What was he supposed to feel about this?

As Shane resolved in entire incident in less time than it took for the trio to even arrive here, Brent could only watch as those crystalline structures provided both salvation and destruction. The golem, turning into a whirlwind of dirt, couldn’t do anything at all as students (and one dragon) was airlifted into safety, before the pink-haired Arbiter put on some actual clothes and put his full attention into destroying the monsters that remained.

In a large scale attack that made even Prism’s laser beams pale in comparison, a massive dome of death was erected, swallowing the entire battlefield whole, before Shane grounded everything within into dust. The golem, the ‘category three’ that was greater than a monster that could level multiple city blocks, was torn into shreds, its core crushed and its ‘body’ scattered into the wind. The scorpion fared worse, its carapace shattered and insectoid fluids creating a blue splash against the diamond dome, before even that was engulfed by a myriad of stakes. The Olive Garden wasn’t even an issue, meatballs and spaghetti put into a blender and turned into goo. And, at the end of all this, Shane even went out of his way to drill the death-dome into the earth as well, a tremendous quake resounding as the earth was rend.

From some miracle, none of the military trucks had toppled over during that devastation, and once those crystals dissipated into emptiness, all that remained was a new landmark on the map.

Brent stood at the edge of the aerial platform, his eyes wide, his mouth open, trying to comprehend the enormity of all this from someone who was more injured than he was. Shane could give birth from his dick and not be in as much pain as he currently is. And yet he could do this? With such power, what the hell was he and Sophia even doing here? Moral support? Strategic advice? In-flight entertainment?

A familiar, unpleasant feeling surfaced. In the face of such might, what were any of them doing here? What…what was he supposed to feel about this?

“We can't trust your aim.”

In the face of that power, Shane didn’t need to trust anyone but himself.

“They'll learn soon enough. I'm just helping them earn their stripes.”

In the face of that power, Brent had earned nothing, learned nothing.

"Not all of us are useful."

In the face of that power, Alex was right.

His amethyst eyes flickered at those who survived. Exhausted, injured, angry, grieving, breaking.

All their efforts were for naught. Nothing would have changed if they had never came over to begin with. And even though Shane’s injury had reopened, even though he had to resort to drinking the magic blood of an unconscious boy after that, even though he could scarcely speak…it didn’t matter. The strongest Arbiter in USARILN East held a fragment of god within him, and Brent’s own power couldn’t match it at all.

Generation and manipulation vs improvement? What a fucking joke.

“This isn’t enough.”

He narrowed his eyes. What wasn’t enough?

“Everything.”

Then that made it simple. He’ll study more. Train more. Practice more. Utilize his power more. Do everything more, until he could be trusted, could earn his stripes, could be useful. Brent smiled, the same lovely, genuine smile he always had.

“Damn Shane,” he said, with a short laugh, “That was fucking bonkers! Were you this insane when you first got here, or what? Like, god, that’s some massive overkill. Visualized the golem as those green pigs or something?”

Turning to Sophia, Brent almost considered slapping her on the back, before recalling her whole thing about not using his right hand. Instead, he said, “And hey, Sophia, guess we weren’t really drafted after all, eh? Guess Zhang just wanted us to witness the gloriously incandescent form of the strongest and all.”

Everyone else was tired, vomitting, or whatever else, but Brent decided not to let that stop him.

It was always better to smile, after all.

Gregory Irving

---

It was no alarm, but the familiar and steady beep of plugged in electronics roused Gregory once again. His eyes stung from the artificial light when he forced them open, and his entire body ached. What parts did not were only because he could not feel them at all. For a moment he thought about looking around, but the familiar ceiling hinted at what he would see, so Gregory closed his eyes instead.

That did not help nearly as much as he had hoped. Unable to fall asleep again due to the general discomfort of continued existence, Gregory was instead left to stew in unpleasant and bitter thoughts instead. His expression tightened bit by bit as irritation mounted, at all manner of things, and the fact that he couldn’t move either hand only served to heighten the annoyance he felt. Of course his thoughts then drifted to how he’d be unable to fulfill his routine with these injuries and the loop of negative thoughts continued to play out.

He should have been brooding in silence, but Gregory didn’t realize he’d been angry enough and started mutter choice curses and what not. Not until an annoyed, “Shut it,” interrupted him, and Gregory opened his eyes again. A faint hint of recognition flitted across his expression as he scowled at the nurse, before the name tag made things click. “Great, it’s fucking you.” She didn’t deserve that from him, but he didn’t care enough to think about it at the moment. With only a nurse that seemed to hate her patients for company, Gregory truly thought about bashing his head against the bed’s railing until he went unconscious.

---

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---

As planned, the eyepion's tail passed harmlessly over her head. As Callan eagerly thrust the broken blade towards the monster's gut, however, a sudden and rather uncomfortable shift in momentum forced her back the way she came. She finally lost her grip on what was left of her pawnshop purchase. Next thing she knew, she was hovering over the battlefield in a crystal bubble made from the same material as that massive construct that had blown away the green fog. Her question of whether or not this was a good or bad thing-- a protective barrier or a prison-- was answered before she had enough time to decide it didn't matter and begin trying to smash herself free.

Either way, she wanted out. She wanted to kill that thing. Not because she had a stigma to sate or out of revenge for that green fog, which had barely made her sick to begin with. This was a combat assessment after all and she felt like she had yet to prove how useful she could be. She didn't need or ask for help. The pain of her injuries pushed to the forefront of her mind, arguing her resolve. Mild annoyance, which mainly revolved around what she considered to be her own poor performance, faded into silent awe as she watched the crystals at work.

Oh my God.... It was a thorough sweep. The sheer amount of power was intimidating. She winced as every single monster was encased in crystal-- not unlike she and her peers-- and then promptly mashed to bits. Like the Chop Wizard... 'Chop, chop, chop your prep time in half', she mused, finding it a bit funny that late night T.V. infomercials were on her mind at a time like this. Anyway, it was more like a... what was that thing called again? The coffin with spikes? Clearly the rush of adrenaline she'd been feeling up until now had ebbed if this was the sort of nonsense her brain was finding appropriate. There were more pressing questions she needed to focus on.

Landing on the ground, she found herself listening a little to closely to every word that was spoken by and to the tall boy with pink hair.

Who the fuck was this guy? Injured and yet he had just now made that entire fight look as simple as chopping up a few fruits and vegetables-- overexertion be damned. He was wearing what Ethan had been wearing before-- strange, skintight cuffs and some sort of wrap around his torso. An armament? She took note of the two new faces beside him as well-- friends of his, she assumed. Shane, she heard the brown haired boy say. She did her best to commit the name to memory.

And then there was Christmas Halvost. Myla-- the girl she had heard Eric (who she noted was also out cold) call out to when they first arrived-- dragged the unconscious boy from the crowd and laid him out for Shane to... oh. That's right... you had to drink his blood in order to heal yourself. She grimaced and turned away upon catching a glimpse of the small crystal cup. She was glad that she wasn't watching from the front as she noticed Shane's arm move, repeatedly indicating that he was having a whole lot more than a sip.

"Lilianna! Front and center! You're taking all the other injuries and healing through them with this guy's blood!"

She listened solemnly as the command was given, followed by a voice from their ankle cuffs to signify the end of their assessment. With their combined powers, they were going to heal everyone up.... 'This guy'... his name was Christmas. And he was so short and frail looking-- on top of being so pale. That gash in his leg looked pretty nasty, too. To have a healing power like that without the ability to heal yourself... man, that bites.

Callan glanced down at her own leg. It was bad, but... nothing some stitches couldn't fix, right? She pensively touched the damaged skin on her cheek with her fingertips, hissing softly. Still tender, but the burns would heal on their own with a bit of ointment-- probably. She looked back to Christmas. Hell, the only reason she'd remembered his name was because he was a healer and that made her feel like a guilty piece of shit. She didn't want to have any part in this weird healing ceremony.

She turned to speak to Lily before addressing the rest of her team. Even if Shane could have over killed everything on the battlefield a hundred times over, she felt like congratulations for a job well done were in order.

---

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---

---

And with the last step, Sander was in the eye of the storm.

He heard nothing but roaring fire, felt nothing save for the hammering thuds of his heart and saw only the red that stained his hands. If the heat had been unbearable earlier, it was now absolutely scorching. He could hardly breathe, and yet, he had never been more alive. The flame held him and it lifted him. In its embrace, he could fly. It was the closest he, or anybody really, would ever get to true freedom. He could do anything.

Yet, nothing at all.

He found himself staring down at his fingers, pale white and shaky. The maimed body was casually flicked aside as he climbed to his feet, predatory eyes scanning the battlefield for preys. However, their little skirmish was over.

He saw the towering rock monster moved first, its body dissolved into a deathly wind whirl. No flesh, no blood, but it was hostile. That was good enough for him. Then white spears materialized and cut through the rock storm effortlessly. Sander narrowed at the light blue hue across the battlefield, but what was left of his mind held him back. That was human blood in that direction. Soon enough, crystals bloomed across the field. Once it touched him, trapping him in a sphere-like construct. His instincts screamed out, and he pressed a hand against the smooth surface, putting pressure to see if it gave. Cracks formed, but they faded soon afterward.

Below, the display of power unfolded. The remaining monsters were soon reduced to nothing; the same creatures that he and his teammates had thrown themselves against just moments earlier were so easily dispatched. Then before he knew, he was grounded again, the spheres faded from existence. Sander willed himself to remain still as long as he was able, his limbs shaking with strain. He had to stop. There was nothing else to fight anymore. Yet, the fire refused to die. The craving remained, stronger than ever. His enhanced senses picked up scents and movements nearby, and he looked.

There was red everywhere.

“Oh, god.”- Sander almost choked on the words, eyes glued to group of people huddling around Christmas’ unconscious body. Before anyone could turn their heads, he dashed through toward the blond boy. The particular aroma of magical blood drew him like a moth to flame. His thirst had preferences, and it was a vain and selfish thing. He coered and he distracted and he begged, but he never really had any control. Now that there was nothing else he could direct its fury at, he lost whatever influence he had left on the craving. And it would take what it wanted. Always.

"Shane--behind!" Myla had noticed just in time.

Without turning, Shane dragged the crystal mass he had instinctively summoned at Myla's cry of pain earlier into a wall several meters behind him, the fortification almost 10 meters tall and 20 meters across. The span of it cleanly blocked off the students behind him, and Myla could catch warn him if anyone tried banking around. That done, he turned to see the source of the attack.

A lanky boy with eyes burning bright crimson and torso sheathed in the mist that was Christmas's magic was charging headlong at the group. He barreled mindlessly into the clear crystal surface, hellbent on moving in only one direction. The collision spread several massive cracks through the wall and Shane's brow furrowed in a mixture of surprise and unease. Under the effects of Hephaestus's gear, his crystal was theoretically even stronger, and it usually took something with the strength of a category three or four to damage it meaningfully.

Sander let out a frustrated grunt as he slammed his fists against the crystal wall again and again in an attempt to breakthrough.

Dangerous. Exceedingly so.

Before the crazed mage could get past the wall, Shane collapsed the material around the Aberration like a blanket, encasing the student's entire body in a rectangular chunk of the crystalline material, restricting movement as well as air supply while he checked the clarifications on both the student's name and power.

Once the walls began to cave in, Sander still struggled to the best of his ability, though it was getting exceedingly difficult. He glowered at the mage before him, eyes clouded and wild.

“Let me out!”- He screamed, desperation and rage bled into his tone. His cries went unheard in the crystal cage.

Meanwhile, Shane took his phone back from Myla, confirming the marker name on the tracking map before pulling up the correct set of information.

The student was 'Sander Lorraine' with detailed notes forwarded from previous research facilities. A mage who drank blood to become ridiculously powerful. Practically a vampire. Upper thresholds of strength exhibited ranked solidly within the destructive capabilities of a category four, and further footnotes and addendums explained in excruciating detail the gradation of power.

Shane skipped the lengthy information for now, noting only the power's effect and its requirement.

After several more seconds of rapid scrolling, he found what he was looking for: the limit.

Noted 'optimal' state fades within 15 minutes if no sources of blood are supplied. The recently designated 'frenzy' state lasts up to 30 minutes under testing, but does not exhibit the invulnerability observed in the 'optimal' state.

More notes followed, but Shane closed that particular file for the moment. So he had to sit here for potentially 30 minutes. Checking the state, the crystal touching Sander's skin speared slowly inward as spikes, but drew no blood.

The spikes only served to enrage Sander further. He lunged toward the sharp ends as much as his restrains allowed him to. Almost as if he were daring them to hurt him.

Damage resistance? Or invulnerability?

They jutted in harder, applying pressure from all sides. Sander's skin didn't even give way. When a final crushing force still had no effect, Shane blew out a long breath, releasing the pressure on the student and letting the spikes retreat into smooth walls again. Perfect invulnerability. Now that was a nice perk. He thickened the walls of the prison with more crystal, readying leeway to repair any damage Sander caused.

So just 15 minutes at a maximum. Shane grimaced at how much longer he'd have to keep the armaments in effect. The rarity of customized Hephaestus gear made its consequences unclear for most, but overexertion came far too easily under its effects. Where the body would otherwise tire on its own and powers would weaken accordingly, the armament made it possible to surpass that limit--while in use. He wasn't looking forward to the aftereffects once he finally shut it off. If he was lucky, he'd be out like a light for most of it.

But it wasn't like he could reverse the spent energy, and 15 minutes of holding a small prison was nothing compared to several minutes of the devastation he had wreaked. Drops of water in the bucket, and he hoped one of those drops wouldn't be the final straw that did him in.

Shane opened air holes in the crystal prison. Invulnerability didn't negate the need to breathe.

Hazel Baker

She had filled her head with as much noise as she could, even flexing her wounded right arm as she covered her ears with her hands. Even the nauseating poison was a welcome distraction from what haunts her. But that wasn't what she was worried about. What she was more worried about was Lawrence, still in the poison's area of effect, and the looming golem still standing strong. There wasn't anything she could do in her condition. Had she still been under the effects of the drug and calmer, she would have just forced Lawrence out of the area with any means necessary, even if she had to break both his legs and drag him out herself.

Fortunately, the poisonous fog was blown away, and support came in the form of crystalline structures everywhere. With an impressive show of strength, everything was destroyed, leaving nothing in the aftermath. Had she only that much power...

The crystalline sphere dropped them onto the ground, where she finally lost and upchucked the remains of her dinner on the ground.They were finally safe, and the mission was done. A few moments later the anklet she wore beeped and confirmed her thoughts.

"Combat assessment concluded. Mission status: complete. From current location, return expected within 2 hours."

"Mission... completed. Command status... rescinded."

There was a slight feeling of relief as she gathered herself for the trip back. No punishment for her this time, but there was still the assessment. Their reaction could range to indifferent affirmation to barely disguised disappointment. There was also the rare time they were pleased and gave her small rewards.

There were a few of them lost, as she had thought. It would seem no one on their team, those designated the red targets, had been lost. She turned her head towards a boy, who was apparently still in rage and trying to attack everything with impunity. It was handled with relatively quickly however, requiring none of her attention. A futile gesture towards one who had just leveled an entire battlefield on his own.

Had she only that much power...

Sophia Lemane

There was a change of plans. And that involved... Shane rescuing a few people, probably his teammates, and putting on some kind of gear that one of the people had been previously wearing. That plan also seemed to involve getting all the rest of the fighting humans along with a dragon, off the battlefield and encasing them in floating bubbles like the one she was in. Not to mention creating a whole lot of that crystal substance and spreading it across the battlefield.

What that plan didn't involve was any kind of participation from her. All she needed to do was stand back and watch Shane work his power. It was a big relief, really. She preferred it that way. At the end of a few minutes, it was all over. The monsters had been crushed, pulverized, killed, by the crystal dome that had imploded with spikes. She couldn't take her eyes off that scene of destruction until they landed on the ground near a few trucks.

Bringing her gaze over to the sitting form of Shane, she wondered why the Director had been against sending him out before. If he had the power to end such battles quickly without assistance, why hadn't he been sent out earlier? Yes, Shane was injured, but he had still defeated those monsters. But now, there were more injured students, some of them perhaps even being dead. There was an example of that.

Sophia had spotted the body of Christmas being dragged over to Shane, and her eyes widened as Myla dug her hand into one of the boy's wounds, before Shane proceeded to drink from the unmoving boy. The white veil around the boy and Shane didn't go unnoticed by her. Some kind of weird magic usage? Not wishing to watch Shane drink the boy's blood like a vampire, she dropped her gaze to the ground, taking a few steps backwards before turning away.

As she stood there trying to ignore the noises going on around her, a beeping from her cuff sounded, accompanied by a voice. Combat assessment concluded? she thought in confusion. Wait a moment, I remember something like that now. When the alarm had sounded while she was in the hospital, it had said something about an assessment, but she hadn't really paid that much attention to it. Don't tell me that's why Shane wasn't sent out, because the Director wanted to see how the new arrivals to the school could fight? Or maybe she had it all wrong. Everything here was so different, and confusing. She just wanted to go back to the suite that she had all to herself, and be alone.

But now, Brent was talking again, and to her. Lifting her gaze to look at him, she took in his wide smile and cheerful appearance with her own poker face. Did he ever stop smiling or talking? Taking a deep breath, she let it out slowly before shrugging. "Perhaps." Maybe that had been the Director's intention, maybe not. What had been done had been done, and there was no changing it, right? Though that still wouldn't stop her from pondering over it.

---

The world exploded.

Before Marcus could even see if his shots hit their mark, and far before he could start preparing his next move, the entire world exploded. From what his still foggy brain could understand, the air became saturated with little crystals, which seemed to brush up against and simultaniously not touch him. It seemed to wrap tightly around him, a circumstance which quickly gave rise to panic in his brain. He would have burned a rewind, had it the potential to benefit him, but his stationary time taking aim meant that he would once again end up in the same spot if he did rewind. This was a fact that his calmer brain would relay afterwards, a mental note as to combat strategies and the value of remaining mobile, especially given the nature of his power.

For now, his panic settled a bit as he quickly found himself in a large crystal sphere, seemingly made of the same materials as the fans he'd noticed across the battlefield. Which probably meant that this thing was a friendly creation; either that or he'd soon be crushed to a fine powder and there was nothing he could possibly do about it. He chose to remain blissfully optimistic about the situation, rather than contemplate his own crushing for very long.

Speaking of crushing, what was currently happening down below him was something that caused him to stop in awe. The entire battlefield, one in which they had been fighting for their lives, was a dome of crystal, trapping the creatures inside. This was the work of someone powerful; magic the likes of which he'd only seen on the original ten. The power of a Precursor, which made all their fighting seem worthless. If someone could come along and do this, no matter how much effort was expended, what was the point of them even being here? Sure, this might be their future, but why send them out first?

This point seemed to be hammered home as the sphere finished, and subsequently imploded inwards on itself in a brute show of raw magical strength. When they were finally deposited on the ground, Marcus was, for a brief moment in his life, speechless. Thousands of thoughts raced through his head, one of which being the comprehension of overkill that just happened. The point rang home again, although in a harsher light: what was the point in them even being here? If there were fighters that were more qualified to do this than a bunch of newbies, why send them out? He shook his head, the poison’s after affects almost causing him to lose his balance; there'd be plenty of time to mull it over later.

First, there was the issue of his pistol. G.I Jerkoff was standing a little ways away from the rest of them, along with a group of other soldiers, one of whom was currently vomiting. He honestly couldn’t blame the guy. And when we’re done, you just push this little switch to turn the safety on. Marcus looked down to find the little switch, fumbling with it for just a moment before pushing it down. “Hey, Private Pissed-Off! I bring you the present of Lucie, undamaged.” he said, extending the pistol outward with one hand. Nonono! Barrel down, Marc, barrel down.

He nearly dropped the gun in his sudden motion to flip it over, an action which seemed to cause a few of the guards to tense up. He handed it over to Jerry, barrel down, as well as the strap and magazines. “14 shots. One left in there for you to shoot yourself in the foot and appeal to Zhang if you want.” he said, turning away from the little group of guards.

“Hey kid!” the sound of his new friend’s voice caused Marcus to stop in his tracks and turn around. “15 shots. Try counting a little better next time, or you’ll get yourself killed going after a monster with an empty gun and a prayer.”

Marcus’s mind clouded ever so slightly. It was a little mistake, but the guard was right; that kind of error would have easily lead to his death. His mind raced a little bit, considering the ‘what if?’ He’d made a mistake, a lapse in judgement, which fortunately didn’t get the chance to play out in this fight. Which meant that it was fine, just a slight miscalculation that he’d have to learn from. He didn’t say anything as he turned back around. He silenced the ’what ifs’; right now he just wanted to find his team and make sure everyone else was okay.

"Lilianna! Front and center! You're taking all the other injuries and healing through them with this guy's blood!"

Sounded like he needed to hurry if he wanted to catch them before they got assigned somewhere else.

Good job Marc! Maybe next time I’ll let you actually fire it, see if you can shoot real bullets as well as those BB’s. I’m thinking ice cream on the way home, what about you? Don’t tell Mom though, she’ll skin us both!

Crystals all around.

It reminded Lily of that strange vision she had witnessed earlier. That one crystal of light that floated in front of her. Was it the same? She looked around, expecting to see darkness once again. But she remained where she was, with Marcus just a few steps away. She looked up as a small fragment of crystal floated down towards her. Just like in her vision. But somehow, she knew that it was different. She reached out a hand to catch it. Will it turn dark again? She couldn't help but wonder. She watched it as it floated closer and closer to her hand. As its tip touched her palm, she felt it push and wrap around her. And then suddenly, she found herself in a strange floating sphere. A mixture of excitedness and panic coursed through her. What was this sphere? Some kind of attack or a friendly act? Will it crush her or will it float her to safety? She looked around and was slightly relieved to see Marcus trapped in the same sphere as she was. Not that it was a good thing---being trapped. There was just that sense of relief of knowing that she wasn't alone in whatever it was that held them.

She would have asked Marcus what he thought of all this but the events unfolding below caught her attention. She reached forward, held her hands against the smooth inner surface of the sphere and began watching the scene below. From this new vantage point above ground, she had a perfect bird's eyeview on the remaining monsters: the huge golem, the spaghetti and meatballs monster and finally, the eye scropion Marcus shot at before the crystals appeared. There were all struggling to break free of the crystals that were now forming around them in a prison of sorts.

Still transfixed, she watched the crystal dome completely seal off the monsters they had just been fighting and then implode. Strangely enough, she felt a sense of accomplishment as she watched the nightmarish monsters obliterated, even though she had no hand in destroying them. Wow... whoever did that must be one heck of a person, she thought as she stared at the deep crater the implosion left behind. As she stared, she felt the sphere encasing them slowly float down back to the ground. And probably like the rest of the students, she found herself wondering why newbies like them were sent out into battle when people way way stronger and more effective than they could ever be were present. Combat assessment? Putting their lives in serious danger just to assess what they can do? Some school they were in.Aren't they supposed to put us through training first? The thought was frustrating and it threatened to pull her mood back down again.

As soon as the sphere dissipated, she looked at the small crowd. Some people were missing. Most probably dead. Who were the ones that had died in that sickening battle? Her thoughts drifted back to the horrible scene she had witnessed earlier. One of her team mates had fallen, eaten by those horrible squirrels. Padma. The memory flashed through her mind in a loop and she felt sick. How many more would die in future battles like the one they were just in?

"Lilianna! Front and center! You're taking all the other injuries and healing through them with this guy's blood!" a barking order floated into Lily's ears. Thoughts about squirrels and blood and screaming team mates flew out of her head and she perked up at the sound of her name. Her head poked out from behind the other students standing around, the order making her acutely aware of the injuries of everyone. Even without seeing them, she could sense them. And there was a lot. By the time she had siphoned off each and every injury there is, she would no doubt be reduced to a ball of pain and suffering. She wasn't looking forward to it but there really was no going around it. This was her purpose and it was how she could help everyone. Wasn't she just thinking about how best to help when the battle was over? Well, here it was now.

She was just about to take a step forward when she felt a hand tap her shoulder.

"Hey Lily," Callan hastily stepped forward and tapped the girl's shoulder with the back of her hand before she got too far. She lowered her voice and took a breath before speaking, her forehead creased with concern. "Don't worry about my injuries, alright? I'll heal up later."

"Yeah, and if you give me that shoulder injury back, I can rewind that away, no problem." Marcus said, standing slightly behind Callan. The whole situation felt a bit weird to him; he hadn't come to a point in that entire fight where he felt like he was in grave enough danger to rewind, and saved it for a worse situation that never happened. That'd look good on the assessment, for sure. He turned to go back to wherever their little group was going, but caught himself, looking back to Lily with a snap.

"Good work, by the way. Even though you blew me up and I shot you in the leg, I'd say we made a pretty good team out there. Although, let's try to keep the friendly fire to a minimum next time, 'kay?" he said, grin parting widely across his face. They'd managed to fight some of DC's goons, even if they were lower power and technicaly not DC's, but they'd still come out on top.

Lily looked at her two team mates. She didn't mind taking their injuries. They were part of the same team. They were supposed to look after each other. She stood there and stared at Cal for a second, wondering why she didn't want her injuries to be taken away. "Are you sure?" she asked. Callan nodded in response.

"I don't want him to lose anymore blood than he needs to right now...," she mumbled. It felt weird to talk about this outloud-- drinking someone's blood and transfering injuries.

Lily looked a little skeptically at Callan, not really paying attention to what she mumbled and then turned her attention to Marcus. This time, she shook her head. "No need to give it back when i've already taken it," she gave him a smile. "Don't worry. And thanks. I'll make sure not to accidentally throw any more grenades at you."

Grenades. Right. She still had the grenade belt strapped around her waist. She ran towards the soldier she got it from, unfastened it from her waist and handed it over to him. She didn't wait for him to say anything. As soon as the belt was safely back in his hand, she ran back as fast as she can to where she was needed. She stopped where Ethan was and caught sight of someone new to the group. Someone with...pink hair. He's probably the one who made all those crystals. she thought in awe to herself. She would have stared at him in awebut pink haired crystal guy was holding a cup that was stained red. Her eyes zoned in on its contents...or what was left of it. Blood?

Lilianna! Front and center! You're taking all the other injuries and healing through them with this guy's blood! The command echoed in her head.

This guy's blood... She stared at the cup and then at the unconscious Christmas and then finally, it dawned on her what they wanted her to do. Transfer all the injuries to herself and drink Christmas' blood. It made sense...in a way. But blood... Suddenly, she could smell the irony scent of it. She looked around frantically. Wasn't there any other monsters she could just transfer the injuries to? Did she really need to drink blood? Did he even have any left? He was so pale she doubted that there was any left.

"Shane--behind!"

Lily turned her head towards the charging Sander just as the crystal wall came up to block his path. She cringed when the crimson eyed mage slammed into it. Was he heading towards the bleeding Christmas? What would have happened if there wasn't anything to block his path? Instinctively, the black thread appeared on her wrist, the other end fastening itself onto Christmas' wrist. She immediately crumpled down onto the ground as wire cuts appeared on her left leg up to her mid thigh, blood soaking through her pants. Lacerations spread out all over her body as well but she made sure to leave one of the deeper lacerations on her target. If there wasn't any other monsters to transfer the injuries to, then she really needed to drink his blood to heal herself. That or die. After going through all that shit, she really really preferred to at least be able to walk back to school and pretend that they were all living normal lives. It'll be real sad not being able to eat donuts again.

She took the wrist wound last, immediately clamping her other hand onto the wound as to prevent herself from losing too much blood. Funny to be worrying about losing blood when her left leg was already losing it. She gritted her teeth to prevent herself from crying out from the pain as she shifted the weight off her now injured leg, the black string tying her to Christmas gone. She took a deep breath. "W-who's next?" she asked.

Grant’s eyes snapped up as the explosion went off. Panic, worry, and fear were dulled from the exhaustion that he felt. The nausea had finally left, but that tiredness was not leaving so easily. His eyes widened just a bit when he saw the crystal come down into the trench with him, his hand only tightening more around the hilt of the knife. Surprise filled his mind as he found himself within a sphere. He looked around, finally standing straight... at least he thought he was. The sphere lifted him up, into the air, out of the trench that he had made in the thick of battle. In the air. He pressed his free hand against the sphere as he looked on at the battlefield. Had they won? Was this victory?

His eyes caught the sight of the monsters that had been left on the field be trapped within a similar sphere as he and the remaining others were in. No- not just the remaining students... he even saw multiple bodies, spheres carrying them. Did that mean- no. Don’t think about it, Focus. He shut his eyes and took a deep breath, missing the sight of the remaining monsters being obliterated in their respective spheres. All he knew was that, somehow. Within a miracle, luck, or whatever god up there’s blessing, he was still alive. He survived. That’s what he wanted, his ultimate goal. So why? Why, as his feet touched down on the battlefield of this cruel assessment... Why did he feel empty? No satisfaction, no light-heartedness. Just nothing. He scanned around him, for some kind of answer. His classmates, his teammates, alive and-

Padma. He looked at his former roommate’s body on the ground, in the near distance, where it had landed. Nothing prepared him for her death. It was so quick. His feet began to carry him, onwards toward her body, paying no attention to his comrades that accompanied him in battle. Not letting go of that knife.

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Showy but effective, as usual.

Lawrence was more used to Shane and his capabilities than any of the new arrivals, and wasn't shocked at what had occurred. Still, one couldn't help but be impressed no matter how much they knew about the guy. Still, as he watched events unfold he was overwhelmed by a feeling. It wasn't awe, or respect, or relief as the remaining enemies were obliterated, not even the Golem which had looked to be a bigger threat than the rest of the battlefield put together. No, what he felt was quite different:

Disappointment.

The revelation shocked him a bit. Had he not always been relieved to be considered unimportant in regards to front line duty? In the fact that, if anything were to go wrong, he would be one of the first ones off the battlefield? Quite frankly, he suspected that staff mage was where he was destined to end up, and didn't really mind that path considering what the other possible use for him entailed. That is, being used and chewed up until he was dead.

It's just the adrenaline, same reason that daredevils feel good doing what they do, you don't really want this.

However, he knew it was more than that. This wasn't his first time on a battlefield, the first time he had been attacked, or the first time that his life had been in serious danger. Still, he had been there on the front, trying to protect his peers, and trying to come up with a plan to face a category three. He was certain they could have come up with a way to bring it down on their own after seeing what his team had been capable of. However, that opportunity was ripped away from him, and in it's place... disappointment.

"I can't really explain it, Lawrence. It's like... This is something that only I can do, you know? You know I'm not trying to say your power is useless, but Stigmas can be sated without you, and you know that psychologists do just fine without being touched by Dreamcatcher. You know what they can't do though? Kill monsters. Doing that, I feel like I've found my purpose."

Purpose.

Yes, that was it, wasn't it? Killing that Golem had, for a short time, become his purpose. Maybe a goal that couldn't be accomplished without him considering the other teams would have had no time to come up with a plan of their own by the time they reached it. Sure, staying alive and saving Pink Team were more immediate goals, and certainly at the forefront of his mind. That desire, however, had been at the back, slowly growing louder as he argued with Ethan a stone's throw away from it.

As much as he hated to admit it, Elizabeth had been right again. He hated losing an argument to anybody, but her especially. Still, he didn't let his thoughts linger on her longer than they needed to. Good never came of it, and there were plenty of people still alive that needed tended to.

Lawrence was not one of those individuals. While the blood and rips across his upper body, shirt, and face looked pretty gruesome at first glance, they were all superficial, and he had long since closed the wound on his wrist. At worst a couple of the cuts would leave shallow scars, but he thought even that would be stretching things.

With his ripped sleeves, the tattoos that were before only hinted at were easily visible, at least halfway up his arms. Both seemed to be covered in full sleeves, extending out of sight and barely visible through the various cuts in his shirt. The left seemed to be a surreal black and white scene, with a woman's face being ripped out of- or perhaps into- some reality. While the right was, in contrast, a colorful landscape scene, beginning in space and ending at the surface of the ocean. Yet, it almost felt as if it was the ocean at the bottom that contained the depth of the image, rather than the detailed scene above it. Both scenes continued upward out of sight, hidden beneath his damaged shirt.

He barely had time to assess anybody else's injuries on the battlefield before a commotion erupted nearby. Sander, in all his lack of stability, seemed to have finally snapped and gone berserk. Remembering their encounter only a short while ago, Lawrence sighed and began making his way over to the trapped student. Shane, of course, had it handled, but it wouldn't hurt to try and diffuse the situation before people started making enemies. On his way over he passed Hazel, and clapped her on the shoulder with his free hand, offering a:

"Thanks for saving me and Christmas from that doll attack, you have some pretty good battle judgement."

Before moving past her. Shouting from other groups quickly reached his ears, but he ignored them. Sure, he could try to force them to calm down with his power, but the battle was over now. Nobody was in danger if they let their emotions get the better of them (Berserking vampires aside) and it would do better in the long run to get things out of their system. No, Lawrence didn't interfere with them. Instead he walked over to Sander's prison and sat down in front of it, facing Shane. A white light enveloped both him and sanders as he did so, and with a sigh he broke the action on his shotgun and put the unspent shell back into its box.

"Still living up to your reputation, huh Shane? I think you can relax a bit though, this seemed to work on him pretty well earlier. No promises of course."

Sander had been weaker during their earlier encounter, but Lawrence hadn't been entirely at "full calm" himself either. Still, if Shane could relax a bit, he'd be in shape that much quicker for the next time they needed him. It was a chance Lawrence thought was worth taking. In either case, Lawrence was content to keep sitting, and closed his eyes to help fight the nausea the poison was still causing him. Sure, vomiting would help relieve the sensation a little bit, and he knew that, but he'd be damned if he let himself waste the coffee he had managed to drink that day.

At the end of the day, it was the stupid shit he was stubborn about.

Emma tracked the two tulpas, hoping, praying their attack would hit and she wouldn't get Callan hurt again. Cal landed her own blow against the eyepion and then everything went to chaos. The battlefield turned to glass, no, crystal, spreading over everything- everything indeed, Emma realized as the crystals crawled up her own body. She tried to struggle against them but it was to no avail. She would then immediately find out that her struggle was pointless- the crystal was her allies creation, not an enemy's attack. As their coating completed they morphed into a bubble that encapsulated her then rose from the ground up skyward towards safety.

The scene below was absolute carnage. The crystals killed everything that wasn't on their side, spaghetti and all. It was like a bomb but much more terrifying, shredding everything within it's radius, turning what was once Menagerie's monsters into viscera and gore. But even this wasn't deemed enough, as the crystal dome collapsed into itself and then into the earth below, creating a gigantic crater hundreds of meters deep. Slowly, gradually, Emma was returned to the ground to admire the aftermath.

She didn't want to see any of it.

She sat down, taking the chance to rest. She decided then and there that she was not cut out for battle. But this was her life now, wasn't it? Why couldn't DC have picked someone else... She lamented to herself, a heavy sigh escaping her lips. She glanced around. She was next to everyone, assembled once again as a group... a group and two corpses It seemed like every time they were a group more there were more bodies. She let herself topple over, landing on her back, looking up to the sky. She didn't know them, but she cried all the same. She told herself that she could be friends with her 'classmates'- well, two were dead and the one that by her roughest estimation counted as a 'friend' more than likely didn't give a shit about her. Tears ran loose from her face. She very suddenly stood up. Her gaze honed in on the boy, the newcomer with pink hair. She saw him next to a now caged Sander- no doubt a result of his power. Emma had seen the result of many powers today, and she was quickly losing her appetite for 'superheros'.

She walked towards the him with intent, tears still streaming down her face. She wanted to yell at him. She wanted someone to blame. She wanted to scream, but instead a whisper came out. "W-what... what was the point of any of this? Why d-did they have to... why did they have to die?" She gestured weakly towards bodies that were once students of USARILN, "Why couldn't you have saved them... why... why were we sent... you have all that power, but it was us... we're the ones that had to fight? They were the ones that had to die? For what? To b-buy time for you to get here?" Her voice wanted to be angry but it was weak, frail, threatening to break. She wanted to hit the pink-haired stranger but felt more like falling over. Her crying turned into sobbing. Through her convulsions words escaped, "Why... couldn't... you... have... been... here... sooner?"

Her clothes were shredded, she was covered in pockmarks and dried blood, and she had turned into a blubbering idiot. Emma Halwell was a mess.

@January

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As Lilianna complied quite readily for an Aberration, Shane nearly winced for her. Not a fun power. But she had chosen it all the same. The X on her throat was the damning evidence of that.

He scattered a corner of Sander's prison into dust, floating the shimmering cloud towards the wound Lily had left behind on Christmas's leg--a long, diagonal gash across the front of his thigh, right above the knee. It was more horizontal than vertical and, with the tourniquet loosened, blood was flowing freely from the severed blood vessels.

The crystal dust slipped into the wound, reforming into a crystal layer that sealed up much of it before forming small passageways directing the blood flow towards a small opening in the clear substance. An aqueduct to more precisely siphon the blood. Something he could only manage to that level of precision while using the armaments. The blood collected easily into the glass positioned below the aperture and Shane closed the opening as the glass filled up.

The shot glass pushed itself gently against Lilianna's arm, reminding her that she should be keeping herself topped off during the duration of the healing.

Lawrence had spoken up while he had been busy pretending to be a healer and Shane grimaced at the mention of his reputation.

For all that talk, his team had a body count of ten so far. For all that talk, they'd had to retreat with the rest of the support mages and leave Decker's body behind as the Precursors finally arrived to finish off the category four that had woken up near Jakarta.

"Don't fuck up again. Not gonna be around to teach you how to git gud."

He hadn't been able to focus through the pain. Had barely heard Decker. Crystals had burst into life and shattered uselessly around him. Then the watery, prickling sensation of Decker's stitches had disappeared.

He didn't respond to Lawrence's offhand comment, watching instead the application of the mage's power. If Lawrence had been there to stop Ethan, would he still have had one more teammate?

"Thanks, Lawrence," Shane released Sander from the prison, lowering the impromptu prisoner slowly to the ground and breaking apart the prison into several sheets of crystal. "I'll take you up on the offer then."

Despite that, he kept the crystal panes nearby, ready to intervene if Lawrence's power wasn't enough.

No sooner had he finished than one of the other students came up to him, resentment and accusations lacing the already sordid aftermath of drinking blood from an unconscious boy.

He held up a hand to stop Myla from responding. Ethan wouldn't have said anything. Ethan, particularly, had no right to say anything.

The marker on the phone displayed "Emma Halwell," with a voice as tattered as her clothing.

Looked like a sweet girl under most circumstances. Looked like she had no place on the battlefield. As did all the new students.

The amount of blood he had consumed from Christmas had healed his injury enough that he could finally breathe comfortably for the first time in weeks. So he stood up to face Emma's words, the expression on his face unreadable.

"Why... couldn't... you... have... been... here... sooner?"

Because he had been injured. Because he hadn't dared push himself before seeing the state of the battlefield. Because he had only woken up about forty minutes ago and had been just as angry and accusatory as she was now. Because he had to get the Director's permission before heading to the battlefield. Because he had needed time to prepare his crystals. Because. Because. Because. He could answer her for days.

But none of those were the answers she wanted to hear. They weren't the answers he wanted to give either.

His lips curled into a sneer, eyes half-lidded with condescension like her question had set new standards for stupidity.

"Because I fail where it matters most. It's what I do."

He tilted his head mockingly at her, spreading his arms out in a dare. A provocation. Hit me.

Angélique had helplessly watched the battle unfold before her eyes as she stood on her knees, weak and exhausted from the tedious battle. Never in her life had she felt so much adrenaline pumping in her system, never did she experience such intense emotions either. When the spaghetti monster she had defeated and fell on the ground thanks to the coordinated efforts of Christopher in his dragon form, a new ally that had just joined the fray and her stunning shriek that had opening this window of opportunity, she couldn’t get back right up on her feet right away. She had watched, awestruck, the two powerhouses of her team colliding each other in a duel. She tried to get to her feet and yelled at them to stop, but her voice was but too faint and her legs felt like lead sinking into water.

Even though the battle was just about to be won, Angel could not help but feel distress as she could only but watch her two teammates trying to tear each other apart, while Allison was in mortal danger. She wished she could run over there and help her injured friend in dire need of assistance, but the nausea mixed with her growing fatigue all but pinned her on place.

However, fortune was a fickle mistress. She could be as much of a bitch as she could be benevolent. In this case, it would seem like a being of immeasurable power had come to the rescue. At first, the black-haired Aberration was frightened by the blue sphere that had enveloped her, fearing that a monster had taken hold of her and her team. However, she soon realized that whoever was the source of this occurrence was on their side, as the sphere had risen high enough in the sky to safeguard them from the devastation that happened below.

It was hard to accept. So much violence, injuries, death, stress and strain happened on this battleground, only to be swept away in an instant in an exaggerated show of power. Whatever was behind this scenery of overkill, it wasn’t short of the stories of the Precursors’ power. This intervention only proved that to the higher-ups of USARILN, this was all but an examination of everyone’s capabilities. If this was truly a serious threat, there would be no need for all who had gathered here to fight these monstrosities. People wouldn’t have died, suffered, grieving, shouting out their pain.

Angélique slammed a closed fist on the crystal sphere surrounding her, anger surfacing after feeling like she and her comrades were toyed with in such way. She couldn’t help but feel resentment towards whoever did this show of power housing, further fueled after she had touched the ground and heard what the leader of Pink Team ordered.

What kind of fucking twisted joke was that? The so-called ‘healers’ had to either transfer injuries on themselves and let others drink their blood to regenerate. They couldn’t expect a single girl to actually take everyone’s injuries on herself. Odds are she would faint from the pain or have a physical and mental breakdown before even being able to walk back to the other healer.

She was about to voice her opinions, but all that came from her mouth was a choked wheeze followed by a coughing fit. Truly, the fallen Canadian singer overexerted her voice, and it was clearly apparent she couldn’t yell anymore, or at least had barely enough juice for whispering. She frowned at this situation, but then turned to the rest of her team that had reached ground.

Now that this battle was over, it was time for her to check up on her team, as much as she grieved to acknowledge ahead of time the death of one of her teammates. There was one person in Green Team she wanted to see up close and personally; the red-haired girl that had been swallowed by a spaghetti creature, and somehow managed to emerge from it alive, much to her bewilderment.

_{“Hey girl, you alright? I can’t believe you’re alive, I thought you were a goner when you got eaten by that thing. I’m glad to see you alive.”} She ushered in a low, strained whisper-like voice as she put a comforting hand on the redhead’s shoulder.

Emma quivered with anger. She'd never done that before. She'd never felt like she did right now in the entirety of her 'normal' life. She'd never seen people die. She'd never been so close to monsters, let alone fought them. She'd never fought anything. She never imagined that she'd be a subnatural, never conceived that she'd be a prisoner in a research institute, that she'd become a weapon to fight DC's creations, that she'd have the responsibility to fight for the sake of her friends or the people of Crimen Culpae 1, she'd never imagined-

Today was filled with a lot of things she had never done or imagined doing.

Most importantly she'd never hit someone in her life. She wanted to now. More than anything she wanted to wipe the sneer from Shane's face.

They died because he wasn't here fast enough.

Aren't I just blaming him for your own mistakes? They died because I wasn't strong enough, didn't they?

It doesn't matter anyways, does it? I can forget about him and the others, they don't matter.

I don't matter either, do I? I can just end my suffering, can't I? No one would notice, would they?

Emma was never good at separating what thought were her own and which were her stigma's. What she was good at keeping her emotions in check, but now she didn't feel like restraining herself. She didn't want to hold back. She didn't want to put on a fake smile and forgive the pink-haired stranger.

She did want to hit him, so that's what she did. Her hand cocked back, sending her open palm flying towards the boy's cheek.

Watching after Lily, Callan's attention was drawn to a dark brown mess of hair peppered with blond strands darting ahead of Lily with inhuman speed. She barely had enough time to fill her lungs with a gasp before Shane entombed the boy in crystal-- but not before the boy proved that he was more than capable of cracking Shane's wall. What the hell was that all about? She noted the black X marring the crazed student's throat and she felt a sudden chill. Why had he tried to attack Shane just now? Was that... was that what a stigma did?

Her research on the subject had yielded more questions than answers-- the result of people speculating over the last 10 years and the governent being suspiciously unwilling to share their research. She once again tried to remind herself that giving that online thread she'd found a proper look would probably be to her benefit. Though the boy's well-being concerned her, everything seemed to be under control. If Shane was going to kill him, she knew he already could have. Marcus' question managed to stop her from thinking too deeply on the matter-- though she wouldn't soon forget what she'd just seen.

"How're you feeling, Cal?" Marcus said, turning to their resident super hero. "Don't try and play tough, we all saw you get grand-slam swatted back there, and we can't have our lead star sitting out the next fight; we'll all get kil-" his voice caught in his throat, and his face immediately paled as his memory brought forward an unpleasent fact: there had been casualties. In the thick of the battle, he'd nearly managed to forget it. Now that he had the time for everything to catch up to him, the weight of the realization pressed down on him like an iron weight.

She tore her eyes away from scene. With a sheepish scoff, Callan absentmindedly scrunched her ponytail as she replied, warmth spreading across her cheeks, "It wasn't so bad. I might go see Christmas later about my leg. I think it'll take a while to heal, but I can deal for now. Anyway, I wasn't much of a lead this round. You guys did way better than me. I didn't kill a damn thi--" she paused, noticing the odd expression on Marcus' face. Was it something she said? "Uh... well, I might not go see Christmas after all. The blood thing is kinda hard to swallow... no pun intended."

Her eyes swept over the rest of the group as she spoke, wanting to let everyone know what a good job they did. Almost everyone was there. She spotted Siena off a little ways, but where was....

"Where's Padma?"

No words, just action. He walked past his teammates, classmates, without a word, to where Padma laid. Where what was left of Padma laid. He stared down at the body, his eyes lidded, blinking slowly. He didn't grieve, he didn't cry. He just stood in thought as he looked at the body. Was there something he could've done? Would it have been possible to somehow save her... Of course, he wouldn't find out. Not now. Now that she's already gone. He closed his eyes, letting out a sigh. "Sorry..." He muttered under his breath. "I'm sorry I didn't do anything..."

As Grant passed, Cal followed him with her eyes for a moment before looking ahead. There she was. Padma. Lifeless as could be.

Her hand slid tightly over her mouth and her breath caught in her throat. She was deathly silent and her eyes seemed void of any emotion as they stared at her teammate's lifeless form. For one blissful moment she felt nothing at all as she tried to comprehend her feelings, which suddenly felt like a lottery wheel of emotion. Happy it hadn't been her, sad she was dead, angry she hadn't been there to stop it, surprised to see more death so soon, happy it hadn't been Marcus-- or Siena, sad that her loved ones would miss her, angry that nobody had called for her help-- even though she probably wouldn't have made it in time. Angry that the school hadn't given everyone weapons to fight with. Angry that Grant hadn't watched her back. Angry that she was dead. The wheel had stopped spinning.

She barely heard Grant's muttered apology-- speaking over him before he even ended his sentence, "What the fuck happened?" Her eyes darkened as she shifted her gaze from Padma to Grant.

"You were supposed to watch her back! What the fuck happened?!" she stepped towards him, lowering her hands, which tightened into fists. Her voice cracked as she asked the question a second time, her face a mixture of frustration, confusion, and helplessness.

Grant barely turned his head, opening his eyes to glance at the angered Callan, who directed her frustrated words toward him. As if it were his fault. His fault. His fault? His brows furrowed ever so slightly as he looked back at the body. They stood in silence as he recollected the events. The events before and during her death... He let the silence in that moment linger before he slowly shook his head. "It was so quick.. I was so focused on just chucking rocks, I didn't even notice the squirrels so close... Those squirrels... They tried to attack me. Kill me, and I froze... I just froze... And when I couldn't defend myself, she did. And even though she was right there, right in front of me... struggling... dying..."

He held the knife with a death grip. "I did nothing." Was the last thing to come from his mouth as an explanation. His voice was, as usual, tired, almost regretful. Yet no sadness, no grievence. No anger, frustration. It was on the complete opposite spectrum of Callan's emotional outburst toward him.

The silence that hung in the air only fueled the panicked fire that was building inside of her-- and his response did little to provide any comfort. In fact, the lack of emotion as he spoke-- sounding more sleepy than sorry-- caused her shoulders to shake and tears to well up in the corners of her eyes. The same lack of emotion she had felt the night before. More sleepy than sorry. Could she have saved her? Could she have saved any of them? Callan inhaled sharply, cocking her head to the side.

"Nothing?! How could you do nothing?!" her voice rose. She couldn't remember the last time she'd spoken at such a high volume. Her shadow started to flicker. It twitched unnaturally, darkening as the edges seemed to harden. "Sh-she's fucking dead! And you just stood there and watched!"

It was Cal's voice that caught Siena's attention. The volume enough to cut through the rest of the din. Enough to pull Siena's head out of the ocean and keep her floating for a moment longer. Following the sound, the brunette soon found her teammates. Almost all of them.

Padma.

If there was a voice left in Siena's body, it vanished as her eyes went over to the lifeless body. The cry for help that she would have, should have made lost in the booming thunder echoing through the storm. Back under the water, the emotions threatened to drown her as the adrenaline sank to the pit of her stomach, heavy now that it had run its course. Anger. Regret. Guilt. The final of the three was the final blow, stealing away Siena's breath entirely as the ocean threatened to boil over. Pinpricks in the back of her eyes. Heat that reminded her she was alive. Pain dug deep, anchored her in the sea as she lingered a short distance away from the others.

'It was my fault.'

But she was too much of a coward to say it. She deserved to drown in the sea.

Marcus stood by, silently. He'd neglected to say anything when Callan's questioned pierced his mind like a dagger, but he fortunately wasn't the one that had to tell her. In all honesty, he wouldn't have known how to approach the topic if he had been the one that needed to. Now, he stood back and watched his roommate tear into their teammate. It was only when she started getting heated that he stepped in, his stressed mind paying no attention to the twitching shadow on the ground.

"Callan." he said softly, almost placing his hand on her shoulder, but pulling back. "Settle down. It's not Grant's fault; most of us haven't even seen those things, much less fought against them." his voice was growing a bit stronger now, as the color flushed back to his face. "There's no way we could have been ready for this so soon. Nobody did anything wrong, it just...happened." he had no idea how comforting or defusing this was supposed to be, but the words just didn't seem to be there. He stopped, looking off to the side in silence.

'Liar.'

She hadn't noticed the loud thumping in her ears until it started to fade upon hearing her name-- it sounded distant and far away. Her mind numbing frustration was shattered as she realized it was Marcus speaking to her. She took a step back and her shadow, unnoticed, returned back to normal. Defeated, she sniffled, wiped the remnants of her almost-tears away and sighed, biting down on her lip. He was right-- she couldn't blame Grant for this. He was just some kid that woke up one morning with powers and a streak on his cheek. That's all any of them were-- the X's, too. He probably hadn't even had them for more than a week-- if her own timeline was any reference. But still....

"I fucked up.... I shouldn't have charged ahead and left you guys," she said dejectedly.

"Hey now. What did I just say?" Marcus said, his voice nearly demanding. If Callan turned to look at him, she'd fine a mix of soft anger, tempered by a quiet understanding. "Nobody did anything wrong. That includes you. Look at your leg right now and tell me what that thing would have done to the rest of us if it got close." his eyes flitted away for a moment, and his hand instinctively reached up to fiddle with the dog tags around his neck. "People die now. It happens. Sometimes there's nothing you can do about it." he finished, his eyes darting back to address Callan.

"God, I know. I just... I wish there was," Callan looked back at Padma, but couldn't bring herself to look any further than the girl's shoes, "Grant, I'm sorry. Marcus is right-- it's... it's nobody's fault." She said that, but her guilt lingered-- made worse by realizing how stupid she'd been for snapping at Grant. Of all people, he probably felt the worst about what happened-- and she'd only encouraged it. She glanced between Grant, Siena, and Marcus, opening the apology up to them as well.

'It was mine.' But her coward heart dared not break the peace that began to settle. They were already calming, even if her personal storm was reaching its peak. She hated this part. It was her own fault this time. Not dubious events that she couldn't pinpoint the reality of when everything was left in shambles inside. Not faceless loss after faceless loss made to pull herself together when the floodgates couldn't hold.

In the event of Marcus calming Callan down, Grant simply stood there, taking her emotional words before Marcus had stepped in. Wasn't his fault... Was his fault... he wasn't sure anymore. He was just tired. When he finally heard his name once more from her, in a much more calm tone, he focused in on her words. Nobody's fault. He let out air through his nose quietly as he turned away from the body, simply nodding in response. "I'm going to the trucks..." He'd say lastly before he began walking to said trucks.

Marcus wasnt quite sure how to take the whole thing. Grant seemed okay, but he honestly didn't know the guy well enough to determine if he was actually okay. He sighed softly, looking back to Callan. "You sure you don't want to head over and get yourself patched up? Some of those burns look pretty bad." The words came out slowly, and although he tried, he couldn't force a happier expression on his face. He was tired right now, not just physically, and he longed to leave this battlefield behind him.

Callan was silent for moment before answering-- staring after Grant and lost in thought. She turned away and weakly shook her head, "I'm fine." As she spoke she looked down at her leg. The deep gash made by the monster's beak, amidst its painful throbbing, had managed to bleed through the sleeve of her shirt-- she'd known this, but failed to notice that it hadn't stopped bleeding since. Two hours might be too long for a few stitches at this rate. She curled her lips into a frustrated snarl and sighed. "Shit..." she hissed, "Mm... no, I think I can make it."

"Really?" Marcus said, bringing his hand up to his chin in a thoughtful position. "'Cause, and I'm no doctor here, so correct me if I'm wrong; but I'm pretty sure all that blood is supposed to stay on the inside of your body." he finished, his joking demeanor immediately shifting into business, bringing with it an equal change in his tone. "Swallow your pride, go over there and...what? Drink his blood? Ew." he stopped for a moment as he watched the medical process their healers were going through, but quickly got back on topic. "Go over there and drink the blood, or I swear to god I'll hide your crutches while you sleep."

"Have you seen that guy?" she grimaced, "He looks half dead already!"

"I doubt they'll drain him dry. If they need to stop, I'm sure they'll stop. Zhang's probably monitoring him or something." Marcus said, looking over to where the boy lay. He didn't particularly look to be the healthiest, but if they said stop, that would be the end of it. "I'm not dragging you to the infirmary because you passed out on the transport ride back. Go." he said, nodding his head in the direction of the rest of the people being healed.

She sighed looking down at her blood soaked leg. For a moment she considered removing the sleeve wrap to reassess the damage, but that probably wouldn't help her case. Anyway, Marcus seemed to know what he was talking about and the thought of passing out because of this didn't exactly appeal to her. Of course, Christmas' blood didn't either, but... if it wouldn't kill him, maybe he could spare a few drops.

"Yes, mother," Callan sighed with defeat, managing half a smile before she headed off in Lily's direction. Despite how awfully bleak everything seemed, it felt good to be able to smile-- at least a little bit. Hope was something she'd felt she was sincerely lacking these days. Recover. Live to fight another day. Stay strong. She was grateful for the unintended reminder-- as well as the concern.

As Callan walked away, Marcus took one brief look down at the body where it rested. It was hard to believe that less than an hour ago, she'd been riding a transport over with them and prepping herself for combat.

People die now. It happens.

As much as he desperately wanted anything different, the words he'd said were true. They seemed to help the others at least, if the diffusion of the argument were anything to go by, but he didn't truly believe them himself. He contemplated saying some words, something to 'help the departed along', something to fill the deafening silence that hung around him. After a long moment, failing to find the proper response, he settled on a soft "Thank you."

Grant left shortly after, leaving Marcus and Callan to have their exchange. Leaving Siena enough courage to finally, finally approach the body, mind a cacophany of "what if" and "if only." With Callan starting to move towards Lily, that really only left Marcus and Padma. Weight pressed in the back of Siena's head. Her fault.

'You have no one left to hide behind now.' Mocking words rang clear in her head. Clearer than everything else. She wanted to be drowning. The storm quieted in the realization, leaving behind serenity for a terrifying moment of clarity. A moment where she could almost catch a glimpse of the endless expanse. Infinite. Incomprehensible as eternity was.

Just a few drops of the storm.

This storm is yours to take. Calm, lightning, and all.

And just as quickly as it had come, the eye passed, leaving Siena to the mercy of the new set of emotions that took turns to batter her. Disgust over the calm, frustration that despite what she told herself to feel, the tears refused to come. That she wanted to grieve, but was too absorbed in her own problems to do it properly. Lost again in the wake of what she'd felt. No one left to hide behind. Finally regaining her voice, Siena turned her attention towards the lone familiar face left.

"I...I'm glad you're alive." The words came out shaky, just as battered as she felt, but stronger she had thought they would be. Between the mental and physical exertion, there was little that seemed more appealing than following Grant to a truck and closing her eyes, but that would have meant being alone with every thought she tried to hide behind another name. Ezio. Gavin. Marcus. She just needed someone to hide behind. "Do you think Cal will be okay...?"

'More okay than I feel, at least...'

Marcus gave a weak smile, if only to show that he was alright. "Yeah, me too. Good to see you're still kicking as well. he said, his usual enthuasim somewhat lacking. He turned to look at Callan as Siena mentioned her, turning back and shrugging. "I hope so; I don't want her bleeding all over the carpet when we get back. How about you? You doin' alright?" he said.

The tone of his voice hopefully made it apparent that he wasn't just talking about being physically well. Siena hadn't said much yet, and he wasn't getting a very good read on how she was handling the aftermath. As much as he didn't want to be the stoic, 'put your mind at ease' guy, he'd take up the mantle if he had to.

He was just as exhausted. Siena internally grimaced, another trickle of guilt curling deep into the rest of the pit. Instinctively, her fingers curled into the ends of whatever locks had sprung loose from their usual confines, curling, pulling. Satisfaction coming with every barely audible snap of a strand breaking under pressure. "I should be asking you that." Because it wasn't the first time she was left with an aftermath. Not the first time she'd felt loss that cut deep enough to ache in her bones, and it wouldn't be the last if she kept using her abilities. With a modicum of effort, Siena pushed the emotions back down her throat, to the back of her mind where they had less space to run rampant. There was no use in trying to compartmentalize them when it was her and not someone else. Her problems, not his. "But thanks for the concern." She tried her best to return the weak smile, found that she was too exhausted to manage emotional labor, and quickly switched to an apologetic look when the expression faded quickly into little more than a tired uptick of the lips.

A thought that bordered on a fuzzy memory came to mind.

"Don't push yourself too hard." Or else he would break like so many others that put themselves behind others. Despite her best attempts, she could feel the desperation and concern break through the facade she tried to keep going. A quick nervous scratch of the head to turn her face away in case anything cracked the mask was all that Siena could afford before she spoke again. "I um...I mean...you've been taking care of everyone else so far, so you should take care of yourself first." It took most of her self control not to turn her statement into a nervous question--Why? Because you know you're only saying it because you know Gerwulf would have?--but it was enough...wasn't it?

"Yeah. Trust me, I'm doin' my best here." Marcus mumbled. It came out a little harsher than he meant it to; a little more honest than he intended. Almost surprised at his own bluntness, a more upbeat comment quickly followed, as if it were a built in reflex: "I'm rewarding myself with a nice hot bubble bath when we get back. It's the least I deserve after making sure all you guys don't drip all over the nice beds they've provided." he chuckled slightly, rubbing the back of his neck.

He opened his mouth to follow up with something else; another witty comment, a joke, something to lighten the mood, but found his words had abandoned him. He stammered out nothing, resigning himself to his silence. A quick sigh, and an almost pained look showed that he didn't have anything left to raise spirits. "Thanks"

Halfway to where Lily was, a black thread wrapped itself around Callan's wrist. While the supergirl did say that she didn't need her injuries taken, Lily didn't really believe she wanted to stay hurt too long. That, and the fact that Lily wanted to prioritize her team mates. There was a cry of pain from the golden haired girl as all of Cal's injuries transferred to her. The black string promptly dissipated.

She paused at the black thread that materialized around her wrist, followed by an immense feeling of relief as the gash, as well as the burns, dissipated. Poor Lily. She winced at the sound of the girl's cry. She wanted to shout a thank you, but with so many other people around, her desire not draw anymore attention to herself won out. She'd thank her personally on the ride home... maybe send her a 'Thanks for healing me!' card. Maybe she'd send one to Christmas too if she ever managed to get over how weirdly nonconsensuall this all seemed. Behind her, she overheard Siena talking to Marcus and glanced back at them over her shoulder. She felt a strange pang of isolation, but brushed it aside-- instead choosing to think about Padma.

I won't let your death be in vain. She nodded to herself, resolve renewed.

Zoe couldn't really absorb everything she'd just seen. One second they'd been in the middle of a fight, and the next it was all over. A minute hovering in the sphere had at least given her time to calm down slightly but there was just so much to take in, not least the sheer difference in power that had just been shown by the crystal-making student. She guessed he had to be one of the academy's stronger mages though, because there was no way the kind of power he'd just used was average around here. The senior students were yelling about something, but it went over her head. Whoever they were talking to hadn't been with her group so it wasn't her problem, just background noise not worth paying attention to.

She looked kind of surprised at Angel's concern, startling slightly at the hand on her shoulder. Not really sure how to respond to it she just nodded in thanks. Despite her efforts to hold it together, the shock was visibly starting to set in, leaving her struggling to maintain her balance. The whole experience had been horrifying and she knew it wouldn't be the last time either, but at least no-one else had died this fight. Probably thanks to the intervention - a thought which reminded her of something. She took a deep breath, clenching her fists to stop her hands from shaking before she spoke, looking around at her teammates.

"What happened out there?"

Pausing for a second as her voice shook, she tried to regain her composure. As much as it would make her feel better, pointless yelling wouldn't achieve anything. She could be as angry as she wanted, but she needed to get through to them if she wanted to make any kind of difference. When she spoke again her voice was more measured, filled with barely-controlled rage.

"You three. Aaron, Allison, Savannah. If it wasn't for me, Angel and Chris bailing you out, you three wouldn't be alive right now. You were dead weight out there, and we're lucky we didn't get dragged down with you. There were seven people in this team, but only three of us did anything worth a damn. One of us didn't even get a chance to fight. I had to spend half my time cleaning up after your mistakes and trying to keep you people alive. Yeah, maybe some of us are stronger than others, but that doesn't mean we should have to babysit you."

"You're lucky there's only one corpse from our team out there, and hell, maybe all of us could've come back from that alive! You had plenty of time to at least try and save Alexis - and don't even bother pretending you didn't - and instead you just sat back where it was safe and let other people fight your battles for you. Far as I'm concerned, her blood's on your hands, all because you were too pathetic to even try anything to save her that involved risking your own necks."

Raising her head to look at them, there was a fire in her eyes that made it clear just how furious she was. Even before her own experience went as badly as it did, she'd been annoyed, but everything else about the battle had just sent her emotions over the edge. She was completely past any idea of consideration or pulling punches, and as far as she cared they needed some kind of wakeup call.

"So could one of you kindly explain to me what the fuck you think you were doing?"

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It was....finally over. In what seemed to be the blink of an eye, a new arrival on the battlefield seemed to finish off the remaining enemies and gather everyone from the four groups together and taking them to safety at that. The sixteen year old did not fully know how to respond to things as they passed by so quickly, except that he was able to stop his summoning and actually rest for a moment sitting on the ground, all as he watched the new arrival and Pink Team leader begin to make arrangements for healing the wounded and such. It had been a hell of a messy and terrible fight, if the state everyone from the different teams seemed to be in told anything about the matter. However, the pain that seemed to scream from his broken ribs, the leftover tinges of nausea, and the lingering daze of adrenaline that had overtaken his body since he had originally been rolled over by a meatball seemed to at least keep his mind off of the horrors they all had just witnessed and gone through for the moment being.

Yet really before he could try to process anything further, one member of the Green Team barked at himself, Allison, and Savannah after addressing the whole team. It was the red-haired girl who had saved him earlier from the spaghetti tendril, who also was one of the "black X" individuals in the group, and in what he heard from her she seemed to be...blaming the three of them for Alexis' death?! Aaron's facial expression, already tinged with the physical pain, drew itself into a look of visible frustration as he grit his teeth and shakily stood up from his sitting position in order to stand and face the angry redhead. Despite making some attempt to calm himself down before speaking, it was hard to do so when he and two other members of the group were being accused as they were.

"Allison...at least tried to help save myself and tried to save Alexis, and Savannah at least tried to save me and also knocked down one of the spaghetti monsters in the process," Aaron hissed out as he attempted to defend his other accused teammates, his tone of voice filled with a mix of pain and his frustrations at both the situation and Zoe coming out as he continued to speak, "If you accuse anyone of not pulling their part in the fight, then accuse just me, not either of them. Hell, i even ran back because i have three broken ribs from that noodle and have a five minute summoning time to be able to use my power."

Coughing once after speaking, Aaron's face and body twinged in a slight spasm of very visible pain, forcing him to stop for a moment and take a couple of short breaths before he could continue once more. It also gave him a chance to calm down himself, and his tone of voice, somewhat as well.

Since Aaron had started speaking, Zoe had been trying to judge whether he was actually serious. Once she decided he was, his little speech only managed to leave her more annoyed, and frankly she couldn't believe what he was trying to say. Part of her found it so ridiculous it was almost funny, but that didn't mean she was about to let him keep going with it. As soon as he stopped to cough, she cut him off, laughing bitterly. No wonder they'd gotten into such a mess if this was how they reacted to being told the truth.

"You're kidding, right? If you actually think you can take responsibility for everyone, then you're an arrogant little prick. Newsflash, you're not that important. Just because you fucked up, doesn't mean that they didn't, so spare me your martyr complex bullshit. I'm more than happy to blame all three of you." She looked around, gesturing towards the other two with a slow,mocking shake of the head. At this point, part of her was trying to get a rise out of them. Sure, it was petty, but she figured they more than deserved everything she was dishing out.

"Besides, their 'help' didn't do much, did it? In case you're forgetting, I was the one that got you out of there. By the time Savannah did anything to help, I didn't need or want any backup. All she did was get in my way when she could've been helping someone else, and Allison? The only thing Allison even came close to killing was herself."

"Martyr complex bullshit? Arrogant prick? I'm just saying the two of them at least tried to do something out there unlike myself. Hell, keep in mind, that none of us have likely ever been in a damn fight like this before if i had to hazard a guess," the sixteen year old said in the same manner as before, interjecting as soon as Zoe had finished, shooting an angry glare at the other girl while doing his best to maintain his cool otherwise, ""Still keep in mind those were freaky-ass monsters we were thrown against out there, though, and i'd bet even your almost-eaten whiny ass, Zoe, wasn't prepared for that shit any more than the rest of us. So calm the fuck down and think about your own fuck up's as well." "

With that, the injured boy carefully sat down once more, shutting his trap for good this time. It was hard to remember that the people with black X's were naturally in a bad mood, but even so it was hard not to get angry himself when he was being talked down on like a piece of crap. Yeah, he could have shut up quicker ealier and likely contributed more.

Was Zoe's reasoning right to say that three people's fuck up's as compared to everyone's fuck up's were enough cause to give the three of them full blame for everything? Hell no, at least in his book. Even if his words had only made things worse as a whole, he was not going to say more than he had. It just would not be worth it at this point, and he was not going to indulge in it any more.

With his final statement, the guy had gone past the limit of what Zoe could deal with right now. It would have been enough on its own, but then he had the nerve to go and sit down like she wasn't worth listening to. What gave him the right to tell her to be calm about this? What, did he expect her to be nice to them after everything that had happened out there? Not a chance. Hell, she'd been trying to stay calm this whole time, but apparently that wasn't going to get her anywhere. Taking a couple of steps forward, she lunged down without warning and grabbed Aaron's collar, yanking him up roughly to meet her gaze.

"You know what, I was being calm. Hell, I think I've been more than fair with you but if that's how it's gonna be, how about I show you what happens when I really lose my cool. See how you like having your face used to paint the side of those trucks over there." She was practically hissing at the guy, and obviously on the verge of doing some serious damage.

As he was yanked up from the ground by Zoe, Aaron's broken ribs were jolted as well, causing the boy to flinch in pain as he was lifted to meet Zoe's fierce gaze. Even so, the boy's eyes did not back down, shooting Zoe a cool gaze as best as possible even as he grit his teeth tightly together to try to cope with the harsh pain shooting through his chest around where his ribs were. Considering what the girl had done to one of the spaghetti monsters earlier, though, the threat to "use his face to paint the side of a truck" was not exactly one he took lightly. Yet at the same time, he could do nothing to stop her at the moment. Zoe had already stimulated his most painful injury, and he would very likely not be able to summon anything if the angry Aberration actually did go through with her threat.

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Angélique had listened to Zoe accusing her team’s less capable members with a frown. While a part of what the redhead said was true, her words were tactless given the situation they just went through. In the back of her mind, whispers kept speaking ill of both her and her teammates. Watching the pitiful Aaron struggling onto his feet, "Weakling, pathetic, loser, deadweight" came into her mind. While listeneing to Zoe however, these words changed to "Egocentric, barbaric, bitch".

Seeing her teammates getting at each other’ throats made Angel realize that this speech was taken too far and it was time for her to step into this quarrel. She may not be the leader of this group, but someone had to stop this escalating non-sense."Coward, useless, apathetic"

“ENOUGH!” her voice boomed unnaturally, resonating loudly in the area to silence the dispute betweeen Zoe and Aaron, and the taunting whispers hammering Angélique's mind. As a result, a series of dry and shallow coughs hit the sonic-emitting Aberration.

As soon Zoe walked up to Aaron and seized him by the collar, Angel followed her trail and stepped in-between the red-haired Aberration and Clockwork. She had put up her hands onto each person’s chest and lightly put some pressure, not enough to push each other apart, but as a sign for the two to back off.

“Look, Zoe, I understand how you feel. I had similar thoughts about them back when we were fighting these monsters…” the black-haired young woman said with an almost choked voice before letting out a few more coughs of exhaustion from her throat.

“But you’ve got to understand… we’re not all made the same. Be it fear, panic, distress, despair, unwillingness or whatever, nobody can manage their emotions the same way you and I do. Hell, even I’m surprised I haven’t broke down in tears and desperation after that monstrous meatball was about to eat me. _{If it wasn’t for Christopher, I’d…}” Angélique added but choked mid-sentence after reminding that horrible life-threatening experience.

“We can’t all fight these creatures with the same efficiency. We need more experience, training, power. It’s up to people like you to protect them until they are able to make a difference. If anything, we should blame ourselves for not being able to regroup all together and unite our strengths to cover our weaknesses. I tried to, but I failed in being thorough, too absorbed by my own survival. _{I’m… sorry…}” By now, the X-marked singer’s voice was faint, growing weaker by the sentence.

_{“But for now… we should all be glad that…”} Her reasoning speech interrupted itself by another coughing fit, sounding even worse than ever.

This time, Angel wasn’t able to continue. Her throat no longer felt like it was on fire, but rather she felt like she had swallowed a handful or needles, and they got stuck in her throat. Her shallow coughs didn’t help on her vocal cords either, and despite trying to clear her throat, no sound came through.

Realizing she couldn’t speak anymore, Angel simply stepped back from the two, trusting Zoe to have understood the reasoning she was trying to convey to her and the others. She turned to everyone in her group, thumping a closed fist to her chest and bowing her head slightly as a mean for respect, trust, gratitude? She raised her other hand and extended her index and middle-finger upwards, forming a V with her hand, as a symbol of victory or peace. Shortly after, she pointed at the corpse of their deceased comrade, Alexis, before turning back to the group and joining her hands together like a prayer.

When she finished, everyone could clearly see a trail of tears flowing down her cheeks from underneath her shades. She tried to look strong to inspire and bring sense to her teammates, but there were some emotions she couldn’t hold much longer.

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Zoe's initial reaction to being pushed back was confusion. She'd just been ready to get things started, and now she was getting shut down? The quicker she started, the quicker she'd be able to finish up, right? If it wasn't for the interruption, she'd already be halfway through--

Oh. Shock flashed across her face for a brief second, and she loosened her grip on the boy's collar.

This wasn't what she'd been trying to do. Maybe she'd intended it as an empty threat to scare him into listening, but there was no doubt about the reality of the situation. She'd lost control. I would have killed him. Would have enjoyed it as well - which just hammered home the fact that she needed to stay away from them.

Her expression still showed the same amount of frustration, but from how tempted she still was to attack the boy she realised she'd be better off not continuing the argument. Instead, she just avoided looking at the two people stood next to her as she listened to Angel's speech. On some level, she at least agreed with what the other Aberration was saying, which helped when it came to keeping her mouth shut.

In the nick of time, it seemed that the "screaming angel" of the Green Team stepped in stop things, yelling and seemed to gently push the two of them as if wanting them to move apart. Shakily standing, his right hand gripping his side until his knuckles turned white, Aaron listened to the currently more level-headed member of the group as she tried to seemingly talk them down and explain things. As he listened, the boy found himself calming down a bit more as well, distracted from his other thoughts of furstration and his possible demise at the hands of a teammate. In the end, though, the black-haired Abberation herself was finally unable to speak, the strain of the battle on her vocal chords seeming to Aaron to have finally kicked in to render her temporarily mute.

As the trail of tears began to flow down the girl's face after what seemed to be her attempt to convery a message to them, the sixteen year old's features softened a bit as he thought about things for a moment. To him, it seemed Angel was trying to tell them to be glad they had won, to respect the dead, and perhaps that she trusted them all to some extent. At least, that was the thought on his part. Really, it seemed the other girl was trying to hold her own feelings back from how she appeared now, something that they all were perhaps struggling with when it came down to it. Even he was trying to hold back when talking to Zoe, albeit not to the best effect as he could admit to himself if nothing else. .

Unable to take seeing her in such a state, even as the reality of things and the guilt of spurring Zoe on as he had begun to sink in for him, Aaron shakily moved over to Angel. His legs quivered with each step, sweat ran down his brow, and the renewed pain from Zoe snatching him up so suddenly did not help the matter. In the process he ignored Zoe and the others, and upon making it over to the raven haired angel he did his best to look her in the eyes (albeit she had her shades on). After this he raised his arms up, hesitating for a brief second before thenputting his hands on Angel's shoulders and did his best to give the girl the warmest and most genuine smile he could manage. Whilst an initially awkaward expression that was being given by a boy with three broken ribs, it was as honest and genuine a smile as Aaron could manage to give to her at this point in time with all things being considered.

He was no psychologist, hell he couldn't call himself a "saint" by any means. But he saw someone who needed to cry, and after everything they had been through he felt he at least owed that much to the girl who had helped save their butts back on the battlefield.

"Can...cry.....if...you need...to," Aaron managed to say with a hoarse, somewhat hissing, and pained sound in his voice, the pain in his chest gnawing at him with each word. Albeit, he was doing his best to be warm in his tone as well before he finished speaking. Yet it seemed as of now he was finally unable to bear the pain that has arisen in his chest when he started speaking to Angel, and instead let the smile do the rest of the speaking for him.

Had Angélique been able to speak, her pride would've told him that she'd see him cry before she does. But with no words coming out from her mouth, she simply stood there, accepting Aaron's warm smile and friendly pat on her shoulder. How much would she like to allow herself to wrap her arms around the young man in a warm embrace and weep her sorrow on his shoulder, but she couldn't, knowing she had to stay strong, and that Aaron had mentionned about his ribs being injured. Instead, she wiped the tears from her cheeks and returned the brown-haired boy's smile with her own, although faint and still hinting her depressed state of mind.

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Allison Revel was lying on the ground, tired, delirious, and bleeding, but at least she wasn't dead. In her state of half-consciousness, she heard loud bickering from the rest of the group, but stayed out of it, partially because she wasn't sure if she could even respond. Her body felt like lead, and her side felt like fire. How much blood had she lost? She wanted to call to the others, to try and get someone to help her deal with the wound, but her jaw was tight, her teeth clamped together. So, Allison just layed there. Eventually, Allison was able to let out a weak grunt, her vocal chords finally deciding to make an effort to alert the others that the girl lying on the ground bleeding was indeed in need of assistance.

Savannah had been so wrapped up in keeping her cool, she had hardly noticed Allison and her predicament. When the older girl had grunted in obvious pain, Savannah had whipped her head around, blonde curls shaken from their place on her back. The petite teenager ran to Allison's side, and kneeled down next to her, distress showing in her face. The girl that was bleeding in front of her had been kind to her, Savannah might as well repay the favor.

Hearing over groans of pain, the mature Canadian girl looked over her shoulder to see from who those painful moans came from. Shocked was she when she realized those groans were coming from a very injured Allison. Already, blood was starting to pool beneath her body. Dropping everything else in mind, she excused herself from the rest of the team with a slight bow of her head towards Aaron to run towards Allison .

Savannah's rmind was racing, until it jumped to one useful day in gym, where they had learned basic first aid. She hadn't learned how to help someone who was impaled , but she had learned how to patch up wounds. Bandages. Her mind was racing, and her first thought was to stop the wound using cloth. Looking around her, she realized that there were no bandages on site. Blast it all. She was going to have to use some cloth. Specifically the stuff from her clothes. She wasn't particularly looking forward to ripping off her clothes and showing the bare, scarred skin beneath it, but what was a girl to do?

She took the part of the legging just above the thigh and ripped it off with her teeth, still having a hand on Allison's wound. She tore it into one strip and wrapped it around Allison's side, tying it tightly around the side that wasn't impaled. Remembering the shard, she frowned and pushed the strip of her pants through the shard, not taking it out. It would be a horrible idea to take it out, as she had learned in gym. She didn't want to be repsonsible for anyone's death with her bad ideas.

"Hold on Allison." Savannah whispered comfortingly.

Already, Savannah was already there to care for Allison. Angélique was relieved to see that the petite young blonde girl seemed well-versed into first aid techniques. While she would like to stay and help her friend, Angel knew two of them standing there would do her no good. Bandaging the wound with a makeshift cloth would not be of help for long, and so she required immediate medical attention before losing any more blood than necessary.

Although the raven-haired singer was mute, she had experience in this kind of situation. It wasn’t the first time she actually lost her voice. Her younger years of training and taking singing classes would often make her lose her voice, laryngitis and such. Plus, only she knew what she was really thinking, and feared that asking for Savannah to fetch help with sign language would only confuse her.

Getting back up on her feet, Angel tapped Savannah on her shoulder. She motioned her hand in such a way that she was pointing the petite teenager, then Allison and motioned with both her hands against her side to keep pressure on the wound without removing the shard. Afterwards, she pointed back at herself, then pointed towards the group of people that had gathered together a seemingly crystalline coffin and an unconscious boy. With a reassuring nod, Angel took off running in the direction where the members of Pink Team had gathered. While running, she gestured to the group with large waves of her arms to get their attention.

Savannah nodded at Angel's mute response, putting both hands against Allison's bleeding side in an attempt to halt the bleeding. Vaguely, she noticed that the part of her pants that hadn't been ripped off was now covered in sticky blood. Not even mentioning her hands which were also soaked in Allison's blood. Seeing Angel go for help, she nodded gravely. She couldn't actually give a thumbs up at this moment, since she was putting pressure onto Allison's side in an attempt to stop the bleeding. They'd already lost two people in this battle. Savannah couldn't let them lose yet another.

Once she had approached the group, Angélique let out a faint raspy sigh to catch her breath.With frantic motions of her hands, she pointed towards her team, sweeping her open palm against her side to indicate a large cut on someone’s side. She did not know much how to motion about getting help and bleeding, so she just took a guess and her lips moved as if she was speaking the word help, as well as the universal sign for help in mute language – an open palm holding a closed fist with a thumb sticking up.

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Zoe had walked away from the group after the speech ended, seemingly deciding that this wasn't worth the trouble anymore. Once she'd gone far enough to be feel she was keeping her distance, she watched her teammates' actions with an odd mixture of anger and wistfulness. They, at least on some level, seemingly wanted to look out for each other - although she doubted she was included in that. Luckily, getting them to like her wasn't something she'd cared about in the first place.

She'd always tried protecting weaker people. Being the strong one, the tough one, taking the hits where other people couldn't. Making sure to cover their backs, even if they wouldn't do the same for her. Whatever she had to do to keep the people on her side safe. She wasn't about to stop looking out for anyone - if anything, it was the one thing she didn't think she had a problem with - but that didn't mean they could rely on someone always being there to fix their mistakes.

The fact was, her role was to keep them alive, and that was what she planned to do. Angel was right. They weren't all made the same, and that was why Zoe had needed to speak up. Because she was strong. Strong enough to say what needed to be said. Maybe it would leave them despising her, but she was strong enough to deal with that, too. It was fine if they hated her guts, as long as they were still alive to do it. This wasn't a place for second chances and she'd be as harsh as she needed to be to make that sink in.

If that makes me the bad guy, then so be it.

Beyond? Or above?

It stretched out like the sky, but it was an ocean. A sky that he could touch. A sky that he could reach. But a sky that he should not touch. Because it was neither sky nor ocean. It was a sea of words, countless words whirling about, each word attached to meaning, each meaning attached to reality.

And to take that plunge was to drown within that excess of emptiness.

So he reached out. Not to take, but to receive.

To receive the single droplet from the abyssal depths.

It rang in his mind, resonating with his silver blood.

Selector.

“-haps.”

Brent blinked, tilting his head towards Sophia. Had she said something? Did he doze off? He blinked some more, trying to clear out the double-vision that he was seeing. Maybe there was some lingering green fog. Or maybe he was just tired. For a moment there, all he had was more questions, before he realized something else.

Something had intrinsically changed within him. He looked at his hand, looked at all that surrounded him, and decided that this was also something that he could deal with later.

After all, the world around him was so much louder than his own thoughts. A superhuman smashed into Shane’s barrier, before being promptly encased in a crystalline cage, his screams and hunger still audible from the breathing holes made in it. Arguments and tears resounded all around, Arbiters and Aberrations clawing each other about with guilt, shock and anger. And, at the center of all this were the four dead bodies that Shane had dragged out of the battlefield.

A redhead with her neck twisted into a corkscrew.

A brown girl with her throat torn out.

Two soldiers, headless.

He had a feeling that these people weren’t concerned at all about the dead soldiers.

Another girl walked up to Shane now, and his feelings were correct. What, did they become besties in one day? One hour? His eyes narrowed even more as Shane replied not with a true explanation, but with what was essentially an obvious message to ‘hit him’. That was ugly. Did she feel better after the slap? Did he feel better after that slap? Was this going to do anything that would help either of them?

No.

Brent closed his eyes, before he watched the two once more.

They were both just dealing with their frustrations and weaknesses in their own way, huh?

Beneath his skin, his blood tingled.

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The slap connected, flicking Shane's head to the side. He didn't respond for a moment, looking towards the distance to his right. Eventually, he turned back to Emma.

"Anything else?" he asked quietly.

Emma looked down. She was still crying. She wanted to believe that hitting Shane would make her feel better, but it didn’t. Having someone to blame didn’t make it better either. The fact that he just stood there made her angrier, but she knew that taking another swing at him wouldn’t help. She looked towards the bodies, holding her gaze over them. She took a breath, tears still flowing but no longer sobbing.

”What… what are they going to do with them?"

Shane shrugged, jaw tensed at the answer he wasn't going to give.

"Whatever they want," he finally replied.

Emma gritted her teeth. She knew that he was well aware of exactly what would happen to the bodies and that she wouldn’t like the answer. She was smart enough to know that, at least.

”So that’s how it is, huh? They’re not going to bury them, are they?" Her voice was filled with an odd calmness. She was still angry. Angry at Shane, but now angrier at Zhang and all of USARILN. She wouldn’t exactly be able to take her anger out on Zhang like she had on him, but…

It doesn’t have to be like this…

Devotion and Determination appeared at Emma’s flank. She finally bought her gaze to meet Shane.

”Like hell they'll do what they want.” Now her voice was filled with anger. ”Two holes. Two feet by seven feet, six feet deep." The tulpas didn’t take long to follow orders.

They didn't get the specifications right, but the tulpas dug out two uneven holes in the ground with their hands. Determination's hole was significantly larger than Devotion's, which remained digging in the dirt long after the other tulpa had finished.

"You're burying them here." A voice called out close by. Amethyst eyes flickered from one 'monster' to another, before Brent finally laid his eyes upon the self-righteous wreck and the self-loathing demigod. He didn't think he disliked either of them. But this in particular...this was somewhat dislikeable.

Shane sighed and turned back to Lily and Christmas.

"Do what you want," he muttered without looking at her. It was too cruel to tell her they'd dig the bodies up later. Too cruel to tell her subnaturals don't get burials or graves. "Nice to meet you, by the way. I'm Shane."

With that, he sat back down, keeping an eye on Lily.

Emma disregarded the boy that she now knew as Shane. She didn’t want to play his game anymore. With their task done Determination and Devotion dissipated. As for Brent she turned to him, ”If not here than where? Didn’t you hear him? They do what they want with their bodies. They’re willing to send untrained kids into battle, you think they’re going to bury them?” She began walking towards what was formerly Padma and Alexis. ”Lend me a hand. Their pallbearer’s shouldn’t be those… things.” She said, referring to her own tulpas.

”Unless you want to hand them over to Zhang so she can do whatever she wants with them, that is. They deserve more than that.”

He looked at those two bodies, one with her throat torn out and another with her skull caved in. Repulsive. Her anger and her paranoia. Dislikeable. A subnatural was just a lump of meat once they died. What value could be garnered from probing the magical with the scientific? It didn't make sense. It seemed like less work for the school. And to be buried where they died? Buried while everyone else was too busy with their own drama to give two fucks?

That girl's reasons were dislikeable. Her compromise was dislikeable. But her decision? Likeable.

“I can admire that, honestly,” he smiled, “but you’re compromising too much. If you don’t hide their graves, then Zhang can just send someone to pick them up later. The cuffs are still on them, after all. On the other hand, if they DO bury students or send these bodies back to their family, you denied these two a funeral and a proper grave. A dead body isn’t magical, after all, and I know that first hand.”

Was he detached? He was much too detached. Was he energetic? Much too energetic.

“So to cover both grounds, why not cremate them? If you want, you can store them in a jar and send them to their relatives, or you can scatter them in the wind so they find their own resting place in the world.”

Was he helpful? Much too helpful.

Emma frowned. She stopped walking towards the bodies. She wanted to believe that Zhang would give them a funeral or send them back to their families but that was far too optimistic.

”You’re right… y-you’re right, but we don’t have the resources to cremate them, do we?” She sounded defeated. She wanted to cry again. She wanted to believe that she was doing the right thing, defying Zhang, doing right by the dead. She wanted to believe she was acting like some sort of hero, but he was right. Burying them wouldn’t cut it. Zhang would find them and dig them up.

”Don’t fool yourself… they’re not going to bury them. They’re not going to send them back to their families. Don’t you remember what they call us? Subnaturals. We’re less than human to them. They don’t care.” She hesitated. Tears came to her again- it seemed that all she could do was cry.

”But you’re still right. It’s pointless, isn’t it? I guess that’s the world we live in.” She started walking back to the truck.

You’re far too melodramatic. Who cares? She didn’t think it was her stigma that was whispering at the back of her head.

Yes, he was just a ball full of helpfulness, wasn't he?

Brent wanted to say that they had a dragon here and that dragons breathed fire. But he couldn't confirm that, and he didn't even know if that fire was strong enough for it. He wanted to bring up his personal thoughts that subnaturals became 'natural' once they were dead, but that wasn't going to comfort her, was it?

But why did he care about her at all? Because she was crying? Because she was a cute girl? Because he enjoyed stroking his ego?

Yeah, that might be right.

It'd be simpler if that was the case.

But it wasn't the tears, nor the beauty, nor the ego.

He disliked those eyes.

Brent looked back at the four bodies, two that mattered and two that did not.

He watched those bodies.

Seeing the complete and utter destruction that Shane created below her, there were a few possible reactions that one would consider normal. Kusari was not normal however, Kusari was watching as if she were witnessing a masterpiece being painted before her eyes. Those crystals were like modern art, only not shit. She had to cover her mouth to hide the quivering grin on her face, after all what would the others think if they saw her smiling at such a sight? The enthralling show had to come to an end of course, which left her to deal with the reality of what she'd been through, what they'd all been through.

Couldn't she just skip this part?

She heard commotion around her, people yelling and crying. No one could blame them, they were just kids forced to fight for their lives, a few had lost that fight even. She sat down and hugged her knees close to her body. Her long hair covered her like a shredded alabaster blanket. With all the viscera covering her she must have looked like a ghost from a slasher movie.

She needed to get stronger, even if she couldn't stop everyone from dying, she could at least try. She was distinctly qualified as someone that could put their life on the line and come out of it just fine. Having her skull cracked open wouldn't be a problem, having her throat ripped open wouldn't be a problem... as she'd recently learned the hard way. She could take the fall for all of them again and again.

Her crimson eyes moved towards Emma, then to Shane. She was about to open her mouth wasn't she? Why couldn't she just keep quiet?

"I'd pegged you as more positive than that, Emma. You're not one of those people that only speaks in sunshine and rainbows when it doesn't matter, are you?"

Kusari got to her feet, and walked over to her. "And if you want to slap anyone, it should be our sociopath Director... Though that'll just get you shot I suppose." Kusari said, then taking a look at her dead former comrades for the first time. She didn't know them at all, so she'd be lying if she said she felt grief for them. But that didn't mean she didn't care. The chance to get to know them had been taken away, for her and for everyone else. It would be a bit much to say that they were all family now, but they were all in this together.

"We should hold a service at the school for them. I doubt the school does much to remember us besides experimenting on our bodies and changing our status in some database to 'deceased.' We can't do much, but the one thing they can't stop us from doing is remembering them."