"C-come on. Please. Please just..." Kusari's entire body was shaking as she leaned against a tree, in front of her a dismembered tentacle writhed on the ground like a dying worm. Her left arm was once again bereft of feeling, as there was no limb to feel. In her right hand she was holding her left arm, the very same one that she had cut off not long ago, she was trying to reattach it. Between the pain and her mental agony she felt as if she were going to lose her mind. Losing this battle hurt, but not because she was simply competitive. She wanted to be useful, to prove that she could actually do something noteworthy. Yet she'd lost without taking a single person out of the match. More of her classmates were going to die. They were going to die because of her, because of her weakness and incompetence.

"Just... work. Please." She fell to her knees, her eyes blurry and glassy. If she couldn't be useful, couldn't she at least be normal?

Her severed arm had only just barely stuck to the fresh wound, and it was taking a long time to heal. She tried to think of something else, anything else to keep her mind off the pain, that turned out to be a bad idea. The first thing that entered her mind was an image of her father. The last time she'd seen him, he was lying in a casket. Her body tensed up, and her teeth were clenched tight. Whatever was forcing her to have those dreams could go to hell. She tiled her body and slammed her head against the tree over and over until her forehead was pouring red.

"Suffer for your art!?

"That's a load of bullshit!"

"There's no meaning at all!"

"Look where it got you!"

"Look where it got me..."

She slumped down onto the ground, quiet as she held her arm in place. She didn't know what to do, if she couldn't even be an effective weapon then what possible use did she have?

Grant wandered around the general location that Sander had pointed him to. Couldn't he have be more specific than just 'Outside'? It would've helped to say at least something more before he ran off. Now he was- Oh, there she was. Luckily, his eyes caught the figure of a person, down the alley. Siena. Well, have to deal with her. Grant started to step to the alleyway, down it, readying his chains... before something unexpected happened.

She just fell over. Out cold. She also seemed to drop a book. "She had more than one source, huh." Grant spoke out to no one in particular. At least it makes this easier. He walked up to the unconscious body of Siena, cautiously rolling her onto her back for easier access to her flags. First, he ripped her head and chest flags, and with the help of his chains, he ripped off both her wrist flags and her ankle flags. It was over.

Looking down on the unconscious Siena, he figured that it'd probably be rude to just leave her there. He glanced back at his chains, then down at her body. Might as well. He stepped up to her, kneeling down, bringing his chains down as well. They made contact with her shorts and her top that she had underneath her coat. Slowly, he had his chains lift her up from the ground before he saw the book on the ground as well. He picked it up and stood up with her body, that floated, though a bit loose within her clothes. He returned her book into one of the pockets that her coat had, before he slowly lowered her body into his arms. Slowly, he let his chains loosen on her clothes until it was only his own strength that was holding her. Which wasn't much, but surprisingly, he managed to hold her in his arms. His chains retracted behind him, out of sight, before he stepped out of the alleyway.

---

One. Two.

Breathe. Keep your lungs open.

One. Two.

Less pressure on your ankles.

Sander found himself fall into the familiar rhythm as he ran, his muscles remembered what his mind had forgot. He blinked, half-expected to see warm-coloured tracks expanded beneath his strides. But instead, there was just dull, grey concrete. A cold reminder of where he was. It took him a few seconds to realize he had crossed into the safe zone. It took several more for him to finally stop and put his roommate down. And it took yet another minute of mindless staring for Sander to finally notice his naked stage. He looked down at himself, blinking rapidly as the blood high left him and scrambled thoughts flooded back into his mind. The pants were gone. In Callan’s fight. Then his boxers and shirt were taken in the encounter with Siena. But why? He didn’t take them off. There was no reason to take them off.

Withdrawal soon set in though, prompting Sander to wrap his arms around himself. He turned his gaze up, glancing around the empty field, utter confusion lined his features.

Christmas coughed and looked away as Sander set him down, looking around the large plaza in amazement at the aftermath of what was supposed to have been a game. Nothing had changed much in the environment from when he had first arrived at the location, but the presence of an unconscious girl on the concrete some distance away and pieces of shattered cement near a moderate crater roughly around the plaza's center evidenced a superhuman struggle.

He was almost about to ask what had happened, but remembered that Sander was probably more concerned about clothes at the moment. With nothing spare to offer, Christmas kept his back turned and hoped the staff would eventually come to help.

"Uh...sorry," he added feebly without turning around, "don't have, um, extra pants."

Hands running up and down the length of his arms for warmth, Sander looked at Christmas, or more exact, his back, when the blond boy finally spoke up. The scent of coffee flared again, and Sander supressed his ability, eyes began to wander, as if not quite back to reality yet.

“I don’t—“- He began, looking at his bare legs one more time as if to confirm the status of his missing pants –“Yeah. It’s…fine.”

It was probably not fine, but Christmas wasn't exactly sure he could continue that particular conversation topic. Unfortunately, curiosity dropped a question before he could contain himself.

"...W-why are you naked?"

“I’m not quite sure.”- Sander spoke slowly, racking his mind for any relevant information. He remembered most things, despite the blood high, but he couldn’t really recall what he didn’t pay attention to. And during the fights, his priority was definitely not his clothes –“My clothes were…taken?”- He concluded in the end, though it felt more like a question.

"Oh..." What? At the same time, he wasn't sure he wanted to know all the details.

---

---

The cuffs beeped loudly in one prolonged note.

"Aaaand, give it up for The Abusement Park with a resounding total of 64 points to Multiple Scorgasm's 45! They snagged every flag from the opponent and grabbed their healer all in a little more than six minutes--talk about overkill! I've got guards and paramedics on the way to patch people up temporarily, though we'll have everyone back to full health soon enough."

As Fredric spoke, the guards who had moved well away from the main site of engagement returned, their numbers bolstered by more in response to the game's events. Two pairs of soldiers carried a stretcher for Angélique and Siena with a small team of paramedics wielding medical supplies in tow. They cleaned and bandaged Angélique's wounds and loaded her onto the stretcher, heading back towards the security outpost. The group handling Siena calmly took her from Grant and checked for any serious injuries. Upon finding none other than the slowly forming bruise on her chin, proceeded in much the same way.

Several other soldiers and health professionals approached Callan and Marcus as they exited the sewers, one soldier bringing up the rear pulling a portable, propane-fueled water heater tank with an attached shower head nozzle.

One of the paramedics--a young girl who looked fresh out of college--shakily took Callan aside to clean the bite marks and disinfect the small scrapes she had received from her scuffle with Sander. An older man approached with a cold gel pack for the bruising on Callan's face while the younger girl continued wiping at the injuries and the bits of sewage that Callan had picked up climbing up the rungs behind Marcus.

On Marcus's end, the soldier with the outdoor shower system hosed him down thoroughly with hot water, washing away as much of the sewage as possible before another pair of paramedics sprayed every inch of the boy with skin-safe disinfectant. Another round of washing and spraying and a quick suggestion to shower again in the security outpost passed before they handed him several large towels and a change of clothes taken from his room.

Near Kusari, the four soldiers assigned to lead her were simply standing at a distance, rifles aimed at her while she reattached her limbs, in case she attempted an attack or an ill-advised escape. Four guards surrounded Christopher as well, tense and waiting on the order to leave.

Three other soldiers gave Grant the same treatment, though their slightly more relaxed faces implied they weren't expecting too much trouble on his end. Likewise, one calm soldier walked up to Lilianna as her escort, weapon ready, but not poised to fire.

The last group of soldiers approached Christmas and Sander with one paramedic, an older, stern-faced man who looked like he had seen more than his fair share of injuries throughout the years.

He checked over Christmas first, undoing the filthy bandage around the healer's right hand and beckoning over the soldier with the portable shower system to wash down the boy in the same way as Marcus before nodding towards Sander as well. The man barely raised an eyebrow at Sander's lack of clothing, though he muttered something like it was convenient for cleaning. As the guard rinsed Sander, the paramedic dried, disinfected, and wrapped Christmas's hand in a gauze pad and a new length of bandage, properly tucking the cotton around the thumb and securing it in place with medical tape.

Both were given several towels and a change of clothes after they were done with general cleaning and wound dressing, though Christmas simply tucked his new set of clothes under an elbow pressed against his side and clumsily threw one of the large towels around his shivering shoulders. He stepped away, tugging his ribbon out of his hair and wringing the water carefully from it. A quiet sigh passed when the stained, nicked length of cloth had returned to a state of "damp" and not "dripping wet," and Christmas tied the blue ribbon around his left wrist so he could quickly towel his hair dry.

---

---

When rough cleanup procedures had more or less completed, the guards ushered the students back towards the security outpost and into a large room that had been cleared of most desks and chairs, leaving only a control panel, two long desks covered in various bowls of popcorn, chips, cookies, and various other snacks and drinks scattered across the table, enough chairs lining the desks to accomodate the remaining students, and a wall of screens left in front of a looming Fredric.

He welcomed them in with a wide smile and a quick wave. On the screens behind him were replays of the match that had just occurred, with certain scenes looping frequently: Callan throwing Sander; Grant expertly flicking flags off Callan; the monochromatic green of the sewer cameras recording Sander smashing through a wall; Marcus executing an instantaneous series of actions on Kusari; Angel screaming a dragon off her; Siena teleporting around the sewers and a cut to Siena commanding Sander and Grant to remove their flags.

Angélique and Siena were already inside the room by the time the rest of them arrived, both girls lying on cots against the wall. While Fredric chuckled again at some of the antics on the replay, one of the guards grabbed Christmas and brought him forward.

The boy was still soaking wet for the most part, though his shirt had mostly dried in the walk back.

"Rosa tells me you might have a new trick up your sleeve," Fredric beamed at him. Christmas only looked back fearfully.

A small frown flickered across Fredric's expression before he pulled out a pocket knife, flicking it open and flipping it deftly in his hand so he was handing the grip towards Christmas.

"Sorry, kiddo. Orders from up top," he muttered apologetically.

Christmas stared at the knife, eyes wide and pleading for another solution, but he didn't direct the gaze beyond the grip of the knife. His hand trembled as he took the pocket knife with his good hand, eyes running over his right arm and looking for a place to cut. He wasn't sure if there even existed something like a "good" place to cut on the human body. And the longer he stood there and stared at his arm, the harder it became to convince himself to make the incision.

He didn't want to consider the consequences of failure if he took too long or if he couldn't do it at all, so Christmas sucked in a shaking breath and jammed the knife into the middle of his upper arm. He cried out in pain and would have fallen forward if the nearby guard hadn't grabbed him by the shoulder. The stab had hardly been strong, and the wound itself was miniscule, but it still really hurt.

At first, the blood oozed from the wound, sliding down his arm while he cried and whimpered. But as the first trails of red pooled at the fingertips of his limp hand and prepared to drip onto the floor, the air shimmered, a glass-like mist spooling into existence around him and expanding outward, pulling the blood away from the wound in a fine, red vapor that spread thinner as it moved away from him, until it was no longer visible in the white, glinting veil.

The effect engulfed the room, wrapping all the occupants in that translucent haze. Injuries healed, nicks and scrapes disappeared, and by the time Christmas shuddered and fell to his knees, the only one left in the room with any injuries was him. The illuminating mist disappeared and the blood flowed normally from his wound again.

One of the paramedics that had accompanied the guards back to the security outpost quickly took care of the shallow stab wound, carefully extracting the knife and wrapping up the injury, silent to Christmas's pained reactions. After several thorough wipes of the blade, the woman handed the knife back to Fredric, who snapped it closed and tucked it back into his pocket, eyes still on Christmas.

"Take him to a seat," Fredric nodded at the guard whose hand was still on the boy's shoulder.

The man pulled the boy into a weak standing position before nudging him into a nearby chair. Christmas fell into the seat without resistance, still sniffling from the injury and busily wiping his eyes and nose on the towel. His right arm hung at his side, every careless movement bringing more whimpers and tears to the forefront.

"Well, then, for those of you who are awake," Fredric resumed his wide grin, "You'll be watching Teams 3 and 4 from the screens in this room. When their match is over, we'll give you the evaluation sheets to fill out and hand back to us."

---

---

---

Meanwhile, in the other room, a hoot and one-person applause sounded from the back.

"Wow!" Rosa hopped out of her seat, popcorn crumbs falling from her clothing as she stood up, "Now that was a wild ride. Did not see any of that coming!"

The staff mage motioned to one of the guards to sweep her mess while she pulled a small pile of papers from the table.

"Evaluation time! Write down everything you thought about the fight, all them spicy deets," she chirped and handed out evaluation sheets to the benchwarmer teams, "General impressions, thoughts, feelings, improvements-- so many improvements, hoo boy-- illustrations, whatever you feel like doing! Remember, this is a learning experience, and we're all here to help each other do exactly that. No holds barred!"

A box of pens was placed on each table for the students.

---

---

---

---

Sander stood still during the entire procedure, his arms around himself and eyes downcast. The blood high had left him entirely, leaving ashes and ice in its wake. His head still hurt from where Callan’s fist made contact. His back ached from hitting Grant’s makeshift concrete wall. But compared to others who had to leave the field on stretchers, he was quite healthy. A small mercy his power granted. Not that he ever felt lucky.

He shivered lightly, even with a fresh change of clothes and a dry towel around himself. Before the guard could usher them out of the field, he caught a flash of red at the edge of his vision. It was the red canister that he brought along early. The one he didn’t dare to drink. His eyes went to Christmas momentarily, something like fear crossed his mind. He didn’t want a repeat episode of that night in the arboretum. Mind made up, he half-ran, half-walked toward the canister to retrieve it.

Soon enough, they were brought to a room inside the security outpost. He avoided eye contact with most people, content to just let his gaze glued to a patch of floor in front of him. It was mostly because he was far too tired to even consider social interactions right now, but it also might have something to do with being a complete monster in front of them just moments before. People tended to react negatively to that, just like that white-haired boy from earlier. He didn’t want to provoke their ire, for both his and their sakes.

Fredric was already there when they arrived. He glanced up at the man, his eyes narrowed, but only just for a flicker. His gaze diverted to the screens afterward, then back at his feet soon enough. They took Christmas though, but Sander didn’t just stand there and watch. Wordlessly, he picked a seat on the edge of table, placed his canister down nearby, then proceeded to lay his forehead against the wooden surface, fingers digging into the cheap material of his borrowed shirt. Something happened. He didn’t know for sure, but he could hazard a guess, just from the way Christmas’ coffee scent moved across the room and how it suddenly amplified tenfold. He held his breath then, eyes squeezed shut at the ache on his back and head eased into nonexistence.

He almost dozed off by the time someone settled down on the seat next to him. He blinked awake, once again acutely aware of the frost in his veins, as he looked up to catch sight of the blond boy. He was sobbing, not surprisingly, given the fresh patch of bandage on his arm and the heavy scent of coffee in the air. Sander let out a long breath, as if expelling all air from his lungs, before clamping down on the ability again, turning it off for what must be the third time now. Slowly straightening himself up from the table, he decided to lean sideway against the wall instead. After all, he was supposed to watch the second fight and all. Glancing sideway at Christmas, he took a few seconds to look at the boy’s bandaged arm, when his gaze drifted down to the older wound in the blond boy’s hand, then hastily back up again.

“You should do it on the outside next time.”- He began, heaving out a shaky breath –“It…hurts less.”

Christmas choked out a half-laugh, half-sob, nodding blindly to the suggestion without saying anything further. He swiped the towel across his face with his left hand, being careful not to move his right arm at all. He buried his face in the white, woven cloth for several long seconds before nodding again, slower this time to the beat of ragged breaths.

"Thank--" a sob interrupted, "Thank you."

“Yeah… Don’t worry about it.”- Sander mumbled, eyes wandering to the flickering screens –“Do you want something to eat?”

Christmas turned to look at his roommate then, eyes running over Sander's rigid grip stretching the t-shirt taut at the chest and deathly complexion. The white towel draped around the blood mage's neck only emphasized exactly how pale he was that he could almost blend with it.

"...Did it not heal you?" he managed the question after a bout of sniffling.

“What is there to heal?”- Sander titled his head, puzzled –“I’m not hurt.”

"O-oh...you, um," a shuddering breath noted the residue of the crying jag, "you don't look fine."

“It’s just the way I am.”-Sander half-smiled, his gaze slid down to the gauze again. He thought he could see the faintest shade of red against the stark white background –“Each power has its own…demand, right?”

Christmas nodded, eyes flicking to his hand and upper arm.

"...What's yours?"

He knew the answer in a sense, but there seemed to be more to it than Sander was saying. An afterthought nudged at him, that maybe his roommate wasn't interested in talking about it just to satisfy his wandering curiosity.

"Uh--um...a-actually, never mind. S-sorry," he mumbled several seconds later.

Sander blinked, once again befuddled by his roommate’s out of place apologies. –“It’s okay. It’s nothing as bad as yours.”-But he did not linger on that particular topic.

“You say sorry a lot.”- He continued, though his eyes slowly drifted shut. The exhaustion was beginning to get to him. Nothing as bad as their first battle, but it was still unpleasant. Yet, his mind remained alert, denying him the rest his body desperately needed –“Why? You did nothing wrong.” Unlike me.

The blond boy eyed the ribbon he had haphazardly tied to his left wrist in a clumsy knot, courtesy of his injured right hand. The familiar tug of it in his hair had been missing for a bit longer than he was used to and jarring with what measly comfort there was in the situation.

"Sor--um."

He bit his lip a moment, waiting on several quick sniffles to pass.

"It's a...habit."

“A habit, huh? Alright.”-Sander accepted the vague answer easily, his mind slowly fell in that strange limbo between sleep and wakefulness. He talked more for the sake of talking now, rather than out of curiosity or concern –“You seem fond of that blue ribbon.”

"Uh--yeah...are you...um...sure you're fine?" he said softly, watching Sander look like he was ready to fall asleep at any second.

“I’m fine. You worry so much about other people.”- Sander tried a reassuring smile, but he wasn’t quite sure how it turned out –“So was it a gift?”- He spoke again, eager to shift the topic away from himself.

Christmas returned the lopsided smile with a blank one of his own, though the expression dropped when he shifted in his chair without thinking and a dull throb of pain reminded him why he was sitting so stiffly in the first place. He winced soundlessly this time, holding his breath until the twinge subsided.

"...Not really," he finally answered, wracking his mind for something more interesting to talk about. He was glad to be talking to someone, even if that someone looked ready to pass out at any second. Mental fumbling yielded nothing but inane questions about straws in neat bundles and hair care products, so Christmas let that answer hang instead.

“Memento?”

A few emotions flitted through his mind as the word and all its implications came up, but he refused to entertain any of them. He didn't want to. And of all the things that he "didn't want to," his own thoughts were one of the few things he could do something about. Christmas shifted his right arm instead, just enough for a new reminder of the injury to push those thoughts aside. After several seconds of silence and grimacing, he had an answer composed.

"Something like that."

“That’s nice.”- Sander shifted slightly, getting the numbness out of his shoulder where he leaned into the cold wall –“Always good to have something nice to remember.”

Not really, but he didn’t need that line of thoughts right now. There was no changing the past. He pushed the regrets to the back of his mind.

"R-right," Christmas automatically agreed with the statement, relieved Sander hadn't asked further. He looked to the bundle of extra towels and spare clothes nearby that the guard had collected for him when they had first separated him from the group. "Uh, you can use my extra towels if--if you need a cushion or...something..." he trailed off, looking down at Sander's shoes instead.

“Oh, I’m good. I’m not sleeping.”- Sander responded with a shook of his head, though it was hard to convince people that with both his eyes closed.

“You are always so nice.”- Sander suddenly said, after a short pause, the warm smile still lingered on his face. However, there was a serious undertone –“Would you still help them, if it were your choice?”-He asked the familiar question, though he doubted the answer had changed.

Christmas sighed, the exhale slow and quiet. Disappointed--in himself. In a whisper he directed so only Sander could really hear, "No. ...It hurts." He frowned, though the expression was mostly at himself. "So I...I'm not...nice."

“Are hurting people to help others…nice?”

"...Yes, for them."

“Then it’s the same for you. You are people, aren’t you?”-Sander shrugged, a light jerk of his shoulders –“But yeah, let’s not talk philosophy with me. I don’t know much.”

Christmas laughed under his breath, though he coughed the sound away quickly.

"I don't know much either. I'd like to be nice. But I don't think I am. ...Sorry."

“I think you are, if that means anything.”- Sander said, his voice light, but not without effort.

The healer froze. Just a second. But when he relaxed, a faint smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. He willed it away with some effort, because it was just one person thinking well of him when he knew better, but...the smile came back tentatively anyway.

"...More than you think," he replied after the long pause, tucking the grateful expression behind his bandaged hand and gasping from the jolt of pain in that careless movement. It took some time, but a weak "Thank you" finished his thoughts as the sharp pangs brought tears to his eyes.

“ ‘s okay.”- His words began to slur as Sander’s posture relaxed further –“I will just…rest. A bit. Okay?”

He was silent afterward, his breathing steadied as he fell deeper into unconsciousness.

Carefully, painstakingly (in more ways than one), Christmas pushed his chair back, shuffling over to the pile of towels and clothes. It took several trips and a few pointed stares from the guards in the room, but he managed to prop a messy mound of towels on the desk in front of Sander, just in case his roommate tipped forward. He still wasn't sure what he was going to do if Sander teetered to the side. Still worried, he settled slowly back into his chair, watching the replaying battle on the screens with a mixture of awe and terror.

Totally not brooding

"What a drag." Chris muttered when he and his team were escorted away from the fight zone and towards the Outpost. On the way he took a glance at his injured classmates. Jesus, this sport got carried away fast. Then again maybe he should have listened to Cal and not transform. Now that he was thinking about it, his decisions thus far were stupid and costly for not only him but the survival of his team. Some bits of thoughts leaked through his solemn expression, with eyes glaring to the ground and fists being clenched as he berated himself in his head at his own actions.

When they finally arrived at the outpost, Chris saw all sorts of camera angles from the previous battle, most of them being his team getting defeated from key blows from his opponents. "How Embarrassing." Chris muttered, to no one but himself. He had already just finished drilling it into his head he'd never make such stupid mistakes again, but now it seems that USARLIN EAST wanted to rub it into his face, in his perspective at least. Worst of all, he saw Angelique and Siena conscienceless from the ordeal of battle. It would have been bitter sweet to see Angelique in this condition after loosing to her if not seeing Siena in the same condition.

Chris didn't like the idea of it. Friendship. It was something he wanted to avoid, but after the library he finally got a brief connection to. Besides, wouldn't it be better if you cared about the people you are trying to protect? the thought retorted into his mind, which he begrudgingly accepted. He looked around for a moment before pulling up a chair near Siena's cot. He sat down and for a brief moment, looked at her face before diverting his attention to his jacket. There he brought some things in an inner compartment to keep him occupied. While he brought some paper work he didn't finish, he also brought the book Siena recommended to him. He had yet the chance to read it, so now he supposed it would be a good time. After he glanced over the cover, Chris opened the book up to the first chapter, and started from there.

Well.

That was certainly a fight. In six minutes, Team Scorgasm was utterly, completely devastated by the superior 1v1 abilities of Team Abusement Park. It was thoroughly impressive, really, that they managed to take down a team that was filled to the brim with extremely powerful abilities. From Siena, who seemed to…teleport, track, and then mind control? To Callan with her superhuman physique, dragon boy with his fire breathing horse-dragon form, and Kusari with her immortality that allowed her to shapeshift, there was practically no weak link in their group. And yet they were still cleanly defeated by the opposition?

In the observation room, the amethyst-eyed youth couldn’t help but applaud their efforts, especially that of Grant’s. Damn, who would have thought that someone who spent three entire days sleeping would have practically carried his entire team? There were a surprising amount of times where things would have gone extremely awry without 2chainz’s power, and ultimately, Brent now REALLY wanted to take the sleepy-eyed bastard out for dinner.

He was still smiling to himself as Daisy pulled out a whole box of PENS.

Dude seriously gave Callan a run for her money, even if the sick emo dude from the track also did some real heavy duty work.

Taking a handful of bite-sized Kit Kats and a pen with a Mickey Mouse head attached to it, Brent spun the writing utensil between his fingers, before settling down. The smile faded from his face as he set the nib against the paper. Flag football was just a game, but peer review was dead serious.

General Thoughts

Was this a team game, or a bunch of one-on-one matches? Abusement Park won as well as they did because they had slightly more teamwork than Scorgasms, but even then, there were way too many points where more communication could have made for a closer fight. Scorgasm failed to capitalize on Siena’s large variety of powers, all of which were immensely powerful. Similarly, Marcus’s own potential was practically wasted, his own form of instant movement (?) used fairly ineffectively.

Generally speaking, there’s nothing general at all about this fight, because it was mainly kept on an individual basis. Which is a hell of a problem.

Suggested Improvements

Scorgasms
Siena was wasted on healer acquisition. If she could teleport and bring others along with her, she’d be absolutely devastating against the backline of Abusement Park. Grant, the MVP, would have instantly been captured and ganked if Siena didn’t just disappear to search for their healer. The very fact that she abandoned the fight so early, without even taking time to see how the battle was going to pan out, meant that she was leaving her companions outnumbered, against opponents that could definitely overwhelm them.

Kusari had a good thing going, but overconfidence is a slow and insidious killer and she ultimately failed to get even one person out. Had a promising headstart by brutalizing the poor scar-faced kid, but then decided to what, pretend to be a supervillain and spent time talking, thus losing two flags in the process? And after that, wasted even more time tearing off her own limbs to transform, instead of just beating the snot out of Marcus with her current abilities? If she just continued to punch and knee him, she could snatch his flags and get him out. The lack of focus on her part screwed her over even further when she decided to go after Angel instead of confirming her ‘kill’. Wasn’t like Angel was already unconscious, after all, while Marcus easily would be once he got clobbered on the head a few more times.

Chris messed up in the very first exchange. I’ll assume he has some sort of bestial fury in his transformed state, but even that was stupid. What sort of ‘beast’ leaps OVER the head of a being that could shatter his dragonscale plates? Exposing your belly, even in a brief instant, is a bad move. He could have been taken down much faster if Sander had reacted accordingly and tore a hole into his belly. Similarly, if he only had one dragon’s breath, he shouldn’t have wasted it on a smokescreen of all things. The flames may have been hot enough to burn flags off, so, really…breath flames onto super strong bloodsucker and knock him out of the game immediately? Or use it for a variety of other purposes? Suffered from the same ‘villain’ syndrome of Kusari though. Just a little more force could have sealed Angel’s fate and made her ripe for the plucking (bad way of saying that? Probably), but instead, he took his sweet time taking the flags and got destroyed for his efforts.

Callan did well, really. She fought fairly effectively, but seemed to have forgotten one thing. Just because Sander’s superhuman doesn’t mean he’s heavier than a car. In her fight against Sander and Grant, the main threat was Grant, while Sander was just spending all his time protecting 2chainz. So why, when she had the opportunity to throw Sander, did she throw Sander AT Grant? If she threw him away, preferably utilizing enough superstrength to send him into a building (dude had invulnerability, he’s not going to die), Grant would finally be alone, and Callan would have a higher chance of taking him.

Not that she would be able to if Grant also remembered that whole ‘superhuman doesn’t mean fatass’ combo. Right from the getgo, when he snatched Callan’s first two flags, he could have instead grabbed her by her clothing instead, and lifted her off the ground. She doesn’t have dragon’s breath or tentacle arms, and thus, has no range outside of her fists. In the air, she’s helpless. Of course, Grant performed effectively regardless, but he has two chains for grabbing things. If one kept Callan airborne, the other can easily snatch all her flags, no problem. Seriously, she doesn’t even have eye beams. Props though. His ingenuity in dealing with Siena’s mind control was great. Hilarious even.

Marcus got destroyed, but that one instance where he was able to take two flags from Kusari in the blink of an eye was badass. Was a bad idea for him to approach Kusari though, when he could have gone after the dragon’s hoard while Angel was going dovahkin on its ass. Wonder why he didn’t? What sort of logic possessed him to run headfirst at a physically superhuman existence, when he didn’t even have a weapon?

Can’t say much about Sander, but…he did his job well. Props to the dude. He was the muscle that shielded Grant’s brains. And unlike Kusari and Chris, he didn’t do a villainous monologue or whatever when he finally had an advantage on Callan. So yeah, props.

Angel was good. If she made this a team fight, her ability to stun people with her screams would be great. It would literally be their one way of locking down the teleporting menace that is Siena. But instead, she went for combat on an individual basis, and should have lost against dragon-boy. Thankfully, Siena wasn’t a teleporting menace…but that doesn’t change the fact that she could have been.

Ultimately, with a strategy beyond deciding who to face off against, Team Scorgasm could have come out on top with a smart application of Siena’s teleportation and Callan’s superstrength. But they didn’t.

So they got completely wiped out instead.

With that, Brent let out a satisfied sigh and folded his evaluation form into a frog.

“Here you go, Daisy~!”

---

---

---

---

As though she'd never seen a more interesting slab of cement, Callan stared and she stared hard. Don't. Look.

"Aaaand, give it up for The Abusement Park with a resounding total of 64 points to Multiple Scorgasm's 45! They snagged every flag from the opponent and grabbed their healer all in a little more than six minutes--talk about overkill! I've got guards and paramedics on the way to patch people up temporarily, though we'll have everyone back to full health soon enough."

The filthy concrete offered no solutions. Try as she might, she could not unsee what she had seen and the result was very different compared to when she'd glimpsed Chris's nude form. He hadn't just been biting and straddling her minutes ago. At least the sight did wonders for making her forget how disappointed she was about the loss. She floundered for something positive to focus on as guards and paramedics trickled swiftly into the plaza. This proved even more difficult a task as she observed the nervous looking young woman shakily treating her.

Every time Callan looked at her, she flinched. So, holding the cold compress to her eye, she went back to staring at the ground, adding some other feeling to the mixture of emotions brewing inside her. To a lesser extent, it was almost like that night when she snapped at Grant. Couldn't she ever end on a single note? Embarrassment, disappointment, confusion, anger, relief, regret.... Lost in it all, she offered Marcus a short wave before he left to shower off.

Arriving in the 'snack room', as Callan instantly dubbed it, the scenes playing on the screens instantly helped clarify more than a few things. The snacks were too close to the seat Sander had chosen for her to go near them, so she opted to sit down in the seat furthest from his, front row, end seat on the opposite side. It was hard for her to get comfortable while holding the compress to her face and, gathering as much information as she cared to from the screens, she stared at Sander until she heard a cry coming from Fredric's direction..

Their healer, Christmas, had... stabbed himself? The healing red mist momentarily interrupted her thoughts with an alleviating sensation. She felt the throbbing in her face subside and moved her fingers to her neck to feel as the bite marks from Sander smoothed themselves out. Watching Christmas fall to his knees, Callan was halfway out of her chair before a pair of paramedics rushed forward to treat him. Sinking back into her seat with a sigh, she tossed the compress onto the table and ran her hands up over her face. Smoothing her bangs back into her ponytail, she interlocked her fingers around the base and brought her elbows close together before resting them on the table. She closed her eyes and tensed her shoulders before letting them droop with another long exhale.

Callan turned her head just enough to peer at Sander through the gap between her forearm and bicep. She observed Christmas speaking with him through tears, which slowly faded as their conversation went on. She couldn't believe this sudden urge she was having. It wasn't unlike her to want to practice for something like this, but... a rematch? With the boy who couldn't seem to make it through a Flag Football game without running around stark naked by six minutes? Hell, he'd been down to his boxers and shoes by two!

She wanted to interrupt them-- very unlike her. To waltz over, slam her fists against the table and demand a rematch. But....

She turned her head away and closed her eyes again. There was no need to be rash. They'd been put on opposing teams for a reason. Perhaps... they'd permit her to fight him again? One on one? They could always taze her if she lost control-- or him, if he.... She blushed and inwardly groaned with embarrassment. If he what? Got naked? B-bit her again?

Knowing full well there were plenty of other things about the match she could be thinking about right now, her mind seemed superglued in place. There was a word to describe her loss that she couldn't quite pin down. Uncool? Lame? Not just embarrassing....

She'd under estimated Sander-- and Grant. She'd held back-- not given her all. She let herself lose to a pair of fucking pants for fuck's sake. Glancing up at the face-off between Sander and Grant as if the word might suddenly run across the screen like a news break, it finally came to her. The word that perfectly embodied it all-- including the reason why she felt she needed a rematch.

Undignified.

---

---

The second time Siena teleported Lily, she would have whooped out again in delight but the moment she was deposited into the safe zone, she felt a barrage to her senses. She blinked as she detected... no... she felt a large amount of injuries around her. What was happening? Weren't they in a game? Why were there so many of her classmates hurt? Cuts, bruises, broken nose, broken arm, a bite on the neck... Her head automatically turned towards the general direction of those who were hurt. It didn't matter if she could see them or not from where she was standing. She just knew. It was, after all, how her power worked. "Hmmm? Why would there be a bite on the neck...? Even as she paused, injuries kept registering in her mind. Severed limbs. Severed limbs. Lily's eyes widened and she frowned as she turned her head towards Kusari's direction. Was she supposed to help out? How does she help out someone who had lost her limbs? She looked at her own arms. Would they fall off if I took the injuries? she shuddered at the thought, imagining how painful it would probably be.

But she had to do something, right? She had to help. It was what her team mates would do for her.

Or would they?

Doubt crept into Lily's mind. She was left outside USARILN East's doors when she had been injured. Why would anyone help her? What would anyone gain from helping out a girl whose mind jumped from one topic to the other and a mood that shifted as fast as flicking a switch on and off. She continued to turn her head here and there, trying to figure out which one to help out, trying to figure out if she should help out. She wasn't looking forward to the pain and she definitely didn't want to end up taking more than she could handle like the last time. And as she tried to puzzle out what to do, she ended up not helping anyone at all.

It was a familiar feeling... not being able to help. And she wondered if she was ever in the same situation before. Who had she failed to help? Was it the reason why she had been left behind? Who were the people she forgot? Whose face should she remember but couldn't no matter how hard she tried? Who was she?

It didn't take long until a guard appeared to escort the golden haired girl to the Security Outpost. Lily automatically moved, not really minding the weapon once again pointed at her. It was something that wasn't important to her as her mind continued to be plagued with the injuries all around her. She quietly let herself be led towards the Outpost. Once in the observation room, her attention was turned towards the other healer. For a moment, the confused thoughts that persistently runs through her head was interrupted by what the blonde boy did. She stared at him as he cut himself, almost cringing at how he cried out in pain. She understood pain. She understood it very well. Her golden eyes followed the blood as it trailed down the boy's arm. Before it dripped to the floor, the air shimmered. Silently, Lily watched as the red vapor spread away from him, its effect wrapping all the injured in a translucent haze. Healing powers... His blood was really potent.... More potent, more useful.

But like her, did he hesitated to help out the injured?

She watched as Christmas conversed with Sander, vaguely remembering the tall boy from their last battle. The one who had been encased in that crystal the pink haired boy made... she thought. They looked close. The smaller boy even made an effort to make a mound of towels for the taller one. As she watched, she found herself wondering what it would be like to have a friend. Maybe she should make an extra effort to get to know her classmates.

But would any of these people want to get to know me?

She sighed and then turned her thoughts to something else. Must be nice to have room mates...are they room mates? Must be fun... she thought idly, her thoughts derailing once more. She imagined her small room with several beds crammed into it and she wrinkled her nose. Doesn't seem like it'll be fun...

---

---

No sooner after had Marcus climbed up than guards started approaching, with the message that his team had come out victorious. He scanned the area, still looking for any sign of the rest of his teammates, but was interrupted by the approach of a man with a large hose. A sight which made Marcus sigh in relief.

“You sir, you do good work.” Marcus said gratefully, extending his arms out and accepting the gift of a nice rinse he was being given. He was happy to at least have most of the sewage off of him, if not be completely clean. When the rest of the people came over and started spraying him with what appeared to be disinfectant, he was a bit surprised. Of all the things that he had worried about, disease wasn’t something that he had even thought about. A mental note to try and keep track of all possible threats, no matter how small.

“Any chance one of you fellows can lead me to those showers you mentioned? Or at least point me the right way?” Marcus said, gingerly accepting the towels and clothes, trying to carry them without getting any more filth on them.

“Guess I’ll see you back in the showroom!” Marcus said to Callan, giving a short wave and walking off in the designated direction.

It didn’t take long for him to find the showers; the directions provided to him were more than useful enough for him to find his destination. By the time he got there, he could hear the sound of running water already; so he chose the stall the most opposite he could find. He left his fresh change of clothes nearby, neatly folded and meticulously separated from his current clothes, which he placed in a pile. Those'd be getting thrown away regardless; just as soon as he emptied the pockets. He stepped in and threw the towel over the door, not noticing the wieght of the fabic causing it to move ever so slightly ajar, before beginning the arduous process of scrubbing his skin nearly clean off his body. The broken arm gave him some trouble, but where he couldn't just wash around, he forced it out of the way with a gasp of pain and clenched teeth.

A slight pang of guilt hit him and he washed the refuse from his body; he felt like he hadn’t actually helped out his team that much during that fight. He’d gotten like, 6 points out of 64? But he knew he wasn’t any good as a front-line fighter; so there wasn’t much he was going to be able to do besides exactly what he did. Hit and run tactics – grab a flag and run away before Kusari could hurt him anymore than she had. Yet…he felt like he could do more now. He almost wanted a rematch, just to see what that vision was all about.

He needed something to fall back on when his power was recharging. Hand-to-hand combat was probably the most useful: he already knew how to use a gun (though some extra training wouldn’t hurt), but the added protection would help him when he was recharging and might allow him to do some extra offense with his Leap. He had a whole two weeks ahead of him, so maybe he’d be able to request some training during that time period. The mental image of him flashing out of nowhere and doing sweet roundhouse kicks against a bad guy came to mind – a mental image that he absolutely adored.

Kusari watched as water stained red with her blood swirled into the drain at her feet. The fact that she could stand here without a trace of injury was a reminder that she was not normal. She looked at her right leg, and then her right hand. They too were a more obvious reminder. She didn't have it in her to cut off her right arm again and spend another ten minutes reattaching her normal limb. The tentacle had to go for sure, outside of being in combat she didn't think she could stand living with that thing.

The sound of someone entering the security outpost's shower room caught her attention for a moment, but she didn't bother seeing who it was. She simply finished washing herself and exited the stall. After drying herself off she grabbed the clothes one of the guards had gotten for her. It was one of the red and black school uniforms she requested. She walked for the exit, but stopped as she passed the in use stall. The door was slightly open, allowing her to see that Marcus was currently using it. Perhaps due to her mental exhaustion, or the fact that she was an individual with little in the way of tact, she didn't immediately see what was wrong with the fact that a guy had been showering so close to her, let alone the fact that she was now peeking at him.

From where Kusari was standing, she'd be able to see the extent of Marcus's scarring; the slight burn that sometimes peeked out from his sleeve blossomed and bloomed across the entirety of his arm, even dripping down the left side of his torso a small amount. The marks that were on his face were mirrored in a few spots on his torso, and there was a faint slash that jutted across the right side of his collarbone, as if someone had sliced him with a knife. Fortunately for him, he'd already finished up and begun wrapping the towel around his waist, preventing Kusari from getting an eyefull.

She'd noticed Marcus's scars on his face before, but hadn't thought much of them. However, she now saw that he also had scaring from what looked like a fire on one of his arms.

Scars were something she envied more than one should. Scars were proof that you've been hurt in some way, sometimes more than simply physically. Scars are proof that someone is human, that they've gone through adversity and come out in one piece. Her body meanwhile was an unnatural blank canvas. There was no proof of the hardships she'd had. She was disgusted with herself.

Marcus turned around, and suddenly Kusari realized how awkward this was. She averted her eyes. She needed an excuse, something, anything. thankfully she had something she wanted to say to him. "You're not holding a grudge, are you? For what I did during the test."

"GA-HEH!" Marcus shouted in surprise, seeing Kusari standing there. He nearly slipped in the leftover puddle of water, grabbing the towel around his waist and making sure it was secured tightly; determined not to give her any more of a show than he'd already given her. His face went a little red at the thought, but was quickly mitigated by Kusari talking.

Yeah, he was still pretty pissed at her. She'd run up out of nowhere, shattered his arm and then delivered blunt force trauma directly to his skull. He'd be holding that grudge for more than a couple-

But it was a combat scenario. Everyone else seemed to have understood that. Callan and Sander had gone at each other without pulling punches, and Angel had nearly shouted Chris's to death. It seemed like he was the only one who didn't get that memo. This was his life now; these kind of things weren't friendly - and going in under the assumption they were...well, he'd been shown what happened then.

A long sigh. "No. I'm not. It was a training exercise. I didn't go into it as seriously as I should have, and you took advantage of a clear opening. Not really anything to hold a grudge about." He said, crossing his arms defensively. "Besides, like I told you; we're even. You have every right to hold a grudge, yourself."

Kusari frowned, and crossed her arms. "We aren't even at all, because I'm not holding anything against you." She took a deep breath, feeling herself losing her temper. You aren't the one that forced us to compete against each other with the threat of death hanging over our heads. I'm more angry with myself for going along with it so easily." She glanced at Marcus's broken arm. "I'm not doing this again. I shouldn't be hurting any of you, regardless of what they tell me. We're allies after all, right?"

"I certainly appreciate it." Marcus said, looking sheepishly at the ground. It was a nice thought; that they wouldn't be in another situation where they were told to fight each other. But he knew it'd come around one day - either than or he'd be dead before he could actually see it.

"I don't know if it's that easy though. Even if they didn't have us fight each other again someday; there's a whole nest of people and monsters out there willing to hurt us instead. I guess it makes sense that we practice in controlled situations before we can get seriously injured."

Controlled. That was the whole difference here. That was the difference between them and the beasts of DC - and in more than one way.

"So yeah, we're allies. But all we can do is watch out for each other and try not to lose our cool during these kind of games." Marcus said, shrugging and looking back to Kusari.

Kusari was silent for a moment, her gaze fixed on a non-specific crack in the wall of the shower room. She wanted to say she could look out for him as well, but she didn't believe she could. The only thing she was good at was not getting killed. "Right... if the worst ever happens, feel free to let me take the fall. I can take the landing." She let out a sigh. "I should let you put some clothes on, I'll see you wherever these asshats are taking us." She said, heading towards the door. Before she left, she stopped at the door and looked back to Marcus. "Not bad, by the way." She winked at him, and walked out.

"Hell, between the amazing regenerating girl, and the fabulous rewinding boy, the two of us can take pretty much any fall we may stumble on!" Marcus said, grinning. His grin quickly faltered however, his entire face immediately exploding into a crimson hue. He watched he walked out, speechless, as his face slowly started to mellow out.

Of the million thoughts that were currently running around his head on fire, he was not having a super great time in silencing any of them as he pulled his clothes on. Moreso, he didn't want to elaborate on any of them. He was left in a mental limbo, and he tried to divert his attention by cleaning his filth-covered phone off in the sink. He furiously cleaned out every nook and cranny, the redness of his face periodically increasing every time a new thought came by.

A notification on the screen of his phone helped to cut through the slight haze of his overactive imagination: [1 New Message]. He tapped it once, bringing up the mentioned response.

Try not to lose this one, you klutz! You know how much I start to worry when my baby brother drops out of contact! I’ll make time tonight, so you’d better be ready to tell me everything! Call me whenevs!

He grinned slightly at the message, before pulling the waterlogged napkin out of his other pocket. It was bled through and nearly illegible, but he could still almost make out the numbers Emma had written down. He might be able to copy it over correctly, but maybe asking for another would be a better idea. Still, after lunch today, was that a feasible thought anymore? And what the hell had Kusari meant just now? His face flushed again, before he neatly folded up the napkin and gently put it in his pocket.

Maybe it'd be easier to focus if he just worried about watching his classmates beat the shit out of each other.

Emma had been quietly watching the fight in appalled silence. There was too much wrong with this- weren't they supposed to be a team? How exactly would beating the shit out of each other foster camaraderie in 'Experimental Unit B'? She also hardly relished the prospect of watching her would be friends getting seriously injured at each other's hands. The battle had been far too gruesome for a girl who had truthfully never been in or seen a real fight- and she would have to do it too. A deep frown crossed her face. Any thoughts of messing with Ernie had fled her mind, she wasn't going to risk the now apparent chance of serious injury to get one over on the boy.

God, it was tempting, though.

For now she had an evaluation to do- a chance to let Daisy and Fred know how fucked up this was? They don't care, was what the voice in her head told her. She had to be honest with herself, as much as she had wanted to like them, they... well, this was a game to them. They enjoyed the fucked up child super solider gladiatorial event they created.

In the end they weren't so different from Zhang after all, were they?

She sighed to herself as she glanced over the sheet she'd been given. What the hell was there to say? How much could she say without getting in trouble? After the incident with Clark she was starting to doubt that Zhang would be willing to discipline Experimental Unit B. Between Benediction's appearance and the complete lack of repercussions from her journey into USARILN's underbelly Emma was beginning to get the sense that she and her friends were part of Zhang's personal pet project.

Fuck it.

General Thoughts

I can't help but wonder what the point of this 'game' was. Is it just that you USARILN guys get off on seeing kids get hurt? Either way I think this was an exercise in pointlessness. Having us beat the shit out of each other isn't going to make us a better team- we are supposed to be a team, right? You guys better hope that no one has any hard feelings over what happened out there, because some people (Sander) displayed a very high degree of instability and that's the kind of thing that's going to make people trust them less when we're in a real fight. Mistrust like that could us killed, and I think that would piss of Zhang quite a bit.

Suggested Improvements

• Sander needs to learn to control his ability. It's clear that he barely kept himself from punching Callan's head off. That's something that's going to translate badly into a real fight. Don't get me wrong, though, I don't blame him for what happened out there. That's the institute's fault for forcing him to fight when he's not fully able to control himself.
• I'm sure Brent has some great analysis on his sheet, go ahead and read his. I don't have any 'spicy deets' when it comes to commenting about my classmates trying to kill each other.

Emma strode up to Daisy and handed in her sheet without a word. She couldn't help but feel like there would be repercussions, but she didn't care.

Marcus allowed himself to be led back to the rest of the group, arriving just in time to see one of the kids stab himself in the arm. He stood in the doorway for a moment, unsure of whether or not he should actually step in, before a sharp shove from behind informed him that he was, in fact, in the right place at the right time.

The kid’s blood vaporized, spreading throughout the room like some weird fog, but Marcus could feel the bones in his arm knit back together as he breathed it in. There was a little bit of a sickening sound; the sound of bone grinding against bone as it forcibly moved into place to set correctly, but by the time it was done, his arm felt fine. He gave it a few test bends to make sure, humming in surprise.

He avoided crowding the miraculous healing boy, instead grabbing a seat and a drink and looking over some of the monitors. There were some scenes that he’d caught out of the corner of his eye; Angel vs Chris and Callan vs Sander, and there was the little matchup between him and Kusari.

And then there was something else. A screen which caused Marcus to nearly spit his drink. He looked at the screen for a few moments, before turning to the offended party incredulously.

SANDER

Grabbing a pretzel off the table and carefully aiming it, he winged the snack at Sander's head, guesturing at the screen when the boy inevitably glared at him. The screen which currently showed Sander, nekkid as the day he was born (plus shoes), facing off against his roommate.

"Hey Count Chocula - what the actual SHIT am I looking at, here?"

The food item bounced harmlessly off Sander’s forehead, but the impact was enough to nudge the dozing boy awake. His eyes blinked open to a very enraged Marcus, and he just stared on for a few moments in utter confusion, before following the scarred boy’s hand to a nearby monitor. It showed his encounter with Siena, and he narrowed his eyes as he searched his memory for a reason for Marcus’ rage. Did he hurt the girl in anyway? Not that he could recall.

Oh. The upper cut to the chin. But was that even him? His eyes flitted nervously between Marcus and Siena’s form in the corner.

“I’m sorry.”- He stood up from his seat, the damp towel falling off his shoulders as he did –“Did I break anything?”

"Besides her fragile maiden's heart? Hard to tell. WHY ARE YOU NAKED IN THIS MONITOR?" Marcus said, his tone changing from rage to an angry confusion. His eyes also flitted to where she lie unconscious. He didn't know how she got to that state, but since she didn't appear to have any obvious marks on her, and since he hadn't seen anything to indicate brutality on the monitors, he wasn't upset about that.

“Oh.”- Sander mumbled simply, seemingly noticed his indecency just now. That was not appropriate, of course, to be fighting naked. He had forgot that –“I’m sorry. I just—Someone took my clothes.”

"I...huhwha-?" Marcus said, all of the steam immeditely rushing out of his one-sided argument and leaving him there, speechless, absolutely dumbfounded.

"Somebody...took...your clothes." he said, repeating the sentence a couple more times to himself.

“Y-Yeah. Someone took my clothes.”-Sander ran fingers through his hair once, then resumed gripping his upper arms. Don’t. He turned his gaze toward Siena again, his mind kept playing the feather-light touch of flesh on repeat. Once invoked, his guilt was…persistent. At the corner of his vision, he could catch glimpses of a monitor playing the footage of him slamming his fist again and again on Callan’s face. He chose to look away.

Marcus sighed to himself. One long breath as he placed his palm against his forehead and shook his head back and forth. Someone had taken his clothes; what was so hard to understand about that? He sat for a moment, lost in thought, trying to find the right words to say, before he looked back at Sander. This time when he spoke, it was cool and collected.

"Alright. Sander. Buddy. Someone took your clothes. I can understand that I guess. But let's consider one thing here: She's one of my roommates. I would very much like to keep both of my roommates in one piece - kind of my peroggative at this point." he said, listing off every fact. Hell, at this point Callan and Siena were his closest friends, and well on their ways to becoming the closest thing to family he had here. As such, they fell within the 'little brother futily try and protect' range. The 'big tough sibling defense team' was not something he was super used to. Max had never really needed his help, much the opposite usually, but he felt the need to at least stand up for his roommates, even though he was positive Callan wouldn't need it.

"Today you've flashed your goods at one, and chomped into the other like a goddamn Slim-Jim. I don't even know how that happened - like, were you trying to grab her flags with your teeth? But that's not the point. Is there any chance we can maybe, not do those things in the future?" he said, resuming his palm to its position on his face.

Callan's pity party for her lost dignity was interrupted by a familiar voice's elevated shouting near the back corner. Something about someone being naked on the monitor. Oh, God. Peeking through the crevice formed by her arm again, she listened to the exchange, wide-eyed and utterly mortified.

Sander stayed silent in the face of Marcus’ accusations, but that was what he always did, really –“I’m sorry.”-He said again, as if repetition would give the words meaning. Yet, he made no promises –“Yeah. I will…do the best that I can.”

Chris looked up from his book, just as he had gotten comfortable, there was a commotion of who he could hear that troublesome vampire and that Marcus character. Normally he had no interest in the matter, but with such a commotion going on of his former opponents, Chris had felt some obligation. Having set his book down by Siena's bedside, he had stood upright and adjusted his winter jacket. After he let out an audible sigh Chris approached the two conversing students. "Hey." His tone was a bit grumpy, but mostly calm. However within a short pause he had given a short glare at Sander. The stare however was broken with another sigh. "You fought well Sander, I saw the camera angles too. Just....keep your clothes on next time."

Sander turned sharply when he recognized the second voice, his body tensed –“Uh…Yeah.”-He mumbled at Chris’ comment, the tension never left his shoulder –“I’ll try.”

Marcus sighed again, turning his attention back to the screens and muttering something about "...just took his clothes. Obviously" to himself. There was no point in pushing the issue anymore; what had happened was done, and Callan was a big girl and could take care of herself if Sander chomped her again. And Siena...Siena could probably handle him if things went poorly too, depending on what name she took. Hell, he was probably the only one who couldn't do anything about Sander.

"Stop lying." Kusari suddenly spoke up, having been quiet since she came back to the room. While Marcus confronted Sander, she was watching the screens. She turned her eyes to Sander, her face rife with disgust. "You bit Callan. And you weren't even trying to take her flags. What part of pounding on her face fit into this test's objectives? You know you'll do it again too, don't you?." Kusari pinched the bridge of her noise, and let out a heated breath. "At this point I can't even be mad at you. These idiots don't seem to care that you have next to no control over yourself." She took a seat and munched on a cookie in annoyance. She could go on, but she didn't see the point.

Sandet let out a faint breath, his fingers twitched, but he kept the white knuckled grip on his arms –“Yeah,”-Once again, he didn’t offer any resistance to the accusations. Because really, what could he say to the truth? He, of all people, knew who he was, and he held no illusion about the world they lived in. These people didn’t care if he could lose control. In fact, they preferred it that way. Zhang told him as much; they didn’t want him, they wanted the monster. All he could really do was making sure it wouldn’t be all he was –“I’m trying, Kusari.”

Kusari took another cookie, and bit into it. "Uh huh.." She simply responded.

Sander simply let his gaze lingered on his roommate for a few more brief seconds, before sitting back down. Only then did he notice the mound of blanket in front of him. He took a moment to give Christmas an appreciative nod, then leaned on the blanket pile, once again drifting among his thoughts.

Relieved to see things hadn't escalated, Callan relaxed and looked away. Had the conversation not ended as quickly as it did, she knew she would've had to get involved. Kusari's remarks alone almost had her out of her seat. She didn't like people fighting her battles for her. She could handle things herself-- now more than ever. Additionally, most people who tried, no matter how well-meaning, had the nasty habit of assuming she was more upset about things than she really was. In Sander's case, however, she sensed there was something else going on. Coupled with Kusari's biting tone, she mulled over the words in her mind. 'No control'....

Lily's head was still filled with thoughts of crammed beds and small spaces when the voices around her snapped her out of it. Their words barely registered to her but she looked from Marcus to Sander anyway, wondering what had happened to all of them. She finally glanced over to the monitors, something probably only she could overlook and blinked at the images there. The little game they played was apparently more brutal than she could ever imagine. While she had been ecstatic about Siena's teleporting abilities... Siena! she thought happily as she looked around, trying to find where the brown haired girl was. When her eyes fell on her unconscious form, she frowned. What happened to her?

Before she could go to Siena, Chris' last few words distracted her. Keep your clothes on next time? Did anyone strip during the game? Her head whipped back to the monitors and saw exactly what Chris meant. She averted her gaze from the monitor and looked towards Sander again. Did he need to get naked for his powers to work? She would have asked him then and there but their voices didn't exactly sound welcoming. Or should she still ask? As she thought about that, her mind once again shifted gears, turning its attention back to the other healer. Her eyes sought him out. As soon as she located Christmas, she stood up and made her way towards him.

Without having anything else to say, Chris left the group and returned to the seat by Siena's bedside. He had picked up his book to continue reading the next paragraph he left off on.

-

---

---

There were many things in that fight that he should have noticed. Angelique Lachance, Marcus being literally up shit creek without a paddle, Callan's strength, Siena's incredible versatility. Somewhere in the back of his mind he did notice. But that part was silent. Every part of him was absolutely speechless and afraid.

It wasn’t the blood or the bones that had frozen him. He knew what violence looked like, what it felt like to see a human being burst open like a dying star. No amount of graphic horrors would scare him ever again. The violence wasn’t what had scared him. It was the knowledge that it would happen to him within minutes.

He grabbed the fabric of his pants, bunching it as he clenched his fists. Let go. Then do it again. The same with his eyes. Scrunch them tight, then breathe.

These people were supposed to be friends, yet they were on the verge of tearing each other apart. What the hell would they do to him then? Most of them didn’t even know his name. He was just a random guy dropped into their class. They didn’t know anything about him. It was much easier to wreck something you had no attachment to, from Ernie's perspective anyway. And with what he’d heard from his teammates, Victorious Secret and their powers would be able to crush him like an ant.

Wait.

They didn’t know anything about him. Could he use that?

Ernie opened his eyes.

Yes. He could and he would.

He wouldn’t let them lay a goddamn finger on him. They’d be torn to shreds before he allowed any of them to cause him pain. Ernie began thinking, plotting ways to utilize the blank spots in the opposition’s knowledge, tactics that would prevent any harm from coming to him. His preoccupied train of thought resulted in a rather half-assed evaluation sheet.

General Thoughts:

The part with the pants was funny.
Everyone’s got very hardcore powers but they need to use them better.

Suggested Improvements:

They should stop pausing in the middle of fights to talk to each other. I think that only works in cartoons. Take opponents down more quickly so they don’t punch you in the nose.
More team manue maneou strategies would have been cool.
They should get some more practice with their powers too. The tentacle didn’t seem like a good idea.

Hazel Baker

Her eyes had been glued to the monitors ever since Hazel finished talking to her team. It was interesting how their powers worked, though she didn't understand some of the things they did. Why did he put pants on her face? Why didn't he just shear off the flags off her? Why was the lizard so weak? A whole lot more swirled in her mind, but the paper she was handed was for criticism, not questions, so she put them aside and thought of how they could improve.

This did bring up the question of how her own fight will go. Could she expect heavy resistance? How will she fight in an open terrain? What happens if it wasn't on open terrains like alleyways in the city? She didn't want to lose, that much is sure at least. But, there was a possibility that she will lose, and that scares her. What will happen then? Grabbing a pen from the box, she started to painstakingly write on the form.

General Thoughts
pOor PerfoMAnSE.
Suggested Improvement
NEeD moeR taKTiKs an BEter Use of ABIliTy. KWick DEaht on reAl BATTlefeilD

She finally stopped writing, letting the pen fall to the table as she held the paper up. Hazel could write more, but that will take a while. Plus, she didn't really like trying to write anything down, considering it was tedious to do so.

"I am finished." With that, she handed over the form to Rosa.

---

---

When she had been picked up on the playground as the game ended, Angélique was barely conscious. She felt her body being lifted, but the pain and her dizziness cause from blood loss kept her from moving around too much. During the trip between the ruined plaza and the security outpost, she had faded into unconsciousness, her body barely holding up from the wounds she had sustained, even as they were patched up by the paramedic team that treated her injuries.

It was only but a while after everyone was brought into a room filled with monitors and snacks that the injured Aberration young woman woke up. Her waking up left her sight slightly blurry, her mind disoriented as the cool touch of concrete was no longer felt upon her back. She paid little mind to the heated exchange of words between the members of the two teams until she rose up from the cot she had been lying on unconscious.

“Fuck… Feels like a truck ran over me…”

Angélique turned to the hazed figures standing in the room, barely making out the snacks on the two tables and the flickering lights from the monitors looping scenes. Checking up on her body, she had found bandages wrapped around both her shoulders, and a cold compress gauzed around her sides. Strangely enough though, even if bloodstains from her tank top and bandages showed how serious her injuries were, she felt no pain at all, if only the numb aftershock of having been hit twice and thrown to the ground.

Gazing upon her bandages and thoughts drifting to her injuries, another question popped into the X-marked mind. If everyone had gathered in this room, then it surely meant the match was over. There was one thing in mind now. What happened by the time she faded into unconsciousness? Did they win? Did they lose?

“So… what did I miss?” she called out, readjusting the now crooked and damaged shades on her face.

Christmas had been watching the replaying scenes of the battlefield, at last aware of what had happened during his time in the sewer. Monsters. And he was one of them. He had almost lulled himself into believing that this could be a normal school--no, prison. Confinement he could at least fathom, even if he could hardly bear the serious thought of it, but the horrifying sight of Kusari cutting off her own limbs and sprouting monstrous ones and the blind fury with which Sander fought reminded him, in high definition, of what exactly they were. What, exactly, he was. And there was something so miserably pathetic about watching himself shaking in the sewers juxtaposed with the rest of them pummeling each other into the ground. Like he couldn't even be a proper monster, let alone a person.

Before he could wallow in his own misery for too long, someone approached--the scarred student who had fought against Kusari. The one who looked like he teleported back and forth. Who was now pitching a pretzel at Sander and shouting about Sander's lack of clothes on one of the screens.

He remained silent throughout the raised voices, keeping his eyes on the plastic bowl of popcorn nearby and only looking up for a second at a new voice from a white-haired boy he didn't recognize. It wasn't his business and he frankly had no idea what had happened anyway. Moving away from the awkward situation (and moving in general) was out of the question if he wanted to avoid drawing any attention to himself, so he breathed as imperceptibly as possible, hoping the uncomfortable situation would settle down soon. It didn't. Kusari interjected and Christmas avoided looking at her as much as possible, the sight of her abomination limbs coupled with the knowledge of how she grew them now soundly grotesque to him. He should have empathized with her--with a power that demanded self-harm to function--but the scene replayed behind her. Human arms on the floor. A tentacle sprouting from the stump, a clawed, bone-like arm from the other. Monster. He couldn't even bring himself to try.

When Kusari finally relented, Christmas snuck a peek at Sander, comparing the tired, pale roommate near him to the raging demon on the screens. He didn't return Sander's nod, eyes searching the taller boy's face for an answer to a question he didn't dare ask. He simply watched as Sander fell asleep on the pile of towels, afraid to think on more than the present.

Lily pulled out a seat and sat down next to Christmas. The way he looked before the game started flashed through her mind, followed by that cry of pain earlier from his self inflicted wound. It really wasn't fun hurting yourself. That was why she didn't want to shoot herself in the leg during that fight with the fish monster. "Are you okay?" she asked tentatively, realizing belatedly how stupid the question was. Of course he wasn't okay. The boy was placed in a sewer and made to cut himself to heal everyone. Which part of that was he supposed to be okay with? Without really thinking about it, Lily's black thread fastened itself around the boy's wrist, transferring his self inflicted injury to herself. She grimaced as the cut appeared on her arm. She stared at it. It wasn't a deep cut but the shallow ones were always the most painful. It wasn't something she can't tolerate though. She was one of the lucky ones who were not injured (or maybe even the only one) and when she thought about it, taking his wound was the least she could do for not helping out earlier. "The question was stupid. I'm sorry. I hope that makes things a little bit better for you," she said.

Christmas barely registered the girl sitting down beside him, focused as he was on remaining as invisible as possible without actually having that power. Her question took him by surprise--not because he thought the answer was obvious, but because he thought the question was...too unexpected. He didn't know her. He hadn't even bothered asking her name earlier, and he had taken more time than he had liked just realizing she was the girl who had been taken away with him before the game.

So why did it matter to her if he was okay or not? His own power didn't even have that concern for him. Wasn't this just a matter of course?

He had no response in the blur of bewilderment and slow comprehension, flinching slightly when the thread appeared and blinking stupidly when she took the newest injury away, eyes wide as he watched the spot of blood spread on her arm. Relief that the pain was gone, followed by that murky feeling in the pit of his stomach. His left hand moved over his stomach protectively, almost without his notice.

"Th-thank you...?" he whispered it out like a question. "Thank you," he tried again quickly, ducking his head, afraid of breaking the tension in the air. He stared at the older injury, bandaged in the palm of his right hand, before adding in a reluctant request, "Could you--would you..." he flicked his eyes to the X on her throat and forced himself to look back down, "...give it back? ...P-please."

Lily had no idea if the boy was scared of her or if he was just extremely timid. She followed his gaze towards his bandaged right hand and nodded even before he spoke. Oh, the old injury is probably bothering him, she thought to herself as the black thread once again wrapped itself around Christmas' wrist, rendering it woundless. The dull pain didn't seem to bother Lily but she still felt that urge to make someone...anyone feel the same pain as she was feeling. She shook her head to clear it. There was no one here worth injuring. The Director maybe... for putting everyone through this... her thoughts turned to a darker route but it was interrupted by a reluctant request from the boy she had just taken the injuries from. She raised an eyebrow as she caught only the end of his request. 'Give it back? Why? You healed everyone. You deserve not to be hurt." She leaned forward and studied his face. Was he serious with that request?

She took the injury from his hand, too. If he could describe it, he'd compare the break in thoughts to a TV cutting into static. What he deserved? It would have been easy to let the girl decide that for him. Easy to nod and just let it happen for his own convenience. He wanted to. And he was afraid that he did. Like whatever was left of some small amount of pride he had scraped together would leave--no, would be taken away. Please listen.

"Please," he whispered again, not meeting her eyes.

"Hmmm?" Lily's attention was already somewhere else, particularly on the plate of treats nearby. "Please what?" she asked, reaching out for the bowl of popcorn. She popped several into her mouth and then extended it towards Christmas, the pain from moving her injured arm apparently not bothering her. "Want some?" she asked cheerfully.

He watched her lose track of the conversation, a mixture of strange despair and relief on his face when she offered him some of the popcorn. Christmas looked at the snack in her hand like its existence was a terrible mistake.

What else was there for him if he couldn't even manage this properly? Not a desire to improve. Just a desperate clinging to something definite. Please listen.

His breath hitched in his throat as the stomachache tugged at his attention, pulling the fingers of his left hand into a loose grip on his shirt, clutching the fabric where his stomach was. Christmas took shallow breaths, still staring at the girl's hand offering him food.

"Please give the injuries back." Please listen.

Lily's eyebrow arched up again as she pushed the popcorn bowl away. Huh. I guess he's serious about it.

Give it back, four fold. Make him regret it.

Hmmm? What? Who's speaking? Lily looked around, confused. No one spoke. It was the voices in her head. It was no more than a whisper yet she could feel that irresistible tug to do what it was telling her to. She tried to shake off both the voice and the feeling. She reached out and poked Christmas' arm where his self inflicted injury had been only minutes ago. "Doesn't it feel nice not to be hurt anymore?' she asked even as her mind was again interrupted by that insistent voice.

Make him regret it.

"...I don't know," he finally looked up at her, feeling the light pressure of the finger against his arm. The hornets in his stomach buzzed enough that he thought he could hear them in the pulse hammering against his ear. "Nice" was almost any other sensation. "I don't know," he said again, voice tiny and unsteady, "but...they're not yours to take."

The small golden eyed girl didn't seemed fazed by how strange their conversation was turning out to be. She looked around as if looking for somebody. "Well, I don't see anyone else here who can take injuries like I can. So, if there aren't any other Lilies around, who's supposed to heal you?" she argued, determined not to give in to the insistent voices in her head.

Breathing was harder with his rapid heartbeats in the way. Christmas shook his head, teeth clenched against the thrumming nausea and muted strain of what felt like heat shattering in his stomach. From buzzing to boiling and in-between that was something he was afraid to acknowledge. Somewhere in that din, a mindless recognition of her name pinged once and faded, his stray thoughts evaporating in that feverish distress.

He doubled over, body visibly trembling as he leaned against the table.

"N--" the sound fell away into a quiet groan lost to the floor. "No--no one."

Lily was taken aback when Christmas doubled over. "W-what's wrong?" she asked, taking a quick glance at her arm. She still had his injuries. Did he have more? She stared at him for a long moment but nothing registered. He was fine. So, why did he look as if he was in great pain? The small girl panicked. "D-do you want water? Or or... err... donuts? Or..." she glanced over to Sander. "I can get your friend there for you, if you want," she suggested hastily.

He didn't hear her--not clearly. Hard to focus when he couldn't breathe, when the world sounded like he was listening through water, when the muddy apprehension in the pit of his stomach was churning and overflowing into his veins.

I'm here, he thought to himself, the nonsense mantra like a ward against the poison.

A shaking hand gripped the edge of the table, pulling his upper torso onto the cool, wooden surface where he propped his head on his forearm, doing his best to breathe.

The end of her suggestions filtered through the pounding in his ear and Christmas couldn't spare the movement to shake his head.

"You're okay, Snowflake. Remember?"

"I'm...okay," he fell back on that familiar phrase, voice strained and muffled--barely audible, even to himself. But you don't hear me.

What was wrong with this boy? Lily sat there gawking at him, trying to figure out what the heck was wrong and if it was something she did or said. She checked the injuries again. Yes, they were still on her. So what was...? Did he...maybe stay too long down that sewer? Or...Or maybe I shouldn't bother trying to figure him out. But...but then that'd be so sad... She thought, leaning back on her chair with a pout on her face. She wanted to at least try to befriend someone...

In the silence that followed the claim about his state of being, Christmas was able to close his eyes for a bit and just breathe. It was tiring to withstand the...

His mind skipped over the acknowledgement again, scurrying towards a tangent that would both help and only make things worse, in succession. Between frivolous thoughts of "being nice" and some other end of the spectrum that floated beyond the lines he had drawn for himself, he wanted to remain within sight. Here.

And he wasn't nice, but he wanted to be. And "nice" wasn't letting some stranger he barely knew take the pain for him (Right? ...RIght?), even if it meant that dreadful song and dance again where he did and didn't want to do the "nice" thing. I'm here. Why was it that even his own injuries were no longer his choice to keep?

His stomach was still knotting and unknotting, still buzzing, still boiling--all the sensations he had never tried voicing and didn't ever want to. But at least his breath was back, if only in part. He turned to face Lily. Slowly. The weight of his own body was an anchor as he lifted his head.

"Would you give it back, please?" he asked again in a quavering murmur. A broken record. But you don't hear me.

Lily blinked. He really did want the injuries back. So weird...even weirder than me. The voices in her head began speaking again, this time a little louder, a little more insistent. Give it back. Make him pay. Make him regret it. Make him cry out. Make him beg. The boy's strange request had successfully fueled her destructive craving. Should she just give in to it? It was definitely tempting. Being pain free didn't sound so bad either. But part of her still wanted to see this frail looking boy be at ease. He seemed to be scared and withdrawn all the time. She shook her head. "No," she firmly said and stood up. Without another thought, she walked over to where Sander was and poked him twice on the arm. Of all the people there, it was this boy who Christmas seemed to be most comfortable with. Or at least, that was what she thought. "Wake up. Your friend there is having some sort of...uh...maybe mental breakdown," she said a little flatly. Mental breakdown. Strange for someone like her to use those words.

His heart jumped to his throat when the girl (Lily.) poked Sander. No. No. It was agonizing to sit up, but he had to. He was "okay." Why won't she just-- Wrong. Why can't I just-- Too late. Sander was awake.

Sander’s eyes snapped open and he quickly straightened himself from his previous position. He turned to whoever poked his arm, only to come face to face with a vaguely familiar girl. He blinked once recalling the papers Angel had showed them before the match. This was Lily, their healer. His eyes flicked to the open wounds on her arm, finally noticing the sweet but tart scent of strawberries in the air. Swallowing drily, he shut off his ability again. Fourth time, now.

He turned his gaze to Christmas, who looked very much unwell, just as Lily said –“Uh, mental breakdown?” -He raised his eyebrows, turning his gaze to the nearby guards momentarily, then back at Lily –“Do you need my help?”

Christmas shook his head, breaths stuttering. " 'M--okay," he stammered immediately.

Lily looked back at Christmas then at Sander. She pointed towards the blonde boy. "You're his friend, right? Go... comfort him... Or I dunno... make him right."

"I'm o--" the roiling breathlessness cut into his meaningless assurance for a split second, "--kay."

Sander hastily stood up from his seat. While he still looked as if he hadn’t quite done processing Lily’s request, he turned to Christmas regardless, a hand reached out to touch the blond boy’s shoulder tentatively. But didn’t the boy say he was okay? He didn’t look fine, but… Sander retracted his hand, hesitation set in.

“Um…Christmas? Do you need anything? I can get some of the paramedics?” -He glanced at the guards again, half-hoping someone would notice the situation and come over. The other half wished he could do something to help. But he couldn't. He shouldn't.

“Do you need to…leave?”

"Nope. You're okay."

The pressure of Sander's hand on his shoulder reminded him to speak. Reminded him that this wasn't appropriate behavior. Two wrongs that he had wished would make a right between his bits and pieces of a family and his bits and pieces of a relationship that had spiraled far beyond him. And it was his mother's hand on his shoulder again, her mannequin smile in front of his face.

"Christmas. You're not being a good boy right now."

The pandemonium in his head shut off immediately. His mind and body knew in unison that a mannequin couldn't hear. All that remained now was a cold dread plunging into his stomach and scattering the heat to icy shards, leaving nothing but his trembling shoulders in the aftermath. Luckily, Sander withdrew the hand soon enough.

"I'm...okay."

He nodded blankly at the table to confirm the statement.

"I'm okay."

At his roommate’s insistence, Sander relented. He hovered around the blond boy though, eyes turning to Lily as if asking Now what? After a short moment of silence, he finally decided to ask -"What happened?"

Christmas sat still, keeping his head down and his eyes fixed on the striations of the table's wooden surface.

Lily looked at Sander, giving him an 'I don't know, he's your friend, go figure him out' look. But when he asked, she sighed. "I thought I'd give him a little break from having to heal everyone and end up being the only one hurt," she lifted her arm to show him the open wound there. It wasn't bleeding but it was still fresh. The older wound wasn't as fresh as the one Christmas had inflicted but it didn't look too good either. "He said he wanted them back..." her voice trailed off as the voices in her head began speaking once more. Give the wounds back. Give them back. Make it two folds, make it three folds. Make it hurt. It was almost a musical chant and as Lily inadvertantly focused on the words, the black string appeared on her wrist, the other end hovering above her head. She shook her head to clear it and focused her attention back to Sander. "I mean, it is his wounds. But..." The string promptly disappeared. Make him hurt. Make him regret. Her eyes took on a darker shade of gold as she stared at the tall boy. "Should I?" she asked.

There was no response from Christmas's end. He didn't even look up. Instead, his hands kneaded each other for a while before tugging on the ribbon around his wrist. The movement was muscle memory, almost automatic, and he had tied it back into his hair within seconds. His hands returned to their busywork, nearly clawing on each other.

“You…took his wounds?”-Sander stared at Lily, narrowing his eyes at the X mark on her neck, then at the black string before it disappeared –“Maybe because he didn’t want you to get hurt?” –He exhaled, renewing his focus through the haze of the withdrawal.

“You can give them to me.”- He said finally, a strange look in his eyes that seemed almost like apprehension –“The wounds, I mean. I can take it. I heal fast.”

That got his attention. Christmas looked at Sander, mouth open to say something in protest as the conditioned reactions floundered in the absence of the usual follow-up. Right. Right. He was here. Not home. Home had never left a bowl of popcorn out for him. Silly little thoughts, but for once they drove his mother away.

Lily's mouth fell open as she looked from Sander to Christmas then back again to Sander. "He wants the injuries back and then you want it too. Are you guys nuts?" she scratched her head.

Christmas's hand was around Lily's wrist before he had even realized what he was doing. His grip was light, unsure, and his arm hadn't yet ceased its shaking, but it was too late to avoid saying something now.

"Just--" he didn't finish, looking up at her instead, his eyes pleading with a tinge of panic.

Somehow, an idea wormed its way into Lily's head and despite the confusing situation she was in, she grinned at Christmas. His grip on her wrist was gentle. "Oooh, you don't want tall guy here to be hurt, huh?" She looked at Sander. "I'm supposed to be a healer despite this X mark here," she pointed at the base of her throat. "I'm not gonna ask for anything in return you know..." she paused, looking thoughtful. That's a lie. You want them hurt in return. Do it. Do it now.

The voices were affecting Lily and it was taking a toll on her mood. Her black string appeared and disappeared on her wrist several times. She shook her head again in an effort to clear it and drive away the intrusive, destructive thoughts. "...or maybe you can just give me donuts," she finished, her tone taking on a sad note.

Christmas let go of her wrist, looking back down at the ground as his hands worked at each other again.

“You have seen me out there. I can take it. I’ll be fine.” –Sander reasoned, lowering his gaze to Lily’s newly acquired wounds again –“Those might scar.”

At Lily’s request, he creased his brows, turning to the various snacks on the table –“Um, sure. I can get you a donut from over there?”

Lily looked down on her wounds. Scars. She has a big one on the back of her head, why would small ones the arm and wrist wound would probably leave matter? She walked over to a seat and sat back down, nodding slightly at the offer of her favorite treat. "Thanks," she muttered, staring down at the wounds the two boys seem to want so much.

Sander waited a beat, hoping that Lily would reconsider her decision. She didn’t. Then there was nothing he could really do about it –“If that’s what you want.” -He mumbled, frowning slightly, but thought better than to voice whatever going through his head at the moment. He walked over to the plate of donuts, picked out several different varieties and placed them in a smaller plate. With that done, he carried the plate over and placed them in front of Lily. His movements were still slightly sluggish, but his eyes were alert as he settled back down on his seat, gaze lingered on Christmas.

"Heehee, thanks," Lily gave Sander a half hearted grin coupled with a half hearted giggle. She looked down at the small plate and picked up the chocolate covered ring. 'Hmmm hmmm..." she hummed softly as she bit into it, trying to ignore the still persistent voices and avoiding looking at the open wound.

How to fix, how to fix. His hands pulled and gripped each other to the rhythm of his one thought. He was just being silly--had been the whole time. Christmas knew how to fix it. But like every other decision that mattered, he always veered towards the path of least resistance. It reflected in every "Bad End" he never paid attention to in shallow video game realities where his every choice mattered--but remained ultimately worthless. Just code in a program. Consequences he could ignore, unlike the consequences he couldn't ignore now.

Just let me do something right, he finished the thought he had failed to tell Lily earlier, as if saying it in his head would count. He wanted his choice in this reality to matter, too. Please listen to me.

He slid his chair back, standing up with a slow, unsteady push. The tall man from before was still turned around, busy with the screens. An wavering gait took him several steps towards the figure, close enough that he could cover the distance easily when all he wanted to do was sit down and hide away. He didn't want any of this, least of all the sudden injuries he had inflicted on someone else. It felt wrong. Immensely wrong. Like leaving it alone would make it his fault this girl he barely knew was cut and stabbed on his behalf when this was what his power demanded. He wanted to think that there was meaning to it. That if he took the consequences of his powers "correctly," it would sort him out somehow, and that if he didn't, he was inherently wrong. Stupid thoughts, but they had already settled deep into his mind and grown roots; one more irrational fear in the sea of anxiety that was every part of him he couldn't bear to let go.

And worst of all he feared that sudden kindness forced upon him. It was too much for him out of the blue. Like he had been given a mountain when he hadn't even asked for a speck of dirt on the molehill. The scope of it terrified him--he knew he didn't deserve it and he knew he wanted to let her keep the injuries anyway. Easy outs. Easy lure back into old habits.

He was trying. He wanted to believe that as he stood behind the tall supervisor.

"Um..." He could barely hear himself.

As soon as the blond boy stood up from his seat, Sander followed suit, though it was obvious he wasn’t quite sure what to do. He just dogged the boy’s steps, staying within arm reach, but never did reach out.

Christmas hardly registered the accompanying movement, focused as he was on not losing his nerve.

Fredric wouln't have noticed the pair's approach had it not been for the guard beside him. The guard tensed and turned to face them, looking past Christmas with eye on Sander. He was smiling before he even turned around, though it slightly faltered upon seeing the state of the boy before him. He didn't seem to mind that Sander was there as he peered curiously down at the youth. His eyes fell on the missing injuries. "How're you holdin' up, Mr. Halvost?"

"...I'm...okay," Christmas's hands continued pulling on each other. "I just..." he fumbled for the words, "f-forgot to heal someone. I'm sorry."

It wasn't how his power worked at all. And he knew they knew. They had known about the change in his abilities when he had only just come to terms with it himself. But it was enough as an explanation, he hoped.

Sander frowned at his roommate’s words, but he chose to say nothing, instead just hovering by Christmas’ shoulder, eyes flickered between his roommate and Fredric.

"Ah," he pulled his knife from his pocket with a flourishing spin. "You want my knife?" He tossed it back and forth between his hands, eyes fixed on Christmas.

No.

But Christmas nodded instead.

“Do you think this is necessary?” –Sander’s frown only deepened as he looked at the knife in the staff mage’s hand.

Fredric held the knife still and his smile widened. He refrained from handing it over. Instead, he flipped the blade out and examined the edge. "Who did you forget to heal, Mr. Halvost?"

"...Lily...?" he said it like a question, unsure if that was the right name he had caught earlier.

Looking past him, Fredric stared at the small blonde teen, humming and nibbling away at her donuts. The same black mask Christmas had seen him don in the hospital appeared.

Christmas flinched at the sight, taking half a step backwards in surprise. But he held his breath and waited for the small shock to pass. It helped that he had at least seen it before.

The mask vanished as he looked back to Christmas. With yet another playful flourish, he held the handle of the knife out for the boy to take. "Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, Mr. Halvost," he said cryptically, smile unfaltering.

Christmas took the knife, watching the ceiling lights shine off the blade's clean surface and jitter in its reflection as his hand trembled with the weapon in his grip.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" -Sander crossed his arms, moving to stand next to the blond boy -"Lily made her choice."

Why is it just Lily? Why don't my choices matter, too?

He had almost forgotten Sander was right behind him and was now right beside him, the pocket knife in his hand a concrete exaction. Overwhelmingly concrete, like it was all he could do here.

"I...don't think this is a good idea." -Sander moved closer still, his tone almost pleading -"Look, if you are really concerned about Lily, I can ask her to transfer the wounds to me. I told you. I can heal on my own."

A quiet cough emitted from the smaller boy, and he shook his head. Another cough followed, and underneath it was that half-laugh of a noise he had made earlier, the imcomplete sounds not a comprehensible answer to Sander's suggestion.

Instead, he pressed the flat of the blade against his left palm, uncertain footsteps moving him away from the tall man and towards Lily's seat. When he reached her, he took a long breath, right hand gripping the knife hard enough to worsen the tremors.

Christmas closed his left hand on the blade and pulled the edge across the palm with his right hand, wincing with the fresh sting and doing his best to not cry out again. Rapid, quiet gasps instead and the prickling of tears in his eyes.

His hand was in front of Lily's face, moving on his decision this time. The cut was shallow, and blood welled up slowly on his palm.

"...Just...let me do this right," he managed that, at least.

Lily wasn't paying any more attention to Christmas or Sander or anyone else for that matter. She stared blankly at the monitors, her spirit gone, her mood having plummeted a few minutes earlier. She nibbled absentmindedly at her donut, the fun of eating it gone. When Christmas came back towards her, she didn't look up and she didn't bother acknowledging his presence. But when his hand moved in front of her face, she narrowed her eyes at the shallow cut on his palm. She frowned. "Just can't let it go, can you?" she muttered. You should have made him regret it. He wants pain. You should have given it to him.

Yeah, maybe I should have. She stared at the bloody hand, obviously offered to her. "No," she said, wrinkling her nose in disgust. It was the same irony scent from the battle... she had no choice but to drink his blood once, she wasn't planning on doing it again. She reached up and batted his hand away. "No," she repeated before she turned away, determined to ignore the boy. She considered using her powers to take this newly inflicted wound again. Just to spite him.

The swat jarred the fresh wound and Christmas whimpered a bit in response. He withdrew the hand, watching Lily refuse to take the heal. His eyes moved over the half-eaten donut on the plate to the scatter of snacks down the table's length, thinking again when he already knew the answer he didn't want to finalize.

Another quiet cough and the air shimmered around him, the glassy mist sliding slowly forth from his injury. Where Lily was, right beside him, the effects caught her swiftly, closing the light wounds on her hand and arm. Before it could spread any further than them, he let go of the power, dissipating it and wobbling slightly on his feet.

Why don't my choices matter, too?

Sander only let out an exasperated sigh, oblivious to the scene behind him –“Aren’t you going to get him some help?” –He asked –“And I am not just talking about his hand.”

The towering staff mage shook his head with a heavy sigh, "The mind can be a treacherous place, Aberration or no. We can't help someone who won't help himself, Mr. Lorraine."

“Just like how you couldn’t make innocent children fight each other?” – Despite what his words implied, Sander’s tone had neither the bitter sarcasm nor the biting hostility that could often be found when dealing with an Aberration. If anything, he seemed resigned. Forlorn. Like someone who was talking about the stormy weather –“I don’t think that’s how it works here. Please don’t say we ever had a choice.”

“…Sorry.” -He began, after a short pause –“I just thought—“ -His head whipped back suddenly, as the savoury scents filled the air once more.

"I'm no therapist," Fredric replied, a hint of tiredness in his voice, "But I can say there are some things you don't want the government meddling with when it comes to mages. You may disagree, but you all have choices. The game was to take flags and healers. We didn't command Ms. Bloodworth to cut off her own limbs. We didn't tell you to hurt Ms. Webb. Have a chat with Ms. Hazel Baker if you'd like to see what happens when you don't even have the illusion of choice." He observed the exchange between Lily and Christmas with reserved intrigue.

Lily looked down on her arm and wrist and watched the wound stitch itself up under the effects of the boy's power. She should have been thankful for the pain relief. But instead, she felt annoyed. She whipped out her thread and took Christmas' palm wound. "We can continue doing this the whole day, you know," she said.

Christmas's thoughts were a little fuzzy. Just a smidge. Blurred around the edges from sifting through himself so much in a matter of minutes and trying to pick out the parts he thought he could use, hiding the rest of it away somewhere he couldn't see. The rolling momentum of events had been draining, in more ways than one, and his face was blank as he watched Lily take the fresh cut on his palm. Static in his mind, and this time there were no hornets and heat to replace confusion and distress with something he didn't want to see. Tired of the song and dance and trying to reason with himself on every step and movement. Trying, trying, because he thought he had managed something right on a slip of a smile but now even that was taken from him. Choices made for him. Validation turned vanity. He was supposed to have left the uncertainty behind, but instead he had brought everything and the kitchen sink along. Why won't she just listen to me? Wrong. Why won't--don't I just listen to me?

He turned the knife's edge towards his throat, nearly contacting skin as his hand continued shaking, though whether he could do what he threatened was an entirely different matter. At the very least, he didn't think she would take the potential injury he was holding to ransom. If she wouldn't hear him, he needed to be louder.

"As if you could." A kind laugh followed, and every intonation was a hidden jeer. But he sounded so gentle Christmas couldn't disagree.

"No...I can't," he said softly. "Just please," and he almost sighed the rest of his quiet request away. "give it back."

Lily's frown deepened. She stood up and snatched the knife away from Christmas, keeping it out of the boy's reach in case he tried to take it back. "What the heck is wrong with you? You're completely nuts." With her irritation came several voices in her head egging her to hurt the boy. This time, she didn't fight it. But she exerted a bit of an effort not to give back more than what she took. The black thread fastened itself on Lily's and Christmas' wrists, transferring what the blonde teen took back to the boy. "There. Satisfied?" she asked, eyes flashing but at the same time feeling a great relief as the voices in her head finally fell silent.

Christmas simply nodded in response, eyes on the thin cut returned to his palm--a choice made to matter and it had taken him everything to make someone listen. He wanted to go back to his pointless games where his choices meant nothing, but the program at least heard him.

Sander merely gave the taller man a blank look that said he was far from convinced, but he didn’t offer any more argument on the topic. He was not keen on sinking into a conversation that could make his Stigma spiral out of control –“T-They…” -His voice cracked a little as he began, so he stopped, swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat –“He’s bleeding.” -He gestured to where Christmas and Lily was, obviously uncomfortable.

Fredric had been eyeing the knife in Christmas's hand carefully, catching the boy's unsteady movements and lack of commitment to the projected neck injury. The nearby guards were already tense, but Fredric held up a hand to stop them, his mask snapping into existence on his face again. He remained still, watching the two healers struggle with their own demons until Lily snatched the knife out of Christmas's hand and transferred the injury back.

Between two medics who both needed to hurt themselves to heal, it was the broken boy from a broken household who wanted it more--dangerously so. He pitied Christmas, but as the tension subsided in that corner of the room, his mask flickered away into nonexistence and he turned back to Sander with a resigned smile.

"Quite an observation," he laughed faintly, signaling for one of the paramedics.

The same woman from before busied herself with cleaning and bandaging the new injury, moving Christmas towards the side of the room for some space as she worked. From his place in front of the main control panel, Fredric watched the boy point at his right arm, muttering something briefly. The medic looked to him, mouth open to call for his attention when she realized Fredric was already watching. He simply nodded and she turned back to Christmas, removing the bandages around his right hand and upper arm. The injuries there were indeed gone.

That done, Fredric kept an eye on Christmas as the blank-eyed healer stumbled back to his original seat and sank into the chair, head bowed and shoulders low, looking entirely defeated. Just a Pyrrhic victory over Lilianna. The boy had lost more than he had gained trying to hold on to some meager proof of agency, and the small girl was already beelining for Sander.

Sander stayed put, fear flashed briefly behind his eyes. He took a few shaky steps forward, before seemingly thought better and stopped himself. Thoughts warred with each other in his mind, but in the end, he swatted them all away, opting to just stay where he was until Christmas had been fully patched up. Even then, he stalled, shifting his weight from one foot to another before he finally relented and headed back to his seat.

Lily sought out Sander and glared at him as soon as her eyes fell on him. She gestured towards Christmas angrily. "I said make him right., not make him cuckoo," she accused, placing the blame on what happened on Sander. She stomped away and sank back into her seat, taking her unfinished donut and biting into it savagely.

Sander merely gave her an apologetic look before settling back down on his seat. There could be no more dozing though, when his mind had begun vomiting out broken thoughts like a miserable drunk. He sighed, focusing his gaze back on the flickering screens, but occasionally, he couldn’t help sneaking a glance at both Lily and his roommate.

Before any more landmines were stepped on for the day, Fredric sauntered over to Lily's seat, taking his knife from her hands with a smile and a flourish--cleaning the blade off with a nearby napkin and snapping it shut--before pocketing both and walking away.

Lily looked up at Fredric, belatedly realizing that she was still gripping the knife she had snatched away from Christmas. When it was taken from her, she merely looked at the man, shrugged and then turned back to her treat.

Fredric didn't return to the screens just yet, though, his even, measured strides taking him quickly to where Christmas sat without giving off the impression of a rushed approach. The boy didn't seem to notice his presence, and Fredric didn't seem to mind. The lanky man pulled the knife back out of his pocket, placing it soundlessly on the desk in front of Christmas, directly in the boy's line of sight. Christmas looked up at that, eyes not quite seeing Fredric. It didn't take a psychologist to tell the teenager was straining to remain mentally present. And tearing at the seams.

He didn't want to push the boy at this point, so Fredric kept it short.

"I believe Daisy said it best, Mr. Halvost. ...Christmas." He watched the boy blink once. " 'Make good choices.' "

Sparing just a second longer to watch the healer look back down at the desk--and now the knife--Fredric nodded once to Sander in greeting before heading back to his original position at the front of the room, turning around to face the screens once more.

It was a bygone conclusion when Christmas's shivering fingers wrapped themselves around the still-warm grip of the closed pocket knife. The pale hand retreated under the table with the weapon and the small boy let the static in his mind overwhelm him again.

Sander's gaze lingered a touch longer when he spotted the knife, but he didn't stop the shaky hand that reached out.

"If that is what you want..." -He mumbled the familiar words, suppressing a sigh.

Sleep was something that Siena had been hard pressed to find since her arrival in USARILN East. Death and combat aside--the nightmares were still vivid recreations. Exaggerated reminders that it was her fault--the girl had been...homesick. It wasn't quite the right word for what she was feeling, but it was as close a comparison as Siena could make.

That was why she had kept her eyes shut even when she felt her consciousness started to return. First hazy, then slowly clearing up. 'Coward. That's not why you want to sleep.' Not the full reason. 'Your fault. Again.' Her body didn't ache like she expected it to after her spectacular failure. The brunette had pushed herself far past her limits. The her on the battlefield had known it and ignored it, but the her lying down with her eyes and ears shut to the world had no adrenaline to distract her. While she was fatigued, she wasn't...aching. As if something had taken the inevitable injuries, but left the exhaustion. Perhaps someone had. It wouldn't have been surprising.

If only they had left the ache. It would have been a stellar distraction from the storm.

Her first two marks weren't the problem--she'd chosen them not only for their abilities, but for their probable effect. Two people that she knew wouldn't stir the storm too far...

...But the other two were broken, and she could feel their cracks trying to breach her defenses.

'Not human. EOs don't come back all the way.' Siena didn't want to acknowledge that. Not when she was certain she could still feel the pangs of guilt and fear. Still human. Still her. At least as close to Siena Santana as she could get. The fear lingered for a moment longer, muted compared to the usual anxiety that drove the girl to tear at her hair without concern.

EOs came back broken.

But that wasn't what she was afraid of, now was it? A jolt of irritation surged through her, waking her nerves and threatening to clear her senses. She clung for a moment longer to the comfort of her feigned sleep, willing it to stay like she had to many of the names she'd taken. Just a few moments longer to keep the storm away. She never wanted them to leave her to face what they left behind alone.

'People don't trust what can bite back, Siena. Don't show that you can.'

She opened her eyes with a soft breath, a blurry figure sitting near her. Two. As her vision started to adjust to the sudden change in lighting, Siena realized she didn't recognize one of them. It sent a weak thrill of anxiety up her spine. Muted still.

Not quite human yet.

"Chris...?"

---

---

Well, that sure was... interesting.

In no less than six minutes, Abusement Park had dominated Multiple Scorgasms in a brutal fight, coming out of it victorious. Interesting was the only way to describe it. Entertaining would make Savannah sound sadistic, while frightening would make her out to be weak. But, to be honest, she didn't feel like the fight could be described in either of those terms. So interesting was the word she'd use for the time being. Or, rather, when her mind could scrounge up another adjective to describe it. And that'd take a while, as she wasn't the type of girl to use fancy lingo in everyday speech.

Savannah took a dark purple pen from the basket of writing utensils, tapping it on the desk for a few moments. What should she write? The fight was a complete disaster- it had been hard to keep track of all the one-on-one fights that had been going on at the same time. She twirled the hyacinth-colored pen in her small hands, still staring at the paper.

She began to write- her tongue sticking out of her mouth as she scrawled on the paper with deep orchid ink.

General Thoughts:
Seriously? Pantsing people? What is this, preschool?
That part with the tentacle was disgusting.
Suggested Improvements:
Some people need to learn to control their ability (Most notably vampire boy or whatever his name is). He barely restrained himself from punching off that blue haired girl's head in their fight.
They need better teamwork. There was almost no cooperation or strategizing on their parts, and I don't think that'd go well for them when they're really battling.

After Savannah had finished, she handed the paper off to Rosa and sat back down in her seat; waiting impatiently for their fight to begin. She had been anticipating this part.

What had Allison just witnessed? In just over half the time allotted, team two had been annihilated by team one. Wasn't this supposed to be a game, a team-building exercise of some sort? It had ended up being so much worse. Multiple injuries, blood everywhere, and a distinct brutality that absolutely sickened the girl.

Allison made no attempts to hide her disgust. She had stared on as the events unfurled, powerless to stop the carnage. The USARILN staff were more heartless than Allison had thought, and it seemed that they got more heartless as the days passed. They had forced a bunch of untrained teenagers to fight monsters, with 2 deaths, and now they were forcing them to fight each other. Though, what seemed to be the worst part was that they had played along, they had attacked each other, and they had injured each other over a reward that just wasn't worth the suffering.

Allison's train of thought came to a halt as she was handed an evaluation sheet. She immediately picked up a pen and started writing, scribbling out the first section after she wrote it.

General Thoughts

What was that? That wasn't a game, and it was barely a fight. It was just a massacre. What was the goal of this, exactly? If it was to inspire teamwork, or to get a benchmark on it, it didn't work as intended. If anything, all this will have done is give them grudges to hold against each other. Do you intend to just destroy us, to rip us limb from limb one pointless skirmish at a time? You're lucky we seem to have no sense in us to prefer death to this suffering.

The fight seems like it was ineffective for whatever the purpose was. The battle was one sided, due to major mistakes on the part of team two. Many of the combatants need more training, due to terrible use of powers, and a lack of teamwork.Both teams talked too much.

Suggested Improvements

Grant proved to be the most useful member of team one in the end. His ability allowed him to take the flags without having to fight much. Angel seemed to take a backseat during the first few minutes of the fight, only really attacking Chris. It was surprising to see her attack anyone at all. Marcus' use of his powers seemed haphazard, could have been better applied. Sander was a monster, a horrible, awful thing. It seemed like he was acting solely on instinct.

Team two was a mess. Siena abandoned the fight, which may have cost her team the entire thing. Chris' attacks were ineffective, likely due to incompetence. Kusari cut off her own arms. Callan was the most effective member of team two, though having to fight both of the strongest members of the opposing team led to her failure.

Allison silently handed in her form.

It took a moment for Chris to register Siena was waking up. He had been prepared to ignore other distractions as he hadn't expected her to wake up so soon. He would lower his book as his eyes fell to Siena's bed. "Siena, you up?"He said, his facial expression showed he was far less annoyed then he was previously, instead he had a more nuetral expression. His one hand was on the cover of the book which had at that point rested on his lap, while his other was hanging at his side.

A familiar voice did more to soothe her than she thought it would, though it didn't settle the storm. Setting aside her own--not hers, theirs emotions, the brunette pushed herself to a sitting position. It was arduous, doing it so slowly and carefully, but it was better to err on the side of caution than it was to sit up and suddenly need to throw up again. Giving a weak smile, the girl gave a faint nod. "Y-yeah." Instinctively, her left hand moved to pull at an available lock of hair. "I'm glad you don't seem hurt." Hopefully he hadn't been. Trailing her eyes slightly to the additional presence by the boy, she could feel the confusion and curiosity try to form on her face.

She allowed it.

"Er...is she your friend...?"

"Roommate actually." Chris sighed as he leaned back. "Go ahead and introduce yourself I guess."

Rain looked up from the Manila folder he was scanning through and moved closer to her to get a clear view, (kinda-sorta) ignoring Chris' order for him to introduce himself, "Oh your awake. I heard about the fight you guys were in. You feeling better?", he asked her in a maternal-like tone.

High alert. There was no reason for her to be on high alert, but Siena felt the flags rise in the back of her head even as she analyzed the unfamiliar face. The girl had a different kind of air than most of the others that Siena had met in her short time in USARILN East--it was different from Maya's too. She didn't know where to place the point of reference, and that single fact alarmed the brunette. Still, she gave a half-hearted smile in response. "I'm fine...um..." A pause, a questioning look (was it questioning? Siena wasn't entirely certain with half her emotions feeling musted). ""Thanks for asking, though. I um...don't think I recognize you..."

Rain smiled back sweetly, "Yeah. I suppose you don't my name..." he began, but was quickly cut off by his roomate.

Chris sighed. "Her name is Rain, she's my newly assigned roommate. I"m not sure if she was one of the kids that was shot or just someone that they took in late." The boy would rest his hand on his chin.

Rain's gaze fell away from the two of them as he drifted off to that night. 'One of the kids that was shot'. Was he one of those kids? He must of been it seemed. Though he couldn't quite remember for sure. But that might explain the gunshot wound on the side of his stomach, which he suddenly laid bare to them by lifting up a bit of his shirt "Well...I do have this.." he revealed to them, showcasing the the partially healed wound covered over by bandages.

Vivid memories of their welcome came to mind, and Siena wished that her breath would catch like it was supposed to instead of the odd sense of calm. Furrowing her brow slightly as Rain pulled her shirt up--'How many people am I going to see strip down today?'--Siena was quick to put two and two together. "That's a bad place to get shot. It's good that you're awake now." Maybe even lucky, but with healing powers and evidently even Benediction on call, Siena could only assume that the students that could be salvaged would be...maybe.

Rain nodded his head at her reassuringly, "I suppose it is" he said in a quiet, pleasant tone.

Chris exhaled again. He didn't like to think about that day. Whether or not he would come to tolerate Rain, he was at least glad she was alive. Though he will never admit that."Well anyway, sorry for letting the team down, I got carried away." He had brushed the side of his winter jacket with that remark.

Peering at Chris, Siena felt something between concern and guilt. Letting the team down? Hadn't that been her? The brunette averted her gaze for a moment. Cracks coming in, but best not to let them out. "Oh, n-no it wasn't your fault." She had no idea if that was true, she hadn't even stuck around long enough to see the fighting. No fangs, no fury. Like the coward she was told to be. "I...should have been more aggressive.I think if anyone let the team down, that was on me." Another strand of hair snapped from the pressure, but the sound was more noticeable than the pain for the brunette. "It wasn't an even match when I left. I could have helped instead of going straight off."

The effeminate pink-haired boy clasped his hands behind his back as the two spoke, his eyes transitioning from one to the other. For someone who didn't have any friends, the way Chris spoke to the brunette, it seemed like he cared about her. It was quite sweet to see.

Chris hesitated. "I thought you did great, I heard you got a hold of Lily. " He said, leaning back in his chair with a reassuring tone. "The rest of us were supposed to cover for your abscence, but when you got back there was no one there to back you up, and outnumbered no less." He'd cross his arms, and had hid his book at his side. "You shouldn't be stressed out too much about it, it was the team that needed fixing, not you." There was a moment where he almost smiled towards the end of his sentence, but he quickly became of aware of it and and cut it off back to his neutral, slightly-irritated expression.

'I did...wha...?' Despite her best efforts, Siena felt her cheeks flush faintly, her fingers raking violently through a few strands of hair. Compliments were...not her forte--receiving them, at least. Gerwulf had been straightforward, and Maya was quicker to point out what needed fixing than what was already passable. She'd largely grown up learning how to compliment other people, not the other way around.

Besides, most of the compliments she got were lies anyways. Carefully constructed to match some vague attribute because sometimes, people didn't even know that Siena Santana existed.

"I-I er..." She what? Agreed? Disagreed? "Thanks." Giving a weak smile, Siena gave in to her nervous ticks again, almost feelng relief when she heard another three springing snaps to her left. "At least we have some ideas for next time." If there even was a next time. Adjusting her weight, Siena took a moment to glance around her, her eyes flicking to the screens before they returned to her companions. "Maybe I should take a page from your book next time."

Having seen her smile, Chris's facade would crack in the form of a small smile which had briefly taken form on his lips, before he once again caught himself and undid the expression. He hated being nice, why was he doing this? It was strange, though that may have been because of her stuttering. However Chris grew a tad flustered at her suggestion. Was that a compliment? Or was it optimism? Chris had to diffuse the situation before he felt too strange inside his chest. "Right well, do you want some snacks, or something?"

The mention of snacks reminded Siena that she'd effectively lost most of her nutrients while in the fight. Was...was that on camera? Was her entire sewer excursion on camera? 'Oh god, didn't I break Marcus's arm? D-Did they heal him?' The thought clawed its way to the front lines, but was quickly drowned out by her body's immediate reaction to the thought of regaining sustenance. "Oh...I could probably use one. I think I burned through the past three days of food." And calmly, the girl carefully moved her legs off the cot, another wave of fatigue washing over her.

Chris bit his lip, being a bit concerned over her condition. "Can you stand? Do you want to stay here and I'll come back with food or do you want to take the trip with me?" He was unsure of her current state. She was tough, he knew that much, but still she did just wake up from an unconscience state, and as she stated she wasn't very nourished.

Rain looked on a bit concerned, "Maybe she should rest a bit more" he said, noting the frailty of her movements, "I imagine you're probabaly still tired right?"

"I-I'll be okay. No rest for the wicked, right?" Siena gave a nervous smile, her mind threatening to wander to the life she'd left behind when she surrendered herself. In a bid to rid herself of the thoughts, the brunette pushed herself to her feet.

Mistake.

Her legs hadn't braced yet, and her right knee started to buckle. Under normal circumstances, that wouldn't have been an issue, but in her rush to stand, Siena had forgotten about the lovely circulatory system. Blood rushed to her head, darkness almost blinding her, pulling her attention away from the fact that she was falling for the second time that day, though this time from a much less significant height. A faint gasp. 'Mistake, mistake mistake...!'

And she felt the knee give way to her uneven weight, instinct sending one arm to the nearest surface, which happened to be--

'Oh no.'

"-!'Chris had instictively took hold of her once she drew her arm towards him. With one hand holding her elbow and the other hand onto her back. Due to the angle of where she fell her head had inevitably fell on his chest. "A-are you alright?"He tried to hide a face flushed with embarrasement while having pushed her up back to her feet. His thoughts were wild. This was too much, why did he catch her? It was her own fault she fell, he should have just moved. Despite the conscience protest, he couldn't deny the thought that there was a part of him that wanted this to happen.

Out of the frying pan and into the fire. Familiarity at the support, though it wasn't quite the same. Not the same, trained movements that Maya and Gerwulf used, but something more instinctive. 'Bad.' As Chris helped her find her footing again, Siena could feel her mind throw itself into a whirlwind, most of them on a one way track to the topic she'd been trying to avoid. Home.

"S-Sorry! I-I'm okay." One breath, two. "Had a bit of a headrush..." Here, Siena brushed her hair out of her eyes, the strands having become unruly in the brief moment of instability. Mistake. That was too much like the home she wanted left behind her. "A-Anyways, um..."

"Ummm...you almost lost your head there for a sec", Rain teased, rattling the cuffs on his ankle as became slightly irritated against his skin. He looked towards Chris curiosuly, "Maybe we should go get something to eat for her? Still doesn't seem like she's doing well...but then..." his soft pretty gaze fell onto Siena, "you should be able to make the decision yourself. Think you'll be okay?"

"Well she's gotten herself this far, there's no need to treat her like a princess." He said to Rain as he took her hand. "I can make sure she won't fall on the way over. That is, if she wants too." He looked over to Siena for her answer.

"I'll be fine, I probably just stood a little too fast." Lie. She was exhausted, but Siena didn't let that slip past her mental filters. Instead, she gave a weak smile. "I'll be fine for the walk, but maybe you two could uh...tell me what exactly they've got on the table. I don't think I'll recognize most of it." Or...any of it, if the initial sidelong glance at the table had been telling. She was really starting to wonder why Gerwulf and Maya had decided she didn't need to know things that were evidently common knowledge outside of her ivory tower.

"Sure thing." Chris would let go of Siena's hand seeing she was alright, and began to walk over to the snack table with his hands in his pockets.

"So..." Rain began sweetly to Siena, watching with a blank expression as Chris went over to the table to fetch her some food, "I've been pretty curious since you two were discussing about your prior battle. What can you do exactly?"

Marcus had turned in his seat when Siena's voice caught his attention, but stayed where he was for a few moments. People were talking, and although he didn't recognize either of them, it would have been rude to interrupt. Instead, he sat there watching them, casually eavesdropping on the conversation. When Siena stood and subsequently nearly tumbled, Marcus has nearly shot out of his chair, but has stopped when Chris caught her.

So, he slowly sauntered over to their position, taking a casual lean against the wall. "Sorry to interrupt," he said, giving an apologetic look at the unfamiliar girl standing there. "How're you feeling Siena? Still a little shaky?"

He was curious to hear how she felt for more than just roommate well-being. It hadn't looked like she'd actually gotten hurt that much, so her unconcious condition must have been from her power usage, and he was interested to try and pry into the other side effects of such an ability.

Taking a moment to regain herself, Siena would have followed after Chris for the table, but evidently there were other plans for her. Despite every self-made reassurance that the brunette had given herself, since her arrival in USARILN East, she'd felt less at ease with her abilities than before. She'd been proud on the truck, but with necessity demanding strenuous use of names she'd never have considered otherwise... The logical part of her mind cut in, even as she tried to cobble together an answer that might be more useful.

She never got to finish making the answer as Marcus made his appearance, earning quite the mixture of emotions. Relief, concern, guilt. That should have felt worse than it did, but that side of her was still struggling to recover from being torn away. Not quite human. "O-Oh, um...I'll be okay." Her mind ran through the appropriate commands. Weak smile, hide the signs of fatigue. "I um...I'm sorry I uh...broke your arm..." Speaking of, it seemed like it had healed--that was a relief, at least. "I really, really didn't mean to..."

"Relax." Marcus said, holding up a hand to stop Siena from apologizing any further. "It wasn't actually you that broke it. It was already injured by the time you dropped in." he said, smiling and flexing his arm a little, as if to show off the lack of broken bones. He thought silently to himself; maybe bringing up their little sewage journey wouldn't be the best idea right now.

Knowing his luck though, it was probably on replay directly behind him or something. "Besides, we're back to tip-top condition! Wouldn't be mad even if you had - honest mistakes and all that jazz." His mind shot back to Kusari's apology; how much of this did he actually mean and how much was just him trying to reassure Siena? He had been mad, he was still a little bit ticked off, but that had been an accident too. Then the rest of Kusari's conversation shot through his mind, and he nearly went flush again. Maybe he'd worry about that later.

'Wait, I...didn't break it?' But his arm had most certainly been intact when they had started their game of flag-and-seek. Her mind went to her teammates, trying to piece together how it would have been broken in the span of two or three minutes. The confusion flickered across her face for a moment, and she could hardly do anything to stop it. At least his arm did seem to be back in one piece. "I don't think we're supposed to be making honest mistakes in a fight..." Well, Marcus had been her opponent, so maybe it wouldn't have been seen as an "honest mistake" so much as a "happy coincidence" in their case, but that was beside the point.

"I'm glad you're okay though. I guess I got off easy." Because she was a coward. The thought was abrasive, and more than enough to make Siena try and redirect the conversation a bit from the series of unfortunate events in their match. "A-anyways, um...I was just talking to Rain about--" Her powers. There was a part of the girl that wanted to wither a little at the realization that she was caught between a rock and a hard place. "...uh, what my powers can do."

The flower boy halted as Marcus interrupted and formulated a conversation between himself and Siena, "Mhmm!" Rain hummed softly, hauling himself up to sit on the cot next to the girl. "I was just curious about what she can do since this folder here doesn't really provide me with anything" he waved the folder around blankly. "But whats your name anyways?"

Jeeze. Did everybody get one of those folders? Did I miss that meeting, somehow?. This girl was the second person he'd seen that a complete folder about all of them. He hadn't raised an eyebrow when Angel had whipped out hers during the pregame meetup, having just assumed it was for all of them, but now this person had one too. Guy'd get self-concious if everybody but him had a portfolio of pictures.

"Marcus Howell, at your service!" he said, giving a slightly exaggerated flourish of the hand. "But I also respond to Marcus, 'Hey You', and 'Yo Dude Over There'. I don't think we've met?" This last part was a voice of slight confusion: he hadn't seen this person on the playing field, and he certainly hadn't seen this person in the classroom. Rain chortled at the jovial introduction of the blonde boy named Marcus. Finally someone else that was seemingly cheerful. Probabaly even more so than himself. His legs wadded back and forth off the side of the cot as responded, it was quite teenage-girlish to be honest, "Thats a cute name. I'm Rain. Pleasure."

He didn't make any move to stop Siena from explaining her power. He was curious as well; Angel's description of her power had only left him with more questions, and if she was explaining then this was a good time to listen.

By the time Chris had gotten halfway to the snack table, he noticed Siena had stopped some way back. With a glance he saw one of the boy's from the other team, this must have been Marcus. With a shake of the head Chris had returned to the scene in silence to make sure everything was alright. He made sure he stood somewhat next to Siena though keeping a space wide enough to avoid any more awkward situations hopefully

Flashing a faint smile at her roommate's usual antics, Siena quickly found herself back in the position of explaining herself. Great. That wasn't exactly what she had hoped for, but she supposed it was the lesser of two evils. "I er...I take names from writing and I can usually borrow powers from them." A pause as she thought about it. "Lots of rules about it and all, but it's pretty useful when you need something done fast."

Rain tapped his lips cutely, "Hmmm...so like, you can, for example...borrow the powers of a super hero from a comic or something?"

"That's...the easiest for me, yes," Siena claimed with a thoughtful pause. "Comic book heroes tend not to be too complicated, so they're good fallbacks." Less complicated, if a little shattered in psyche for the less cooperative ones. A faint pang of hunger told Siena that she wanted to get something into her, and she shifted her weight slightly. Just enough to slip back into a slow pace towards their original destination--slow enough not to detract from conversation, but enough to start them moving.

"So, if you don't mind me asking," Marcus said, shifting his position enough to let Siena by. "Who the hell did you pull to take us on that little jaunt through the sewers? Because that was a hell of a ride, let me tell you!" he said, nonchalantly pulling a cookie off the table and biting into it. Might as well lead up to the elephant in the room, before Siena got wind of it. Literally; depending on how well he'd scrubbed.

"O-Our what?" Sewers. She knew what names she had then, but Siena certainly didn't remember a--oh. Her mind went back to the rush of teleportations she'd used to try and speed her approach to Christmas before she'd been able to calm down. She hadn't...had she? She wouldn't have. Why, she hadn't even noticed that--

She looked down.

Her boots were grimy. Oddly only a small section of them. Grey eyes slowly made their way back up to Marcus, a light of horrific realization peering through them. "Oh no, I didn't..." The question trailed off.

Marcus smiled weakly, following her eyes down to the grime that covered her boots. He certainly had gotten the worst of it, if her shoes were to be believed. She didn't even know that there was an outfit of his waiting to be burned in the dumpster, or whatever happened to bathroom trash at this place. He'd been an unwilling passenger on a ride that poor Siena didn't even realize she was providing.

"Just a little bit. Yeah." he said, giving a shrug and an awkward grin. He refrained from letting her know that she had dunked him harder than a carnival clown at the dunk tank, but he wasn't exactly beating around the bush.

"I'm so, so sorry." Biting her lip faintly, Siena grimaced at the thought. When it came to teleportation without thought, she supposed she wasn't quite as good at controlling the ability as she thought. "It was Kurt Wagner though--uh...Nightcrawler. I just...used a weaker name to drag out the time..."

Chris had turned back to the snack table while the two conversed of their previous encounter. He was picking out various foods for his exhuasted comrade. 'Maybe some pretzels, or wait does she want something sweet? Cookies might do it..but wait what if she doesn't like sweet things. I mean she seems like she would but looks can be concieving. Should I ask her? No that would be weird, she's talking to someone else right now. Gah, this is too much effort.'
Thoughts continued to race in a newfound anxiety as Chris carefully picked out a tray of snacks and a beverage.

While having a meltdown, he crafted a tray of four cups of coke, a couple chocolate chip cookies, pretzels, potato chips, and mini subs. He had carefully moved back to the group being sure not to spill the tray. "I got everyone sodas." He said avertiing eye contact with the other three students. There was a hint of bashfulness in his expression, as if he was rejecting the thought of his 'friendly' actions.

"Yeah, it was...not a great time." Marcus said, sheepishly rubbing the back of his head. His attention was taken away by the apparent servant of the room bringing over a tray of snacks. Marcus's expression could be descibed as 'baffled'. He'd literally brought a tray over like he was a waiter. His eyes shifted from the tray, to Chris, back to the tray, over to Siena, and once at the new girl.

The gears in his head slowly turned, and clicked. Oh. Ohhhhh.

He shot a wicked grin at Chris, snagging a cookie of the tray. "But hey, I'm not here to make you feel bad about little accidental baptisms; I just wanted to make sure you were okay!" he said, looking over at his roommate. "If you're not about to faint and die, then I'll leave you to rest. I need to make sure the rest of my team is alive, anyway!. With that, he turned away from the group and made his way to Angel's position, but not before sending another evil smile in Chris's direction.

"He seems nice" Rain said to Siena as Marcus walked off, his head diverting towards Chris once he finally arrived with sodas, "Thanks! Thats so sweet" . Rain grabbed the soda from the boy with both hands and smiled, running his pointer finger over the surface of it idly, "So I know what she can do. What about you? Or...do you still wan't me to leave you alone?" he teased.

"Y-yeah, he's been friendly," and selfless, as far as Siena had seen. The brunette's attention was quickly diverted by Chris's return, her eyes peering at the tray. She recognized the most obvious, though some were of questionable identity. Smiling, Siena reached for one of the cups, a flutter of excitement in the back of her head at the realization that it was soda. Only a few days, and she was getting a carbonated beverage twice? Such liberation was almost relieving. "O-Oh, thank you! " The words were oddly genuine, though she supposed it was familiar to her. She'd certainly said the same thing to Gerwulf and Maya before.

"Hm..." Her eyes peered at the selection, curiosity at the unfamiliar ones and uncertainty at those that she could recognize. Siena glanced from tray to student for a moment before giving a nervous smile. "Er...do you have recommendations? I wouldn't even know where to begin."

Chris gave a glare towards Marcus that was borderline deaththreat territory the moment he flashed such a smile at him. He wasn't having it. Once he left, he looked to Siena who was deciding on what to eat. While she did, he looked to Rain. "I can turn into a dragon, if you didn't see in the camera.""Wow...a dragon..." Rain murmured dreamily. Chris then turned to Siena "Well the potato chips and pretzels are mostly salty and more of a filler food. If you want to eat some sweets then I recommend the cookies..and er, I think there was some candy up there too which I could get if you'd rather have that. Oh also, these mini sandwhiches are self explanatory, I hope." He was slightly nervous, made evident by his lack of a cold expression and speaking slightly faster then usual.

"Hm, well, I can't say I've ever had these before." Siena cautiously picked at one of the chips--small enough to fit in her mouth without making a mess, and certainly small enough to swallow if it turned out to be a mistake. Fortunately, while it wasn't quite a delicacy, Siena didn't find the taste or texture unpleasant. With a smile of approval, Siena did what was natural for her--just a simple action she'd done countless times with Gerwulf or Maya in similar situations. It was...unfortunate that neither of the two had ever told her about the implications.

She picked one up and offered it to the boy, holding it at mouth level almost expectantly. "Oh my gawd..." Rain mumbled wide-eyed. Was she really trying to hand feed him?


"-!" Chris was immediately suprised and flustered at the gesture. What was she doing, this was strange. 'Do I do it? Should I just try to back away or something.' While thinking he had looked around to see if anyone was watching. With only Angel in his attention area, Chris internally sighed before having accepted the chip Siena offered, his face was red as he took a bite from the chip.'This is so humilating.'

Rain just kept watching quietly, hands cupped over his chest as the tension built up. He was waiting to see how this romantic comedy would unfold. It was so cringe worthy he couldn't turn away.

'...is this weird?' As Chris's face earned some color, Siena found herself, once again, at a gap between what she expected and what was happening before her. Gerwulf and Maya, close as they were, had never hesitated once when Siena did the same. Hell, Gerwulf frequently directly requested aid when his hands were full, but Chris's reaction told her...maybe that wasn't quite right. Oops...she supposed? One more for the social cue bank, she supposed.

"E-Er, maybe we should sit so you don't have to keep holding that. I think we'll uh...have to critique the other team soon, r-right?" It wasn't the most elegant of saves, but at least it was something.

"D-don't worry about it." Chris stammered for a moment.
"Alright Rain."He waved her off before turning to Siena.

A slight giggle sounded into the air as Rain leapt off the cot and stretched, "Well..that was fun. But I think I'm going to look around a bit more before it begins. See you guys later then"

"You're right, we should sit closer to the cameras to watch. I think there's still some upfront seats over there." He explained as he began to walk towards a set of chairs in the front side of the room. Once seated, He placed the tray between his and Siena's chairs on the armrest. He would give himself a sandwhich as he looked toward the monitor.

---

---

After speaking with her team, Zoe had moved away from them a little, noticeably trying to distance herself from the other people in the room. It wouldn't help anyone if she got herself disqualified before her own fight even started. Might be some kind of record, but not the type she wanted to be setting. As it was, she just glared at anyone that came too close before turning her attention to the monitor.

Despite her worries, Zoe couldn't help but grin as the other two teams faced off. Say what you would about their performances, that was fun to watch. Maybe she'd felt a little too enthusiastic when watching some of the more violent encounters, but that wasn't unexpected. Saying that Zoe had a sadistic streak would be an understatement.

Knowing what people did wrong might prevent them from making the same mistakes when it really mattered, so Zoe was surprisingly dutiful in making notes on the battle, and once she wiped the grin off of her face she was straight over to the desk to write down her thoughts. Not that she was exactly nice about it. After all, they wanted criticism, so that was what they were getting.

General Thoughts

I mean, that was definitely a fight. You guys didn't hold back at getting straight into the action, that's for sure! There were some pretty decent showdowns out there, and I'm impressed!

Or I would be, if this was an exercise in missing the fucking point.

You're in teams for a reason, you know. If you were meant to just be beating each other's faces in then the healers wouldn't be a thing in the first place. So next time think about what you're actually trying to do instead of making the whole thing into a dick-measuring contest (literally for some of you, but I'm saying no more on that front).

Seriously, the idea of 'watching out for each other' went so far over everyone's heads you could've made it into a goddamn satellite.

Okay, got that out of my system. Moving on.

Suggested improvements

Team 1 - Abusement Park

Well, you won. That's always an upside. Well done, I guess. Your opponents shot themselves in the foot right out of the gate, but you guys at least took the opportunities they gave you. Some of you anyway. And by some of you, I mean Grant and Sander - because they worked together, in what is apparently a display of tactical brilliance to the rest of you people. Whichever one came up with it contributed a hell of a lot to that win.

But yeah, the rest of you were pretty quick to split up, and I'd say at least a couple of you came pretty close to losing your fights. I'm all for taking risks, and I'd rather you were doing that than crying in the corner like a bitch or something else equally stupid, but try and make sure they're the right risks to take. It paid off this time, but a lot of them could have gone the other way if your opponents weren't too busy playing to the cameras. Even with that, you weren't in a state to fight after.

If you get yourself knocked out killing a monster, chances are it'll have a buddy around to finish you off unless there's a teammate there to defend you, and clearly this all showed you can't afford to rely on that. Losing your life for the sake of bravado just isn't worth it.

Team 2 - Scorgasms

How about we start with the first minute, because that's how quickly everything fell apart for you guys. Well, I'll admit that the plan does sound good at first glance - Siena didn't take long to track down the healers either - but if you're gonna try and do a 3 on 4 situation, you have to be confident you can actually pull it off.

Don't bet your life on the gamble that you're that much stronger than an unknown. Not a good move, and sure enough, you got your asses kicked - because let's be honest about this, they got every one of your flags plus your healer. That's an asskicking by any stretch of the imagination.

You guys seem pretty strong individually, but you're so desperate to prove that that you didn't give a rat's ass about the point of the game. Basically, your powers are strong but your teamwork was shitty. Like 'saw the other team coming and fucked yourselves to save them the trouble' kind of shitty. So drop the showmanship and ego-boosting and focus on your actual objectives, because when you're getting ripped to shreds no-one cares if you look good doing it.

After a few minutes of scribbling she looked over her paper, which was covered in spiky, hastily-written thoughts. Honestly, Zoe wasn't sure how anonymous this would end up being, because she really doubted it would be hard for anyone to guess which one she'd written.

Satisfied, she handed over her paper with a slight grin. Reading it over did make her realise she was being a bit of a hypocrite seeing as recklessness was basically her MO out on the battlefield, but this was a 'do as I say, not as I do' type of situation. At the end of the day Zoe knew she was putting herself in danger, but her safety wasn't really a priority. Besides, listening to her own advice wasn't anywhere near as much fun.

After all, the day wasn't over yet. There was still her own run to get through - and she still wasn't sure how to handle it. All she could do was hope she didn't go too far if she ended up fighting. Her fists clenched and unclenched anxiously as she thought over the scenario. Non-lethal. Ten minutes of control. Couldn't be that difficult, right?