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Ghods Charles al'Demichase XIV

stream-source: ▓▝ -̵̵̛̬̭̠͚̦͕̜̮̉̓̀ͨ̊̊ͫ͢͝-̶̡͓̼͈͖̤̪̠̒̍̀̀͛̓͜-̡̭͕̤͙̃-͇̣̥̰̱̼ͫ͛ͮ̊̚͢҉̊--̡̢̹̪͇̦̎̒̒̋̀̄ͯ̎͟͜͝-̙̃-̸̢̜͓̪͚̭̞̳̺ͭ͆̓ͥ͒͗̀͌͑̒-͎͔̬͇̙̹͚̞̅̅̋̃ͤ̕͘̚͝ͅ-̵̨̡̺̝͚͙̏ͬ͂̐ : compiling - tt-rr-321561--▝▁
acvX.-̵̵̛̬̭̠͚̦͕̜̮̉̓̀ͨ̊̊ͫ͢͝-̶̡͓̼͈͖̤̪̠̒̍̀̀͛̓͜-̡̭͕̤͙̃-͇̣̥̰̱̼ͫ͛ͮ̊̚͢҉̊--̡̢̹̪͇̦̎̒̒̋̀̄ͯ̎͟͜͝-̙̃-̸̢̜͓̪͚̭̞̳̺ͭ͆̓ͥ͒͗̀͌͑̒-͎͔̬͇̙̹͚̞̅̅̋̃ͤ̕͘̚͝ͅ-̵̨̡̺̝͚͙̏ͬ͂̐-͖̜̥͈͕̼̓̍ͭͮ́̿͑̔̕ͅ-̵̸̱̬̠̪͑̒͛ͮͨ̀ͭ́̔̌̕͢ͅ-̶̵̨̜͉̹̫͌͗̑̀̄̐-̰ͣͦ̉̑͒ͧ̚̚-͙̗͍̂̋̌͌-̹̅̆̈-̡͖̠̟̞̀̇̊̀̉͏͘-̶̴̱͇̋̈ͪ̌̆ͪͬ͋͜͠͞-̶̷̥͗̋̒̈́͋̔tvdgs░g-g-nn-3.16.a.n+̸̸̴̣̠̠͍̦̫͂̓͗̐ͨͭ͘+̴̧̻̰̦̯́͊͒͗͌̐ͥͩ̐ͭ̔͟͞+̜̻͙̪̞ͥ̓ͯ̇̀͜͡͝͞+̫+͚̟̝͔̠̙̗̤͛̅̉̿͒̓ͬ͊́̚-̵̘̳̻̫̜̆ͥͯ̏͆̍͝͏̓-͕̰ͬ͂͛-̸̧̯̮̣̙͒ͣͧ̀͗҉̷͉̳̀ͣ̂ͪ͠-҉͓-̮̩̰̪͙̹̇ͪ̆̄͂̈ͧ́́̐́͘+̸̸̴̣̠̠͍̦̫͂̓͗̐ͨͭ͘+̴̧̻̰̦̯́͊͒͗͌̐ͥͩ̐ͭ̔͟͞+̜̻͙̪̞ͥ̓ͯ̇̀͜͡͝͞+̫+͚̟̝͔̠̙̗̤͛̅̉̿͒̓ͬ͊́̚-̵̘̳̻̫̜̆ͥͯ̏͆̍͝͏̓-͕̰ͬ͂͛-̸̧̯̮̣̙͒ͣͧ̀͗҉̷͉̳̀ͣ̂ͪ͠-҉͓-̮̩̰̪͙̹̇ͪ̆̄͂̈ͧ́́̐́͘xciv.xc -̧̞̤͖̠̲̳̺̓͛ͩ͊͗͛͌̀ͦͤ-̷̵̩̲̲̞͈̯̣̬͔̭̈ͬ̓̏̐ͦ̚̕-̮̥̳̙̀ͣ́-̠-͍-̧̺̮͖̱̣͋́͛̈́̿-̷̣̰̭̣̘̻̲̑͋͌ͮ͝-̰̙̤͔͐ͨ̿̒́͝͞-͇͍͖ͪ̆ͦ̚-̵̻̲̼͇̜̉ͦͯ́̆̌ͪͦ͠ͅ-̴̤͓̣͔͊ͤͣ̃-͖̭̞̘͇̲͓̾͌-́͊-͚̀̚-̷̍̒ͩ҉-̛̩͇̏ͣͨͭ̈́̿̾ͫ́ͧͯ͡-̟̍-̯͈ͩ͏̸̠̪̾̈́̾-͋--̨̯͗͛̎̅ͮ: bb-26131-oe-itv--11

L O C A T I O N : PLANET PITTSBURGH , SURFACE , NORTH-WEST LIVING COMPLEX

"Aye aye aye! Abuela! Look who came back from the dead!" Davachi's natural volume was earsplitting at it's least. The shouting was only matched by his grandmother, who could have hailed Planet Manhatten from her kitchen with ease.
"No te dije que volvieras antes de las nueve de la tarde?"
"Sí, sí, sí, pero mira quién está en la puerta!"
Davachi's grandmother stomped quickly around the corner, spatula in hand, and stopped to intake the sight of Davachi displaying Ghods in the doorway, complete with jazz hands and a grin that belonged on a ten-year-old. "Ah, Romo. Good to see you here again. Tell me, was Davachi on his way back by nine?"
"Of course, Señora Kress. I'd never keep him out past his bedtime." They shared a good laugh at the expense of Davachi, who was relieved to not be on the receiving end of that spatula, and would endure any mockery with gratitude for that.

Señora Kress stepped back to her kitchen, a sacred realm that no one dared infiltrate for fear of death. Ghods smiled at the memories. He had always preferred this family over the others near him. They knew no weakness. Should any of their enemies come to kill them, all of them would go down fighting if they did not kill their aggressors first. A family that provided more than most could ever hope too, strong and secure in a corrupted system that feeds on misery. He walked over to the small couch in what passed as a living room in the house. "Davachi, come. It's been a while since I was last here. Give me an update." Davachi's smile disappeared as he got down to business.
"We've mostly been overrun by Xenos. The movement exploded in the recent years, with people looking for a way to fight against Libertonian corruption. Instead of being another gang, they've turned into a sort of unorganized patriotic zealot army bent on killing foreign influence. Es malo, to say the least. About a year ago, the wolfpack gave our final stand before going to the shadows."
"The numbers?"
Davachi's smile returned, but colder and more smug. "One hundred twenty-seven of ours, four hundred seven thousand of theirs."
"Rounded down?"
"Rounded down."
"Who'd we lose?"
"Remember that house-group to the north? Yeah, that's not there anymore. It was burned with improvised incendiary devices. They targeted most of the fourth rank of command after someone leaked the hierarchy. After the initial attack, the third rank got jumped by LSF spooks, so I think there was another leak with that too. After that, Anton and Max jumped on transports and went to who-knows-where. I stayed here with Abuela to hold down this fort, and to train the lesser rankers in how to properly take care of the show. It isn't much anymore, just our black market deals really, but we're still here, breathing and all."

The news that Xenos had weakened them enough for the LSF to strike was disappointing. However, it wasn't surprising. The Xenos had been their enemy for a long time, and they had a number advantage that was barely even humorous. Four hundred thousand Xenos was nothing to them. One hundred Wolves was two thirds of their members. They had the sense to lay low, and despite the bitter taste of defeat, and no doubt the mindnumb gloating of their enemies, they seemed to have successfully faked their death. The best he could ask for in such a dire situation. "You've done well, Davachi. I've started a little funding operation. You and the rest of the Wolfpack are going to Kusari, to planet Kyushu. You're going to start a rice farming business. The wolves will be your employees. I've invested in enough to get you started, and you should be stable in that environment for the foreseeable future."
"Uh... Why?"
"To keep my duty as your leader. You'll be alive and well, living stable lives. This is non-negotiable."
He sighed a tired sigh. "Understood, I'll inform everyone."
"You leave in exactly twenty-seven days. The ships will be here for eighteen hours. A fleet of OS&C shuttles. Do not speak to the pilots in any way, shape, or form."
"Roger that." His sigh grows closer to defeated. "Romo, I've never left the surface of the planet."
"There is always a first time for everything. Ghods could see the reluctance in Davachi's eyes, and knew he needed to do something about that. "Davachi, listen. I chose you as my second in command because you were logical. You still are logical, which is why you stayed here, as the sword and shield of the wolves. Meko chose Anton through popularity and his friendships. Every decision there was emotional, based off of feelings. I chose you based on facts, and even now that hasn't changed. Factually, you are the one I trust with this. Factually, you are the one who can lead them. Factually, I know you're their hope, because Anton and Max left. You're the one I have left to carry the duty of leadership."
"... Sí, I understand. I'll get the word out." He still seemed apprehensive, but less so than before. It was to be expected, leading a group of at least ninety to a foreign land.

Netsakh's mind was reeling. The sheer anger that their bearer felt at these Xenos was beyond overwhelming. It was corrupting. All-encompassing. Absolute. They struggled to suppress the feeling from themselves, knowing that empathetically feeling this anger would drive them insane. Despite their efforts, the coils of hatred began wrapping around their mind, slowly but surely numbing senses, screaming for blood and destruction. The mental space of their bearer was no longer the clear blue waters that Netsakh had brought. Instead, a grey storm thundered, and red bolts of electricity split the scene. The water had become black, and the stars, the minds in the collective that Netsakh shared, had been hidden by those clouds. No more did warmth flow from cosmic reaches. They were alone to contend with their bearer's rage.

. . . TO BE CONTINUED . . .

.͈̤̺̼ͣͭ͞҉̘̀ͫ̉.͎̬ͦ̔ͧ̍̾̃̍̇ͣ͝.͕̺̰̘ͧ̏ͥͬ̃.̪͙͕.͏̖͉.̴̯̤̭̟̍ͣ̄.̩̩͖͙̻͓̞̏ͨ̈́͋͒͂͆̃͛͛͟.̙̭̳́̂ͤ̀͘.̲͇̹ͩ̾̆ͨ̀ͫ͘͞.̘͕̮̟̉ͯ̃̒ͮͩ̂͘̚͜.ͅ҉͗.̵̣͕̄.̷̶̩̰̮͖̹̍ͮ̅ͨͤ́̉̎̇ͨ̍.̵̡̦̓̉ͬͅ.̸̬̞͋͂͑ͭͤ̑.̱̉͟.͏̛̳̺̟.̷̝ͩ͛.̜͍̏̒͌͗͢.̪̠̙̩̥̟͑ͬ̑̀́ͭ̾̀--+̸̸̴̣̠̠͍̦̫͂̓͗̐ͨͭ͘+̴̧̻̰̦̯́͊͒͗͌̐ͥͩ̐ͭ̔͟͞+̜̻͙̪̞ͥ̓ͯ̇̀͜͡͝͞+̫+͚̟̝͔̠̙̗̤͛̅̉̿͒̓ͬ͊́̚-̵̘̳̻̫̜̆ͥͯ̏͆̍͝͏̓-͕̰ͬ͂͛-̸̧̯̮̣̙͒ͣͧ̀͗҉̷͉̳̀ͣ̂ͪ͠-҉͓-̮̩̰̪͙̹̇ͪ̆̄͂̈ͧ́́̐́͘

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