Battle I

---

Olivia’s plans and tactics, if ever there was such a thing, were falling into place. However, it all seemed a blur to her, more than anything else. Combat was one of those aspects of life that she was unsure of how she felt. Olivia did not feel anything; she was completely blank—ruthless, distant, and frigid. These creatures were nothing but insects that had invaded her world, her home, and murdered the love of her life—Samuel. This was not combat, this was vengeance.

The detestable beast lashed its horrid tail about in desperation, unable to properly distinguish the silhouettes of the world around it. Olivia stepped away from the raptor (alpha), while pushing a bantam button on Cerberus that forced it to transform into gun-mode, and took aim at the repugnant creature. At the squeeze of Olivia’s finger, her weapon unleashed a hailstorm of pallets that penetrated the raptor’s leathery skin. The thing shrieked, as oily tar-like blood gushed forward from the wounds. Olivia approached the creature once more, as Cerberus transformed back into its blade-mode. A single strike sailed her being and cut the raptor in half, which caused it to utter an unpleasant gurgling sound and give up its breath.

Olivia turned around to see where Remi was and if the other raptors had gotten to him. She noticed that Jyn had joined him on the left flank, engaging the creatures that converged on Remi. Once again, Olivia vanished in a booming sound of lighting and instantly reappeared by one of the raptors (beta) that were engaging Jyn and Remi. As the creature became blinded by the flash, Olivia followed up with a strong gust of air that kicked it away from her and into the pile of raptors that were held up by Thael, Freddy, and Kim.

“One for the mosh pit!” Olivia shouted. She then unleashed a flurry of three strikes from her weapon at Raptor Delta, which responded by viciously assaulting her with a powerful leap, pushing Olivia to the ground on her back.

The Battle
Emily was towards the back of the group; she didn't see them until several of the others had already stopped in their tracks. She recognized these creatures, vaguely. They weren't uncommon, she knew. They looked bigger than she'd imagined, though, and the way they burbled and hissed and raked their tiny limbs along the ground made her shiver. Before Olivia had begun to speak, Emily drew her batons and slid them together, twisting until they clicked and the rest of the staff slid into place. She could hear the spirits whispering, in her mind, chattering incessantly just beyond the reach of her consciousness. She imagined they were eager for whatever these things called blood.

¨“Okay,” Olivia began. “So, this stuff basically tells us when they are dead… and… uhm…,” she pondered, as she attempted to comprehend the device on the spot. “…right, yeah, weaknesses and such things.” Olivia put the tagger gun away when everyone had seen what they had to, and then drew her fusion gunblade out of its holster, which was dangling across her buttocks. “Remember your training, and remember the Academy’s rules of engagement and combat guidelines, and we’ll be fine,” Olivia said.

Emily was struck again by the feeling that she ought to be scared. She wasn't. She was nervous, yes, but also a little eager - like it was the moment before an important performance. She felt like she was about to prove herself, and that was what she wanted to do most desperately. If the fight went well, that would mean all her training and skill really had paid off. It would mean she could handle herself. She wasn't sure why that mattered, when really her life was in danger, but it didn't feel like she was in any real danger. It just felt like she had a job to do, to prove herself. It felt like this was how things were supposed to go.

They raptors and the humans were closing the distance now. Emily broke into a jog to keep up but stayed towards the back of the group as the fighting began. She didn't want to face one of these things in a fair fight - that was never the way to go. With the others already engaging the Chaos wouldn't do much good. Too much confusion, too hard to maintain focus and she'd have to try it on each of the creatures one by one. No, she needed to approach things from a more conventional angle. That didn't mean attacking head on, no, but... Emily smiled. She knew what to do. There were no buildings or doors here, no openings she could warp and abuse to force the creatures into them, but if you had the ability to alter the physics of an area, your options were rarely limited by terrain. You just made it into whatever you needed.

One of the 'morphs bonded towards her, gibbering and flailing its tail. Emily paced backwards, but let it approach, focusing on the road beneath it. As it crossed within a few meters of her, the terrain began to shift and bubble. The creature stumbled and tripped, flipping over itself and falling, eye-carapace first onto what was now an incredibly flexible, rubberized surface. It sank into it for a moment, like a child landing on a trampoline, before it rebounded and flung the creature violently into the air. Emily watched it fly maybe ten or fifteen meters over her head. She stepped forward onto the ground where it had fallen, which was rapidly reverting to its usual state, and held her staff aloft.

The raptor impaled itself, giant opalescent eyepiece first, on the end of the bo. It chattered and squeaked in agony as Emily pulled the weapon from the wound. She felt good, she realized. She felt like she was powerful, like she was in control. She waited to see if it moved, ready to deliver a killing stroke if her attack hadn't done the job.

♥♦♣♠— The Battle - Kat and Roy —♥♦♣♠

Everything was heating up and in the moment, as Aaron dove in, then Thael and Freddy, and then the rest followed suit, Roy was getting worked up; the ground beneath him shook with anticipation. All he could muster up was a quiet whimper at Kat the moment Mags jumped to their side. He was soon regretting his decision to stay, but his mind and his eyes wandered toward Aaron. If they'd both left, that'd mean Kat would be in some deep raptor dung. He couldn't do that to her.

His feet shuffled along the ground and he nudged Kat with his elbow. "Ready, Kat?" Roy asked. He gave a flourish of his rapier and smirked. Out of everyone so far, Roy planned the least and improvised the most. However, the situation probably didn't call for improvisation, especially with the time and opening they were currently being given. Every raptor, so far, was distracted by the majority of the group and some where on the verge of death. He heard the pained screech of a raptor sliced through by Olivia and the boom that followed, along with the aggressive screeches as Thael jumped into a pack of them. Roy couldn't help but nudge Kat further, urging her to act. "Come on, Kat, I'm itching to go," he whined, the ring of earth beneath them grumbling.

"Just tell me what you want and I'll give it to you."

Kat scanned over the battle, watching as her friends sprung into action. Eventually, most of the raptors were grouped up and weakened. They were all distracted, Kat's decision to hold off worked very nicely. It helped that her friends were loud and in the way as well. Roy nudged her, and then nudged her again. He was ready to fight, and so was she. They had waited long enough, any more and they'd have nothing left to kill.

"Yeah, yeah. Let's do this." She said, smiling.

"Think you can cook up a quick rainstorm over all of 'em?"

As she spoke the water surrounding the two flowed upwards, dividing into three long streams. In an instant, they froze. Going from flowing water to rigid ice.

"On it, Kit Kat," Roy said, giving her a cheeky grin. He gave a thumbs up to Mags, hoping she'd get any of the stragglers that fled Kat's soon to be ice field.

Running forward, he ducked underneath the ice streams as the earth erupted under Kat. The ice cracked from bottom to top before a gust of wind propelled itself far into the air, following above Roy as he trailed the edge of the battle. Using his momentum, he flung himself forward, a black hole materializing in his path. The moment he was sucked through, another appeared high above the battlefield, where the gusts of air propelled him further up. Around him dark clouds formed, dipping lower and expanding higher and father until lightning cracked from its nebulous form and thunder boomed miles outward. The hammerhead shaped cloud surrounding the battlefield, going no further than the length of a football field in circumference. Almost as soon as it grew from nothing, rain flew down in torrents, coating the battlefield in water and mud.

Falling faster than he'd expected, Roy curled up, falling through another dark portal and shooting out a few yards behind Kat. He underestimated the speed he was going and slid far from her, a mischievous smirk on his lips as he gave her a thumbs up. In those seconds, Roy had been soaked completely to the bone and looked more like he'd been taking a swim in the ocean than having gone flying through the air.

"I'd say we're good to go," he called out, giving his mini-thunderstorm a good look, "What do you say Kat?"

Roy's display of power was flashy, to say the least. Kat smiled as he flung himself through the air, ended up high in the sky, and created a downpour. She had always enjoyed watching him work, he was always full of surprises. As the rain started, Kat looked away from Puck at to the clouds above her. The water pouring out of them came down fast. Just before it hit her, the droplets streamed to either side and landed on the ground beside her. One perk of water spirits was never having to carry an umbrella.

"Well done, love."

Roy's storm had done everything she wanted and more. Within moments the battlefield, and all its participants were soaked. Now it was her turn. She took a step forward and raised her hands. The slick water coating the raptors began to freeze, ice crystals blossomed all over their skin and spread quickly. Kat closed her eyes to focus more, freezing this many targets was a bit of a challenge. The horrid raptors movements slowed, and then most stopped completely. Once the task was complete, the three ice shards flew forward at the group, imapling three of the frozen raptors. (Sigma, Omega, Omicron)

---

Post-Battle I

---

Total Gil: 2416
Individual Gil: 220+500

When the Raptors had been taken down, the friends could finally catch their breaths. Not that the confrontation was major, but combat always took its toll on people no matter what its extent. They had all performed beautifully, and they did not spare any expenses when it came to unleashing their full potential. Olivia made a quick headcount and everyone seemed to be intact, for the time being. Simultaneously, a text-message pop up on Olivia’s phone, through the WARG application’s closed message board, which stated that five hundred Gil had been transferred to everyone’s accounts, as payment for ‘significant contributions towards the war effort.’ However, being compensated for her work was the least of her concerns—in fact; anything other than Olivia’s infuriation towards one person in particular did not exist in her conceptions. The slender brunette approached Aaron with determined steps, each foot extending in front of the other as far as it possibly could. Her facial expression was no longer that of warmth and altruism, but of fury and concern. She stopped right in front of the boy, her nose not an inch away from the heat of his body, staring him down with a heavy pant. Then it happened, instantly; Olivia’s lower palm barreled across Aaron’s cheek in a fierce blow bound to leave a reddish mark.

SMACK!

“And just what the fuck were you thinking?!” Olivia shouted at the top of her lungs. “Huh?!” she continued; “Do you want to get yourself killed, is that it?! I don’t give a shit how angry you are; we are all fucking angry! I’m calling the damn shots here, whether you like it or not, and if you ever pull a stunt like that again, I’ll kill you myself! You got that?!” Olivia exclaimed—her position as Captain forcefully falling into a questionable place—sore in her throat from all the screaming. Before the poor boy could properly retort, Olivia turned her back on him: “I don’t want to hear it, Aaron,” she said, sheathed her gunblade and began to rapidly walk towards Doral, which was within their sights; “Come on… let’s just get this over with,” Olivia finished. She was not angry about Aaron’s insubordination, but rather his reckless behavior and the fact that he could have been seriously injured. She would not have been able to live with herself if he would have died on their first mission, during their first battle. It would have been too much to bear and she would have blamed herself, which was something that she did not desire.

Olivia did not feel quite alright with shouting at one of her friends like that, least of all Aaron. She had no idea where this alien feeling came from, or what it was, but it did a number on her stomach as well as her head. The moment made her retrospect on times that were different and less complicated; it was about a year ago, when the friends visited Ascalon Isles. With every passing minute and hour of the present, this long forgotten past became ever so brighter.

---

Flashback: Ascalon Isles ***

---

It was the summer prior to the friends’ current endeavors as members of the Special Warfare and Reconnaissance Group. Olivia had been hard at work for several months with attempting to get them all together and do something. Whenever there seemed to be an opportunity, someone had a prior commitment or obligation. It nearly drove her mad, but when the physical school year was over and done with, there was one week on which all the friends were available. However, a simple drainpipe waterslide event would not do; Olivia had to conjure something with more grandeur, which is when she suggested a trip to the Ascalon Isles. None of the friends had ever been there before, so it appeared to be an excellent idea, even if traveling there was a bit pricey. In the end, however, Olivia convinced the friends that they could hitchhike on a cargo ship from Haddon, Niaux to Poeiras, and then to a tiny fishing village named Sintra, where they would be able to stay for next to nothing and still enjoy the sun and the warm waters. On the second day of their vacation, the friends finally got around to relaxing.

Olivia was quite used to tanning herself during the summers, even if she thought it extremely boring. In her other circle of friends, which consisted of shallow, materialistic cyprians like Britney Farron, it was almost a requirement—if you returned to school without a tan after the summer, you clearly had no life whatsoever. As much as Olivia enjoyed being herself, she had to keep up with appearances at school, which is why gracing at the beach was the top priority. Besides, Sintra had little to offer in terms of activity or tourism: there was a wooden jetty, a few huts to sleep in, a restaurant-bar with a television set, and a beach—that was it, however more than enough for Olivia to enjoy. Naturally, some of the boys were hanging around the bar a lot; not only for the alcohol, as the legal drinking age in Ascalon was eighteen, but also because the World Series was wrapping up with the semi-finals. It was difficult to believe that they were vacating during a war with an extraterrestrial race. The Ascalon Isles were so far away from the rest of the world that it had barely been touched by the tragedies. It was surreal to say the least.

Olivia was lying on the west end of the village, squeezing every second out of the sun. She had been half asleep for a couple of hours, so she did not know what the others were up to, however she could hear some noise from the water, and some silent chatter in the background, and screaming and shouting from the bar—the game was on. Olivia yawned and seated herself in an upright position, unsure of what time it was. “Ughh… what time is it?” Olivia asked whoever was close by. It could not have been more than four or five in the afternoon, but one could never be sure in Ascalon Isles, as the sun barely set during the evenings. This particular night the friends had agreed to make a fire on the beach, with plenty to drink and marshmallows to eat, and just talk until dawn.

---

Doral ***

---

By the time that the friends arrived in Doral, the dark weather had caught up with them and heavy rain was descending. It was if night had obtruded upon day and consumed its light, even if it was just late afternoon. The town was busy with motion, back and forth, down and up shady alleys and streets. Doral was not exactly a safe place to be, least of all at night. It was the heaven for a multitude of suspicious characters and businesses. Not even its Mayor adhered to the common laws regarding intoxicating substances and other semi-illegal activities. The friends immediately made their way to the harbor, where the harbormaster informed Olivia that the Norton Naval Vessel had not yet arrived, but was bound to dock within thirty minutes. Completely soaked, Olivia returned to her friends at the end of the pier: “The boat from Norton will be here in thirty minutes. Since we don’t know what we’ll run into over there, I suggest that we do some shopping before we depart; we’ll meet here in twenty-five minutes,” Olivia instructed.

As the friends slowly scattered, Olivia gently placed her hand on Aaron’s arm to indicate that she wanted him to stay for a second. The brunette stood silent for a moment, eyebrows pushed together in a concerned expression, eyes staring deeply into the boy’s. “Look, Aaron…,” Olivia sighed, “I didn’t mean to give you a hard time back there… it’s just that… I can’t lose you, or anyone else… I just can’t,” she said. “If I do, I’ll probably go insane and kill myself… so, please… don’t do stuff like that again, if not for yourself and the others, then for me. Okay?” Olivia asked. The girl gently put her palm on Aaron’s cheek, where she had hit him; stroking it ever so slightly. “I know how you feel about everything… about Sam… I do as well; and there’s nothing else I’d rather do than to destroy the world for him, but I can’t do that… we just can’t,” she finished. Olivia waited in silence for the boy to say what he had to say.

Later…

When everything was said and over with, Olivia needed some time alone. She stuck to the main streets of the town, as she did not want to get into any trouble with the local scumbags. However, it was exceedingly difficult to stroll down the busy boulevard without getting bumped into by peculiar and suspicious individuals, and disgusting, old fat men who muttered foul words as they ogled Olivia. To get away from the disturbing strive, she slipped into a small pharmacy that appeared to have fewer customers than the other shops. “Madam’s Pharmacy” it was called. An old woman was standing behind the counter, who appeared to be in her sixties, at least. She smiled at Olivia as the brunette entered the shop.

“Hello. How are you today, young girl?” the woman said, which seemed suspiciously nice. Olivia hesitated for a moment before she answered.
“…I’m fine, thank you.”
“What can I do for you?” the woman continued.
“Do you have any sales going?”
“No, I’m afraid we don’t.”
“Okay, no problem—I’ll have an ‘Elixir’ and three ‘Potions,’ please,” Olivia said. The woman proceeded to retrieve the items requested and put them in a small, green plastic bag, and then she tapped on the register to input the purchase.
“That’ll be six hundred and fifty Gil,” the woman said. Olivia swiped her card in a tiny, black machine on the counter, which registered and withdrew the amount indicated. She could not help but to notice that the woman was staring at her, which she finally responded by starting right back.
“Forgive my asking, but are you here all by yourself?” the woman inquired.
“No, I’m here with some friends. We’re from Oakridge,” Olivia replied.
“Aha—the military academy?”
“Yup...,” Olivia said while writing a text on the closed message board: Picked up Elixir and 3 Potions.
“That’s nice. We could certainly use some of your fine soldiers patrolling these streets.”
“I’m getting that, as well,” Olivia said, put her phone away and shot a glance at the street outside, which was riddled with dirty, worn-down people.
“Oh well, thank you for stopping by, please come again,” the woman finished.
“Thank you, I will.”

---

The Boat

---

To their astonishment, the vessel from Norton City arrived exactly when the Doral harbormaster said it would. The vessel itself was a military grade patrol vessel, however in a questionable shape. Thick, strings of rust could be seen coming down, vertically, on the port and starboard sides of the hull. The cannon at the bow, which had probably malfunctioned ages ago, were covered by a green-bluish tarpaulin in order to disguise the ship as non-military from the air. The lower interior of the vessel did not have much to offer: there were a couple of bunk beds, a tiny kitchen, and a table around which one could gather to eat and talk. The boat-ride was utmost uncomfortable. It was extremely warm; the boat-engine uttered a deep, mind-numbing humming sound, and the motion from the sea added insult to injury. The friends had to endure these conditions for six hours, which felt an eternity, yet many times faster than it would have taken them to travel to Norton City by train.

Olivia had attempted to take a nap, but it was nearly impossible. She stumbled outside onto the deck for a quick breather. They were four hours into their trip, and the time had passed eight P.M. When she floundered inside again, she made her way to the tiny table and slid herself into the wall-mounted seats. “Is anyone making dinner? Should we eat something?” She inquired, addressing whoever was awake and nearby.

“Carry me? I’m not your daughter, Kim.”

No. No she definitely was not his daughter. Had she been, Kimberly’s doting parent skill would have activated and he would have carried Olivia the entire way. Even before that, Kimberly would not have allowed his daughter to join a military force of any kind. He’d have a full-scale tantrum at the mere mention of it. He would cry, whine, flail his arms around, and stomp his feet to the ground. It would not be pretty, but he wouldn’t care. He would do the most pathetic things if it meant he could keep Samuela out of harm’s way. He wouldn’t ---couldn’t--- risk loosing her too.

Olivia continued, “save your strength for whatever horrible things we’re going to encounter… over there, if there’s anything left at all.”

He nodded silently. Olivia was a full-grown woman and a soldier: she knew her body more than anyone else. It might have been rude to even make the offer.

“I got to hand it to you, Kim.” Kimberly heard his roommate say, “you sly dog.” He was sure whatever his hallucination was going to say next wouldn’t be good. “Why don’t you just grab Vi’s ass instead of doing it the round about way, huh? I’m sure she’d love a direct man.”

Kimberly sighed deeply and for the first time since that morning, actually turned to look directly as his imaginary acquaintance’s face. Kimberly glared at the tall black haired, dark eyed, man ---Ghost--- in casual wear. The man looked surprised that Kimberly had stopped ignoring him, for a moment, then smiled in a mischievous, Roy-ish kind of way. Really?

“What? As in, Vi loves it when men grabs her ass?... Uh… Sure! Yeah! Totally. Go for it! Let’s make Ron jealous!”
You know that’s not what I mean.
“Really? With the s**t that goes on in your head, I wouldn’t be surprised.”
That s**t is you.
“Okay fine. Yeah, I’m the one who wants to grab Vi’s ass. Have you seen it? Oh, what am I saying, of course you have! You see everyone’s ass when you’re pretending to guard them from behind.”
I---…
“Shhh!” Ghost placed his fingers over Kimberly’s lips, “let me dream.” He stood next to Kimberly. He grabbed the farthest shoulder he could reach and extended his free hand out in front of them. He wiped the invisible window, bringing forth a miniature-sized image of the group, excluding Kimberly. “Imagine… recall… look back on it, Kim. Just… observe their asses…. Catch every detail. The shape, the size, how they move…” When Ghost caught Kimberly giving him a dirty look, he quickly forced Kimberly to look at the image again, “look at them damn it! This is a very serious matter! What do you see?”
Considering how you zoomed in the image onto their hindquarters, I will have to say I see their butts.
“Yes! Their glorious… beautiful buttocks. When you look at them… what do you feel? Preferably something that involves the nether regions.”

They make me feel like we are well trained? Everyone looks in shape. No one is walking weird… well, I was worried about Thael and Royce though. I think they might have overdone it last night. Oh… and then there was Fred at one point, but I think it passed. Man, now I feel like a jerk for singling out Olive. She’s a soldier and our leader and I go out and ask if she wants to be carried? Yeah, way to go Kimberly. That should show everyone how competent she is! Damn it! I hope I didn’t embarrass her… Holy s**t! Did I almost sexually harass Olive in front of Aaron!? Wow, I’m officially a jerk… And why are you crying about this?

Ghost sniffed as he made every attempt to hold his tears back, “I… just realized… I’m going to be sexually frustrated as long as you’re around…” He grabbed both of Kimberly’s shoulders, “why Kim!? What the f**k is wrong with you!?”
What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with you!?
“What’s wrong with me? Are you really asking that question!?”
Uh… yes?
“Fine! I’ll tell you what’s wrong!” Ghost gestured Kimberly’s attention to the spirits hovering around them, “you see these guys? They’re called spirits. Most of them are animal spirits. You know. Animals? At one point in time they were alive. There might be some animals astral projecting, but I can’t tell the difference. It doesn’t matter. What matters is what they do. And what do living things do? They f**k each other. The males’ peni---…”
OKAY! Okay, I get it. I don’t need that lesson from you.
“The point is, these spirits know what sex is. Unlike humans, however, animals tend to do it in specific seasons. All the same species get into heat around the same time. Now that they’re dead, there’s no body to distinguish them. To them, their host’s allies are their own kind. So…” Ghost suddenly teleported in front of Aaron, “every time Ron drools over Vi.” He appeared next to Thael, then Royce, “every time these two love birds F**K OR EVEN TEASE EACH OTHER!” Finally he pointed accusingly at Fredrick, “AND EVERY TIME RICK GETS A HARD ON JUST THINKING ABOUT JARED.” By the time Ghost returned to his original position, he was yelling at Kimberly, “THESE SPIRITS START TO GET F**KING ROWDY, BECAUSE THEY THINK IT’S MATING SEASON. AND FOR SOME WEIRD ASS REASON, THEIR PSEUDO-HORNINESS COMPLETELY BYPASSES WHATEVER PART OF THE BRAIN IT IS THAT SENDS THE MESSAGE TO YOUR DICK. AND SINCE YOU WON’T DO ANYTHING ABOUT IT, IT JUST GOES TO ME! I’M LEFT WITH A CROWD OF ANIMAL SPIRITS IN PSEUDO-HEAT WHILE YOU’RE COMPLETELY OBLIVIOUS TO IT ALL!” Ghost burst into tears and dropped down to his knees, “why Kim? WHY!?” He grabbed Kimberly’s hips and looked directly at his crotch, whispering to it, “why won’t you work?”
Kimberly shoved his roommate away. Please don’t talk to my crotch. The ghost simply collapsed to the ground, crying.

The sound of Fredrick’s voice brought Kimberly back to the real world. “F**k that noise, Kim. She’s just being a f**king bum. Come on, climb this tree with me. We can talk and bond as men or some bullshit like that. Make friendship bracelets out of flowers like a couple gay little hippies.”

Ghost’s head shot up, “yes! That’s cool! You know what hippies believe in? Free love. Hey, I’m not picky! You can totally do Rick!”
Kimberly frowned at Ghost as Fredrick dragged him to the tree.

While Kimberly struggled to climb the tree, he could hear Ghost complaining in the background. When Kimberly had the chance to glance over, he saw Ghost yelling at Aaron’s face, “kiss her, you fool! I can’t take any more of this! Just get it over with!” With how he yelled, Kimberly wondered if the hallucination owed part of its personality to Fredrick.

Right when the two situated themselves to a branch of their own, Fredrick’s snapped in half. Kimberly reached his hand towards his friend, but failed to grab him in time. He winced as he saw Fredrick land to the ground. Luckily the little man did not seriously injure himself and quickly returned to the tree: this time taking a seat in Kimberly’s lap.

“Hope this doesn’t make you uncomfortable. If it does, f**king deal with it. You’re shockingly comfortable despite all the armor and I need to talk to you.”
Kimberly shook his head, ignoring Ghost’s wolf whistle.
“Alright. So, I guess, hey, hi, how’s it going, Kim? Everything’s going good up there? You’ve been taking your meds and seeing your therapist?”
Kimberly smiled inwardly. Almost everyone in this group worried about everyone else. “Yes. Mom.”
“This isn't a fucking joke, okay man!… I get enough bullshit from the others, please tell me you’re not getting lazy about taking care of yourself! I swear by all that is holy, unholy and everything in between that if you aren’t taking care of yourself I will uproot this tree and use it to REALLY fucking bond you with nature!”
Ghost hovered passed the two and grinned at the thought, “Kinky.”
Kimberly was ready to roll his eyes, when Fredrick’s expression told him he had done something wrong. “What?"
“Huh…? What?”
“Holy hyperchrist Kim, you aren’t taking your meds aren’t you?”
“Yes… I… have been.”
“I call bullshit.”
“I have… They just… don’t work some times… The meds.”
“What?”
“I take them… but I can still see ‘him’… He won’t go away…”

Ghost crossed his arms together, “oh? So now it’s my fault that the meds don’t work?”
That’s not what I said.
“I can read between the lines.”
Well, if you are willing to take the blame, I won’t stop you.

“I’m...sorry. Shit man, I shouldn’t yell at you. You have enough on your mind, you don’t need me being the giant dicknarbler I am and spewing vocal shit from my throat at you.”
Kim smiled reassuring, at least tried to, but he was sure it looked horrific. He appreciated Fredrick’s concern and knew that he yelled at his friends, because he cared. “Worrywart…”
“Hell fucking yeah I'm a worry wart. You're my friend. Fucking forgive me if I occasionally show concern! Look, it's just, you've...been through a lot. I mean, for one…look, we...we really never talked about...about fucking Nancy, have we?”

Nancy.

A woman with latte colored braided hair works intently on a metallic contraption. She is so focused that she doesn’t notice anything else. She smudges oil on to her face. Only a firm tap on her shoulder pulls her away from her work. Her turquoise widen in surprise, then softens. Her smile disappears when she notices her reflection on the mirror presented to her. She blushes. She laughs as she tries to put some oil on him for laughing.

His wife.

“Do you have to go?”
“This is my chance to prove myself… If I do this… no one will remember me as the deserter’s daughter. They won’t think I’m a spy or a coward who will run at the slightest hint of danger.”
She smiles, “the fact that they even want me… is a huge improvement. I want to take it to the next step.”
“If this works out… maybe…” Samuela coos in her arms, “we can finally be together…”
“It’ll only be for a year.”

Was dead.

According to the reports, Nancy died during a xenomorph attack. One of them had managed to sneak into one of the most secured military facilities and only killed Nancy before disappearing into thin air. Nathaniel, Kimberly’s first cousin once removed, was the first to find her body. Despite what anyone said, Kimberly did not believe them: she couldn’t have died. When the body was finally presented to him, he did not cry. He did not even feel particularly sad. Instead, a void the size of a pinhole punched its way through his heart. Though he did not cry at the sight of his wife’s body, or with Nathaniel when he begged for forgiveness, or at Nancy’s funeral, it was the small and subtle things that made the pinhole void grow larger. Such as the extra toothbrush, her favorite mug, not having to buy the disgusting snack that only she loved, Nancy’s voice mail, her unfinished gadgets, and her empty room. All of it.

It took months for him to finally crack. When Kimberly went back home, Samuela started to cry for no particular reason. His daughter would not stop crying no matter what he did. She stopped crying the second Kimberly gave her something with her mother’s scent on it. Then it hit him: “They” took someone away from him again. His parents. Samuel. Now Nancy. The world always had to take someone away from Kimberly. And he could never prevent it from happening. Everyone he cared for was going to leave him behind. It was a miracle that he hadn’t lost his grandparents and friends yet.

“Sorry, I...I fucking know I’m being tactless right now. Look, it’s just...fuck, how do I say this? Sorry, sorry, you know me. I’m always shoving my foot through my own ass out my throat and into my mouth, and trust me when I say it tastes like shit. It’s just…Kim, I...we all remember losing Sam. The one that I’m five thousand percent sure you named your daughter after. Look...back then, I...I wasn’t so close to anyone. You remember. I was just that fucking angry asshole with the scars that made a few people cry by yelling at them too much. The one that was always shrieking to get his way and generally being terrible. So when Sam died, I...I felt alone. I felt like I had nothing left in the world and I made a mistake. A mistake that left just one more scar and that didn’t fix anything.””

A mistake.

Kimberly’s head began to hurt. Disjointed images flashed through his mind.

Red all over the place. It seeps through the dress. The blond hair. It keeps flowing out of the body. Can’t stop it. The screams, the destruction, the pain, the light: they all start to fade away into the distance. Someone calls someone’s name. That person comes closer---…

“Just...promise me you won’t do anything stupid, okay? If you’re hurting inside, talk to me. You’re my friend, my good friend. It’s my fucking job to be there for you, and nothing, I swear fucking nothing, is going to stop me from doing my god damned job.”

“What… what kind of…mistake…?” Kimberly didn’t realize he has asked the question out loud until Fredrick responded with, “a fucking bad one.”

The smaller man stared straight at the giant, “promise me.”
Kim hesitated before nodding slightly, “I promise.”
Satisfied with the answer, Fredrick changed the subject, “you know I wasn’t fucking lying when I said you were comfortable. I could seriously fucking nap right now. How in the name of shrieking Satan is all your armor comfortable?”
“I don’t know.”
“Of fucking course you freaking don’t.”

Kimberly’s ears caught something in the wind. Something that sounded like a pack of giant creatures running in the distance. A stampede? A stampede of what? There were barely any wild life left in world to form a stampede. If a group of animals traveled together out here, it was more likely that it was either humans or---…

Fredrick was saying something, but before he could finish whatever it was, Kimberly quickly grabbed him and jumped as fast as he could to the top of the tree. When he reached the top, he looked for the source of the sounds, but saw nothing. At least, not with his human eyes. A few attempts of scouting later, the spirits of eagles took over Kimberly’s eyes to let him see farther into the distance. It was these eagle’s eyes that got visual confirmation of their enemies. Without a moment to loose, Kimberly jumped down from the tree, hardly acknowledging Fredrick’s cries. Once he let his little friend down. He only said one word, “xenomorphs."

-----Before Battle 1-----

In the short time that Olivia verified his claims and gave out her orders, Kimberly prepared for battle by doing some quick stretches and last minute check up on his armor. He opened a specific compartment in his armor to check if his “offerings” where there. He simply closed it once he was sure he didn’t accidently leave it at the Academy. An embarrassing and possibly fatal mistake if it had been true.

The noise got louder. The enemies were close.

Kimberly quickly pulled all his hair back into a ponytail, revealing his not often seen face, only for it to be hidden under a helmet.

The spirits, completely forgotten what they had done to Ghost not too long ago, were in a different state of mind. The promise of battle excited the carnivores; the hunters; the predators inside of him. The other spirits, namely the hunter’s prey got nervous. Kimberly could feel them wanting to run, but he had little choice in the matter. He went into stance. Ready to sprint into action. As he could feel his senses being heightened with the assistance of the spirits, his ears became especially sensitive. He could hear virtually everything. His ears told him what his eyes could not see: his friends' hearts beat rapidly, each muscle stretch, and every joint in the body bend. These were sounds Kimberly needed to continue hearing. As for the ruckus the xenomorph raptor pack made.

Well… they needed to be silenced.

-----After Battle 1-----

When the battle ended, Kimberly found himself staring straight down at one of the xenomorphs at his feet. Their enemies were either dead or almost dead and the creature underneath his gaze had little time left in this world. Kimberly could see and hear the life slowly draining away from it. They had won. Their enemies were defeated. Yet the giant was suddenly overwhelmed with dread. A fear he was much too familiar with.

The color red decorates the scenery. Blood seeps through the dress, the blond hair, and pavement.
A feline bites into the neck of its victim.
It’s hard to breath. It’s hard to sense anything… all of it just fades.
The bones crush under the pressure of a giant snake.
They all struggle till the end. They all wail. They want to live. They didn’t want to die.

The blond hair is not bloody anymore: it spreads out on the bed in a dark room lit only by the moonlight.
She stares at him. The light leaves her eyes. The sound of her heart beating much too slowly. She continues to smile at him, as if to reassure him that there was nothing to be afraid of. This transition was only temporary. The pain, the sadness, everything bad, would end once they crossed that point of no return.
“We’re going to a happier place.”

Without much thought, Kimberly suddenly began beating on the dying xenomorph. He knew it was completely unnecessary. The thing was good as dead, but if it was going to die regardless, it felt cruel to prolong its suffering. He checked every xenomorph and any creature that still made a “sound” were promptly pommeled into complete silence.

Kimberly heard Ghost laugh and compliment Kimberly’s kindness, mockingly.
---- I’m ----.
No ----- not.
“--- you’re ---.”

“You only do this to make yourself feel better. Not for these things’ sake.”
I know.

-----The Boat-----

Kimberly was wasting his time staring aimlessly at what the window had to offer, when Olivia asked whether or not someone was going to make dinner. Suddenly remembering something, Kimberly walked over to his backpack. The search did not take long. Soon he fished out the lunch his grandparents packed and distributed (or at least attempted to hand out) to everyone at the main gate before the party’s departure. Kimberly had completely forgotten its existence during the exciting hiking trip. He carefully opened the box and stared at it contents: a jumbled mess. My favorite. Serves him right for carelessly stuffing it in a backpack that was just as carelessly manhandled in the short time span it traveled with him. Kimberly picked at Unknown Content A and threw it in his mouth. At least it was eatable.

Definition

A Morning, Before the Calamity,

Lances of early morning sun cut through the window of the car, catching the dust from the old roof lining into bars of swirling particles. Remiel Morganstern, eight years old, pressed himself into the corner of the rear seat, clutching his bag to himself. In the rear view mirror his father's blue eyes glanced back.

"You sure you don't want to ask Sam if he'd like to come? There's still time. He might enjoy it." Remiel just continued to hunch at the edge of the window, his eye staring at the passing houses, and the flickering sun rising behind them.

"No," the boy said firmly. He had told his friends he was going to visit his grandparents today, not exactly a lie, not the truth, either. He couldn't tell them what he was really doing now. Remi tightened his grip on his bag. Besides, he really didn't want anyone else there. This wasn't for them. This was Remi's and Remi's alone.

Remiel's father's eyes shifted, catching those of his wife, dark brown, like her son's. They shared a glance, but said nothing. Remiel sank further down into his seat. The car continued to accelerate down the street, tracing the winding country road as the world woke up all around them.

First Encounter in Progress

Remi continued to watch the battle unfold, his dark brown eyes, almost black, seeming as if they were drinking in the light. His brow furrowed. He hated this. Battle. Combat. It was just so...messy. No matter how well orchestrated, it always seemed to degenerate into a bloody blur.

When Olivia had given them her engagement orders, Remi had been pleased. She had made the right call, or, at least, the same call Remi might have made. Against Raptors, standard operating parameters dictated a staggered battle formation, to screen casting and mitigate numerical and alacrital advantage. When she had placed him in the flanking position he had been even more pleased, the better for him to choose his moment of engagement, to plan the proper moment to strike. And then, he remembered what real battle was like. The plan collapsed almost immediately upon contact with the enemy, the line broke cohesion as Aaron pushed ahead and everyone began to engage at their own digression. Remi prepared to strike, all of his combat training spinning through his head. But everything happened just so damned fast.

When Jyn moved to assist him, Remi knew he should be grateful. Instead he was just annoyed. She acted so decisively, every one of them did, as though they were in control. As though they knew what they were doing. But where was he? Remiel just watched the ebb and flow of the battle, a spectator. This wasn't what it was supposed to be like. What had all of his fine tuned training been for? He was supposed to protect them, to ensure that the chaos of the world never hurt his friends again and yet, he couldn't even take the initiative to act now, when real danger had finally found them.

Remiel's self-flagellating and indulgent reverie was finally broken as the first drops of Roy's rainstorm splattered against his face. Remi blinked. He looked back across the battlefield...and finally saw his opportunity. Engagement data on xenomorph 004, colloquially known as "Raptors" suggested that upon an engagement turning against them, the xenomorphs would attempt to take as many of their opposition with them as possible, using their injured as a screen for one final desperate charge. They were hardly the only xenomorph sub-species to display such behavior, the concept of withdrawl or retreat seemed alien to them. Just one of many reasons the monsters were so dangerous. This particular pack did not deviate from the norm. Breaking their unit cohesion the remaining raptors divided into smaller groups. One of those groups would try to retaliate against Kat, Remi was certain. Whatever their bestial appearance, the xenomorphs had shown remarkable intelligence, they should recognize her as the biggest threat. Fortunately, she was being well protected by the redoubtable defense of Thael and Roy. But Remi knew the incredible motivating force of desperation, even the best defensive line could not stop a charge willing to die for one last desperate strike. Remi's grip tightened on his blade, the moment to strike had finally come.

As three of the beasts, designated Delta, Zeta, and Kappa, broke off from the main group Remi moved to intercept. The three morphs formed an asymmetrical charging formation, Zeta and Kappa moving to the fore, willing to sacrifice what remained of their vitality to give their compatriot on last chance to strike. Remi raced to match their pace, interposing himself between them and their charge lane.

Delta was first, the beast's limbs beating the earth as it accelerated. Perhaps it had injured it's eye, because it seemed wholely unprepared for Remi's counter. Ducking low, Remi gripped his blade in two hands, close to the shoulder, sticking the blade in the monster's path as it leapt, letting the monster's own momentum be it's downfall. The beast attempted to jump over Remi, the tip of him blade catching on it's underbelly, slicing deep and long, ichor and entrails spilling on the ground behind him.

As Remi rose to prepare for Kappa, it was already almost upon him. He grimaced, combat was just too damn fast. It reached him before he could rise. Letting his right leg drop, he spun on his other heel, Kappa's tusks cleaving the air where he had just been. Twisting around, Remi threw all of his force into a stab at the creature as it careened by him, his blade punching into it's flank just behind the faceplate. Stuck to the hilt, Remi could not work the blade out as the creatures forward momentum carried it away from him, tearing the blade from his grip and partially turning him around. Remi cursed under his breath, he'd lost his weapon and lost track of the final Raptor.

Spinning back around, Remi didn't even get a chance to see it before Zeta ripped him off his feet. Remi and the Raptor tumbled end over end, the beast clutching at him with it's limbs, tusks and tail stabbing and lashing at his arms and neck. Remi struggled to protect himself, his mind spinning for a suitable counter. When trapped in grappling charge from a Raptor, one of the standard maneuvers taught at the academy was to arrest the tumble and use the centripetal force to one's advantage. Of course, that relied upon having some form of action to turn that leverage to advantage. Kicking out his legs as they rebounded off the ground, Remi stopped their tumble, midspin, twisting to stay on top as they came tumbling back down, timing his strike with the Raptor hitting the ground, drawing back his hand Remi reached deep into himself, imploring any of his spirits to help him, to empower him in some way. Throwing all of his weight into the blow, he thrust his palm down into the thing's chest. His fingers digging into it's flesh. Remi must have hit an artery because a spray of blood fountained from the wound, droplets splattered his face, a few drops falling to his mouth and right eye and...something else.

The wounded Raptor let loose an all too human sounding shriek, splitting the air, a moment later Remi released his own inhuman roar. As the two sounds reverberated through the air, for a moment it became impossible to determine which sound had come from which of them. Then, as quickly as it had begun, it stopped. The Raptor collapsed back on the ground motionless and Remi tried to stagger to his feet. He struggled to tear his hand away from the monster, as if he had forgotten that they were not attached. Shakily backing away from the beast, Remi looked around himself, his face a mask of confusion, he shuttered and stumbled. Something felt wrong with his legs, like they were bent the wrong way. The battle was going badly, too many of his kith were injured or fallen. He shivered, when had it become so cold. Remi's wavering gaze fell upon Kat. That female was the biggest threat, they needed to...Remi blinked. He gritted his teeth. Turning away from his comrades, he bent to retrieve his blade from the body of Kappa, trying to hide his distressed state in the act.

Remi hated battle...it was just so messy.



Shortly Thereafter

Remi checked his kit for the seventh time following the engagement, his eyes kept darting to his teammates. No one had said anything to him yet. Perhaps none of them had noticed his outburst. His hand faltered as he retightened the strap to his combat webbing. The tremors had yet to stop. He felt nauseous. He hoped no one noticed him staring either.

Still his gaze kept lingering on Kat. For a moment during that fight, just a moment, he had wanted to kill her. He had wanted to kill her more surely than he wanted anything else in the world, all his being told him he needed to rip out her throat with his teeth. More than the nausea, more than the terrifying confusion as to what had happened to him was that knowledge. He had spent so long trying preparing himself to protect them all, to be their aegis against the world. But not only had he acquitted himself poorly in that first engagement as a group, he worried he had come dangerously close to trying to harm one of his friends himself.

He need to figure out what had happened. He needed clarity and control. But most of all, he needed to make sure none of them knew how badly he had faltered.

On a Boat, Adrift

Remi stared out of the the galley window, more withdrawn than usual, were that possible. His face was grim, his eyes were grim, his disposition was grim, an aura of grimness oozed from his very body. Far off as he was though, he caught the words Olivia had listlessly spoken. Remiel turned and looked at her through the galley door, frowning as though he didn't understand what she had said. Food. Right. Sustenance. Sustenance was important. A soldier needed to keep their strength at peak. The human body was a complicated chemical system, only by supplying it with the precise nutritional requirements could it be kept at maximum efficiency. Remi might have lost faith in how else he might help his team, but he could at least keep them fed.

Turning to the cabinets he opened the first two, moving around the cabin to take stock of their supplies. Truth be told, his friends probably didn't trust him with meal preparation anymore. Not since he had been made quartermaster for their first unit field excursion back at the academy, the infamous 'Shit Brick' incident, but as Remi bared all of the supply cabinets he realized there wasn't much they could complain to him about the meal.

Leaning out of the door he shouted, "well, we've got beans...and we've got beans. We are probably going to have mostly beans."

DURING THE BATTLE

Aaron gripped the hilts of his blades so tightly that his knuckles turned as white as a sheet. As the Raptors turned on him and began to encircle him, he felt his body begin to shake with the one thing that he had hoped that he had removed from his being, fear. Aaron had trained for so long to prepare himself for this one moment, and now that he was living it he was almost paralyzed with a childish fear.

The world slowed as Aaron tried to gather himself from his gripping fear. He let the world fade away and let his mind take him somewhere that would calm him down. Where his mind took him couldn't be further from calming.

IN AARON'S MIND

The sounds of chaos pervaded the air as Aaron ran around the smoldering ruins of his town. He had gotten separated from the rest of the group and was lost running around on his own. As he wandered down an abandoned street Aaron saw a group of Raptors attacking what little resistance there was, and as he hid and watched he couldn't help but feel the urge to do something to help. Grabbing a thick broken pipe and sheepishly made his way over to the group of Raptors. As the Raptors became aware of his Aaron charged into a headlong charge towards them suddenly filled with a false bravado of his own abilities. Without even trying a Raptor quickly swung its tail at the young boy sending him flying into the remains of a broken wall.

BATTLE

With his mind now focused a new feeling came flowing over Aaron, and once again he began to shake, not from fear but from anger. With a quivering growl Aaron began to speak to no one in particular, although his speech was directed towards the Raptors,

' I wasn't able to do anything before because I was too weak to do anything...too afraid. Now I have enough power to destroy all of you!!'

As Aaron began to charge the screeching sound of Freddy's hammer fall directed Aaron to quickly retreat back to a safe distance. Once the hammer fell Aaron once again began gathering the air underneath him to charge into the group again.

"CHOMP!!"

A sharp and sudden pain shot through Aaron's entire body causing him to drop to his knees. With eyes tearing up Aaron looked down to see his lower leg encased in the oddly shaped maw of a Raptor (Gamma). As it shook him violently waves of unimaginable pain flooded Aaron's senses as the combination of the Raptors teeth and loss of blood began to loose consciousness. Refusing to be beaten that easily Aaron looked at the foul thing and raised his sword,

"GET OFF OF MY YOU FILTHY PIECE OF SHIIIITTTTTT!!!"

Aaron charged the wind around the edge of his sword and ran his blade across the creatures neck. The resulting explosion sent Aaron flying, leg free from the Raptors grasp, and rolled to a stop outside of the battlefield. As Aaron was loosing consciousness he reached into his pack and took a drink of a 'Potion' as he drifted off to sleep. Moments later Aaron awoke with a start as he realized that the battle was over. How long had he been out.

AFTER BATTLE

Aaron shuffled around aimlessly silently kicking himself for not being stronger in the fight. He could feel the others condescending stares for his actions, and for good reason. Aaron once again let his anger get the better of him and he almost hurt his friends in the process. The mood changed when the others were whispering Aaron turned just in time to feel the full impact of Olivia's fury.

SMACK

“And just what the fuck were you thinking?!” Olivia shouted at the top of her lungs. “Huh?!” she continued; “Do you want to get yourself killed, is that it?! I don’t give a shit how angry you are; we are all fucking angry! I’m calling the damn shots here, whether you like it or not, and if you ever pull a stunt like that again, I’ll kill you myself! You got that?!”

Aaron stood in silent awe as Olivia unleashed the full extent or her anger out on him, for a moment he was actually speechless. As he tried to come up with a rebuttle Olivia shut him down and started walking towards Doral. All Aaron could do was agree.

"Aye, Captain."

DORAL

The walk to Doral had been a very silent and arduous one for Aaron. He had spent most of the walk in self assigned seclusion after his very violent run in with Olivia.As they entered the cesspool of a town Aaron instinctively rested his hands on the handles of his blades in anticipation of some sort of assault. Once the group arrived at the dock Olivia walked up and started talking with the harbor master, Aaron turned his back and watched the plethora of shady characters walk past, making sure that no one tried anything while their backs were turned. Apparently the group had arrived several minutes early as Olivia dismissed the group to their own devices. As Aaron tried to leave he felt a hand keep him in place. Once the group had dispersed Aaron turned to see a totally different Olivia than that had asserted her command only minutes earlier.

“Look, Aaron…,” Olivia sighed, “I didn’t mean to give you a hard time back there… it’s just that… I can’t lose you, or anyone else… I just can’t,” she said. “If I do, I’ll probably go insane and kill myself… so, please… don’t do stuff like that again, if not for yourself and the others, then for me. Okay?” Olivia asked. She gently put her palm on the bruise on his cheek, where she had hit him; stroking it ever so slightly. “I know how you feel about everything… about Sam… I do as well; and there’s nothing else I’d rather do than to destroy the world for him, but I can’t do that… we just can’t,”

"Liv...don't even mention it. I shouldn't have done what I did. I put you and the whole mission in danger. I just...seeing those foul 'things' just brought back so much shit from the Calamity when I couldn't do anything to help. Honestly I was hoping to kill those things so that you wouldn't have to," Aaron chuckled, "and the funny thing was that I was useless in that fight. I will fight for you...and only you, Olivia."

Aaron turned and left Olivia standing there. There was so much that he wanted to say to her, but now wasn't the time. He could only hope that when the time was right and he told her what he had to say, that she would feel the same way.

After the Battle/On the Road

So Olivia had grown a spine. That was good, it was progress for sure. It seemed to Emily, though, that unless that spine was composed of practicalities as well as Olivia's defensiveness when it came to her friends, it wouldn't be much help. The fight had been short, and relatively brutal. That wasn't surprising to Emily. Raptors were dangerous, sure, but they were no match for highly trained soldiers.

And that was what they were now. Soldiers. Whether they were ready for it or not. Aaron certainly didn't seem to be.

The remainder of the walk to Doral was conducted mostly in silence, and Emily was perfectly okay with that. She was consumed with her own thoughts on the fight. Killing that raptor hadn't just been relatively easy, it had felt good. Viscerally good, instinctively satisfying. That scared her a little. She didn't feel upset she'd had to do it - honestly, she wished she'd fought more of them - and she wondered what that meant. It was a dark line of thinking

After a couple more hours of walking, the skies imitated Emily's grim mood. By the time Doral had appeared on the horizon, it was drizzling, and once they'd reached the city, the rain was coming down in torrential sheets. From what she could see of the town as they walked through it, it looked like it needed the rain to wash away all the grime. And a new coat of paint. And street-sweepers. She was glad they wouldn't be staying very long.

---

Doral - A Bar on the Marina

"This is piss," Emily said.

She gazed balefully into a bottle of beer. It had no label. It was the cheapest thing the bar had, and probably the lightest, too. Emily didn't drink much, but the bartender had told them to buy something or leave, so they'd bought. It was better than being outside. She wondered idly why he'd been so curt, but in a town like this, she imagined soldiers in uniform were more unsettling than anything.

The rain had gotten so bad that Thael had long since resorted to pulling on his helmet and sealing the his armored combat suit, which was currently set to a mottled blue/grey urban camouflage pattern. Olivia had been no more than 20 meters away, speaking to the harbormaster under the awning of a warehouse, but she was barely visible through the torrential downpour. The group had been disappointed to learn they wouldn't be leaving for a while, so while the others went off to do useful errands, Emily had pulled Thael into the nearest bar just to get out of the rain.

As his own beer arrived, Thael pulled off his helmet, blinking to adjust his eyes to the bar's dim lighting. Somehow his hair emerged perfectly coiffed, even after all that time crammed into the helmet. He popped open the beer on a plated portion of his wrist, and took a swig. "You'll get no argument from me," he agreed, making a face. The bartender scowled at them, but didn't say anything.

Emily had shed her own helmet the moment they'd walked in. Her hair fell back against her neck in a short, tight braid. It wasn't the most flattering style, but it kept it out of her face and safely tucked inside the helmet when she needed it. She reached back and undid the braid automatically, shaking the blonde and black hair free. After a day of walking, she thought she ought to be sore, but they hadn't been stationary long enough for her to feel anything. She still felt energized, hyper-awake. Too active to rest. Maybe the beer would help with that. She half-raised the bottle in mock salute.

"We brave soldiers," she said. "Marching on to victory behind our fearless leader. Lucky us."

She took another sip. It was still piss.

"Come on Em, don't be like that," Thael said, his tone slightly reproachful. "It was that bad. And Olivia did a good job. She kept her head and made the right decisions." He took a small sip of the thin beer. It was probably brewed somewhere in the back of the bar. Thael would've killed for just a pint of Kolsch, but the state of global supply chains meant that imported beer was even harder to get than ammo. Ah well, he didn't plan on finishing it anyways; they were technically on duty.

"Yeah." Emily nodded. "Yeah, she did."

She was quiet for a minute, staring around the bar.

"Honestly. Why did they pick her? What do you think?"

Emily's question touched a bit of a sore spot. "She's the best for the job," he replied noncommitally. Deep down, Thael was still sore about the decision, but he didn't want to undermine her authority, or the team's faith in her.

"You don't believe that," Emily said. "It's been too long, Thael. You can't hide it from me."

Thael shifted in his seat. "I just...I can't help but feel that, if not Sam-

"It should have been you," Emily said. "Or me."

Thael nodded. He was suddenly relieved to have a chance to talk this over. "Yeah. It just bothered me, the way ol' Cid said it. He didn't even announce it, he just sort of glossed over it, like we should have already known. It was like he never even considered anyone else. And after all the work I put in, that just stings, you know what I mean?"
"I know exactly. And I was thinking about it the whole walk. Like... I love Olivia. I mean, not like, you know - but you know what I mean. If it were you, I'd be-- I'd understand. I wouldn't be disappointed in myself. Now I feel like, what was I missing?"

"I know the feeling. I can't help but feel like I fucked up, somehow, sometime long ago, and Cid sort of dismissed me then. Like he's ignored everything I've done since then, just because of that one thing." Thael sighed and took another sip of beer. It was really quite terrible, and wasn't getting any better. "This stays between us, right?"

Emily took a long sip, and watched Thael for a minute, unblinking. She looked away before she spoke again.

"That's what I wanted to talk about," Emily said. "I mean, what could we even do? We can complain to Cid when we get back, sure. We can ask why it wasn't us. I was thinking about it on the road today."

"I don't know if we should. He's a sharp guy, he knows what he's doing. He must've had a good reason for picking Olivia," Thael said stubbornly.

Emily was just as stubborn, of course. "I'm gonna, when we get back. But until then - I guess we have to decide how to deal with it. And I mean, I know how that sounds. I'm not suggesting anything dramatic. We have to support Olivia. I don't know how."

Thael shrugged. "Follow her orders, maintain the chain of command, all that. It'll work out, I know it will."

"How do you know that'll be enough?"

Thael smiled. "Because I have faith in her, like I have faith in you."

Emily rolled her eyes. "Does that line usually work?"

She was blushing, just a little. She was sure he couldn't tell in the low light.

"Never." Thael said with a laugh.

"That's my seat," a gruff voice said from behind them. Thael and Emily turned to see a group of rough looking men, just in from the rain, glaring at them. They looked angry.
"There's plenty of other seats open," Thael replied coldly. These looked to be the kind of men who weren't fond of soldiers, and Thael had no time for such men. Better to take a stand now, to make life a little easier for every soldier who passed through Doral.

"Yeah, you're sitting in mine, pretty boy," the first speaker said with a sneer.

Thael and Emily exchanged a quick glance, perfectly understanding each other in that moment. Thael slowly stood up and turned around, straightening his back to emphasize his height. He crossed his arms across his chest. "You know, if you'd just asked nicely, I would've been happy to move. But since you didn't, I think you'd better step off, before someone gets hurt."

Emily stayed seated. She stared past the man but not at anything, like she was trying to look between the walls at some aether beyond sight. The room was a little darker then it had been a moment before, the shadows longer. What light there was seemed to flicker and bounce in strange patterns, dancing along the walls in unnatural forms. Thael could hear whispers, just out of comprehensible range. He'd seen Emily do this before, and knew what to expect, but that didn't make it any less unnerving. He just had to stall.

The speaker looked momentarily intimidated by the big man in front of him, but a quick look at his friends restored his confidence. "You trying to start something, asshole?" he said, taking a step forward.

The whispers were louder now. The floor felt unsteady beneath them; it felt like Thael was standing on sand. Even the air felt thicker. It was like the life had been sucked from the room, replaced by something foul, something objectively less real than what had been there before. The air had no smell to it. The only sound was the whispering. What little light remained was dull and gray. Even the wooden tables and chairs just looked like so much ash and cardboard.

"I'm trying to do the opposite, asshole. Now, one last chance: Back. Off." Stimulated by the sudden activity in the bar, Thael's own spirits began to act up, emitting their usual glow. It was the only source of light in the room, but it somehow seemed to fade to nothing just inches from Thael's skin. The locals were were looking confused and uneasy, but evidently their leader felt they'd gone too far to back down. He defiantly spat in Thael's face.

Things bubbled up from the ground. Arms with dozens of tiny hands, tentacles, claws and talons. They scratched at the floorboards and seized the antagonistic patrons' legs. They folded down from the ceiling and grasped at their heads and necks. The hands hissed and blubbered from mouths that burst from their palms, feathery wings filled with tiny claws scraped along the furniture. The places they emerged from pulsed with malign energy; pus frothed from these new orifices in the building and spilled across the ground. The whispers were more like shouts now, chanting at a frantic pace as the remaining light twisted and warped into symbols, forming words in languages too complex and esoteric to ever be read by human eyes, parsed by human ears or spoken by human mouths. Above it all, the spirits screeched and writhed, and soon a black cloud of ashy nothingness bore down on the Thael's opponents.

The leader of the angry group screamed and clawed at his face and hair, trying to pull away the unholy appendages. He tried to step back, tripped over himself on the unsteady ground and fell to the floor, where he crabwalked backwards and crashed head-first into the bar. The others didn't fair any better; they flailed their arms and legs aimlessly, trying to avoid the things' grasp, but there was no escape. Soon, they too had fallen to the floor, little more than writhing hulks of pain and terror. They bled profusely from their eyes and noses, from their mouths, from their pores, but the blood was lapped up by the eldritch mouths that now sprung up all around them, even as those mouths blabbered grotesque nonsense with their many-pronged tongues.

Thael managed to stay standing through all of this, though he was sure he felt the hands and claws scrape past him, and heard the voices chanting in his ears. As it started to get to be too much, as the horror filled his head and all he could think or feel was the newfound madness of these men, Emily stood. She took his hand, firmly, and pulled him from the bar, stepping over the men on the floor.

As they left, the lights flickered back on. The men inside would open there eyes in a few minutes to find themselves unharmed - except for the wounds they had self-inflicted, scraping their faces, arms and legs into a bloody mess. The other patrons had seen nothing. They had been spared most of the effects. Some would have nightmares; some might remember the feelings of dread they had in the moments before those men had lost their minds, but none would make the connection. None of it had been real, and yet...

Thael shuddered as they left. There was no getting used to something like that. "Remind me to stay on your good side," he remarked to Emily as they stepped back out into the rain.

She just glanced at him back at him, and said nothing. Her eyes looked pale and tired.

---

The Boat
The bunk was tiny, and the whole ship was rocking back and forth subtly. Emily'd been on boats before, and they didn't make her terribly ill - but she was a little nauseated. She still felt a little jittery, like she should be moving around, like she couldn't sleep yet. She knew it was probably nerves, about what was to come. Or maybe what had happened back in the bar. Or something. It didn't matter. She hadn't enjoyed sleep in years, so though she knew she needed it, she didn't mind letting it wait a little. After twenty minutes or so of staring at the bulkhead, she got up and paced the tiny room. There was another bunk here - empty - and then a hatch leading to a long, thin corridor. She swung the hatch open and stepped out. The whole ship seemed to creak as she moved, her steps coinciding with the rocking water.

There was a light on at the far end of the corridor, near the exit to the outside deck. Emily headed for it, poking her head around the doorframe it came from. She saw Olivia, sitting in what looked like some kind of mess hall, facing away from the door. Emily rapped gently on the door.

"Liv?" She called, not wanting to be too loud for fear Olivia was asleep.

It could not have been more than few hours that Olivia had to endure the hardships of command, if one could call it as such. She reflected on whether the new position would enhance her already ill-rooted habit of introspective self-criticism—the conclusion was that it probably would and it already was. However, before the conclusion could settle into the impassable depths of her mind, where it could grow to infest her subconscious like a cancer, Olivia was interrupted by Emily. The brunette was not asleep, nor was she awake, which caused her first utterance to be slightly blunt and rough around the edges.

“Yes, Emily, what do you want?” Olivia said, identifying the girl by her voice.

Emily stepped into the room. "Hey. Did I wake you?"

“No… yes… or, I don’t know,” Olivia said and adjusted her seating to face Emily. “Is everything alright?” She continued.

"Yeah," Emily said. "Yeah, I'm fine, just can't sleep. Too much to think about, you know?"

That well-known, pearly white, smile of Olivia’s forced itself through her barricading lips. The thought hit her with blazing speed at that very moment: she had not smiled much since leaving the Academy, something which she used to do all the time around her beloved friends. “I know what you mean, more than you can imagine,” Olivia replied.

"I think I might be capable of imagining," Emily said. She slid into a chair across from Olivia. "You made some tough calls already and it's only your first day."

Olivia could tell, from the look in Emily’s eyes, that there was something bothering her. Olivia dared not to speculate as to what it was, but a straightforward approach usually worked, so the dark haired girl decided to go with that. “I guess it’s a matter of perspective… where some people see faults, other see success,” Olivia said. “You know, I can see whatever it is that is going on inside your mind, so why don’t you just tell me?” She continued.

"I mean, you know how I feel," Emily said. "We talked about it on the road. But... I dunno. Not that my opinion means anything, but I think you did good. Some of us aren't as ready."

“Of course your opinion matters, sweetie. Nothing has changed, really. I’m still that good old Olivia you’ve always known,” she said and smiled again. “And you’re ready, I know it. Why wouldn’t you be?”

"I... wasn't talking about me. I was talking about..." Emily sighed. "You saw Aaron. Does he seem like he's got any idea what we're all getting into?"

Olivia’s smile vanished like a breeze in a hurricane. “Do you, do I? I think Aaron knows that his impulsiveness will get the better of him one day. It’s my job to make sure that he doesn’t explode… prematurely,” She said with a slight doubt in her voice. “What do you want me to say, Emily? I already gave him what he deserved for that stunt. What else is there to do?” Olivia finished.

"I don't know. But I know that what happened on the road was a chance sighting, nothing really serious. Definitely nothing we couldn't handle. If that's how he responds to something so small, what's going to happen when we're in a serious fight?"

“Where is this coming from, Em? What do you have against Aaron?”

"Nothing. It's not like that. But I feel like this means there are circumstances were I - we - can't trust him."

“You shouldn’t be talking like this, Emily. Aaron is our friend, who was also the friend of someone that I shouldn’t have to remind you of, and we stand by his side no matter what, Olivia said. “Let me worry about what he does, and let me deal with it,… you just focus on what you are supposed to be doing,” she finished.

"You said it yourself - you don't want anything to happen to him. To us. I want the same thing."

“But… what? You think that Aaron is going to prevent that with how he is?”

"Not on purpose, but I think he could. If he gets mad, we have to rush in and save him. What choice would we have?"

“… It’s an interesting point, but what can we do about it other than support him and each other? When push comes to show, we are all going to crack at some point – even
you and me. Then we’re going to be grateful that he is there to take the heat.”

"I don't know," Emily said. "That's true. Nothing we can do now. We can't leave him behind."

“It baffles me that you would even imply that… we would consider leaving Aaron behind. I think you should get some sleep, Emily. I’m going to try to catch some myself.
Whatever problems we might run into in Norton City, we’ll deal with then, not now.”

Then will be too late. Emily thought, but didn't say. "Night, Olivia. Sorry to bother you with this crap - it was just something I was thinking about."

“It’s not crap… but, okay… sleep well, sweetie,” Olivia said, sounding almost apologetic.

After the battle

The battle was nothing more than a warm up but anything which requires an exertion of efforts would eventually end up with exhaustion. Jyn wasn't satisfied by how it solely sounded. Exhaustion was the last thing she wanted but there wouldn't be anything she could do to avoid it, unless she decided to idle around and forget about helping. Everyone did perfectly well and seeing how they all succeeded without suffering from grave injuries was enough for Jyn to feel uplifted with her own efforts.

A sudden commotion whimpered from the front side of the group, dragging Jyn's attention and brought an immediate gaze towards the scene of Olivia and Aaron. Observing the heated argument rising, Jyn narrowed her view at the glimpse of the duo as Olivia erupted into violent breezes of anger. Truth to be told, the blunt slap delivered to Aaron wasn't something Jyn had expected to see and while setting her eyes on to how things unfolded, the wooden case held was abruptly released from her grip and hit the ground crustily. Jyn decidedly kept her distance from the two, knowing her actions might heat up the commotion even more.

Jyn picked up her dropped wooden case, unwrapping it's straps then placed her crossbow inside. Then afterwards, folded a knot which would firmly seal the wooden case. Shortly after, Jyn's gaze shifted to the other side only to notice Remi acting slightly passive. She then inched herself a bit closer after tightening her combat boots, clearing her throat as she attempted to drag Remi's attention. "Hey," Jyn spoke softly, sounding as comforting as possible "doing alright? I saw what you did earlier, 'thought I'd just check you up if there's anything wrong" Her gaze then sailed through Remi. "There isn't, right?" Reluctant to hold on for a response, Jyn brushed her words directly. Truthfully, Jyn haven't had the slightest pinch of idea on how Remi reenacted towards the battle of the Xenomorphs. Instead, she assumed there was something bothering him, though she was quite uncertain if any of those assumptions might turn out to be a fact and she feared there might be something worse. "Uh..look, If you need anything, I'm always here or we...I suppose."

______________________________________________

The Boat

As exhausted as Jyn was after her leisurely stroll at Doral, napping was quite difficult for her to apply as how the uncomfortable setting her bunker bed had to offer. She tried different methods of making her nap possible but unfortunately, none of them were quite effective. Brushing herself through, she pulled herself up from her bed, sighing heavily as she inched her gaze closer to a glimpse of the others. However, her movements felt slightly stiff and her body weaved wearily. Probably it was the vessel's constant fidgety motion which caressed Jyn into an uneasy feeling. Worst of all, hunger took an invasion as her stomach groaned despicably despite having a quick recall of eating back at Doral.

Hearing the others ramble about what to eat, Jyn held the rail of the bunk bed as she brought herself downward to the ladder rungs then bashed the floor gently with her feet. Contemplating to what Remi found, Jyn moved over to the remaining cabinet that wasn't opened by him. Fishing through supplies, Jyn was quite doubtful about what Remi found and was eager to see if ever there was something much more convenient to eat. Then afterwards, she got a hold of a canned food, sighing in disappointment as she was expecting to find something other than what she found.

"Canned spaghetti over here." She cried out to let everyone know. "Great, now I have to endure eating these things" She softly spoke to herself. "Just please don't give me an aching tummy."

*In Doral/Doras/Whatever the fucking town is called*

"Fucking shitty shit shit fucking fuck God dammit fuck fucking fuck."

Freddy stomped through the town, face set in a characteristic pouty sneer. His eyes looks dourly at anyone he passed by, causing most to look away. At one point he turned his head and saw a child staring, and Freddy glared at the child till she ran away, crying, to her mother.

"Yeah, fuck you too," Freddy muttered, after having proven himself to be a generally terrible human being.

Freddy was much nicer to his friend's than he was too most people, and he wasn't exactly sunshine and roses to them all the time either. He would be KIND, to them, and show them that he cared, but he was by no means nice. So when it came to strangers...well...

He had just made a little girl cry.

Freddy really had no destination in mind. He had just taken off walking, wanting to get his mind off of things. His brain was being more or less an asshole, and he hated it. He hated feeling like he did then. His mind shot from place to place, never giving him time to think, never giving him a moment to relax. It was rapid fire thought, and he swore his thoughts were flying around him, just out of reach.

Sometimes, he wished he took medication.

Freddy stopped a moment when he felt one of his spirits reacting. Shouty was giving him all sorts of warning signals and Sentinel was getting excited. Freddy's eyes opened wide, and he turned around.

"Hey, kid," a large man in a black leather jacket said, grinning, "A little dangerous to be alone out here, huh?"

Freddy wasn't sure what the man and his cronies - eight similarly large men all armed with pistols and baseball bats - were expecting for his reaction.

They probably weren't expecting his rather colorful reaction.

"OH SERIOUSLY, FUCK ALL OF YOU. I SEE WHAT THE HELL THIS BULLSHIT IS. YOU GUYS ARE SO CLICHE IT HURTS! NICE FUCKING LEATHER JACKETS, DID YOU MAKE THEM FROM THE SKIN OF SOME COWS THAT ARE BETTER KNOWN AS YOUR MOTHERS? Nah, that's incorrect, bovine are far smarter than any ratchet bitch that spawned you lot! And at least cows have some use to society!"

"Wait, is this little shit talking about our mothers?"

"Okay, I see we got off on the wrong foot," the leader said quickly, "Let me clarify. Yeah, it's exactly what it looks like. Your big ass hammer and your money, or your life. What's it gonna be, lil guy?"

"It's gonna be a fucking blood bath," Freddy said, "If you don't all back the fuck off!"

The leader grinned, before walking up to Freddy, "Oh yeah, fine. Throw the first punch."

He bent down, bringing his face down to Freddy's level, "A bit hot down here, though. All the hot air seems to have settled around your head."

"HOT AIR RISES YOU NIMROD. NOW GO AWAY BEFORE I SHOVE AN ACTUAL ROD SO FAR UP YOUR ASS IT'LL POKE YOUR PRIEST IN THE DICK."

The gang leader blinked, before socking Freddy in the face.

Freddy took one step back, blinking away tears, as blood gushed from his nose.

Then he stared the leader in the eyes, and opened his mouth.

The man flew, rolling head over heels, as a concussive blast slammed into him. From that close of range, there was really no way for a normal human with no real training to remain conscious, and so when he slammed into a wall, he fell to the ground and stayed there.

"ANYONE FUCKING ELSE WANNA GO!" Freddy roared out.

As it turned out, all of them did. Freddy stumbled back as one charged him, swinging his baseball bat in a wide arc. Freddy saw one aiming his pistol, and squeezed his eyes shut as he heard a bang. Freddy opened his eyes again, to see the bullet bouncing up into the air. There was a sharp pain in his forehead, and he felt a bit of blood trickling.

He could feel Sentinel grinning within him.

I seriously fucking hate you.

Freddy rolled his eyes as the spirit seemed to laugh within him. Asshole.

Freddy caught the bullet in mid air, and threw it. It slammed into one of the gangster's guns, knocking it from his grasp. Freddy was surrounded by four gangsters with bats now. This was a good thing, as far as he was concerned, as it prevented any more funny business with guns. Freddy wasn't sure how he could non-lethaly take them out while keeping himself safe. Sentinel's "Aegis" was fritzy at best, and an Aura of Terror in the middle of a well populated town was so extremely out of the question. It would cause mass panic and hysteria.

An idea popped into his head, and he let out a roar as he activated Sentinel's Vanguard and jumped into the sky. He pulled his hammer from its holster on his back, and then shoved it below him as he fell. Predictably, the gangsters backed up for a moment, making sure Freddy had a clear shot at his target.

The ground.

The resulting shaking of the ground knocked the gang to its knees, and kicked up a huge amount of dust. Freddy grinned. There was no way the gangsters had stuck around after tha-

BANG!

Freddy staggered back as the Aegis protected him. He saw the shiny glow around his flesh as more bullets pounded into him.

"IT'S A FUCKING XENO IN DISGUISE!" one of the gangsters yelled.

Freddy had only a second until his Aegis pattered out. His eyes widened. He had only one thought.

IF THIS IS HOW I FUCKING DIE I AM GOING TO HAUNT THIS MOTHER FUCKER.

"Step away from the young man and no one will get hurt."

Aaron had watched Freddy's fight with great interest while he was walking about town. Only minutes after talking with Olivia Aaron's mind had been swirling with all sorts of messed up emotions when the commotion that the gang and Fred had caused. With eyes hungry for a fight and a mind that wanted anything but, Aaron kept a tight grip on the handles of his sword wanting to give Freddy his due fight. For a moment there, Aaron had actually thought that the thugs would actually back off after seeing Fred's Vanguard, but the grip on his swords tightened when he saw the thugs come back with a vengeance. After hearing Aaron's command the thugs turned around slowly to see the average height standing hooded swordsman staring them down with eyes that could only hint at the hatred and anger behind them.

"Hey, mind your business kid. This fuckers a xeno and we're gonna get rid of him. Do you have a problem with that?"

"As a matter of fact I do. That 'xeno' is one of my closest friends, and you gentlemen have seemed to engage in a fight with unfair numbers."

"Who the fuck are you the morality police? And if he's such a close friend maybe your a xeno to and we should kill you to."

The mere mention of the thought that he might be anything like the garbage that attack the group on the road sent Aaron's blood to an all time boil. With gritting teeth and whitening knuckles Aaron calmly devised a way to get everything that he wanted out of the situation. Very slowly Aaron walked towards one of the guns that had been dropped by one of their commrades and kicked it towards the one that he had been conversing with.

"I'll tell you what, I'll make a bet with you. Take this gun and point it at me, if you can shoot me with it before I get to you then you can do what you want with the brat there. Here's the catch, if I can get to you first I'm going to kill you. Sound like a fair deal?"

The thug turned to his friends and started laughing directly at Aaron, which meant that he didn't take Aaron or his challenge seriously, which meant that Aaron had already won.

"Alright kid...ya got yourself a deal." The current leader turned back to Freddy and spoke with a grin, "after we deal with you....SHINKTHHH"

From where Freddy was standing he watched as Aaron blade passed through the thugs neck and beyond. As the man's body was trying to catch up to what had just happened to his brain Aaron leaned in close to the man's ear and whispered softly into his ear

"By the way...there was something that I forgot to mention...I tend to cheat when I make bets."

When he had finished everything that he had to say to the now dead man, Aaron pushed the man's head and subsequently the rest of him to the ground Aaron turned to the rest of the group, blood still dripping from his blade Aaron called to them and spoke in the coldest tone he could muster and said,

"Does anyone else want to taste the edge of my steel?"

With eyes wide with horror and faces turned white as ghosts the rest of the gang turned tail and run to the hills. Once the gang had run away and turned his gaze to Freddy

"Are you O.K.?"

Freddy blinked, a thoughtful look on his face.

"Yeah, yeah I am. But, hey, Aaron, my buddy, my pal, my compatriot?" he said sweet as sugar.

"Yeah....?"

"I don't know if you knew this, and it may have slightly slipped your mind, but..." Freddy smiled, a sweet and kindly smile, before roaring out, "I WAS TRYING NOT TO FUCKING MURDER THEM YOU UNRELENTING SACK OF HUMAN WASTE. I SWEAR BY EVERYTHING THAT I AM, YOU ARE THE HUGEST COSMO-TWAT I HAVE EVER HAD THE INFINITE MISFORTUNE, FORGED FROM THE BROKEN BLOODY GLASS OF A THOUSAND LEPRECHAUN'S MIRRORS -
Having listend to most of Freddy's rant, Aaron cocked back his right hand and back handed Fred so hard that it sent him flying to the ground. Still having a grand plethora of rage still building Aaron began his own rant,

"Alright listen here you petulant brat, yes I killed someone, yes I may have brought unwanted attention to us and our group, but I am willing to pull the trigger when it comes to defending what I hold dear. Listen well Fred, you have to be willing to kill to protect what you love, that's what it means to be a soldier. That's what you need to get through your thick fucking skull."

With quivering hands and a wavering voice Aaron dropped his hand to help Freddy up.

Freddy slapped Aaron's hand away and got up on his own. He stepped close to Aaron and stared up, directly into his eyes.

"Don't you even fucking dare lecture me on what it means to be a soldier, as if I'm not pulling my god damn fucking weight," Freddy said, his voice, on this rare occasion, low and controlled, "I fucking work hard to protect everyone. I pull my weight. Sue me if I'm not as bloodthirsty as you. Sue me if I don't charge into the middle of the enemy lines and die uselessly. Sue me if I'm not too busy lusting after fucking Olivia as she gives us orders."

Without even thinking Aaron drew his blade and held it tight to Freddy's throat, once again hands trembling with rage, everything within him wanting to push the blade deeper into his throat.

"Don't you dare bring her into this...I will have to live with my mistakes everyday for the rest of my life knowing that what I did could have possibly killed everyone that I love, but you want to know something, I was willing to act so that no one will have to suffer except for me. That's what it means for me to be a soldier. At least I'm willing to act, and if I hadn't stepped in tonight you would have been dead on the floor. Damn it Fred don't you see that what I did I did to save your life? If something were to happen to you or anyone else in this little fucked up family I would never be able to live with myself."

Unable to stop himself, Aaron let tears stream down his face, not in an act of sobbing but he just wasn't able to contain all of the emotions that he was feeling at that moment. Finally letting loose the grip on his sword handle and letting it clatter to the ground, Aaron grabbed Freddy's shoulder and kept his gaze locked into Fred's,

"If you weren't around Fred, who would come up with the stupidest curses that I have ever heard in my life? " Aaron let himself chuckle at his own thought as he carefully watched Freddy's next few moves.

Freddy patiently waited for Aaron to finish talking. He got the feeling that Aaron was wearing his own anger out, and after a bit the real issues on his mind came out. Freddy felt a twinge of guilt for yelling at him. Aaron hadn't been trying to be a bad person. It just freaking Freddy out to see the blood spill, and between his usual anger issues and his currently manic, racing mind, he hadn't thought. Only yelled.

He took a deep breath to calm himself down. It didn't work much. He was still extremely angry, and had a thousand shrieking curse words he wanted to blast into Aaron's face with a 'deafening roar', but he managed to control himself as he spoke.

"Aaron, I...understand where you're coming from. I try my best to keep us stupid shit stains okay. You...you guys are my life. And I am thankful that you stepped in. But you could have interrupted and helped in so many ways. Instead...you made a bet and used it as an excuse to kill fucking a man. You may not have realized it, but your actions were partially motivated by a desire to harm others, as well as to help me."

He sighed, looking down, then looked back into Aaron's eyes. He put his hands on Aaron's shoulders, his voice solid and unwavering as he spoke, "I know what it's like to regret something you did too. I have the scars to prove it. I don't want you to make a mistake like I did. You just held a fucking sword to my scarred-ass throat, and I saw the desire to push it forward in your eyes. Anger's one hell of a drug, huh? I know I do dumb shit while pissed. I shouldn't have brought up Olivia, that's your personal shit. I mean, my whole thingy with the resident badass big spear fuck is pretty evident to everyone but him. I can't really judge you on stupid crushes."

Freddy paused, collecting his thoughts. It was difficult. Focusing. His mind was ablaze with activity, and he hated it. He hated being unable to help those he loved when they needed it, and he hated being unable to even really help himself. Damn it, though, Aaron was in a bad state, and he could only try his best. His failure best.

"Aaron. If you're angry or hurting, talk to me. Your way of expressing your rage is terrible. You could have killed me, right after saving me too. Now wouldn't that be a shitty fucking story to tell people while I'm burning in midget hell? 'The angry fucker that saved my sorry asian ass proceeded to kill me in a stupid fucking pissing contest'," Freddy said bluntly, "I have my anger issues too, so color me a hypo-fucking-crite."

Freddy stared Aaron in the eyes, unflinching, "Promise me you'll talk to me. Or someone. Anyone, really. Just don't let your anger rule you, or it'll be what kills you. Possibly after it kills some other douche canoe."

Freddy cursed himself for his disjointed lecture, but he hoped at least some of what he tried to say sunk in. It was pretty nice of Aaron to sit through the whole fucking thing, he thought.

After Freddy had finished his speech Aaron took a long moment to ponder it, and the fact that it came from Freddy surprised him even more. For the first time in a long time he saw a side of Freddy that wasn't all imaginative curses and short tempers. Suddenly something that he said brought a joke to mind that he couldn't let pass,

"Oh Fred you wouldn't end up in midget hell....midgets stand at least two to three feet taller than you."

"Fuck you, Hothead!"

A deep belly laugh erupted from Aaron as Fred's usual temperament returned and for the first time since the group had hit the road Aaron genuinely laughed from the depth of his soul. After he re-sheathed his sword he threw an arm around Freddy and pulled him in a hug,

"You know something Fred...your good people, if the freakishly short can be considered people. Lets go get a beer somewhere...my treat."

Freddy paused, then looked at the corpse of the gangster Aaron had killed.

"...I...want to give him a proper burial. Whoever he was...even if he was a bastard in life...I...I want to give him a little respect in death," Freddy said quietly, "I can't just leave him here."

Freddy walked over to the dead body and lifted it, bridal style. It was an odd sight, Freddy easily lifting the huge man. The strength of a Guardian aided him in his endeavor.

"...Any fucking idea where to bury this douchebag?"

Aaron looked over the decapitated body with the same cold heartedness that he had shown when he severed the mans head, which he just so grab from the ground.

"It's probably best that we give him a sailors funeral," Aaron directed Freddy's gaze with the decapitated head to the edge of the water, "that's going to be the quickest and simplest way to dispose of the body and we can say a few prayers while he sinks."

"Fuck prayers. God doesn't give a shit," Freddy said, tossing the body into the water.

"I'm sorry," he whispered as the body splashed.

After a few moments, Freddy spoke.

"Holy fucking shit he's floating oh my god what if god damn little fucking children see it and cry holy fuck I just realized I made a little girl cry earlier oh my shitty shit fuck shit Aaron I'm a terrible person Jesus fucking Buddha on Muhammid's fucking sofa I need to go get that beer you mentioned go go go let's fucking GO!" Freddy declared, speaking rapidly.

Aaron turned tail right behind Freddy quickly catching up as he quickly started adding his own thoughts to the situation,

"By the way...we are never going to speak of this to Liv...got it?"

"Oh HELL no we aren't," Freddy said, "I'd die of shame, needing your sorry ass to save me."

---

The Boat

---

Olivia’s slumber had taken her for quite a ride; in and out of strange dreams and the reality in which she currently existed on the boat, which shuffled her body about without mercy. The earlier, unsettling conversation with Emily did not bode well with Olivia, adding to her already intense stress levels, which in turn unleashed their fury when the dark haired girl attempted to sleep. In her dream, for nine times the space that measured day and night, Olivia traversed a vast unknown. Across endless plains of tar, brightly ablaze, she trod in agony. Over jagged mountains of ebony clad with the bones of lost wanderers, beneath black oceans where appalling creatures dwelled and grasped her feet, through bedlamic storms which tore her clothing, and chilling winds that struck her with illness, she wandered aimlessly. Day and night she cursed the beings beyond her comprehension, asking why she had to suffer this immeasurable pain. Olivia’s words were unheeded by the Empyreal, though, not unheard. From the depths of the murky waters rose a gigantic creature with slender tentacles, myriad of arachnid eyes, and a disproportionate mouth filled with jagged teeth. Olivia gasped in fear and thus spake:

*

“What are you?!”
“Crave for ardency from the creator of all things do you, young one?—Foolish, however admirable considering your predicament which vacillate your existence. Why are you here, tiny one? To what manner of end could possibly entice you to traverse these horrid planes?” The creature spoke.
“…What? What are you talking about? Where am I?!” Olivia shouted.
“Are you lost, tiny one? You are lost, tiny one. I can show you the path which from darkness leads up to light, to your former glory besides the maker.”
“My former glory?—what are you talking about?”
“Ignorance and forgetfulness stricken your mind, I see—a bastille of ethereal properties he created within which your body to imprison. Yes! Yes! Trapped you are, young one,” The creature grinned.
“You don’t make any sense, foul creature… go away!”
“Then you shall not know the path, tiny one. Never shall you leave this place of neither darkness nor light. Never shall you know another soul of your kind again. Never shall you know the end of your journey, and it shall drive you mad. Not like him, the great one, who embraced his destiny by our side to conquer that which cannot be conquered.”
“…who are you talking about?”
“The harbinger, young one, tiny one; the one who shall set us free from this eternal repetition.”
“Wha—…”

An incidental wave caused the boat to rock and interrupt Olivia’s dream. Her memory of the strange conversation with the horrid creature was hazy, not to mention incomprehensible. It was undeniable, Olivia could not think of any other person than Sam as the individual the creature had spoken of. But how could it be him? It was impossible; Samuel Valentine was dead, had been for many years, and nothing could ever bring him back to life. This is what Olivia convinced herself of, basking in her ignorance.

Moments Later…

Olivia felt nauseous when she heard the potential menu of the evening: beans and spaghetti, not to mention whatever it was that Kim attempted to eat. All due respect to his grandparents, but a ‘jumbled mess’ was not exactly what Olivia needed right now. “I could really go for a steak right now, with potatoes and gravy,” she said and sighed. “You guys eat something; I think I’ll have a word with the Captain,” Olivia said and exited the tiny mess hall. A spiral ladder just around the corner of the mess led up to the bridge. As it was quite a bantam ship, it only had four crew: the Captain, his first mate, and two deckhands. The Captain was currently alone at the bridge, reading a book while the vessel was running on course.

“Captain? If I may…” Olivia inquired. The man was a senior, a war veteran.
“Certainly, what’s on your mind, soldier?”
“What’s our current ETA?”
“The currents seem to favor our direction; we’ll be in Norton thirty minutes earlier than expected.”
“That’s excellent news. Is there anything we can do?”
“From what I’ve gathered, you people are Guardians, correct?”
“Yes, sir, that’s correct.”
“Well, if any of you are connected to water spirits, I assume that it could hasten our travels.”
“Yes, sir, one of us is. I’ll put her to work right away, sir.”
“Outstanding, soldier,” the Captain finished and dismissed Olivia.

Olivia exited the bridge and made her away to the stern, the night sky and stars above her head; the fantastic rumble of splashing water sporadically tumbling around beneath her feet. She pulled out her phone and texted Kat: Meet me at the stern, by the propellers. /Olivia.

---

It wasn't enough.

The rain, it burns her, each small droplet forging a hiss of steam that coils up in front of an azure gaze hardened and sharpened into a deadly gem. She's burning, because of the fire coiling inside her heart that rages in the horrid inferno that it is, that it will be if released, it makes her breath harsh and jagged and she cuts those eyes over at the conjurer of tricks and unfortunate showers. It's enough to make teeth grind, molars throbbing with each incline of her jaw as she struggles against this deluge, rolls of thunder shatter her resolve and the small girl she is crumbles in on herself because it just isn't enough. Not enough to curb her desire, her hunger, her want of gaping wounds and lesions weeping her crimson sorrows, that numbing pain and agony that slices across her soul in pleasurable lashes. She hates herself for it, but what else is there to the beast loose inside her, she can feel the prowling and stalking of the hounds at her sides, each snap of their hideous jowls deformed and jagged with sharpened bone, some beaming malicious smiles of metallic needles. She's trembling, but not in fear, but in confined agony.

Magdalena moves in restricted and jerky motions, her fingers can't quite grasp her weapon as she attaches the bladed pieces back together into the original design, and she shucks her dexterous gestures through her drenched tresses to shovel the pieces from her eyes. She hates the water, and this infectious storm doesn't alleviate her sheer antagonism towards the liquid. Regular cleansing is much different compared to this assault, it's tinged in the taste of lightning and peppered with mischievous reflections that could only be on Roy's summoning. She marches across the corpses frozen and impaled, each morbid carcass is an illustration of power and capability and their blood all black and stilled is enough to make her clenched hands tremble. She doesn't want to reflect on the whys, so she passes over them with a down cast gaze and towards her chakram shining in the sunlight attempting to break through, but it's for not as the clouds continue to blot out what gleam there is to be had. The edges are tainted and she carefully slides her fingers over the customization and uniqueness of this modeled circlet, she's pricked herself upon these refined borders countless times, she knows everything about this weapon and it fits her body like none other. It's an extension of her heart that is capable of slicing through her enemies, it'll spin and dance upon her whims. She envies the weapon for a moment before finally pulling it from the ground, not minding the press of her sharpened curves and spins it back to the designated holster across her spine.

None of this is enough.

Magdalena sighs quietly to herself and attempts to shake the remaining droplets from her pale hair, her uniform feels heavy and thick, suffocating her small body beneath and the chakri on her ankles and wrists continue to chime as she turns on her heel, only to witness Olivia in her fit of anger that can be in signs of concern and protection. It's endearing, envious, Magdalena wanted to lash out like that, she wanted to be able to grab Aaron and shake some sense into him, she wanted to be able to voice herself in loud exclamations and accusatory screeches, but she merely glanced away, towards their destination. She had been right in the beginning along with Remi, about standing here out in the open, granted no one had suffered injury and critical harm, but the fact remained that simply standing here in the open plains had been an open invitation to their impromptu break.

She almost voices herself again, a simple inquiry to everyone, but the all too familiar sound of flesh bounding onto flesh made her still. She turns to her peripheral and watches as Kim strikes the dwindling Xenomorphs again and again, each strike, each ringing punch sends her nerves flaring. She knows those hits personally and aches to join him, but Olivia is already marching off, settling the pace to determined and purposeful. She glances at Kim for only a second longer before forcing herself to move, each step hard and frustrating, but it's better than submitting to whichever it is that howls and whines and scrapes at the edges of her soul. Her shadow has been wide and dark the entire time, but only then does it sharpen and coil around her. Her spirits wave carefully around her, cloaking her in their shadowy selves and their ruby cores.

Magdalena rubs her shoulder the entire way, unable to forget the ache from Julian's grasp and the sound and flash of Kimberly's fist upon their enemies.

It's never enough.

A pair of knowing eyes glanced at Magdalena’s direction, but did nothing ---could not do--- more.

---

┊» ｄｏｒａｌ●

---

---

Kimberly did not move immediately after the group disbanded. He wasn’t sure what to do next. There wasn’t much to do in general, but simply wait for time to pass.

“And what are you going to do? Count the number of raindrops?”
Actually, I was planning to count how many seconds it will take for the boat to arrive.
“No you weren’t.”
No I wasn’t.

The two stood in momentary silence. A silence that was not even slightly quiet. Not to Kimberly anyways. Kimberly’s ears could hear the busy night of Doral. The sounds of the town’s nightlife coming into full swing. From what he could tell, there were only four kinds of people who would willing walked out at night in this town: those who intended to have some fun, those who were looking for trouble, those who didn’t do honest work, and those who didn’t know any better. They were going to have to be careful in Doral, however short their stop may be.

Kim’s eyes moved down to his armor. Nature's shower washed away most of the previous battle’s evidence. No one would have been able to tell that his armor, especially the parts that protected his arms, was covered in xenomorph body fluid, and Kami knows what, not too long ago. They were clean. Yet, he couldn’t help but feel dirty. The thought of microscopic remnants of the creatures clinging to his armor made Kimberly uncomfortable. He needed to properly clean his armor.

Kimberly looked around to find a place to clean his armor, when he heard his roommate let out a wistful sigh. Kimberly’s eyes looked at him once, and then to the only person he knew Ghost would sigh in such a way for. Magdalena.

The way he looked at her. Had Kimberly not thought that Ghost was just a desperate horny perverted adolescent ---or whatever age this hallucination supposedly was--- he would have believed Ghost had genuine feelings for her. Although Kimberly had not the slightest idea why. Ghost was figment of his imagination; a hallucination.

Ghost grinned, “then maybe I’m the suppressed subconscious. The Id of your existence.”
That’s… a disturbing thought.
“Well if I’m an imagination or a hallucination, then I must have been based off of something.”

Kimberly had considered the possibility. Ghost obviously did not exist in this world: Kimberly had been with his roommate for over 15 years and no one has ever acknowledged him. Unless, of course, all of humanity decided to give Ghost the silent treatment for nearly two decades. If that was the case, Kimberly was as much out of the loop as Ghost was. Though he seriously doubted it. Samuel would not have done that to Ghost. Even if he occasionally annoyed Kimberly to no end that could not possibly warrant a cold shoulder from every being for years.

Did that mean Ghost was something very real inside of Kimberly? A thought; an idea; a belief; a need; a desire that was hidden deep inside of him? Possibly. For all he knew, Ghost could have simply been one of the many spirits inside himself. Which, quite frankly, explained a lot if true. Regardless, Kimberly, and not even his doctors, had evidence to prove any hypothesis. Although Ghost never truly admitted it, Kimberly was also pretty sure that not even Ghost knew what he---… it was.

“Kim.”
I’m not going to stalk Maggie just for you to ogle her buttocks… or whatever it is you do.
“You might not have a choice in the matter.”
What are you talking about?
Ghost’s chin lifted itself and pointed at a group of shady characters following Kimberly’s petite friend. From how closely they followed, Kimberly thought Magdalena knew and possibly even lured them into following her. Why would she do that? It was very uncharacteristic of her.
"Unless?"
Kimberly narrowed his eyes.Unless... Kimberly quickly ran in the direction Magdalena and her unsuspecting prey walked towards. Not only to save Magdalena from the suspicious trio, but to also save her future victims.

-----

Doral must have been a town, in which the buildings were built before the roads. Excluding the main road, every road and back ally twisted and turned in such a way that it had created a maze. Turning right, right, and right again did not always take a person to their original starting point. Thanks to the combination of intricate pathways, the frequent interchanges of dark to brightly lit areas, loud noises, and the crowded main road, Kimberly lost sight ---rather the distinctive “sound”--- of Magdalena in a a matter of seconds.

Kimberly attempted to focus all his attention to his ears to grasp any echo of Magdalena, but Doral was too loud for him to concentrate on just one sound. Everything was amplified, from the rain hitting the metal vehicles to the breath that every living thing took. Everything distracted him. Defeated, Kimberly gave up on tracking Magdalena with sound. When the idea of using animal spirits to find her scent crossed Kimberly’s mind, it was quickly shot down by Ghost.

“Ignoring the fact that the rain probably washed their smell away, have you seen this dump? This town is a mess. You’d smell more garbage than the odor of the people who actually live here.”
I don’t think running aimlessly through a maze is going to improve the chances of me finding her.
Ghost pointed at the rooftop of the buildings, “then cheat.”

Kimberly jumped across the sky, landed onto the next building and ran across it as fast as he could. Searching for any sign for Magdalena or the trio. He stopped at the highest point of a building he could reach and surveyed his surroundings.
“On second thought, maybe we don’t actually need to hurry. Let her beat them up. It’s not like they didn’t deserve it.”
No. She might hurt herself and she could accidentally kill them. I can’t let that happen.
“Sucks for them. Life goes on Kim, with or without some thugs. Lena, on the other hand, needs to let it out. It’s a win, win situation Kim! Less criminals and improved mental health for Lena! Everyone is happy!”
We don't know if they're actually criminals...

Images flash through Kimberly’s mind. People looking at him as if he was an evil spawn. Waiting; expecting for Kimberly to show his true colors: to one day become a ruthless criminal like his father.

Kimberly was sitting alone in the cafeteria when he was suddenly accosted by a group of children who had discovered who his parents were. “I heard your dad was a bad guy!” “Are you a psychopath too?” “My mom told me that criminals would always be criminals.” “Was your mom crazy? Is that why she killed herself?” “Why did your dad kill all those people?” “Do you think about killing people?” “What was the saying? The apple doesn't fall far from the tree?” “Your dad got what he had coming to him!” "Bad guys always lose!"

They continued to gossip in front of Kimberly as if he wasn’t there. He wished he wasn’t there. He wanted to scream at them; shut them up; make them stop. But at the young age Kimberly already knew one sad truth about the world: once labeled as something negative, no matter what he said or did, everyone only saw Kimberly as the villainous Lee Faye’s son. It was pointless to say what he believed. His father and his mother fought for years to let their voice be heard, but no one listened. No one cared. The world just wanted one more lowlife disposed of. And the world got what it wanted. The evil criminal was executed for his inhumane crimes. Justice had been served and everyone lived happily ever after. Life went on. Even as the case slowly became the thing of the past, inside, Kimberly always screamed of Lee’s innocence. Even if his voice would never be heard by anyone, he continued to yell at the world. His father was innocent. But they took him away. His mother died of heartbreak. Not because she felt guilty for the "crimes" her husband caused. Not because she was just as mentally unstable as her husband. She died, because the world took him away from her and no one ---no one--- provided solace to her in her time of need. Kimberly silently yelled his lungs out to the world: My father was innocent.

“I’ll believe you,” he heard his savior say.

Ghost expression suggested that he felt guilty for triggering unpleasant memories, but he did not apologize or make any attempt to rephrase his previous statement. To do such a thing would mean that he thought Kimberly’s father was indeed a guilty of the murders... and oddly enough, Kimberly got the impression that Ghost did not think that. It was difficult for Kimberly to deny that the world would be a better place with less crime, but he could not convince himself that killing criminals ---the "bad guys"--- was the perfect solution.

You know... I’m surprised you’d want to spend less time with Maggie.
"What?"
I thought you enjoyed sparring with her. But if she lets off steam with someone else... well... that would mean she doesn't need us... Right?
“Kim, what are you doing wasting my time sightseeing? We have to find Lena quickly! Like soon. Like right now.”

The loud cries of pain accompanied by a dragon’s roar reached Kimberly’s ears. When he turned to the direction he thought he had heard the noise come from, his eyes saw a shadow reach out to him. “Maggie?” The shadow beckoned him to follow it and he did just that.

When the shadow lead him straight to where Magdalena was, he felt himself pale at the sight. Magdalena was beating her assailants victims into a bloody pulp. If the trio were not dead yet, they would be soon. Kimberly did not allow himself to waste any more time. He jumped down from the roof and ran to Magdalena. “Maggie! Stop!” His giant arms wrapped around Magdalena, restraining her arms and overall body movement, as much as he could. The small dragon struggled viciously and made every attempt to escape Kimberly’s physical constraint. He could feel the heat radiating off of her burning skin, but he dare not let go. Now that he was in closer proximity, he allowed his ears to focus on the sounds of the fallen men. Kimberly sighed in relief. Although they looked liked they were in terrible condition, the sounds their body made assured Kimberly that they were still alive and would get better if they were taken to the hospital.

As he contemplated what to do next, he heard additional sounds coming closer. “Over here!” someone said, “I heard something over here!” Kimberly took this as a sign to take Magdalena and trust the well-being of her attackers to the newcomer.

Once Kimberly found a quiet and secluded area in the town, Kimberly freed the dragon in his grasp. The second Kimberly let go of Magdalena, his stomach was treated to a quick slash of the chakri blade. Kimberly ---inwardly thanking himself for not taking his armor off to clean it earlier--- jumped away before Magdalena could slash at him again. Kimberly maintained eye contact with her as he slowly placed his backpack to the side. Watching her every move. She paced back and forth, like an agitated wild animal, frustrated that she had nothing to unleash her wrath onto. The dragon lets out a frustrated roar, before turning around to search for something that could satiate its burning need.

He ---they--- couldn't allow her to leave. Not in this condition. Kimberly rushed to take off his gauntlets.
"You know she loves it when it hurts more right?"
Well, I'd rather not hurt her more than necessary.
"Tease."
Kimberly was tossing his gauntlets to the side when he saw Magdalena's shadow reach out for him---... them. Although Kimberly could not touch, let alone feel the shadow, Ghost was able to embrace it. He was petting it, as if to sooth any anxiety it was feeling. Suddenly Kimberly's previous thoughts on his roommate resurfaced. He had totally forgotten something. Kimberly was not the only one who interacted with Ghost. Empathy ---the spirits---, and consequently Magdalena (though she may not realize it), also recognized Ghost's existence.

Kimberly did not know what passed between the two, but when Ghost's closed eyes opened, his face expressed sorrow ---of sympathy---, which was quickly replaced with disgust. Then he grinned. Kimberly didn't like that grin.

---

---

There was a certain haze that filtered over her gaze when she fought; when she surrendered herself over to the desires of her heart and soul, when she submitted to the wills of violence and chaos that festered deep within. It blanketed over her then, she punched, clawed, even bit at the unsuspecting trio that had followed her into the dark. Like a hellacious beast she had turned and with arms spread wide in an invitation she had spoken of their utter demise and torture.

"Take your best shot boys."

The following brawl had been a confusing and erratic fight for them, having not encountered something so small and yet so threatening in their pathetic lives here in Doral. Later on they'd speak of the blonde temptress and her demon, they'd spread a web of stories and lies and fear and talk about the red so bright and hateful against her skin and the heat that burned oh so painfully. Of the rain and the steam and the screams that were torn from their throats in bloody force from every time she launched her entire body at their trembling selves, there had been a gleam in her eyes and a darkness around her and within they would see the beast that was Chaos.

But her climatic want never did come.

She had not been paying attention to her shadow vibrating and spinning around hectically or the way it whisked off and slunk across brick and metal and found Kimberly. The haze was suffocating her at this point as her fist shot down and crunched bone, spreading cartilage and blood across the man's split cheek and relishing in the pain as her skin peeled across her knuckles. They were smiling, grinning mouths across the back of her hands and the red made her pant and laugh, manic sounds that slid from her throat and came out in a slow purr from her candied lips. She saw her mother's sorrow filled gaze so blue like her own standing within a burning inferno, she saw her father standing in the distance upon a hill of bleached bone; surrounded by the corpses of her brothers, she saw their youthful faces gaping wide in silent cries of anguish. She saw him, Julian, smiling at her and his teeth were barbed wires and his eyes were swirling pools of grey and when he laughed, oh how he laughed, he belched a black tar that held her down as he touched her with clawed hands stained scarlet on their edges.

And then he spoke. . .

"Come on now, let me taste your despair!" She laughed.

Stop!

Arms swooped down, held her, cut her off from her pain and kept her prisoner.

"NO!" Magdalena screeched and kicked, flailing her limbs in attempt to break from her captor. She nearly sobbed in her loss, her tiny frame convulsing in the constraints as Kimberly began taking her away from her victims. She needed this, wanted this, there was no other way to get it out. There was no other way.

"Let me go!" She begged, her voice often light and careful was now strained and bleeding, painting her agony and her self-directed torture. It was coming out, it was so painful, it was clawing at her heart and choking her, it was tearing away at her soul and she thought she that might die.

And then he let her go.

Everything happened in a slow rotation, from the numbing sensation coiling across her ligaments and securing around her cranium, blue flashed to a boiling ebony before she prepared. Muscles taut and burning before she spun and tried to lash out with a vicious kick.

"You son of a bitch," she seethed, teeth bared into a vicious grimace like the hounds prowling around her shoulders and hips, snapping their jowls and cackling madly. She paced, her chakri ringing, her boots stomping through puddles as she tore at her soaked tresses and screamed. It was a bloody screech of pure, unrestrained frustration, it was torn from her soul and with a dark look towards Kim, she nearly growled before turning away, searching for something, anything.

Anything to rid of this pain.

A hand reached over to caress Magdalena's bare arm. Despite the unbearable heat the dragon's skin must have emitted the hand continued to stroke her. The man behind Magdalena leaned forward to whisper in her ear. "Magdalena," the man with Julian's voice said. The man felt the woman in front of him start to tremble. Out of fear? Out of rage? Who knew. Yet he continued despite the obviously negative response she gave. "Let yourself go, my pet. Free Chaos from its prison." His hands stopped right on the bruises Julian had made as a parting gift. The fingers began to grip tightly on its marks. "You know you want to be free. So be free... What's stopping you Magdalena? Your friends? HA! Of course its your friends. It has always been. They chain you down, force you to cage the beautiful and magnificent beast inside you. And what has that accomplished? Nothing. Don't you see? Don't you get it? It's meaningless to keep it locked up inside of you, my sweet... sweet... Magdalena." A hand left her shoulder to slide itself down her back and thigh suggestively.

"No..."

A cold sense of dread had settled within her heart, but this wasn't happening. It couldn't be, a harsh denial tried to shake her resolve as a numbing, frigid pain congealed within her blood and forged with marrow. From the moment that voice had broken through the rain she had been powerless and weak, trembling and utterly consumed over her chaotic emotions. Everything was pin pointed and sharp and digging into her soul, each word struck somewhere deep inside her and let some of the darkness weep through. Wed to her sorrow, Magdalena's hands slowly ascended upon her visage warped into a illustration of pure distress, fingers arch against her skin and nails bore at her temples that pulsed with her terrified heart. She can't move and she can't speak, her voice is abandoned somewhere within her chest and every time she inhales, it's jagged shards of obsidian ice that impale her will and force her into place.

She can only remember the pain and she can't banish the memories surfacing to her eyes that cannot see behind the sheet of rain and the wavering obscurities that are spinning about unrestrained and without control. Their ruby cores are pulsating, a matching tempo, a mimicking cadence of absolution and abhorrence. Magdalena releases a choked sound when he touches her and everything is suddenly so real.

The hand gradually moved its way to the front and continued to travel up her chest... and every slowly up towards her neck. The other hand that still had an iron grip on her shoulder, finally loosened up to travel to her neck as well. Every movement the man made was deliberately slow. He took his time: time given to Magdalena so that she could truly register what he was doing to her. A wet tongue licked the back of her ear, "maybe if you loose them too you'll finally." Both of the man's hands reached her neck, lightly applying pressure to it, "snap."

The flashing, scarlet centres of her spirits burn, their conflagration merging within the ebony shadows, bleeding their power as she drags her nails down and scrape them across his hands cinching around her throat. She won't let him use her like that again, she refuses him that chance the second time around. She knows he isn't here, but then he is, he's standing behind her, just wearing a different face. His voice scrapes across her soul raw and aching and she impales her nails in deeper like an animal clawing her way from her terror. When his grasp loosens, she throws all her strength in her formerly trembling legs. Her former training is second nature impeded into her habits, it doesn't take much for her to launch forward in a flip, her booted feet rocketing out whilst she's suspended in the air to launch a kick meant to dislodge him away from her quickly.

After letting out a surprised yelp from getting his hands clawed at, Kimberly stumbled a few steps back from the impact of Magdalena's powerful kick to the face. His hand touched his face to see red blood on it. The giant smiled to himself at the sight of it. Before turning back to Magdalena, he spat the blood in his mouth to the side and grinned so wide that Magdalena could see his teeth. Kimberly continued to taunt his friend with Julian's voice, "don't tell me that's all you got, Magdalena."

It was like staring at a manic beast that mirrored the one roaring away inside her heart. Facing the man she saw as friend and ally, with that smile splitting his features into a mocking grin. Magdalena's eyes burn like the pure heart of a fire, blue and scorching and boiling. He used that man's voice against her, for what reasons she doesn't know, mayhap to distract her, maybe to tease her and mock her, she's only seen this side of Kimberly a few times before. It was him and then not, a completely different persona that had his eyes. His taunting voice rang out and she snarled, a bestial noise that raked over her teeth.

"You haven't seen anything yet."

Magdalena flips forward once to scissor out with her legs, an attempt to implement her chakri that chimes on her ankles and slash across his abdomen again. But Kimberly is expecting this, he knows her style and he fastens his large hands around her ankles and uses her momentum to throw her into the brick wall at their flank. A dull thud echoes through the alley and she gasps, the pain spearing across her body, but she doesn't stop. She spins and screams with her frustration and throws her legs around his waist, using her body to try and pin the man down. He lets her, but the smile across his face still mocks her and she seethes. Her fist comes down upon his cheek, his jaw and his laugh echoes through the torrent and he grips her thighs and throws her back away from him, planting his foot into her shoulder and sending her flying. Magdalena swears she can feel her bones breaking, but still she won't stop.

She charges at him, receiving a punch for her efforts but not before her nails rake across his eyes. He flinches back and her secondary fist comes rocketing up from the shadows and straight across his brow. He winces but still, he's smiling. She wants to tear that smile from his lips, she wants to tear it apart with her teeth and swallow it whole. Magdalena launches again and he blocks her with a flash of his arm coming across to protect his already split and bleeding cheek. Her fists are throbbing and it feels good but that split second of pleasure costs her, he brings his hand across her mouth and there's blood blooming from her lip; the metallic and copper palatableness coats her tongue in a macabre tang. She feels worn out, her arms trembling and her soul spent but Magdalena doesn't back down and continues the assault and there's literal magma leaking from her eyes, it comes in small trickles of burning oranges and reds as a vermilion circle borders her iris.

"Why?!" She inquires in a scream, using the wall as a launch pad to flip over Kimberly's towering height. She lands behind him and pivots on one leg to plant her boot on his spine. He jerks forward, coughing from her brunt hit again as she undermines his strength and metric stance, he's stronger than her but Magdalena has long been used to her diminutive size and has adapted to larger opponents: which is nearly everyone she has ever faced. She spins from his punch, catching it against her bruised shoulder and lashes out with her leg and smashes her boot against his shin with a fierce kick. Wheat blonde tresses waver in front of her eyes, her breath plumes pallid in the air and no longer does her skin burn under the torrential deluge, she's actually smiling. It's a wide grin that is endearing across her face, it lifts her stare that is burning orange and blue and she swipes her fingers across the pout of her lip in an almost provocative gesture. Her pink tongue swipes out to clean the carmine hue from her finger tips and her shadows careen high above her crown and spread wide like splotches of ink against the bricks and concrete of their battle field.

"Why are you doing this to me?!" Her scream is ringing with hopeless emptiness and while her eyes tear lava and stay true upon Kim's brown gaze - it can't be helped to feel that he isn't the only one she's beseeching to so desperately.

Kimberly smile faded as he returned Magdalena's intense glare. Still using a voice that was not his own, he answered Magdalena's question with another question, "who's answer do you want? Julian's?... 'Mine'?... Yours?" The beast's eyes suddenly flashed in a different color before he sprinted towards Magdalena. He whispered, "or the world's?" Two creatures fought viciously in the dark alley, with spirits as their only audience. Anyone who might have passed by to witness the sight might have sworn the humanoid animals were fighting to the death. Every attack executed was made to bring pain, spill blood, and make bruises. Yet, at the same time, it also looked as if they were dancing with each other. Both creatures knew how their opponent moved; their strengths; their weakness. It was obvious that they had fought each other before. Many times, in fact. That may have been why the fight took so long to reach its end. Near the end, the two soldiers were a complete mess.

Panting, Kimberly finally spoke in his own voice, "I, you, we, him... everyone in this world does this to 'you', because 'you' allow it to happen." When he noticed Magdalena freeze at his answer, Kimberly took the opportunity to push her down. Before she could stand up again, Kimberly pinned her to the ground. As she struggled, Kimberly growled and leaned forward to bite down onto her neck. He bit so hard that her skin broke, allowing the liquid ruby to drip down her white skin. He bit her like a beast displaying its dominance over its opponent. As if to mark her; to replace the invisible scars Julian Leonhardt created. As if to leave the only "proof" of his existence in a world where he did not exist in.

Once Magdalena stopped struggling, his teeth released her neck and licked the fresh wound he made. He softly whispered, "he controls you... owns you... as long as you continue to fear him... to think about him... Don't give him that power, Lena. He doesn't deserve it." The hands that pinned her to the ground moved to hug her. "We're here for you, Lena. Don't ever doubt that. All you have to do is ask... all you have to do is... reach out...for help." When Kimberly finally pulled away from Magdalena, he smiled at her, "that, is what you should never forget."

---

Loneliness.

It was all she felt.

Within the warmth of his arms her shadow pulsed and with it she felt a deep, aching loneliness within Kimberly. But could she entirely call this his own? Magdalena stared up at the dark sky that continued to rain despite the scene it poured down upon, as if the world continued to go on despite the shattering of abandonment she felt against him. The small woman sucked in a sharp breath of pain from the throbbing of her neck, the wound - no the mark - he had left. It was deeper than any bruise and burned twice as much and she wasn't sure of what to make of it and the feeling that blossomed from it and numbed her senses. Maybe she was still in shock of his words, forcing a sort of revelation upon her soul that she wasn't yet prepared for. So she took each word and sealed it within her heart, locked it down with the pain, for she would unlock it for another day.

But now, it was just too much.

The heels of her palms dug into her eyes, rubbing away the burning salt of tears that were gathering, never had anyone dared to embrace her like that or say such words. He took her own self-directed tortures and submissions and turned them against her. Did she really let it all happen? Was she that twisted and vulnerable to the pain and darkness? Magdalena didn't know, she almost felt sick with thinking that maybe she did deserve all this because she had allowed it to be. She peeled her hands away from her eyes only to meet the smile that was warm and so uncharacteristic of the usual stoic Kimberly. Her shock though only lasts for a moment when his expression transitions to a confused glimmer in his dark eyes and then a slow, creeping realization. There's blood across her neck and face, her lips is split open, her knuckles are torn and everywhere upon her usually pale and desaturated colour there is a blotch of red running thin with the rain. Neither of them say anything just yet.

"I-I'm... sorry... didn't... mean..." Kim breaks the silence with a panting baritone before he attempts to collect himself. Only the harsh breath of Magdalena's parted lips sounds along with the falling rain. "A-are you... okay... Maggie?"

Her eyes, now their usual blue luster simply glance away. She isn't sure how to answer, her body is pounding but there is no longer an aching, torturous need to rid of her agony. So Magdalena merely sighs quietly into the air and slowly peels herself from the cold, wet ground. She reaches out and gently cards her trembling fingers through his ebonette hair to soothe and calm him, it's a foreign action to her and her gestures feel alienated despite her good intentions but it feels right and her shadow is finally calm and collected behind her, no longer warped and trembling.

"I'm as good as I'll ever be."

Kimberly's hand reached over to Magdalena, but refrained from actually touching her, "I... can heal you..."

She shakes her head in declining him as she slowly manages to stand completely despite the strain in her muscles. She knows that him healing her would probably be the most logical choice, for she was sure that the group had many more battles to face and foes to vanquish, but just like her scar, she wants the pain to remain.

"No." Magdalena can't bring herself to look at him anymore and instead opts to stare at the ground and watches the rain cleanse away their blood and evidence of this fight. "I'll be fine."

It's a lie, but that's what she does with her pain, she always lies about it.

---

┊» ｔｈｅ ｂｏａｔ●

----Post Battle----

The rest of the battle passed in a blur of sound and fury. Thael was vaguely aware of his friends fighting around him, but he was entirely focused on holding the line. Rain suddenly came pouring down, only to stop a minute later, and only as the raptors began to freeze and die did Thael realize what had happened. With a final effort, he smashed his shield down on a raptor’s neck, pinning it to the ground, then put his spear directly through it’s eye and deep into its brain. The thing died with a final rattling breath. He looked around, hardly believing it was over. “Everybody alright?” he called out. Nobody seemed to be seriously hurt, thank <dieties>, considering what a disaster the battle had been. Yes, the their individual performances had been near-flawless, but their teamwork...it was a miracle nobody had died. Thael had worried about this, through all those years of training. He’d hoped, he’d believed that they would be fine once they actually saw combat, but it had taken all of fifteen seconds for their formation to crumble. Olivia’s orders had been spot on, but the team had let her down. Thael specifically had let her down. She should be able to count on him, at least, to maintain his position and follow orders, but he’d gone rushing off after Aaron like an idiot. Stupid stupid stupid! Thael berated himself. If he’d waited just a single instant to check with his teammates-no, he should’ve anticipated that Freddy would go in, and stayed in position himself. If they crumbled so easily against raptors, how were they going to fight Nautilus soldiers?

The crack of Olivia’s hand hitting Aaron distracted Thael from his spiral of doubt. It was good to see she was capable of being a hardass commander when she needed to be. Thael tried to shake off his negative attitude. Others needed him more right now. The group resumed its march to Doral with Olivia setting a fast pace. Thael embraced Roy quickly, happy to see him unharmed, before falling back to walk beside Aaron. “Don’t worry too much about it,” he said consolingly, “we all make mistakes. And you fought well, you really did.”

"Yeah from the guy that got his leg chomped and spent the rest of the battle in an unconscious heap...look I know what your trying to do Thael but I know that I fucked up. There's no use in trying to cheer me up."

"It's not about cheering you up, it's just the truth." Thael insisted. "Yeah, you got KO'd in about 30 seconds, but who wouldn't with 8 raptors around them? And you managed to fend them off..."

Aaron huffed and pulled the hood of his cloak tighter around his face and kept his focus on the road kept his hands resting on his swords handles. Nothing Thael said made a difference, Aaron knew what he did was a danger to the group, worse than that it proved that he wasn't good enough yet.

"Look Thael it doesn't matter what say it doesn't matter...I didn't anticipate the blow and I couldn't help in the fight. I'm not strong enough yet...not yet..."

Aaron's voice trailed out in though as his eyes wandered the road. He knew that he had to be stronger to help the group.

Thael looked as if he was going to say something, but decided against it. He clapped Aaron on the shoulder then got moving. The rest of the walk passed mostly in silence, the aftereffects of their first battle combining with the opressing sky to stifle most attempts at conversation.

When the rain came, it came as a great sweeping curtain, rolling down the road behind them. Thael turned back to watch the spectacle, popping his helmet on as he did. One second there were only a few scattered drops, the next they were hit by a torrential downpour.

----On the Boat----

The boat was cramped, but at least it was dry, and Thael was finally able to peel off his combat armour in one of the bunk rooms. He knew perfectly well the armor had a good seal, but the intensity of the downpour was such that he still felt soaked, so much so that he peeled off the body glove underlayer. Plus, he needed to examine the effects of the xenomorph’s bite; the armour hadn’t been breached, but sure enough there was a big bruise from the pressure. Thael poked at it with an irritable grunt. His spirits meant that the minor injury wouldn’t affect his performance, but it was annoying to know that it would be there for a while. Although if they were going to see combat soon, maybe he’d better ask Kim to take a look at it.

The sound of his friends settling in around the main cabin reminded Thael that he’d better call his brothers while he had a moment of peace and quiet. He retrieved his phone from a comparment on his armor. He skipped Cam, who he’d spoken to earlier and was probably busy anyways. He only spoke briefly to Kyle, just to say goodbye really. Kyle was quieter than his older brothers, more deliberate and soft spoken. At 16, he was shorter than Cam, but quite a bit broader. He was extremely in sync with his earth spirits, and had an artistic flair that none of his siblings could match. Their talk was brief and surprisingly lighthearted; Kyle was soft spoken, but he had a razor sharp wit, and Thael hung up with a smile on his face.

The call to Mitch was not quite so jovial. Mitch was something of a black sheep in the family. His brothers loved him dearly (even Cam, though he had an odd way of showing it), but unlike them, Mitch had no natural spirit affinities. While the other boys had their father’s strong jawline and high cheekbones, Mitch had their mother’s gentler features, and he’d barely even known their father. Mitch was incredibly intelligent, but equally shy and insecure. For years, Thael had watched out for his youngest brother as best he could, but he could only do so much.
“Hello?” a voice answered timidly.
“Hey Mitch, guess who?”
“Thael! I didn’t think you’d get shipped out so fast.” Thael winced at the unspoken ‘you didn’t say goodbye’ that Mitch was too timid to bring up.
“Yeah, it caught us all by surprise. I had twenty minutes to pack up, and I didn’t want to make a scene in front of your friends.”
Mitch sighed. “Yeah, my friends…” They both knew Mitch didn’t have any. Silence hung between them for a few seconds.

“What’re you up to right now?” Thael asked.
“I’m having dinner with Cam and some of his friends.”
“Oh really? That sounds nice!” He was relieved to hear that Cam had stepped up to the task of keeping an eye on the youngest, probably at the expense of a date with some young lady.
“Yeah, it is. They had both of us in for testing earlier, so Cam said we might as well get dinner together.” There was a slight catch in Mitch’s voice when he said testing, and a brief surge of anger flashed across Thael’s mind.
“BATW again?”
“Yeah…”

The first three Conrad boys had been a jackpot for BATW. So far as modern research could determine, there was no distinct genetic component to spirit affinity: it seemed the mental component was more important. But three brothers, all with guardian-level affinities? Surely there had to be something there, some factor that could be deduced and qualified and used to mass-produce guardians. Thael, Cam, and Kyle had all gone through extensive testing in their earlier years at the academy, and some theories had begun to take shape. Then Mitch had arrived and dashed those theories to bit. Three brothers with massive affinities, one with basically none. It drove the researchers crazy. It also did a lot of damage to Mitch’s self esteem. Hard to live up to those kinds of expectations. Occasionally researchers still liked to poke at him, see if they could find out anything new or uncover hidden potential, and they were inevitably disappointed. It was a tough life for a 13 year old.

“Don’t let them get you down Mitch, you’ve got just as much to offer as anyone else.”
“Sure I do.”
“Don’t be like that. Ultimately, a Guardian is just one soldier, and we need a lot more than just soldiers. Dad wasn’t a Guardian, General Cid isn’t a Guardian. You’re the smartest person I know, and you’re 13. Give yourself a chance.”
“...Okay. I’ll try.”
“That’s what I like to hear,” Thael said with a smile. “Alright, I have to go, but I’ll try to call every now and then. Don’t get into too much trouble with Cam there ok?”
“I think you’re the one who should worry about staying out of trouble, but okay. Please try to stay safe?”
“I’ll do my best. Talk to you later bud!”

The calls left Thael oddly content. The fact that he hadn’t been able to say goodbye to his brothers in the morning had evidently bothered him more than he thought. Still clad only in his underwear, Thael rejoined his friends in the main cabin as they considered dinner options. “Hey guys,” he called out. “We’re only on this boat for a few hours, let’s just cook it all. A feast of beans and canned spaghetti!”

On the boat towards Norton City

The boat ride had proven to be very shaky, much to Aaron's displeasure. He had been sick to his stomach since his encounter with Freddy and the gang that attacked him, something that Freddy had told him started the whole thing. Thinking back to his own smaller skirmish with Fred he had realized that he did have the urge to actually run the blade through his neck, a thought that now terrified him beyond belief. Aaron would never harm any of his friends intentionally but the fact that he felt such a strong desire to kill Freddy ...Aaron shuddered to think about it. The boat ran into a decent sized wave sending Aaron for a loop with his current inability to focus on any one thing at a time recently. The resulting spray from the boat's collision with the angry sea caused Aaron to groan in disgust, shaking the water off that now covered his cloaked frame. Having had enough of the sea and her seeming displeasure at the groups traversing across it Aaron decided to make his way to the galley, hoping that the ship had something more than the basic sailors food in stock. As he made his way down the cramped ship he saw several bunks that he couldn't tell if they were occupied or not, a light at the end of the hall caught his attention. Assuming that he had found the mess hall Aaron made his way through the cramped hall until he heard voices, two distinct female voices. Aaron was about to enter the hall when he heard his name spoken in conversation, quickly deciding to hide in the shadow of the door and peer through the window to see the pair inside



"You saw Aaron. Does he seem like he's got any idea what we're all getting into?"

This was odd, Aaron thought, what could Emily possibly have to say about me? Aaron moved closer to the ported window in the door to see who it was Emily was talking to. His heart sank when he saw Olivia's face sitting across from her.

“Do you, do I? I think Aaron knows that his impulsiveness will get the better of him one day. It’s my job to make sure that he doesn’t explode… prematurely,” She said with a slight doubt in her voice. “What do you want me to say, Emily? I already gave him what he deserved for that stunt. What else is there to do?” Olivia finished.

The twinge of doubt in Olivia's voice hit harder than any Xeno could, the fact that doubt even existed in her mind made him feel that much worse about what he did on the road. Aaron knew that his anger would get the better of him, and he worked very hard to keep it under control, but the fact that it caused doubt in Olivia, of all people, simply proved to Aaron that he hadn't mastered the abilities granted to him.

"I don't know. But I know that what happened on the road was a chance sighting, nothing really serious. Definitely nothing we couldn't handle. If that's how he responds to something so small, what's going to happen when we're in a serious fight?"

Suddenly anger found its way back into Aaron's heart, yes he made a mistake but what right did Emily have to doubt Aaron and his skills.

“Where is this coming from, Em? What do you have against Aaron?”

Olivia's defense of him brought a smile to Aaron. He expected it of course, Olivia was always defending individual members of the group, but for some reason it made his decisions just a little bit easier.

"Nothing. It's not like that. But I feel like this means there are circumstances were I - we - can't trust him."

“You shouldn’t be talking like this, Emily. Aaron is our friend, who was also the friend of someone that I shouldn’t have to remind you of, and we stand by his side no matter what, Olivia said. “Let me worry about what he does, and let me deal with it,… you just focus on what you are supposed to be doing,” she finished.

"You said it yourself - you don't want anything to happen to him. To us. I want the same thing."

“But… what? You think that Aaron is going to prevent that with how he is?”

"Not on purpose, but I think he could. If he gets mad, we have to rush in and save him. What choice would we have?"

“… It’s an interesting point, but what can we do about it other than support him and each other? When push comes to show, we are all going to crack at some point – even
you and me. Then we’re going to be grateful that he is there to take the heat.”

Aaron's hands gripped the handles of his swords just a little bit tighter, that was his goal in becoming a soldier, to be strong enough so that his friends wouldn't have to fight. Aaron had promised himself a long time ago that if something were to ever cause his friends to choose between living and having to sacrifice someone to do so, that he would be the one to do it. Aaron had never held his own life in much regard, especially since he met Sam and the rest of his friends, he had never valued himself as a person. He had decided then that he would live his life for his friends and their wellbeing.

"I don't know," Emily said. "That's true. Nothing we can do now. We can't leave him behind."

Aaron felt his heart sink to an all time low, leave him behind, had he caused that much of a problem to his friends that they had actually considered to leave him somewhere while they continued the mission on their own. Aaron let his back fall back onto the wall behind him, letting him process what he just heard.

“It baffles me that you would even imply that… we would consider leaving Aaron behind. I think you should get some sleep, Emily. I’m going to try to catch some myself.
Whatever problems we might run into in Norton City, we’ll deal with then, not now.”

Realizing that the conversation was over and that it might look bad if he was spying on the two girls Aaron quickly turned to go back onto the top deck of the ship, the sheath of one of his swords clanging against the door making it audible that someone was there. Charging through the doors that led to the deck Aaron't thoughts swam with the same anger as the sea. Not having anything else to do but brood Aaron took a pack of cigarettes that he had packed away in his armor and pulled out a bent one and used his own fire to light it. The long inhale seemed to calm him down as he slowly exhaled and stared out towards the open sea.

Olivia’s intentions of procuring a few minutes of rest were interrupted by a slight metallic noise emanating from somewhere behind her presence. She cautiously investigated and followed the modest sounds of what she could only guess to be a person. When Olivia finally reached the deck of the ship, she figured that it had been Aaron that conjured the mysterious sounds. The slender brunette did not say anything at first, she just took a position beside the boy.

“Hi,” Olivia said and gazed towards the horizon, if ever there was one on the endless seas.

The sudden appearance of Olivia's voice caused him to jump, he hadn't expected anyone to follow him, much less when he decided to light one up. As if he had just remembered it, Aaron tried to hide the cigarette behind his back as if he thought that the act would hide the smoke that now billowed out from behind him.

"O..Olivia...I mean," Aaron saluted with his free hand, "Captain Celestine."

Aaron began silently kicking himself for calling her that, after the event on the road and the talk he had with her on the docks he assumed that was the appropriate thing to do.

Olivia smiled underneath her breath, however not enough to clearly show it. She tilted her head ever so slightly to catch a glimpse of the boy standing next to her, adorable as he was trying to hide his indulgences. “You don’t have to call me that, Aaron. I’m still… just… good old Olivia,” she said and sighed at the horizon.

Aaron let out a huge sigh of relief, for some reason no matter how hard he tried he couldn't try to hide anything from her. He finally leaned back against the shoddy wall and allowed himself to enjoy the long inhale of nicotine as it filled his lungs. As he slowly exhaled he turned and watched Olivia stare out into the sea Her natural beauty accentuated by the squall around them made him appreciate what little time he spent alone with her. Turning his head back to the sea his mind once again drifted back to the conversation he had overheard and he debated on how to bring it up.

"Liv...I just want to say that I'm sorry for the road. I...don't know what came over me..." Aaron let out an audible sigh as his spare hand went back to his hilt as his knuckles turned white, "I wasn't strong enough and I let you and the entire group down..."

Aaron looked out towards the sea fighting back tears at his lack of skill on the battlefield and his lack of courage standing here with Olivia. Had he done what he truly wanted to say he would have told her how he was really feeling...but he had no spine so he changed subjects in his head hoping that she wouldn't notice the subtle change.

Olivia turned around and leaned against the railing, placing the sea at her back. She folded her arms across her stomach and looked at Aaron promiscuously, and addressed him in a deep, relaxed tone. “Is that all that you’ve got to say?” She asked.

Out of the corner of Aaron's eye he caught Olivia turning to him and speaking in the tone she used and the way that she stared at him made him immediately blush a deep crimson color. With darting eyes dancing around his skull Aaron sheepishly replied with the cigerette hanging from his mouth trying to keep an air of false machismo about him.

"Well...no...there was something else...something I've been wanting to say for a long time...umm...uhh"

Aaron unknowingly started twiddling his thumbs, a nervous habit that he picked up, while still trying to keep up his tough guy bravado. As he waited on Olivia to make the next move in the conversation Aaron couldn't help but run his eyes up and down her frame, once again falling into the struggle of trying to look away while not really doing a good job of hiding it.

During Olivia’s years at the academy different boys had displayed the same kind of nervousness around her every week when they attempted to ask her out. It was fair to say that she had gotten used to it, but this situation was a whole other ballpark; this was one of her closest friends who had also known Sam, and it violently stirred her usual confidence for a brief moment, as she would never have expected it to happen. The thought angered and excited her at the same time. She was always flattered when boys took an interest in her, but not when it was one of her childhood friends—brother and sister more so than anything else.

Olivia pushed herself off of the railing and approached Aaron, standing barely a heartbeat away from his body, tilting her head upwards to catch his eyes. “Then say it…,” Olivia said quietly, almost whispering.

Aaron could practically feel the pounding of her heart against his chest, her smell over-powered the smoke from his cigarette. Her whispering sent chills down his spine as he felt his own heart seemed to pound through the armor he was wearing. So many things were swirling around his head that he thought that it might explode from sheer overload. Finally he felt his heart sink into a deep pit, he knew that he wouldn't be able to actually say anything about his true feelings, so he said that only thing that could possibly come to mind.

"Thank you for defending me when no others would." he said dejectedly, "I overheard your conversation with Emily, I'm sorry for spying, but thank you none the less."

Aaron looked into Olivia's eyes watching her facial expressions shift and change, his eyes full of sadness over his own ineptitude of his courage. If she looked hard enough she might be able see the true words behind his facade. He placed his palm lightly on her cheek, eyes filled with all of the love that he could muster.

*

Olivia rested her head in the boy’s hand that was caressing her cheek and closed her eyes for a brief moment. When she opened her eyes, the only thing she could see and hear before her was Samuel. The words, the voice, the warmth and presence of his body had engulfed Aaron’s. Olivia knew that it was a figment of her imagination, but one that she wished never to vanish. She placed her own hand on top of Sam’s/Aaron’s and embraced it while she had their bodies make contact—her head resting against his chest. The heart on the other side of all that flesh and bones beat faster than she could comprehend, and so did hers. A modest tear escaped the corner of Olivia’s eye and fell halfway down her cheek before it stopped at Aaron’s fingers. “I’m just happy that you are here…,” she whispered.

Aaron jerked slightly, he wasn't sure what was going on but the fact that Olivia had possibly embraced the fact of what Aaron was trying to get through to her. In a moment where rational thought was no longer a sustainable option, Aaron wrapped his free hand. dropping his cigarette to the deck and holding her tightly as he leaned in close to Olivia's ear and spoke softly,

"Liv, I've loved you since we started at the Oakridge...I love you Olivia."

Infinite, boundless vistas of stars and galaxies flashed before her darkened eyes, deeply burrowed into the warmth of some presence which to her was alien, yet strikingly familiar. The words bounced and echoed within the depths of her perpetually obsessive mind; unsure of whom that uttered them and what they meant. In her heart, the words were spoken by Sam, to which she admitted mutual agreement and her partnership. However, in her mind, the words were spoken by Aaron, and therefore wrongly digested and interpreted as beatify friendship, thus she replied:

“I know…” Olivia gently detached herself from Aaron’s embrace. Without meeting his eyes again, she wiped the remaining tears from her eyes and slowly walked inside again to rest.

♥♦♣♠— Memories fade, like tears in the rain —♥♦♣♠
Doral

---

It felt nice.

The rain, that is. It never felt nice killing things after they'd died. It never felt bad, either. It just felt... well, Roy felt indifference. They died and that was all there was to it.

Nothing would keep Roy from feeling the cool drops of water run down his face and skin, heated from the adrenaline that ran his body into overdrive. Nothing would stop Roy from detaching himself from the world for a few seconds before being thrust into reality. The dull and grey Doral with the lake lapping at her pier, droplets of rain pelting the waves, came upon him in his relishing. It was enough to make him cringe, if only slightly, at the rustic nature of the small town. It looked like it was dragged down by dirt and grime and a blandness that radiated from its shores. There was just something about Doral that he disliked. It just didn't have that feel of a port town, where the only smell was the salt and a tinge of the fish they'd caught fresh that morning. The bustling of people in the market seemed to drone on and wasn't as lively as it should have been. The rain seemed to heavily influence that. It actually smelled more heavily of fish and grime, which didn't hit the nose as sensually as fresh rain.

What was currently happening around him didn't hit him as heavily as the others, not the battle they'd walked from or the outburst from Olivia, nor everyone separating their own ways. His eyes moved over everyone as he processed what was currently happening, but they were all long gone their by the time he realized. It didn't much matter to him, at that point; he was off himself, away from the noise of his friends into the bustle of a crowd. There wasn't much then that Roy had in mind to do. He wouldn't trust himself with money to save his life and beyond that, there wasn't much but quietly relaxing alone that seemed pleasant. He liked the rain, the snow, the heat, whatever the weather had in store, and he'd rather bask in it alone in his thoughts than with others occupying his attention.

The rooftops provided solace to Roy more than a crowd of people, wet and grimy in the rain. He quickly found that solace as he broke from the crowd, agile and with enough alacrity to balance himself along the more narrower paths through the maze of roofs, even as the rain made for more than a slippery surface. If Roy slipped it wouldn't be of his own doing, and he'd sooner catch himself than fall face first in the mud.

Sounds of rain pattering and the crowd chattering, their feet sloshing in the mud, calmed him; he liked it, loved it, even. The silence was louder than the noise, to Roy, and probably to most of his team. When combat and the military was all someone knew, the noise came as a comfort rather than a nuisance. At least, that was what Roy thought of his situation. Roy wasn't fond of silence mixing into his thoughts. The noise helped to drown out those thoughts he did his best to hide and the silence just amplified them. It made them unbearable and heavy.

But, Roy's thoughts were always heavy.

————————————————
♥♦♣♠— Hometown Glory —♥♦♣♠
Helston - Eastern Quarters
————————————————

"'Ey, kid, get me another beer," the low baritone, heavily country accented, echoed through the halls. The shattering of glass that followed moments later signaled his impatience.

A small boy came running through the living room and kitchen amalgamation, his hair haphazardly cut and his clothes filled with dirt and grime from playing outside too long. He rushed to the fridge, grabbing a small stool to reach the handle. Opening it, he rummaged through what was mostly beer and leftovers to grab the coldest one. Another shout of impatience came from the living room and the boy almost collapsed in his rush to shove it in the waiting hand.

"Take so damn long," the man grumbled, popping open the cap and downing a swig. He turned to look at the boy, his tired face twisting in annoyance. "What? You want one? There's plenty in there, Royce."

"N-no," Roy shook his head, "I'm good, sir."

The man guffawed before completely turning his attention away from the boy, coughing into his bottle as the television caught his eyes. In that moment, it was as if all of Roy's usefulness was bottled up and thrown away. The boy, to his father, ceased to exist when he was no longer needed and this was the perfect evidence. He'd call for him and Roy would come. He'd demand something and Roy would do it. And when it was done, Roy was gone. He was useful for as long as he existed in his father's eyes and that was only ever when something was out of reach from his position on the couch. No matter how long he stood there, he would remain invisible until his father turned around to scream only to find him. He'd then tell him to do something, and go back to completely ignoring him when the task was finished. It was rinse and repeat there. And every time, Roy would look up, tug at his sleeve to no avail, and almost cry. No one would blame him.

To not feel the love of a parent was, more or less, a scarring experience for a child. It was no less for Roy.

————————————————
♥♦♣♠— Rain makes the flowers grow —♥♦♣♠
Doral
————————————————

These memories weren't hard to chew or swallow—they came and went down like any other. The bad moments Roy cherished the most. No one grew from happiness, no matter how harsh that seemed. Maybe Roy didn't shape out as expected; in fact, he probably shouldn't have compared to the best of the best. But, it wasn't hard for him to accept that, or embrace it, for that matter. The moments, the bad memories, molded him into who he was currently. He was cynical, careless, selfish, and found pleasure at the expense of others. To deny that meant to deny everything he stood for. Maybe he was a bit more nihilistic than he was cynical and maybe that was the reason for his actions. That did not excuse what he did or would do, though. But, that wasn't what Roy lived for, to excuse himself because his past may have ruined his psyche.

On a solid spectrum, no inconsistencies and no variables, Roy was in the middle, if not a touch chaotic.

Death was something everyone faced and Roy accepted that, but he was selfish in his survival. An apex predator among apex predators. The most neutral a human could be.

Who he was or what he was didn't really matter to him as his gaze rose from the rooftops to the horizon. The rain pelted the surface of the lake, clouding the horizon in a light mist. Roy had found his way back to the dock, keeping his eyes on his feet and what lay in front of him. He'd heard the shedding of blood and the cries of battle raging below, but it affected him in no way. There was no need to threaten his own safety for some righteous act of goodness and faith. That was beyond what he cared for. Roy much preferred where he was now, sitting on the ledge of a building, feet dangling over the scaffolding, and eyes blinking away the rain as they stared into the horizon. He caught sight of a body in the lake and a few people reminiscent of Fred and Aaron run off, to which he rolled his eyes, but found no reason to leave his post. There were much better ways of disposing a body—there were a thousand different ways a child could come up with that was better than simply throwing it into a large body of water.

He stared at it, quietly, with a deep frown and furrowed brows.

————————————————
♥♦♣♠— A bed of roses; a sea of weeds —♥♦♣♠
Helston - Western Quarters
————————————————

There was no one more of an enigma than their mother. Her name was Veronica. She worked two jobs, one as a night shift waitress and another as an intern for a small branch of a larger business company. They lived somewhere in Western Helston in a small apartment in the seedier side of town. Veronica usually hopped from job to job, but this was apparently different than the others. She had a chance this time, as she repeated countless times in the mirror before work. That day, she looked ever more radiant, with her dirty blond hair tied high in a formal bun and her pantsuit looking crisper than it had when they'd bought it. It had been on discount and previously used, probably by an older lady—Roy joked that it would turn his mother into a crone who liked butterscotch more than her children. They'd all three giggled in the beat up car she lugged around and she tickled her two children before dropping them off at a no expense daycare.

It was no expense because the lady that ran it knew of their mother's habits and, seeing how much she loved both her children, decided it would be best to give her more hope rather than crush everything she lived for. If she lost Roy and Vivian, she'd have nothing left and, looking at them running for the church's doorway, she knew that.

Unbeknownst to both her children, Veronica had deep rooted issues with drugs, from abusing p-downs—home brewed Phoenix Downs, stripped of its healing properties to enhance its essential defibrillating qualities and increase the high people got off of it. Unlike actual Phoenix Downs, the street variation was injected through syringe and needle; it soared through the veins like fire, rising with the oxygen to reach the brain and heart to kick start both into overdrive. This produced an unhealthy amount of adrenaline and, due to the high toxicity of the substance, would strip the veins, making them weaker and thinner, while also increasing blood pressure and the risk of both heart attack and stroke, as well as thyroid cancer and lymphoma. It was like a variant of ecstasy and heroine combined into one, throwing people into an overdrive of euphoria and a state of hyper activeness. Many people often used it to enhance rough, sometimes more dangerous intercourse, as the drug enhanced adrenaline would turn pain into pleasure. Coupled with the burst of energy, it would eventually dehydrate the individual and would sometimes lead to death, in severe cases.

This was candy to Veronica.

As both a drug abuser and a nymphomaniac, Veronica often ventured to areas and parties in which it was often common for people to go missing at the oddest times. It was a number one reason why she jumped from job to job; people don't appreciate lateness, but they don't tolerate complete absence. Being a spontaneous and eccentric lady herself, this meant she'd often leave work early or simply not show up just to satisfy her addictions. She'd usually get a warning, until she either did it again or her employers uncovered her habits. It also meant that, during the weekdays, her children were either at a daycare or simply unattended in their tiny apartment for hours at a time. But, her children loved her too much to worry about their well being instead of hers.

It wasn't hard for Roy to learn how to take care of both him and his sister at a young age. Things come easy when one is forced into a situation. Survival came as second nature for Roy and it often came at the expense of others. If they had nothing in the fridge to cook or eat raw, even, Roy would find ways into other apartments, steal an assortment of food, even an unnecessarily large amount, just to feed him and his sister. He didn't see it as an offense to others, but more as a way to stay alive. Any life outside of the one Roy and Viv lived didn't matter, as it never affected them. What he knew currently and what was happening presently was at the forefront of Roy's mind. And what was present was his mother's happiness and their well being as a family.

This time was different. It was like all the other times, but this time was different. They'd have a life, finally.

————————————————
♥♦♣♠— There are things meant to be forgotten —♥♦♣♠
Doral - Harbor - Boat
————————————————

To spend three entire hours just going over things in his head, now that was an accomplishment. Roy was determined to get a ribbon for not committing any crazy shenanigans for three whole hours. Standing from his perch, he was surprised himself that he lasted that long. Maybe it was the battle or maybe it was just the memories. It ultimately didn't matter in the present.

The walk from rooftop to harbor wasn't that long; he merely retraced his steps, even through his endless musings. That was how he'd found himself back near the boat they were waiting for. His legs took him from one point to the other whilst his mind wandered. That was a regular occurrence for Roy, as he didn't much like the world if he wasn't actively doing something in it. By doing something, he meant creating mayhem or gathering as much attention to himself than was necessary, even if he wasn't one to even crave attention to begin with. Then again, Roy never looked too hard into why he did things; he did them to live and just to do them. If he went further than that, then who knew what would happen. He'd hypothesized that the world would implode, or at least his world would.

Stepping foot onto the harbor as everyone else did, Roy quickly found his way to the furthest end of the boat. He still didn't quite feel like socializing and maybe that was because he'd delved a little too far into his own mind. It was something Roy didn't often do and, on the occasion he indulged in finding his innerself, or whatever the hell it was, he'd set out to completely immerse himself in it. Roy never really did things half-assed, unless it was to aggravate someone; he couldn't deny that he went through the academy half-assing a lot of things that he perfectly capable of doing. But, as Roy passed every one of his friends, nodded politely to Olivia, he'd somehow managed to further detach himself. The bow of the ship, despite the rain, was the perfect spot for him and he was content to lean along the railings whilst they were still docked.

Silence hung over him, even as the waves splashed along the side and the rain poured down. It wasn't exactly an ideal moment for him, but he'd already been drenched and had already taken a fancy to watching the horizon bob in the distance. Plus, Roy had a kind of masochistic feeling that he'd want to delve further, to finally feel what it was like to lose someone, to remember the numbness and the pain that broke through regardless.

He needed more proof that he was alive.

————————————————
♥♦♣♠— Vega shines brightest in its turbulence —♥♦♣♠
Oakridge
————————————————

He was about two years older and leaps and bounds more mature. Well, in the sense that he knew far more. He watched over her constantly and with a persistence only reserved for himself. It wasn't because she was family, nor was it because he loved her, though he did; actions he took were for his well-being, almost always and without fail. Securing her safety and keeping her well fed and healthy meant he could kept the only constant in his life. Vivian stuck to him like glue and that's how he liked it. Not even twins could compare—an exaggeration Roy liked to boast about. Roy wasn't overbearing, but was definitely selfish with her; wherever she went, he'd follow and vice versa, not out of some need to keep boys out of the way, though Roy did do that the older they grew, but because they suffered from neglect on a daily basis. If they were to add to that, then they'd lose more than just their childhood security.

She was naive and ignorant, with a sense that things needed to be touched for her to see them. Neglect and abandonment was a subconscious worry of hers, never at the forefront of her mind. She couldn't point at the cause, even though she knew what the problem was. The only individual she could look up to and trust was Roy because he was the only one who was there when she needed. She unknowingly abused that trust countless times; Vivian didn't understand consequences, much like Roy. Both children were very present minded, though Roy knew a lot more about his own safety than she did her own. Certain things that Roy caught on, the things that scarred him, didn't exactly register for her. She couldn't possibly understand nor feel what was wrong, just knew that something was wrong. That was always enough for her. She staid on the surface because she was scared of what lay underneath, and rightfully so.

Which was why it happened.

Roy was around sixteen, already deep in the academy, regardless of whether or not he cared for his education. The only contacts he could muster up was a half-broken cell phone that his sister found digging through trash one day. It was a wonder the number remained the same and that it worked for longer than a few years. Or maybe she'd rummaged up the money for a new one with a cellular plan to go with it. The thought didn't really go through his mind when they'd called him, saying that his emergency contact had... well, contacted the academy at two in the morning. Apparently it had been his mother who'd called, which didn't bode well for Roy's psyche that night. He was just lucky a few of the staff were hard at work that night, though he didn't quite know why. He didn't care to remember why.

When he had entered the office, he'd not realized what they even said to him, that the secretaries and the desk clerks were all staring at him with wide eyes and deep frowns. They had no reason to be sad for him then, no reason to feel empathy for his disarray and complete confusion. Not only did he look worse for wear, having been woken up from a very nice slumber, Roy had absolutely no idea how to process any of the information they were giving him. All he could do was answer the phone they held out to him. The lady looked at him like his own life depended on him answering.

What his mother had told him hadn't registered clearly enough to warrant anything but the numb sensation starting to wash through his body. The phone sat tight against his ear, with his hand clutched in a vice grip around it.

"The funeral is in a few months... if..." her voice cracked, "I can't. I can't talk about this Roy. Why are you so quiet?"

"Funeral?" Roy responded, his brows furrowed as he looked around the room. It had emptied without his knowing, leaving the crackle of the receiver the only audible noise above his own breathing.

"Have you not been listening?"

"I have."

"Your sister's dead."

"I-I know..." Roy mumbled, blinking and looking desperately at the door. His own voice sounded so foreign to him, so meek and uncertain. He wanted someone, anyone to be there.

And then, it all hit him too hard. His skin paled over, his entire body quivered in shock, and his breathing was erratic. The numbness didn't stop the pain from rising and his mind from reeling. He wanted to know if any of it was true or if he was just dreaming. It was two in the morning. The only lights that were on were those in the hall and in the office he stood in. The people who had shuffled out were the night shift, and yet they were probably heading to bed after hard overtime. At least, that was the only reason Roy found as he slumped back into a chair, or rather collapsed. His entire body felt heavy and cumbersome, weighing him down. There were no tears yet, no uncontrollable sobbing; Roy was still very much in the process of taking in the information, despite the immediate, negative responses. The emotions hadn't settled yet and the numbness was doing a good job of keeping them at bay.

But the pain never subsided.

It was about three months later when his body finally allowed himself to cry. Three entire months where he locked himself inside his dorm, kept away from anyone who would ever try to console him. Roy wasn't ready to be consoled and he wasn't sure he could be. Vivian was his other half and he lost her; with her, a part of himself died. For three entire months he droned around the academy, letting grades drop, letting friendships die, and letting himself fade into the background. It's how he wanted to cope with it, how he convinced himself that it was the only way to cope. He wanted to fade so far back that no one would notice him quietly whimpering in the corner. He cared less of people's opinions, Roy just wanted to deal with his grief alone. No one could understand him now and they never did before. Or maybe it was just that feeling that no one had the knowledge to help him through it.

He wanted to trust people, but found it was impossible.

————————————————
♥♦♣♠— It's better that not even the world knows —♥♦♣♠
The Boat
————————————————

"Oh," Roy muttered, looking down at his whitened knuckles. He'd been gripping the railing too hard and clenching his teeth even harder.

Taking a step back, Roy, completely soaked, traversed down to the innards of the boat, where everyone else probably hid from the rain. He avoided eye contact as he rolled in, dripping water wherever he stepped. The squeaking sound as his feet left the tile alerted everyone to his presence, but Roy hadn't seemed to attempt to give notice. With downcast eyes, Roy moved for one of the open cabins, in hopes that no one was currently using it. This was why, during downtime, Roy absolutely hated silence; if he wasn't moving and making noise, then something else had to be. However, it was often rare for Roy to delve that deep into his subconscious, to rip out and actively think about the past situations he'd been most moved, however negative or positive it was. He usually stopped at memories of his mother or of Thael or of Remi and Emily and Freddy. Memories of Sam and Vivian were shoved so far down so that moments of regression wouldn't ever occur. During a time like this, he was just lucky he had a few hours left to recuperate.

But he'd stepped inside his mind for too long—left things unfinished. Roy liked closure. Well, closure when it came to things that meant so much to him and not many things held such a close spot to his heart.

Finding one of the bunks in the far back, Roy made do with what they were given. Shoving himself in the corner, he locked his knees close to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. He stared ahead with glazed over eyes and an indiscernible expression hidden behind clutched legs.

————————————————
♥♦♣♠— The rain to dry your tears —♥♦♣♠
Helston Outskirts - The Funeral
————————————————

It was raining that day, raining hard.

There were approximately twenty people in attendance, most family members, the rest classmates—what little cared, or even knew her.

She'd been fourteen when it happened, two years younger than him. Apparently, the cops had found her in her bedroom, with her father knocked out in his drunken stupor. She OD'd on a various assortment of drugs and was even intoxicated, with beer bottles strewn across the room. Apparently, she called for a emergency, told them she had taken something she shouldn't have and couldn't handle it. They were still investigating what had happened, who had given her the drugs and the alcohol, and why she was so poorly tended to. To Roy, it was obvious who the culprit was. The man was standing there among them, not even flinching or shedding a tear. Of course, why would he? They were unwanted from the get go and neglected when given the chance. Yet, the man still fought for custody and fought the decision to send Roy to the Academy. He'd not seen him in, what? Eight years? Not even for holidays or during the summer. Custody didn't mean shit when the child did everything in his or her power to stay away.

But none of that mattered and it wouldn't matter for a long time to come. His coming wasn't to point fingers and throw blame, this was his closure.

Their family wasn't rich or well off; they weren't even close to being middle class. They had no insurance of any kind, unless a job provided it and they usually didn't. So, this was a grave somewhere far outside of Helston, with a cheap wooden coffin, small and unassuming. They couldn't even afford a proper tombstone, so it was just stone with no engraving—they could mark it themselves if they had the tools. Not like anyone of them would, minus her brother.

Roy didn't cry until the very end of their makeshift ceremony. He didn't talk—he refused. But, when everyone filed out and only his mother staid to wait for him, Roy sat where they buried her, took a few random stones he found around the sight, and chiseled her name, her epitaph, and both birth and death dates. Three hours he slaved, not once pausing as he chunked away with both dull stones. It broke his mother to see him there, tears and sweat in the hard rain. None of it let up, the rain or the tears, in the span of time it took him. When he finished he staid there, head bowed, and let all the emotions come back because the only person who understood him was six feet below. It was time for him to cry, to sob uncontrollably, and to blame whoever the hell he wanted.

The entire thing was his mother's fault: she was neglectful and, no matter how much she showed her love for them, she loved the dope and the sex far more. They were both mistakes and their parents knew it, even if their father was the only one to show it.

He blamed his father for being the sick, sadistic bastard he was. The man took advantage of her nature, her genes and heredity, to feed her more drugs than she'd ever need. Before she knew it, she'd fallen into the same trap her parents had. He gave her debt, disease, and an addiction she couldn't possibly overcome. And he had the gull to feel absolutely nothing when faced with her murder.

And Roy? He wasn't there. He couldn't save her. He couldn't stop it from happening. He was a thousand miles away and didn't bother to visit out of spite for his father. When he finally decided to show it was at her own funeral. This was the point of no return for everyone, not just for the drug addled and the alcoholics; death was one final slap to the face. Had he even called her? Had he sat down with a phone in hand just to talk to her and hear her voice. By now, Vivian was just a distant memory of a little girl. That teenager he saw, shoved into that wooden prison, looked so different that he wasn't even sure Vivian was really dead. The girl with golden hair in braided pigtails doing god knew what because she had the curiosity of a cat that couldn't be sated, grimy and dirty, yet smiling wider than he'd thought possible. Roy had been gone for so long that the little girl he knew might as well have died when he left.

It all worked to boil his emotions inside that those pent up three months of complete and utter silence came barreling forth. It erupted into sobs and fits of uncontrolled breathing that shook his body in a cold shiver. It was the rain that comforted him, not the mother who stood crying near her beat up car. The hard patter of water along pavement, smacking the stone grave, and sloshing in the muddied grass around him shielded the noise of his cries and acted a veil to the tears. He couldn't hear himself then, only the rain.

Roy couldn't hear himself then.

Only the rain.

*

---

If there was one advantage to being small like her, it was the ability to hide.

Magdalena had found a particular notch for herself on that cannon that served the purposes of a minuscule haven away from the puttering noise of the engine and everything betwixt from the muddled baritones and husky-bell cadences of her... Friends.

She has now been given reason to speculate on that word and its meaning.

In the reality that was her past it only conveyed that she had met them upon chance and had felt obligated and bound because a particular person had died, to this day she can’t really say his name or even dare think of it. She isn’t entirely sure why it chokes her verbally and subconsciously, maybe because he was the first person to dare reach out to her? Submerging his hand into the dark and to bring her affront in a world of colour and beauty that she hadn’t known about, or maybe she was afraid to acknowledge it? But what does an eight year old child know other than their family and the foundation of love that it’s supposed to be built upon, that sort of comfort and solace that blooms wide and far in hearts that are just starting to know what it means to hate and to feel pain. What happens to the small human thing that has only known anguish and maladies that sing such obscure sorrows in their soul. She knows that once upon a time she did know what it meant to be apart of something good and what it was that so many children yearned for and could find peace within. It just didn’t last very long.

She supposed that she could blame the world around them, it just seemed to thrive on delivering trials and tribulations and she wonders about the Kami and if they too seem to find sustenance in their suffering. It’s a little fucked up, but what life isn’t?

Magdalena can only see the teal tarpaulin but beyond it, in her mind, there’s a scenery of white and black and red where shadows dance and it’s beautiful to witness in her solitude. Their illustrations are ones of faces she can’t really remember anymore and of eyes that are the wrong colour -- they’re kind of alien really, an esoteric familiarity that isn’t really there. She thanks them though, for their effort, but she can’t remember what her family looks like anymore no matter how hard she tries.

But despite that, for this single moment, she isn’t raging in on herself and there isn’t a botch of pain festering in her heart, it’s a morbid sense of tranquility bidden under bloody knuckles and gruesome smiles. Psychotic tortures from someone who really isn’t alive, or so she thinks, but she can’t really trust her mind now can she? Magdalena’s eyes begin to wander as she shifts her body to pull her legs against her chest and this time she looks out at the water and the bow bobbing upon the choppy waves, how long have they been on this vessel now? She vaguely wonders what everyone is doing below deck but she can’t bring herself to really care about those details no matter their significance. To her, she would rather talk about what exactly they’ll be facing upon their arrival, but who wants to talk about the future?

Everyone would just rather be a prisoner to their past.

Instead of standing up, breaching the subject, and voicing her concerns [she wants to call them points and facts, but she doesn’t know] she simply pulls out her phone that had surprisingly survived the entire deluge in Doral and all the fighting and whatever that was.

She doesn’t want to think about it.

There are no new messages, only the public board that Olivia had tacked to about her purchases, well at least someone had been thinking, but so much for that. She doesn’t think Doral would be all too pleased to see her just yet so there’s no point in turning around for supplies, not that they would. But what she’s really looking for is that woman’s name to come flashing across with green and red - answer or deny. She wants the pleasure of ignoring her just like what she does to her daughter, to inflict a silent cruelty of: this is what you’ve done to me. If her mother had been more supportive, would she had made a difference anyways? Magdalena doesn’t think so.

I’m not going to call you.

Do you ever think that maybe she is scared too?
No.
Then maybe you should ask, after all, she lost her husband and her sons.
But I was still there.
But you didn’t stay.
No.
Why?
I was tired of being alone.
You were never alone.
Wasn’t I?
Only because you preferred it that way.
I didn’t ask for any of this.
But you didn’t deny any of it either.
Well I can’t take it back now.

Can’t you?

She doesn’t know if maybe it’s her spirits, or maybe her own delusions, but an eight year old boy is perched on the cannon with her. His eyes are red, like rubies and they pulse in a rhythm she can’t seem to pin-point, it’s irregular, not really a heart beat but she doesn’t know what else to compare it to. He’s entirely sodded in black and grey and only the differences in shades give him any sort of definition. But she can’t really say it’s a ‘He’ either.

‘It’ seems much more appropriate.

What are you?
You know what I am.
A hallucination.
Maybe.

She doesn’t like the way It answers, they aren’t really justifications to her inquiries, but if It really is a trick of her subconscious, then It will only know what she knows.

This is confusing.
So don’t think.
Getting harder not to do that lately, all I can do is think.
What about?

Things.

She doesn’t like the way It’s looking at her, though there are no pupils to dictate where It’s staring and there’s no expression upon the visage constantly wreathed in darkness, there’s a sliver of pure black that she can assume as It’s mouth but it stays in a constant uplifted curve.

You’re smiling.
I think so.
What are You?
I think you should be asking Who.
I don’t want to know.

Maggie -

“No, you don’t get to call me that. You’re dead. Dead people don’t get to call other people by their names.”

Then what would you have me call you?
Nothing.
Sounds negative.

She can almost hear the tone of his voice soft and innocent with that curb of confidence as only a child can have and this is the last memory she ever had of him, the young eight-year old boy that pulled her from her darkness. Magdalena, for a moment, feels hatred.

You rather I had just left you alone?
Yes.
But then you wouldn’t be here.
That’s the point.
Would you rather be dead?
I don’t know.

There’s a pause between the two and she can’t bring herself to break it. The creaking of the squall and the splash of the water is all they have.

“What is it like?” She speaks aloud, no one here will answer, but the It in her head hears it loud and clear.

What is what like?
To die.
I don’t remember.
I see.

Magdalena wonders if this is a ghost or spirit, an angel or demon if such things existed. She’s read about them in fiction and she’s pretty sure there’s something out there of their equivalence, but who really understands the Kami and the Eternal Etro. Could such things be? But anything now is possible, after all they’re all vessels of spirits of forces beyond human comprehension. Strengths and powers, wielding fire and lightning, light and earth, to see and hear things that no one else can. They’re havens for things that are dead and had no where else to go. Her shadow is curled within her lap and she gently strokes her fingers through it, if it could speak, what would it say?

You’re not alone.
You’ve already said that.
I’m only speaking of what’s already in your head.
So I’m talking to myself.
Perhaps.

That bothers her, especially when It laughs and the breath It excludes is tinged red and black and swirls in the air in a collage of colours, the air is white - they’re back at the alabaster plain in her mind.

You’re bothering me, go away.
You can’t keep pushing things away.
Yes I can.
Why?
Because I don’t want to deal with it.

That’s the thing about pushing everything back to be dealt with another time. It comes back ten times worse, all at once, when you least expect it and it knocks the wind out of you, drops you to the ground all dead weight with no capability of standing back up.

I’ll deal with that when it happens.
I don’t believe you.

Now she’s getting angry, Magdalena can feel her hounds prowling around, awakened once again by this spectral delusion but It doesn’t seem to mind as they swirl around and prance across the silvery field. They snap at It but don’t come any closer.

“Why are you here? Olivia and Jyn, the others, go bother them, I’m sure they’d be happy.”

This isn’t their mind, Maggie.

“I told you not to call me that!”

I’m sorry.

“No you’re not, you’re not real. You’re dead. So stay that way and get out of my head!”

You don’t mean that.
You don’t know me, don’t act like you do.
Is that what this is? To have someone know you and understand you.
What -
Because isn’t what we all want? For someone to understand, do you think you’re really the only one?

It lifts a shadowy arm and points and she doesn’t know why but instead of fingers there are claws in replacement. Suddenly it’s not an eight year old boy, but a man, a man that could have been but never will be. He’s tall, but then everyone is taller than her, instead of rubies staring at her there are sapphires and they’re burning and the slick ebony of his mouth is twisted.

Everyone else is hurting, in pain, just like you. But you’re so selfish and warped into your own fears that you can’t see it. You don’t want to, you want to wallow in it, you want to live to your shadows. Isn’t it just like he said, Kimberly -

That name makes her flinch.

What like Julian -

“GO AWAY!”

Magdalena is screaming in her head and there is a howling pitch that rises and rises until it’s all she can hear. Her fingers clutch at her head continuously and she can feel the dried blood on the follicles and it hurts, but there isn’t anything she can do but endure, there’s no unsuspecting people to unleash this upon and she can’t face Kimberly anymore. Not after that.

I’m sorry, Maggie.

“Just leave me alone.” It’s a whisper, barely audible by human means.

And It does just that.

---

┊»ｉｎ ｔｈｅ ｒｅａｌｉｔｙ ｏｆ ｎｉｇｈｔｍａｒｅｓ●

They're standing in the dark but she isn’t afraid, in fact, she’s at home and feels safe. But it’s a false sense of security here, it doesn’t take long for the claustrophobia to settle within as hands enclose against her face, they scorch her cheeks and her temples and she’s suddenly fearful of what she can’t see.

Her lips part.

But she can’t speak, no words come and suddenly there are lips upon hers. Crushing, bruising, forcing heat upon her that spirals down from the point of contact, she tastes nothing but blood on death on his tongue. Tiny fists beat against his chest, but it only serves to fuel these carnal feelings, emotions and wants that are not her own. He’s forcing them on her and when his teeth scrape against her lip and that soft whimper chokes out, he pulls back carefully and laughs straight in her face.

She runs.

---

┊» ｔｈｅ ｂｏａｔ●

*
As the friends approached Rimoux from the sea, they could see and hear violent commotion from Norton City. Its skyscrapers, the ones that had not yet collapsed, were ablaze by fire and medium-sized detonations were sounding left and right from missiles and fragmentation explosions. The city had been almost completely destroyed already by Nautilus’ shock-attack forces, some of which could already be seen from the bow of the boat where most of the friends were located, ready to disembark the very second the hull touched ground. Piloted mechanical weapon systems—‘Mechs’ for short—vast in size, could be seen assisting the war effort on the Nautilus front, and elite soldiers were skimming across the battlegrounds with the aid of jetpacks. It was an intimidating sight, and as if it was not enough, hulking Dreadnaught-carrier ships could be seen hovering over the city providing artillery fire and one-man sized fighter jets with effortless multidimensional maneuvering capabilities. This was not a battle, nor was it an invasion, it was genocide.

Suddenly, the Captain of the boat began to shout violently about something stirring the waters ahead. A split second later, the vessel suffered an intense impact from whatever it was that lurked beneath the surface of the dark waters. Perhaps it was a xenomorph or some horridly mutated fish, it was impossible to tell from where the friends were standing. Similar ripples across the water surface ahead could be seen from the bow. Not five seconds later, another impact powerful enough to slightly damage the hull threw everyone off-balance. “She’s a fine vessel, but she won’t survive another impact like that!” The Captain shouted through a window on the bridge. Olivia hastily looked to the old cannon that had been covered with a tarpaulin, which she ripped off with a forceful jerk: “What about this thing?!” She shouted back at the Captain. “It doesn’t work! You people are soldiers, aren’t you supposed to have guns?!” He yelled back, slightly annoyed. “Doesn’t work? We’ll see about that,” the dark haired girl muttered underneath her breath.

Olivia instructed her friends to take a few steps back from the rusty, old contraption. She placed her hand on some part of the cannon that she did not know the name of, but it appeared to be at the base of the gigantic barrel. Marvelous sparks and electricity suddenly emanated from Olivia’s person and into the cannon and jolted it back to life. In the world of proper things and physics, Olivia knew that what she just did was impossible, but her lightning spirits had a will of their own when it came to mechanical things, able to destroy them when functioning and bring them back to life when malfunctioning. She did not understand how it worked, nor did she care. The slender brunette leapt into what appeared to be a seat for the cannon’s operator, complete with iron sights and a firing mechanism. Some manner of holographic display sparked to life and indicated that the cannon still had a few shells in the works. With a loud roar, Olivia began to fire the heavy shells at the creatures in the water: Ka-POW!, shlink… Ka-POW!, shlink… Ka-POW!, shlink… Ka-POW!, shlink…

Suddenly, dozens of greenish-gray tentacles clad with myriads of pulsating eyes sprouted from the water all around the friends. Some horrid, cephalopod-like creature had attached itself to the hull, sabotaging the Captain’s ability to control the vessel and lashing its outgrowths at the friends. “Gaah! What is that thing?!” Olivia shouted. Whatever the friends might have been able to do about the situation did not matter, it was already too late. The solid, concrete docks of the Norton City harbor came dramatically closer for every passing second, and before they knew it, the vessel hit the docking wall with a forceful impact that catapulted the friends through the air. Olivia rocketed out of the cannon cockpit, slid along the extensive barrel, and into a ticket booth on the docks, breaking its windowed structure. It was not an ideal entrance, but it was a grand one. Luckily, she did not hurt herself much, nor did the rest of the friends (hopefully!)—basic falling techniques were mandatory in their training, so getting thrown off of a naval vessel onto solid ground was nothing to cry about.

Olivia could tell that this was going to be a night that they would not soon forget. The friends were not even spared half a minute before trouble arrived at their location. The spectacular entrance had caught the attention of a nearby Nautilus squad of Storm Guards and a Mech, which converged on the friends’ position extremely fast. Olivia muttered and groaned as she dusted glass off of her clothing and exited the tiny ticket booth, simultaneously unsheathing her gunblade. “Is everyone alright?” Olivia inquired, but before she could even do a headcount, the bullets of some automatic weapon on the Mech began to patter in the friends’ direction. Olivia quickly threw herself on the ground (again!) and rolled behind the cover of a large concrete barricade, which was designed to keep motor vehicles at bay—there were a series of these on the docks, where the friends had landed. Olivia also pulled the tagger gun from its holster, acquired all targets by slightly leaning around the edge of her cover, and then she fired a shot that whined through the air akin to fireworks before detonating into smaller projectiles, mid-air, that sought their way into the targets.

Battle II
The Storm Guard soldiers were tagged, but the last projectile was unable to attach itself to the Mech. “I guess we are fighting that thing blind,” Olivia muttered, as the tagger gun did not display its information. However, as the Mech was a mechanical construction, it was bound to be weak against elements such as lightning and water, one of which was Olivia’s specialty. Either way, she attempted to speak her orders through the commotion, but it was taxing on her voice: “Thael, you’re with me on that Mech, keep its attention! Kat, you’re also with me on the Mech! Maggie, Emily, Roy: rip the soldiers apart with those nightmares you call spirits! Freddy, Aaron--!” But, before Olivia could mention another name or utter another order, the assailants were upon them with heavy fire. She raised her hand, slightly, with only the index finger pointing towards the sky and gave it a short twirl, as a sign to engage the enemy with improvisation.

When there was a brief moment of seize fire from the enemies, Olivia pushed herself up and vaulted over the concrete barricade, and in mid-air she vanished in a thunderous flash and instantly reappeared next to the Mech, which suffered a surge of brilliant sparks, but was unaffected by the blinding light. Olivia proceeded to let her energizing spirits possess Cerberus, her gunblade, and engulf it in brilliant lightning, which she then swung at the massive Mech. Radiant sparks erupted from every impact. Olivia struck its crural and patellar in two fluid motions, which left dark, ashy marks from her blade, and then she leapt at what appeared to be the head and the cockpit of the Mech, swinging her blade in a triangular motion, which also scarred the silvery machine. However, the pilot was not some amateur out on a Sunday drive. He timed and calculated the girl’s arc trajectory and intercepted it with a forceful blow from the Mech’s forearm, which sent Olivia flying through the air and into the wall of a nearby, bricked building. The initial impact shattered the fragile blocks, and then she fell two meters to the ground. “Okay,… that hurt,” she muttered.

A Boat, Adrift

The Rituals of Consumption

Remi frowned at Jyn as they took stock of their vittles. It wasn't very impressive. Remi's gaze turned back out the open door to the deck. He had heard only fragments of conversation, but it was enough. Their first battle had ended with the other side destroyed, their own intact. By any measure it would have to be considered a victory. But Remi wondered if they had really won at all. The air was heavy with the weight of words said and words unsaid, bearing down upon them. Bearing down on bodies and souls, so many of them weakened by vacuous uncertainties not so dissimilar to his own. He wanted to help them. To fix them. It was the purpose which he yearned to fulfill. But what could he do. He could hardly deal with the gnawing void of his own petty foibles. Hollow and hungry. The tremulous feel and audible sound of his stomach growling broke Remi's reverie. He looked back into the galley, still frowning. Hollow and hungry.

Thael meandered into the scene, looking much more solid than Remi is most every way. Remiel's frown deepened. An Atlas countenance, he looked like the entire weight of the universe bore down upon him at the mere consideration of what they were to eat. His breath was held, deep and strained, his eyes had hardened into gimlets, boring into the floorboards. Then, as if making a decision of monumental import he released the breath, breathing out a sigh, long and shallow. His eyes snapped up. He looked at Jyn and then at Thael, a small smile appeared on his lips, beautiful in it's rarity and clarity. "Alright," Remi said with as much gravitas as he could muster.

Advancing across the room, Remi vanished out of the door Thael had entered from, leaving the galley in silence for a moment to contemplate the implications of Remi's decision. He returned a moment later, rubberized aprons draped over his shoulder. They were the aprons of fishmongers, designed to protect dockworkers from the slick of the sea and the viscera of sea life. Remi tossed them to Jyn and Thael, hanging the rest over his own neck, tying one off in the back. A rarely seen vitality had filled Remi's air, his smile was still there, as if it came easily to his face. He moved with an almost excitable energy as he started pulling down cans of beans and Spagetti, his eyes scanned the labels, reading for ingredients and proportions. His lips pursed in thought. Without looking at them he spoke to his erstwhile undercooks. "Thael, I need you to go get your shield, I need to use it as a mashing bowl." He tore through the rest of the drawers and cabinets. Leaning over the sink, Remi worked his fingers around the edges of the screen inset into the portside window. Popping it free he examined the mesh. Satisfied he laid it over the sink after putting a small cooking pot underneath and turned the faucet on over it. Pointing at the makeshift strainer he spoke to Jyn, "I need you to start opening the spaghetti cans and washing the sauce off of the noodles. You can let the sauce run down but try to save as much of the meat as you can, alright? I'll be right back," without waiting for their response Remi ran back out of the galleys other door.

Emily was standing there, her batons tucked under her left arm. She was wearing her usual workout outfit, though her tank top was a little shorter and tighter than usual, Remi noticed. She must have seen the furor on Remi's face, because she folded her arms and raised an eyebrow, though she did give him the barest hint of a smile.

"Emergency?" She asked. Remi grinned.

"Alchemy," he said, taking one of the aprons off his neck he threw it unceremoniously over hers. "Come on, you can help." Without a backwards glance, Remi vaulted up the stairs to the cabins, two at a time.

She followed him, tying the apron around her waist. "I'll never reveal the location of the Philosopher's Stone," she said. "Try and make me." Her statement brought Remi's charge to a sputtering halt. He reached the top of the stairs and looked back at her, his face screwed into a mask of incomprehension.

"I- what?" he blinked, blinked again. "Oh, right. Heh, that's funny." Turning back he continued down the hallway, tearing open the door to his cabin. It was small. All of them were small. It was also immaculate. Remi had spend some time before the ship departed sweeping his room for traps, bugs, and the sea crust and oil that always permeated these old vessels. He'd also picked the room on the far port and aft side. Ships coming from Nautilus would most likely appear from that direction, if they happened to cross paths with a patrol. Remi had planned out seven separate scenarios of how to deal with such an occurrence.

The room was also remarkably full. For a man who prided himself on lean efficiency, Remi sure seemed burdened with a great deal of luggage. Rooting through one of the bags, Remi gave a little cry of victory at his find. Pulling out a few small vials filled with ground powders of various coarsity, Remi tossed them to Emily.

She managed to catch them without dropping her batons. The room didn't seem to surprise her, but the spices were a little more unusual. It didn't seem like Remi to bring so many unnecessary accouterments. She inspected the bottles.

"Do these explode?" She said, only half-joking.

For a moment, Remi's whirlwind dissipated. He looked at her, then down at the spices in her hand, then back up at her. For just an instant he seemed very off-center.

"Um...no. No that is just ginger and garlic." He looked sheepishly at her, slowly pulling another little bottle from his bag. "And this is sesame oil. Could you, um, take that down to the galley. We'll need it." Remi scratched at the back of his head idly.

"Sure," Emily said. "As long as you promise to share... whatever this is gonna be."

She smiled at him, just wide enough to show the gap in her front teeth. Then she left the room, leaving the bulky door open. Remi could hear her steps receding back towards the galley.

Remi took a moment to collect himself. The frown had returned. Remi didn't like it when Emily smiled. Nothing was ever simple when Emily smiled. He sighed and took a moment to regain his bearings. He remembered what he was doing. He had a plan. He also had, fishing through another bag and retrieving another bottle, larger, and full of an amber liquid that caught the moonlight in a rather pleasing way, clarity.

The tumultuous had had taken its toll on Aaron as he clumsily made his way down towards the galley to see what concoction that Remi had come up with. With everything that has happened, the Raptors, Doral, Liv and Maggie, Aaron wasn't sure how long he was going to be able to hold up with these soap-operaesque conditions. The dimly lit galley lay before him and a few of the group was scattered about, although he didn't see Maggie or Liv there. 'Probably a good thing I suppose.' Aaron thought 'No need to make things more awkward than they have to be.'

Taking a seat propped up in a corner with his eyes looking at all of his friends walking to and from their destinations one figure instantly caught his attention. Emily's. A deep sickening feeling filled his being, not quite anger, but something close. As Aaron waited to see what 'grand masterpiece' Aaron pulled the hood closer to his face and lit another cigarette, opening a window to let the smoke billow out of it, Aaron eyed Emily carefully trying to ponder the things mulling around in his mind.

A heavy scraping sound intruded into the galley. Remi reappeared briefly out of the door to the fore deck before vanishing. A large fishing net appeared behind him dragging along the ground. Remi dragged the net to the starboard railing, tying off the end on one of the rail supports. Taking a step back, Remi bunched as much of the other end in his fists as he could, with a grunt of effort he hurled the netting into the sea.

With a purpose Remiel marched back into the galley, without missing a step he plucked Aaron's cigarette from his lips, thrusting an apron into his chest.

"You are not getting ash or cigarette smoke in my meal. Get out or get ready to cook." flicking it out of the window as he stopped at the sink. Looking over Jyn's shoulder he hummed in a thoughtful way that was either approving or critical. Turning to the galley stove, two tops hissed and flared into life as Remi turned the ignition valve open. Fetching a pair of pans he placed them over the flames. Lifting his apron, Remi grabbed the bottle thrust into his belt. He flipped the bottle in the air like some performance bartender adding to the strange spectacle that was Remi in this moment. A light smile was back on his features. Rushing to the knife block Remi withdrew a small serrated blade. Thrusting the knife into the end of the amber bottle, Remi used it to pull the impaled cork from the bottle with a small pop. Pouring out a generous measure of the undefined liquid into both pans. The amber fluid immediately began to steam slightly and the smell of strong spirits filled the air.

With a look of indignation Aaron eyed Remi up and down as he snatched his cigarette. No one had ever snatched one from him before, much less straight from his lips...had he been anyone else Aaron might have cut him.

"Alright mithril chef...cool your jets. I'm not much of a cook but I'll stand to the side for those that are."

Aaron stood up and moved to the corner of the room so that he wouldn't get in the way of Remi and his culinary army. Even though he had never spent that much time with Remi he had to admire his swift and decisve actions in the kitchen.

Whirling back around Remi plucked the bottle of sesame oil from Emily, add half of it's contents to one of the pans. Gesturing vaguely in Thael's direction Remi barked more orders.

"Take the meat from the spaghetti sauce and cook it a point in the sesame oil. Before it's done, add two cups of water and let it sweat." Turning to Aaron, Remi pointed to the stack of bean cans. "Put that into Thael's shield and mash it to even consistency. Then add two fingers of the Mirin, three tablespoons of ginger, and two tablespoons of garlic." Whirling around on the next member of his conscripted kitchen crew he frowned slightly. "No, nevermind. I'll do that. You keep on eye on the other pan, when it reaches Nappe, let me know."

Moving over to the large pile of washed spaghetti on the screen, he carried it over to the cutting board. Grabbing handfuls of the spaghetti he lifted them over the mass letting them slither through his fingers until he had only a few, free and dangling over his knuckles, slapping them flat on the board, Remi lined the limp noodles into little rows. Taking another knife from the block, Remi began to cut each noodle, lengthwise with the tip, moving at the tedious task with remarkable and surely practiced alacrity and precision. Emily looked on. She almost seemed impressed; an unusual state, for her.

The Galley was a blur of activity. Remi kept everyone working feverishly, and press-ganged every new and unfortunate soul to be pulled into the maelstrom. But slowly the storm of fire, knives, boiling, and sizzling foodstuffs, something resembling a real meal began to emerge. Thinned and flattened noodles were pressed into flat planes. Sauces mixed and thickened. Somewhere down the line, Thael and Remi drew in the net, hoisting great coils of waterlogged rope up out of the dragging sea with Guardian strength, a mass of sea matter caught in the netting. Remi quickly sifted through the floatsam, picking out the occasional fish or mollusk before ordering some of his unfortunate undercooks to pick out more of the edible morsels out of the algeal mass.

He barked orders, bullied the rest around the galley, and more than once unceremoniously took over one task or another when they failed to live up to his mysterious and mercurial expectations. But when it was done, his poor jest to Emily proved to contain more veracity than any might have guessed. They had perform a sort of alchemy. From what had once been a motley assortment of canned goods, Remi and his team had produced a meal fit for a real restaurant. A good one.

Wrapped crescents of pasta, browned to a golden hue and containing a variety of meats and curried curd with a caramelized sauce drizzled with an aesthetic sensibility over them in little wave patterns were arranged on the center counter. The stack wasn't particularly large, but there was more than enough for the team of soldiers. A solemn silence had fallen over the galley, as if somehow any more noise might ruin the sacred rite they had just completed.

"What now," Kim said softly. Remi smiled at him. For a moment, for now, he knew just what to do. What steps to take. The world could storm around them in hellfire, but in this instant he had sovereignty over this space. He could not do much for his friends. He could not shield them from every bullet, every blade, every cruel act of fate and chance that would ail and slay them all one day. But he could give them this.

"Now," Remi said, "we go get the rest. It's dinner time."

What followed Remi could not claim dominion. One by one the friends gathered. Someone found some soft lanterns to hang from the mast. A stack of cargo crates were pushed together on the foredeck for a makeshift table. They ate off palms and with fingers. Mouths filled with smiles and food. The sounds of laughter and the tinkling of some mysteriously pilfered booze bottles accompanied the soft roar of the sea. For a brief time, they might have been back in Oakridge, on leave from the academy for a night on the town. For a brief time there was mirth, merriment, and a momentary refrain from the stress of the violent and weathering lives they lead. They relieved themselves of the pains of interpersonal conflict, the wounds of their previous visit with violence, and the slightly more metaphorical bruising suffered by those who had cooked under Remi's regime.

Emily mostly avoided looking at Aaron and Olivia. They talked, a little, but the conversation was short, forcibly casual and superficial. She didn't talk to Remi much, either, except to compliment his heretofore unknown cooking skills, but she snuck glances at him every now and then which were significantly less covert than she might have thought they were.

Aaron mostly kept to himself as the group ate this culinary concoction. Every now and then Aaron would sneak glances at the group that he had talked with through this seemingly endless boat ride not sure really what he was supposed to say. There were some awkward conversations between most of the group, although Aaron could almost phyically cut the tension with a knife between Emily, Olivia, Maggie, and himself. This was going to be a long dinner.

But all such ventures, no matter how pleasant or cruel, eventually come to an end. Bodies slowed by stuffing and minds fogged by sake and wine, they crew retreated to their bunks for the respite of sleep or solitude, only too soon needing to ready themselves for the battles ahead.

Remi was one of the last to leave. There wasn't much to clear from the meal. No silverware to speak of. Taking down the lanterns, he slowly climbed the stairs towards the bunks. With each step reality began to seep back into his flesh. His belly was full. His hunger should be sated. The gnawing sensation at his core was still there. If anything, it seemed even more insistent, even more ravenous. As Remi reached the top of the stairs he lifted his head to see Emily still in the corridor. She swayed slightly, her hips moving with the motion of the ship and the not insignificant amount he'd seen her drink. Her soft, pale skin almost glowed in the low light. Remi frowned. He knew other ways to sate a hunger.

As she reached the door to her bunk, his fingers touched lightly at the small of her back. Remi leaned close, breathing a low, hungry, desirous growl into her ear. He saw the edge of her smile. The door to Emily's bunk slide open. The door slide close. The corridor was empty and silent save for the gathering darkness and the whispers of the sea.

As she reached the door to her bunk, his fingers touched lightly at the small of her back. Remi leaned close, breathing a low, hungry, desirous growl into her ear. He saw the edge of her smile. The door to her bunk slide open. The door slide closed. The corridor was empty and silent save for the gathering darkness and the whispers of the sea. He pulled the door open and followed her.

As soon as he had pushed the door shut, Emily swung around and pushed him against it. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled herself towards him. They kissed, first long and hard, then in short bursts, shuffling back towards Emily's bunk. Remi's breath smelled of the meal they'd just finished, and Emily guessed that hers did as well, but she didn't care. With everything that was happening, she needed something to silence the fear that bubbled just beyond the range of her conscious mind. She needed to stop: To stop thinking, to stop worrying. She needed to let something less rational, something more basically, instinctively human take control. She wanted Remi in that moment, yes - but more than that, she was grateful for what felt like both a relief and a release.

He pulled back from her for a moment, wanting to get a good look at her face. Naked animalistic hunger played in the moonlight that reflected off of his eyes. He grinned at her. Grabbing her behind her thighs he hoisted her onto his torso, wrapping her legs around him. Her weight secure, he traced his fingers up her spine and back. Breathing and kissing and biting at her neck as he carried them over to the bed. There was an uncharacteristic strength to him tonight. An almost desperate surge of fire and fervor for the act. Never before had she seen this in him. Felt this in him. It always felt good; that was why they kept doing this. But tonight was something unfamiliar. He was moving powerfully, maneuvering her towards the bed, but it wasn't just that. There was something powerful about how it felt, too, at least to her.

A thin, scared place in the back of her mind wanted to stop and think about what the difference meant, but his hands roaming her body shut it off. He lay her on the bed, and she kissed his neck, smiling. He had the cutest reaction when she smiled.

"If cooking turns you on this much," she said, breathing heavy, "how come we've never tried it before?"

Remi growled again, almost as if annoyed that she was interrupting their activity. He leaned low as he worked the buttons on his shirt.

"Not cooking. You." Not his best line, but it came out well. Sitting up, he worked his shirt off of his shoulders. His body was lean and strong, a perk of being a conditioned soldier, powerful whipcord muscle that coiled under his skin. Her fingers clawed their way down his abdominals, tracing their way to his belt. She unfastened it easily. They grinned at each other again. Emily felt like they were kids, relishing some shared act of defiance, breaking some secret taboo. Remi ran his hands up her sides, catching the edge of her tank top, slowly peeling it from her body.

Emily didn't think very much in the moments that followed, but later, when she looked back, she was almost shocked at how right it felt. She had always told herself she'd avoid getting involved in cliches, in relationships that followed the patterns so many people repeated over and over. Soldiers having one last fling before a battle. That alone must have been so common. There had to be books on it or stories about it from every war ever fought, but even knowing that, the encounter that night would always stand out against the background, especially against the others.

Eventually, once it was over, Emily would realize why: She had been thinking entirely on herself, and on Remi. Everything else was a non-concern. What was more, she didn't have any fear about doing that - there was that feeling of rightness, again. It wasn't the kind of focus you got when you needed to ace a test, or even when you were fighting, as she had been on the road just hours earlier, it was something freer. Maybe focus wasn't even the right word; Emily was never sure. What she realized, eventually, in the days after it had all come and gone, was that it was the first time since she was a child that she hadn't felt insignificant against the backdrop of reality. It was the first time in a very long time that she hadn't felt small.

---

Flashback - The Academy, Eight Months Ago

Hosting parties wasn't exactly Emily's wheelhouse, but somebody in their group did it every year, had done it every year for ages, and it was her turn. She acquiesced, reluctantly, on the condition that she had help: Somebody to help with the decorations, somebody to clean up afterwards, and of course, somebody to supply the alcohol. It had all worked out pretty well, actually. There wasn't really a theme, or a dress code, or anything like that, but there was food and drink and music and people dancing. It was everything she could have hoped for, low as her self-expectations had been. She had decided it was just warm enough to hold it outside; it was just far enough into fall for the leaves to be changing, but not so far that it was frigid yet.

Still, she was chilly in her green, short-sleeved dress. It was collared, with buttons running down the front, and she'd left the first couple undone. When the cool air on her skin started to get a little irritating, she drank more so the inner warmth of the liquor would mask it. By the end of the night, she had gone beyond buzzed and was firmly planted in relaxing, laid-back tipsiness. She even started to regret that she hadn't done more drinking, or more dancing, but she was still pleased with herself that the whole thing had been a relative success. Even Roy and Thael, who she was sure preferred more extravagant affairs, seemed to have had a good time.

But all such ventures, those that ended in success and those that end in failure, indeed come to an end. One by one the conversations began to wind down, punctuated by an ever-increasing series of yawns. The last record to be put in had repeated for one too many times and there was no one left with the initiative or capacity to change it. First in trickles and then in waves the guests began to depart. Hugs were shared, sloppy in execution, but sharp in affection, and tomorrows' realities finally started to come into focus. At the end, though, she found herself in her apartment, alone save for the company of the myriad detritus of the evening. Most of the liquor had been left behind, and she decided that meant it was hers - so she drank (not too much, she thought, but then, it was hard to tell) while she cleaned up. She moved to begin clean-up, knowing that the fugue she was in now was nothing compared to the hangover to come.

Deciding to start with the deck, Emily stepped out to the back porch. Taking a moment to drink in the early morning air she breathed deep and sighed. There was a yawn - not hers. The sound gave her a small start; she looked around for its source. Remi sat on one of the communal benches. No, sat wasn't the right word. Remi lounged on it. This was in itself a strange sight. Remiel Morgenstern didn't lounge. Lounging required a certain fluidity of natural mien that the man just didn't possess. Though, judging by the bottles at his feet, Remi was most certainly not in his natural mien. His eyes were closed and something approaching a smile played on his face. It would be hard to imagine a person looking ore comfortable and calm than Remi in that moment. As if sensing his observer Remi's eyes slowly opened and he turned to look at Emily. The smile on his face realized.

"Hey there, Emi-bear," he said. His speech was only slightly slurred.

"Emi-bear..." She said. She giggled a little. That was a new one.

She walked over and sat down at the far end of the bench, near his outstretched feet. "Are you comfy there?"

He just continued to smile at her. "Yeah, 'cause you're...did you know that pandas are bears?"

"Do I remind you of a panda?" She said. That one she'd heard before. "Pandas are fat."

Remi shrugged noncommittally. "I like pandas. Red pandas're not bears though." He frown, thinking seriously. "Neither are koalas."

"What are koalas?" Emily said. "They're not marsupials, like, kangaroos and stuff. They're... I dunno." She giggled again.

"Anyway, don't change the subject. Why do I remind you of a panda bear?"

Remi thought seriously for a moment again. "I dunno. They're all monochromatic'n cute...yer all monochromatic and cute. But not like a panda though...I mean, you're cute, just not the same kind of-," his frown got worse. "bear rhymes with there."

"Not your best save, Remiel," Emily said. She took his hands and pulled him up to a sitting position. "Did you get to dance with anyone tonight?"

"Oh I don't dance. Kat said so. Everybody was dancing and someone said I should dance, but I don't do that. Apparently not my fortez...forte...speciality." He stretched his back and sighed, contentedly, his thumb stroking the back of her hand.

"Yeah, me neither," she said. She leaned a little on his shoulder. "That's what people always say. It's just not my thing, I guess. I'm better at more... violent... movements. But I mean, I haven't tried to dance in a long time, so, I dunno."

Abruptly Remi lurched to his feet, his face a mask of fiery determination. "Well you know what. That ain't so. You know what I say. People can talk all they want, you know what I think we should do?" His feet inadvertently kicked over the bottles on the ground, Remi swayed as he tried to focus his straying perceptions on the new stimuli. The frown returned as he looked at his feet. Different. More solemn. Remi cleared his throat. "I think I should help you clean up." Remi's demeanor crystalized a bit, his movement much more measured as he bent to picked up the bottles.

"I can't agree, Remiel," Emily said. "I have a difference of opinion."

Remi continued to collect the bottles without looking up.

"I think you should forget those, and dance with me."

Remi paused. Frozen in place for a moment, trying to work something out in his head. Some calculation of monumental importance seemed to be going on behind his furrowed brow. Finally, he sighed, put down the bottles, and stood.

"One moment," he disappeared into the apartment.

The music stopped. A beat. Another. Then Remi returned. He paused in the doorway for a moment, clearing his throat. His movements were once again characterized by poise and precision. He walked back towards the bench and extended Emily his hand. She smiled at him, and took it, pulling herself up and into his arms.

"What kind of dances do you like?" She asked.

Remi smiled wryly and pulled her close. "I told you, I don't dance." Placing his hands gentle at her hips they swayed softly to a nonexistent rhythm. He pressed his cheek against the top of her head and sighed. She could not see the worried expression on his face. He sighed again and moved with her, and for a moment, just a moment, enjoyed the synchronicity they shared. Emily leaned in, pressing herself up against him. Her body was warm, and she smelled nice. He wasn't sure what the scent was, but it was something between vanilla and lavender. They stood there for several minutes, moving gently around in little circles. It was slow dancing, though it would have looked a bit clumsy and awkward, if anybody had seen them - or if they had cared.

"Dancing is just... swaying," she said. "Like a hug where you move. What could be easier?"

Remi chuckled a little. "I have always heard people compare so many things to dancing. Sailing. A duel between two skilled combatants. But no one has ever told me what dancing is supposed to be like." He hummed thoughtfully. "Whatever it is...it's nice."

"I think maybe it's one of those things that's better when you just do it," Emily said. "Not a lot of nice things like that... but I can think of some."

Remi laughed again, a little mellifluous and a little forced. "I'm sure you could." The silence that followed was a little more filled. Expectation. Possibility. Remi looked worried again. The tension built. He could feel the nonexistent music reaching some sort of crescendo. He pulled away from Emily. Stepping back he turned his gaze downwards. "Thanks, uh, thank for that...that was nice. I should really be going though. I think I have- I know I have a field exam tomorrow." He shuffled his feet, whatever rhythm there was, was gone. "I'll help clean up."

Snatching the bottle from the ground with startling speed Remi withdrew into the dorm. He placed them on the table by the couch and started organizing the rest of the bottles and cans. Emily looked down, watching him. She didn't understand why didn't want-- whatever they had been about to do. Was it her? She frowned. She hadn't dated anyone since sophomore year; there had been no time. She hadn't really even thought about it. But now, she felt convinced she had to do something; she had to salvage this. It felt important, for reasons that seemed perfectly clear, even if they existed only in her drunken mind. Emily was nothing if not determined.

She gently hooked a hand under his arm as he passed by, making him turn to face her. "What're you afraid of, Remiel?" She said.

Her words didn't seem to register to Remiel. But her touch did. Perhaps the tension from earlier had not slackened with his retreat. Perhaps the alcohol had just clouded his mind to the point of incomprehension. Perhaps it had been too long since he had really felt contact from another human being that wasn't in a sparring match. Perhaps too much of his life had been fear and violence. Whatever the reason, without thinking Remi responded to her touch as if under attack. Grabbing her wrist he spen her around, hooking his own limbs at the fulcrums of her body he flipped her onto the couch. Moving close he pinned her wrists above her head and positioned his legs between hers to prevent retributive striking. There faces were close, his expression showed his mind slowly catching up with his actions. The pall of battle still clear in his eyes, a hundred stratagems flashing through his sobering and sideways thoughts.

Emily looked shocked for a moment... but then she smiled, laughed, and kissed him.

Neither of them really remembered how it started, or why. They didn't tell their friends; they rarely spoke about it afterwards - but what happened that night happened again a few nights later, and again after that, and even though it kept happening, it was months before they really talked about it.

---

Norton City + Battle II

This whole thing was impossible, Emily realized. There was no way for a small team to save this city. They needed a full-on invasion force, they needed guns, artillery, air support, ground support... but they had none of that. But she was a soldier, they were all soldiers, and soldiers did what had to be done. If that meant gaining access to occupied territory and killing anything in the way of the objective, even a whole opposing army, that was what they would do. They were the best; they had practiced for this. Emily knew that, she believed that.

But amidst all the chaos, she wasn't sure it was going to matter in the slightest.

She glanced at Roy and jerked her head in the direction of a row of low buildings behind where the Storm Guard had emerged. The meaning was clear - she was going to flank them and come from behind.

"Do what I do," she said to him, her voice low. "Go for their guns."

The ground beneath her warped, and she fell for a second, tumbling out of an upright wall on the far side of what was now a battlefield. She manged to land softly, despite the portal shooting her out in an unusual direction, and reorient herself fairly quickly. Roy followed with his rapier drawn, diving through his own portal and rolling out beside her. Without looking, she whipped out her batons and snapped them together to form her staff. She never took her eyes from the uniformed men. Their armor was imposing, but of course Nautilus was better armed and better prepared than they were. Not having to deal with a world full of insane creatures sapping your resources on a daily basis tended to allow that.

Emily broke into a run, sprinting towards the nearest soldier. He wasn't paying her any notice; too busy firing towards the location where the WARG operatives had emerged. The downside, Emily thought, to better and more resources was that you spent less on training... and when you do that, run your foot-soldier up against a relatively poorly equipped elite unit, and your resources became their resources. Emily felt her spirits whirring around her, whispering, protecting her, preparing themselves. Nautilus might not realize its mistakes, but this man was about to.

The SG soldier slid to a halt, staring down at his gun. It had begun to writhe and convulse in his hands. It transformed in seconds into a terrifying worm, or maybe a snake, a slimy creature rife with mouths and teeth and tiny, budding limbs where the magazine and stock ought to have been. He stopped advancing, though his fellow soldiers kept moving forward. He didn't drop the gun - most people didn't know how to react to that level of fear - but Emily stepped up behind him and deftly slid her bo across the front of his neck. She pulled it in, crushing his windpipe, and simultaneously kicked out his right leg. He collapsed onto his knees, sputtering and choking. The gun clattered to the ground in front of him. She released her hold, the bo in her left hand, and grabbed the gun with her right. It was heavy, too heavy to aim properly with only one hand, but she managed to get two shots off - one into his chest, probably absorbed by his armor, but one in his head.

She hoisted the bo onto her back. It clattered into place against her shoulderblades, falling neatly into the open sheathe she wore slung across her chest for just such a purpose. She brought up her now free left hand and took a firm grip on the gun, and began firing into the opposing force from behind.

Crouched low, Roy watched Emily dispatch the first soldier quickly before turning onto the others. He had a faint idea of what to do next, but left most up to improvisation. Spontaneity was a strength of his.

Roy fell through another portal, popping in the midst of the soldiers the moment Emily began her suppression fire. Spinning low, he swept the nearest trooper off his feet before he could react to Emily's attack. Roy brought his foot down, locking the hand that held still gripped the gun between his legs and squeezing. The gun shot just above him, the recoil slamming the top into his chest before the man finally released at the crack of his shoulder. Tumbling back, Roy dropped his rapier to grab the gun and spun around to meet the next soldier, ramming the butt of the gun into the lady's helmet.

Another portal materialized just behind him, giving him a split second to blindly fire and retrieve his sword before flying through and sliding not too far away. He had ample cover there, finding himself a few meters away from Emily. With a raised hand, Roy called to her, signaling her to keep up the firing whilst the ground beneath him began to shake. She darted over to him to take cover, firing as she did so.

His spirits coalesced around him, in bright shimmering lights before darting downward at his call. The tremors rumbled forth, spraying small chunks of rocks in the air as they snaked across the battlefield. They circled around the remaining soldiers, bursting from the ground in anticipation before finally erupting and barreling forward. The ground beneath the Nautilus soldier's feet shook violently, the earth splitting erratically between them. The magnitude increased the longer it lasted and though their boots stabilized their bodies enough to keep them upright, it did nothing for their aim as bullets flew erratically through the air. It was a good enough distraction, but it wouldn't last much longer.

"Gave you an opening, Millie," Roy said with a large smile, "Get creative!"

-----After Dinner on the Boat-----

Kimberly couldn’t remember the last time the group had made and ate dinner together. It must have been many months ago if he couldn’t actually recall it, which would not have surprised Kimberly the least: their senior year of the academy was a busy one. It was nice to do things that were not military related with his friends again. Although Kimberly spent most of the time silent as a statue, responding only when addressed to, and occasionally feeling the awkward tension between a number of his friends, Kimberly enjoyed the dinner. As much as he appreciated the spaghetti, the giant only ate a small portion of it and focused on the lunchbox his grandparent’s gave to him. It was a jumbled mess that needed to be censored for the faint of heart, without a doubt, but it was still food that his grandparents made for him ---the group really--- and it was the last thing from them that he would be able to eat for awhile. He was not going to waste it.

While Kimberly ate quietly, Ghost sat down in a chair that was just as real as he was, next to Kimberly. He was eating the spaghetti, or the imaginary equivalent of the spaghetti, and “talking” to the group. No one could hear him, of course. Just Kimberly. Yet, it felt as if Ghost would have fit right in if he had been real. How the man could keep a conversation going when Kimberly was the only one who could hear any of his rants. If Ghost was anything real inside of Kimberly, he wondered why he couldn’t ramble as much and as long as his roommate could.

“You talk just as much as I do in your head, Kim.”
Nuh-uh.
“Ya-huh.”
Nuh-uh.
“Yaaaa-huuuuuuh.”
Nuh-uh. “Ya-huh.” Nuh-uh. “Ya-huh.” Nuh-uh. “Ya-huh.” Nuh-uh. “Ya-huh.” Nuh-uh. “Ya-huh.” Shut up. “You shut up.” How old are you? “You started it.”

After cleaning up what little there was to clean, Kimberly checked on and healed Thael’s bruise he had made during the previous fight with the xenomorphs. The bruise was nothing serious, but this made Kimberly concerned enough to check on the others for any bruises or scratches he could heal. When he finished that task, Kimberly headed to the cabin room he would be sleeping at to finally clean his armor properly and get ready for bed. At first, it was quite peaceful, but it became increasingly harder to focus as Ghost started to complain about the animal spirits once again.

“Really? REALLY? Kami damn it all! Who the f**k if screwing each other!?” Ghost screamed in agony.
That is none of your business.
“Oh. Oh, yes it is my business. Didn’t I just tell you earlier about these damn spirits and their pseudo-horniness? When allies connected to the host starts doing the baw chika bow wow, the ex-living animals think it’s mating season so they get rowdy? Do you remember that? Huh? Do you?”
Kimberly sighed deeply as he set his armor to the side. Yeah yeah, you don’t have to remind me. I get it.
Ghost glared at the giant that turned off the lights. “No. You obviously don’t. If you did ‘get it’, we’d be having an orgy by now.”
Fortunately for me, life is unfair. Kimberly got into the bed and tucked himself in.
“You cruel… heartless asexual bastard. ”
What happened to Maggie?
“Why does her name come up?”
I thought you really liked her.
“She... She’s always welcome to join you know. It’s an orgy. Everyone gets to screw everyone else! We’d all be happy. And all this ridiculous tension would be gone.”
I really… really hope you’re not my id. Kimberly buried himself deeper into the covers.
“Just for that, I hope I am your id.”

-----The Meeting Between the Appleberry’s and Doctors Perth and Ramirez-----

“What do you think is the major difference between the spirits that tend to be attracted to Kimberly and the spirits that tend to be attracted to the other Guardians in his team?” Dr. Perth asked once she situated herself close to Clair. Clair took a few seconds to think before answering the doctor’s question, “many of the spirits that reside in the other hosts are spirits of an element, an emotion, a type of energy, or an idea.”

“Types of spirits, which as far as we can tell, have never been ‘alive’ in the way that we are. They are sentient yes, but it is difficult for us to determine whether or not they are ‘alive’. Is their ‘death’ the same as our death? We don’t know. On the other hand, we do know that Kimberly’s animal spirits were alive at some point in time. Some may even be still alive. Even is so, in life, there is always death. A majority of life on Atlas eats other living things to live; kill others to survive. To be a Guardian of the spirits of a life form, also means to be a Guardian of death. Not to say that the other Guardians do not attract the dead, but the once-living spirits seem to have a natural attraction to Kimberly.”

“You think Ghost may be one of these living or dead animal spirits in Kimberly… or possibly ‘Death’.”

“It is also possible that Kimberly has dissociative identity disorder, but his symptoms does not match the diagnostic criteria. There are brief moments where it seems like Ghost takes control, but so far Kimberly has not shown memory impairment when Ghost does take control. He may not realize that Ghost did something, but he does remember what happened during that time. Ghost may even be the personification of certain aspects of Kimberly’s personality that he is not willing to accept, but his subconscious wants him to. I could apply any psychological or neurological disorder or phenomenon and it would explain Kimberly’s symptoms… But we must also take the fact that he is a Guardian into consideration. What I think is more important is the key moments Ghost started to emerge frequently.”

When Dr. Perth tapped the table, the tabletop “turned on” revealing that the tabletop was a large touch screen computer. On the display, a timeline appeared with a number of specific points linked to additional data. Every time Dr. Perth talked about a specific time period, images and documents were tapped into existence for Clair to see and disappeared with a simple flick of the wrist. “According to his records, Ghost first came into existence after… Kimberly’s mother died. Kimberly started to develop hallucinations and also had an imaginary friend, which we can assume was Ghost. Since imaginary friends were common for children, no one considered this to be a serious problem. There were no recorded incidence of Kimberly behaving differently and as far as anyone could tell, Ghost was just an imaginary friend. Then the Calamity occurred. Many people died during the First Contact, including his friend’s family members and his good friend Samuel. After this, Ghost starts to appear more frequently in Kimberly’s mind, however, he was never able to take control of Kimberly. Kimberly’s hallucinations also started to occur more frequently. Nothing changes for a few years until Kimberly starts training as a Guardian. This time, the change is not as dramatic or obvious as it was in the previous events. His hallucinations got progressively worse and Ghost began to occasionally take control. The only event that significantly changed Kimberly’s condition was when someone close to him or his friends died. Thus, my suggestion that Ghost is either a product of psychological distress, a spirit associated condition, or a combination of both. ”

“So you’re saying… regardless of who or what Ghost is, the frequency and duration of his appearance and the severity of Kimberly’s hallucinations correlates with some form of death that occurred around Kimberly, whether it be the addition of more once-living-animal spirits or a recent death that occurred.”

“More specifically, a death of someone or something that was directly caused by or greatly effected Kimberly and or his friends.”
“Directly caused by? As in killed by? How do you know that?”
“There was a time when the group was driving and accidentally ran over a frog. None of them noticed it happening, but Kimberly experienced a number of hallucinations that seemed to be frog and car related. They found out about the frog when they had to change the tires.”
“Why his friends?”
“I should rephrase that: his Guardian friends. Their connection with spirits, in general, and their close relationship have some degree of influence on each other. “ Dr. Perth looked up to Clair when she heard her chuckle.
“Did my grandson just unwittingly resign himself to making his condition worse?” Clair sighed. “Is this why you advised the Academy Council not to assign Kimberly to WARG?”
“There were just too many unknown variables that I thought would effect his performance in WARG. If we’d known his condition was not a prerequisite, but the result of the accumulation of spirits of the dead… we might have been able to devise a method to better control his hallucinations… But in the end, these are just ideas of possibilities and nothing more. I can only assume the Council thought the same.”
“What do you think his hallucinations are, exactly?”
“Spirits provide fantastical powers to their hosts. Why can’t memories be a source of power? Knowledge can be a powerful tool if used appropriately. Haziq and I hypothesized that Kimberly’s hallucinations may actually be a fragmented collection of the spirit’s memories.” The doctor sighed deeply, before she began to massage her eyelids. “You’d think we would have learned our lesson with his limit break. We honestly thought that Kimberly’s limit break was to summon spirits to perform a task and go berserk afterwards. Some Guardian’s limit breaks do involve releasing a powerful and uncontrollable force that could hurt allies and foes alike. We assumed Kimberly was just one of those types of Guardians for a long time… we would have continued to believe that if Haziq didn’t show up.”

Dr. Ramirez came over to sit down next to his colleague as Michaela also sat closer to Clair with Samuela in her arms. “You called?”
“Go away Haziq, I’m about to do the unthinkable… I’m about to praise you.”
“What? Noooo… impossible. I got to see it to believe it.”

Dr. Perth sighed once again, “Haziq was the one who thought that there was something we were not considering… and he was right.” Dr. Perth ignored Dr. Ramirez’s exaggerated gasp and continued, “we discovered that Kimberly’s limit break required a ‘payment’. This payment can be, theoretically, anything as long as it holds some value to the host. From a piece of bread to the ability to love. Anything.”

Clair looked down at the touchscreen in thought and clicked on a file. “Even someone else’s life?” Dr. Perth did not make an attempt to answer immediately, but instead glanced down at the document Clair was looking at. It was a tiny old news article about a murder’s wife committing suicide a few days after his execution.
“T-theoretically, yes.” Dr. Ramirez answered instead. “As long as that life was valuable to the host, but… I… I don’t think… Um… uh…” An awkward silence filled the room. Every adult was not sure what to say next, except for Clair who was lost in her own thoughts.

The Applberry’s missed out on the first five years of Kimberly’s life and the last ten years of their daughter’s. After a particularly bitter argument with his daughter concerning her future, Joyce left the house never to return to it alive. It was a typical argument between a worried father and an aspiring young artist. Clair wanted Joyce to find an occupation that could provide a stable income while Joyce wanted to be free to pursue her artistic interests and passions. One thing led to another and before anyone had time to calm down, Joyce was out the door.

Joyce never called or wrote to her parents during her long absence, but instead sent them a single photograph every month as proof that she was alive and well. She travelled to various places across the world. During her travels, she met Lee. The young ex-convict was originally just one of many subject matters Joyce took pictures of, but whenever another picture with Lee in it was sent to them, the Appleberry’s could tell that Joyce had fallen in love with him. Several months later, the two were married and a year or two later, Kimberly was born.

When the two argued that one day many years ago, Clair had only Joyce’s wellbeing in mind. “He” could not imagine Joyce leading a good life as a wondering photographer, yet there she was smiling in every picture with her own family. She was happy and that was all Clair wanted for his child. He wanted to see Joyce again. Clair wanted to finally meet his grandchild and thank his son-in-law for making Joyce so happy. Looking back on it, maybe it was a miracle that Clair was even able to properly accomplish even one of the wishes.

Being in an entirely different continent limited how much news from other continent’s regions could reach the Appleberry’s. Had they been in the same continent or region, the news of Lee committing mass murder would have reached their ears sooner. By the time it did, however, it was too late.

Clair was getting ready for speech to promote funding for the university, when the phone at his desk began to ring. He did not recognize the caller ID on display, but he answered regardless, “Hello?” Silence. “Hello? This is Clair Appleberry speaking. Who is this?” When he didn’t get a response the second time, Clair was ready to hang up, but halted at the last second. Could it be? “Sunshine?” One sigh later, a familiar voice began to speak, “hi dad.” Clair’s heart leaped with delight. “Joyce! Oh my… Joyce… i-..it’s good to hear your voice. Your mother and I were getting worried when you stopped sending pictures. Did something happen? How are you doing?”
“I’m… fine, dad.”
“Are you sure?”
Silence.
“Sunshine…?”
“Da---…” Joyce’s voice was beginning to crack when suddenly Clair’s assistant came rushing in to the room.“Dr. Appleberry! There you are! Didn’t I say we begin in 30 minutes? You’re late!”
“I’ll be there in a second.”
“Dr. Appleberry!”
“Dad,” Joyce’s voice softly said, “it’s okay, you can go. Sorry I called. I didn’t realize you were busy.”
“No, no. It’s okay. I wanted to hear your voice for so long. I’m glad you called.”
“Me too dad…”
“Professor!”
Joyce laughed weakly, “you better hurry. Who ever that is sounds like he’s about to rip your head off.”
“I feel like ripping his head off.”
Joyce laughed again, this time with a little more energy.
“Joyce… is this your home number? Can I reach you at this number?”
After a long pause, Joyce said, “yeah.”
Clair smiled, “great! I’ll call as soon as I can! We got some catching up to do.”
The assistant, finally at the last straw was screaming at Clair, “PROFESSOR!”
“Okay okay! I’m coming! I’m coming! Sorry Sunshine, I got to go, but I will call you. I promise.”
“Dad…?”
“Hmm?”
“I love you.”
“I…” How long this had been unsaid, “I love you too.”
“Bye.”
“Bye.”

Why did he hang up? Every fiber of his being told him something was wrong. The only time Joyce reached out for him and he hung up the phone on her. He may have been rushed, but at the moment, Clair chose his job over his daughter. For some odd reason, Clair thought he’d get another chance to talk to her again. If she called him once, he was convinced that he’d be able to call her back and she would pick up the phone.

He called her once the whole university ordeal was over, but the line was busy.
He called her again when he got home, but the line was busy.
He called her again the next day, the day after that, and the day after that, but the line was still busy. The day after that, the police called the Applberry’s to identify Joyce Evette Appleberry’s body.

Joyce had apparently died from carbon monoxide poisoning, while her five-year-old son survived with little to no side effects. “A miracle”, so they said, “Kami must have blessed him.”

“I wonder if she’s one of the spirits inside Kimberly,” Clair asked to no one in particular.

“What was it that The Caravan say? Umm… a spirit goes to where it yearns to be, be what it wants to be, because spirits are free?” Dr. Perth turned the table’s display off. “If she’s not with him, and spirits are able to ‘be what it wants to be’, then she probably turned into something that could watch over her family.”

Michaela smiled at the name of her people. “She always loved traveling… I think she’d be the wind.”

“Hmm,” Clair took off her reading classes, “I always thought she was the incarnation of the sun.”

-----On the Boat----

He was running as fast as he could. Franticly running down the streets with a group of other people, who were in a similar state of mind. They were coming. They were right behind them. They had to run faster. Faster. Faster! The people who were caught screamed in horror and pain.

They slashed at them; shot at them; burned them; froze them up; shocked them; tore them apart. They killed the people mercilessly and brutally. They laughed at each kill, before moving on.

One by one, everyone disappeared. He was alone. He kept running, but his legs must have been too short, or maybe it was because of the dress he wore, they caught up to him. A beam of light shines to brightly that it burns his skin. Blades cut through him, which must have rendered his muscles useless: he couldn’t move anymore. They kept beating at him. It hurt. The pain. So unbearable.

A hooded man grabbed him by the hair and lifted him up. The man smiled before tossing Kimberly’s head into the water. As Kimberly drowned, he saw his own body collapse to the ground. The hooded man and the tiny fire demon next to him cackle at Kimberly’s demise as the rest of their group continuously beat on the corpse of the xenomorph raptors.

He starts to…
fall into…
dark…
ness…

Kimberly eyes snapped open, stunned. He almost forgot to breath, before his lungs told him that there was not enough oxygen in it. He let out a loud gasp.

“Let me guess, you had a nightmare about getting killed again?” Ghost’s face appeared above Kimberly. “Morning, Kim. Don’t worry, I might not be real, but you managed to live to see another day.”

After taking the time to calm himself down, Kimberly looked around his surroundings. Why does the room look like a kid’s coloring project?

Ghost looked around their cabin room. The room literally looked like a child’s attempt at drawing the cabin room with crayons. Everything was a vague representation of the actual object. Thick black outlines traced the contours of the object. Colorful scribbles attempt to fill in the blank spaces, but always fail to properly cover the white of the “paper”. Ghost turned to his roommate, “cause you’re hallucinating it of course. Why else?”

After getting ready for the new day and taking his medication, Kimberly took a short walk to the deck. The sky was a blank white paper with a few white clouds that distinguished themselves from the sky by a simple light blue crayon line. The yellow sun looked down at Atlas with a large happy smile. The ocean was several separate layers of blue wave cut-outs that moved in the opposite direction of the wave cut-out next to it. Woosssssssssssh… woosssssssssssh the waves literally whispered. In this crayon world, only eleven figures looked real: the elven xenomorph raptors that galloped in slow motion while being suspended in midair as they headed towards the horizon. Trippy.

Kimberly turned his back to the ocean to head back inside. A few steps later, Kimberly stopped at the first sound he had heard that was not an onomatopoeia or someone else talking. It was a wet noise, like someone or something had pulled itself up onto the deck from the ocean down below. Kimberly turned around and saw a headless man with a black leather jacket on, sprawled out on the deck. As with the flying raptors, the dead body before Kimberly looked more real than anything else in the crayon world. The giant took a few cautious steps toward the unmoving body. It remained still, as any dead body should be, even after Kimberly poked at it. This… isn’t real… right?
“Well, you can find out by leaving it here and do whatever you want. If you hear someone screaming, it’s real and it you don't, it’s just another one of your crazy imaginations.”
Should I leave him out like this, though?
“Kim, if this is real, there isn’t much you can do to save a decapitated man. Come on, let’s go.”
Hesitantly, Kimberly left the body alone.

---

As Kimberly waited for the boat to get closer to their destination, he watched the crayon world slowly dissolve back into the normal world Kimberly was used to seeing. Around the time the medication had completely kicked in, Kimberly went back to the deck where he saw the decapitated body to check if it was still there. When he found that it wasn’t anymore, Kimberly sighed in relief. He turned around---…

And a hooded man chopped his head off.

Kimberly suddenly snapped out of it. He saw Aaron standing on deck doing something that Kimberly had no time to really take notice of. Most of Kimberly’s attention focused on the headless man standing right behind Aaron. The man pointed at Aaron.

Something rolled up to Kimberly’s feet. He knew it could not be anything pleasant, but he looked down anyways. A man’s head was staring up at Kimberly with water pouring out of his ears, eyes, nostrils, and mouth. The head made an attempt to speak, but the unlimited water that continued to flow out of its head made all of his words inaudible. Or, at least it would have. That was the beauty of hallucinations: anything was possible. While Kimberly may not have been able to hear what the drowning head was saying, he understood it perfectly well.

“Don’t make bets with him. He’s a cheater.”

Kimberly’s felt his stomach turn and body shake. He lifted his head up to look at Aaron and when their eyes met… Kimberly truly thought Aaron was going to kill him. The giant dashed to the closest bathroom and locked himself in it.

---

Kimberly flushed the toilet and watched all that he threw up disappear down the hole, “it’s official. I’m schizophrenic.”

Ghost caressed his chin in thought, “actually, that sounds really possible. What were the symptoms again? Delusions, more specifically, delusions of persecution. Check. Hallucinations. Check. Disorganized speech and behavior. Sometimes. Negative symptoms? Lack of emotional expression. Check. Speech difficulties and abnormalities. Check.” Ghost raised his hands in the air, before bear hugging Kimberly, “congratulations! I can call you a schizo! So schizo, how do you feel?”
“S**t.” Kimberly rubbed his forehead. People must be really desperate if I can get into WARG.
Ghost pulled away from Kimberly so that Kimberly could clean his face, “if it’s any consolation, every one of your friends has problems.”
That does not console me.
“Well sucks for you!” Ghost folded his arms. “Let’s just pretend Aaron did kill that imagery man. What? You think he did it just for s**t and giggles?
“No.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
Kimberly silently wiped his face dry using the towel near by. He didn’t say anything, because he knew Ghost already knew what the problem was.
“Fine.” Ghost crossed his arms, “just let me make this clear: the enemy is always going to be the child of a parent. There is always a possibility that the enemy had a family of their own, a lover, or a friend. As long as you are a soldier fighting in a war where everyone is desperate to survive, you will end up being the person who took someone else’s loved one. You will be a murder.” Kimberly’s body stiffened at the last word. “Joining WARG may not have been your first choice. But this is your chance to actually protect your friends from death.”

Ghost sighed after a long pause, “I swear, your compassion is going to come back to bite you on the ass.”

-----Battle II-----

Even on the boat, Kimberly could hear the destruction of Norton City. Now that the team was actually there, it was obvious. It was a real battlefield. A warzone so close to home. Kimberly glanced to the mountain range that stood proudly in the distance. All Nautilus had to do was go over that mountain and Helston would face a similar fate as Norton City, or worse. Helston was just a town; not nearly as equipped as Norton City was, it would be eliminated at the first attack wave.

Kimberly’s attention fell onto the Nautilus Storm Guards. He could feel his hands were shaking again. Was he ready to kill a person? “You better be,” Ghost voice said, “cause they are.”

Kimberly took in a deep breath. Olivia failed to give an order to him and she was obviously busy. He wouldn’t be disobeying any orders regardless of what he did, right? Kimberly’s ears started to focus as much as it could on Storm Guard Omega. As much as the surrounding ruckus distracted Kimberly to no end, he needed to focus on the Storm Guard’s vitals. Not to make sure it stopped, but to be sure the vital signs kept going.

“Wait, you got to be s**tting me. Are you serious!? F**k, of course you’re that stupid! Kami damn it! Didn’t I rant about this not too long ago!?”

Now that the group was on land, Kimberly called for aid from the earth spirits. Kimberly was not the best Synergist in the group, but as long as he and his allies had their feet to the ground, the earth spirits provided some amount of defense.

Kimberly Kimberly sprinted straight to Storm Guard Omega, allowing the soldier to open fire at Kimberly. Knowing his armor could take a few more bullets with the help of the earth spirits, Kimberly continued forward. By the time the soldier realized he was going to need to switch to a melee attack, Kimberly punched Storm Guard Omega straight across the face. As soon as the soldier stumbled back, Kimberly kicked the automatic rifle out of the Storm Guard’s hands. He quickly grabbed the firearm and threw it as far as he could towards the ocean. However short amount of time it was, Kimberly’s back was open for an attack, which Storm Guard Omega did not hesitate to take. The soldier smacked Kimberly from behind as hard as he could.