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 Posted: Thu Dec 06, 2012 1:38 am
❀ Page 5 ❀
✿✿✿✿✿✿ 46. Table of Contents
✿✿✿✿✿✿ 47. Solo Battle - Ghosts of the Past
✿✿✿✿✿✿ 48. Battle/PRP - A Debt Repaid
✿✿✿✿✿✿ 49. The Will to Act
✿✿✿✿✿✿ 50. Battle Scars
✿✿✿✿✿✿ 51. Solo Battle - Sacrifice
✿✿✿✿✿✿ 52. Hierarchy of Responsibility
✿✿✿✿✿✿ 53. Fellowship
✿✿✿✿✿✿ 54. Performance Evaluation
✿✿✿✿✿✿ 55. ---
✿✿✿✿✿✿ 56. Justice as Beauty
✿✿✿✿✿✿ 57. NPC RP - Classified Papers
✿✿✿✿✿✿ 58. Solo Battle - Ghost Protocol
✿✿✿✿✿✿ 59. Reunion
✿✿✿✿✿✿ 60.
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Kurama no Koishi generated a random number between
1 and 3 ...
2!
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Posted: Thu Dec 06, 2012 1:39 am
✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿SOLO BATTLE - GHOSTS OF THE PASTVan stared out beyond the trees, taking in the view of the snow-capped mountains that surrounded the temple. The bowl of rice and fish in her hand was half-finished and cold, the result of a distracted mind during lunchtime. She’d decided to eat outside today, away from the monks and nuns for a change and with only her thoughts for company. The temple residents meant well, and Van had nothing against them—it was just easy to feel a bit overwhelmed when there was always a shaved head or an orange robe hardly a stone’s throw away. She needed her time alone. It might have been a bit selfish of her to seek solitude, but these days the woman found that she felt the most enlightened alone.
The crisp air was nice, she mused, the sentiment quickly swirling together with other thoughts in her head as she scanned the horizon. There were only a few minutes left in her lunch break to enjoy the beauty of the outdoors before she had to slave in it, but this peace was suddenly cut short when something hit her hard on the back of her head, causing her and her food to tumble forward into the snow.
Surprised to find herself on her hands and knees, the captain started to throw an angry glare backwards, only to be forced to roll quickly over to the side as an iron-clad boot stomped the snow right where her hand would have been. Climbing to her feet and turning, she expected to see the bright whites the grandmaster wore. Instead, she was met with an orange robe. Before her stood a tall man with a full head of hair—an unshaven disciple. His dark hair was cropped close to his head, and his scales glinted gold in the sunlight. The man’s remarkable beauty was offset by the glittering hate that shone in his pale eyes, a hatred Van hadn’t seen since she was last fighting in the war.
“Is there a problem?” she asked stiffly. Clearly there was, but she figured she would allow him to speak before she decided on a plan of action. Once upon a time she would have simply lunged at him or thrown a knife, but years in the temple had softened her temper and taught her a bit of restraint, if only a little. Her fingers still itched to wring the man’s neck.
He said nothing, only moving in with the tiger fist and a steel in his eyes that would have frightened anyone but those trained to fight it. Van frowned, deflecting the blow with an open palm and jumping back a few paces. Why was he trying so hard to get her to fight him? Part of her wondered if this was yet another test from the grandmaster, but her more reasonable mind doubted it. His lessons weren’t delivered this way, and certainly not with the hatred of war, one that thirsted for another faction’s blood. The captain knew that hatred anywhere, and it was here in this man’s eyes.
She jumped back again when he swung his leg out, noticing now that he was pushing her towards a steep dropoff. The fall would break a few bones if she wasn’t careful. Van ducked hard when he swung at her again, and bracing her knees on the ground, caught the brunt of a kick with crossed arms. Wincing on impact, the captain quickly rolled out of his reach before jumping to her feet and bounded backwards several paces, away from the edge of the small cliff. “Will you at least tell me why I should be fighting you?” Her inquiry fell on deaf ears.
The man was upon her again in an instant, but this time, Van was ready for him. She’d pulled the karambit out from within her robes and had flicked the short knife open, wrapping her fist in steel and using the tiger’s claw blade on its end to slash forward and across. Blood flecked the white snow on the ground.
“I knew you were trouble.”
The rich tenor of his voice, bathed in contempt, was somehow familiar, and Van stood still for a moment trying to place it. “You’re...”
“Yamada Juro,” he supplied, his upper lip curling into a sneer. “Or don’t you remember?”
“I wish I didn’t,” Van replied, the curve of her lips drawn into a straight line. It had come together—the sound of his voice, his familiar bone structure, even the way he seethed at her now. Juro was the hot-headed lieutenant of Raiden, one of the more notable among the Nobles’ captains. She had only met him once or twice when she had been seeing Raiden, not enough to glean much information, but enough that the Legion had a file on him. For reasons Van never understood, he’d never seemed to like her back then, even when he’d thought that she was a civilian. It looked like he was about to enlighten her now, but she didn’t care much to hear it. Life was too short to count the reasons people hated her.
“You’re bleeding,” she said pointedly, eyeing the shallow gash she’d made on his chest as she replaced her knife in her pocket. He ignored her.
“I told him you were a good-for-nothing c**t,” Juro snarled, lunging at her again with both fists bared. Van caught or deflected most of the combination in succession, but the last punch collided painfully with her shoulder, and she slumped backwards with a grunt. He allowed her no respite, bearing down on her again with a menacing expression. “But he never listened. Thought that you were the one. He dreamed of a future with you, can you believe it? And wouldn’t you know, I was right all along.”
Van was silent, her eyes hard as she listened to what he was saying. Though her expression betrayed no emotion, a dull ache had formed in the pit of her stomach, one that always came when her thoughts wandered too far into the past. Raiden was an old scar, one that the captain was content to leave forgotten. But here, now, with a living reminder of the love she’d forged and lost attacking her, it was difficult not to remember. Still she said nothing, trying to focus her thoughts elsewhere. She wondered why the lieutenant was so angry about the things that had occurred back then, even years hence.
“Do you know what happened afterward?” he demanded then, rage darkening his face, “He left. He was shamed out of the entire division. Over what? A little broken heart caused by some dumb Legionnaire b***h. Now the company’s the damned laughingstock of the army!”
So that was how that had ended. Van had never investigated the case farther after the completion of her mission—she’d never been able to bring herself to. She’d never wanted to know what happened to Raiden, whether he’d been killed or moved on or replaced her. The thought of it had been too much to bear, and knowing now that it’d been none of the above only wrenched her heart more. His lieutenant was here trying to exact revenge on her with some sort of misplaced sense of justice, as if she was to blame for stunting his company’s growth. Yet it didn’t matter to her, not compared to having old wounds ripped open.
Juro halted his approach, though briefly, to scoff in disgust. “Now he’s probably wasting away in some dumpster, living off the pity money you corrupt Legionnaires call retirement income. He deserves it, that damn fool—”
The word sparked her anger. Van could feel the fire rising in her blood, coursing through her veins. It was here that she finally deigned to speak. “Raiden was many things, but he was not a fool.” Her voice was tight, edged with poison. Before she could stop herself, she’d tackled the other man to the ground and had struck him across the face with a closed fist.
Van raised her hand to strike again, but hesitated when the man under her began to chuckle, first quietly, before growing into full-forced, scornful laughter. Before she could hit him again, Juro shoved her weight aside, leaving her seated and scrambling to find her feet as he rocked forward and stood, spinning a kick into her gut. The woman choked, gasping for air as pain spread from the impact and her vision turned strangely bright. In the next moment he was behind her, one arm wrapped around her throat, wrenching her head sideways while he held one knee in her back, immobilizing her.
“So you’re still in love with him.” She heard his voice close to her ear and flinched. Her hands clawed uselessly at his arm as his grip tightened, constricting her throat so she could no longer talk, but even this effort was halted when she realized that he could break her neck. “Aren’t you? Tell me.” He eased his hold on her only slightly to hear her response.
“N...no,” she rasped, the syllable barely audible in the still air.
Before he could react, before he could tear her head off her body, several pairs of hands lifted him off of her. Van fell sideways on release, sucking in a huge lungful of air to nourish her deprived lungs as she watched—and heard—the screaming man be carried away by a number of shaven men in orange. His words were indistinct, distant to her, and the world blurred when her eyes overflowed in tears.
Someone—probably one of the monks—was asking her whether she was alright, holding a cup of tea under her nose for her to take. But she didn’t respond even when they pulled her up from the snow, unseeing and unhearing, numb. Her eyes were wet, and she couldn’t comprehend why. She’d said no, hadn’t she? 
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Posted: Sun Dec 09, 2012 4:28 pm
✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿BATTLE/PRP - A DEBT REPAID Van only allowed herself a moment to stare after Kiran when he left, too quickly for her to respond or try to reassure him—not that it would have been wise to do so. They couldn’t risk being heard or seen. Instead, she turned her back and wheeled the empty cart back inside the dungeon, forced to be content with the fact that she’d done all she could to help him. All she could do now was hope that he didn’t run into the patrols on his way out. He was good enough to evade them, but her fighters were just as sharp, and much greater in number.
As the adrenaline from the anxiety subsided, the captain could feel weariness setting in, its effect magnified by her anemic state. She traversed the empty halls well enough, eventually returning upstairs to ground level where her lonely office was positioned. Closing the door behind her when she reached her office, it was all she could do not to fall into her chair, and instead lay her head on her arms in an attempt to still the world that was spinning dangerously around her.
She couldn’t make sense of it. All of her life, she’d lived for herself, for the blood bonds that tied her to her family. When her brother severed that tie, she turned to the Legion for guidance and direction, and to knit her closer to the clan. Yet, what she’d done just now was nothing short of a betrayal. Van had sworn an oath to her family when she graduated the Academy, and another to the Legion when she accepted her promotion, and still she never felt more alienated from them than she did now. There was no one to turn to who would understand just the kind of situation she was in, or at least, no one she could trust to.
What did one even call it? The problem wasn’t helping Kiran—it was much more than that. She currently lived with another Noble captain, but she’d never made an attempt on his life. She routinely fought Nobles upon Nobles, but seldom deigned to make the killing blow. She’d gotten herself in deep with the Legionnaires, but the more she thought about it, the more she realized she wasn’t cutthroat enough, especially not for the position she held within the Legion. She wasn’t the way she used to be.
Coming back to work since the completion of her Shaolin training had been one trial after another. She’d changed in the year she’d been gone, the Buddhist principles having taken root in her heart. But it wasn’t enough for the grandmaster, who’d ridiculed her ability and spirituality the first time he ever beheld her.
It wasn’t enough. It was never enough, because changing to accommodate one problem caused greater conflicts elsewhere. They were everywhere, permeating every aspect of her life. The family was deadlocked, the faction divided, the country in shambles. As for Van herself? She couldn’t even see straight to sort herself out.
“Van? I heard about what happened.” Liang had entered her office, interrupting her dizzying thoughts. “Kasem told me.”
The captain raised her head slightly, fighting through the blur of her vision to look at her former teammate. Liang had been her first mission partner, and though he had been annoying at first, he meant well and they’d long since settled their differences. Fighting together mission after mission tended to do that. “It’s fine, I took care of it,” she answered tiredly, waving one arm weakly in an attempt to brush him off.
He knew better to listen to her, of course, coming to her side to press a bottle of water to her parched lips, which she took gratefully in spite of herself. “You should take better care of yourself. We worry about you, you know.”
She did know. She knew that over the years, her original team had come to trust each other, and her. They trusted each other with their lives, to cover each other in battle. But she also knew that she’d never told them anything, not compared to the way they’d opened themselves up to her. She’d never truly trusted them the way they did her. “It’s okay. I’ll be okay,” she insisted again, as she did every time, but her tone sounded pathetic even to herself. Something clicked in her mind.
Liang, ever patient, reached out to help her up. “Come on, let’s get you home.”
“No, no.” she protested instantly, resisting his grip on her arm enough that he released her. She didn’t have to look to know the expression of simultaneous consternation and surprise on his face, but she continued anyway. “No. Liang, please—just stay here for a moment. I... I want to talk.”
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Posted: Sat Dec 22, 2012 2:39 am
✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿THE WILL TO ACT
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Posted: Fri Dec 28, 2012 12:15 am
✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿BATTLE SCARSThe silk of her ao dai fell away from her body, making no sound when it settled on the floor at her feet. Van shivered as the cold air hit her skin, but her eyes did not move from the mirror. Her gaze passed over her reflection, over the curves and planes of her toned body, lingering on the scars before passing to her hands.
She turned around for a moment to inspect her backside, to see the faint, jagged scars that marred her there. Those had been her first battle scars, caused by a moment of hesitation during her first mission as a fighter. Sara had healed her well, such that the scars were nearly invisible unless one looked for them. Van, of course, was looking for them, and in seeing them she wondered about her priestess friend. It had been two years since she’d seen the younger woman, and even though she kept well-informed of the state of that particular temple and knew Sarangerel was safe, she still missed her.
The priestess had healed the one on her left shoulder too, where a wind and fire wheel had been embedded the first time someone had been sent to take her life. The assassin was also the cause of a faint line just above her brow, one which the captain had since taken to covering with her makeup every day. Van lifted her hand to touch it now as she turned to face the mirror again, her expression neutral.
Her hands had been hard and calloused for nearly as long as she could remember, worn through training and war. Even bandaged and later gloved, they were undoubtedly the hands of a fighter. Yet, these hands had the capacity to be exceedingly gentle, though few these days were close enough to the woman to understand this. One was different from the other, with a Lichtenberg figure running up the length of her arm beginning from the palm of her right hand. It had been conceived in indecision, when her will to act had been the lesser force, and her enemy nearly overpowered her. The twisted lines on her arm were a beautiful mark for a lesson so grim.
The only scars Van was proud of were the ones on her inner forearms—the dragon on her left, and the tiger on her right. These had burned so deep into her flesh that neither skin nor scale would ever grow again. The deepest of her scars, they were also the most significant, embodying her mastery of the darkness and the light. Van had spent weeks picking at the burn so that they’d heal properly, perfectly, as any master of the Shaolin arts would. On the surface it was a vanity project, but ultimately it served to perpetuate a certain balance she’d achieved in her lifetime.
If only she could have learned earlier, and saved herself the emotional scars. Her involvement in the war had cost her a brother, and later on, a lover. Both were wounds she still carried on her heart, hidden from view.
Van had long since laid to rest the story of her brother, accepting that there was nothing else she could do for him. Until the day they met on opposite sides of the battlefield, she had sworn not to dwell on it any longer. Even then, she was sure of her ability to lead her fighters true.
That left Raiden, a man she’d left, but who had never left her. She had nearly forgotten after so many years, until the fight with his lieutenant returned all the memories, the half-remembered dreams to the forefront of her mind. What was her brother’s desertion if she could turn around and do the same thing to Raiden? The woman struggled to justify it every night, and it was always before she drifted off that she painfully realized—betrayal did not necessitate the loss of love.
It was unfortunate, this turn of events, making her decision seem almost regrettable. Yet therein lay the beauty of a scar—it would always be there to remind her that she’d survived.
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Posted: Fri Dec 28, 2012 12:16 am
✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿SOLO BATTLE - SACRIFICE✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿Legion WinVan tested the ropes which bound her hands together behind the chair she sat in now. They’d cut out the seat of the chair, leaving behind little more than a wiry frame for her to chafe her bare thighs against as they applied pressure and tried to get her to talk. It had been hours, now, and the discomfort was beginning to grate on even Van’s patience for this kind of thing.
These Nobles were less brutal in interrogation than she knew how to be. They didn’t have to be, because Legionnaires who talked easily rarely knew anything of value, and those who knew something always knew how to hide it. It was fortunate, then, that they didn’t know who Van was—she’d already given them a false identity and a few convincing, but misleading stories about the Legion’s motives for killing the Noble politician tonight. She wasn’t a captain of the intelligence department for nothing; she’d been trained to withstand and subvert interrogation tactics since before her promotion, and knew the ins and outs of the methodology well enough to understand when she was truly in danger. Now wasn’t one of those times. They hadn’t even begun to pull out her nails yet.
Kiran had let her go—or at least, he was about to. It was her fault, mostly; she’d lingered for a few moments too long, and the rest of the Noble fighters had caught up to them before either of them could do anything about it. The captain didn’t scorn her friend for getting her into this situation. It had been her job to stay behind to ensure the hit was complete, anyway, and something like this was bound to happen eventually. Besides, she wasn’t in danger of losing her life the way he certainly would have if she hadn’t intervened those weeks ago.
She was still now, a practiced look of desperation clouding her eyes as her interrogator approached her again, this time with a pair of pliers in hand. She winced.
The captain knelt in front of her, leaning his arms onto her legs so that the jagged edges of the seat dug still deeper into her skin. “What’s wrong, Trang?” he asked when her grimace deepened, a cruel smile spreading on his face as he used the name she’d given him. When Van shook her head, his expression turned into a sneer and he gripped the sides of her face with one large hand, forcing her mouth open. “I’m not asking again. Who sent you?”
Still nothing was said, and the interrogator shoved the pliers into her mouth. She jerked, shouting something incomprehensible through the obstruction. He removed the tool expectantly, listening for what she had to say.
Van took a deep breath and licked her cracked lips before speaking, her tone deadpan. “I just want to say... start with the teeth in the back. If you don’t mind.” The woman was rewarded with a strike across the face for her cheekiness.
As she sat with her head down, spitting blood, the rapidly shifting shadows in the crack of the doorway caught her attention. What in the... Before the captain could finish her thought, several shouts had gone up outside, followed by the characteristic sound of metal striking metal. Her team had returned for her, against her orders.
She hadn’t been the only one to notice—the rest of the room was now staring at the door, as if waiting for it to burst open.
“Well, what are you waiting for? Go take care of it!” the captain barked, sounding peeved. He waited for his fighters to file out into the hallway and engage the enemy. “How many are there, Trang?” he demanded, turning back to his charge, “Or is that even your name?”
He was met with a fist in his face, followed by a hard kick to the ribs when he let her go and fell backwards. Van had freed her hands and feet the second he’d turned away—the time to sit still and wait had passed. Before he could get up, she broke off one of the legs of the chair, intending to use the splintered piece of wood as a makeshift weapon until she could get another. The interrogator braced both arms on the ground above his shoulders and leapt onto his feet, the arc of his kick falling just short of where Van was standing.
She was prepared for him, circling a high kick toward the man’s head. As he fell, clutching his temple, she caught up to him and hit him again with the chair leg, knocking him out cold. Wasting no time, Van flipped him onto his stomach and began to bind his hands and feet together with the very rope that had trapped her before. As she got up to leave, almost as an afterthought, she picked up the long sword he had attached to his belt.
Leveling the blade in front of her with both hands, she snuck through the doorway cautiously, eyeing either side of her for enemies. But Van was met only by the forms of her special squad, who appeared no worse for wear, though a little harried. She lowered the sword, but only by a few inches. “I ordered you to leave as soon as you planted the hit,” she said crossly, though the reprimand didn’t ring as harshly as it usually did. After all, they had risked their own lives in returning and had managed a diversion to save her. Now was not the time to reflect on how much they had grown as a troop, however—that could be saved for later. “Let’s go.”
Allowing her men to lead the way, Van took up the rear of the party, throwing the occasional look backwards for any reinforcements or missed enemies. They reached the entrance of the building easily and without obstacles, but this hardly meant that they could relax. It was hours since the end of the fundraiser now, and the non-fighting Nobles had long since left, but the fact that they had only run into one captain where there had been several before was troubling. Somewhere along the way, they had gone missing... or they were lying in wait now.
A glint in the corner of her eye caught her attention and she ducked, mere seconds before an arrow could embed itself in her neck. Van shouted a warning just as arrows and stones began to rain on them from the trees in the garden. If any of them wondered why they weren’t being approached head-on, the answer quickly became apparent. Some of the stones had begun to hiss and pop, releasing an invisible gas into the air.
They ran faster, covering their faces—no one was keen to find out what exactly the gas was, be it tear gas, a hallucinogen, or something even more debilitating. They had developed immune resistance to many gaseous poisons in their special forces training, but that meant little if this was a new poison, and even less once some of the canisters began to explode. Van swore under her breath as the shrapnel ripped through the air and explosions rocked the ground, and again when she realized too late that they were being driven into the corner of the property, where stone walls blocked their exit.
“Get your grappling hooks out, boys,” she ordered, though many of them had already done so. The captain herself had no tools of use, having come to the event practically unarmed. She would just be the last to scale the wall, after all the others. Given how much they’d risked to retrieve her, Van was prepared to make the sacrifice if it came to it. It was what any good captain would have done.
The hooks were launched when they reached the edge of the property, and the Legion platoon scaled the stone wall expertly, most of them reaching the top within seconds. Van followed one of her lieutenants up the wall just as a bomb rolled toward them, hissing and spitting to announce its imminent explosion.
But something—hook or wall, it was unclear—gave. Their ascent was abruptly halted as the grappling hook loosened and both of them tumbled back to the ground. Van barely looked at the hissing bomb before jumping to her feet, shouting for her lieutenant to go on. Her route was clear.
“Dara, go! I’ll take it from here!”
The woman promptly tossed the grappling hook again, but hesitated. “Wait, you’ll—”
“It’s only gonna be one of us! Now go!”
“Captain, no!” Dara dropped the rope and began to run towards the bomb, but the captain had had a head start.
Neither of them reached it in time. Jae-Sun, the other lieutenant, had dropped from the top of the wall and fallen over the bomb first, just as it exploded and tore his stomach open. Van and Dara stopped abruptly when their comrade’s blood splashed across their faces.
The captain was the first to react, turning around and gripping Dara’s arm to drag her back to the wall, before another explosion could occur and render Jae-Sun’s sacrifice vain.
Later, after they’d both made it over and were running through the forest, Van would try to blame the prickling behind her eyes and the ringing in her ears on the gas and explosions. Yet even as she tried to convince herself of this, deep down she knew just as well as the rest of her platoon that the real source of her pain was much more permanent.
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Posted: Mon Dec 31, 2012 10:45 pm
✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿HIERARCHY OF RESPONSIBILITYVan’s gaze lingered on Kaiten’s sleeping face, and she reached out to touch his forehead, which was burning hot under her cool hand. The healer had told them that his condition had been stabilized thanks to their early first aid, but he’d have to stay in the hospital for a few nights—the internal damage from the poison had been great.
“He’s just a kid,” a voice next to her said. Van turned to her lieutenant. Dara’s crimson eyes seemed haunted, no doubt replaying the images of the hit they’d completed earlier that night. As with any mission, there were risks, and often casualties. They’d lost Lieutenant Kang this time—he’d sacrificed his life for the others, that his captain and fellow lieutenant could live. Both had only been treated for a few scrapes and bruises, but the wounds inflicted tonight ran much deeper than that.
“He’ll be alright,” was the extent of Van’s reply as she let her hand fall to her side. Ever calm, ever collected. When her lieutenant said nothing more, she continued, “We should get our report done, and let him rest.”
The offices in the Legion Intelligence Center were empty when they reached them—it was late, and seeking sleep, Van and her lieutenant quickly began work on their portions of the mission report. For the majority of the hour, the only sound that could be heard was the scratching of pens across the empty pages.
The captain looked up, suddenly, when she realized that her pen was the only one moving, and she saw that Dara had set her pen down and was instead covering her mouth with her hand. Tears were streaming down her cheeks. When Van glanced at the page, the other woman had been in the middle of a sentence.
“Hostile forces launched arrows, gas, and bombs during escape through the garden. Lieutenant Kang was killed in the ensuing combat.”
“Lieutenant Yurapan?” she began, a hint of surprise audible through her otherwise calm voice.
“I let Jae-Sun die,” she said then, her voice shaking and thin, “It should have been me, but I let him take my place,” she repeated as a fresh wave of tears fell silently from her eyes.
Van stared at her lieutenant blankly for a moment, trying to decide whether to reprimand her or comfort her. She’d always known Dara to be an extremely brutal woman, one who barely batted an eyelash at the deaths of the enemy. But perhaps that was where the difference lay. She’d never seen her like this before. In a split second decision, she said, “You couldn’t. He got there first, before either of us could.”
“It wasn’t enough,” she said, shaking her head vigorously. More tears trickled down her wet cheeks. “He was my friend, he was a good person, and I was supposed to take the bomb for you. I had his blood on my hands.”
She could see Dara’s shoulders shaking now, and she reached a hand out as if to pat the other woman on the shoulder. The hand stopped in midair, however, and fell uselessly to the surface of the table. She had been saddened by Jae-Sun’s sacrifice, of course, but she’d suffered through many of the sort before. Van felt no guilt for surviving her fighters, and not because she thought it was her role to outlive them—it always boiled down to who was luckiest on any particular day. It could have, would have been Van to make the sacrifice, had they not intervened. But had the lieutenant never lost a comrade in battle, before? Was that even possible? Van took in a deep breath, and scooted her chair closer to Dara’s.
“Listen, it’s... not your fault,” she said, a bit uncomfortably. She’d never had to deal with a hardened fighter bursting into tears before. Children, sure, civilians in distress, often enough—but someone who had been through special forces boot camp and world wars? Not so much.
“No one has ever died under my watch,” Dara snapped then, angrily slamming her fist into the table. The corner of the wooden desk crumbled under the force of her hand. “I saved them all, except for him,” she whispered through her tears. The guilt was eating her alive.
“You were able to save Kaiten, though,” Van offered, sounding a bit like she was pleading for her to calm down.
“I’m supposed to save them all,” the lieutenant said, shaking her head again as she buried her face in her folded arms. “I’m your first lieutenant—it’s my responsibility to lay down my life for you!”
And suddenly Van understood. Somewhere between allegiances and war, Dara had taken the burden of her comrades’ lives on her shoulders. The captain knew this, because she’d felt similarly upon her own promotion. The lieutenant had grown to understand that she was fighting for more than just herself, but she was punishing herself now for Jae-Sun’s death—one of an inevitable many. Their positions of power meant that they held the lives of many in their hands, a certain responsibility—but it did not mean that each death was blood on their hands. It was different from that, and Van had come to realize this over the years.
“No,” she said now with more conviction, finally placing a hand on the woman’s shoulder, “that is not your responsibility. Dara...” Van could tell that her lieutenant recognized the change in her tone, so she pressed on.
“In this job, you see darkness. You see the worst in people... and though the jobs are different and the missions change, and the enemies have a thousand names, the one crucial thing, the one real responsibility you have is to not let your rage, your resentment, and your disgust, darken you.”
At some point during this speech, Dara had stopped crying long enough to peek out from under her arms at the captain.
“I trust you with my life, as I expect you trust me with yours. I would lay down my life for yours as you would for mine. If I die, it’s because I damn well chose to—not through any fault of yours, do you understand?”
Dara managed a watery laugh now, straightening up and wiping her eyes on her sleeve.
“Van,” she said, using her first name, “Yes, I understand. Thanks.” The lieutenant sniffed once and returned her attention to the half-finished report.
Van watched her for a moment, feeling something between relief and gratitude. Her thoughts turned to the things she’d just said. She, too, had lost sight of the good in the world many times, having been thrust into the war as soon as she could walk. These were things she’d learned in the many years since then—especially since her promotion—and she was sure that Dara knew them too. Sometimes they simply forgot, and needed to be reminded.
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Posted: Mon Dec 31, 2012 10:46 pm
✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿FELLOWSHIPVan cradled her drink to her chest, a frown marring her features as Kasem and Liang shared a laugh at her expense. Even their normally serious superior, Rikimaru, was struggling not to smile. Despite her best attempts to hide the slightly embarrassing affair, they’d found out about her exhibition match in the tournament.
“That’s one for the headlines,” Kasem gasped out between chuckles, “Clothes Disappear—Legion Seductress Strikes at Tournament!”
“What I don’t understand is how someone like you can still get flustered by a pretty boy,” Liang added, wiping an invisible tear of mirth from his eye.
“It’s not hard when you’re perpetually surrounded by a bunch of animals like you three,” she snapped back, though the insult was met by another round of laughter. Van’s scowl deepened, and she took a large swig from her tankard.
“It’s karma for all those Nobles you killed by being a lil slu—”
Their former captain and handler, Rikimaru, had to hold the female down before she could tackle Kasem and start a bar fight. The s-word was something that Van was particularly sensitive to, given the nature of the special reconnaissance missions she’d often been sent on as a fighter. It was like calling a woman fat, or Rikimaru old—you simply didn’t do it if you valued your life.
“Don’t listen to him; no one thinks that anymore, Van,” he assured her, playing the part of the peacemaker. Even long after their task force had been disbanded, they always fell into their respective roles when they were together. It was just one of those things that would always be.
As Van calmed down and the conversation began to shift elsewhere, she found herself suppressing the urge to smile. As often as they all bickered like siblings, the three men at the table were just that—her brothers. They’d been through life and death over the years, and though they’d since been promoted out of their original 4-man unit and the war had scattered them across the continent, they always found the time to meet and catch up.
It hadn’t always been that way, mostly by her own hand. As a fighter, Van’s missions were almost exclusively carried out solo, without help—or the way she liked to put it, without interference. Assuming command over an entire company like many of the front-lines captains hadn’t been her cup of tea, so upon promotion she’d fought to be reassigned to covert, specialized work. The woman didn’t want to be found. Even after coming to know Rikimaru, Kasem, and Liang, she’d still wanted to work alone.
But the secrets piled up, and the work had gotten to be too much. The solitude became a curse. Eventually Van did something she’d always been too arrogant to do—she reached out.
And here they all were, ready to catch her if she fell, though it hadn’t been without some rough patches. She’d probably never really forget the way Kasem’s face had darkened in anger, or Rikimaru’s thinly veiled disappointment, or how Liang had politely excused himself from the room after their first soul-searching session. Yet in the end, as now, they were still here for her, and she was finally beginning to understand what Rikimaru had told her so many months ago.
Her special forces squad wasn’t perfect. They weren’t gods, even if they had been hand-picked from among tens of thousands. The truly extraordinary thing about them wasn’t their brutal physicality, but the fact that they were capable of love and empathy and altruism in spite of it. They didn’t need to be perfect. They only needed to be strong enough to carry each other.
It was what Jae-Sun had done, and what Dara had wanted to do in his place. If the day ever came for her to lay down her life for the sake of those around her, she surely would.
When Kasem proposed a toast to years past and many henceforward, Van cracked a smile and raised her glass. “To Team Aida.”
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Posted: Thu Jan 10, 2013 1:27 pm
✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿PERFORMANCE EVALUATIONName: Âu, Tuyết Vân
Department: Special Forces – Intelligence
Job Title: Operations Captain
Years in Position: 3
Immediate Supervisor: Morimoto, Hajime
Job Title: Counterintelligence Supervisor
Evaluation Period: Annual Review
Leadership/Supervision – 5/5
Van is an excellent leader in the department. She defines problems for her subordinates in a clear, straightforward manner, and serves as a role model. Demonstrates zeal and high commitment to achieving challenging objectives; also a good instigator in establishing challenging and achievable expectations. Takes proper responsibility for achieving performance expectations as outlined by the General. Supervises, assigns, and evaluates the work of subordinates, taking necessary disciplinary actions against responsible personnel, and makes effective recommendations to hire or terminate subordinates.
Quality Assurance/Attention to Detail – 5/5
Van accurately checks for processes and tasks and consistently follows up in a timely manner with appropriate personnel, including in reading reports and observing actions in the field. Van always takes it upon herself to see things accomplished logically, clearly, and well; she insists on the clarity of roles and duties in setting up and maintaining information systems. In the past two months in particular, Van has made several effective recommendations to improve administrative and infrastructural operations in the department.
Honesty and Integrity – 3/5
Unorthodox at best, risky at worst. Usually acts in accordance with the policies and practices of the department, but often oversteps said policies to accomplish what she sees to be the most effective means to an end. This is a concern in high-risk covert operations, which must be carried out according to procedure, and puts her unit in danger of being discovered. However, Van does not compromise responsibility and places departmental interests above personal gain.
Analytical Thinking/Problem Solving – 5/5
Van is an extremely sharp mind in the department. She considers all alternative methods based on logical assumptions and information before committing to a plan of action. She always takes into account available resources, changing environments, and constraints on secrecy. She is open to others’ opinions, and is able to change her mind. Creates complex and effective plans.
Verbal and Written Communication – 3/5
Communicates effectively with peers, and subordinates to provide direction and training, and explanations. Is able to resolve complaints, disputes, and disseminate information. Expresses ideas effectively in individual and group situations and organizes the presentation to be appropriate to the audience and communicative purpose. Communication with her superiors can be spotty; she does not always remember to get plan changes authorized, and informs superiors of such changes after they have already been carried out, presenting an acute safety risk.
Attendance – 4/5
Very punctual. Van arrives exactly on time to regular duties and in responding to unexpected circumstances. She is always accountable for the whereabouts of her unit at all times, and remains free from disciplinary sanctions for excessive or patterned abuse of sick leave.
Appearance – 4/5
Van continually presents herself in a ready, alert, neat, and properly groomed manner. She is fully uniformed on the field when necessary, and generally dresses according to code in the office. Occasionally she deviates from office code – Van must remember that her ‘fashions’ are best used for civilian cover on appropriate assignments.
Summary of Overall Performance
Van is an invaluable part of the Special Reconnaissance department, and her work is consistently excellent. Her intelligence-collecting skills are top-tier, and she continues to refine them as she completes missions. This year, she began personal combat training at the temple, which has enhanced her performance in the field. She is very well respected by her peers and subordinates. Van’s ability to work independently is exceptional; however, as she advances in the department it is increasingly important for her to communicate often and transparently with her superiors.
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Posted: Fri Jan 11, 2013 1:47 pm
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Posted: Mon Jan 14, 2013 11:15 pm
✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿JUSTICE AS BEAUTYVan felt like a child again, the way she was hugging her knees to her chest, sitting on the ivory carpeted floor of her old room. Her parents hadn’t touched the room after she’d moved out—everything had remained exactly where she’d left it. It was a little disconcerting, that something could stay unchanged amidst everything that had happened over the past several years, but it was comforting, and that was why Van always returned.
Her mother, Thu Nguyet, sat on her bed behind her, running a round brush through her daughter’s dark wavy locks. Van hadn’t allowed her to do this since she was a small child, but something had stirred in her when she saw the woman for the first time in over a year, and so she asked her to sit down and brush her hair for her, just like old times. Thu Nguyet seemed aged, more weary than Van remembered. Though the house was virtually unchanged, it was the change in her mother that made her realize that the war touched everyone.
Of course it would. Van and her father were in different states across the continent every week, commanding the Legions in the war effort. Thanh Long’s whereabouts were unknown, but Van knew that this only made her mother worry more, in the near-unconditional love every mother had for her children. Thu Nguyet spent most nights in their house alone now, with only her own thoughts for company. Van couldn’t imagine living like that anymore.
She pulled a lock of her hair into her hands, inspecting the dark strands absently. She’d always wanted her mother’s straight, sleek hair—but she’d gotten her father’s wavy, slightly more high-maintenance hair instead. Actually, there were a lot of things she envied that her mother had, from her amber-colored eyes, like molten gold, to the unique seafoam green and violet of her scales. Most of all, though, Van respected the woman’s careful balance of beauty and power. In all the years she could remember, the woman had never sacrificed her womanhood for the things she believed in, nor her convictions in order to preserve herself. It was something that Van had always tried to emulate, to varying degrees of success, and it was what had always made her afraid of the woman. Yet it seemed that time and distance had mended the rough patches in their relationship.
“You’re beautiful, you know.” Thu Nguyet’s dulcet voice sounded from behind her, finally breaking their prolonged silence.
Van raised her shoulders in a shrug. “They tell me that,” she answered quietly, letting her hair fall from her fingers as she stared at her hands. They were lovely hands, which she had tried to preserve in some lingering sense of vanity, but the wear on them was unmistakable. As few as her scars numbered, the blood of the many Lunarians who’d caused them would always remain, no matter how much she tried to cleanse them. Suddenly, she felt much less beautiful than the people around her would have her believe. Suddenly, the weight of the things she’d done for the Legion seemed unbearable, and she wondered if she’d taken the right path.
Another set of hands took hers, and Van raised her eyes to meet her mother’s honey gaze. The woman had put down the brush and descended from the bed to sit beside her daughter. Somewhere in their depths Van could tell that Thu Nguyet knew exactly what she was thinking, in the uncanny way that mothers always did.
“Sometimes, the things we have to do aren’t in agreement with the word of the law,” she murmured, covering Van’s hands with her own so the scars could no longer be seen, “but that doesn’t make you a monster. If it did, we’d all be damned, wouldn’t we?”
The law wasn’t perfect, regardless of what one believed about the Goddess’ influence on the Emperor. Van had always taken the codes and edicts as suggestions—she’d always followed her own sense of justice. When others believed differently from her, when others had their own set of rules and lived by their own convictions, she had never been able to understand it. But now, in listening to Thu Nguyet speak, she realized that perhaps it wasn’t necessary to. They were all just trying to live by what they thought was right, even if that definition was different from person to person, between Legion and Nobles.
Even so, they weren’t all saints just because they wanted what they thought was best, especially since it was impossible to know for sure who was right. Van realized that despite everything—or perhaps in spite of it—her mother had still forgiven her brother for betraying them.
“Maybe we all are.”
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Posted: Thu Jan 24, 2013 4:35 pm
✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿NPC RP - CLASSIFIED PAPERSMy team is behind me, waiting for me to finish my inspection of their work. It doesn’t take that long—it never does, not when they’re so talented and thorough. I’m sure that by this point, some of them are beginning to wonder why I’m still standing here, staring into the fire after the Noble safehouse has clearly been burned to the ground, with those it housed, dead. They don’t know that there’s more to it than that, right now.
As I watch the flames tremble in the desert heat and hear the bones pop like tinder, I have to lie to myself.
I tell myself that the tears are only from the smoke and the heat, but it’s more than that... it is fear. Fear that in my haste to find Thanh Long, I’ve made a rash decision—one that can never be undone. Fear that this blood on my hands will slowly poison me, until I’m no longer strong enough to stay the killing blows. Fear that I too will find myself alone one day, beset by enemies I once treated as brothers and sisters. Fear that I will never have half his courage.
They’ve followed me for so long, on operation after operation. They’ve earned my trust and respect, as I’ve earned theirs—I don’t have to turn around to see the fire reflected in their eyes, the passion that drives them to leave the barracks and do this every night. But bringing them into this mission invokes a measure of trust I’m not sure I can give.
My reservations have nothing to do with their ability to maintain secrecy. They know as well as the rest of the special forces the importance of silence. Anything and everything they learn on our assignments, I know they will take to their graves. Yet, this is different. It’s a ghost protocol, an operation that I must mastermind off the books, with only those documents and my own men as my resources. It seems wrong to enlist them on a personal crusade, even if the assignment was authorized by General Goro.
Can I ask them to lay down their lives for this, knowing that they can’t refuse? In this job, our days are numbered. Can we even count them? The Goddess only ever gives us one day before it starts over—beginning at dawn, and taken away at dusk. Every night, they leave for war, knowing full well that they may not return to see the golden sun rise over the imperial flags again. But most return home, and death is rarely certain—except in cases as these. Here, heaven or hell may only be a devil away.
Alone, I am certain I will die on this operation. Together, we may yet live.
I pull the cloth mask up around my face, letting it catch the wetness on my cheeks as I turn to leave the scene. In passing, I can see their eyes, solemn and hard in the face of death. If Lieutenant Yurapan or anyone else is concerned as to why their Captain appears troubled, they do a sufficient job of hiding it. Just as I’ve taught them.
For a moment, I’m nearly convinced to remain silent, and carry on the mission without them. It’s nothing I haven’t done before. Yet as the thought crosses my mind, I can hear Rikimaru’s voice, reminding me of the thing he’s fought so hard to teach me. That even though they rely on me to lead them, I... must also rely on them to support me. That without each other, we are nothing.
Despite the heat, the goosebumps rise on my skin and I fight back a shiver. Finally, I part my lips to address them.
“Lieutenant. Team. I need your help.”
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Posted: Wed Jan 30, 2013 5:06 pm
✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿SOLO BATTLE - GHOST PROTOCOL
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Posted: Thu Jan 31, 2013 10:00 am
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