Iscariot Division

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Iscariot Division

Post by Anubis on Sun Feb 19, 2012 9:46 pm

The Vatican.


It was dark, and had been raining for three days straight. The figure made it's way through the darkness and water, taking little notice of either. He wasn't particularly tall, or broad. He was wearing a long black leather duster that the rain appeared to just slide off of. He made his way to a non-nondescript building on the edge of the city, puling a key out of his pocket as he approached the door.

Inside the building was a rather large round room with a small table in the middle. The man didn't bother to turn on the lights and just walked to the back of the room, looking it over. He smirked, and just leaned against the back wall, waiting.




The priest was lost, and soaked from the rain. He turn up another street, but it didn't look familiar. He sighed and continued down that road, hoping to find something he recognized. He turned another corner and was surprised to find another figure standing in the rain. They were just standing there, looking up at the sky. As he got closer he discovered it was a tall young man in a red hoodie.

"Anyone but him."

He started to walk the other way, keeping his eyes on the other man. To his dismay, the man turned his head and looked at him. Well, he looked in his direction, wearing sunglasses like he was it was hard to tell where he was actually looking. They stood there, just looking at each other for a bit when the figure finally spoke. His voice had a very odd cadence to it, like he wasn't sure about some words. He also had a very toneless sound, like he was bored.

"Oh, hello."

"Uh, hello. I appear to be lost. Do you know where the building is?"

"Yes."

"Oh. So, you're not lost?"

"Why would I be lost? I know where the building is."

He turned his head back towards the sky and went motionless again. The priest stood there, trying to keep from screaming in anger.

"So, could you help me find the building?"

The man turned around and started walking, taking a winding path down the empty road. Before he reached the end of the road, he made a motion for the priest to follow him. The priest ran after him, already hating this assignment more than anything else.




"Agent Methuselah, my name is Father Ellis. I've been assigned to your group for the evening to help with the new arrivals."

The priest was clearly intimidated by the man standing in the shadows with his leather coat. The man sighed and shook his head. His voice was deep, with an odd sort of chill to it. There was the slightest hint of an untraceable European accent.

"Don't call me that. You can call me Dante, or Mr. Shirgen if you absolutely must. Your job will be to check in people and match their names to the list. After they have been checked in, send them to the next room. That's all."

Dante walked off to the other room before Father Ellis could talk again. Father Ellis hung his head and sat at the desk, a clipboard in his hand. This was going to be a long night.

As Dante entered the other room, he found the man with the red hoodie standing there just looking at the ceiling. Dante continued to walk towards the back of the room, unfazed by the odd behavior.

"Evening Ryan, how's it going?"

"This ceiling is a different cover than the other room."

"Good to hear. Make yourself scarce, we will have company soon and I don't want you spooking the newbies."

Ryan walked over to one of the side walls and sat down, leaning against the wall. He pulled out a cigarette and lit it, still staring at the ceiling. Dante shook his head, hoping the new people would be more sane than his newest recruit.
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Re: Iscariot Division

Post by Consulting Detective on Mon Feb 20, 2012 1:03 am

The onslaught of rain was making it very inconvenient to be out on the streets, but Atticus never missed a night outside. Being indoors when the sun was down was akin to blasphemy for him, especially since he could barely stand being outside during the day. Even with the rain he was still in a wonderful mood, walking along the streets as he headed toward the building to which he'd been told to go. His black raincoat was wrapped tightly around his thin frame, keeping his clothes from getting soaked. Certainly a good thing, considering that his usual attire clung to him spectacularly when wet. His shirt in particular, though his close-fitted pants also did their own clinging. Wetness had little to do with the latter, though.

Having the hood up over his head was a good idea. Atticus didn't particularly enjoy getting his hair soaked with rain water. It got unruly under such circumstances, and he'd tolerate some hood-hair in favor of dryness. Besides, it looked better when it was dry. His hands were buried in his pockets, and his boot-clad feet carried him confidently toward his destination. There was something to be said for familiarizing himself with maps of the area before his arrival in the city.

He arrived at the dark building after a handful of minutes. Now he had a bit of a dilemma. To just walk in the front door, or to meld with the darkness and go in more stealthily? That was indeed the question, and he frowned for a moment before deciding to enjoy himself a little. At least he'd be dry after he reformed, so without further consideration, he vanished.

It was strange, being one with shadow. His awareness became massive, but unrefined and unfocused. It was an overload of information, always an exhilarating feeling. If he'd had a mouth, he would have smiled with it. Finding a crack under the door was easy enough, and he slid under it to find himself inside the building. Reforming became necessary at that point, considering the light that separated him from his next location. Other obstacles included a man sitting at a desk, though details of him were difficult for Atticus to make out.

He slid on a pair of sunglasses before proceeding forward, trying to keep as much of him in the shadows as humanly possible. Upon reaching the desk and the man sitting at it, he said, "Nightshade, checking in." The letter he'd received from the Vatican had addressed him as Nightshade, so he assumed they'd expect him to stick to his nickname when dealing with them. That was fine by Atticus. He didn't like telling people his real name when he would be doing something potentially illegal, anyway.
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Re: Iscariot Division

Post by Eternal Phoenix on Tue Feb 21, 2012 1:07 am

Put bluntly, Keaira didn’t like Rome. What the people of this city had done to hers…centuries gone, and never would she forgive them for it. Their legions of men, crushing her people to dust. Then again, if not for that disaster, her father would have never made her. Reflexively, she touched her hand. Warm flesh, with a pulse beneath it. It was her recurring nightmare that one day she would wake to find her limbs had returned to stone. Stupid decadent Romans. They deserved to have their city sacked and their great empire destroyed. She rememberd watching Rome burn for the last time. The blood of the fattened rich ran down the streets and soaked into the fields. That was a good day.

Keaira liked Vatican City even less. Memories of the Inquisition flashed through her head. Thank God that was over. They were remarkably…less than tolerant of anything that wasn’t within vanilla human capabilities. One greedy little boy turns to stone, and suddenly she’s one of the Devil’s minions on Earth. Please. As if she’d associate with that loser. It took the lives of nearly a hundred men just to get out of Belgium. She wondered all over again how they found her. She hadn’t turned anyone to stone in years. Well…no one would be missed. And she always either shattered them or dropped them in deep water. Still…live long enough, and you’ll leave traces of yourself. That Austrian scuptor, that French painter, and all the rest. No, it was probably that cruise liner. That coward of a captain abandoned his passengers and crew. Someone had to act, and Keaira would never be accused of not acting when it was necessary. She wore a old carnival mask, but basic detective work could has sussed out the tall, leggy woman from the cheap cabins.

Keaira sighed, and put her hand inside her trench coat, resting it on the handle of her sword. She hoped this wouldn’t get bloody. Besides, the letter addressed her by her real name. She hadn’t used it in over a century. Her flatmates knew her as Moira Bentley. And what if…they could fix the necklace? It wasn’t something she liked to think about, but her memories were blurring. Plays from centuries past faded into a date. People, names and whether or not she liked them, gone. It was as if she was getting old, yet her hair did not gray. Her skin did not wrinkle. Her strength had not altered in the least. Enough stalling. Either she was going to go in, or she wasn’t, and she had never fled a challenge. She opened the door with her free hand, and stepped into the building. There was a priest there at a desk. “You were looking for me?” She asked warily. “Keaira.” She scanned the room. No obvious secret compartments. Just a makeshift lobby, then.
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Re: Iscariot Division

Post by Digital Muse on Tue Feb 21, 2012 10:04 pm

The man in the black suit hadn't shown up again until months had gone by. And then out of the blue, Jasmine had received a letter. She was to come to a small chapel in Rome on 2 weeks. An airline ticket had been included along with hotel information once she'd arrived. She knew Rome fairly well from her many visits as an Art History student and then as a professor with students of her own. She vaguely knew the area of Rome referred to in the letter. The invitation seemed less a request and more a demand to appear and Jasmine wasn't entirely sure how she felt about that.

In her time since the bank robbery, she'd tested her supposed ability with the Chicago Police Department. They had been suspicious of her motives in the beginning, but eventually allowed her to work with their own powered officers to see just what it was she was capable of. In nearly every case, she'd been able to shut down an officer's special ability. But, there had been two down sides; she had to touch the officer, a dangerous proposition in and of itself. And then, on top of that Jasmine often felt a great deal of pain because of shutting down a power. Beyond even that was the matter of not knowing how long the dampening effect would last. Thus far it had ranged from little over a minute to several hours. There didn't seem to be any rhyme or reason to it.

Jasmine thought about how her life had changed since that fateful day in the bank as the Air Italia flight took her from La Guardia to Rome. Once on the ground, it took two hours to get her bag, get through customs and to flag down a cab. Once again, she blessed having been in the eternal city so many times before this. She knew the language, knew the city well and directed the cab to the hotel that she'd reserved a room in. An old favorite. Once her bags had been delivered and she'd showered the hours of travel away, Jasmine changed clothes and summoned another cab to take her within a few blocks of her destination. It had begun to rain while she'd been changing clothes and she was grateful for the light coat she'd decided to wear over her jeans and soft silk blouse.

She thanked the cabbie, paid him and waited for him to drive away before turning to the darkened and narrow streets she needed to travel down to reach her destination. The steady rain made her hair strain against the tight braid it was in in an effort to curl up. She sighed, it had taken her hours to straighten it so she could braid it that way. Jasmine pulled up the collar of her light rain coat and headed along the darkened cobbled streets. Half an hour later brought her to the Via she'd been directed to and she found the address. The door was ancient and under ordinary circumstances it would have interested her in it's own right. But not tonight. Tonight, she had a summons, of a sort and she had to admit that curiosity about that precluded everything else.

Pushing open the old, iron-bound door, Jasmine stepped into the wonderfully built round room. She smiled at the architecture, and it took her a moment before she realized someone waited within. "Oh." Her cheeks colored softly. "Excuse me." She approached the table that the priest sat behind. "I was sent an invitation to come here. My name is Jasmine Grace." The priest wrote her name down, nodded is chin and then indicated a door in the opposite wall. "Yes, Ms. Grace. Through there. You are expected."
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Re: Iscariot Division

Post by Anubis on Wed Mar 14, 2012 2:06 pm

Dante had been hoping more people would show up by now. He shrugged, maybe flights had been delayed or something. He would have loved to wait for the others, but their newest mission was time critical. He checked his watch and stepped out of the shadows.

He glanced at the arrivals, seeing their files in his head.

Name: Atticus Jacobe AKA Nightshade, Age: 26, Ability: Shadow Manipulation
Dante had met a few people with this power in the past. He wondered how far along Atticus was with his own power.

Name: Keaira, Age: Unkown (appears to be in twenties), Ability: The Artifact known as Muince Cloch (Alters the state between living and stone)
This girl had interested Dante. He was curious as to how long she had been alive, suffering from long life himself, and to find out more about the artifact.

Name: Jasmine Grace, Age: 27, Ability: Power Negation.
Dante was very curious about this ability. He wondered what would happen when she touched someone with immortality like himself.

Name: Ryan Andrews, Age: 21, Ability: High-Yield Telekinesis.
Dante had known Ryan for a few weeks now. There was something definitely off about the kid, but he had a lot of power.


Dante smiled as he reached the front of the room, drawing the attention, at least he though do in Ryan's case, of everyone in the room.

Well, welcome to Iscariot Division. Officially, we don't exist because the things we deal with don't exist. We are all about using abilities and artifacts against this that shouldn't exist. It's tough work, and there's chances you will die, horribly. But the moneys good, they don't care about your past, and there's free room and board. Oh, and we occasionally get to keep the fun things we come across. You can leave if you want, but once you've decided to sign on, it's for the full term of your contract. I want to run everyone through a...let's call it a test for now. Once we've completed this, I'll let you in as full members, if you wish. Now, if you have any other questions, make them quick, we have a plane to catch."
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Re: Iscariot Division

Post by Digital Muse on Wed Mar 14, 2012 9:16 pm

Jasmine passed through the door indicated by the rather uncomfortable-looking priest. Already there before her were 4 other people. A man with a long black ponytail, a tall, dark-haired woman, a rail-thin, pale young man who seemed to prefer not being seen, since he stuck to the shadows and finally a blond man sitting against a wall with a cigarette held in his fingers idly.

Once she'd entered the room, but before she could ask any questions, the man with the ponytail stepped forward to get everyone's attention. Jasmine listened incredulously when he laid out the reason they'd been summoned to Rome. Secret division that doesn't exist? Was this some sort of joke? She thought to herself. His next words were even less appealing, "-there's a chance you will die, horribly. But the moneys good, they don't care about your past, and there's free room and board. Oh, and we occasionally get to keep the fun things we come across." Jasmine looked at the others to see how they were reacting to this astounding and unbelievable offer.

She knew her mouth was slightly agape and her eyes as big as saucers so she snapped her jaws shut and stared at the man. When he called for questions, Jasmine's mind went blank for a few minutes. "You...are you serious?" She finally blurted. "What on Earth makes you think that dying horribly is a good marketing pitch!" She held up her hands in appeal to the others in the room. "Do any of you believe a word of this insanity?"

Jasmine looked back toward the speaker and continued, "I'm an Art History Professor! Not a...a....super-human commando." She finished, exasperated. Even with her light coat, she shivered slightly. This entire situation was just wrong. Why was she tapped for something so ridiculous? She wondered. Did this Iscariot Division need her to turn someone's power off? Were they even even a legal entity? Jasmine had far too many questions and she suspected that even if they were answered, she would never be sure.

Jasmine shook her head, the entire debate happening inside her head in less than 2 minutes. Could this be her chance? For that matter, did she really want the chance to get into things like the bank again? She looked again at the others once more, "How long is the contract? And...um....how much is the pay?" Jasmine couldn't believe she'd just asked that. It looked as though she'd made her decision.
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