Knife in the Back//The Wren//Open for apps! PM to Tundra

[SpartanAmethyst]

Amethyst gave a small laugh. "Better off than most of our friends seem to be, including you," she said, attemting to hide the large gash in her stomach. It was big, but she brushed it off as nothing. It hurt like a mother, oh did it hurt, but she'd have a chance to clean it and stitch it up to base. She didn't want anyone worrrying about her little problem when others were in much worse states. She looked Trustin over. "You still didn't answer my question, but I guess I don't need you to anymore. Anything I can do to help? I know a secret that'll help you relax," she said.

[Draconox]

“Oh, is that so?” Trustin gave her a thoughtful look without any indication if he was referring to her first or last comment. The fact that she tried to cover the big bloody gash in her clothes hadn’t gone unnoticed, but Trustin had problems to focus on the female for long. He turned his head to look at Nightingale and Bree, checking the cabin with the remaining Wren members, back to Nightingale and Bree and finally to rest his eyes on Amethyst again. They were unusually dark because of his dilated pupils and there was a low growl vibrating in the back of his throat. Extended claws punctured another armrest. The young man wondered for a moment how Violet was dealing with the blood scent and closed his eyes for a second.
“I tend to heal fast, thanks”, he muttered. There was another stab of pain to his side. Sometimes healing just took a little longer. A good rest and a nice bloody steak was all he wanted for now and he sure wasn’t the only one. Ah, probably on the steak.
“You’re going to treat that soon? And let me in on your secret?” Trustin asked with a hint of curiosity in his voice.

[SpartanAmethyst]

Amethyst's eyes grew wide for a moment; she had hoped be hadn't notice. She sighed. "When we get back to base," she said. "Or wherever the hell we're going." She shifted in her seat to face him a bit, wincing as she twisted her abdomen. She was silent for a moment. "And yes, I can show you the secret, if you'll allow me to touch you." She said. "Lean your head forward, to where your chin is touching your chest."

[Mystic]

Surreal Rosanne Quilling

Blackness. That's all I could see. Just that ever consuming blackness.
Was I dead? I had no clue. One would think I would have went down that tunnel of darkness to find that iridescent light that so many near deatn victims bragged about. Guess that was just some illusion of the mind, to try and deal with the shock or something. Or maybe it was true and I was currently in hell, unable to see, move, or hear. Most likely. I had killed a lot of innocents in my short, wasteful life.
But.. if I really was in that deep, painful pit of damnation, why couldn't I feel? My body was numb and still in shock from what had happened to lead up to my death.
Wait..
An explosion. A wall of fire that consumed every inch of the room. Wails of panic and fright. Demanding shouts. Frantic belows. My panic stricken heart pounding in confusion and fear.
Maybe I hadn't died.
I could hear something.. my heart, franticly racing and throbbing in my ears. I could feel dust and dirt brush against my sensitive skin. I could also feel wet, sticky liquid. And.. I could faintly see a dim light filtered through.. rubble. I was alive!
I had to hold in the sudden burst of joy that encompassed my heart. Although it wasn't hard, I could barely breathe let alone shout out with glee. And, aswel as barely breathe, I could now feel my limbs and torso. They were filled with all kinds of pain, I was in a world of hurt. Even if I hadn't died, I wasn't going to stay amongst the living for long.
Then a thought occured to me. I was trapped, by broken walls and debris.
My heart clenched, my limbs started to contort in panic. I had to get out of here! I couldn't breathe!
I tried to pull in a breath, but was cut short by a fit of coughing. I couldn't give up. I needed to get out of this pit of torcher. I had attempted to cry out, which failed, ofcourse. The dust had been sucked into my throat when I took in another breath, which sent me into a small spasm as I coughed and heaved. I tried to kick and squirm, but it only caused more pain for myself. The dirt was closing in on me, I was actually buried alive. My heart was now on overload. I couldn't take much more of this.
Maybe this was hell.
But, before I even tried to move again, I heard muffled voices above. It had confused me at first, since my head was dizzy with shock, fright and bewilderment. But I then realized that ofcourse someone had come to investigate the scene. Obviously the police. By what I could hear, they were currently shifting through the dirt and grime to find more survivors.
Then, to my never ending relief, the dimlight that peeked through the rubble turned into an even brighter light, and got wider. I could hear more clearly now. Cries of surprised joy snuck into my ears as I saw dark figures above me, hands reaching out to claw at the brown muck that surrounded me. And then those hands found their way to me, clenching my arms with a firm, iron grip.
I felt myself being lifted into the magnificent light that was day, emerging from the ash and charred remnants of The Wren.
I was alive. I was free.

((I hope this start off is okay ^^ She's currently coming out of The Wrens remains.))

[Verdana]

//The Wreckage of the Wren//

The block crackled with activity. Panicked voices were raised in horror. Sirens wailed. A broken water pipe spurted icy water in a thin stream across the road. Bystanders were drenched, and there were indeed bystanders. Humans love a tragedy. They would have been active participants in the clearing of the wreckage, had not a policewoman been erecting a barricade, and firmly been keeping the public bay with crisp, Scottish-accented words. Her face was dusty and grimy. Her hair was greying, and of an indiscriminate colour. Her face showed the early aging of many women in her profession.

Her name was Shaygrin Syncrame. She was not impressed.

She left the gawking, peering crowds, and joined her colleague; a remarkably tall young man with his hair tucked up into a policeman's cap. He was digging in the rubble. A small portable computer-like contraption was clutched in one hand.
Here, he muttered to Shay. His voice smacked of Oxford. Beside him, Shaygrin began to dig. The rubble cleared, and a woman emerged. A film of dust stuck to her face, her blood acting like glue. Ty drew her out of the rubble, and effortlessly slung her into his arms. Shay walked beside her.
You're alright, dear. It's alright now, she soothed, every inch the well-trained officer.
Come. Let's get you cleaned off.

She pulled Ty (who had absolutely no geographical sense whatsoever) towards a small, well-lit building. Shaygrin did not know who owned it, and did not care. It had been empty when she'd found it, and nobody had enquired further. It was currently housing the surviving members of the Wren.

Many members had been killed. The explosives had vaporised their corpses. When she had a moment, Shay would have a good cry about this. However, she did not have a moment. There was much to do. In a sharp, brittle tone, she directed Ty to place the girl on a couch (for he would not have thought to do it on his own; he would have stood there, holding her and looking helpless), directed one of the two remaining medics to help her, and turned to the motley, meek remnants of one of the finest bands of assassins in existence. They were huddled around the pile of objects which summed up what had been recovered. It was pitifully small. Shay felt a surge of relief to see two objects in the pile: An old painting with sentimental value and, oddly enough, the stuffed crocodile from her office. She was very attached to it. It was a symbol, hidden from everyone but her.

She went around the group, offering advice, giving orders and snapping as it was necessary. It was only then that she remembered her daughter. She cursed. They were on their way over
with Kuar. How? After all this time...
and without Malberry. It wouldn't do. They could not come. It was too dangerous.

She snatched Ty's device from him, ignoring his possessive yelp. She began to type frantically. Before she'd consciously made a decision, she knew what she had to do.

//On the Jet//

Bree was growing less and less happy. Claustrophobia compounded with her desperation to be right. This was made worse by her suspicion that she, in fact, was not. She did not like to be wrong, and liked backtracking even less. She bared her teeth at the demon. Metaphorically only, of course. She was too well-disciplined to lose control in that way.
I could always take you on myself. I would win. You are injured and I am not. And when we get back to base...
Oh dear. She hadn't really thought that far.
... We'll improvise, she said, without a noticeable pause.

She looked around at her assassins. She had been betrayed. They were cowering from the fight. Inwardly, she could not blame them. They were weak, wounded, tired and shocked. She had more to motivate her, though.
Do your feathers mean nothing to you? Th Wren has made you what you are. You owe this to them. To my brother and my mother, she did not say. Who may be bleeding out, or captured, or suffering right at this moment. Who, despite my harsh and brittle exterior, I really don't want to see dead. Her nostrils flared slightly. There was a smudge of dirt on her pasty cheek.

When she felt her pager vibrate, it took her a moment to remember what it was.

Her mother used it to communicate with her in HQ. It buzzed infuriatingly often when she was in the building. It never buzzed when she was on a job. She didn't know that it could. She fished it off of her belt, and read the message. It was a simple one, carefully encoded. Basically, it was checking on her status.

It was from her mother.

She typed back a swift response, and included her status, asking after her mother's.

Shay sent a reply. It was grim news. Bree bit her lip, her eyes widening. Unaware of being watched, the age melted off of her face, making her look like any other frightened teenage girl. She sent a question about her companion.

A reply soon arrived. It was coded, but the code had changed, and Bree flushed.

He was trustworthy until proven otherwise.

Her mother hadn't had to be so mean about it!

After a long pause, Bree looked up. Her face was inscrutable.

Change course now, she said to Kuar.

We need to go to Croatia.


[Please read the revised rules about posting length. They should be at least 100 words at all times, if not more. You are welcome to resume RP on the ground in Croatia, if you are on the plane. Or if you are a Wren survivor, too. And I'm sorry that I am posting so little. If you are looking for a fast-paced roleplay, this is not the one for you.]

[Mystic]

Surreal Rosanne Quilling

That voice.. It was so familiar, but I couldn't tell who it was.
The feeling of warm arms around my frail, damaged body gave me comfort as motherly words whispered their way into my ears. I could feel my body automatically relax as the soft voice soothed my frantic heart and giddy head. I had never heard such a warm, motherly tone in my life. It made me want to weep with joy, but I could only let out a peep of thanks before I was suddenly shifted as the person holding me moved.
I couldn't see much. Just a blinding light that left me to rely on my other senses, which didn't give me much information. The blare of sirens and chatter filled my ears, which were over sensitive from the sudden exposure of noise. The feeling of warmth and comfort, which eased my tense muscles. Only slightly. The smell of burnt remains flooded my nose, making me heave in disgust. God, that rotting, smell was overwhelming.
Suddenly, the light that had consumed my vision dimmed, indicating I was now out of the sun's rays. My vision was clear, but still murky with fatigue and bewilderment.
The sight I saw made my cracked, dirty lips tilt up in amusement, and made my heart swell with relief.
Ty, clutching me to his chest as he briskly walked into a brightly lit room (Though it wasn't as bright as the sun, to my relief), his head occupied with a police cap that covered most of his deshelved hair. It was obvious he had worn the disguise to fend off any suspicions from curious humans. But I still couldn't help myself from wheezing out a mild chuckle. I thought I would never see him without his usual scruffy yet innocent attire. A stained shirt and pants to match, with childish Hello Kitty slippers to hide his feet.
As my silent grey gaze traveled over him, my eyes suddenly found Shay, giving Ty, the big, loveable bear, a stern, demanding command to lay me on the couch. Now I knew who had given me those gentle, caring words. Well, I had always suspected she was the motherly type, even if she had never seemed like it. She just had that.. way about her. Surely a woman with two children wouldn't be so indifferent and stern, only interested in her work.
As these thoughts encompassed my mind, I was lowered onto the soft, plush cushions of a sofa, adorned with pillows to make it just the more cozier. But, just as I thought I was about to be left alone, to finally relax, I felt hands brush my skin, prodding for injuries.
"Don't... don't touch me.." I gasped, a sickening cough erupting from my aching throat.
As my body jerked from the wheeze, I could feel the extent of my injuries. God.. I wish the numbness had lasted.
I felt electricity jolt up my left leg as I tried to move away from the many hands that just wouldn't keep off of me. Then, a dull ache making it's way up from my right ankle to my knee. Didn't they see that every time they even brushed there fingers against me I was hurting? Bloody gashes, up and down my arms and legs burned with each stroke of skin, like hell's flame whispering against my flesh. I knew my right shoulder was dislocated, and that my elbow was currently assituated in an angle it really shouldn't be. But those were the only injuries I could see. I knew I was much worse.
I groaned with mysery and pain. This was torture. Sadistic, cruel torture.

((Sorry about the quick posts ^^ It's night time and it's currently raining, so I have nothing to do but sleep, or occupy the internet. I'm not very sleepy xD))

[paula polestar]

Booker
“We never said we were leaving, Bree.” Booker’s voice wavered as he made out a reply. It was the first time he had talked since the plane left Switzerland, and although a fairly short time it may have been, it still seemed as if it the first time the vampire had talked in years. It sounded like such, as well, considering how slowly his words were phrased. “We’re just a bit war-weary; that’s all.” He didn’t look at her directly as he spoke, eyes still focused on Malberry’s knife. A new twang of sadness hit him, dreary thoughts of lost friends coming to mind. “Then again, I do only speak for myself.”

One person can only experience so many farewells, a wise man once said. For a little while, Booker hadn’t believed him. Early on the years flew by with such a believable swiftness that he hadn’t had time to root his feet on the ground. Old friends and enemies soon piled together after all the decades and centuries, sorrowful face blurring together into one. And each, of course, spoke the same monotonous word before fading: Goodbye. Malberry would soon be one of those forgotten faces, just like the rest. It was a horrible thought; Booker knew this all to well. Despite that, though, the vampire also knew it’s truth.

Magdalene
“Croatia?” Magdalene asked hesitantly, craning her head back from her spot at the front of the plane. Before you could hear the tapping of the keyboard in front of the young technologist, but the clamoring had stopped. Finally, the conversation was beginning to get interesting. “What contact, dare I ask, do we have in Croatia?”

Although some may disagree, Magdalene had every right to know what the plans were for this now free-winged mission. She was making a documentation of it on Microsoft Word, after all. No one knew of this, of course, and the files were all carefully secured by numerous firewalls and a self-destruct program that would be triggered if accessed by anyone but herself. It was as if the techie was selling, the firewalls, anyways. All the info was just for future reference, something to look back on when she was older. To Magdalene, it was serious at all. To Shay, on the other hand, each word file could be a weapon deadlier than any gun. Magma knew this all very well, of course. That was part of the reason she kept it so secretive. The other part... Well, that was another story.

[Derelict Draught]

// Just Another Day in the Life \\

"You are powerless against me! No one can resist my Rainboom attack!"
His hands draw back quickly as he stares down his opponent. Time seems to slow as the energy of the world flows into his body. Opposite him, the creature's eyes grow wide with fear. "Impossible! No one can perform a Rainboom attack! The raw power required for such a feat would tear you apart!"

A grin twitches at the edge of his lips. "That's me. No 1!" The energy spirals around his hands, glowing brighter and brighter with each passing millisecond. A sudden thrust and a deafening cry mark the launch of the ultimate and most impressive of attacks. A scream escapes the guard as the colorful rainbow tears through his body, leaving a gaping hole in the wake. Our hero draws himself to the guard's side as he slowly slips away. "...Y-you...were too powerful...I-ll be back...but STRONGER!" The guard then slips away into the cold grip of death. A single tear slides down our hero's cheek as he bids his fallen comrade good bye.

"I'LL TELL YOU WHATEVER YOU WANT TO KNOW!" The young man struggles against the numerous leather straps holding his head and limbs in place on the gurney. "Please just end this rainbow eye vomit. Please! No one can possibly enjoy this! THE SHOW MAKES NO SENSE!" The guards chuckle to themselves silently as they navigate through the room to the TV monitor, turning the volume up. The interrogator leans in closer to the young man's face.
"Now tell me, Mr. Taylor. Why did you attack the Cafe Venetia and Secret Sundae? A small cafe and an ice cream parlor. At what point did you decide to change your target from striking for environmental protection to simple terrorism?"

The young man stares into the interrogator's eyes, entirely confused and lost to the meaning of his accusations. He had already learned that he was this Kieron Taylor person and that apparently he was some form of ecoterrorist though...Something about that just felt wrong to him. He knew that if he gave the wrong answer they would force him to watch another hour of that nonsense. He was already starting to wish that they would just cut him and torture him by normal means but the doctors declared him to weak for that.

"Well...The clock is ticking, Kieron. We have another 4 seasons of this show..."

The young man's body cringes at the thought of sitting through another episode and his heart sinks at the thought of four seasons...A shrill ring breaks the tension. Without breaking his glare, the interrogator produces a small phone and answers the call. The man's gaze breaks for a single instant, his mask of hatred giving way to fearful disbelief. Stepping back from the captive, he steps out of ear shot.

The interrogator storms back into the room, a combat knife securely in his grasp. Without slowing, he stabs the blade deep into the young man's shoulder, twisting slowly. Face and phone occupy the captive's breathing space as the interrogator spits out the words. What the man said, the young man would never know. His gaze and attention focused on the image occupying the screen of the phone. A woman, quite plain in appearance, lay on a morgue table. Her body bore numerous injuries that would promise death yet her eyes remained locked on the photographer, lacking a glaze of peace.

The young man's arms and legs struggle against their bindings, not in the hope of breaking free but rather retreating from the image before him. He knew what she was. What horrors those eyes promised. The ache of his arm grew as memory tugged at him. The place burns through his mind, forcing themselves into audio. "BIHAC!" His body trembles as his eyes grow dim. Slowly he regains control of his breathing. "Bihac, Bosnia. They were to the North. A compound. Near the border."

The blade slides gently from his shoulder as the interrogator pulls back from the trembling captive. "Bosnia? Interesting." The interrogator's hand moves in a flash, slicing through the bindings with ease. "We'd best get moving then. Can't have this blowing out of hand now can we?" The interrogator frowns to himself as the others roll the young man into the hall in preparation of their departure before raising the phone to his ear.

"How did you know he could lead us to the source? The MO didn't match him."

// Like a puppy... \\

"Don't ask stupid questions." Jessica slams the phone onto the receiver before turning in a huff. Now she had to fly out to Bosnia. Not only that but she would be arriving in the midst of the tourist horde. She hated Bihac. The location made sense though. If there were going to be a new outbreak, as a part of her hoped, then a major tourist trap would be the perfect launch point. Mumbling under her breath, she begins to collect supplies from the various rooms of her quarantine. She would need to hurry if she were to reach the airport before them.

She would need time to prepare a sanitary environment for the wounded man, as he would have degraded over the flight, and the field op she would need to perform on the man. A gurgling moan reminds her of her current patient. Stepping into what served as her bedroom, she rifles through the piles of clothes in search of undamaged nylons. Finding a pair, she returns to the slab and binds the infected's wrists together, checking her work to be sure they would hold.

Removing the straps that pinned the creature down, she sets about gathering her last few items, before turning to the door. Uneven footsteps betray the woman following at her heels. Leaning at the heavy door which separated her lab from the rest of the world, she glances back at the woman. She was cute in a disgusting sort of way. Almost like a really big and ugly puppy.

Without another thought to the matter, Jessica makes her way through the numerous containment measures all the time guiding her pet abomination to the elevator. The sudden motion of the elevator causes the infected woman to fall to the ground, her feeble balance displaced by the unexpected force. Jessica giggles softly as she watches the creature struggle to right herself only to be thrown down once more as the elevator stops.

The rosy smile that marked Jessica's face dies, instantly vanishing as the elevator doors part and expose the main floor. The room was full, not of the staff that ran the facility but rather dirty vagabonds covered in dirt. Several of them were wounded in various ways and two attempted to aid the others. All eyes were on a woman in the midst of the room, seemingly distracted the device in her hands and her. Instinct kicks in, her hands drifting to their necessary positions. One of the keypad for the elevator and the other wrapping around the handle of scalpel concealed by her smock.

A symbol stands each vagabond's garment. Pieces begin to slide in place within her mind. She had more than her colleagues. Motive, results, and even a possible resource. Her pet stumbles into the room, the gag muffling her moans as she hurries herself towards the gargantuan in the midst of the group. A soft sigh escapes Jessica's lips as she steps out of the elevator. "Can't take her anywhere. Could say the same about you, Shaygrin. What are the odds that your band of..." Her eyes study the men and women around her, their unease was highly apparent though a few of them could pulled the dirty homeless look off... "he's kinda cute...politician's would be the targets of an outbreak? Much less on the same street as me."

[Tundra]

Kuar listened to Bree's plan, or lack of one. In fact he just closed his eyes and shook his head slightly at her failed attempts to lead her team. His tail flicked lightly but froze mid flick when Bree commented on how the Wren had made him. It got quiet, the air tense as Kuar wrestled with his own sense of pride. The Wren had not made him, it never had any involvement in his life. Yes, he and Shay had worked together to make the Wren, or the idea of it. Kuar himself had never been involved with it. He had been way to concerned of their old enemy tracking her though him. But that had ended recently. The man who had haunted their lives for so many years had felt claws in his flesh in a final battle to survive. Kuar himself barely made it out, there being scars on his body he would not speak about to anyone, even if they asked. He had been wounded gravely, but had survived and rose higher.

Kuar that didn't matter right now, right now he just wanted to make sure Bree knew that he was not one to piss off. His tail finally finished its flick and Kuar rose to his feet. This, would look almost as though eh was listening to what Bree had said. Like he was heading to the pilot to tell him the route to take. But instead he took a step towards Bree and within a flash he slammed her against one of the walls his stance that of a predator. Kuar's tail flicked behind him as he said a few inches from her face "Never EVER compare me to the Wren. Everything I know, everything I LEARNED was by my own hands. YOUR little guild of assassins had no play in it." His eyes were glowing, obviously he wasn't kidding around. Flicking his tail once more he let Bree go and walked towards the back of the cabin to calm down a bit. He needed to, or someone may end up hurt. Over the years he had gained an amount of control of his feral side, but not as much as he would like. Pausing by the door he pressed a button and said into a voice box "Change of course, Croatia, make necessary stops only. We can take no risk of them following us." He flicked his tail again before opening the door and entering his sleeping quarters. Closing it behind him he made sure it was locked. Last thing he needed was someone bothering him right now.

Making his way over to the bunk he flopped down on its oddly soft surface. This was a custom designed jet after all. He had everything he needed to live here if needed, including rations that could sustain him and the pilot. He stared up at the roof his tail hanging lightly over the edge as he thought. He let out a sigh rolling over so he was facing the wall, and his back to the door. He closed his eyes, and tried to get some sleep, but his mind was heavy with not only memories, but worry. He knew Shay well enough to know the woman had made it out alive, but he was still worried.

----

The room was all hustle and bustle with people coming and going to get survivors out of the rubble. TF, being the typical shadow, kept to himself. Normally he would talk, but he hadn't survived this long only to die to one of these hurt assassins blades. He really didn't want to do much that would signal him out from the rest of the rescued. Now, he wasn't rescued, not he had been in this building the entire time. But he relied on the fact that no one had really noticed him. He just, observed, a card flipping between his fingers with a light blue aura to it. His head hung low, his hat covering his eyes. But he listened, footsteps, sirens, complains and moans of pain. Twisted was not at all surprised by this, he was just glad that none of them were like the one who had attacked the Wren.

Twisted wasn't really trying to save them, but probably actually had been the only reason why any of them were alive. If he hadn't interrupted the...things attack, Shay and her crew probably would be dead. But still things had not gone as twisted would have liked. There was no way he could actually have soloed the creature..thing...alone. It was weird, not being able to harm it with the bladed edge of his cards. But he really didn't care. He raised his head slightly hearing the voice of a newcomer, his eyes barely visible under his hat. He noticed the creature she had brought with him and just had this urge to blow the thing up. But he didn't, it was obvious she had some control over the thing. Shifting his weight he started to get bored, and, with his bordum came what caused him to stand out. The cards he had been lightly thumbing through started to float around him before returning to his deck. He moved his hands swiftly as he realized what had just happened. Probably was seen now, might as well join in. Though he didn't say anything for now, he wouldn't need to. Shay most definitely would notice now that he was there...and, they were not on the best of terms. Last time they had seen each other, Twisted had just cheated Shay out quite a sum of money in a small game of cards. Maybe she had forgotten, who knows, he just knew things probably were about to get more fun, or more painfully annoying.

[Mystic]

Surreal Rosanne Quilling

"A-ah!" The groan of pain suddenly erupted from my aching throat, barely a squeek amongst the bundled up assassins that littered the room. A stab of pain bloomed across my right thigh as one of the medics dug into the bloody wound that occupied it, swiping large alcohol wipes to clear away the blood and any dirt or grime that had made its way into the deep gash. But that hadn't been the thing that had made me moan with agony. My shoulder was now being readjusted, being shifted back into the socket that had held it in place. Ofcourse it was unbearable, especially since I didn't have enough energy to hold back the cries that exploded from my mouth. It was embarassing, but I could barely think of that now. Although I knew a few of the people (Or, well, creatures) in the room were staring at me. They had been doing it for how long I had been there.
I was almost all stitched up, all fixed and ready to relax in peace. They had cleaned and stitched up most of my wounds while bandaging up others. They had wrapped up my ankle after thoroughly inspecting. Luckily, it was just a mild sprain that would last for a week or two. And my knee wasn't too bad, just bruised. Most of the major damage was around my upper body. Like my elbow, which had been readjusted and bandaged up as well. Fortunately for me, they had given me a sedative halfway through. I guess they couldn't stand my childish flailing and groaning.
Over the years, I had learned how to mask my pain, emotional and physical. I had kept such an indifferent and emotionless face all my life, built up on my experiences with emotions. They were just weaknesses that foes would use against you, to manipulate you. That's why I had always kept them guessing, showing them nothing, only what I wanted them to see. Now, all my training and hard work had just been swept away in the rubble and remains of The Wren, from that blasted explosion. I just couldn't believe it.
And, now that The Wren was destroyed, what would happen to us all? Would Shay keep this dangerous organisation and find a new location to rebuild The Wren, or just dissapear without a trace, leave them all to fend for themselves? After these few years of watching and studying Shay, I wouldn't think her the one to just abandon her beloved assassins at the first sign of danger, no matter how ugly and brutal it was. But, I was only judging her by what I saw of her. I didn't know the real Shay, the real master mind behind The Wren. And, although I didn't know her or her motives, I trusted her. After all the emotional scars and hurtful blows that would keep someone from doing so. She had been the only one to offer me a home and a family, was the only one to show some sort of care for me, no matter how small it may be. I knew she would carry this through, and come out of all the rubble and destruction as a stronger woman.
As these thoughts of Shay and the organisation swam through my head, clouding my mind from the agony that was my body, I suddenly realized that the cautious, prodding hands of the medics had stopped brushing against my flesh. Since my mind was a little slow and wasn't reacting as quickly as it should have been, I hadn't noticed the medics slapping off their bloody gloves and packing up their disinfected equipment so they could treat the next injured Wren member.
"-I will ask Shaygrin what to do with you, but for the moment, you must stay on this sofa. Do not move. You must rest yourself, your body is in a very weakened state and has lost much blood. I'm surprised you're still not passed out." The man grumbled in his hoarse, exhausted voice. It seemed he had been working himself ragged.
All I could do was nod, my throat raw and sticky from all the groaning I had been doing.
As the weary man rose to his feet and turned on his heel to assist the next patient, I suddenly felt the rest of my energy vanish. God, I was tired. With a loud, unattractive yawn, I gingerly shifted in my spot on the soft cushions, trying to find comfort. In a matter of seconds, I was comfortable and already drifting off in my own little world, my heavy lids shutting out the well lit room. I could already feel myself float out of conciousness, to sink into the deep, wonderful darkness of sleep.