---

---

Jonathan rubbed at the crick in his neck, waking up on the stiff mattress of a small-town motel and groaning quietly in protest of the bed's mildewed smell. He had been too tired to care the night before, but now he was appalled he had managed to get any kind of rest in the folds of the stench.

“Jon?” a light male voice called for him and he turned to the door of his motel room to see Nico standing in the small gap of the door he had left ajar the previous night. “We need to leave soon.”

He grunted a response and groggily rose from the bed, glad to have a reason with which to argue against his protesting body.

They had terrified most of the small town’s residents away the previous day, and by now word was likely getting back to the Precursors. Between Dreamcatcher’s monsters and Cat’s Cradle, the Precursors considered their group to be higher priority and Jonathan had his hands full constantly moving everyone from place to place. If it wasn’t for Nico’s constant company whenever he needed it, Jonathan was sure he would have abandoned the group long ago. He had no lasting ties to any of them and had only joined out of necessity. Now he was with them for eternity, the way public knowledge forced his hand.

“Nico,” he called out as the pale young man turned to leave. Nico stopped and looked back. “I still need a bit of time. Hands are still hurting from the last teleport.”

“Do you need me to amplify?”

Jonathan shook his head, rubbing the calluses on his palms and the insides of his fingers.

“Just need a bit of time for the tingling to fade.”

“We can wait.”

“Thanks.”

Nico left, no doubt heading back to the room he shared with Whisper and Donovan. Jonathan envied the camaraderie between the three of them, distanced as he was from the rest of the group. He did it to himself, really, refusing to interact with most of them and hiding off on his own for most the time. Part of the distance was out of necessity, to avoid getting caught in any unexpected crossfire before they could safely escape through his portals, and part was because he wanted people to dig deeper into him without putting in any effort himself.

If he had to describe it, he’d place himself somewhere between a narcissist and loner. That he required external validation of his self-worth was just another footnote to add to his otherwise insipid personality. Jonathan had never made much of an effort to progress in his life until the day he woke up with the X on his throat. Before that, he had simply been going through the motions of existing in a world ravaged by fairy tale creatures and subnaturals—mages, he corrected mentally. That he saw no point in attempting to improve himself when a fantasy creature could obliterate his entire future in a blink just added to his apathetic nature.

It was a sweltering morning that had found him as a fresh mage, the visions still blindingly clear in his mind. A portal to paradise—a world where people somehow understood him without him needing to say a word, and where they cared about him to the point of obsession. In the other, a cozy room in a pocket dimension of his own with a faceless friend who lounged lazily on a sofa with him, talking about anything and everything while a gentle rain pattered against the windows. Soft and warm. A place he wanted to go to—and he wanted more than anything that kind of dear friend. But he had terrified himself in that vision, thinking that it was just a dream. That there was no way that kind of deep connection could exist for him who didn’t even have a personality to cultivate for it.

So he had chosen the other vision, hoping for that reality instead, where he didn’t have to do anything and where he didn’t have to worry about maintaining connections. He could just be there and people would be there in return for him.

Selfish.

The tingling in his hands had finally faded now and Jonathan stood up to stretch, sniffing himself with some disgust as the realization that he had forgotten to shower yesterday in his exhaustion exhibited itself in the form of a rank odor wafting from his armpits, seeping through even the baggy sweatshirt he wore. He didn’t suppose there was any time for showers if Nico had mentioned leaving soon.

Reluctant strides took him from his room and down the hallway coated in blood and viscera. Some of the small town’s local police force had refused to stand down and Tumor had made quick work of them in the narrow confines of the hallway. Jonathan barely blinked at the sight. It was nothing unusual anymore. Once upon a time, they had tried to avoid fights, but just seeing the black X’s on their throats drove most people into a fearful state that defied any reason the group tried to present.

And this was the result.

He gently shoved the door to Nico’s room open, finding the group’s de facto leader rolled up in a makeshift burrito of sheets and blankets on the floor. Donovan was cackling nearby, clearly satisfied with his handiwork while Whisper crouched beside the blanket burrito, patting Nico’s head sympathetically, but making no move to free the rail-thin mage.

Donovan waved a quick greeting at Jonathan while Whisper nodded a similar form of hello.

“Oh, are you ready now?” Nico’s tone could have been a casual talk about the weather, if he wasn’t wrapped in at least five layers of sheets for fun while the corpses of a dozen people lay strewn about the hallway.

“Yeah,” Jonathan moved to help Nico out of the blankets before Whisper caught his wrist with a hand.

“What?” he almost snapped at the guy, thinking it was Whisper stepping between any kind of excessive friendliness with Nico. The guy had a habit of doing that with Hashtag, but Jonathan hadn’t thought he’d be on Whisper’s shit list as well.

The sound manipulator let go and extended the index fingers of both his hands towards each other, jabbing the fingers together twice while twisting his hands in opposite directions. The sign for “pain.” Whisper was looking at him questioningly.

“Oh. No, I’m fine,” Jonathan replied, abashed as he realized his mistaken assumption. Whisper had been worried his hands were still hurting. “Sorry.”

A dismissive wave of Whisper’s hand signaled everything was fine and Jonathan helped the guy unwrap Nico while Donovan whined in the corner about everyone undoing his hard work all the time. Nico offered a weak thanks to both of them when he finally freed himself from the multitude of thin sheets.

“Can we talk later?” Jonathan asked as he tore open a large portal in the air in front of them, wincing as the pins and needles in his hands flared back up at the use of his power so soon after the last portal.

“Sure,” Nico responded, motioning to Donovan to gather the others. “What do you want me to pry about this time?”

“My high school,” Jonathan said immediately, realizing he had been wanting to talk to someone about all those petty little things that still irritated him to this day.

“Then I'll ask about your friends, first,” Nico obliged as the rest of the team trudged into the room and marched into the portal, some stretching, some yawning, but most just grumbling. The group was long desensitized to jumping from place to place in a hurry.

---

---

---

As expected, the reactions were a mixed bag ranging from angry outbursts to some measure of acceptance. Then there were the ones who simply remained quiet. She mentally checked through the files she had read earlier, gauging who to keep an eye on. Certainly the boy who could change into a dragon--the one who had opened with nothing but compensatory attitude for the bleak situation.

With the brief signal of eye contact, she allowed Lawrence to answer the question as she continued perusing the information in her mind, thoughts aligning with whichever student her eyes fell upon first.

Hazel Baker was a special case, and she'd certainly need to watch her, but the request from the Department of Defense had specifically noted "socialization" in the testing categories, so Hazel would have to be put with one of the Arbiters. Yes, she knew what those mages got up to in their spare time on Death and Taxes and how they privately categorized themselves. It was useful to have an eye on the forum without their knowledge, and it helped her get a sense of what they were truly thinking. Sufficient to keep her soldiers close and her subnaturals closer.

She glanced at the girl whose file had been forwarded to her by one of the staff. Emma Halwell. Noted suicide risk, but what else was new with Aberrations. There had been no need to caution the Director--she had no intentions of revealing any of their files. Rough estimates of each person's powers had been sent to her by the teams that had captured them, but she found Emma's file most interesting in the breadth of its applications. An jack-of-all-trades sort on a weaker level. Certainly useful on the field for a variety of scenarios.

Next to Emma stood Grant Rotem, whose powers were similar to Kadabra's telekinesis, though the range was far shorter and the conditions much more stringent. Volatile when provoked and seemingly uncomfortable with authority. Not an unusual case in the slightest.

Zoe Fletcher came next in the chained line, spitting out vitriol and sarcasm. Psychological evaluations had pegged her, in short, as the typical unruly 18-year-old, though with the caveat that she possessed the potential to make strong connections with others if given the right opportunity. Except she was more often angry than accommodating.

"An angry Aberration" described almost three-fourths of the roughly 500 students at USARILN East and she had allowed Lawrence free rein up until now because she had been starkly aware of the social dislike for staff mages. Were it not for the girl's volatile nature, Director Zhang would have considered putting her with Lawrence.

Beside her was Sander Lorraine--a vampire, or as close to a vampire as Dreamcatcher had bestowed upon him without the debilitating weakness to sunlight. He offered a meek response to the opening salvo of intimidation from her, and she remembered that the reports had always praised his rather interesting self-control for an Aberration (though they referred to that difference as "the violent X types") even as they noted several occasional incidents. He could be assigned to an Arbiter. And she had known exactly which one during her selection.

Very conveniently, beside him was the boy whose blood could heal, Christmas Halvost. A silly name for a silly boy from a silly family. The file had been somewhat amusing for her to read and she wasn't at all surprised when he offered compliance and little else. People like him were no trouble at all.

The clockwork boy besides Christmas also offered that same acquiescence to the new shackles, having been one of the few in this group who had turned themselves in. Nothing dangerous to note about his personality, yet, and his powers were simple enough that she could kill him before he tried anything, assuming the evals hadn't entirely missed some violent aspect of his personality.

The joker, Marcus Howell, remained true to his psychological reports and threw out a few obligatory quips in exchange for seeming less on edge about having a small team of soldiers point guns at him. She would have to watch his power. Temporal manipulation of any sort had to be carefully studied and controlled should the power extend any further--at least, according to orders from the DOD. Dreamcatcher itself had potentially been a temporal manipulator by some theories, though Director Zhang doubted the far-fetched idea. She had always assumed that, much like Marcus's temporal manipulation, the god-like creature was far more simple than anyone thought.

Then came the girl with the very interesting ability--as useful as Emma Halwell could be on the field, or potentially more, but with a crippling case of delusion that dashed the Director's hopes of effectively employing her in combat. Siena Santana could have been veritable demon in a fight, but without the clarity of mind and depth of thought that Emma put into her facade, she was just another liability.

Several others offered overlapping thoughts, concerns, demands, agreements, and the like, while several more added comments in quick succession to each other, but the Director was more interested in watching Kusari Bloodworth, the effectively immortal girl, tense as if preparing for something. An attack?

Before she could raise her hand to signal for her soldiers to shoot, the girl slipped her cuffs and effectively surrendered. Director Zhang raised an eyebrow, but didn't bother responding to the event if there was no danger. Waste of bullets, that one, especially now that she had slipped from two of the four magical suppression cuffs.

One of the nearby soldiers, however, did not feel that same way.

As the other students clamored and shifted away from Kusari in a chain reaction, the panicked soldier shouted at the sight of the cuffs dropping and tried to aim at the girl, clearly a new soldier and clearly forgetting exactly what her power was. He only readjusted enough to get a better shot at Kusari and raised his gun. The Director shot him in the arm just as he pulled the trigger, the burst of rifle fire catching several of the students, who collapsed to the floor, unconscious and potentially dead. Clicking her tongue in irritation, the Director fired again as the man flailed in pain, catching him square on the side of his head. Her aim was surprisingly accurate. The errant soldier collapsed to the floor with the rest of the injured or dying students, blood pooling around his body from two gunshot wounds. He, for one, was confirmed dead. This didn't seem to surprise the other soldiers, who still maintained careful position around the students, though several had initially adjusted their aim towards the one soldier who had broken the ring.

"An unfortunate casualty while dealing with a large group of subnaturals with powers not yet fully determined," the Director said calmly. The rest of her soldiers, trained and seasoned, neither protested nor reacted. They held their positions and the ones closest to the fresh bodies on the floor kicked them aside to avoid any conflict with movement if the situation called for it.

Train of thought interrupted, the Director gave a quick glance over the rest of them and motioned to yet more soldiers outside the door. She had gone through the usual routine and these were the usual reactions, save for the minor incident with an idiot she had no use for. A shame to potentially lose a few of the new group, but she had read their files and the ones lost weren't particularly noteworthy. More importantly, her commander needed to be more careful when vetting the new soldiers. Most of them only looked good on paper.

Things hadn't quite gone according to plan, but this would do. This new group had potential. Perhaps more than any other until now. There was hope here, as rough and unpolished as it was. She would make sure that hope didn't remain that way.

The new wave of soldiers came in carrying ankle cuffs of the same strange material as the trucks the students had arrived in--more suppression cuffs from Hephaestus, but these were special. They could activate and deactivate at the Director's command and served not only to suppress magic, but also to track and taze the students at the flick of a button. Without bothering to respond to any of their provocations, the Director motioned to the group and the soldiers approached the students, clipping on and locking into place the new cuffs first before removing the previous cuffs and chains.

"Minimal expression of your powers while on campus--suppression cuffs--" the Director nodded at the new cuffs by way of explanation, "and any attempt to force them off will result in a powerful electric shock. Some of you might die from it. Any attempt to deviate too far from commands and schedules will also result in that same shock. Any staff member can also order a shock if they feel endangered. Of course, ordering shocks without good reason will lead to disciplinary action. Weapons, after all, are not effective when heavily damaged. And that is all you are here."

She spared a look towards Padma Majumdar, the shadow walker girl whose comments had been loud enough to hear in the din of Kusari slipping her cuffs and before the chaos of the unfortunate soldier.

"A child means nothing here, Ms. Majumdar."

With that she turned on her heels and left, leaving the task of sorting and management to the tall soldier who had been standing beside her the entire time--her commander, Michael Kardos.

He stepped forward as she left, equally uncaring of the dead soldier nearby (and the potentially dead students as well) while a mousy, brown-haired man in glasses shuffled in soon after the Director's departure, a file folder in hand.

"Ah--ah!" he shouted as he finally caught sight of the bodies. "My God! What--"

A sharp look from Commander Kardos shut him up.

"Proceed, Mr. Greten," the commander rumbled.

"O-of course, well--I...yes, yes. I'm the Director's secretary. You may refer to me as Mr. Greten, everybody," he tried for a placating tone, which wasn't quiet working when his eyes kept darting fearfully to the bodies on the ground nearby.

"Rooming! Yes. And setup--I have them. I have them here," he patted the beige folder and opened it, pulling out a single sheet of paper.

"S-so! We have uh..." he trailed off as the commander walked over and snatched the page from his hands.

"White marks and any exceptions first. Violent X's after.

Sander Lorraine--exception, Kusari Bloodworth, Christmas Halvost. Suite 317. Building A.

Hazel Baker--exception, Emma Halwell--exception, Lawrence Ellison. Suite 318. Building A.

Grant Rotem, Padma Majumdar. Suite 330. Building A.

Callan Webb, Marcus Howell, Siena Santana. Suite 430. Building A.

Alexis Hunter, Aaron Erikson, Christopher Francis. Suite 225. Building A.

Lilianna Brandt. Room 200. Building B.

Zoe Fletcher. Room 201. Building B.

Savannah Churchill. Room 203. Building B.

Angélique Lachance. Room 300. Building B.

Allison Revel. Room 301. Building B.

Classes will be assigned to you after preliminary examinations. There will be tests ready in your room. Return them to the registrar's office in Building C when you're done. They're due in three days. Combat assessment tests will take place in four days."

As he finished, each listed group of students was pulled apart, one soldier standing behind each student with a gun aimed at their heads.

"Escorts will lead you," the commander grunted before leaving as well.

The students were herded out in the their respective groups by the second set of soldiers and led to their buildings at gunpoint. Meanwhile, the soldiers who had initially formed the ring around the students were tasked with cleanup duty, checking the bodies left behind for any signs of life before disposing of them.

---

---

White marks and exceptions were led to a fashionably modern (and fashionably huge) building decked in glass and polished marble. From a standard perspective, it would have looked like a wide, five-story hotel fit for kings. Every inch of the building was coated in a thin, shimmering mist that clung tightly to its surface, giving off the strange feeling like they were being watched.

The pattern for flooring was readily apparent as the students were taken directly to their suites: 100-130 on floor one, 200-230 on floor two, and so forth.

"Violent X's" who hadn't displayed enough exemplary behavior were taken to a building across the large quad that separated the white marks' apartments from the X's dorms. Similar in architecture, but simpler in design, building B was a less extravagant, but still massive edifice decorated with lacquered wood paneling and quaint arches leading into the main lobby. The floor organization remained the same here, with subsequent numbers denoting rooms beside each other and corresponding floor numbers aligning rooms above and below each other. Here, though, each room was significantly smaller than the large apartments in building A and there were only communal bathrooms, kitchens, and living rooms.

As the guards made sure each student entered their rooms, they also performed a cursory check of neighboring singles. Several were empty, and several more were ignored, while still others only opened their doors a crack in response to the guards before being allowed to retreat once more.

In all the newly prepared rooms were several stacks of placement examinations in calculus, physics, chemistry, english, biology and various request forms for electives, all sitting in precisely ordered piles on their desks. Maps, general information on computer lounges, and permission forms for using a "violent release zone" were sorted into another stack, while an ID card several inches away revealed their student number and government-controlled checking account number on the back, already loaded with 500 USD for the month. A blue sheet at the bottom of the last stack of papers noted carefully in bold print that it was a "Misc. Request Sheet" for anything the Institute wasn't immediately providing, with an italicized disclaimer that not everything could be acquired and that pets were the sole responsibilities of their respective owners.

The lack of concern about potential cheating on the placement examinations was enough of an indicator that education wasn't exactly the main concern of the Institutes. More the farce of pretending to educate. USARILN East wasn't known for shirking in hiring talented teachers like USARILN West was, but it was known for utilizing its students far more effectively. In that vein, any confiscated items had been returned to their respective owners in the form of duffel bags at the foot of their beds.

All rooms and apartments were furnished with a single window facing the surrounding town, soft beds, pillows of varying thicknesses, and enough simple desks and closets to accommodate the number of occupants per setup. The almost imperceptible humming of the tracking cuffs on the students' ankles and the soldiers watching them at gunpoint would be the only indicators that they hadn't simply transferred to another school.

When the students had all been roughly shoved into their rooms, each guard barked out a quick "Weekday curfew at 2300. No curfews on weekends" to their respective student before marching off and leaving the newcomers to their own devices.

---

It definitively came as a shock to Angélique when a guard raised his gun to aim down sight towards the girl that had managed to slip free of her cuffs and started shooting at her. Everything went so fast, the young metal sensation barely couldn’t register everything that had happened in just a few seconds. She definitively saw the soldier pointing his gun at one of them and decided to shoot, but his shot was deviated from its original target when a gunshot coming from the director’s handgun hit him in the arm. As a result, his shot reaped the life of a few teenagers, before his own had ended by a second shot, this time aimed at the head, fired again by the eastern director of USARILN.

Witnessing such a sight, Angel could not refrain from letting out a yell of both surprise and panic. She had to bring her hands to cover her mouth to stop from crying out loud, and her shades would do little to hide the tears that had been rolling off her cheeks. No matter how much video games one might play, or how much movies she had seen, nothing prepared the young woman’s mind to a real, live murder. The scene was so horrifying to her that she felt like she could throw up at any second, but her own ego made her swallow that feeling and just let it all out in tears instead.

By the time they explained how rooming will be handled, Angel was just a crying mess, kneeling down in quite a pitiful state. The guards didn’t seem to bother that much with her sobbing, in fact some seemed to rather enjoy seeing the subnatural in such misery. When all of the formalities were done, the guard escorting showed no mercy to the sobbing young woman. Taking her by one arm, he yanked Angel from her kneeling pose and pointed his gun at her, ordering her to get moving. Troubled by the events, Angélique’s hardened façade had simply crumbled and she complied with a timid nod, sniffing silently.

The late teenager kept quiet all the while she was being escorted to her new room, although she kept sniffing from time to time. She did not notice much the details of the apartment complex she would be being held in, but she did take notice its location and the room that would be her own for the time being. It was but until after the guard warned her about the curfew and slammed her door shut that Angel lost it. Now that she was alone, she would not hold back, and thus, she screamed at the top of her lungs all the pain and sadness she felt inside her. Little did she know, the electronic cuff strapped on her ankle did not much suppress what she initially was afraid of. It was as she yelled that the volume raised to a frightening pitch, enough to make the walls tremble a little. Fortunately for everyone in the area, the sonic waves emitted by the crying girl was dampened by the walls surrounding Angel’s room, making her scream lose its devastating effects on hearing, but still could be heard quite loudly.

It took a full minute of yelling her lungs out for Angélique to vent out everything she had been accumulating deep inside. As she stopped, she could already hear people from all over the apartment complex yelling or pounding loudly at the walls, ceiling and floor to tell her to shut the fuck up. By now, the metal singer was pretty much numb to their insults, and stood on her knees for a good while. Whispers had stopped tormenting her for the moment at least, and it was during this brief moment of clarity that she picked herself up, only to crash into the bed. She was so tired from all of this ordeal that she didn’t care if she smelled like shit after spending so much days without washing, she just wanted to sleep now that she had the chance to and no asshole around who would take pleasure in depriving her rest.

Her heavy eyelids eventually closed, stopping the flood of tears from trailing any further on her cheeks, and soon fell into a deep sleep, only to revisit that dream again.

---

---

Zoe's stigma did not mix well with the shooting. She wasn't shocked or especially horrified, but seeing that kind of violence enacted right in front of her only made her own urges spike tenfold. If anyone was paying attention to her face in that moment, they might have seen something worryingly close to hunger cross her expression, indicating exactly the kind of effect her stigma was having. She found herself unconsciously taking a slight step towards the scene, a smile crossing her face briefly before an instinct of self-preservation brought her to her senses. Playing it off with a shrug, she pretended to look the carnage over in pretend shock until the director continued to speak.

What the Director said made it pretty clear their status around here. The idea of the cuffs reminded her of those shock collars some people got for dogs except, you know, people actually gave a shit about animal cruelty. And isn't that just depressing. Still, despite the overwhelming urge to try and kick the guy locking the thing onto her in the teeth, Zoe managed to keep her cool.

While some people might have expected her to protest again, she didn't say anything against the 'violent' classification, considering what she'd felt just a couple minutes before. Being locked up with someone else, shock cuffs or not, seemed like a really bad idea. She wasn't enough of an idiot to try and argue with it, any more than she was dumb enough to pick a fight when there was a gun pointed straight at her head.

---

Once all of the 'good kids' had been split off to their own building, Zoe glanced around at the remaining people in the group. All of them had the same mark on their necks, of course. And, funnily enough, it seemed like they were all girls. There were comments she could have made, but it seemed too easy. "So, does this make us the problem children?" She asked the guard, disrespect clearly showing through in her voice. "Guess you guys got the fun job, looking after the crazies. You draw straws for this or something?"

Okay, so there might have been a bit of provocation there - but they'd have to be used to that by now. Besides, no way was Zoe getting out of the cuff. It wasn't like she could actually do anything, so backchat would be enough for now. She just wanted to make it perfectly clear that she respected these people about as much as they respected her. Fair was fair.

Despite keeping the same attitude towards the situation throughout the walk, she was quiet enough for the rest of it, and at least paid enough attention to realise that it was after curfew as she was shoved into her room. With one last glare at the soldier as the door closed, she turned and headed further into her room with a sigh. So, this was it. Her own little place in the asylum. She had to admit, it actually wasn't looking too bad. Not that the positives outweighed the constant surveillance and shock bracelet, but at least getting sleep in here would be bearable.

Looking over the desk, the stack of tests wasn't really welcome. Seriously? Not like she was a dumbass or anything, but this did not feel like the time. She looked over them briefly, but decided not to bother trying anything right away. There were a few days before they needed to be done anyway. The other stack was a bunch of information as well as those 'violent release zone' forms, which would probably be needed at some point unless she wanted to blow a fuse at someone. Speaking of blowing up, there was one hell of a noise coming from the floor above - clearly someone wasn't handling this too well.

At least she had her phone, which still seemed to be working fine. Next to it was a small wallet. She was curious to see if they'd taken anything out of it, but as she reached over she couldn't quite bring herself to look inside. Not like anything in there would be worth money, so why bother? Besides, it was where she normally kept her photographs, and looking at them wasn't something she felt prepared to do. A few other bits and pieces were there, but nothing she felt like paying any attention to yet.

There also wasn't a bathroom in her room, so that was fun. Seemed like all of that was communal. Eh, she could get a shower in the morning. Hopefully there'd be some kind of separation in there. It wasn't like she had confidence issues, but she preferred to at least have clothes on for first impressions. Nothing she could do about that either way. She'd have to figure that one out tomorrow. Right now, all she wanted to do was sleep. Maybe a bit of rest would do her some good.

Hazel Baker

---

Bullets flew around her, one whizzing by at a distance that can only be described as 'uncomfortably close', yet she neither flinched nor attempted to dodge. Any brief flashes of worry or fear was quickly swallowed up by the haze in her mind.

The names the man called out, that commander called out, meant nothing to her, as did the numbers after it. Hazel understood what they were, but not who they were or where the rooms was. The soldier that acted out of line, that student that slipped her cuffs, and the several dead bodies. It was all very different to what she was used to. Usually she'd be given more information on what she was supposed to be doing, and none of the guards she had ever seen before had lost their heads that easily.

One of the guards lead them away, towards their new rooms. Lawrence, obviously, was the one who had been here for a while, and Emma was that girl with the rather soft features. Hazel barely knew of anything about this place, but she did know her abilities, and the general way these people worked. Most probably the ones roomed with her were also those who had the same destructive abilities, and they were put together so they were easier to monitor. However, the building and room they were lead to poked holes in her reasoning, for they seemed rather insecure. Even with the collar suppressing her ability, she was sure she could rip apart the entire building in mere minutes. Not that she would try of course, for she knew better than to invite them to punish her again.

"So yeah, name's Lawrence. Sorry that your powers manifested, but now you're here and we'll be living together. I don't really know what your powers are but please if you're going to blow the place up make sure to do it when I'm out, or at least when I'm awake. My own alarm is bad enough."

There was a pause before she responded to Lawrence's request with a simple nod. Having just arrived at what was supposed to be their room, she had no idea if it was something he said seriously, or in jest. She did not hear the rest of what he said however, for suddenly a furry creature appeared in front of them. Almost immediately her right arm turned transparent, her body tensing slightly at the sight of the dog. It left however, apparently annoyed by the lack of food on Lawrence. For an apartment room having a dog inside, it was surprisingly clean, devoid of any sort of clutter save for those books. It was a large room, containing three single beds, with the kitchen and a door leading to the bathroom on the other side. Certainly a far cry from what she was used to.

"You guys have had a longer day than I have, you can have first dibs on the shower tonight if you want. Fridge is pretty empty, but there's a pot of coffee if that's your thing, but I figure you'll want to be heading to sleep instead of staying up. Your welcome was... well, about the same as mine, it's probably better if you try to relax and not think about it too much."

Again, she simply nodded. Hazel didn't feel like taking a bath or drinking coffee, certainly not at around 3 in the morning, and not when her usual schedule would have her sleeping by now. Without a word more, she took the nearest bed, making sure the dog wasn't there somehow before falling asleep on it.

---

---

---

---

He had never realized how loud the sound of a gunshot could be. Movies and TV shows never properly broadcasted the sound that loudly--unnecessary to be so realistic. But here in this cavernous room the sound of rifle fire and pistol shots smashed against his ears with the force of a sledgehammer and Christmas involuntarily cried out in response, ducking down into a crouch and covering his head with his arms, the fear reaching its peak now and squeezing out in tears despite how hard Christmas was keeping his eyes closed. He didn't move even after the sounds faded, his ears still ringing with tinnitus. A sudden yank from someone snapped him out of his cowering terror and he looked up to see a soldier pulling him up by the arm while another placed the new ankle cuff on him, removing the rest of the chain-linked cuffs.

Mechanical. They moved like robots, unfazed by the bodies of students and the one soldier nearby. Christmas scampered away from the spreading blood as much as he was able to in the grip of the guard holding him. His words weren't coming to him, and he just stared wide-eyed at the carnage. This wasn't how things were supposed to--he wasn't even sure what he had been expecting, but it wasn't this. Not this scene of bodies and blood strewn about the room while the Director and her colleagues calmly went about their business. Broken. The world was all wrong. Could he blame Dreamcatcher for it? It would be easy, but Christmas was afraid of being wrong. What would be the end result of misguided resentment when everything turned out to be wrong? And all the while the bodies lay still and he knew he wouldn't be allowed to do anything to help them. He tried anyway, turning to the Director, only to watch her walk away.

"I-I c-c-c--" the trembling was impossible to speak through.

"P-power," he tried again, looking at the guard holding him.

The soldier simply stared back impassively before turning to the commander, who was busy reading through the room assignments. The message was clear. Nothing would be done without the commander's consent, and the commander wasn't bothering with any of the injured students. Were they going to leave them for dead? But Christmas knew. He knew his power implicitly, even if he had never tried to test its limits. His power could help them. But the soldier only dragged him and two others towards the door once the room assignments had been doled out.

"Ah--w-wa--" no chance to talk. The soldier simply pointed a gun at his face and nodded forewards. Move. This time, Christmas stopped protesting, glancing back one last time at the bodies before biting his lip and turning away. A coward to the end. It was shame and some gently writhing emotion under the surface that brought the bite down hard enough to draw a small spot of blood on his lower lip. He wanted to at least say he was sorry, but he couldn't be sure if his apology would be for them or for him.

Before he could get too lost in his self-pity and remorse, the soldier accompanying him pushed him forward through the door and out of the room.

---

Sander expected conflict. He expected violence, because, really, when you crammed a dozen Aberrations in a room with tension so thick it was smouldering, a peaceful outcome seemed unlikely. What he did not expect, though, was the spilled blood.

The cuffs were supposed to dampen his power. Logically, the same effect should also be applied to its less favourable aspects. Or so he thought. Until the first gun shot sounded. It was immediately followed by several others, and Sander believed that if he had paid attention then, he would have caught the wails of pain from the injured and the dying as well.

But instead, instincts took over and Sander lowered himself, his bounded arms raised halfway to protect his upper body. His muscles were tensed, waiting for the bloom of pain that never came. As the gun shots subsided, he straightened himself again, surveying the grisly scene with tired eyes. Without thinking, he took in a deep breath, a familiar gesture that often helped to loosen his nerves. It was a mistake. The scent of fresh blood permeated their modest breathing space, its bright colour stood out boldly against shades of grey. For all his stellar self-control, Sander almost lost himself there and then. It only took one whiff of that tangy, metallic scent to put his heart in overdrive, and before he knew it, he was already sizing up the nearest guard.

Realization dawned, prompting Sander to quickly turn away from the blood and gore, hands once again curled in fists. His expression still remained relatively neutral, but the set of his jaws betrayed the fraying nerves beneath. He ducked his head, focusing on a random spot at his feet and trying his best to tune the world out. Even then, his hands continued to shake as he held them tightly, as if that simple gesture could help him cling onto whatever control he had left. Minutes passed by, thankfully without further incident, before a guard came over to clasp a new cuff on his ankle. Sander held his breath during the entire procedure, eyes on anywhere but the pooling blood nearby and tongue still thick in his mouth.

His mind was far too occupied to properly process most of what happened afterward, but Sander got the gist. After the Director left, someone began reading out their accommodation assignment. Sander caught his name and his assigned roommates’, though not much afterward. Truthfully, despite how much his previous ‘handlers’ might have sung about his well-adjusted behaviours, Sander was not keen on sharing breathing spaces with other people. He could, when push came to shove, but he did not enjoy it. And he never had to. Not to mention the fact that many would find his dietary habits quite disturbing. Regardless, he did not protest, as he felt such attempt was futile at this stage. He would just do what he always did. Endure.

Casting one last glance at the unmoving bodies behind him, Sander turned and left, ushered forward by several guards. His eyes hardened.

As soon as he was far enough from the bloody room, his steps slowed, then he stopped in his track. His movements were deliberate, but far from sudden. He learnt from years ago not take a gunman by surprise, and it was not a lesson he could forget. Not when its marks were carved so deeply into the lines of his ribs. He threw his head back and drew in a deep breath, greedily filling his lungs with untainted air. His actions were not without consequences though, as he felt the cold point of a rifle poked at his back.

“Sorry.”- He half-smiled, holding his hands up. The urge to close said hands over the guard's veiny neck was strong, but he digressed. –“I needed that.”

It was the truth. He was still far from calm and comfortable, but at least his thoughts no longer felt like jagged glass hurling themselves against his skull. It was not easy to stomach the cruel treatments and Zhang’s blatant disregard for human lives, but he managed. Barely. At least he had done much to sate his Stigma before coming on this trip, so it was easier to manage the intruding urges. But if this sort of things kept happening, he was not sure how to cope. His slip-ups had been few and far between, but they almost always ended with casualties. Obviously he had not been one of them, but he did not want to push his luck any further.

---

"Wha- what?" Kusari blinked, her eyes skittering about as her ears throbbed in pain. Her hands slowly fell to her sides as she realized what happened. This wasn't right, why in the hell did that man shoot, weren't these idiots trained properly? She was trying to direct attention to herself, she could take a bullet or fifty if need be, but not the others. Her plan to test the director backfired and she had gotten people killed. She clenched her teeth and gripped the side of her head. It just now struck her what kind of place this was, she felt as if she'd be sick.

Her mind was in a daze until the director's secretary came out to tell them their room assignments. He was the only one of them that reacted like a sane human being upon seeing the bodies in the room, but he was still working for them so of course he too brushed it off in the end. Hearing her room number and roommates, Kusari raised a brow. Was she hearing right, were her roommates both male? She opened her mouth to protest, but sic'd her teeth instead. There was no point in questioning their ridiculous treatment, not when they were so ready to execute them not even minutes ago.

As her and her soon to be roommates were being led away the timid one tried to say something, but the most she could hear was the word 'power.' Was he trying to help? She glanced back to the students on the ground, if they weren't dead already they were close to it. Whatever he wanted to do they weren't having any of it, the commander ignored Christmas and the man escorting him urged the boy to keep moving by sticking a gun in his face. She found his behavior odd. Christmas seemed like a coward, yet he tried to help regardless of what he'd just seen happen, even if he was bumbling like an idiot that wasn't something many could do. If only good intentions meant anything here...

As they were being lead towards their dorm Sander suddenly stopped and took a deep breath. It calmed him down visibly. Kusari wasn't sure if he just needed a moment to compose himself after seeing people die in front of him, or if this was a standard ritual for him. Like Christmas, he was then forced to keep moving quickly afterwards.

---

---

The dorms were huge. Christmas's red-rimmed eyes widened this time from awe, and his emotions quickly tired of the mood whiplash, compensating by driving a wall of exhaustion against his consciousness. "Tired" couldn't even begin to describe what he was feeling at the moment, between watching the casual and almost effortless slaughter of people and being moved into this extravagant building. His crying jag had finally abated not three minutes ago and now he was dealing with the the sheer size of the building in question. "Clean" and "modern" would be the two words that immediately sprang to his mind upon seeing the building, and the reflection of the nearby lamps cast a hue of pale yellow across the sheen of strange mist that coated the building. The mist gave him a weird feeling, and he had to resist the urge to look around to check if anyone was watching him. Of course there would be someone watching him in this place, but the feeling was just that visceral.

His shaking hadn't improved since the underground room, and he quivered as he looked around, surveying the glass coffee tables and plush leather sofas in the building's vast lobby before the guards continued prodding him in the direction of the elevators. The other two students he had been grouped with looked just as frightening as the guards to him--one he recognized as the guy he had been chained next to while the other was a wispy-pale girl who reminded him vaguely of the occasional Dreamcatcher sighting. Neither looked pleasant at the moment--but who could in their circumstances?

When the three finally arrived at their destination, Christmas was nothing but a bundle of nerves held together by spit and prayers. Almost absentmindedly, he had been nervously picking at the small cut on his lip from where he had bitten it earlier, unsure if he could still ask someone to take him back to that hellhole of a room. He could help. His thoughts ran aground when he finally saw the stacks of paperwork on the desks and he dropped into a corner of the room the moment the guards left, arms tight around his knees while he breathed deeply to calm down. All that chaos and death, while these neatly stacked papers were due in three days. He couldn't even laugh at how ridiculous everything was.

---

The moment Sander set foot into his designated dorm, he walked toward the nearest sofa and sank down, head thrown back and eyes squeezed shut. It was not fatigue, quite the contrary in fact. He was far too tensed. Far too alert. His entire body was taut, the adrenaline still lingered in his system, the craving a dull thud in the back of his mind. He desperately needed the break before he snapped. A few minutes passed before Sander deemed himself suitable for human interactions again. If anything, this dorm smelled pleasant. It was as if someone was brewing up a batch of fresh coffee. The pleasant aroma woke his senses, and suddenly, Sander felt like a drink.

Once left alone with his soon-to-be roommates, Sander finally took the time to examine. He was to share the small unit with two others, a blond boy who had been chained next to him earlier and a pale, gangly girl. They both didn’t look particularly approachable, but then again, he couldn’t blame them. That last encounter had been…intense, to say the least. But given the fact that both of them carried the white marks, he had no temper around here to watch but his own. At least he had that going for him.

From his spot on the couch, Sander looked over at the girl first. Upon closer inspection, he recognized her as the one who had slipped the cuffs and gave the guards a scare. While he didn’t quite approve of her actions earlier; once again, surprising men with guns was nothing short of foolish, he didn’t think berating her about that would do any good at this stage. It was best to keep his first impressions pleasant, after all.

Just as Sander began to get to his feet, the scent of coffee once again washed over him, but this time, he recognized it for what it was. Blood. Coffee was just the masquerade his twisted brain came up with to coax him into seeking out the crimson liquid. In one swift motion, he was on his feet, eyes wide as he turned to look at the hunched figure in the corner. There was blood on the blond boy’s lips, just a speck, but it was enough to rouse the incessant craving in the back of Sander’s mind. It did not help that the guy kept picking at it.

Warmth trickled down his chin, every drop of it fire in his veins. His heart beat again, the steady thuds loud in his ears.

He had never been more alive.

“Stop that!”-He heard himself snarled before he could bite back the words, and the memory lost its grip.

---

The dorm was large and extravagant. It pissed her off. Sure she should be glad to live in such a place, but the contrast between how they were being treated made her blood boil. Was this just for show? It was as if it was like this so they could say "At least they're being treated fairly." Kusari looked at the anklet on her leg, and back to the building, which was surrounded by a suspicious mist. All complaints would have to be put on hold for now.

Once inside the room, Kusari let out an annoyed sigh. She really would be sleeping in the same room as two boys, she wasn't that conservative but this was irritating. She would have to be careful about using the bathroom, among other things. Sander sat on a couch to relax, while Christmas went into a corner and proceeded to have a near meltdown. Kusari shrugged her shoulders and looked at the desk given to her, various placement tests for classes, her id card which would also have her account number, and a blue sheet for miscellaneous requests. She couldn't think of anything from home that she wanted, they could burn it for all she cared. As she was about to check the bathroom to see what they had supplied them with she heard Sander yell at Christmas to stop. She turned and looked at the two of them. Christmas had been picking at a cut on his lip, it was gross but it was hardly bad enough to warrant being yelled at.

"Are you sure you can handle being in a room with other people? I assumed you could considering they cleared you." She said in a derisive tone. She wasn't going to deal with his outbursts all year long. "I don't care whatever stigma you have, put a sock in your mouth if you have to." She said, then turning to Christmas. "And you." She said, pulling a handkerchief from her skirt pocket. She leaned down and wiped the blood from his mouth in a business like fashion. "Blood doesn't come out of carpets easily. Square up and get yourself together, or your wimpy behind isn't going to last a week."

"Muh?" Christmas managed to say as the unnaturally pale girl wiped at his mouth. He had been instinctively reacting with "Huh?" but the pull of the handkerchief had shoved an "M" noise there instead. His surprise over her helpful actions in stark difference to her biting tone pulled him back into the present moment and Christmas took a few more breaths just to make sure he wasn't going to start trembling the moment he said anything. "T-thank you...?" So much for not trembling. Only then did his frazzled mind finally process that his other roommate was glaring at him, seemingly on edge about something. He shrank back against the wall in renewed fear.

Kusari rolled her eyes at Christmas as he glanced at Sander and backed into the corner like a traumatized mouse again. She snatched the blood stained handkerchief back and waved the hand holding it at Sander. "Oh for crying out loud, stand up already, it's not like he's gonna bite you or anything." She said, looking to the tired eyed boy. "Right?"

Christmas continued staring at the pale, brown-haired boy, eyes wide.

Sander blinked slowly, as if waking up from a daze. His eyes flitted between the abrasive girl and the blond boy, expression once again schooled back into a neutral mask. His lips were pressed into a thin line at the girl’s last words though, and he averted his gaze as if she were waving something offensive at him. It was just a speck, but they were treading on thin ice.

“No, I mean…”-He paused, almost at a loss of words. The girl was being so specific, it was hard to tell if she knew the truth about his power or not. When he finally spoke again, his tone was a far cry from earlier outburst – “You shouldn’t pick at it, else it will scar. Please, get a bandage.”

“The blood will be harder to wash off if you let it dry.”-He added tentatively, pointing at Kusari's handkerchief.

“Anyway,”-Despite his softened tone, Sander kept his distance. He moved to keep the sofa between him and his roommates, gaze still somewhat averted -“Sander Lorraine.” –He said, pointing at himself –“I suppose we will be roommates.”

Once it seemed like the newly introduced Sander wasn't going to kill him for some perceived offense, Christmas relaxed his aching shoulder blades from how hard he had been pressing them against the wall. Slightly. It took a bit of courage and a severe level of concern about seeming rude before he finally responded to Sander.

"C-Christmas..." he then remembered to add his last name "Halvost."

Kuusari tilted her head at Sander's response, it didn't seem like a hard question. She just assumed he wasn't fully paying attention and his brain was playing catch up.

“The blood will be harder to wash off if you let it dry.”

"Yeah yeah I know." Kusari tossed the handkerchief into the bathroom sink and let it soak in cold water, when she came back Sander was introducing himself. Christmas gave a fumbled introduction back. They should have caught her name thanks to the Director's secretary, but she decided to formally introduce herself as well. "My name is Kusari Bloodworth." She said, crossing her arms. "And I'm going to say it now, if either of you tries anything weird I'm going to cut it off, alright?" Her tone was assertive as usual, but matter of fact.

"Wh-what? Cut?" Now it was Kusari's turn to get the terrified response of Christmas backing up into the wall.

“You won't have to worry about that.”-Sander merely shrugged. Her hostility was rather justified, so he didn't take any offense.

"Well alright then, we should be able to get along just fine... That is until we're forced to fight Dreamcatcher's abominations." Kusari let out another sigh, this time doing so out of genuine exhaustion. Dying wasn't something to be worried about for her, but that didn't mean coming out of hell all right in the head was a given.

She had enough of being awake for today. "I'm going to sleep, don't wake me up for anything, even if the dorm catches fire." She said, moving over to what she deemed to be her bed. Only bothering to take off her shoes, she flopped onto the bed, turned towards the wall and closed her eyes.

That left Christmas staring at Sander, who seemed somewhat calmer now, though the way his roommate seemed to keep a literal distance between himself and everyone else in the room didn't reassure Christmas about the potential possibilities for violence here. He kept himself against the wall, the beginnings of sleep finally settling in now that his body was simply too tired to stay awake. Before he realized it, he had nodded off in the corner.

“Good talk.”-Sander simply mumbled as his two roommates headed to bed. He knew he should go to sleep as well, but given the previous events, he doubted sleep would come easily. So he took a brief look through the stack of paper on his desk and didn’t retreat to bed until it was near dawn.

---

---

A stiff neck and stiffer body woke Christmas up before everyone else and he had to resist the sudden panic that gripped him when his mind recalled the events earlier that morning. He shivered from the slight chill in the morning air before slowly and painfully getting up, sore from sleeping against the wall all night. Checking to make sure he wasn't disturbing his roommates, terrifying as they were, Christmas shuffled towards the unoccupied bed, figuring they had already determined the correct beds while he had been asleep. A duffel bag at the foot of the bed he presumed to be his poked gently at his curiosity and Christmas hunched down to rummage through it, figuring it would include a change of clothing, among other things.

There was a change of clothes--several, in fact--but none of them his. The sheer amount of hair products crammed into there also astounded him, and he wondered at the straws tied into a neat bundle in a corner of the bag. His adrenaline and fear spiked when he found the gun and several boxes of ammunition and Christmas quickly zipped up the bag, backing away from it and looking towards the desk closest to the bed. The ID on the desk was for a "Sander Lorraine." Gulping, he glanced towards the other bed where Sander lay.

As morning came, Sander woke from his fitful sleep, still slightly drained from the previous night but far more relaxed. Well, as relaxed as one could get in a pseudo school surrounded by surveillance and armed guards, but since he was not going on rampage through the facility grounds, Sander considered today was a good day. Pulling himself to his feet, he stretched a few times to get all the stiffness out of his joints. A figure entered his peripheral vision, so he turned and noticed Christmas Halvost. The blond boy still looked slightly fearful, but at least he wasn’t crying anymore, which was somewhat an improvement. Since they were both awake, Sander figured it wouldn’t hurt to make some conversations.

“Good morning, Christmas.”-Sander said, reaching for his duffle bag for some water– “How was your sleep?”

The question seemed moot, since last he saw the guy, Christmas was curling against the wall and sobbed. That could not have been a comfortable position. But the casual question rolled off his tongue as a habit, so he let it be.

"Uh--" Christmas looked again at the duffel bag he had just rummaged through before turning back to Sander, "--how was yours?" He squeaked out some accompanying sound of "Oops" before he remember to answer Sander's question, "Fine...I think?"

“Could’ve been better.”-Sander said with shrug before closing his hands around the first thing his hand touched in the bag. It did not feel like a bottle of water though. He pulled it out, and was quite surprised to find himself holding a phone that he most definitely did not own. He hadn’t owned one for a while, given the fact that he spent most of his formative years in research facilities.

A quick glance to the nearby desk revealed the rightful owner of said phone, and Sander raised an eyebrow at Christmas.

“Is this yours?”-He put the phone back where it was, before stalking over to Christmas. The ID on the table nearby indeed had ‘Sander Lorraine’ on it. In his worked up state last night, he must have missed it and just picked a random bed. The look on the blond boy’s face gave Sander a inkling suspicion though.

“Did you…look through my things?”-His tone was hardly accusing, just merely curious.

Christmas backed up as Sander approached, until his back was pressed against the same wall he had slept against throughout the night. It took him several moments of fearful staring before he finally nodded, steeling himself for his fate.

Kusari groaned as she awoke, and rigidly leaned up from her bed. For a moment she didn't know where she was, but after rubbing her tired eyes and letting out a yawn she remembered. Instead of brooding over the fact that she was basically a prisoner, she swung her legs over her bed and reached for the duffel bag beside it, she stopped when she noticed her roommates. As far as she knew, the bed Christmas was on wasn't his. He was back against the wall cowering. Again. Sander appeared to be looming over him. She could assume many things from this scene, but it was too early to bother deducting anything, so she just went with the first thing that came to mind.

"Having fun in the morning already?" She said, nearly growling. Kusari had never been a morning person, her already low tolerance for nonsense was pushed into the negatives at this stage, even benign things could tick her off. "Are you gonna cry again Christmas? This is getting old really... fast." She stood from the bed and walked over to the two of them. "What's the problem, did you get scared in the middle of night and crawl into Sander's bed?"

“You misunderstood”- Though Sander looked clearly uncomfortable with his roommate’s aggressive remarks, he did not confront her about them. Instead, he placated her with some explanations – “Turns out, I picked the wrong bed last night. Just asking Christmas here if these are my stuffs.”

“It’s okay. I’m not angry. It’s my fault.”- He took a few steps away from the blonde, putting some distance between them. It seemed Christmas was still fairly shaken up, possibly a residual of yesterday’s stress. Or he could’ve always been this way. Sander wouldn’t know.

“Sorry if we disturb your sleep.”-Seeing as there wasn’t much else he could do to calm Christmas down, he turned to Kusari – “You look like you could use a few more hours.”

By now, Christmas was prepared to die the very first morning of his transfer to USARILN East. He slid sideways against the wall, crabwalking away from both Sander and Kusari until his shoulder rubbed against the bathroom's doorframe.

"...Um...bathroom," he mumbled quietly before ducking inside, hoping he could hide in there long enough for the two of them to leave. It only occurred to him afterwards that they probably wanted to use the bathroom, too, and that he'd have to leave for their turns eventually. The thought of them angrily waiting for him outside pushed his slight trembling into quaking and he tottered over to the sink, hand over his nose. The constant stress of the past seven or so hours coupled with his terrible sleeping posture had not worked wonders for his physical reactions and what Christmas had thought was just the beginning of a slight tickle in his nose turned into a dripping nosebleed. He barely managed to move Kusari's handkerchief out of the sink and onto the counter before the first drops of blood splattered onto the white surface. Christmas whimpered to himself as the nosebleed ran its course, and he did his best to avoid swallowing any of the blood that happened to run down his throat instead of out his nose. It took almost 15 minutes of standing there quietly and worrying about an aneurysm before the slow dripping of blood finally stopped and Christmas hurried to clean the sink of the stains, running cold water across the worst of the red splashes and scrubbing hard at the tougher streaks with a few sheets from the perforated paper towel roll nearby. When he had finally determined that the bathroom sink was back in its proper, pristine condition, Christmas shoved the bloody wads of paper into the trashcan sitting by the toilet. He placed Kusari's handkerchief back into the sink to complete the visual that he hadn't horribly made a mess of things while inside and decided that he had been in there far too long to do anything more now.

Pushing the door open gently, he peered out at his roommates, checking to see if they were plotting his imminent doom outside. He had completely forgotten about wiping the two obvious streaks of freshly dried blood that had run down from his nostrils and in the terror of the moment the thought never crossed his mind.

---

Kusari ignored Sander's claim that she looked like she could get more sleep, she didn't need more sleep, she needed a shower. She went back to the bag by her bed and opened it up, inside were some of her old clothes, a hair brush, and a leather bound sketchbook. The sketchbook caught her attention straight away, causing her languid eyes to widen. She picked it up and simply looked at the cover. Her initials had been pressed into the bottom right. "That bitch..." Kusari muttered under her breath. Of all the things to be placed inside this bag, the sketchbook she used to draw in before she became a subnatural had to be in here. Her mother was the only one who could have put it inside. How she could have the nerve after handing her only daughter over was beyond her. Was she supposed to forgive her? Was she supposed to try her best to be the normal girl with a genius talent for art she once was?

Kusari stomped over to the window, opened it, and flung the book outside. Her mother and her assumptions could go to hell for all she cared.

By the time she went back to her bag, Christmas had just come out of the bathroom. She didn't hear the shower running, or the toilet flush, so what was he doing all this time? Looking closer, she noticed dried blood from his nose. Kusari's right eye twitched. She wasn't a violent woman, but this boy was pushing it. Did he seriously just have a nosebleed, just how pathetic was he? "I'm not even going to bother commenting, I just know the bathroom better not be a red mess, or I'm going to clean it up using your head as a mop." She grabbed a change of clothes and stormed into the bathroom. Sure enough, she noticed bloodstained paper towels in the trash bin. She wondered how many days someone like him was going to last here. Shrugging Christmas's annoying face from her mind, she prepared to get out of the shower.

After a few minutes she stepped out, cleaner yet not as refreshed as she thought she would be. Usually she would wrap a towel around herself and wander about her home while she brushed her hair, but that was out of the question with her roommates here. She dried herself off as quickly as she could and put on her change of clothes, which was a plain black shirt and a pair of shorts that were a bit baggy around her skinny legs. She really needed to go shopping.

She stepped out of the bathroom holding her old clothes, she didn't have a laundry basket to put them in so she just threw them on her bed for now. She slipped her ID into a pocket and began brushing her hair. "I don't know about you two, but I need to get something eat. Later." She said, stepping out of the room as she continued to brush her hair. Where was the cafeteria again?

---

Since Kusari didn’t seem like the type for small talks, Sander figured he should get back to his own business. Pulling out a bottle of water from his duffle bag, he quickly downed almost half of its content before going through his bag again.

It was then the scent hit him. His brow furrowed as he muttered under his breath-“Really? Again?”

Soon enough, Christmas came out of the bathroom, nose still dripping red, and it confirmed his suspicion. Truly, had the guy always been like this? It could only go down hill from here. Sander had the most control when he had not drunk any blood. But one of these days, he would have to. And if Christmas found any creative way to bleed during one of those days…

Hopefully Zhang’s guards were quick enough to respond. Or was this some sort of test against his restrain set up by the dear Director? That snake.

Sander said nothing, only reaching into the duffle bag for the pouch of his personal effects before ducking out of the room.

He would find a public bathroom elsewhere. Then maybe a coffee. Or two.

---

Christmas had been standing as far out of the way as possible while Sander and Kusari stormed about the room, and he hadn't moved from there even after Sander left just as Kusari entered the bathroom. Only when the pale girl had also left in search of food did Christmas finally let himself relax a little. He needed food, too, he was sure of it--as was his grumbling stomach--but his appetite remained far from convinced.

Before he could dwell on it for too long, his eyes settled on the stacks of paper on his desk. Sifting through them carefully as he sat down, Christmas found the placement exams and set them aside while he looked over a map of the school. It seemed like the registrar's building (labeled with a C) was between Buildings A and B, the three buildings forming a rough semicircle around a large open area in the center. Two corridors drawn on the map looked like they connected both Buildings A and B back to Building C and Christmas took note of the orientation in case he needed to find them in a hurry. Building D on the far side of the large quad had a small "dining hall" label below it, and it seemed situated to be as far as possible from Building C. Beyond that, other large buildings surrounding the main dorms were marked as either Lecture Buildings with corresponding letters of the alphabet or simply "restricted" before the map's borders indicated where the rest of the town began. A second map removed all the designations of the buildings, instead marking down cafes, study lounges, computer lounges, the campus bookstore, and a section in the middle of the quad for "food stalls on Wednesdays."

He wasn't quite sure what that meant, but Christmas tried his best to commit the information to memory. His high school record hadn't been stellar, but he had passed his classes, which had been enough for his family. It wasn't so much that he was stupid--Christmas was vaguely aware he wasn't as dumb as he hoped he was--but more that he spent all his energy playing video games on his Vita instead of studying, and he certainly wasn't one of the lucky few gifted with genius-level intellect to have that kind of leeway.

The blue sheet caught his eye, and Christmas looked it over, wondering if there was anything he really wanted that might not be around here. A convenient pen that had been placed on every desk allowed him to write down "I miss my Squishable manatee. Am I allowed to order another one?"

With that done, he got to work on his placement exams, unable to remember most of the information he needed to answer 90% of the questions, but still doing what he could. He certainly couldn't ask anyone for help here.

Hazel Baker

---

At around seven in the morning, her eyes snapped open.

There was several moments of confusion and that strange feeling something was wrong. Her usual alarm did not go off, she realized, but somehow that only served to enforce that feeling of wrongness. Odd but not an action she would put past them. As usual, she started taking off all her clothes and walked towards her shower. However, she had only taken a few steps before colliding into a wall, much to her surprise.

The last vestiges of drowsiness was immediately replaced by mild pain, as well as the realization of why she felt everything was wrong.

This wasn't her containment cell at that facility, but the newer facility they had transferred her to. An academy of sorts, where she will continue being experimented on, until she became useful in some way. Hazel stood there for a moment, hands outstretched touching the wall, before being satisfied that she wasn't still dreaming. She tugged at her collar next, tracing the etched stag horn symbol on it, making sure it was still intact. With a small sigh, she turned around in the other direction, going towards where the bathroom was.

To her relief, everything in the bathroom was recognizable. After that transparent vehicle ride, she was afraid she would be unable to understand everything here. At least there was some things she could understand. With a slight squeak the shower turned on, and with a few moments more of fiddling, the shower spouted water at a comfortable temperature. Silently, she washed herself in the shower, contemplating on what the near future will hold for her. Probably those neat piles of papers and books she needed to look through first, then whatever schedule this place had for her.

Finished with her shower, she walked out, drying herself with a towel, though she was leaving a trail of water behind her. Halfway done drying herself, she started looking through what she assumed was her pile of stuff. There was an ID card, several forms including a 'violent release form', books and those examination forms. Examination forms, something she had never done before, but understood to be a written test for her, instead of the usual more physical testings.

Hazel took a step towards her bed, before eyeing one of the chairs and dragging one up to a table, sifting through all the examination forms she had. Her eyes widened slightly under her bangs as she realized a common theme between all the forms and their questions. A form like these? With questions like these aimed at her? Dropping the one she was holding to the table, she looked through another, and another, making sure she read and compared everything before sitting back with satisfaction. Perhaps it was to be expected.

She understood none of the questions in any of the examination forms.

Emma sat still as Director Zhang looked over the group- she saw little use in resisting and was interested in getting out of the interrogation room as soon as possible. The girl was visibly distressed, clearly not acclimated to a situation like this. She'd hardly ever even seen a gun before, and certainly has never had them pointed at her while she was handcuffed and unable to move. Suffice to say the girl wasn't a big fan of USARILN East's orientation. When she first heard of the institute it was pitched to her as a school, but it now felt more like a prison. Emma gauged the reactions of the others- she was hoping they wouldn't cause trouble, as doing so would in turn cause more trouble for her. Their actions varied from anger to silent acceptance; one boy made a joke of the situation, and Emma couldn't help but chuckle slightly at his quips. At least, she would've been chuckling if not for their situation- Emma was hardly in the mood for jokes, but all the same the scarred boy put her a little more at ease. There was another notable boy in their party- but he hadn't been on the bus with them. They had brought him in, perhaps to calm them? Let them know that despite all the 'fanfare' it wasn't all bad? He sipped from a cup of coffee; something that would no doubt would have been of help to Emma. He appeared to be a student, and took time to reassure them that they would be relatively safe if they agreed to enter USARILN peacefully. Emma hardly had it in her to argue with him. She found his presence somehow soothing, even in the terrible situation she found herself in. She wasn't exactly sure why but as soon as he had entered the room a small sense of serenity crept in with him.

However soon enough any semblance of calm was quickly broken. One of the other girls, a tall and pale women with a near ghostly appearance, stood up. She had been one of the more hostile members of their group, quick to deride the boy that Zhang had brought in. As soon as Emma recognized her she also recognized that her handcuffs were gone. How is that possible? When did she get the chance to remove them? The girl rose her hands, quick to surrender despite her desire to escape from bondage. It seemed her only desire was to ask them to hurry the orientation along. Why go through all that trouble just for that? Emma had no time to wonder. Zhang seemed almost content to let the transgression slide, but one of her lackeys had an itchy trigger finger. Zhang shot him in the arm before he could unload on the group, but several stray bullets were caught by some of her fellow new arrivals. Emma recoiled in fear, letting out a surprised gasp. Tears welled in her eyes- she had never seen anyone die, and was hoping that it would stay that way. The sound of the bullets rung in her ear- they were so loud, unexpectedly so. She quickly hid her eyes for her own sake. They only opened again when she felt someone roughly grab her leg- they placed an ankle bracelet on her and took away her handcuffs. She gave a quick glance to the other students- the ones that had been shot- to see if they were alright, but quickly looked away. She didn't have it in her to look at they gory scene, and they certainly didn't look okay.

Before long a bumbling secretary came in- he looked out of place among the military personal, seemingly as shocked as Emma was at the death that had occurred. He was bout to speak, but his role was forcibly taken from him by a man who Emma assumed to be Zhang's commander. He began to announce who would be roomed with who- it didn't take them long to read off her name.

"Hazel Baker--exception, Emma Halwell--exception, Lawrence Ellison. Suite 318. Building A."

Emma gave an odd look- she was an exception? She didn't bother to question it, she was ready to leave. The picture became clear soon enough anyways; the other Aberrations were given single rooms, but she was roomed with the Arbiters, presumably for good behavior. Emma shivered a little- she would have preferred a single. In fact, she was downright terrified of having to deal with roommates; she would have to maintain her usual chipper exterior nearly all day. Thankfully as the list was finished the secretary announced that they were finally allowed to leave. Emma breathed a sigh of relief. There were two other interesting pieces of information that came with this; they would have to take a written assessment and a combat assessment. Emma wasn't too worried about a academic test, but combat? Of course she knew that she should've expected this. Subnatural's were expected to be the government's weapon now. She was effectively a soldier, but that reality hadn't quite set in. Emma had never been in a fight, least of all one that involved superpowers and monsters. At the very least she had four days to prepare. She resigned herself to worrying about it when she came to it.

Finally she was carted off along with her new roommates to their dorm. She looked at the others- her new roommates.. Hazel had been silent during the entire ordeal, but something about her off-put Emma. Her eyes were hidden behind a wall of bangs and she had seemed entirely calm despite everything. The other was Lawrence, the veteran student of their group. His presence was once again somewhat calming, although Emma wasn't sure why. She didn't really know him after all and as such had no reason to be reassured by him, but all the same she was. Her new dorm was surprisingly nice, in a modern and clean building. It wasn't what Emma expected after the not-so-warm reception. She had a feeling that her fellow Aberrations that weren't 'exceptions' wouldn't be getting fancy housing like her's. Their guard left them with a warning of a curfew; Emma wouldn't have trouble following it, or at least didn't expect to. Now that they were alone she glanced at Lawrence and Hazel, a look of relief filling her face. The relief was intermingled with a hint of anxiety and worry, but it was there all the same. At the very least she was free now. The boy named Lawrence spoke up:

"So yeah, name's Lawrence. Sorry that your powers manifested, but now you're here and we'll be living together. I don't really know what your powers are but please if you're going to blow the place up make sure to do it when I'm out, or at least when I'm awake. My own alarm is bad enough."

Hazel, her other roommate, merely nodded. Emma did the same, but her nod spoke more to meekness than what seemed to be Hazel's apathy. Emma didn't exactly feel talkative after today's events, but all the same she resolved to speak out of a sense of politeness. After a small awkward silence she cleared her throat.

"I'm Emma, but I guess you know that already... it's nice to meet you Lawrence," She glanced at the other girl, "And you too Hazel. I'm sorry if we're intruding Lawrence, but I hope we can get along..." Emma trailed off, but it was evident that she was done talking. As Lawrence opened the door he was greeted by a hungry stare. Emma let out a slight gasp of surprise at what was within: A very cute dog. Emma almost reached out to pet it but decided to abstain out of fear of being rude. Lawrence had a brief standoff with the animal before it ran off. Emma was fond of dogs, really of animals in general, and looked forward to properly meeting Lizzy.

For now Emma followed Lawrence inside his dorm. Emma supposed it was their dorm now, but all the same felt as if she was entering someone else's home. It was clean yet simple, surprisingly spacious given the nature of their school. Emma hoped it would feel like home soon, but for the time being yearned to return to her parent's home and her simple life. Lawrence spoke again, "You guys have had a longer day than I have, you can have first dibs on the shower tonight if you want. Fridge is pretty empty, but there's a pot of coffee if that's your thing, but I figure you'll want to be heading to sleep instead of staying up. Your welcome was... well, about the same as mine, it's probably better if you try to relax and not think about it too much."

Emma glanced at the coffee pot but decided against it. She would need to sleep soon, but for now wasn't content with staying in the dorm. She wanted to be by herself, or more accurately she wanted to escape. Not escape from USARILN but from her roommates. Hazel was quick to take a bed and sleep. Emma eyed the contents of the space that had now been designated hers- a collection of objects and papers. She smiled at Lawrence, although it was an awkward shy smile, "Thank you Lawrence, but... I just got here so I'm going to collect my stuff, then I'd like to take a look around campus, alright? I'll be back before curfew." She went to her desk and quickly looked through everything. She grabbed the map and folded it, placing it in her pocket. As for the exams and release forms... she decided they could wait for another time. She also grabbed her ID. $500? They certainly don't spare any expense for new students...

She instinctively reached for her wallet to place the card into, but of course she didn't have it. Or did she? She eyed the duffel bag on the foot of her bed, and then strode over to open it. Her suspicions had been confirmed, finding what had been on her when she had been taken prisoner. There wasn't much- her cell phone and her wallet, but that was it. They hadn't bothered to grab her clothes, of course... she'd have to spend some of her money shopping. Maybe she'd ask Hazel if she wanted to go with her? The girl didn't exactly seem overly friendly, but maybe Emma was wrong about that. For now she opened her wallet- there wasn't much inside it. She didn't have a credit card or anything to that effect- only her old student ID and some pocket change which totaled $12. She pulled out her old ID card. She decided to hang onto it, if not for anything other than a sense of nostalgia, placing it on the desk. It was odd for her to be nostalgic about a life she had been leading up until only a few days ago, but all the same it felt like it had been an eternity since she was really normal. She replaced the old ID with her new one- the one that marked her as a mage and USARILN student. With her belongings in order she turned back to the door and gave Lawrence a slight nod before leaving.

She hovered in the hallway for a moment- she wasn't sure where she wanted to go, but she certainly knew she wanted to be alone. Her neighbors seemed to have already settled in, not that she was particularly worried about them. Emma, for now, was content to wander. She meandered aimlessly down the paths around the dorm building until she found a lonely bench illuminated by the lamp of a streetlight. She took a seat and then glanced around her- she was alone, or at the very least seemed to be. She let out a deep sigh, and finally allowed tears to slide down her cheeks. She knew that she was in a fucked up situation, and that knowledge had only been made worse by her stigma, which had been practically screaming in her brain since she had left the dorm. She reached for the phone in her pocket, turning it on and verifying that it still worked. Things had gotten a little rough when USARILN had grabbed her, but it appeared to still be perfectly functional. Before she unlocked it she glanced at her notifications. She had received 264 texts since she last opened it. A plethora of friends and family had been metaphorically blowing her up in a worried confusion- word had spread, it appeared, that she was a subnatural and had been taken in by the government.

She opened up her messages and glanced over them, but didn't take the time to respond to any of them- she didn't feel like it was appropriate to worry about her old friends. She was a student of USARILN now and she knew that she likely would never see them again. Instead Emma sent a message to her sister, Valentine.

Hey, Val... I just got out of our 'orientation' and into our dorms. Things are crazy here. I think they're monitoring this. Call me asap. Love you.

Emma waited for the next several hours. She alternated between worry and despair, and cried at least 4 times. She continually glanced at her phone, but there was nothing. Nothing from Ves at least; curious friends and acquaintances continued to spam her for information on what was happening. Knowing them this was going to turn into some huge story that people would gossip about, but she didn't have it in her care. At least she had wanted to believe she didn't care, but her stigma continually reminded her that she really did. She glanced at her phone again; it was nearly curfew. She would need to get back to her dorm. After a short walk she found herself back inside the building, but decided to stop by a bathroom before going to her room. She didn't need to use it, but had suspected that she looked like a mess. She glanced in the mirror, confirming her suspicions. Her mascara was running, and probably has been for some time. She found a napkin and wiped it away. Her face was puffy and red; it was clear that she had been crying. She splashed her face with water but wasn't quite satisfied with the results. All the same curfew was nearing and she had to return to her dorm, quickly turning away from herself and heading out the door.

She slowly opened the door, creeping in quietly. She was intent on avoiding confrontation with her roommates. She headed to bed quickly, eager to finally sleep.

---

Emma woke up a little before 6- she was accustomed to being an early riser, even though it was contrary to her nature. She had always been a bit of an overachiever and had enrolled in early morning classes at her old school. She glanced around the room- Hazel was still asleep and so was Lawrence. Emma rose slowly before heading to the shower, trying her best to keep quiet as not to wake her roommates. She realized she didn't have a change of clothes- today she would have to start spending some of the money she had been granted. After locking the bathroom door she neatly folded her clothes and hopped in the shower. Once again she found herself in sweet solitude. She would've stayed in the shower longer than she needed if only for the fact that she didn't want to find angry roommates outside wondering what was taking so long. For the sake of brevity she avoided wallowing, turning off the shower and finding a towel. She quickly dried off then redressed- she felt a little gross, having not changed for a while, but endured it. She reemerged into the dorm to find her roommates still asleep. She quietly strode to her desk, examining the exams and forms.

For now she set aside the tests, choosing to focus on the requisition form. Emma eyed it curiously. I wonder what I can get away with... Up until now had been meek, but seeing how far the institute had gone to make them feel comfortable- the fancy room and the money- she decided she would test the system and see what she can get away with.



Emma was satisfied for now. She hoped her requests wouldn't backfire- there was always the chance that an unhappy USARILN official would order her execution, a scenario that she didn't relish. She momentarily considered asking for a kitten- Emma had been fond of cute little cats, but she decided it best to find out how Lizzy would react to a feline companion first. She also shook away though of asking the institute for clothing. She was a teenage girl, and what teenage girl wanted other people to pick out their outfits?

It was by this time that Hazel had awoken. Emma glanced at her, "Good mor-" Before Emma could finish her sentence Hazel began stripping. Emma quickly turned away. Ohmygodwhat'swrongwithher was all she thought. Emma tried again, "Uh, uh, good m-morning Hazel..." She stammered out. She didn't look, but she assumed she received a nod in response. She heard a door behind her close and turned. Hazel was now in the bathroom. Emma was bright red, I hope Hazel isn't some kind of pervert... For now Emma had nothing to do, so she turned to the tests in front of her. They covered all traditional subjects; she wasn't too worried about it, having never found much difficulty in her old school's curriculum.

She began filling out the exam forms with relative ease. She'd been an advanced student, and there was little in the material that phased her. Partway through her test Hazel emerged from the bathroom... still nude. Seriouslywhyisthishappeningtome Emma did all she could to look away from the naked girl. She was trying her hardest to stay quiet, trying to justify Hazel's actions in her head. Maybe it's a cultural thing! Yeah, maybe that's just the way she was raised... I shouldn't judge, I should not judge... I need too... I need to try to be friends with her... I hardly even know her! I can't be rude...I'll just try to be polite!

"Uh... h-hey... Haaaaaaazel... do you think uh... could you maybe put some clothes on... p-please? Uh... perhaps we can go shopping together later, yeah? That would be fun, right?! I need to get new clothes, and I'm sure you need to get things too... like clothes for yourself... or other things too?" Emma said with a healthy amount of shyness and stammering, doing her very best to maintain her smile all the same.

Sander knew he couldn’t avoid going back to his room forever. He wished he could though. Having roommates had been a new experience for him. Not an unexpected situation, but he was not familiar with it either. In his younger years, he always had a room of his own. Even in previous research facilities, they had always given his own room. Or solitary confinement, but regardless, he was used to spend time on his own. To have roommates, especially ones that managed to bleed every three steps, was something he would have to adjust to. He would. Just…not now.

After a walk around the school and a quick shower in one of building B’s communal bathrooms, Sander figured he shouldn’t put off work any longer. There were forms needed filling out, tests needed completing, and all that. Hopefully he would not return to a room covered in blood, but then you could never know with Christmas. The blond boy had already caught him off guard twice since yesterday.

Sander ended up taking the stairs back to his dorm, just to buy himself some much needed time. A quick sniff informed him that there was no danger of accidentally maiming either of his roommates, so he went in, nodded a quick greeting to Christmas before heading over to his desk. Kusari was nowhere to be found, so he assumed she must have gone out for breakfast. Personally, Sander rarely ate breakfasts. There was no particular reason why he usually skipped that meal, he just did. However, the thought of spending time in the same room with Christmas didn’t appeal to him either, so he gathered up all the documents on his desk, grabbed a couple of snack bars and headed out.

The map made things easier. Sander found himself a nice spot in the computer lounge before getting to work on filling out the documents. He prioritized the most important ones first: the release zone permission form and the request form. After finishing with his permission form, he paused, wondering about what to put in his request form. His previous placements had always been accommodating, though the same could not be said for USARILN East. They could work on their reception, for once. Getting a bunch of powered children all riled up was hardly a good idea, though it did indicate that Zhang had the necessary resources to accommodate such ignorance. Or at least, that was probably what she believed. Regardless, Sander just hoped she would expend some of that considerable resources to fulfil his requests.

Sander began jotting down on the sheet of paper, his flowing cursive was hardly legible but he doubted anyone would care. As long as he got want he needed.



After he got that down, Sander turned to work on his tests. Admittedly, he had never been a particularly committed student during his brief school years. He always preferred the tracks to the stuffy classrooms, so his results were nothing to brag about. Then when he left his old life behind, most of the facilities he was in didn’t continue his education. Why would they? As long as he could read and follow instructions, they were happy to leave him alone. Some researchers did provide him with reading materials, but most were just dry scientific articles or Vouge magazines. So it came as no surprise that most of the questions seemed like incomprehensible gibberish to him. He googled what he could, but for the harder ones, he just put down whatever felt right to fill up the space. After he was satisfied with the results, he gathered up all the documents and headed out to turn them in.

Finally, it was time for that coffee he promised himself.

The first thing Savannah heard was the gunshot. Oh, the noise. It was deafening, and it reverberated throughout her bones, making her shiver. She utterly hated the noise of guns, they gave her the willies. When she looked over her left shoulder, she saw the bodies. The sight alone made her want to throw up. Blood pooled under the children's bodies, and she was so close to them that it touched her bare feet. The sight of it alone made her want to scream or cry or do something, but it seemed that her own body wouldn't respond to her movements, and she was just stuck there, frozen in shock and fear. she had seen guns before, seen bodies before, had seen carnage. But somehow, this situation distressed her. Humans killing humans? It was wrong, at least while Dreamcatcher's monsters were still out there. But, she thought with a snarl, We don't really count as human anymore, do we? The thought had been at the back of Savannah's mind for days now, the fact that she wasn't really a human anymore. An unexpected tear flowed down her face, followed by another. And another. And another.

"Savannah Churchill. Room 203. Building B." Savannah heard a man say, and turned around. She took deep breaths, calming herself down. The flow of tears stopped, and it fully occurred to her that she would be getting a room all to herself. And just as the fear left her, the anger reappeared, urging her to punch someone in the face.

A guard pressed the barrel of his gun to her head, and pushed it, as if to say 'Move.' She obeyed the guard, getting herded into a group of 4 other teenagers who all seemed to be older than Savannah herself. She also seemed to be the shortest, which was always the case, in whatever group she was in. She couldn't remember a time she had seen someone as short as her, unless they were a toddler. There was a girl just a bit taller than her, which was somewhat of a comfort.

"So does this make us the problem children?" said the very tall, red-haired girl to her left. "Guess you guys get the fun job, looking after the crazies. You draw straws for this or something?"

Savannah snickered underneath her breath. The girl in shades didn't seem to be amused though. Actually, the girl she had previously thought was what most Americans considered 'edgy' was crying. Savannah was only slightly surprised by the fact. People were never what they seemed to be. After about five minutes of walking inside of a modern, sleek building, the herd separated into two. The girl with the sunglasses and the girl with the black hair went up an elevator, while the three others continued walking along in complete silence.

After both of the other girls were shoved into their rooms, Savannah was shut into her room unceremoniously, with a cursory barking of curfew. She was then greeted by a long, loud scream, to which she paid no attention. Savannah actually just flopped down onto her bed and slept, letting the darkness take her.

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By the time Lawrence returned to his apartment exhaustion was the only thing on his mind. Had he really only been gone thirty minutes? It was his second welcoming ceremony in a row that had ended in blood being spilled- thankfully not his. Of course there were the minor incidents of his peers backtalking him, but he would be lying if he said he cared. He was pissed off too when he was first brought to USARILN East, and people bitching at him was nothing new.

Not liking the answer doesn't change it.

He had almost protested being led back to his apartment by guards, but kept his mouth shut. Wisdom was knowing which battles were worth fighting. Instead, finished his coffee on the return trip and let his thoughts occupy him along the way. Two women was certainly a different arrangement than he had been expecting. He knew of course that the Institution didn't give a damn about mixing genders, his last roommate had also been a woman. Two though was going to be a different experience. That and these two were both Aberrations. He had a feeling that his life was about to change drastically, and wasn't exactly looking forward to it.

Still, nothing to do about it now. Once they had reached their destination the guards quickly made themselves scarce, and Lawrence finally turned to his two roommates. Neither had spoken at the debacle earlier, and even if they had it wasn't exactly the type of situation where you got to know somebody's true self. Simply put, the two of them were a mystery, and both were Aberrations. If they hadn't gotten bitchy back in that situation then he doubted he could do much to rile them up, but he was still cautious of having his head bitten off.

"So yeah, name's Lawrence. Sorry that your powers manifested, but now you're here and we'll be living together. I don't really know what your powers are but please if you're going to blow the place up make sure to do it when I'm out, or at least when I'm awake. My own alarm is bad enough."

"I'm Emma, but I guess you know that already... it's nice to meet you Lawrence, and you too Hazel. I'm sorry if we're intruding Lawrence, but I hope we can get along..."

As she spoke Lawrence took his key and unlocked the door. Emma and Hazel, huh? He took a second to try and internalize the names before pushing the door open. Almost as an afterthought he added:

"Oh, I hope neither of you are allergic to d-"

STARE

On the other side of the door sat a creature of hunger and energy. With a gaze that could bore holes into the side of a mountain, and a tenacity for attention that could rival any pop diva. A beast of instinct. An animal so fierce that it would charge a group of monsters and try to herd them like cattle. The average Border Collie.

Lawrence crouched down in front of it and met the creature's gaze, instituting a battle of wills. He knew what it desired, what it demanded, and yet held his ground. Slowly his hand reached forward, as if afraid to touch it.

Swish

It's tail answered him, flickering between the approaching hand and Lawrence's face.

Swish swish swish

Finally, contact. His hand reached the back of the beasts ears and began a welcoming scratch. Lawrence finally spoke:

"I don't have any food with me this time, Lizzy."

Immediately the swaying of her tail stopped and the dog replied with a snort of derision. She wasted no time in standing up and marching towards his bed, curling up beside it. A crushing disappointment she'd no doubt forget in a moment. Ignoring her, Lawrence stood and stretched before removing his jacket and hanging it up beside the door. Afterwards, he took a quick moment to look over the apartment for any mess he missed.

Overall, the place could be called spartan. Lawrence clearly didn't have an eye for decoration, and it overall looked much the same as any of the other apartments that his peers would be settling into at that moment. Of notable different was the stack of books (The Alexiad. Heart of Darkness. Sarajevo Marlboro. For the Common Good: The Bohemian Land Law and the Beginning of the Hussite Revolution. Swordsmen of the British Empire.) resting on the counter of the kitchen, and his coffee pot just a short distance from them. Of small note was a loaf of half-eaten bread also occupying the counter.
Satisfied that the place was sufficiently tidy for the new arrivals, he turn to them once more, scratching the back of his head as he spoke:

"You guys have had a longer day than I have, you can have first dibs on the shower tonight if you want. Fridge is pretty empty, but there's a pot of coffee if that's your thing, but I figure you'll want to be heading to sleep instead of staying up. Your welcome was... well, about the same as mine, it's probably better if you try to relax and not think about it too much."

"Thank you Lawrence, but... I just got here so I'm going to collect my stuff, then I'd like to take a look around campus, alright? I'll be back before curfew."

Lawrence merely nodded in response to her. It seemed like both of his roommates were the quiet types, or at least shell-shocked. He would take all the peace and quiet he could get at the moment. And the future. That, however, was another matter entirely. Seeing as how neither of his roommates had taken upon themselves to occupy the bathroom, Lawrence began heading that way in earnest. While he had already showered before the first time he had fallen asleep that day, exceptional circumstances called for exceptional action. He needed to relax.

Ignoring the reflection in the mirror as he locked the door behind him, the mage ran the shower as hot as he could handle before stripping down and climbing in. He ignored the (admittedly cheap) soap and shampoo resting against the wall of the shower, and instead focused on the water hitting him. He wasn't here to clean himself, at least not physically. As the waves of heat flowed through him, he let the days events flow out. The new arrivals, their words, the dead soldier, the injured students. He could, at this point, do nothing to alter the events of the past, and reflecting on them would not change his actions in the future. Instead, he sorted through them, one by one, and cast them down the drain. Rushing away in a flood of hot water.

He stayed like that for some time, unconcerned about the sleep he was losing, and relaxed. It could, after all, be his last chance to do this without someone pounding on the door to ask him to hurry up. His last roommate had been like that. Until her death, anyway. Another thought to let disappear, another face he'd eventually forget.

C'est la vie.

Finally satisfied, Lawrence turned off the water and began drying himself, an act he would usually do in the living room. Times change. Still he ignored the mirror, now covered in steam, and focused on the task at hand. Fatigue was finally staring to hit him in waves, an empty mind combined with boiled muscles. Any sleep he managed to get tonight would be potent, no matter how little. Hopefully his roommates kept up their quiet streak at least until after he'd woken up.

Hopefully.

After finishing Lawrence eyed his dirty clothes before slipping them back on. He had only worn them for little under an hour, after all, and he had managed to avoid soaking them in blood during the commotion earlier. They were still servicable, at the very least. That, and he really didn't want to deal with sneaking around half naked on his first night with his new roommates. Two women at that. Twice as bad as his previous experience. Times were going to be interesting, if nothing else.

Sighing at the thought, he slipped his clothes back on and exited the bathroom, steam following close behind him. It looked as if Emma was still out, and Hazel was sleeping soundly. Wasting no time, he made his way over to his own bed and slipped into it, fatigue quickly evolving into pure exhaustion. He barely registed the thump of Lizzy jumping up to curl behind his legs before he slipped off into sleep.

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Commotion.

Lawrence ignored it, enjoying his bed for as long as possible. His alarm had yet to go off, and that meant he had at least a few more blissful moments of rest left. His muscles were still in euphoria from his shower a few hours ago, and his damp hair had failed to make him sick before it dried overnight. A perfect morning. No, he would not be-

Nudge

- disturbed by anything. How many chances would he get like this again after all? Once his roommates had settled in there was no doubt that he would find his rest constantly disturbed. Either by music or morning routine. One had to take life's opportunities as they presented themselves. And this morning presented the perfect one to be lazy. An opportunity he planned to take full advantage-

Nudge

"Jesus Christ."

He muttered, hitting Lizzy with a full on glare from beneath his blankets. The dog had plenty of flaws, but impatience usually wasn't one of them. For a beast that seemed to be hungry all the time, she was usually accomodating to his morning routine. An admirable amount of restraint, all things considered. So why was today different? Was she still miffed about being shunned the night before?

His eyes though did not meet hers. She was thoroughly occupied with something else across the room, ignoring him entirely at this point. Curious, he followed her gaze until it became obvious what held her attention.

Jesus Christ.

And he had been worried about sneaking around half naked after his shower last night. Clearly that wouldn't be much of a concern with his current company. He gave appreciative consideration to the woman across the room from him for a moment before turning his attention back to Lizzy and scratching her behind the ears. Letting out a sigh as he did so.

"Why do you even care? You're naked too you know."

With that bit of dog-philosphy out of the way, Lawrence slipped out of bed and stretched, waking up his thoroughly relaxed muscles. Not sure if he was supposed to be admiring the sight in front of him, or missing it on account of being asleep, he decided to take the safer option and turn away. Still dressed in his clothes from the night before, the kitchen became his goal, calling out behind him as he started walking:

"Not that I don't appreciate the show, but at least let me get my morning coffee in me before we get to know each other that intimately."

Not that he was entirely unphased by the whole event, but it wasn't exactly the first naked woman he'd seen in his life. On the razor thin chance this was some sort of seduction game after his comforting charm the night before- he wasn't interested at the moment. A woman was the last thing he needed right now, let alone a strange one. It seemed that at USARILN East "strange" was the only variety they came in. No, he'd try and sort this all out after his morning brew.

Once in the kitchen, he fished out a container of dog food from beneath the sink and began filling a porcelain bowl appropriately marked "Lizzy". The effect was immediate, as the pitter patter of paws echoed across the small apartment and the dog presented herself on no time flat. Barely waiting for Lawrence to finish filling before digging in with an almost admirable fervor. His first task completed, Lawrence then turned on his coffee maker before fishing out a couple slices of bread from a loaf sitting on his counter and popped them into his toaster.

It wasn't long until he emerged from the kitchen into the living room once more, buttered toast in one hand and coffee in the other. A very satisfied Lizzy following closely behind him. Casually, he leaned over over Emma's should and began reading the exams she was working on, ignoring Hazel at the moment in order to put off a potentially annoying confrontation. When he was young and stupid, he too believed these tests were important. In the end though it was all rubbish. They would either die, or survive and have no potential career paths outside of what the government commanded them to do. It wasn't as if anyone gathered here had a future in the private sector, all things considered.

Still, he had taken them seriously at the time, and hadn't done too poorly. Rather, he had done exceptionally in some subject, and average-to-rubbish in others. Even before receiving his Arbiter mark he hadn't planned on becoming a mathematician though, so low marks in that subject hadn't exactly bothered him. Still, he kept these thoughts to himself, there was no purpose in shattering the new arrival's hopes of a normal future yet. Instead he took a thoughtful bite of toast, before stepping back.

"Looks like you've got that covered pretty well, looking to get yourself on the fast track to success?"

Hazel Baker

---

"Uh... h-hey... Haaaaaaazel... do you think uh... could you maybe put some clothes on... p-please? Uh... perhaps we can go shopping together later, yeah? That would be fun, right?! I need to get new clothes, and I'm sure you need to get things too... like clothes for yourself... or other things too?"

"Not that I don't appreciate the show, but at least let me get my morning coffee in me before we get to know each other that intimately."

Hazel stopped trying to make sense of the questions upon hearing that, turning her gaze instead to Emma. Clothes? There wasn't any pressing need for clothes at the moment. To her, Emma's apparent embarrassment at her being naked was as incomprehensible as these questions on these forms. One with the mindset of 'an experimental lab creature' would scarce be able to understand those who were free and had lived normally after all. Morality, common sense and feelings had lost their meaning under repeated examinations, constant observation, and numerous experimentation with all the years she spent in that testing facility. At least Lawrence seems to understand, even if he kept that suspicious creature around.

But, it was getting cold, thus Hazel nodded with a smile to the first request. Being cold was not good, and clothes were warm. Leaving the questions behind, she dressed herself, pulling out a white long sleeved blouse, and a brown skirt to wear over simple white cotton underwear.

Pulling out a simple white bottle, and downing two of the pellets from inside, Hazel finally responded to that last invitation. "If you like. I have no objections to that."

There was still all those forms and questions to fill out, but she was not one to refuse anything she perceives as an order. If need be, she would just fill out everything to the best of her abilities. After all, that was what she had been doing for most of her life. Still, going shopping 'later' did not give her a definite time frame with which to get ready for this shopping, so she sat down again to sort out everything. A simpler task than those questions.

The first shot jerked Callan from her churlish inner gripings like a smack across the face-- only much louder. She found herself instinctively throwing her arms up and turning away, trying to register the bloodbath before her after the shots finally ceased. Her eyes first fell on the Director, following her arm and then her gun to the dead soldier on the floor. The moment her eyes touched the downed students, she snapped her attention back to Director Zhang.

"Th-they were innocent," she said, almost just as shocked that she said it out loud. What just happened... it was an accident, right? They wouldn't shoot students who were complying and following all the rules, would they? She was having trouble staying optimistic... or forming coherent thoughts at all for that matter. Her statement went unacknowledged and the following few minutes drifted by in a shadowy haze.

She was taken back to that Monday afternoon. Bullets flew through the air with an unnatural slowness, trying to kill whatever that thing was. It shivered with a terrifying rage, head constantly jerking in a disturbing fashion. Even though the weather was warm and sunny, it's breath burst from it's nostrils like hot steam. It pawed the ground furiously, leaving streaks of blood belonging to the the officer it had nearly slashed in half just a moment ago.

"STOP IT! STOP IT!" she had screamed, cowering behind the rubble. She spoke to the men who were shooting, begging them to kill the thing that had crawled out from her shadow. Stop the killing. Stop the destruction. This isn't what Dreamcatcher would have wanted. She was a white stripe, wasn't she? What was happening? Kill it. KILL IT!

What was perhaps the most concerning part about all of this was how well she felt she was taking it. People just died a few feet from where she stood. Some of the kids around her looked sick-- like they might even pass out. But what she felt now... she didn't want to try and explain it. It didn't feel like the correct reaction. She hadn't expected something like this to happen and yet... she was okay-- and not just in the physical sense.

She blinked away her distracted thoughts upon realizing her name had been mentioned. Suite 430? Marcus Howell and Siena Santana... she'd never considered the idea of having roommates-- much less a roommate that was a guy. Her eyes swept the room of students, willfully overlooking the ones on the ground-- which became increasingly more difficult to do after realizing the room called out before hers only had two students listed... the third was probably on the ground... possibly dead. I'm still okay, she mused worriedly. What was wrong with her?

She gave up on trying to discern who among them might be Marcus and Siena and conceded to following the soldiers out of the room, staring at the breaks in the sidewalk as they passed under the soldiers' boots. Why did they seem so emotionless? Weren't they at all concerned about what had just happened? Before she could mentally stew on the issue any longer, Building A came into sight. It was nice-- but it did little to lift her spirits. Ten minutes ago a comfortable bed would have made everything instantly better. Now she just felt petty.

---

Marcus had never heard a gunshot before.

Sure, he'd heard them in movies and cartoons and TV shows all the time, but those were not real gunshots. REAL gunshots were terrifying, and stirred some primal sense of fear and dread when they rang out. He closed his eyes, hoping that if this is where it was all going to end for him, it would at least be fast.

When he opened his eyes, he certainly wished he'd kept them closed. The sight almost made him sick, and the pit that was already in his stomach sank even lower than it was before. Later, when he'd processed everything, he'd realize that the Director was protecting them in a way. They were her new toys, after all, and nobody likes a broken toy.

The ankle cuff hardly registered; hell; he'd barely heard his name when rooms had been assigned. It was as if he was in a fog that his brain wouldn't let him get rid of, but he slowly came back to his senses. He had no idea who the other two names belonged to, but he didn't spend much effort trying to figure it out; there'd be enough time for introductions after they got shoved in their cells. For now, Marcus was focusing on getting his racing mind to slow down, and his panicked heart to calm itself: people died all the time, people got killed all the time, it was a sad fact of reality that they had to deal with now that DC had blown up the world.

His breath slowed back to normal pace, and he shuffled along with the others. The scene was left behind them, fortunately, and Marcus didn't bother looking back at it. He kept his eyes straight ahead, trying not focus on the guard prodding them along with a loaded gun. He was tempted to make a remark to the man, but he simply couldn't find the energy to, and he certainly didn't want to be dragged unconscious into the room. So, he bit his tongue; there'd be enough time to chastise the guards later.

Along the way, Marcus found himself surveying the situation; he was rooming with two girls, which would normally seem like a teenage boy's dream. For him, it meant that he'd have to not be obnoxious, less they murderize him for being the odd one out. After what seemed like an eternity of walking along, they finally reached their room. Or at least, Marcus had to assume it was their room; he hadn't listened to the number or location, but they were being unceremoniously shoved into it. It wasn't exactly hard to put the pieces together.

---

At sixteen years of age, Siena had never had the burden of fully fearing for her life. Even while on the truck, there had been some lingering optimism that everything would work out for the better. The illusion of safety vanished in the instant the first gunshot had gone off. A mixture of fear and adrenaline pumped through her heart, sharpening the senses and opening the floodgates for the other emotions that she'd been struggling to keep in check. Attempts to silence the roaring tide with narration proved futile as fear, anger, and a disturbing sense of satisfaction fought for the front lines. It wasn't until the second wave of gunfire that the dark horse won the race.

Shock.

It numbed her as she stared at the carnage. Some were still conscious, still in enough pain to show it. Blood was never quite as red and tangy in reality than it was in media. The smell of smoke and gunpowder was, thankfully, strong enough to drown out the blood now pooling on the ground. She continued to stare the fallen even while the soldiers arrived with the new cuffs. Numb. The feeling of the cuffs on her wrists and ankles being removed didn't fully register, and Siena kept her hands in place, though her fingers longed for the touch of old paper against her skin. Anything to push the surge of sickening fear onto someone stronger than she was. The shock blanketed her thoughts with a sense of fuzziness, and the girl swore someone had poured thick cream directly into her thoughts. Everything felt slower, and though she could hear the director, the words came in distorted and muted.

Surprisingly, the haze muted everything internally too. Even when she was pulled from the main group--'Stop trying to look at the bodies. Stop'--Siena could hardly register her movements. Dull, throbbing pulses echoed in the back of her head, the noise drowning almost everything else out. It did little more than give Siena a rhythm to her movements and something better to focus on than what was likely to become lingering emotional trauma. Fortunately, the pulse gradually faded into a hushed rhythm, the volume receding with the whirlwind of emotions that had threatened to engulf the mage. Her breathing had long since regulated itself by the time the brunette found her mental anchor. Sort of.

It was really just the shock slowly ebbing away.

---

Entering the room, Cal gave her new roomates a cursory glance before making a beeline for her duffel bag. If there was one thing that always provided comfort it was in that bag-- even when she wasn't really in need of said comfort. She plopped down onto the floor beside her bed and pulled the duffel into her lap eagerly. After fishing her hand around inside for a moment, she leaned up against the side of her bed with a relieved sigh as her hand closed around a travel size packet of beef jerky. With how things had been going that day, she'd half expected it not to be there. Before pulling it out, she picked up her head to give her roommates a bit more consideration.

She couldn't remember Marcus' last name. She tried not to stare too hard at the scars on his face, not wanting to come off as rude. He seemed slightly shorter than she was and a whole lot thinner. They both were. His light golden brown hair was dishelved, as were his clothes, but Cal just chalked that up to the fact that it was four in the morning. She recognized him as he boy that had been cracking jokes back in the transport truck. She could appreciate his optimism, though maybe it was less optimism and more his way of coping with shitty situations.

Next there was Siena Santana. She only remembered her name because it rolled off the tongue and sounded like something out of a storybook. She had long, pretty brown hair tied up with a gold rimmed ribbon. Definitely a lot skinner than she was-- and just as tall, she noted out of habit. Whether it was a basketball thing or a big-girl thing, she'd never given it much thought. It was just part of how she handled first impressions.

She was starving, but as she sized up her new roommates, she was reminded of what had just happened. Wait... did she actually forget? She looked down at the jerky inside her bag. She wanted to feel sick. She wanted to be so disturbed that she'd cry... but she was just hungry. And tired. And kind of wanted to finish that episode of The Office from earlier.

---

"Hey wait a second!" he shouted down the hallway to the guard, continuing once he got a half-stare from the escort. "This isn't chestnut at all! I was very clear about that!"

Ignoring the guard's presumable eye rolling and angry glare, he ducked back into the room, taking a look around. A bed and a desk for everyone, and a bathroom to share. It even had a kitchen for them to share; hell, it almost reminded him of home, but that wasn't exactly as comfortable a feeling as one would initially think. An imperceptible glint on one of the desks caught Marcus's attention, and he made his way quickly over to it. He grabbed the small chain off the desk and put it around his neck, the dog tags on the end jangling softly as they rested against his chest. He let out a sigh and donned a pained smile, looking at the two others in the room.

The most outstanding one was the girl with the blue-green hair. Maybe turquoise? Teal? He wasn't good at differentiating a million shades of blue-green, but that fortunately was not the point here. Whatever color it was, it was very effective at making her stand out among the crowd of three they had formed. She was athletic, same height as he was, give or take an inch, but he wasn't going to pull out a tape measure for the first impressions. She leaned up against her bed, seemingly as keen on surveying the situation as much as he was.

The other girl was also the same height, but her hair lacked the vibrancy of the previous one. Despite this, her hair was pulled back with a very shiny ribbon. She seemed unremarkable, the kind of girl that would be able to get everything she wanted with a wink or a smile. Or this is what Marcus would think if he got caught up on looks alone, which he didn't, so he tried to maintain a neutral opinion for now.

"God, what a day, huh?" he said, eyes darting to both of his new roommates, and a forced grin crossing his face.

---

It was the sound of a familiar voice calling out that dragged Siena back into reality with a harsh snap. She'd missed the words themselves, but with the night's events starting to carve themselves into her memory with startling clarity, Siena could recognize the timbre as the one that had attempted to brighten the mood during the initial transportation. Despite all odds, the girl couldn't help but feel the faintest twinge of approval. However, it was the sight of a few (evidently quite a few more than her roommates--was it because she had surrendered herself? They had so little) duffel bags that grounded her.

"O-Oh..." The word came with a tremble. So she was unsettled. Finding that she couldn't trust herself with words, Siena quickly made her way to the comfort of her things, opening each and rummaging wildly through folds of fabric and her so-called essentials for a single target: her e-reader. With words to occupy her, there was a chance that prior events would leave her in peace for long enough to get some rest. As fortune would have it, her hands were quick to find the coveted e-reader. Feeling the familiar texture of the fluffy case (custom made, if she remembered correctly), recognition flashed across Siena's face. Drawing the object from her bag, Siena positioned it so she could hug it against her chest with one arm while feeling a sense of security settle like a blanket over her.

It felt odd, knowing that the safety she felt was solely because the electronic nestled in its plush protection offered another world that was just as cruel as reality, but it was comfort that she had to cling to. Everything was supposed to be okay. A few quiet breaths later, the brunette finally turned her gaze to her (hopefully) roommates. They were, as luck would have it, not giants that could crush her by tripping--that was an immediate boon. Her eyes, though drawn by a vibrant splash of color, instinctively fell to the boy. Her parents would have thrown a fit, knowing that Siena was rooming with someone of the opposite gender. "It's absolutely improper for a young lady," they had once claimed when she asked, with the most innocent of intentions, to have a friend stay in her room for a night. He was...less imposing than she thought he'd be. Close to her height, lightly scarred, and lacking in the sense of overwhelming intimidation that Siena usually felt towards people bold enough to bring humor to the most dreadful of situations. At least he seemed friendly enough.

Hm...he might actually be a good base for a character if she thought about it hard enough. Siena let the thoughts linger and sprout, failing to realize that she had yet to leave the vicinity of her belongings.

Cal followed the girl with her eyes as she frantically searched through her many duffel bags for what appeared to be a kindle or e-reader or whatever they were called. Someone was clearly quite well to do. As she dragged her attention away from her and towards Marcus, she scoffed out a half smile. Her eyes flitted to the dog tags before she answered.

"You can say that again."

Her voice was deep and rich with a slight melody to it. She rolled her eyes and shook her head disbelievingly before glancing back to the numerous duffel bags surrounding her roommate's bed. "Siena, right?" she queried, already knowing the answer as the girl hugged the e-reader to her chest. She didn't seem to be taking things very well.... No, she was probably taking them exactly as they needed to be taken, actually.

"Not much of a light packer, huh?" she nodded to her things. She didn't really want to pass around the talking stick about what had just happened-- mostly because she didn't want to admit how much it didn't bother her. She withdrew her hand from her duffel, choosing to leave the jerky inside. Who in their right mind would be able to eat at a time like this? Instead she pulled out a fresh pair of socks.

'Earth to Siena, someone is talking about you...!' Reality came crashing in like a brick, even as Siena blinked away her surprise before glancing at the girl that had spoken to her. The most striking feature was her hair--a vibrant shock of blue that was entirely visually appealing to Siena's eye, at least--though it was her build that quickly drew Siena's attention. It was rare for the mage to see girls that were athletically defined, especially given her previous company of plastic Barbie doll elites...and she liked it. There was something comforting about the darker girl that Siena couldn't quite explain. Forcing her thoughts aside, Siena remembered a fraction of a second too late that she wanted to respond to the question. Or her name. Or--'Oh, good lord, Siena.'

"O-O...Oh, um, yes? I-I mean..." Cursing how the words fumbled out in an awkwardly high pitch in her rush to answer, Siena gave a sheepish smile that likely bordered on a grimace. "My...uh. My parents probably didn't want me to forget anything?" Was that because they were afraid of her? Siena left that statement out. Instead, she brought her fingers to the ends of her hair and started pulling again. Sweet, sweet release.

"I'm Marcus, though I imagine that wasn't too hard to figure out." he said, his grin settling into a slightly more authentic version of itself.

His voice, unlike that of the blue haired girl, was slightly less smooth. He spoke in a tenor, the kind of voice you'd expect from a car-salesman, but with less yelling involved. If one listened closely, they might be able to find that he had a slight Boston accent to it, but it was only noticeable to those actively listening to him talk, which didn't tend to be often.

"I'm assuming that would make you Callan, then!" he said, his eyes moving from the girl and laying themselves at the foot of 'his' bed. Or at least, the bed he presumed was his. A single bag lay there, folded in on itself, showing that there clearly wasn't much to be found in there. In all honesty, he hadn't expected to have a bag at all, but some basics would at least be nice. It would be something to unpack in the morning. For now, he was happy to flop over onto the bed. It was uncomfortably different that his home bed, but it was horizontal; which meant that it fit all the criteria her was looking for at whatever god-forsaken time it was right now.

"Yep," Cal replied simply as she too crawled up onto her bed, kicking off her old socks and shoes in the process. They landed with a clattering thud on the floor. The bed was huge step up from the one she'd had in her holding cell. It was soft. Really soft. This was the kind of bed she could envision herself falling asleep instantly on. As a bed enthusiast, that was saying something.

"Seems like the good Director has decided we make an excellent team. Guess we're gonna be besties! Whether we like it or not!" The last part, although sounding slightly negative, was as optimistic as the rest of the sentence, which he hoped to convey with the pitiful arm flap he made from the resting position he was in. He certainly hoped to get along with these two; it would make life much easier, and first impressions led him to believe that it wouldn't be a very difficult thing to accomplish.

He had noticed the papers on the desk when he'd grabbed the tags, but for now, he was content to ignore them. Just another one of the numerous things he'd have to figure out tomorrow. Or, later today, as it were.

"Yeah," Cal shrugged in response to Marcus' chipper observation. Her roomates seemed alright so far. She'd never had roommates before, but she couldn't imagine she'd be a very hard critic. If anything, she was probably the terrible roommate. As she pulled on her fresh socks, she thought of the dirty ones she'd left on the floor with her shoes. It's been a long day, she concluded as she went on to tie her hair up, I'm not picking them up.

"Can't believe we already have homework," she said as she untucked the sheet of her bed, sitting up on her knees as she gently yanked-- not wanting to tear them. She pulled the covers up to her chin in one swift movement, curling into a ball of blanket, "Fuck that shit."

"I second that notion!" came Marcus's reply, as he sat up on his bed.

From the exchange so far, her roommates seemed friendly enough. No random angry attacks or vicious outbursts despite the late hour and the probably exhaustion as of yet, which was a good sign as far as Siena was concerned. Seeing that her newfound companions were content to have a conversation, she ran her fingers along the furry surface of her e-reader's cover. She should probably have said something about needing to read to calm down, or at least apologize for being less-than-hospitable, but Siena soon found herself furrowing her brow lightly in confusion as she heard the word "homework". Homework? On what? The only topic so far that might have needed some testing was "How not to get shot", and apparently, they weren't good at that.

Curiosity got the better of her, and Siena gravitated towards her desk, peering at the sheets and spreading them over the surface of her desk. A few equations and some articles of reading were the first things that caught the brunette's attention. Easy ones. Feeling a weight of disappointment hit her squarely in the stomach at the lack of challenging information, Siena sighed and dragged herself towards the bed, settling on the edge so she could unlace the Spartan sandles that she'd evidently thought were a good idea for the day. She wasn't impressing anyone with those. After a few moments of aggressively yanking at the laces, Siena finally had it in her to crawl under her blankets and opened her e-reader...only to find a small sticky note on the screen, scrawled in her father's messy script.


A pang of longing wedged itself into Siena's heart at the thought of her parents. Taking a deep breath to clear her head, she tried to tear her thoughts away from home briefly.

"Good night, guys. Um...if you need something in the morning, I have extra t...toothbrushes." She almost made it through the sentence before her voice wavered again, this time sounding more normal than her earlier rushed responses. Siena spoke softly, just as she was trained to. Curling deeper into the blankets provided, the girl pulled the covers just high enough to hide the faint glow of her e-reader beneath the sheets, prepared to dive into a realm of both waking and dreaming fantasy.

"I might take you up on that offer, Siena." Marcus said, preparing his own bed. His shoes, a completely average pair of sneakers, were placed underneath the foot of his bed, and he crawled under the covers. "Good night."

"'Night."

Her eyes didn't close. She glanced between the two breathing lumps that were her roommates, all too fine to call it a night for their conversation, but she was still hungry. She had a lot she wanted to think about, too. After a few minutes of laying there, deciding what to do, she quietly pushed the covers away, grabbed the bag of jerky and tip toed into the living room.

Sprawled on the couch, her teeth sank into the first piece. It's salty sweet flavoring permiated her mouth. She didn't have to move her head at all to tear the bite away-- just one of the weird effects her power had on her day to day life. She missed the pulling and twisting before the meat gave. Maybe they sell tougher jerky somewhere....

Before her mind could wonder any further down that string of thought, she remembered what she was supposed to be thinking about. This school. The shooting. Director Zhang had killed that soldier for his mistake. After their treatment up until that point, she wouldn't have thought something like that would happen. But was it a sign of the Director valuing their lives as subnaturals or having little tolerance for mistakes? Did their value amount to anything other than military weaponry? ...did it matter?

The bag was empty. Cal tossed it on the coffee table and stood up, brushing a few small crumbs from her sweatshirt. No, she made up her mind, It doesn't matter. I won't let those students die in vain. She clenched her fists-- feeling like it was the appropriate thing to do in the middle of her mental hype speech. I'm gonna kill every monster I can get my hands on. I'm gonna protect everybody. I'm gonna show everyone that subnaturals can be heroes-- just like the Precursors.

With a resolute snort, she marched back to bed and was fast asleep the moment her head hit the pillow.

Marcus lay there in bed, eyes closed but mind racing. After everything that had happened today, there was no way he was gonna get a good night's sleep, no matter how badly his exhausted body wanted it. His thoughts went to the massacre in the receiving room; somewhere in is mind, he was thankful he wasn't one of the injured or dead. Or rather, he was glad it had been somebody else that had taken the bullet. Did that make him selfish? He wasn't exactly sure. Those people hadn't even taken the shots voluntarily; he certainly wouldn't have taken them voluntarily if he'd had the choice.

He was alive, and other people were not. For this he was uncomfortably grateful. His mind went back to Sparrow and Prism, the two Precursors everyone had seen on the way over. They were ordinary people who became heroes because DC randomly chose them. He'd also been randomly chosen, along with everyone else in that transport. He was in the same position that they had been years ago; a scared child with some fancy little power. Who knows what it would turn into if he managed to survive? His own abilities could evolve like theirs had, giving him powers that he could not even comprehend. He could have the potential to save the world and become the hero of the human race without him even being aware of it!

Right now, thinking about how glad he was that he was not dead, he didn't feel much like a hero.

It was going to be a long night.

---

---

---

---

---

---

When the other teenagers began speaking out, Lily's bored eyes did another sweep across the room and at the new faces. She took note of each of them. Ironically, she had a good memory despite having no memories at all of her past. Some of the teenagers were defiant as expected, some characteristically compliant and some were strangely quiet. Perhaps those that chose not to speak were as indifferent as she was. The place was to be their home, their prison and most probably the place where they will eventually die in. And just as thoughts of death crept into her mind, gunshots rang out. With depression fogging her mind, she stood where she was and didn't even flinch when a bullet whizzed past her, missing her by a mere inch. She watched the scene unfold in a detached manner. The Director firing at a soldier. Bullets raining around them. Teenagers falling to the ground. Eveything seemed to move both slowly and fast. She looked at the unmoving bodies on the ground. She assumed that they were dead by the way the blood began creeping out on the ground from their bodies. She wondered if she would take their place if she tried using her powers. Not that she really wanted to.

She stared at the unmoving bodies. No one even bothered to check if they were really dead. No one made a move to remove them. It was a depressing thought. One that made her sink deeper into her gloomy mood. She looked up when tall Commander Kardos began announcing room assignments. She had been assigned her room as soon as she was released from the medical bay a few days ago.

Lilianna Brandt. Room 200. Building B.

Of course. It was not as if they would change her room assignment. She didn't really pay any attention to the people who were in the same building as her. They won't even bother befriending her, so what's the point? She looked at the guard who aimed a rifle at her. "It's not as if I don't know how to get to my room," she said.

"Move."

"Fine."

---

---

Lily walked into her room. It was the same as she had left it. The bed sheets were rumpled and half of her pillow dangled onto the floor. "Weekday curfew at 2300. No curfews on weekends" She felt the guard's rifle poke her hard on the shoulder. If she had been a little taller and a little heavier, it wouldn't have mattered. But with her small build, the force was enough to make her stumble forward. She grumbled several sharp derogatory words at the guard before the door was slammed shut behind her. Shaking her head and letting out an irritated huff, she looked towards her table where several piles of paper now laid. She walked towards it and looked at the topmost page of the pile closest to her. "Calculus? Placement examinations?" she wrinkled her nose and looked at the other piles. Physics, Chemistry, English, Biology and then there were various request forms for electives. A deep frown crossed her face. "Seriously? I can't even remember my real name. How am I supposed to know all about this shit?"

She was just about to look at the remaining pile when she heard screaming coming from above. She looked up. "Oh, is there some sort of party going on up there? Maybe a welcoming party? Strange that someone would be screaming their lungs off... Hmmm... Hey, what are those other sounds?" she blinked as she heard banging sounds and more yells coming from the walls. She looked around as she scratched her head. "What a strange way to make music. Maybe I should go along with it," she let out two yowls and then walked over to the wall and made a few bangs on it. She was about to make a louder bang when her eyes fell on the pile of papers again. "Ooh, Biology. I'm good at this," she pulled out a chair, sat down and began working on the examination. She was halfway through one page when her eyes fell on the 'Misc. Request Sheet.' She chewed the end of her pencil thoughtfully before she scribbled 'More Donuts' on it.

Her attention gone from the examination she had been filling up, she stood up and decided it was a good time to explore the building and see what the newcomers were up to.

---

---

Allison felt numb. She laid silently on the bed in the room they had provided her with. She stared at the ceiling in the darkness, hoping for the night to pass quickly as the thoughts of the past few minutes repeated in her mind. She had just watched someone die. It had happened right in front of her eyes; a person turning into a nameless mass of flesh and crumpling to the floor. Allison's ears were still ringing. She never wanted to hear a gunshot ever again. Though, considering where she was, it was probably going to happen, and Allison hated that thought.

Allison found herself crying. She never cried. Not when her mother left, not when her father died, not when he disappeared, never. And now, here she was, crying over the death of someone she would never know. The worst part was that she knew that she had considered what she could do with the corpse. Allison didn't know who she hated more, the bitch who dropped out of her cuffs,the guard who opened fire, or herself. Allison hoped that sleep would take her away soon. It never did.

A loud scream pierced through the walls, straight into Allison's skull. The noise was so loud that it hurt. Allison's hands immediately shot to her ears, the rest of her body curling up in response to the horrible sound. The scream was inhumanly loud, and it likely belonged to the metal-head. The scream poured through the wall that sat between Allison's room and that of the metal-head. She had seemed like a mess after the incident occurred, kneeling on the ground and crying. The metal-head was probably hit hard by what happened, making her horrible screams slightly more understandable to Allison. Somewhere in the back of Allison's mind, pushed there by the deafening noise, she was compelled to go over to the girls room to try and comfort her. It was a stupid notion, though, so Allison ignored it.

After a painfully long minute, the metal-head had ceased screaming, and Allison loosened her grip on her still-ringing ears. She sat there in the blissful silence for a few moments, focusing on the feeling of her tear-wet cheeks. Her mind once again floated to the idea of going to the screaming girl's room. Allison knew that the girl probably wouldn't be easily comforted by a near-complete stranger, but it might help. Allison needed someone to talk to, and the metal-head seemed like she could use some comforting.

Allison allowed herself to sit in that quiet darkness for a few more moments before she began to move. Her limbs rose from the bed stiffly, carrying her to the door. Before she walked out, she wiped the tears from her face, and pulled at her mess of hair in a vain attempt to straighten it out.

Allison opened the door to the hallway, which was quiet except for the few muffled jeers at the metal-head for waking them up. The girl moved awkwardly, not focusing on any of her movements. Her brain was more focused with keeping her emotions in check, the ones in the back of her mind, as well as the ones which were still tossing about in the center of it.
Allison was clearly on the verge of crying again, and her attempts to hide it weren't working.

When her tired body reached the door to room 300, she raised a single shaky hand to it and knocked slowly.

---

---

Just as she was on the verge of sleeping, a slow, yet audible knock broke the dead silence of Angélique's room. If one could pay close attention to the noises on the other side of the door, a series of foreign profanities (a Canadian dialect of the french language) being spoken just before the imminent angry stomps that came towards the doors a few seconds afterwards.

While the metal singer wasn't completely sleeping, the very circumstances of which she would be interrupted from getting her beauty sleep after being denied for so long made her irritable. When she had heard the knocks, she told herself that surely it was divine punishment for having screaming like an idiot in the middle of the night. She didn't feel like opening the door to get yelled at by her neighbors and aggravate her already frustrated state, but on the other side of the coin she felt compelled to answer to whoever was on knocking on her door.

Truth be told, now that she was less of a crying mess, she could remember clearly a few moments about the rooming methods this prison has, and how isolated people unstable like her were compared to the others. For a moment, she felt envious of the others. How much would she had liked to have roommates, to have people supporting each other in their dark times, to not feel the unbearable weight of solitude pressuring against her when things would get rough. But it was all but fantasy, and Angel knew that well. She was too much of a danger to be matched with others, too unstable. They didn't want to lose their precious tools to some screaming barely-adult woman, and Angel of all people didn't want to repeat what had happened at that concert a few days ago. No, it was probably for the best that she had been roomed alone, for the sake of the others.

Having reached her, Angélique slowly opened it, at the same time letting a sigh of frustration escape her lips.

"Look, if it's about the screaming, I'm fucking sorry, ok-...ay?" the metal-head said annoyingly, her tone however becoming softer as she saw the young woman's face, who had been standing on the other side of her door.

At first, she couldn't quite make out who was visiting her this early in the morning because of the faint illumination of the corridor. But as her eyes adapted to the ambient light, she could see the girl standing in front, her features and most of all, her face. She was quite a beauty, somehow familiar, but it wasn't what was striking her most striking. It was just how messy the girl was, akin to the black-haired girl whose shades had slipped off her face in her near-slumber. The woman's eyes showed someone who had cried recently, and was on the verge of doing so as their eyes met. Clearly, she didn't seem like someone who had come to yell at Angel because of all the ruckus, at least that's not how she appeared to be.

This sad expression was just about enough for Angel to swallow her irritation and remember that she wasn't the only one in this boat. And then it hit her like crashing waters upon rock. This familiar face, she was one of the people that had been chained with her on the truck transporting them to this prison. She also had witnessed the brutal scene that had happened earlier. Thinking about it brought tears to her eyes, and thinking that someone else was feeling the same as her, she just couldn't hold it anymore.

Nevermind they were strangers, this notion shouldn't be existing between them. Feeling as such, Angel was compelled to approach the girl standing in front of her, and wrapped her arms around for a comforting embrace. She buried her face in the young woman's shoulders and tears began flowing again.

"I-I'm sorry..." she kept repeating.

Allison was shocked by the sudden embrace, staring at the girl who was now weeping against her shoulder. It was awkward, to say the least. Allison had no idea what to do, so she stood flustered for a moment before slowly returning the hug. As odd as it was to be suddenly hugged by a near-stranger moments after knocking on their door, Allison found the experience to be comforting. It was nice to just stand like this and let the girl get her emotions out. The day had been shitty for the both of them. They needed this. Allison needed this. Allison found herself resting her head on the other girl's, silently letting the tears fall, crying almost in unison.

Allison let that moment hang in the air for as long as she could. There was no reason to interrupt it. Though, she didn't even know the name of the girl who she was weeping with. Allison was slightly amused by that thought. A shitshow so awful that it drove two strangers to weep together. Awful and beautiful all at once. She rose one hand from where rested on the girl's back to wipe some of the tears from her own face.

"Do you cry into the shoulders of strangers often?" She said quietly, her head still resting on the other girl's. "You don't even know my name." Her words were tender, as if they too were soaked with tears. She added her name quickly before returning to the silence. "Allison. My name is Allison."

Upon hearing the complete stranger Angélique was crying on, she just realized how weird the situation must've been, for both of the girls. But, at the very least, she didn't shoved aside or rejected. They just stood there, probably lamenting what had happened today. She freed Allison from the warm embrace that had brought just enough comfort to a soul that was lost in the chaos that had overtaken her ever since the incident. She chuckled nervously at the brunette's sudden question, making the scene feel just the more awkward.

"N-no... It's just... I don't know. Things have been hard for me, surely for all of us. I just needed to let it all out, you know? I'm sorry things got weird, I'm not usually like that." Angel replied, sniffing and wiping tears off her eyes.

"I'm Angélique Lachance, or Angel if you prefer." she added in return to Allison's introduction.

Lily popped her head out from the corner just in time to see her two new building mates embracing each other. "I guess this is where the party is at, huh?" She looked around, expecting to see balloons and whatnots. But the hallway was bare and there wasn't even any music. Hmmm... With a slightly loopy grin on her face, she walked towards the two women. "Hi. I'd like a hug too," she said cheerily.

When the new arrival showed up, Angel didn't initially know how to respond to her. After gazing at her for a few seconds, the black-haired young woman remembered the blonde girl. She was also in the containment room where they had first arrived, however she had came with the coffee-drinking guy. Perhaps was she someone special in this prison too? She was however no "exception" if she was here as well. Faced with her cheerfulness, Angel didn't know if the girl was either dismissive of the earlier situation, or if she was trying her best to hide it, unlike the metal-loving girl.

"Uhh.... sure, I guess?" Angélique replied to the new girl asking for a hug, not quite sure what to make of her.

Lily immediately gave the two girls quick hugs. "It's nice to finally have some more people here. Living here alone was sooooo boring," she looked from one girl to the other, blinking at their tear stained faces. "Uh... and here I thought we were having some sort of party... you guys don't wanna be here, do you?" she sighed. "I suppose I can't complain too much. I can't remember how I got here much less if I actually wanted to be here," she chattered on, not really minding that the two girls were still unknown to her. She had originally planned on seeing if there really was a party going on but it has obviously long slipped out of her mind.

Angélique simply stood there, surprised by the ball of energy that quickly hugged both her and Allison. She wasn't really accustomed to being in contact with people that directly, but today was not a normal day like any other. Having people this close to her actually felt good, people she could share her thoughts with. She was however taken aback when she heard the girl speaking of a party being held here. Just how did she assume such things could be hold in this facility?

The dark-haired girl raised an eyebrow as she was listening to the smaller and younger looking blonde girl. "Of course not. Who'd want to be in this... prison? I can't deny the fact that I do deserve to be isolated from the rest of the world for what had happened, but having watched some of us in that truck, I can't believe we all deserve to be treated this way." Angélique said, her expression returning to a more sorrowful face after flashing a hint of anger or disgust. Just remembering the events that had changed her life forever, she could not help but to hate herself for the disaster that occurred during her final concert.

Allison stared at the small girl, silently wiping the tears from her eyes. After a few moments, her sluggish brain remembered the director's speech, which had definitely included this girl's name.

"Lilianna, right?" She said as her brain tried to recall what the girl had been saying just moments ago. Lilianna thought they were partying, right? No, that can't be... what a silly thought. No, no, that was something she actually said. Somewhere in the back of Allison's head, she chuckled, though her face remained blank. "I think it has less to with us not wanting to be here, and more with being overwhelmed by the situation." Her words came out weakly, slow but nearly slurred. She had half a mind to use the term "fucked-up shit" but she decided against it, considering she was sure that Lilianna was a young, impressionable child. After a moment of thinking on it, she found the entire thought ridiculous. Lilianna had already seen horrible things in a horrible environment, so how bad would a few curse words be? The thought brought Allison back to what she had considered when she had first seen Lilianna. How young of a child were they willing to lock up? "By the way, this may seem like a stupid question, but, how old are you?" She said, still staring at the small girl.

Lily blinked at the question. "Hmmm...? I'm 17," she looked down at herself. "Although I'm so small people think I'm way way younger," she shrugged. "I wonder how old I'd look if I wore heels or something... but heels are uncomfortable and I don't even own a pair," she continued chattering, her thoughts derailing a little from the original topic.

Listening to what both girls were saying, Angélique tried to sneak a silent yawn behind her arm and rubbed her eyes. Not that she was bothered by the presence of the two, she in fact appreciated the chat, which was a good change from the usual scowls and barks of either policemen or guards, but fatigue was once again trying to settle in. The Canadian girl would've probably offered them both something to drink and spend a bit more time talking, but it was getting quite late for such, not to mention that slowly Angel could hear the whispers slowly returning inside her mind, threatening her mood to degrade further.

"I don't want to be rude to you both. I really appreciate you guys checking up, but perhaps we could further chat tomorrow? I'm quite exhausted from the trip, we probably all are. I'd really like to see you two again soon though. It is nice to know that there are still people I can have a friendly discussion with." Angélique told to the two girls standing in front of her door.

"Oh, right. It must still be so early. Sometimes I lose track of time easily," she involuntarily yawned even though she wasn't really feeling sleepy, some sort of sympathetic reaction to Angélique's yawn. "Oh, right. I forgot to introduce myself. I'm Lilianna Brandt," she flashed both girls a grin. "I should maybe stop chatting and let you guys get some sleep." Apparently forgetting to wait for both girls to tell her their names, she gave both a small wave of her hand and then turned and skipped away.

"Oh, okay" Allison said as Lilianna left. Only now did she remember what she had gone to to. "I was going to ask if you wanted to talk, but it seems I got my answer. I guess I'll talk to you tomorrow then." Allison split her attention between Angel and the floor, her words tired and somewhat dejected. She rose her hand slightly, in a sort of half-wave, and walked the short distance back to her own room. She needed sleep.

"I would love that." Angel replied as she waved goodbye to Allison. "And thank you." She added, half whispering when her room neighbor reached her own doorstep.

Grant watched as some of the other subnaturals that he rode here with spoke their piece of mind, his tired eyes wandering from one speaker to the next. That is, before one of them decided to slip their wrist cuffs off. Along with a few people, he almost stumbled away, letting out a panicked, yet hushed, “Shit!” After that brief moment of fear and panic, he was glad that he managed to stumble away from the girl who had her hands raised in the air in surrender. It took a bit for Grant to realize that his ears were ringing. It took a bit for him to realize that some of the other subnaturals that rode on the truck with him had been shot. And they just laid on the floor, sprawled out, bleeding. Dying. Or even just dead. His ajar mouth felt dry, which forced him to gulp, the sound of his heart pounding straight in his ears, overtaking the sound of the ringing, as he looked back up at the Director. He didn’t even notice that the soldier who actually shot the students was dead on the floor as well. He said nothing focusing back on the Director for the rest of her spiel, and soon enough, he found his wrists free, but his ankle bound to the supposed “Suppression cuffs.” They didn’t feel too constricting, but he could still tell that they were there. A gift of saying, “You’re not getting out of here.” Despite that, he was just glad that he was still alive in the first place, standing amongst the most likely dead students laying on the floor. The announcing of roommates flew by Grant, though he instantly focused when he heard his name called from the commander.

"Grant Rotem, Padma Majumdar. Suite 330. Building A."

Apparently, while all the other Arbiters and exceptions got the luck of drawing two other people, he only had one. He looked at all the faces around him, hoping to guess who he had been paired with, comparing the name to any of the faces, but he failed to do so before he saw them being escorted to him. Reluctantly, Grant let himself be lead, alongside his new roommate, to his dorm, a gun pointed at the back of both of their heads.

The building he was being lead to didn’t fit his expectations, which were pretty low to begin with. He expected something akin to a prison, or a rundown building, made with barely any polish or care. Instead, his eyes were greeted by the sight of a modern, marble building that towered about five stories. His head tilted up a bit to let his gaze run along the entire building, Needless to say, Grant was glad that this was his living quarters rather than what he was imagining. He counted the floors needed to go up, and he kept his eye on the numbers of the doors, but he only noted the one that they had actually stopped in front of. His room. Rudely, his body was forced forward by the ‘escort’ behind him, a tad bit of pain going through his back as his legs carried him into the room. He glanced back at them as they explained the curfew briefly with command before they left, slamming the door shut. And he and his roommate were alone.

Once the door closed, and the escorts had left along with the danger of being shot, Grant placed his hand on the back of his neck. He could still subtly feel the cuffs that surrounded his wrists before. His eyes scanned across the room for a few seconds, taking in what was in front of him. The simple necessities of a simple bedroom for two. After having a look around, he made the obvious decision, for him, and he dragged his feet across the floor, over to the bed, passing the duffel bag, and he sat down on the edge of the mattress. He was tired after this morning's events, and he couldn't wait to get to sleep. He even nearly forgot that he had a roommate before he heard their voice.
"Some morning, eh? I'm Padma. Padma Majumdar." He looked up with tired, lidded eyes, but that was normal. He looked her up and down. An arbiter girl with darkly tanned skin and a fit body. Practically the polar opposite of him. Was this some kind of joke? He was too tired to offer a facial expression back to her small smile that she had given him.
"...Yeah." He replied simply, in a voice that matched his face. "Grant Rotem." That's all he said before reaching to his duffle bag and opened it up, checking inside, though he took nothing out. It was obvious that he was not one for words. He hadn't even glance or look at the papers that were mentioned before. He kicked his dirty shoes off, letting them tumble next to his duffle bag before getting up. His body felt heavy, and the fact that it was 3 in the morning only decreased his drive to talk. Once his roommate, who had gone into the bathroom, returned, he was ready to just crash against his bed. But her voice pulled him back.
”You can leave the light on as long as you need it, but I'm done with today. Goodnight.” He sat for just a moment longer before letting out a quick sigh and pushing himself off his bed. He was going to room with her for a while, so as he walked toward to the lightswitch, he said one thing to her.
"...I hope we can get along...." His tone didn't change from his previous tired state, and he even let out a yawn right after. Even if they were practically opposites from how it looks like, he might as well try and get along with her. Not a good idea to be awkward with someone you’ll be spending quite a bit of time with. He flicked the light off, made his way to his bed, let his legs get caught by the frame, and fell forward onto the mattress, not bothering with his blanket. It was softer than he imagined it to be. "..Mmnight." Was the last thing he mumbled out before drifting to sleep.



Padma woke at seven AM. It had not been a long sleep, but her usual circadian rhythm had her up at this time, and her well honed discipline had her rising from bed immediately, regardless of fatigue.

In fifteen minutes she had visited the bathroom to perform her hygiene and skin care. She would shower later, after exercise, and contented herself with brushing her hair out thoroughly.

Grant still slept, or seemed to. She hadn't made much noise, so she assumed it was possible he hadn't been roused. Padma let him, and went to the papers on the desk. She finished half of the exams before taking a study break. Absorbed in her studies, Padma looked around to see if Grant had awoken yet.

When Padma looked over at Grant, who she assumed to be sleeping, she'd find him moving around the bed, until eventually just rolling onto his front, his cheek laying against his pillow. As is usual for a person having just woken up, his hair was a mess and his eyes blinked open only slightly, but he was awake. His eyes focused on what was in front of him, which was Padma, who was in a much more awake state than him.

"Good morning," Padma said to him. She stood up and reached into her duffel bag, shuffling around for a second, until she retrieved a pair of shoes. "I was about to go for a run, if you wanted to go with me. Apparently we have, er, a combat examination in a few days. It might do to make sure we're fit."

Grant stared at her when she offered him the opportunity to run with her, and it took a long moment, maybe half a minute, for his mind to process what she said. The fact that there was a combat exam coming… but he really didn’t want to run so early in the morning. In fact, he really didn’t want to run much at all. He moved his face back into the pillow and answered, muffled by the pillow, ”Mmmmm… I’ll pass..” He wasn’t planning to stay in bed all day, since there were those exams on the desks, as much as he didn’t want to do those.

Padma closed her eyes, expressionless for a moment, then continued tying up her laces. In truth, she was relieved. There would be time to get on with Grant later, but right now she didn't want him slowing her down. She had managed to stay busy since the events of last night, and she didn't want to lose her momentum, and risk dwelling on the deaths she had witnessed, or her own disenchantment with the nature of this facility.

She walked out the door.

Her routine today was brutal. There was probably a gym in campus, but Padma didn't look for one, instead opting for the classic body weight exercises. Endurance over strength for her this morning. Nearly an hour later, her body sore and tired, she started her run.

Alexis's eyes widened as soon as the guard rose his weapon and she ducked as fast as she could. Soon after, gunfire could be heard and around her some students got injured while others simply died or were about to die. Some tears soon formed in her eyes as she was not used to seeing dead people around her.
When she rose from the ground, the guard that opened fire was quickly shot in the head and fell on the floor.
Alexis shook her head and muttered a prayer under her breath for the souls of the departed. These treatment was inhumane, at best but that's why she was here in the first place. To be an example for the mages. To show normal humans that not all "subnaturals" as they called them, were evil. Maybe she sounded a little idealistic but she was convinced that she will fulfill her dream, one day.

When the guards came and removed the old cuffs and brought a new pair of cuff, she stood calm and let them work their cuffs quietly. She was not about to get shot for not doing anything after all. Despite everything that happened, she smiled and remembered that her parents were watching her and they were proud of their little girl.

Alexis was led, at gun point, by a guard along with two other mages that would be her new roommates. She wondered if they would recognize her, as most people did these days and if that will change their opinion on her. The Arbiter complex was big and looked good. The security systems were probably the best money could buy. Something that her parents would only wish for.

As she entered the room, a man, waved at her and she smiled. A warm smile that could show how innocent she truly is. She waved back and said with a warm voice "Hello ! I'm Alexis Hunter. I'm happy to meet you two. Let's enjoy ourselves here, yes ? No need to stay angry at the death of our comrades. They are in a better place now. Probably better treated too. "

After she said that, she went to her bed and took her ID and looked over the test. Most of the questions were high-school level and they were easy for Alexis. Her top-class education when her parents were still alive made them easy. Well, most of them. History and chemistry were her weakest points always and when she got to the part that contained them, she shook her head and wrote the answers at those questions that she was almost certain of the answers and left a blank spot at those she didn't know at all.

When she took a small break from the writing, she took out from the duffle bag near her bed, some pictures depicting her in different roles, she played over the years. She neatly put them on the night table and put one in the middle of them that showed her and her parents in a famous show that they all three played in.

In a heartbeat, the situation seemed to go quickly south, the sound of gunfire causing Aaron to instinctively duck and put his arms over his head in a protective manner as the burst of rifle fire whizzed around them and caught several other students. After a moment, the brown-haired, amber-eyed boy tentatively stood back up, glancing at just the right moment to see the soldier who has seemingly fired on them in a panic be shot for the second time in the side of his head and go lifeless on the floor. A shocked look came onto Aaron's face, especially as the boy look and began to notice the bleeding and possibly dead other students on the floor who had been hit by the soldier's bullets. Much worse, outside of some of his fellow "chain-gang members", none of the other soldiers much less the director in front of them batted an eye at the situation, the bodies of the dead, dying, and bleeding being kicked aside like small annoyances of no big matter being moved to the side. It was a visibly shocking scene as a whole, but in the space of time between seeing things and the new ankle cuffs being locked onto them and the old ones being removed, Aaron had reasserted his overall sense of composure and went back into a seemingly relaxed and calm mood.

As sad as it was to admit, even to just himself in this case, he had seen worse things a matter of years ago. Plus, if he didn't have the mind to somehow get past this, then it would be a wonder if he survived living in a cold and dark place like here at all. Not that it was right to just blindly accept how this place was, per say, but it would do him no good to dwell on what had happened here considering how the guards and such seemed to be. It would do none of them good to just dwell on this, especially those whose powers had more violent side-effects on their personalities. That in part made the brown-haired sixteen year old glad he had not ended up with powers that resulted in him having that trademark 'X' on his throat, though it seemed not just those people, from the look of the reactions of the others in the room outside of the guards and other adults, were reacting to this.

After listening to the Director's spiel about the cuffs, possible death by shocking, and her words directed at the Indian girl who was among the ranks of them standing here like cattle in a pen, Aaron continued on and listened to the room assignments be read aloud. Raising an eyebrow at being put into the same room as two other people, Aaron looks about to try to see who was in his group, only to have the cold barrel of a loaded gun pressed against his back in a thrusting, oppressive manner.

"I get it, i get it," the teen said with a light, surrendering sigh and light roll of his eyes, holding his hands up in surrender for a moment before letting them fall back by his sides as he and the others were escorted from the room.

As he and the others were escorted by guards, groups of people branching off to different buildings on the campus and from there to different rooms (according to his own guesses at the matter), Aaron kept a relaxed stance physically as he thought about things. At this point he was accepting that this was the nature of this place, this cold, violent, uncaring facility where he and the others here were nothing but tools and weapons if he had interpreted the Director's words correctly. At least they couldn't just be shocked to death for no reason at all though, without the offending adults in question being disciplined in a likely lethal manner from the sound of things. It was a small comfort, if anything, but it was at least something in the favor of he and the other "studs" who had arrived here. Besides, it was not like he could do anything against the system here without being killed in the....five minutes it took him to summon anything at all? So even then it was not like he was among those these people could consider the "greatest threats" in a singular given moment.

Looking up as he and part of the group that had originally been in the underground room (now filled with wounded and probably some dead bodies) were escorted to a building that looked rather clean, orderly, and even fancy at that on the outside, eliciting a light chuckle from Aaron at the fact he and some of the more "well-behaved dogs" were getting to likely live in some slight luxury and comfort. Not that it made their overall situation better, but it was at least something else positive he could add to the rather small list he had silently begun in his own mind. Still, the shimmering, supernatural, mist-like substance that clung to the building itself was, in the teen's mind, probably some kind of surveillance system for them or such. Eh, it was not like he had anything to hide, nor would he be among those who probably tried to escape this place. Still, maybe they had gotten some kid with a power that made that stuff to work with them, or perhaps that one gadget-focused Precursor he had heard about had made some cool device to create this stuff?

Shrugging off his now somewhat derailing thoughts as they moved into the building, Aaron looked as the group they were in now was split once more to send students to different rooms on different floors. It was here he finally got a look at just who he would be rooming with. On one hand, one of the people he was rooming with was a red-haired girl. Odd, but nothing that caused him to lose his chill or the like. But...the other person he seemed to be roommates with was someone whose presence and attitude, on top of what he had said earlier, made him seem nothing short of "edgy to the highest power". Physically Aaron struggled with not grimacing somewhat at the guy as the guards continued to escort the trio to their assigned room, keeping his face forward as the sort of "aura" this guy seemed to give off felt as if it was getting under his skin. Not that this guy didn't probably have a reason he behaved as he behaved, but it was not like the guy's seeming attitude and appearance didn't prod (even if unintentionally) at Aaron's pet peeves either.

As they all entered their dorm rooms, Aaron noted with a light sigh of relief that the room itself seemed to be rather comfortable, even slightly luxurious considering how they had all been treated before this point in time. Stepping over to one of the desks in the room, Aaron glanced through the maps, placements tests, and other papers and things on the desk that seemed to pertain to himself, putting his ID card (and noting the cash loaded onto it) into the left pocket of his jeans without a second thought after finishing just simply seeing what was there in the first place. The boy then turned his attention to the duffel bags at the foot of each bed, particularly one that seemed to bulge more than the others. Walking over to the bad and squatting down by it before opening it, the boy let out a low whistle at finding his things all placed inside rather neatly. Digging into things for a moment just to make sure it had all made the trip here safe and sound, he noted the clothes, essentials, water bottles, headphones and music devices, and especially the consoles, handhelds, and small literal library of games for each he had managed to stuff inside like a "packing professional". His own mother had even been surprised at how well he had packed his things prior to leaving, though it was not like the boy was going to treat his games badly in all of this. He had almost finished his latest run of The Legend of Zelda: Wind Waker and it was not like he was going to abandon that or his other video gaming pursuits just because he was here. A light frown came on his face for just a brief moment, however, as the boy thought about how having to stick to a schedule and such might kill some of his game time.

It was no big matter, though, as he shook the thoughts from his head, stood up once more, and looked over to his new roommates once more before giving them a casual wave.

Chris's eyes widened from their passive scowl as he saw gunfire against his fellow prisoners. It was a brief matter of shock for him, and he turned back to see the shooter be executed on the spot. Slowly he readjusted himself, whatever accident had occured, the situation had already been dealt with. Its not that he wasn't completely desyntized, though he had expected brutal treatment and had watched a similar tragedy from before, but it was for that same trauma that he fought against such shock surface on his conscience. He kept his gaze away from the fallen comrades, fortunately he hadn't had the chance to know them, so it wasn't too difficult. Though the scene was a grim reminder of the cruel state of this world.

Chris didn't bother resisting, the terms seemed reasonable enough for him anyhow. Its not like he wanted to transform. His complacent and bored morphed into a scowl when he heard his name being roomed with two others. It wasn't very ideal, but he kept an open mind, or tried to, as him and the rest of the subnaturals were escorted to their buildings. He was a bit impressed with the Arbiter's building, granted, the security level of it was obvious enough. Still the modern design gave him the impression of something moderately luxorious to stay in.

Inside, he ignored his two roomates for the first moments as he picked up his ID card and the test, examining them both briefly. Afterward, he glanced back to his two roomates, briefly, just to get an idea of their existence, one of them waved to him, so he gave a passive, barely paying any care wave back, before returning his attention to his test. He would take a seat and took out a pen.

His bag of clothes, pretty much the only luggage he had, sat beside his desk as he steadily went through the stack of papers of tests he was assigned. He knew the basics of most of the subjects at hand, but as he had not been to a school before what little education he had was not advanced enough to answer most highschool level questions, what few he did were simple algebra equations and literature that his parents had hometaught him long ago, distant in memory.

For the answers he did not know, he just guessed for the hell of it and tried to apply some reasoning to them by trying to think of a natural equivalent scenario. Finishing the main exams he left the elective forms untouched as he decided to take a hot shower. He walked to the bathroom, still not paying much attention to his roommates He stripped from his garbs and turned on the water. As he lathered his body in some of the basic available bathing products there, namely soap and shampoo, his eyes looked to the shower curtain and became lost in thought. For long intervals he'd contemplate the destruction he survived, the cruelty of the military, and the 'students' who were shot hours before, of all things. He could feel a tear form from his left eye overlapping the hot water. With emotions starting to boil out from his facade, he instinctively slammed a clenched hand into the bathroom wall with his head lowered, making a somewhat audible thud and a ringing pain that helped distract him from the emotional torment.

---

---

The wall-mounted television screen was muted. An anchorman’s mouth was moving soundlessly on the screen while a Dreamcatcher creation of unparalleled size shredded through an entire city in northern California with a wave of its lanky, clawed fingers, releasing a crushing black wave that looked more like rends in reality than the “pitch-black ink” the news was trying to sell.

Whisper had long stopped looking at the screen, focused as he was on gripping Nico’s shoulders and shaking his foster brother, who was sitting in shock on the sofa. Nico had gone still as the breaking news coverage came up on the screen in the middle of a Ninja Warriors episode, losing all semblance of conscious thought when the news broadcasted the city in imminent danger. Palo Alto. His home. Their home.

That had been an hour ago. There wasn’t much of the city nor its residents left at this point.

Times like these, Whisper hated beyond measure his inability to talk. His mouth formed Nico’s name as soundlessly as the muted anchorman on the screen and he continued shaking the smaller boy to no avail. Donovan had gone out to pick up more fast food with the chauffeur, but was no doubt stuck somewhere between people crowding public television displays to watch the news and trying to navigate around any panicked citizenry. Whisper didn’t quite trust himself to leave Nico alone for even a second. He had an irrational fear that if Nico didn’t snap out of it now, it would be too late.

Gritting his teeth, he backhanded Nico across the face.

The loud slap echoed in the quiet home theater room.

It took Nico another minute to finally see him.

“Whisper?” he said quietly, despair breaking his soft voice.

Nico’s eyes darted to the screen, taking in the destruction again, and Whisper could only watch helplessly as his brother’s confused expression sank into a mixture of anger and sorrow. Too much to express in tears.

Instead, Nico curled up on the sofa and lay there, looking as lost and hopeless as Whisper had so long ago.

He pushed a cushion under Nico’s head and took a seat on the long sofa, positioning himself so Nico’s upper body faced his legs.

The Precursors were finally engaging the monster on the screen, Sparrow’s golden glow extending to all eight of the other team members in the vicinity. The thing’s behemoth size dwarfed even skyscrapers as Newton, Merlin, Kadabra, and Prism sent salvo after salvo of attacks at it. The video feeds from the news station drones then cut to several large, transparent trucks housing people chained tightly together. More subnaturals. The trucks stopped some ways from the actual combat and released the prisoners, who were then freed of their shackles and chains. Some of them darted towards the fight immediately, with speed beyond human limits. Others began glowing with the effects of their own magic while still others called forth strange creatures and constructs from thin air.

They joined the Precursors on the battlefield before long, but Sparrow didn’t extend her flight to any of them. Maybe she couldn't, or maybe she was too busy maintaining it on her current targets. Either way, a fourth of the subnatural backup were torn to pieces by another jagged black wave before they could even get close to the creature.

It looked a bit like Dreamcatcher, the thing on the screen. That same narrow torso and gangly limbs, though it sported misshapen ram horns on its head instead of the elegant arches of Dreamcatcher's antlers. A wave caught one of the Precursors, but it passed without hurting them. Sparrow's invincibility extending to her allies as well. A large, muscular man most recognized as Hephaestus raised a strange, black disk in the air and the next black wave seemed to warp before being sucked into the tiny circle of magical material in the Precursor's hand. In return, Newton and Prism fired off another round of gravity fields and lasers. The monster barely seemed to care.

The door behind them slammed open as Donovan finally returned. Whisper stood to face him, the expression on his face grim as he mouthed "Nico" to the other adopted brother. Donovan's breathing was ragged, and his eyes darted between the two. Wordlessly, he walked over to Nico and slammed the boxes of pad thai onto the table in front of them.

"Traffic was ridiculous," he drawled, his tone inscrutable. Donovan went over and unplugged the television, "Eat quickly, it's already getting cold."

Nico didn't respond, still staring at the black TV screen as if looking for an answer that everyone knew wouldn't be there. Whisper poked through the boxes of food, picking one up and holding it in front of Nico placatingly. Still no response. He turned back to Donovan, a hint of desperation in his eyes. Rage seared through Donovan's expression. He snatched the box Whisper was holding, stabbing a fork into its contents and holding it in front of the distraught boy's mouth.

"Eat," he growled.

It took long, agonizing minutes for Nico's eyes to focus on Donovan, then the food, but he didn't move in response.

"Could I...be alone for a bit?" his voice was barely audible when he finally spoke.

Whisper clicked his tongue and grabbed Nico's mouth, pulling it open before nodding at Donovan. Donovan got the message and shoved the fork into Nico's mouth.

That worked. Nico coughed and spluttered, finally sitting up as he choked down the forkful of pad thai. Whisper watched him eat carefully, ready to react if he started coughing it up or something. Instead, Nico ate quietly--mechanically--once he had worked his mouth around the initial wad of food. He swallowed the mouthful and stared now at the boxes on the table. With Donovan in the room, Whisper was free to hunt through the shelf under the coffee table for a pen and some scraps of paper, finally locating both and scribbling down a message to Donovan. He was certain Nico was in no mood to care.

Don't leave him alone. I need to head to the bathroom, the message read. Donovan gave a silent nod of affirmation. He turned to Nico.

"...Wanna play Uno?" he asked sullenly, "You might even beat me this time."

Whisper left as Nico automatically nodded, not a trace of emotion on the traumatized face.

He hadn't been lying about needing to use the bathroom, but it wasn't to take a piss. He had to cope with the news, too, though he had held back for Nico's sake.

Without a doubt, the Lehmann family in Palo Alto was dead. Elliot and Lucien had just been texting the three of them that morning after all, discussing some potential renovations to the house. Well, more like arguing over potential renovations. Those two never saw eye-to-eye for all that they loved each other as family. He couldn't quite fathom that those conversations would never happen again.

Whisper--Micah--had arrived in the United States at six years old with his family, hailing from a small town in western Europe that had been lucky enough to hear of the immigration rush to the United States, where people hoped they would be a bit more protected from Dreamcatcher's monsters. It didn't take long for his family to find out the hard way that capitalism did not favor fresh beginnings. As the flood of refugees surged in while the world suffered through the worst assaults of Dreamcatcher's creations, Micah had woken up one day left behind in a run-down New York apartment they had been sharing with seven other people equally starved for luck.

In his desperation, he had aimlessly wandered the city before bumping into a group of boys--Nico, Donovan, and Nico's brothers, Elliot and Lucien. It was a ten-year-old Nico who had insisted on taking the filthy urchin with them to the restaurant when Micah had almost collapsed from hunger. Nico's brothers and Donovan had balked at the suggestion. Elliot, chaperoning them for the walk, had to take the entire arguing group back to Sophia and Michael Lehmann, the parents who had been hoping for a quiet evening in their hotel without needing to handle their rambunctious boys. The entire time, Nico hadn't let go of Micah's hand.

"What's your name, dear?" Sophia had asked. Micah had opened and closed his mouth without any answer, barely recognizing the question. Elliot had been the first to figure out he was mute after several more soundless mouth movements.

"Whisper," Nico had suggested when Micah hadn't been able to spell or speak his name.

It would be almost half a year before Whisper had grasped enough of the language to read and write proficiently, and even then he never bothered bringing up his real name--it didn't matter; it didn't mean anything. From there on, everything came a bit easier to him, bolstered by the opportunities afforded through the Lehmann bank account and the support he always found from the Lehmann family--Elliot in his eccentric genius, Lucien in his persistent care, Donovan in his casual confidence, and Nico in his constant presence. He had loved the family. He still loved the family.

And now they were cut down to the three of them and distant relatives who barely remembered their names. The house they were occupying was one of Uncle Johann's mansions, the man himself never deigning to set foot in the place. It was more an entertainment house for special guests and he had extended the invitation to the boys under Sophia and Michael in the interest of maintaining steady connections with the nearest branch of the Lehmann family tree.

Connections that no longer mattered.

Whisper felt the first sting of tears rise and he swallowed loudly to hold it down. He couldn't also break down when Nico was like this. But he couldn't bear to suffer through it alone, try as he might. For a while, Whisper tugged at the friendship bracelet Nico had made for his 12th birthday--a simple chevron-patterned affair in gradients of blue that Nico promised to upgrade when his friendship bracelet mastery leveled up. Donovan had a similar bracelet in varying shades of orange.

If he was going to suffer, it would be with them. Always.

The walk back to the theater room was dreadfully slow. Nico was still playing Uno with Donovan on the floor, and neither of them made any comment about how he kept putting the wrong cards down more often than not.

Whisper didn't announce himself as he came in, foregoing his usual ritual of tapping on the doorframe. He just sat down in the space the two of them had somehow known to leave for him and grabbed some incorrect number of cards from the deck, playing a card without thinking after Nico threw down another card that broke the rules. The three of them kept drawing cards, never letting any of their hands reach the victory number. When the deck ran out, they pulled cards from the messy pile in the center, continuing to play until well past midnight. Whisper had been the only one to cry, but by now a stopgap measure of numbness was settling in.

They kept drawing and playing their hands haphazardly until Nico started crying, and it was Donovan's shoulder that Nico cried onto until the 15-year-old finally sobbed himself to sleep.

Whisper cleaned up the mess of cards scattered around them before helping Donovan move Nico onto the sofa, ignoring the slight feeling of exclusion he felt every time Nico relied on Donovan instead of him.

The three of them slept in that room afterwards, Donovan on the other end of the sofa from Nico and Whisper on the floor beside them.

Black X's marred their throats when they woke up in the late afternoon, and Nico was the first to propose they leave everything behind.

The calmness of his demeanor scared Whisper, who had instinctively reached for Nico's shoulder, calling out his brother's name in the process. He wasn't the only one shocked by the sound that came from his mouth. He had a voice now, clear and strong, with a lilting timbre that drew the ear's attention. Whether that had always been his voice or the voice he had wished for in the dream, Whisper would never know, but for a blissful three years after that incident, he was able to speak with the two people he held closest to his heart even as they lived in conditions barely fit for a human--skirting away from civilization for as long as they could before supplies ran low. In a way, that manner of living never ceased, even as they found more mages on the run like them.

Things could have remained that peacefully nomadic had it not been for the day the three of them became Animi--where the same power that had granted Whisper a voice muted him again, this time in a way crueler than his original defect.

---

---

"Come on, Zhang, everyone already knows your game," a Southern drawl grated against Director Zhang's ears as she continued putting up with the online meeting between the USARILN directors. The voice that reminded her of a filthy hillbilly belonged to Director Mark Kleinfelder of USARILN West. He wasn't done talking, either.

"You play up the 'evil headmaster' role so the DOD will look at you for higher positions. It's not hard to figure out, pretty lady."

"Refrain from calling me that ever again, Kleinfelder," Director Zhang snapped, "Your kowtowing to the students looks far worse than any powergrab you could ever float over my image. At least I'm not bending over and spreading for an assistant subnatural."

"The fuck did you just say to me, bitch?"

"That's enough," a gruff voice with a heavy gravel undercurrent cut through the looming argument, the sound of USARILN Central Director Ariah Scovel's irritation clear in his tone.

"Perhaps you should focus that reminder on the repeat instigator," Zhang threw back, though she knew better than to push the matter when the topic was this important, "though I'll relent if he does."

"Everyone will be focusing on the matter at hand. Are we clear, Kleinfelder?" the oldest of the directors barked over the secure voice communication channel. Ariah was leaning heavily into his late 30's, but age didn't prevent the man from shouting with the best of them. Kleinfelder's silence was answer enough and Ariah proceeded to the matter at hand. "First, East is seeing a rise in activity, especially over the past year. How are you coping, Director Zhang?"

"Sufficiently," she answered simply, "though our resources are wearing thin--"

"If you need more supplies--" Ariah interrupted.

"No, not those resources. Rather, we have an abundance of supplies. I'm running low on students. Too many lost to too many attacks across the Eastern seaboard while West suffers from an overflow of subnaturals."

"I don't send my students out to die," Kleinfelder muttered.

"Because you haven't experienced a single major threat on that side of the country after 2011," Zhang's tolerance of the sexist bastard who found nitpicking at her every action a suitable course for their every interaction wore thin a lot faster than usual that day.

"I'll remind you that we went through great pains to fend off several waves of Dreamcatcher's monsters in the wake of that Primordial," he protested weakly, though there was no denying the difference in intensity between the density of creatures in the west and the east. The Directors had taken to calling the massive creature that had attacked California in 2011 a "Primordial," following the media's nickname for the monolithic creature, though information on it remained frustratingly elusive. The remains had been taken away to the same underground bunker the DOD held Hephaestus in, and since then there had been no word on any developments.

"That disaster could have been entirely averted if your predecessor had been more careful. Learn from his mistake, Kleinfelder, or you're doomed to repeat it," Zhang's admonishment was sincere, despite all her hatred for the man.

He didn't respond to that, and the meeting went silent for a few moments before Scoval spoke up again.

"I propose a large transfer of students from West to East. Director Zhang's concerns are correct--West is crowded and East is almost deserted and in need of more firepower. I trust there will be no problems with this, Director Kleinfelder?" Scoval's meaning wasn't hard to construe. This wasn't a request, and that question wasn't a true concern.

"...None, Director Scoval," came the disgruntled reply some seconds later.

"Now on to more sensitive matters," Scoval continued, "The management of our...special circumstances."

Zhang's lips thinned at the new discussion topic. "Stressful" was the kindest word to describe that matter. "Disastrous" would be a bit closer.

---

---

A sketchbook lay in a open heap of bent papers on the ground of Building A's window side. The person who found it picked it up gently, smoothing out the worst of the creased pages and flipping through the sketches carefully, as if they were holding something as delicate as the Mona Lisa itself in their hands. With another flipped page, a sketch of Kusari Bloodworth revealed itself in all its tormented glory.

The image had been drawn over, the paper worked and reworked until even the thickness of the sheet had given way to the artist's pressure. Initials in the corner of the front cover had clearly revealed who the sketchbook belonged to, but this self-portrait was the more damning evidence. Here was a girl who had overlayed so many parts of herself over one another that she only remained truly human in the dark lines of the image she saw in the mirror of paper and pencil. What she thought of her living self, the person couldn't even begin to guess.

Before the patrolling guards could come around and notice something amiss, the tall figure in gray baggy sweatpants and a similarly gray baggy sweatshirt with the hood pulled well over their head tucked the sketchbook under an arm and walked off briskly.

---

---

An alarm blared across campus, sounding eerily reminiscent of an air raid siren.

A high-pitched ping repeatedly emanated from every student's ankle cuff as well, adding to the cacophony before a digitized voice blared across the campus speakers, repeated once more by each ankle cuff.

"WARNING: Hostiles located 11.6 miles north of designated city outskirts. Threat level: Significant. All personnel stand by for orders."

After a brief moment of silence while the sirens continued blaring, the mechanical voice spoke again.

"Target designation: Unknown. Cannot confirm designation. Cannot confirm Dreamcatcher abnormalities."

Another silence punctuated the end of the ominous message as Director Zhang inputted the new information manually into the system.

"Updated target designation: Menagerie. Orders: Kill on sight. All personnel stand by for assignments."

The thudding and scraping of footsteps from students and guards alike immediately followed this message as "personnel" wavered between pulling out communication devices and running back to their dorms. Most of the soldiers immediately proceeded towards the the north end of campus, where the Director's office was located, while several groups stationed themselves around the dorms, ready to fire in case any student tried something in the chaos.

In her office, Director Zhang allowed Commander Kardos to handle moving the soldiers. He was already directing most of them towards containment chambers 0-20, housing the worst of their X's. It was under the command of a subnatural admitted to the USARILN East staff that they kept those particular students under constant lock, key, and antipsychotics. "They're too close" had been all the explanation offered, but Director Zhang considered that fact more useful than detrimental. Those students would be--in a sense--the most double-edged safeguards. That same subnatural staff member was also the driving force behind deciding which students could be sent into combat and which ones couldn't, a pleasant side-effect of said staff member's ability to precisely identify the powers and emotional states of subnaturals.

Commander Kardos was still barking out orders over his secure, mesh network-connected smartphone when Director Zhang considered sending for the Precursors. She had cleared Prism and Sparrow's return to the Pentagon within hours of assigning the newest students their rooms and by now was almost certain the two had been deployed elsewhere to harangue more of Dreamcatcher's worst creations. The Precursors couldn't take rest days. Something somewhere always demanded their attention, and they were the only ones trustworthy and powerful enough to send. Sure enough, a quick check of currently available Precursors on the live database revealed only Benediction and Kadabra free, though Kadabra had a mission scheduled in five hours. She sent in a request for a Precursor's presence anyway, labeling it with the red color code for an emergency. The only color higher in severity was black, the signal that everything--absolutely everything--was out of hand.

To her surprise, within a minute of the request, the system cleared Benediction for deployment to USARILN East with an ETA of three hours. To send the closest thing humanity had to a living Jesus Christ without much hesitation worried Director Zhang immensely. Either they took her very seriously (and they should, as far as she was concerned) or they were worried about something else. It bothered her that she had a few ideas on what that "something else" could be.

Before she could get too sidetracked, the Director turned back to the glowing white cube Hephaestus had sent as the direct communication and control line to both the transparent trucks and the various cuffs. A few practiced taps in a certain pattern across the cube's various faces and she had access to the ones she wanted in particular. Rubbing her eyes, she pulled out a nearby drawer on her desk, withdrawing a case of colored contact lenses.

Commander Kardos waited patiently while the Director placed the dark brown cosmetic contact lenses over her dark brown eyes, never questioning the purpose of something so redundant, especially in the context of an emergency. He, at least, knew his place, even if he found the habit strangely out of character for someone as utilitarian as Lina Zhang. The Director had been wearing another set of those contact lenses during her meeting with the new students and Commander Kardos had only realized it when she had removed the lenses in front of him upon his return to her office. That was one strange thing about the Director, but he supposed he had to allow most people these days their strange quirks--perhaps she wanted to make her eyes look even darker or some such intimidating nonsense. There were too many far stranger "quirks" ravaging the world anyway, to be thinking much on someone's personal comforts. When she finished with the final touches of what Commander Kardos assumed was her pinpoint makeup routine, Director Zhang simply turned back to the cube, as if nothing was out of place in her mannerisms.

Meanwhile the ankle cuffs of only the recent arrivals flashed and beeped several times in quick succession before Director Zhang's voice emanated from the same hidden speaker that had broadcasted the mechanical voice earlier. The announcement was directed only to the new students, and most others within earshot quickly learned to move themselves out of it. If Director Zhang wasn't talking to them, nothing good could come of hearing it. The few curious sorts who tried to stick close to any of the new students in the hopes of hearing something interesting realized soon enough that Zhang might be sending another fresh group of mages to early deaths on the battlefield.

"My new students. Consider this your combat assessment come early. Your overall orders remain the same as everyone else, but I will personally be monitoring your movements and behavior in the coming fight. I will divide you into groups prior to shuttling you out, but your field commander will be Ethan Sonnino--a subnatural, just like you. I've sent him ahead with his own group. You'll find him by the white glow around his body.

Now, on to your assignments. Pay attention to your color.

Red Team: Lawrence Ellison, Hazel Baker, Emma Halwell, Sander Lorraine, Kusari Bloodworth, Christmas Halvost.

Blue Team: Grant Rotem, Padma Majumdar, Callan Webb, Marcus Howell, Siena Santana, Lilianna Brandt.

Green Team: Alexis Hunter, Aaron Erikson, Christopher Francis, Zoe Fletcher, Savannah Churchill, Allison Revel, Angélique Lachance."

With every finished team, a small light on the ankle cuff switched to the correct color, making doubly sure no one was confused about their current groupings. The Director continued speaking:

"The following are special orders for the teams in the case of any unexpected developments:

First. Lawrence Ellison will be Hazel Baker's handler while in combat. Her collar suppresses much of her combat abilities in order to calm her violent tendencies. I am leaving him responsible for removing it should the situation arise, but he is also under orders to remain near her and keep her placated. Everyone should endeavor to keep him alive and in close proximity to Ms. Baker if her collar is off.

Failure is not an option, Mr. Ellison. You may bring your coffee if it pleases you.

Second. Sander Lorraine requires roughly one gallon of fresh human blood to reach maximum efficiency in combat. He can last with less, of course. I recommend the red team allow him to drink from multiple sources to spread the blood loss.

Third. Christopher Francis requires special preparation prior to combat. Regardless of what you see and hear, do not interrupt him.

Fourth. The only subnaturals in the three groups capable of altering damaged states are Lilianna Brandt and Christmas Halvost. Ms. Brandt can transfer an injury onto herself while Mr. Halvost can slowly regenerate any damage taken--provided you drink ample amounts of his blood.

Keep in mind their locations during combat. Losing another batch of useful students at this point in time would be problematic."

The cuff's speakers clicked into silence.

Missives given, Director Zhang wasted no time ordering the closest soldiers to escort the assigned students to their respective trucks--regular trucks this time with heavy armoring and the standard military tarp stretched across the back. The situation demanded more urgency than safeguards. All the new students were sorted once more into groups, this time matched by the color on their ankle cuffs. There were significantly fewer soldiers keeping watch over them now, though whether that was because most of the soldiers were elsewhere or because the students had already been tagged like livestock was up for debate. Still, only two soldiers watched them per truck, totaling only six guards between all three armored vehicles: one to drive, the other to sit squeamishly in the back to watch the roughly half-dozen subnaturals per group.

---

---

Each group was ferried at breakneck speed towards the battlefield, a luckily open expanse of grass and dirt far enough outside of town to not worry about heavy collateral damage. Once they arrived, there was no mistaking the "Ethan Sonnino" mentioned earlier. "The white glow around his body" was as bright as a lighthouse beacon, making it nearly impossible to make out the field commander from afar. His light faded only slightly with every orb of magical light he lobbed at the horde of creatures nearby. Every attack exploded into an almost blinding field of brightness on contact, and most of the smaller creatures were gone by the time the light faded. But for all that, the larger of the monsters continued moving forward, undaunted.

A flash of colorful streaks near Ethan revealed another student, who twisted and gyrated her lithe, pale body as if dancing, every movement leaving a trail of multicolored neon lights in the air around her, the strange dance accentuated by the whirling of her long hair. She moved purposefully, tracing arcs of varying widths in the air with her fingers, hands, wrists, and arms, creating patterns that she would then snap at the enemy with two quick motions: bringing the length of both arms forward and nearly clapping the entirety of the limbs together, but stopping perfectly with only an inch to spare between them. Every snapping arm movement of this sort denoted the end of a pattern and a splash of light against an enemy, shearing away entire chunks of bodies in the same graceful shapes the black-haired girl had drawn.

Standing behind her, another girl was bobbing her head to what was apparently music from her headphones, doing a little shuffle dance to accompany the rhythm. She had brown hair tied in high pigtails and looked too small and underdeveloped to be anything more than 12 or 13 years old. Her presence seemed entirely out of place on the field until a large spaghetti monster tried to divebomb the group of four from above, only to smash into a large dome that flickered briefly into visibility before fading from the visible spectrum again. Another dance and release from the black-haired girl ripped off at least twenty of the creature's tentacles before it retreated to a safe distance, watching almost sorrowfully as the strange white ichor that made up its blood dripped down around the outside of the invisible barrier.

The last person in Ethan's group was a tall, slim African-American man with long hair tied into a low ponytail at the back of his head. He didn't look at all like a student, but looks hardly meant anything these days. The man stood almost protectively over the small, pigtailed girl and closer inspection would reveal a rippling series of strange, black sigils swirling all over his arms. He didn't move an inch from where he stood and seemed to have no ranged attacks like the other two in the group, keeping his eyes instead on the amassing horde.

There were at least forty of the abominations lurching and flailing about, some terrestrial, others airborne. Menagerie, on the other hand, was nowhere to be seen.

The pigtailed girl tapped Ethan and said something, to which he turned and responded before glancing at the trucks. The shining ball of light that was supposed to be his head seemed to look at the black man briefly before turning back to the fray, a sudden shot of three light orbs sending the worst of the advancing creatures scuttling backwards. At that, the backliner of their group jogged quickly over to the trucks, the barrier glimmering into view again for a brief moment as he passed out of its range.

"Eric Richardson," he introduced himself, his voice surprisingly light and airy for someone so tall and imposing. At a closer distance, the white mark across his right temple was clearly visible. "Ethan's over there--" he gestured with a quick jab of his thumb at the moving spotlight "--and we've already been briefed on you guys. Thanks for showing up."

He turned back to the group and shouted, "Myla! Mark them! Backup's here!"

The black-haired dancer pirouetted rapidly, generating a series of complex designs in the air that almost engulfed her until another forward snap of her arms seemed to throw the lights over the "heads" of the creatures in the horde. Red, blue, and green. Their team designations.

Each batch of colorful marks had been grouped roughly together, seemingly at random, with a fourth unmarked batch of creatures apparently meant for Ethan's group. The red marks were in the shapes of circles, the blue marks in the shape of X's, and the green marks in the shape of triangles. As if she realized the setup would be incomplete as is, Myla spun once more and marked the fourth group of monsters with pink squares. Satisfied, she resumed helping Ethan hold them at bay.

Ⓞ

The group of red circles consisted of three giant dolls about the size of sedans in puffy, white petticoats and blonde, curly haired wigs all twirling slowly on one foot while their giant, lifeless eyes spun wildly in their sockets, the movements of one eye never matching the other. One of them kicked at the ground and sent a giant chunk of earth slamming into the barrier around Ethan's group. The little girl with the headphones flinched at the impact before a quick pitch of light from Ethan made the three dolls leap back in unison.

A wizened hag who looked the exact image of a typical fairy tale witch complete with pointy hat and black cloak hunched over near the back of the group, the occasional wave of her hand flicking black, jagged spears through Ethan's attacks, the witch's spells shattering against Ethan's balls of light and nullifying them. The field commander only launched more in response. Beside the witch stood a massive eyeball larger than a human head attached to the end of one long, hairless leg that ended in a bright-red stiletto heel, giving the eye-leg a substantial six meters of height. The eye had long eyelashes and seemed to blink almost coquettishly at its surroundings as its leg bent slightly in what might have been a suggestive pose if it wasn't just an eyeball and a leg.

It turned to look at the trucks and a glowing circle appeared in front of its dilated pupil. Before it could do anything, a complex design of neon-bright lights smashed into its "body," sending it toppling, though failing to cut through anything like Myla's lights had managed to do with some of the lesser creatures. As it struggled to stand back up, five dog-like anteater-canine hybrids bounded up to the eye-leg, shoving it back into place slowly. The "pets" had the faces and long, whisking tongues of anteaters, but the sinewy bodies of wolves or greyhounds, though they were completely hairless. Their animals' faces had no features other than the mouths, but they still seemed to sniff and look around all the same.

✖

Meanwhile, the blue X's were led by a dual vanguard of a two-headed quadruped and a beetle-like humanoid. The quadruped was as large as an elephant and stood on large claws resembling those of a cassowary. One head had a hippo snout and bulging eyes while the the other was more avian in nature. Its behaviour seemed more aggressive than the other creatures. The humanoid was two metres tall and covered in a plate armor exoskeleton. The only unprotected part of its body was the "head" which consisted of nothing but a dribbling venus flytrap-like mouth covering its entire face area.

The rest of the squadron consisted of five grotesque squirrel-human hybrids that were barely taller than infants and three bright orange quadrupeds that resembled fish with human appendages. The squirrel creatures in particular moved incredibly fast, about the speed of a bounding dog.

△

The worst of the lot seemed grouped under the green triangles.

Three mysterious saucers hovered high in the air as several long, pale yellow tendrils, about the same thickness as someone's arm, gracefully crept from the polished ceramic. They tentaively searched around on the ground as if trying to find something. Every so often a large, chunky glob of red fell from the saucers and splattered on the ground-- giving off the strongly distinct smell of marinara.

All at once the three saucers suddenly began to tip, revealing a writhing red and yellow mass of what appeared to be spaghetti. A massive, cow-sized meatball lazily rolled off of each plate, landing on the ground with a sickening-- or perhaps appetizing-- squelch. Just as it seemed the enemy couldn't possibly be any less imposing, the meatballs sprouted tiny legs which, for all intents and purposes, shouldn't have been able to support the weight of such a large mass. But support they did and the meatballs started sprinting-- all but one managing not to trip and roll as they made their way toward the green group.

As the meatballs ran, a clear break in the surface revealed a large set of sharp teeth. Suddenly the delicious meaty spheres seemed a lot less like meatballs and more like clumsy killer pacmen with tiny legs.

"If any of you guys need time to prepare, now would be the time to take it," Eric said with a wave of his hand as he hurried back to his team. "And, seriously, thanks for coming--even though I'm pretty sure you didn't have a choice. Most of our combat-ready white marks are gone and the best X's are too unstable, so you guys are doing us a solid!"

☐

Ethan's group began redirecting their efforts towards the last 13 or so creatures, with Myla scattering a series of patterns to further push the entire group back. The monsters, by now, had become used to her telegraphs and had moved away the moment she started dancing, leaving her suppression fire mostly ineffectual. She continued scattering more patterns as the spaghetti monster she had damaged before spat a stream of red sauce her way. The barrier deflected it, but this time the smaller girl fell to her knees. Eric, reaching the group just as she fell, scooped her up into a bridal carry, the living runes on his arms trailing over her body as he held her.

The last group of creatures had, in part, a ragtag band of seven car-sized octopuses sporting hairy human legs instead of tentacles. Each leg rippled with muscles as they crabwalked around, though their uncoordinated movements gave the creatures little control over their direction. A hulking golem-esque creature seemingly made of jagged obsidian moved slowly behind the octopuses, its main body carrying five gray, bulbous sacs that spewed forth a stream of toxic vomit. Closer inspection would reveal each sac to be clinging onto the golem's main body by a myriad of suction cups, behaving a bit like barnacles. Vomiting barnacles.

---

The sky had burned.

Like twin falling stars, two heroes flew through the dark skies, bringing light to the world in the form of brilliant death. The scorched remains of Dreamcatcher’s, no, Menagerie’s, monstrosities scattered into the wind. Brent hadn’t been comfortable with the idea of being caged like cattle and then being paraded around in a transparent truck, but now, he was glad for it. Though the soldiers were definitely concerned, though any one of those monstrosities could flatten those trucks, his purple eyes still flashed greedily as he drank in the sights all around him.

It really was different from how it was on TV.

Underneath, the road rumbled violently as a prismatic barrage sundered the earth. Somewhere, someone was cracking a snide joke about all this, and though Brent couldn’t see the person, he gave them a mental thumbs-up. Dude totally knew what was up. When they were all going to be stuck in the same institution together, it simply made sense that they should be trying to liven up the atmosphere, right?

He turned to his neighbours in the chain-gang, an easy smile on his lips. “Hey, hey,” Brent said, “You two got any preferences?”

They looked sullenly back at him.

“You know, Prism or Sparrow? Gotta say that as a fellow purple-eye-mutation-person, I’d go with laser chick any day of the week. Though didn’t think she’d sleep in something so normal. I mea-”

The truck bounced again, and Brent almost bit his tongue off. Beside him, the two Arbitors gave him a look full of ‘shut the fuck up’, enough that he chuckled awkwardly.

“Neither of you two wanna talk eh? Alright, I get that. No coffee and late at night and going to ‘school’ and all that. That’s cool too. I can respect that.”

A couple of minutes later, after he got tired of gazing off at the far-off battlefield and the light show that Prism was generating, Brent narrowed his eyes, tilted his head to the side, and turned to his buddies once more.
“Actually, I retract that statement. Sparrow’s nightdress won me over. Still hilarious that she goes Super Saiyan when she flies, but…yeah, that aesthetic is totally more en-FHUNK!”

The truck bounced once more, and this time, he really did bite his tongue.

---

Though she lacked any compassion for her fellow human beings, Director Zhang was at least a promoter of equality, in the weirdest way every. Xboxes and white smears aren’t segregated! Genders aren’t segregated! Races aren’t segregated! And the guards pointed guns to buttfuck everybody, even the two uncuffed ‘veterans’ of USARILN East. How kind. How fair. How…

…he really wouldn’t mind getting some special treatment for being white and male right now.

But, alas, a whiter male than himself placated much of Brent’s worries with an explanation of just how USARILN East functioned. A boarding school where rulebreakers were punished with death, was it? That was certainly one way of thinking about it, and it sounded like positive enough of an image for him to use. They got free money, they got free meals, and they weren’t stuck in cells almost all the time. Though East looked to be the place with the highest chances of dying in, that was fine too. He wasn’t going to run away from their rules or their missions or anything like that.

As a first goal, becoming friends with everyone sounded like a pretty good one. Might as well make a bearable life surrounded by people he liked.

The clunk of heavy metal hitting the ground sounded, one of the students escaping with relative ease, only to surrender. Brent almost applauded. Was she showing off her Houdini powers? Or was her next magic trick going to make her disappear?

Then, he felt the chains shift, people behind him moving away frantically.

And then, he saw the barrel aimed at her.

At her, and, as a result, himself.

He managed one step to the side, amethyst eyes widening as they met the eyes of the young soldier. Their callous director hadn’t ordered it, but that man’s finger was already on the trigger. Was he going to shoot? He was definitely going to shoot.

Before he could take a second step away from that crazy albino chick, his body jerked involuntarily, as the whole room blurred. Hitting the ground on his shoulder, Brent almost became blind from pain. It was as if a live coal was jammed into his shoulder bone, a deep, throbbing agony that made his vision swim. He screamed, trying to chase the pain away with his voice, but it felt out-of-place, as if he wasn’t really in his own body.

His eyelids felt like lead weights. His skin was clammy from sweat. Though it only hit his shoulder, every part of his body reacted to that pain, and all he could do was grit his teeth and make sure he didn’t bite off his tongue. But his efforts were becoming sluggish, and he blinked.

Another bang sounded, that panicked soldier’s brains splattered across the floor.

Equality indeed.

Brent smiled as his eyes closed, bringing him into the frontier of unconsciousness.

---

It was sorta slightly disappointing, really, to wake up and see that he hadn’t been made magically whole. A surly, overworked nurse had told him not to move his right arm too much, as the bullet had done some substantial damage to his shoulder, and now, it was all bandaged up and shit. Occasionally, it throbbed painfully, but whatever painkillers they used work. All he felt was numb, from inside out, and it…was wholly unpleasant.

His nose itched from the sanitized smell of the hospital room, and the whiteness that clung to everything around him set him on edge. It was so clean, so orderly, so…empty. Then again, he didn’t have much of a right to expect flowers or “Get Well Soon” cards, huh? He wormed himself even more deeply into his bed, content, at least, that the linen smelled of soap. That was something. Maybe, if USARILN East really did give an allowance to all their ‘students’, he could go customize his part of the hospital. Get green wallpaper. Get flowers. Get fancy fruit basket and pretend that his non-existent girlfriend sent it over.

That sort of silly stuff.

An electrifying jolt raced up his spine as he raised up his arms to stretch out. Brent hissed in pain once more, eyes tearing up, before slowly, gently, bringing his right arm down again. Truly a pain in the arm. He tapped his finger lightly against the cast a couple of times, before frowning.

Wasting time picking on his wounds? Pathetic. He didn’t have time for that.

Amethyst orbs flickered from one detail to the next, frantically. Far off is entertainment section. Books, TV, games. Broken kids going around somewhat normally. Survivors bearing badges from monster fights, or perhaps just from the collateral damage caused by ‘discipline’. People with Xs were all glassy-eyed and braindead as far as he could tell. Why? Because regulars didn’t like the combination of bloodthirsty and subnaturals. Left side of him, muscled sportsy type was playing angry birds. Was he a surfer or something? Hair style sorta looked like it, and Brent could imagine him saying stuff like ‘su du’. To the right was a drugged up little girl.

Another X.

A bitter taste spread on the roof of his mouth.

“So that’s how it is…”

He smiled and waved at the glassy-eyed doll, and, without expecting an answer, turned to his buddy on the left. “Sup dude, name’s Brent. How’s the stage going?”

"Mm," was the extremely social response as the patient to Brent's left continued his game. Another few seconds of squinting and tapping resulted in a quiet "Fuck" before he turned to look at Brent.

"Sorry, dude," he waved a hand dismissively as he spoke, "stage was a total loss."

"RIP man. Higher end levels are bullshit, eh?" His eyes flicked over the bandaged torso. "You got shot too?"

"End levels are definitely bullshit," he agreed with a snort and a grin. "And yeah. Well. If by shot you mean 'almost bisected by a spider-snake hybrid with razors for feet.' "

His expression turned dark at the memory and he looked away. "Probably should've just died out there. Only reason I'm here is 'cuz our healer rushed out to patch my sorry ass up. Got decapitated for his trouble." The statement was too calm for what he was describing. Too calm for what he should have been feeling. But he grinned again as he turned back to Brent.

"But that's my war story," he laughed, "what's yours?"

...oh. Brent paused at the sudden weight of all that. Well. That was certainly...something. Half a chuckle slipped out of his mouth as he replied, "Oh...well, yeah, nothing as crazy as yours. Got to East like...early morning today? Our impeccable overlord Zhang brought a particularly jumpy guard to our orientation and the dude freaked out when some albino chick Houdini'd the cuffs."

"Dude's aim sucked though. Swear I was like, two steps away from her and I still got shot. So much for my USARILN East debut."

"Yeah?" the tanned guy laughed heartily in reponse to that before doubling over with a quick grimace of pain. "Shit. They told me I'm not supposed to move for a while, but they didn't mention jack about laughing. Hate these guys," he muttered bitterly. "But that's pretty sweet, yeah? A battle scar on day one. And you survived it, too."

At that, he groaned again and clutched his chest with an arm, lying back down gingerly before tapping a button on a little remote control attached to the bed by a thick cord. It flashed red before turning off. Within seconds, a nurse was at his bedside, administering something into his arm through a hypodermic needle. With another irritated groan, he saluted Brent with two fingers before dropping his head back onto the pillow, closing his eyes as he waited for the medication to take effect.

As his new friend drifted off, Brent returned the two-fingered salute...only to suddenly jump as everything exploded around him in cacophonous noise. All around him, other injured individuals looked up and around as well, suddenly hyper-alert of their surroundings, as Zhang's voice filled even the hospital room. An attack? The appearance of monsters? And from Menagerie? Wasn't that dude a Precursor? Beside him, the glazed-eye Abberation twitched slightly, as if those sirens brought back a memory or another, but she quickly settled down, and soon, it all ended.

Through all that, his tanned brother from another mother just snored heavily. Drugs be crazy.

But it was a reminder that not all things were nice and calm in USARILN East. The monster activity wasn't merely a rumor. It was much too real. Brent's eyes turned to his bandaged shoulder.

Yeah, as far as injuries went, his was probably ridiculously light. Compared to getting their organs scrambled by monsters or literally losing limbs, this should be nothing. So...no more slacking, no more flopping around in bed like a lazy piece of shit. Catching the eye of the graying, pinch-faced nurse who looked like she was in despair at the possibility of yet another day filled with blood and death, Brent said, "Hey there, young miss. Wouldn't happen to have dumbells or anything in the hospital, would you?"

Today was going to be a left arm day. And not because he was planning on fapping.

"The physical therapy ward will have all you need," the nurse replied, not making eye contact with Brent. "That's the entire floor below."

Before Brent could ask anything more, she turned on her heels and left.

“Nice to meet you too…uh…Magaret!” With that, Brent rolled off his bed. The floor was cold against his bare feet, but whatever wooziness he still had in him was wiped away by that sensation. Taking one last look at the angry bird gamer, Brent caught a glimpse of his phone. It had fallen onto the floor, forgotten during the hurried request for medication and he gingerly picked it up, placing it on the bedside desk.

And with that, Brent strode onwards and downwards. Perhaps a friendly face will guide him there. Not that he’d need any directional assistance, of course, but it’d be nice to chat while walking.

It’s always nice to be chatting while walking.

---

---

There it was again, the same apocalyptic vision that had been plaguing her dreams ever since the day Angélique was marked with an X on her throat. She had no idea what this nightmare actually meant, but this recurring manifestation of the darkness inside her heart kept repeating itself each and every time she would fall asleep. And the worse of it all was that whisper that taunted her, always finding new ways to insult her or her entourage at all time. In this dream of hers, this whisper actually became a voice loud enough to be heard as if someone was standing right behind her and talking so casually of things that would infuriate anyone the more it went on.

It was when both the metallic-feathered angel and the voice muttered in unison that which made Angelique who she was now today, she woke up from her nightmare from the sound of her ankle beeping constantly and the loud raid alarm that resonated loudly through the cracked walls of her room. Angel groaned loudly from the sudden wake up call, covered in sweat as if she had ran a few miles during her sleep. Her heart was pounding in her chest, her unfocused mind trying to center itself. What time was it? All she could remember is waving off to her neighbor – Allison, she recalled – and heading towards her bed before collapsing on it without so much as taking off her shoes.

As she questioned herself about everything that was happening, the familiar voice of the cold-hearted bitch – Director Zhang – who had greeted them into this would-be school earlier before she went off to sleep. Apparently, USARILN was being attacked by monsters, Menagerie’s creations. Every new student that had arrived today were to be sent to battle, separated into three squads. Angel knew about next to nothing about her comrades, beside Allison. Hopefully these people would be good teammates. As much as she didn’t like what her life had turned into, she had this strange will to live, to see things through and reclaim her lost freedom.

With every warning and instruction memorized, the black haired young woman secured the shades that seemed to have fallen on her bed during her sleep and put them one just in time for a guard to suddenly barge into her room
“You heard the Director, it’s time to get moving, NOW!” the guard commanded to the punk-looking girl by her bed.

“Woah there! Haven’t you heard of knocking before entering a lady’s room? I swear men these days…” Angélique answered to the soldier as she got up from her bed and walked towards the intruder. Compared to earlier in the day, her submissiveness seemed to have faded into a sharper attitude. “Okay okay! No need to point that thing at me. Lead the way, we don’t have all night.” She added with the same snappy behavior. In response, the guard only snarled at her remarks, guiding her towards the meeting point.

When they reached the truck – the same design from the one they arrived at USARILN – Angélique noticed that she was the first to have arrived, and shoved completely at the back of the truck. With an annoyed puff, she grumbled at the roughness of the guards as she crossed her arms and legs, waiting for the others to show up. As each members of her team arrived and took place in the truck beside her, she gave them a quick nod as greeting, analysing them afterwards with a thoughtful gaze behind the smoky lenses of her shades.

---

---

Staring at the quickly moving scenery all around them in silence was maddening for the Canadian rock singer. This silence was only giving way to the whispers that had been growing only louder ever since she had awoken only a few dozens of minutes ago. Her right leg was nervously shaking seemingly uncontrollably as she was chewing the nail of her thumb. Thinking about what was going to happen made her nervous. They could potentially die out there, against those freaking monsters that ravaged every parts of the world. Just the thought of it was sickening.

She looked towards her comrades, scanning their faces, their appearances, their reactions. As if to occupy her thoughts and distracting her from both the whispers and the potential death that was waiting for them outside, she had begun making guesses about her comrades’ powers, their personalities, their habits and such. She was wondering who this Christopher that needed special preparation was. Hopefully the time spent for preparing himself was well worth the effort put into defending him and keeping him alive.

The further this went on, the more she actually wanted to know about her colleagues. After all, if they were to head into battle together, they might as well get to know each other, so that they could try and find synergies in their group. She cleared out her throat awkwardly, as if to try and get attention, and removed her shades to reveal her bright emerald eyes.

“So, what do you guys do? Powers, I mean. Sorry if it’s too much all of a sudden for a question, figured we might as well get to know about our group.” Angelique asked to the group, still feeling awkward to have broken the monotony of the silent truck ride. “Apparently, I shout people to death, or so is what I’ve heard from the court reports.” The black haired metalhead added, a hint of sorrow and regret rising up to the surface as she mentioned about her powers.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Arriving on the battlefield, Anélique was awestruck to have a live battle happening right in front of her. All the flashy colors, the dancing girl, everything felt so overwhelming to the young woman who had just been initiated to the world of the Subnaturals in just about a week. She tried her best to focus on what their Chief-in-Operations was saying and not on the battle occurring right behind him. There was one thing she did take note about him however, is that unlike the other soldiers she had met so far, this guy seemed to be a decent human being compared to the rest of the school’s personnel. It kind of immediately made Angel trust in the man, and would try her best to meet his expectations. When the briefing was over, her group was pointed towards a group of monsters.

By God, if she had known they would be fighting saucers made of spaghetti and meatballs creature, she would’ve come with a fork and a knife, or rather a pitchfork and a greatsword. Their appearances, as well as the smell of marinara hanging around these creatures, made her feel hungry. She hadn’t eaten yet, for practically a full day she estimated. The music lover wondered if she wasn’t hallucinating for a moment due to her hunger, but she felt like they were TOO real for being a product of her imagination, and as such she turned to her comrades with her quizzical look. She approached the clockwork summoner, the boy who made a good impression to her on the way here for his analytic skills about their team.

“You have an idea on fighting these… tasty-…looking… pasta?” Angélique asked to Aaron, unsure as to how to refer to these monsters.