Empty Houses (Peter, Jerome, Rain, Thomas)

[father-peter.livejournal.com]

Raiding the Templar hideout in the Xinjiang province of China ended up being far easier than any of them had expected. Thanks to the information from the Chinese branch of Dead Meat, as well as the information Jerome had ‘extracted’ from Dragonetti, the hideout had been remarkably easy to find. And when they had arrived, ready for a fight, they found the place empty.

“They’re up to something,” Jerome growled, and Peter was inclined to agree. There was no other reason for the Templar hideout to be deserted, unless they had been captured by the Chinese authorities, or any of the terrorist groups in the area which was rife with religious upheaval. Somehow, Peter doubted that. It didn’t seem like something in the realm of possibility. They just were not that lucky.

Thomas separated himself from the group; Peter keeping a close eye on his best friend. Thomas was being uncharacteristically quiet and Peter wasn’t so very fond of that. Something was up with Thomas, whether he would admit it or not.

The dead man wandered away from what seemed like the main living area while Jerome and Rain raided the Templar’s stores to boost their own supplies. It had been a long journey and they were hungry. Just off of the kitchen, was a long hallway which had several rooms branching off of it. They were living quarters and Peter found himself wondering who had originally built this place, desperate for anonymity. He knew of several groups of missionaries which had traveled to China, despite the wishes of the Chinese government. Some of them had been detained there, and others sent straight home. Others still had gotten through, but they had to remain safely hidden. The Xinjiang province had it's own issues regarding religion, and Peter could see why the Templar would have chosen it. They wanted to take advantage of that upheaval. They could hide in between the other conflicts and go unnoticed. Sneaky.

Thomas turned into one of the rooms and Peter followed. “Bingo,” Thomas whispered and when Peter looked up, Thomas was holding a map in his hands. “I don’t know why they left this behind, but maybe this is where they are?” Thomas said, pointing to the small, red ‘X’ on the map. “There are notes here too. Something about a …rebel colony? A colony of what?”

Peter knew Thomas’ question was not to him, but he still felt guilty that he couldn’t answer. “So they all went after this…colony?”

“I guess? Maybe that’s all they’re here for. Peter, they don’t even have a work room.” Thomas whispered, the relief evident on his face. And considering what had happened to him in Templar workrooms, it was little surprise. “They’re not here trying to carry out their normal work. They’re not punishing heretics in order to send them back out into society.”

Peter flipped through the notes, most of which were written in Latin, probably in an attempt to keep themselves safe in the event that they were stumbled upon by Chinese authorities. “They probably wouldn’t know where to begin if they did start punishing heretics here,” Peter said absently as he flipped. “In their eyes, blasphemy and the worshipping of false idols is everywhere, and can you really punish a people for the rules their government has made?”

“I’m not entirely sure the Templar see a distinction,” Thomas glowered.

“Yeah…probably not...” Peter trailed off as his eyes skimmed over something potentially quite telling. “Oh…Thomas…”

“What?” Thomas dropped his notes, though he retained his hold on the map as he ran around to join Peter at his side. “What is it?”

“I think I know what they’re after,” Peter whispered, and he showed Thomas the passage. Thomas, who was already dead, went deathly white.

“H…here? God, Peter, if they get ahold of supernaturals here-“

“They’ll try to convince an entire country of 'sinners' that God is angry with them,” Peter muttered back. “Yeah. We have to go immediately.”

And just like that, the rescue was afoot. Again.

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[dark-londoner.livejournal.com]

In the craggy hills of Xinjiang, along one of the ancient, worn routes that had once led caravans across Asia as the Silk Road, there was an old Taoist Temple. The stonework survived, although the years had marred it heavily. Candles rarely burned now in worship and those that lived here now were not the silent monks of long ago.

But still it was a sanctuary. That much had no changed.

Meifeng was the leader - completely unofficially - of those that lived there. She dealt with the ordering of food and supplies and making sure everything ran as smoothly as possible. To look upon she was an attractive, slight woman with dark hair and a serious expression that was almost always in place in recent days. She was also a woman who was fiercely protective over those in her care.

The occupants of the temple numbered six, not including Meifeng, and each of them was special. Not just to Meifeng, who loved them all like children - although she appeared, on first glace, to be far too young to young to understand such a feeling - but to the very world itself. Each of the people there was Gifted, and sadly now others thought that as well.

Three days ago they had been attacked by men who called themselves priests, and their actions were similar to others that had come before them. Setting up home in a Taoist temple had already attracted negative interest from the Muslims and now it appeared the Christians were unhappy as well. The attack had been sudden and they were all still alive now perhaps only because it had not been expected that they would fight back.

But fight back they did. They would keep their home.

And when the battle was done and the priests had retreated, one of theirs was dead and Meifeng dragged the body to be kept away, her face bruised and her body sore. The weapons did not return to storage. Those that required it remained armed now and there, in the freezing, snowy hills, they waited.