Kilquan gave a high pitched laugh, much like a demented Draculina, or some demented child from some freakish horror film. He does a back flip off of the fountain and continues to do them until he lands next to Carmina. He then hooks his umbrella under her foot and angles it towards a passing helicopter, setting it to follow. ((Carmina can thank me later, better this than the two day rule.))

After she was in air, he promptly leaps into the air and delivers a wave a needles to the racing Catholic madman. "Now to deal with you the old fashion way!" he crows as he then takes off towards a back alley flinging five more needles at the man, whizzing near silent and invisible in the air.

Mad he might be, in fact infuriated might be a better word, but stupid Kokushibyou was not. At least, he didn't consider himself stupid. Thus he was more than intelligent enough to realize that Kilquan's movements indicated more needles, so he broke off the Charge of The Buzzsaws and instead dived to the side, barely avoiding the first wave of needles. The roll made the two needles already in him twinge painfully, luck was with him even further and when he stood up to take a step, he immediately tripped on a rock and fell down, the other five needles sailing harmlessly overhead.

Kokushibyou got up and rubbed his nose, which had been mashed against his face in the fall. He glared balefully at the back alley that Kilquan had gone down and pulled out another pair of his double-sided silver knives. It was a very good thing that his caretaker believed in having many weapons. However, he didn't have them levitate just yet, as much as it galled him to admit it he did have limitations. Furthermore, he did not go down the alley, that would leave his power severely limited in usefulness, it was safer to stay out here and wait for the vampire. Obviously, that smack on the pavement had cleared some of the murderous fog from his mind.

(Telekinetic Count: 6)

Kilquan looked up from the back alley towards his umbrella riding companion and smiled. 'Well, just a few more feet and....' He cackled from the back alley and vanished from the city, only to be ascended on high unto his mechanical umbrella.

"Hello deary!" he said as he grasped hold of the umbrella, dragging it down a bit in the air before it forced itself up, the rotor spinning faster to compensate for his weight. He easily moved his larger foot under Carmina's and held her in a position to where she wouldn't fall and off they flew after that helicopter, easily catching up enough to follow its trail.


------>>> Exit with Carmina to the Knights of the Damned Castle front gate.

The Iscariot Agent waited tensely for several minutes before he finally began approaching the alley. He looked around, double knives held tightly in each hand, where the hell was the vampire? Then it occured to him what had happened, he'd been tricked! "Damn that cowardly vampire to hell!" Kokushibyou shouted to no one in particular, panting heavily that the person who had dared inflict damage to his body had gotten away.

However, it wasn't long before he had calmed down and his formerly arrogant demeanor returned. "Ah well, guess I can't be that surprised that the creature was too overcome by terror to face me. Hehe, you may have control back Antonio, make sure my body is well taken care of." With that Kokushibyou's eyes went from their sickly green to a normal brown.

Antonio grimaced, "Thanks." He said sarcastically, grabbing the needle in his shoulder and pulling it out, wincing at the pain. He was a hell of a lot better at handling pain then his counterpart. He turned out of the alley, pulling out the second needle and tossing it aside. The damned abomination had managed to get away, it was a shame, he had wanted to see it dead. Still he now needed to get back to the Iscariot Castle.

<>-------<>Exit to the hallways

===>Iscariot Castle (Hallways)

Walking amongst rubble and scorched gardens, Father Anderson snarled in frustration at the state of the Piazza. What was a normally vibrant tourist attraction and wonderous work of architecture had been scarred by combat and ruin. True, much of the city had already been cleared of debris and reconstruction was well underway (one of the few up sides of Enrico's time as Vicar of Rome was an astounding increase in productivity), however the signs were still visible especially to one as perceptive as Anderson. Lowering himself to one knee, Alexander examined a few scattered remnants of explosive devices and the occasional bullet shell. They were all military issue, these people were professionals. That, combined with the high level of cooridination behind the attack and the body that Casamiro had brought in made the identity of the culprits crystal clear. It was definitely the Knights of the Damned.

Several months back Father Travis O'Hara, had taken on a personal investigation in Scotland based on rumors of some upstart cult. His corpse had been nailed to the doors of St. Peters Bascillica along with the crest of the Knights. Sadly, O'Hara had always been a solitary operative with little regard for proceedure so any leads or findings he may have uncovered had been lost with his death. So while the Knights definitely had connections to Scotland, there was no accurate way to pinpoint them. That, and the fact that their best lead, the Knight's escape flight path, was unable to be tracked. The bastards had knocked out the main power station thus taking out Iscariot's radar equipment and communication center.

Rising to his feet once more, the Paladin glanced to his left and noticed several citizens of Rome leave their homes and enter the scorched flower beds. Immediately they began to uproot the destroyed plants before replacing them with beautiful new flowers. Soon the hillside was once more a gorgeous collection of brilliant colors. A small smile tugged at the priest's lips. These people weren't Iscariot, they weren't clergy. They were just good honest people helping to get their home back on it's feet in a time of hardship. An yea E said, "Behold how good an how pleasant tis fer brethren tae dwell taegether in unity. Amen"

>>>>>>> Enter {Underground Training Complex}

==================

A large crunching noise was able to be heard as Michel made his way threw the rubble, crushing a few of the smaller pieces of debris with his heavy boots. Making his way threw the area, he couldn't help but notice the entire place was nothing but trashed. Nothing close to its former glory or beauty. He stopped after a few more forward steps and began to look around, his visual sensor searching the rubble and scorched place for anything that may be useful. The only type of searching he was good at was "Search and Destroy", but it was better then being stuck in the castle, its not like he could of done much to help with the repairs, most of his functions were for combat not construction. The tail of his overcoat whipped in the light breeze behind him along with the long white scarf draped around his neck with small clouds of dust blowing up from the streets and rubble covered sidewalks. He saw off in the distance to his left that most of the flowers had already been replaced and the construction was already underway, but it would take a while for Rome to get back to its former status. Michel took a few steps forward after a few moments of scanning the area he noticed a familiar figure off to the side of where he was, about 35 feet from him.

The blond hair and tall stature gave him away as Father Anderson. No one else in Iscariot looked like that and it looked as if he was looking off at the same direction as the cyborg was, watching the flowers getting replaced. Still the mechanical priest took a final look around before turning from his current position he made he way toward the priest, lifting a gloved hand up as he got closer in a sort of semi-waving motion. Greetings Father Anderson.

Father Anderson glanced over his shoulder at the sound of heavy crunching foot steps and quickly discovered their origin to be none other than Father Michel Miles, a fellow Iscariot. Crossing his arms over his chest, Alexander went back to observing the reconstruction process and mentally went over the best methods for dealing with these attackers. While the thrill of war was just that, a thrill, he somewhat missed the bygone days when the most the Vatican had to worry about was an errant vampire here and there which were easily silenced with a blessed blade. These opponents however were different. They did not march in formal lines, they did not present themselves in open combat. They were terrorists, a faceless enemy that was almost impossible to completely root out. Snarling silently at his lack of options, Father Anderson waited for Miles to finally come within ear shot before greeting him with a nod.

"Afternoon Father Miles. Back in one piece Ah see."

The cyborg made his way a bit closer to Anderson before stopping and lowering his hand back by his side. His straight face still didn't change, even looking at the surrounding ruins, thought he had a burning sensation within him to find who did this, Rome was his home, a piece of him was always here. Even watching the people help rebuilt the place brought little satisfaction to the mechanical priest. Even though he never showed it, he did care for Rome and the people in it. He stood silent for a few moments before responding to Anderson. Positive. All repairs are complete and combat function is at 100%. The only thing I had to do was help protect the castle, but since nothing's really happening I cant do much. I see your also searching for a lead.. Michel looked at the ruins around them, still trying to get a clue about the attack that just happened. Sadly he saw nothing that could be of use, nothing aside from a bullet casing or two but that was it. The recent events really did complicate things, there wasn't really any warnings either, and it seemed that most of the attacks outside of the actual castle were meant to be a diversion of some kind. Please Input, Father Anderson. What are your thoughts on the recent attack. Nothing here seems useful Michel bent down and got on one knee, resting his right arm on his knee and picking up a bullet casing with his left hand. I see nothing that can help track down the attackers. Not to mention the destruction they caused around here. Possibly a distraction..? Michel stood up and straightened up, casually dropping the harmless casing to the ground and letting it roll along the ground.

Standing tall and over a head above his cybernetic ally, Father Anderson silently let his gaze run over the Roman skyline yet again, mentally reviewing the locations of his battle with the female Knight as well as the engagements that had been fought by the other Iscariots against some sort of robot and a mad bomber. Nodding once, Alexander removed his glasses and cleaned them against his cassock, damn things had gotten scratched again. While the lenses weren't percription, wearing them had become a habit of Alexander's and the tiny scratches were certainly bothersome. Once the glasses were finally in place once again, the Paladin turned towards Miles, his arms falling to his sides.

"Aye, we've recieved updated reports tha' while yew were dealin wit attackers on one side o tha city an Ah tracked doon tha bastards on tha othar, ere wuz a third group tha' made eir way into tha Castle itself. They were after tha archives room all along. Torched everything, records, reports, tha lot uv it. They managed tae escape tha city an destroyed tha main power generators as a goin away present." While he may have been a sea of fury and devastation underneath his calm demeanor, Alexander had long ago learned how to mask the beast within until it's revealing was necessary and so he kept his calm composure throughout the explanation.

"We've a good idea who tha bastard were an a lead tae where they might be hidin. Only problem is we were only able to narrow it tae a country so rootin em oot will be a problem. Ah'm tae leave fer Scotland in tha mornin tae cunduct a search personally."

--------> From the Vatican

Her home was slowly recovering from its state of shock. Rubble was being hauled away, buildings either propped or demolished completely, and the people were striving to make best of a situation that halted - or ended - so many lives. After departing from the Navy man, the woman had detoured to her room, quickly retrieving her knives and long-coat before heading out in the footsteps of the Paladin.

It took little time to find him, even amidst the general chaos of the ruined Piazza: he was speaking with the cyborg as she softly stepped through the debris off-cast from the confrontations in and surrounding the area. Again, with a marked - and tiredly forced - moment of politeness (the last of such moments she had in her), the flame-haired woman strides to the edge of their vicinity, quietly waiting for their conversation to either end, or to make note of her presence; would the outcome be neither, then she would continue on with a general walk-about of the area, gauging for herself the damage wrought by those who had brought death to her city.

That makes no sense, Father Anderson. Coming all the way here, staging a very well planned attack like that, and risking the loss of their soldiers just to burn our Archives. Michel crossed his arms over his chest as he continued to try and make sense of this, it would of been pointless just to come here and burn them. There would be no gain in that at all. Taking such a action would of put their peoples lives at stake with no gain for them themselves. The thought of this was easily broken down and put back together inside of Michels computer-like brain, it took him a few seconds to put the two events together, the attack and the archives. Maybe they were caught in the middle of something and had to burn them...? The cyborg shifted his weight from his left to his right leg, moving his arms back by his side before noticing a bright red headed woman off at the edge of the area, Michel took notice of it but just thought of it as another Iscariot investigating.

Requesting to go with you in your trip to Scotland, Father Anderson.. You will have a hard enough time searching Scotland on your own, the least I could do is accompany you.

Father Anderson nodded once in agreement with the cyborg. Miles had a point about the archives. While depriving Iscariot of it's wealth of files and knowledge was a heavy blow, it wasn't worth a full frontal assault like the one the Knights used. There had to be an ulterior motive or a change of plans as Michel suggested. "Aye, while Ah cannae testify tae tha werkins o tha heathen mind, Ah'd guess they wanted infermation. Probably lookin tae steal tha archives and got caught in tha act as ye said." Subconsciously, Alexander began to grind his teeth in frustration. Not frustration over the ease at which the Knights had managed to escape, though that did irk him. His anger was directed at Enrico Maxwell himself. The man was not living up to his responsibilities as Bishop of Rome and it was the people who paid the price. Shortcomings like that were something Anderson just could not tolerate for very long.

Just as his anger begain to come to a head, the Killing Judge and the cyborg paladin were once more joined by the red haired Iscariot Meabh Eir. Glancing backward at her over his shoulder, Alexander waved her forward to enter the conversation at her leisure. Meabh had a good head on her shoulders, her input here would be valuable and appreciated. "Hello again Sister. Cum tae get a glimpse o Maxwell's latest fiasco ave ye?"

She had never particularly cared for the cyborg priest, but he seemed somewhat effective, and as such, she considered him a credit for the profession. As she listened to his speech, she conceded that some of what he said made sense, though there was more to it than just 'coming for a singular purpose'. Squatting to the balls of her feet, the woman picks up a chunk of concrete that had been displaced during one of the many explosions that had apparently taken place in 'random' succession; she believed this far from the case. Rubbing the chalky bit of rubble between her fingers, she nearly missed the Paladin's call to her.

Looking up to the rest of the scene, she sighed before standing and making her way to his side - piece of debris still in her hand. Mulling things for a moment, the Irishwoman looks thoughtful as she replies. "Ah just wanted ta see far myself. Stories ah one thin' - eyes laid on tis'nother."

Glancing back down to the grey, dusty bit of the city she held, Meabh frowned slightly. "Tis reminds mae o'home. Hit 'ard, don' stop comin' till ye achieve tha goal." The ghost of a sad smile came to her lips. "Thay wanted some'tin, to bae sure, boot it migh' not 'ave been joost one thing. Maebe thay came for one purpose, boot tha purpose mae 'ave encompassed a lot'o things."

She wasn't certain if she was making sense to anyone other than herself, but it seemed to her that these people wanted to cause mass devastation while accomplishing a goal within that; you don't blow up buildings with children in them without intending to do psychological harm to your opponents. It was a statement and it was a mission. The person(s) behind it were very good at what they did, which made it all the more frustrating to deal with them. They would be hard to find - completely, without missing a single one, as one can become many in this case - and very hard to kill. It was like home all over again.

The sky overhead was obscured by clouds of smoke and dust. The air was thick with it. It was hardly imaginable that he was walking through the streets of Rome. She was supposed to be filled with children's laughter and the soft splash from a thousand fountains. Now there were just cries from the wounded and mourning, and the occasional clatter as thousand year old masonry crumbled to earth. The level of destruction was staggering and it struck the guardsman to the bone. He had not been born or raised in this place, but he had called it his home for many years and there was almost a physical pain attached to the devastation.

It felt...wrong to wander about the dust coated streets in his regalia of yellow and blue; a peacock strutting about a scene of death. Casamiro doubted this destruction was the goal of those who had come here, but the defacement of so much history and tradition and pride could just as easily break a people as the stealing of some vital piece of information. The guardsman desperately hoped those in the hierarchy knew that.

As he wandered through the streets, Casamiro heard the lilt of Irish voices. Anderson's specifically was obvious. He didn't want to intrude, indeed, he had not desire to get involved with the discussion of Iscariot priests, but he was curious. So he wandered a bit closer, crossing the street and crouching down not terribly far away to pick up the dusty, mutiliated cloth doll that had once been some child's closest companion.

ooc: posting as leon

=======> fomrt eh vatican


Leon had followed the group to the city. Once they were at the Piazza. Leon spent the first twenty minutes or so surveying the area making sure there were no suspicious characters about as well as asking near by citizens if they knew what happened here. All he got was that there was a some commotion happening here and the notice a helicopter fly to the town center then away. Most likely out of Italy Leon reasoned since no one new where the final destination for that aircraft could've been. Leon walk towards the other iscariot agents the Piazza continuing surveying it looking for anything suspicious or out of place.


ooc: sorry for the short posts recently, I've just really been in a writers block type deal