"318...318...318..." Brent muttered over and over under his breath as he walked down the hallway. "Ah, there."

He wore his black-as-night jumpsuit, freshly purchased, and had just eaten a fulfilling meal with bartender Steve. The dandy man's advice about drinking was somewhat useful, but considering the mission on this particular night, Brent couldn't fully explore the wonderful world of alcoholic beverages. The free steaks were nice as well, but he had opted for something lighter. A lean salad with some slices of turkey would tide him over today. With '221' and 'Clark' on his mind, Brent fiddled with his hair a bit before knocking on the door.

The speed with which Emma answered the door left little doubt that she had been anticipating whatever it was they were doing. Not because of Brent, of course. I just want to find out what happened to Padma and Alexis. She justified to herself. She had taken the time to learn their names, figuring it only appropriate given the circumstances. As the door swung open the look on Emma’s face made it clear that she was a little surprised by Brent’s attire. Emma, of course, was still wearing the clothes that she had on this morning. ”Planning on going as a burglar for Halloween?” she teased.

"It's my ninja costume, thank you very much," Brent huffed, before smiling. "Ready to go then?"

Emma nodded. ”Yeah, let’s… uh, where exactly are we going though?” she said as she headed out the door and locked it behind her.

"221." After repeating it in his head so many times, it almost didn't have any meaning at all to him, but Brent shook his head. "Yeah, it's either in this building or the other one. Heard that there were guards stationed around it though, so probably the latter."

Emma nodded. Yeah, guards. Wait, guards? "Er, the building's guarded? Are we, uh, not suppoused to be there?" She said with an incredulous glance towards him.

What was she so surprised about? "Not the building, the room," he said, "And it's still a dorm building, so we'll be fine. If worse comes to worse, just blame me for dragging you there."

Emma sighed, turning to head towards Room 221. "Well, if you say so."

One floor down and forty-six steps later, the dynamic duo stood before Room 221, Building A. It was fairly quiet, and definitely didn't look like it had a whole bunch of guards standing beside it. Hopefully this was actually it and they got a nice, quick, easy answer to all this. Knocking twice on the door, Brent stepped back a bit, glanced at Emma, and waited for a response.

The door swung open to reveal the scruffy blonde girl Brent had encountered in the lobby before. Behind her, a girl with green highlights in her hair was changing.

"CLOSE THE FUCKING DOOR!" the girl in the back screamed.

"Ehe," the blonde snickered before stepping out and slamming the door shut behind her. "So who the fuck are you two?"

Emma glanced at Brent, and then the girl. "Well, we're, uh, looking for Clark, but it looks like we've got the wrong room?" A nervous laugh trailed her sentence. She was trying to sound as casual as possible, having only been made aware of the fact that they could very possibly be killed by guards for snooping around only minutes ago.

"Unless Clark's your last name or something?" Brent said. No? Alright. Name's Brent, by the way, room 330. Just moved in yesterday, but hey, nice to meetcha, even if it's a mistake."

"You're...looking for Clark?" the girl repeated slowly, sucking in her lips with a raised eyebrow before making a popping sound with her mouth. "Yeap, you've got the wrong room--if we're talking about the same Clark."

She turned to head back inside.

Emma quickly added, "No, definitely not the same Clark. Probably. How would I know? Hahahaha." Emma quickly turned around, pulling Brent along with her. "Is now really the time to be introducing yourself around? Clearly Clark isn't suppoused to be someone we should be looking for." She whispered harshly.

Brent raised an eyebrow at her. "I mean, she asked? So I answered? Isn't that normal?"

He then tilted his head to the side, his tone turning a tad more serious. "So are you stopping and just letting it go now?"

Emma let out a heavy sigh, "I-I, wouldn't it better to just-!" She cut herself off. "It's not important. Let's just go find Clark, okay?"

His amethyst eyes narrowed. Was she wavering, now that her own life was at risk? Was that the extent of her own decisions? He stayed there, considering everything, before ultimately walking off, down the stairs once more. Building B was the next target, then. Three hundred and twenty seven steps and two floors later, they were at the second 221 that was nearby. Gesturing towards the door, Brent said, "Wanna give it a go this time?"

Would she be willing to cross the threshold if he didn't drag her along?

Emma glanced at him, and then at the door. "Yeah, of course. I'd be happy to." She said with a tone that might've indicated that she wasn't exactly happy to. She gulped, and then knocked on the door.

No response.

Emma gave Brent a small shrug. "Maybe he isn't home?" She suggested.

"Hm..." Brent walked up and knocked a second time. "Maybe he didn't hear it?"

A thumping noise like a body hitting the floor emanated from behind the door before the sound of shuffling feet approached. The door creaked open slowly, revealing a bleary-eyed girl whose long, black tresses hid almost half of her face. She brushed the hair out of the way and blinked owlishly at the two of them, saying nothing.

Emma gave the disheveled girl a curious glance. "Er... does someone named 'Clark' live here?" Emma was getting a distinctively bad vibe.

The door closed. A second later, something like ink seeped out from below the door, spelling out the word "No" in jagged letters. The substance retracted back under the door several seconds after that.

"Well...you know where he is then?" ventured Brent, willing himself not to be bothered by that strange substance.

Emma glanced at Brent, and then the ink. Nope. She'd let him take the lead, and once they figured out where they were going she'd leave as soon as possible.

The ink splashed outward, touching Emma's shoes and rippling violently before it snapped back into a placid smoothness.

"Hospital" it now spelled out in neat cursive.

Emma nodded, hurridley turning around and walking away from the door. "Alright! Hospital it is! Let's go!" She eagerly declared. She wasn't going to deal with the strange ink lady anymore.

"Yup," Brent chimed, directing his smile at the door, "Thanks a lot! You got really nice....mind writing? power writing? too as well!"

With that, Scooby and Shaggy zipped the fuck out, vrooming towards the hospital at top gear. Honestly, at this point, the hospital really was becoming a familiar place to him, huh? The question though, is how they were going to find Clark now. In the lobby, Brent looked at Emma, considered her apprehensions, and said, "So...guess asking the staff isn't gonna be too great an idea?"

Emma sighed. "Well, I don't think we'll get anywhere with them but... well, how else are we going to find him? Judging by what we know I doubt he'll be hanging out in the lobby." Emma scanned around the room. She doubted he'd be there, but it would be awfully convienent if there was some guy holding a sign that said 'Clark!' in the corner.

There wasn't.

Hm...yup, definitely wasn't a dude with a nametag that said 'Clark'. "Well, time to bite the bullet," Brent said cheerfully.

Approaching the receptionist's desk, the amethyst-eyed youth smiled at the person manning the desk. It was certainly a lot calmer in the hospital now, after Benediction seemingly worked his magic and healed a hell lot of people in one go. Margaret was probably at a spa now, just sweating away all her stress and salt. "Hi there, I'm looking for someone named 'Clark'. Is he in one of the rooms here?"

A nurse with curly brown hair looked up from the blue folders he was reading through at the question.

"Clark who?"

"Clark from 221? Sorry, don't actually know their last name."

"...You have permission to visit?" the nurse reached for the computer. "Names?"

So there WAS a Clark at 221? Brent half-turned to Emma, signalling her with his breathtakingly intense eyes, before saying, "I'm Brent Roless. Don't have permission to visit, but, well, didn't realize we needed it. What's the form for that?"

"The form? No one visits Clark while he's recover--" the nurse stopped himself. "You don't have permission, sorry," he finished flatly.

Emma half-returned Brent's half-given glance. Did he just look at me? She wondered. Any signal given was beyond her comprehension.

"Ah, you know when he'll be out of here then?"

"He rarely leaves the hospital. If you want to see him, I can send in a request to the Director, but that's all--" he looked at something behind the two of them before grimacing. "Guess it's your lucky day."

A figure flanked by two guards and followed by one stood behind them, wearing a hooded sweatshirt two sizes too big and sweats equally unfitting. Most of his face was covered by the hood, and from how far forward he had pulled it, it was intentional. A mouth like a crocodile's opened to speak.

"Heard my name," Clark said.

Emma followed the receptionists gaze, turning around.

Yep, this looks like trouble.

She tried her best not to shudder when the person who apparently was Clark opened his... mouth. The two guards that followed didn't exactly serve to make him less threatening.

"Uhhhh..." She nudged Brent. He seemed eager enough to talk to the weird people today, so why should she?

Perhaps if Clark looked more normal, he would have taken more notice of the two soldiers flanking the thickly clothed man, but right now? When it turned out that he was the mummy dude from yesterday? That was definitely a pleasant coincidence. "Evening dude," Brent waved, "What a coincidence, eh? Guessing you're busy though, so I'll cut to the chase. My friend here's got a question for you."

With that, he gestured towards the suddenly quiet girl.

"The stage is yours, Em."

How far will she go?

Shit.

She was really, really hoping that Brent would take this one, because quite frankly after the way Shane reacted to her comrade's deaths earlier today she highly doubted that crocdile-face would take kindly to them bothering him for a question that from his perspective would seem quite trivial.

And, of course, she was scared shitless of him.

"Well... uh..."

Emma coughed.

"We were... well, we were told that you could, uh... well, that is, yesterday two of our, er, friends died on a combat mission... and we were told that you knew what would happen to their bodies?" Emma gulped. She wasn't looking forward to Clark's answer.

Brent placed a hand against her back. To reassure her? Or to make sure she didn't back away?

That reminds me, I am so going to hit him later.

Clark didn't answer for a while, standing unnaturally still in front of them. Finally, he looked towards the nearest elevator.

"Want to see?"

"You don't have permission to take them down," the guard to his left interrupted.

"And the one good thing about being me is that you can't do a thing to stop me," Clark made his way to the elevator and the same guard placed a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

"Don't try it," he warned the guard. "I'm fragile, you know. The Director would probably kill you if you hurt me."

"We'll report this to the Director."

Clark shrugged.

"Benefits of being me: 1. Detriments: a lot," he beckoned the two with a weak wave of his hand.

Emma gave Brent a glance. Maybe fear? It was hard to say. It's not every day that strange crocidile men beckon you into elevators. Emma sighed, already resigned to the fact that they were more than likely going to get in a lot of trouble. "Alright, then, let's go." She decided.

"Sorry for the trouble we're causing. Thanks."

The pair followed Clark into the elevator.

One of the guards made a motion as if to stop at least the other two from getting in and Clark clicked his tongue.

"Never really thought I could threaten my own bodyguards with a trip," he said off-handedly, almost snorting with the half-joke.

Reluctantly, the guards filed in after him. As Clark reached to input the particular series of buttons that would take the elevator to the restricted basement floors, one of the guards stepped in front to block Brent's and Emma's view. Once Clark was done, the elevator doors closed and took them downwards, no button lighting up on the control panel.

It was quite a long ride--at least a few minutes going down. Finally, the doors opened into a brightly lit hallway, floors and walls layered completely with that transparent material their arriving trucks had been made from, and the same material that coated their cuffs. Except here the material had been layered on thick enough that the actual floor was several feet below, while the blank hallway and equally blank doors were treated to only slightly less severe amounts.

There were soldiers lining the walls here, while others patrolled the corridors. They were tense, as if danger was constantly present.

When the doors opened, several of them turned quickly to face the occupants, guns at the ready. At the sight of Clark, they marginally relaxed, though the presence of two unfamiliar faces thickened the tension in the air.

"They don't have clearance for this area," one of the guards around Clark spoke, the same one who had tried to stop the mage earlier.

The soldiers in the hallway pointed their guns at Emma and Brent.

Clark stepped into their line of fire.

"They're looking for their friends," he explained, too casually for the situation.

"You don't have the authority to bring people down here, Clark," the soldier closest to them spoke up.

"Yeah, so I've heard. But are you really going to stop me? How?" he tucked himself between Brent and Emma, throwing his arms over both their shoulders. The lack of weight and thinness of his arms was evident, even through the padding of the sweatshirt.

"Let's take a walk. Don't step away from me," he spoke to the two of them, loudly enough that the surrounding soldiers could hear.

Can't run. Can't run. Can't run. Emma recited the words to herself, hoping that she would follow her own advice.

They were in too deep now, huh? Brent turned his gaze from one soldier to the next, before his eyes settled upon Emma. If she did something stupid, would he be able to stop her before the guards decided to gun her down?

...no. His shoes dug into the ground. He wasn't fast enough. Yet.

Moving through a hallway filled with soldiers looking for a chance to shoot with only a malnourished student as a line of defense was probably surreal--it sure felt that way to Clark, who had stopped caring somewhere between his body degrading and the chaos of the emergency the night before.

They reached a room at the far end of the hallway and Clark lifted his arms away from them to pull his ID card out of his pocket. There was no visible access port initially, but when he held the card up to where the handle of the door would usually be, several lines of light zipped vertically across the material and the door slid open.

The reaction from the soldiers was instantaneous--they formed several phalanxes of bodies around the door, the foremost soldiers aimed and ready while the ones behind them waited anxiously.

Inside the cavernous room, a brown-haired boy wearing a red parka sat on a dark blue bean bag in the middle of a containment chamber that had been converted into a substitute bedroom with plushes, toys, comic books, handheld gaming consoles, and even generators connected to televisions and various computers. A simple bed sat in the corner while a toilet and sink protruded from the opposite side, partially hidden behind a clear, plastic curtain. A very glorified prison.

He was eating a sandwich while a ghastly, woman-esque creature wearing what looked like a black evening gown with a vertical slit-mouth for a face ate slowly through a pile of broken monster bodies. The jarring contrast of what appeared to be thick, golden hair on the creature's head only made the scene look like a terrible, disjointed nightmare. In the corner of the room were the mangled bodies of Padma and Alexis, along with the Aberration boy who had panicked in the dining hall earlier. All of their marks were gone.

"Hector," Clark waved.

Turning to face the door, Hector grinned and waved back.

A nightmare that devoured corpses and a child that watched without any particular emotion at all. Within the cavernous 'graveyard', all Brent could focus on was the sandwich that the small child ate while his 'pet' did the same. A jumble of monster corpses was piled up high, while, in a separate corner, three distinctively human bodies lied. Human? Yes. Human.

He was right after all. In death, subnaturals became natural once more.

But Zhang didn't give a fuck about that. He could even admire that apathetic focus on effeciency. Did he like the end result though?

No.

Wrapped up in his own thoughts, Brent realized too late that Emma really, really, really shouldn't have seen this. Half-turning, his entire body was tensed as a singular thought transpired.

Ah, this was terrible.

Emma shuddered. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to vomit or run.

Can’t run. Can’t run. Can’t run.

She was doing her best to remind herself that running away wasn’t an option, but her legs were threatening mutiny. She closed her eyes and took a breath. She needed to find out what was going to happen to Padma and Alexis.

She’d come this far, hadn’t she?

”W-what the hell… what is this?”

"The answer to your question," Clark replied, putting a hand on Emma's shoulder. "Satisfied?"

He calmed slightly. She didn't run yet. Brent turned his attention back to the creepy kid. "Hey there, name's Brent, This your hobby or your job?"

Hector pursed his lips after another bite and swallow, seriously pondering the question and not at all concerned about strangers appearing at his door.

"Hmm...both!" he answered cheerily, turning back to his monstrosity. He increased its size a bit more as it finished its latest batch of monsters. Now the creature was the size of a small truck from its previous human-like height.

Emma gulped.

Satisfied…?

This was no answer. This was more questions. But what would the answers be? She both wanted to know and wanted to shove them away. That scared her.

Everything scared her, but it was only now that she was becoming aware of exactly how scared she should be. The monsters weren’t just outside, they were inside, underneath the very place she slept. Here she was, escorted by one, who only moments ago placed his arm around her and lead her into this nightmare. The scene before her was horrifying, begged her to look away, yet she couldn’t bring herself to. She was surrounded by guards, flashbacks of the incident during orientation playing back in her head. They all wanted to shoot her. They were, very likely, just as scared of her as she was of them.

USARILN was supposed to be the good guys. That’s what she had always thought, what she had wanted to believe. Precursors, Aberrations, Arbiters, Sub-Natural. The words had meant little to her only weeks ago but now they seemed to be her life.

So were they the heroes?

There is no black or white, only shades of grey.

Her own naiveté surprised her, before her thoughts turned back to questions. The mantra still ran in her head.

Can’t run. Can’t run. Can’t run.

She meant it both literally and figuratively.

”Satisfied?” she finally repeated slowly, voice dragging over each syllable of the word. ”We’ve seen where they are, but what’s going to happen to them?”

She already knew the answer, but hadn’t accepted it.

"Miranda eats them. Duh," Hector responded, shifting into a more comfortable reclining position on his bean bag.

So, that’s it.

It was then that Emma knew she really was surrounded by monsters.

Clark, who saw this as a hobby.

Hector, sitting unflinching, uncaring on his bean bag.

Miranda, who was going to eat the corpses of her comrades.

Shades of grey? What a joke.

And Brent? Emma didn’t know how to feel. He’d helped her, he seemed nice, but something was off. Was she just imagining it? Was the stress getting to her, fueling paranoia against a person that by all appearances meant her no harm?

That didn’t really matter, did it? What was worse of all was the fear she felt. Her fate stood before her, she knew. Be it today or a year from now this was likely the place where she would end up, fuel to feed whatever the horrible sight before her was. She knew now, she was sure, USARILN was no place for heroes.

Is this what it takes? Is this the way to fight DC’s monsters?

The words in her head stopped repeating.

Emma didn’t run.

She’d been trying now for so long. Trying to hold it all together. She’d tried so hard, even with everything she faced. Her powers developing, being captured by the government, seeing people die, fighting monsters, a suicide attempt… and now this. She’d never see Valentine again, or Riley, or her parents. Hell, at this rate she might not even see Hazel, Callan, Marcus, any of her new friends. She’d die, what, a week from now? She’d alone and afraid and then she would end up here.
Just let go.

The voice in her head screamed. She wasn’t even trying to hold her stigma back anymore.

You’re going to die, you don’t matter, none of them care about you, the monsters are all around you…

It kept going, and going, and going, countless thoughts in the span of a couple of seconds.

You’re one of the monsters, aren’t you?

Emma didn’t frown, or sigh, or cry, or run.

A smirk broke out on her face.

A smirk that grew into a grin that grew into a laugh.

It was faint at first, just a chuckle. And then it became peals of laughter.

”I get it now!” She was trying her best to get out words in between giggles, ”We’re not any different from them!”

Apparently Emma had an epiphany.

Ah. He had saw that coming. It was only natural after the small child made it clear that his 'little' pet grew stronger the more it ate. Such synergy. Free corpse disposal for monsters and subnaturals, while further raising the combat power of an abberation dangerous enough to be locked in a containment chamber by himself. How grandly convenient. How incredibly efficient. How fascinatingly...

...dislikable.

Beside him, Emma was breaking, her static expression enough for Brent to tell that either her mind had purged everything or that it had overflowed. He shouldn't have told her. He could have done this alone. Investigated by himself and just informed her afterwards. It wouldn't have been too hard. After all, he had seen worse, even before coming into USARILN. Disappearing completely from the world wasn't a bad way to go. Not compared to being zombified, being worn as a necklace, being fused into another monster, or a multitude of other shitty shits.

Her smile. Her laugh. Her mask.

Brent recognized it. He did the same, after all.

It's always better to smile.

He recognized it, and disliked that as well.

A heavy hand fell on her other shoulder.

"We're all subnaturals. That's where the similarities end."

He didn't need to see himself in the mirror. Not fucking now.

Clark watched silently as the constellation of lines around the black-haired girl's X drew upwards from her throat. Not quite strong enough that he could catch a pattern, but also not weak enough that they couldn't spread fantastically far. He lifted his hood slightly, watching one of the lines end in a sudden right angle. Had he been feeling better, he might have done something for her, but right now he could hardly muster the desire to pare down the spreading Stigma. The occupants of the other containment chambers needed him more anyway. He mouthed an apology, but his forearm covered the movement.

Hector watched the laughing girl curiously, finishing off his sandwich with a few more bites.

"Weirdo," he called out, before directing the rest at Clark, "So what are you here for, anyway? You don't need to eat my Stigma anymore."

Clark nodded at the human bodies in the corner.

"They wanted to see their friends."

Hector stuck his tongue out. "Well, they saw 'em. They gonna stick around to watch Miranda eat 'em, too?" he looked between the two strangers as he asked.

”No, no, Brent…” the laughter was beginning to calm, but stray snickers still broke from her. She didn’t care one bit about the exchange between Clark and Hector. ”That’s not what I mean. Not at all. Look at this, look at what we as a race has done… Human, Sub-Natural… we’re no different from DC’s monsters, are we? People stand by knowing kids are dying fighting for them, despising us all the same. Have you seen how the people in CC1 see us? Padma, Alexis, they died for them. But they’re… we’re just animals in the end, right? Animals, backed in to a corner, doing whatever it takes to survive? If this is what we do with power, why do we deserve it!? Why should we live with it? Why do they deserve survival? If… if this is what we’re going to do to our own we’re not any better…”

Emma’s laughter stopped.

She looked up to him, ”Right?!” The words came out like a harsh accusation. She wasn’t laughing anymore, but a grin had spread across her face. She’d apparently been delighted by the realization.

He could understand both sides, huh? He could logically explain to her that the damage caused by DC's creatures, as well as subnaturals gone rogue, had essentially caused the same hysteria as terrorism in the past has, where the 'victims' essentially branded an entire race or religion as evil. It wouldn't be the strongest argument, but in a world gone mad, it was justifiable. He was even tempted to just tell her to shut up and keep her retarded epiphany to herself until they got out of this awkward situation. No doubt the soldiers around them weren't going to be particularly enthused with watching an x-girl lose her fucking mind.

But he didn't. And without noticing it, his grip tightened on her shoulder.

"Surviving..."

A broken city, filled to the brim with bulbous bodies.

"...is trampling on the dead. So you are right. We're no different, just scrambling for answers and sacrifices. We literally feast on the dead, just like this kid and his little pet. We don't even deserve this power. Dreamcatcher probably gave it to us so we can live longer and suffer more!"

A frayed mask, searing the sides of his face.

"But so fucking what? Are you going to kill yourself now? Kill yourself and toss away all the sacrifices that your friends made so that you're not there with them? Just because humans plan on using you as a meatshield doesn't mean that you should let yourself die. Just because they benefit from stepping on you doesn't mean that you let them flatten you. Just because you have to do it too doesn't mean you don't deserve survival."

An all-consuming silence, adding another tragedy.

"...Survival's just winning. And the winners bear the burden of the dead. If you can't take that, my roommate has Padma's knife. Feel free to try offing yourself and apologizing to both of them in hell."

This wasn't dislike anymore.

A thousand thoughts filled Emma’s head again.

Maybe the knife isn’t a bad idea? What the fuck does he know? It’s the stigma, it’s the stigma, this isn’t me, make it stop. Stigma? This is how it’s always been, hasn’t it? Maybe I should try to take them with me? Determination can probably smash Brent’s head in pretty easily, and I can take Clark, right? Stop. I’d probably be shot and it would end just like that, neat and tidy. Stop. No more worries, no more suffering, no more fighting. Please, someone, make is stop…

It didn’t stop.

She wanted to yell at Brent, and Clark, and Hector, and Miranda, and the guards. She wanted to tell them all that she was going to kill them, that she wanted them to kill her.

She didn’t.

She wanted to split her head against a wall, maybe tell Determination to squish her fragile little head in between his hand. Like a melon/ Interesting experiment, it seemed, to see if it could kill her.

She didn’t.

Maybe she could just run into the room and jump into Miranda’s mouth. Seemed interesting to see the belly of the beast.

She didn’t.

Then what did she do?

She looked at Brent, contempt in his eyes. Hector and Clark, uncaring. Miranda eating away. The eyes of the guards filled with fear, some already beginning to get frisky with their guns.

”Haha, that’s an interesting idea, Brent. I guess we should get out of here, huh?” The grin was still spread across her face. She felt like it suited her better than her usual smile. Did she? She wasn’t really sure.

"Yeah, Stigmas suck," Hector observed, picking up one of the handheld video game consoles on the floor and flipping it on. The iconic music of a particular monster hunting and catching game filled the room, echoing off the walls as Hector raised the volume. "Good thing I don't have to deal with mine anymore," he grinned impishly, shooting the Aberration girl a sly look before his fingers busied themselves with the game.

As if on cue, the cuffs around Emma's and Brent's ankle beeped rapidly and, before they could react, the tazer system activated, sending 5.0 mA of current through their bodies at roughly 50,000 volts, dropping them both instantly.

Hector snorted at the sight.

"Director always stops the fun," he muttered, watching impassively as the soldiers took Emma and Brent's paralyzed forms away. Another group of soldiers grabbed Clark, holding him back while the elevator doors closed behind the five soldiers carrying the two students who were not supposed to be there.

Clark looked towards Hector, neither of them surprised at the course of events. If the soldiers couldn't shoot for fear of hurting Clark, the Director would certainly make use of more precise means. But he had at least managed to show them--quite literally--the dark underbelly of the Institution. Not that anyone with even half a mind had doubted the USARILNs had secrets. He had been hoping against hope that the Director would be busy for just long enough that he could show them its darkest secret, but of course she had stepped in to prevent that.

And now he'd likely never see the light of day again. Clark pulled his arm away from the guard holding it and they quickly let go, afraid of causing any lasting damage in a struggle.

Pulling up a bean bag next to where Hector was sitting and pretending to be engrossed in the video game, Clark sat down slowly, not wanting to aggravate the sensitive flesh on his legs.

"Did I do the right thing, Hector?" he asked the child.

Hector's fingers stopped mashing the buttons on his device.

"I'm too young to know the right thing, remember? Ask me again when I'm older and named Director Zhang," Hector handed Clark the gaming device. "Now help me beat that trainer."

Clark obliged.

---

Back on the regular hospital floors, one of the soldiers checked the orders on his phone and quickly directed the other four to take Brent and Emma into a separate hospital room.

The two found themselves on adjacent beds in an otherwise empty room, handcuffed to their bedframes. Besides the glowing buttons of some humming machinery and light filtering in under the door leading to the hallway, the room was completely black.

There was no acknowledgement of their actions beyond that. No voice from the cuffs. No sudden visit from the Director.

Ten minutes later, light streamed in as the door opened and a tall, lean sillouette appeared, guards flanking his slender form. Several spikes of varying sizes outlined the head of the man in the doorway before the lights came on all at once. Any suggestion of said spikes were gone without a trace as, beneath a head of thick raven black hair, a pair of stormy blue eyes glanced over the troublesome couple. Clicking his tongue, the man withdrew a hand from his long black trench coat and scratched his nose, which was lightly peppered with freckles beside the stark white Arbiter mark on his cheek.

"Well, if it isn't Nancy Drew and Sherlock Holmes!" he smiled warmly, chuckling at his own joke even as he said it, "Did you both just tune out all the angry guards telling you 'No'--because I'd like to learn your secret. They're pretty obnoxious sometimes."

As he spoke, his long legs carried him to Emma's bedside, where he withdrew a set of keys from his other pocket and began unlocking her handcuffs.

"Speaking of secrets, everyone's got a few big ones here and there. The bigger the place, the bigger the secrets-- they say that right? That's a thing? And of course you know all about that curiosity and the cat nonsense. Just because Benediction's around doesn't mean satisfaction will bring you back." Gently placing a hand on Emma's back, he extended the other to take her hand and help her off of the bed-- ensuring she wasn't about to fall over once she was on her feet.

Without missing a beat, he continued, his tone taking a more serious shift, "Look, if you've got a fix for solving mysteries, maybe try playing with the lost and found bin at the student center, this" -- he jerked his head towards the door, removing Brent's handcuffs with a metalic click-- "You're lucky you made it as far as you did. The Director might not be able to save you next time." He allowed Brent to get out of his own bed, lingering nearby in case he was a bit woozy as well.

"My advice?" he strode past them, standing in the doorway again, "Stay out of trouble. Trust me when I say this place has enough of it without people actively seeking it out." With that, he was gone-- leaving the door open in his wake.

Secrets? Huh. Maybe there was something wrong with him, if he thought that USARILN's corpse disposal method...wasn't that dark at all. He blinked. Maybe that electric shock did something good for him after all. He was himself again, after all. Perfectly well-adjusted, completely content, no longer feeling much of anything. Ah, looking back at it, all he could feel was a bit of embarrassment. Did he really just do that? Ugh, he should have thanked Clark before he got KO'd. Probably also should have actually tried asking for those bodies. Or, if nothing else, not get into a spat with Emma in front of literally everyone else.

Brent let out a sigh, still sitting on the hospital bed.

"Hey, Em..." probably not friendly with him anymore huh? "...ma. Would you rather have not come down there?"

His brow furrowed.

"Should I have done this myself, and just told you afterwards?"

”No.” Emma said. She was oddly cheerful, all thing considered. In fact, her face was alight with a wide smile.

”Actually, I think I have to go back.”

She wasn’t looking at Brent. In fact, it seemed to her right now that Brent wasn’t even there. He didn’t even matter. She was now worrying about something far more important.

"Yeah, same here."

With that, he hopped off the bed.

It was a curious experience, walking back alone when they were together.

Walking out from the hospital, Angel watched in the distance the group of people that had seemed to have gathered around and were following the walking miracle Precursor. It would be a lie to say she wasn't interested the slightest in him. She had been curious as to the reason why such an important asset to the government was deployed over here and checked in for healing a group of newly arrived misfits into this so called "school for subnaturals". But to gather around him like a bunch of groupies? That wasn't her style.

With nothing immediately coming into mind, Angélique opted to go back to her room. Much happened tonight, and while she was not tired, she felt she needed some peace and quiet, relax and re-center herself. Best place she thought of was her room, or her prison cell as she'd call it. And so, her feet brought her to the complex housing all the Aberrations of the campus, the less fancy of the two glass-like apartment complex. She recalled her room's location, third floor, number 300, easy to remember.

As strange as it would seem, when she entered her room, the raven-haired Aberration saw her room for the first time. The first time she entered this place, she was too emotionally wrecked to even notice the details of her room. Hell, she didn't even recall crawling down to her bed and sleep. But now that she had a clarity of mind, she noticed the finer details of her room. It was quite small, a bed and a desk. The walls of the room were made of that same material they keep using for trucks, cuffs and other stuff. Whatever this material was, it was prized here, and made Angélique curious about its properties.

Scanning her room thoroughly after switching on the lights, Angel noticed the pile of papers scattered all across the desk. Taking a seat over there, she began reading the content of those documents. She let out a snide scoff when she saw the various tests. What a farce. Those placement tests were just a façade to give the illusion they would be attending school, while the higher-ups would laugh behind their back and send the 'precious' students to die on the field of battle against monsters of all kinds.

Tossing the placement papers aside, now Angel got to the more interesting part. Request forms to use Ground Zero, whatever that place was, and additional supplies. filling in the request to use the violent release zone first, Angel then paused when she looked at what she would actually need. From one of the papers, it states that the ID card she had been provided with - which she still hasn't found yet underneath the pile of papers scattered on the desk - it was charged with 500$ per month. Thinking about it carefully, if they had half-a-thousand in monthly expenses, and had a acquisition request form, Angel guessed that paper was meant to request things that she couldn't usually get her hands on, or was tremendously out of reach financially wise.

Thinking about money, the ex-Rockstar thought about her wallet, thinking about how shameful it was to have lost it. In fact, she didn't lose it, it wa confiscated by the local police office at the town she was giving concert in.

In her daze, Angéiique's eyes fell upon the duffel bag lying on the ground next to her bed. Had it always been here? Raising a curious eyebrow, the young woman got up from her chair and slowly walked towards her bed, grabbing the duffel bag before emptying its small content onto the bad.

Well she'd be damned. Her wallet was in there, and so was her cellphone. Checking the content of her black leather wallet, she was delighted to see that everything was just the way she left it. Her driver's license, her hospital and Canadian healthcare cards, her debit and credit cards, and even the hundred dollars she uses in emergencies were there. Looking at her bank's cards, Angel wondered if her accounts were still functional. While 500$ was neat, she figured that if she needed something really more expensive, her bank account would provide the money she needed. Before her career went to shit because of this accident, she had managed to gather a rather large sum of money. Sure, she might not be a millionaire like some other artists from her line of works, but that didn't mean she was broke after all.

With her smartphone in hand, the most recent Samsung Galaxy model that had come out this year, she was curious about many things. First, to see if the phone was working. And indeed, it was. The raven-haired singer remembered that she had closed her phone just before heading towards the concert hall, to prevent any awkward buzzing during her performance. Throughout the week, it had remained closed, and so the battery was almost fully charged. Well, it looked like her luck still hasn't completely left her, ironically.

Having thought about money just now, Angel wanted to know what was her bank account amounting to. As soon as she turned her phone upon, she was assaulted by notifications and messages that had been left to her while she was gone. Good god, there were so many of them, it would take hours to read through all of them. But business needed to come first. Angel was surprised to see this campus actually had Wi-Fi and a functioning network.

Visiting her bank's website, she had the horror of finding out that her bank account was left completely empty. Cleared of debts, but also cleared of savings. She literally had 0$ showing up on her screen, as if her bank account was virgin new. Suffice to say, Angélique was pissed mad about it, and wanted to know the reason why it was empty, but that would mean she would have to skim throughout thousands of messages in her inbox.

She was just about to toss her phone away from frustration, but then she remembered about the acquisition request form on the desk. Alright, so buying expensive stuff was really out of reach now. It felt just like returning to her kiddo years. So, she had to consider what was worth buying, ordering, and requesting.

Taking one of the exams she previously tossed earlier, Angel listed what she needed and priorities. Priorities were clothes, seeing she was just walking around with a bra and a single pair of blood-soaked black jeans, and bathroom products - which she was really overdue to take a shower. Anything else, she could live without for the moment, but seeeing how things went today, she felt like she would need to get a firearm to protect herself and the others in case her powers were useless. She could do with snacks too, and a few decorations to spruce up her room.

Thinking about today's events, Angel stopped in her tracks. She took a moment to think about all the casualties, the comrades she had, the deaths that had occured, her new life here. What would be the future from now on? Will she stay here until she dies after her use had come to an end, or would she meet the same horrible fate that happened to Alexis.

Her fists clenched, her teeth gritted, Angel removed her shades to set the up on the desk as she went to rest her face on her closed hands. She didn't want to die. She didn't want any more friends dying. But she couldn't do much. All she could do was bring death with her voice, not help people.

Pathetic excuse of a leader...

Angel's head raised from her knuckles, trying to find the source of those whispers.

Everyone around you will die, because you are weak...

Glancing around, Angélique's eyes finally stopped on her pair of shades that were set on the desk, facing her.

"No... I..."

You are weak, unable to protect your friends.

"S-stop!"

You let one of them die, and you caused 2 other deaths.

"That’s not true!"

You are a murderer. Your selfishness will be the death of all.

"ENOUGH!"

This sudden outburst violently sent the papers flying everywhere in the room, her shades being thrown out towards the bed, and the pen she had been writing with went flying so fast it actually embedded itself in the wall. Even the desk itself loudly smashed against the wall, no too damaged, but splinters were now visible from where it had collided against the wall and even the legs seemed wobblier than before.

Looking at the room now in a mess, calm had returned to her room, although the black-haired Canadian felt in a shittier mood than before.

I... need some fresh air.

Angélique stormed out of her room and headed outside. The air outside was cold, fit for a September night. The cold breeze washing over the girl's bare back gave her goosebumps, shuddering a little. Thinking over it, maybe it was a bad idea to use her whole shirt as a bandage, not to mention medical help had arrived not even 5 minutes after she had done so. But the deed was done, there was no point in lamenting her now lightly covered torso.

Walking outside, her stomach began rumbling, reminding vividly the teen she hasn’t eaten anything for a while now, and it was just about time to eat. Was the cafeteria open at this time of the night? Time to find out, she desperately needed something to sate this ravenous hunger.

Walking through the campus, she was intercepted by a guard who walked up straight towards her, gun in hand.

"Subnatural, what are you doing outside your room at this time? Curfew is at 2300."

The guard's grip on his gun tightened as he straight up noticed the very exposed black X on Angélique's naked throat.

"What really? I wasn't aware we were still at kindergarten."

"Don't make me repeat myself, subnatural. Go back to your room, or we'll escort you over there personally, by force if needed."

Angélique's face turned into an aggravated frown towards the man's warning. There was no fucking way she was going back to her room with an empty stomach, and she'd let that guy know exactly that.

"Look here, bud. I've had a fucking day. I wake up to the sounds of alarms blasting late in the night, you guys fucking shove me into a truck to send me and my teams to die on a battlefield straight up on the first day we come here. And now you want to isolate me in my room while I didn't have fucking time to get something to eat? I'm game with your curfew, if that's a necessity, but at least let me grab a bite before I turn in for the night."

The guard remained silent in front of the angsty teen taking it out on him. After she was done speaking, the man held up his index, motioning her to wait as he got his phone out of his pocket and dialed a number.

"Night patrol here. With the curfew-breaking student signaled. She's looking for food. Yeah, apparently, she's one of the students sent this evening. Alright, will do."

"You're cleared to go to the cafeteria to get your meal. Since it's your first day, and under the circumstances, you have until midnight to get back to your room. You still got eyes on you, so I'd suggest you make it quick."

Angélique nodded apprehensively. Well, at least not everyone here was unreasonable. With the guard walking away but still keeping an eye on her, Angel resumed her walk towards the dining hall.

Reaching the cafeteria, she was greeted by a half-asleep looking guy behind a counter. He grumbled something about being disturbed from his sweet sleep and whatnot. Of course, it had to be a fucking Aberration that decided to get her late-night meal during a week day.

"ID..."

Angel raised an eyebrow quizzically, wondering what the guy wanted with his extended hand.

"Your student ID card..."

Realizing just now what he meant, the raven-haired youth provided the card from one of her pants' pockets. The guy grumpily seized the card from the girl's hands and swiftly swept it in his machine before handing it back to its owner.

"Plenty of leftovers left heating up. Don't take too long, you're being monitored."

The guy labeled Jason went to a nearby table and slouched on a chair, visibly tired.

"And I'm beat. Just want to go back to sleep."

Angélique shrugged at the sight and went towards the food counters. For a place serving leftovers this late at night, it sure was impressive the sheer amount of different food that was being served. There was so much variety, the hungry X-marked girl was at a loss of what she would be eating. While she was famished, she needed something light for the night. Maybe toasts, croissants, chocolate bread? Grabbing anything that comes into mind, by the end of her selection, she had chosen a large variety of pastries, coupled with a cup of dark and strong coffee.

Just as she was almost done with her meal, she eyed the guards that had suddenly come quickly into the cafeteria, heading in the direction.

Oh shit... took too long.

The guards stopped right in front of her, two in number.

"You've well over extended your curfew. Go back to your room immediately."

One of the gun probed the subnatural with his rifle, pressing her to get up and move.

"No need to fucking point that gun at me. Sheesh, chill out mates."

Angel sighed annoyingly and grabbed the leftovers from her plates before downing what wa left of her coffee in one gulp. She then started walking towards her room all the while feeling the occasional gun being shoved behind her back.

Entering her room, she didn't even give the guards their satisfaction of being smug pricks, she slammed her room's door behind her as she stepped inside. With a stomach full and a few leftover pastries to snack on while she pulled an all-nighter, she was good to go to fill in these papers.

Gathering back the strewn exams and request forms across her room, she placed the exams into one neat discared pile, while the more relevant papers were sorted out on a different pile. Ground Zero has already been cleared, it was time to fill in the additional miscellaneous requests. While she had been eating at the cafeteria, she had thoroughly thought about this, about what she would need that she couldn’t buy with her meager 500$ of monthly expenses. She needed to know about the others, a tool to protect herself and the others, ways to train herself.

Retrieving the pen embedded into the wall, she watched curiously the hole in the wall fixing itself over time. Now that was the reason why this material was used at USARILN. Well, now wasn't the time to contemplate a hole fixing itself. She had other things to do:



Setting up the acquisition request document over the Ground Zero clearance paper, Angel took a bite into the chocolate croissant she brought from the cafeteria, letting a soft hum of delight. Reminding herself of the morning breakfasts she often had with her band eating those, Angel recalled having promised a dinner to Green Team just before getting out to the battlefield. With all the events unfolding tonight, nobody was in the mood to talk to each other, especially not after Zoe's outburst after the fight.

Still, she felt like she owed something to her team. She promised them a meal, and by God she will go through this idea.

She took out a few sheets of exams from the discarded pile and placed them in front of her.

@Holy Grail


@Lasrever


@VarionusNW


@canaryrose


@dragonmancer



With the letters done, now all that she had to do was wait until the curfew was lifted so she could deliver those letters to her old teammates. Truly, she wanted to see them and bring them together for a joyful dinner altogether, perhaps mend the splinters that had formed between them.

Placements tests were 'done', if one would consider writing letters on the back of those sheets as being finished. Her request forms were all completed and signed. On the back of another exam sheet, a list of groceries had been written with a budget-like table drawn further down the page. Invitations were written, now waiting to be delivered. Pretty much everything was taken care of.

It was in now the early hours of the morning. Angélique yawned, but didn't feel so tired. Serious business taken care of, she could now try to catch up with everything she missed this past week. Her Facebook, Twitter, professional and personal e-mails, they were all flooded with messages from fans, family and business partners alike.

For sure, that would take her a while to read all of them.

*A few hours later*

Before she knew it, morning already came through the windows from Angélique's room. She had spent to much of her time catching up with everything that she had missed for a whole week, she didn't notice time flying by so quickly. After a relaxing stretch of both her arms and legs, she yawned and looked outside her window, realizing the morning sun had already risen from its slumber and was illuminating the sky. For a moment, she had considered going to sleep, but she remembered the sight she had seen from the mirror in this floor's common bathroom. She was in desperate need of new clothes. Her pants were soaked in blood, and she was actually just walking around the campus with only a bra as her top wear. Thankfully it was night, but she realized that now it was day and she would attract more than a fair share of unwanted stares.

Guess the shops should be open by now...

But before going outside shopping, there was a need Angel felt from reflex after usually waking up. Taking a shower. All night long, she didn't leave her room as she worked on her various paperwork and reading/listening through all of her messages. But now, as she was about to leave, she could smell the horrible stench of sweat, dirt and blood mixed throughout her skin. Not only did she smelled bad, she looked bad. Stains of dirt and blood dirtied her skin, her hair was greasy and sullied, she really needed to wash herself off this filth.

Unfortunately, it had been said that X-marked students shared a communal bathroom. While the idea of sharing a common bathroom didn't please her, there was not much choice for right now. Swiftly going to the bathroom, Angel spotted some basic cleaning care products that have been left over in the bathroom.

Looking over her naked body through the large glass, Angel realized how this last week did her terrible. While she still had that curvy silhouette and a well-toned body of someone athletic, she lost a lot of weight, TOO much weight. Her bones weren’t showing like a girl suffering from anorexia, but she found herself lacking fat. Sure, some people like very skinny girl, but that wasn't her gig. She preferred a little more meat around the bone.

Shower time was quite lengthy. Angélique took a lot of time scrubbing off all the impurities off her body and her hair. She was so sullied, the water flowing around her feet turned brown before reaching for the drain. In the end, she was clean as a newborn babe, her skin returning to its smooth light-toned glory and her hair to its black luster.

What she wasn't very happy with though it wearing the same set of underwear and pants she had been sporting for over a weak. They caught the worse of the dirt, and didn't smell exactly as fresh as she did. But she had to wear them nonetheless, else she would parade naked around campus.

Going back into her room, Angel shoved her phone, wallet and student Id into her pockets before leaving once more with a small pile of papers in hands. A few of those papers were neatly folded, others were left like she received them. Before going shopping, she figured she'd get this business out of the way.

Leave the building complex housing the Aberrations, Angel left towards the registrar offices, which were only a small walk away from her building, basically right next to it. It didn't take her long to enter the building a face the receptionist on the other side of the counter.

"Yo. Got my request forms filled in, ready to be approved by your higher-ups. I got letters to deliver to a few students as well, don't know if you're the right person to deal with this."

"Yes, we can do that."

Angel handed the papers to the receptionist, which she took and scanned over quickly, be it request documents or letters. The office lady raised an eyebrow as she read the letters.

"Got the full name for the recipients?"

"Errr, no? Well, they're all students that had been enrolled yesterday. Surely you can find their full name going off from that."

The receptionnist scoffed at the proposal. Great, more useless searching for a clueless Aberration. Don't kids these days introduce to each other using their full names? Looking through her computer, she pinpointed the information by searching for the most recent students. So, the girls the letters were addressed to were all X-marks, while the boys were all white-marks. Strange coincidence, still a pain to send to two different buildings.

"Alright, we'll be taking care of this. You can go."

Finally, with the papers all being taken care of, she can finally go to town to shop for some new clothing.

Hazel Baker

She was glad Emma took some time to help her.

The rest of the unfinished tests was finished relatively quickly, and Hazel was left with a problem she had been trying to avoid ever since she returned from the mission last night. They, he, was very explicit in their instructions to her. He had took her aside several times, making sure that she remembered his orders. None of them, including him, had really introduced them to her, but she knew their names. Like him, most of them had an important card on their lapel. Important, because everytime they got stopped anywhere in the facility, they would show their cards and be waved through. His name, like the rest of them, was printed clearly on that card.

Her eyes, obscured by her long hair, were glued onto his ID card. Dr. Walter Willis brushed aside her hair, forcing her to look at him. Smiling, he stared directly in her eyes as he once again repeated his orders.

Hazel blinked, realizing she had been gazing blankly into space unmoving. She needed to — send that report to Zhang —. Confused, she looked down on the table, at the report written in neatly printed handwriting. It detailed the mission as seen from her eyes, though it lacked the dreams she had during the battle and when she slept.A flash of guilt ran through her for a moment, but she refrained from writing the dreams in. Those didn't seem like something that would interest the facility.

Taking the requisition form, she gave it a few minutes of thought before writing in what she needed. From last night's battle, it was obvious that she wasn't that well prepared for anything. Poison could take her down almost immediately, and any direct attack on her could and would incapacitate her immediately. Still holding the pen in a fist, she painstakingly scrawled in a request for an airtight full bodied armor with its own replaceable air supply, as well as things she would need for it, like a spare helmet, spare parts, and spare canisters of air. Thinking about it some more, Hazel added in a request for more of the drug she was taking to be stocked. It would not do to run out and not have any as they try to requisition some more.

Gathering all the papers, including the report addressed to the Director and hence the facility that kept her, Hazel went to the office to send those in.

Sophia Lemane

Crimen Culpae 1, Northern Outskirts
September 3rd, 2020 - 9:50 pm

Sophia remained standing there as people talked, cried, and yelled around her. She receded into herself, tuning them out as she continued to sort out her thoughts. Some time later, a truck arrived and it was time for them to return back to the campus. She followed the soldiers' commands and got into the truck promptly, trying to ignore how having the guns pointed at her made her feel so inferior.

She sat still and quiet with her head down as the truck rumbled on, glad for the silence, or rather, the almost silence. A few remarks punctuated the silence once in a while, and Sophia recognized the voice as Brent's even though she didn't bother to look up to confirm. But no one really bothered to keep a proper conversation going, unsurprisingly.

Arriving back at the campus, they were all hurried into the hospital. Sophia hadn't sustained any new injuries and would have preferred to go straight to her room, but it was clear that they were all to remain in the hospital. She took a seat in the entertainment section as she waited for something to happen, not bothering to use any of the devices there. Now that all the battle "excitement" was mainly over, she was beginning to feel tired. Though she had slept for quite a while in her hospital bed earlier, it obviously hadn't been enough for her.

A change in the atmosphere of the room and the sound of many people approaching made her glance up in time to see Benediction enter the room. Blinking a few times to make sure she wasn't imagining things, she watched with amazement as the Precursor waved his hand with a bored expression, filling the room with pinpricks of white light. The use of his power had created a mess, but Benediction didn't seem to care as he left the room again right afterwards. He was probably busy, after all. She felt lucky that he had bothered to come and heal the injured here.

Moving her right arm slightly to see if he had healed her as well, she was relived to find out that it felt and moved normally again. Now that they were cleared to go, she stood up, eyeing her sling. She should probably remove it and the bandages, and give the sling back to one of the doctors. Most of the staff that previously been in the room had left, except for one young nurse who was cleaning up. Debating whether she should ask for assistance, she decided not to disturb the nurse and instead removed the sling herself before unwrapping the bandages on her arm. Setting the sling down where she had been sitting, she felt a small twinge of guilt for leaving things lying around, but didn't want to talk to anyone at the moment. Then she headed out of the hospital building and to her suite.

Entering her suite, she immediately made her way over to the couch, sinking down onto it with a sigh. It was over, and she should get ready for bed soon. Get ready for tomorrow, for who ever knew what would happen? She now understood that things here would be much more unpredictable than what she was used to. After a few minutes of sitting still, she got up and unfastened her cape, going to drape it over her desk chair before moving into the bathroom.

It was refreshing, taking a long, warm shower. It was only when she stepped out that she realized she didn't have anything clean left to wear. She had worn her only change of clothes that day, the other shirt she had bearing a bullet hole. She didn't want to go to sleep in jeans, that was too uncomfortable. After drying herself with a towel, she slipped on her undergarments and the same shirt she had worn that day, wrapping the towel around her lower half. Glancing in the mirror to check her reflection, she stared at herself for a few seconds. That was how the new her looked like.

Giving a small shake of her head, she excited the bathroom and went to sit at her desk, grabbing her journal and pencil-case on the way. Where could she begin to record all the things that had happened to her? From the beginning, of course. Taking a deep breath, she opened her journal to a blank page, choosing a purple pen from her case. Then it was pen to paper, putting down the events methodically and sorting things out as she wrote. It was the trip in the truck that she wrote about first, the appearance of the Precusors, and the monsters. Then seeing Director Zhang, and getting shot. Waking up in the hospital, meeting an energetic boy, attempting to talk... and so on.

The pages filled with her tiny, rather cramped writing, and she flipped page after page as she wrote. At last, she had written about the second hospital visit and coming back to her suite, and she was done. Leaning back in her chair, she winced as she shook out her wrist, sore from all the writing. Now she felt ready for bed. Leaving her journal lying on the desktop, she went to switch off the light before crawling into bed and soon afterwards, falling asleep.

---

---

USARILN East, Building A: Suite 226
September 4th, 2020 - 7:38 am

The sun rose as it did each day, the light having begun to gradually fill the room when Sophia woke up. Opening her eyes to gaze at the wall she was facing, confusion surfaced before she remembered where she was. Untangling herself from her mussed up blankets, she sat up in bed and swung her legs over the side.

It was morning, time to get moving. What she was going to get moving doing she wasn't quite sure yet, but she could always start with her regular morning routine, right? There was a sufficient amount of clear space in the room, and she positioned herself in the middle. Beginning slowly with plies in the different dance positions, she then moved on to the move active exercises such as push-ups, burpees, sit-ups, crunches, and plank. Once she felt warmed up sufficiently, she began to stretch, sliding into a perfect split and leaning forward until her body made a perfect T on the floor.

When she was done stretching, she quickly got changed into the same thing that she had worn yesterday and headed to the dining hall for breakfast. Breakfast was a quick affair, so Sophia was soon back in her suite, glad for the silence and the space that she had to herself. She knew what she had to do now. Taking a seat at her desk, she drew the pile of tests closer to her, taking out a sharp pencil. Here goes, let's hope I can finish this soon.

The work began, Sophia's head bent low over the papers as she scribbled down her answers without stopping for any breaks. The questions weren't too challenging for her, most of the topics in the tests were those that she had learned. But the hardest subject for her were the sciences, she had never had much interest in them.

Hours later, she finished the last question, leaning back in her chair with a satisfied sigh. But she wasn't done yet, there was still the request sheet for to fill out. Did she need anything? It took her a while to fill out the sheet, for though she kept thinking and thinking, she couldn't come up with much that she wouldn't be able to get herself.There was also that disclaimer, which mentioned pets. Did that mean they were allowed to request pets? But how would that work? Should she risk it and try it? Would she have to pay for vet costs? Would she be allowed to choose? Twirling her pencil between her fingers, she finally made her decision, the longing for a pet winning her mental argument.


She thought that she should have specified brands or something like that for the phone and laptop, but she didn't really know what was good. Putting all the papers she had filled out in one pile, she picked them up along with the map of the campus. Time to drop them off. Following the map, she managed to find her way to the Registrar's Office and handed the papers in with a muttered explanation of what they were.

Done with that "homework", she felt much more relaxed. Now she didn't have anything to do, not really. But it was just past noon, so she could eat something while thinking what to do. Relax, most likely. Pouring over the map while she ate in the dining hall to see if there were any interesting buildings labeled, her eyes lighted upon one that was labeled as the library. Perfect! she thought happily. I can spend the afternoon there.

---

---

Multiple locations
September 5th, 2020 - 12:35 pm

Entering the dining hall for the second time that day, Sophia silently handed over her ID card to be swiped before entering. By now, she had a good idea of the foods that were arrayed around the room, so she wasted no time grabbing a plate and piling food on. Broccoli, white rice, as well as chicken made their way onto her plate along with a glass of water in her other hand before she looked around for an empty place to sit. As luck would have it, there was a small empty table placed near the wall, so she made her way over it and set down her plate.

Taking a seat, she took a quick glance around her at the people milling around. Unintentionally, her gazed gravitated towards the staircase that she and Brent had ascended two days back. Shaking her head slightly, she turned her attention back to her plate and began to eat. About halfway through her meal, she paused and put down her cutlery. Drawing out her list of things to buy that she had made that morning, she opened it and began to scan through it while she finished eating to make sure she hadn't missed anything. It was finally time to buy herself some items and clothes, wearing the same set day after day wasn't quite what she wanted.


Twenty minutes after she had entered the dining hall, she was heading back out again. She really hoped that the map she had would guide her sufficiently once she got out of the campus, or she would get unfortunately lost. Walking around alone made her feel so much older than the small thirteen years she really was. She felt so much more independent, but she wasn't sure if she really liked that. Walking by her sister's side as they made their way around had always made her feel much more comfortable. Now, she felt quite alone.

The way she walked the streets looked quite queer. The hood of her cloak was pulled up so that her face was mostly hidden, the white streak on her face only visible if someone were to look directly at her from the front. Though she took long strides that could have passed off as confident ones, it was made clear she didn't know her way around by the way she constantly stopped to consult the map held in her hand. It was a stop and go kind of walk.

However, after needing to backtrack only once or twice, she finally made it to her destination. The mall now was straight ahead of her. It wasn't as big as some of the ones that she had been to before, but she was still counting on it to have at least most of the things that she needed.
~~~~~~~~~~
A whole hour later, Sophia had made some headway into her list of things to get, having gotten everything that wasn't clothes. But clothes, they were going to be a hassle to get. Finding something, trying it on, taking it off, checking prices, checking for defects... she didn't really care a whole lot about what she wore, as long as it didn't look totally weird. When it came to clothing brands, Sophia didn't know a whole lot of those either.

Because of that, she found herself wandering from one clothes outlet to the next, picking up a clothing article or two if she was lucky enough to find anything. At last, she determined that she was pretty much done. She was tired of trying clothes on, and her hair was unfortunately more frizzy than usual due to her having had to keep pulling clothes over her head. However, she had to consider herself lucky that she had been able to find everything except the skort and gloves. She didn't need the skort, though she really would have liked the gloves for when the weather got colder. Gloves shouldn't have been too hard to find, but she hadn't liked the fit or style of any she had seen.

Sinking down onto a bench nearby, she leaned back and gazed up at the ceiling. What time was it anyway? She was getting hungry. She allowed herself what she felt like was a few minutes of rest before getting up and consulting a map of the mall. The icon of a fork and knife made her smile, and she began to head a floor down to the place that was indicated on the map.

---

The dining hall was crowded. Savannah weaved through groups of students as she made her way to the buffet, eyeing the sandwiches on the counter. In particular, she was looking at the delicious-looking roast beef club. She had decided that it would be the perfect fuel for her second day on the town. Finally managing to find her way through the crowd and to the buffet, she picked up a plate and loaded it with a sandwich and fries. She also picked up a cup of water, heading towards a table in the corner. Setting her plate down, she slid into her seat.

After she had devoured her sandwich, she got out a piece of paper and a pencil and began to write in extremely messy handwriting. She was making a list for Shopping Day 2, basically just getting the things that she hadn't been able to purchase the previous day.


After she had made the short list, Savannah stuffed it into her pocket and started to head towards the town of Crimen Culpae 1.
~~~~~~~~~~
About two hours later, Savannah had bought almost everything on her list, and was striding down the mall, earphones plugged in and staring at some sheet music. She was pretty much off in her own world of notes and violins, and it was pretty hard to interrupt her while in this state. But her concentration was interrupted when she bumped into Sophia, falling backwards and dropping her bags, scattering things across the floor.

While Sophia was walking through the mall in search of some food, someone banged into her from behind, followed by a thump and the sound of things scattering over the floor. Quickly pivoting around to see who it was, her gaze lowered to the floor to look at a girl who lay there. "Oh." Her eyebrows drew together as she looked at the girl who seemed around her age. "Are you... alright?" she asked softly. Crouching down to offer a helping hand, she caught sight of the X adorning the girl's throat. She's an Abberation.

Savannah flinched away from Sophia's hand, instead picking herself up. "Yeah, I'm fine." she said, brushing herself off with a frown. Seeing her stuff scattered everywhere, she cursed. "Oh, shit!" she exclaimed, dropping to the floor to gather her stuff together. "I'm really sorry for bumping into ya." she said to Sophia, sneaking a look at her. From where she was crouching, the girl appeared to be a regular. Now that gave Savannah something to think about. Regulars didn't help subnaturals often.

Sophia's hand remained outstretched for a second longer, before realizing that the girl didn't want help and dropping her hand back to her side as she stood up. She noted as well the girl's voice, which seemed to have an accent that she couldn't place. Nodding slightly at her apology, she gave her a small, but rather stiff, smile. "It's fine." Now that they were both standing, Sophia could see how much shorter the girl was. Part of her was tempted to walk away and leave it at that, but many of the items that the girl had dropped were still spread across the floor. A sheet of paper fifteen feet away caught her attention, and she walked towards it, bending over to pick it up before returning to the girl.

Pushing back her deep hood as she examined the sheet, she realized it was music written for a violin. Holding it out to the blonde girl, she asked, "Yours? Or did someone else drop it?"

As the brown-haired girl pulled back her hood, Savannah realized that she was an Arbiter. Of course. That would explain the kindness, if she had been a regular, she would have simply ran away in fear. Now that she had a proper look at her face, Savannah realized that she was about the same age as her. Her face morphed into one of surprise, before she shook it off. She hadn't seen many people her age there yet, but realized that if she was here, surely there would be more her age.

"That's mine. Thanks for helping." she said. She politely took it from the girl and stuffed it back into the bag.

So the paper was hers after all. Sophia relinquished her hold on the paper, but her gaze followed its path as it was stuffed into the bag. Do you play the violin? How long have you been playing? What piece was that sheet of paper for? Those were some of the questions that went through her head. She's been pretty polite, maybe she won't mind if I ask her something else? Or would it seem too nosy? But then, maybe I'll never see her again? She stood in place, her gaze still on the bag. "Uh..." she began, but that was all she could get out. Feeling her face get a little warmer, she closed her mouth. "Nevermind."

"I'm Savannah, what's your name?" Savannah said, out of the blue. By now, she was done picking up the various sheets of music that littered the floor, and had decided it would be a good idea to get to know someone who was relatively close to her age.

Moving her gaze from the bag and meeting Savannah's yellow eyes, she said, "Oh, my name's Sophia Lemane. Nice to meet you." After a second of hesitation, she managed to blurt out, "Do you... uh, play?"

It took a second for Savannah to interpret her words. "Yeah, I play the violin. she said. "Why do you want to know?"

Savannah's answer caused Sophia's smile to become a bit more genuine. Why had she asked? "Oh, I was just wondering. Since I saw the music sheets and all... you know. The violin's a nice instrument. Though I don't play."

Savannah gave a broad smile at seeing Sophia's appreciation for classical. Finally, someone knew something about the genre! "That's why I chose it, of course! she said with a newfound enthusiasm. "Do you play an instrument?"

"Yeah..." Sophia replied, drawing out the word as she let out her breath. Her smile becoming more wistful, she continued. "The piano. But it's not really portable... so don't know if I can continue."

"Oh well, that's too bad. But I bet there's a music room in the Student Center that you could use. This school is pretty fancy, it has to have something." she said, thinking a bit. "How old are you? You look about my age."

The possibility of there being a music room in the Student Center, she would have to check if there really was one. It would be great if there was. "I'm thirteen, same with you?"

"Actually, I'm fourteen. I was thirteen, like 3 weeks ago." Savannah said.

So that meant that they were almost exactly a year apart. Her birthday too, had been quite recent. "Well then, happy belated birthday!" she said, in a singsong voice. Glancing around her, she realized that they were still standing in the middle of the mall's path, people walking around them. "Hmm, think we should move somewhere else?" She hurried to add, "Though if you're busy, you can go. Don't want to hold you up."

As Sophia wished her a happy belated birthday, Savannah emitted a big smile. "Thanks!" she exclaimed. "No, I'm not busy, I was actually just heading back to the school. If you wanna continue talking, we could go sit on a bench somewhere, if that's alright with you."

Holding the bags in her hands higher for a few seconds to bring attention to them, Sophia said, "I'm done shopping. So... I guess? We could head back to the school... unless you'd rather spend more time out of that place than in? Then we could just sit somewhere. Up to you." She really didn't want to seem as if she was trying to order anyone around, and she was fine with either option.

Savannah frowned with distaste at the mention of the school. "That place feels like bad omens and death. I'd much rather stay in the mall." Savannah said.

Sophia nodded in understanding, for though she hadn't been at the school long, the place was far from her liking. "Alright then," she began hesitantly, "I was about to find something to eat... if you're hungry?"

"I could use something to eat. I think the food court is right over there." Savannah replied, pointing to the nearby food court.

Now that she looked, there it was, just as Savannah said. The food court. "Alright, then, shall we?" And Sophia began to head off towards the court, the scents becoming stronger as she neared. Something simple to eat would do for her, there were often those larger pretzels at such places. A hand slipping inside her cloak, she gripped her ID to make sure it was still there.

Savannah trailed after Sophia, going toward the food court. She observed the various places around the food court, not able to decide on one. "What do you want? she asked Sophia.

Having a whole lot of choices was never a good thing for Sophia whenever she had to choose. Trying not to look at all the different things and mainly looking for something she knew she liked, she decided on what had been on the mind earlier. Pretzel. Though, perhaps Savannah had been here for longer? Maybe she knew something good. "I think... I'll go with a pretzel. Stick to simple things. But actually, do you know anything good? If you've been here before... and all."

Savannah chuckled, amused. "You're speaking to a girl who was born in rural Ireland. I know nothing about fast food." she said, looking around the mall.

"Oh." So that explained Savannah's accent. "Never really ate much fast food myself. Guess I'll just still have that pretzel, you?" She took a few small steps towards the place that sold her food of choice, but looked at the cashier warily. She didn't quite feel like talking to another "normal" person and being stared once more. Having had that thought, she pulled her hood back up so it once more covered most of her face. There were quite some people at the food court for a late afternoon snack, and, well, she didn't want them to see who she was.

"Yeah, I'll have a pretzel too." Savannah said, rolling back her shoulders.

"Yeah, okay." Sophia's gaze remained on the cashier, trying to decide how to approach her. "Oh... wait." she said aloud, as a thought occured to her. "Uh, should I pay? I can pay. Unless... you want to pay separately?"

Suddenly, Savannah shouted "No!" As she said this, a bunch of people turned towards her. It seemed that she had drawn the attention of the crowd, and blushing, she forced out a sentence. "I-I can pay for my own food."

As Savannah suddenly cried out, Sophia's eyebrows raised. She hadn't expected such a big reaction from just a little suggestion. Were the Irish picky about who paid for food? But it seemed that the small girl was embarrassed of her outburst, and Sophia didn't want to make things worse. Hurriedly, she whispered, "Su-Sure you can. Want to go first?"

"Y-yeah, sure." Savannah said, still blushing. She paid for her pretzel, swiping her card through the thing. When she received it, she went and sat down, her face still red from her little outburst.

After Savannah paid, it was Sophia's turn. Stepping up, she kept her head down, ordering what she wanted in a quiet voice, just loud enough for the person taking her order to hear. After paying and getting her pretzel, she sat down by Savannah, and began to eat. Biting into the warm dough, she glanced up at a clock on the far wall. 4:10 pm. Wow, it was already that late? She had spent the entire afternoon at the mall, and it was probably time to head back soon. She took another bite, finishing to chew before saying, "You know... I should probably head back soon."

When Sophia sat down, Savannah was already eating her pretzel. She had tried to dip it in the mustard the cashier had provided, but found it a bit... much for her taste. Glancing up at the clock as she saw Sophia's gaze avert to it, she frowned. It really was getting late. "Yeah, I totally get it. Don't wanna miss curfew and all." she said with a very forced smile.

The curfew part of what Savannah said didn't make much sense, since there weren't curfews on the weekends, but either way she was glad that Savannah said she didn't mind. Though, looking closely at Savannah, she noticed that the girl's smile seemed stiffer than it had been earlier. I wonder why, maybe she's still embarrassed. Either way, perhaps it's best that I just move on now. Finishing her pretzel, she scraped back her chair and stood up, picking up her bags.

"Well, it was nice meeting you." She said softly, and though the words were a formality, she really did mean it. It had been nice to stop being invisible and silent for a while, and actually have a conversation with someone. What was even better was that Savannah was a stranger, maybe Sophia would never even see her again. With that, she began to walk away, exiting the mall and heading back to her suite.

"Y-yeah, same to ya." Savannah said as she finished her pretzel. She waved to the girl as she walked away. It had been nice to talk to someone close to her own age- even if they were both pretty socially awkward.

---

---

Allison's vision was foggy, everything obscured by a thick haze. She stood underneath a massive oak tree, beside her the wall of an old cabin. From behind her, someone was speaking, though their voice seemed to be muffled, as obscured as her vision was.

Allison found her self staring down at the ground around the tree, which seemed to have been recently dug up and replaced. Tears rolled down Allison's face, her hands clenched. Everything felt so distant and fake. She found herself turning around to greet a pair of glowing, red eyes. And then the dream faded.

---

Allison Revel woke up to people murmuring about someone named Benediction. A precursor, apparently, as well as the reason Allison didn't feel like she was dying anymore. Unlike several other people in the room, Allison had no interest in seeking out Benediction. She just wanted to go home, though that meant a room in which she had few freedoms and little privacy now.

As soon as she was able to get herself out of the infirmary, Allison made her way to her room, walking slowly and carelessly. She was tired, not physically tired, but mentally. She was tired of death, and in a way, of other people. The two things she couldn't escape. Every step she made, she made out of hope, and everything would always come crashing down. It was always Allison's fault. Someone dies, and she never does anything to stop it.

How many was it now? 7? 8?

Allison entered her room and turned on the light. She hadn't actually looked around the room much. She found a bag full of her stuff. She dug around the bag until she found the only change of clothes she had, a tank top and shorts. There was also a men's long sleeve shirt that was much too big for her. Why was that in amongst her stuff? It was the closest thing to a jacket she owned, but she didn't want to wear his clothes. The stench of death still clung to it. She tossed the shirt to the side. She would need to get rid of that later.

Allison looked at the state of herself. She was still covered in blood and pasta sauce, and her shirt was torn. She needed a shower, and new clothes. Allison hadn't gone shopping for clothes in a long time. Most of her clothes were hand-me-downs, or bought by someone else. Can't really risk shopping when you're trying to hide.

She went to the showers, luckily there was no one there, and relaxed as the blood was washed from her skin. She went to put on her clean change of clothes, realizing that she didn't have any undewear. What kind of idiot doesn't pack extra underwear? She would have to shop for that as well. The next day was going to be hell. She put the not-so-clean underwear back on, and threw on the clean clothes.

Allison made her way back to her room, carrying the bundle of bloody clothes. She would have to get those washed tomorrow, even the shirt that was in tatters. She put the bloody clothes on top of the long-sleeve shirt on the floor. Allison looked over the papers on the desk. The tests were mostly done, she only had a few more pages to go. She sat down and got to work.

Allison was able to finish those last few pages in under an hour, and was feeling considerably more tired. She was ready to go to sleep, but there was also the question of the acquisitions form. Was there anything Allison wanted? She couldn't think of anything off the top of her head. She decided to leave it for tomorrow and went straight to bed. Allison was asleep in minutes.

---

Allison woke up around 8:00AM, and had started moving. She had grabbed something to eat from the cafeteria, and filled out the acquisitions form.



She delivered the papers to the appropriate office, finishing all of her tasks by 9:00. She had found herself sitting on her bed, looking through one the two notebooks from her bag, a brown one. She hadn't touched the thing in a while. It was small enough to fit in her pocket, and was visibly worn with age. She had had it since she was kid. She flicked through the book until she found the beginning of a list. It was the last page in the notebook that had been written on, less than halfway through the pages.

Absolutes:
1. People die.
2. People are selfish.
3. People will lie.
4.--------------------------
5.----------------------------------
6.----------------------
7. This is -------'s fault.
8. This is my fault.
9.--------------------

Several of the entries were scratched out, to the point of ripping the paper. Allison wanted to prove the little notebook wrong, she wanted to prove everything on that list wrong, but everything she did seemed to prove them more and more right. Why was she looking at this again? A reminder of her failings? A reminder of how weak she was as a person? Wasn't she trying to be confident and friendly before? Who was Allison Revel?

Allison was the chaste, shy, friendly girl, right? No, that girl is dead. She died along with Tommy, John, Max, Laura, and Will. Allison Revel is not that girl. Allison Revel is the girl who wants to fuck everything that moves. Was that all that Allison was supposed to be now? No, no, no. Don't ignore who you were, just... add to it. Allison had no idea what she meant, but she supposed she would have to figure it out. She needed to go shopping.

Allison placed the notebook into the bag, grabbing the other notebook, which had a black cover, and a pen, and shoving them into her pocket along with her ID card. She left the room and headed out into the town, remembering that her choice in clothing wasn't too great for September.

Brent left Emma at her room, but she had hardly felt like going back and sleeping. There was too much to do to waste time, and she was far too eager to find Hector again to be able to sleep. Instead she used her time to wander through the school, learning the layout of the campus and figuring out who could possibly give her information. She had no doubt that Zhang wouldn't let her see Hector again but she wasn't going to let that stop her. To that end she needed to learn more about Him, Clark, Miranda, and the room below the hospital. After that she needed to plan to break in. To this end she developed a mental list:

Ink Lady
Shane
Lawrence

That was all she had, actually.

She sighed. She didn't really have a lot to go off of, and her 'investigation' would only get harder from here. She momentarily considered going and getting Brent to help her but decided against it. One should not be mistaken, Emma actually didn't feel any hatred towards Brent for his comments in the tunnel deep below the campus, she just decided it would be better to go it solo for now.

He was right, after all.

For the next several hours Emma wandered, occasionally checking her phone. There was still no word from Val. She probably thinks I'm a monster, Emma accepted. It was a reasonable conclusion, after all. Before long she was stopped by a guard.

"You're aware that it's past curfew, right?"

For a moment Emma considered resisting, but she merely nodded, and allowed herself to be escorted back to her dorm.

---

Later that night, while in the throes of sleeplessness, a horrible vision beset Emma. She found herself back on the white sandy beach, staring into the depths of the ocean. Deep, deep, deep below was a mass. She could see it writing, reaching. Was it getting closer to her, or was she getting closer to it?

"Em! Em! Where you goin'?! C'mon, we're all havin' fun, come join us!"

Riley. Emma didn't want to remember, but she did. The beach. It was the first time Riley had ever invited her to hang out with her friends. Emma remembered how pretty she was, how much she made her heart ache.

It was silly.

She was still calling after her, but Emma was still drawn to the thing in the ocean. She could feel it's power, impossibly strong. She could have that power, couldn't she? She'd just have to let it take a little of her to, right? That was okay, wasn't it? A piece for a piece. Fair trade. She'd be able to protect everyone, she'd be able to stop Zhang and stop DC's monsters all at once.

That was an even sillier thought, wasn't it?

"Emma, stay away from there!"

The voice was harsh. It was her father. Her biological father, that is. She didn't want to listen to him. She wanted to jump into the water just to spite him, but she also wanted to go back to Riley. It would be safe and comfortable and she would be happy, wouldn't she? She wanted to go back to that beach and forget about USARILN and Hector and Stigmas and everything. In fact, given the chance, she would've.

But all of that wasn't real.

So instead she jumped into the bottomless ocean, and the thing reached up from the depths for her.

"Em! Emma! Come back!"

---

By the time Emma realized it wasn't real it was near morning. Was it just a vision? It had happened before, on the battlefield. It certainly couldn't have been a dream, she wasn't sleeping. She pushed it away.

But something was off. The voices in her head were louder and more persistent. She took a shower and left.

Her first stop was Room 221. Emma knocked on the door. She wasn't afraid of the girl behind the door anymore. She'd seen real monsters, hadn't she? She was too eager to find out what the women who controlled ink knew to worry about who she was anyways.

When the door opened it was the same face, and she had repeated the same check she had performed before. She closed it again upon seeing Emma's familiar face. Trails of ink slid out from the door, forming a smooth, elegant "?".

“Hi. Sorry to bother you again, but I was wondering if you could help me out. I went to see Clark, and I almost found out what I needed... but I got kicked out by Zhang’s people before I could finish talking to him. I was, uh, hoping you could answer some questions about Clark and Hector? If it’s not too much of an intrusion... er, I'm assuming you know Hector?” Emma was quick to the point.

The ink's shape dissolved into a shapeless puddle, like the girl was thinking about it. Eventually, it reshaped letter by letter into a new message, "Only Clark. Hector is heartless. Don't ask."

That wasn't the answer Emma hoped for. She was far more interested in Hector than Clark, but she was already here, so she decided to find out what she could. “Er... okay… first, I was wondering if you knew what happened to Clark after last night? Things got a little, uh, heated between him and the guards, I don’t think Zhang was too pleased.”

"?"

“Ah. In that case I’m sure he’s fine… er, if you don’t mind me asking, what exactly is your relationship with Clark? Are you roommates? Or…?”

"When Clark feels good, he helps me."

Emma wasn't sure what to make of that. “… I see. Uh, I’m curious, what exactly is Clark’s, er, job title, if that makes sense? He works for Zhang, doesn’t he?”

"Student."

“Ah, I was under the impression the he was staff.” Emma could tell that she wouldn’t get anywhere here. She needed to know more about Hector, not Clark. “I think that’s about all I need to know, but I would like to make sure that he didn’t get in trouble with Zhang. Know anyone else I could ask?” Hopefully whoever knew Clark would know Hector too.

"Special student. Director would keep him safe."

The ink spun in a spiral for several more seconds after the message, thinking, thinking, thinking.

"Rosa. Fredric."

Emma nodded. After finding out who exactly Rosa and Fredric were she would be left with two more leads. Needless to say she was beaming. “Alright, thanks a lot. You’ve been very helpful, er… sorry, how rude of me, I don’t think I ever asked your name.”

"Sarah."

And some distance below the name.

"Yours?"

“Emma, or Em. Either way is fine. Nice to meet you.” Emma paused for a moment, but decided not to wait for the ink to reform, “Well, I should go find Rosa and Fredric. Thanks for letting me interrogate you, Sarah.” At that Emma turned to leave, but suddenly remembered something else she was wondering.

"Actually, one more thing... Clark's a mage, right? What exactly is his power?"

The ink remained shapeless for longer than usual this time, before finally drawing a series of straight, black lines in overlapping constellation patterns across the floor. A branch of the network broke off in the rendition, and the inking in that portion splashed outward, like the line had exploded.

This repeated several times before the lettering appeared again.

"How Clark described it. Stigma eater."

Emma wasn't sure what the hell to make of that.

"Alright. Thank's again, then, Sarah. See ya' later."

With that Emma left for the hospital.

---

The hospital proved to be pointless.

The receptionist, as Emma expected, were unwilling to enlighten her about Clark or Hector. In fact they seemed to become clammy at the very mention of the name 'Hector'. Needless to say she wasn't allowed to go back to the room below.

But that wasn't really the reason Emma was at the hospital. She didn't expect USARILN staff to help her, but she was hoping that Shane would know more. When she asked the receptionist about him she was given the room number but warned that it was unlikely that she would be able to see him. Sure enough she was turned away by guards outside his room, and the trip was a wash.

Emma walked aimlessly, considering her next action. She would need to know more about Rosa and Fredric, and she figured that she should ask around in...

Her stomach rumbled.

It looked like she would ask around in the cafeteria.

---

By the time Emma was finished getting her food her plate was piled high. She hadn't eaten since yesterday morning. She had been so excited to find Padma and Alexis yesterday that she hadn't even thought about eating.

Well, there was little reward for her enthusiasm.

She stood at the edge of the room, considering where to go. She heard a voice from across the room.

"Emma! Hey! Em!"

She saw a pair of flailing arms directing her to come over, and she obliged. She recognized the girl that had called her over and her friends, Emma had met them the day before the battle when she got lunch, chatted with them for a while, and left. She was a little surprised that they remembered her.

That was, she was surprised until they started talking. One of the boys at the table spoke up, "Hey, you were one of the new kids they sent out, right?" The girl who called her over shushed him. "Sorry about him. Take a seat. How's it goin'?" She said. Emma obliged, taking a seat down at the table. "It's fine, go ahead and ask." She said with a smile. She had her own questions after all, didn't she? The girl looked a little surprised but she didn't hesitate, "So... rumor is Benediction came and healed you guys after the battle? That's bullshit, right? I keep telling them-" Emma held up her hand, signalling for her to stop. "No, Benediction did come. He healed us all and left."

The table collectively gasped.

"Bullshit!"

"The fuck?!"

"Told you! In your face!"

Others were pressing her for details, shouting out questions, and some stayed silent.

The girl, who appeared to be the group's alpha, ushered them to be quiet.

"You've gotta give us details!" She insisted. Emma shrugged, "What can I say? After the battle we were all in the hospital, he came through with a troop of guards and healed us, then left quick as that. That's all there is to it." The boy who didn't believe her spoke up with scorn, "Why the hell would they send Benediction to heal a bunch of newbies? There isn't a chance in hell!" Once again she shrugged, "Don't know what to tell 'ya. Can't really explain it myself." Emma took her chance now that she was the center of attention. "Listen, I'll tell you guys all about Benediction, but there's something I need to know first..."

---

Emma ultimately spent the next hour in the cafeteria explaining every possible detail of her limited interaction with Benediction to her audience. Some didn't believe her, some ate up every detail, and a select few were pissed that there friends died without being sent any sort of healer, let alone the famous Benediction.

Emma had no consolation for them.

As for the word on Hector, Rosa, and Fredric, well, Emma didn't learn nearly as much as she had hoped. Rosa and Fredric were easy enough: They were Zhang's goons. Not promising. She doubted that they'd be ready to help her do exactly what Zhang didn't want her to do. And Hector... well, reactions were mixed. Most knew him, but... well, some just thought he was a particularly eccentric Aberration and some thought he was dangerous. There was one rumor that he lived below campus because he had a stigma that required him to eat other mages. It was derided as a ghost story, but was more accurate than Emma wanted to admit.

And there was on other thing. Hector came out on Wednesday to got candy from the food stalls.

Emma grinned. It looked like she was almost done. She was left with only one more person on her list: Lawrence Ellison.

The bus was almost completely empty. Callan had been so enthralled with the back seat being open when they boarded that she all but broke the bus as she hopped over the second to last set of seats, claiming half of the entire back row for herself. The bus lurched slightly as Callan landed, causing the bus driver to shoot an irritated glance over his shoulder. Oblivious, Callan simply proceeded to hug her knees and shift into a comfortable enough position against the windows-- leaving the other half of the bench for Kusari.

Kusari smiled wryly as she watched Callan excitedly head towards the back of the bus, She noticed the driver look back, but upon seeing Kusari he quickly turned back. The way Callan sat by the window reminded her of her days in elementary school. She enjoyed looking out the window at the scenery, enjoyed trying to sketch what she'd seen in the middle of class much to the dismay of her teacher. She let out a sigh, and sat beside her date. Things would never go back to normal, she knew that, but that didn't mean it got easier to accept.

"So, just how much can you lift anyway?"

"Uh," Callan had been chewing on that question all week, "I seriously don't know. I picked up a dumpster the other day and it was super easy, but... that's the heaviest thing I've tried."

Kusari let out an amused huff. "Just about anything could have been in that thing, that's a pretty vague baseline. We should find a way to get a better idea of your limits."

"Like how?" she responded, genuinely curious, "I don't want to cause a mass panic trying to pick up cars and stuff."

"I bet some of the freaks here would pay you to try lifting stuff." Kusari said, looking out the window to the people on the sidewalk. "But screw them, you can find something at the school, request it if need be."

The thought of all the things she could possibly request just for lifting purposes brought a stupid smile to her face. "Maybe.... What would I request, though?" she asked, thinking out loud, "...what's the heaviest thing you can think of?"

Kusari couldn't help but grin at Callan, her smile and excitement was infectious. "We could have them bring in an Earth Mover, and we can fill it with weights." Kusari huffed as an image popped into her head. "Maybe you could bench press it to work out."

Callan laughed. A few movie references came to mind but she didn't want make Kusari uncomfortable in case she didn't know them. She scolded herself for assuming Kusari lived under a rock, but... one couldn't be too careful. Kusari had gone out of her way to make her feel better about what had happened. She owed her that much.

"Do I get to ask you about the leg yet?" she asked, feeling like the mood was right.

Callan laughed, it almost took Kusari aback. It'd been so long since she'd enjoyed talking with someone like this. She was in enough of a good mood that the sudden question didn't upset her. She looked down at the leg in question, the claw where her big toe should be was lightly tapping the floor of the bus. "It grew when I lost my leg in that battle we were forced to go through. I wish I knew more about it, like how to get rid of it. I've thought that cutting it off and just hoping it grew back normal might work, but... Who'd be crazy enough to cut off their own leg?"

"HMMmmmmmmmm," the teal haired arbiter chewed the inside of her cheek. Unsure of how to answer such a question, she attempted to fill the void with something other than awkward silence, "Maybe the doctors at the hospital... could...." Her voice trailed off, unsure of whether her suggestion was a good one or not. The doctors yesterday hadn't seemed thrilled to be there, but they'd also seemed pretty busy. Too busy to help someone safely amputate their mutant leg?

Kusari inadvertently put on a scowl at Callan's suggestion "I'd prefer to avoid having those people touch me. You saw what they did to Christmas, They wanted to turn him into a magic blood factory. There's no telling what they'd do to me if given the chance." She let out a sigh, noticing that their stop was coming up. "Anyway, let's see this buffet already."

A bad suggestion then... but was it? To Callan, it hadn't seemed like the doctors and nurses were the only ones using Christmas for his blood-- everyone else had been just as guilty. Herself included. She wanted to believe that the people here meant well-- that they'd help Kusari if she asked and not give her any trouble for it. But... she wasn't sure enough, nor did she know Kusari well enough, to press the issue any further. It seemed like she didn't want to continue the discussion anyway.

"I think I remember it being a few blocks that way," Callan said, motioning further down the street as the doors hissed open. The bus stopped just outside of a small cafe. People with their late morning coffee trickled out the doors and were all eyes for Kusari and her raptor leg. Some walked briskly on while others slipped their phones out of their pockets to hastily record the incredible sight.

She knew it would be like this, she knew and yet she still decided to come. Kusari tried to ignore the people staring, snapping photos and recording video of her. She wanted to tell them all to kindly screw off, but that'd just make things worse. A nice date with a cute girl she'd met, that's all she wanted right now. She was allowed to pretend she wasn't a slave that was as disposable as a cheap razor, wasn't she?

"Holy shit man, is that thing real!? Y-you're one of those subbies!" An excited man that seemed to be in his late teens came up and talked to her. Well, more like talked at her. To him this girl was likely just a cool part of this town to gawk at. Kusari walked past him to the counter where a host was standing.

She handed him her ID. "Paying for two..." She said in a low voice, not wanting to speak to them anymore than she needed to. She turned to Callan, an obviously forced smirk on her face. "So, what would you recommend?"

"Uh..," Callan had been looking at a man who had proceeded to follow them with his phone still trained on Kusari's leg. He stood just outside the glass door, squatting to record past the several flyers about specials and business hours taped to the upper portion of the door. "Everything-- probably," Callan scoffed, smiling easily. If there was one sure fire way to lighten the mood for Cal, it was food. The was especially true for food she didn't have to make or pay for herself.

"Never eaten here before, but... I usually try a lil' bit of everything. Looks like this place has a pretty huge selection, though. What sort of food do you like?"

"Anything that's che-..." Kusari caught herself giving the same answer she'd always gave. Just going out and eating without worrying about her budget was an alien experience. She picked up a tray and tapped it against her stomach. "I need to gain a few pounds, so I'll go for the fattening junk." Most of the people's stares and commotion had died down at least, though one man in particular was still filming her as if his life depended on it. Kusari wondered if the school would cover it up if she decided to make him vanish. What was she, an Aberration? She shook the thoughts away and loaded food onto the tray.

Brown rice, pork cutlets and stir fried vegetables, this seemed good enough for now. After getting a cup and filling it with lemonade she looked around the buffet for a good table. By 'good table' she meant to find one as isolated as possible. She found a table in the corner of the restaurant that didn't have many people nearby, the light above it had blown out so it was a bit dimmer than the rest of the place. She motioned for Callan to follow her and sat down.

"Next time, maybe we should try a less... Populated place."

One. Two. Three. Callan slid the final plate down off of her bicep as she placed it on the table. "Hold up-- I'm gonna grab a drink." She hurried over to the soda machine, not wanting to keep Kusari waiting since she was already done. Anything that's cheap. That was what she was going to say. Kusari was literally starving before she came here. Filling two cups up with soda, she was just going through the motions. All week long she'd felt like she was starving. The meals they'd given her after she was taken in had certainly looked big enough, but they must've been pumped with air or something for as much as they managed to sate her hunger.

She'd smiled when Kusari made the remark about fattening junk, a joke bouncing around behind her teeth. She'd managed to swallow it, however. Kusari didn't seem to appreciate the jokes she made at her own expense-- though that was going to be a bit of a rough habit for her to break.

"Sorry," Callan sighed, setting down the drinks and taking a seat. She seemed oblivious to the oddity that was her portion size as she went on talking, "This was just the first place that came to mind-- I still need to find where all the best spots are."

Kusari watched in astonishment as Callan sat three plates full of food down on their table. She suddenly felt silly for thinking she had grabbed a hearty amount of food. "S-sure." She said as her date went to get a drink... make that two drinks. Sitting down, Callan apologized for her choice of restaurant. "No need to say sorry, it's not your fault these people are dicks. I doubt any other restaurant around here would be any better." Kusari said, beginning to eat her food. It wasn't bad, but she wasn't quite blown away by it either. Oh well.

"Hopefully not," Callan sighed, but she knew Kusari was probably right. Her experience in town yesterday hadn't been much of an exception. She brought her glass to her lips.

"I'll choose the place next time, maybe we can invite a few of the others."

Next time.... Shit, that was the second time she'd said that now, right?

The window to answer this remark was a small one. Callan understood this, but it didn't help her conjure up an answer any faster. She certainly liked Kusari. She was tall, cool, collected, and surprisingly skilled when it came to fighting-- on account of how easily she'd managed to trip her on her ass. And in spite of her bony physique, she carried herself with a sort of sinuous grace. Unapologetic. Resolute. Strong.

'SuperCal' was... intimidated. Unprepared. Unsure. Weak?

Was that why?

"Mm," she responded, finally proceeding to take a sip. The implications were clear. Suddenly she felt guilty and a whole lot less comfortable. She needed to say something to expel the butterflies in her stomach-- but she didn't know what. She just kept drinking, tilting the glass a little further back with each mental command.

Say something.

Say something.

SAY SOMETHING!!

"You've-- seen The Office, right?" she asked suddenly.

Kusari watched Callan after she offered to take her out again. Something was wrong. She hardly knew this girl, but she didn't seem the type to have difficulty keeping up a normal conversation. What she said clearly didn't go over well, but why? Did Callan accept her request for a date out of pity? Kusari stabbed a piece of pork and popped it in her mouth. She chewed on it slowly as she looked at the paint on the wall.

Eventually Callan said something, something far away from the topic of another outing. "I've seen a few episodes, it's a decent show." She managed to say fine even as she still chewed. She hated this, she hated this so much her face was beginning to flush. Why couldn't people just say what was on their mind? She tapped her fingers on the table, her eyes still on the wall, her mouth still chewing.

She knew why, it was because Callan was a good person, and part of being a good person meant taking people's feelings into consideration. That had to be it, that was the theory she'd thought of years ago after breaking up with her first and only boyfriend. He didn't take too well to her becoming a subnatural. He tried to hide his feelings and act like a good person, but eventually his own safety superseded their relationship. He was a coward. Kusari's nails ceased their rapping upon the table. She stopped chewing and swallowed, then looked back to Callan.

"Just say it Callan. Whatever it is. Whatever it is it won't tick me off as much as going to bed not knowing why I'd made my date feel awkward.

Callan lowered her fork full of food, a more dour expression passing over her face. There it was-- that barefaced resolve; reflected in the piercing red, hawk-like eye that peered at her from the half of Kusari's face that wasn't shrouded in choppy, long white tresses. She wanted the truth. Actually, she was demanding it. Somehow Callan didn't think The Office was going to save her this time.

"I really like you," she said, straight-faced, "You're cool and pretty and-- and I'm having a great time so far. I like this... what we're doing right now. But I'd rather not commit to another date or anything because--"

I might be interested in someone else.

"--I'm not sure about how I feel... about... all this...." It wasn't a lie. On the contrary, it was the closest thing to the truth without sounding downright idiotic. She'd only been at USARILN East for like two days. She wasn't sure about how she felt about anything. Her powers. This school. Kusari. Marcus.

The cogs of her mind came screeching to a halt. She'd successfully avoided thinking about him ever since Kusari showed up and mentioned how he and Callan had been arguing over nothing. He was just trying to make her feel better. Like he would have done for anyone, stupid.... She stopped herself from careening down that tunnel of thought. Now wasn't the time.

Kusari sat back in her seat, her shoulders drooped as the tension left her body. "We've all been put through a lot, huh? She let out a sigh and ruffled her hair, a habit that seemed to be getting stronger recently. "Thanks for letting me know. I should have known better, most of us likely aren't stable enough yet for this sort of thing. I just..." Kusari's eyes lowered to her food, she ate a bit of the rice silently before continuing. "As much as I keep telling myself that I've accepted what I've become, it still bothers me. I wanted to feel... Normal for once, and I used you for that. Sorry." She let out a wry chuckle, and looked to the side, she was blushing for a different reason now.

"Pretty, huh?"

Callan felt her own posture relax a little as well. She smiled at the sight of the pinkish hue on Kusari's face.

"I'm serious-- you are!" she confirmed, "You could probably be a model-- but you've got to stop eating like one. We're at a buffet." She motioned at the vegetables on the girl's plate.

"Anyways, don't apologize. If anything, I should be sorry for leading you on. After that shitstorm yesterday, going out on a date sounded nice," she said, smiling, "But if you really want to be sorry for something-- be sorry you haven't seen more of The Office! Don't you have Netflix?"

I-It's a balanced diet, isn't it?" Kusari stammered, her face feeling as if she were making out with an overclocked GTX 1080 graphics card. She wasn't used to being complemented like this. She shoved more food in her mouth to distract herself as Callan continued talking. She apologized as well, it seemed the both of them just wanted to try and have some fun after yesterday.

"Netflix? The video streaming thing? I never had the money for it. I guess that's one positive thing about my situation now, I can finally indulge myself in some classic first world delights." Kusari grinned, taking another bite of pork. She went for another, but her fork hit nothing but the tray. "Well would you look at that, be right back."

As she got a serving of orange chicken and more rice, she heard a couple girls mumbling to each other.

"That's so fucking disgusting, like what even is that?" A girl with nails polished and bedazzled enough to blind said. Kusari snapped around to face them, they jumped up. "W-what? We didn't do nothing!"

Kusari could feel her right eye twitch. She could take this bitch's head off with one good kick. She glanced over to Callan. No. She couldn't make a scene, couldn't let these people ruin this. "It's I didn't do anything, imbecile."

She took her tray and returned to her table, ignoring the now refreshed stares. Taking a seat, she popped a piece of chicken into her mouth. "These people, I swear. We fought to protect this city and they still treat us like garbage."

Kusari's altercation with the girl was missed as Callan withdrew a pen from her bag and began furiously scribbling on a napkin between bites. As soon as Kusari sat down, she held it out for her to see, a very serious look on her face. On the napkin was an email address, password, and list of several TV shows. She lowered the napkin and winced for a moment at Kusari's observation, "I'm still having trouble not seeing myself as one of them, to be honest...."

It was a pretty bummer topic, so Callan held the napkin up again, "Here's your homework."

Kusari took the napkin, assuming the information was for her Netflix account. Looking at the list of shows, she recognized quite a few of them. Callan certainly had a particular taste. Nearly every show was a comedy and/or a chick flick. She'd probably enjoy some of them, though she had to wonder if Callan watched anything else. She also noticed how quick she was to avoid the topic she'd brought up. It seemed she didn't have the same disdain for normal people as she did, not that she'd blame her for that. not everyone was as jaded as she was.

"Thanks. Once I get a laptop I'll try out the oh so fabled binge watching." Kusari fiddled with the napkin before putting it in her pocket. She wanted to ask Callan if she could watch with her, but considering the reaction to her mentioning a second date, that was a bad idea.

The two of them continued talking for a while, apparently Callan hadn't brought up The Office for nothing, since she was able to go on about it for a good chunk of time, as well a few other comedy movies and chick flicks. Kusari managed to squeeze in a few of her favorites, including Star Wars and Kill Bill. Before they knew it more than an hour had passed. They finished eating all that they could, that amount seeming the difference between a hill and a mountain between the two of them. After cleaning off their table they left the buffet, only to find that the same creep that was photographing Kusari was still hanging around. "Hey, could you not so kindly buzz off?" Kusari said. The man seemed a little shaken but didn't go away.

"I-It's a free country!" He said, holding up his expensive looking camera. "I have a right to do my job as a-a journalist!"

"You run some messed up blog about Subnaturals, don't you?"

"Huh? wha, N-no! It's a respectable, official web site fo-"

"Perverts?" Kusari interjected. The man stomped his feet in irritation, he must hear that one a lot.

"I-It's not dammit! Anyway you should know your place, you don't even have any rights!" He yelled. Kusari looked to Callan and shook her head.

"Let's just go." She said, continuing to walk, but the man still followed. Callan walked next to Kusari, eyes lingering on the persistent reporter for a moment before snapping forward. She pursed her lips and shot a sideways glance at Kusari-- and then Kusari's leg. What a God-awful pain....

She stopped in her tracks, pivoting on her heel to face the reporter. In one fluid motion, she reached out and grasped the camera in her hand, covering the lens with her palm. The man shouted out and lurched back, the cord around his neck forcing him into place while the camera didn't budge.

"Haven't you taken enough pictures of my friend?" she said in a calm, polite voice, smiling ruefully.

The man leaned as far back as he could without relinquishing his camera. His lip stopped quivering long enough for him to glower down at her, "Y-you can't hurt me. The Director'll shock the life out of you as soon as you hit me! You--"

Callan surrendered her grip, causing him to stagger backwards as his balance was thrown off. Little did he know that one hit was all it would take. A small part of her was tempted to say that out loud, just like she'd been tempted to crush his camera in her hand a second ago. Why? Because it might impress Kusari? Her silent stare proved to be more intimidating than she realized as the man, upon regaining his composure, quickly spun around and ran.

Callan groaned in frustration, rejoining Kusari. Without thinking, she grabbed her hand, falling into a brisk walk towards the bus stop without another word.

Kusari watched as Callan confronted the man that had been following her. She felt a mix of anxiety and amusement. She'd rather like the image of this guy getting thrown into a dumpster five blocks away, but at the same time she knew there would be consequences. Callan only threatened the man's camera, apparently that was the last straw to get him to go away."Oh sure, only run off when the black girl confronts you." She quipped, letting out a giggle.

Callan walked back to her side and grabbed Kusari's hand. She blinked a few times, surprised. Did she even realize she'd done it? Perhaps she had a maternal instinct that kicked in when her friends were in trouble. Well, she wasn't complaining. Callan's hand felt warm, so holding on for a bit wouldn't hurt. "Thanks. You'd make a pretty good bodyguard."

"Heh," Callan scoffed, her smile slowly returning. She was eager to forget about the debacle and a little disappointed that she'd turned around at all. Certainly that wasn't how a hero should be behave... but Kusari seemed to like it. Somehow that stroked her ego just enough for it to be okay. As her date was coming to a close, she pondered on why Kusari had bothered asking Cal of all people to satisfy her desire to feel normal. Suddenly remembering how abrasive the girl had seemed earlier that morning, she suspected there was something more to it than just finding her 'cute'-- her cheeks warmed, remembering the compliment.

But that was a conversation for another time... maybe.

Another sleepless night, but at least it was behind him. Just one more day to go. 24 hours. It couldn’t be that hard.

Sander crawled out his bed, then once again began going through his morning routines with practiced motions. Just as he was rinsing the shampoo out of his hair, he thought about his plan for the day, only to come up blank. A trip in town would be out of the question; he went there last night to pick up a pair of sunglasses and already they had given him strange looks, despite the scarf that hid his mark. He didn’t think he was fitted for human interactions at this stage. Ground Zero seemed like a better alternative, but he knew going down there without his fix would bring nothing but frustration and pain. The thought of food just turned his stomach and brought back memories of yesterday. He really didn’t think he wanted any coffee at this time.

It was then he caught sight of the green shoe box he left at the foot of his bed. Those were running shoes; a gift that barely saw the light of day, since the last facility he was at didn’t have a track field. He worked his jaws and considered his options. It was cold outside. He could barely make it up a flight of stairs without stopping to catch his breath. His only hoodie was ruined. But he had to do something. Anything was better than nothing.

And so it was decided. Sander put on a pair of shorts and plain T shirts. He eyed the hoodie for the longest of time, before finally caved, slipping it on as well. However, he rolled the sleeves up to his elbows.

The track wasn’t that hard to find, though it was far bigger than Sander imagined. He exhaled, pushing a clouded breath through the air, then got started on his warm ups. It took him a few quick breaks to get through all of them, but he managed. Then he took to the track next. Back in his best days, he could do around 5 laps easily. He wasn’t sure about now, though. There was only one way to find out.

Half way through his first lap, his eyes glazed over and he almost slammed face first into the ground. So he stopped, knees buckled and arm clutching at his side as he drew in rapid breaths, sweat dripping from his messy hair.

Oh god, he was so out of practice.

A routine was a comfortable thing. It helped him forget about the events of last night, about all those revelations, about what he was going to do once more. The words exchanged last night was tinged with regrets and personal disappointment. He should have remained calm. Let it go. Not made things more awkward. Not say things that can't be taken back.

God, he just knew her for a day or two!

The brunette picked up speed, running shoes pounding on the track. Should he try an overclock? Increase the functionality of his shoes? Experiment a bit? No, that'd require too much thinking, and right now, he didn't want to think. All he wanted to do was move. Get a rhythm going, get his heart pumping, stop fucking thinking.

As he ran by though, yet another familiar face showed up on the track. The same one that headbutted Shane's crystal wall. That crazy motherfucker. After yesterday, did he have enough of crazy motherfuckers?

Yes, but that wasn't going to stop him from saying 'hi' to another.

"Hey there! You alright?"

The new voice caught Sander off guard. He was too focused on adjusting his breathing, he failed to notice the approaching footsteps. Glancing up, he was greeted by a strange face. The guy did look familiar, but he couldn’t quite place his fingers on it. So he let it slip.

“I’m fine. Just…tripped on something.”- He forced a smile through the discomfort, all while trying to calm his breathing –“Guess I am getting rusty.”

"Tripped on..." Brent's gaze turned to the foot-sized depressions within the track. Ah, right, that superhuman girl HAD done her superhuman running here, hadn't she. "...yeah, I see it now. Gotta watch out for these 'potholes', eh?"

"Didn't think someone who could headbutt a wall and crack it would have trouble with a lap though."

A frown formed at the mention of the previous battle, but Sander quickly willed it away.

“So you were there?”- He slowly straightened, wiping the dirt on his shorts- “Strange, I didn’t notice.”

“And I am not always like that. Only in short bursts.”- He kept an easy smile on his face, despite the fact that they were edging into a topic he didn’t care to discuss. There was no point in getting all defensive; in his experience, it would only prompt them to ask more questions.

"Yeah, I came on the giant crystal bird with Shane and Sophia. Too late to be of any help, sadly."

Brent shrugged, before smiling back. "Well, if you want to work on your base cardio and get the rust off, I actually happen to have a plan just for that! Care to hear it? Or are you more the solo warrior type?"

His smile still felt a little frayed on his face. He should fix that.

Sander was slightly taken aback by the newcomer’s friendliness. He thought the guy approached him to investigate the sight of distress, then would soon go back to doing his own thing. Instead, the stranger offered him a training plan. Sander wanted to just brush the guy off, but he couldn’t think of any way to do so politely.

“Um…Sure.”- In the end, he decided to just roll with it.-“Though I’m not sure I can keep up. Hasn’t been feeling well.”

"Oh, you're sick?" Brent cocked his head to the side. "Well, you're probably better off just talking it easy and going for a brisk walk. Drink lotsa water, go to sleep early, that sorta stuff. Rest days are important too, after all."

His own eyes were bagged. His own skin was pale. But he still managed a laugh. A little more natural now.

“Uh, no. I’m not sick.”-Sander quickly denied the stranger’s observation, because he wasn’t sick. He was fine. He would be. –“Just…indisposed.”

However, on closer inspection, the brown-haired seemed almost as tired as he was. Or was it an erroneous observation on his part? Maybe everyone was like that here? This school was hardly a relaxing environment, after all.

“Yeah. Rest days.”- He mumbled absentmindedly, turning his head sideway as his nostrils flared. Sweet. Fizzy, but alcoholic. Apple cider, his mind recognized before he could catch himself.

“I think I can use a rest. Thanks for the advice.”- He said, a tad too stiffly for his taste, but it was too late to take the words back. He just wanted to get back to his room. This whole run was a bad idea. He wasted precious strength, in this moments of weakness, the craving reared its ugly head. He blocked it out to the best of his ability, but he was afraid. It was better to be safe than sorry.

"No problem dude. What room are you in? Planning on getting breakfast a bit later myself, so I can go pick up something for you if you want?"

“Thank you…”- Sander smiled faintly as he backed away. –“but I don’t think that will be necessary. I can get my own food.”

“So, see you around?”

"Yeah," Brent saluted, "Take care....uh....dude!"

Shit, emo sick dude didn't even tell him his name, huh.

Marcus stood slightly off the track, hood down and huffing slightly. After Brent and Emma had walked off, it had just been himself and the multitude of other people who were currently doing things around the track. He’d jogged a lap, just to clear his mind, but it hadn’t really had the intended effect. Even as he lined himself up on the track and prepped himself for…whatever it was he had done in the battle, his mind was still racing.

He pushed it all aside for a moment. Right now, he needed to figure this thing out. His mind retraced the steps that had caused the event: Lily threw a grenade at him, that weird vision that he still wasn’t completely sure actually happened, and then…the world wrinkled; just enough that he could cross the fold and end up out of danger. No, not the world. Something had wrinkled – something so obvious, yet imperceptible at the same time.

He stood in a runner’s stance, and concentrated. He wanted to move, to take great strides without even running. A familiar feeling started to bubble up in his chest, and his ears were filled with the sound of static. Once again, the world folded to meet him – or did he stretch to meet it? In an instant, he had gone from a standstill to sprinting, and he had found himself much closer to his perceived destination than previously.

The sudden change caught him by surprise, just as it had on the battlefield. At least he had a better idea of what had happened now; a small bit of comfort as his foot caught nothing and he was sent sprawling to the ground. He hit the ground hard, leading with his left side, and skidded to a full stop. He’d no doubt just wrecked his arm - not that he could tell anymore, but it would definitely stain what was left of his hoodie. His practice would have assuredly ended early if not for the other trick up his now-ruined sleeve: similarly to how he’d focused on going forward, he now focused on going back. Static rang loud in his ears as he slid backwards across the gritted surface, and leaped to his feet, ending where he’d started his run.

Oh good, his rewind factored in the jump. That was nifty.

The rewind was an ability he’d since grown accustomed to, ever since his dream. He had frequently practiced it in the camp, having nothing better to do than lie in a bed and listen to people frantically sprint around. He looked sullenly at his shredded sleeve and the burnt skin that shown through, the only evidence of his fumble. The blood around the edges indicated that he had in fact shredded his arm as well, a fact which relocated his training to the grass instead of the track.

Probably should have started his practice there: would have saved himself a nice hoodie at least.

The cooldown of his 'powers' gave Marcus ample time to reflect on the events that had just occurred between him and Callan. Was he in the wrong? Most assuredly.

Dash. Trip. Rewind.

He’d brought humor to a situation where it wasn’t appreciated, and had failed to realize that before continuing his characteristic joking like a moron.

Dash. Stumble. Rewind.

Moreso, he’d not taken the situation as seriously as Callan had. It was clear that she was afraid of hurting people, and he had (even if indirectly) caused her to do exactly that.

Dash. Rewind.

So even if it wasn’t as serious as she’d made it out to be, the fact remained that he’d still not taken her thoughts on the matter into account. Effectively, he probably made her feel that her worries were unwarranted, ridiculous even.

Dash. Rewind

Although, he’d apparently asked Emma out by accident, so it wasn’t all bad. Perhaps it would be a bad move to include ‘You totally got me a date by shoving your hand through that girl’ in his apology. Yeah...might leave that one out.

Dash.

This introspection would be going a lot easier if he stopped to think about it like a normal human being instead of an emotionless robot.

Bottom line: Callan had been worried, hurt, scared, all of the above, and probably a couple things he wasn't accounting for. Now, he’d have to apologize, and rightly so. Marcus sighed to himself; closing his eyes and shaking his head. He pulled his hands out from behind him and sat up, quickly pulling himself to his feet and brushing the grass off his hoodie. He’d messed up, but hopefully he’d be able to fix it.

His stomach growled, reminding him of how long he’d been out on this track practicing. He’d swing by the cafeteria first and grab a bite to eat - that’d give him a little more time to figure out exactly how he was gonna approach this. He'd certainly gotten himself into a mess this time. Hopefully he'd be able to patch things up.

---

Callan's eye twitched. She tapped her finger on the iPad twice.



She rolled over onto her back and rested the iPad on her forehead. God, she was such ass at that game.

After Callan's date with Kusari, she had decided to get a feel for the campus... and given up halfway through her self-led tour. She'd effectively done little more than test out the best wifi spots in various places. The cafe, the cafeteria, Building B's lounge, the courtyard....

Long walks to clear her head usually ended this way. Now, afraid that Marcus might be upstairs in the dorm, she continued carrying out her ingenious plan to ignore her problems by loitering in the downstairs lounge of Building A-- deservedly getting her ass kicked at Hearthstone. She already knew where all the places she cared about were anyway. And she still had no idea where her classes were going to be-- so what was the point? She closed her eyes and heaved a sigh, shoving her hands in her pockets as her iPad autolocked itself.

She needed to apologize. Marcus hadn't meant any harm. Even in the moment, she'd known that. She was just... freaked out. Kusari had hit the nail on the head earlier. She'd never punched anyone like that-- not even before she was a mage. Seeing her power in such a destructive light... it was unnerving. She'd felt like a monster, but they-- Marcus and everyone else-- treated her like she wasn't. That was a good thing, wasn't it?

C'mon, Cal, you aren't usually like this. Just go upstairs, tell him you're sorry, and stop acting like such a huge wimp.

The mental pep talk might've worked... if she wasn't a 'filthy subnatural' in a school where they cuff all the students-- good and bad-- and send them marching through death's door without batting an eye. But more importantly....

Callan set her jaw and lifted the iPad off of her face, staring at her reflection in the blank screen. Wimp.

'Oh my god, Marcus?!'

An instant replay of her interaction with Callan, just with a different name. When Marcus had returned, Siena had been greeted to a scene of annihilated fabric--third time was the charm, right? Her roommates were evidently getting themselves sent halfway to Hell without fighting monsters...Siena wasn't entirely certain how long Suite 430 would remain whole. Granted, Callan herself hadn't been injured...but that was beside the point.

Tapping through the screens of her Kindle, Siena was settled comfortably on her bed, a few bags of newly attained items tossed haphazardly by the foot of it. She'd been preoccupied with thoughts of the previous night, especially without the distraction of newfound comrades. On the bright side, she was calming down after heart attack 2.0. Sort of. Cal hadn't been back when Siena returned to the suite, leaving her stomach to knot itself over concern, but certainly Callan could take care of herself...right?

Marcus sat at his desk in Suite 430. Currently, he was midway through some test about history, and he was not doing very well. History had all but become null when the world exploded, at least in his mind. As had math (none of DC's beasts would be impressed by logarithmic functions) and geography (but he already knew a fair bit of geography, so it wasn't that bad). It was bad enough that they were currently prisoners, despite all the amenities that tried to assure them they weren't. He was a government weapon, and he was stuck at this desk doing homework!

His picked his head up from the desk and looked around. Callan wasn't back yet. He'd really hoped that going to the suite would force them to cross paths again, but he doubted that was the case. He pushed his chair out and stood up - he needed a break from this paperwork, and he at least needed to find Callan and apologize like he intended. He probably wasn't going to get any of this done with his mind elsewhere anyway; so a break was well deserved.

He grabbed his hoodie from where he'd thrown it on the bed, slipping one sleeve on and immediately frowning. All that clothes shopping, and he'd only bought a single hoodie. He slipped it on anyway; who knows how long he'd be looking for his roomie.

"Are you heading out?" The question spilled out before Siena could stop it. A pause. She wasn't his mother. Or his sibling. Or...really, not much more than a roommate. Chiding herself, Siena did her best to cover up the nosy concern. "Um...be safe. It's kind of late." By the Santana family standards, at least.

"Yeah. I was hoping Cal would be back by now, but it looks like I'll have to go hunting for her." he said, slipping the other sleeve on and adjusting the hoodie around. "I should be fine. But if any monsters show up, it's probably my luck that I'm right in the middle of it." he said, half chuckling.

Despite everything, Siena couldn't help but give a soft laugh at Marcus's playful words. "Try to come back in one piece." Somehow, Siena wasn't entirely certain whether that statement was a joke.

"No guarantees!" he said, stepping out the door.

Apparently he wouldn't be looking very long, as it turned out; a loud exclamation of defeat had drawn his attention to the lounge, and he peaked his head in, spotting the telltale aquamarine hairdo.

"You're a hard person to track down, you know that?" Marcus said, leaning against the doorway of the lounge.

The combination of someone talking at her, in addition to who it was, caused Callan to jump. The iPad slipped from her fingers and smacked her in the face. Thoroughly embarrassed, she sat up quickly, sliding the iPad onto the coffee table and turning to face him.

"Hey," she said, forcing herself not to stammer.

"How're you feeling?" he asked, not changing his position at the doorway. The words felt awkward coming out of his mouth; as if he was talking to someone who had the flu or a cold or something.

Butterflies. "Fine," she responded, her voice high and unintentionally curt. She genuinely felt like one might flap out of her throat if she said anymore. An obnoxious voice in the back of her head kept badgering her to skip the formalities and apologize already.

Marcus mentally winced as the short answer came out; she was probably still mad at him. "Listen, I need to apologize for what happened on the track earlier today. I didn't handle that whole situation as...'tactfully' as I should have. You were genuinely upset, and I was treating the whole thing like a joke. So, I'm sorry." he said, the words coming out slowly but smoothly. His mind raced with alternative speeches; things he could have and probably should have said, but those were the words that forced their ways out.

Her heart sank as soon as Marcus mentioned the word 'apologize'. No, no, no-- she was supposed to be saying she was sorry right now; not the other way around. Callan frowned, unaware that it probably looked like she was still pissed off. She sighed and shoved her hands into her pockets, wringling her fingers nervously.

"You don't have anything to be sorry for. I was freaking out like an idiot," she stared forward at the wall, pausing for a moment, "I like your jokes."

"But the point is, you were still freaking out." Marcus said, shifting his position slightly. "Even if it wasn't a major issue in anybody else's head, it was in yours!" That was not...the best of word choices. He mentally kicked himself, trying to filter his words a little more than not at all, but continued forward nonetheless. "That's what matters; and that's why I'm apologizing. You were worried, and I probably made you feel like shit for it. I know I try to be the funny guy and all, but there is certainly a time and place. That, however, was not it."

"You were just trying to made me feel better, she replied, shaking her head. She looked back at him, feeling a bit more confident now that she'd had a moment to think of what to say. "I mean... thanks, but I really shouldn't have been toying around with my powers like that to begin with. Thank God I didn't, but I could have easily killed someone. That's on me. Sorry."

"I mean, I was egging you on pretty hard." Marcus said, shrugging and grinning slightly. "So that might be at least a little bit my--"

"Please don't take the blame for that, too,," Callan interrupted, "I would've punched her even if you weren't there." She smiled ruefully, "I'm still trying to figure out exactly how strong I am." She faced the all-too-familiar wall again.

Marcus sighed, walking around the coffee and sitting opposite of her. "So you made a mistake. We all do. The only difference is that we have these wierd little marks and some fancy powers to make mistakes with now." he said, tapping his own white streak. "I don't know exactly what's going on in that aquamarine head of yours, whether you think you have to worry about this stuff all on your own, or you just don't want to bother people with your problems. But we're all trying to figure out how strong we are, in more ways than one. Just don't try to do it all by yourself, okay kiddo?" Marcus said, smiling warmly.

As Marcus occupied the couch in front of her, Cal was unable to distract herself with the wall behind it anymore. Marcus was always full of advice, wasn't he? She meant that in a good way-- telling people to shove off and not bother her with their opinions simply wasn't how she rolled. Pep talks were a necessary part of kicking life's ass and she appreciated it. Her eyes fell from his mussed up blond hair to the scars on his face, noting the dog tags around his neck. There was probably a reason for it-- a story that probably wasn't meant for her.

Nonetheless, she smiled in response, more natural this time, "Yeah, alright. I would've had my ass kicked yesterday without you guys, so fair point." She winced, remembering that girl who she'd met in the trench-- Emma. "Hopefully things didn't get too awkward after I stormed off."

"Nah, that invincible chick ran off immediately after you did." he said, noting Callan's smile. What did Emma say that girl's name was? Coos...Queues...Kus...Kusari! "Kusari, I think her name was. Which, by the way, I'm pretty sure she grabbed your bag after she chewed me out. Did that ever make it back to you?" he said. His mind briefly wandered, touching upon a subject he'd already considered. Perhaps it would be a bad move to include ‘You totally got me a date by shoving your hand through that girl’ in his apology.. Yeah, he still wasn't gonna bring that one up.

Similarly, Callan opted not to bring up her date with Kusari when she heard the girl's name. She felt a pang of guilt as she did so, like she was betraying her somehow. "Yeah, she swung by the room," she answered simply, a bit of warmth coming to her face as she noted the reason why she was choosing not to bring it up, "D-did she chew you out? What happened after I left?"

"Well, Kusari yelled at me and Emma for not letting her talk, then she grabbed your bag and sprinted after you." Marcus said, putting his finger up to his mouth in a thinking position. "Then Emma and Dude McSpineGrab left not too long after that, and it was just me left on the field." he said, listing the events off. "Then I went back to the dorm hoping you'd be there, and you weren't. And then this. And I think that about brings us to speed!" he said, clapping his hands together. "So...are we good then?" he said, his tone becoming softer and less energetic.

The remark about Kusari made her antsy, but she laughed at the remark about 'Dude McSpineGrab'-- Brent, she remembered. She felt bad to hear that Marcus had basically been ditched by everyone at the track-- and then worse when it suddenly sounded like he might be done chatting.

"It's pretty hard to stay mad at you," she smirked mirthfully, "You heading back to the dorm?"

"I try to be as lovable as possible!" Marcus said, standing up. "Probably not; I've been working on those stupid homework forms all night. Might take a walk, just to get up and stretch. You gonna stay down here and deal with your Burning Legion?" he said, grinning down at her.

Her face grew all the warmer, hyperaware of the reasons behind why she felt so dissappointed about him leaving. She made up her mind that a walk with Marcus probably wasn't the best idea right now. Not until she figured out how she felt. That hadn't sounded like an invitation, anyway.

"You play? she ventured, leaning forward to grab the iPad and nestling more comfortably into the couch as the screen lit up at her touch.

"I don't even know what game it is; so probably not. I just happened to pass by and catch that little snippet." he said, fumbling with the zipper of his hoodie.

"Oh," Callan turned the iPad screen side down in her lap, almost feeling even more dissappointed before realizing the golden opportunity this presented her with. The golden opportunity she totally wasn't going to mess with-- nice try. She wasn't about to ask Marcus if he wanted her to show him how to play. That would result in crowded faces around her iPad and she wasn't on that level yet.

"It's just a dumb card game. What I wouldn't give for super RNG skills," she chuckled a little nervously, "See ya later."

"See ya later Cal, try not to fall asleep on the couches out here -- the beds are probably much more comfortable!" Marcus said, zipping his hoodie up halfway and turning towards the door.

"Whoa," Callan said, just before he turned to go. Her eyes fell on Marcus' shredded sleeve-- she didn't remember seeing that this morning. She sat up, leaning over the arm of the couch with a concerned look on her face, "What happened?"

Marcus stopped, turning back to Callan with a confused look on his face. He followed her eyes to his sleeve, and nodded when he realized the full extent of the question. He grinned slightly, fluffing the edges of the tear with his free hand. "The track is hard."

"Heh." she half laughed, but didn't quite smile. A hoodie doesn't typically end up like that without something happening to the arm underneath-- if the half disintegrated hoodie she had at upstairs was any indication. For a moment she considered reaching out to feel the tattered fabric for herself, but decided against it. "You're alright?" she asked, fidgeting.

"Oh yeah, I'm fine!" Marcus said, with a nonchalant hand wave. "Remember what I said my power was? I can jump back in time a little bit. Not super useful like yours, but it's good for patching up little scrapes and bruises." It seemed like that conversation had been ages ago, when it had actually only been a day, at most.

She looked at him skeptically for a moment until she realized she was actually just looking at him and she still hadn't said anything. "Ok," she answered quickly, sinking back into the couch and holding her iPad up to her burning face. "Don't sell yourself short," she added as the iPad lit up. She idly swiped through her apps, barely looking at them.

"Puh-lease" Marcus said, emulating a sassy highschool girl with an attitude problem. "I know I'm awesome!" it was here that his voice shifted back to his normal tone. "If anything, I guess I'm just selling you tall!" he said, chuckling and turning back towards the door.

Callan chuckled. "Just try not to do anything you can't rewind, okay Miley Cyrus?" she said without thinking. Her eyes widened and she sat up suddenly, looking back at him. "Sorry--" she tried to say quickly, "I- I didn't mean..."

Marcus said nothing, simply chuckling in response. The scars across his face seemed to twinge a bit as she said that, and although Callan hopefully wouldn't be able to see it from her angle, his smile faltered. As he made his way out of the lobby, he paused for a moment; just a brief stutter in his step as a thought scurried through his skull. He shook it off though, and continued out into the crisp, night air.

Hopefully, the campus and the neighboring city would be quiet at this time of the day. Last thing she wanted was to forge a reputation for going out half-naked throughout school and town. She really didn't need her stay at this establishment to be as much embarrassing as it was a pain in the ass.

Shoving her half-way discharged phone and her wallet into the pockets of her jeans, Angel snatched her shades and left her room with the intention of leaving the campus for the town. Spending the night awake, however, left her quite hungry, and so she decided that first order of business was to stop by the cafeteria to grab a quick breakfast she could eat on the way.

Once more, she was greeted by the manager on the other side of his counter, requesting her ID card before letting her inside. Angel quickly cleared that out of the way by presenting her ID card that she has put on the transparent side of her wallet, for quick use. Once inside, she quickly made her way towards the breakfast section of the cafeteria. Already, there had been students sitting at a few tables and enjoying their breakfast while speaking to each other’s.

As she was grabbing a few croissants, pancakes and bagels, the black-haired Aberration could already hear a few students gossiping about 'that chick with the wings tattoo' or 'babe with a sexy body'. Adjusting the shades on her face, the young woman tried to hide her embarrassment as she stormed out of the cafeteria with a bag full of her breakfast 'on-the-go'.

Already, not even a hour passed and Angel could feel the dire need of getting new clothes as she began walking through the campus. Astonishingly, there were a lot of people waking up early in USARILN, and that really didn't help Angel in trying to slip by incognito. As expected, she could notice the stares stabbing right through her behind her shades, and whispers felt like hammering her eardrums.

Flushed and sweaty, Angélique was finally out of the campus, swearing in her native language to whatever gods of mischief and misfortune for this embarrassing morning. With the campus now behind her, it was time to actually cross town, find some clothing shops and some personal stuff for her room.

"Mommy, why does he have a white mark on his face?"

"Sweetie, don't look at him. He's one of those scary subnaturals."

"But didn't you say they all had giant teeth and were devil spawn that fell from the sky?"

"Sweetie, just keep quiet. Let's...you like to play hide and seek, right? Hide behind me!"

"Ok!"

Brent looked at the parent-child combo, then turned back to the nervous wreck of a cashier. Geez, he didn't even have an X. And he was pretty sure he maintained his smile the whole time. He wasn't even a superhuman wrecking ball that punched holes through fleshy bodies. With a sigh, he pulled out his 'student' ID and slide it over to the pimply teen. The kid almost dropped it while trying to slide it, and he let out another sigh. Man, maybe he should buy some make up. Hide the white mark or something.

Well, no, he was doing this with a USARILN Card that clearly stated he was a filthy subnatural. That wouldn't work either.

"Thanks," Brent said, taking the card back into his pocket, "You can keep the change. And I don't need the bag."

Not even a smirk from the too-nervous cashier. Geez, what a pain. At least service wasn't completely refused, unlike that gun shop. Picking up the NERF gun, he exited the toy store with a few quick strides, definitely taking notice of the fact that everyone else was giving him a wide berth. They were probably not interested in getting along with a mage like himself, but...he didn't care.

"Morning," Brent greeted each of them, a lovely smile on his face, "Nice weather today, eh?"

With that, he was on the streets once more, roaming for clothing.

Fucking great...

Wandering around town in trying to find a clothing store, Angélique happened upon a familiar face. She recalled him being that guy who came late with the guy who wiped out the battlefield yesterday night. Of course, of all the people she would happen upon, she HAD to cross path with one of her fellow teammates while she was wandering around town almost topless. She'd try to avoid him and ignore him, but she was pretty sure by now he had noticed her as well. Well, there was no escape from this, only one thing left to do.

"Hi..." She greeted Brent with an awkward smirk, offering a curtsy wave of her hand as they passed near each other.

A blood-soaked pair of tight jeans and a complete lack of actual topwear was eye-catching in a normal situation, but when it was combined with a subnatural that had a killer body and an X on their throat? Devastating. As he walked out onto the streets, it was painfully obvious that all eyes were on her, whether it be perverted or fearful. A small child's ice cream dropped onto the cement, and he didn't even notice. An elderly man working at a hot dog stand was flushed and sputtering, wondering what was wrong with kids these days. And, amidst all this, that model-esque girl waved at him, greeted him, and then proceeded to...

"Yo, name's Brent," he said, taking off his bullet-ridden jacket, "Wear this before the police arrest you for public indecency, yeah?"

He paused, recalling some knowledge he obtained from yesterday.

"The hospital has some bleach you can use, to get the blood out, by the way. For your pants and all."

"Ah! Err, thanks!?" Angel stuttered, unceremoniously accepted Brent's jacket and quickly zipped it on.

Part of her embarrassment already vanished as she felt less exposed to the stares of others. The raven-haired young woman noticed what seemed like bullet holes throughout the front of the jacket. Now that she thought about it, wasn't he one of the few faces who were victim of the shoot-out at that time when they got off the truck that brought everyone to the campus for the first time?

It looked awkward for the seconds Angel stared blankly at no one in particular, lost in thought, until she snapped back into reality, almost forgetting who she was interacting with for a minute.

"Oh right... I'm Angélique. I know the pronunciation is a bit complicated in English, so you can call me Angelic, or Angel, whatever you prefer."

"So, Brent, what brings you to town this early in the morning?".

"No problem," Brent replied, after it looked like she came back down to earth, "September's still chilly after all, Angel....ic?"

He shrugged. Close enough. And she seemed pleasant enough as well, for someone who must have died on the inside so many times while getting here. Really, why not just wear a garbage bag over it? The embarrassment's the same, but at least she wouldn't be giving kids boners. Shaking that really weird, super awkward thought out of his head, Brent motioned towards his own new purchase, before saying, "Just shopping. Was thinking of buying a gun, but it turns out the owner wasn't receptive to such an idea. Probably because I don't have a license for that. Now I'm just clothes shopping. Got no luggage with me, after all."

"Which I suppose you were planning on doing as well?"

"No shit, what gave it away?"

"Well, if you got it, you might want to flaunt it, yeah?" Brent replied with a laugh.

"Yeah sure. I somewhat enjoy dressing to appeal the masses, that WAS part of my job after all, but I prefer clothing to actually not wearing anything." Angel tried to defend herself, even though she should've realized it was just a joke.

"But yeah, I'd figure getting firearms in this shithole wouldn't be so easy. Why don't you try getting one by using that request paperwork? Perhaps you could request a pistol, light weaponry or even a license, for self-defense."

"Oh, you were a model or something?" Brent asked. Perhaps it was just because USARILN was filled with almost improbably good-looking girls, but it still came as a surprise to him that someone was actually, legitimately a model. "But yeah, I actually did put in a request as well. Just impatient, you know? Can't waste any more time faffing about than I already have if I want to survive."

"Not like I'm Superman or Wolverine."

As Brent questioned Angel about her previous line of work, her lightened mood suddenly dropped to a more somber appearance, a slight frown being drawn on her brows and her teeth squeezing her lower lip in bitterness.

"I... was actually a lead singer and guitarist for a band..."

There was no point in hiding that fact, though truthfully, she was relieved to see that Brent did not know about her. Had it been someone who knew her by reputation, worse being a fan, she wouldn't know how to handle the situation. So much regrets were plaguing her for what had happened on that day. For as far as she believed, her career was now over, and she would probably leave behind a stained taint to her name for the reminder of her life because of that.

"So anyway! Got a lead where to head? I'm kinda lost here." She changed the subject, trying to hide her feelings towards her career and instead opted to fake a cheerful smile.

For all his ability to completely misread the mood, and for all his inability to care, Brent was still perceptive enough to see the changes in Angelic's facial expression as she started talking about her past. Should he prod? No, he needed to shop. He'll do the snooping on his own time. Shaking his head, the amethyst-eyed youth said, "Dunno much either, but hey, there's adult-sized Halloween costumes in the toy store, if you want to be a princess or a nurse for the day."

"Hey now hold on a second. Is that a remark on my wardrobe?"

Ah, there it was. "I mean," he said, grinning, "I would have thought you were going for some femme fatale from a M-rated movie if you weren't so embarrassed a minute ago."

"Oh you, shut it! Just because I look like a model doesn't mean I have to dress like one! I just want something simple, something I can actually wear comfortably around this fuckhole they call a "school" bullshit." Angel retorted vividly, her depressed state of mind slowly fading away by Brent's teasing, slowly replaced with... playful animosity?

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The night had been somewhat long after he had left the hospital and returned to his room. While having finished the tests before was a relief, the brown-haired boy had decided to check out some of the other forms as well. At least, before he would return to playing a game or two before finally hitting the hay for the night. There were requisition forms, among other things, and the large amount of paperwork seemed to appear dull to him to some extent. Yet on the matter of requesting things, he had come wearing just one set of clothes, and most of what he had packed in his bag before coming here were his games and consoles and such.

As it had turned out, that first set of clothes sort of got torn, shredded, and stained beyond repair due to the intensity of the fight. He couldn't say there was blood on his clothes, but between his impacts, being reeled in by a monster, and the unmistakable smell of marinara that had been imbued into the very fabric of his attire, it was safe to say that he needed to buy a couple more sets of clothes at least. It was also safe to say he needed to get some personal defense items as well, with what had happened to him out there. So after filling out a requisition form in order to request some kind of pistol, ammunition for said pistol, and a hunting knife, he had gone off for a couple more hours of playing Legend of Zelda: Wind Waker before finally heading off to bed for the night.

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In the morning, it had been a simple matter of getting up early, turning in his requisition form, and then grabbing some quick breakfast at the cafeteria before setting out on the town. Albeit, it was also his first time in this place, and as such it left him doing a bit of searching on his own in the meantime. Of all things, it seemed that this area of the town where the stores were had a game store among other things, and it had a few older games as well. Not to mention the few releases that had seemed to come out in the years since the world had effectively "gone to hell".

But his gaming habits aside, it was the clothing store he wanted to find in the first place. Whilst wearing headphones with stylized pictures on them fit for a hardcore metal album, he walked down the street listening to various pieces of music (legally acquired or otherwise) he had downloaded prior to coming here on what was the latest Apple iPhone product that he had bought prior to becoming, well, someone with powers. It was a piece of home as well, a small but comforting thing he had wanted to keep with him among other things. Truthfully, he was never going to get to go home again while being here, if his gut feeling was correct among other things.

Eventually, however, the boy noticed a pair of familiar faces standing on the side of the street. One of them a very familiar girl whom he had fought with the day prior, and one of them being a boy whose face was at least familiar from when everyone had been pulled together at the end of the battle. Mentally shrugging to himself, Aaron decided to walk over and see what was going on for the time being.

"Hey Angel, aaaaaaaaaaaand....eh, i don't think we've officially met yet," Aaron said aloud as he approached the two, giving a smile to Angel as well as a wave to her as well before pulling his headphones down around his neck, before then giving a curious but casual look at Brent as he spoke to the boy, "Name's Aaron Erikson. Who're you?"

"Mhmm," Brent teased, "I heard that little black dresses were fairly comfortable, Angelic. Maybe that's a good pick?"

"I hate dre-..."

Before the two could enter a downward spiral of traded barbs any further though, another person popped up. A familiar face and a quiet one. If he recalled correctly, that headphones guy was one of the ones that was getting into an argument before everyone was loaded up into the trucks. Also Norwegian.

"Hello Aaron, good to see you." Angel returned the brown-haired teen's greeting a welcoming nod and a friendly handwave.

"I'm Brent," he raised up a hand to shake, "I'd ask if you were clothes shopping, but it doesn't look like you're topless."

Glancing at Angel for a moment and then looking back at Brent, Aaron gave a slight smirk for a moment and shook the other boy's hand. It seemed Angel was wearing this guy's bullet-riddled jacket, at least that was his guess according to what he could gather and guess from the situation. Still, to him it was nice to run into someone who as of the previous day had risen a bit higher in his "people i like" list. Honestly, he was interested to get to know the metal-looking girl in general.

"Good to see you to, Angel," Aaron said, giving a nod in return to the shades-wearing girl before continuing, "Out to get some clothes as well i guess? I have to get some new ones too, since i don't think that marinara smell and the tears in everything are going to come out of the old ones anytime soon. Guess you could say my look yesterday was meat-'ballin' when it comes down to it."

The boy gave a light chuckle at the attempted joke, trying to keep the mood light and test the waters of just what kind of humor Angel, and Brent since he was there, enjoyed.

"Oh, so you were the one that fought the spaghetti monsters," he remarked. "So...how did they taste?"

Angel tried to maintain a poker face while hearing Aaron out. Truth be told, that pun was so bad she would've cringed hearing this, but she didn't want to look so rude to her teammate, especially after trying to ease up the tension that may have been created yesterday.

She was however more assertive when Brent asked about how the spaghetti monsters were tasting. Considering the kind of hell they went through fighting those creatures, it was not a matter to laugh, at least not in Angélique's opinion. She made it known to him by shoving a disapproving light jab of her elbow to Brent's side. While the things did not actually injure her in any way, Aaron was badly maimed by those creatures, and one of her teammate actually died because of them. She hoped her slight poke conveyed that thought to the amethyst-eyed young man.

"Dude, you might want to seriously back off from talking about that," Aaron commented after Brent spoke and Angel jabbed him with her elbow, throwing on a serious look at the other boy, the sixteen year old's own right hand also coming unconsciously up to where he had broken three of his ribs, "To be blunt, we really don't need to bring that stuff up at all, ok?"

The phantom of his prior state of intense pain was still vivid in his memories. The struggle to merely breath without stabbing his broken ribs into his lungs, the nausea of the gas, the dead body, the carnage, Zoe jerking him up by the collar of his shirt after the fight....he was all for moving onwards and learning his mistakes, but that didn't mean the topic was not a sensitive one for him and likely the other members of the Green Team. Considering Angel had that black X on her neck, which he already had some idea was a burden for the girl from what he understood about black X's, he also did not want Brent possibly stirring up the bad memories in his teammate either.

"By the way," Aaron said to Angel, trying to move things along and away from the touchy subject Brent had brought up, "If you're headed out to buy clothes, though, i think the store's not too far away. Two place down from the music store. At least according to the guy at the counter in the game store, who was actually willing to talk to me."

"Ah," he recalled the two dead bodies that were present, "My bad about that."

Guess they weren't gonna be enthused about eating Italian for dinner either. As Aaron went into a thousand-yard stare, he scratched the back of his head. USARILN was definitely full of touchy people, wasn't it? He had personally only been shot once, and hadn't even seen a monster close up yet, but perhaps he needed to think a little more about all that shit. Or maybe he could just not. Maybe yes, maybe no.

"Which store though?" he asked as Aaron spoke up once more, "I'm personally looking for sportswear."

"The guy said it carries all kinds of clothes, so maybe they have what you're looking for," Aaron said to Brent in return, giving a light shrug after he had spoken.

Since the boy had begun speaking, though, the sound of music could be heard coming from his headphones still. From the sound of the guitar and theme of the music, it seemed to be metal, a kind of music Aaron had come to enjoy somewhat in the last several years in the form of both original songs as well as song covers done in that style. Specifically, at this point in time he was listening to this song.

Angel listened as Brent apologized for the sudden brought-up. She nodded in approval of him being understanding of the situation, although she disapproved Aaron's cutting edge words. True, none of them would want to be reminded of that night, but she felt there would be a softer way of saying it, as to not create any more unneeded tension between them.

She was glad to know Aaron seemed to have taken the initiative and get some directions beforehand. Now that they knew where they would be going, it was just a matter of getting there without too much incident on the way.

Following Aaron towards the apparent location of this clothing store, Angel heard some kind of muffled noise, coming somewhere near her. As she began focusing on this sound, she recognized the pattern of electric guitar playing. Aaron's choice of music mildly interested the ex-guitarist, and now that she was taking a good look at the source of the noise, she found herself liking the headphones Aaron was wearing, right down her alley in terms of style.

"What are you listening to?"

As they walked towards the store, Aaron looked back at Angel as the raven-haired girl asked him about his music. Blinking for a moment and then looking down at his headphones, the boy realized he hadn't shut off his music. Giving a light shrug, the boy took the headphones off of his head and offered them to Angel.

"You can take a listen if you want," the boy said, offering a small smile as well, "I like listening to some metal myself, and this song is a metal cover i downloaded a time ago, before coming here at least."

Accepting Aaron's offer with apparent glee, Angélique graciously took the brown-haired young man’s headphones and set them over her ears, listening to the beat of the music with interest. Clearly, she was enjoying herself to the rhythm of the song, her hands unconsciously motioning the same way someone would play a guitar.

As Angel listened, Brent turned towards Aaron. "Undertale? You played the console remake or the original?"

"Eh, the console remake," the brown hair boy noted in a casual manner to Brent, looking over at him for a moment while talking, "Used to have it on PC, but the computer at home broke so i decided to get the console remake to replace it."

"RIP. Is there any actual differences though? Would think that some of the maneuvers you have to do are way harder with a joystick rather than a keypad."

When the song was over, Angel handed the headphones back to its owner. "Hmm... I'm not familiar with this cover. It had however a good rhythm to it. The person who played the guitar executed it with a good flow, and the drummer in the background provided a good amount of energy to bring the whole thing to life. Overall, it's quite good, for a cover. I enjoyed it."

Taking back his stylized headphones from the raven-haired beauty, Aaron gave a light nod before putting the headphones back around his neck. He had been about to answer Brent's question when Angel had piped up upon the song finishing. At the moment, though, his mind went back to the music and what Angel had said.

"The original song is called "Asgore", and is from an older video game called Undertale that I’ve played," the sixteen year old said, attempting to explain the song to Angel as they continued to walk onwards towards the clothing store, "I usually listen to some metal myself, both your average metal songs and those that are covers of other music. Good to hear that someone else also has a good taste in music though!"

With that being said, Aaron held up his right hand towards Angel, as if offering a high-five to the jacket-wearing girl.

"What kind of music do you like as well?" the boy then asked afterwards.

Savannah had been up all night. It hadn't been a good night, either. She'd had a meltdown with her Stigma, leading to a bruised fist. As she stood against the shop, her black, fuzzy hoodie rubbing up against the building's brick wall. She was chewing some fruity gum, her mouth moving in a manner that indicated that she was, in fact, chewing something. The flavor had long been sucked out of it, but the blonde's teeth worked at it all the same, using it as a stress ball of sorts. If you looked closer at the girl, you'd notice a pair of red earbuds stuck in her ears, the wires connecting to her pocket. She was listening to classical music, which had helped her calm down some after her meltdown. It was blasting so loud that most people in her proximity could hear it well.

There were bags under her droopy eyes, and she was pretty much staring off into space. Several people had given her odd looks today, in a range from terrified to glares. But Savannah hadn't really minded. She was tired, angry, and most of all- scared. She had watched a person die in front of her, for the third time in her relatively short life. A person got eaten- only to come out of it alive and be a bitch. But the real thing that scared her was that it might be her next. She could die, and no one would care. No one would care that the blonde, Irish girl in the corner had died fighting for her life. No one would remember her, except for her mother, if she even cared enough about her only child to keep her in her memory. At this thought, a tear welled up in one of her yellow eyes. She wiped it away. She had cried enough tonight. to drown out her thoughts, she turned the music up to the max, now loud enough for anyone in her proximity to hear. She sat down on the ground, back against the wall. She blew a bubble with the gum.

Having the headphones at full blast, she didn't hear anything, though she did spot Aaron, Angel, and a boy she hadn't gotten the chance to know yet. She watched them with slight disinterest, still blowing bubbles with her gum and tapping her fingers to the beat of her music. They seemed to be having a conversation of sorts, something that Savannah had no interest in. But, just for funsies or whatever, she stood up and walked to the edge of the road, waiting for the cars to pass by. While she was waiting for a clear road, a van came rushing by. She thought nothing of it, before it rolled into a pile of mud and splashed her in the face. She dropped the headphones, and had a face on that was clearly pissed.

"Oh, COME ON!" yelled Savannah. Can I not get a break in this damn town! Blast ya to hell, truck driver, blast ya to hell!" Her headphones were drooping down, blasting classical music all around. She inspected her jacket, seething with rage. The second pair of clothes ruined in 12 hours. Great. Just great. That was her last pair of clothes, now ruined and soggy and muddy. "Fucking hell! My clothes!" she yelled yet again, clearly enraged. She kicked at a stray rock, making a noise halfway between a growl and an angry grunt.

At the angry shout of a small, blonde child, Brent's eyes flickered immediately towards the source of the noise. Drenched in mud, she looked more like a wet kitten than any sort of human being, and he almost smiled. Almost. Then, he really did smile once he realized that, of all things, her own headphones were blasting out classical music. Beethoven's 9th, eh? He wasn't someone that had any particularly keen taste in music, but even he could recognize that.

"Yo," he called out from the other side of the street, "You alright?"

Probably not, really, but he only had so many jackets to give.

Hearing a voice, Savannah turned her head to the right, to see one of the USARILN students standing there. She vaguely recognized the boy as one shot in the containment cell, but she didn't know him personally. She cocked her head as she realized that he was asking if she was alright. She was not used to people asking if she was okay, she usually had gotten indifference. It was nice to know that humanity had a few good people.

"Besides my hoodie? I'm fine, although this is my second pair of clothes ruined in 12 hours and I'm pretty sure that I'm actually going to have to go and shop." she yelled back, sighing loudly at the last part. She had never liked clothes shopping, perhaps because of the fact that so few shirts fit her. She was so short that most assumed she was a child. However, she was not a child, and actually had a chest. So she had to have chest room while still having the shirt not be too long.

Not too keen on shouting today, Angel saved herself the trouble and walked up to the other side of the road. Eyeing Savannah head to toe, she grieved at seeing the poor girl being drenched in mud like that. Indeed, to have your clothes dirtied this way this early in the morning, she could understand how pissed off she was.

Lowering herself to the small blonde girl's height, she offered a reassuring smile to the young teenager "Hey there, Savannah, early bird as well, are you? How about joining us? Aaron, Brent and I were just about to go to the clothing store ourselves. As you'd figure, we pretty much all need a change of clothes." She said, chuckling lightly at the similar situation that had brought the four of them together in this town.

As Angel lowered herself to her height, Savannah scowled. She despised when adults did this. It had always made her feel small and inferior. She looked into Angel's eyes, chewing on her lip and playing with her curly blonde hair. "One, don't get down to my height like that, it's patronizing, and only my parents and my older brother did that. When I was nine. Two, I didn't wake up early, I was up all night. And three, yes, I'd like to join you."

"Easy there, I didn't mean to offend you. Sorry if I did. I guess not everyone is made the same, huh? Very well, let's get moving. I doubt you'd want to stay like that for long."

Her head however still remained lowered, but not to aggravate the young girl. Instead, she raised her body a bit and brought a hand close to her mouth and whispered "And quite frankly, neither do I. Wandering around town half-naked, only to be offered a bullet-riddled jacket by some guy I barely isn't very pleasant to me either." She warm-heartedly chuckled, trying to lighten up the mood between the two.

Savannah snorted at this sentiment, trying to contain her childish giggles. But she could no longer contain them, so she burst out into adorable laughter. She raised her mouth to Angel's ear, still giglging. "You did? Damn, that's some daring stuff. If I walked around half-naked, my parents would've had my head!" she whispered softly, still giggling softly.

"A girl gotta get clothes when she has nothing left to wear. But hey, better go around town with a bra on than wait until my pants and my underwear get torn up as well. Now that would be embarrassing, wouldn't you say?" Angel added, now smiling warmly as she managed to ease off the tension and see the girl's smile for the first time ever since they had arrived at USARILN. There was something comforting in seeing Savannah smile, as opposed to Brent's. While the latter seemed somewhat natural, it seemed TOO natural of him to smile, getting the vibe of someone who would do so even in the face of horrors. As for the young teen, it was a nice change of expression, considering what she went through yesterday night.

"Considering my pants are shredded, I understand your sentiment quite well." Savannah said, gesturing at her bare leg. Too late, she realized that she had drawn attention to her bare leg. Deciding not to do anything about it, she basked in the carefree nature of their conversation. "I actually had to just throw my hoodie over my sweater and go out like this. It's only by pure luck that it got confiscated."

"Wish I had the same luck. All I have is my wallet and my phone. No spare clothing, nothing else. So yeah, I think it's about high time we move on and get this change of clothes, eh?" Angélique proposed, waving towards the guys waiting on the other side of the road.

"Yeah, we probably should get going." said Savannah, traipsing across the street towards Brent and Aaron.

Angélique nodded affirmatively to Savannah and followed the blonde teenager towards the mall, where everyone was heading before catching sight of the mud-sullied angsty child.

Having regrouped, the gang of shopping teens entered the mall, where they followed Aaron's directions to finally reach the store he was speaking about earlier. True to what he had been told, it seemed like a general store, selling pretty much anything from clothing to electronics. As soon as the group had entered the store, all eyes turned to the misfits that arrived. A dark-haired beauty with shades and a bullet--riddled vest, an amethyst-eyes young man, a brown-haired teen with music blasting through metal-stylized headphones and a much younger-looking and shorter blonde girl would not pass by unnoticed, especially when the two girls were sporting X marks on their necks and the two guys white smears around their eye.

The reaction to their arrival was varied. The cashiers and some customers tried their best to ignore them, avoid them even, while some more daring customers pulled out their phone and began taking pictures of the quartet of subnatural teens. Despite this more or less unwanted attention, the group nodded to each other, the group disbanded, each going to a clothing section befitting their taste, genders and sizes.

Allison wasn't sure how long she had been in the store. She was at a complete loss. She was less prepared for this than she thought. Allison stared down the racks of clothing, clearly intimidated by the endless variety of it all. Every outfit, every piece of clothing set Allison's mind ablaze, thinking of how they would look on every person who popped into Allison's head. She had even imagined the dragon in a dress.

Allison's plight was interrupted by a group of students walking into the store: Angel, Savannah, Aaron, and someone she didn't recognize. Allison haphazardly hid behind a rack of jeans, still clearly visible.

While Angel had been shopping for a decent pair of jeans that would go well with that shit she had picked up a few alleys back. She had spotted a brown-haired head poking from the racks, failing to camouflage itself inside the obviously mismatched colors of the pants hanging. With a curious eyebrow lifted, Angel walked by the racks to see what was so interesting about these jeans. No, that was a lie, she was curious as to what that person was doing with their head buried inside the racks.

Much to her surprise, she recognized the face of a very much familiar friend hiding behind the jeans.

"Allison! You're here too! Damn, I guess everyone was left with what they wore on the day they were taken away."

"Oh.. hi." Allison spoke awkwardly as she stepped out from behind the jeans, her face bright red, and her movements clearly fidgety. "H-how goes the shopping?"

"Well, there isn't as much choice as I would've liked. I mean, sure, it ain't a music store or anything, but I think I can live with it. What about you? Got what you came here for?"

"N-no. I'm not too great at the whole shopping thing."

"Oh really? Want to tag along? I might not be clothed the same way as most people do, but I think I can figure out just the ri~ght clothes for you, dear."

"Really? That would be great!" Allison immediately realized what she had just agreed to. Her mind raced, and she bit her lip.

"Awesome! C'mon, follow me! I think I spotted something that I believe would look just too great on you."

Angel trailed off, seizing Allison's hand before dragging her throughout the clothing part for women. For a while, they went literally to every part of the women's alley, often taking breaks at the changing rooms to show how what they had brought looked on each other.

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After a while, mainly because some of the girls were taking too long in deciding on what they would like to buy and wear, the group came out of the store, the number of bags in each student's hands greatly differing from one and another.

Checking up on the mall's clock, it seemed like it was nearing midday. And that time made itself known by the rumbling noises emerging from the shades-wearing young woman, who had been cringing after letting out such a loud sound.

"So, uh... where do we go next? You guys done?"

"Well," Brent replied, readjusting the grip on his own bags of clothing, "was thinking of getting something to eat. Cafeteria's nice and free and all, but, you know, sometimes actual junk food is nice."

"Tell me about it. I think I'm craving for a few hamburgers, you know? Maybe with some fries with that. Yep, totally junk food." Angélique replied with a grin, the idea of biting into juicy burgers invading her mind.

"A few? Did God bless his angel with a superior metabolism as well?"

"You.. you guys go ahead without me. I'll just follow from a short distance." Allison said, as she threw her focus into the small black notebook in her hand, writing something at a furious pace. How the girl would manage to follow the group and write, no one knows.

Savannah thought on what Angel said for a moment. Burgers? She had never had one, save for the occasional one at school. But those were undeniably gross. If fast food burgers tasted anything like school burgers, she did not want to take part in them. "I've never had a burger, unless you count school lunch burgers, which are pretty gross. What does it taste like?" she inquired.

"Hmmm... how should I explain it?"" Angel pondered for a few seconds, trying to find a good analogy. "Well, you ever had hamburger steak? With the right seasoning, and fresh vegetables and bread, it can be a delightful bliss. I mean, I don't know what burgers at school cafeterias taste like, but I recall food from school doesn't taste quite as good as the real deal. There were those burritos that I loved during high school though..."" she trailed off into her memories.

"Anyways, I guess it really depends on which fast food chain you're going. But most of the time, they taste good, addicting even at some times. But if you don't like that stuff, you don't have to order that. There's plenty of other stuff to be had, friend.""

"Well, let's see...maybe we should go to a more family restaurant sort of deal then? Haven't been to White Spot for some time, and I know they do both fancy burgers and actual entrees," Brent suggested. Angelic was quite a connoisseur, wasn't she? He barely cared about what was in his mouth after he chewed it up a bunch.

The look on Savannah's face was just one of utter confusion.

"Yeah...no need to think about it too much. Just enjoy the ride, kiddo."

"Yeah... You guys should probably pick a restaurant. I know absolutely nothing about fast food and restaurants." Savannah admitted with a chuckle.

"Oh, is that so? You're missing out on something. Well, too much fast-food ain't good, but once in a while is very acceptable."

"White Spot huh? I'm not familiar with the name. You know if there's one nearby? Let's say I don't exactly know these parts."

Brent laughed at this. "I mean, I don't know either. If you'd like, I can carry your bags and we can just wander around until we see something better than a school cafeteria?"

Savannah was quite aware on what she had missed out on. She had often heard classmates talking about going to fast food places, or restaurants. But Savannah had simply never gotten the opportunity to have such food. So she was looking forward to the experience that many people said was great.

"It's hard to get worse than my school cafeteria, unless you get food directly out of a trashcan."

"Nah, it's cool. I can carry them by myself just fine. What an unexpected gentleman you are though."

Angel chuckled as she began walking in a random direction, looking upwards to see if there weren't any signs in the mall indicating where the nearest restaurants were. An idea struck her however, as she didn't see any signs. Switching the bags from her right hand to her left hand, she dug up her phone from her jeans and opened up Google Maps. Tapping a few times on the screen with her thumb, her face lightened up.

"Well shit, I can't believe they build a McDonalds over here. It's about half a kilometer in town though."

"Well, I'd like to think that I have nothing better to do than to be helpful, so hey, that's the offer."

Tagging along behind the model/rockstar/whatever, Brent kept his eyes to the streets, looking for any sort of convenient sign that said 'high quality fast food for low prices! little blonde girls will love it!', but alas, his efforts lead to no leads. Indeed, it was only after Angelic summoned the magical forces of wi-fi that they found a direction to at least one place. McDonalds, huh?

"The corporate octopus’ got a tentacle in every place with a half-decent human population, you know? And eh, what's wrong with a half kilometer walk to whet the appetite? ...are you going to reconsider my offer?"

Now there was a restaurant that Savannah had heard of. It was hard to not know about McDonald's, but she had never eaten there before. "A half kilometer walk never hurt anyone! Who knows, we might find something even better to eat on the walk! Savannah said.

"Damn straight you two are. Let's work it up." Angel enthusiastically said as she began moving forward the direction of the infamous fast food chain restaurant. "Try to keep up." she added with a smirk towards Brent's direction.

As the group of teen subnaturals walked through town, they didn't see much appealing restaurants on their way to the original plan. Italian cuisine was a no go, not after what had happened yesterday. Angélique would be damned if she eat a plate of spaghetti so soon. Neither was Indian nor Arabic-styled cuisine. There was a short pause to consider about eating to a Chinese buffet restaurant, but in the end, the craving for junk food got the best of the gang and kept moving forward. Eventually their steps brought them to McDonald's front entrance.

After leaving Callan with Kusari for whatever talk they needed to have, Siena had hit the town. Sort of. It was closer to wandering the town feeling lost and wishing that Gerwulf and Maya were there to drive her through unfamiliar territory, but it was better than holing up in her room another day. Unfortunately, her hasty exit meant looking a little less than pristine in clothing choice (well, for Maya's standards, at least). Icy blue halter top aside--she would never have gotten away with leaving the house with it--the fact that her circle skirt didn't reach her knees would have been a no-go. The faded purple skirt had been a favorite, but rarely ever saw the light of day. The only thing that Maya might have agreed with were the simple, black leggings and fur trimmed ankle boots, really. Pulling the thin layer of her cropped jacket snug against her, Siena stared into the establishment before her. Golden arches, lots of people...nobody dressed with a strict set of rules like Siena had been raised with. The girl furrowed her brow and peered through the window, not entirely realizing that she was staring.

'Odd. Very, very odd...they make you serve your own drinks?' Curioser and curioser indeed.

"Heeey, you're the one from yesterday, no? Saw you on the battlefield near my team when the battle was over. Are you also visiting town, or shopping too maybe?"

Angel figured she was indeed one of the newest Subnaturals she had arrived at USARILN with on the lengthy truck drive. She could recall from her fancy-looking hair, and the white mark around her eye. It would seem that many of the new students were intrigued about visiting Crimen Culpae, or at least had a reason to come by the neighboring town.

A voice roused Siena from her thoughts, making the girl almost jump, but she held it down to little more than a widening of the eyes and a slightly-too-quick turn to face the source. "Oh, um..." Nervously, Siena smiled and tried to repress the urge to start fiddling with the ends of her hair. "The former, really. I've er...never really been allowed to go out on my own." Oof, had she just admitted that? Hiding the internal grimace, Siena did her best to move past the topic. "Oh, I err...I'm Siena, by the way. I didn't stay to introduce myself after the fight..." Nor had she been able to get a clear view of most of the group she had broken off from her team to help. "Err...if it's not too much trouble, w-would you mind if I joined you for lunch? I've never really enjoyed dining alone."

Angel raised an eyebrow quizzically as she heard Siena speak. She didn't seem to be the outgoing type, more like some sort of forced shut-in considering her revelation about not being allowed to get out of her own. That made Angélique curious, wondering the kind of life she had before coming to USARILN.

With his superior physical stats, both through actual training and because of good ol' testosterone, Brent was indeed faster than Angel. Didn't matter though, because she was the one who actually knew the way, and he begrudgingly kept pace with her instead, all the way until the quartet reached the Golden Arches. Surprisingly enough, yet another subnatural was already there, some weird chick that Angel apparently knew. Well, whoever she was, she at least seemed to have a wardrobe and a fun sense of style.

"More the merrier, I'd say," Brent replied cheerily, "I'm Brent. Guess we'll have to get one of those larger tables, though, eh?"

"Indeed. I'd love to have you with us. This is turning into quite the party. I like it."

"I'm Angélique, or Angel for short."

"Since everybody is introducing themselves, I might as well too. I'm Savannah. the short girl said. She had seen Siena on the battlefield, and had been impressed. "Ya fought well last night. Thanks for coming and helping us."

After a few appropriate introductions, Siena couldn't help but feel...relieved. Most of the time, introductions didn't go so well, though perhaps that was because Gerwulf peering over her shoulder with a steely glare was far from welcoming. "It's a pleasure to meet you all. And err...thanks." Giving a short nod to Savannah to acknowledge the compliment, Siena wondered what part of her combat the night before was particularly impressive. She'd done little more than pick off weakened enemies, though perhaps the flashiness of Gavin and her own magic had given the illusion of prowess. "Is...is this restaurant particularly good? It seems busy." With a one-sided shrug towards the front door, Siena hoped that it wasn't too odd a question.

Angel raised an eyebrow, an expression of disbelief drawn on her face as she heard Siena wondering about McDonald's. Just what kind of people had she gotten herself involved with? How does someone NOT know about the biggest fast-food brand around the world? Not only Siena had no clue about it, but even Savannah never went to eat there herself.

Alright then, guess it was initiation to junk food day, Angel and Brent would have to be the one leading the troops on this mission.

"Oh, it's good, hopefully if you are not vegetarian or have anything against salt and fat. I don't recommend eating here every day, but it can be a nice change of pace from the fancier food. Trust me, it's called 'fast-food' for a reason. Doesn't take long to cook or prepare, I know that much from my cooking experiences."

Stepping forward, Angel took the lead and entered the golden arches to the restaurant, motioning the others to follow her. Once inside, it was crowded with people, as expected from McDonald's during lunchtime. The waiting line was long, the cashiers as busy as ants and the students could see the cooks behind the store frantically preparing meals as if their job depended on it.

While it was a pain in the ass to wait, for today it would actually benefit the group, allowing time for the raven black-haired musician to explain the concept of ordering their food.

"See those LCD monitors above the cashiers? The menu is one those, as well as special offers and such. It's not too complicated. Once it's your turn to order, you just ask for what you want to the cashier. They'll charge you the price for the food and bring it to you on the counter. You grab your tray, take your empty soda cup to the machine over there and fill your cup." Angel motioned first to the monitors above the cashiers' counter, then to the soda machine next to them.

"Yeah, it's pretty much like ordering at a proper restaurant, except you get to make your own drink however you want it and you have to pick up your own food," Brent added, before shifting himself into first place. "I'll show you how it's done, and you can figure it out from there, yeah?"

His stomach grumbled. Turns out that a half kilometer walk really did whet the appetite.

"Really, best thing about McDonalds is being able to mix your own drinks."

The look of disbelief told Siena that she was right in assuming that her question was out of place. Crap. Thankfully, Angel had decided that an explanation was more fitting. Following the others through the entrance, the brunette was assaulted by a myriad of scents, potatoes being the most dominating of the group. With Angel's explanation, Siena followed the motions, her eyes settling on the soda fountain. Growing up, Siena hadn't had much chance for the popular carbonated beverages, only really indulging when Gerwulf snuck her a bottle after running errands. That she was given free reign over a drink was...exciting.

"I don't think I've had a soda in years. I'll take your suggestions," Siena claimed with a smile that felt oddly genuine. Odd, given that most of them didn't feel so natural. Peering at the menus, Siena was almost overwhelmed by the number of choices. Thankfully there was a decent enough wait, though the line was dwindling faster than she had expected it to. When Angel said fast food, she certainly did mean "fast".

Savannah views the restaurant with a mix of wonder and confusion. She had never been inside a fast food place in her 14 years of life, no one had bothered to build one in her hometown of just over 300 people. And for the past 5 years, this type of thing would've been a luxury. Looking at the board, she wasn't sure what to order. There were so many options, something that the young girl was not used to. She was gaping a little, at the soda machine and the LCD monitors.

"Got any recommendations? I've never had fast food or soda. What's good?" she asked the three who had actually had stuff like this before.

"Well... that really depends on what you like. If you like beef, hamburgers are the way to go. Or, if you like chicken, they do make some good chicken or fried chicken burgers. Hell, even the fried chicken nuggets are a little delicacy."

Angel sneakily assessed Siena and Savannah from behind her shades. They didn't seem to be the kind of girls who eat greasy and unhealthy stuff, so they might want to try the finest there is to offer here in terms of taste.

"Hmm... I'd recommend getting a BLT... I mean it's a Bacon Lettuce Tomato hamburger. It's quite tasty, feels also kind of fresh from the vegetables, not greasy at all if you were to compare it to their double cheeseburger or their third-pound Angus burger. Or, if chicken strikes your fancy, get a McChicken burger, or a wrap. Wraps are good if you don't eat much, plus it's stuffed with lettuce so it tastes fresher. Or, like I said, chicken nuggets are also a good choice, if you're more into junk food."

"And for soda... you could go with orange crush, if you have a tooth for sweeter carbonated drinks, or Sprite if you prefer a zesty taste of lemon for your sizzling drink. If soft drinks aren't your forte, you can get some lemonade, or iced tea, not the crap they serve in Texas, I mean sweet iced tea, like Brisk.

"If you mix ice tea and sprite, by the way, that makes for a really nice combination," Brent added, "But personally, I think milk would be best."

"Hm, some iced tea sounds good. But... why would I get milk?" Savannah asked Brent, her eyebrow raised.

"Oh, you didn't know?" Brent smiled, pushing up his non-existent glasses. "40% of total lifetime bone mass is accumulated during adolescence, and milk is the best way to get calcium! Not to mention the fact that it tastes great and works to protect that smile of yours as well!"

"A-are you saying that I'm short?" Savannah said with a look of lethal calm on her face.

"I'm saying that you definitely should take advantage of the time you have now to maximize your growth."

"So you're saying I'm short? Savannah asked, repeating the question. She felt a surge of fury at the thought- and oh no. This wasn't going to end well.

Yeah, he could see a bomb when it was right in front of him. Tilting his head to the side, Brent said, "Well, I think you're tall for your age, but you need to consider the future as well. Drink early, grow early, you know?"

"Brent, enough! Savannah, relax."

Angel snapped, watching the two having a dispute like a bunch of kids. From her earlier conversation, she felt like Savannah was the kind of child who didn't want to be treated as such, trying to make people consider her just as worthy as an adult, even if she had ways to go about being one. One the other side, she knew firsthand just how much of a teasing jackass Brent was.

"Wait in line here and decide what you want to get based from the suggestions I gave you two. I'll have a word with Brent outside."

Angel turned to the two inexperienced fast-food initiates, while she motioned Brent to go outside the restaurant with her.

Following the shades-wearing girl, Brent asked, "So what's up?"

"The hell's wrong with you? I mean, I can take your sarcasm, I've dealt with your type in more ways than I can count, but Savannah's on a whole different level. She's just a kid, one who doesn't take kindly of being reminded as such, even though she should try and be a bit more self-conscious. Don't forget you're talking to X-marked, you never know what kind of situation you can get yourself into."

"Plus, she'd been through a lot yesterday night. We all did. But a girl her age shouldn't have had to go through such things. Give her a break."

"Uh...okay?" Brent's eyebrows furrowed, perplexed. "I was serious about that suggestion, but..."

How much did he really care about whether or not Savannah grew taller? His amethyst eyes turned inwards. No, he didn't really care. Yeah, maybe he'd even prefer if she was just a bite-sized pack of angry fun. As he moved to speak up once more, though, Brent blinked.

"Wait, what exactly does X-marked have to do with it?"

"Then you're a clueless idiot..." Angel answered to Brent's defense. "Being honest is a good thing, but there's a thing as being TOO honest."

Perhaps she misjudged his character. If everything he says comes straight from his mind, then he was not the sarcastic dick she initially thought of him, but a happy honest fool. In reality, she didn't know which one was worse. Her scowl however changed to surprise when Brent asked about what X-marked had to do with the whole issue.

"Wait, you don't know? You surely must know about the two types of subnaturals, the white-marked and the X-marked, or Arbiters and Aberrations, from what I gathered around the campus. Those bearing the X mark are impulsively violent people, the cause of which is not so clear, apparently, the cause is different to each of us."

Angel hesitated for a moment, unsure if it was wise to share this information about herself.

"I may seem fine right now, and so is Savannah. But I can assure you, we have our days, and I'm not talking about periods. I'm talking about moments where instincts of destruction guide our thoughts. I've only been a subnatural for a week or two, and I never felt this impulsive feeling of screaming things apart before then."

"So yeah, that's what it has to do with it. I don't know what is Savannah's quirk, but I saw it in her eyes, the look of someone who's about to blow a fuse, the same killer eyes Zoe had when she grabbed Aaron by the collar and was about to kill him just because he pissed her off after yesterday's battle."

Interesting. That was certainly something he hadn't known or even thought about before. So, the white-marked and the x-marked were different in that regard, were they? He had thought it was a matter just of what type of power they held, but to think that it actually had an effect on their temperament, that the arguments he heard in the background that night were fueled by this destructive impulse...

"That sounds...wow," Brent laughed awkwardly, "Still a whole lot of things for me to learn, huh? Sorry about that and the spaghetti incident then. I've only really been...conscious as a subnatural for a couple of days, so yeah. Lots of things I'm still in the dark about, and my local library didn't really have any sort of books on 'us'."

Lots of things to learn, and lots of things to keep in mind, huh? He wasn't sure whether he liked or disliked that.

Hearing Brent apologizing, Angel somewhat felt bad about snapping at him like that. He seemed... sincere about not knowing about the precarious situations he created. She couldn't blame him really, she was just a regular human just two weeks ago, before she awakened as an X-marked. She basically knew next to nothing about subnaturals, if not for popular knowledge and her big fan base that included a good number subnaturals as well.

"I... I'm sorry if I seemed harsh. Can't say I totally blame you there. Being a subnatural is way more than what the media let normal people know, until you become one."

"Anyways, I think we're good with this, right? No hard feelings?" Angel raised her first for a bump to the amethyst-eyes Brent in front of her.

"Yeah, no prob. I'll keep all these things in mind," Brent replied. As Angel raised her fist, he raised an open palm. Then blinked again. Wut.

Wow... the awkward situation. Angel corrected the situation by taking Brent's hand and closing his fingers into a closed fist, then gave him a fist bump.

"When people present you their fist, you bump their fist back... genius." Angel chuckled as she turned her back to him and went inside the restaurant to join up with the two girls.

Brent died on the inside and followed, grumbling, ""Yeah, I knew that. Just instinctively went for a high five."

What started as a pleasant discussion about suggestions quickly broke down as tensions rose. Anxiety gripped Siena's heart, squeezing until it felt as if the muscle might stop entirely. No, no. No, bad, no. Memories of Gerwulf's unbridled fury came to mind. No, bad, bad, no. Instinctively, Siena began pulling at a stray lock of hair, twisting until several strands came apart with satisfying twinges even as Angel defused the potentially explosive situation. With a pause, Siena glanced at the shorter blonde beside her.

"He doesn't know what he's talking about," Siena lied through her teeth. "That aside, what're you thinking of getting? I'm awful at making decisions blind." With a laugh that came out a bit pitchier than usual, Siena glanced at the menu while running through the suggestions that Angel had made. "Maybe one of us can get chicken and one of us can get beef and we can split it if you're feeling adventurous."

Savannah took a deep breath, and then blew it out again. The logical part of her mind told her to calm the fuck down, so that's what she did. When Siena spoke, she turned her head to the side, looking up at the older, impeccably dressed girl. "I mean, we could split a burger and some chicken nuggets. I’m not really sure of what I want to get." Savannah said to Siena.

"That sounds pretty good to me." Putting the best grin that she could muster, Siena reached for the confines of her purse, her fingers groping for the familiar feel of her "on-the-go" wallet. Well, really the only wallet that she had brought with her. "I can pay for lunch. It seems like it'll be pretty cheap." A pause here as they drew closer to the front of the line. "Huh...you think we'll need to order for them?" Not exactly the best idea, leaving ordering detail to two people that had never eaten at the restaurant before.

Seeing that the line drew closer to the front, Savannah started hoping that the two would come inside soon. She honestly had no idea how to order, and suspected that Siena didn't either. "Well, I hope they do. We certainly will need their help to order, I don't know how to order, and I don't think you do either." Savannah said to Siena.

In a moment of terrifying clarity, Siena noted that they were up next in line. She tugged at the ends of her hair even as the clerk called for the next customer, a half-vacant smile on their face. Glancing towards the door, the brunette noticed that Brent and Angel were decidedly not with them and winced at the prospect of trying to order. Well, it might be...interesting.

"How can I help you?"

"Um...can we get the BLT...burger...?" The statement trailed into an uncertain question by the end. The clerk paused, as if just as uncertain as Siena before regaining himself.

"Alright, will that be just the burger or the meal?"

What?

"Is...that not...the meal?" Feeling her hopes come crashing down around her, Siena threw a helpless look towards her companion. What?!

Savannah just stared in petrified silence as Siena attempted to order. When Siena glanced at her, Savannah's look simply said I don't know.

"S-sir, can we have the BLT burger, and some chicken nuggets?" Savannah asked the clerk, clearly confused.

"Do you want the meal?" the cashier promptly replied, and Savannah just stared, dumbfounded, at him.

"W-what?" Savannah managed to stammer out.

"Kid, do you want the Happy Meal?" said the cashier, clearly getting frustrated at the two.

"W-what's a Happy Meal?" Savannah asked.

"It's for kids."

"I'm 14." Savannah replies.

"So...do you want the meal? The meal comes with fries and a drink. Regular size." The cashier's finger tapped impatiently against the counter, as he watched a line grow behind the two subnaturals.

"W-we, we want the BLT burger, and some chicken nuggets." Savannah said. She was so confused.

"...ok, just the burger then. How many nuggets? What sort of dipping sauce?"

H-how about 20?" Savannah said with a wince. W-what sauces do you have?"

Bless. Finally, a straight answer. "We have..sweetsourhoneymustardbarbequespicybuffalosweetchilihotmustardcreamyranch."

"W-what?" Savannah said, not sure about what the cashier had said. He had said it so fast, she hadn't had time to catch most of the sauces.

This was quickly turning into a snowballing disaster. The brunette blinked, aware that the debacle was not improving even as she caught...basically none of the additional sauce options. Lamentations indeed. "We'll uh...the first one." A pause. Brent and Angel weren't back yet. Her eyes drifted towards the pictures. The biggest one was...

"And a Big Mac meal and a...uh...Mc....McChicken meal...?" Hopefully tacking on the word "meal" would clear up any confusion about wanting a meal. A moment of realization dawned on her. "A-And five drinks!" After all, hadn't Brent claimed that the best part of McDonalds was mixing one's own drink?

"Alright, would you like to supersize that?"

What?

"Um...yes...?"

"So a...BLT, 20 piece nuggets with sweet and sour sauce, and a Big Mac and a McChicken meal, both supersized, as well as 5 drinks on the side. That comes up to..." A few finger taps later. "$29.88. Is this for here or to go?"

"Um...f-for here." Wait, no. What if they hadn't wanted to eat in the establishment? Well, too late then. For the amount of food that they'd ordered, the price didn't seem quite right. Rather, that couldn't be right. That was less than twenty for an entree...less than fifteen, even. Half expecting the cashier to change his mind about the number due to error, Siena paused for a moment, golden and black card hanging from her fingers. When no corrections came, she hesitantly handed the card over for payment. If anything they could fix it later.

"Debit? The machine's there."

"Oh! Um...alright." Awkwardly, Siena slid the card into the appropriate slot, confirming the price and punching in her pin with one hand halfway over the number pad to hide the sequence before the payment went through. Pocketing her card, Siena accepted the printed receipt, cramming it into a shallow pocket. Hopefully that was the end of that ordeal.

Indeed, it was. "Next," the cashier called, as another young employee began to assemble the order, starting with five regular-sized cups and two extra large ones.

It would be a lie to say that Angel wasn't amused by the scenery unfolding in front of her. Even if Brent and she were a few meters away in the waiting line, her acute hearing picked up Siena's confused voice through the growing mutterings of frustration from the crowd. It was mean of her, to watch them fumble with their order like that, but she figured that it would be best left for these two to handle it by themselves and learn from their experience. In the end, she'd pay back these two for any over expenses.

"I'll take two double cheeseburgers, both with bacon. And... give me a third-pound Angus, without cheese. Meal for the Angus, no supersize. For here."

Angel ordered matter-of-factly, speaking with fluidity that would make people around her believe this wasn't her first time. In fact, she seemed to know well the menu. After the cashier told her the total price for her order, which amounted no less than $15, she opened her wallet to pay directly with her money.
•
"Uh... lady? We don't take Canadian money here."

"... Okay then..."

Angel put back her colorful money inside her wallet and took her student ID card, shoving it to the cashier who took it and swiped it in his machine.

"Nice job," Brent thumbs upped the two girls as they waited for their own meal. He hadn't heard what exactly they ordered, but hey, it looked like everything was fine, right? Once Angel stepped off to the side, the amethyst-eyed youth was up now. He scanned the menu, nodded to himself, and said, "20 piece nuggets with barbeque and honey mustard, as well as a bacon clubhouse burger with grilled chicken. A meal as well, but switch out the fries with a side salad."

"That's all for you?"

"Yup. There a problem?"

The cashier looked at the three girls who had ordered much more. He had thought they were part of a larger group, but...damn, the USARILN girls were thirsty, huh? "No, the total will be $12.40."

"Cool."

Grouping up altogether, the gang of newly arrived students from USARILN sat down at a table, to the farthest corner of the restaurant. They may have been a bunch of teens, but they remained subnaturals nonetheless. Eyes followed them, some staring with fear - especially because of the group was half-composed of X-marked individuals - others were curious and some more daring customers were taking pictures or filming the group of students.

Trying their best to not mind the obnoxious populace reacting to their presence, the shopping group ate quietly at their table, each enjoying the not-so finest delicacies this restaurant had to offer. While it was true their group was quite sizeable, the amount of food on the table falsely indicated that it was meant for more people.

In the end, everyone was full or did not want to eat anymore, and there was quite a large quantity of leftovers. The drinks, they didn't really matter. The food, however, Angel minded and proposed to bring the leftover nuggets and burgers with them. If no one else would have them, she wouldn't say no to eating them later in the day, or probably for another day.

"Urgh, eating so much wasn't such a good idea. We still have a kilometer to walk over to the... school."

"Welp," Brent said, hoisting up his bags, "Always good to burn some calories after a fatty meal, right?"

"Ugh." Savannah groaned, her face on the table. She had eaten way too much. Actually, she couldn't remember the last time she had eaten that much. "So... full. I think I’m going into a food coma, guys. But that was soooo good. So greasy too... Savannah's voice trailed off, her fullness making her sleepy. The food had been delicious, though. It was nice to be full for once.

"Could always postpone the inevitable... with more walking..." Allison, who had silently followed the group to the establishment, and sat with them without a word aside from introducing herself, spoke while nibbling at a hamburger of questionable quality.

"I think my parents would have ended me for eating this much," Siena tried to laugh. Tried. It was more like pain as her stomach forced her to acknowledge that she'd crammed it far too full. "I think I'll have to work out for hours to burn this off..." The food had been good. A little saltier than her usual palette, but not so much so that it became unpleasant. Sipping at one of the multiple cups littered on the table, she gave a soft sigh. If she got back to the dorm, she might actually collapse into bed and refuse to move the rest of the day.

"Nothing a few hours of morning jogging can't handle."

Suddenly, Savannah let a loud fart loose. As she did, she sat up, the look on her face one of mortification. Her face turned fire-truck red as the horrible stench began to circulate. Oh my god, she was so embarrassed. Her mouth tightened into a small line, and she plugged her nose.

"Oh shit," Brent said, scratching the back of his head with an awkward laugh, "Sorry ‘bout that."

"Christ, Brent. Fucking disgusting man."

"O-Oh my." Despite herself, Siena felt her face flush a little in embarrassment for Brent's sake.

Averting his eyes to the side, he said, "So...yeah...lotsa walking then, eh? Always would have been down, but I got a solo date to the library. You're all fine with the luggage, yeah?"

"Sounds like a good time," Siena claimed with a smile. It wasn't really a joke--the library would have been the first place she wanted to go, but after the events of the night before, she had pressing issues to handle. Most notably, a few additional reading methods in case of emergency, and maybe a decent knife to replace the one that she had lost. Or maybe she should have had Gerwulf pick one--he usually knew what he was doing. Usually.

"So, Siena. You said you came to buy some stuff, right? You found what you were looking for yet?"

"Most of it. I haven't seen a place for tablets yet. The clothes I can order once I get a better idea on sizing from the stores here." After all, she'd spent most of her life having been measured for her purchases. "I um...don't really know where to pick up decent ones though. I used to buy them online, but getting one for immediate use is..important. Just in case."

"Well, I don't mind keeping you company and snoop around town, if you'd like to. Who knows, I might just find something worth buying beside clothes and personal hygiene products." Angel chuckled softly.

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

After an eventful day, the ever-growing group of shopping subnaturals finally managed to reach USARILN's campus. Some were tired, other exhausted, other a bit less fatigued, but none of them would deny that this day had been rather interesting. Every single one of them were carrying their shopping bags, some had more than others, but in the end, it was a fruitful shopping day for the gang.

In the end, Angélique was personally happy from this shopping trip. Not only had she gotten what she initially came for, but she also met her fellow classmates that had arrived at USARILN with her on this accursed truck. She got to know them better, have fun while shopping and eating, so that day couldn't be better, in her opinion. Shifting her bags from side to side as her arms were getting heavier from the haul she had bought today - and also because Siena so politely offered to pay for a few items she had noticed Angel was interested in - the raven-haired Aberration turned to face the others with a genuine smile, something that had seemed to become rarer these days.

"So, I guess that's it for the day huh? It was fun. I really appreciated going out on a shopping spree with you guys."

Shifting to the large black casing on her back, Angélique flashed a grin to Siena.

"Oh, by the way, my room's 300, in the B apartment complex. If you need anything, I'll probably be there. Or if you want to hear a little something from your investment."

Angélique chuckled, still delighted to have had Siena buy that guitar she had got her eyes on earlier this afternoon when they came across that music store after their lunch break at the restaurant. She was definitively going to make it worth her money, still feeling slightly embarrassed about having someone gift her such a pricy item. She had been opposed to the decision at first, but the girl's stubbordness caved in on Angel's modesty.

"Same to you guys. If you need anything, you know where to find me." Angel repeated to the others.

Holding her day's haul--one new tablet, one old phone, and one medium stuffed cat that had been conveniently located in the "other" section of a store--Siena couldn't help but feel the slightest bit of accomplishment. Honestly, despite the fiasco of ordering at McDonalds, Siena had done better than she thought, though that was thanks in no small part to the aid of her classmates. More than that, a few keen observations had left the brunette feeling like she actually might have had friends. 'Not people paid to be friends...I hope.'

"I'm glad we ran into each other. I don't think I'd have managed this on my own," Siena claimed while adjusting the strap of her own purchases. Hearing the invitation sent a flutter of warmth through the girl's chest. "'ll have to take you up on that invitation sometime. I'm in 430 in building A if you ever want to pay a visit or anything." Like the older girl, Siena turned her attention to the main group as well. "Any of you, really. It...it'll be nice to have company."

Residual loneliness that Siena could identify, without an ounce of doubt, as her own bubbled up, fainter now than it had ever been. Just like always, she bat it down with willpower, keeping it far away from the outside.

While others walked, Brent rolled. Having ultimately decided to stick around anyways (because Siena's gold debit card was a beautiful thing), he picked up roller blades out of all things, spending much of his time just skating around. His wardrobe was ultimately going to remain the same, but rollerblades. Wonderful things. He couldn't wait to try overclocking that shit.

It would mean less time in the library, but hey, social relationships were always more useful than personal training, right? Especially when said relationship meant free shenanigans. Turning around, Brent smiled back at Angelic. "Yeah, and to think this all started because you were walking through the streets alone and in your underwear! Fate's wonderful."

"Y-yeah, I guess. Don't need to point it out like that though."

Angélique turned into a flabbergasted mess at the mention of having walked around town with her bare bra exposed to the eyes of everyone. Did he really need to rub it in like that?

What?

Rational thought sputtered to a stop. Angel was what? Siena could have choked on the air she breathed on for the reaction the statement drew. Sending her gaze directly to the floor out of a mixture of respect and surprise, the brunette felt a sympathetic rush of embarrassment, the heat rising like ravenous flames trying to devour her whole.

Allison walked along with the rest of the group, happily carrying the bags of clothing that Angel had helped her pick out. If it wasn't for her, Allison would still be in that store, roaming around, clueless and flustered. Of course, Allison's mind was going any slower than usual, and brought her images of Angel in various outfits, and various states of undress. When Brent mentioned Angel walking around in her underwear, she nearly shed a tear at the beautiful mental image. She had half a mind to shout 'Okay you god damn metalhead, just fuck me already.' Only her last few shreds of human decency kept her from doing so.

"Yeah, if you ever wanna hang out, my room number is 203, in Building B. Just stop by whenever you want. But knock. Please knock. Savannah said to Siena with an exasperated tone at the end. One of her biggest pet peeves was when people didn't fucking knock, and it often turned her into a book-chucking mess. Savannah was carrying three heavy bags of stuff. A couple of the items had been paid for by Siena, like the new headphones, and the teddy bear in one of the bags that she had (admittedly) really wanted.

"Suite 225 if you want to talk some more about music, or chill out playing video-games." Aaron felt inclined to say after everyone began sharing their room's number.

And with that, everyone parted ways, each going to their own room to shuffle through today's purchases and decide what to do for the rest of their day.

After waking up and ensuring she was ready for the day, Angélique left her room, her stomach loudly rumbling. Like every morning, her system needed to get some fuel to energize her body. It was already the third day since she had arrived at USARILN, and Angel was already on the move to better plan her stay here. Today, she figured she'd need training with modern weaponry. While she had quite the potent ability, she knew not every creature she would encounter would be so susceptible to sonic attacks. Additionally, there was a limit to her powers, and when that limit was reached, it was a safer bet to rely on something else than be a sitting duck.

With this in mind, she first needed to grab breakfast to start the day on the right track. The raven-haired Canadian singer quickly made her way to the establishment's cafeteria with a half-jogging pace. Clearing all formalities aside, she went to the morning pastries part of the dining room and grabbed her usual morning meal: a few croissants and pancakes. She had seen the chocolate filled pastries, tempting her, but in the end, she decided against grabbing them, still reminding herself about her past healthier habits.

Looking over the hall for empty seats, she spotted a familiar figure. A lucky sight, considering her plans for the day, she thought. Making her way throughout the less-than crowded tables, Angélique reached the blond-haired young man who exuded an aura of calm and maturity. He seemed to be finishing up a simple meal of toast and coffee. A typical, if somewhat lacking, breakfast.

"Hey there, Laurence, was it? Mind if I sit here?" Angel asked, incorrectly using the young man's French pronunciation, eying the empty chair in front of Lawrence's spot.

"Hmm?"

Came the reply from a mouth full of toast as Lawrence looked up from his table- it clearly having more of his attention than the surrounding room. It was one of the women from the other day- that much he could remember. However, not much else was coming to mind about her. The only time they had really been face to face was during her unpleasant arrival. Still, he responded by motioning the seat in front of him before washing down his mouthful of toast with the coffee in front of him.

"Sure, I don't own it or anything. It's all yours...?"

He trailed off, clearly asking for a name to match with her face.

"Angélique, or Angelic if it's too inconvenient to say. Well, Angel is more than enough to me." The black-haired Aberration responded, switching from the natural French to an English pronunciation of her name, chuckling lightly by the end as she realized she was making her introduction longer than necessary. It was a natural reflex of her to introduce herself as such, mostly because of the various people she had met throughout her career. Working in a more English-dominated business with a French name would often do that.

He nodded in response.

"Angélique then."

He replied, deciding that if she was going to pronounce his name in the French manner, he may as well respond in kind. Afterwards, he motioned the seat in front of him with his hand once more as he bit into breakfast.

Nodding courteously as thanks, Angélique sat in front of the blond-haired young man and started digging into her plate. It never ceased to amaze the woman of French-Canadian origins how good the food from this place was. For a prison, it sure tasted as if the pastries were made on place, fresh from the oven. And the diversity of the food too. She knew well American food, but this place went beyond what this country usually provided.

Halfway through her meal, Angel looked upwards, gazing at Lawrence from behind her shades. Before he'd finish his food, she figured that she would at least ask him something that she had in mind from the beginning of the day.

"Say, Laurence. I know this may be too straightforward, coming from someone you barely know, but do you think that you could lend me a hand with firearms in general? I saw you fighting with a shotgun on that night, so I figured you might know more about them than the others." she finally asked to the white-marked man in front of her.

"To be completely honest with you, I'd rather ask you than one of those guards watching us." She added, not even bothering to lower her voice despite the same guards she just mentioned being present all around them.

"Afraid of running into a repeat of your first day here?"

Angel simply nodded to the assumption. She could still remember how ineffective her shots had been against the meatball she tried to shoot at.

He bit into his toast then to buy some time to think. The question had surprised him, and it wasn't often Lawrence B. Ellison was taken by surprise these days. When he saw she was an Abe, it was a natural assumption that she had come to ask for a quick hit of his powers- not to teach her about firearms. In fact, that had never been the reason anybody had come to talk to him. The guards were of course a better option for that, being actual trained soldiers, but Lawrence had a good teacher as well.

As he finished chewing, he looked to an invisible watch on his wrist, before replying:

"You free after we eat? I've got a few hours right now."

"Of course! I have plans for today, trying to arrange the dinner I promised to my old team, but I can squeeze some time to learn about shooting straight with guns right away." Angélique answered, apparently satisfied from the grin drawn on her face.

"Good, finish up and we'll get going then."

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

The two walked to the training grounds in relative silence, the weather so far deciding to cooperate with their plan for the day. It looked as if the two were marching off to war, or were action heroes in a bad 90's movie. Lawrence with his thick jacket, and Angélique with her shades. Both were armed with a primary and secondary weapon: Angel a .338 rifle and 9mm handgun. Lawrence with his trusty shotgun and a .38 revolver. They might not get to all of them that day- and truthfully shouldn't- but it was best to be prepared.

On the far side of the training grounds, well away from any buildings, a simple shooting range was set up. Clearly not one meant for the guards, but operated by the students. There was nobody there yet today- and compared to the other training facilities at the school was one of the less frequently used ones due to the nature of their abilities- and only the sound of their own footsteps welcomed them to the spot. Lined up at the front were a series of desks to act as shooting benches, and their drawers contained a variety of materials to set up targets with. Underneath each desk was a generous stack of waterproof white boards to set up at the range- with a variety of florescent orange and green targets of various sizes contained in the drawers to serve as points to aim at.

Orange stones were layed out at varying intervals in front of the desks- first at ten yards until they reached fifty, then at twenty-five yards until they reached all the way to three hundred out in the distance. Finally, behind each desk was a small pile of what looked like sandbags- about half a dozen of various sizes. Lawrence set his firearms on the table- along with the boxes of ammunition he had shoved in his pocket- and got to work pulling out the various supplies from the desk. Finally, handing a roll of orange dots and a stapler to Angel he asked:

"Could you set these up at the 5th and 7th markers? Two each should do for now."

For his part, Lawrence gathered his own set of supplies- green dots instead of orange- and began setting up his own set of targets. Both closer to the desks and more numerous than what he had asked Angel to do.

"Will do." Angélique nodded, taking the equipment Lawrence handed to her before jogging her way to the indicated markers.

Like Lawrence, Angel had set up her weaponry onto the desks before running off to the 5th and 7th markers. Reaching each mark, Angel swiftly aligned the red dot and punched the stapler thrice into each target before returning to the row of desks. Upon returning, she noticed her partner's targets were closer but considerably greater in number than what she had set up. Perhaps those were meant for the shotgun and the revolver? Judging from the weapons they had been carrying, it was a safe bet to think that the rifle and the handgun were more meant to be used at long range, while the revolver and shotgun were to be used at close range. Not that she was an expert though, she simply assumed by popular knowledge.

"All done. Anything else?"

"Nope, just give me a bit. There's a reason I asked if you had a few hours."

With that, he moved everything except the rifle and a box of .338 ammo to a different desk, and retrieved three of the sand bags from behind his makeshift shooting bench. He set two of them up close to the stock, and one further out supporting the barrel. After that, he pulled up a chair and took a seat, looking into the scope of the rifle and twisting it occasionally, before standing up once more and adjusting the sandbags. Eventually satisfied, he walked over to Angel once more and handed her the rifle.

"All right, we're going to cover all the boring stuff first, so try not to fall asleep. I'm going to go over all the basics so if you feel like I'm treating you like a child- I am."

Wish a sigh, remembering his own lessons, he continued:

"This specifically is a Winchester Model 70- that's not very important to know, but in case you wanted it for yourself. You can find what you like as you experiment on your own. What is important is it's been rechambered to shoot .338 caliber magnum rounds. There's dozens of dozens of different kinds and I'm not going to try to teach you all of them, and I'm not expert myself, but essentially the higher the first two numbers go- the more punch is in the bullet."

Only stopping for a moment to let it sink in, he continued, laying his hand on the open bolt.

"It is a bolt-action rifle. The bolt opens and closes the action. It will not fire while the bolt is open, and you should only ever close it when you're going to be firing it soon. Having primed bullets all the time is asking for an accident to happen. This model can hold three .338 rounds in it, you slide them in through the open action there. It takes a bit of practice to be able to do it smoothly, so don't worry if you fumble around with it the first few times you're here on the range."

Taking his hand off the bolt, he finally added:

"Go ahead and operate it a few times, get the feel for it. You won't be able to set up a bench or stand on the field too often, so getting used to doing it in your hands will help. Any questions yet?"

Angelique listened with intent as she watched Lawrence motioning how to operate the rifle she had been holding. There was a lot of information to take in all at once, but some of it seemed like simple stuff to remember. The higher the size of the caliber, the higher punch she'd get from them. So, did that meant that when she ordered the Desert Eagle from her acquisition request form, would the .4 magnum bullets be more potent that the .338 this rifle had in?

It was however more tedious about learning the safety protocols of the rifle. Opening the bolt to disengage its firing mechanism, close it to engage fire mode, was it? So, this weapon seemed to use individual bullets instead of ammunition cartridges? She eyed the rifle, inspected its parts and tried to figure out where and how the bullets went in and where they went out after being shot.

The way she was holding the gun, it was apparent that she feared touching the trigger accidentally, and so her hands were holding the Winchester far from its trigger as she operated awkwardly the bolt action on the gun.

"Hmm... so let me summarize what you just told me, just to be sure I understood. This Winchester hold .335 caliber bullets. Higher the caliber, higher impact it does. By the way, can you put all sort of bullets in a gun, or is it designed to shoot a single type of bullet?"

"So if I open the bolt, the gun can't fire, but when it's closed, it can shoot, right? Say, is that one of those weapons you have to crank up the bolt each time you fire to be able to shoot the next round?"

".338, if you were trying to find .335 you'd have a hell of a goose chase. Anyway, that's more or less the gist of it. Guns are designed to fire one caliber of bullet. can it fire others? I'm sure there are instances where that might be able to work, but generally no and you should never try, that's asking for an accident to happen. However, there are ways around it. This for instance originally fired .308 caliber rounds, but has been modified for more power."

Turning the gun around slightly, in her hands, he pointed to a switch on the back of the bolt. Currently it was pulled back, away from the barrel of the gun. Lawrence pushed it forward, until it was next to a small word etched on the top of the bolt Fire. He pulled it back once more before speaking:

"That's the safety on this rifle. When it's pulled back, the safety is on, and the gun will not fire when you pull the trigger. Doesn't matter if you've loaded ammunition into it and have the action closed. Just like you never close the action until you're ready to fire, never turn the safety off-"

He flipped the switched forward once more.

"- Until you're sure you're ready to start using this weapon. Doesn't matter if the gun's empty or not, if you don't use good habits all the time you might send a bullet into somebody when we have no healer around, including yourself. You saw when you got here just how deadly they still are to people like us."

Finally, he took his hand off the gun once more.

"Go ahead and cycle through action closed, safety on, action closed safety off, ready to fire, etc. Until you're comfortable doing it with your eyes closed."

"Alright then."

Angel nodded, understanding the whole safety concept. Bolt open, can't fire. Bolt closed, can fire unless safety switch if set to safe mode. Fire switch pulled forward, can shoot now. Bolt open, can't fire nonetheless. Bolt closed, now the rifle is primed to fire.

The raven-haired amateur practiced a few more times repeating this process, sometimes fumbling during her mumblings about how it worked, but the more times she practiced, the more assurance she would get, and the faster she would get with switching the trigger and the bolt action. She was not perfectly comfortable doing it with her eyes-closed like Lawrence suggested, but she could feel the gig of things coming more naturally into her hands.

Practicing was one thing. Hopefully, she wouldn't forget about that on the actual battlefield.

"I think I'm getting the hang of it."

She affirmed as she closed her eyes and comfortably switched the Winchester from fully closed mode to fire-ready mode back and forth until the gun was completely safe to handle once more.

"Well, I guess that covers that part. What would be next?"

"Next..."

He began, taking the rifle from her once more and bringing it to his shoulder, aiming at one of the targets down field. He did not bother to close the bolt or turn off the safety, but everything else in his posture suggest that if the gun was cocked he would be ready to fire.

"Look at my right hand."

It was, as one with even a limited knowledge of firearms might expect, not wrapped around the trigger. Instead it extended in a straight line outside of the trigger guard, parallel to the barrel.

"I'm sure you've at least heard of trigger discipline before. Never wrap your finger around that trigger until you're absolutely sure you're ready to fire. It should always be the last safety measure that you disengage before shooting, and the first one that you remember to follow. What you do with your finger in the meantime is irrelevant, you don't have to hold it like mine, but-"

He relaxed, handing the rifle back to her once more.

"- if you keep all that in mind I think we're ready to finally start. You can go ahead and set up the rifle on those sandbags I laid out and adjust the scope until you can clearly see the right-most target I set up at the third marking. Take your time at it, and don't put a round into the chamber yet."

"No trigger finger, got it."

Angélique nodded once more. Sounded simple alright, but she could imagine how easy it would be to accidentally pull the trigger unconsciously. If Lawrence took time to give this as a final safety measure, then that meant that a fair share of accidents happened because of this. Perhaps was that the cause of the shoot-out that had happened in the containment cell when they had arrived here in the first place?

Okay then, so how did the scope adjust itself on the rifle? Inspecting it as she reached the sandbag, she found the mechanism that was magnifying the lenses inside the apparel. Knowing where the roulette was, she set up the rifle on the sandbag and knelt behind the bag, closing one eye and keeping the other open through the scope. She slowly adjusted the lenses until the assigned target at the right-most of the third marking became crystal clear to her eye. It took her some time to adjust to this contraption, but part of her found it fascinating just how complex this whole thing was. Actually, she was so focused on Lawrence's instructions and what to do, the whispers at the back of her mind seemed to have vanished into sub consciousness.

"Ooooookay, looks pretty clear to me."

"Okay."

He began, digging into his pocket once more and pulling out a disposable packet of ear plugs, and putting them in. Adjusting them until he was confident they were blocking as much noise as they were going to.

"During that battle I did not grab these, and even though I only fired a few shots, I bet my hearing would be damaged for good if Benediction hadn't shown up at the hospital. Never fire a weapon without ear protection if you can avoid it. Put yours in, and then ago ahead and load a round from that box next to you into the rifle. Take a shot at the target I told you to focus on- don't worry about hitting it dead on. We don't care about your accuracy right now."

"Okay..."

Angélique squeezed the ear plugs Lawrence had given her prior to going at the training grounds. Ensuring she could feel sound dampening around her, she then proceeded to take a single round from the box by her side and load it inside the Winchester’s chamber, the pointy end going towards the rifle's barrel.

When it was done, Angel set sight onto her target, remembering to switch the trigger into fire position and ensure the bolt action was closed. Then she took a while to adjust her sight towards the target. She gripped the gun hard, her heartbeat going faster by the second, but she recalled Lawrence's words about not touching the trigger until she was sure when she was shooting. Imitating the way he showed her earlier, Angel's index was aligned in parallel to the gun's barrel, until she would set upon the decision to fire.

When she pulled the trigger, however, she did not expect the kickback from the gun to be so intense. Sure, she'd seen a few fail videos online of people being caught off-guard by the weapon's recoil, but she didn't expect it to be that bad. After the shot fired, her shoulder jerked back, throwing the raven-haired young woman off-balance on her knees while the rifle fell from the sandbag, by Angel's side,

Rubbing her shoulder from the sudden shock, Angel got on to her feet and grabbed the rifle lying down on the ground, disengaging the fire-mode before looking back at Lawrence.

"Holy fuck. This thing sure packs a kick back at you when you don't expect it."

He chuckled in response to the scene, there had been a reason he only wanted her to load one round into the chamber. Not that he fully expected that to happen, but it seemed like he was at least going to get some entertainment from this outing. Anyway, some lessons were best learned by experience.

"Yeah, that's the .338 for you, has a nasty kick until you're used to it. Just wait until you're practicing with the shotgun."

He briefly nodded towards it on the other bench.

"Anyway, I don't think I need to tell you that dropping the weapon while it's ready to fire is another safety 'no-no' do I?"

With a sigh of faux-exasperation, he took a step forward and pointed at the bolt once again.

"Work the action back again to eject the spent casing. You need to do this every time you fire even if you have multiple rounds loaded. Then you can set the rifle on the bench and go out to check how you did."

Feeeling slightly embarrassed from this outcome, Angélique shyly nodded at Lawrence's instruction. She couldn't imagine how much kick a shotgun would provide. Safety switch on, Angel pulled the bolt-action inwards, the barrel opened to eject the spent round out of the gun, flying to the ground with a small clink.

Seetting the rifle onto the sandbag, Angel walked towards the target she shot at. There wasn't a single bullet hole present on it, meaning she completely missed her mark. That was a big disappointment, but she blamed her inexperience for that, and was sure she could do better next time.

Angel returned to Lawrence, a slight frown of disappointement etched on her face.

"Well, looks like I completely missed. Bullet must've gone off completely off-target."

By the time she got back the casing was standing upright in the box, replacing the bullet that had been fired. Other than that, it didn't appear as if Lawrence had done much.

"Yeah, knocked on your ass and missed, sounds about right. Now that you're going to be anticipating the recoil, you have to make sure it doesn't make your trigger finger stiff, or you're going to be even further off your mark."

Turning towards the rifle he added:

"As for the safety, good job turning it off before leaving the rifle, but you don't need to operate it every time you stop firing. If you have it on you and you're at a break in the shooting, leaving the action open and trigger discipline should be fine, you don't want to have it on and forget it in the middle of a fight."

Stepping over to the other table for a moment, he added:

"I was going to mention this when we got to the other guns, since it's not as easy to do with a rifle, but there is one more measure above trigger discipline- never point the barrel of your gun at someone you're not trying to kill. Empty, loaded, safety on or off, never. Always keep it pointing at the ground if you can, and not at your own feet. Try to avoid pointing up if it's loaded, since bullets have to come down somewhere. Anyway, go ahead and keep practicing, one bullet at a time, until you can at least hit the post. The target doesn't matter as much."

"Sir yes sir!"

Angel joked, bringing herself back into the same position she had been before. Acknowledging the earlier advices, she set up the rifle into firing position once more on the sand bag. Switching the trigger back into its firing position, she swiftly pushed the bolt back to its closing position. Now that she had a good idea about the rifle's kick, she braced herself for one more shot, gripping the gun tightly as she aimed towards the target, trigger finger inside the triggering circle, put at ease away from the trigger.

Then came the shot. This time, her shoulder jerked away, but she kept good balance on her dominant knee. From the scope, she didn't feel like the bullet hit its mark, again. But she was slowly getting accustomed to the gun's recoil.

Angel unloaded the empty shell from the Winchester. keeping in mind what Lawrence said about not necessarily pulling the trigger back to its safety position, as long as the bolt was kept open. She went towards the target to inspect it. Nope, nothing on there again.

This cycle continued on and forth until the 5th shot came in. Bracing herself for her shot, Angel sighed softly, trying to relax a bit more. While she was aiming, she kept focus on her mark, but at the same time wanted to say something.

"By the way, thank you for helping me. You're a good teacher."

Bang, there came the shot. And this time, the sound of a fast-paced object striking a wooden frame could be heard.

Ejecting the spent bullet from its chamber, Angel set the rifle onto the sandbag, investigating if she had hit her target. Indeed, she had. While it was not a dead-center shot, she managed to hit a spot on the outer rims of the target.

From afar, she turned to Lawrence, raising her arm with a thumb raised before walking back to him.

"Finally did it!"

Lawrence nodded in satisfaction as she threw him the thumbs up. He hadn't commented earlier when she remarked on his teaching- there was nothing to say. He was merely copying his own teacher, who was the one she should be giving thanks to. Still, there was no point in telling her that. The man was dead, with no grave to pay any respects to.

C'est la vie.

Still, he did feel a sense of unwarranted pride at the sight of that thumbs up. Six shots to get on target wasn't bad for a first attempt, and it gave them quite a bit of ammo left to practice with. He would need to requisition more, but that was on USARILN East to supply. He'd be damned if he was to cough up money to buy .338 every time he needed it to fight their battles, shit was expensive. As it was, they had about fifteen more shots to work with if he didn't break into his spare box- and he would prefer to do that than move on to a different gun. May as well practice with the same one as much as possible.

When she got back, he finally returned her thumbs up.

"Good job, now for the reason I was saying the target didn't matter: I want you to keep aiming for exactly where you were when that shot landed. The goal is to be consistent with your shooting, accuracy will come as you learn how to adjust you sights and your aim. I want you to shoot another five rounds at that target, and we'll see how close together they all land."

Seeing Lawrence returning her thumbs up, Angel felt some pride creeping up inside her. It sort of felt like when her parents congratulated her on her first successful riff on a guitar, or the very first verse of a rock song she covered perfectly. There was still some kind of guilt to actually learn something as taboo to her as handling firearms, but given the current situation, she figured she might start with it sooner than too late.

Again, she nodded comprehensively at the Arbiter's instructions. So, the goal right now was to try getting her shots steadier, more accurate by aiming for the exact same spot. It wasn't too hard, aiming for the same spot, as she always tried to aim at the dead center of the target.

Once more, she repositioned herself, round prepared beforehand by her instructor and fellow sub natural. However, while she maintained the same position, she shifted the Winchester closer to her elbow, trying to find a better grip, adjusting her face to the scope in a more relaxed way. Perhaps she was too stiff?

The first shot completely missed its mark, mostly due to Angélique worrying more about her posture than actual than actually improving her aim.

Second shot hit the post, still lengths away from the actual target, not so much improving since her first successful shot.

Third shot was more of a success however, inching closer to the center of the target. It was more due to dumb rookie luck than anything else.

Fourth shot was somewhat similar, only that now it was more because she adapted from her previous attempts. Learning from her previous shots, she eased up on her shoulder area, all the while maintaining a firm grip on the gun.

Fifth shot was definitively an improvement. Still a few inches off-mark, but it was the closest shot she got out of all she had fired so far. By now, she had learned that it was not about pushing her shoulder forward to counter the rifle's kick back, but more about using her shoulder as a stabilizing pad, and her hands were just there to aim the firearm and keep it steady, not hold it stiffly into place.

After returning to inspect her latest shot, Angel walked back to Lawrence with a slight grin of satisfaction. Sure, there were some more progress to be made still, but she was improving bit by bit. It had been time consuming, walking back and forth to inspect her shots, taking her time to find an appropriate way to aim, hold the gun steady, but there was a genuine interest into doing this, and it actually kept her focused on something else than the inside of her mind.

"Fifth shot down. Are we doing more?"

Lawrence held up his hand for her to hold on while he went out himself to inspect her shooting. However, when he came back he was frowning.

"Yeah. I think quite a bit more... give me a second."

He walked down the line of desks then, looking under each one with increasingly dissatisfaction, before he finally reached the one at the furthest end of the range. Reaching under it, he pulled out what looked to be a sheet of cardboard that was painted white, cut out in a 3'x3' square. Then, digging around the drawers once more, he pulled out a set of hammer and nails, along with a new green dot. Finally, he made his way out to the 3rd marker once more and went to the second post he had set up there. In another minute, the board was nailed to the post, with the new dot resting in the middle of it.

Finally, he returned. to Angel, setting the materials on a different desk.

"I can understand adjusting how you want to shoot to find something comfortable, but this should allow us a better idea of your consistency. Shoot five more, and shoot the same way for each of them. The goal-"

He stopped for a moment to pull a pen out of his pocket and draw on the desk. He drew a rough outline of his cardboard square and the dot in the middle. Then, he placed five dots near the top right corner, all within an inch or two of each other.

"- Is to get a tight grouping. Even if your first shot misses its mark, it doesn't matter. Try to get the holes close together. Do it by aiming at the same spot the same way consistently- don't adjust to try and hit the first hole you make. Fire all five before getting up to check, and take your time at it if you need to."

Angel watched on silently as Lawrence went to set up an actual target on the shooting posts. Perhaps he wanted to give her an actual point where to shoot, make it easier for her to get a point of reference. This time around, it looked like he wanted to test her consistency. So, that meant, no matter if she missed, she must keep shooting the same way, stop with the whole adjustments.

“Alright, let’s see what I can do”

the black-haired X-mark nodded as she went back to the Winchester, looking on as the rifle was empty. This time around, she guessed she could load the chamber to its 3 rounds capacity, given she would now be doing consecutive shots.

Last time, her shot seemed to be fairly good, she figured, so she took the same stance, positioning herself behind the sandbag, rifle resting on it while she held the gun firmly in hands and positioned the rifle’s butt onto the area between her shoulder and the pectoral muscle.

Aiming for the dot in the middle of the white cardboard target, Angel took a deep breath, focusing, before letting out the first shot. Having practiced five times prior to this shot finding a better way to position and hold the Winchester steady really showed this time; the bullet embedded itself not exactly dead center on the target, but it was relatively close, a few inches away above the dot.

Keeping in mind to aim at the same dot with the same way she just shot, Angel pulled the bolt lever to eject the spent ammo casing. Again, she resumed aiming with the same way she previously did. Steady, breathing, focus, shoot.

She repeated this process 4 more times. Second shot came close to where the first landed. While the third shot was slightly sideways compared to the first two shots. Fourth shot was a few inches upwards from the first two, fifth shot, however, grouped by the other first three holes and even inched downwards towards the dot at the center of the cardboard target.

“Hmmm… it’s a bit hard to be consistent considering the kick back, and the fact you have to pull the bolt each time after shooting. Worse when reloading after the third shot.”

Angélique remarked as she pulled the bolt open, sending the empty round falling to the ground before setting the rifle back onto the desk.

"Let's go check out how I did, hm?"

Lawrence simply nodded in response to her before beginning to walk over to the targets, motioning for her to follow with him, on the way over he answered:

"Yeah, a semi-auto would be easier, but if you can get used to the mechanics of a harder rifle smoothly, the transition isn't going to hurt you any, and you have a bit more variety in your effectiveness. I tend to favor older rifles because of how they feel and their reliability if you maintain them well, but that doesn't mean they're better overall. As long as the gun fires the caliber you want it to fire and gets it to the target you want it to get to- the differences are petty."

Having arrived at the target, he took a moment to examine her groupings, and seemingly finding what he was looking for, Lawrence walked over to the previous target she was shooting at. Finally, he began walking back and motioned for her to follow once more.

"That was a pretty good grouping for a beginner, and it shows it wasn't a defect in the ammo causing the missed shots. Probably just a matter of adjusting the sights for you or learning where the gun is trying to put the bullet. I know it shoots a little high for me even if I'm aiming dead center, so I always have to account for that when I shoot. Anyway, I think we should leave the pistols for a different day- they're a whole different ball game-and finish off the other box of .338 I brought. We definitely have enough time to get to the shogun though."

Having arrived back at the original bench, he took the supplied he had set aside from earlier and added:

"I'm going to set up something similar at the five and seven marker targets that I had you set up at the beginning. We have about twenty-five shots left with the .338, I figure we'll use ten of them at fifty yards, and fifteen of them at a hundred yards. One set of five for finding the target, and then the rest to work on groupings."

Angélique mentally noted everything Lawrence said about training with the bolt-action rifle differing much from training with semi-automatic firearms. Train at the highest difficulty first, so it would seem like a piece of cake for the other guns, huh? She was kind of impressed by how complex the whole aiming thing was, by how many instances the bullet can miss its intended target. Those aren’t the stuff you’d learn from video-games or movies, that’s for sure.

The initiate was glad to hear about such details. It made her feel like her training wasn’t being taught half-assed, that by the end of it she’d properly know about gun etiquette.

She was half-disappointed when Lawrence told her handgun training would have to wait for another day. Realistically, she was looking forward to know how to properly use a handgun, since that was the type of firearm she’d imagine using most, and because that’s what she had requested to get. However, she understood his words as he wouldn’t mind spending a few hours on another day to teach her about such, which she was looking forward to.

For the next twenty-five shots, Angel pretty much repeated the exercises Lawrence had made her do from the earlier ten shots. She shot five times at the fifth marker to find the right aim to hit the target, then five other shots to test her grouping consistency. The same applied at the seventh marker, only that she instead took 6 shots to feel the cardboard target and fired nine times to test the consistency.

Shooting farther targets showed on her performance, but it was still quite respectable for a rookie. As she had taken her shots, Angel had minded Lawrence telling her to adjust to where the gun was shooting where she was aimed, especially when he told her that his shots seemed to be higher than where he was aiming, kind of like how her consistency test showed. As such, she lowered her aim to fire below the targeted dots.

On the fifty-yards target, she first managed to land four out of five shots, somewhat scattered but on point. The next five shots were surprisingly good. Adapting her aim to the Winchester’s firing, she managed to get a closer group of bullet holes to the center.

At a hundred yards, things were a tad more complicated, it took her three shots to correctly find her mark and the next three shots were to center herself on the dot. As for the nine consistency shots, there has been three different groupings with a distinct pattern between them, each from after reloading the rifle. The first grouping was at the farthest of the targets, and as the shots went on, the two other groupings inched towards the target’s center dot.

“I can’t believe snipers hit targets five times smaller than that on the first shot.”

Angel chuckled as she ejected the last round from the Winchester.

He let out a sight in response to that, running a hand through his hair.

"Yeah, with tailored equipment. And a spotter. And a lot of math. And so much wasted money in practice shooting. I think this is fine personally considering the size of the things we'll be shooting."

After that, he began collecting the remaining spent .338 casings and shoving them back onto their boxes. He knew a guy who liked to do reloading as a hobby, and while he'd order a new box of factory ammunition for actual combat, a couple boxes of reloaded rounds would be fine for a future practice session. He needed to practice himself soon to work some of the rust out of his system, but that could wait for another day.

After he finished with that, Lawrence grabbed his rifle off of the desk- stopping only to switch the safety on once more- and set it aside with his other weapons. Then, he grabbed the shotgun he had used in the previous day's battle and brought it over with the same type of ammunition he had been using that day. Showing it to her, he began:

"All right, this is a break-action shotgun. Unlike with the bolt action, you need to-"

With some force, he placed his hand a short distance down the barrel and pushed, snapping the barrel of the gun downwards and leaving the gun hinged at an acute angle.

"Break the action, and then you just prime a shell directly into the barrel before-"

Placing his hand under the barrel this time, he brought back into place with a satisfying snap, more smoothly than trying to break it open.

"Closing the action again. Once it's back in this position it's ready to fire. The safety is on the right side of the gun instead of the top for this one, same concept though. Forward is off, backward is on."

Finally, he handed it to her after the demonstration was over.

"Go ahead and get used to it like with the bolt-action. It's deadly, not complicated."

Compared to the bolt-action Winchester, the shotgun seemed more intimidating to operate than the former. Watching Lawrence “breaking” the shotgun to prime a shell inside, Angel now understood why it was called this way. She wondered if there was some kind of switch to make it open like that, but seeing the force applied behind breaking it open, it seemed more like using raw strength.

Nodding to her instructor, the rookie inspected how the shotgun was made, flipping the safety trigger on and off, making sure it was on safe mode before trying to open it.

At first, it took her a moment to pry the gun open, applying pressure on the barrel to open it without breaking it. Eventually, she realized it was no use trying to be delicate, and so applied full force down the barrel. Obviously inexperienced at this, when the shotgun’s barrel swung open, the lack of proper gripping shifted the gun downwards, the barrel nearly hitting the girl’s legs.

With a nervous sigh, she inspected the holes where the shells needed to be primed, then snapped the barrel close with accidental excessive force.

Angel repeated the same opening and closing process a few more times, trying to get used to open and close it in a smoother fashion like Lawrence did on his demonstration, without swinging it open on her leg.

““Well… this is a bitch, compared to the rifle.”

He watched her struggle, with no small amusement, for a few moments before walking over to the box of shells he laid out on the desk and pulling one out. Then, gently, he took the gun from her once more and broke the action on it before holding the shell up so she could get a good look at it.

"Shotguns mainly fire two different types of shells. Mostly what you see in movies are shot, such as buckshot. Spreads wide, loses effectiveness past a medium range. Not as wide or as ineffective as movies would have you believe, but it's not really going to do much against what we're fighting unless you happen to shoot them point blank."

For emphasis, he gave the shell in his hand a little shake.

"This however is a slug, one solid round, about three times heavier than a bullet, give or take. Once you know what you're doing, it can hit harder and more accurately from a farther distance, and from my experience this will help you a lot more against the sort of things we're up against than bullets tend to. Every weapon has its use, and this..."

He primed the shell into the barrel of the shotgun before dropping to one knee and aiming down range. There were no monsters rushing him, no outside distractions. With relative ease, he took a full breath, and gently laid his finger on the trigger a third of the way through his exhale.

He visibly jerked as the butt of the gun slammed into his shoulder, but the impact was dulled by his thick coat. With some satisfaction, he could see the hole blown through her previous target at the seventh marker- the top quarter of the green dot now replaced with the sight of grass behind it. Breaking the action, he caught the shell as it ejected and stuffed it into his pocket, letting the barrel cool for a moment before handing it back to Angel.

"... more or less does the job I need it to."

It would be a lie to say she wasn’t impressed by the firepower behind the cacophonous shot of Lawrence’s gun. Not only did he hit that target at its center a hundred yards away with a gun that wasn’t popularly known for its accuracy, but the huge hole it made showed just how much the damage this thing could pack. To think this kind of weapon was used against humans in recent years… before the monsters began showing up, before Dreamcatcher showed up.

“That’s… impressive…”

Angel trailed off, the thought about fighting monsters with something she was previously against handling bothered her as she had started thinking about the whole mess that initially pitted humanity against monsters and the existence of subnaturals, her presence on this campus.

Grabbing the shotgun Lawrence handed to her, Angel cracked the gun open – more comfortably this time around - and inserted a slug inside. Taking the same stance she previously did with the rifle, she minded resting her hand on the sandbag rather than the gun itself, figuring she’d need as much grip as possible considering just how violent the recoil seemed to be at first sight.

It was more difficult to aim than with the rifle too. The shotgun didn’t have any scope mounted, so she’d have to rely on her very own depth of view this time coupled with the iron fixated sights on the gun that provided a minimum amount of reference as to where Angel was aiming. Knowing she lacked proper training with the gun, she wouldn’t try hitting the same target Lawrence did. Instead, she opted for the safer approach and aimed towards the closest post, wanting to get a feeling from the gun before venturing onto further targets.

The black-haired Aberration braced her lightly-covered shoulder for the incoming impact and breathed, her finger reaching for the trigger as she exhaled.

As expected for a first shot, she wasn't quite as successful as how she had been with the rifle previously. Her shoulder had jerked back quite hard, catching her half off-guard, but she didn’t lose balance nor dropped the gun compared to the first time she shot with the rifle. The huge kick-back kind of surprised her, but her initial bracing and previous experience with the Winchester bore some fruits. However, the recoil very much messed her shot, the roaring slug hit the ground a bit further away from the post with a thud, sending a patch of dirt flying.

“Say, I’ve often heard about shotguns not being so precise. But for you to hit a target so far away with such precision, I guess it’s the type of bullets that matters, and not the gun itself?”

"Well, it's a lot of things."

He began, taking another slug out of the box and placing it in front of her.

"With the way that shotgun is designed, it's meant for hunting at longer distances than say... a SPAS designed for close encounters, or especially a sawed-off variant. Longer barrel, a sturdier stock, and rifled choke tube, although it's debatable if that last one helps a whole lot. I think over extreme distances, and a hundred yards is pretty extreme for a shotgun, it's worth the investment. Other than that, inaccurate shotguns are a bit of Hollywood mixed with reality. If I had some buckshot here you'd be surprised how well it was still grouped at fifty yards."

Not all of this had come from Lawrence's teacher. Much of the info that went into choosing his own weapons was hours of his own research and testing. An effort for someone that was otherwise powerless to at least be able to save their own life in a pinch.

"In any case, we have about fifteen more slugs to work with, since I used some of them up the other day. Go ahead and shoot at the second marker for a while. Then if you hit it a couple times move on to the third one. If you feel brave after that, go on and aim for the fifth one. Don't bother wasting ammo on the seventh. Remember not to stiffen up expecting the increased recoil, and if you find you aim is constantly off, try to line the front sight just slightly lower than the top of the rear sights. Iron sights take some getting used to, and again- I adjusted them for me, not you."

Satisfied with his own explanation, he finished up by putting a hand on her shoulder and adding:

"Pistols are a lot more dangerous and a lot harder to aim, so I think we'll stop after those boxes are empty. No use flooding you with more than you can process at the end of the day."

With that, he walked over to the desk beside hers and sat down, content to relax and watch for the rest of the session.

Angel affirmatively nodded in response to Lawrence’s explanations. Granted, she didn’t think she’d have to remember ALL the finer details about the different variety of shotguns, but it was a good base to know nonetheless.

She was however surprised to know that pistols were a lot harder to aim than the two type of funs she had been practicing with so far. It was almost disbelieving that a much smaller gun would be causing more issue than what those two caused so far.

Acknowledging Lawrence’s instructions, the X-marked Canadian returned to her firing position after loading the shotgun with the slug her teacher had put in front of her.

For the remainder of the training session, Angel practiced with the roughly fifteen shells remaining from the ammunition box. Her first shots, just like with the rifle, was to get accustomed to properly hold the gun, adjusting her position to counter the powerful recoil, easing her stance to prevent loss of accuracy and such.

There had been a few missed shots, naturally, usually occurring the first shots she took on newer targets. Overall, it wasn’t such a bad training session, but the results were apparently less satisfying than with the rifle. Indeed, her lithe body frame took the shotgun’s recoil far worse than the rifle’s. In the end, Angel didn’t bother trying to show off and hit the fifth marked target, content simply by trying and learning from the first targets.

By the time she ran out of assigned shells, Angélique ejected the shell from the shotgun’s chamber, her movements noticeably more fluid than before. She closed the shotgun’s barrel shut into its original position before switching the safety trigger back to its safe mode.

After putting the gun down on the desk, the apprentice sighed as she crept up her hand on her firing shoulder to massage it all the while she was rotating slightly her shoulder, trying to ease up the numb feeling that had begun to manifest up her arm.

She muttered something in her native language before turning to a sitting Lawrence, flashing up a smile in his direction.

“Well, I guess that’s it, huh? I’ll help taking down what we set up over there.”

She motioned to the fifth and seventh markers.

Lawrence watched her click the safety back on with satisfaction before giving her another thumb up as his response. Methodically he went about tearing down what he had set up- many of the targets remaining unused, and returning the supplies to their appropriate drawers. The materials that had become slightly more... used than before were put into a separate pile beside the first desk, and Lawrence hunted the grass around the benches for any spent shells he may have missed.

Finally, he double checked his guns to make sure they had no ammo in the chamber, before collecting them and the boxes of ammunition, handing the two that Angel has carried in back to her.

"Well, I'd say this was a pretty productive session. Even if you forget half of it by the time you come back, you still have a pretty strong base to work off of. I'll spare you the details about cleaning them until you have your own to worry about. Try not to come here alone though if you can help it- and it doesn't have to be me. Plenty of students have picked up shooting since coming here, you don't want to get injured with nobody around to help- you can bleed to death even from a shot to the foot by the time you crawl back to the hospital."

With that grim reminder, he let out a sigh.

"You don't want to be remembered as the woman who survived being thrown to monsters on her first day and then shot herself to death by accident, do you?"

Angel acknowledged what her instructor said, paying special attention to the part about not coming here alone. So, she guessed that she wouldn’t slip by here for a sneaky training routine once she gets her own firearms. Didn’t really matter though. She was happy with what she learned here today, and would be looking forward to train with someone next time, perhaps with Lawrence once more, if time and opportunities would allow it.

However, when the white-marked spoke about surviving the ordeal they went through a few days ago, her face turned somewhat somber. Already a few days that this happened, and she was here, as if she was okay with everything that had happened, already began making a routine, adapting to living here. Was it truly what she wanted though? Did she already submit to living for the rest of her life, imprisoned here?

“Say, Laurence. I’ve heard you’ve been here for quite a while, at least way longer than I or the others. What’s it like… living here?”

"Hard to say exactly."

What was it like to live at USARILN East? He'd become too used to it by that point, that it wasn't exactly an easy question to consider. At least, from the perspective of someone just arriving. Minus a few... particularly terrible realities, he had become content with the life he had come to live. Whether that could be said the same of everyone though...

"It can be a bit stressful, there's always going to be the chance of being thrown to the wolves in the middle of your day, getting injured, getting killed. Still though, I mean they do a decent job of letting us live a semi normal life in spite of that, or at least the life we choose to. With the money they give us every month and their hands off approach to policing what we actually do... You pretty much get to learn that as long as you bite when they say bite, your time outside of battle isn't going to be too terrible."

Except for the death.

It was a subject that was too close for home for him to bring up. He neither wanted to brush Angel off about the issue, nor wanted to talk about his own experiences. It was the type of thing that healed faster the more you were wounded, but some were still bleeding. He preferred to keep them bandaged and forgotten until they became scars like the others.

“"I... see..."

Angel trailed off. She wasn't entirely satisfied by the answer, feeling it was rather vague, but she figured that there would perhaps be a reason why he answered this way. She didn't want to pry though. She was curious, yes, but she didn't want to ruin the day they just had so far. Couldn't exactly say it was like going at the park or anything like that, far from it, but it had been rather... enjoyable, to spend some time with someone this calm and collected and focus on something else than pushing her inner demons away.

"So I guess we're calling it a day."

Angel concluded the discussion about their life at USARILN, picking up the guns she initially came here with at the beginning.

He shrugged apologetically in response, although to which statement was hard to tell. With a quick glance to double check that everything was ready for the next student that wandered over, Lawrence grabbed his firearms and began walking in the direction of the Institution once more.

"I mean, ultimately whether it's good or bad, you have to work with what you're given. It's hard to say how life will be during your stay here, but it'll be better if you make the best of it. So, make lemonade if you can is the real answer, or start looking up a recipe you can enjoy."

“"Hmmm... I suppose so. Or I could be pessimist and say to suck it up and bite into said lemons. Not that it would do me any good, just being a sour fuck. To each their own I guess, right?"

“"Anyway, thank you for today. It was fun, is what I should say if we were on a date right now, but I can hardly call firearms training a date now, would we? It's been interesting, to say the least. I really appreciate your help."

Lawrence felt a chill creep up his spine at the mention of the word 'date' and couldn't help but glance northwards towards Ground Zero. Not able to make out the Ground Zero Ghost from this distance, but still knowing exactly where she was. A date? No, he wouldn't call it that. He wasn't comfortable facing what such a label would imply.

Still, it had been a good time, so he thrust a final thumb up her way after turning his gaze back to his companion. He refused to let bad days of the past ruin the good ones of the present, at least as far as his mood was concerned. Angel, at least, didn't deserve to be brought down by them.

"Doesn't have to be a date to be fun, eh? I had a good time as well as an interesting one at least, Angélique."

Angel flashed a grin to Lawrence as he saw his thumb up.

The return to Lawrence's room was pretty much uneventful, quite silent. Pretty much everything that needed to be said had pretty much already been told back at the training grounds. After Lawrence stored his firearms back into his room, Angel leaned by the doorframe, just about as ready to leave as a girl can be.

“"Well, thanks again for the training. Really did learn a lot back there. I guess I will be leaving you to your occupations then."

Angélique slipped off nonchalantly from the door frame and gave a fidgety hand wave as departure. She suddenly brought herself to a stop half-way out of the door frame before trailing off.

“"Oh, I doubt you'd really need to this coming from a newbie, but if you need anything, my room's at door 300. "

Ah. There he was again.

The endless sea. The bottomless knowledge. The abyssal archive.

It sought him once more, yet another droplet of ichor distilled for himself. An ambrosia exclusive to him. Like a fruit, that droplet hung from the liquid sky, wanting for his grasp. But he did not receive.

His hands stayed where they were, clenched at his sides. A gift? A blessing? A method to make a better world? The first time around, he had desired it. It was the stimulus, the catalyst, something to accelerate his growth.

But this time?

He looked at that word, that droplet.

What did he do to deserve it?

Brent turned. Turned to walk away.

But it fell regardless of that resolve, staining his silver blood further.

Inciter.

---

Brent held his hand against his head, fighting off the slight dizziness that came with the vision. Another change occurred, another ‘upgrade’ to this power of his. The power that he hardly used. The power that he hardly trained. The power he hardly understood.

His amethyst eyes turned to the pen in his hand, but he refrained from immediately trying it out. There was no point. This was just a distraction. Just a boon given to him when he didn’t even want it. A bitter taste rose up the roof of his mouth, as he spun the pen in his hand. Brent didn’t like this. He didn’t like ‘receiving’, not when this gift was forced, not when it wasn’t deserved.

Hah.

Survival isn’t deserved.

Apparently, ‘power’ isn’t deserved either.

He closed his eyes, leaning back on the chair. He could sense it in his mind’s eye now, the silver ‘blood’ that flowed in his veins, the cerulean glow that it now radiated. The power that was his own, and yet…

Don’t you understand?

What didn’t he understand?

Nothing is yours.

So how could he turn zero to one?

His eyes fell to the requisition forms, still incomplete, still unsubmitted.

Well. That was a start.

---

---

A simulated smile at the door. Eyes watching him, blinking in slow motion. Body as still as a mannequin.

Can't break eye contact. Can't move. Can't breathe quickly.

He hadn't failed, yet.

But his nosebleed was spiteful, and he swiped at the dripping blood. The door crashed against its frame and the house reverberated with the impact. A lock clicked into place--only from the outside.

He woke up in a panic again, the strain of the new, hostile environment dredging up nightmares that sloughed memories off like layers of sludge. Christmas waited until his heart stopped threatening to beat out of his chest before getting up.

Returning to the hospital after Sander had effected something of a rescue had not been his first choice, but when the other option was to remain in the same room as Sander, the hospital and their cold doctors now seemed more appealing--in a complete reversal of his sentiments from before. If there was one thing Christmas feared more than dying, it would be the justified resentment of people who understood him.

A Band-Aid around his right index finger was the only evidence that he had almost given in to the temptation of 'friends' again and Christmas slipped the adhesive bandage off his finger, examining briefly the fine, red line that remained of the wound. Too many ways to run away from himself and he knew the bad end there in shocks of heat and bruises blooming on his skin.

Too easy to tell himself this was okay as long as he could rely on someone.

The hospital hallway was chillier than the room he had been directed to and Christmas looked for someone to point him towards a bathroom. Most of the hospital staff were gone at this time of night and he wandered through the well-lit hallways, avoiding the darkened corridors. Perhaps it was better that he remain in the hospital building. If he reassessed it properly, he could just spend the rest of his days here, relatively safe from the dangers of the outside world until they decided he was no longer useful.

That might be a better fate than dying on the battlefield.

It bothered him that he couldn't definitively pin that onto his mental billboard. Might be. Several guards on patrol threw him suspicious glances, but curfew seemed more relaxed in the hospital building, something Christmas was infinitely grateful for. He wasn't sure if he could avoid using the bathroom until six in the morning.

The humming of hospital machinery and some distant footsteps almost drowned out the raised voices coming from an adjacent hallway. Closer, he could distinguish several voices--loud, with occasional stops where they seemed to be waiting on a quieter response.

For a moment, he almost considered just going somewhere else and not involving himself in that mess, but he really needed to use the bathroom and there wasn't anyone else in sight. Had he remembered the way towards the lobby, he would have gone that way, but the signs pointing towards different wards and stairwells were more confusing than helpful. He'd just ask and quickly run away, he decided.

---

"W-well, if it isn't Mr. Francisco. Late night for you?" the short, balding Dr. Patterson greeted the subnatural staff member's sudden appearance in the bathroom at almost five in the morning. He had just entered a bathroom stall when the sound of movement against the stall door had made him turn around. To the man's credit, he composed himself quickly, refusing to be cowed by the Director's left hand.

Looming over the stall door, four red eyes peered at him from within a crest shaped black mask with four large horns. The two longest and centermost horns partially followed the curve of the man's crown, extending backwards and parallel to his scalp before curling forward at the tips several inches past the back of his head. The lower two horns weakly imitated the same form, flanking the sides of the head. Finger-length spikes jutted out from the temple on either side, along with two smaller spikes spaced out along the masseter. The face of the mask split at fine, rigid edges along the vertical center, cordoning off into three horizontally layered sections in the shape of shallow V's that contoured around the profile of the head. At an angle, the layering of the partitions would give the vertical junction down the center of the mask a sharp protrusion. Further down, the mask tapered sharply past the chin, dipping towards the Adam's apple in a vague hook. The structure of the mask very losely followed the contours of Fredric's cheekbones and brow, with the four faintly glowing red eyes lining up in parallel, vertical pairs, positioned in the pointed, angled recesses forming the illusion of pitch-black sclera below the first and second V's--roughly where the man's eyes and cheeks would be.

"Hey there, Dr. Fatterson!" Fredric's smile behind the mask was practically audible as he drummed his fingers along the top of the door. It remained a wonder how the mysterious mask failed to muffle his voice to any degree as he spoke. "Whatcha doin'?" he asked, cocking his head to the side as he ignored the question.

"I was...it's quite obvious, isn't it?" the doctor blinked away his instinctive trepidation at the sight of the mask, ignoring the slight against his surname. He had seen Fredric's power before. It wasn't dangerous. He kept telling himself that.

"Not that, silly," he responded, with slightly less pep. "What are you doing with our new healer?"

"I...I'm not quite sure what you mean, exactly."

Fredric chuckled. "You wanna try answering that again, Doc?"

"I'm quite sure I don't know what you mean," the man tried again, more firmly this time.

"What? You don't trust me, Dr. P?" He sounded offended. "I thought we were friends."

"Please get to your point, Mr. Francisco. Benediction may be around, but he hasn't deigned to heal anyone other than the Director's select group. We're all still very busy. Unlike you," he couldn't help trying to take the subnatural down a notch, not only because Fredric was literally talking down to him. Over a bathroom stall, no less.

"Not as busy as you would've been without young Mr. Halvost, though. Right?" Fredric ventured with that infernal smile in his voice again.

The doctor didn't respond.

The mask faded away, revealing Fredric's freckled face, beaming down at him triumphantly. "Bingo!" The smile faded next, "Now why don't we start from the top?"

"You have no idea how difficult this is without a healer subnatural. Don't pretend like this isn't beneficial," Dr. Patterson spoke through gritted teeth.

"Don't get so defensive, Doc. I heard dodging questions leads to hair loss. Look, I'll make things really simple for you and your follicles--" the mask appeared on his face again, "I don't see Mr. Halvost back here unless he's got a reason to be and you don't see me coming back and asking questions. Deal?"

"Then you'll be glad to know he came back of his own volition earlier," the man ran a hand nervously through his thinning hair at Fredric's repeated jabs. "Clearly he wants to be here."

Fredric was silent for a moment. Exhaling slowly as the red pinpricks of light on his mask narrowed. "Is that so?" he said slowly. "Well then, Dr. Patterson, I'm sure you wouldn't mind taking a brief walk with me?"

"I have to get back to the patients--"

"Oh, please, Dr. Patterson. You always have time for me. Step out of the stall now, if you wouldn't mind." He stepped away from the door, tapping his foot rhythmically as he waited.

The doctor considered refusing. Considered just saying "No" and seeing what Fredric Francisco would do about it, consequences be damned, but he wasn't keen on Fredric ordering a nearby guard to break the stall door down, and he definitely wasn't keen on the Director herself getting involved because one of her doctors was busy cowering in a bathroom stall. It was an unwritten rule that Rosa Schur and Fredric Francisco had free rein of the place, to a certain extent. But that extent was, without a doubt, much higher than the regular staff members.

Furious, but holding his tongue, the man slid the stall door's lock open and stepped outside.

"Make this quick," he spat.

"Of course, amigo!" Fredric grinned, gesturing for him to leave first.

Dr. Patterson grudgingly ambled out of the bathroom, doing his best to keep discomfort and hatred off his face long enough to get Fredric out of his hair--or lack thereof. To be frank, he hated the smug bastard, and a little niggle in the back of his mind told him Fredric was 100% aware of this, even if the subnatural had never directly asked the question. Why else would one of the Director's advisors choose a bathroom stall at five in the morning to harass him? And he still needed to take his shit.

In his irritation, the good doctor nearly ran into someone just around the corner. Like speaking of the devil itself.

The surprised healer boy in question was standing in front of him, stammering out an apology and looking like he was ready to flee.

Fredric's mask, a good head and half taller than the doctor, popped out from around the corner at the sound of his voice. "Hey! Just the kid I wanted to see!" he chimed energetically as his body followed, lingering just behind the doctor as he rested a hand on the man's shoulder.

Christmas jumped, shouted, and stumbled several steps backwards at the sight of the black, horned mask with vicious, red points of light where eyes and cheeks should have been.

As the cherry on top, he lost his balance and fell onto his ass where another yelp of pain resounded through the otherwise deserted hallway. He had needed to go to the bathroom, but that could wait until night stalkers with four-eyed masks weren't prowling the corridors of the hospital.

"Whoops!" the mask faded away and Fredric's face appeared with a sympathetic grimace, "Sorry about that, kiddo. You're our super duper new healer, aren't you?"

The "super duper new healer" slid a bit further away, nodding fearfully in response. He wasn't sure if the "super duper" part applied to him, but "new healer" was close enough.

Fredric frowned, his eyebrows knitting together in a wounded sort of expression. He crouched down and held out his hand, offering to help the youth up. "You're not scared of my silly mask, are you?" he smiled warmly, just before the mask reappeared. "Name's Fredric. You can call me Freddy. Can I ask you a quick question?"

Christmas nodded again, words still not ready to form on his lips. He took the proferred hand only because he was distinctly afraid of what this particular subnatural could do to him if he didn't. It seemed most of his decisions lately were just ways of avoiding other consequences.

"Why are you here?"

"B-bathroom...?"

Fredric paused for a moment before laughing quietly to himself. "I should really stop asking vague questions around the bathroom, huh?" he chuckled, sliding his hands into the pockets of his trench coat, "Why are you here at the hospital?"

"I--" the doctor in front of Freddy was glaring daggers at him, and Christmas had no idea what he had done wrong, but between the red eyes and the angry doctor, he decided not offending Freddy was more important. "I was...helping?"

"Because you wanted to?"

Christmas stared at the four unblinking red lights. When he finally answered, it was with a duck of his head and a barely perceptible "No."

"Oh, is that right? Then stop wandering around in here and go back to your room. Shoo. And if the doctors give you trouble--" he handed him a plain black business card from his pocket. The name 'Fredric Francisco', followed by a phone number, was printed in white type-writer font. On the back were four red diamonds, aligning in the same pattern as the lights on his mask. "Please don't hesitate to give me a call."

"Oh--I--uh, thank you," he took the card automatically, caught up in the tall man's pacing.

Fredric returned his hand to Dr. Patterson's shoulder, "Now, if you'll excuse us-- the doctor and I are going to finish taking our walk. Have a nice night, Mr. Halvost!"

With a quick gulp, Christmas waited until the pair had turned a corner before pocketing the card. It occurred to him then that Freddy had already known his name.

He shivered in the aftermath of the strange encounter, bathroom urges temporarily forgotten. When the sounds of footsteps and Freddy's smooth (and vaguely sinister) chuckles had faded, he at last ventured into the bathroom, taking care of business there before returning to the hospital room they had set aside for him. He'd return to the suite later, he decided, figuring he could hide out somewhere not-the-suite for a while to sort out his almost instinctive reliance on others.

Even conscious of it, he was too easily caught up in someone else's stride and before he knew it, they were friends, and he'd belatedly realize this wasn't what he'd signed up for--the expectations of connections, and guilt, and confessions, and consequences he never wanted to deal with.

Because the cowardly tendencies overshadowed everything else, people never realized how unbearably selfish he was until it was too late.

---

---

The registrar's office was as classy a building as the rest of campus, but Christmas didn't remain to admire it. He had added several more things to the request form: Lawrence's book Meditations, which he had left in the military truck prior to the battle, and Lawrence's jacket, which had been removed by the hospital staff, presumably, since he hadn't found it despite a general search around the original room he had woken up in. The former he requested sent to his room and the latter to Lawrence, wherever he was.

The rough results of the battle he had gleaned from excited chatter around the campus and the quiet conversations among the hospital staff. It had, apparently, been a total victory, but he could hardly rejoice in that. He couldn't remember most of it. And apparently the Benediction had healed some people in the hospital.

An hour after hearing it, he pieced together why he was completely healed. And then he stopped thinking about it, turning his thoughts elsewhere to dodge the incoming panic that a Precursor had come for the group of students. Too much to think about. Ramifications that extended too far.

It was tempting to return to the suite and tuck himself into bed for another quiet session of aimless daydreaming on his Vita, but he refrained. He had been lucky enough to not encounter anyone on the brief stop to pick up his tests and forms and he wasn't about to try his luck more often than he could help it.

That left the question of what to do for the rest of the day. After the emergency, the terrifying Director had been surprisingly unobtrusive--entirely absent, actually. He thumbed his sleeve in thought, the battery-dead Vita clutched in his other hand. Previous classmates had sketched in giggles and rumors rough renditions of how things worked for subnaturals while he had been one of them, but it had never seemed like anything he cared about. Never would be his problem, right? So he had simply tuned it out and focused instead on the in-class work assigned.

The bulk of everything he didn't want to think about revolved around the crumbling world and the magical humans, so being here, at what was effectively the heart of the chaos, felt like a nightmare he was just having trouble waking from. In the glimmers of moments where his mind wandered too far into its own depths, he distinctly understood his new status as a "subnatural," but the thoughts stopped there, refusing to go any further. He knew--faintly, like something on the periphery of his vision that he wouldn't acknowledge--what was at the back of his mind, even deeper than the fear and panic. Scared of it--his own shadow.

He would have chanced a trip to town for some essentials, but had absolutely no clue how to navigate his new home, map or not. Resigned to just the campus and the locations he had somewhat explored, Christmas whiled away the hours peering into buildings that seemed open to the public, watching other students head into and out of certain rooms with books and bags in hand. Almost a regular school, if you didn't look at the guards patrolling with their weapons at the ready, the cuffs on the students' ankles, and the disturbing lack of students on such a large campus.

Eventually, he parked himself at a corner table in the dining hall, a light plate of food in front of him as he willed himself to pretend like everything was okay if he closed one eye, tilted his head, and maybe turned off the lights. It helped that a nearby table drowned out his churning thoughts with excited chatter about Benediction. Settling into the familiar rhythm of surrounding background noise, he ended up staring out the window for hours, lost in dreams about better different days.

As night fell, Christmas remained in the dining hall for as long as he comfortably could before the dearth of people made him aware of the mostly empty space. His plate had remained largely untouched, and he finished the cold food before wandering out. He considered sneaking into the suite and going straight to bed, but the thought that he might encounter Sander awake made him veer straight for the hospital building instead.

When a nurse asked him what he was there for, Christmas had stammered out a series of noises that failed to form proper excuses. Eventually, he settled on a bumbling request to just sleep in the hospital for a(nother) night, if that was okay. She had asked for his ID and he had produced Freddy's card with his ID behind it. At the sight of the card, the nurse had laughed sheepishly and shown him to an empty room.

In the lingering smell of antiseptics and body odor still clinging to the room despite a freshly prepared bed and polished floor, Christmas reluctantly fell asleep.

---

---

---

---

He couldn’t do this anymore.

He thought he could wait, but he was wrong. Zhang remained stubborn on her ends. Sander just couldn’t wait anymore. He hated this. He hated that he never had the choices. That he always ended up making the wrong ones. That in the end, they were all meaningless.

Mom told him to keep quiet. But he was young and stupid and so weak.

She told him to stay. She knew how to fix him. She would have. But he was hurt and he was afraid. And he doubted.

He should have stopped when they told him to. The dragon was on their side. The corpse was an overkill. If he had controlled himself, the crash wouldn’t have been this bad. He put everyone in danger then. He was still doing that now.

Why was he so damn incompetent?

Sander let out a frustrated growl, slamming his fist against the hard wall of the public bathroom. Sharp pain shot up his arm, but he was grateful, if nothing else. Between pain and the prickling sensation that had been clinging to his skin for days now, he would pick pain any day. It wasn’t hard to see that; along both of his forearms were red, angry scratches. Something he did to remind himself how to feel.

With the steak knife clutched in his grip, he made a cut, just on the back of his left hand. The crimson fluid welled and dripped from the incision. Almost absentmindedly, he lifted the wounded hand to his lips. It looked like blood. Tasted like blood. But it didn’t work like blood. At least, not to him. Or else he wouldn’t even have this problem in the first place.

So he tried another approach. Staring at the patch of red on his hand, he focused, and his body glowed red as he absorbed the blood. Or at least, tried to. It didn’t work. It was like that dragon on the battlefield. He grasped, finding no purchase. Nothing to take.

Of course. He should have known. The Change changed nothing.

The sudden outburst left him even more drained than usual. A sigh escaped his lips as he leaned over the sink, turning on the faucet and sticking his bleeding hand in running water. Pain flared up once again, and he savoured what he could until it subsided. As red-tinted water flowed down the drain, he watched his reflection in the mirror.

Bleeding. Tired. Pale. Hungry.

Bags under his eyes.

Nothing new, but he knew it was getting worse. It wouldn’t be long now. He had to do something. Anything. Or nothing. Maybe Zhang would have them deliver tomorrow. Maybe if he went lie down and didn’t move too much, it would be more bearable. Grabbing a handful of toilet paper and wrapping it around his wound, he stuffed the hand in the pocket of his jeans, half-heartedly hoping it wouldn’t stain. The friction made it ached, but he didn’t really mind.

With a direction in mind, Sander got out of the public bathroom, eyes darting to catch sight of anything moving. At this stage, it was hard to tell whether the flickers at the edge of his vision were actually people or not. There shouldn’t be anyone around. This section of campus seemed largely deserted at this time of the day.

Almost as a reflex, he switched his ability on, sniffing the air gingerly. Cold, at first, so he rolled down the sleeves of his red plaid shirt, as if it would help. He should have brought his coat.

There was cinnamon. Exotic spices as well, but they were all very faint. Nothing to worry about.

Then, a breeze brought him a scent he didn’t even know he was looking for: freshly brewed coffee. His head turned to that direction immediately, the press of the steak knife in his pocket felt more prominent than ever. Somewhere, in his addled mind, the gears began clicking. The boy had offered. He had a way out.

He didn’t have to do this.

Decision made, brisk footsteps took him to where Christmas was.

---

Christmas jumped at the sound of a guard coming up from behind and patrolling past him, the soldier throwing him a quick glance before moving on, apparently unconcerned for now. He had been fitfully avoiding Sander for much of the past two days.

It was too easy for him to fall into that mental trap again, where he followed someone around like a worthless thrall, content to let them take care of everything else for him. Too easy to ruin relationships like that. Too easy to hurt people who didn't deserve it. And far, far too easy to provoke their justified fury.

And he wanted to think he was better than that. That he could be better than that.

The ribbon was his only reminder that he could--had once before. A goal to reach again.

But not now. Now he quickly exited the main cluster of buildings on campus, eyes darting around the empty, well-lit sidewalks. It was late--nearly 2100 if he remembered correctly--and he couldn't be out for long before it was simply too uncomfortable or chilly to avoid returning. But until Sander was calmer, Christmas needed to get away. As much for himself as for Sander. He didn't want his own weakness to take advantage of someone else's.

The plan was to hole up in the library, or perhaps in the arboretum--somewhere with lots of things to hide behind.

At the sound of footsteps approaching, he chalked it up to a guard again, not bothering to turn around.

“Christmas.”- Sander called out, once he was just a few steps away from his unsuspecting roommate, voice quiet, but his eyes were cold. Determined. More focused that he had been in days. Once, he got the blond boy's attention, he raised a hand, beckoning.

"A word. Please."

The calm, quiet call of his name had jumpstarted Christmas's heart rate to jackhammer speed and he had that distinct feeling like he was at a disadvantage here--prey.

Sander's added layer of politeness was less comforting than Christmas had hoped, the undercurrent of insistence stirring even more trepidation into the scatter of thoughts swirling through the blond's mind.

He turned tentatively to his quasi-vampire of a roommate, barely breathing, as if he thought sudden movements would set something loose. It took a long while for him to walk slowly towards Sander, every step like wading through water.

Less than a meter away from his roommate, he stopped, hands gripping the hem of his hooded jacket and eyes downcast.

"Would you like to go for a walk with me? In the arboretum?"

"I-I was...going to go...somewhere?" he finished the statement like a question, having planned nothing in advance.

“It will be just a moment.” -Sander insisted, his voice remained even, though certainly not without effort –“Do me a favour, Christmas. Just this once. Please.”

"...Okay," he agreed, voice so thin it was a borderline miracle if Sander caught the agreement.

He fell into step beside Sander, fear on his trembling hands and legs.

He rubbed at his arms when the tingling terror spread from simply psychological to psychosomatic. It didn't take a genius to figure out something was wrong, but could he refuse? Could he run?

"H-how's--um--your..." he didn't manage to finish the small talk opener, voice trailing off into nothing.

Sander didn’t seem to catch what the blond boy was trying say. Or even if he did, he didn’t show it. His eyes were trained on some faraway point ahead, jaws clenched.

Christmas didn't speak any more after that. He had questions, but he didn't dare ask Sander when the tension in his roommate's shoulders was more visible than his shivering in the cold night air. His hands wedged their way into his pockets, equal parts terrified of Sander and worried that Sander was shivering so badly. It was taking him every ounce of courage he had to not turn and run right now, and that was only possible because he feared the consequences of running even more.

---

---

The shapes of tall trees still were visible in the dim outdoor light, and seeing its sight allowed Sander to breathe easy, even for just a brief moment. He wasn’t sure he could manage the walk around campus to look for it. Fortune was on his side as well, seeing as there was no checkpoint. He forgot his ID anyway, and even an idiot could tell that an armed student out and about at this hour was up to no good. Sander was not too proud of what he was doing, but he didn’t know any other way. It was now or never.

They walked in complete silence for a few minutes, and once he felt they had gone far enough, Sander ducked behind a particularly large tree, leaning against its trunk. As he drew in ragged breaths, he fumbled with the wad of paper in his wounded hand, eventually tossing it into a nearby bush. After that was done, he pulled out the steak knife from the right pocket of his jeans.

“I’m so sorry.”- He then looked up at his roommate, gaze softened. The controlled façade was once again breaking. –“Zhang didn’t…go through with her promise.”

“I’m tired, Christmas.”-He admitted, his voice hoarse. Strained. Breaking –“I can’t do this anymore.”

“Help me out.”

"Sander...?" Christmas, forgetting too easily the tension of the moment when confronted with a plea for help, walked closer, stopping just several paces away from where Sander heaved breath after breath into the stinging cold of the night.

The conversation from two days before rang a bell in his mind and Christmas blanched as he finally put two and two together. But now the situation was reversed--he wasn't offering here. Sander was asking. It was a different dynamic, one he wasn't sure he understood how to manage. And even in all of that, there was that persistent anxiety, looming over his every waking thought. He had been running on nothing but distress and cowardice ever since he had stepped foot onto this new hell, thinking only in immediate moments and short-term effects.

That was the same fuel that had driven him to offer Sander his blood before, desperation for an anchor overwhelming his common sense. But now, with Sander asking--commanding, rather--he was at a loss.

The desperate one, for once, wasn't him. And that wasn't comforting. In fact, seeing his roommate like this in stark contrast to the power Sander had displayed on the battlefield was horrifying. If even the strong faltered, what would be left of someone as weak as him?

He took another step forward, standing directly in front of Sander now.

A sharp intake of breath later and his right hand was gripping the blade of the knife, hard enough to cut deep into his palm and quickly enough that his nerves couldn't stop him in time.

It happened faster than Sander could ever anticipate. As soon as the skin broke, the scent hit him like a sledge hammer to the face, but he held fast. There was always that initial hesitation. Futility, but at least it was still his. He gripped the blond boy’s right wrist, trying to roll the sleeve up as much as he was able.

“…ruin your shirt.”- He muttered, brows furrowed in concentration. Then he pressed the steak knife in Christmas’ good hand, positioning the blade so it would point at his own exposed flesh. As if fearing that the blond boy would drop the knife in his panic, he kept a death grip around Christmas’ hand and pulled until the sharp end pricked his skin, drawing blood.

“Stop me.”-He spoke again, more conviction in his voice than he knew he had, then brought Christmas’ hand to his mouth.

Christmas would have dropped the knife if Sander hadn't held it with him. The shock of cutting into flesh on purpose and the firey pain of Sander biting into a wound again forced a sharp yelp from his throat.

He bit down on his lower lip to stifle the cries of pain and quickly realized that had been a terrible decision when another surge of agony drove his teeth hard into the soft flesh, pricking another source of blood open. The tears coming to his eyes were blurring his vision and he couldn't find the fortitude to even resist, let alone stab Sander.

The nature of his power was unfair. He wanted to help, but he was often too afraid of the pain. Even now, he struggled between sobs and wondering if helping was always going to be this painful.

It burned all the way down. Like a desert pilgrim at an oasis, he greedily swallowed gulps after gulps. The effect was almost immediate; the fire purged weakness from his limbs, freeing him from the shackles of exhaustion. It was liberating. Intoxicating. He felt like he had lived far more in these brief moments than he ever did in his short, miserable life. He could do this forever. He would.

White glow flared to life around both Sander and Christmas, but the former paid it no mind. He didn't care. He wanted to sink deeper, to where the roar of blood drown out everything.

But did he, really?

The faint voice of reason in his mind called out, and he remembered. It would hurt, but he remembered. He had to stop.

With what was left of his strength, Sander pulled the knife toward himself. To be honest, it didn’t hurt at first. Not really. He just felt an odd pressure against numb flesh, then a patch of warmth on his lower torso. It felt like minutes, before the pain finally registered. Then it spread like wildfire.

Sander barely let out a clipped cry before his knees buckled. His back hit the tree trunk with a thud as he let go of Christmas, hands instead going to where the blade met his flesh. It still embedded there, pulling on the wound as he moved, eliciting groans from Sander as he slowly lowered himself to the ground, using the tree trunk as his crutch.

It hurt more than he thought. He knew pain, but not the raw, raging pain undiluted by his blood rage. His vision swam while he drew in sharp breaths, grunting each time his lungs contracted and pulled on his wound. There was frustration in the back of his mind. Anger and violence built, which he directed inward. It was his fault. He was doing this to himself. But somewhere, beyond that, was joy. Victory.

He stopped.

Between grimaces of pain, he smiled. Not one of those tentative smiles he offered Christmas for reassurance. Not one of those sketchy smirks he used when humouring the guards. For once in years, his smile felt genuine. Though it quickly faded when he fell sideway and hit the grass. At least, he did so on his good side. The sudden motion still jolted his injury, flooding his senses in a fresh wave of pain. However, soon afterward, he found the sensation receding, albeit slowly.

Christmas dropped down with Sander when the taller boy collapsed, still clutching the knife mindlessly. He had been expecting a few different things--all doom and despair and pain--but certainly not the clear, honest smile that spread briefly across Sander's face. It was a smile he hadn't seen in years and he found its jarring presence in this dark place...warm. Hopeful. Ridiculously hopeful in the face of everything.

When Sander fell to his side, Christmas leaned forward from his awkward kneel on the ground, struggling to not fall over as well in the sudden pull of movement. He let go of the knife, managing an awkward balance on all fours and hissing in pain as the injured hand that Sander had released took the forward weight of his body.

It took a bit of adjusting to settle back into a seated kneel, and he ducked his head towards his sleeve to wipe away the tears and the blood from the prick on his lip earlier. He continued sniffling a bit longer before finally looking up, catching Sander's eyes, which shone the faintest red in the darkness of the forest.

"Are you..." he looked at the shimmering mist enveloping them both and at the knife slowly sliding out of Sander's injury as the magic gradually knit the severed flesh back together.

Sander had looked happy for a moment. The briefest moment, but he had seen it. Had marveled at it. Had envied it.

"Are you going to be okay?" he quietly asked the knife in Sander's torso, the X on Sander's throat.

Sander had been far too caught up in his current high to notice much else. Maybe that was selfish. Cruel and sadistic, even. But all things considered, it was better for everyone this way. With Christmas’ bleeding arm in grasping distance, all he could do to keep from reaching out was keeping his mind fixed on the searing pain in his torso and the faint glimmer of hope that just blossomed in his stomach. He stopped himself. It was different than that time with Kusari. She hurt him. But this time, he did it himself. Before, they taught him to rage and to destroy. They let him. And when he didn’t want to, they made him. He never learnt how to stop. He had never stopped before.

But he just did. They were wrong.

A small defiance to their legacy. He would take what he could get.

His contentment was short-lived though. As Christmas’ blood worked its magic, the wound on his torso knitted and healed, the mended flesh slowly but surely pushing the knife out. The pain faded to a mild discomfort, and the thirst once again threatened to overtake his mind. Exasperated, he grasped the wooden handle tightly, then promptly yanked the knife out. The blade came out cleanly, though followed by a fresh spurt of blood. Sander muttered something under his breath that sounded oddly like a swear word before slowly crawled back on his feet.

Christmas’s question hadn’t gone unheard, but he didn’t answer it immediately. He didn’t really know the answer to that one. Looking at the blond boy at his feet, fear and guilt bloomed in his chest. Fear, because he would lose control. Guilt, because Christmas had always offered so readily and he had always taken so easily. Somewhere deeper, there was the dark undercurrent of desire as well. Sander’s eyes fell on the cut on the blond boy’s hand. The scent came calling again, but Sander responded by taking off his shirt and leaning down. First aid was one of those skills he never learnt, so he just wrapped the wound haphazardly into a bundle.

“Maybe you should ask yourself that, sometimes.” – He mumbled as he worked, half-hoping the blond boy would miss that. He, of all people, had no right to say such thing.

“Thank you.”- He said, once Christmas’ wound had been bandaged, as he offered the blond boy a hand to help him up.

Christmas carefully stood up with Sander's help, pulling himself up with his uninjured hand and brushing the dirt and leaves from his clothes afterwards.

The ungainly bundle of cloth on his right hand looked...ridiculous. And he snorted out one short laugh that he immediately hid behind a cough and the crook of his elbow, like someone had forgotten to tell him laughing wasn't a cardinal sin.

The healer chewed on his lip a while as he waited for the bout of sudden laughter to pass, thinking on the throbbing pain in his hand instead of Sander's kind gesture--the kind of gesture that he had missed missing. A quick check of the wound on Sander's torso revealed it had mostly healed now, the injury itself nothing serious.

In a tiny voice, and after another small gasp and wince as he reflexively balled his wounded hand without thinking, Christmas finally murmured a small "You're welcome," before adding an equally faint "Thank you, too" at the end.

The 'bandaged' hand was tucked against his stomach now and a quick breeze reminded him that Sander was probably worse off since he was half-naked.

"Um...maybe you should take your shirt back? It's...uh...it's cold," he suggested weakly.

The biting cold nibbled at his exposed skin, barely a distraction now that the flame raged in his system. He merely shook his head at Christmas’ suggestion, eyes already turned away from the blond boy in favour of searching for the lights that would guide them back. He didn’t want to stay out here for longer than necessary, and he most certainly didn’t want to stay out here alone with Christmas. He didn’t actually enjoy the self-mutilation that much. Or at all, for that matter.

“We should go. Have someone look at that hand and all.”- With that said, Sander’s unruffled exterior slid back on easily. As he motioned Christmas to follow, he caught sight of the bloody knife. With some hesitation, he decided to keep the thing. It might come in handy. Probably.

"I'm..." it wasn't a lie, actually; other than being objectively wrong, he personally believed it, "...fine, really. Could we, um, just go back to the room?"

“If you say so.”-Sander frowned, but eased his expression immediately. He was not in the habit of forcing people to do what they didn’t want to. Most of the time. –“I will go grab some bandages then. We need a first aid kit around anyway.”

“You can find your way back once we are out here, right?”

Christmas nodded, eyes reverting to their default behavior of staring at the ground.

---

---

---

---

The walk back to the dorm room had been quick and, thankfully, peaceful despite the general foreboding atmosphere of the place. Christmas was ready to shed his clothes and shower when he opened the door to see his other roommate there, awake despite the late hours.

Standing in the doorway, he looked like a mess with jacket and shorts smeared in dirt and leaves, a split lower lip, and a bleeding right hand bundled awkwardly in a shirt that was clearly too big for him.

"Um..." he glanced at the pale, spindly girl, noting the pizza shirt and flinching at the sight of her monstrous leg, but not touching on the subject when she seemed completely at ease with it. Instead, Christmas curled and uncurled his toes inside his sneakers, waiting for her to turn away or be busy before he scurried to the bathroom.

Kusari blinked at Christmas, her expression showing she was far less than amused. She was woken up for this?
"You don't honestly believe you're going anywhere without telling me what happened to you, do you?" She stood up, her voice was stern yet mixed with a bit of impatience. As one would expect she wasn't someone that could be chipper as soon as they got up. She walked over to him and eyed him down, waiting for an answer.

He stepped back under her scrutiny, looking at some spot to the right of neck instead of at her face. Before long, his eyes drifted back down to the ground.

"Uh..."

Christmas had never been adept at explaining events. He either panicked and blurted it all out at once without shuffling the chronology correctly or he "um"d and "ah"d his way through a century-long stutter of an explanation when he truly needed to organize it. This, sadly enough, wouldn't be either of those things. Either of those things meant he was comfortable enough or panicked enough around the interrogator to speak.

Kusari was more like a terrifying Dreamcatcher cosplayer staring him down, standing on a clawed leg that vaguely resembled a reptile's. Wearing a pizza shirt for added confusion on top of natural fear.

"I...uh, cut myself and..." he had no idea how to explain the last parts and finished in a faint voice "...more things?"

Kusari didn't respond straightaway, she simply crossed her arms and continued glaring at Christmas. "Try again. My roommate, my ally, comes walking in looking like he just got the crap kicked out of him. Tell me everything. Is it some bully? Don't be pathetic and cover for them." She wasn't moving until he told her the truth.

Christmas shook his head, trying to piece together an explanation that didn't sound completely absurd.

Sander drank my blood, but it was okay because I let him.

I followed Sander into the woods and let him drink my blood because he looked really bad.

A lot of things happened, but it's not Sander's fault.

Sander stabbed himself and we fell over so it's okay.

He was having a really hard time not staring at her leg while figuring his thoughts out.

"Um...I--Sander was with me so it was okay," he tried cobbling some of the better explanations together.

Kusari was having a hard time comprehending what she was hearing. "I was an idiot for worrying about you." She said, un crossing her arms as she took a closer look at his wounds. "Sander's already nearly killed you twice, and you decided it would be a good idea to go into the woods alone with him to give him blood?" Kusari placed her right hand on top of Christmas's head, her grip firm enough to let him know it'd only get tighter if he tried to run. She moved her face parallel with his. "Are you retarded? No, honestly I'm seriously asking this. Are you mentally challenged? Do you have a fucking death wish!?" She could feel her voice trying to steadily rise, she was struggling not to outright scream.

After a quick detour to the hospital to get what he needed, Sander promptly made his way back to his dorm, arms loaded with a first aid kid and several extra rolls of bandages. The night shift nurses did give him strange looks, but he expected them, given the fact that he was walking around in a cold September night wearing nothing but a pair of faded jeans and crusty blood stains on his torso. It was already a miracle none of the guards wanted to pull him over for questioning. USARILN East really didn’t care about what its students did in their free time, after all. Not that he was complaining. He didn’t want to stay out in the cold for longer than necessary.

As he neared the door to their dorm, the scent of coffee told him that Christmas was already here. However, he caught something. Fresh seafood. Oh. She was back.

He had been avoiding Kusari these past few days. Or she could have been avoiding him, he wasn’t sure, and didn’t dare to ask. Either way, he couldn’t hide from her now. He might as well go face the music. Grasping the door knob, Sander exhaled, then strolled in, steps almost nonchalant.

He wasn’t wrong, though he wished he were.

Christmas and Kusari was standing in the middle of their shared suite, the former still covered in dried blood and dirt, while the latter loomed over him, one hand atop of the blond boy head.

Sander also noticed the malformed leg. It made him quirk an eyebrow, but he knew better than to bring that up.

Wordlessly, he dropped the bundle he was carrying, letting the noise heralded his arrival. Then he approached his roommates, posture relaxed, but his eyes were intense. Though with fear or rage, it was hard to tell.

“Something’s wrong?”- He stopped, just standing arm-length away from both of them.

Christmas wasn't sure if he was relieved that Sander had shown up when he did or if he was too scared now to notice any increase in fear and anxiety. Right now the tension was palpable and he really didn't want it to be. The mention of nearly being killed twice was also horrifying--when had the second time happened? In some roundabout way, he might have asked, but this was probably not the time for a topic change.

He opened his mouth to say something, but his words were failing him in the onslaught of fury directed his way. The firm grip on his head was definitely not intended to alleviate any of that. After a few strange squeaks and half-sounds, he finally stammered out a (somewhat) comprehensible response.

"I wanted to--" he looked around the room, trying to gather his thoughts into a complete sentence, "I was helping...? Sander looked...really bad," he grabbed the bloody shirt wrapped around his right hand as he finished with a whimpering "...It was really bad. And he didn't kill me, so...y-yeah."

Kusari glared at Sander as he walked in, he was acting too nonchalant, as if he'd done nothing wrong. Before she could get to him, Christmas finally managed to speak some form of English. She released the grip on his head, and facepalmed. "So because you didn't die, that makes it okay? I see." She let out a mocking chuckle. "You're not stupid, you're just a coward, aren't you? Or what, you think hurting yourself is fine as long as it 'helps?'" She turned her crimson eyes to Sander. "And you, stop trying to hide behind your stigma. I bet you look at Christmas and see someone you can easily take advantage of, don't you?"

"W-wait, that's..." the wrong way around "...wrong," he finished quietly.

"Because you offered it to him? Tell me, did you really feel as though you had a choice?" She tugged on his bloodied shirt before snapping it back. "You can't keep doing this, you are going to get yourself killed."

Christmas glanced down at the carpeted floor when Kusari brought up the obvious consequences of his actions.

Sander remained silent for the longest time in the face of Kusari’s accusation. Eventually, he spoke, his expression unnaturally blank.

“I didn’t force him to do anything he didn’t want to.”

Lies.

“Christmas had a choice.”

But he didn’t.

The blond boy looked up at Sander's affirmation of "choice." He wasn't sure if it was true in the clearest sense, but Sander wasn't wrong. Before he had realized it, his hand had already wrapped itself around the knife's edge. No. Sander wasn't wrong.

"Y-yeah," he mumbled into the space between his roommates, afraid to look directly at either of them, afraid to direct the agreement towards just one of their statements.

Kusari let out a tired breath. "You two are toxic for each other, and I'm not going to keep trying to deal with it. What the hell were they thinking putting the both of you in the same room any-..." She stopped, and looked off to the side in contemplation. "She wouldn't... Would she?" The director had already put them in a dangerous combat situation knowing some of them could die, on top of that it turned out to be completely unnecessary in the end. She looked back to her two roommates. "Regardless, both of you share some of the responsibility here."

Sander’s gaze remained steady, but he was no longer looking at Kusari; blue eyes focusing on some point behind her. One way of avoiding eye contact.

“I had to do it.”

No he didn’t.

“I appreciate your concern, Kusari.”- Sander let out a quiet sigh, eyes almost apologetic for a brief moment –“But I don’t see how any of this is your business.”

There were definitely better ways to get out of this. He just couldn’t think of anything.

Normally, Christmas would have been content to let things end here. Normally, he would have just let the air stagnate with assumptions that he had no business trying to clarify. But normal had been flipped onto its head when he had woken up a subnatural and the word meant practically nothing now.

What else was he good for, if not this?

He stared at the dirt on Sander's shoes, shivering just enough from the dull ache in his hand and the tension of the conversation. The flecks of dark brown were somehow more prominent than the vivid red of Kusari's talons in that moment.

"I'd offer again," he said to the floor, voice hushed.

"You won't have to."- The words couldn't come out of Sander's mouth fast enough.

More lies.

"...I never had to."

Sander's jaws clenched shut at that.

"Fuck it." Kusari shrugged her shoulders and laid back in her bed. "My roommates are coming home cut up and covered in shit and it's none of my business." She was speaking more to herself at this point, laughing at the absurdity. "Well I met someone nice today, was in a good mood, not gonna let this get to me nope no siree fucking bob." She turned and faced the wall, covering her head with her covers.

"Goodnight, assholes."

"Oh...g-goodnight," Christmas automatically responded before he blinked and realized it probably hadn't been a cordial end. After several more seconds of awkward standing, he peeked at Sander's face. "I'll, uh, use the bathroom first--if that's okay?"

"Oh NOW he wants to take initiative!" Kusari chimed in one last time, mumbling to herself as she dozed off.

Sander grimaced at Kusari’s turned back, but there was nothing he could do about it now. Having roommates were not easy. Christmas’ question called for his attention though, so he turned to the blond boy.

“Uh, sure.”- He walked over to the medical supplies and grabbed the first aid kit, then came back to offer it to Christmas –“You should bandage it up.”

“I would help, but I don’t know how. And it’s hard to…focus.”

Christmas didn't know how, either, but he took the gauze and tape from the box gratefully. With a murmur of "Thank you," he retreated to the bathroom.

When he emerged about half an hour later, his right hand was clumsily wrapped in medical tape and bandages while Sander's soaking wet shirt hung from the towel rack inside the bathroom, scrubbed as clean as it would get with just soap and water. Sander himself was sitting at his desk, staring at an uneven patch of plaster on the wall. He was running his fingers along the blade of the steak knife, surprisingly clean after all that took place.

"Sander?" Christmas whispered, careful to avoid waking Kusari. "Your--um--your shirt is inside," he leaned his head lightly at the bathroom door, "...but, um, I couldn't really get the stains out. I'm sorry."

“Don’t worry.”- Sander said, vacant eyes didn’t even spare the blond boy a glance. –“Good night.”

Returning the formality, Christmas crawled into bed, falling asleep far more easily than he expected.

---

---

---

---

At around 2300 on a Sunday evening, the third floor of the dining hall was almost completely empty, save for a single occupant sitting on the leftmost bar stool in the back, quietly sipping a Last Word with mezcal while the refined bartender discussed something with her in hushed tones.

Director Zhang had finished her work earlier than expected when Kleinfelder had finalized the transcripts for the arriving USARILN West students. Far less than she had hoped for, and while she knew the man had done it on purpose to spite her--had expected it, even--the sixty or so students he had sent were not only generally useless, but also completely spoiled by the lack of regime at USARILN West. She would not only have to deal with managing them in combat, but also managing their on-site behavior.

Problems after problems, but for now those were for another day. Right now, she needed her moment of quiet consolidation before she threw herself back into the logistics of keeping USARILN East on the map. If the surprise attack by Bogeyman had been any indication, the school was now a target for the powerful subnatural. Why? She had a few guesses. None of them pleasant. Worst came to worst, there was always the kill switch. A nuclear warhead fired at the school to prevent any uprisings in the case of the Director's death, or in the case of the Director's consent. Emergency color: black. Hell on earth.

She had stopped sipping her drink at the thought, eyes staring blindly at the bottles of liquor on the shelf. Her position as Director afforded her little rest and relaxation. Shunting the bulk of crucial work off to Greten, Kardos, Schur, and Francisco had alleviated some of the management issues, but had only left her with more background paperwork that went into the red tape around Benediction, and the chaos of announcing Menagerie as the culprit for the attack. As expected, the Department of Defense had neither confirmed nor denied the accusation that Menagerie was the attacker, despite Zhang's false insistence that she had seen him with her own eyes.

How they would toe that fine line, she'd have to wait and see, but no matter what, she would move forward with her plans. She had simply needed this one small spark. If she wasn't out to kill the damn subnatural, she might have thanked Bogeyman for finally giving her the opportunity to sow the seeds of chaos.

---

Sander hated seeing red in the mirror.

He turned up the heat, letting the steam blur out everything. The hot water was brutal against his pale skin, but he didn’t mind. If anything, the heat was a poor substitution to the one he was losing. However, the oncoming crash was barely a fraction of what he felt days ago. It was just how his power worked; the stronger the high, the steeper the crash. He needed small doses the following days to cushion his fall, or the withdrawal would horrible. It wouldn’t kill him, but most of the times, he wished it would. Regardless, the crisis was averted, for now. Thanks to Christmas and his unusual generosity. Without the withdrawal clouding his mind, Sander finally had a chance to question his roommate’s behaviours. Times and times again, the blond boy extended a helping hand, even when he didn’t have to. Even when it was dangerous. Even when Sander didn’t want him to. For what?

The more he thought about it, the more puzzled the whole situation became. So Sander stopped. He didn’t want to think anymore. He would ask, later, when the time was right. For now, he just wanted to rest.

However, rest did not come. After a few minutes of relentless turning in his bed, Sander finally gave up. He crawled out of bed and promptly dressed in silent, putting on a simple black top and jeans, before throwing on the blue hoodie. It was the same one with the blood stain on the sleeve, which he hadn’t had time to scrub out yet. The faint scent of coffee nudged at his sense every time he turned his head, though, so he ended up leaving without it. It didn’t matter. A new coat would arrive later this week. He could throw this one out.

The cold night air finally let go of him once he stepped into the dining hall. The rush of savoury scents rushed to meet him, though he had to double check whether it was from real food or…not. Thankfully, it was. He figured a late night snack could lure him to sleep, or if that failed, he could head to the bar. Passing out in a public space might not be such a good look, but he needed sleep.

It was then he caught sight of a familiar figure sitting by the bar. No guards about, which was rather strange. But it was convenient, all the same. He had questions.

Moments later, he was already standing right behind the woman. Walking up to the bar, he placed one hand on the stool next to her and patted lightly, getting her attention.

“May I?”

The Director sighed and turned to see yet another student accosting her during her small moments of rest. She took several seconds to flick through the mental catalogue of names and faces, glad that she had already committed the latest batch of newcomers to memory. Rosa, after all, had insisted on it once she had seen the difference of currents in the sky--or something of that nature. Rosa was generally terrible at describing the abstract and her long-winded attempt to explain her sight had ended in a childish sketch on the back of a report sheet that Zhang would have to reprint later.

But it wouldn't do to let the mountain of work overwhelm her now. There would be plenty of time to sigh her soul away and rub her forehead later.

"Mr. Lorraine," she raised an eyebrow and turned back to her drink, the acknowledgment both greeting and permission.

As she spoke, her right hand reached into the side holster strapped to the dress shirt beneath her blouse, withdrawing the semi-automatic with the stag horns on it. She placed it neatly next to her drink, draping her hand lightly over the grip, the message clear.

She knew.

Sander took his seat wordlessly, settling down first before eyeing the racks of bottles behind the bartender. His knowledge of alcohol was hardly extensive, but he knew enough. It would be a few years before he could be drinking legally. Though he wasn’t sure how that law applied to subnaturals. After all, he got away with murder. A few drinks would just be droplets in the ocean.

“You could just taze me.”- He suggested, watching passively as the Director withdrew her weapon. Out of pure curiosity, he sniffed the air experimentally, switching his ability back on. Citrus, with a sharp undertone of mescal. Fitting. –“Wouldn’t ruin your clothes that way.”

A moment of silence as he paused, turning back to look at the various bottles on the shelf –“Any suggestion? Something strong. I need to sleep.”

"Precautions, Mr. Lorraine. You of all people should know the value of safeguards," she answered before beckoning Steven towards them. "Spirytus for him, Steven. He can take it."

The bartender didn't hesitate, pulling a clear bottle from one of the shelves. The bottle had a green label pasted on the glass, spelling out the words "Spirytus Rektyfikowany." The man poured half a shot glass's worth and placed it in front of Sander.

Sander half-smiled as the shot glass was placed in front of him. Of course he knew what it was. He had seen the same bottle sitting on a shelf in his family kitchen years ago. Wrapping pale fingers around the glass, he let the coolness seeped into his skin as he mumbled a ‘Thank you’ to the bartender. He knew better than to drink though.

The silence once again stretched between them. Sander’s eyes were calculated as he swirled the clear liquid around in his glass. He figured there was no dancing around the subject with Zhang. He didn’t have much time, and she certainly had even less.

“Well, did you see?”- Surely, she must know. There were eyes everywhere; he doubted the arboretum would be an exception.

"I was curious if you would drink it," she glanced at the glass in his hand, "and use Mr. Halvost again to repair the damage."

“I would rather not, if you don’t mind.”- He frowned, eyes didn’t leave the glass –“But then I assume you know of our…”

He fiddled with the glass, searching for a word.

“Escapade.”

"Commander Kardos sent word, yes."

“You read the reports. You know of my withdrawal. Why let it come to that?”-He turned to her then, blue eyes narrowed.

"Your previous research institutes were not looking for combatants--just weapons. That does not continue here," she took another sip of her cocktail, breathing out slowly in the aftermath. "You would be that much more useful if you knew self-control."

“I am in control. As long as you don’t let it get so bad.”- Sander balked, confused by the Director’s strange reasoning –“I don’t see how holding off on the supplements help with my self-control.”

“If anything, that only serves to endanger other students.”

"I recall assigning a near-immortal to your suite. And a healer to quicken the regeneration process," she tapped a neatly trimmed nail against the gun's grip. "I don't need the frail, pathetic Sander Lorraine in control. I need the monster reined in. Every report noted failure after failure in asserting outside control. So the matter rests with you: either accept what you can be or die as you are. But I don't cater to the weak here. Not for long, at least."

“You want the monster? Just give me a few pints of blood and it would come out soon enough.”- Sander’s grip around the glass tightened –“But it is not something I can control. I don't understand where you get that notion from. Didn’t the reports tell you as much?”

“I almost killed Christmas today. Don’t give me the chance to try again.”

"You overestimate the reports of researchers who were so focused on your upper limits and imposing their own sanctions that they completely failed to test your effective control. You don't think you can control it? Or perhaps you want to think you can't control it? 'Blame the monster, not me'? But, speaking of 'almost' killing others, can you really tell me you failed to change?" a tight-lipped smile twitched on her lips. "I gamble with high stakes, Mr. Lorraine. You and Mr. Halvost are one of many chips on the table."

“That was luck.”- Sander said quickly, but the crack in his voice betrayed his doubt. He stopped. For the first time in years, he made progress. The prospect of control felt almost real, then. Of course he wanted control. But he didn’t dare to hope. –“I’m not sure I can do it again.”

"Try or don't. Not even Foresight's sure of the future. I would have been surprised if you were."

“Fine. I’ll humour you. I’ll try, as futile as it is.”- Sander sighed –“But don’t involve other people. I have enough blood on my hands already.”

“Give me my own room.”

"Ah, yes, because trying in isolation has worked so well for you before," the Director finished her drink, placing the empty glass back onto the counter. "If you think that's trying, then submit the request at the registrar's office. I'll see to it when I return to my desk."

She stood up as she spoke, fixing her blouse and skirt. Without any further remark, the Director holstered her gun and walked away.

As the Director left, Sander turned back to his own thoughts, racking a careful hand through his hair. She gave him a choice. That scared and excited him at the same time. But then, he had choices before. Did any of them matter? He always ended up making the wrong one.

“A mudslide, please. Heavy on the vodka.”- He slid the untouched shot glass toward the bartender. For now, he wanted rest. He would think on everything tomorrow.

The bartender had his drink ready within the minute, whisking away the untouched shot glass with expert grace. He didn't seem fazed by the conversation. Or at all, really, which was probably natural when someone like the Director was a regular customer.

To his credit, the man never bothered Sander, leaving the boy to mull over his thoughts in relative solitude.

Twenty-eight... Twenty-nine... Thirty!

Zoe had been battling through circuit training for the past half-hour, breathing heavily as she went through her workout. The place was basically empty beyond a few people doing their own thing - apparently morning workouts weren't that popular around here. She could understand why, honestly. It really felt too early for this shit, but she'd spent all day yesterday being lazy so she had to make up for it somehow. After having breakfast and handing in her requisition form earlier, she'd headed straight down to the gym.

Well, yesterday's laziness wasn't really why she was there. The real reason she was doing this was to work on her endurance when using her powers - while it hadn't seemed too bad in the battle, they did tire her out like any other subnatural. Not knowing how long future battles could last, it made sense to ensure she could keep it up when she was exerting herself - and the black tattoo-like lines criss-crossing her body were evidence of that. It hadn't been too bad at the start, but now her workout felt a lot harder than normal.

She'd at least gotten into the right frame of mind by now. Wasn't paying much attention to what was going on around her, but that was good. It meant she was focusing on the exercises, on pushing herself - that there was nothing to distract her from improving, except her own struggle to keep up the pace. Determination etched on her face, she moved into her next set of shoulder presses - the last one for her to get through before she planned on taking a break.

Moments later, the sound of shattering glass and a crash rang out from the deadlift area. A quick glance would reveal that one of the mirror panels had been shattered and amidst the shards of glass littering the floor there laid a weight bar, packed on either side with 45lb plates. It seemed someone had managed to strap four extra plates onto either side using several colorful resistance bands to do so. The weight bar had snapped in half, each side leaving a sizable little crater in the tile where they'd fallen. A staff member raced over to assess the scene, but otherwise there wasn't a person in sight.

Across from Zoe, a girl appeared at the bicep curl machine, hoodie up, head down and pulling the bar back a little too quickly-- especially considering that the weight pin was in the bottom-most slot. Callan's train of thought was nothing but a stream of curses as she tried to hide her face and look inconspicuous.

How could he become faster? Up his reaction speed? Get an instinctual feel that allowed him to dodge imperceivable dangers? Brent honestly had no idea, and Google wasn't being the most cooperative thing with him thus far, so for the time being, all he did was lift. One-two one-two, his arms went up and down at a rapid pace as they gripped onto the dumbbells. For such a well-stocked gym that was ALSO free, it was sorta weird that so few students were there. Maybe being magical, they thought that they no longer had to work on the physical? That made sense, probably, but on the other hand...

Brent stopped, breathing deeply as he placed the weights down.

...his own power definitely required him to be in perfect shape if he was going to get anything done at all. As he moved onto the next set, however, a painful crash resounded throughout the gym. Apparently, someone watched Unbreakable. He looked at the crater, looked around at the others in the gym, and then smiled. This was a surprising encounter. After all, why on earth would someone who automatically attained superhuman fitness even bother with normal forms of training?

"Heyo, Callan," he said, starting up on the rowing machine, "How's it going?"

Looked like she was trying to hide and pretend it wasn't her. Tsk tsk, what an amateur deceiver.

Zoe had noticed the noise of course - that kind of crash was basically impossible for anyone with working ears to ignore - but she hadn't quite made the connection to the girl taking her place at the nearby machine yet. Eyes darting over towards the source of the noise, a look of surprise crossed her face as she took in the amount of weight. Apparently someone was a little too strong for the equipment, from the looks of things. Man, that had to be some kind of power, right? Otherwise it really put her workout into perspective.

Still, she continued with her set as she saw the girl pull the bar back. Pull it back a lot faster than she should have been doing, as well, and Zoe couldn't help but glance at the weight, at which point her eyes narrowed. It didn't take a genius to figure out who'd been the source of the noise earlier, especially with how the girl was trying not to draw any attention. And subsequently just making herself draw in way more attention than she otherwise would have.

As she finished up, she heard someone trying to start a conversation. She was going to say something, but-

---

Here again. The ocean. She was standing on the surface again, the same as she had been before.

She reached down, and a little more of it reached back, power flowing into her system. Just as vast, just as unknowable, just as powerful.

Just as tainted.

---

Shock showing through in her face, she was thankful she'd kept a hold of the weights, placing them quickly down on the floor next to her and walking closer to the nearby pair, figuring she might as well look for some conversation while she took a break, although she was a little too disoriented from the sudden vision to really say anything right away.

Callan froze mid-rep. Not only was that voice totally blowing her cover, but she recognized it from yesterday-- associated with not the best of memories.

"Yo, need this?"

She turned slowly to face him, just enough for him to see that she was pursing her lips at him with one eyebrow raised. Her first impression of the boy, despite a chiseled physique and intense amethyst eyes that mirrored her own, left her mind churning over a single word.

Weird.

He must've overheard her name some time yesterday after her punch episode. She was equal parts embarrassed and curious. What kind of guy picks up someone's displaces vertebrae and tries to return it to them like that? More intrigued than angry, she responded.

"Hey...," Callan replied with her greeting of choice, sparing a glance over at the staff worker that was calling for another employee to bring a broom, glancing over the room with narrowed eyes as he did so. "What's up?"

"Not much. Just handed my forms, encountered an emo, sick headbutter, and now I'm gyming," Brent replied, not pausing from his own reps, "Seems like I say this a lot, but huh, didn't think you were the type to pump iron and all."

There was apprehension in her expression, to be sure, but he either didn't notice or didn't care.

Cal narrowed her eyes vaguely. Was that supposed to be a slight? She decided in his favor, shrugging off the remark.

"I dabble," she joked, "Brent, right?

Having regained her composure a little, Zoe had watched the two with vague interest. Normally, she'd head back and do some more of her workout, but she was exhausted from the extra effort of her powers. Still, there seemed to be some kind of awkwardness going on there, so after a moment's thought she strolled over.

"You guys alright there?" She asked, looking from one to the other with a confident expression. Now that she thought about it, actually, she kind of recognised one of them. After puzzling over their faces for a second, she nodded to herself. Yeah, they'd been part of the group that had been fighting the other day - or at least, the girl had. She couldn't remember seeing the guy in any of the groups they'd started with, and she been a little busy with her own group after things ended.

"Hope I'm not interrupting anything, but you were in the battle the other day, right? How was it?" Zoe spoke quietly and calmly but it was clear that she wasn't particularly intimidated by either of them - although she admittedly had no idea what their powers were. Of course she also wasn't exactly being sensitive about the subject, but dancing around problems wasn't really her thing. She looked at Brent with an unapologetic shrug. "You, I don't remember seeing. Sorry."

Before 'Brent' could answer, a tall red haired girl approached them. Man, she was drawing a lot of attention. She lowered the bar carefully and assumed a more relaxed posture at the machine. Maybe this could work in her favor. Just keep pretending like she'd been here chatting the whole time.

Her expression reflected surprise, which then turned somber as the question was raised. Yes, she recognized her now-- she'd been on the team with that other red haired girl. The one who died. "Not great," she shrugged, averting her eyes.

A new challenger? Turning to face the red-haired tomboy, Brent's eyes flickered up and down her body with approval. A fellow lifter, wasn't she? Nice. "Yeah, you probably wouldn't. I came at the end, on a crystal bird. Got shot the night before, so I couldn't really do anything until they patched me up."

"Thank god for Benedick, really," he muttered, rolling his perfectly fine shoulder now.

Zoe looked at him with a shrug. Obviously getting shot would suck, but he'd avoided having to confront any of those creatures out on the battlefield. If he'd turned up with the crystal-maker, then he really wouldn't have had to go anywhere near the things. "Lucky for some, I guess. Trust me, you didn't want to get there sooner."

Turning her attention back to the girl, Zoe came to the realisation that her question had been a little direct. But she'd kind of already said it, so there was nothing else to do than just carry on. With a slightly forced smile, she spoke. "It was the same for our team. I don't know if you'd have heard me after the fight or not, but..." She laughed dryly, folding her arms. "Well, let's just say there were a few issues to be brought up."

As she finished speaking, her expression seemed oddly conflicted. On the one hand, neither the battle itself or the aftermath were particularly happy memories, but on the other... Well, there was her Stigma to consider. Despite herself, that kind of outright violence always came with a bit of a thrill, even in memory.

Brent was quickly falling out of Callan's favor. The unabashed looks he'd given Zoe as she'd approached hadn't gone unnoticed and the quip about Benediction didn't sit well with her. She was beginning to think his comment earlier might've been a slight after all... either that or he was really good at putting his foot in his mouth-- which might've explained the spine thing at the track. Attractive or no, she wasn't amused.

Callan wasn't left to stew over it for long before the red head addressed her again. As excited as she'd been for that fight, she wasn't too eager to talk about it. In her book it was a failure, and she tended not to dwell on those for very long. She thought of her outburst at Grant after the fight and considered saying she could sympathize, but she'd only be trying to impress them. She didn't blame Grant and wasn't about to lie about it.

She smiled warmly, trying to lighten the mood, "Not as many issues as I'm having with this useless weight room. I'm Callan, by the way." She lowered her voice just enough to be sure the staff in the corner couldn't hear her.

"Mm, yeah, definitely wouldn't have a good time if I came earlier," Brent replied, "Don't have nearly enough combat skills to take advantage of my power yet."

As Callan spoke up once more then, Brent really couldn't help but ask. "So, really, I'm curious. Did you watch Unbreakable or something? Honestly thought you'd be benchpressing road rollers."

Did she not have an accurate idea of the limits of her own apparently passive power?

Zoe smiled back, nodding in acknowledgement of the other girl. "I'm Zoe. Nice to meet you both, I guess." Pausing and listening as Brent spoke, she glanced over at the mess in the deadlift area. From the sounds of it this girl had some kind of super strength, so that solved at least one mystery. No wonder she'd been pulling the bar back so quickly. It definitely seemed like Callan was still figuring her powers out from what little Zoe had seen.

Still, Zoe wasn't sure how she felt about the guy's comments. "To be fair, it's pretty difficult to practice with a lot of these powers. I don't know how much I can do," Especially at that particular moment, she reflected, considering the vision she'd had just moments earlier. She shrugged as she continued, "But unless I want to go out and murder the local wildlife, I'm not gonna figure that out. Besides, I don't think most people would appreciate having a-" She glanced at the nearby staff before continuing with a note of resentment. "A subnatural messing with their vehicles."

Callan scoffed, wiggling the handle of the bicep press back and forth using only her thumb and index finger with ease to accentuate her point.. "Good movie, but yeah-- point me towards something heavy enough to lift without causing mass panic and I'm all for it. I came here to see if I could get some sort of measurement, but... well, I guess you saw the result." Feeling it was safe, she lowered her hood and looked over at the wreckage. They'd already cleaned most of the glass up and now they were busy taping off the area. "If I could pick up all the weights in this room, I'd sure try. I don't really know what else to do, to be honest."

Oh, so both of them had troublesome powers in their own way, huh? Callan didn't have any idea how she was actually going to test out her power, while Zoe was an x-marked, the same as Angelic and Savannah. Destructive powers then. Scratching the back of his head, he said, "Well, there WAS that violent release form. Dunno how it actually is, but that sounds like a fairly good place to test out your powers."

Hm...now she got him thinking.

"If you used all your strength, how high up do you think you can jump, Callan? Maybe we can calculate something from that? It'd be based more off a 'burst of strength' instead of continuous strength though..."

"I've thought about that" Callan responded, "And unless I've got a safe way to get down, I'm not too keen on the idea."

"And here I thought you all had it easy with this." Zoe smiled slightly, before pausing and responding to the guy's suggestion. "I'd go to the violent release zone myself, but if it's just targets and shit then I can't really do anything to them either. Unless they're alive, which is an idea I'd rather not think about." Her smile faded slightly. Honestly, despite the implications she sort of had to hope there was something there she could work with, or she was screwed when her Stigma got out of control.

After a second, she turned to Brent with a questioning look. "While we're talking about this, what do you do? Only seems fair to ask while we're having this discussion."

"Hm...so you can't safely take the impact of your own fall," Brent said, stroking his chin, "Guess another option would be to have you throw something and see how far it lands...but that'd be a whole other set of problems. Shame there isn't any sort of diamond-hard device that'd measure your strength then."

A smile then surfaced. "Unless they start giving you permission to rearrange buildings as you wish."

Before he could delve into that particularly amusing idea, though, the red-haired girl spoke up, questioning what his own power was. "Mmm, I basically just buff objects. Can't really do much else, so I have it better off in terms of being able to use my own power without much issue, but, well...it's not nearly as impressive as you twos' abilities, I wager. I'm just Batman without the money and the gravelly voice."

"Yeah, well, there's consequences to being flashy, I guess. As you can tell." Zoe sighed. Now that she thought about it, she hadn't actually said what her powers were. 'Yeah, I rot people alive' tended to be a bit of a conversation killer anyway. Apparently it was unnerving to think about. Still, Brent's powers gave her an idea. Seemed like there might be a solution to at least one of their problems.

"You could always try buffing one of those bars. See if it can hold enough weight for Callan to maybe test her limits." She looked between the two of them. "I figure it might work. If the bar snaps again, just tell those guys," She gestured at the staff members, [/color=palevioletred]"That it was my idea. I'm an X anyway, they'll just figure I'm having a bad day and deciding to make their lives difficult."[/color]

She grinned wickedly. How much trouble could she even get in for it anyway? She was encouraging her peers to improve. Being a pain in the ass was just a bonus. "I won't tell if you don't."

A parachute might work. Or she could try jumping into a helicopter... oh, but if she messed up she might crash it. What about jumping over the ocean? She was revisiting the idea of seeing how high she could jump when hearing about Brent's ability interrupted her train of thought. He could buff objects? Any object? Unfortunately, her first thought was far from practical, wondering if he could make bad movies better or buff her iPad enough so it would never need to recharge. Could he make couches more comfortable? Similarly useless thoughts followed until Zoe made her suggestion.

She turned to Brent, still thinking of all the awesome possibilities. "Could you do that?" she asked eagerly.

"Hilarious thing is that if you asked me like...two days ago, it'd probably be a 'no', but..."

His mind went back to the blessings he received, to the powers that he didn't deserve at all. It's fine if he uses them to help someone else, right? If he was going to get it for free...might as well share it, right? And, if nothing else, the function of a bar would be...to hold more weights? His hands weren't that big. He needed a more convenient function. If he could select then it would be...

"Alright, let's try it! I'm Brent Roless and I'm about to use my powers for the sake of experimentation and examination. Is that ok?"

A beep from his cuff was all he needed to get off the rowing machine and head towards the bench press once more. Slapping on all the weights possible (without trying to attach more with sketchy resistance bands and all that), Brent shook his hands a bunch before wrapping them around that bar.

Silver veins ran from his arms into the weight bar and attached weights, before they glowed with an ethereal light. Before his eyes, the metal that he held dissolved, material reforming into something else entirely. Two bars made of a white, synthetic material stood adjacent to the now 'outdated' bench. The weight bar, now a gunmetal gray, was slotted inbetween those two bars, as an LED display blinked a green '0 lbs'.

It took him but a moment to figure out how exactly this thing worked.

"Shit," he laughed, "I guess this is...an electromagnetic weight bar? Uh...try it out? It probably goes off voice command when it comes to setting the weight?"

N0 NAME was once against emblazoned on the center of the weight bar as it stood, waiting for use.

Raising an eyebrow, Zoe looked at the contraption. It definitely looked pretty, uh, futuristic? Although it wasn't something she personally needed, what with her average human strength and all. After a moment of trying to figure it out, she just looked at Callan. "Uh, go ahead I guess. I think I'll stick to my usual weights." It wasn't that she didn't trust the thing to hold up or anything, but Zoe usually preferred to stick with what she knew.

Mind you, she was definitely curious to see how this went, so she stood by, waiting to see how this ended up. As much as anything else, it'd be interesting to see just how far the other girl's powers could go. Might be handy if they ever had to work together.

"That's amazing!" Callan picked up the bar, turning it over in her hands, "I wonder what the max is...."

She adjusted her stance and held the bar with both hands in front of her, getting ready to feel the weight increase. "1000 lbs?" she said tentatively. The number reflected her command and she waited. She could feel that it was getting heavier-- if only because of the slight pressure against the inside of her hands. Maybe it was gradually increasing? She waited some more.

As cool as it was to potentially learn that lifting a thousand pounds was as easy as lifting one, she looked disappointed. "I can't tell if it's working or not," she admitted.

The number just went up and up and up and...oh dear.

"It...should be working?" Brent tilted his head to the side, careful about keeping his hands still on the machine. "But I guess there's always going to be a limit to what a machine designed for human use could do. In this case, why not see how many reps you can do consecutively? Looks like 1000lbs is it's limit and all, so yeah...can't really do anything more with that."

A weight bar was still just a weight bar in the end. Though it could act as an enabler for weights, it was a tool designed for human use, not for subnatural usage. Maybe it was just a matter of perception, and maybe he could go on to improve the power of the electromagnets, but on the other hand...

"Have you ever had any problems with lifting things? Maybe your strength is just essentially infinite?"

Callan frowned at the suggestion of doing reps. She had a feeling something like that was going to take a long time-- more time than she cared to contribute, as helpful as Brent was.

"I wouldn't really know. I've only tried lifting so many things in the last week," she shrugged. Maybe she'd have to use Kusari's suggestion after all. If she requested massive concrete blocks or something, would they indulge her? She'd hoped the weight room would have everything she needed, reluctant to try and figure out what channels she'd have to go through for such a request.

"I don't think you have to figure everything out right away. After all, it's not like any of us get to leave anytime soon." Zoe nodded toward the staff. No matter whether they called this place a school or not, it was basically a prison. "As long as you're smart about it whenever they send us out there again, I wouldn't worry. That's what I've been doing, and it seems to be working alright - Just so long as everyone can keep up, that is." She smirked at the last part, a hint of her slightly more insufferable qualities coming through.

"In all seriousness, so long as you're tough enough to watch people's backs, I wouldn't spend too much time thinking about exactly how much you can lift." She trailed off, glancing at her hand and contemplating it as she briefly switched on her powers. It seemed almost like she was talking to herself as much as either Brent or Callan. "Doing whatever you have to to protect people. That's what's important."

"Yeah," Brent smiled, releasing his hands. "That sounds about right. Not for your own sake but for others, huh?"

The weight bar turned back to normal, dissolving and reforming once more, as he got back to his own machine.

"That's a better reason than what I had, at least."

Callan smiled as well, despite Padma's name coming to mind.

I won't let your death be in vain.

She remembered the corny line she'd thought to herself before the trucks had arrived. Thinking about the last fight, it was a mess. But next time.... Callan watched the veins appear on Zoe's hand and again felt that invigorating rush-- a desire to not only protect, but perform. However immeasurable, her abilities had a purpose. She could lift well over a thousand pounds and punch straight through a person.

Armed with the confidence this realization bestowed, she nodded in agreement, "Amen to that."

With that, she thanked Brent, said goodbye to them both, and left. By every right, she should be able to do work if and when they were sent out to fight monsters again-- no more hiding behind a wimpy sword. Of course, all she had to do now was figure out the pesky niche that was her shadow....

When Savannah got back from her shopping trip with Sophia, she eyed the many papers sitting on her desk. Groaning, she sat down. The exams instilled an immediate fear in her, leading her to shirking them for tomorrow. However, she did pick up the requisition sheet and examine it. It seemed that it was for acquiring items. Savannah thought about what she might want for a second. A phone, maybe? She had never had one. Or maybe a laptop, that could be useful for homework.

But then Savannah thought of something that she really wanted. A cat. She had had a cat when she was younger, a gray beauty named 'Mittens'. Being 4 at the time, Savannah had thought nothing of the name, even though it was a hilariously bad name for the cat. The cat had died of old age when she was 7, so she didn't remember much. But she knew she wanted a cat. Taking the paper, she began to write on it.



As soon as she had finished, Savannah grabbed the paper and bounced out of her room, going to the place where she could drop off the form.

---

After Savannah had dropped off the messy form, she was wondering what to do next. Perhaps she could go back to her room and do her exams. That was really all she had left to do.

__

Allison Revel had spent the majority of the day shopping, grabbing the few things she needed that she wasn't willing to pick up while in a group. There were two inconspicuous bags, both of which she cluched closed to herself. She was much too nervous about the items, and ashamed of the hours that it took her to stop fantisizing and buy them.

The arduous walk back to the dorms was nearly over, just a little bit longer. Allison stared straight ahead, attempting to ignore the endless cascade of thoughts that rolled through her head. The contents of the bag weren't doing her any favors, she didn't dare look into it.

And then Allison saw someone. Savannah was nearby, minding her own business. Allison hoped that the younger girl didn't notice her.

When Savannah saw Allison, she felt an urge to try to talk to her. She seemed to have just been shopping, for who knows what. So Savannah strode on up to her from behind.

"Hello!" Savannah half-shouted.

Allison nearly tripped at the sudden sound from behind her, but caught herself, checking to make sure that nothing fell out of the bag. She turned around, cluching the bag to her chest.

"O-oh. Hi. What's up?" Allison's words were as stuttered and awkward as they had been the day before, reminding her of when Angel had caught her in the clothing store.

"Ah, nothing much. Dreading doing the exams, that kind of stuff. What's in those bags of yours?" Savannah asked.

"Umm... N-nothing." Why did she have to ask about the bag? Why would anyone ask about the bag? It was just a bag! And Savannah of all people... "You haven't finished the exams yet?" Allison attempted to divert the conversation away from the inconspicuous bag.

Okay, now THAT just sounded suspicious. Nothing? Those bags looked like they were full of stuff. But she'd play her game. "No, I haven't. I've always sucked at school. Savannah said, sighing.

"Hmm. Well, if you ever need any help, feel free to come by my room, it's room 301, at any time." It seemed like a perfect place to end the conversation. Allison would walk off, carrying her bag to her room, and Savannah would be none the wiser about its contents. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I must be going..." Allison said, as she slowly started to walk off.

"Soooo, did those those pants of mine serve you well?" Savannah said.

Allison's head jerked around immediately to face the girl once again.

"What?"

Oh my god, did she not remember? "The ones I tied around you so you wouldn't die?" Savannah said, blushing.

Allison had no idea what Savannah was talking about. She must've been referring to the battle, when Allison was bleeding and mostly unconscious. Savannah had used her pants as a bandage? Allison's face turned red.

"I was kind of unconscious. Thanks, I guess." Allison stared at the ground.

Could someone die of emabrassment? Cause Savannah was pretty sure she was going to do so at that moment. Sink into a hole and die? That was something she wanted to do at that exact moment.

"W-well, this is awkward, isn't it?" Savannah managed to stutter out.

"I-It's not that big of a deal, h-honestly. Don't worry about it." Allison moved to leave, walking at a rushed pace, and tripping on the first crack in the cement. The bag fell out of her hands, and onto its side. Allison nearly had a heart attack, though, luckily, nothing actually fell out of the bag. Allison stumbled to pick up the bag, and in her nervous state, tripped again.

Savannah ran over to Allison, and seeing her bag on the floor, picked it up. Picking it up, she caught sight of the things inside, and her face immediately heated up as she viewed it's contents. Her face stretched into one of horror as she saw the contents. Lacy, fancy underwear that would barely cover any skin at all. Ohhh my god. Savannah wasn't meant to view that.

"H-here's your b-b-bag back. Savannah said as she handed the bag back, still red as a fire truck and closing her eyes. She didn't want to see that ever again. Nope. Nope.

Allison jumped up from the ground and snatched the bag from Savannah's hands. She sprinted away, completely ashamed of what had just transpired. Hopefully she wouldn't run into Savannah for the rest of the week, or her life if possible.

It had been a terrible night. Yet again, Angélique had experienced this awful nightmare. But only this time, it was worse.

The gigantic featureless monster she had been fighting was now replaced by a gigantic spaghetti monster, with a throng of meatballs swarming around their noodle-overlords. The gargantuan creatures made of noodle were smashing buildings with their noodle appendages, breaking them as effortlessly as wiping out a castle made out of cards. Humans and subnaturals alike were being devoured by the army of meatballs. Among those being devoured she could recognize the faces of many students with who she had been attending USARILN with.

Still with utter dispassion in her eyes, Angel had been overlooking the scenery with a cold expression placated on her face. It was only but when a young girl with red-hair came running towards her, only to be picked up by a tentacle and slammed with excessive force at the ground, crushing her skull open, that the metal-feathered Aberration moved from her spot. Her face showed fury like none other, and it was with a world-shattering scream that she had blasted everything standing in front of her to pieces, both monsters and humans alike, the surrounding buildings swept away just as easily as when the tentacles monster were tearing through them.

Waking up in cold sweat and with a shriek of morning terror, Angel's heartbeat was racing like crazy. No matter how many times she experienced this nightmare, she would always feel this much dread, this lingering darkness, a bitter after taste. Only today, it was different. There was no exact explanation for this, but she felt sour, pissed, very annoyed.

Other than feeling mad for no apparent reason, Angel went on with her daily morning routine, or what had been her routine back when she had an actual life. After getting up, she took a shower at the communal bathroom, dressed up with finally some clean clothes and underwear and went to the cafeteria to get a breakfast.

Throughout the morning, the foul-mooded Aberration kept to herself, not feeling for social interaction today and mainly just focused on having a debate with her inner voices about finding a way to get the fuck out of this place and start anew. But each time that subject was brought up inside her mind, she was angry by her selfish thoughts. She had met people here, good people. She just couldn't leave them behind after what they went through. Plus, being here was her punishment, for having killed so many people. At least here, she'll be somewhat kept under control.

This constant debate was starting to really piss her off, so she had left the cafeteria, and went to do one thing that she often enjoyed doing morning. Jogging. While it was true that she practiced this physical excercise to keep up a good shape, she enjoyed the feeling of running around freely, always exploring new areas

Her jogging footsteps brough her to the training area, where already a few people were training this morning. Angel recognized a few faces, such as Brent, on the running tracks. She had, however, no desire to run off and meet them for a morning talk. Or perhaps should she? Maybe talking to others would actually dampen those nagging voices in her head and she will-

"Hey Angel!"

"WHAT!?"

The brown-haired boy wearing headphones around his neck took jumped step back when he heard his friend snapping all of a sudden at him. Did Aaron... startled her out of her thoughts?

"A-are you alright?"

"NO... no I'm not. What do you want?"

"Oh, uh, I was wondering if you were busy today? I thought that perhaps we could hang out and talk some more for a while."

...Asskisser... he's trying to get his hands in your pants.

There it goes again. Why of all time did Aaron had to see her in this state of mind?

It's only been two days, and you have yet again boys crawling at your feet. What a seducer.

"SHUT UP!"

"W-What?"

"N-NO! I wasn't talking to you... I..."

Mad towards her inner demons taunting her and at herself for being this way, Angel dashed off, fleeing the scene. Aaron tried to run after her, worried what was suddenly taking over his friend, but he stopped as he heard her shouting.

"Don't follow me! I need some time alone!"

There was one place the furious raven-haired X-marked could think of to vent her pent-up anger without hurting anyone. Ground Zero...

---

'This is a lot more than I took it for...' Siena traced her fingertips lightly over lines of text, her eyes managing to keep up with her brain for once. An effect of having her abilities surpressed, if she had to guess. Though the day before had been filled with positive emotions, the night hadn't been so gentle. Rather, Siena had spent most of it drifting in and out of a fitful sleep, plagued by nightmares of events that blurred between reality and fiction. Padma, the blank-faced sister, her parents.

Gerwulf.

'What are you doing, Siena? Gerwulf is strong, not scary. It wasn't even real.' Was it? An unidentified feeling fired through her, making the girl close her eyes, releasing a soft breath. She couldn't tell, and with a day to let her pathetically weak mentality soak in the events of the battle, it was getting harder. She shouldn't have picked Gavin, no matter how versatile he was. Drafting was just as much a strain on her emotionally as it was physically, and Siena had known that would be the case. Stupid, idiot girl.

And what about Padma? Padma was the one that she should have been thinking about like a skipping record. The older girl's face flickered like a candle flame. Siena felt her stomach churn in response to the image, breathing turning shallow as a sickening concoction of emotion began to boil over. Like the stormy seas, again. It was all that Siena could do to stay moored, but even that was only for an instant.

She had to get better. Wasn't that what she had told herself time and time again the night before? Hadn't the exact thought been what drove her to fill out paperwork that Siena Santana the normal girl would never have managed to do on her own? Determination wound its way tight around her, sinewy threads keeping her moving. It was what Siena Santana the subnatural had to do in order to prevent another teammate from suffering Padma's fate.

It was her fault.

The thought chanted in a steady rhythm--the same one that drove Siena to angrily shove her newly obtained tablet and a trusty kindle into a small, flat messenger bag. Easy enough to reach into and remove, but not nearly so easy as the secondary phone she'd obtained specifically for these purposes. There was somewhere she had to go, and she knew it. Cramming her feet into the closest shoes she had to sneakers, Siena made sure to bring her student ID with her before slipping out of her dorm.

It was only chance that Siena happened to catch sight of two familiar faces as she was given a runaround. The brunette had regretted not getting some form of a map to her ultimate location, but maybe seeing a few friendly faces would boost her spirits before--

"SHUT UP!"

Siena stopped dead in her tracks. Angel's outburst seemed to have startled Aaron as much as it had startled Siena, and though there were a few additional words exchanged, the bibliophile couldn't make them out from where she stood. Watching as Angel turned to leave, Siena hesitated. Maybe it wasn't such a wise idea to follow...but with Angel heading in the same direction and looking as upset as she did, there was no way that Siena could have avoided her for long.

Naturally, it wasn't Siena's first instinct to immediately approach Angel when the older girl had seemed to be upset earlier on. Instead, she kept a fair distance for a bit before catching up with a fair paced jog and a silver-tongued lie prepared. Something akin to shame kindled to life, a small flame fanned by the knowledge that the ability to lie was one of the few things that Siena hadn't inevitably stolen from a character. That was her own, unsavory skill, taught to her from a young age by her caretakers. It was proper to be able to lie through her teeth, apparently.

"Angel? Is that you?" Siena called despite knowing the answer as she caught up, slowing her speed to stay a few paces behind the raven-haired girl. "Are um...are you headed to the training grounds?"

The black-haired aberration turned on her heels when she heard someone calling out her nickname from behind. For fuck's sake, fate really was really going at it against her. As she turned, she grieved over the fact that the voice that had been calling her was Siena, the awkward rich girl she had met yesterday. Why did it she had to keep meeting people she got along great with while she was having this schizophrenic fit?

"No... I need to go... to Ground Zero."

Angel trailed off. She didn't add anything else to her answer, continuing forward towards her destination. She didn't want to share her personnal problems with her friend. She didn't want to make Siena worry about her burdens. She needed a place to vent, far from people she cared.

...Filthy rich bitch...

There was a certain air about the way Angel moved that made Siena almost regret trying to be friendly. Refusing to let her own facade drop, Siena watched as Angel turned to leave, marking Ground Zero as her destination. From what Siena understood, it wasn't a place that arbiters were likely to go to--not nearly as likely as an aberration.

And just like that, two ugly heads reared.

'You need to get to the training grounds anyways, just walk with her.'

'Ask if you can train with her. You need to know what it's like to work with an aberration anyways.'

The cold rationalization of the second thought bored a hole into Siena's chest. It made sense, of course. Rarely did the logical part of her thoughts fail to do so, and Siena hated that fact. If they were going to be in combat like they had been the other night, then there was the chance that Siena would have to work with aberrations and their burdens, no matter what those burdens might be. The reality of it grated against Siena's better judgement.

"Maybe we can train together there." Though she kept her suggestion steady and calm, Siena cursed herself all the while as she spoke. "I'll keep my distance if you want, but it might be good for both of us. In case we get paired up against something in the future."

'Or maybe I'm still too much of a coward to be alone.'

Angel nearly stopped herself in her tracks as she heard Siena talk about going to train together.

Train? Did she even know what Ground Zero was meant to be? It was a violent release zone, a place where X-marked went to safely vent out their destructive impulses without hurting anyone or destroying the school property. She wasn't going to train, she was going to wreck something apart with her voice. She was going to shout until the voices in her head were no more.

But when she heard the Arbiter girl speak about benefiting from this, Angélique stopped to listen. To prepare themselves for upcoming battles, huh? Well, that was certainly a wise decision. Wasn't that what Angel had vowed, on that night they were pitted for the first time against monsters, to become stronger, to be able to protect her friends, to not let any more death occur on her watch?

The raven-haired girl stood silent, hesitating. Could she really trust herself to not bring harm to Siena while training together? She was so afraid that anything wrong might happen. She couldn't afford to hurt any more innocent people. If anything were to happen to Siena, she wouldn't forgive herself.

"I... I'm not sure..."

"I don't want to hurt you... I'm an X-marked, you know that? I don't know what will happen out there. I'm not sure if I want to take any chance if something can go wrong..."

When silence greeted Siena's suggestion, the girl was prepared for a rejection. It wouldn't have been surprising, but to say it wouldn't be disappointing was a lie. Fortunately, it seemed that Angel was hesitant for reasons different from what Siena had been expecting. For an instant, the facade fell apart, and Siena couldn't keep back the mixture of concern and gratitude. Couldn't ignore the faintest traces of remorse.

"I'll be fine," the arbiter replied, collecting the runaway feelings before they could escape. "I'll keep back if it looks like something will go wrong. On either of our ends."

Sobbing. She hadn't been crying when she regained control of herself, she had been sobbing. One rough hand carefully released her, but he was wary. Who wouldn't be after a girl less than half his age had all but torn out a wall in what could only have been described as a rampage?

Tension pulled the muscles of Siena's neck tight.

"I know the signs of losing control."

Either of our ends?

Angel was confused by Siena's words. Did she meant that she was a dangerous magic user as well? But she was an Arbiter, something as loosing control wasn't what popular opinion made of the white-marked people. Was there more to her than Angel knew? Thinking about it now, she barely knew the girl, combat-wise. She had wandered over to help in her fight the last time, but she couldn't see clearly what she had done, her line of sight blocked by the huge spaghetti monster, before everything turned into dust by the crystal-creating guy.

"... Alright..."

Angel reluctantly said, finally giving in to her shopping accomplice's stubbornness. She began moving on, once more, but this time she was walking instead of running, clearly showing some consideration to Siena's suggestion after finally convincing the Aberration girl.

Siena silently following Angélique, the two of them made their way to Ground Zero. Reaching the outskirts of the haunted grounds, the duo was intercepted by a few guards, keeping watch on the area and monitoring whoever went through. However, seeing the pissed off expression on the black-haired X-marked young woman, they understood that this one needed to vent out her stigma. For the other girl, though, they weren't so sure what she was doing here, but figured that since she was walking with the Aberration, she was surely there to accompany her friend.

Just like that, the guards granted clearance for the two to enter Ground Zero .

"Well... I might as well ask... since we are to train together. What is your power exactly? I haven't seen it during the battle two days ago."

The walk had been silent on the outside, but not on the inside. Cracks. The girl brushed her hair out of he eyes as she took in the sight of their temporary training grounds--it was different from what Siena expected. It wasn't until Angel spoke that Siena was snapped out of her stupor.

"O-oh! I...I take names from writing. I can borrow something from them." It sounded awkward and heavy in her mouth as an explanation. Somehow it was less comfortable now that there wasn't a briefing or to a group. "It's probably easier to understand once you see." And from there, the brunette stopped herself from continuing. Nothing about the emotions or the storm that came with the power.

Nothing about how every time she took a name, it burned through what little of herself she could identify.

Putting the thoughts aside, she turned her attention towards the dark-haired subnatural. "What about you? I don't think I got to see you fight the other night."

Pulling powers straight from a book? That sounded quite strange, yet convenient at the same time. From Angel's point of view, it was incredibly versatile, to be able to hold on to the powers of any characters, as long as she had the means to read said character. Now she can understand why Siena was so intent on getting a tablet. That certainly would be better than carrying a lot of books onto the battlefield. Even if the pad broke, given Siena's apparent funds, that wouldn't be so much of a proble, she figured.

"Mine's simple... you might want to block your ears though."

Angel said as she walked towards one of the nearby ruined buildings. It took her a while to summon the courage to bring herself to scream just as she did back then. But once she started remembering about the circumstances under which she had been doing so a few days ago, the voices that were hammering the back of her mind, she could find the resolve to scream once more.

Breathing in with anxiety, she stammered a bit before letting out an ear-splitting scream towards the building. Against the sonic wave emitted by the shriek, the windows shattered into pieces, and the front door slammed open, almost unhinged from its bonds.

Block her ears? Siena would have raised a question if Angel hadn't already started moving. She took a breath in, and something clicked in the brunette's head. Oh, no. Immediately, Siena brought her hands to her ears, covering the openings just as Angel let loose a scream that tore through the air, piercing through the protection that Siena's palms afforded. Glass shattered, muffled through the flesh, and the door was blown open. Impressive.

"Whoa..." Carefully uncovering her ears, the ringing was muted compared to what the arbiter had expected. Grey eyes trailing over the building, Siena couldn't help but crack a faint smile. "Kind of like the Black Canary...cool." Raking her fingers through a few unruly strands of hair, the mage moved her hand towards her bag, pulling the tablet from its confines.

Would she be okay?

No way to find out but to try. Flicking the screen on, her fingers barely fumbled despite the new tablet--the joys of having been able to fiddle with the electronic the night before, she supposed. She brushed mahogany bangs out of her vision, a few taps and...perfect. Prickles flooded down her spine, up her arm, and a flash of purple was more than enough to mark the creation of a magic circle.

The first character that came to mind was Samos--Ptolemus, not his sister. He was easier to understand, easier to draw from after a particularly unfortunate incident. A few moments passed, her eyes shifting from gray and leaking towards black. The man's confidence flooded into her, and it felt...good. Confidence, protectiveness, a distancing coolness.

And anger. A simmering anger that lingered just beneath the surface.

With a motion of her arm, she felt...odd. It wasn't the first time she'd ever pulled Ptolemus, but using his abilities had never been something she expected. Shallow breathing, she pulled. The metal wouldn't budge. 'Fucking get out of there...!' And she pulled. A crack as a support beam broke through the wall of the building, the strain of it releasing a creaking groan. Another harsh tug, and the beam came crashing out, twisting on itself to Siena's--no, Samos's--will until it snapped.

'A few drops more of the storm.' Huh...maybe she could...her fingers trailed over the screen. Maybe.

Angel watched Siena as she literally pulled a name out of her tablet. She wasn't much of a reader, so whatever the brunette had pulled, she basically would have no idea about who that was. Her pink display on her fingers was quite pretty, but the outcome of the power from whom she had borrowed their power was simply terrifying.

Motioning with her hand, Angel didn't know what her friend was up to, until she heard the cracking sound coming from behind her, inside the building. She took a frightened step back when a metal support beam coming from inside the structure broke out from the wall of the building,

"Holy shit! Did you just pull out Magneto's name or something?That's... awesome!"

Angel said excitedly. Truth be told, she wasn't much in the mood for this when she first came, but seeing for herself what kind of powers her friends could possess, that did make her more inclined to be in a lighter mood. After all, they did come here to train with each other. Test out their powers and know each other better in combat situation.

Angel's compliment was enough to make Siena give a shy smile, the confidence that resulted from Samos's influence hidden just beneath that. "Th-Thanks. Though this is...way harder than I thought it'd be." She hadn't used Samos's abilities to that extent before, had never been able to do more than move a few small, metal things around when it came down to it. A pause as Siena glanced at the tablet in her hands. "I wonder though...if I did use someone like Magneto..."

Another magic circle, this one smaller than the last appeared. It felt different. Unlike usual, where the name would completely overtake her, Siena was left feeling like there was a cacophony in her head. Three separate names. One body. A shudder passed over her. This was different. This was weird. Just a few drops more of the storm.

Polaris wasn't quite so powerful--Siena made the mistake of drawing Magneto before, but another layer added over the rage. Taking a moment to breathe through her nose and calm herself down, the brunette felt fury trying to itch, tear, and break its way out. She released it in the form of a powerful repulsion of the beam that she'd been holding--straight into the building, crashing with less force than expected, but with more precision than usual. It was more tiring, taking more out of her for something that didn't feel like it was her full strength. Confusion filtered through the invading name...s? Samos was there. Polaris was there.

And yet somehow she felt more in control than she'd ever felt.

Angélique took another step back away from the building as Siena drove the beam back into the building, sending splinters and debris everywhere. Glancing between the building and Siena, Angel looked a bit too excited about this whole thing.

"Damn, girl! That's some... hey, you alright Siena?"

Angel came rushing towards the brunette Arbiter as her friend's face seemed to shift throughout various expressions, from anger to confusion, exhaustion too?

"Hey hey, easy now. you don't need to go all out, you know? Slow and steady. Baby steps, as my music teacher taught me."

"I...I'm okay..." No, no she wasn't. Siena was grappling between too many names at once, and she was...tired. She was exerting just as much effort for an output that wasn't quite as high as what she was used to. Still, the emotions were weaker, the usual attempts of resistance muted in comparison to usual. If she thought about it, there was plenty that she could put her newfound abilities to use with, though that meant another trip to the library.

"You sure? Alright then. Don't strain yourself too much."

"I...I know...that was...different than usual. H-hah...don't think I'm gonna try that again though," Siena admitted with a faint laugh. She felt the names slip from her grasp, their aftermath still swirling into one unpleasant ball of potential mania and the confidence to act on it. The fatigue hit her all at once.

Watching Siena's powers, it gave Angel an idea. While her screams pretty much remained the same, no matter how many times she does them, Siena had much more freedom over her abilities. And it was that very ability to adapt than gave Angel the idea she just had.

"Say, while we are training together, why not take it up a notch?"

"Y-you have an idea?"

"Do you know of any characters that could potentially amp up sound?"

A wide grin was drawn on the singer's face as she proposed the idea to the book-eating Arbiter.

"That'd be an awesome combo to pull off, no?"

"Oh...oh!" Despite the first wave of exhaustion, Siena couldn't help but smile. "Why, as a matter of fact, I do." It wasn't quite traditional literature, but Siena had learned that there were some very creative minds out there when it came to graphic novels from around the world.

And ah, she understood so well how Cobra felt.

Without an ounce of hesitation, the girl began to pull the name.

Having taken up a name that would potentially increase the sound output of Angel's powers, the duo prepared themselves in front of the building they had been showing off their powers in front of. Nodding to Siena and holding out a thumb up to tell the brunette she was ready, Angel breathed in, nervous at what the outcome would be from this experiment.

Waiting for the moment that Angel took her breath, Siena filtered magic through her fingertips, giving a nod to Angel as soon as it was ready.

As she breathed out in the form of a shriek, the front door seemed to be about to give out, until Siena's powers came in full effect. When it happened, this scream was beyond anything human, bordering on the verge of something monstrous as the scream's volume amped up by tenfold. As expected, not only the volume increased, but the damage did as well. Where the door once stood, there was only splinters of an annihilated door and a wider door frame, more looking like a crater where once stood the doorway.

"Holy fuck!"

Was the only thing that came out of Angel's mouth after she had witnessed the damage she and Siena caused to the building. It was terrifying, to know that she held such kind of power within her vocal chords. Seeing the damage done, Angel could somehow understand why it would be easy to lose oneself into a power-drunken stupor.

"Oh my god, that was so cool!" The damage was impressive. If it had been caused by a monster, it would have terrified her, but that was their work. A mark of teamwork. Grinning to Angel, she gave a smile. "I've got an idea. One more?"

Maybe it was the confidence, maybe it was the excitement of being useful, but Siena let herself draw from a fallback. If simply amplifying the sound had done that much, then certainly increasing the area of effect would be even better, wouldn't it? The magic coursed through her, faster this time than before.

Also excited to know that there could be more to it, Angel turned once more to the building, giving Siena another thumbs up, ready to crank it up some more.

Again, she let out a devastating shout, basking into Siena's amping powers. Something felt odd though, as if there was an overbearing feeling hammering her down. In a sudden flash of panic, she also lost control, her voice straining out until she could cut herself out completely from the sheer intensity of the scream.

Opening her eyes slowly, Angel was afraid to see what was in front of her. The sight that welcomed her was too much. Her scream effectively punched a huge crater from the building exterior's concrete wall. Angel was at a loss of words. Did she really do that? Of course, Siena was largely part of this, but still.

Thinking about Siena, there was this foreboding feeling nagging the back of her mind, when she lost it earlier.

The name was a mistake. Everything seemed muted. The excitement was little more than a dull throb in the pit of her stomach, and something...something was feeling...animosity towards Angel? No. That couldn't be right. That wasn't her. Wasn't her. Not this muted feeling, not that odd hostility, not the feeling of wanting to add her to a collection.

'No. No, no, no stop. Stop!' Panic rose like bile as mana started to gather. It would only take a single spell to end her, a single spell to bring the dark-headed girl back as a puppet.

'No, no, no...!'

It all came to a stop, everything. The magic, the muted feelings. Everything came back full force and Siena panicked. It overrode everything else, painting over the ambition, the excitement, the satisfaction of success with nothing but a dark fear that blinded her. The brunette trembled, backed a few steps away, her breath coming short and her eyes wide with panic.

"Oh god..." Staggering backwards, the girl stared at Angel with wide eyes. Terror seeped in, saturating everything as the bleak realization of what she'd almost done came to mind.

She almost killed her. She almost became the monster she wanted to defend against.

The raven-haired Aberration came running back at the brunette Arbiter once more, visibly worried now that she could clearly see that they both had taken their experiments too far. The Siena in front of her was a panicked mess, seemingly way more affected by what she had just pulled than what Angel had been doing. For an Arbiter, she sure had serious drawbacks using her powers.

Unable to see her friend in this state, Angel fell on her knees and took Siena into her arms, putting a gentle hand onto the back of her head and slowly caressed the girl's lengthy flow of brown hair.

"It's okay. Relax. Take a deep breath. We're fine."

Angel tried to soothe her partner's mind, speaking softly while embracing her warmly into her arms.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." It was all that she could do between the shuddering breaths. The shaking. Against the need to break down in the face of her own failure. This had been the exact reason she had chosen to leave the sheltered life behind. She could have stayed stashed away with Gerwulf and Maya, but this was why she had left the comfort of everything she had ever known.

She'd lost control again.

---

When both girls finally calmed down, they got back onto their feet, ensuring they were okay before getting out of this place. Walking side by side, the duo of subnaturals slowly left Ground Zero. The guards didn't seem to pay much mind to the girls as they went out from the area. After leaving, a beep came out from both girls' anklet, signaling the suppression module turning back on.

Taking a walk from where they came from, Angel and Siena stopped in front of the Arbiters' dorms.

"You sure you're alright? If there's anything bothering, or if you don't feel well, come see me. You know where I live."

"I...I'm..." Fine? That was the most transparent lie that Siena could possibly have said. "I think I'll be okay." No, she wouldn't, but that was her problem, not Angel's. "I'm sorry about that. I...I usually have a better grip on what I do."

"It's okay. I'm the one to blame. I probably pushed you to limits that were best left to be explored after getting more experience."

"It wasn't your fault. I should have known better...but thank you. For staying." A guilty smile. 'My fault'

It was somewhat ironical that Angel was the one saying such words, considering it was herself who had begun the day feeling quite under the weather. But being who she was, she always was the one to protect and care for the others, putting her own issues aside to help others.

With an awkward silence, the two girls didn't find much to say after what had just happened.

"Well, I guess I'll leave you to your things. See you later." Angel broke the silence, offering a departing handwave as she started to walk away, going back to her own dorm.

Hazel & Lawrence
A collab post with @Snagglepuss89

---

It was all set up. His plan had been formulated on the return trip from the battlefield, and more than anything else it was what had been occupying his mind for the past couple nights. Of course, he would still need his target's cooperation- to an extent- to go through with it, but he suspected that wouldn't be an issue. Not if she maintained the same behaviour he'd seen from her so far.

Still, he was filled with... apprehension. Quite honestly, he hoped that she would resist, and that the whole thing would be called off. It wasn't just Ground Zero that gave him pause- although his desire to go back to there ranked somewhere around 0- but the whole situation reeked of uncertainty. Uncertainty was not something Lawrence B. Ellison liked to tangle with, even on his own terms.

Alas, there was no helping it. He had caught word his target, Hazel, was out turning in her forms to the office, and he was waiting outside for her to finish. There was no sense in interrupting her before she finished, who knew if she would have another chance today after his plans. He just hoped that he didn't end up more injured on his "day off" than when he was actually involved in a battle.

Finally though, the door beside him opened and out walked Hazel in all her... Glory certain wasn't the world. Indifference? Whatever it was, it was a trait that encapsulated the young woman. Quite frankly, she stood out like a sore thumb no matter where she was. All the better when someone needed to find her. Before she'd gotten far he walked up next to her and spoke:

"Hey Hazel, do you have any plans taking place in the next couple hours? I have something important to do together. I want to start immediately if possible."

The little he had gathered about her the last couple days of knowing her is that it was important to be clear and direct in absolutely everything. She was not good at picking up the subtleties of language. As such, he hoped he was leaving to opening for confusion.

"Plans?"

Lawrence seems to have been waiting on her outside the office. For what reasons, she did not know. But she certainly didn't have any plans or schedules. Those were usually decided by them. They made whatever plans with whatever intentions, and she simply followed. Whatever important things Lawrence had for her surely cannot be any different.

"I do not have any plans of my own."

"Perfect. If you'd follow me then, we have a little ways to walk. I know you're not much for conversation, but I'm free to talk until we get where we're going."

With that, he began walking once more, motioning for her to follow, walking towards the opposite corner of USARILN East by the look of it, then again most of the grounds were in that direction from the offices. They walked in relative silence, stopping only once by the security post next to the hospital. There was a single guard waiting outside of it, and recognizing Lawrence, identified them almost immediately. So, with their escort, who seemed to keep the entirity of his attention on Hazel, they continued.

Some time later, they arrived at their destination. The literal ghost town that was a near permanent fixture-and even second home to several of the Abes- at UARILN East: Ground Zero. Lawrence had been there many times, and did not need an escort or permission to travel to the magic-torn landscape. Hazel, however, was different, for the moment anyway. It was possible this would become a permanent fixture of her stay at the Instituion, or perhaps she would never visit it again. Lawrence intended to find out one way or the other.

Stepping forward, he was greeted to the sound of:

"Temporary power supression deactivation."

Before a feeling of... completeness washed over him. When Hazel did the same, no such noise greeted her. Whether Lawrence didn't notice or was unsurprised though was hard to tell, because his focus at the moment was entirely drawn to the figure perched atop her tower in the middle of the "city". The Ground Zero Ghost. An enigma that Lawrence had never been able to figure out- or anybody else for that matter. Still he raised a pointless hand to her and gave a small wave.

"Been awhile, hasn't it?"

Months, in fact. He had lost his reason to travel here a long time ago, and the Arbiter had little use for the place on his own. Still, that could change today. Looking over at Hazel, he beckoned her to follow him deeper into the projection, until they were surrounded on all sides by the ghost city. Finally, seemingly satisfied, he turned to her once more.

"This is Ground Zero. Aberrations come here to sate their stigma without having to worry about destroying "Real" people, or places. I wanted to bring you here to remove your collar where it would be safe to do so, just in case my power isn't enough to... change the outcome of whatever removing it is going to do."

He began reaching forward, before pausing.

"Just two questions first: Would I be reasonably safe until I get out of the way? And do you want me to?"

Hazel had followed him without question, silent as she walked towards this Ground Zero. The place called Ground Zero was intriguing, in that it seemed to simply jut out of the scenery like a badly cut pop-up book. Noticing he was reaching for her collar, she took a step backwards by reflex, holding up a hand to the collar's lock. She had taken the drug relatively recently, so there was no real danger of her going out of control, but all the same she felt uncomfortable without the collar on. As for the questions he posed to her... .

"I do not know."

She had no idea where he would be safe, nor did she know where he could get out of the way. Hazel had never been asked the last question either. They had simply acted, and she would simply obey.

I'm not sure what I expected.

With a sigh, he briefly debated continuing. Lawence was not somebody who liked operating under unscertainty, especially when his health was involved. Still, he'd wasted enough time today on this little escapade, and was reluctant to call it off before even beginning. With a shrug of what could have been resignation, he bathed them both in a white glow before stepping behind her and undoing the mechanism on her collar. He backed away from her slowly, trying to judge the level of danger he was in by sticking close.

"How do you feel?"

Fear and apprehension started to rise as his hands neared the collar, peaking when the collar popped open and dropped to the ground.

Almost immediately she could feel herself returning to her, like a fresh breath of air after spending a long time in a poorly ventilated room. More alive,and complete. Wearing the collar felt like locking a piece of yourself away, and with it, a piece of the suffering. Oddly enough she felt not even the slightest bit of the compulsions she usually felt, probably thanks to that white glow surrounding both her and Lawrence. The initial fear had almost faded away at this point.

"I am alright. There are no injuries, pain or any abnormalities."

He nodded slowly in response, relieved that he wasn't being attacked. It was always better to expect the worse, especially when someone like Zhang gives you a warning about removing something. It seemed, at least for now, that he was over prepared.

"How's your stigma? I know it's probably hard to tell with my power on you, but as long as your range hasn't increased more than..."

He stopped to think for a moment, not often having to consider the range of his own power

"Thirty or so meters, I was going to stand back, drop my power, and let you work it out of your system for awhile."

"Work out my system?"

Hazel was unsure what that meant, but there didn't seem to be any problems with her stigma. She had only been using the drug before coming to this facility after all, and always it had proved to be sufficient to quell any shadows that might haunt her. Some vestiges of her stigma did haunt her from time to time, but it had never gotten to the point that she lost control. The collar was a recent addition, a very helpful recent addition, that helped suppress her stigma even if she was late in taking her daily dose.

"As I have reported before, there is no abnomalities at the moment."

He cocked his head in reponse. No abnormalities? In fact, she didn't seem any different at all from before he removed the collar. Was this some sort of... complex joke on the director's part? Admittedly the possibility was close to zero, but he was having trouble coming up with a plausible reasoning for all the precautions behind her collar with what little he knew.

"All right, I'm going to drop my power then, let me know how you feel afterwards."

With that, he did exactly as he said, dropping the white aura around them and taking a couple more precautionary steps backward just in case. Prepared to throw it back on her immediately if need be.

The calming veil dropped, forcing her to acknowledge the shadows she had been ignoring. The drug by itself, as stated previously, was usually enough to suppress her stigma. Combined with Lawrence's ability, it had been effective in ensuring her calm. However, by now her abilities had grown more powerful, meaning her stigma had more power over her. The drug alone was barely sufficent, having been created during her time in that facility, where she was weaker.

"Afraid?"

That girl from her dreams, dancing slowly to unheard music, dancing around Lawrence as he looked apprehensively towards Hazel, unaware of the dancer near him. She was wispy, ethereal, and yet somehow more real than the place around her. Hazel froze as the girl reached towards her before twirling away with a smile.

"I... am afraid."

She was breathing slightly faster now, her body tense from fear. Hopefully whatever it was Lawrence wanted her to do without the collar didn't take too much time.

"Sounds like your stigma then. Destruction is supposed to help sate it, so go ahead and destroy what you can here until you feel better. I'll stick around until you're done."

She didn't need to tell him she was afraid for him to notice the change in her. He was good at reading most people, but Hazel was already somebody that was easy to read- in the sense that there wasn't much there to read at all. Seeing her actually start to come alive with some emotion was... interesting, although he would have preffered it was something other than her stigma.

One thing at a time though.

"D... Destroy?"

All she had to do was destroy things until she felt better. All she had to do... . Hazel wanted badly to just curl up in a corner with her eyes shut and ears covered, but they won't let her do that. She needed to complete their orders before being allowed to. Taking in a deep breath, her arms turned transparent, almost invisible to the naked eye. With an experimental swing, she projected an attack towards a small building nearby. Though it looked as if she was trying to move inside some thick viscous liquid, the raw power of the attack was undeniable. The building's front exploded inwards, before she collapsed it entirely with a barrage of punches. Though still suppressed by the anklet, it was strong enough to topple any small building, especially considering her abilities works better on non living material.

Encouraged by the slight feeling of comfort the destruction brought, she started moving faster and faster. That feeling of euphoric pleasure washed over her every time she destroyed anything with her ability, running through her body like an electric jolt, making her knees weak from the intensity. By now that feeling was overwhelming even the drug's haze, enough to make her vision go white. Enough for her to go after the shambling apparitions next, tearing each one apart like they were no more than paper.

Lawrence reissted the urge to let out a whistle as he watched Hazel get to work. So that was what he coul expect when he removed the collar, eh? It didn't completely make sense to him yet why she had to wear it in the first place, but maybe he was underestimating the effect his power had on the girl. Once it was removed she seemed to be taken by her stigma just like anybody else. Was there more to it that he was missing?

He'd have to ask before their next battle.

As he watched her beginning to attack people, he finally looked away and moved in the opposite direction, keeping her in sight but trying to be well out of range in case she turned on him. A berserking Aberration was... not fun to deal with, and he didn't intend to have to fight for his life with the girl he was trying to help right now. The girl with an increadible amount of power, and seemingly no emotions or social skills. Who needed a 'handler' when she went into battle and seemed to have no desires of her own. What the hell was his roommate exactly? At this point he wouldn't be surprised if Hephaestus had managed to make an android.

Finding a bit of rubble that was relatively comfortable to sit on, he contented himself to watch his roommate and wait. He had no idea how long this would end up taking, but his own experiences had taught him not to be in any hurry when you visited Ground Zero. Those experiences also taught him to be glad he was an Arbiter.

It was never enough. Every time she destroyed something, she sated a bit more of her desire, which in turn grew stronger even as she fed it. Even as she tried to bury her stigma — all her memories — under all the destruction, it arose once again, slightly stronger. It wasn't until she collapsed from sheer exhaustion under that strange tower that she finally stopped. Gasping, she tried to speak, to say something to confirm her status, but only managed to painfully exhale a breath of air.

Hazel was finally fully lucid, her stigma unfettered by neither drug nor collar. While she had staved it away for now, it wasn't long before it would become unbearable again. She would have panicked right there and started looking for the collar, but she was too tired to even move at the moment, especially considering she wasn't holding back on using her ability during her rampage. Settling for the next best thing, she started pulling the unmarked white bottle out of her skirt pocket, only for it to roll just out of reach as she lost her grip on it.

Utterly defeated, she gave a small sigh of frustration and closed her eyes, hoping her stigma didn't come in full force before she could recover her strength and take the drug.

Time passed. Lawrence spent much of it turning over the collar in his hands and looking at it, trying to ignore the destruction going on around him. Moving to another spot when Hazel started to move in his direction, until he was safe once more. The girl was practically a force of nature at the moment with the amount of nonstop destruction she was causing. He wondered what she could do with an armament, but at the same time hoped he never had to find out.

Eventually though the destruction slowed, and Lawrence began following after her until it ground to a halt under the Ghostss tower. He saw the bottle roll away as he approached, and a minute later had it scooped up and in his hands, sitting next to the body of his collapsed roommate. Turning it over much like he had the collar, he asked:

"Feeling better now?"

"Better?" Hazel turned her head to look at him. "I am too tired to move. Otherwise there are no abnormalities that I know of at the moment."

She stared at the bottle and collar, hoping there wasn't anything else he needed. Hazel wanted nothing more than to just go back and hide in a corner somewhere with the drug and collar.

Following her gaze, he handed both of them back to the girl. While he was curious about the medication, it wasn't any of his business what the girl did with her free time, whether it was medical or recreational. Still, again with the 'No abnormalities' talk. Hazel could turn not answering a question into an Olympic sport and get the gold every time.

"Sorry, I figured this would help you out a bit. Go ahead and relax and until you're feeling better and we can make our way back."

With that, he enveloped her with his power once more and pulled a familiar book out of his pocket, flipping through it with no particular regard for the order of its contents. After all, he had finished it a hundred times by that point.

While she was too exhausted to even lift her head to put the collar on, at least she could still swallow two pills.

The drug took some time to work, but she calmed down considerably once she took them, compounded by Lawrence's ability. She still had no idea what Lawrence's goals was with what he ordered just now, but she wasn't about to ask. They wouldn't give her any real answer if she asked, and Lawrence would undoubtedly be the same. He did say something odd though, something they would never actually say.

Curious.

After a short while, she finally regained enough strength to lift herself up, and put on the collar once more.

"I have recovered enough to walk," she announced. "Shall we return?"

Lawrence stood as she began to and offered her a hand, tucking his book back into the pocket of his jacket. It seemed like the day had been a mostly fruitless gesture, and he hadn't yet decided whether it was worth trying to repeat. She did seem to relax at the end, like anybody who was able to sate their stigma did, so that was at least something new learned. Overall though, the girl remained an enigma.

"Yeah, thanks for agreeing to come out here."

After that they walked back in silence- meeting their escort once more at the edge of Ground Zero- with Lawrence's powers supressed once more for all the good it did. Sure, the trip had mostly turned out to be a waste of time, but he felt like he understood his roommate a little better, or at least the circumstances surrounding her. More importantly he had a better idea of what to expect when he removed her collar, and how much his power would affect her in that state. Information that would probably be invaluable in the future.

Information that could help buy time.

Time that could be spent learning more about her.

So at the end of the day: How much of a waste was it?