The noise of the city around him reverberated like a pounding drum within his head, too many problems, too many answers. Mikhail walked through the streets of Vegas, eyes darting around hearing everything that everyone was saying spouting off numbers that anyone could hear if they got close enough to him.

"4,356...4,357...4,358."

The faint scraping noise of his cane against the pavement became like the melody of a beautiful song of a master composer that was just out of reach of the ears. One thing that didn't escape his notorious field of vision, was his brother just out of reach of the normal human's scope. Even with Gregor so far away and his Sensory Manipulation in full swing, Mikhail could still make out the mammoth figure that was his brother, skulking within the shadows of peoples sight and sound.

"4,378...4,379...4,38...."

Before Mikhail could finish his counting a massive burst of fire lit the night sky, all at once Mikhail's eyes stopped darting and focused on warm glow of the burning sky with the inquisitive nature of a child. Mikhail called out to his brother, which appeared to the normal folk as Mikhail talking to himself,

"Well brother, it seems that the problem that requires our attention is that way. We should go see what answers we can discover to a problem of that magnitude."

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

As the two brothers arrived at the scene of battle, Mikhail's eyes once again began to dart around, within the first two minutes of their arrival Mikhail had already devised a way to kill all of the remaining kings. His eyes focused on Gadreal and was immediately fixated. This Kings alchemy was far beyond anything he had witnessed before and his brain began to swim with possibility he could attempt.

During his millings Gregor walked to his side and began to speak in a voice that even Mikhail could barely understand,

"This one seems to be much stronger than anticipated brother. Should we not already be down there assisting the others?"

"No...no....too many questions, not enough options. One on one would see us both dead...too many variables, we'll let the others make a move first...too many variables."

Almost as if it was on cue, the Asylums on the ground began gearing up for a major alchemic assault on the King, and almost at once Mikhail began preparing his own Sigelum, writing major alchemic runes on one of his arms. Before he finished the runes he signaled to Gregor to move out and the two charged into the fight. As soon as Mikhail arrived onto the field, he was greeted by three lesser Kings, all of which he ignored. A moment later three screams let Mikhail know that his brother had been quickly behind him.

While everyone else was rightly focused on Gadreal, Mikhail took up a safe position within distance from the King, he finished the runes on his arm. Once he finished an intangible field around the King agitating the center of the brain that controls fear. Whatever this king feared most of all was now happening all around him. Mikhail's part was through...now it was time for Gregor to do his job. Within the sphere Gregor went to work terrorizing the King within, striking him with quick slashes from his before piercing him like an iron maiden.

As Mikhail watched his brother intently a burst of flames came from the dancing one as a massive phoenix came charging their way. Quickly Mikhail called to Gregor and both took off and ran for cover...what little there was to have.

I care not for bone nor flesh nor gold,
Name your price, my limbs, my heart, my soul

Succumbed with rage the mad king had forgone any possibility of Alistair being a decoy, a mistake that spelled his own undoing and the realization only striking once too late.

“What is thi-“ Gadrael thought out loud, an expression of disbelief outlining his scarred face. His sentence being interrupted due to the arrival of yet another foe, a hound of A.M.R.O who had sniffed the opportunity to capitalize on the King’s lack of awareness. His muscles slowly tensed as a sturdy metal chain coiled around him, the cold sting etching onto his skin as the gauntlet wielding Asylum held a firm and unnatural grip. Struggling proved fruitless, his flailing merely accomplishing in the bind’s reinforcement which gradually drew him towards the Asylum whose eyes blazed with a vengeance that appeared far too nostalgic.

“Those eyes,” unwanted thought slowly crawled out of the vault in which Gadrael suppressed them, maddening thoughts that began to petrify the Alchemist. ”Yes..those were the eyes of Sasha…such was the hatred she felt when her limbs were torn apart,” motionless he stood, with eyes gaping wide as if staring at a re-run of his worse memories, a torturous state far worse than death. The Council were renowned rogues, their notoriety proved them to be capable and powerful Alchemists and as such it should have been child’s play for the likes of Gadrael to rip through those chains and impale the Asylum with her own shattered bones.

”What is this?” A strange fear had ensnared the King compromising his mental faculty. ”No Sasha…run..get away. He is coming towards you, stop it. Just take the child and run Sasha!” He screamed and yet his lips refused to part, an anguish unlike any other.

”Oh god he is here, the Unblinking Asylum is here.

”Get your hands of her! No, stop pulling her arm…it will rip apart, stop it!

”Please don’t do this, she is bleeding. She isn’t even an Alchemist, have mercy. No…please don’t hurt her any more; you will rip her legs apart!”

”You killed her…..damn you! My wife is in pieces…..I’ll kill you, I’ll kill all of you!”

”Get your filthy hand of my face….oh god it burns….my face…my face!”

”..H.have…..m.mercy…..p.please….n.not…. my….not my…c.child….NO!”

Before the Mad King could realize it, he was standing right in front of the gauntlet wielding Asylum, his wide soulless eyes staring into hers and yet lost in oblivion. His distraught nature giving Vail the perfect excuse to wreak havoc. The opening had presented itself and with that her punch instantly connected to his temple, the force great enough to draw blood. The probability of success continued to wane as yet another Asylum had entered the fray slashing him from behind. While Gadrael’s mind wandered elsewhere his body clearly began to give way, the toll too much to bear. Soon enough a sickening crack echoed as the King fell to his knee, his shin clearly taking the brunt of the punishment.

“They must pay, they must all pay,” like a broken record these words played back, over and over again. The proud King now sat kneeling before his foes, his face lifelessly staring at the sky while his shadow danced around him.

“No…I am not the one….who is going to die!” An eerie sensation emanated from Gadrael, his broken body releasing a surprising amount of alchemic energy as he venomously spat these words. His petrified stance finally shattering with the Alchemist shutting his eye lids in order to compose himself. This fleeting peace lasting but seconds as in an instant his eyes were forced wide open once more, a surge of pain coursing through his body causing the Mad King to howl in agony. Both his shoulders, his right arm, his left leg and his stomach were impaled by his own shadow, manifested as menacing black spikes.

“Fuck all of you!” Gadrael’s body was bound, not only by the chains but also by his shadow. There was nothing the wounded King could do other than swear and struggle, and struggle he did with all his vigor. His body violently flailed about, the flesh and muscles on his right arm slowly tore and ripped and then still, motionless once more. A morbid expression spread across his face, his eyes tearing blood as they gazed at what approached him.

“They impaired my mind and restricted me, all of that was just the prelude to this. Little Arya, daddy is sorry. Daddy couldn’t protect you or mommy and now Daddy won’t be able to avenge you,” a devastated Gadrael stared onto his doom.
A giant flaming phoenix soared through the skies leaving behind a trail of embers, its wings blazing with enough intensity to mold sand into glass. Behind it a storm of dust and metal approached rapidly, a tornado of shards. Eventually the two alchemic attacks came to a point of equilibrium, melding together into a frightening mal-creation of Alchemy. The wings of the phoenix wrapped themselves around the tornado igniting it ablaze. It is common knowledge when sand is heated to a specific degree it turn to glass, what Gadrael faced now was a tornado of flames filled with glass shards and molten metal.

”UNLESS!” A wicked smirk slowly spread across the King’s face as he stared onto his demise, his eyes reflecting the flames that approached him and it is in these flames he reached a point of maddening epiphany.

“Do you want to get out of this hell? You see your wife torn to pieces, you see your child in a far worse fate. Do you seek vengeance? Do you seek power? But you are dying, helpless, pathetic. What can you do? Do you have the will to accept the madness I am to bestow upon you? More so, are you willing to accept the consequences of it or would you rather drown in the blood of your loved ones?” A voice echoed within his head, words from the past, words spoken to Gadrael when he was sprawled across the ground, living on borrowed time. His hazy gaze only made out a tall silhouette that stared down at him, a hand reaching out offering the would-be-king a deal, a promise to give him the strength to survive.

”All you have to do is shake my hand and I will share with you the forbidden knowledge, the art to destroy your enemy by destroying yourself. And all you have to say to activate the forbidden alchemy…is……….---“

“I care not for bone nor flesh nor gold!” These words echoed through the outskirts, the intensity of this verse far outshining any and all noise that dared to supersede it’s authority.

“Name your price, my limbs, my heart, my soul!” The sheer desperation with which the Mad King sang these words possessed a strange kind of beauty, much like a canary singing its heart out from within a cage.

“My right arm I sacrifice to smite thee a hundred fold!” As he howled these words a dark and thick aura draped his body, sinking into his very flesh healing his wounds to a minor degree and magnifying his alchemic energy nearly double and than double once more, this process slowly continuing granting him the strength equivalent to a hundred Asylums. However first the toll needed to be paid and the instrument of his amputation had been flung his way.

“How generous of you little bitch,” the king scoffed, his arrogance and confidence returning in bulk. All the binds that restraint him appeared to corrode and decay, even the shadows appeared to be swallowed by the strange dark aura that danced around the Mad King. His left hand lazily reaching forward in the nick of time to grab onto the large disk constructed of raw energy.

“Yes this will do nicely,” the king nodded in satisfaction before raising the disk upon high and in one quick blow, slicing his right arm as clean as possible. Even so that didn’t stop his arteries from being severed resulting in a fountain of blood gushing out; however before it could escalate the wound was quickly seared by the King burning his own arm.

“I believe I am forgetting something, ah yes” Gadrael remarked sarcastically as he turned his frame to meet the massive flaming tornado that dwarfed all via comparison. “Let me show you all the power of forbidden Alchemy!” The Mad King screamed followed by a hysterical fit of laughter, his foot stomping the ground hitting the hilt of his blade causing it to spring up, flipping in mid-air and landing in his left hand while the blade itself rested atop his shoulder.

“Break”

With that the King flung his left arm forward, thrusting the blade towards the tornado till the tip of the blade finally made contact. Strangely the tornado refused to move forward, the single tip of his blade held the massive monster at bay and slowly the aura that surrounded the King seeped onto his blade, infecting the tornado, engulfing it all, eating away at it till nothing remained.

“Time for each and everyone of you to die!” If insanity ever had an expression, the King wore it’s mask. His laughter, his actions and his demeanor everything reflected but one characteristic, the lust for destruction.

“You, Gauntlet bitch!” He pointed towards the Asylum before instantly dematerializing and rematerializing behind her. “You like hand to hand combat right? Let’s see how you fair against a cripple?” He crowed, his smile continuing to widen.

Not allowing Vail a chance for a second opening the King planted his fist into her stomach, the sheer force of that attack resulting in a strong shock wave being pushed out of her back. Noticing her eyes roll back, Gadrael quickly leaned forward holding the girl steady by grabbing her gauntlets. His hands slowly clenching her gauntlets as his eyes stare into hers, a frightening stare while he crushed her gauntlets till the metal sinks into her flesh. “Don’t fuck with the King!” With that said, the raving king effortlessly flung her onto the ice pillar, the impact destroying it leaving the pair unconscious in each other’s arms.

“You two are next!” He whispered as his neck slowly tilted towards the directions of Kiara and Gregor. The toxic aura that surrounded him suddenly appeared to ooze and drip onto the ground forming little black sludge skeletal minions that crawled towards the two Asylums that had been targeted. Their speed astounding and as soon as they reached their designated target, they latched on, engulfing the target in black slime and finally detonating.

“Now the rest of you fucking dogs,” he scowled, a menacing almost beastly grunt escaping his mouth. His body charged rampantly towards the direction of Fletcher, laughter echoing while his blade swings about purposelessly.

“You are unconscious? That is no fun,” Gadrael remarked disappointedly before grabbing onto his shoulder and squeezing with enough force to dislocate it, the immeasurable pain causing Fletcher to snap out of his slumber only for his face to greet the rocky terrain, multiple times.

Once the doctor was out the Mad King slowly approached yet another feisty woman, Siera. “By your expression I can tell you are new at this, I hope I didn’t make a bad first impression?” The King sarcastically questioned, laughter ensuing once more amidst which he couldn’t help but stomp the floor in amusement resulting in two massive walls surfacing out of the ground, with the female Asylum right in the middle.

“It is because of your kind my wife won’t make me any sandwiches, it’s only fair you make me one,” he crowed with a fiendish grind, a snap of his fingers causing the two walls to collide, smashing into Siera.

“Oh joy, oh joy, so many pretty girls around me. But woe is me ladies, I am a married man. Oh wait, no I’m not, I guess I can tap that if you want!” The nonsense this Raving King uttered only assured the fact that his mental state was degrading and quite rapidly at that.

In all the ensuing mayhem it was nearly impossible to keep track of Gadrael, his ravenous appetite for destruction made him far too unpredictable.

“Hello you two,” refusing to give either of the Asylum a time to react Gadrael’s palm found its way to Lina’s back while the sole of his shoe planted itself onto Kai’s chest. “Bye you two” With that amusing greeting, a devastating kinetic blast released itself from his palm as well as the sole of his foot. The monstrous blast had flung the two Asylums nearly fifty feet while also particularly targeting their nerves so as to stimulate pain and escalate it to a terrifying degree.

“Now that I have had my fun, I am going to ki—“ Once again the King found himself speechless, his body starting to lose the stability it had gained causing Gadrael to fall to his knees. His hand covered his mouth as his eyes cringed in pain, the wounds in his body had begun to open and his clothes had already soaked a good portion of his blood. Though what hindered the Alchemist the most were his internal injuries as well as the strain forbidden alchemy was taking on his body, even an Alchemists is foolish to push himself to such lengths. The mind and the body have their limits, adhering to his limits a begrudging Gadrael finally called a seize fire, realizing if the Asylums could muster enough strength to retaliate they would surely kill him.

“I will be retreating; all remaining soldiers are to destroy the Asylums, those fuckers won’t be much trouble now!” Their leader screamed his instruction, the hand that covered his mouth revealing blood.

“Damn it, we need leverage…that’s it!” Taking advantage of the injuries the Asylums had sustained, the wounded King slowly limped towards the paralyzed Asylum, hoisting Maeve upon his shoulders and teleporting in a wisp of black smoke.

A group of five Kings now salvaged ground zero for any surviving Asylums, their claymores brandished tightly, a confident smile on their faces as these cowards joke and jest about the hound of A.M.R.O trying to go up against the true Kings of a world that was their divine birth right.
“Hey look I think this one here is still alive!” One of the King shouted, kicking the body of Kiara mockingly.

“Oh yea look at that bitch squirm, what say we kill her slowly, have some fun first eh?” Another one of the Forsaken replied, raising an eyebrow along with a fiendish smile.

“I am sorry but all you gentleman are going to do is die, I don’t suppose you lot can just commit suicide and save me the trouble?”

The King suddenly turned around, gripping their swords even tighter to face the blasphemer who would dare deny a right of a King. “Who said that, don’t you know who we are? We are the true Kings and if you try and come in our way you will die like all these sheep around us.” One of the King’s scoffed, his hand brushing away at the air, gesturing the person in front of them to get lost.

The gentleman in red couldn't help but smile as he calmly remained seated upon his large metal coffin.

“You guys are pretty dumb huh?” An innocent and childish voice spoke up, causing the King’s to look up to notice a small girl seated on the shoulder of the man who appeared to be wearing a crimson coat.

“What did you call me you little bit-“

Before the crude rogue could finish his sentence, a flick from the Crimson Asylum’s finger, he was quite literally ripped apart. The ground littered with pieces of his body.

“I am going to ask this just once, do pay attention. Exactly how did Gadrael come to possess the knowledge of forbidden alchemy?” The blood draped Alchemist spoke once more, his words far more menacing, for they no longer hid behind the façade of casualty.

“What the hell are you talking about, damn fuck this guy, just kill him!”

Only the sounds flesh slowly ripping apart, bones breaking and screams echoed after, lasting for hours before the duo of demons finally made their exit, though not alone.

------------------Xx----------xX------------------
A.M.R.O Bunker # 4582
Location: Under the Caesar palace
-----------------Xx----------xX------------------

“Hey big brother spin me again, spin me again!” Rena cheered, her arms swinging about as her partner lazily obeyed, spinning the office chair upon which she sought to curb her boredom. “Hey big bro when do you think the rest of them will wake up? You usually wake me up; do they also need someone to wake them up?” The little Chrono curiously looked up, staring at her partner in her usual adorably clueless nature.

“I don’t think so my dear little partner. They took heavy damage; in fact I am surprised this lot managed to survive. They went up against forbidden alchemy without even realizing its full grasp and hopefully they never will.” Angel replied politely, a king smile on his face as his hand slowly gave his partner a little pat, a gesture the Chrono appeared to appreciate quite a lot.

“Why is that, is it a secret!” The prodigy replied once more, an exuberant smile on her face as if expecting a compliment for her deductive capabilities.

“Spot on little Sherlock,” XIII nodded with the compliment that his partner awaited. “You see if A.M.R.O won’t allow the knowledge of forbidden alchemy to spread and if it suspects an Asylum from knowing it, well there is a reason why Asylums are digits…they are expendable and replaceable...you can’t kill a number.”

“So are we supposed to kill them?” The little princess replied once more, her eyes scrutinizing the Asylums that lay in strange pods. A strange disappointment in her eyes, not one aroused from killing her comrades but one from a dull kill.

“No no, they aren’t entirely useless. We still need them. The fact that we have encountered forbidden alchemy has complicated things a lot more. So yes luckily all these Asylums will recuperate just fine. The pods they are in contain a special bio-serum designed by A.M.R.O. It basically fortifies their immune system and speeds up their natural regenerative capabilities. Broken bones, torn flesh should not be a problem.”

“Recop..ora..de?” Rena replied back, giggling at the amusing word. Her giggles soon turning to laughter which even her partner couldn’t deny joining in.

“I just hope these people don’t ask questions, it is far too trying to explain everything,” Angel wearily thought out loud while rubbing his temple.

“Big brother you pervo, you aren’t worried about these people being completely naked!” His partner retorted, glaring furiously at him.

“Well after all that has been said and done, I am sure they could use a good comic relief.”

~And there is that devilish smile again~

[Camron’s POV]

Colored squares moved around. An annoying clicking sound came from the cube, but the boy was oblivious to it. Slowly the orange squares aligned forming a big orange square. Camron smiled and placed rubix cube away. His blue eyes glanced around the room before he looked down again. The awkwardness of the situation made him squirm a little. He had no clue why they were here nor why the rest were put into alien-like pods. The man with the crimson tinted glasses must have said something earlier. At least no one was being cut up by the extra-terrestrials.

He turned to the bald man beside him. An odd person who looked like a dwarvian version of a skin head. A Tolkien dwarf to be exact. The boy smiled and he rattled off something. The green eyes widened in confusion, and Camron felt his face heating up slightly. Can't the man understand him? He leaned back against the sofa with a huff and crossed his arms. Nothing bothers him more than being misunderstood.

“Camron, I am in front of you,” echoed an angry voice inside his head.

Oh boy, Seira sounded really ticked! The boy jerked his head up and quickly covered his eyes. There was a naked girl in front of him. No scratch that! His partner was naked in front of him. The teen continued scrunching his eyes closed as he removed his jacket and held it up. Mentally he counted to thirty before opening them again. Even with the jacket on she looked so… exposed. The blonde held his finger to his mouth and bit down till he tasted blood.

His partner was clearly saying something to the alien man with red tinted glasses. She was stamping her foot. He really wished she had some decent clothes to wear. Slowly XC snuck behind her and drew something using his blood along the small of her back. A tight slap turned his head side-ways. His hand reached for his cheek as he winced. At least she looked better in the short denim overalls and a white t-shirt.

----------------XCI------------------

[Seira’s POV]

Walls surrounded her. Seira instinctively pushed her arms out trying to keep them apart. It was to no avail. Quickly she brought her hands back to her sides. Without her arms she would be useless. She dropped down and curled up to minimize impact. An audible gasp issued from her mouth as the walls sandwich her. Sharp pain followed and blind panic took over. Seira struggled till she knew no more.

Consciousness began taking shape. Where was she? Why was it so dark? Her panic intensified as she struggled to breathe. She felt her sanity slipping away. No! The girl thrashed about only to feel her arm hit against glass. Her eyes shot open before she fell forward as the pod opened.

She lay there on the ground in a pool of liquid. Strands of long black hair obscured her face. Her whole body ached and her lungs were burning. How badly injured was she?

She felt the cool air tickling her and her face lighted up. Seira quickly sat on her haunches and covered her chest with her arms. She was completely and utterly naked. It never registered in her mind that the other Asylums still in the pods were in a similar state.

Her dark eyes fell on Camron’s. She yelled at him to give her his jacket, but the boy wouldn’t respond. She bit her lip in irritation and marched over. She blasted him for a good five seconds. Still he didn’t look up. Oh God!

“Camron, I am in front of you,” XCI yelled telepathically.

Her partner jerked his head up and quickly covered his eyes. Seira slapped her forehead as she sighed with frustration. She snatched the jacket Camron offered her and put it on. There was one person she recognized out of the whole group! He was the one they were looking for. The presence of the Prodigy only confirmed her suspicions. She whipped around and glared at the XIII.

“I hope you have a good explanation for all this,” she waved her arms in the direction of the pods.

“I … urgh.”

She stamped her foot. Her mind couldn’t process anything coherently not when she is this fatigued. She felt someone touching her in the small of her back. Her anger flared up once again. She turned around and slapped Camron. She glared at the boy for moment before looking up. Her reflection in the mirror showed that she was currently dressed in a white shirt and short denim overalls. She grimaced as she kneeled down beside her partner. The boy looked at her sheepishly before pulling away. A small trail of blood marked where his hand was moments ago. He retreated back to where he sat. The hybrid tried to hide her confusion and embarrassment.

“So erm… well sorry about that. Actually thank you.” Seira said as she looked at Angel once more.

“I am still angry though, but not even enough to be ungrateful. You and the Chrono probably saved us after allowing us to be beaten up so badly. Um…”

She looked down at her bare feet. Her mind was still processing much faster than she could comprehend. The whole thing was too weird even for her. Most of the pods continued humming though one or two of them opened with a hiss. Too bad those pods can’t heal anyone completely or she would have shoved Camron straight into one.

“Actually I can’t tell if I am more annoyed with you or my partner. The boy can’t hear me half the time, and I hate attempting to communicate telepathically. He has one of the most cluttered minds ever.”

There she said it. Blunt, but it got her message across. She knew it was probably unwise to say that out loud, but Camron's disability is getting to be a nuisance. She flicked away another strand of hair in irritation.

.post soundtrack.

---xX--Xx---

Sacrificing yourself is easy.
It is sacrificing someone you love that puts your convictions to the test.

---xX--Xx---

“Little Arya, Daddy is sorry. Daddy couldn’t protect you or Mommy and now Daddy won’t be able to avenge you.”

Gadrael’s words froze Lina in her tracks. Beside her, Kai stopped… momentarily puzzled. The Mad King’s anguished utterance pierced the young woman straight through her heart, more effectively than any blade could have. Although the A.M.R.O.’s eighteenth birthday present to Lina had been the written summary of her parents’ final battle, she’d never read it. That didn’t stop her from seeing her own father, the Frenchman she’d never met, there in the midst of the combat before her. If her mother had died first, and he’d been left behind, this is what he would have become: a stark raving madman, screaming at the heavens and every other Alchemist who lived and breathed, bent only on destroying the parties responsible for his beloved’s death before he succumbed to that icy kiss himself.

It was with no small measure of abject horror that Marcelina saw Gadrael catch her spinning blade. The female Asylum couldn’t stop the gasp that parted her lips, nor the widening of her eyes. She’d seen the sort of damage that cast could do, and for him to stop it effortlessly… she had underestimated her opponent.

To obtain, something of equal value must be lost.

Kai and Lina both knew this. For the powers they each possessed, they had paid with the whole of their lives and everything they were or could be. Their sanity, their future. It was the price all Asylums paid, and an acceptable sacrifice. What Gadrael had just done was to give his right arm in order to obtain the power to destroy them. That sacrifice was forbidden.

The realization of what they were actually dealing with crystallized for the pair at the same moment. As Gadrael went on the warpath, snatching up the gauntlet-wearing woman they would later identify as Vail, Dos Pistolas did what any other team who wished to live in that circumstance would do. Kai released his Power Drain, erasing all trace of himself from the battlefield, and without a word spoken the pair broke and ran.

Lina didn’t want to watch the other Asylums who would have been her new team meet their brutal, bloody deaths. She nearly stepped on a King who had been hiding in the scrubland, veering around him as he rose to join a second attack wave that was starting to rush the battlefield. The pair didn’t stop, didn’t engage him, they just kept running. He was puzzled enough by this to hesitate, and Dos Pistolas were running for their lives… fast enough that the older man knew he wouldn’t catch them. He didn’t give chase.

But moments later, as the pair charged through the dark desert towards the distant but shimmering hope of their Challenger in the parking lot of the M Hotel, someone else did.

Gadrael himself seemed to appear out of thin air before them. His right side was drenched in blood, ugly crimson against the snowy white of his robes. It was still oozing from the wound he’d made with Lina’s own blade. Dos Pistolas skidded to a stop, sending loose gravel skittering in Gadrael's direction.

“And where do you two think you’re going?” he asked, in a low tone filled with both menace and terrible sort of glee.

Kai accepted the fact that he was going to die. This was a rogue who had just begun casting with the despicable power of Forbidden Alchemy. He couldn’t find any regret in his heart for the life he’d led or any of the things he’d done… only a great sense of loss for the things he’d never had a chance to do. That he would never have a chance to go sailing, that he’d never known the taste of Marcelina’s skin, never heard her whisper those three small words he’d longed for her to say… for all these, and more, he found sorrow and regret.

The pair flung their hands out to the sides, preparing to snatch their guns from the holsters on the base of their spines. It had been a promise they’d made when they had first earned the nickname of Dos Pistolas: if they were going to live by the gun, they would die by the gun, and go out shooting. But the two were standing too close together, and something unexpected happened: Lina’s left hand bumped Kai’s right one.

And instead of continuing to reach for her Glock, Lina grabbed Kai’s hand. She was dead, whether or not she could get her gun out and fire a few rounds. Gadrael could stop them, or eat them, or whatever he pleased. Resistance was futile. Holding on to the warm strength of her partner’s hand, Lina looked right into Gadrael’s eyes.

“I truly am sorry for your loss,” the female Asylum said, and she meant it. Alchemy had cost the girl her family, too. She genuinely understood Gadrael’s pain, and really could sympathize.

It made Gadrael hesitate for only a moment, his seal-bearing hand raised at Dos Pistolas, palm aimed right at them. But that moment was enough.

Kai decided that he didn’t want the last thing he ever saw to be a stranger in white robes, drenched in blood and ash, lit by the fires of combat behind them. Since the woman he loved was beside him here in this final battle, the young man was granted one final gift. He could instead choose her beautiful green eyes, her sweet round face, her pouty lower lip as his last look. He turned to Lina and brought his left hand to her cheek, still holding hers with his right.

As Lina turned to meet her partner’s honey-hued gaze, she remembered something. A spell they’d used only once, on their second assignment, the only other time in their career that they were facing down death. And now it would have more power, because she… well…

He knew what she was thinking. He remembered that other moment as well as she did. They drew a breath in unison. The sight of the pair turning to one another and the emotion that was clear between them was just too much for poor, shattered Gadrael. The Mad King had been taken aback by Lina’s comment, but was too far lost to stop now. He howled in pain and anguish over his own lost ladies while the pair spoke what they hoped would not be their last words.

“Proteger a mi corazón y el alma.”¹

It was a simple spell, one Lina cast on Kai at the same moment Kai cast it on her. The phrase ‘protect my heart and soul’ was screamed at the top of their lungs. It was full of the anguish that they each felt at the prospect of witnessing the other’s death, imbued with a lifetime’s worth of fond affection. It brought up a sort of barrier which would have formed around their heads, like a helm, and covered their chests and backs like plates of energy armor.

The barrier was half-formed and still solidifying when a light exploded on Kai’s left side, where Gadrael stood. A wave of pain and anguish so intense it stole his breath raced through his heavy frame as he felt himself being lifted up and away from the Mad King. He heard Lina’s scream, a sound which tore at his soul, and the last thing he actually saw were the cold, distant stars wheeling by overhead.



---xX--Xx---

There can be sacrifice without love,
But not love without sacrifice.

---xX--Xx---

The life of an Asylum never stopped being strange. While a normal person would have taken months, maybe even years to heal from what had happened to Kai and Lina, the A.M.R.O. could bring them back to an unbroken state in a matter of hours. Marceline opened her eyes slowly, and while there was no sharp pain that would indicate an actual wound, every fiber of her being was diffusely sore from the trauma of the intense healing process.

For just a moment, Lina stared up at the ceiling, trying to make something coherent from her few fuzzy memories of the devastating defeat. She could recall casting the Deseo Corazón, staring up into Kai’s amber eyes, and heard Gadrael’s words about his daughter echoing through the back of her brain. There was a flash of memory where her blade tore into his flesh… running hard… had there been a Phoenix above the battleground, maybe?

Rustling paper drew Marcelina’s attention to the left, where a plush blue armchair was situated on the far side of her nightstand. Kai had just put a magazine down next to his glass of iced sweet tea on the small table. The look he gave her was one of relief, happiness and… yes, love.

Lina opened her mouth to make a smartass remark, something along the lines of, ‘Did you think you’d get rid of me that easily?’ Instead, much to her dismay, it was only a sob that escaped, and suddenly there were tears stinging her eyes. She found herself reaching for Kai, fingers outstretched.

As his broad, strong hand caught her smaller, more delicate one, she had a flash of that same thing happening in the firelit throes of battle. Lina remembered what it was like to think she was going to die without having told her partner how much she loved him. She pulled him to the side of the bed, and he almost stopped, but the woman kept up her steady pressure. Kai sat down with his hip next to hers and turned halfway to wrap his tattooed arm around her back. He drew her against the wall of his chest and straightened, pulling Lina into his lap but leaving her legs still tangled in the blankets. She buried her face in his shoulder and gave in to her tears.

Dos Pistolas’ female member wept. Not for herself, never for herself. She wept for her parents, she wept for the fact she’d almost let Kai’s love die unrequited, and she even wept for Gadrael; that he had lost his own wife and little girl.

Kai let his woman cry. He had shed his own tears earlier, alone, while keeping vigil by her bed. The A.M.R.O. medics had always seemed surprised to see him thrashing about in his pod long before most of the others were ready, and even more surprised at his insistence that Lina was done as well and should be moved to a room. This instance had been no different. Something about their natural energy talents accelerated their healing process to a few hours less than average. Although neither of the members of Dos Pistolas knew it yet, the grave nature of their combat injuries had only put them half an hour to forty five minutes ahead of the others.

He’d learned through the years that Lina would always sleep for several minutes to several hours after being removed from the pod. It was as if her own subconscious protected her from the rough awakening, knowing it was more than she could handle. All he could do now was be happy she'd come to, and hold her tight as her pain, grief and fear left her shaking body in the form of tears. The small wet spot it left on his tee shirt was like a badge of her regard rather than any sort of nuisance. When she started hiccupping from the sobs, he started to stroke her soft brown hair.

“Shh, now, my Marcelina. It’s all right, we’re both still here,” Kai soothed gently. He leaned over to grab a tissue from the box on the nightstand, and handed it to Lina as she drew back.

Looking up at Kai, cradled in the safety of his embrace, the woman almost gave in to the unbidden and powerful urge to reach up and kiss him. What stopped her was that when she cried, Lina knew she became a snotty and puffy mess. She was also still hiccupping as she dabbed at her face and nose with the tissue, sniffling in between. The only time they’d ever kissed, Kai had put so much trouble into making sure it was perfect enough to be almost surreal… Lina just couldn’t bear to be a hot mess the first time she kissed him back.

Sensing that she had recovered and wanted her personal space unoccupied, Kai slid out from under Lina and stood, picking his tea up off the table. There was also a small paper cup there, containing a mild narcotic for Lina. She took both items from him gratefully and finally spoke.

“Yes.”

Like all Alchemists who practiced the Vocem style, Lina was a professional at putting everything she felt into a few small words. The strength of that one-word expression made Kai finally smile just a little. He took the empty white cup and glass of tea when his lovely partner offered them back.

He set them on the table and then turned back to her. Kai put a gentle hand on the back of Lina’s head and leaned in to kiss her softly forehead.

“I’m glad you’re okay. I’ll go fix us some coffee while you get dressed.”

Without another word, the big man turned and exited his partner’s room. She almost cried again from the sheer tenderness of the gesture and the overwhelming relief that they were both alive.

---xX--Xx---

We’ve got nothing left to lose
But our bullets and our wounds.

---xX--Xx---

Kai had just finished fixing the second cup of coffee when its intended recipient appeared and took a seat on one of the barstools at the island in the Safe House’s kitchen. He leaned over the counter to hand her the steaming mug.

Lina took a big sip and then breathed out a satisfied sigh.

“Coffee and painkillers? Kai, you know exactly what I like for breakfast,” the woman said in a light and almost flirty tone, smiling at him over the cup’s rim.

She was rewarded with one of her partner’s winning grins. Then her eyes fell.

“So… do you know how many survived?” the woman asked in a softer tone… one not playful at all.

“Amazingly enough, all of them,” he told her, glad that the tidings he had to bear were good.

Her relief was clear on her face. “That’s the second best news I’ve heard all day.”

Kai lifted an eyebrow at his partner. “What was the best news?”

Now her smile returned a little, in a bittersweet sort of fashion. “That we survived.”

The raven-haired man moved around the island towards the smaller woman, smiling at the same time he shook his head.

"You're right... and yet you're wrong fo dat," he said, draping that tattooed arm around her slender shoulders. "I have some more good news for you. There's an awesome breakfast buffet in the next room."

Lina's stomach grumbled loudly in response. Dos Pistolas would be sitting at the only large, round table in the dining room, destroying their plates of eggs, bacon, biscuits, and fruit salad when the other Asylum teams began to arrive.

---xX--Xx---

Kai and Lina's injuries from the battle with Gadrael were massive, and it truly was a miracle they lived to tell the tale. Kai suffered a serious concussion, a lacerated liver, five broken ribs, vertebrae T7 to T9 shattered, and a compound fracture of the right femur that also severed his femoral artery. He nearly bled out before medics found him. Lina had an intracranial hemorrhage, a shattered right humerus and clavicle, three broken ribs -one of which punctured and collapsed her right lung- and an obliterated C3 through C6 vertebra. Unlike Kai, Lina was not breathing when she was discovered and barely had a heartbeat. They suffered nearly complete amnesia in regards to the second half of the battle, including the realization that Gadrael had used Forbidden Alchemy.

...Although they both always felt as if they'd forgotten something important.

The sounds of combat filled Mikhail's ears and it's sights filled his mind with questions. As soon as his field surrounded the mad King, Mikhail watched his brother make quick work of the King's docile state. As he watched his brothers own attacks Mikhail kept a close watch on the others around him. The combination of the other A.M.R.O alchemist's most powerful attacks combining into one massive assault would have worked, every variable that Mikhail added up all culminated in the complete and utter destruction of this King. Something changed, a variable was added into the equation that Mikhail hadn't considered. The thought shook Mikhail to his core.

It started subtlety, Mikhail wouldn't have noticed it unless his own alchemy hadn't been beginning to fail. Gregor kept trying his quick strikes but quickly retreated when it appeared that his wounds were beginning to heal slowly. It took Mikhail to the point when the King severed his own arm to understand what was going on; this King, this insignificant alchemist as Mikhail called them, was performing forbidden alchemy. The air around the battlefield became thick and heavy with the sheer alchemic power released with the apparent exchange completed Mikhail began to shake, not with fear, but with excited anticipation. In all of his time as an alchemist, A.M.R.O. or not, he had never seen the unrivaled power that came with a forbidden alchemy. This was going to be quite the learning experience.

Mikhail's eyes darted around ferociously as Gadreal one by one took out the group of alchemists, smashing one between two giant stone slabs, smashing one into the ground, even summoning creatures of tar-like substance to attack Gregor and another alchemist. As the tar-like creatures exploded into a fireball, there was a moment where Mikhail was worried about his brother. That quickly faded when he realized that the King was loosing the power that he had sacrificed for was quickly fading, interesting. Silently waiting, Mikhail watched as two alchemists he did know for certain, XIII and VI, as they came through and dispatched the rest of the other Kings. Once that task was completed they set out to gather the fallen alchemists and take them to one of the A.M.R.O safe-houses located somewhere in Vegas...that shouldn't be too hard to figure out where.

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

Gregor tried to stop the tar like creature, possibly use his Sensory Manipulation to hide himself, but it was no use...there was no other option but to let the fire consume him. It couldn't be worse than what THEY did to him. He did not scream, he did not cry out, he allowed the fire to do what it was intended to do. He could feel the fabric of his suit fade to ash as the flames began to lick his scarred body, suddenly he collapsed and allowed himself to fall into a state subconscious sleep.

He was brought back to the Facility, to the days before he became to be what he is now. He could feel his skin and muscles being cut, torn and reconditioned to suit their needs. His body burned with an intense heat, unlike anything that he had felt before and likely that he would ever feel again. Needles pierced his arms, fluids coursed through his body, he could feel his alchemic power growing wildly out of control floating in and out of the perception of others. The whirring of drills and the snipping of surgical scisors resounded in his ears.

Gregor thrashed about, finally using his tendrils to directly attack whatever it was that was keeping him from standing up utterly shattering it. In a sudden moment of clarity Gregor reached up to feel his face, relived that it was still on his face. Once he had calmed down enough he looked around the room searching for his brother hoping to see him there.

[Camron’s POV]

The blonde teen rocked on his feet nervously as his partner left his side. His blue eyes stayed riveted on the floor. A pleasant aroma wafted from the room next door. He sniffed a little and then paused. He took in a deep breath. Saliva began building up and his stomach growled noisy. He glanced in Seira’s direction before sneaking off. He wanted food!

Camron darted into the room and made a beeline for the buffet table. He didn’t even react to Lina’s greeting. After collecting as much food as he could possibly pile onto his plate. The jam, honey, butter, gravy and cream mixed together as the sausages, pancakes and eggs were heaped on top of one another.

Happily the boy sat down opposite the pair already seated there. He waved cheerfully as though he just noticed them. The teen speared two sausages at once and woofed them down in record speed. Out of the corner of his eyes he noticed that the other two didn’t seem to be eating. He grinned apologetically and held up his plate as though to offer them some food. He hoped he didn’t offend them.

“U oo wana om?” He asked politely.

-----------------XCI------------------

[Seira’s POV]

Seira collected her repaired shoes and wore them. Mercuri molded themselves into a pair of black ankle boots that match her current outfit - a pair of faded jeans with a loose fitting cream colored chiffon blouse with black ribbons at her sleeves and collar. Her hair was braided up. She was about to leave when the attendant held out a bag. She raised an eyebrow.

“Who is that for?”

“Your partner, miss.”

“Oh…?”

XCI took the sling bag and opened it. Inside was paper, ink, small knives and charcoal – a sigil craft kit. Interesting. No one mentioned Camron’s preference before. She whip round only to find her partner missing. Damn it! Can’t he wait for a couple of minutes? He was worse than an untrained puppy. She sighed. She might as well get some breakfast before going off to hunt for that brat.

The young lady groaned when she saw her partner trying to interact with the other two Asylums. The kid has got to stop talking when he can’t hear. No one can understand him when he is swallowing all his consonants. Seira crossed over and sat down beside her partner. She touched his arm gently and lowered it. He gave her a puzzled look, but she ignored him. Instead she turned to smile at the handsome couple opposite her.

“Sorry about that. My partner can be too enthusiastic. I am Seira and he is Camron. It is nice to meet you.”

She gave her partner a gentle kick under the table to stop him from saying anything. There was no need to mention their current predicament. The fewer the people who realize this the better.

Isaiah sat quietly in a stiff wooden chair. It was as though it had been purposefully designed to be uncomfortable for the person seated atop it. But Isaiah suffered silently. From what he had gathered, he was the only alchemist to escape the battle unscathed. His perch 200 yards out had seen to that. His own health brought him little solace with his partner in shambles across the room from him.

Fletcher looked bad. He lay in his pod, unconscious. Isaiah had not seen the punishment Gadrael inflicted on his partner but by keenly observing the wounds he was able to make a pretty good guess. The sling that cradled Fletcher's arm indicated a dislocation or break and the lack of cast indicated it was likely dislocation of the shoulder. It would have been popped back into the socket but had Fletcher been conscious he was sure there would have been substantial pain.

The pain from his shoulder, however, would have paled in comparison to the agony his facial wounds would have caused. From what Isaiah could only assume was repeated blunt force trauma, the skin on Fletcher's face had been shredded. In the hours that Isaiah had sat by his partner's side, he had seen the impressive healing technologies of A.M.R.O slowly grow back the flesh covering the right side of Fletcher's face. When he had first been brought in, he had no cheek to speak of as well as a shattered cheekbone and nose. The bones had repaired faster than the skin. It had taken hours, the fact that it could be done at all was nothing short of miraculous, but new skin had knitted itself over the right side of Fletcher's face. A thin white scar ran diagonally down his cheek where the new flesh had come together but other than that just as he had before the battle. Only time would tell the state of Fletcher's mind, however.

***************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************

Fletcher slowly opened his eyes. There was a dull throbbing in his shoulder but it faded from consciousness quickly as soon as he attempted to stretch out his jaw. A searing pain rippled through his brain. The normal crazed look that Fletcher wore was unmistakably missing. His eyes were a fierce storm of calculation. He opened his jaw once, twice, three more times as he acclimated himself to the pain. He licked his lips and spoke,

"Where are we Mac?" nothing in his voice indicated he felt any pain at all.

"A safe house. The other asylums were brought here along with you after the battle with the Kings. The injuries were severe enough to warrant healing pods apparently. I also imagine we will be briefed on the next stage of our mission. It's my understanding that one of the alchemists was kidnapped,"

"Got it, thanks. I think I got pretty beat up. Is it bad?"

"From the outside you barely look injured at all. Your face will scar but not badly and you should be out of that sling by the end of the day given how rapidly we heal,"

"Good shit,"

With that Fletcher slowly exculpated himself from the healing pod. He rolled his neck around and smiled slightly at the resulting round of popping. A glance down informed him that he was naked. Some mesh shorts and a V-neck lay folded on a chair, presumably for him. After putting them on, Fletcher motioned to Isaiah that it was time to go. Isaiah nodded in agreement.

The pair walked followed the smell of breakfast food into a large conference room where some of the other Asylums were already seated and eating. Before they could look up Fletcher contorted his face, slowly at first due to the pain, into the slightly insane visage he usually carried. Gone was the emotionless calculation. He was the Butcher again. This was what people expected from a psychopathy and Fletcher had long since found it better to humor the sheep. It made them much easier to hunt.

Surprisingly, the deranged lunatic look was not something that came naturally to Fletcher. The closest person he had had to a friend during his time at Innsmouth Sanatorium had been truly deranged. Fletcher had stored all of the correct expressions needed to fulfill the role of manic killer in the months leading up to his friend's murder and Fletcher's release. That was how it went. As a psychopath, Fletcher was born without the capacity for things like empathy or guilt. He was pure limbic system with a generous dose of selfish ambition ladled on top.

As he slowly accumulated the proper facial expressions and mimicked emotions that come naturally to the sheep, he utilized them in a way that was almost clinical in its efficiency. Any woman he wanted would happily follow him home. At first, the sex had been enough. But then one day it wasn't. In a fit of rage he had strangled the girl he was with. From there, only killing would do. And so the Butcher was born.

"Isaiah! Look they have Bacon!" Fletcher's partner sighed, knowing that the his partner had raised the facade once more.

Fletcher pulled out a chair next to Cameron and began loading his plate with food, most of it stolen from Cameron's plate, "So, you guys get your asses kicked too?"

~A Demon’s Innocence~

The aftermath of Gadrael’s onslaught had not only rekindled the self-assurance of the Forsaken but also painted the very ground crimson. Such a canvas of artistry served as an invitation for an audience, for the Gemellie and yet ironically the harbingers of misfortune could no longer remain bystanders. Every hypothesis is governed by the factors considered, an equation of infinite variables generalized and compressed with probability curbing variability to reach a supposition laced with the façade of validity. The conclusion however is ever-same; the essence of humanity is unquantifiable.

Angel’s steps gradually drew nearer, his jovial partner following suit in her usual unorthodox style of skipping and twirling. The blistering heat which appeared to be gnawing at –XIII-’s tolerance didn’t appear to bother his partner nearly as much, the child’s eyes gleamed contently as the sand that dragged beneath her feet kept her occupied throughout the tedious journey.

A heave of sigh escaped the Lost Number as his hands slowly wiped the sweat of his brow, unmounting the coffin that leaned against his back and placing it upright. “What say we take a break?” An expression of worry silently spread across Rena’s face as she keenly observed her partner. While her partner’s request for a pause appeared quite logical it was the way he said it that aroused suspicion, it lacked any intonation, and the entire sentence was spoken in a monotone.

“You know my brother says when you feel like Mr. Grumpy than strawberry ice-cream helps……but if you feel like Mr.Gloomy, vanilla ice cream is the best!” The little girl replied, an interrogative expression on her face that betrayed her seemingly ‘random’ suggestion. With that said the Chrono coyly took seat on top of her partner’s shoulder who in turn was seated atop the coffin.

Angel couldn’t help but be caught by surprise, his face tilting up to greet his Sorella with a bewildering smile, a genuine one. “I thought I understood the situation. Humans…they are…simple…..and yet this species is unpredictable. This paradox, whenever it occurs, shakes the very foundation of the desired conclusion. A single uncalculated variable and we have ourselves a mess that supersedes the previous one. This is quite the conundrum that is brewing my dear Rena. We have the elusive Circus that is suddenly making an appearance. We have the Forsaken King’s knowing of this knowledge, knowledge exclusive to A.M.R.O from an unknown source. The possibility of taint in A.M.R.O is near certain and now to make matters even more interesting we have an open disclosure of Sacrificial Alchemy and this leads me to the fact that the real enemy is quite keen to other…forbidden arts.” As the Crimson Asylum reached the conclusion, his expression faded of all traits but one; wrath, the wrath reserved for those who would dare unsheathe the secrets that would best remain buried.

“Dummy!” The Chrono chirped rather loudly, an innocent scolding that instantly succeeded in subsiding her partner’s suppressed nature from surfacing. “My big brother also says if you think unnecessarily you will get wrinkles on your forehead, so you better be careful Mr.Gloomy!” The Princess continued, her own forehead gently pressed against her partner’s.

“Yes nurse, you have been most helpful in diverting Mr.Gloomy from becoming Mr.Wrinkles! But do you know what is the best ice-cream to treat that?” Angel replied sarcastically, his return to normality relieving the little Chrono who merely raised her arms to the sky and screamed,

“Chocolate!”

“Tomorrow I’ll buy you the ice-cream store,” Angel replied with a nod with a muffled ‘thank you’ in there somewhere. “But first, let us clean this mess.” As he concluded, both the Gemellie were staring at the remaining forces of the Kings.

“I am sorry but all you gentleman are going to do is die, I don’t suppose you lot can just commit suicide and save me the trouble?”

Only the sounds flesh slowly ripping apart, bones breaking and screams echoed after, lasting for hours before the duo of demons finally made their exit, though not alone.

-----Xx-----xX-----

~ A Demon’s Slumber~

“Wowie all these Asylums weigh a ton!” Rena whispered bashfully, rolling her eyes so as to express her exasperation at the tedious task which was appointed to her.
“Aren’t we a little brat?” Her partner slowly bent his knees and whispered back, a sarcastic tone with a teasing smile quickly making the Chrono pout and cross her arms.

“What say we call it a day, I’ll get you a reward tomorrow for all your hard work,” after a good deal of promises, bribing and patting did Angel finally manage to get his stubborn partner to unfold her arms and regain her jovial disposition despite knowing it all to be a ploy for added affection.

-15 minutes later-

“I’m ready for bed big brother!” Rena chirped while twirling in her pink panda pajamas after which instantly jumping aside her partner, sitting beside him.

Unlike usual people who would take advantage of a warm and comfortable bed, the Gemellie possessed a strange almost unique style of sleeping, one that only aided in them being branded as ‘freaks’. For one the concept of a bed was alien to these two and while Reri felt no discomfort in actually lying down and sleeping, in the traditional sense, her partner didn’t quite share this sentiment. Angel would always sleep with his back upright, sitting on whatever is beneath him, his back leaning against the coffin that would stand behind him, an imposing tombstone. Several Asylums have often walked upon him ‘slumbering’ while sitting against the support of his coffin, his eyes always hidden behind those opaque crimson glasses, shimmering against the slightest light. “Like a monster forever awake, forever watching over the partner who sleeps beside him”, a popular saying among the Asylums who have not once understood the purpose behind the expression of peace upon the Demon’s faces when they slumber.

~A peace that comes from denouncing the world that dares shun them~

---------Xx-----xX--------
A Demon’s Decision

“It…is…time…Angel”

This deadpan and lifeless greeting appeared to be the wakeup call for the Crimson Asylum, his arms slowly stretched as a weary yawn escaped his mouth, signaling he had awoken. In front of him stood his partner, combat ready with her feet firmly planted. A stoic expression on her face, her eyes coldly scrutinizing all before her, her frame eerily steady. A.M.R.O’s Doll had awoken.

“Good morning Rin, I hope you slept peacefully?” XIII’s large hand suddenly found itself on his partner’s head, gently brushing the rough edges which the freshly awoken Chrono had overlooked. “Since you insist on growing you hair, you should take care of it..unless you want spli-”

Before Angel could complete Rin merely lifted her arm, mechanically placing it upon her partner’s head and mimicking his previous action all the while marinating her apathetic stance.

“Alright I get your point; I guess my hair is more of a mess, even when you don’t say a word you manage to get your point across….” Nodding his head in defeat the Asylum finally got to his feet, strapped the coffin behind his back and followed the Chrono for some well deserved dinning.

“I..do not…sit with…trash,” Rin crowed as soon as she noticed that other Asylums were present, all seated on a table feasting. The cruelty of her words passed without the child batting an eye, her words flowing in a monotone, void of any expression, mechanical just like her stare. The Chrono leisurely walked towards an empty section of the room, each step restructuring the space ahead of her. Chairs and a table slowly surfaced from the ground, all possessing a regal décor befitting the Chrono’s status as the Princess of A.M.R.O.

"So, you guys get your asses kicked too?"

Fletcher’s words resounded across the hall, echoing the shameful defeat of the Asylums and invite Angel to cause a greater ruckus.

“I see your face is back on your…well face,” Angel crowed as a fiendish smirk slowly spread across his face, his sarcastic comment causing Rin to tilt her head in their direction. Her partner’s ‘discussion’ often provided some amusement to curb the relentless boredom.

Casually enough the Lost Number took the seat in between Siera and Lina. One a fresh recruit and the other a new addition to the group, such an interesting combination spelled delight for the twisted minds.

“You are welcome..for you know saving you after allowing you to get beaten up,” Angel whispered devilishly, finally replying to Siera’s expression of gratitude. His gaze slowly switched in between the Asylum and her partner Camron, who appeared rather preoccupied in stuffing himself.

“Your partner is a strange one. He lacks motive to kill, he lacks the desire for blood and he is impaired, yet you protect him so ferociously. Your choice of suicide,” after a considerable pause with his finger pressed against his temple, he finally snapped reaching the desired choice of words, “…is one befitting of a lemming.”

After observing Camron for a while, realizing he won’t be distracted from his feast, the red coated Asylum eventually flicked something at the boy’s head. At the table lay a hearing aid, courtesy of the selflessness of i Gemellie de Demone.

“I don’t see how this group is going to defeat the Circus; the only thing I see you guys competing in is who gets to be the greater clown. Well I suppose that would give you people an edge on the covert aspect. Do any of understand the gravity of this situation. After what you lot have witnessed your life expectancy is in the negative, you people are practically dead. With that said, do you understand how much paperwork I will have to do to account for your deaths?” Angel scoffed while facing the Asylum at his side, Lena. “What am I supposed to write in your death report? Little girl tears up upon hearing a pity story and when she finally gets a room to release that pent up sexual frustration with her partner…she forgets…that…my partner…and I…were in the room…next…door.” The Lost Number made sure he uttered each word with teasing clarity all the while staring at the woman through his spectacles, the reflection of her own face staring back at her.

“However, right now it seems you are of important value. Your mind is weak, it is trying to make sense and as such your defense mechanisms are trying to cope and put the pieces together. But the fact that you have a missing piece and your mind is content with falsifying information makes you the bishop in this game of chess.” The devious smile which brimmed across this Angel’s face only served as a reminder of why the Crimson Asylum is known as the Angel of deceit.

“The rest…are pawns,” Rin finally cut in, growing weary of the long conversations. “The hunters, Sniffers and Hybrids….. are to…. devise the counter strategy. Observe what has…. happened, take it…. all into consideration and…. derive a solution. If it fails…to meet my expectation…A.M.R.O…will not be…the ones to dispose of you…… digits.” With these cold words the Chrono walked off, allowing the furniture to disperse in shimmer of gold dust.

“I am guessing we Silencers have the day off…anyone of you a fan of ice-cream?”

~And there is that devilish smile again~

Alice walked down the hallway with her usual long, graceful strides toward the library, where she knew her twin brother would be; he was always there, studying up on alchemy, geography, and various other subjects that she couldn’t keep track of at this point. She rounded a corner and arrived outside of the library’s doors and then walked in to begin searching for her brother. It wasn’t long before she found him hidden near the back in a little alcove to himself, with his nose in a book and a stack to his left and right; books he had already read during his time in the library and books he intended to read before leaving the library. Alice said down across from her brother and waited for exactly twenty seconds, counting seconds in her head, before she spoke to her brother.

“Barny, the teams just got back. They’re banged up pretty bad. A lot of them had to be put in the tanks. The Gemellies were on the mission.”

Barnabas marked his place in his book mentally before looking up at his sister over his glasses and giving her his full attention. His interest was piqued when she mentioned the Gemellie. He wondered why they had been sent and what could have happened to put so many Asylums in a state bad enough to be put in the tanks. Barnabas looked back down at the book and mentally marked his place again before he got up from his chair.

“That’s all very odd… and interesting. Let’s go find out what happened. You’ll be doing the talking of course.”

“Oh, Barny! When are you going to learn to talk to people!?”

“Shhh! We are still in the library, Alice,” Barnabas whispered back, “Besides, I know how to talk to people. I just choose not to talk to very many is all.”

“Sure…”

The twins exited the library in the midst of their argument and walked back down the hallway Alice took on her way to the library.

“Where do you think the Gemellie are, Barny?”

“Hm… either at the tanks… no, the Asylums would be healed by now. Where would they go after being healed? To eat, perhaps?”

Upon his question, as if answering it, Alice’s stomach growled loudly.

“Food sounds good, Barny. Let’s go to the cafeteria anyway.”

With that, Alice led the way to the cafeteria. When they reached the door, one of the Gemellie walked out of the cafeteria, and Alice almost bumped into her. Barnabas stared at her for a fraction of a second, just long enough to go unnoticed, hopefully. The twins walked into the cafeteria to find the Asylums who were in the tanks at a table eating hungrily. With them was the Crimson Asylum. Barnabas’s interest was piqued again, but he instead made his way to an empty table while Alice went and got herself food. When she came back and sat down, Barnabas sat and thought about what could have happened to cause so many Asylums to end up in the tanks, especially if the Crimson Aslyum was involved.

Gregor looked around the room slowly, to take in his surroundings. He noticed several tanks much like the one that he inadvertently destroyed in his troubled sleep. The other Asylums had already exited their own tanks and had made their way to the kitchen area and were eating the meal that had been prepared for them. As Gregor stood upright, having to duck his head since the room didn't accommodate his gargantuan size, he realized that he was stark naked something that he hadn't accounted for. It took him a minute to find his clothes ( or what little was left of them) and put them on. As he made his way to the kitchen area he watched two Asylums, one going in and the other leaving, move through the area. The only one that caught his eye was the one leaving. The Chrono. Taking a moment to memorize her face he then walked into the kitchen where the other Asylums were seated and partaking in the meal.

At the head of the table was the Crimson Asylum, apparently he and his partner were the one's organizing the strike against the Circus, and now the Kings. As Gregor looked around the room he was quickly unimpressed with the lot that had assembled. Although he was aware that their combined powers were impressive he was unaware of their single combat skills, noticing several Silencers, Hunters and Sniffers. As his presence became noticed in the room he used his tendrils to wrap around the parts of his suit that were tattered and took his place in the corner of the room. Suddenly Gregor realized that his brother was not among the group assembled, assuming that he decided to stay at the scene and look over the place. Hopefully when he next saw his brother he could stratagize and figure out what to do about these "Kings" who had knowledge of such powerful alchemy.

*ACCIDENTAL DOUBLE POST

Gregor looked around the room slowly, to take in his surroundings. He noticed several tanks much like the one that he inadvertently destroyed in his troubled sleep. The other Asylums had already exited their own tanks and had made their way to the kitchen area and were eating the meal that had been prepared for them. As Gregor stood upright, having to duck his head since the room didn't accommodate his gargantuan size, he realized that he was stark naked something that he hadn't accounted for. It took him a minute to find his clothes ( or what little was left of them) and put them on. As he made his way to the kitchen area he watched two Asylums, one going in and the other leaving, move through the area. The only one that caught his eye was the one leaving. The Chrono. Taking a moment to memorize her face he then walked into the kitchen where the other Asylums were seated and partaking in the meal.

At the head of the table was the Crimson Asylum, apparently he and his partner were the one's organizing the strike against the Circus, and now the Kings. As Gregor looked around the room he was quickly unimpressed with the lot that had assembled. Although he was aware that their combined powers were impressive he was unaware of their single combat skills, noticing several Silencers, Hunters and Sniffers. As his presence became noticed in the room he used his tendrils to wrap around the parts of his suit that were tattered and took his place in the corner of the room. Suddenly Gregor realized that his brother was not among the group assembled, assuming that he decided to stay at the scene and look over the place. Hopefully when he next saw his brother he could stratagize and figure out what to do about these "Kings" who had knowledge of such powerful alchemy.

---xX--Xx---

Keep me locked up in your broken mind:
I keep searching, never been able
To find a light behind your dead eyes…
Not anything at all!

---xX--Xx---

As Kai and Lina munched in companionable silence, they were inevitably joined by the other Asylums. First was a teenaged team, male and female: the boy blonde and slouchy, the girl beautiful and clearly of Asian descent… Japanese, if Lina had to guess. Only the raven-haired woman responded to Lina’s ‘good morning’ with a smile and a nod. Her tall partner was making a beeline for the buffet table, and neither Kai or Lina could blame him.

Plates in hand, the two settled down with one chair between them and Dos Pistolas.

Kai had always sort of thought of himself as a savage eater, especially if he compared his own eating habits to Lina’s impeccable table manners. When the blonde kid sat down and started packing food in his face as if someone might take it from him, Kai and Lina both found themselves paused with forks halfway from plate to mouth… watching in something like awe.

Cameron, as if sensing this, paused to look at them uncomfortably. Through a mouthful of food, he said something that sounded like, ‘do you want some?’

“Thanks for the offer, but I’ve got plenty of my own,” Kai said with a small laugh, gesturing at his plate with his fork.

“Sorry about that, my partner can be too enthusiastic,” the young woman said, and possibly …probably… kicked the young man under the table. “I am Seira and he is Cameron. It is nice to meet you.”

Seira’s English sounded a little clipped, formal, as if it might not be her native language. It caught Lina’s interest a little.

“It’s nice to meet you, Seira,” she replied, giving the other female a warm smile. “I’m Lina, this is my partner, Kai.”

“Howdy,” Kai said, raising his right hand in a little wave, sort of showing off his tat.

Another team, this one both male, had entered the room and helped themselves to food while the other four had been talking. They certainly were interesting-looking: they were older, and while one was dressed for a business meeting, the other wore denim and boots. One was bald, bearded, and probably about Lina’s height, the other tall and lean. She heard the brunette call his bald partner Isaiah. They settled down with their plates and it was Not-Isaiah who spoke.

“So, you guys get your asses kicked too?”

Lina’s normally faint natural pout deepened into an actual one, and she stayed silent. She was not the sort of woman who liked being reminded of her defeats… especially not while trying to enjoy breakfast and being alive in general the next morning. She stabbed at her fruit more fiercely that was strictly necessary.

Kai had opened his mouth to reply when a voice from the doorway beat him to the punch.

“I. Do. Not. Sit. With. Trash.”

The owner of the incredibly rude monotone turned out to be a thirteen year-old girl with black, overlong Lolita-style pigtails. She was wearing a cutoff pink tee shirt, grey cammo cargo pants and heeled boots. As she and her partner approached, Dos Pistolas could make out that while one of her eyes was a normal sort of green, the other was bright red.

Lina’s first thought was that she looked more than a little creepy. Her second thought was, ‘did that creepy little bitch just call me trash?’

“I see your face is back on your… well, face.”

It was said to Not-Isaiah, the lean brunette, by an extremely tall man who’d entered the room beside the impolite girl. This man was wearing a full-length red trench coat despite the fact that it was a hundred and three degrees Fahrenheit outside, and he was wearing dark red sunglasses even though the light in the dining room was quite easily tolerable.

Kai frowned. That was an unnecessary thing to say to someone who had his face painfully mauled the day before. More upsetting was that this giant settled himself in the one vacant chair between Lina and Seira. The female member of Dos Pistolas scooted her chair over and shifted her plate. Something about this guy wasn’t right. Thankfully he turned to Seira and Cameron first, giving Kai and Lina more time to edge away from him.

They didn’t sit with trash either, but certainly weren’t ill-mannered enough to say it out loud.

---xX--Xx---

You keep living in your own lie;
Ever deceitful and ever unfaithful.
Keep me guessing, keep me terrified,
Take everything from my world!

---xX--Xx---

“You are welcome..for you know saving you after allowing you to get beaten up,” Sunglasses said to the other team. Of course it only took a moment to register with Kai and Lina: this was the Chrono and her partner, who hadn’t shown up until everyone else was beaten within inches of their lives… if they’d even bothered to make an appearance at all.

She wanted to ask him what had taken the two of them so long to get there, but the man she presumed to be Angel kept right on talking.

“Your partner is a strange one. He lacks motive to kill, he lacks the desire for blood and he is impaired, yet you protect him so ferociously. Your choice of suicide …is one befitting of a lemming.”

Kai and Lina exchanged a look that very distinctly said, what the fuck is wrong with this guy? They kept eating their breakfasts, quietly, not looking at the too-tall Asylum but listening carefully to what he said.

“I don’t see how this group is going to defeat the Circus; the only thing I see you guys competing in is who gets to be the greater clown. Well I suppose that would give you people an edge on the covert aspect. Do any of understand the gravity of this situation. After what you lot have witnessed your life expectancy is in the negative, you people are practically dead. With that said, do you understand how much paperwork I will have to do to account for your deaths?”

This time, the look that passed between Dos Pistolas said, you have got to be fucking kidding me.

Lina sort of caught (out of the corner of her eye) that Sunglasses had turned towards her.

“What am I supposed to write in your death report? Little girl tears up upon hearing a pity story and when she finally gets a room to release that pent up sexual frustration with her partner…she forgets…that…my partner…and I…were in the room…next…door.”

Neither member of the team had even really acknowledged Angel or Reri’s presence except to scoot away from Angel when he sat down. They didn’t acknowledge him now, either. Lina ate a mouthful of scrambled eggs and looked out the window thoughtfully. Kai had carried a newspaper in from the kitchen, and he studied it while dunking part of a doughnut in his cup of coffee. Of course, Angel kept right on talking.

Lina couldn’t really tell if he was still talking to her in particular, or to the group in general.

“However, right now it seems you are of important value. Your mind is weak, it is trying to make sense and as such your defense mechanisms are trying to cope and put the pieces together. But the fact that you have a missing piece and your mind is content with falsifying information makes you the Bishop in this game of chess.”

The female Asylum decided that Angel was still talking to her. But what he meant was anyone’s guess. The missing piece she got, he was referring to her amnesia about the battle. Bishops moved diagonally… but what the hell did that have to do with anything?

“The rest…are pawns.” That was the creepy-ass little girl again, speaking from somewhere behind Lina and Kai.

“The hunters, Sniffers and Hybrids….. are to…. devise the counter strategy. Observe what has…. happened, take it…. all into consideration and…. derive a solution. If it fails…to meet my expectation…A.M.R.O…will not be…the ones to dispose of you…… digits.”

The look on Lina’s face when Reri said that. It was only there for a second before it vanished, and probably no one caught it, but Lina looked like she was ready to throw a chair at the Chrono’s retreating back as she strode out.

Lina was normally a pretty calm person, but the last twenty four hours had pushed her to her breaking point. First, the nightmarish travel from Helsinki to London to New York to Las Vegas: riddled with delays and missed connections. Then the training exercise they almost missed… arriving just in time to watch everything go sideways. It was really making Marcelina angry that she couldn’t remember much about the later parts of the fight, that she didn’t know anymore how Gadrael had managed to defeat not just her… but all of them. Now the Chrono and her partner had shown up. The Chrono had insulted all the Asylums in the room with her first words to them, her ridiculously tall partner had teased them about getting so badly beaten, and he’d teased Lina in particular about her tears and her relationship with Kai. Then he’d said they were all as good as dead and the Chrono had threatened to murder them if they couldn’t come up with a satisfactory plan. That was the last straw.

“I am guessing we Silencers have the day off…anyone of you a fan of ice-cream?”

Oh hell to the motherfucking no.

It was a lucky thing that Lina had polished off the last bites of her breakfast while Angel was talking, because right now she was furious enough to be faintly nauseous. She set her fork down on her plate firmly, with an overloud clink. She plucked her napkin off her lap, dabbed the corners of her mouth with it delicately, then threw it down on her plate.

Kai had been watching his partner grow more and more perturbed throughout Angel’s tirade. He was a little pissed that the fourteen-year-old girl had called him trash -that was really uncalled for- but it only meant that he wouldn’t piss on her should she ever catch on fire. All their lives, Lina had been the one who snapped first, had to say something or throw a punch. He knew that once Lina finally got mad enough to speak up, there was nothing he could do to stop her. (And also, that he’d be the one to catch her fury instead should he try.) Kai just had to sit back and watch the show.

He shot a disapproving look at her anyway, and shook his head once. Lina shrugged, as if to say ‘I’m sorry but I just can’t.’ and then turned her face halfway towards Angel. She still didn’t look at him, as if she didn’t want to befoul her eyes and brain with the sight just yet. Her tone was calm, even, and just a touch condescending.

“Hello, you must be Angel. I’m Lina, and so far it hasn’t been a pleasure to meet you. Let me start by clearing something up: the sound you heard from my room earlier was crying. That only happens during sex if you’re trying to do it with a thirteen year old girl… so I can understand your confusion.”

She paused for half a heartbeat to let that sink in.

“You seem to be confused about something else as well: you didn’t save us from anything. You picked our shattered bodies up off the battlefield. That’s a job for medics, not Chrono teams. If you want our gratitude, maybe next time try fighting with us, instead of watching from a safe distance like a pair of cowards.

Now, you and your extremely rude partner seem to have a very high opinion of yourselves and a very low opinion of us. I wonder… if you two are so amazing, and we’re all stupid clown-pawns, why did the A.M.R.O. feel a need to send six other teams of Asylums to assist you in dealing with the Kings and the Circus?”

Again, a very small pause, not long enough to let Angel get a word in edgewise.

“It’s a rhetorical question: the A.M.R.O. sent us because you two can’t handle it on your own. It would be most unwise to continue your current strategy of standing back until we’re beaten within inches of our lives before you join the fray.”

Now she did turn to Angel, and looked where she thought his eyes would be behind the glasses. Her voice had not gained any volume, nor taken on any sort of angry tone. Still cool, unruffled, and vaguely superior.

“I believe you also wanted to know what you should write on my death summary. I suppose it should go something like this:”

She turned back to the table, having had all of Angel’s face that she could tolerate without making an attempt to break his glasses with her closed fist. Instead, she mimicked writing something on a piece of paper. Marcelina said aloud the words she pretended to write.

“I didn’t tell any of the Asylums what they were dealing with, I thought it would be cute to speak in riddles instead of giving my team actual intel, so Lina was unprepared when she walked into the Circus’ center ring. My partner and I are too good to fight with lowly regular Asylums, so we waited until they were done getting their asses handed to them before we started our own attacks. It was an hour before the medics arrived, and she was already dead.”

A faint ghost of a smile briefly passed across the woman’s lips, and then vanished.

“But I imagine you’ll find some way to blame the fact that I’m an emotional female.”

Marcelina set down her imaginary pen, and forced herself to look at Angel again. The expression on her face was rather relaxed with a small hint of displeasure… but maybe that was just her natural pout.

“You’re only right about one thing: I’ve got a piece missing. I suffered some pretty intense head trauma, so I can’t remember exactly how the battle ended. Since you merely observed the fight and didn’t take any serious damage, I’m sure you know exactly how Gadrael managed to defeat us. But instead of giving me the missing pieces and helping me see the whole picture, you’re teasing me about my amnesia.”

“Your teenage girlfriend threatened to murder me and most of the other Asylums if we don't come up with a strategy that ‘meets her expectations’,” Lina made air quotes with her fingers as she said this, “so perhaps you could fill in a few blanks before you take her out for ice cream. Let’s start with something simple: did the Gemellie manage to capture Gadrael… or did you guys let him get away?”

It wasn’t a perfect performance; Lina felt that she’d reduced herself by making a sexual insults, and a pedophilia-themed ones at that, but she wasn’t sorry. It was beyond her to let a taunt about Kai go unanswered and it wasn’t her fault that this was the material she had to work with. She hadn’t really called Angel any names or said any curses, both things she was proud of. All her words were meant to cut but unlike Sunglasses, Lina didn’t try to demean his value as a human being… just his capabilities as both an Asylum and as a leader. She also sincerely hoped that some of her wisdom would sink into his thick skull: they really would all have to work together if they were going to survive the Circus, Angel and his tiny bitch partner included.

Throughout Lina’s little speech, Kai had been sitting quietly with his arms crossed. Sometimes his partner’s mouth could get them into trouble… but this time she’d been pretty tame. She sounded more like a disappointed boss than a furious co-worker. Except the bit about only thirteen-year-olds crying during sex. That was definitely personal, and also hilarious. The best part was something only Kai knew: Lina wasn’t quite done. Kai really hoped that the Gemellie had managed to kill Gadrael, if only for the fact that Kai didn’t want to have to fight him a second time. There was a tiny part of him, however, that hoped Gadrael had gotten away so he could hear what Lina would have to say about that.

---xX--Xx---

You're not that saint that you externalize,
You're not anything at all.
It's all so playful when you demonize:
To spit out the hateful, you're willing and able.
Your words are weapons of the terrified,
You're nothing in my world!

---xX--Xx---

Seira relaxed a little. The pair didn’t realize that Camron was deaf. Her smile brightened up considerably as she studied the other team. They were such a handsome couple. Her black eyes lingered longer than usual as she took in Kei’s features. She felt her cheeks grow warm. Lina was one lucky woman. Sadly the moment didn’t last long.

“I..do not…sit with…trash,” said the young girl entering the room.

Seira ignored Reri. Unreasonable people are not worth her time. The raven haired Asylum sipped her tea and ate two mouthfuls. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed someone settling between her and Lina. She placed her fork down and turned to look at Angel. Nothing irked her more than having someone intrude into her personal space. Camron was the unfortunate exception. Things were perfect with a chair between her and the other female Asylum. Her smile did not falter as she tilted her head to the side and gazed at him politely. It took a lot of effort not to look away. She didn’t even blink. Clearly this man did not care that no one has finished their coffee yet. She needed to make a sign to warn people not to talk to her before she finished her breakfast. Ever. Today was one of those weird exceptions.

“Your partner is a strange one. He lacks motive to kill, he lacks the desire for blood and he is impaired, yet you protect him so ferociously. Your choice of suicide is one befitting of a lemming.” Angel said.

She burst out laughing. “Lemming…? You have got to be kidding. That is nothing but a gross misconception. A very cruel one at that…”

And…

He ignored her! The blood draped Angel had turned his attention to Lina. Seira rolled her eyes slightly and snatched the hearing aid from Camron. The girl studied it. There was nothing seeming remarkable about it. She pocketed it. The boy looked puzzled and she shrugged. He shrugged in response and went back to his breakfast. Explaining things to him would take too long. She turned back to study the gorgeous tanned male Asylum secretly as she continued eating her scrambled eggs.

Seira almost choked on her last mouthful of tea. Someone was finally telling the Lost Number off. She glanced over at the two before setting her fork and knife down again. As much as she respects Lina for having so much guts someone has to do something before things get out of hand. The Japanese woman rose and walked pass the Lost Number and the female Dos Pistolas. She didn’t care that it was impolite to leave before they were dismissed. Everyone was paying attention to the Lina and Angel anyway. Before she stepped out of the door she spun around and threw a huge handful of strawberry ice cream at Angel’s head. Embedded inside was the hearing aid from earlier. She smirked.

“There. I think you had your share of ice cream. Now this lemming shall go off to finish her reports. Let me know when we are going to have a real briefing. Ta!”

Isaiah closed his eyes and sighed as his partner made his less-than-polite entrance. If he was being honest with himself, Isaiah sort of expected these types of things from Fletcher but the rigid set of manners his parents had drilled into him still shuddered on occasion at his Fletcher's behavior. The Asylums sitting around the table seemed healthy enough. Isaiah didn't recognize any of them right away but they seemed formidable enough. As a sniffer, and a highly trained one at that, he knew better than to judge alchemists on first impression alone. Any one of these small women could easily wield incredible power, but the presence of the tattooed and fierce-looking Asylum settled his uneasiness just a little bit.

When the Gemellie entered the room and the insults began flying, Isaiah did his best to keep his head down and focus on his breakfast. He was pleased that he wasn't singled out for any particular biting remark, not because he couldn't take criticism but because his retorts tended to be intellectual and esoteric; Isaiah found it was best to give no hints as to how intelligent he was. Any strength at all, he felt, should be hidden to encourage underestimating.

When all the theatrics were through, he rose from his place and followed the other sniffers and hunters to the room where they would plan their next attack. It was time to see how competent his fellow Asylums truly were. He just hoped Fletcher wouldn't make much of a mess. He did very much like ice cream.

Fletcher's sarcastic remark went unanswered, save for the glare from one of the female asylums. Normally he would have allowed that to lead to irritated behavior but Angel and the twerp stalked into the room and began the most textbook display of Narcissistic Personality Disorder Fletcher had ever seen. He had once been forced to become familiar with the DSM-IV in brief stint as a resident at a psychiatric hospital. The kill had been a glorious one - right before the guy's first day of medical school - and taking his place during rounds had been easy enough. The irony of a psychopath treating the mentally ill was not lost on Fletcher. Of course, when he had killed again, he went from impersonating a resident to being an actual patient. That hadn't suited him and his stay was rather short.

He grinned stupidly as some small girl unleashed her tirade against the asshat in the red coat. Fletcher didn't like him. And this girl seemed to think she was putting him in his place. Fletcher liked that. Her mannerisms were most interesting. More importantly, she had talked about shedding tears. Tears were the one thing he just couldn't master. Maybe he could pick it up from her. As soon as the rant ended, Fletcher began to take a step towards her but an announcement for ice cream was made. But only for silencers.

"Shit fuck! Damn it! Shit on my fucking dick. Why do the silencers get to get ice cream? I'll come up with your plan right here and now little bitch," eyes that were usually calculating even when his face was manic took on a storm of intensity.

"We go in, see?" Fletcher had transformed into a member of the Italian mob,

"We make'm an offer they can't refuse. We kill every mutherfuckin' king," Fletcher had riled himself into a bit of a frenzy, the veins in his neck standing prominently out against his skin. His breathing had become heavy and and quick.

"We kill their families and their dogs and their neighbors and their paperboys. Then when their all dead, we take what's ours. WE TAKE BACK WHAT'S OURS BY RIGHT!"

The room stood in silence. Any theatrics that had taken place before paled in comparison to the show this madman was putting on. But as quickly as the rage had come, it departed. The cold, calculative eyes returned and with a stupid smile he put forward,

"So can I get some of that ice cream now? Ooh and with some of those little crushed up candy bar. That's the good stuff."

All cards and a pistol on the table

“Is she angry?”

Heaving a weary sigh the Crimson Asylum lazily positioned his fingers to rest against his temple, feigning interest. Judging from his laid-back personality it was rather simple to comprehend Angel’s dislike for expending effort on triviality. This situation called for an activity most strenuous for the likes of XIII, pretending to actually ‘give a fuck’ as one may say.

“She definitely seems angry…..did I say something wrong?” The Lost Number contemplated as the Asylum in front of him continued her rant, clearly displeased about something. All the while he continued his charade of ‘listening’ with occasional nodding gestures, his nonchalant attitude concealing his sheer lack of interest.

His finger tips gently tapped against the sides of his temple, clearly finding more entertainment in its rhythm than the complaints of an amnesiac. Even so Angel wasn’t completely aloof to what the Asylum spoke off and while he heard most to all, he simply refused to give her words any weight. Much like hearing noise and dismissing it for what it is, non-cohesive banter.

“Maybe she is angry because she wanted ice-cream too….I knew I should have offered to everyone and not just the Silencers,” The shaded Alchemist pondered while continuing to nod, a gesture quickly growing stale and becoming near sarcastic.

“Damn it, this girl just keeps talking. Am I really this annoying when I am talking….” throughout their ‘conversation’ this thought appeared to irk XIII the most, his eyebrows slowly raising for a second only to once again regain a steady composure. “Maybe she is just irritated because she hasn’t had sex with her boyfriend yet, poor bastard probably got friend-zoned.”

“I didn’t tell any of the Asylums what they were dealing with, I thought it would be cute to speak in riddles instead of giving my team actual intel, so Lina was unprepared when she walked into the Circus’ center ring. My partner and I are too good to fight with lowly regular Asylums, so we waited until they were done getting their asses handed to them before we started our own attacks. It was an hour before the medics arrived, and she was already dead.”

The fingers that had nestled themselves against his temple slowly found their way towards his lips, restraining him from smiling. The Crimson Asylum wasn’t one to underappreciated sarcasm, as such to repay Lina he finally agreed to give her his undivided attention.

“Your teenage girlfriend threatened to murder me and most of the other Asylums if we don't come up with a strategy that ‘meets her expectations, so perhaps you could fill in a few blanks before you take her out for ice cream. Let’s start with something simple: did the Gemellie manage to capture Gadrael… or did you guys let him get away?”

“Is that all?” Angel finally replied, heaving yet another sigh. “I suppose I can help you with that, but you may be a little queasy in the end.” With that said the Lost Number instantly planted his index finger on Lina’s forehead, the impact of the poke causing her to have vivid flashbacks of all the gruesome events that had transpired. Images upon images flooded her mind, restructuring the puzzle that had come about due to her amnesia. This process repeatedly continued till all the pieces aligned perfectly, the sharp tongued Asylum had her wish.

“There. I think you had your share of ice cream. Now this lemming shall go off to finish her reports. Let me know when we are going to have a real briefing. Ta!”

A cold pink liquid slowly trickled down Angel’s face, a face that didn’t appear to be too amused. As he recovered Lina’s memories XIII found himself being assaulted, the weapon of choice – strawberry ice-cream. “Was that really necessary, not that I mind a face full of premium Italian ice-cream,” As the Lost Number expressed his disdain, his tongue slowly took taste of the delicacy that his face had become.

“How dare filth strike him,” devoid of expression, soulless and empty these words echoed through the dining hall. The alchemic pressure around the bunker thickened rapidly, a forewarning of a Chrono’s wrath. The furniture, the décor, the cutlery and the food, all lay suspended in mid air for the laws of gravity had been undone.

“Now you have done it,” The Angel of Misfortune crowed softly, his head shaking in frustration. “Do you people have any idea of the gravity of this situation?” No longer able to keep it at bay, XIII burst out in a fit of laughter as his body, along with a multitude of other Asylum’s floated helplessly in mid-air. And being who is, Angel found this situation befitting of a long awaited pun.

“Executing…protocol…judgment,” Rin’s silhouette gradually began to draw near, engulfed in a poisonous aura which infecting all matter, organic and non-organic alike. As a result the plants slowly wilted and the walls began to corrode.

“Oh shit, Rin we are not authorized to use that protocol. Let’s all just calm down and talk about this, okay?” Judging from Angel’s flustered demeanor it seemed obvious that whatever the Chrono had said held immeasurable weight enough to make her nonchalant partner hesitant.

“Authorization has been granted, execution in process…” Angel’s words appeared to hold no significance; the Chrono was no longer responsive, an android of apathy gone raving mad. Even her tone seemed a kin to a program fulfilling a function. Upon the confirmation of her command, sigils suddenly began appearing on each Asylum’s forehead excluding her partner.

“Execution successful, implementing protocol judgment,” As soon as these words parted her mouth, the sigils began to glow an eerie crimson, the glow serving as a final count down before the ignition.

“Hey Rin, I forgot to give you something!” Angel suddenly screamed, loud enough for the Chrono to shift her focus to him. Her attention was all that was needed, with that accomplished XIII slowly opened his fist revealing a small ornament, a mobile phone charm. The trinket slowly drifted towards the Chrono in the zero gravity she had created, however the second it reached close enough for her to gauge it’s appearance, everything returned to normal.

Once the gravity suddenly shifted back to normal, nearly everything found its way falling to solid ground in a big mess.

“It seems I will need to explain a few things, so that everyone understand the position they are in,” Angel spoke once more, his casual nature instantly dismissing whatever had happened mere seconds ago as nothing more than a mild hiccup.

Once he successfully brushed the dust of his signature overcoat, the Asylum continued once more. As he spoke his words unleashed a subconscious psychic compulsion, a means to coarse undivided attention from everyone.

“First of all, I really didn’t mean any disrespect by what I said. Mainly because I do not have any respect for any of you, as such I really am not bothered if you respect me or not. You all have but one function, to play your roles,” As the Lost Number spoke, there was no doubt there was a strange charm in his words. While no doubt the Gemellie weren’t too keen on etiquettes, however they more than made up for this by their upfront and blunt attitudes.

Strangely enough the Chrono appeared to be content with having her partner take the reins; her attention had already narrowed itself solely on the trinket that Angel had presented to her. A trinket Rin adamantly tried to attach to the grip of her pistol. From its appearance this ornament looked like a small panda bear, stylized to stress on its cuteness a fact which appeared to enthrall the little Chrono.

“It is obvious that you all want an explanation, since each and every one of you is on borrowed time, I will provide it. First of all let me address Lina’s question. You said why would other Asylum teams be sent to assist us? Do not feed your ego child, you think A.M.R.O acknowledges your capabilities and sent you to assist…the Gemellie? The only purpose you all were sent was to be fodder.” As Angel concluded this last sentence, there appeared to be a strange cruelty in his tone, a cruelty that described the organization they all worked for.

“Do you all want to know an interesting fact, A.M.R.O called an investigation on each and every one of you. Why you ask? Well we have no idea exactly on whose authority you all were sent to this very mission. I am going to take this slow and easy, hopefully your all will register what I am about to say. There is an 87 % chance that A.M.R.O has a leak; there is an unwanted element within the ranks of this organization. This…should have been impossible. As you may all know, Asylum pairs are connected via a link. This link is a strong bond between the Asylums and through it they shares their sanity, their souls…everything. However each link is connected as well, this joint connection between all the Asylums is known as the “CODE”. As Asylums you can only comprehend the link, the code can only be read by the director and a select few. The existence of the code negates all possibilities of a traitor hiding amidst us, for the code is the true essence of all of you…..there is no margin for lies. A.M.R.O’s elite know more about you than you people know about yourselves.” A fiendish smirk slowly spread across Angel’s face, this short pause allowing his words to sink in.

“Now try to imagine that there is someone out there that can deceive the ‘CODE’. In essence this man is invisible, he is a threat and he is free to manipulate the most powerful organization that this world has ever seen, unchecked. He will also have access to secrets that can change the very foundation of the world we live in; Gadrael’s Sacrificial Alchemy is one of the more harmless secrets.” Taking yet another pause to unmount his coffin, the Crimson Asylum slowly stretched his muscles and sat down, leaning beside it.

“Now while many of you are crying as to why I allowed you all to face the likes of Gadrael unaided, let me assure you as amusing as I found it, it wasn’t my idea. While it is true that you all were bait to lure in Gadrael and his goons, but there was a greater purpose to it. So if you lot wish to complain please get an appointment with the Director, hopefully in another 20 years or so you may converse with his secretary.” With a smug look and an equally teasing smile, Angel scrutinized each and every one of the Asylum’s present.

“Now being the hounds of A.M.R.O you understand there are two choices follow orders or die. Personally I despise orders but I think ill dislike death more, however returning to the topic at hand, A.M.R.O suspected one of you to be the traitor. Based on what I have told you it’s actually pretty believable and as such it was ordered that a ‘mind sweep’ be carried out. A mind sweep is something like a telepathic interrogation, the only difference is you can’t really resist and there is no margin for error. However to sweep through an Asylum’s mind can take days, weeks and not to mention it is incredibly monotonous. However there is a cheat code to this, if an Asylum is pushed to the brink of death, a complete mind sweep is possible in a matter of minutes. You all must be familiar with the term, ‘my life flashed before my eyes’, well this term is basically your subconscious and conscious melding together and in this state of complete awareness a ‘mind sweep’ is a breeze. Now you all know why you were sent to your deaths, compliments of A.M.R.O. Also you all will be quite pleased to know, none of you is the traitor.” Slowly, dreary claps celebrated the Asylum’s freedom from suspicion, however the sarcastic nature of Angel’s applause seemed to tell another story.

“And then, everything got mucked up,” the clapping suddenly stopped, leaving the room in an uncomfortable silence. “Each and every one of you witnessed something you weren’t supposed to. Being Asylums I am sure each and everyone of you known’s the penalty of breaking the rules A.M.R.O has set. Do you know how secrets are kept secrets?” As Angel questioned the Asylums his hand slowly reached inside his coat, pulling out a worn out pistol, an unloaded Beretta 92.

“Secrets are kept secrets by disposing of all those that know what they aren’t supposed to know. This is how your employers have kept secrets for centuries, being soldiers who are supposed to follow orders I am guessing you know what this means?” As the Crimson Asylum hinted towards the inevitable end, his nimble fingers slowly loaded the pistol with .40 bullets.

“Each and everyone of you should have been killed in the outskirts, that is what A.M.R.O would have demanded, that is the law. If it was anyone else…. if it was me…..I would have taken this pistol and pumped all of your heads with bullets. And do you want to know the most amusing bit to this, none of you can say jack shit. As Asylums you abide by the laws of A.M.R.O, as hounds you accept the fate allotted to you, hence I am sure you are wondering, ‘why am I alive?’” As Angel questioned on behalf of the Asylum he cocked the pistol rather ferociously, this ruthlessly act juxtaposing his calm and casual demeanor.

“I do not need gratitude for I wasn’t the one that spared your lives, it was my partner,” As Angel spoke these words, a strange inflection in his tone showed clear signs of displeasure. His hands slowly brushed the Chrono’s head as she continued to tinker around with her trinket.

“A person that considers you trash went against the rules, despite being a Chrono, and allowed you all to live, a fleeting sense of security, do you know why she did this? She couldn’t care less about gratitude from any of you, that is the reason she didn’t even feel the need to mention it. ‘If trash fulfills its purpose, than even trash deserves to live. A meaningless death is for they who are meaningless.’ This is what my partner said to me, when I opposed her. By going against the laws set my A.M.R.O she has offered you all a fleeting life and instead she will take the brunt of A.M.R.O’s retaliation and for who, a lot she considers trash. Do you think, A.M.R.O will turn a blind eye to a Chrono, their most powerful soldiers, refusing to follow through with the law of A.M.R.O. The only reason you are all alive is because Reri agreed to make you her property, hence you fall out of A.M.R.O’s domain and into a Chronos. Regardless be assured, A.M.R.O will catch wind and Reri will be detained. All of you are on borrowed time, your lives are forfeit. So yes this is a reminder of the position you all are in. When there is no stalling A.M.R.O I will be your end, I will not let my partner be discomforted for the like of you. However there is another option and what I mean by that is, this is your only option.” With all that said, all cards were on the table, the Gemellie had told the Asylums everything they knew, much more than was needed.

“That option being, you follow my lies and deceit and prove your worth as Asylums hence removing the scrutiny that my partner will be forced to bear. The conditions cannot be revealed as they require you lot to work in the dark, in the end we are similar to A.M.R.O in that we will lie to you, we will deceive you and we will most likely send you all to your deaths. However we are different to A.M.R.O in that we will be blunt in our lies and deceits and they will always point you to the truth, the truth that A.M.R.O always keeps hidden from you. So pick your poison, i Gemellie de Demone…….

Or A.M.R.O and its Laws, in which case you can just unclip this magazine down your throats.” Angel had made his proposal clear, for those that wished for the latter the pistol that he had loaded and cocked rested atop the table.

“Oh and Siera, that hearing aid was actually a 180 thousand dollar worth bio-cybernetic and its will be coming out of your salary. You and your partner will probably be dirt poor for the next few months.”

~And there is that devilish smile again~

-deleted for now-

Fletcher watched the blood-draped angel's tirade patiently. He did his best to keep his face contorted in some manic expression but his ruthless mind was churning furiously. Alchemy was not something he had chosen. It had been thrust upon him with the alternative being death. It was actually a very similar situation to this one. And Fletcher didn't like it. He did, however, dislike dying far worse. It was actually a situation much like this one that had brought alchemy into his life. He wasn't quite sane enough to realize that this particular set of events might bring about something life-changing, as becoming part of an asylum had, but he was rational enough to know he wasn't about to choose a bullet to the head.

Isaiah looked at his partner with an inquisitive look. He often lamented their inability to communicate telepathically but any time Fletcher's true, true nature came out, as it had just minutes ago over an ice cream, Isaiah could see the benefits of not being mentally linked with the madman that was his partner. Isaiah did not get upset over the degrading nature of Angel's proposition, in truth he did not get angry over much these days, but he did fully comprehend the compromising situation it put him and his partner in. He also did not see a way out.

"So if we agree to work with you, kiss 'yer boots and all that, you'll get the AMRO off our backs. And I suppose that will make us indebted to your little playmate here - the Chrono?" Fletcher sing-songy voice was cut short by thinly veiled disgust at the idea of being indebted to anyone.

Isaiah stood, watching, as usual waiting for a response. Something to analyze to give him an edge. But before Angel or anyone else in the room could respond, Fletcher spoke again.

"Well then what are we waiting for? Let's go get some ice cream and be on our way!" Fletcher, done with the conversation, began to stroll out of the room. As he left, a final comment came drifting back towards the other Asylums,

"Ya know, I've heard that if you take alchemist blood and mix it with corn starch it makes a great syrup. I wonder where we can get some..."

The door to the room opened, and a huge man walked in, taller even than the Crimson Angel and more muscular, though not bulky. Over the orbital bone of his right eye was a thick black "C", the raven colour matching the mane of hair that tumbled down to his shoulderblades but somehow stayed out of his face. He wore a black, high-necked longcoat, open at the front, with black combat trousers and boots. A knife was sheathed at his hip, but the most eye-catching feature was the myriad of scars that adorned his bare upper body, each in the shape of a Sigil. Nearly all were simply raised white lines, but over his sternum were a set of red welts that delineated the Sigil of Healing.

Behind him came a petite woman, barely reaching her partner's ribcage, clad in a set of form-fitting, silvery-white armour with a whip coiled around her upper right arm and two knives at her hip. If one knew where to look, they might notice discreet valves, attached to hidden internal water pockets. As they entered the room, she hopped up onto her partner's left shoulder in a blur of acrobatics, sitting there with a giggle as he calmly walked across the room, not even acknowledging her presence on his person. As he sat down at the table, he sighed, then spoke in a thunderously deep voice.

"Of course, we would have to be walking by at the time when Forbidden Alchemy is mentioned. I suppose this means I'll be working with you now. For those who don't recognise me, I am Arcturus Rex, better known as Bloodclaw."

"And I'm Lucy. We generally get called the Relentless. Arc, over there - he hates being called that, by the way - might also be known to you as the 'three-street-dismemberment guy'. The cleanup crews were cursing his name for weeks."

She smiles impishly as Rex glares at her - the only expression he's shown so far - then hops down from his shoulder and walks over to the food. She begins to pile it up, and then suddenly throws a sausage over her shoulder at her partner, who catches it without even looking and calmly pops it in his mouth, revealing teeth that are... perhaps a little longer and sharper than usual. When Lucy comes back, she's holding two plates of food, one of which she hands to Rex before hopping back up onto his shoulder and starting to eat. Just as for almost the entire time he's been here, his expression doesn't change beyond the tiniest movements of a few muscles as he once again ignores her antics and starts consuming his meal.

About halfway through, he stops eating, frowns, puts a hand to his stomach, and then sighs and looks at Lucy, whose eyes just sparkle back at him in merry amusement. The Sigil of Healing on his chest glows gold for a moment, then seals up into a scar somewhat thicker than the others with a faintly sickening organic noise.

"I would appreciate you not poisoning my food."

Placing his cutlery down, he draws his knife and, quite calmly, as if it's an everyday thing, begins recarving the Sigil into the skin of his chest, opening up the scarlines about half in inch deep. His expression doesn't so much as twitch once, as if he doesn't even feel it. Once he's done, he cleans his knife on a napkin, sheathes it, and goes straight back to eating.

-------‘Just don’t listen. Just ignore it. None of our business.’

This suggestion, tapped quietly on the table in Morse to Don’s mute partner as the younger Asylum grew curiouser and curiouser of the goings on of their company in the cafeteria by the minute, held absolutely no standing when gravity quite abruptly decided to stop working. Suspended in the air and hoping Niel was close enough to hear him, Don muttered irately, “Maybe next time I feel like skipping breakfast you won’t bother me about being bored.”

Several long, irksome moments later, they were dropped from their suspension. The blind Asylum heard his cane fall near him and grabbed it up quickly. As he felt around for a seat not covered in an unrecognizable glob of food, he heard Niel’s response tapped out to him.

‘I’m not bored anymore.’

“Jesus fucking Christ, Niel…” This irate muttering was more to himself than to Niel. He felt around in his pocket for a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. Whether Niel understood the situation at hand, the situation they had gotten themselves into simply by coming to breakfast this morning, was fairly irrelevant. When something piqued Niel’s interest he ran with it, consequences aside; and apparently this travesty had piqued his interest.

Niel frowned at Don’s scowl, at his own reflection in the mirrored sunglasses always worn by his partner. ‘Calm down. Can’t avoid it anyway. We heard.’

It was rare than anyone other than Don could decipher how quickly he tapped out Morse anymore. With it being his primary means of communication for the past several years he had grown very adept with it; and Don was at least as adept at translating. Their communication barrier with others had prevented the two of them from becoming very familiar with any other Asylums. Their team name was known by a few but not their individual names. The casual “hello” by a passerby in the halls was a rare, nigh unknown occurrence to Niel. He hated it. Any social interaction was fine by him, even interaction with fellow death-row inmates.

Don managed to light his cigarette, take a puff, and blow a smoke ring at his partner. “You’re still too eager for my liking.”

‘You heard the guy. We buy in with the Chrono. We eat bullets for dessert. I pick “probably” over “definitely.” You?’ Don sighed. ‘Be reasonable.’

“Reason went out the window when we joined this lot,” Don muttered. Niel knew he didn’t mean it. Their business with A.M.R.O kept them busy. Keeping busy kept him sane, and he knew Don more than well enough to know the same was true of him. Further proving his point, Don stood and started toward the other table, following the sound of their voices. Niel hurried silently after him, tucking his ponytail into his scarf. If Don’s temper made things get ugly then he wasn’t going to walk into this unprepared.

As the other team that had just joined the table, Niel took an empty seat, and tapped the table to his left to indicate to Don that it was unoccupied here.

As Don took his seat, he ran a hand back through his dark brown hair, ensuring it was smoothed back, and straightened his tie and smoothed his white dress shirt. A quick, subtle wave of his hand after this confined the smoke from his cigarette to dissipate within his own personal space. Be curt, be courteous, be presentable. These were maybe the only useful things he had ever learned from his father.

Niel was a stark contrast to Don’s own clean cut, tie-and-cufflinks sort of visage. Niel wore his black hair long, in a lose ponytail that was generally tucked into the thin, breathable scarf covering half of his face. His black, sleeveless muscle shirt, black cargo pants, and beaten and dirty combat boots screamed unprofessional so loudly it was likely earsplitting to his polished partner. Niel considered it more practical; he was more likely to be fighting than sitting around in a stuffy meeting room with a bunch of high-strung businessmen, so looking the part made sense.

“Donagh Murrough. You might have heard me referred to as ‘Smoker.’ I prefer Don.” He nodded to his right. “Niel Lynch.”

‘Tell them I prefer “sexy beast.”’ Don ignored his partner’s tapping.

“Ríoghnach, at your service. I’m pretty accustomed to all this wrong-place-wrong-time bull so I’m not arguing if our overhearing involved us. Niel here can’t talk. He communicates through Morse code. I interpret. Don’t bother asking him to carry a notepad, he won’t.” Niel shrugged and nodded to confirm this. He could never keep track of pens and gave up trying as the only person he generally communicated with on a regular basis couldn’t see. “I’m blind, as I’m sure you can see if you’re not, but I can get around fine or I wouldn’t even be here.” He took a drag on his cigarette, and spoke his last in a cloud of smoke that billowed around his head and shoulders. “That’s it.”

Barnabas watched and analyzed the events unfolding before him; the insults from the Crimson Asylum and his young Chrono partner, the retorts from the other Asylums (one of them appeared to raving mad), and finally the gravity being turned off by the young Chrono. When this happened, Barnabas relaxed and allowed himself to be lifted into the air by the young girl’s alchemy, but Alice cursed loudly as she was lifted into the air in the middle of her meal; when the sigils appeared on their foreheads, the twins looked at one another in surprise, taking in the nature of their predicament. Barnabas had started to reach for his pistol just as the gravity was turned back on thanks to the older of the Gemelie distracting his partner with what appeared to be a cell phone charm. Both twins managed to land on their feet, Barnabas slightly off balance where he was reaching for his pistol.

Once they were seated again and back in the arms of gravity, the Crimson Aslyum began going on about how everyone in this room were dead men and women walking and were in the debt of of the young girl for breaking the laws of AMRO in order to save all of them; the Crimson Asylum also went on to explain that anyone who even heard his words were now in the same boat as those he mentioned. At these last words, Alice turned to Barnabas with his eyebrows knitted together in a look of anger.

”This is your fault, Barny,” Alice sent telepathically to her brother.

Barnabas turned away from the scene and fixed Alice with a look of utter bewilderment. His fault!?

”My fault!? How is this my fault? I was in the middle of figuring out where the Asylums would be when your stomach growled and you said, ‘Food sounds good, Barny. Let’s go to the cafeteria anyway’. If this is anyone’s fault, it’s yours, but I like to think this is no one’s fault as this turn of events could not have been foreseen, even by me.”

Alice gave Barnabas one last glare before focusing her attention on the Gemelie again, waiting to see what they would have to say now. Barnabas, on the other hand turned his attention to the other Asylums, taking them, their appearances, names, actions, and their abilities (if they showed them) in and making mental notes of all of them.