Funeral for a Hand [Open]

[Admiral Regis Hermitage]

Zarlington Imperial Cemetery

0800 hours Capital District Time

"Ten hut!" A voice echoed through the trees of Zarlington Imperial Cemetery. The day was clear, sunny, with a little breeze that rustled the branches and rushed leaves across the stone walkways that weaved their way through an ocean of uniform graves organized into what was reminiscent of a military formation.

"Forward! March!" the voice could be heard again. The sound of marching filled the current area as a contingent of honor guards marched into sigh of the waiting crowd. As the honor guards marched past the numerous people dressed in black, or wearing military uniforms, several horse drawn carriages rolled past, each one carrying a coffin with the Zarethian Imperial Flag draped over it.

click, clack, click, clack. Stomp, stomp, stomp.

Amidst the crowd were several familiar faces. This was no ordinary ceremony. Each coffin that rolled past had the unmistakable seal of the Zarethian Hand engraved of the ends of it. Admiral Regis Hermitage stood at the site of the ceremony and stood at attention as each carriage rolled up and stopped in a line similar to a historical cavalry line battle formation. Hermitage winced when the casket for Amy Jacobs rolled past and stopped, taking position in the middle of the formation, as any commander would.

"Dismount!" an order came, as the horse riders stepped off of their horses and stood in line in front of the Honor guard unit, facing Hermitage. A soldier wearing the rank of a Gunnery Sergeant stepped forwards and saluted Hermitage. "Sir. 7th Honor Guard Company reporting in for the honorable burial of the fallen." he said.

Hermitage wearily returned the salute. "As you were Sergeant... Orders are unchanged. Proceed with current directives." Hermitage replied. After Hermitage dropped his own salute, the sergeant did as well.

Doing an about face movement he ordered the honor guard. "On the command of fall out, you are to proceed with directives." the Company stood at attention as he directed them. "Fall out!" he ordered. The unit fell out of their formation. The caisson bearers began the process of getting the caskets from the carriages, going from lowest rank to highest. Meanwhile, the chaplain stood by as a 7 man squad led by a the sergeant marched behind him into position.

Hermitage stood looking over the numerous graves that had been dug, reading each tombstone. As he got to the end, he read off the last one to himself. "Fleet Admiral Amy Jacobs." he mouthed. He couldn't bring himself to break sight with it. "You finally out rank me now, Fleet Admiral Jacobs... I just wish it werent because of your sacrifice..." he said to himself as if he were talking to Amy.

(OOC: I encourage zarethian characters to join in.)

[Ragnar the Red]

Reyky fell into line with the various people carrying the caskets into the graves. He looked rather out of place in his brown coat and red scarf, the only clothes he owned, yet hoped no one would care in this situation.

[UnStellar]

A strange thing happened; three people appeared in the thick of the crowd. It was a discrete entrance, nobody remembered seeing them, and yet; they also remembered them being there the whole time. The three were very attractive people, they looked like models. They wore odd clothes, but they seemed to suit them.
 It was extravagant green robes they wore, the two men had long ones with short sleeves revealing their large muscles, the woman's came down to her waist, but she had a sexy black mini skirt on underneath it, fishnet stockings and high heels. On these green robes was a symbol in ominous black. Anyone looking at these symbols would feel the oddest sense of dread, the hair on the back of their necks would stand up.
 All three carried bouquets of flowers, green petals with black stems native to a small valley on Tefillin, and they all looked very grim.

The symbol was the emblem of the Cult of Revenge, the very same one on the robes of those who had killed Amy Jacobs.

[K2]

Yairhoff Haydenn was among the crowd, dressed in full dress blues, hair cut, watching with sadness as the funeral ceremonies began. He'd known a few of the fallen -- not Amy Jacob, but some of the others who'd died at the hands of the cultists. It was a sad event, to be sure, when one died for his nation. His eyes wandered. Was Zaigen here, by chance? Stop. His eyes returned to his front, to the graves, and he tried to focus.

Nearby were two Hand agents, watching as well, one in a wheelchair and the other behind him, hands on the wheelchair's handle. The man in the wheelchair had bruises all over his body, as if he'd been in some kind of fight recently, and he'd obviously lost. His eyes were watching Yairhoff Haydenn from far away. That man.. There's no mistaking it. It's him, huh? He's sure got some nerve showing up here.

"Huh?" his friend asked from behind, quietly, catching the stare of the agent in the wheel chair, "Is that... Yairhoff Haydenn?"

"Yeah," the man in the wheelchair growled, "The devil himself."

"Samuelson... It's starting."

They both turned their heads to watch the ceremony.

A bit further away, on a hill at another grave site overlooking the funeral events stood Jonathan Mann, dressed in a black trench coat and civilian clothes. He was some distance away from the funeral service, and he could feel the breeze run across his bald head as pedals from a Sakura tree blew through the air, the pink pedals raining down softly upon the ground below, making a beautiful display. These were your people brother. I wonder, would you be happier with them now? He sighed, turning on his heels and starting to walk away. Please... Forgive me, brother.

Below, Samuelson felt a strange sensation. That magic signature! Turning, he growled out, "You!" to the man standing next to him, a civilian with bright orange hair. A bit surprised, the civilian looked over at Samuelson, clueless. "Me?"

"Samuelson!" his friend scolded, "Don't be rude!"

"Sorry," Samuelson apologized to the civilian, "I could have sworn you were... Nevermind."

Something's not right here. I can feel it. There's such an ominous feeling in the air.

[Ragnar the Red]

Zaigen Yevitt was there on the opposite side of the crowd. He was there to pay his respects. Though he didn't always agree with the Hand's actions, he felt it was important to lend moral support to the Zarethian people in this time of need.

[Admiral Regis Hermitage]

"Admiral Hermitage?" a voice asked. Regis finally brought himself to release his gaze from the tombstone and turned to see a young Zarethian female, about 30 years old. She was wearing a long black dress, and bright blue eyes, matching the blue rose in her jet black, straightened hair. Hermitage didnt say anything, but slowly nodded to her. "Im sorry to bother you, sir, but i am the sister of Agent Papanikos."

"Ah, yes... You must be Olivia." he said.

"Yes, sir... I, i was just wondering how exactly my brother passed away. I mean, the government told me that he died in the line of duty, but they never said how." she questioned. Hermitage stood there silently. "Please, sir. He was all i had." she beckoned.

"You know the line of work he was in, and why i cant tell you." Hermitage replied.

"Yes, i know, but...." she started and stopped when she saw the look upon Hermitage's face. It was one of sadness, and exhaustion. "Can you answer me this at least? Did he die a hero?"

"Yes.... He died trying to protect myself, and his fellow agents." Hermitage answered. "I am very sorry for your loss. Rest assured that we take care of our own, and we will take care of you and your family." he said and paused. Only realizing what he said. She had no more family. "I, i need to go. The ceremony will begin shortly." he said and rushed away leaving her standing in front of Her brother's own tombstone which was situated next to Amy's.

Hermitage took his seat in the front row with several other Officials, including many of the upper staff of the Hand, several Senators, and a few flag officers of the Zarethian Navy.

Elsewhere, in the crowd behind the rows of seats, Commander Tarkov hurriedly rushed in, only to realize that the ceremony hadnt started quite yet. He let out a sigh of relief and turned to see Agent Samuelson and his Colleague. "Well, didnt expect to see some faces from the Central Clandestine Service here at a Homeland Intervention funeral. I dont think you lost any guys in this one." he said in a slightly harsh tone. Tarkov was one of the people more upset about the situation. Most of the men who died were Homeland Intervention Operators from HIRU, or from the Diplomatic Security Service. Adding to the existing tension between Operators in the Special Branch.

[K2]

"We're here to pay our respects," Samuelson replied, "Conyers here was at the scene, providing intelligence to the extraction teams. We've been looking into reports of these cultists on planets all over for several weeks now. We just never expected..." He gulped, trying to find the words.
"Never expected some of our own would suffer like this," Conyers finished.
"I should have made it to the scene," Samuels relayed, "Maybe I could have provided more intel, something that could have stopped these guys. I, just... If only I hadn't stopped to speak to that lady." He stopped, thinking of the encounter with Farora in the allyway that had led him to his current condition. "DAMN IT!" He pounded his fist on the arm of his wheel chair, only to stop, holding it up to his face to watch as one of his cuts tore open, blood slowly dripping out...
And that's when the orange-haired man sitting next to them looked over at the wound and licked his lips.

[UnStellar]

These three cultists held on to their flowers until the time was right. They had an important speech ready to go, and didn't say a word to each other until they could do their goal. They sat with their heads down, and seemed to be sincerely mournful.

[Ragnar the Red]

Reyky looked over toward the three very attractive young cultists. It seemed strange that they were wearing green to a funeral. And, wait a second, were those fishnets? Gosh. That hardly seemed appropriate. However, Reyky quickly realized he was wearing a caramel overcoat and read scarf. He wasn't going to judge them. Besides, the fishnets were black, right?

K, on the other hand, piped up when he saw them. Maybe it was just him, but they seemed to have a slight twinkle in their somber eyes. It could have been a tear, but K didn't think so. Most of the people who were actually crying had a much bigger twinkle in their eyes.

I'll return in five minutes, K thought to Reyky as he stealthfully slipped out of Reyky's pocket.

Reyky looked out and whispered, "No, K, don't!" but then went back to what he was doing before, if severely agitated.


Over on the left side of the audience sat decorated fighter pilot Salgren Keflavik, and his wife and son. They knew how horrible it could be to loose someone, but if they focused harder on what lay in front of their eyes they'd realize it could be even worse to have them return.


K, the magical fish who had now shrunken himself to the size of a tiny leech, flew into the flowers of the leftmost cultist without being noticed. After waiting a few seconds to make sure no one had noticed him, the fish thought to himself something along the lines of, K's still got it! and then began to examine his flower-guy. It would be good to see what is on this man's mind, K thought. Unfortunately, simply reading this guy's mind would be nearly impossible. If getting in the mind of someone were so easy, Reyky and K would not even be on Tefflin. However, K still had a few tricks up his sleeve.

As he focused his mind onto that of the man in front of him, he communicated one thought to him. It wasn't a normal thought either, it was the vocal equivalent of a whisper. K simply thought, These flowers smell good. The thought was both innocent and quite enough that the cultist should either not pick up on it at all, or think nothing of it. Ks plan was to have this man think nothing of these thoughts, eventually to the point of not realizing he was having a full fledged conversation with a telepathic fish.

[UnStellar]

This flower man had raven hair styled professionally and blue eyes that would make the average woman's knees knock with just a glance. He paused for a second after it, and thought to himself,
How odd to just start thinking about that. I've had these flowers for some time now. And just now I start thinking about how nice they smell? Maybe it's because I'm bored but that's still a little strange. Oh well.

His thoughts then returned to normal affairs, worrying about whether he had his speech truly memorized or not.

[Admiral Regis Hermitage]

As the crowd chatted, Hermitage sat in his seat, slouched forwards, head down in shame. He couldnt help but hear some of the gossip and chatter between agents attending and other officials who knew the details, or enough of them. He knew that in the end, this all came upon him, and he was to blame. He was in charge of the situation, of the operation, and he stayed because of 1 person, despite the loss of his men. 5 Homeland Intervention Agents, and 2 Diplomatic Security Service Agents died, and left numerous Agents, including a few from the CCS injured. He could see the Agents attending in wheelchairs, and crutches, and canes, and bandages, and.....

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

His conscious was shouting at him. He bowed his head further and gripped the back of it, knocking his Officer Cap off of head. He gritted his teeth, and tried his best not to shout. "Amy...." was the only thing he could get out.

"Admiral?" a voice asked. Hermitage stopped, and opened his eyes. Accepting that he was here. This was his fault. "We're almost ready to begin. Are you ready sir?" a sergeant asked him.

"Yes, yes..." he said silently. He picked up his Cap, and placed it back on his head. He took his Agency shades out of his dress uniform's inner pocket, and placed them on his face. He took a deep breath and sighed.

On the podium set up, a chaplain, wearing the rank of a Naval Captain stepped up. "Ladies, and Gentlemen. Please take your seats. Commanders, please bring your units to parade rest." he announced. As he did, several shouts came from the honor guards for Parade Rest. Tarkov took his seat in the seconds row behind Sen. Hamilton.

"Today we are all gathered here to pay tribute, and respect to the Agents of the Zarethian Hand who have recently been taken from this world in the line of duty defending the Zarethian Empire, Her Colonies, and Ships from unseen enemies both foreign and domestic." He begins. "A wise man once said that death is only the beginning to a new life. I believe this to be very true. Those who die a brave, valiant death, and lead a good life are destined to move on, and lead a better life. "

"While we cannot publicly announce the names of the fallen, we may pay special recognition to one of the heaviest losses in a long time for the Hand. Today, among the fallen, lies Assistant Director Amy Jacobs. She died in the line of duty saving numerous HIRU, and DSS agents, as well as the Director himself. As such, the Hand and Zarethain Military have given their top honors to the posthumously promoted, Fleet Admiral Jacobs. The Hand awards the Intelligence Cross to Fleet Admiral Jacobs, and the Zarethian Military awards the Medal for Heroism to her. Let us take a moment of silence for the fallen heroes." he concluded and bowed his head with the rest of the audience. After a moment, he lifts his head. "Ladies and gentlemen, before we commit the bodies to their graves, i would like to give you Admiral Regis F. Hermitage, the Director of the Zarethian Hand."

Hermitage looked up at the podium, and slowly got up from his seat. He slowly made his way up to the podium and looked down at the mic. After a second or two, he looked back up to the crowd. "Ladies, and Gentlemen. We are gathered here, on this solemn occasion, to give the fallen agents a proper honor. It is indeed my hope, and the hope of the Zarethian Empire that from this solemn occasion, a better world shall emerge out of the blood and carnage of the past, thanks to their sacrifice. A world founded upon faith and understanding. "

"They went above and beyond the call of duty, and have protected us. Their sacrifice will not be in vain, or be forgotten." he continued. "In many cultures, it is the highest honor granted to a fallen soldier to be given a 21 gun salute. The 7th Honor Guard Company have been protecting and paying last respects to our comrades since 1807. First it was space, now it is land."

"Squad. A-Ten-Hut!" the sergeant commanding the 7 man squad behind Hermitage gave the order.

Else where, many calls to attention were made. "Presnet, Arms!" Hermitage commanded. The Honor Guards, rendered the hand salute, and the squad behind him held their weapons ready to fire. Many of the military members and agents in the crowd also stood and saluted.

"Ready...." the Sergeant shouted. "Fire!" he commanded, and the 7 gun gave off a shot in sync. "Ready..." he said again. "Fire!" the rifles went off again. "Ready.... Fire!" he gave the final order and the rifles sounded off.

"Order Arms!" Hermitage commanded. All of the salutes went down, and the squad marched off. "I would like to thank all of you for coming to pay respect, and for those of you who lost loved ones in this situation, i am deeply sorry for your loss. I will now give the podium to those of you who have written eulogies for the fallen. Thank you very much." he finished and retook his seat in the front row.

[Ragnar the Red]

K tried again, this time stretching out a little further with, I wonder how my life would be different if I was an actor. I've definitely got the looks for it. I would probably be one of those guys girls obsess over and have posters of in their living quarters and stuff. That would be pretty great. Of coarse, there would be thing I like about my life now that I'd have to give up...

[UnStellar]

The man would have chuckled to himself, but he didn't want to appear to be laughing at a funeral.

I'm the kind of guy who laughs at a funeral...

Well that was the goal. Always was. I knew I had the face for it. I wasn't too bad at it either. But I hard time memorizing lines... Always did. And I never could convey the emotion I read on the script. Of course, the executives never cared. They just wanted to market my face to the desperate women out there. But that wasn't good enough for me. Daddy always said pursue excellence. Any less than that isn't worth your energy.

The man realized he'd never really... Put it in those terms before. But suddenly, all along, that's why he had done it. That's why he'd given up acting. That's why he was here now.

Hold it now and watch the hoodwink
As I make you stop, think

He should call his father after this. And thank him for instilling such values. And maybe apologize... But if he explained his actions, he wouldn't have to.

You try to match wits, you try to hold me but I bust through
Gonna make a break and take a fake

Deep in the heart of every man is a boy who still just wants to hear "Good job, son." A real tear came to his eye. His name was Lewis Zrink Jr. He always wanted to be just like his father. But he always felt like he was letting him down... But maybe that was because neither of them really knew why he did what he did. But now, he understood.

Gotta see the show, cause then you'll know
The vertigo is gonna grow
Cause it's so dangerous,
you'll have to sign a waiver

And maybe he could have his father understand too. And maybe they could finally be together again... He choked back some more tears and breathed in. He could almost smell the faint pipesmoke his father smelled like sometimes. Some people hated it, but to him it familiar, comfortable... He loved it.

I have a tendency to wear my mind on my sleeve
I have a history of taking off my shirt
It's been one week since you looked at me
Threw your arms in the air
and said "You're crazy"

And suddenly he could hardly wait to be gone, to go home and embrace his mother and sit down with his father. Maybe sit down to some brandy and a cigar... A nice cigar. That seemed fitting.

It's been three days since the afternoon
You realized it's not my fault
not a moment too soon
Yesterday you'd forgiven me
And now I sit back and wait til you say you're sorry

But for now, he had a job to finish. And he was going to do it with excellence, like daddy always said.

Three days since the living room
We realized we're both to blame,
but what could we do?

The girl next to him kicked him gently, and whispered out of the corner of her mouth:
"You okay Loo? I think it's time." She kept her sad front on, but seemed concerned about him. Lewis wiped a few tears from his eyes.
"Yeah, I'm fine Sally. Let's go."

The three rose simultaneously, their exquisitely made and fitted robes rustled slightly with them. The walked down the aisle in near matched rhythm, and as they passed, people would see the large emblem on their backs. To many, it would mean nothing, but to those who knew...

Three days since the living room
I realized it's all my fault, but couldn't tell you
Yesterday you'd forgiven me
but it'll still be two days till I say I'm sorry

They came to the front, and placed their bouquets on the casket. They rose to the podium and looked out over the huge crowd. Sally took the podium first.
"This is a sad day for every Zarethian." She said in opening.
"We all cherish the freedoms that have been given to us, and that we are allowed to keep only by the actions of these courageous men and women who we bury today." She paused again, looking over at the caskets.
"Thanks to the actions of people just like these, our culture has spread to the edges of this plane. The threat of the Lorcar is long removed, and we are arguably the most important civilization in this universe. We are a center of commerce for all, a helping hand, and a ready sword who dare oppose us, our goals, and our allies.
 Today, we celebrate the sword. The sacrifices they make every day, including their final and most precious. We celebrate that they are willing to watch over us, willing to step in even when it's not convenient for them; even when it could hurt them. Physically. Mentally. Spiritually. They are ready to do what none of us dream of. It is not an enviable job; but they do it for each and every man, woman, and child living on our home world or any of colonies.
 This is a sad day for each and every Zarethian." She repeated, taking a breath.
"And today there is not a single person in this galaxy nor the next who is not affected by Zarethian culture. So this, is a sad day for each and every being out in the stars. We mourn as one."

You realized it's not my fault
not a moment too soon

"And there are so many unanswered questions. Who were this mysterious people? Why did they do this terrible thing? And what is the purpose of their religion?" She let the question hang in the air.
"I'm here today to answer those questions, to console the morning, to answer their question, why did their loved ones have to die?"

It's been one week since you looked at me
Dropped your arms to your sides
and said "I'm sorry"
Five days since I laughed at you and said
"You just did just what I thought you were gonna do"

"To help me, I'd like to introduce you to Sam Cariot." She stepped aside, and the blond man took to the podium. He avoided eye contact and spoke in a low, almost embarrassed voice.

"Um..." He cleared his throat, "Hello. I'm... Sam. My brother's name was James. He was... One of the dozen people responsible for the attack that killed these people here..." He said, swallowing hard. His heartbeat started racing.
"My brother left our family about half a year ago. Didn't say where he was going. He didn't want to be around us anymore. We knew he got into trouble... But we weren't sure what. He always was a brawler and trouble maker. I never told this to anybody... but I always thought he might maybe be a killer some day. He let nothin' hold him back."

Can't understand what I mean?
Well, you soon will
I have a tendency to wear my mind on my sleeve
I have a history of losing my shirt

Sam didn't seem to have much more to say, so he awkwardly stepped back away from the podium. Lewis took his cue and stepped up to it. Sally put on a good act by comforting Sam. Lewis took a deep breath.
"Well, after that shocking news, I'm going to explain what this means. Me, and my two friends, are members of the Cult of Revenge. We are dutiful followers of the Prophet of Revenge, an incarnate God who walks among us offering us purpose and power. He desires for everyone to know him. This unfortunate accident is a result of a rogue splinter group from the Cult forming their own conclusions of the Prophet’s preaching. That is not the way we all are, and from the bottom of our hearts, we apologize to the people of Tefillin, especially the families affected, for this terrible tragedy that has stained our name. We promise to work hard to clear our name, and we cannot be more sorry than we are now. Thank you, and the Prophet’s blessings upon you all.” He bowed, and the three stepped off the podium.
It's been one week since you looked at me
Dropped your arms to your sides
and said "I'm sorry"

[Ragnar the Red]

Be alert. The man on the stage right thinks she's putting on a good act. I can't quite say yet weather he's dangerous, but we may be dealing with someone who is very emotionally unstable, K thought to Reyky, turning his mind away from Lewis for a brief moment.

Um, K, listen to them, Reyky responded. They just gave a perfectly fine explanation of why they're here. They don't want this other sect of their religion giving them a bad name. Stop being paranoid, you're going to blow our cover!

Our cover? K thought back. It's your cover that needs worrying. If I slip away as a tiny minnow no one will be the wiser, and no one will assume that I had anything whatsoever to do with you. Don't be afraid of being well informed. And by the way, the guy on your other stage left.


K then redirected his attention back to the cultist Lewis. Now, if there was something tricky going on, K couldn't simply ask without giving himself away. He would have to be more specific, but not to specific, or else the chances of being wrong would also increase the likelihood of him being caught.

My, she's the one who could have been a big shot in showbusiness, K projected. Forget about me, Sally could have won best picture and the desperate fans all at once. I bet they'd never be able to guess our true involvement in the death Amy Jacobs and all the other hand agents.

[Admiral Regis Hermitage]

Hermitage looked up when Sally first approached the stand. He looked at her quizzically as she talked. He listened closely, but it wasnt until the second person approached the stand to where he was gritting his teeth. He had enough of it.

"You sons of bitches..." he shouted and rose from his seat. He started to run at them, onto be held back by several of the officers around him. "Let go of me!" he shouted to them.

"Admiral, please sit down..." The SDUD tried to calm Hermitage down.

Hermitage only growled at them. He didnt care why they were here. They didnt need to convince him that he wanted revenge. Being one of Insana's followers made psychotic anger and the want for revenge natural to him. As much as he could repress it, this was not a time in which it was possible. They took Amy from him, along with several of his agents.

"Yall have some nerve..." Tarkov stepped forward, putting himself between Hermitage and the podium. "Out of all of the places you could have gone to explain your so-called innocence, you chose a funeral? Not only is that in poor taste, this is not the time, nor the place to do it. Im not sure what yall are playing at, but i have a very angry Admiral behind me here that would like to show you how he feels about all of this." he said pointing to Hermitage who simply growled again in reply.

Hermitage jerked at his restrainers trying to break free, but they held on tight,

"I believe it is time for you to leave this ceremony... Agents?" Tarkov said calling on a few of the Agents around him. "Please escort these 3 people out... "

[K2]

As the general scurry began, the orange-haired man had made his way very quietly to the front. As agents approached the cultists to escort them away, the Red Haired Man slipped a note in Hermitage's hand before taking the stage.
"Let us resume, please. My name is Michael Sungehammer," he explained. Some more keen people might pick up on something odd about this guy. "And... I was in a... relationship with Amy Jacob. The night before she..." He stopped, tears welling up in his eyes. "Some of you may not know this, but Amy was a musician. She was a beautiful woman who could use words to paint a picture of life, and songs to completely surround a person with beauty and life. She was such a unique individual, and the night before she died, she sang me a song. I'd like to share it all with you now, if that's okay. I think it really reflects who Amy was as a person, and what she meant to all of us -- to her co-workers and her friends and family."

He pulled out an instrument case that had been tucked beneath the podium and bent down to grab the instrument.

The note he slipped Hermitage read:

Director,
We need to speak after the service. This is urgent. Your life may be in danger.

[UnStellar]

The green cultists recoiled, and hung their heads.
"We just wanted our voice to be heard..." Sally muttered weakly. But all three knew it was time to go, and they fled quickly, afraid of physical harm.

A faint voice would appear in Hermitage's mind.
They deserve death. They took so much from you... Take it back... FROM THEIR BLOOD The voice was inside his head.

[Ragnar the Red]

Told you it wouldn't be a problem K, Reyky though.

K?

[Admiral Regis Hermitage]

In due time, Regis. In due time. Patience is a virtue. another voice said in his head.

Hey, Insana! Who's dis time gai? a voice interrupted.

AGWU! Get out of here! the first voice shouted back.

HEY! Imma eachu like dat froggy. the second voice retorted.

SHUT UP!, Hermitage's voice yelled at them in his mind.

Alright. So like i said. In due time. Gotta go, child of insanity. May my blessing be with you.

Hermitage stopped fighting his restrainers and settled down after the cultists departed. They released him as he retook his seat. Tarkov stood near the podium to ensure that they had left. Hermitage looked down at his hand, and uncrunbled the note and read it. "No shit..." he muttered to himself. These kinds of things didnt bother him, or were even new to him. As a Director in the Intelligence Community, and THE director for the Zarethian Empire, death threats were very common. Every day he faced the threat of kidnapping, assassination, among other things.

After reading the note, a DSS agent approached him. "Admiral." He whispered. "There's been a situation on Temar. We need to escort you to the Capitol Building, sir." he said.

"It can wait." Hermitage said.

"Sir, it cant. We just lost the colony. We've encountered a new force, and they obviously do not have the intention of being friends. We need to get you to the Council immediately. War is imminent, sir." the DSS agent tried explaining.

"Fine." Hermitage said. He got up and waved over the SDUD to come with him. He looked over, and saw that the Senators and other flag officers attending were also ready to depart. He and the rest of the people leaving approached the road just behind the ceremony as several government vehicles rolled up in a long line. All were black and tinted, and had diplomatic plates on them.

As Hermitage approached his vehicle, the agents opened the door for him and he, followed by the SDUD, and another Rear Admiral for the 3rd fleet filed inside. Within a few moments, all of the vehicles departed leaving the crowd wondering why.

[UnStellar]

The green robed cultists vanished as soon as they had appeared.