aware of his double life, his secret was safe. "I've.. d-done it."