Conscience And Cognition

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Scene Title	Conscience and Cognition
Synopsis	Tyr is led by the mirthful Freyja from the land of Midgaard to the realm of Niflheim, and the All-Father lays his secrets bare.
Date	January 5, 2009

Jersey City, Wharves

There is a glint in the darkness that reflects the light of the foggy moon and shrouded stars as if they were shining as purely as the white wings of angels. Pools of water and slabs of ice glimmer as if they were sheets of precious metal. Steam rises to the heavens in exaltation, but it curves in the air around the thin frame of a man who walks through the desolation of Jersey City, giving the vague and ethereal allusion of relaxed, gray wings. In a moment they are gone, brushed away by the breeze. But the man remains, his steps steady and sure even admidst the rubble of the region.

He walks alone, save for the smile on his face that catches the light in a different way, like a sliver of light through a tear in a dark curtain. Here is a man of few relativities. He is a black and white being - the only splashes of color being the tie about his neck and the creature on his shoulder. It is a moth, it's wings as red as blood, slashed with gold and cream marks that might be the eyes of some counterproductive, demonic being. She is beautiful, in her own right, but she is also a fearsome thing to behold.

That is, should one be fully aware of what she is.

Amid the pale moonlight and the serenity of frozen stillness that hangs in the air, the unmistakable sound of civilization someho wbegins creeping its way step by step into a place that civilization has forsaken in the cloud of radioactive fallout that suffuses every withered tree and poisonous resivoir. It is a rough, coarse and profane sound against the stillneess of night; the sounds of hammers, eventually giving way to power drills, welding torches, and the shouting calls of many men, like bees working to build their hive.

Come round the corner, and the source of the noise comes into focus. Amidst the drooping and blackened spotlight of two unlit street lamps, there rests a dockside warehouse with lights on inside, despite the electricity being disabeled to this portion of the city. Irregular flashes of light spill out through frosted windows, and through th aluminum walls marked with graffiti, the noise of a machine shop pollutes the silence as much as the fallout pollutes the city.

It is only by merit of the familiar forms stationed outside of the shipping warehouse that Amato Salucci and his ephemeral companion find familiarity; a pair of young and ski-masked men in gray military uniforms carrying assault rifles. Soldiers not loyal to any Wolf, but rather the master himself, soldiers of Kazimir's vast global network.

They're here, in the States. And to Amato's growing awareness, it is a fact that Ethan Holden has been kept unaware of. It is the only possible explanation for all of the secrecy, for keeping even the Conscience unaware of what the Mind does.

The end is near.

The sight is breathtaking, to say the least - so much so that Amato even pauses at the brink to take it all in before descending down into the oasis. The moth on his shoulder merely adjusts her wings, perhaps with a flutter of anticipation or anxiousness.

It all makes sense, if it takes Amato's trek to fit the pieces in their proper places. Kazimir's distance. Ethan's loose leash. Odessa's taking up the reins. Perhaps the mice have been allowed to play a bit too much whilst the cat's had its holiday, but none can say that the cat himself hasn't been busy. And perhaps playtime was just the distraction needed and one quite easily and naturally provided.

In any setting, Amato is fully aware of his place. This one is no exception. How many of these men was he present for when they were inducted? How many of their lives has he viewed like so many miles of film. He easily passes among them and on into the warehouse itself, soaking up his surroundings and all of their implications with simple, silent observation.

When silent Conscience is afforded entrance thorugh the rust-stained gates of old sliding doors and cracked windows, he is afforded a sight that few could behold in the context he is given. In the middle of the empty warehouse floor, surrounded by metal scaffolding and wooden walkways, is a nearly complete T-80 Russian tank. The heavily armored anti-aircraft vehicle rests like some slumbering dragon, covered by climbing forms of men in welding goggles working on affixing the abalative armor to the exterior chassis of the gray-painted beast.

Other armed men on the inside bow their heads with the respect that Amato is due, the respect he deserves and so rarely found among Kazimir's other flock. From the second floor, a loud voice calls a welcoming in Russian over the noise of the workfloor, «Welcome to Niflheim!» More of Kazimir's colorful choice of association in naming. The voice comes from an even more colorful and familiar figure to Amato, a man he has seen grow into an obediant soldier, a man of broad frame with confident grace. He circles the second floor catwalk, descending hastily down a flight of clanking metal stairs in heavy combat boots, «We've ben waiting for you, Sir.» Sir. Truly the sound of world not strained thorugh clenched jaws, ons that know Amato's worth.

Hans Kazakova makes a quick approach, sliding his black beret off of his head in one sweeping motion to hold behind his back, moving to stand at-ease in Amato's presence. Eyes narrow slightly, looking Amato's casual attire up and down, and then the look softens as his language does. "It is good to see you once more, Sir."

Being swathed in the respect he does indeed deserve and has been missing for far too long adds an authoritative glimmer to Amato's smile, but he keeps himself in line and nods respectively back to all whom he passes. Hans Kazakova, on the other hand, receives an actual inclination of Amato's torso at the waist coupled with the Italian lifting a gloved hand to his chest. "It is good to see you, Hans, and that you have been busy."

In retrospect, it is hard to say what brought Amato wandering this way, or why he thought he might find Kazimir wherever his steps led him. Still, the result is not something he will question or puzzle over - perhaps he had been more right about Lucrezia than he had ever imagined.

"I should like to hear how you have been, and all the wonderful things I'm sure you could tell me about your…drago giusto,

"I should like to hear how you have been, and all the wonderful things I'm sure you could tell me about your…drago giusto," Amato pauses, allowing himself to grin in admiration at the picture of sheer force framed by the walls of the warehouse before he adopts a more somber expression and continues, "Is our Master in?"

"Conscience begets cognition," The voice is like a peal of thunder against summer winds, a sound distinct and set apart from all of the others, "And we are all the better for it." Emerging from a doorway on the ground floor, the darkened silhouette is unforgetable to Amato the moment the click of his cane strikes the ground. But Kazimir Volken does not emerge from the shadows of the warehouse alone, by his side is another face long recalled by Amato, a British soldier recruited by Ethan years ago, and in some twisted sense of irony now working outside of the Wolf's scent. "I see she found you…"

Kazimir shies away from actually speaking of Lucrezia directly, but that is as it has always been. She the secret of Amato and Kazimir, the Guard of the Vanguard, eyes unseen. The silken strands of spiderwebs clinging to the lofty corners of the warehouse, however, indicate that the secret is only one-way.

As Kazimir approaches, he nods in dismissal to the Brit at his side, and Drake's eyes first focus on Kazimir, then to Amato with a subtle nod of his black knit capped head before moving over to direct and observe the soldiers. "I am sorry I had to hide this from you for so long," The apology is given the level of calm sincerity that all other words that fall from Kazimir's lips are goven, "But I had to be certain none would discover the depth and width of my plan until it would be too late to stop."

"To keep the deeds of the right hand hidden from the left," Amato adds, his smile as wide as a devoted child when Kazimir finally emerges. He dips his head in the utmost respect, tutting as he rights it again. "I was a fool to think I would surprise you with her," he admits, lifting a gloved hand to his shoulder in order to transfer the moth from it to the air. It flutters away effortlessly, as if it were a kiss blown to the wind.

…but it doesn't flutter very far.

How does that saying go? Speak of the Devil and (s)he shall manifest. Somewhere between six and seven steps into the shadow, Lucrezia had traveled quietly in Amato's wake right up until they greeted the guards at the door, whereby she had lingered on her mark, listening through borrow timpanic organs until her cue was called. Cue the slow, practiced, sauntering steps and powder-press the just-this-side-of-smug expression.

"Buona sera, maestro…" Now, give us a kiss.

One gray brow rises slowly, then lowers as Kazimir inclines his head to the matriarch of Vanguard. If Eileen was percieved as Vanguard's daughter, Lucrezia Bennati is undoubtedly its mother. Kazimir raises one hand to tuck his cane under one arm, taking a few measured steps away from the noise and lights of the assembly behind him, more symbolic than practical. One gloved hand is liftd, palm held up to take Lucrezia's in his, and he dips his head down as if to threaten a brush of his lips against the back of her hand. Only the touch does not come, as it never does, a proximity of but centimeters away from her flesh, and the prickling sensation of pins and needles already sets in to her skin. Just a hair's bredth more, and her life would seep through the touch.

Rising from the gesture, Kazimir lingers in releasing the hand, even as Hans watches on with markd confusion to one Kazimir would greet so openly and with such practiced affection. "Madame Bennati has been keeping an eye out on my scion." Blue eyes track from the Vanguard's eyes to its Conscience, "Yvette's tolerated insubordination and the pretenses of letting Ethan watch over her," His gaze flits to Lucrezia briefly, then back to Amato, "Much the same misdirection."

Amato considers this revelation with a thoughtful pout, then shakes his head with impressed acceptance. "You'll be telling me next you had your vessel train his yellow bitch on the wolf," he remarks as if at cocktail party rather than standing inside a munitions warehouse.

Kazimir lets his cold gaze linger on Amato for a moment, just watching him in silence, a knowing silence. Maybe he predicted that much, maybe it was favorable circumstance; But the truth of it is left to speculation and the mystique Volken brings with him. "Eileen is our concern. Your concern." It's a dirty thing to need to say, dirty and necessary. As Kazimir speaks, he lowers his cane back down to lean against, each meandering footstep away from Amato punctuated by the click of its steel tip.

"She's turned on us, betrayed us to those who would undo the work. Traitorous rats were shaken free from their hiding places, emerging when they thought the biggest slice of cheese was left out." Rickham. Was the entire assignment an attempt to differentiate ally from enemy? "I have sent King after her, to recover her." King, a figure Amato met only once, a wild-animal of a man, bestial like an untamed lion and equally dangerous. "She will answer to us, to me." The venom in Kazimir's voice is not only anger at the notion of betrayal, but heady with the sense of regret at allowing himself to become close to someone, only to have them betray that fragile trust. Even monsters feel some measure of pain.

"You deserve to know this, that her life is a finite thing now." Kazimir's eyes narrow, "It always was, but the certainty of it now… Is drawing closer."

Liontamers and beastmasters the world over long to temper in themselves but a taste of the temerity now displayed by Saint Lucrezia the Bold. Kazimir's kiss is accepted without even the slightest hint of a flinch. She smiles sweetly, accepts it gracefully; indeed, she seems to welcome the gesture warmly, be it affection or death. What a consummate actress! The only other soul in the room who might even have a hint at the truth… is too busy wallowing momentarily in the disheartening prospect of being deprived the thing he longs for the most and yet cannot have. Such is life. Such is death, too.

When the time comes to withdraw and resume her proper place, Lucrezia briefly brushes shoulders with Amato but keeps her dark eyes cast on Kazimir. Though she says nothing as an unspoken death sentence is passed, there is a look that transpires between her and her maestro which no doubt speaks volumes untold.

Such a reality is one Amato has feared facing for some time, but here it is staring him in the face. Of course this is why Madame has been called in. Only a fool would plug his ears to shut out the inevitable. As it is, Amato steels himself as best he can, swallowing and tightening his jaw to remain the definitive picture of stoicism. It takes a great deal of effort, rendering Amato silent for the passage of several seconds.

"Perhaps a more subtle trap would be more effective, Master?" Amato has the hesitant boldness to suggest, his tone coated with the sort of coloring that would suggest a fully expectation of his idea being refused. "Though traitorous she may be, Eileen is still quite timid and cautious, and such a betrayal I am sure you will find more justice in…handling yourself."

Of course, intrinsic in this offer is Amato's implied volunteering for the position. The lure. The bait.

The Judas.

"But tell me more about this Niflheim," he says in a brighter, if strained voice. "I'm eager to know what you have in store for us all."