Vatican Halls

Description: Hallways....of the Vatican.

Enter from Michel's Quarters
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Traversing the halls with his new repairs, Miles felt as if he'd never been damaged. His new lung was working properly and the supports in his spine held up far greater than he had expected, in fact the might of been an improvement in some ways. Granted, now even less of him was organic, but the benefits of such a transformation was considerable. Then again, its not like he ever felt the damage in the first place - something he wasn't sure to be thankful for or not. Rounding a corner with his trademark blank stare, Miles was making his way to the most likely place Meabh would be. It wasn't hard to guess what was or had happened during his time under repairs, not many things in Iscariot began with "You've been selected" so it was a simple task of finding the room she had been taken too. Luckily, he had a map of the place built in to his systems.

===>Regeneration Topic

Reaching the top of the stairs, Father Anderson pressed against a brick low on the wall and the entrance to the secret hall slid closed behind him and his red haired companion leaving to sign that the accursed place even existed. Beckoning Meabh along, they had only gone a few paces before the imposing frame of Father Michel Miles appeared down the hallway approaching them. It wasn't much of a surprise really. Though the location of that hallways was hidden from anyone who did not need to know, Michel had received a full map of Vatican bar none. Considering his track record, they were right to have trusted him with it. Offering a reserved smile and nod, Alexander moved to greet his fellow Iscariot.

"Et's good tae see yew up an moving, Michel. How are ye feeling?"

OOC: Crap post is crap.

-----> Regeneration Topic

There was a finality to things where she hears the hidden door close softly behind her; now it ws done, and she had to step forward into a new life, one she was certain would be even more taxing – and yet freeing – than the one before. There was still something gwrong about what had been done to her, soething she couldn’t quite place, but with every step, she became accustomed to the way her body moved, how quickly her reflexes carried her forward, and how lightly she could tread; even before this, she’d been difficult to find, difficult to hunt, but now, now she felt that she may have an edge on some of the things they would be hunting in return.

Footsteps on the stone floor of the hallway brought her out of her thoughts long enough to see Father Miles round a corner to meet them.

She was truly happy to see him.

His repairs had been finished, and he looked as though he’d never been hurt. Some part of her wanted to apologize for shooting him, but  she had been doing her job, and that meant killing the abomination at all costs. She knew, too, that her partner had done his job, and if it hadn’t been for him, neither Father Diem nor herself would have likely made it out alive.

Standing just off to the side of the Paladin, she waits for her partner to respond to the older Father’s comment, waiting until they had time alone to talk about this change in the dynamics of their partnership.

<----Orphanage Interior

Timmy wandered through the halls of the Vatican, bouncing his ball off the polished marble floors. The Swiss Guards stationed here and there followed him with their eyes, but made no move to stop him. He was known around here, and while he might not always completely behave himself, he never got in too much trouble...

The man-child was so involved with his ball and how high he could bounce it and the pretty paintings on the ceilings, that he comes across the trio of Iscariots without even noticing. He slams the ball down, then looks up, mouth agape as the ball flies through the air. One naked angel barely misses catching it, the round piece of rubber passing by its outstretched fingers. Timmy giggled. For some reason, he always got a kick out of the naked people. He liked to wander around naked, but the nuns never seemed to be happy about it. He wondered if God or Jesus ever got mad at the angels for wandering around with no underoos. Timmy was so engrossed in his musings and the ball that he wandered directly past Anderson and the others without noticing their presence.

Turning around the corner, he was saved the rest of the trip when he saw both Sister Meabh and Father Anderson appear out of the hidden hallway. It had been a while since he and Anderson had last spoke but it seemed like nothing had changed, and he was glad to see what ever Meabh had been called for was over, though he regretted that he wasn't able to make it in time to repay the display she showed him earlier, but at least she was alright. He gave a nod to them both before responding.

"Sustained damage has been repaired, operating at 79% and rising. However, my systems wont be fully recovered for another 56 minutes. I am fine. It has been a while, Father Anderson. His attention was drawn to Timoteo as he strolled passed with his ball. And awkward and unexpected appearance, but it was rather calming to see a nonthreatening entity that wasn't another battle hardened Iscariot agent or a vampire. He had his fill of the latter...

Inquiry: How did it all go?
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OOC: Meh post is meh.... lacking muse lately. But, Mikey did just go HK47.

With the arrival of a now healthy Michel, Alexander was confident that he could leave Meabh in his capable hands.  Though he had served as a guide and caretaker for so many of them, Anderson was well aware that the bonds forged against another's back in the field held a special grace all their own.  Just like Heinkel and Yumiko and so many others, Meabh and Michel had a mutual understanding that was an inherently private affair.  His smile widening, Alexander nodded to his former charge.

"Indeed et has, lad.  Yew should stop by tha orphanage moore often.  Tha children an Ah miss ye.  However," The mighty Paladin trailed off at the arrival of young Timoteo.  The young man must have wandered off while Yumiko was busy taking care of those new girls Veronica had brought home.  He'd need to speak with them privately sooner or later, one more thing on his ever-growing to do list. Reaching out, he snagged the bearded man by the collar lightly enough to keep from frightening him but firmly enough to keep him from wandering off without so much as acknowledging those around him.

"Ah so believe tha' Meabh is in greater need o ye than mah selfish self.  Ah'll leave tha two o ye in peace," the Scottish clergyman said with a light laugh, turning to match Timoteo's original path and escort the boy down the hall, a comforting hand on his back.  As he turned though, for the brief moment that the back of his head was to Meabh and his face was visible to Michel, Alexander silently mouthed a final request to his old student. "Look after her." Though on the path to recovery, Meabh was still neck deep in the adjustment period of her new body, her new life.  The Gunmetal Hound's presence as a friend would mean more now than even his presence as a protector in the field.  Placing his trust in both of them to care for one another, Father Anderson moved with Timoteo down the hall.

 "Nao Timoteo, whit haff Ah told ye aboot wandering off without telling anyone?"

She was grateful beyond words to the Paladin to have been with her through this entire hellish endeavor, however, at the sight of her partner, she realized she needed more than just he mentor’s guiding hand.

She needed her friend.

Though he may think himself a machine – something she was slowly but surely overcoming – he had a calming effect on her, something few others could do. Well, to be fair, no one other than the man currently walking away from her could do. She is silent through their exchange, not wanting to interrupt, when she notices a bearded priest – Timoteo? – wandering past without a car in the world. Would that she could be so oblivious.

She briefly touches the Paladin's arm as he turns away,a parting "thank you" that lasted only the briefest of seconds.

When the Father catches the child-like man by the collar, Meabh turns back to her partner and begins walking back to her room, assuming the metal man would follow her, and not wanting to wait any longer near the door way to that infernal place. The sniper was still having a bit of difficulty with this new feeling, the presence of something different riding just under her skin, numbing her while filling her with energy, and she wanted to be alone for a while to sort things out. Well, not entirely alone. Her partner, she hoped he would stay by her side.

She needed his presence; maybe not his words, but knowing her was around gave her a bit of peace.

Timoteo slammed his ball against the tiled floor again, trying to get it to bounce high enough that one of the angels would actually catch it and throw it back to him. He had yet to succeed in the years he had been trying, but maybe today would be the day. Very few people had the time or inclination to play catch with the huge man-child, though he had tried numerous times with the blue and yellow striped guards lining the halls everywhere. Painted angels were as good as anything el...

A large powerful hand grabbed his collar, yanking him back into reality. Timoteo barely catches his blue ball as it descends back from the heavens, having been so distracted by the paladin's light touch. But his reflexes were as fast as his mind was slow. He grins sheepishly at the trio standing in the hall. He had seen both of them before, though he was never really allowed to interact too much with the Iscariot agents around the castle. He wasn't quite sure why.

The woman had bags under her eyes, and moved as if the world was placed on her shoulders. Timoteo didn't understand how someone could be around so much beauty on such a wonderful day and still be so sad. He gave her a big toothy smile, hoping perhaps he could brighten her day. He gave the priest a small wave before allowing himself to be led away from the other two Iscariots.

He didn't answer Father Andy for awhile, instead listening to their footsteps echo down the hall. It sounded like they were any army with all the reverberation. Timoteo chewed on his lower lip, knowing he needed to answer the priest. Finally he sighs and speaks in a small voice. "Nobody cared that I left, Father. I just..." How could he explain that he was somehow drawn to this place? Being in the castle somehow felt right. He enjoyed the orphanage, but some of the children were cruel, and others ignored his existence all together. But that wasn't why he wandered the castle. He wanted to be part of something more. He wanted to go on adventures like the paladins. He knew he could help! But he had been through that conversation before, and he was still living at the orphanage. The large man looks down at the tiled floor. "I'm sorry, Father. It won't happen again."

Miles appreciated the sentiment despite not being able to show it. Stopping by the orphanage would certainly be a change of pace from the string of missions they've been tackling together, but regrettably they seemed to have very little time to put toward such a visit, so it would have to wait. Besides, putting everything else to the side, Miles current focus was Meabh and the Paladins mention of her. She had just gone through another major surgery, and though the exact steps of the transformation were unknown to him, he was certain it wasn't an easy thing to go through. But, if she was in need of him, for whatever the reason, then he would be there for her. He made it a point to be.

Nodding in response to Father Anderson and his mouthed request, Michel turned to follow his redheaded partner to wherever she would lead him. He didn't want to break the silence between them. If she wanted to speak about what had happened then he was certain she would do it on her own, though he was still concerned nonetheless.

She was both indescribably tired and unbelievably charged. She was going everywhere at once, and yet her mind was begging her to simply sleep. She shouldn’t be hurting, should she? Did this amazing new transformation take away the danger of injury but leave the chance of pain? In a way, that was better, comforting. It meant there was still something about her that she could hold on to, to tell her she wasn’t so different from the person she’d been before.

But was that person really someone she still wanted to be?

Sighing to herself – and wishing she could just turn off the lines of pondering running through her foggy mind – she reaches out to rest a hand on her partner’s arm, walking along with him. The sniper doesn’t say anything as they walk, she simply rests her hand above his elbow. After a minute or two, she finally speaks up after a long, remarkably mind-clearing sigh.

”Thank you, Michel.”



------------> Meabh's Room

Michel let the silence linger as they traversed the halls, not knowing where they were headed, but taking note of the various sighs from his partner. It must of been a big change, something he could relate to though the only difference being that he couldn't remember most things before his transformation. Miles found the snipers gratitude unnecessary. There was no need to thank him for anything he had done, was there?

No. He had done what he felt he needed to. If he had to be drug underground and beaten into near oblivion to keep the redhead safe, then he would do that and more. He had to repay her kindness somehow, didn't he? But he found this situation reversed somehow; he was the one who needed to thank her. Had she not taken the shot at the village then he would have most likely been destroyed.

"I have done nothing that deserves your gratitude, Meabh. My survival on our previous mission wouldn't of been possible without your aid, so I should be the one thanking you. However, I would like to recommend you getting some rest."

Exit -----> Meabhs room.

No sooner had he managed to find aid for one member of his flock, another dropped into the Paladin's arms. Timoteo's conflict was painfully apparent to the clergyman as he walked with the boy down the hallways in a temporary silence. That burning desire to do something, to be a real part of Iscariot, was entirely understandable and yet it was a request that Father Anderson was simply not yet willing to allow. Timoteo had tremendous potential for destruction using his unique abilities but despite that, he possessed an inherent purity. He'd already been through so much, Iscariot had caused him so much pain that Alexander simply couldn't bring himself to let that purity be extinguished battling nightmarish creatures in the far corners of Christendom.

The younger man's word shook the Paladin even more. To feel ostracized and unloved the was last thing that Alexander wanted for any of his charges. He'd need to be more vigilant around the orphanage to root out the source of Timoteo's added distress but for now the bearded man himself was the primary concern. Guiding him to the side of the hall, Father Anderson took a seat on a deep stone window sill and motioned for Timoteo to join him. "Acourse we care aboot ye, Timoteo," the priest said, attempting to ease some of the boys worries. "Ye dinnae need tae apologize. Tha sisters and Ah scold ye fer wanderin off because we worry aboot ye and want tae keep ye safe as best we can."

OOC: Sorry about the mediocre post. Had a hard time finding a groove.

Timoteo sat, pulling his knees to his chest and placing his hairy chin on top of them, and gazed at Father Andy. He frowned at the older man's words, then looks at the floor and begins slowly rocking back and forth. His words had hit some deep chord with Timoteo and a sudden rush of anger flushed through him, burning his cheeks red. "You don't need to keep me safe. I'm not a child!" His sudden outburst echoed down the empty stone hall. Generally the echo would turn the man-child sheepish, but it had no effect on him this time. He looked up from the floor, eyes hurt and full of anger. In the sudden silence that followed his outburst, the soft sound of particles of stone crumbling to the floor could be heard down the corridor. Timoteo's arms were wrapped around his knees, his hands curled into fists.

His tanned features curled into a pained frown as the mighty Paladin draped his arm around Timoteo's shoulders in what was meant to be a comforting gesture.  He could understand the boy's frustration wholeheartedly.  Timoteo had every right to be angry, he'd been dealt anything but a fair hand by fate.  However, the dangers associated with his powers were simply too great to ignore.  Beyond that, Father Anderson simply wasn't ready to see his charge abandon the last of his purity on the field of battle.  So many others had gone before Timoteo, forged into tools of divine judgement and vengeance.  It was a great honor but in receiving it each and every one of them had sacrificed any hope for a peaceful life. "Ah know yer no child, Timoteo.  Boot as long as Ah'm alive, tis mah responsibility tae protect ye in any way Ah can.  An...Ah joost cannae put ye in tha' mooch danger," he said, trying his level best to sooth the bearded man's simmering anger.

Timoteo was fully in a fit now. He roughly shook off the paladin's hand, stumbling off the window ledge to his feet. His eyes were full of anger and his hands were clenched at his sides. "I don't need you to protect me!" His voice was a low roar, though his words were childish. It was clear that some very tender nerve had been hit by the compassionate priest's words.

Anderson begins to feel pressure inside his head, a small point in front of his forehead, blossoming outward. Timoteo slowly steps backward, breathing loudly through his flared nostrils. Behind him, a low haze of dust begins to form as loose pieces of stone begin to crumble.

There was the pressure, a telltale sign of Timoteo's powers at work. Further proven by the slight wear forming on the stone walls and floor near the boy, Father Anderson was immediately forced to accept the severity of the situation. If not stopped now, Timoteo's powers had the potential to rip this entire building apart. Alexander was not about to let that happen. Rising from his sitting position, the Paladin of Iscariot was upon his young ward in the blink of an eye. Large gloved hands gripped down on the front of Timoteo's shirt and in one smooth motion Father Anderson lifted the telekinetic youth off his feet, holding him close to ensure his point was understood. "Yew foolish boy! Ah'm well aware ye dinnae need me boot ere's moore in life than joost whit yew want!" The clergyman roared back, trying to shock some sense into the man in his grasp. Suddenly releasing his hold, Alexander wrapped his arms around Timoteo in a hug, one hand on the back of the boy's neck. "If yew forsake everyone tha' wants nothin moore than tae protect ye, yer tramplin over eir wishes an responsibilities. Ah'll naht stand by an let ye cast aside all tha'. Yer too good a boy fer tha'," he said, the anger fading from his voice.

OOC: I took some liberties with the hug and all that. If you're uncomfortable with the actions I'll happily edit my post.

Timoteo's eyes widened as Anderson picked him up. The pressure in the paladin's head increased briefly, then died out. It was clear the man was shocked by the priest yelling at him. He tried to pry himself away from the man's powerful grasp, doing nothing but squirming uselessly against his robes. He refused to look Anderson in the eye. He was still angry, but felt ashamed as well. Finally, he gave up, standing limply in the paladin's hug. "I'm of no use to anyone," he muttered quietly, a few lonesome tears running down his bushy cheeks.

Holding fast to the bearded man as he struggled, Father Anderson fought against his own urge to speak immediately. The time for emotional outbursts had passed. He'd need to make sure what he said next counted for something. He needed tact, a trait that he was admittedly too quick to abandon at times. Sighing, he rubbed his hand against Timoteo's back as the younger man began to cry. "No lad, ye couldn't be moore wrong," the old priest finally said, taking a half step back while keeping his hands on Timoteo's shoulders. His brief anger that had twisted his tanned features just a moment ago had faded completely. He wore the persona of the loving caretaker once more, a loving smile brightening his face alongside his newly softened emerald eyes. "Yew an tha othars are mah flock, Timoteo. Ye brighten mah life an give me purpose. Ere's naht a day tha' goes by tha' Ah dinnae thank tha Laird, out God fer blessin me so," he exclaimed. Finally, sliding his hands from Timoteo's shoulders, the Iscariot stood before Timoteo in silence. That was all he had to say, all he really could say to the younger man before him.


OOC: I apologize for making you wait so long Timoteo. College starting up played a minor role but in complete honesty I just forgot about the topic and that was wrong on my part.

[[OOC-No problemo. I was extremely busy the past few days and couldn't have replied to you even if you had posted sooner.]]

Timoteo looked up into Anderson's eyes for a moment, then back down at the stone floor. Something just didn't make him feel any better. He knew the priest's words were genuine, at least it felt like they were. He turned one hand over and stared at his palm. Suddenly, he turned and ran away from the paladin with a surprising amount of speed, the ties on his husky hat flying out behind him. He couldn't have said why he was running, or where he was running to. All he knew was that he wanted to be away. Away from Father Andy, away from the dark, foreboding walls, away from the power that followed him no matter how fast he ran.

His jaw clenched as the bearded youth pulled away again and ran down the hallway as if the Angel of Death himself were at his heels.  Catching up to Timoteo would have been easy enough.  The superhuman speed that the Paladin had been given by his numerous experiences in the white hall allowed him to overwhelm the supernatural minions of Satan.  While surprisingly fast for his build, Timoteo was no Alucard.  Despite his ability to do so, Alexander remained fixed in place and watched the younger man disappear down the hall.  Whether he liked it or not, the Iscariot had acknowledged that Timoteo desperately wished to be alone for the moment.  If he attempted to pursue the matter further he'd be doing more harm than good at this point.  Frowning, Alexander reached his gloved hand into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone and dialed the number of one of the nuns he knew was stationed in the building.  She was a kind old woman that stopped by the orphanage every now and then with correspondence.  Familiar enough to avoid inciting any potentially harmful bursts of Timoteo's abilities should he notice her, but removed enough to hopefully be free of the emotional baggage tied up with the primary orphanage staff.  

"Sister McCreedy, it's Father Anderson.  Ah need tae ask a favor uv ye," he said in his thick Scottish brogue.  Timoteo's footsteps had all but vanished into the distance.  The boy must have really been moving.  "Timoteo Maximiliano should be leavin tha castle any moment nao.  Ah need ye tae keep an eye on him for me.  Keep yer distance an all tha'.  Ah joost need someone tae make sure tha lad stays safe," the Paladin explained, rubbing the bridge of his nose.  Contrary to popular belief, he lacked the infinite patience of Job despite his best efforts.  The troubles at the orphanage had been increasing as of late, as were the tensions with the Protestants and vampiric activity in Catholic lands.  Sooner or later the pot would boil over and scalp anyone unfortunate enough to be minding the stove.  Thankfully, Sister McCreedy was gracious enough to relieve a bit of the weight from Alexander's shoulders today and promised to keep a private watch over Timoteo.  "Thank ye, Julia.  Ah'll talk to ye soon," Father Anderson exclaimed, hanging up the phone and returning it to his pocket.  Turning on his heel, Father Anderson heading back down the hallway in the direction he'd originally come from.  Knowing the higher ups of the Church, there was most likely another errand awaiting his immediate attention.

======>Exit