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fireandneurosurgery-blog · 6 years ago

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Searching For Help || Bobbi and Martina

Bobbi and Martina bump into one another on a scavenging mission, they decided to join forces to help one another.

Bobbi’s constant frustration as the war dragged along was with the worsening state of her supplies. Medication, gauze, ambrosia, nectar and just about every and any other medical supply that you might need were in short supply. The deaths, injuries and mental onset of damage from the curses was really beginning to take its toll and she was informed that they would make a supply run soon, but not soon enough. So Bobbi took it upon herself to scavenge and found herself in an abandoned section of the city, picking through a pharmacy, or what was left of it. Hearing the door creak half way through trying to get into their locked medicine cabinet, Bobbi stepped nervously behind the door and prayed that it wasn’t a Roman.

There was only so many things Martina could do at the current moment. She was, in a sense, bored. At this point she took any job they gave her. As a slightly trained person in the medical field, she had been set out to gather more medical supplies that they needed. Finding a pharmacy that hadn’t already been totally picked through was difficult, but finally she found one. She entered as quickly as she could, looking around the area, before quietly setting out to find what she could. She only had a few knives on her belt, but otherwise was rather casual for the mission.

Not recognizing the other person scavenging through her spot, Bobbi had to admit that she wasn’t prepared for a confrontation. She had the short sword and dagger that Jax had provided her as a Christmas present at the end of the previous year, but truthfully she hadn’t quite got the hang of using them. She usually ended up training about twice a week, she knew that she should train more, the threat of monsters without a war going on was enough to convince her of that, but the truth was that she spending more and more of her time working in the field hospital and she didn’t exactly get much time to herself. Swallowing, she stepped out into the open, calling out to the stranger. They could be Greek, please be Greek. “Hello?” she asked somewhat tentatively.

Martina’s head whipped around to look over at the voice, her hand on her throwing knife as she crept out to see who it was. She knew she could probably throw and hit faster than someone could pull out their sword, which made her less worried than she realistically should have been. She didn’t know who the woman was before her, just that she didn’t think she had seen her around New Rome. She narrowed her eyes at the woman,“Who are you? What are you doing here?” No one else would have been on this same mission, at least Martina assumed they wouldn’t send out two people for medical supplies.

Raising her hands to prove that she wasn’t looking for a fight, Bobbi swallowed at the sight of the throwing knives. It didn’t matter if she had a sword, if this girl was accurate she could turn her into sushi before she could say by your leave. “I’m not here for a fight,” she said quietly, “I’m just trying to get some medical supplies. My name’s Doctor Roberta Truman, but most people just call me Bobbi…” she looked nervously at the weapon before swallowing once more. “What about you?” she asked perhaps somewhat hopefully.

Taking in the raised hands and the general look of anxiety, Martina decided that the woman was telling her the truth. She shifted her hand off the hilt, but made sure to keep it close enough to pull if she had. She searched her brain for that name, knowing that she had heard it from someone at some point. “You’re with the Greeks,” She said in reply, knowing from Jax that this was his brother’s girlfriend. She definitely couldn’t fight her now, not when that would make things really awkward with Cat and Jax. “Martina Acosta. I’m looking for my own supplies,” She replied, trying not to give away the fact that the Romans weren’t doing as well as they wanted their enemy to think.

As Martina’s hand moved off of the hilt of her weapon, Bobbi couldn’t help but feel slightly better. “I’d like to say nice to meet you, I just wish that the circumstances were somewhat better…” she smiled sheepishly before nodding gently. “I am with the Greeks, actually I’m a daughter of Athena, though I’ve hardly been aware of it for very long…” she cut herself off and sighed. “Sorry, I don’t mean to ramble, it is just kind of … I’m not good in these hostile situations.” She turned and looked around the room. “I’ll split half of what I find with you?” she suggested, knowing that it was hardly an ideal solution but right now it was probably the best one that she could offer.

Martina had the feeling that the woman in front of her wasn’t much of a threat. It made her feel a bit better about being there alone. She wasn’t too worried, she could take someone out if she had to, but she really wasn’t ready to have that conversation with Jax or Cat. The woman… Seemed pretty nice anyways. “I’m not hostile yet, don’t worry.” She replied, beginning to look around the pharmacy. “You said you were a doctor? I assume you’ve had your hands full.” She looked back at the woman with her eyes narrowed,“Why?” Martina wasn’t ready to give her half what she found, so why was she willing to do that for Martina?

Raising her eyebrow, Bobbi couldn’t help but frown at the word yet. It wasn’t exactly what she wanted to hear but she was intent on hearing everything that she had to say. “Let us hope that you don’t become hostile,” she laughed nervously, “I’m not really in this for the fight, I just have a job to do.” She paused as she turned to one of the mostly abandoned shelves and swept a number of items into a bag. Bandages, disinfectant wipes, any painkillers that they had left. “I am a doctor, neurosurgeon by training and by design as well, but things don’t always work out according to plan…” she paused. “Because there are both Romans and Greeks that need help, I don’t care about the stupid differences that everyone else seems to care about. We’re all demigods and we all need as much help as we can get.”

“Let’s hope not. I don’t get much say in it either,” Martina replied lightly. She wasn’t exactly lying, most of the time her mood ended up getting affected by other people. Though, she would admit that she tended to get annoyed easily. “I’m not looking for a fight either. I would get quite the lecture if I hurt you.” She wasn’t looking to fight a woman who wasn’t a fighter either, there was nothing exciting about fighting someone who wasn’t at the same level. She nodded,“I feel that. I was in pre-med before this. Still in the Legion, but mainly working towards getting out of school early. Don’t see that happening anytime soon.” She cocked her head looking over Bobbi with critical eyes. “Romans hate the Greeks, half of them wouldn’t care if y’all ended up dying. That doesn’t seem stupid to me. I wouldn’t expect someone to patch me up after I killed their friends.”

Bobbi raised an eyebrow but decided to remain silent. She wasn’t about to lecture a Roman with weaponry about responsibility for their own actions, especially when she was in a precarious enough position as it was. “Well as there is no reason for us to fight, we can both get what we need and leave without having to fight.” She paused and raised an eyebrow at the explanation that Martina gave her, she honestly wouldn’t have pegged her as being pre-med, or any sort of med at all. “Ignorance has always been an excuse for prejudice and violent actions against people groups that don’t deserve it. I’m not here to hurt other people, I’ve got a job to do and I intend to do it.” She continued her job, at least to the best of her abilities, sifting through what meager leftovers were in the pharmacy. It wasn’t exactly encouraging.

Martina gave her short nod, agreeing for now not to try anything. She could see how grabbing one of the Greek’s doctors would do good for her, but at this point she was really feeling loyal to the Legion. Her loyalty laid with people now. She supposed it always had been. She followed people to the Cult, she’d probably follow them out if they wanted her to. “Yeah, well you’re one of the only people around here who’s got that privilege. We don’t all get what we want being passificists. Some of our jobs is to kill people,” Martina replied back tensely as she gathered supplies. This woman didn’t seem to understand that some people didn’t have the liberty to be selfish in their fight. “I’m that fucker. The one who kills people’s friends. That’s my job.”

“Maybe you should think about getting a job where they save people and you’re not put in a position where it is kill or be killed,” Bobbi replied quietly. This entire system was cruel. It forced children to fight for their lives and experience a plethora of trauma, assault and injury at a truly formative time in their lives. The fact that the Roman demigods had a standing army was nothing short of lunacy, The fact that they were mostly children made her mad. Though she couldn’t say that the Greeks were any better. That was what struck her as confusing about this entire situation. Why were they so intent on focussing on their differences and not their similarities? “You could always just leave. You don’t owe anyone enough to make you kill people’s friends… or see friends die, any of the other shit that we’ve experienced in this hell hole.”

“Get me a job where I can get enough money to support the people I need to, and I think about changing careers,” Martina replied back, knowing that she would be keeping her position with the Legion for as long as she could. No words from someone who didn’t get struggling would convince her otherwise. She looked over at Bobbi for a long moment, before scoffing,“I owe these people my entire life. I was kicked out of my home at twelve. This was the only place that took me in. These people are the reason I got any form of education, the reason that I have a place to stay. No matter the shit I have to do, I owe them. You don’t get it.”

“Being a doctor is usually at least relatively well paid and has decent benefits which mean that the people you’re having to support will benefit from your work, not to mention you said you were pre-med so you’re on the right track for it. You could really help people,” Bobbi paused for a moment and tried to recall her name. “I don’t know what you’re looking for in your life Martina, but there are few paths as challenging or as fulfilling as being a doctor. However, the hippocratic oath is not something to be taken lightly. We have to make sure that we make good on our promise not to harm or hurt anything should we be able to help it.” Pausing, she sighed. “I may not understand the process, but anything that asks you to sacrifice your morals and beliefs and ethics in a war isn’t good. It shouldn’t have ever come to this point.”

Martina stopped and placed her hands on her hips, looking at Bobbi with narrowed eyes. “I’m twenty, I’m not in Med school yet. I have years until I will actually be a doctor, not to mention the fact I’m trying to get into surgery. I’m sure you know that makes the path even longer. I ain’t going to be making that much money for years, not to even mention the amount of debt I’m going to have.” Jax might be helping her out with Milo and her brother at the moment, but she wasn’t going to rely on him forever. She needed to make her own money, get out of the debt that she was already in with him. Huffing, she shook her head at Bobbi. “You don’t get what it’s like having people on your back do you? Not as a doctor, but as a family member. I pay for my brother and my - his nephew’s,” She grimaced at her mistake,“Rent and phone bills. I’ll sacrifice anything for them. Even if it means I gotta kill people who used to be my friends. Morals don’t mean shit when you fail your family.”

Bobbi shrugged, “If you don’t start it soon then I don’t know how you’d ever manage to finish it off, but you’re right, it is a long way away and there is a lot that you need to do first, but there are several programs that help demigods reach their goals despite financial difficulties, you’re not the only one who’s made it through hard things. You could manage this too.” She paused and shrugged. “We’ve always got a need for new healers, whether you’re a trained doctor or not there is always someway that you can help.” Pausing she frowned and sighed. “I’m sorry that you’ve got that to deal with, I understand that it is difficult and I’ve never had to support my family through anything like that, but would your family want you having to do all of this?”

Martina rolled her eyes, this woman really didn’t get it. It wasn’t easy trying finance everything while still keeping herself going. Sacrifices have to be made, even if it’s her doing all the sacrificing. “Programs like that are probably on hold at the moment for the war. Not to mention that would just add to all the shit I already owe this city,” Being in debt to the collectors here was not something Martina could deal with. She could deal with Jax and Fergus, when he was around and helping, they didn’t even expect her to pay them back. She was going to, but they didn’t expect it. “I’m a Daughter of Apollo who can’t heal a scrape. They’ve got healers better than me.” She shrugged as she picked up a roll of bandages,“They don’t have to know. Plus, like I said, I owe people on this side and I’m not dying to join your’s. Rather stick with the people I know can take care of me than with nothing.”

Pausing for a long moment, Bobbi pursed her lips and continued scavenging and dividing rations up that would eventually be used to patch her and Martina’s people up. “I can’t imagine what you’re dealing with and frankly it’s none of my business o even try and do so, however I don’t think you should give up on your dreams and hopes and the possibility for a life that you’re happy with because you’re facing adversity, but I may simply not be able to understand that the obstacles you face are untenable and possibly impossible to over come.” She shrugged and placed a roll of bandages on both terribly small piles before sitting back and sighing. “I’ve separated all my stuff that I’ve been able to find, either pile is fine, but I’ve got a few more hunches if you’re interested.” She paused and quickly packed one of the piles of supplies into the rucksack that she brought with her.

“I got a lot of people who are on my shoulders. After this war, I’ll continue studying, right now though, I got to keep doing this. For them. I’ll be a doctor one day, I promise.” Martina told Bobbi, as if she was trying to convince her as much as she had to convince herself. She looked at the piles and sort the supplies she found between them too. Placing an extra roll of bandages on one pile, she took the other. Greeks probably needed it more. They had enough apollo kids that Martie was sure they wouldn’t miss one roll. “Yeah, gotta get some more stuff anyways. We will do this with those too?”

“I really hope so Martina,” Bobbi replied quietly as she double checked her supplies before zipping up her bag and shouldering it, “there is a distinct lack of capable demigod doctors.” She stood and looked around the now entirely empty pharmacy. A truly surreal experience. Bobbi noticed Martina’s generosity and smiled but didn’t acknowledge it out loud. Martina seemed to be the quiet stoic type. Or at least that’s what she assumed. “Cool, I guess you should follow me then?” she wasn’t really sure what she should say to Martina, they hadn’t known each other long enough for her to know how she would react and Martina’s tension wasn’t making her feel any less concerned.

“I mean a lot of these kids think they’re industructiable. They don’t think they need doctors. At least they don’t think so until they have arrows in their stomachs.” Martina had thought she was indestructible until she ended up in the hospital a few times herself. She couldn’t heal herself. “Where we headed? I can keep you from any sights of the Roman towers.” She zipped her own bag, slinging over her shoulder. “Don’t tell anyone I did this shit with you or for you. I can’t have people know or I’m going to be a traitor.”

“Believe me, I know the type, there was this stunt man who I had to do a few minor operations on, he never seemed to understand that if he didn’t tone it down he could get very seriously injured…” Bobbi remembered him clearly. He had eventually been killed in a car accident. The irony was somewhat palpable. “There is a small bodega with an even tinier pharmacy attached to it on the northern edge of the city. But believe me, I don’t want to jepordise my position within the Greeks anymore than you do.” Especially not because of Leo.

“I broke my wrist once. I was training too hard and too much. I didn’t go to the healers until my centurion saw how swollen it was. I had been trying to hide it under some bracers. Didn’t learn til my third break that I actually have to go to the healers.” Martina had broken quite a few bones over the years. More than she’d care to admit. “I’ll give the Greeks one thing. You tend to be far more forgiving. We aren’t. So, let’s do each other a favor and not tell anyone anything.”

Frowning gently, Bobbi couldn’t imagine ever being so desperate to train and fight that she would hide the pain and the sight of a broken bone. It was frightening what some demigods did out of a perceived duty to their Legion or their People or their godly parents. “Going to the healers is always a good idea,” she shrugged gently, “Agreed. We can definitely keept this between the two of us, for our own good.”

“Not if you got something to hide. You all tend to be nosy.” Martina was the same. She wanted to know what happened and why. She knew that sometimes people weren’t willing to give those answers. “You’re with the oldest Karavadra, aren’t you? Didn’t he leave his family for you?” It had been bothering her since the beginning. It made sense though, how she kept saying you didn’t have to give up morals for family.

“Doctors are usually obliged to keep all matters discussed confidential, I can’t imagine that any of them have been nosy for anything other than professional need, at least I hope not.” Bobbi paused before nodding. “Leo, me and Leo have been together on and off basically since high school, though I guess it was more off than on …” she had almost married someone else. “I guess I must bear some of the blame, but he didn’t approve of the Roman treatment of the Greeks and this entire conflict, that wasn’t something that suddenly changed when I returned to his life.”

“You’d be surprised,” Martina knew that her doctors had had good intentions, but it had made a little bit of trouble for her. Excuses were harder to find after so many questions. She pressed her lips, giving the woman credit for at least taking some of the responsibility. “Take it from some who doesn’t speak to most of her family, he’ll regret it later in life. I’m not trying to start anything with you, but family should come first. At least in my book. Especially in a town like this.” She shrugged,“Hard place to be in, where you two are. Harder than mine.”

“I think everything that happens is at least somewhat surprising,” Bobbi said with a gentle incline of her head as she slipped through a small alley that wound its way between houses and apartment complexes in the center of New Rome’s italian architecture. “Leo knows exactly what he is doing and I think he is starting to make a new family. He hasn’t cut all ties to his siblings but his father is probably the worst person ever born, so I don’t think he’ll really miss him all that much.”

“I could do with a break from surprises, I think. At least for a little. I almost wish that the curses breaking would give us time to rest, but we just went straight back into this war.” Martina was tired of the war, if she was actually willing to admit that she was. She’d still fight it, still stay with New Rome and her people, but she was tired. More tired than she could explain. “Yeah, I don’t envy them with him as their dad. And mine kicked me out when I was twelve.” She didn’t know Jefferson well, but to have kids like Cat and Jax there had to be something messed up in his brain. Even if she was their friends, she had to admit they were a little messed up. “Father like that could drive anyone out.”

“There seems to be no common ground that we can agree on,” Bobbi agreed. It was nice to hear that the Greeks weren’t the only ones who were done with this entire conflict. Swallowing, Bobbi sighed. “I hope we can end this before we do irreparable damage, although I’m not sure we’re not already past that…” Bobbi wasn’t sure if there were enough adjectives in the dictionary to describe the depths of depravity that Jefferson must have decided to stoop to. “Jefferson may well think he is doing what is best for his children, despite his despicable approach he is not a stupid man. He was simply raised in a culture which is dangerous for us all.”

“I think we’re already there. Let’s say the Greeks are let back in, how do you think that’s going to go? If I had to bet, hate crimes would skyrocket, more fights wll break out a lot. Doesn’t help that half of us are under twenty five. We don’t have the brains for this shit,” Martina grumbled. She, at this point, didn’t even care if they came back. She just didn’t want to deal with this shit anymore. “Yeah, well didn’t half those kids who deserted grow up in that culture too? Why aren’t they fucked up like he is? Culture can’t be all there is to that.”

“We educate the population to avoid hate crimes, we prove that those who have a reputation for hatred mongering and scare tactics are nothing more than cowards. We do all of that and we’ll start to make the impact that we need. I am by no means saying that this is going to be an easy fix to a problem that more than likely has a years long fix to it.” Bobbi paused for a breath. “But this isn’t something that we should or that we can just ignore.” She paused and frowned. “Those children weren’t deliberately shaped to be something that they shouldn’t be. The culture is so much more extreme in the Karavadra family. Why do you think two out of three of Jefferson’s children have led soldiers into battle during this war?”

“Who is going to lead all that? I can’t see us being open to the Greeks telling us that New Rome is full of fear mongering officials, even if it is true.” Martina sighed, even if she wanted this war over, even if she didn’t care if the Greeks came back, this was going to be a city at war for a long time. She shrugged,”They probably feel like me. Like they owe someone something. Or at least, maybe they did at first and now it’s an opportunity. Lots of people are looking at this as an opportunity.”

“We do what everyone else has ever done, we compromise, we elect people democratically and we attempt to move into a better system less hell bent on upholding dangerous and deviant traditions based on prejudice.” Bobbi swallowed for a moment. Pausing, she frowned. She’d not considered that before. “Well, I can only speak to as exactly what my boyfriend has told me, but you’ll simply have to forgive me for being skeptical about any system that prioritises the militarisation of children.”

Martina snorted,“Good luck with that. I’m pretty sure the same families controlled the Senate when my grandfather was here. People are weirdly conservative here.” It was both a surprise and not that the younger population was rather conservative at times. Romans loved their traditions, even if they were too young to understand why they did them. “Dude, I went to war the first time when I was like twelve. Everything is about militarisation here. There are people who are taking the centurions who died or left as opportunities to move up. We ain’t kids here, we’re weapons. Instead of getting a barbie here, you get a dagger.”

“Just because something has been someway for a certain number of years, doesn’t mean that it should be that way,” Bobbi replied defiantly, she liked to think of herself as a realist and whilst she didn’t realistically know whether or not there would be change in her life time, she could only hope, “and things are never going to get any better if we don’t take a stand and say enough is enough. In Sparta they used to leave their deformed children to die. We would think that was a terrible abuse of power now, and it will be the same with this eventually. Just because things have been one terrible way for a few generations doesn’t mean that we can’t find a way of making things better.”

“I just don’t see it happening. Who’s even got the support to go up against the Senate? Call me a pessimist or whatever, I just don’t know.” Martina didn’t want get her hopes up about the whole thing, not when things seemed to be in a weird limbo thing. “I don’t know who’s going to stand up against this stuff, other than you all. I mean no offense, but people could get in trouble with stuff if they do. Obviously, it’s not as bad as you guys going through your shit, but we’re selfish creatures most of the time. Maybe it’ll change, maybe it won’t. I’m not holding my breath.”

“I can’t tell you how this would pan out, but surprising things happen at times like this,” Bobbi had to hope, gods she prayed that she was right and something happened, “The Russian Revolution, the French Revolution, the rise of the Septum Piercing. Not all were ideal or necessarily good, but they happened at times of tension…” she smirked gently at her own joke. “We’ve just got to hope that something happens, because from my position I can’t see things getting anything but worse if things continue.”

Martina snorted at Bobbi’s joke, her shoulders becoming slightly less tense than they had been before. “Maybe they’ll teach about this in New Roman schools one day. Maybe it’ll be a lesson for everyone.” She couldn’t help but think of her son and how as he got older, if he were to be in New Rome, he’d known she had fought against the Greeks. She hoped he would understand why, her intentions weren’t completely terrible, even though she wasn’t overly fond of them. She would admit she was in a gray area when it came to where she stood at the moment. “If things continue, we’re going to have more dead kids. I honestly don’t care what happens anymore, I just don’t want these children fighting anymore.” In that moment, Martina realized that she wasn’t exactly grown either. She was twenty one, yes, but she was barely an adult.

#f&gwar #f&gwriting #para #p: Martina #searching for help #chatzy #chatzy para

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fireandseaweed · 6 years ago

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Take A Chance On Me || Bran, Percy and Wally

Bran receives an offer from Percy and Wally.

Stalking his way through the night, Percy made sure that Wally was with him as they stalked along the shore towards the bright lights of the casino. The war that was currently raging away just two miles away didn’t seem to bother New Rome’s richest as they all approached the casino. Percy could see the lights from across the lake and as they got closer he could see the finest dressed guests moving their way around the garden outside. “I can’t believe that I am wearing a tux!” he exclaimed as they got nearer, “I know that we’ve got to try and be silent about the fact that we’re Greeks, but there is a war going on and unless the Romans have been getting their supplies through another way, I can’t imagine how they justify this lavishness.” He swallowed and felt for Riptide in his pocket. “Not to mention the curses,” anger flashed in him at the injustice and he did his best to get over it with a deep sigh, “come on. Let’s get going. The sooner this is done the better.”

Wally peered his head over a small hill as they made their way towards the casino. To hear that some assistance might come out of this place was like catching a curveball. He shrugged and pushed his hair back, although the gel was doing its job of keeping it in place. Since they’d be heading to a more regal affair, Wally shaved and tried to make himself look presentable. “It’s how some of them are, they don’t even care enough for their own. Besides, there are tons of wealthy families in New Rome, right? They probably all pooled their money together or something to keep this place operating.” As they came closer to the entrance, Wally stopped Percy. “Alright, stand back. Now remember, this will only last for a couple hours, so if we split up, find me before then.” Wally’s magic was usually as bright as the day and as obvious as a guy with two heads, but he could contain the firework effect of it all if he tried. Warping Percy to look a different way wasn’t hard at all and was a nice change of pace from trying to stop all these curses. Illusions and transformation were his fortee, so in mere seconds, Percy Jackson no longer looked like himself, though Wally could see through the spell he worked. It was like someone was holding up a transparent picture of the real Percy infront of his disguised face. “Okay, you’re good. Now, let’s go in.”

There was something… not magical, but highly enjoyable about the casino to Bran. Sure, the war raging in New Rome had affected many people, but the elite of the elite still found their way here to drink and to gamble and to squander their money. It was entertaining to see rich senators slurring their speech, to watch with barely-concealed glee as this Roman or that Roman went into a full-blown panic as they lost at one of the tables. He could sense the tug of madness at their minds when they ruined themselves in roulette; or broke the bank at blackjack. Sitting at the bar, facing towards the floor of the casino with a large glass of his family’s own wine in his hand, he smirked slightly as a man nearby blew through several thousand in a loss on a poker hand. Closing his eyes for a second, he gloried in feeling the desperation the man was feeling, skirting dangerously close to madness. As a son of Bacchus, he could manipulate and feel madness. Reaching out with his abilities, he placed the mad thought of wagering even more to try and break even on the next hand in the man’s head, and gave a somewhat sadistic giggle as he watched the man start feverishly counting the chips he was left with before taking a slow drink of his wine in order to hide his smile from anyone who might be looking at the Maecenas patrician as he gloried in this one man’s despair at a game of poker.

As Wally quite literally worked his magic, Percy didn’t feel any different. He wouldn’t have even believed that anything had changed, but he caught his reflection in the light of the lake and even he could see the differences. “Woah,” he admitted out loud with a surprised raise of his eyebrows, “you’re really getting good at this magic shit hermano.” He smirked through his whisper to Wally and double checked on Riptide on the inside pocket of his tuxedo jacket before setting out through the front door of the casino. He spotted senators and even a few members of the Legion, but none of them seemed to realise it was him. So at least everything here was going to plan, for now if nothing else. Pausing momentarily, he reached up to stroke his beard before stopping himself. The visage he wore was clean shaven. “Do you know what you’re looking for?” he asked Wally curiously, glancing left and right trying to work out exactly what it was that they were here for.

“Thanks, Jackson.” Wally beamed at the other lad. Indeed, Wally had gotten better with his magic since the war had begun. He’d used the new battle-torn turf they were in to advance his powers through rougher practices with the elements and powers that be. As they walked into the casino, Wally was a bit overcome. He had never seen a casino before - well, he had seen them in movies, but they seemed different in person. Maybe it was because they were all demigods here, but Wally could feel the power in this place. Everyone was dressed to the nines, and because of their attire, the smiles, the eating and drinking, you’d never guess there was a war going on outside. “Look at all these asshats,” he commented quietly. “Yeah. Brandon Maecenas. He’s a son of Bacchus. His family owns a vineyard that was blessed by his dad. Gives ya’ a bit of an idea of who we’re dealing with. I met him at one of the parties Jason had before the war. Doesn’t like Greek’s at all. But, rumor is that his family has some really strong ties to some artifacts. Getting one would really help us with the ritual.” Heading to the bar, Wally inclined to the bartender, asking if anyone had seen the man. “Brandon Maecenas, he’s been known to frequent places like this. Tall, looks kind of like a bull?”

Bran was part of the way through considering whether to make the poker-playing gambler snap then and there when he heard his name being mentioned at the bar. Turning slowly on his stool, he took in the sight of the two men - one he didn’t recognize, and one he did. He’d met the one with the mis-matched eyes somewhere… It’d come to him in time, he was sure. “A Bull?” He asked dryly, eyebrows rising slightly as he drained his glass of wine, placing it down on the bar and snapping his fingers to demand a refill from the bartender. “We’ve met.” He stated simply, eyeing the one who had asked about him. “Warrington or Walsworth or something, yes?” He asked, pointing at Wally as the bartender dutifully refilled Bran’s glass. “Something with a W, anyway.” He picked up his glass of wine once more, taking another drink - and pointedly not ordering any for the pair of them. He had a nagging suspicion he had met Heterochromia over there in something less-than-acceptable circumstances, which immediately made Bran guarded towards the two newcomers.

For once Percy had a line ready. He was about to explain to the bartender that they were friends with Bran and that they had a gift for him. Something that would get them off the hook of suspicion. And yet before he could say anything someone was talking to Wally and it didn’t take him very long to work out that this was their target. It was awkward if he was perfectly honest, Wally hadn’t exactly insulted Bran, but there was room for offence. A nagging feeling that this might not go as well as he would’ve liked started to tug at him, he patted the inside of his jacket to ensure that Riptide was there, though he knew that it would be. Somewhat comforted by the backstory that he was beginning to concoct in his head. “Is this Bran?” he asked, leaning forwards and smiling brightly at Bran, “Duke Chadinson,” he said stretching a hand out for Bran to take, “nice to meet you.”

Wally tried to look confident, which was getting easier now that he had protected himself against so many attackers and even killed one. He was able to keep his back straight and take a few steps over to Bran without faltering, definitely a change from a few months ago. He looked to Percy as he introduced himself to Bran, his smile changing to something more humorous. “Bran Maecenas? We have met before, at a party months and months ago. Wally Robinson.” He didn’t put his hand out, thinking Bran might remember who he was and not only not shake his hand, but immediately call security. “Thought I might buy you a drink, offer a proposal to ya, if you’d be interested?” Thankfully their tuxes masked their forearms, helping to hide the fact that unlike everyone else here, even Percy, Wally had no SPQR tattoo. “Might we take a seat somewhere more private?”

Before Bran had the chance to process much of what was being said to him about where he had met ‘Wally’ (that didn’t seem right, did it?) the other man was introducing himself as ‘Duke Chadinson,’ a ludicrous name that made Bran just stare at him and his extended hand in very clear judgement for a long moment. “You are either the worst person I’ve ever met when it comes to making fake names, or you have a very unfortunate mortal parent.” He said a little jeeringly to the man he was, as of yet, unaware was Percy Jackson before turning his gaze back to Wally. “I can pay for my own drinks,” He said a little stiffly - the memory of the party coming back to him now his memory had been jogged about it. “Tell me, how is Jason these days?” He asked with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, subtly warning the two of them that he knew precisely who - or what, rather - they were. “You have five minutes,” He said flatly as he stood from his stool, brushing past them both before finishing the sentence quietly so that only ‘Duke’ and Wally would hear, “Graecus,” and led the way across the casino floor to a back reception room, shutting the door behind the three of them.

Following Bran through the casino, Percy considered giving up the act but thought better of it. “I actually changed my own name, I used to be called William Hernandez, not exactly the most exciting name. Not quite like Duke Chadinson.” Smirking through his drinking, he swallowed a mouthful of beer before raising an eyebrow and shrugging. “Jason’s doing as well as could be expected, all things considered of course,” he paused for a moment before stepping into a private room with Bran and Wally. “You’re not blind, you might be stupid but only time will tell,” he shrugged for a moment, “so you know that there is a number of curses affecting both Romans and Greeks. We’ve found a way to stop the curse, but we require certain components that we don’t have access to.” Pausing for another second he let that sink in. “We can’t keep things going for too much longer, we don’t think you can either.”

Wally sighed, giving Percy a quick look. Was that really the best name he could manage? Wally pursed his lips and held back the urge to slap the backside of Percy’s head. Espionage was not his thing. “Jason’s alive, which can’t be said for all of us,” Wally added, walking to the room with the other two men. Wally wasn’t sure if it part of who Bran was, but just looking at him made the blonde feel uneasy. It was like looking at a known murderer, which now Wally had to wonder, did this guy kill any Greeks? “You’re family I heard has a lot of highly priced jewelry, some magical, some not. Some of these items might help me,” he paused, “might help us all in ending this curse. We know that the Romans can’t be doing well, not based on what we’ve seen. So, I need to get into your house, see what you have that I can use, then we’ll be gone. I imagine that if the Roman’s haven’t fixed this by now, they can’t. So . . . that’s our proposal. You help us, we can end the curse.”

“Yes, I suppose doing as well as can be expected in the current circumstances is the best he can hope for as a traitor to the Legion and to Rome.” Bran said smoothly as he eyed the two now that they were alone in the small side room. Raising his wine to his lips, he took a slow sip as he considered both of them and their proposals. Eyeing ‘Duke’ for a few moments, he turned his gaze to Wally. “Your friend has quite the mouth.” He stated dryly. “It would be quite unfortunate if his propensity to running it would keep us from arriving at a deal.” He let the threat hang there for a few moments. “Rome is an eternal culture and society, Graecus.” He sneered at ‘Duke’ in response to the comment about the Romans being unable to keep things going. “My own family has held high rank and privilege in the Empire since the days of Caesar Augustus. You would do well to remember which civilization fell, and which endured.” He drained his glass of wine, and turned his attention fully to Wally and his proposal. “Well, Washington,” He said, deliberately getting the Greek’s name wrong, “What is in it for me if I lend you assistance? I am a Centurion of the Legion - consorting with a Graecus could earn me a charge of treason, no better than those so-called Praetors who await trial.” He examined the wine glass for a long moment. “Would it not just be better to let the affected… endure? Surely whatever caused this curse had its purpose.” He knew very well what had caused the curse - had been involved in unleashing it, and now stood here discussing ending it with fugitives from justice, terrorists, and Greeks.

Percy’s stomach boiled at Bran’s comments, but he had dealt with bullies before and he was more than certain that he would have to again. He wasn’t about to get riled up by some floppy haired puta who thought that they were still living in ancient times. “Yes well antiquated and inefficient institutions often have to be torn down by a popular revolution, I suppose it can’t be too much longer before it happens here. But for the moment we’ll have to keep with the oppressive drudgery, what is it that they say, when in Rome right?” he shrugged gently and sighed gently at the bravado of Bran. Every other bully acted like they had nothing to be afraid of too. “Was this before or after one of your Emperors appointed his horse to be his successor?” He gave Bran an amused smile before sighing. “You may not have to like us, in fact I’m certain you don’t. That’s fine. I couldn’t give a shit. What I do care about is the literal thousands of Greeks and Romans alike that are suffering through this.” A brainwave came to him and he reached into his pocket and flicked his phone onto record the rest of their conversation. “Many of the victims of the curse are suffering from things that will eventually kill them, we’re looking for a way to solve this.” He paused for a moment, he hadn’t come utterly unprepared. “We’re willing to pay you for your contribution of course,” he paused and smiled sweetly at Bran, “but I always thought that helping the Roman people was the duty of a Centurion, wouldn’t you say Bran?”

Wally kept exchanging glances between the two other men at the table. As both Percy and Bran talked, he worried that their deal might be slipping. It seemed like the son of Poseidon and son of Bacchus were trying to have a dick matching contest. “You must have people you care about, Bran. Have none of them been affected?” He looked sincere in his empathy and he hoped that got across to Bran. “I think we’re all okay with fighting each other fair and square, but this curse is going to destroy everything if left to continue. You may be doing fine now, but it won’t stay that way. And let’s be honest, if we had nothing that you need or want, you’d have already gotten the guards.” He nodded at Percy. “We can pay something worth your while.” He leaned back and put his hands on the table, cupped together. “Help us now, then you and I can tustle later on the battlefield.”

Bran fixed ‘Duke’ with a pointed look at his comment about popular revolutions and drudgery. Sneering slightly at the man, he shifted to lean back slightly to regard him suspiciously. “Who are you?” He asked simply. “I remember now – Watson over there is a Son of Hecate. A witch.” He nodded his head towards Wally. “You’re far too bold to be any run of the mill Demigod. Which means he is using his magic to hide your identity.” He challenged the man who had identified himself as ‘Duke.’ He missed the man’s hand vanishing into his pocket to start recording the conversation. “I care about the Romans. Of course I care about the Romans. You Greeks could be stacked like cordwood on the side of the road for all I care.” He gave a dismissive sniff, scrutinizing the pair of them as he was offered payment for his assistance. His gaze drifted between the pair of them. “I could just be humoring both of you before killing you both myself.” He pointed out to Wally, before giving a genuine, deep laugh at the mention of a payment worth his while. “I don’t need money, you stupid Greeks.” He smirked at the pair of them. “I want something a little more… tangible than gold.” He folded his arms across his chest. “I want prisoners – noted Greeks or traitors who have taken up arms with you – surrendered into my custody to be conveyed to the Senate for trial.” He was improvising on the spot – but if he secured the capture of traitors like Jason Grace and other Romans who had taken up arms alongside the Greeks, the Cult would emerge ahead in the calculus, even if their curse had backfired.

It was an accident really. The laugh. But this situation was so absurd that Percy couldn’t help himself. It started out as a giggle, and it wasn’t long before he had to take a chair and sit in it as his body was wracked with hysterical laughter. It was almost a full minute before he was able to compose himself enough to speak. Wiping tears away from his eyes, Percy looked up at Bran and smiled amused. “That was a no if it wasn’t clear. We won’t be trading human lives just so that you can get another feather in your cap, the irony of course being that you’re putting your own people in even further jeopardy just so that you can advance your own career. I shudder to think what the senate would think of that.” He looked up at Bran for a moment before shrugging and standing. “Who I am is of little consequence as we will be leaving now, it is obvious you’re not willing to attempt to help your own people and I’ve got other options to explore.” He looked at Bran for a moment more before standing from the chair he’d sat in a moment ago. “As for attempting to kill us, Wally is the most talented battle magician I’ve seen in almost five years, I’m feeling pretty safe thanks.” He shrugged gently and looked at Bran, waiting for him to make the final offer. Maybe there wouldn’t be one at all. If that was the case then they’d think of something else.

Wally didn’t know whether to join in with Percy’s laughter, or . . . well, he didn’t really know how to react. Wally did smile though, because Percy wasn’t backing down at all, and he loved that. Hearing Percy compliment him in such a way really strengthened the demigod on the inside. He felt more powerful just by the other man saying it. “Look, Bran, giving ourselves up to you isn’t really an option.” He said it so smugly, which may have been a mistake, considering they needed Bran’s help. “Not to threaten you, but Duke is right. It wouldn’t take a lot of energy for me to turn half the people in here into guinea pigs. I for one wouldn’t mind becoming Circe 2.0 and turning this place into my own island. As quick as you can do whatever you can, I’m sure I’m just as fast.” He took a pause but held his hand up to let Bran know he wasn’t done. “You want a win here, I get that. It wouldn’t be much of a bargain if you didn’t get that. But your win is seeing everyone you care about be restored to their health. Your win is New Rome being able to fight at a hundred-percent again. You have a chance here to really be a savior and help us remove these curses.” He took on a more sympathetic look, trying to show all his emotion in his eyes. “Come on, how much longer can we all hold out? Help us help you.”

Bran’s eyes narrowed a little as the one who had been pushing his patience the entire conversation started laughing at his demand. His eyes narrowing slightly as he stared at the other man while he took a chair and wiped tears of laughter from his eyes while laughing hysterically, he folded his arms tightly over his chest, fixing the man with a pointed stare as he was told the answer to his demand was ‘no.’ “I feel like demanding the capture of traitors and rebels is hardly putting my own career before the people.” Bran shot back pointedly as the man stood up once again. Chewing his lower lip slightly, he shifted his gaze to Wally as the witch spoke – eyes narrowing a little more at the smug tone the witch was using. Still chewing at his lower lip, he drummed his fingers against his biceps in thought as Wally spoke. “Stop the raids targeting Roman Citizens, and I’ll help.” He said simply. “Restrict yourselves to operations against the Legion. The citizens of New Rome don’t need to be caught in the middle of all of this.”

Raising an eyebrow, Percy shrugged gently at Bran’s reply before speaking in turn. “If your motive were to assist your people then perhaps I would agree with you, however it seems apparent from your attitude that your motivation is not to assist your people but to further your own career.” He paused for a moment, it was hardly as if they were hurting the Roman Citizens, they never harmed anyone and they didn’t take prisoners. They simply had attempted to cut off their supplies. “Agreed,” he said without hesitation knowing that they were unlikely to fight the war in the same way if and when it were to restart from the semi break that it had taken during the duration of the curses, “we will stop the raids on Roman Citizens and focus on military operations as soon as we receive what we want.” He would keep the recording, blackmailing him later may be something that they were forced to do.”

“See,” Wally said between them, “that wasn’t so difficult, was it.” He stayed seated for a moment longer, laying both hands flat out on the table. “To get this over with, I’d like to go to your place tonight. I imagine you have a showcase of all your prized items?” He then stood up and fixed the collar around his neck. “If you have any doubts that we’ll only be there for the items we need, try and stuff those feelings down. We don’t wanna be in your home anymore than you want us there.”

Bran sneered slightly at ‘Duke.’ “You know nothing about my motivations, Graecus.” He snapped slightly before nodding his head lightly as he agreed to the demand. Shifting his gaze to Wally as he spoke again, Bran gave a slight huff. “Just because you don’t think of it as much doesn’t mean it is truly a little thing.” He pointed out as Wally stood. “You will not be alone with any of my artifacts. Either I or my security will be with you at all times in my home, and you will promptly return whatever you use.” He said flatly.

Percy raised an eyebrow and bobbed his head in agreement with Bran’s demands. He was tired of the dick measuring contest and he didn’t want to over stay their welcome. “We shall meet you at your estate,” he said before withdrawing from the room. He and Wally didn’t speak as they began the trek from the casino to the estate they had agreed to meet at. As they waited outside of the gates, a guard informed them that they would be received shortly. “This is going better than I’d hoped,” he admitted still disguised, “for a moment there I thought that he wouldn’t bend.” -

Wally nodded at Bran, pulling his hands back into his lap. “I would not expect it any other way, Bran.” Both he and Percy stood up and started to walk out. He looked over to the demigod and smiled a little. “We’re not done yet, Perce, but yeah . . . it’s not going bad at all. This guy doesn’t seem happy about it all though, look out for any tricks or traps.” As they were let into the manor, Wally was amazed. At first he’d been impressed by the outside of the place, but the inside was far more stunning. “Gods, this place is beautiful.” He stared in awe, eyes taking long gazes from the floor to the ceiling. “Alright,” he pointed to a few of the guards. “Let’s follow them.”

Bran watched the pair of them leave the room at the casino, glaring pointedly after the two Greeks before getting in touch with security at his estate, and informing them of the impending arrival. If the two visitors did anything beyond their welcome - if they made to go anywhere but the display rooms of artifacts, if they made to touch anything beyond what Wally (whom he called Warburton to his security) said they needed to lift the curse, they were both to be detained. Heaving a heavy sigh, he returned to the bar - switching to whisky now as he took a heavy drink before stepping back into the side room to contact the Cult to inform them what he had done - and to offer a defense for his actions: it would save the Romans affected by the curse, and it had given him some insight into the Greeks.

#take a chance on me #f&gwar #f&gevent #f&gwriting #para #p: bran #p: wally #chatzy #chatzy para

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discordandglory-blog · 7 years ago

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Still dressed in her battered and dented armour from the battle previously, Cat held her helmet in blood stained fingers. Wiping her arm against her lip, she wiped away dried blood from her battered face. Her face felt sore and she was sure she’d have a black eye. “All in all,” she said wearily, “I think we can call that battle a success.”

#f&gstarter #f&gwar #f&gevent

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quickdeaths · 2 years ago

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It was not as though she planned to leave. There was nowhere to go. Alone in a mostly-unfamiliar country, one that she hadn't seen in over seven years, Izumi felt as isolated and uncomfortable walking the streets and seeing the sights as she did in a hotel bar. That being the case, she'd elected to stay in the place that had warm fires and sweet drinks instead of cold air that bit at her face.

The only other option would be going to see her mother, and Izumi believed that whatever happiness the woman might get from seeing her would be overshadowed by some immediate argument about how she should have come sooner, or how it had been rude of her to come without calling, or both at once. Izumi's explanation about a brief job opportunity would fall on deaf ears.

Besides, ONI was something she'd made for herself, not for her mother. More often than not, it felt like ONI protected her, but with this, she could protect ONI from whatever words a bitter woman would say about her career.

So, then, what else was there to do? It wasn't late, but Izumi had already considered letting one of the receptionists know to call her if someone came looking for her. Her lumpy hotel bed would be more bearable with headphones in, and there was a lot to catch up. The new Atrocity album had just come out, and maybe someone had finally uploaded good footage of the final Number Girl concert. If nothing else, she could listen back to her own demos and see if they inspired any ideas for iteration.

All of which was to say, she wasn't paying attention when spoken to, and the suddenness of the approach - to her, anyway - caused her to jolt up in her seat. "N-no, I'm twenty, I'm an adult," she stammered, grimacing at how easy it was to stumble over her words in Swedish and fall back on bad habits. That was above the drinking age here, too, wasn't it? She'd checked and rechecked the page before ordering, so prepared, only not to be asked for any identification.

From her nearby purse, Izumi drew out her passport. There it all was, wasn't it? Izumi Ueda, F, Japanese citizen registered in Saga, age twenty as of December 29th, about a month ago. "See, right here." After three quick quick quick readthroughs, she held it up to prove her innocence to the man she assumed was some kind of hotel or bar manager... then promptly dropped it on the floor as her big blue eyes widened in recognition.

Most of her bandmates (ex-bandmates now, came the painful thought) were older men with older tastes: NWOBHM and the post-Loudness Japanese boom in the 80s and 90s. Kumagai-san was younger and more tuned in to modern styles, while Izumi herself was a voracious eccentric who listened to anything and everything. It was important, too, for a metal guitarist to pay attention to metal music so as not to be left behind. Izumi tried to watch and listen to as much as she possibly could, and after listening to something she liked a single time, she'd never forget it.

The same went for live performances - being a meek girl portraying such a cool character as ONI, she'd looked at all sorts of performances to study how cooler people than herself carried themselves on stage. The last thing she wanted was a BAKEMONO fan to walk away from a concert thinking 'that guitarist is so stiff and awkward, shouldn't a young girl be more spirited?' It was good to take inspiration from acts like GWAR, King Diamond, Rob Zombie, and yes, Ghost, to improve her stage presence so that those fans could instead walk away thinking 'wow, that ONI is really lively and fun, I hope for good things in her career to come.'

So having watched so many Ghost performances, and having had the solo sections from Miasma in her warm-up repertoire for years, how could she not recognize him? Her hands, nails painted the same pale-blue as her favorite guitar, clamped over her lips. "You're Copia, oh my gosh!" Well... not anymore, maybe. Stage names could be such transient things - she'd already thought long and hard about whether ONI was something best left to the Japanese monster theming of BAKEMONO, or if she could carry her along with her. To Copia, though, it wasn't like she had any other name to call him, and Papa Emeritus IV was a mouthful.

"Sorry, am I in your way? Were you meeting someone, or something? I can leave, it's fine, I was finished anyway." Figuring that she'd grab her passport on the way out, or perhaps forget it altogether and deal with that problem in the morning, Izumi made to gather up her things, only to freeze once she realized two critical things. Firstly, there was no one else in sight, aside from the bartender and the front desk receptionist. Secondly, she, ONI, semi-renowned metal guitarist, had given this location as a place to meet her about work after specifically someone to pass her name around. "W-wait, are you here to meet me? ONI?" It felt like a stupid question, but...

Dickhead.

It is an uncharitable thought about one of his Ghouls -- one of his best ghouls, yes, sure, absolutely, but not entirely untrue nonetheless. The last leg of their European tour and the bastard ate shit on stage, broke an arm, put a kink in his tail, and for what? Showboating?

Nobody was allowed to showboat unless Papa allowed it.

-- That ignored the equally uncharitable thought about Copia's own self, that he often tripped and fell more frequently at the Rituals than any of the Ghouls, sometimes combined. But that was also often their fault, sneaking up behind him, shadowing him while effortlessly playing with perfection, only to spook him when he turned around. Of course he fell -- what was what they intended, yes?

But for them to fall, it could only be because of shenanigans, tomfoolery, upstart and ornery behavior. And one might ask -- what did you expect, using ghouls as backing musicians? And Copia would have no answer for that, except that that was the way the project was always done, atleast as far back as the sixties, and he personally had no control over it.

Or maybe he did. Frankly, he didn't know exactly how far his power as Papa extended. Perhaps, in the old days, he might have had unrestrained and unchecked influence not only over the Ghost project, but the Ministry as well, but those days were distant memories. The displayed corpses of his last three predecessors on his first tour was evidence enough of that.

But if he had had the right to change the project's components, would he?

No. As exasperated as the ghouls made him, they were also, on occasion, fun. He would never admit that, no, it would give them much too much of an ego and the last thing any ghoul needed was one of those, but, alas, truth was truth and to say he didn't have some fondness for the creatures that made up the project with him would be a lie.

All the same, with the Ghoul's injuries, they were, as the saying went, up shit creek without a paddle.

And it left Copia scrambling for a solution, reaching out to old Ministry contacts, going against his better judgement to ask Sister what she had thought (and he so desperately wanted to grow out from underneath her thumb, craved her approval in a way he could not quite understand yet). Saltarian had come through, in the end -- with a contact who knew someone who knew someone who just happened to be in the country.

In the end, that's what's got Copia slipping into a bar in some random hotel, red sweatpants and matching hoodie and sunglasses with just his cardinal paint instead of the fullblown papa rat skull he had chosen for himself.

Its... discreet He had told Sister Imperator with a chuckle as he retreated out the back of the Ministry.

It... really is not.

She had responded, but he had already made his mind up, and there he was.

(Sometimes, the Cardinal paint felt better, more comfortable. Even if he had sacrificed so much to move past that).

There was only one person in the bar, which was not surprising since it was early evening, and he side stepped his way over, stopping every now and again to peer over his shoulder as if he thought he might be recognized, or there was a chance of someone following him.

(There wasn't.)

It takes him twice as long to approach her as it would any normal person, and he stops behind her.

"Ehhhhhhh. Hello there. Hi. You're looking--"

Well, he means to say, but it doesn't fall from his lips easily, or at all. Instead, his brow creases, dipping low over his mismatched gaze, his accented voice stuttering to a stop before spluttering back on like an old engine giving fits.

"A kid?"

#dilffactory #c; the princess of demons

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