Sophia Lemane

While Brent looked around for a suitable table that they could eat at, Sophia concentrated on beginning to calm down or shut out the thoughts that were whirling about her head, and on distancing herself emotionally from the scene. But she didn't manage to suceed, for the unusual behavior of the students nearby who seemed to have fallen still made her look closely at the figure who had just entered the dining hall. Recognizing Director Zhang, her eyes followed the woman's path up the stairs with some apprehension.

The last time that Sophia had been in the same room as the director, things hadn't ended very plesantly, and even though Sophia knew that it hadn't directly been Zhang's fault, she couldn't help but associate the director with something unpleasant. Not to mention that even if the incident hadn't occured, the director's reputation was frightful enough. Still, she couldn't help but wonder why Director Zhang was here. In her imagination, the director worked in her room all day and never left it, ordering her food and drinks brought to her and only leaving to intimidate someone into following orders.

Though Brent didn't exactly say why he wanted to go up a floor or two, it was pretty obvious to her that he wanted to follow the director. Or actually, she didn't have to think of it as following. There were no signs to be seen that marked the upper floors as staff only or anything like that. The two of them would just be finding an empty place to sit... right? As an answer to Brent's offer, she shook her head before attempting to follow the action with a few words. "But thanks," she began in a minute whisper, before her voice faltered and disappeared, causing her last word to be simply mouthed. "anyway."

Carrying her plate and following Brent up one flight of stairs and then another, it was on the third floor that she spotted the director talking on the phone. Of course, it was towards her that Brent headed. Sophia really didn't want to get that close to the Zhang, not to mention that the director was sitting at a bar. Bars were for those that were above eighteen, not somewhere that a thirteen year old was supposed to be. Still, she followed and ending up placing her plate down beside Brent's as she too took a seat.

It didn't surprise Sophia that her companion ordered a drink, she had already guessed that he was eighteen or above. But him asking her if she wanted something to drink when she knew that he knew she was underage... Turning in her seat so she was facing him full on, she tilted her head slightly to the side and gave him a long look as she tried to figure out what he meant by that. Brent didn't seem like he was mocking her youth by asking that question, that would mean that he was serious about it, right? Did he not care about age regulations on alcohol? It wouldn't matter so much if she were seventeen or some older age, but she wasn't.

Pressing her lips together, she shook her head slowly once before speaking in a whisper. "No." Her dark gaze, slightly dull, revealed some of her feelings to anyone that would look into her eyes. Disappointment, and confusion.

---

@ERode

Hazel Baker

The battle was over, at least for them at that moment.

Hazel was drenched in that white liquid, which seemed to be the doll's blood. She could feel her right arm aching now, the adrenaline from the battle draining away and leaving her more aware of her own condition. The numerous wounds on her arm from the sparkling dust the eye monster had conjured up was still bleeding, albeit less than before. It was bleeding less, but moving it even slightly sent sparks of pain running through that arm, not to mention the white blood covering her arm right now. She wasn't a doctor nor had knowledge of medical science, but she did know that strange things entering her body was bad.

She took a deep breath, and exhaled slowly, trying to control her breathing. There was a slight feeling of panic, one that would and could erupt into a full blown frenzy if left unchecked, caused by the haze being lifted and her realization that she had not brought along any of her medicine. Hazel lifted her shaking hands to her ears to silence the phantoms of her past, a futile gesture, but one that still brought her comfort. Once again, she started filling up her thoughts with mindless words and images, a simple way of keeping her mind off her stigma and thus lessen the building stress.

Her mind free of the haze, she looked over the battlefield, gazing over the vaguely familiar faces. The only ones' she was even slightly familiar with was Lawrence and Emma, both assigned to the same target as her. Lawrence, of course, was the one Hazel was tasked to, and thus her handler and her priority one in safety. Emma was that nice person she had went out with to get clothes, though she had bought none herself. From what she could see of the other teams, they seemed to be faring worse than her team, with the blinded and panicked eye monster rampaging towards their direction. There were lifeless bodies on the other teams' side, of that she was sure, though it evoked no real feeling from her. It was simply piles of dead meat who were unfortunate enough to meet their ends here.

Sidling slightly closer to Lawrence, still with her hands over her ears, she kept a sharp eye out for anything that might barrel over to them. She was still supposed to protect him, for if she failed, she'd be punished regardless of her conditions or excuses. That at least, she knew.

The towering monster was reduced to a mere annoyance in the matter minutes. Just as the creature’s arm broke off, Sander pulled on the wires with a sharp movement, snapping them right off. Finally free, he took a few steps until he was right in front of the doll and drove both of his arms into its eye sockets. Thick, white fluid splattered, but he didn’t stop until he was elbow-deep in porcelain flesh and gore. Grabbing a handful of whatever strange organs the creature possessed, he tore them out over and over again, and didn’t stop until the doll ceased moving.

When it finally did, Sander slowly stepped back, seemingly in a daze. He choked down shallow breaths, eyes glued on the ruined head that was all his doing. Just minutes before, his limbs pulsed with strength and fire, but now they were starting to weaken. The fire in his veins was dying, the heat he both despised and desired was slowly fading. Frost crept under his skin, like crawling bugs, and he was shaking again, desperate. He needed the warmth. He needed the fire to kickstart his heart again. And before he knew it, he had begun to seek out the heat. Its scent was thick in the air, the potent aroma of coffee caught his senses in a steel grip.

Frantic pulses beat right beneath his lips. He can’t get enough. He just can’t…

He swallowed thickly, staring at the red patch on Christmas’ ruined leg as Lawrence tried to help the wounded boy. Somewhere, a part of him wished to help, but he did not dare to. He wouldn’t just stop at ‘helping’. Still, he found himself moving toward the closest source of warmth, feet dragging at a snail pace compared to what he was still capable of. His mind was waging a war on itself, hurling thoughts and desires and rationalizations in every direction like a dysfunctional household. Between his inner conflicts and the thirst that was ramming its limb down his throat, Sander barely realized he was still taking shaky steps toward Christmas and Lawrence’s general direction.

Then a strange calmness clammed down onto him, thick and heavy like a cloak. The tension bled out of his limbs; the need to main, to kill, to tear, to plunge himself deep in blood and gore was suddenly extinguished. He came to a halt, looking befuddled and confused. The craving remained, but it was reduced to nothing but an incessant yet muted nagging at the back of his mind. For the first time in years, he felt its hold on him loosened. However, instead peace, he found only despair. Without the animalistic bloodlust to spur him on, Sander floundered. Without the supernatural rage to propel him, he was lost. Once again, he was just a scarred kid in a broken world, alone and adrift. It didn’t matter how much he struggled against the hold of his addiction; it didn’t matter how much he blamed his power for dooming him to a life of imprisonment. Take this war away from him, and he had nothing. It was pathetic.

Like a puppet with its strings severed, his knees buckled and he slumped, kneeling just one step away from Lawrence and Christmas’ prone body. Something caught his eyes, prompting him to take a closer look at his hands. He was engulfed in a strange white light, and once he looked up, so was Lawrence. His eyes widened, but whatever rage managed to bubble up was easily extinguished by the lethargy that currently coated his limbs.

“Whatever you’re doing, don’t stop.”- He managed, but didn’t meet Lawrence’s gaze. Instead, he scanned the battlefield, taking in all he had missed. So far, it seemed his team had managed to take down most of their assigned targets. There was many more remained, but they were managing. There were already casualties; he winced briefly at the battered bodies, not used to witnessing gore without the filter of his bloodlust, but they were managing. He shouldn’t put them into more danger than they were already in, right?

Who was he kidding?

“I can’t just sit here, can I?”- Sander muttered, glancing back at Lawrence. Kusari’s words echoed at the back of his mind, but he himself knew enough. He was tired. So tired of fighting this losing war. While winning was never a possibility, surrendering was not an option either. The choice was never his to make.

“I need to get back.”- After a short pause, he continued – “I can get even stronger. I just need a little bit…more.”- His eyes fell back on Christmas’ bloody leg. While the wild look was no longer there, the message was clear.

What he didn’t expect though, was for the brown-haired boy to offer his own blood in Christmas’ place. It made sense, since the blond boy was hardly the picture of health at that moment and Sander silently berated himself for suggesting such thing in the first place. However, this time he did not dove straight for the offered hand. Which said a lot about the strength of Lawrence’s magic. Again, he had no love for manipulators, but at least with Lawrence, he would get a warning.

“Just tell me when you get dizzy. I will…”

stop

His mind helpfully supplied the right words, but he didn’t want to make any promises he couldn’t keep. Drinking under the influence of this magic was entirely new to him. However, Lawrence was quite ready to risk it, Sander couldn’t back down. He didn’t have that choice.

“…not hurt you.”- He finished, reaching out to close his fingers around Lawrence’s wrist.

“Don’t hesitate if I do.”-Sander eyed the shotgun momentarily, before turning back to the welled up blood. The thirst was dull, not deaden. He could drown again, so easily. Maybe he would like that.

The doll had been taken care of a bit easier than Kusari thought it would be. It wasn't as if the monster was that weak, perhaps she was underestimating what they could do instead. She shook her malformed leg, attempting to flick some of the disgusting white blood from it. She frowned, as she found herself thinking fondly of this new leg. It was strong, and allowed her to be useful, and taking a better look at it, it didn't look so bad. Not that her thinking as such would matter to anyone else.

She gritted her teeth in annoyance and looked over to Emma, she was going after the giant eyeball, Kusari nodded at her and walked another way. She was sure that team would be fine, there was a different team that she was worried about. Awkwardly jogging through the battlefield she made her way to the pink team. There had been a lot of commotion over on their side, so much so she was expecting a fairly chaotic and despair filled scene when she arrived. Instead she arrived to what was possibly the quietest place on the field.

The team here looked like they were in terrible shape, however nearly all of their targets had been destroyed but one.

"I thought our seniors would be showing us how it was done, yet here you are about to get snuffed by a pile of rocks." Kusari said, letting out a sigh. Considering how torn up her clothes were and the massive amount of red and white blood she had on her, the statement almost seemed comical. "I don't know how much support I can lend you with just a sharp leg and an immortal body, but I'll help any way I can."

When Savannah finally managed to calm down, Allison let go and ran off to fight. She had told Savannah to wait at the trucks and recharge her power, but the girl refused to be useless. She didn't want to be the person who didn't contribute to anything, who just stood back, and cowered in fear while the others fought valiantly. That just wasn't who Savannah was.

So, she took a few steps past Dragon Chris, who Savannah didn't want to anger, and picked up one of the handguns from the guard's remains. Her stomach threateningly lurched as she looked at their slaughtered forms, and she backed away, gun in hand. She went back to the trucks and stood defensively. It would be a stupid move to shoot right now. Seeing what had happened to Chris when Angel had done that, she wasn't going to shoot now. She was going to wait until the monsters came for them, or when her power recharged. Then she'd be useful.

---

As Marcus knelt back down into the trench to regain his composure, a shape from one of the other teams caught his eye. A large scorpion, comprised of one eye and one long, slender leg was stumbling over towards them. He looked at it uneasily, trying to subtly draw his comrade's attention to it. "Watch yourself folks, we got another one incoming." He kept a steady eye on it, trying to figure out what it's deal was, before a guttural bellow drew his attention. Cal seemed to be making her way over to it, so his attention was best used on the source of the anger.

He turned just in time to see something large hurtling through the air. Something very large...and coming directly at them. Indeed, it would appear as if the fishmen had been promoted from lackeys to ammunition. Marcus reflected on this situation very eloquently, allowing his teammates to also appreciate the grievousness of their position:

"HOLY SHIT! he yelled, immediately hitting the dirt.

Lily laughed gleefully at the fishman's roars of pain. She probably sounded sadistic being so happy about it but she couldn't help it. Hurting the monsters meant that they were one step closer to finishing this nightmare of a battle... well, that or one step closer to getting hurt more by the bellowing beetleman. She was just about to peek out of the trench when Marcus' voice caught her attention. "Another one incoming? Haven't we had enough?" she asked. But before she could look at what Marcus meant, she heard an angry yell from the unearthed beetleman and then something large flying towards them. Something that was screaming and shooting out scales. Something that had a black string tied around its wrist, the other end of which was was still attached to her own wrist. Even when Marcus yelled out and hit the dirt and even when the scales rained down around her (and for once missing hitting her), all she could really say was "Oh."

Grant was too busy trying to catch the breath that had been forcefully knocked out of him from the fall he took into the trench he had just made that by the time he heard Marcus's outburst, it was too late. He opened his eyes a sliver and saw... the hell was that? He tried to focus on the falling- wait that was coming toward him. By the time he finished his confused thought, he felt the force of however much force a fishman would deal to him. All the breath he spent all that time catching was knocked out of him once more as pain spread throughout his torso. A pained, "GAH!!!" came from him the moment the fishman made its impact.

Marcus felt the rush of wind above his crouched form, and heard a loud impact as the fish was expertly catapulted into their makeshift trench. He seemed to be fine at least, his shoulder still throbbed with unnerving warmness, but he had been fortunate in the fact that the fishman had missed him completely. His head turned slowly to see the final resting place of the beast, his stomach sinking low when he saw the very-much-human legs sticking out from underneath it.

Lily watched silently as her black string once again dissipated into thin air as the catapulted fishman died on impact. She looked at it for what seemed like the longest time, its face melting into the face of a man she didn't quite recognize. His eyes were wide and staring blankly at her while his mouth moved soundlessly like a fish out of water. Is he trying to tell me something? What is he trying to say? Maybe if I move closer I can figure it out. Maybe if I---

"Jesus Christ! Grant! Talk to me man, you alive under there!?" he said, his voice frantic, while propping himself up against the fish and trying to roll it off his teammate.

Lily's thoughts were interrupted by Marcus' frantic voice. She blinked and then the fish was no longer a man. It was a very dead fish with the injuries that she had just a few minutes ago. And below its unmoving, lifeless body was one of her teammates. Grant. She would have helped out but the vision that she had just seen confused her. Ghosts from her past, most probably. Why were they showing themselves in the middle of the battle? She was having difficulty focusing as it is. Her mood plummeted.

Was he alive? He could still feel pain. Did that mean he lived through that? No, of course he was alive. No way was he dying to some fish being thrown at him. He struggled, opening his eyes once more.. something ran down his chin. Blood? Was it blood? No, no it was just some saliva that must've flown out from his mouth when he let out that sound in pain. Just then, he noticed the weight of the fishman on him. He struggled beneath the body trying to push it off, and he can see one of his teammates helping him with the task. A thought occurred to him, seeing his chains waving just above him.

"Marcus.. back off from the body...! I've.. I've got it!" His voice sounded strained in his ears, but that's probably to be expected with the fishman on him. He waited for Marcus to stop pushing before he made contact with the fishman body with both his chains. The feeling of weight against him was obviously much lighter than the ground itself, but it was still there. He lifted the fishman's body from his own, taking in a deep breath.

"Alright, well...if you say so!" Marcus said, raising his hands in an almost 'I'm innocent' motion. There was no time to argue, and he saw the chain attach itself to the corpse. If he could chuck a boulder, then Marcus trusted Grant's ability to lift a dead fish off himself.

Lily looked on in amazement as Grant lifted the corpse off of himself. Wow... she thought idly. It was a good ability. Destructive and helpful at the same time. Chains and monsters, blood and death. Despite the war still going on around them, she found her mind drifting off from one thought to the other. Their dead classmates, how many were still standing? How many were injured? How many were dying? How many monsters were still there? Will the battle end? She thought about her worth in all this. Sure, she was able to make herself a little useful. But what about later? Would she be able to help out the injured after the battle? Would there be an after the battle? Will she be able to survive and be able to help out? She sat down onto the ground and hugged her knees to her chest.

He turned back to look at the combatants, his heart leaping when he saw the beetleman reach for another fish. "Um. Guys. I don't want to be the bearer of bad news, but he's about to do it again!" he paused for a second, looking almost pitifully over at Lily, where she sat. "Lil's, I hate to say it, but it might be time for Plan B, unless either of you can think of anything better."

Lily slowly looked up at Marcus. Plan B... She thought back to what she had said to him earlier. ...you can shoot me and I'll transfer the injuries to it. Perfect way to get even with me too...Still a good plan, a good plan... She nodded. "I'm okay with Plan B."

Marcus sighed, almost wincing at the nonchalant way Lily agreed to the plan. He winced even more when his brain came up with a plan, and the exact injuries that would benefit the group huddled in the trench.

Grant sat up in time to hear the news about the giant armored man about to throw another fish. Wait, another one? "The hell.. he's gonna do it again?" He complained. He let out a frustrated sigh, using the dirt beside him to pull himself up as the fishman's corpse hovered at his side with the help of his chains. No way in hell was he letting that beetle of a man get away with throwing a fish at him. He peeked above the trench to see the man approaching. If he was gonna enact revenge, better do it quick. He already had 'fling the fish back at the beetle and see how HE liked it' in his mind, but he doubted that would leave much of an impact at all. "What now, what now, what now, what now..." Quietly came from his mouth in panic when he realized the girl, Lily, had a grenade belt. Grenades. There's that feeling of an assault of knowledge bombarding his brain again. "I got an idea." He'd say simply, raising his hand, and the fishman corpse raising in sync.

Lily followed Grant's eyes as he looked at the grenades that were strapped onto her hips. She shook her head. "I'm not allowed to touch them. So your plan better not involve me handling any of them," she said in a flat voice. Self doubt was creeping into her head and it wasn't helping much with her mood. If only she could remember who she really was and why she had the x mark on her neck then maybe she can be a bit more helpful, do a little more.

Marcus also followed Grant's eyes, his face paling a slight amount around the same time that Lily spoke. At least Lily was taking her duty of not blowing them up seriously, but it still seemed as if it were about to happen again. "Aaaaand what would that be...?" he said, the question very slow and very hesitant. A sudden peek at the Beetle-Man behind them spurred him into action, however, and he spoke a bit quicker: "Actually, you know what? Just explain while you do it; we're running short on time here!"

Meanwhile, across the battlefield Emma stood taking in the results of her and Kusari's attack. Evidently it was a success, the doll toppling to become one with the ground. Emma allowed herself only a moment to celebrate, clapping her hand together with a small smile. She took a moment to survey the field, scanning to see if there was anyone else to help. In truth she would rather declare her work done, but she knew better than that. Either that or she was afraid she would disappoint her new 'classmates' by flaking out on them in the middle of a life-or-death battle. She noted the position of her teammates, wincing as she saw Lawrence attending to an injured Christmas. She shook her head. She wouldn't be able to help there, as much as she might have wanted to. She was more worried about the 'eyepion' killing someone, even if they were on a different team. Emma glanced at Kusari and gave her a smile and a nod, gesturing to indicate that she was going after the eyepion.

She didn't really have time to exchange pleasantries with Lazarushian woman, even though she would've preferred to chat with Kusari instead of diving back into the battle. Instead she chased after the errant eyepion, who had by now joined blue team. She arrived shortly behind it to find a new set of monstrosities- fish men, beetle men, and the corpses of monsters aplenty. She glanced around for the Blue X's, finding only the blue haired girl with the sword. She saw the beetle man moving towards a trench, yells emanating within. The rest of blue team. Emma decided. She ran past the eyepion, taking a wide path around it to avoid drawing its attention, heading towards the trench. She reached it and jumped in.

She landed next to Lily, Marcus, and Grant. She looked across the trio. There was a man sized fish in the trench. The girl had grenades. A beetleman was queuing up another fish. ”Uhhhh... hi?” was what escaped Emma's mouth.

The golden haired girl was still doubting herself and contemplating on how she'd handle the pain from Plan B when a girl landed beside her. She blinked and looked at her. What was her name again? She remembered seeing her in that orientation they were in but no matter how hard she wracked her brain, she couldn't come up with a name. Did it really matter? She lifted a hand and gave her a small, lazy wave. "Hi," she greeted.

Marcus visibly jumped when another figure came tumbling into their little hidey-hole. He hadn't been expecting the second fish to hit so soon, and he fumbled with his pistol for a moment, intending to draw it, but not quite getting that far. For, it was not a fish that had landed in their midst, but a girl; one who appeared to be the same age as the rest of them. He stared dumbfounded for a moment, processing. She didn't appear to be a monster, and she certainly didn't seem to be trying to kill them, which made her friendlier than most of what was on the battlefield.

"H-hello?" he stammered. "Welcome to the shitshow, Mrs...?"

"Emma... or Em, either way is fine." She said, managing a smile even though she was in a trench that they might very well soon die in. "I'm from the, uh, red team." She said with a hint of hesitation. She felt a little odd about the whole situation- the 'whole situation' encompassing everything that had happened since she was captured. She was hardly used to using superpowers to fight monsters.

While the new girl that dropped in introduced herself to the others, Grant was busy peeking over the trench at the impending doom that was the giant armored man. "Let's just get this over with.." He'd mutter, walking over to Lily, who had the belt of grenades. "I'm taking one." He declared simply before doing as he said, and stepped back to his chain-supported fishman corpse, rotating it around so the mouth of said corpse was pointing up. He observed the corpse from top to bottom quickly, realizing that the legs of the corpse would probably be a problem with the fishman corpse's air accuracy. He took took a few deep breaths before focusing more on the form of the corpse's legs, which at the moment seemed to vibrate and shake before being drawn to each other, sticking.

Grant grabbed one of the legs and gave a good pull, and no matter how much he did, they stuck together like glue. Very, very strong glue. Figuring that was good enough, he 'willed' the mouth of the corpse open with the help of his chains, detaching a chain after he did. The weight that pressed down against Grant's being grew noticeably, but there wasn't time to worry about it. He attached one chain, precisely on the pin of the grenade before dropping it into the fishman mouth, closing it with his chain. It looked very... bizarre, a chain attached to the corpse while also another seemed to just phase into it. After doing all this, Grant peeked above the trench, seeing the giant, armored, beetleman approaching. "Alright... three..." The chains began to reel back, one chain following the grenade pin's movement. "Two..." His eyes narrowed as he gazed on at the approaching beetleman. "One!" He gulped down a lump in his throat as his chain pulled the pin of the grenade in the fishman's mouth, and a split second after, the corpse was flung from the trench, as if it was a javelin, aimed toward the approaching enemy. Immediately, as both of his chains detached from their objects, the weight lifted from Grant's body. He let out a deep breath, leaning against the dirt beside him once more.

Emma. Gotta try to remember that. Lily thought to herself, repeating the name over and over in her head to make sure she doesn't forget it. She was still repeating the girl's name in her head when Grant walked over to her. She looked at him, nodded and then simply watched him take a grenade from the belt she was still wearing. She didn't really mind. The grenades were probably better in his hands than hers. What was he planning to--- Oh. Once again, she found herself watching in amazement at how Grant used his powers as he executed his plan. "Fish grenade," she muttered as she watched her team mate chuck the grenade stuffed dead fish back to the beetleman. Her eyes followed it as it sailed overhead, her mind already looking forward to the mayhem it will cause. Strangely, the idea seemed to lift her mood up a bit. She would have stood up and peered out of the pit but she and Marcus still had something to do. She figured that it'll be easier if she was sitting down. Falling flat on her face wasn't exactly inviting.

Meanwhile, Marcus had snapped back to the testy topic of Plan B. He gave Lily a pained look before speaking. "Alright Lily...if you're sure about this..." he said slowly, his words very unsure and almost apologetic. "...if you're not going to back out, then I think our best bet is to hit him in the knees; that'll at least reduce his mobility if we need to get out of this pit in a hurry." A double shot from both Grant and Lily would probably make short work of the creature, but it also gave them some breathing room if it managed to survive the assault.

"Now...here's the really hard question..." Marcus said, once again wincing through clenched teeth, "...do you want to do it, or would you rather somebody else do it for you?"

Lily laid her hands on her knees. It made sense. Injuring the monster in its knees would possibly render it unable to walk...just as she would be unable to walk before she transferred it. It didn't matter. Ending the battle and surviving were their goals. A little pain was nothing. She nodded slowly. "No, there's no backing out of this. I suggested it after all. And it works well enough," she tried giving Marcus a small smile of assurance but it ended looking awkward. She can never really smile properly when she was in one of her sadder moods. She sighed. "I don't think I can do it myself. I'd probably be too scared...so I think it'd be best if you do it." She extended her legs out away from her. She gestured towards her knees. "Shoot when you're ready." She looked up at him and saw the uncertainty in his eyes. "Just point and shoot. No real need to worry about me. I'll be fine. I've done it twice already. Point and shoot. No need to think too much about it." She had no idea if her words would offer him assurance more than her awkward smile could.

Emma glanced at Marcus, and then at Lily. She blinked. Wait, what? "W-what are you guys doing?" She said, distinctly not smiling, worry in her voice evident. Was he... going to shoot her in the knee? No, there's no way that's their plan. I must be misunderstanding something...

The small golden haired girl looked towards their guest from red team and shrugged as if what they were about to do was something they did on a regular basis. "Plan B," she replied before turning her attention back to her shooter.

He figured as much. There'd be too much risk and hesitation associated with shooting herself in the leg, and Lily didn't need to worry about it any more than she had to. Marcus returned an equally awkward smile, eyes darting over to Em, while he hesitantly brought up his gun. "Trust me, it's not a plan I like, but she'll be fine; it's her power. Still, just promise me one thing, Lily: No hard feelings?" he said, a forced chuckle escaping his lips. Point and shoot. At least she was trying to make him feel better about it. He aimed the barrel directly at one knee; one was all they'd need for now, and he didn't want to do it more times than they had to. He gave one last reassuring look at Lily. "On three. One..." he didn't finish the countdown as he pulled the trigger. In his mind, it'd be like taking off a band-aid, and was probably something that should be done without tensing up for it.

Hopefully Lily felt the same way.

Emma gave the two a look of incredulity. She covered her ears. He's really going to shoot her... I should've stayed with Kusari... She lamented to herself.

Lily looked at Marcus and then gave him a curt nod. Of course there won't be any hard feelings. Why would there be? It's not as if he was doing it cause he wanted to. It was--- All thoughts flew out of her head as the gun shot rang out. Her eyes widened and she bit her lip as pain immediately spread through her leg. She closed her eyes tightly as she tried not to scream, figuring that if she did, Marcus would only feel bad about it. But the pain was so intense that a whimper escaped her lips and tears streamed down her face.

Hailey! She heard someone call out. A man's voice. Hailey! The same name but this time, it was a woman's voice. Hailey? Who was Hailey? Someone in their team? Do I really need to know who Hailey is? Do I even care? Will knowing who she is make this pain go away? Lily thought to herself.

Hailey, don't you dare ignore me, young lady!

"Hmmm...?" The voice sounded angry and it sounded like the person saying it was just right next to her. She reached up and wiped her tears with the back of her hand. Did she even want to open her eyes?

HAILEY!

The female voice was angrier now. "What?" she demanded as she opened her eyes. She found herself staring at Marcus, the still smoking gun in his hands. She furrowed her brows, trying to make sense of it all. And slowly, she remembered the fishman flying towards them, the beetle man yelling out in fury...Plan B. "Plan B," she said as if to remind herself what she needed to do. She gritted her teeth and focused. The pain will go away soon... she reminded herself as the black string reappeared on her wrist, the other end wrapping itself around beetleman's wrist. It didn't even take long for Lily's knee to be good as new.

'What were you thinking? "revenge"? Idiot.' Allison looked out towards the thing that had killed Zoe, which floated in the air, just out of reach. Still, Allison had to do something. Now that she knew she could cut into the plate-maws of the monsters, she had no choice but to do something. She looked around at the chaotic battlefield.

The dragon had skidded back towards the trucks, clearly injured. That was supposed to be green team's trump card. If he was already injured, it was unlikely that any of them would leave unscathed. Green team was doomed.

The second spaghetti monster was joined by an ensemble of half-formed meat terrors, and Angel was unleashing a massive scream on them. The sound was terrifyingly loud. Allison couldn't imagine what it sounded like to those things.

The third creature was upside-down, writhing and whimpering under it's own weight. The thing was stuck. If it wasn't a disgusting beast made of pasta that had killed Alexis, Allison might have felt sorry for it. Now, there was really only one option for Allison. She sprinted off towards the downed spaghetti monster.

What she was doing was horribly stupid. More stupid than making a cleaver out of the side of a truck, more stupid than allowing herself to be convinced into going to USARILN, more stupid than trusting him at all. Though it was stupid, it was the smartest option for Allison. The plate was not part of the monster; the plate was not alive. Allison Revel stopped just in front of the massive creature. She would have to make her way up this sea of pasta to get to the plate.

She dug her fingernails into one of the noodles, half-holding onto the makeshift blade, and started to climb.

---

---

---

---

As he finished tightening the second tourniquet Lawrence's hand brushed against the netting around the boy's leg, and was instantly greeted by a jolt of pain. He glanced at the new wound, now the only cut on his hands, and chuckled. It seemed like it was similar to, if not the exact same magic used in the glitter bomb from earlier. Did Managerie not have any new tricks? Still, that didn't help with being able to remove the stuff from the boy's leg. It wasn't something Lawrence had the tools to do right now.

He didn't have much time to worry about it though, as one of his teammates approached from the now-quiet battlefield. Sander. The "vampire" of their group. At first Lawrence was glad to see him, intent on requesting some help in operating on the blonde boy, but those thoughts quickly fled as he got a look at Sander's eyes. Lawrence was, frankly, no stranger to drug addicts. The Institution tended not to give a damn about whatever the students used to cope with their situation, and hard drugs were one such thing. This hungering look of addiction would be bad enough, if it wasn't the pool of blood around Christmas that was the target of his gaze.

"Back off, he's lost too much blood."

Sander took another step, not having heard the command at all, and Lawrence responded by switching his power onto the vampire. As a white glow enveloped both of them, Lawrence couldn't help but grimace at the drastic change that underwent his peer. It was always... horrifying in a sense, especially when the change was so drastic in nature. When it was non-consensual. The lust in Sander's eyes diminished almost entirely, replaced by a forlorn surrender. He dropped to his knees a step away from Doc and his patient, and began to speak:

"Whatever you’re doing, don’t stop."

A pause.

"I can’t just sit here, can I? I need to get back. I can get even stronger. I just need a little bit… more."

His gaze returned to the wounded boy's leg once more, and Lawrence sighed in response. How hard was it to understand that letting Christmas lose his magic blood was a bad idea? Still, he quelled the irritation before it grew enough to be sensed through his link, all of these people were still green. No sense in having expectations of them so soon.

Still, he couldn't let Christmas lose any more blood, and so he intended to make good on the offer he made in the truck. With only a slight hesitation, bracing for the pain, he slid his wrist along the magical wire and sliced it deeply enough that his blood flowed freely from the wound.

Pain.

Accompanied by a growing numbness in his hand. Lawrence was no stranger to deep cuts, he could say that having his wrist slashed was a new sensation for him. Before too much of his own blood was wasted, he help the bleeding limb up to Sander shook it slightly with impatience.

"He's off limits, you can take some of mine but hurry up before I lose too much."

"Just tell me when you get dizzy. I will… not hurt you."

His hand closed around Lawrence's wrist, causing another jolt of pain, but Lawrence didn't take back the offer.

"Don’t hesitate if I do."

A glance at his shotgun told Lawrence all of the meaning those words were meant to convey, but he had no intention of obliging. Short of trying to actually kill one of the others- including Christmas- he had no intention of actually shooting one of his teammates. Still, he didn't voice that opinion out loud. If the threat of being shot gave Sander motivation to back off when the time came, then he would let his teammate think whatever he needed to.

Still, while he expected the vampire to start slobbering all over his wrist- and probably give Lawrence a nasty infection for his trouble- he was surprised to see his blood not flowing out of his wrist, but directly into Sander's grip. Some sort of skin vacuum? It was far from the strangest thing Lawrence had seen during his time at the Institution, and he decided to just take it at face value.

Instead he closed his eyes.

And waited.

He focused on his body in the meantime. The sting from the final glitter bomb still dotting his upper body. The throbbing and numbness in his left hand. The slowly fading self loathing in his mind. His ears, which had stopped ringing once more, were still receiving sounds somewhat muted, an effect which would linger for some time yet.

Earplugs over the knife next time. Didn't even get to use the damn thing.

Finally a slight, yet growing, lightheadedness. The cause of which was his recent non-suicidal wrist slashing episode.

"That's enough now."

He began to pull his arm back, and was slightly surprised when Sander actually released him. Trying not to waste any more of his less-precious-but-still-imporant blood, he smeared his wound into the excess of healing-blood that was lying around until it closed. The pain and numbness vanished along with the cut, however the lightheaded feeling remained. Lawrence would take what he could get.

Satisfied and out of immediate danger, he finally took a chance to observe the battlefield at large and get his bearings on the situation. There were certainly casualties on their side, and more still on the monsters' side. The Eyepion had made its way to blue team, a fact that swelled a small feeling of regret in Lawrence, but he quickly quelled it. Blue team would benefit more by having now-free members of Red team help them. Green was too far away to assist, but their battlefield also looked like a complete clusterfuck, as most battles involving magic tended to.

Pink team though... By far the strongest team here had only half of their members still standing- and barely standing at that. Dropping a nuke had concerned Lawrence enough, but it looked that it hadn't even finished off their entire group of monsters.

And now they were probably defenseless.

"Shit."

The institution couldn't afford to lose another entire team of experienced battle Arbiters. Or experience battle-anything. Sure there was a chance Benediction might revive one of them, probably Ethan, but if that was a likely possibility then USARILN East would have a lot more students than it did presently. No, he would have to make an effort to get them out of there alive, and he knew it was partly because he didn't want any more names on that cardboard cutout to be scratched out.

With Hazel approaching and Sander having had his fill, Lawrence picked up his box of shells once more and moving quickly towards Pink team, offering glance behind him just to double check that Sander wasn't feasting on Christmas while his back was turned. Lawrence had no intention of letting his power off of the vampire until he was completely out of range. As he passed Hazel, Lawrence loaded a fresh shell into his gun and turned to her, not stopping as he spoke:

"I'm going to try and save Pink team, I'd appreciate your help!"

Without bothering to check if she was following, he set his sights forward once more. Just ahead it looked as if Kusari had the same idea as them.

Dreamcatcher only knew if that would be enough.

---

---

The golem hadn't moved. That was the strange part. "Docile" was a word that had stopped applying to DC creatures 10 years ago, and now one was behaving in a way no one had seen since before The Slumber.

Which meant it was watching. And waiting. But for what?

Myla had no faith in luck and miracles. Where a hopeful would think this creature an exception, she saw only patience and maybe cold, careful thought. It had probably known Ethan's attack wouldn't harm it--at least not meaningfully. So it had let the attack connect to test the waters. If this was the strongest mage on the field, it likely had no need to worry about the rest.

"Maybe." "Probably." "Likely."

She knew she was projecting her own rationale too far onto a sentience with motivations no one had figured out, but it was either baseless speculation or mindless worry.

Why was it waiting? Previous encounters with DC creatures had always shown intelligent aggression--higher order thoughts and self-awareness. But never this calculating patience. Unsettling.

The past year had shown increasingly devious machinations from DC's monsters. Like they were learning. Like they were communicating, somehow. Where the creatures' initial rampage had been nothing but a worldwide raid with little organization, their current bouts with humanity were shaping into more formal tactics. And in humanity's complacency bolstered by nine years of a deadlocked battlefield, everyone had made mistakes, including the impeccable Director Zhang. One bad call after another and Myla had watched her team members die one by one as the creatures adopted more advanced tactics--reconning, baiting, ambushing, trapping.

And now this.

If it was going to do anything, it'd be...

One fell swoop.

Half of China gone in one large siege.

Grenada lost to a kraken's tidal wave.

Liechtenstein razed to the ground by a shell-backed titan pouring liquid fire across the land.

Nauru obliterated in a 9.3 Richter scale earthquake that completely subsumed the tiny country and part of the nearby Solomon Islands, with aftershocks extending as far as the US's western seaboard.

Had it not been for the simultaneous explosion of magical humans around the world the day Dreamcatcher abandoned them to their fate, Myla was sure the monsters would have finished what they had started a long, long time ago.

The golem was waiting for the full force of the gathered students to kill them all at once. Efficient. And it knew, she was damn sure it knew, that they would come.

"Ethan. I think it wants to kill us all--at once."

Ethan had just opened his mouth to respond when one of the new students tottered over on uneven legs, quipping about imminent death and how the senior students weren't living up to their reputations--but it wasn't the time to get into that banter. This one clearly wasn't in full control of her powers and had no place near a category three. Especially not one confident enough to just wait for 19 or so mages to gather and ready up.

"What are you doing here?" he hissed at Kusari. "Get back to the other groups. You can't be here--"

The ground rumbled as the golem's jagged, obsidian body separated into smaller chunks, segmenting at every rock that comprised the whole. The fragments swirled around a briefly visible axis of glowing, white lines unevenly aligned in cylindrical formation around a dense sphere of opaque, gray mist. As the core slowly rose into the air and shifted until it was out of the hole, the whirlwind of stone reassembled itself into the golem configuration again, now standing placidly on the rim of the hole.

Whatever damage it had accrued from standing directly in the center of Ethan's attack was gone and the menacing body of sharp, black rocks towered an ominous 15m above the nearby combatants. The creature's newly repaired torso was now wide enough to fully crush the entire group should it simply fall over.

It made no further movements, but the uneven, featureless rock that sat on its 'torso' seemed to be inclined in Kusari's direction.

Ethan and Myla had immediately moved in front of Kusari when the golem changed its form, and now they stood protectively in front of her, long breaths and strained vision spelling out their condition without a word on their part.

Myla was the first to catch the sound of another pair of approaching footsteps.

"Get back!" she shouted, turning around just enough to make sure the command was heard.

"Better yet, all of you get away!" Ethan followed up the order with a weak orb of light in his hand. It wasn't the intimidating effect he had hoped for. But they needed to back off. He couldn't stall for time and protect them.

Before he could throw more weight around, a flash of light from one of the monsters caught the periphery of his vision and a green mist rolled over the entire battlefield, slightly obscuring sight and swamping him with sudden nausea and disorientation.

"Holy s-shit," Ethan clapped a hand to his mouth as his stomach threatened to empty its contents.

Myla was reeling in much the same way as she struggled to resist the overwhelming urge to sit down.

---

---

---

---

---

"Keep an eye on them. As long as it remains harmless, do not interfere."

...

"Then fire at will. Aim to disable, not kill."

She hung up a second later, placing the phone down on the bar counter where it continued flashing rapidly with more notifications from trackers and automated messages.

"Another?" the dignified man behind the counter asked her. He looked to be in his 50's, clean-shaven and aged gracefully enough that vestiges of a sharp face from youth still remained in alpine cheekbones and chiseled jaw. His graying hair showed hints of the original blonde and his deep-set, blue eyes matched the Director's for sharpness. In his prime, he likely would have cut an intense figure. Tempered with time, he was now wholly impressive. A thin, brushed-metal name tag displayed a surprisingly normal name: Steven.

"Two," Zhang replied.

Steven had just finished mixing the drinks when approaching footsteps drew Zhang's attention. She didn't turn to look, but her mind ran through several scenarios as she picked up another phone call.

Her public appearances were usually met with general avoidance and silence minus a few notable exceptions--Steven being one of them. Last she had checked, the other usual suspects were nowhere near the dining hall. Which left the alternative: students looking for retribution, validation, or resolutions she didn't have.

"Director Lina Zhang speaking."

When Brent Roless ordered "Bourbon. On the rocks," she sighed inwardly. Validation, then. Ordering bourbon without a name, sitting right beside her when the bar counter was otherwise empty, and making sure another student was around to tip the odds in his favor.

The voice on the other end of the line finished speaking.

"Understood. Preparations are already underway. If that's all...?"

Steven raised an eyebrow at the student, but didn't protest. There were no particular rules against alcohol at USARILN East, only that if the bartender refused to serve someone, that someone would have to find intoxication somewhere else or risk the consequences.

Zhang hung up, raising a hand to catch the bartender's attention.

"Give him the SCN Wild Turkey, rocks, with a water back and a straw," she nodded to Steven, catching the order before the bartender pulled out one of the house brands.

"Bit strong, wouldn't you say?" Steven reached for a russet bottle on the top shelf.

"Just helping him earn his stripes," Zhang chuckled.

The drink was served in an Old Fashioned glass, with a chaser glass of water and a straw beside it.

Zhang sipped from her cocktail as she eyed Brent, waiting for him to try the cask-strength, 120-proof bourbon.

---

No? Well, when she was basically two seats away from the most powerful person on the campus, the same person who practically threatened their lives and killed one of her own men just yesterday, Brent supposed that Sophia’s reaction, that of trying to stay as unnoticeable as possible, made more sense than what he was doing. Well, it made more sense, but it was also losing, in a way.

“Ah, a glass of wa-”

Before he could finish his request, however, the Director got off her phone and adjusted his order for him. Wild Turkey? Rocks? Water back? And why a straw? What did all those even mean? For someone like Brent, who really only drank the occasional can of beer during a particularly audacious house party, all this was pretty much lost on him.

“A challenge from the Director herself?” Brent smiled, beaming with confidence that he really shouldn’t have at all. “I’ll gratefully accept then.”

With that, the drink was served, and a glass of water was placed as well. Blinking, the amethyst-eyed youth nodded slowly. Truly, Steve was an experienced man, to be able to tell what his complete order was without even needing to hear the entire sentence. It’d probably have been better if the glass was a bit bigger, but, well, maybe that’s just how it is for classy establishments.

Sliding the chaser glass to Sophia, Brent looked at the ‘gauntlet’ that was thrown. Was this something he chugged? Sipped? The straw implied the latter, but the former was all he did in the past. Really, he needed to take note of these sorts of drinks in the future. Figure out what the hell they meant. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Director Zhang casually look over, assessing him.

Alright, no more pussy-footing around. ALL IN. ALL OUT. LET’S GOOO.

Mustering up his determination, Brent grabbed the glass, brought it to his lips, and chugged.

For the entirety of a split second, before it felt like he just got punched in the nose by a heavyweight boxer. Before he could sputter out the burning concoction, he forcefully gulped it down and felt live coals run down his throat. Perhaps, if he was experienced, he would have noticed the wonderful flavors and the deep, mature texture, but all he felt was fire and blood. His heart was pounding in his reddened ears as his eyes watered ferociously. He was almost tempted to slam down the glass, but instead, restrained himself.

Slowly, he brought the glass down, one-third finished, before letting out a long, long sigh. His tongue was numb, every part of his body was just so…so uncomfortably hot. But his thoughts were still his own, and, with a lopsided grin, he laughed, “What the fuck is this?”

"Your dignity slipping away," the Director replied, managing to look both amused and unimpressed at the same time. She stared pointedly at the flush rising up Brent's throat and face with the tiniest of smirks and a subtly arched eyebrow. He looked like he was going to burst into tears at any second. Validated something all right.

Before she could continue, a humming vibration from her phone scattered the relaxed atmosphere and the Director was all business again. A quick check of the screen followed by an inscrutably blank expression for several seconds revealed nothing other than the palpable tension. Eventually, she tapped the screen rapidly, responding to the message.

"Mr. Roless. Ms. Lemane. Come with me," the Director spoke curtly. She reached into her suit, towards the left side of her torso, and drew a gun from the holster there. It was a black semi-automatic pistol vaguely resembling a 1911, but without any manufacturer labels or screws holding the frame together. The only visible marking was a faintly shining pair of white stag antlers meticulously embossed on the barrel.

Without waiting for an answer, she stood up quickly, heading down the two flights of stairs and out of the dining hall. Before she had put even 15 meters between herself and the building, a tanned young man with short, black hair styled in a pink-trimmed, angular fringe cut stumbled up to her. He was topless, white gauze covering his entire torso. The Arbiter would have looked quite fashionable with his trim figure, black slim jeans, and high-top trainers. Except for the mixture of agony in the harsh set of his narrrow jaw and anger in the glare of his amber eyes.

"Mr. Alkana. I don't believe you're well enough to be out of the hospital," the Director remarked calmly, unfazed by the sight.

"You sent my team out! Without me!" his voice rasped from pain and medication, and he looked ready to collapse on the spot.

"I could hardly send out a student recovering from a near bisection. Perhaps if Mr. Gottman were still alive..."

That struck home and the fire went out of him as his jaw tensed further.

"Send me out. They need me. You wouldn't have sent them out if it wasn't serious," he continued, subdued now. The Arbiter doubled over with a loud groan of pain, gripping his knees to keep from falling. It wasn't the most convincing display of strength, but he was ready to fight tooth and nail for this.

He breathed heavily, refusing to let the reminder of his teammate's death quell his determination.

---

---

---

Miranda was gone by the time Gregory turned around, her movements soundless as she slipped into the forest cover during the seconds Gregory took to run into the darkness of the trees. A cacophony of hissing far to his right announced the creature's position before a tree in that direction crashed to the forest floor with a thunderous applause of cracking branches and rumbling earth.

Hector, fifty or so meters ahead of Gregory's position, giggled under his breath. He sent another reminder at Miranda to hiss as he slid into a large tree hollow, tucking himself soundly inside. Rosa had always disapproved of Hector's penchant for tormenting the new students--something about how his games were always unfair because Miranda was so silent. So he had made the projection hiss. That would solve Rosa's concerns, right?

Personally, he thought the complaint was silly.

It wasn't like DC's creatures would give warning before they struck, so he was practically doing everyone a service by keeping the students on their toes.

In fact, he was doing everyone a service now.

Not a week ago, Rosa had suggested a new assessment methodology that would do away with the hassle of prepwork, and it had comprised of "controlled combat," among other things.

The original proposal had been to pit the best (and most stable) students against the new kids while a proctor judged the results. Something about more accurate readings in an actual combat setting.

It had become almost common knowledge across the USARILNs that the safe and cozy testing methods always yielded underwhelming values across the board, whether that was because the students in question weren't trying or because they were deliberately hiding their capabilities to avoid being sent into the field. USARILN East had the luxury of mages who could mitigate that kind of behavior, but West and Central left the issue at two-to-one.

Too complacent, regardless. Training dummies didn't fight back. Training dummies didn't strike fear into their hearts--and if there was one thing they absolutely had to learn, it was to fight with terror in the backdrop.

More stringent testing was in order, and of course USARILN East was the first to try new and exciting things.

Hector had been selected as a opponent candidate, to no one's surprise, but in the middle of discussions on how to manage the new tests, the emergency had struck. And he had grown bored of waiting.

They wanted to push the new students, didn't they?

Sure, nothing had been finalized, yet, and technically he wasn't supposed to be testing anybody before they could hammer out the details, but he had left a note somewhere before running off. That would be fine, right?

And it wasn't like one more dead subnatural was anything new at USARILN East.

Miranda's hide-and-seek would do the trick. A shame he couldn't play with more of the new students, but he had trailed Rosa and her busybody habits long enough to know she'd find the new kids for him. And lo and behold, he had found a Gregory. A Gregory who had taken the bait hook, line, and sinker. Amazing that he had even offered the walk first and saved Hector the trouble of leading up to it. The Aberration boy shuffled into a more comfortable position in the tree's crevice, tapping his anklet curiously.

"Commander Kardos," he whispered innocently, "Are you watching? I'm doing 'Gregory's' combat assessment. Wanna keep an eye out?"

A small light on the cuff blinked brightly in the darkness.

"Don't taze me, okay? We're just getting started."

"The Director has not cleared this assessment," Kardos's deep voice cut through the silence of the tree's natural alcove.

Several hundred meters away, Hector had Miranda smash down another tree for distraction, letting the distant fall resound through the forest.

"She sent out the newbies to fight category ones. I don't think she'd mind me messing a bit with this guy."

"You have no authority to make that call, Rivers. Cease. Now."

"Why don't you check with her before you make that call. Not like your title's 'Director Kardos,' is it?"

"Do not test me, subnatural."

Hector clicked his tongue in irritation and mild offense at the way "subnatural" dropped from Kardos's mouth. The man had no love for the students, that much was clear.

"Director Zhang values efficiency, doesn't she? Wouldn't she find it a lot more efficient to have this test going as well so there're more results to collect? Gauging the newbies on the battlefield is basically the same thing. You're just upset I'm not doing this to your specifications."

The cuff's light winked out and a long period of silence followed. Hector braced himself for the taze, hoping Kardos had the mercy to only do it once.

Instead, the speaker light turned back on a few dozen seconds later.

"The Director's cleared the assessment."

When Kardos said nothing further, Hector smirked.

"But I bet you're setting the snipers up as we speak, huh?"

The speaker light disappeared again, and this time Hector was sure the conversation was over. As he signaled Miranda to hiss again, Hector briefly wondered if Gregory tasted good.

Only one way to find out.

Emerging from the shadows in front of Gregory, Miranda lunged forward, body still moving without bipedal locomotion. A forked tongue lashed out from the vertical maw, flicking across Gregory's cheek and leaving a thin cut before the creature grabbed his arm and flung him several meters sideways.

And then it was gone again, back into the shadows. A cat playing with its toy.

An automated voice from Gregory's cuff intoned a notification: "Temporary exception set by--Commander--Michael Kardos. Suppression module off."

One more hiss from behind Gregory to indicate position. A scraping noise as a follow up warning.

Hector gleefully noted that Gregory tasted like chicken.

---

---

---

Siena's emerald javelin hit its lumbering mark, piercing deeply into the quadruped's side. The impact of the projectile threw the monster to its side. Its pre-existing clumsiness and exhaustion from bleeding out rendered it unable to get back upright. Siena's attack had ruptured enough vitals to ensure a slow, painful death. Without the means or mobility to recover, the hippo head released a feeble death moan. It was left unheard by its comrades.

Meanwhile, the beetle man continued its march towards the trench, getting dangerously close while the trench team prepared their simultaneous attacks. A squawk from the captive fish alerted the beetle man of the incoming projectile. Displaying fearsome reflexes, the humanoid smacked the incoming corpse out of its way, using its hapless subordinate as a makeshift bat. It barely missed a step before the student's co-ordinated strategies came into fruition. Almost at the exact same time, the hidden grenade exploded and Lily's injury transfer hit the beetle man. Both the humanoid and the fish were blown away, the concussive force of the explosion killing the fish almost immediately. Shrapnel flew everywhere, many pieces embedding themself into the left side of the beetle man's body. Its armored plates were shattered, revealing mottled and scarred flesh underneath. It groaned in pain, somehow still alive from everything that just happened. With half of its body disabled and broken by the grenade and one kneecap shattered, it presented little threat to the humans in the trench. Despite its condition it pushed forward, clawing at the dirt with its remaining functioning limb. The beetle man's mouth flaps were wide open for the students to see, showing rows of crooked, sharp teeth as it screamed in fury.

A flurry of movement from the fallen quadruped's direction caught the scorpion's coffee-stained eye, a small cloud of aquamarine travelling rapidly towards it. The scorpion hissed aggressively, batting Cal to the ground with a brutal lash of its stinger. She wasn't able to stop the scorpion in time. Undeterred by the sudden arrival of a human opponent, the scorpion finished its casting. A beam of emerald lit up the sky a split second before a plume of green fog erupted from the scorpion and engulfed the battlefield. Monsters and humans alike were affected by the fog. Nausea and minor dizziness swept the battlefield as the fog's initial symptoms began to kick in. Things would only deteriorate from here on out.

---

---

The creature's stomach lining turned out to be thinner than expected-- in fact, as Zoe would soon find out, it was the only thing standing in the way of her sweeter-smelling freedom (bar several noodles). Outside of the massive sack-like stomach, she would observe several fist-size balls of meat attached to the outside surface. They seemed to line up with the positioning of the tiny mouths-- all of which had stopped biting her on account of their teeth melting off as soon as they met her skin. As Zoe created an opening big enough for her to escape, the stomach constricted again-- this time in pain. As it did so, the opening widened enough for a good several gallons of stomach acid to leak out, splashing the outside noodles with a sizzling hiss. Evidently the monster's outsides were far most susceptible to the fluid than Zoe had been-- deteriorating almost as quickly as the stomach lining had under her touch.

The monster screeched in pain and everything was suddenly falling. Fortunately the monster itself served as a soft landing pand for Zoe as it once again slapped the ground, plate side down. The creature began pitifully dragging its body forward-- away from the gaping hole in its stomach as if it could escape the pain. A trail of the nasty smelling stomach juices followed as it tilted it's plate partially off the ground and moved in blue team's direction-- passing Alexis' mangled corpse and Allison as she attempted to scale the barn-sized beast, using its noodles as leverage.

Halfway up the upside down spaghetti monster, the creature became eerily still and silent. A noodle suddenly sprouted from the mass, snaking itself tightly around one of Allison's legs-- up her thigh and around her hips. The noodle quickly lifted her up above its plate-framed mouth, which pulsated-- insatiable hunger had allowed it to overcome its fear of being upside down. She dangled to and fro before its massive jaws. Now seemed to be as good a chance as any to slice the plate-- but would that save her from becoming this entree's dinner?

Meanwhile, the meatballs Angel screamed at tumbled and rolled backwards. Three of them managed to sprout fully developed arms fast enough to anchor themselves while the fourth flew so far away it could no longer be seen in the distant darkness. The three remaining meatballs vibrated violently before gradually falling apart. Nothing remained but their anchored limbs and smears of meaty mush and marina on the dirt and grass.

The final spaghetti monster, pleased with its handy-work (or, in this case, noodle-work), began digging up more chunks of earth-- slightly smaller but more numerous. In quick succession, it launched them at Chris. Before Savannah could make it back to the trucks after grabbing the hand gun, a large chunk of said earth smashed into the ground in front of her and immediately impeded her progress. Getting back to the trucks now was going to be insanely risky with the hellstorm of boulders showering the ground before her. For all intents and purposes, she was stuck.

Aaron remained safely out of range of everything, continuing his summon.

Suddenly, the green circle that had once again loomed overhead dissipated and with it, a green fog exploded across the battlefield like a giant smoke bomb. In a matter of seconds, everyone would suffer from a sudden onset of nausea and faint dizziness.

Gregory Irving

---

---

“Shit.” Of course. Not only did she levitate, but she moved just as fast… or, more likely, faster than he did. Where was she? He looked around frantically, but the leaves hadn’t fallen enough for the moonlight to illuminate the forest.

A hiss to his far right caused Gregory to flinch, but the sound that followed was much more frightening. Hinted at by a series of sharp cracks, he could not help but freeze as the ground shuddered beneath his feet from the crash of a toppled tree. Wide-eyed, he stared in that direction before his survival instinct screamed for him to do something. The urge to just leg it out of the forest was offest by a bout of hyperventilation, and he dropped to a knee as his vision swam.

Just for a moment. ‘Yeah, and I’ll open them just to see my last moment,’ Gregory thought bitterly as he blinked his eyes furiously and tried to reco-

His head snapped up and Gregory squinted as he tried to figure out if it was just his eyes playing tricks. There had been a slight glow ahead… hadn’t there? Fumbling around him, he felt the rough surface of a rock and fingers dug into the soft soil to pry it loose. The crash of another tree caused him to flinch again, almost losing the rock in hand, but panic did not boil up and threaten to overwhelm him this time.

Whether it was a display of strength, attempts to spook and panic him, a distraction, or something else entirely, it meant Miranda wasn’t currently breathing down his neck. Clutching the rock tightly, he marched forward with a stride that exuded confidence he did not feel.

The hiss stopped Gregory in his tracks, and he tried to backpedal to no avail. Stumbling backwards ungracefully, he would have landed on his back if Miranda hadn’t seized him by the arm and promptly gave him the ragdoll treatment. The first bounce drove any semblance of breath from his lungs, and the forest floor tore at his clothes and skin as he rolled to a stop. Miranda slipped away into the shadows without a sound, but Gregory didn’t even take notice; a bit too preoccupied with trying to reorient himself.

Of course, the first words from the cuff were damning ones. "Temporary exception set by--Commander--Michael Kardos. Suppression module off."

They wanted him to fight then… If he couldn’t then he was worthless to them, that was why he’d been sent here after all right?

The hiss meant he didn’t have any more time to think, and despite feeling battered and bruised he tensed his entire body. Forming the circle came easily this time, and the bisected rock floated behind him as Gregory threw himself forward, rolling amateurishly to spin around. A trail shed some sorely needed light into the forest, almost fully drawn as he curved it back towards the spot he had just moved from. Enough length left to make minor adjustments, but the projectile would be full-speed.

His free hand brushed the surrounding ground, feeling for anything else he could use as ammunition. His heels dug into the soil, readying to let him bolt the moment his path was drawn and the projectile launched.

---

---

"Hobbies! You got any hobbies?"

Vanessa crossed the street, careful to avoid the deep roadside streams that appeared more frequently the more they made their way to the edge of the city. On normal days the inconsistency of the water patterns made her usual commute more interesting. Today however, they were only prolonging the time she had to spend with this imbecile.

"How about music? You listen to any nice songs? Ah, I guess it'd be kinda hard to get your hands on good electronics. Hobo life, amirite?"

Only one block left. Would she be able to lock the guy outside while she sorted through her things? Perhaps if she just punched him in the throat she'd be able to enjoy some silence.

"Come on, favourite snacks?"

Vanessa whirled around, glaring at the awfully talkative ginger. Her exasperation was met with a quizzical smile, displaying the guy's surprise and delight at the long awaited reaction.

"I knew snacks would getcha," he beamed, "Everybody loooves snacks."

"Do you do this with everyone?" she snapped, eager to shut him up. They'd reached her building by now, a water-logged, rundown mess that was somehow still standing after years of environmental abuse and failed gentrification. If she'd known how long the walk with the chatterbox was going to be she would have chosen a spot closer downtown. Mold smothered the walls of the staircase she nimbly tiptoed up. Some finesse was required to avoid all the rotting planks.

"I try," the ginger, 'Donovan' if she remembered correctly, shrugged and hurried to keep up with her. He found some difficulty in climbing the staircase, something the petty side of Vanessa found satisfaction in. "Didn't work so well with Seiji though. He's the cranky little one. Don't tell him I called him that."

"Right," Vanessa retorted unenthusiastically, "You need to get to know the newbies."

The door to her apartment was unlocked, like always. Nobody had the nerve to come anywhere near this street, so there was never any reason for home security. The resulting quiet was greatly welcomed but she had to admit that she missed the familiar sounds of the bustling city sometimes.

"Yes, exactly! I knew you were a clever one."

Donovan bounded into the apartment before she had the chance to shut the door on him. The girl stared in dismay as her self-invited companion indulged his urge to touch and examine every possible thing she kept in the studio. The room at the back was where she kept a large stockpile of the essentials. Non-perishables, sanitary products, wads upon wads of bills. As she entered she caught the Australian leering at the pile with a hungry glint in his eye.

"Don't even think about it," she scowled. He raised his hands in mock surrender, proclaiming his innocence.

"We can use that cash," he said defensively, "I don't know if Nico told you, but we're gonna be on the road a lot."

Nico had indeed told her. He'd told her many things that morning, including what he hoped to eventually accomplish with their ragtag band of Animi. Normally she'd turn down all invitations to join the magical factions, but getting cornered by eight Animi had forced her to keep an open mind. The group's lofty goals had won her over in the end. Somehow. It took a lot of tentative discussion to convince Vanessa to pack her things and galavant across the globe with the scrawny kid and his friends, but Nico had managed it. There was something about the guy, a sincerity and drive that ultimately swung Vanessa's final decision. A chance to do some real good with her abilities.

Which was why she wanted to tie up all loose ends on the same day she received the invitation. Don't put off until tomorrow what you can do today, and such. However she wasn't counting on being accompanied by Nico's right hand man, someone who upon first glance appeared to be a frat boy doing a poor and permanent impression of the Cheshire Cat. People rarely made good first impressions for Vanessa. At first she assumed that it was a matter of suspicion. Couldn't let someone run off with the group's secret plans, right? But as the minutes torturously crawled by it became clear that Donovan was tagging along not because he wanted to keep an eye on her, but because he was an idiot hellbent on annoying the shit out of everyone he met.

"I don't care," she growled lowly, "It's not for you."

He raised an eyebrow and gestured at a conspicuous nameplate on one of the duffel bags.

"Apparently not for you either," he smirked, admiring the 'Property of Hubert Hill' scrawled on the bag's underside.

Vanessa heatedly snatched the container and began stuffing it with her stockpile.

"Not. For. You. That's going to the community."

"You mean right back into looter hands when they take it from them?"

She paused and side-eyed Donovan with a strange smile.

"Looters aren't something we need to worry about here."

The stockpile was emptied into numerous rucksacks within minutes. Then it was out to the cul-de-sacs. It was a slow and tiring process, making sure that her resources were distributed evenly throughout the neighbourhood. David, the Sakers, Christopher and Rebecca, the Youngs; countless others she couldn't list in a single sitting recieved small packages filled with whatever she had in the rucksacks. The tentative 'thank yous' and awkward hugs did little to reward her efforts. It was simply a matter of efficiency, making the most of the limited resources in the flushed-out city they resided in. Nothing more and nothing less. Donovan observed the proceedings from a respectful distance, noting the lack of visible reactions at the sight of Vanessa's exposed throat. Surprisingly, he was silent for the majority of the proceedings.

"Quite the Samaritan, huh," Donovan remarked as they neared the end of their trip.

She replied without looking up, checking the last few names on the yellowed notepad. "This stuff needs to be used somewhere."

"Hm. You like helping others?"

The notepad snapped shut and was tucked into the pocket of her cargo pants.

"It's just something I feel like I should be doing. I didn't think I'd ever leave this city, especially when my powers emerged. Wanted to try and make this craphole a little more bearable to live in."

"Liar~"

Vanessa's glare conveyed her irritated confusion aptly. The smug boy gladly elaborated.

"You can't lie to me," Donovan lightly tapped his temple and laughed, "You're happy when you do this, I can tell. It's pretty cute actually!"

An outraged punch to the shoulder provoked a small yelp from Donovan.

"I'm just saying!" He raised his hands in preparation for another blow. "It's nice to finally recruit someone who isn't a complete psycho."

Her stare turned to one of disbelief. This guy really was a brazen idiot.

"You're getting your hopes too high," she muttered.

"Huh, is that so..." Donovan stroked his chin. Was he trying to seem profound? Vanessa rolled her eyes.

"That mysterious vibe you're trying to pull doesn't suit you. You look dumb as hell."

Before Donovan could make an indignant complaint a young boy came running up to the pair. Javi, the youngest of the Rosarios. One of the families she visited the most.

"Vanessa! Gina told me to tell you. The store got trashed by the Hammers again..." the kid reported, flinching slightly as Vanessa's posture suddenly straightened, "Sonny says we can't replace the window this time."

Her brow furrowed at the news. "I thought I took care of those guys in July,"

Javi shook his head.

"They're still hanging around 181st. They've been quiet because of you but they're still acting out."

Donovan watched curiously as Vanessa's expression darkened.

"I see."

Even without an emotion reading power, the newly emerged Animus' intentions were plain as day.

The smalltime gang's new hideout was easy to track down, thanks to the booming music and raucous laughter could be heard blaring from a block away. Vanessa's location across the street provided more than enough proximity for her abilities, as well as a front seat view to the hedonism of the looter scumbags. It was time to try out that new upgrade.

"What are you doing?" Donovan popped his head in front of her, blocking her line of sight. Vanessa glowered, lowering her charged hands.

"Get out of my way."

Donovan tilted his head, indicating back at the repurposed office block. His face turned blank, uninterested even, in an unnatural amount of time.

"There are thirty two people in there. A lotta kids who are your age."

What? That had to be wrong. There was no way in hell a petty theft gang would be able that many people within a month. Vanessa narrowed her eyes in suspicion.

"Thirty two? That many?"

"You gonna try and off all those kids?" he quirked an eyebrow, undeterred by her reaction. There was something off about the guy now, an unreadable pokerface that somehow still conveyed an air of cockiness and pride. Sudden and complete emotional detachment that perfectly contrasted Vanessa's conviction. It was unnerving to see this sudden change in character. Nevertherless, she continued pushing. Donovan's revelation had done nothing to sway her actions.

"They're all Hammers, aren't they?"

The loaded silence was more than enough confirmation. Vanessa tried to shove him aside, not quite succeeding as she consciously kept her palms facing away from the young man. After a full minute of failing to budge the ginger, she huffed and took a step back.

"If you don't get out of my way, I'm not going with your group."

He stiffened at her sudden ultimatum but continued to refuse to move. Vanessa glared back at the taller boy, having to angle her chin up a lot more than what she felt was comfortable. This was her one last job to do. A necessary chore that would keep the borough safe during her absence. More than anything else, it was about sending a message that would forever ring in the ears of anyone who would ever have the ignorance needed to start trouble in Vanessa's neighborhood. One last job.

"Looters always come back," Donovan's accent became obvious whenever he overacted that casualness, "You think this is gonna get rid of them forever?"

"Are you trying to stop me?" This conversation was getting tedious. Subtlety and snakish talk had never been her style. Donovan seemed to thrive in it though.

"Who knows. Maybe I just want to see if you're actually going through with casual mass murder."

"I'm helpi--"

"Helping who?" he cut her off brusquely, "Your 'community'? The ones who practically shit their pants as soon as you turn the corner? They're terrified of you. I know what they think and trust me, they couldn't give less shits about your little goodwill parades. That kid especially. Honestly it's fucking hilar--"

Vanessa's foot shot into the fork of his legs before he could complete his sentence. That choked groan he wheezed out was the most satisyfying thing she'd heard the whole day. The bastard was sent to the ground with a quick jab to the throat, collapsing and curling into himself to feebly defend against any further blows. She leveled a glowing hand at the coughing teen. All at once tendrils of fear and panic began seizing her mind, gluing her feet to the spot. Before she fell into the trap of thinking too hard Vanessa activated her power, the air between them heating to an unbearable degree within milliseconds. Her mind returned to normal immediately and she allowed herself a small breath of relief. The two remained in a stalemate, Vanessa's hand still aimed at Donovan on the ground while they glared daggers at the other.

"You'll be dead within seconds," she seethed, "Don't try that again."

No response from Donovan, just a pointed glare she had to fight the urge to cackle at. Finally, she'd managed to shut him up. While she still had the chance, she aimed her free hand at the building. After one minute, loud creaking noises emerged from the base of the structure. Thirty seconds after that the building collapsed in on itself, billowing smoke and debris. Vanessa watched on with a blank satisfaction. Only Donovan's groans distracted her from her handiwork.

"How many were really in there?" she asked, finally lowering her hands.

"...Eight."

Now that was a more sensible number. Vanessa allowed herself a small, satisfied smile.

"Looters around these parts don't ever get to thirty two. I'd would have already gotten rid of them before they got that big," she offered a hand up, "That was a careless mistake."

He eyed the hand with a slight huff.

"I'll make sure I remember that," he drawled, tentatively taking her firm grip.

The sounds of rumbling and splintering wood still emanated from the destroyed building. It somewhat helped to fill the strange silence that had settled between them.

"You were testing me," Vanessa raised an eyebrow. Her blank resting expression had resettled.

Donovan shrugged, brushing himself off. His attempts at nonchalance were always such sloppy displays of overacting, Vanessa noticed.

"Something like that. I can't say that I expected this outcome."

He paused.

"Didn't think you'd actually go through with it either. You seemed like such a lovely kid," he remarked and chuckled when Vanessa rolled her eyes.

"That thing about Javi was overkill. Gave the whole thing away."

"Damn," he pouted and turned his gaze towards her, "About that. I--"

"It doesn't really matter."

She didn't want to hear it. She was leaving it all behind anyway. Who cared? It was easier to say that it was nothing than to let herself think about it.

"I upset you. That was a dick move on my part."

Brooding about it wasn't going to get her anywhere. As much as the disappointment still stung, she couldn't do anything but move on. It was her own fault for thinking someone like her would be welcomed in the first place.

She waved him off. "Just warn me before you do this trial crap next time. I'm assuming I passed?"

Something in Donovan's eyes shifted, revealing a brief flicker of dejection before he picked himself back up.

"Flying colours," his smile was somehow warmer than the vast majority of what he'd shown her before despite his hesitance, "Not a smidge of hesitation. That's exactly what the crew needs..."

His casual veneer cracked with a false chuckle.

"Another veritable psychopath."

"How flattering," Vanessa responded evenly. This was obviously affecting him more than it should have. But she couldn't care any less about this asshole's feelings to inquire further. "Are you still trying to make me mad or..."

"Oh, no no. I was just hoping you'd be different, was all."

There was a melancholy in his admission, something distant she couldn't quite pick up yet.

He grinned sheepishly and scratched his nose. "Definitely seemed like it at the start."

Stupid. Pinning such high expectations on a stranger. A guy who practically read minds should have known better. But he clung to that intangible wish anyways. He dared to dream for human decency in this craphole of a world. Vanessa could do nothing but shake her head at that.

"You got your hopes too high," she muttered, echoing her earlier sentiment.

It was something she'd be repeating to him many times. Whenever Donovan's peppy yet cocky optimism clashed with her dry realism, whenever she became enraged at his antics. At some point, her derisive scorn would mellow out to nothing more than light banter when it came to the Aussie. She'd get used to his constant jabbering, start enjoying it even. She'd start wondering how someone like him ended up being an Animus on the run with nine other cold-blooded killers. How someone like him, an arrogant bastard who turned out to be a bighearted loser, could smother his remorse so easily after the biggest disaster their group had ever created. How no one but her seemed to notice or care about the increasing burdens he'd place on himself after that night. Vanessa had moved on in her own time. The destruction was nothing she wasn't used to, so it was easier for her. But for the others, not just Donovan, an undeniable heaviness had set in.

She saw the cracks begin to appear as Seiji argued with Nico. Lines being drawn in the sand, everyone determining who was to blame for the situation they were now in. She enjoyed the security of the group, the idea that they would slowly save the world. She'd even grown to think of them as friends. But after watching the seeds of division being sown by their mess, Vanessa began to know better. Someday, she wasn't sure how distant this day would be, their group would be torn to shreds, ripped apart by infighting and surmounting stress. And when that day arrived, she'd stay clear of all the emotional lashings. Like she had always done before. Before she had the strange fortune of meeting Donovan. Would she be ready by then?

She could only hope so.

For once in the goddamn battle, things went Angélique’s way, before the sickening mist happened, that is. Her destructive shriek had more potency the she had expected. At first, she believed the newly-formed meatballs would end up being stunned, incapacitated even. She never would’ve thought being able to blast 3/4th of them into oblivion, the last ball made of meat rolled deep into the forest, carried off by the power of the sonic blast. Hopefully, that one would end up stunned wherever it went. The fear that the meaty creature coming back to bite her from behind nagged her mind as she thought of the possibility.

For now, with the most little yet lethal threats taken care of, Angel turned her attention to the rest of the battlefield. Directly next to her, a barn-sized spaghetti monster – the one who spawned the meatballs – was throwing more golf car-sized chunks of earth towards the injured Dragon Christopher. Should he be hit by more of these, Angel feared her comrade would not be able to help into this battle, less more stand back up. Knowing she needed the might of her dragon partner, the loud-mouthed Aberration decided to help Chris, so that in turn he might help her defeat this monstrous enemy.

Just as she had begun forming a plan in her head, a green mist began to fall upon the battlefield. As much as her instincts told her to not breathe, she needed air to fill her lungs to that she could use her ability, and apparently, there was no way she could escape this fog simply by seeing just how large of an area it covered.

Her instincts were right. As soon as Angel began drawing breath into the cursed mist, her mind started feeling fuzzy, her vision shifted slightly and her stomach began acting up. However, this sensation was not quite unknown to the young Canadian rock ex-singer. As a matter of fact, it felt very much like that time she had accepted smoking a joint of weed with a few of her friends, back in the days she was younger. It was the first and last time she smoked this stuff. She would always remember how nauseous and dizzy she had been afterwards, and this fog reminded her vividly of this experience.

It was with pain that Angélique slowly made her way towards her new target. Taking advantage of the creature’s apparent focus on trying to hit the horse-sized dragon with its makeshift earthen projectiles, she sneaked up behind the giant pasta monster’s backside. Mustering every bit of resolve she still clinged on to, Angel dared resist the urge to throw up as she swallowed another mouthful of air to fill her lungs, to expel it afterwards into another hellish scream.

Once more, her dedication bore fruits as the oblivious monster in front of her was caught directly into her surprise attack. While it did not end up being as pitiful as the previous spaghetti monster. Instead, this creature looked somewhat shocked, its noodle-arms flailing about aimlessly in panic as it tilted forward and slowly turned to face the perpetrator of this sudden attack, leaving its plated side exposed to Christopher.

After letting out that shriek, Angel fell prey to the nausea that had just been plaguing her. Having used her throat in such unrestricted manner, her stomach churned and ejected whatever content it had. Since she had not eaten for a good while, there was nothing left to regurgitate, only but bile. It was with a painful heaving that the black-haired young woman fell on her knees, throwing up this vile liquid.

With her vocal cords being a mess from all this screaming, combined with the bile that made up its way and the painful contractions of her trachea from vomiting, Angel felt a painful burning sensation like she never felt before in her throat. She clenched her neck in vain as she coughed up, as if she was hoping to ease the pain this way. Naturally, in only aggravated her situation, and the pain she was in was almost unbearable.

It was with tears of pain she looked upon the menacing-looking gargantuan monster made of pasta. At that moment, she wondered if she had made the right choice. If somehow nobody came to take the opportunity of this distracted and stunned foe, then she feared her current state would not allow her to escape the wrath of this monster when it would come back to its sense.

Realizing the life-or-death mess she just put herself in, she silently pleaded for help as her eyes met with the dragon on the other side, her vocal chords however too exhausted to allow an audible voice.

---

---

Just as Zoe pulled herself through onto the 'surface' of the creature's body, the creature collapsed to the ground and she found herself grabbing one of the meatball lumps as a handhold to keep her balance and avoid falling back in. The hiss of the acid did draw her attention, though. In her shock, she didn't really react, acknowledging it with no more than detached interest. Without the panic of imminent digestion to push her, everything just felt numb as shock set in.

The creature started to drag itself away with a movement that was so pathetic she almost would've felt sorry for it if the fucker hadn't just swallowed her whole. As it moved, she briefly caught sight of Alexis' corpse, a view which brought with it a sudden flash of anger. Anger that wasn't all directed at the monsters either, but there'd be time to deal with that when the fight was done.

As it was, the rush of emotion at least brought her out of her shock enough to take action. She couldn't afford to quit yet. She had to keep going, even if that meant hanging on to every shred of anger and confusion she could just so she wouldn't be able to shut down. Keep moving. Keep fighting. If she just kept doing that, maybe she could ignore everything that was going on in her head.

Grasping the edge of the hole she'd torn in the monster with one hand, Zoe channelled her power into the other, driving it into the stomach's surface next to it and dragging it along to tear the flesh open in an attempt to spill what was left of the monster's guts. From the damage the acid had done, she was sure this would finish it off. And for once, she was right.

What was left of the creature's insides spilled out with a sickening squelch, rendering her attack almost as disgusting as it was effective. And effective it was, the creature letting out one final agonised shriek before it finally went still. Every last noodle, every piece of meat, completely unmoving. It was dead. She'd managed to kill it, finally. Laughter rose in her throat, nervous and unstable. She was alive! It was dead, and she was still alive!

"That's what happens when you pick a fight you can't win."

She made her way up the side of the plate, climbing the now-still noodles until she was stood on the rim. From her new position, she looked around the battlefield - and was more than a little annoyed to see that two of the monsters were still alive. The one nearest her had a hold of Allison, though, so she decided to focus on that. There wasn't time to pay attention to everything that was going on. Glancing at the ground, Zoe felt confident enough in her jumping skills that she could fall that distance without being hurt, but she wasn't sure she'd reach the creature in time. The next best thing she could do was try and distract it.

"Hey, how about picking on someone your own size?"

Of course, the only way she really knew of to distract things was to royally piss them off. It was with that idea in mind that she grabbed one of the nearest now-dead noodles, separating the end from the rest of the main body and tossing it as hard as she could at the monster which had a hold on her teammate. What better way to piss something off than by throwing its allies' remains at it? Thinking about it, that was probably kind of fucked up, but Zoe couldn't have cared less.

Instead of waiting to see its reaction she jumped, landing and rolling to deal with most of her momentum before she got shakily to her feet. The dizziness and nausea from the fog along with the shock of the whole ordeal left her struggling to gather her thoughts. She just needed a couple seconds to think about what was going on. Or maybe not to think about it.

To her credit Zoe was maintaining a reasonably convincing expression of confidence, but despite her attempt at keeping up the cocky act, her eyes betrayed her true feelings. Barely restrained panic, fear, and anger shone through them in conflict with her expression. Her breathing wasn't quite under control yet either, and her fists were clenched unnaturally tight, little cracks in her facade that would show anyone particularly observant that she wasn't anywhere near as okay as she was trying to pretend. She doubted any one of her teammates was close enough to figure any of that out quite yet. As far as they were concerned, Zoe would no doubt seem as cocky and unbearable as ever from a distance.

Just gotta keep it together until we're done fighting. Can't be weak until no-one's there to see.

Even though the overwhelming nausea and dizziness was bringing her way too close to throwing up for comfort, part of Zoe was thankful for the fog. It hid her expression at least. This way, no-one could see how close she was to falling apart.

Hazel Baker

She followed Lawrence quietly towards the seniors, the ones fighting what seemed to be a large golem.

"I'm going to try and save Pink team, I'd appreciate your help!"

That was what he said. Help save pink team. How she was going to save them was unclear, but it was at least an objective she understands. They had just managed to join with one of the girls in their team, the one with the odd misshapen leg, before one of the seniors they were supposed to save called out to them to leave. The golem it seemed, had been powering up for something big, for it transformed and split into multiple pieces. With a bright flash, she was startled out of her thoughts as green mist rolled in. Almost immediately after the flash, she reacted by instinct, throwing several blows onto the golem blindly. While she was sure all her attacks connected, the golem remained relatively unscathed and unmoved.

Hazel would have continued on attacking it doggedly, utilizing her newfound ability next, but by now the poisonous mist was taking its toll on her. Dizziness, slight vertigo, and a sickening knot forming in her stomach. The shallow but painful wounds on her right arm. The uncomfortable feeling of being still slightly wet with the doll's blood. The past haunting her with smiling shadows and barely heard whispers. It was almost a miracle that she hadn't run off screaming, blindly demolishing everything around her. Only the fear remains. Fear and programming that rooted her feet to the spot, that prevented her from just collapsing into a whimpering ball or explode screaming and clawing at everything that moved.

She took a step backwards, moving closer to Lawrence.

"I would suggest that you follow their instructions. I am unable to defeat that beast, nor do I have any adequate means of protection should it attack you."

As the sixteen year old continued the summoning process, he would spare glanced up at the battlefield, enough to get an idea of what was going on without breaking his concentration on summoning. In a sense it was like he was driving, focusing on the road while taking glances at the signs and stuff he went by. Except in this case the road was his summoning and everything else was the situation unfolding around him. On that note, things did not exactly seem to be getting better for the Green Team.

While one dead body lay upon the battlefield, from the looks of one of the grounded spaghetti monsters it seemed someone had escaped being digested. In fact, the escapee seemed to be the girl who had saved Aaron himself not long ago, the girl being one of the black-marked individuals who had been sent in Green Team. It was enough to make the brown haired boy breath a small sigh of relief while he kept his focus on summoning, happy that at least their death toll had not risen any more in the last few minutes. It was at least one positive he could find in the current situation, and it also seemed his other teammates had done some good work as well. Not that any of them were in the clear as of yet, as the situation visibly told without having to say a word.

As the green miasma of poisonous fog swept over the areas where all of the teams were, Aaron fought back the bodily urge to puke his guts in front of him as the nausea and dizziness swept over him in one fell swoop. It was enough that the boy began to limit how many times he looked up for a moment at the unfolding battle, as he had to fight the effects of the green fog as well as maintain his focus on summoning as he was still doing by this point in time. If nothing else, however, the dizziness and nausea made the injured boy glad he had propped himself up against one of the trucks. It made it much easier to stay standing.

Even so, how long would his own position stay safe as compared to the others? That was one question that could not be shaken out of his mind. He was in no shape to run or move if attacked, and it was taking the vast majority of his focus to keep summoning at that. If anything got past the others, or otherwise happened to turn its attention to him, then he would be nothing short of a sitting duck. Whether it was a physical blow from a meatball that sent his ribs barreling into his lungs or heart, or being snatched up by another tentacle of admittedly delicious spaghetti, either thing could still kill him or at least make his own situation that much worse...

Sander had been here before.

He remembered this place well, when they bound him with stag chains and dripped red down his throat until he was nothing else but fire and fury. Sometimes, it would bring him here.

Its form was not something the human sense could, or should, comprehend. So there was just a vastness. Waves upon waves of gentle emptiness that lapped against his skin. It held him like familiar arms, closer and tighter than anyone ever had. Warmth soaked into his skin, fuel to his fire, and he did not fight. He knew power when it bled into him. And here, he couldn’t lie. He wanted this.

It had got its hooks in him now. It always had. Its touch is tainted. Unholy. But it was all he knew.

---

Something snapped, and Sander found himself back in the battlefield, the warmth on his fingertips already faded. He clenched his fists, still covered in the bright glow and white mist of both his teammates’ powers, as if to cling onto what was left. However, his eyes darted onto the smears of Christmas’ blood. Lawrence’s power dulled his cravings, but after his latest fix, Sander could already feel the thirst tugging at the edges of his thoughts. He knew that he was so close, but he didn’t want to risk it. He couldn’t, not with Christmas…like this. Not even when the blond boy clearly didn’t have any use for the pooling blood on the ground. So with gritted teeth, Sander struggled to his feet and scanned the battlefield, the primal urges slowly cutting through the haze of Lawrence’s mind magic. His improved senses could easily pick out the standing members of Blue team, and it was obvious that they were mostly finished with their assigned targets. However, beyond them, the sound of combat still rang in Green team’s direction. He spared the senior students a glance as he dashed off toward the stench of pine needles and marinara. Despite the lumbering monster, Pink team didn’t smell like they were bleeding. Not as much as Green team, anyway.

Somewhere along the way, Lawrence’s magic was cut. The fire returned, stronger than ever, and Sander almost choked on the metallic scent that hit him as he passed the Blue team. Then something else permeated the air. The next few gulps of air brought an unnatural heaviness to his head. His neck-break sprint faltered, but soon enough, the bout of nausea was gone. He resumed his mad dash toward the Green team location, and soon found himself approaching them.

They looked rather battered, but he wouldn’t blame them. Their targets seemed dangerous and bizarre: floating plates of tentacle creatures and a scaly beast. His body charged before he could form coherent thoughts, and he let it. Maybe it was better this way; he could persuade himself to ignore the mangled bodies or the helpless girl hanging upside down nearby. He wanted to help, truly, but he was afraid. He didn’t trust his strength and he most certainly didn’t trust his resolve. So with a few steps and a final leap, he landed on the abomination, hands grabbing onto its tentacles. They did not feel very hard in his hands, so he began to tear away at the appendages.

As Chris just recovered and was about to move, his eyes caught to his teammates. Seeing such helpless mortal flesh seemed to have triggered a response like that of a chameleon spotting a fly. There was a growing sensation to direct his destructive and predatory nature to his teammates, eyes drawn to them like magnets. But this focus was broken when the volley of earth fell around him. Back in reality, the sound was enough for Chris to grip on his senses. With swift motions akin to a feline or wolf, he was able to avoid the first volley. However when the toxic smog hit, he would suddenly grow very groggy.

The dragon's urge to feed was overshadowed by a growing sickness. He felt nausea, like he was going to vomit. His movements were wobbly and he felt a tab numb. More over, somewhat weak. The first wave of inhaling this chemical left Chris vulnerable for a few moments, such moments would have gotten Chris crushed had Angel not stopped the monster's advances. She bought time for Chris to resist the illness upon him and charge forward, though even in his mad sprint, the gas clearly made him more exhausted and lethargic in comparison to his previous movements. Less alert, and his limbs moved sluggishly. That wasn't to say he wasn't moving slow, but it was definitely a downgrade from his previous charge.

Still, Chris would leap onto the exposed mass of animate food since it was turned towards Angel. All the while, the illness induced by the toxic air continued to make Chris's movements sluggish. He could feel his stomach grow sick as the dragon clung to the spagetti's side, trying to will himself to bite into the delicious creature, but instead his stomach had other plans. The Dragon, still gripping onto the mass of spaghetti, would vomit, due to the toxic air. His stomach juices would splatter all onto the mass in front of his maw.

The stomach acid of the dragon devastated the monster, its noodle-y flesh rapidly deteriorating upon exposure to the bile. Chris would fall from the lumbering mass as it would scream in pain, struggling to move and holding onto its plate as its mass was being eaten away. Chris's victory was not well celebrated, the dragon was still gravely ill from the gas and while the vomiting had some numb-like relief, it was temporary. The moment Chris got up after falling from the spaghetti monster, his feet would wobble this way and that. There was still trickles of stomach content dripping from his lips. The only benefit of this toxic gas, aside from accidentally using his own ill-stricken vomit as a weapon, allowed him to dampen his thirst for destruction and other feral tendencies his inhuman form seemed to hex him to do. Through this, he was able to pay attention to his allies without the tempting urge to maul them, at least for the moment.