---

---

Clean, white marble, glossy walls, and modern paintings of lines and geometric shapes defined the darkened meeting room where a large screen positioned in front of nine silent figures played a curated selection of combat footage, sound removed.

Students on a dark, grassy battlefield lit only by generous moonlight and a clear night sky. Unstable footage from low angles, flicking between the viewpoints of various ankle cuffs.

Then more appreciable angles in gray concrete and desolate buildings, as those same students displayed their powers once more. Quiet murmurs from the audience, but the most discernible reactions were sudden gasps and a "Woah" as a blade cut clean through an angled section of the villa. The building section sloughed off, then crashed to the floor, scattering debris and dust in its wake.

Dead silence now as the rest of the clips played out and by the time the lights began easing gradually back to life, the eight gathered Precursors were already staring at Director Lina Zhang, sitting at the head of the table opposite the large monitor, facing both them and the screen. Her smooth hands covered each other on the glass surface in front of her, fingers relaxed and steady. She looked the most at ease out of the nine.

"So this was what you wanted." Benediction adjusted the collar of his beige turtleneck, fingers hooking into the fabric a bit too long for it to have been a casual gesture. "A team. For yourself. Composed of children."

"Naked children," Sparrow laughed nervously at her own attempt to shift the mood, pushing into the chair's backrest out of embarrassment when no one found anything humorous about the situation. She wasn't in her signature Victorian-esque dress, preferring a pastel yellow chenille sweater and comfortable, dark jeans when she didn't need to primp and preen for the media. Her golden curls were swept into a loose tail hanging off her right shoulder and light blue eyes regarded the notorious Director nervously.

"Yeah. The press'll really eat this up," Merlin drawled, sarcastically adding to his teammate's sentiments. The young man idly fiddled with the cuffs of his tailored Oxford shirt as he snarked, "I'm sure there are classier ways to shoot your reputation to pieces besides blatant CP."

Prism scoffed. "You'd know all about that, wouldn't you?"

The projectile mage's athleticism was evident in her choice of clothing, a simple outfit that consisted of dark sports tights, a thin windbreaker and a t-shirt a few sizes too large for the woman's petite frame. Workout clothes, no doubt. The violet-eyed woman chose to ignore Merlin's indignant glare, instead turning to Zhang.

"Those X-marks couldn't even finish a team exercise without tearing each other apart. How long is it going to be before I get called to put down one of your child psychos again?"

A thin smile pulled on the Director's mouth. "With any luck, one of Dreamcatcher's will take care of that for you. We certainly wouldn't want to trouble you for too many personal murders. But I didn't jump through hoops with the Secretary of Defense to bicker. You're all here because you needed to see how far their powers have advanced in the span of three days. From the records, it took the majority of you months to achieve a change that dramatic. Their potential is astounding. I would not have it wasting away in relative safety."

Foresight folded and unfolded a small square of paper in her corner seat, furthest from the Director. Hunched over in a gray sweater dress, her long, auburn hair spilled onto the table, obscuring the profile of her face as pale, slender fingers alternately creased and smoothed the overworked paper. She stared at the nonsense map of lines she had folded into the page, hazel eyes tracing and turning at random intersections.

When her thoughts had finally found their way out of the labyrinth in her mind, she looked up, blinking slowly at the Director.

"We're not enough?" she asked quietly.

Dark brown eyes narrowed back at her and Foresight looked back to her sheet, folding and unfolding once more. "You tell me, Foresight. Are the Precursors enough?"

They didn't need Foresight's power for the answer. All she would have given them was another question anyway: Enough for what? For her part, the clairvoyant didn't seem to hear the Director's response, focused as she was on folding a series of parallel lines into one corner of her paper.

"We're enough," Benediction cut in, answering the question for her. "Your proposed team is clearly not. They were lucky to survive against...against Menagerie."

"Not Simeon?" the Director replied, innocent curiosity on her face.

"Menagerie." Benediction sat back in his chair, folding his arms firmly. That topic was closed.

With a sigh, the Director mimicked the action, though she wasn't as severe in her movements. "This is part of the proposal. This isn't a display of their brilliant tactics. It's a display of raw strength. They have enough, and in just three days their powers have improved by leaps and bounds. It's uncanny, and I think it warrants at least your tentative interest. In the worst case, they die fighting. In the best case, they become a second team to cover the slack the Precursors can't devote attention to. Cat's Cradle, for example. Fracture, for another."

The mention of both names pulled the uneasy atmosphere of the room taut and Sparrow laughed nervously again, looking between Benediction and the Director.

"Those guys are pretty strong, too, though," she said. "Still stronger than them, at least."

"Long-term goals, Sparrow," the Director answered easily, dismissing the concern. Of the Precursors' approvals, she worried least about Sparrow's. The girl would follow whatever Kadabra decided, so she turned to the group's de facto tactician in his usual dark red hoodie and faded jeans, waiting on his response. He had been silent until then, no doubt weighing the pros and cons of it all and it was Kadabra who she would have the most trouble convincing, even more than the disagreeable Benediction.

The Precusor in question merely returned the eye contact, still seemingly deep in thought as he drummed fingers against the smooth surface of the table. He spoke up eventually though, before the Director could prompt further.

"...Their powers seem to have improved in a short amount time, yes. But have you been able to pinpoint why?"

"We have our best staff working on that," she answered smoothly. "Suffice it to say their abilities are stable and constantly improving. That should be more than sufficient to help bolster firepower, especially against more difficult enemies."

“So this is…” -Vincent gestured at the screen with a flick of his wrist –“…everything you have, as of now?”

"Call it a preview of what's to come." She tapped the touch-activated remote in front of her several times, pulling up stills of certain students and cycling through them until she found more notable ones. "Callan Webb," she indicated with the remote at an aquamarine-haired girl swinging another boy by the legs, the image frozen at the moment she let go. "The dossiers I've sent to the DoD and, by extension, the Precursors, have covered this, but I'll note some interesting details my subnatural analyzer has found from repeated observation: persistent superstrength, and that in itself would be valuable, but her real power lies in a creature hiding in her shadow. You'll recall Cancer of Cat's Cradle. Very similar, though hers doesn't seem to be a devourer sort. It's simply strong. Enough to take down a category three alone and perhaps hold its ground against a four. And all of us here can appreciate the strength of simplicity, no?"

Two quick taps of the remote to move the image forward a fraction, playing another half second as the lanky boy flew into a short, vertical wall, leaving pants behind mid-air and nearly smashing through the concrete, emerging from the crater with little more than annoyance and dust on his shoulders.

"Sander Lorraine. A vampire, of sorts, with little of the drawbacks you'll find in typical lore. Another one with superstrength, but given enough blood his damage resistance gradually increases to invulnerability. That's nothing new, of course. They've already figured out that much at Director Kuznetsov's facility. But he goes further than that. The previous facility notes fail to sufficiently cover the real extent of his powers, though my staff suspects he, too, could withstand the might of something that can annihilate cities."

The screen moved again, shifting to focus on Grant and freezing as the camera zoomed in.

"Grant Rotem. Manipulates non-living matter. You've seen what he managed with the concrete and his failed attempt to stop his teammate from nearly flying into him. You'll also note he has a more flexible array of materials to work with, now that he's managed to manipulate two different surfaces at once. And the more manipulators he attaches to the same surface, the better his fine control of it. Quite versatile, and he's only just begun to improve."

She let the video play unhindered now, not bothering to point out more students for the moment.

"Everything I have hasn't manifested in visual form so easily. The specifics of their powers sound too much like idle speculation without some basis of proof, which I've provided here. Coupled with what you've seen, what more I've told you should sound believable, as fantastic as it is."

As the Director’s short speech ebbed, Vincent looked like he was content to let the silence stretch, simply watching with bored eyes and resuming the idle motion with his fingers. He spoke again soon enough though, just before the reticence could grow too thick.

“I’d still say that you're too ambitious. These children have been in, what, two skirmishes? Yet you want to pit them against Cat’s Cradle and Fracture?

"Nothing of the sort. For now. The Secretary of Defense believes they're viable options, but Precursor screening and approval are always required before they're allowed to openly hunt notable targets. What remains of the previous team that was tentatively approved will remain at the Institute as enforcement and protection. New blood for new problems. They'll take care of lesser known threats for now, and the increasing attacks on cities near Crimen Culpae 1. I simply need the vaunted Precursors to approve a second team. For all that's happened, the first group did alleviate quite a lot of smaller headaches. And several larger ones."

"All--all that's happened?" Sparrow repeated, mouth agape. "They nearly all died!"

"For a good cause." The Director's response was automatic, the answer one she had given enough times that she barely registered the words anymore. A moment, and she clarified. "Most of the Institutes already deploy subnaturals to fight. This is not news. But none of the Institutes have any recognized team outside of the microcosms of their territories. Of course I'm not asking for complete publicity. Yet. But should they prove capable while under a trial period, perhaps we can finally give the dead and dying some more recognition."

Sparrow glared at her, but didn't respond. The Director was right about the Institutes--of course she would be, the woman managed the worst one. Just because they didn't hear about every single subnatural who died didn't mean the "schools" were without their own teams and hand-picked vanguards. Even the lax Director Kleinfelder kept a personal subnatural bodyguard.

"Primer grupo...," Newton thought aloud, pressing his index finger to his temple, "That was the one with all the, uh, the crystals, right? Crystal Guy!" He smiled to himself, as if pleased to remember the nickname he'd given Shane Alkana back when Zhang had come to them for approval a little over two years ago. "Right?" he grinned again, seeking confirmation with whomever was sitting to his right-- a habit that had, on more than one occassion, left him addressing the open air.

Today it happened to be Morph sitting beside him, who merely stared back with all the silently judgemental pity of a cat watching a dog repeatedly run into a glass door. She sighed softly through her nose, adjusting the position of her hands, folded gently in her lap, before returning her attention to the Director. Newton seemed satisfied with that response as he continued speaking, gesturing with his hands as he propped his elbows up on the table.

"Vince is right though-- two fights isn't a lot. And they weren't even against actual DC monsters! What are these kids supposed to be doing during the trial period to prove they can handle those guys?"

"I'm sure we won't lack threats. But I need official sanction first to send them in as part of enforcement in situations that threaten close to or within a city, rather than as a last resort when hell's already broken loose and the situation is as disadvantageous as possible. This is the same reason I offered two years ago.

Most law enforcement agencies and the military itself try to avoid relying on the power that caused this disaster in the first place, even if their limitations worsen a situation more often than not. They fear the subnaturals escaping. They fear retaliation in combat. And USARILN interference is rarely free of internal issues. Friendly fire. Sending the subnaturals in on suicide tactics. With permission from the Department of Defense, I can bypass those reservations by force and command more deterrence as far as unsavory behavior is concerned.

Without permission, my hands are tied if a stray bullet finds its way into an unfortunate subnatural's head in less than clear circumstances. They're not official support, so no investigations. No one has any fear of striking them down and no one has any obligation to yield a situation to them first."

The Director let out a long breath, reminding herself this was nothing compared to the small mounds of paperwork that she had needed to complete and all the prior meetings she had attended to even gather the Precursors for a final meeting at the very end of the food chain.

"They can potentially do much more during a trial period with permission than without. That's the simple fact of it."

"Does the doing 'much more' include catering to your own agenda, Director, or just getting chomped by some DC babies?" Merlin snickered, "We wouldn't want another 'primer grupo' happening here."

"And even if it did, what's the real harm to anyone?" Besides themselves, of course, and in all things she needed to maintain a cold affectation. She did not care about them as humans--they were subnaturals and only worthwhile as valuable resources in combat. "It may seem silly to others, that paperwork comes before saving lives, but order is all that holds us from sheer chaos. I could send the students in with or without overarching permission if I had an agenda to cater to. I could stir up that kind of trouble. I won't."

Benediction regarded the clear, glass surface of the table as carefully as Foresight still creased and uncreased her paper.

"Unless your team proves itself more capable," he said at last, still perplexed at glass and more, "I will not go out of my way to help. The Precursors come first in any choice."

"Then hopefully our own healers will manage."

"Hopefully," Benediction echoed, eyes watching a memory in the glass. A second later and he was running a hand through his hair, sweeping back the strands that had strayed from the mousse. Hadn't applied enough that morning, after all. "Vincent, final call? Or anyone else?"

"I could help them--if I'm not busy," Sparrow chimed in, her offer shallow. She was always busy. Flight and invulnerability both were priceless in combat.

"Julia..." Prism briefly considered contesting her friend's statement before sighing, "I suppose I'll do the same. As long as they clean up after themselves."

"Yeah, it shouldn't be a problem," Merlin stretched and yawned, "If they wipe themselves out, less work for us. If they actually manage to get things going..." He shrugged, "No biggie. Again, less work for us. Hopefully. As long as they stay fully clothed."

“Alright.” -Vincent shrugged, the gesture half-hearted and barely there. His gaze fell on a random spot on the wall; the Precursor seemingly had lost all interest in the conversation –“Go right ahead then. It really doesn’t matter to me how many children you send out to die. But you two,” he glared at Prism and Sparrow in turn, "should keep your emotions in check. Don't think I won't notice if you rush to their aid instead of keeping the monsters at bay."

"...You're really horrible sometimes, Vincent," Sparrow glared back.

Prism, on the other hand, cringed but quietly concurred with the tactician's reprimand, "Monsters first, superkids second."

Vincent was the first to stand and leave, blandly promising to inform the Secretary of Defense within the next hour of the Precursor team's general approval. The telekinetic wasn't irreverent in the way Merlin was, but he found bureaucracy an immense waste of his time. It was necessary, he supposed, but so was sleeping and eating and he considered those things immense wastes of time as well.

He had stopped trying to effect a semblance of family among the Precursors after they had lost Simeon. There was no point, he had come to realize and had later come to accept. One day it was Simeon, the next day it could be Annie or Luke or Renard. Two years ago it had almost been Julia. Better to accept and expect their deaths rather than hope against it. All he could do for them was strategize to the best of his intelligence and minimize their chances of dying.

Hope you have your own field tactician, Director. Hope he's faster on the draw than me.

He heard Julia calling to him from a distance, his strides through the maze of interconnected corridors of the Pentagon too fast for her to catch up. She'd lose him soon if he kept moving at that pace, and he'd probably find her waiting in the hallway of their underground rooms, cheeks red and eyes alight, because she would still be angry at him for not showing more concern for others.

His steps slowed marginally, calculated just enough that the rapid tapping of her boots from behind him would catch up before he rounded the next corner.

---

---

The small town boasted a population of less than five hundred, nestled in a little valley of coal veins that had sustained the locale for some hundred odd years. In the past ten years, the mayor had devoted more money towards arming the local police force and patchwork militia, especially after the initial burst of monsters from underground. Several mining tunnels had been entirely collapsed to fend them off and dozens of citizens had been lost simply hunting down the ones that had managed to escape before the blockade. The few subnaturals who had awoken in the town on that bleak day had long left, one way or another. Several died the instant the mark appeared on their bodies. Others remained for some time after, only to lose their minds and provoke a bullet through the chest.

The ones who cooperated were reported, and military trucks had come to take them away, leaving behind minimal official presence. The military simply didn't have the forces to spare anymore and there were better locations to protect. Now the people lived in fear. Hundreds had relocated to the larger cities in the years following The Slumber and then to Crimen Culpae 1 when the government established the town and USARILN East in 2012, looking for strength in numbers and a stronger military presence.

The townsfolk who remained were simply hardier or foolhardy. Or both. But they stayed, all the same, unwilling to give up generations of established lives even when the world turned upside down.

Now it was paying off, they thought, as the attacks grew less frequent over the years and as the town became more accustomed to fending off lessers creatures.

For all the bursts of battle that had broken out often along the East Coast, they had suffered relatively little damage. The people in their colonial-styled homes and creaking wooden porches framed by substantial balustrades liked to believe luck was on their side, like karma had rewarded them for unyielding tenacity and traditional fervor.

Smarter people knew a bit better why, and they knew, without being told, to keep their mouths shut, especially when the last person who tried to claim the town's persistent safety was due to something more insidious than luck disappeared quite abruptly.

Several of the old, collapsed coal mines had been miraculously restored with metal shaped smoothly to support a network of hallways and rooms, though the main entrances were left alone to cement the impression that the mines were beyond salvage. Closer inspection would reveal the metal support work increasingly absurd, because surely someone in the small town would have noticed the installation of what appeared to be a continuous sheet of metal entirely free of rivets and seams that became both floor and walls for a subterranean base of operations as large as several mansions. But if that strangeness didn't ward off intruders, the humming, white sigils sliding along the walls would have.

Subnaturals.

Deep in the maze of metalwork, a group of 12 Aberrations waited quietly in a spacious room of pilfered furniture and mismatched decor, varying sizes of candles and portable, electric lighting illuminating what would otherwise be pitch darkness. Large sofas and moth-eaten couches lined most of the walls and small tables had been arranged roughly in front of the seats. The room's center was taken up by a long, wooden dining table that sported several sections of metal along its legs and surface, the material mending whatever damage the table had accrued on transport.

An unassuming woman in a simple white sweater and dark slacks sat on a corner of the table, her phone screen in hand shining light across the X on her throat, the gray of her lined eyes, and the pale complexion of her oval face and its wide nose and full cheeks that gave way to a tall forehead alleviated by the sloping lines of her long, black hair brushed smooth and parted at the center. Full lips painted a muted red quirked down as a boy's screams echoed continuously from a nearby room, rising and falling as he breathed and screamed again, the sounds hoarse and ragged. She crossed and uncrossed her legs, the frown worsening.

In a couch to the left of the table, a thin, pasty man with sparse brown hair combed over neatly across his scalp fiddled almost daintily with his round-rimmed glasses before carefully putting them back in front of sunken, brown eyes, smoothing out invisible wrinkles in his brown dress shirt and black trousers afterwards. He hated loud, irritating noises almost as much as she did, but interrupting now would be problematic, so he leaned back in the chair and rested interlocked fingers across his stomach, shifting so he could stretch his gangly legs out to rest one on top of the other.

The other ten Aberrations sat far from the duo, voices hushed even at that distance and when she looked up towards the direction of the screams, several of them flinched like she had looked at them instead.

"I dislike loud noises," the woman spoke, her voice soft and enunciation precise. Every click of a plosive sound and every slide of a fricative came out clearly, and even at that volume her words were easily understood. "I very much dislike loud noises, Galen."

"I'm sure he's almost done," the reedy man replied, but he knew the announcement of an oft-repeated fact for what it was: a kill order. The entrances to the next room had been completely sealed up during the process, in case anything went wrong, and their metallurgically gifted mage was busy repairing and reinforcing the hideout in a different location.

The man--Galen--stood up, and another him without an X walked out of the space behind his body just as the original's face and features disappeared into a smooth, featureless surface of pale skin, lacking hair or ears. None of this seemed to have any adverse effect on the brand-new mannequin headed man, however, and Galen simply reached over to the puppet's throat, grabbing it and clutching tight as a white mark flickered into existence across the fake's right temple. He let go and it stumbled over to the wall that separated their current room from the one next door, pressing both hands against the surface of the metal as the material creaked and bent, twisting and furling away from the point of contact.

Human flesh and blood came away with it, too, but the increasingly misshapen hands chased the retreating metal until a rough hole had been formed, more than large enough to accomodate even Galen's six feet of height.

The puppet collapsed to the ground afterwards, both arms in bloody ruins and body convulsing, though its mouth never made a sound. It stopped moving all of a sudden when the original man's head returned to normal, features slipping back onto his face like they were emerging from water. He picked up a large rug from the floor, walking over to the dummy that now sported the mannequin head and throwing the woven cloth over its form.

---

Snikt. Snikt. Snikt.

He held the knife aloft, dragging the blade along the length of the honing steel. One, two. Rinse and repeat. At his gentle coaxing, the sharpened steel sang its unique melody. Clear like glass, but not quite as brittle. Some people told him it was grating. Like nails on chalk boards. Personally, he had always found the sound soothing. Maybe it was less about the sound, but the rhythm of it. Just one, two, one, two. Top then bottom. He could get lost in the simple motion so easily.

A soft whimper of pain brought him back.

“God, can you shut up for one fucking second?” He grumbled, but paused nonetheless, examining the knife in his hand. It was just a simple carving knife. Not even the expensive kind with Damascus steel and shiny patterns. Just the ones they had at the local supermarket. He didn’t mind, really. Didn’t need many fancy tools when you had the skills.

And speaking of skills, maybe it was time to put them to work. He turned around, coming face to face (or in this case, face to legs) with his latest charge. A brown-haired boy, hanging up-side down from the low ceiling by thick ropes tied around his remaining ankle and the red stump of his left leg. There were no bondages to hold his arms, but that didn’t seem necessary as they only hung limply from his partially deformed body, bruised and bent in awkward angles. Linus had applied his power frequently in the past few days, finding the potential in the boy so astounding he couldn't help but go a bit further than necessary. Strange metalworks of brass and copper protruded from the boy's calves and hips, the perversion of his power's effects consuming the boy slowly. Much too slowly for Linus's liking. Clearly, he needed the unfortunate subject to be a bit more broken. This one was surprisingly stable, and every modification of the power--every little tweak that forced a warped progression of the ability--had only slightly weakened that mental fortitude. Usually, his ability alone was enough. For the most part, minds were more malleable the longer Linus applied the effect, but this boy was significantly better at resisting than everyone who had come before.

It was a property that actually came with the power's growth, which surprised the resident magic manipulator of that particular Fracture cell. He had never encountered an ability that resisted him more as he strengthened it, and the mental instability that naturally came as a side effect of his tweaking hadn't made much progress on the boy by itself. Not from that angle at least.

But his power was more of a genius than him at that. It had wormed and wedged and wound until it found a crack in the shell. A place to strike. It was a simple thing, like so many people were when you cut them down into their individual components and laid them out across a table. This was a simple boy who was afraid of simple things. Pain would do to soften the raw material. Then Linus could really get to work.

Another groan tried to escape from the boy when he saw the flash of a knife, but the thick duct tape around his mouth choked the sound down to another pained whimper.

Screaming, now that was a grating noise. Linus never understood how some people could even remotely enjoy that.

It did his temper no favour when this one screamed quite a lot. Amalia did mention that he was quite mouthy. Well, he wouldn’t be for much longer now.

With a final look at the blade in his hand, Linus took a few steps forward, closing that final distance between him and his half-naked charge. Then he got to work. Two fingers trailed a line on the boy’s torso, counting the ribs until he reached the spot on the stomach that dipped slightly. With a quick flick of his wrist, he made a shallow cut there, a focal point on his canvas.

The cut barely leaked, and already, the spineless wimp squirmed, more noises petered out from beneath the duct tape.

He sighed, right leg launching a kick right into the boy’s jaws. It would have been more gratifying to break the nose, but he couldn’t let the kid suffocate. Not yet, at least.

The kick only elicited more pained noises, and the boy didn’t stop his squirming. Linus couldn’t work like this. So he moved closer still, putting one heavy foot down on the crook of the boy’s broken arm, holding it in place. There was little he could do about the whimpering, but at least the body stayed relatively still now. He reached down and ripped the duct tape off, eliciting more screaming. Couldn't be helped. Had to plug up the nose or the blood would do it for him, and his power didn't work on the dead, unlike Nasrin and Galen. So he let the boy scream himself dry as he wadded two sheets of tissue into the nostrils and returned to work.

He made the second incision. A deeper cut this time, right on top of the old one. Then another one. But he didn’t put much depth in the lines, only enough to score the skin and expose the red beneath. Then more lines, horizontal, to complete the shape, so he could reach in with his fingers and peel back the flesh. Warmth was slick and sticky on his bare fingers, rivulets of it splattering at his feet. It was that thing about live people; they always bled too much and the blood made everything so slippery. He frowned as he wiped his hands against the black of his apron, before getting right back to the thick of it. The trick here was to work fast. And sharp knives. Sharp knives helped.

Soon enough, he was lost in the rhythm of simple motions again, chasing the lines beneath peeled flesh with the tip of his knife, trimming and carving and pruning until there was nothing but red on display, all the while screams were the percussion of his magnum opus.

The unnatural sound of metal groaning and screaming behind him made Linus pause, the blood already pooling well past his feet and spreading outwards radially.

"I didn't say I was done yet," he complained at the two standing in the backlight of the other room. His small studio was lit by one portable light box tucked in a corner and hooked up to a generator, shading the grisly scene with startling contrast and darkening the spreading blood further away from the light source. In front of Linus was the unfinished project, where the skin of the boy's chest had been cleanly flayed and spread outward like wings, the hanging tips of flesh haphazardly tacked to the boy's upside-down arms while Linus snipped away at uneven edges on the skin. The screams had faded to bursts of quiet shrieks in the shock, and the boy's eyes were wide, raw and red-rimmed from days of torture both mental and physical.

Maybe it'd work a bit better now.

Linus preferred to be alone for his therapy sessions with the victims, but Nasrin looked murderous and Galen was already summoning another puppet, so the man turned to face them fully, his thumb and forefinger curled into an O shape and the rest of his fingers splayed.

"Just a sec, Gale. If he doesn't die to this, he'll die to you, so hold on to that murderous apathy for just a smidge longer."

The man snapped his face back to the student Amalia and Oscar had captured about four days ago, gleefully crouching down and grabbing the upside-down face with both hands.

"I'll make you tick, yet, Cogsworth," he grinned, the nickname stirring up a brief memory of that childhood movie in a house too full of children. At times with his fellow Aberrations--especially now, he felt like he was back in that dismal townhouse, despite the much larger base. The thought spurred him to make this session his absolute best yet.

---

---

In a town where the local butcher knew almost everyone by name, age, and several degrees of family relations, hiding wasn't easy, but for the few subnaturals who had recently woken up within the past few months and had been lucky enough to not get caught, a shambling house on its last legs near several of the older collapsed mine shafts was home and haven, no matter how much the roof threatened to cave in on them and no matter how often their stomachs growled whenever their only steady source of food spent too long in town because his invisibility had run out yet again and there were too many people nearby.

The townsfolk didn't wander near up the old hill by some unspoken agreement, and indeed something in the area felt wrong, whether by unconscious acceptance of that eerie desolation or by some subnatural magic at work. Five people were holed up in the crumbling house's cellar where the cold sat on them like it had physical weight but the walls were in slightly better shape. Stolen flashlights and batteries provided enough light for them to see each other as they waited fearfully. A stocky, surly boy with a crew cut and a white mark sat apart from the group of X's, tearing savagely into a sandwich despite the tense atmosphere.

A rolling thunder of noise from underground had woken them all up, and the possibility of a larger Dreamcatcher creature assaulting the town was on everyone's minds. At least around their area, the occasional swarm of floating, vertically slitted eyeballs and ghastly, slender-limbed abominations were dispatched quickly enough, the frailest-looking of them possessing enough of a trump card that he alone could manage any danger that drew near. Anything that came at the town from other directions, they couldn't help, but at least on their end the group still had some childish remnants of wanting to be lauded as heroes.

Larger creatures, though. That was a different matter. Even their small town--always late to receive news and supplies--knew the dangers of the larger ones. If the smaller creatures knew to hunt down the town's main cache of weapons, knew to strike at hands before they could reach for a gun, knew to poison the water and food, then the larger creatures would know all that and more, because they could do more.

What came out of a distant mine shaft entrance in a spray of rocks and boulders, however, was worse than that.

At first, it looked vaguely human, despite strange metallic segments jutting out of the body at odd angles, most notably around the head and torso. But as it walked towards the town, those segments grew, the material warping and dragging out of the deformed silhouette before expanding into armatures and scattered gear shapes in cardioid movement, whipping around the form until nothing was visible but a roiling mass of metal like a ball of brass snakes. And that became a reinforced core as the clockwork mechanisms whirred and exploded into a towering, humanoid shape nearly a hundred meters tall and bent at too many angles. Arms, legs, and neck hooked and spun on five ball-and-socket joints each, the balance precarious until more limbs sprouted from the awkward cant of the torso and stabilized the movement. At the center of the torso lay a hollow circle like a chunk had been cut clean from the monster and the now almost smooth, circular heart was suspended by a series of metallic linkages in that empty center.

Red eyes multiplied in random order on the grotesque cranium where grooves formed around the head and eyes glowed to life on all angles, filling up the surface area and spreading outward on downward jutting segments of mechanization attached to the head by thick, copper lines, forming the impression of two low pigtails curving outward like hooks.

The multi-jointed neck finally lolled enough that the movements found an easy placement atop the torso of whirling wires and gears, though several clumsy steps forward on its four legs made the head tilt sideways again, neck crooked in five places as it moved towards the town.

And it wasn't alone.

Hulking clockwork androids with arms that slid along the ground behind them and spasmed as they walked crawled out of the mine shaft now. Gears and cogs spun as massive canines in brass plating stalked out as well, eyes gleaming red. Snaking centipedes as large as a person and far longer skittered along the ground on razor-sharp legs, movements erratic as the blades diced the ground along their winding advance. Hollow exoskeletons of iron and copper wobbled out from behind the more complete creatures, forms misshapen and barely connected by a thin frame of steel. They finished assembling as they moved, however, the material splashing out of thin air like an unseen junkyard was disgorging its contents into reality. Hawks and vultures, lifting off on frail frames of wings lined with thin sheets of metal in imitation of flight feathers.

Linus had pushed the boy far. Much too far.

Higher thought processes had taken a backseat to shapes and creatures that the teenager's mind defaulted to. Animals from memory, and a hometown left behind. There was a childish wish to protect people in there, and the man had taken that too, plucking it from the annals of desires and perverting it with a warped iteration of the power's improvement.

Cogsworth wanted to protect people? So he would.

The small army of clockwork creatures rampaged through the abandoned houses and buildings closest to the older mine shafts, the towering leader skidding and stumbling down the incline towards the town proper. Their approach was now loud enough that the town's lights flickered on in the near distance. Militia sprang to action with law enforcement and what limited military forces were stationed there, gunfire and panicked shouts ringing into the night as the myriad eyes whirled on the clockwork king's head, spinning and locating hostiles.

Dangerous. Enemies were dangerous.

The eyes located danger and locked on, urging the faster creatures to move ahead, catching hold of people like skewering animals. Protect. And the clockwork monsters dug into flesh and bone with cold metal, wrapping into and around their human prisoners without killing them.

He could protect them. He could protect them.

This was how he could keep them safe.

In the nearly collapsed cellar of the broken house now run over and torn down by the surge of creatures, the subnatural kids struggled to pull one of theirs out, the crying girl caught beneath several large beams of wood that had fallen across her even as she tried to move.

"Burn the fucking wood off, Fiona!" The angry boy from earlier, previously sitting apart from the group, had a surprisingly high pitched voice as he fumbled uselessly with the heavy pieces of lumber.

The girl below just kept crying, shaking her head. She had been useless from day one. A power to call fire but she was terrified of flames even though her flames never burnt her, and only when that weird psychosis she had pushed her to the limit did she finally take to the nearby buildings and forgotten houses, burning the remnants of wood and iron scattered around, panicking all the while.

On more than one occasion, they'd had to stop an X mark from continuing, because a car was coming down the potholed road and they still hadn't decided if they wanted to be free or be caught. But lately the decision leaned towards the latter for most of them, because they were always thirsty and hungry and hadn't yet found the nerve to fully run away.

"Here, move!" a taller boy in the group called out, shoving the white mark aside and shifting quickly into a large bear, easily two meters in length. It roared and shoved both front paws against the thick beams of wood, heaving them off the small girl and freeing her enough that the crew cut boy and another girl could pull Fiona free.

She lay on the ground and continued to cry afterwards, while a thin skeleton of a boy stood nearby, his face gaunt and his body bony enough someone could mistake him for a biology classroom's model.

"...Guys? We should...check upstairs," he announced when the shapeshifter had turned back into human form. The cellar door and stairs had been crushed in the initial charge, but between the five of them that wasn't the worrisome part. It was whatever had obliterated and crashed through everything above them.

The other four backed away as the rail-thin boy approached the wreckage of an exit and...shattered. His body broke apart into what looked like large panes of glass, then those transparent panels scattered even further. Glimmering shards remained in a tight, square-shaped field around where he originally stood and the gravel and wood immediately nearby sported deep gouges and cuts. The bulk of the ruined exit had been pulverized into smaller fragments, and the cloudy darkness above was now visible. The boy's body fluttered back together, and he collapsed to the floor, breathing heavily.

Their shapeshifter wasted no time morphing into a bear again, nudging his fellow subnatural aside and using the cushioned bulk of the creature's body to push the now decimated rubble into an easy mound for them to climb and leave. It was convenient having their own portable wood chipper, but the guy's power really seemed to have its drawbacks on him.

Once the group was free from the cellar, the white-marked mage looked towards the town and froze, face blank as he took it in. The remainder of their ragtag band joined him in that silent observance, the moment shared between them.

A mechanical creature on four spindly legs bending and twirling on normally impossible angles was tearing through the town, its head filled to the brim with red lights for eyes that never stayed still, and every dip and sway of its body was destruction and every swipe of its roving, pawing arms caught power lines and people all at once.

At its feet were the writhing exoskeletons of accompanying monsters firing shots back at the failing city defenses, and in its wake was blood and fire, the stench of burning wood wafting towards them in the early morning air. If the kids had missed their lives in town before, they despaired for them now.

"What do we...holy fuck...what do we do?" It was the shapeshifter asking, eyes still fixed on the scene before them.

But for all their hesitation, Fiona--of all people--cried out for battle first, running headlong into the flames she feared so much screaming for her little brother and wrapping herself in a cloak of fire that seared the earth behind her.

The remaining X marks rushed after her, fear tight on their beating hearts and burning lungs, but feet propelled by that unabated glee at the sight of the wanton destruction. The distant screams and gunfire sang to them like sirens, and none of them noticed the white mark in their group stepping backwards and into invisibility, hiding somewhere safe from the chaos.

---

---

Monday rained and thundered above USARILN East, the water rushing in torrents down the sides of streets and flooding into the gutter drains. The sky had stockpiled a storm like ammunition and winds now whipped at the tops of trees with a vicious fervor. The Institute's normally sparse activity was reduced to a ghost town for the day, every student hiding out in their respective rooms with the blessing of cancelled classes.

Even the staff didn't want any part of this brutal weather.

The few remaining soldiers still patrolling stuck close to building eaves, avoiding the worst of the rain as best they could. The Director hadn't yet returned from Virginia, still mired in political manuevering and endless reams of paperwork, so they took the opportunity to slack when they could. Commander Kardos was a strict man, but he wasn't entirely without heart, especially where his soldiers were concerned, and their beliefs were affirmed when no one reprimanded them for deviating from standard patrol paths.

The man in question, rather than letting them slack, however, was dealing with something much more severe. A town in Maryland under attack from what appeared to be a category three or four. He had received warning of it late Saturday and had already sent ahead several teams of veteran subnaturals and two platoons of 30 soldiers each to contain the situation. It wasn't nearly enough, but that was all they could reasonably spare without leaving the school too unattended.

The Director had allowed the remainder of experimental unit A to participate, along with several recently recovered students, courtesy of several doctors overstepping enough over a week ago that they had a few more combat-capable subnaturals ready for the occasion. Neither of them had voiced their disappointment that a certain Shane Alkana had yet to wake up, preferring to focus their energies on a solution first. The Precursors immediately came to mind, but anyone who could fight had been sent, again, to the bloodier European-Asian Theater within the last several days, where the largest threats were attacking again in full force, recovered from their last bout with the bulk of the Precursor team. The creatures' continued escape and resurgence was a large point of criticism when it came to the reliability of the Precursors, but there was no helping that they chose the defenders' weariest moments to make their escape, knowing full well the battle of attrition would take its toll on the humans first.

And so relatively lesser threats were left to either wreak havoc until a Precursor could return and rest enough to fight, or until an alternative group of subnaturals took care of it. USARILN East had the uneviable position of dealing with nearly every issue on the East Coast, rain or shine, and Commander Kardos had hoped against hope that this latest status update was good news. Of course it wasn't.

Beyond the horrifically negative public image of firebombing a quaint town in their own country (as if that had ever worked well against the majority of Dreamcatcher's monsters), the government's hands were tied even further at the proximity of the attack to general locales of importance along the East Coast. They wanted it dealt with, and without needing to resort to desperate options.

Soldiers had been deployed and USARILN East had been volunteered for subnatural help, as it always was.

Ethan was on the line, requesting permission to retreat and notifying the Commander of several rogue subnaturals they had encountered in the fray, asking for further orders on both that matter and the current creatures terrorizing the town. They had managed to push the largest back towards the mines further from the town, but there it had settled in to spawn more of its mechanical minions. With every one they destroyed, a new one took its place and if there was a limit to the monsters, they had yet to find it. At the very least, the behemoth of iron, steel, and brass seemed unable to actively fight while it was generating more creatures, but where they had positioned it in what they'd hoped was an effective cornering tactic had turned into a defensible position for the damned thing, and most of them couldn't get close now. The ones who could didn't want to risk being stranded in the center of the spawning clockworks.

The Director had already cleared the new group's deployment if circumstances were severe, but Commander Kardos hadn't expected a disaster this soon and this close. A three hour drive on the interstate would be more than enough time to reach Wisford, and more than enough time for the creature to venture closer to USARILN East (if they were lucky) or closer to a larger hub of human activity. The cities around Wisford had already been placed on lockdown, and the units stationed there were already expecting the worst.

"Permission to retreat denied. We'll be sending a second group of subnaturals as backup," the Commander replied, already thumbing through the thick stack of papers granting the new team tentative permission to operate in nearly all locations and under the majority of circumstances. He picked the carefully binder-clipped sheets up and walked out of his spartan office, dropping them off with Mr. Greten before making his way towards the underground command center of the administrative building, positioned in the same hallway that conveniently led to the underground parking lot of armored vehicles and personnel carriers.

On the way, he ordered the remaining guards on standby to gather the relevant students, as well as prepare the relevant equipment. Most of them didn't know how to handle a gun, yet, but he would provide at least melee weapons rather than send them into a fight like that unarmed. Kardos had always considered their powers less of a defining aspect and more of a very prominent tool. Supplemented with appropriate equipment (and disregarding the dangerously powerful armaments from Hephaestus), their main tricks of the trade would potentially be much more effective in a real situation.

He felt magnanimous that day, and reminded his escorts to bring umbrellas for the students.

At roughly 6:45 in the morning, guards found their charges and spared the unfortunate students time to prepare before leading them under large umbrellas towards the administration building. The dripping vinyls were shaken off and cast into metal bins at the entrance to the marble-floored hallways edged with pilasters and abstract paintings framed in bright, burnished metal. Without letting them loiter long at the entrance, the group of guards herded them down a hallway that hooked behind a corner and out of sight, revealing, once they'd stepped around the edge, a wide set of descending stairs bisected by a simple handrail.

Further down, more hallways and rooms well-lit by carefully positioned cove lighting spread out like a maze, and the soldiers directed the group towards a set of frosted glass doors at the end of the main hallway, emerging into a room much like an expensive lecture hall where long, white tables inlaid with computer screens and keyboards awaited them, four to a table, with a keyboard and mouse that slid out soundlessly from a recessed partition below the screen.

Commander Kardos stood at the head of the room, beside a monitor that covered the entire front wall and currently displayed a map of an unknown town and several nearby cities with certain areas highlighted in red.

"Sit," he ordered, and turned to a raised monitor and keyboard near him, in much the same manner as the other desks. Several clicks and key presses later, the image on the screen swapped to a blurry still of a large, metallic creature on four spindly legs flailing its two arms unnaturally bent on five joints. The creature was rendered in shades of brass and iron bearing down on the unfortunate photographer.

The students found themselves nudged into seats at random, any groups clustered together from the start seated near each other in no particular order.

As they sat down in the fixed swivel chairs, the screens inlaid flat on the table rose to meet them at a comfortable viewing angle, displaying the same image.

Commander Kardos didn't waste time with pleasantries.

"For now we're classifying this as a category three. Most of you are still new here and don't know the classifications, so I'll be brief. All categories are direct threats to human lives, but a category one is a negligible threat to order, society, and infrastructure. Two is a minor threat. Three is a significant threat. And a four is critical. The rarely-used category five would be 'catastrophic.' For an example: the creature that decimated Palo Alto, California in 2011."

"What you're seeing here, however, is not a Dreamcatcher creature, despite appearances. Ms. Schur has confirmed that this--" he gestured at the screen "--is a subnatural. Which means two things: first, you are potentiallly looking for a human target to eliminate; second, the target can hear and understand you."

"What information the advance teams have gathered follows: it has metalwork generation abilities, though it seems restricted to shapes that are self-sustaining--animals, mostly. They've driven it back into a safer corner of the town to minimize damage, but now it's bunkered down and flooding the current combatants with generated constructs. This has given the teams a chance to note that it cannot seem to summon and move at the same time, which is both a curse and a blessing here. We can't risk withdrawing the current teams and soldiers unless we want to lose the town entirely, but that means we also cannot move them for a better strike.

That's why you're all here."

The next hour covered the details of the attack, where the group of subnaturals would be separated according to how their abilities would most benefit the fight.

Callan, Christopher, and Sander were singled out as direct strikers, their unique properties allowing an easy pass of a helicopter overhead and straight onto the creature itself.

Hazel, Angelique, Grant, Siena, and Emma were supports, meant to attack and distract the bulk of the creatures in whatever way they could while the strikers fought the main body.

Gregory and Brent were assigned suppression roles, to position themselves in view of the strikers and supporters, providing ranged support against the constant tide of mechanized monsters without drawing the main aggressor's attention to themselves.

Lilianna, Kusari, and Allison were sectioned off as one healer group, positioned separately from another in case either healer's position was compromised. Movements needed to be relayed to the team, so people were aware where the healers were at all times. This came with a warning, however, that--like sniper checking a superior officer--a team member was never supposed to lead an enemy to a healer's position or reveal the location of one to any hostiles. In practice, this was much easier said than done, but all retreats to a healer's position required detours and double-checking for tails.

Christmas, Ernie, and Zoe made up a second healer group, to be assigned a location once they arrived on site.

Lawrence, Sophia, Savannah, and Marcus were a roving group intended to help locate and evacuate any injured combatants or civilians to a healer, with the stipulation that they were to abandon any targets that could potentially involve them in a fight.

"Be ready to adjust as circumstances change," the Commander concluded, motioning for the guards to ready up. "Our meteorologist predicts the storm will lessen in another five to seven hours. We'll send you out then. Appropriate equipment for your capabilities will be provided and are being prepared as we speak, but bring anything you think will help.

We've set up a temporary base five miles south of town. Any retreats should head there first, and any orders to retreat will refer to that location unless otherwise specified.

Make sure to eat. If you're leaving the campus, make sure to return within five hours.

Dismissed."

At the conclusion of the briefing, the soldiers prodded them out the doors again and back into the weather blustering in sheets of rain and vicious gales against the walls of the Institute. At a small mercy, the escorts had retrieved the umbrellas from the metal bin and led the entire group directly towards the portico of the dining hall, helpfully depositing the students there and leaving each of them with an umbrella before returning to their posts.

---

Emma's week after her encounter with Miranda proved uneventful. She'd succeeded in snagging Marcus for a couple more lunch dates, but besides that she'd mostly kept to herself, attending classes and lazing around in Suite 318. As for her roommates, well... the days past by in almost complete silence save for the sounds of movement and Emma's occasional chipper interjections. Lawrence and Hazel weren't particularly talkative, it seemed. All the time spent with the 430 trio made her a little jealous... while she still barely knew Lawrence and Hazel they had seemed to be getting closer and closer every day.

And Marcus is always parading around with a pair of girls.

Emma pushed the thought away. Jealousy is an ugly trait, Em. An old half whispered piece of 'advice'. As for Monday morning, well, Emma was thankful for cancelled classes- she enjoyed going, but she also relished the opportunity for extra rest. It seemed that sleeping had gotten harder and harder as the days past, and her time spent in bed was getting shorter and shorter.

At least she was thankful until the guards came to get her. She gave her roommates a slight frown as they were escorted away, not even given time to get dressed- Emma was left in the clothes she had slept in, a pair of gym shorts and a plain blue hoodie. An odd combination, but one that Emma found comfortable. Of course it wasn't particularly suited for the weather- thankfully the guards had umbrellas, a small kindness in a world where there was little of that to be found. Truthfully Emma enjoyed rainy weather, but maybe not the torrential downpour that graced them today. But Emma wasn't concerned about the weather. As they were escorted towards the administrative building there was only one thought on Emma's mind:

I don't want to fight. I don't want anyone to die.

Of course she knew that she wouldn't get her wish. She was unsurprised to find that it wasn't just Suite 318 that had been called in, but her entire group of classmates. She scanned the small crowd, taking a moment to find Marcus's eyes and cast him a worried glance. She had a distinctly bad feeling about this, one that only grew when she saw what they were up against on the monitor. It had been bigger than Menagerie's monsters and was had already seemed to have almost completely demolished a small town. Emma wondered if they were ready for this... she decided that they weren't. The words flew by.

Category Three. Significant threat. Subnatural. Human target. I wonder who's going to die this time.

Emma listened to the briefing. She was on a team meant to thin out the smaller constructs. Take the focus away from the other groups. Her teammates were Siena, Grant, Hazel, and Angélique. She looked at those on her team as their names were announced. She knew Siena. She liked Siena. Hazel was her roommate. Emma... didn't know if she could trust her. Grant and Angelique were strangers. No, wait, Grant wasn't a stranger, they had met briefly in the first battle. And Angelique was... no, Emma definitely knew her. Angélique Lachance. She was... yeah, there wasn't a doubt, she was a famous musician. Val had been a fan of hers. Guess fame didn't make you immune to being a subnatural. Either way they were going to be her teammates, and she was going to make sure they didn't die. She didn't want anyone to die.

The rest of the briefing was quick. She didn't want it to be. The more time they spent away from battle the better, Emma thought. At the end of it they were herded into the dining hall, to eat and pass the time before they were taken to their potential graves. Emma clutched the umbrella she had been given tight. She didn't waste any time in finding Marcus. She... well, she didn't want to care about him as much as she did, but she did all the same. She had an anxious look on her face as she approached him, "Marcus... I..." they had seven hour, but she still was worried that this would be the last time she would she him. I don't want you to die? I love you? For some reason the thoughts were bitter in her mind. Those weren't the words that would come out of her mouth. "Do you think we're ready for this?"

@Chasers115

Hazel Baker

It was a relatively peaceful week, a quiet week where she had time to reflect on everything she was experiencing. Having no routine planned or given to her, she reverted to her usual schedule, going to exercise and eat following a timetable of a place far away. During those times usually allocated to her for experimentation, training, or anything else they might decide to do to her, she would be either sit silently in her room, or be at Ground Zero trying to keep her stigma down.

Her package finally arrived mid-Saturday, packed neatly in the middle of the room.

Even through the collar and the drugs, there was some excitement bubbling through the haze, as she opened the box before staring blankly at the very long sword within. Tentatively Hazel lifted the sword — it felt to be about 3 kg in weight — feeling its heft and balance. It seemed to be balanced towards the blade, perhaps not ideal considering the entire sword measured about 140cm from pommel to tip. Why did she buy this again? It seemed sturdy, and the blade was thick and unsharpened, but it was nothing she would desperately need on any sort of battle. Shaking off the feeling that she may have wasted resources on unimportant items, Hazel continued on unpacking the items within.

Solid armour, one that may protect her life in any more coming fights. Everything seemed sturdy and made very well, but there was something she realized she had not taken into account.

Hazel had no idea how to put them on.

The gambeson and chainmail was easy enough to figure out, as well as the gauntlets, but the rest took a bit of doing before she figured out how to work them. The gorget gave her the most trouble — even more so than the tasset — with its puzzling shape and use defying her imagination, before she realized she could put it on her neck and attach the spaulders to them. After that, it was simply the matter of putting on the helm with the aventail attached and going to Ground Zero to test it out.

The entire armor seemed bulky at first, but surprisingly the weight did not affect her as much as she thought it would. Hazel thought it maybe had something to do with all the weight being lifted with her hands making it seem heavier than it was spread on her whole body. If anything the gambeson made her feel warm and comfy inside her armour. As for the sword, it didn't seem like she had much use for it, but it was somehow entertaining using it to cut down those fake people, listening to their pleas and desperate scrabbling for survival. The dull thud reverberating through the blade and to her hand, that dull snap as their bones shattered due to the heavy blade; it was all music to her ears. One even lasted a whole half hour, as she carved his limbs bit by bit, whittling them down like one would a stick. It was enough to make her blood boil, before she was promptly shut down by the collar, having forgotten about it in her desire.

---

Hazel Baker
Monday, 14th September 2020

---

She snapped awake immediately as soldiers piled into Suite 318, her body mindlessly obeying orders even as her mind was still struggling to wake up.

Once lead to the administration building, she and the rest of the other subs were given a briefing of another mission. No doubt it was going to be as rigorous as before. Hazel stared at both the image on the table's slanted screen, and those by Commander Kardos himself.

She blinked as the commander continued speaking, words and jargons spinning in her head before... .

Hazel closed her eyes for a moment, before opening them again. Six squadrons; the spearhead that would strike into the enemy's heart, the vanguard that will meet the bulk of the enemy's forces head on, an auxiliary unit taking care of strays, two medic teams, and a rearguard to provide relief to anyone that needs them. It was troubling that the auxiliaries were the two she distrusts; she would have to keep an eye out to avoid getting shot in the back. The vanguard at least was filled with one familiar face. The rest, she was merely acquainted with. Grant with matter manipulation, Angelique with her sonic scream, and Emma with her summons. Siena was... she wasn't sure what Sienna does, but it should be something strong considering she was in the vanguard.

This was structure. This was order. This was familiar. But why was it familiar?

Clearcut objectives. A sure path to death.

In a way, it reassured her, even if she might be going towards her death. She remained attentive, until Kardos dismissed the group to prepare themselves by the next five to seven hours. Given that he would supply them with some equipment, she would simply ask them for some ear plugs for the coming battle. With that taken care of, she headed towards the cafeteria for a quick meal, before heading back into the dorms to don her armor.

---

---

A 4 AM memory twisted into a nightmare where snow packed around his numbed feet and settled across his shaking shoulders while he waited outside Alvin's gated, two-story house cut clean and asymmetrical with calculated precision. Alvin's voice in blurred volume through a white box beside the gate had told him to "wait there," so he obeyed, the icy weather searing into his body until he could barely feel his extremities.

He couldn't remember how long he had waited there, but for that failing hope of affection he still did. If he listened and followed directions, would he earn that gentle moment where warm arms held him and a carefully manufactured voice told him everything would be all right? He would have been all right with that.

For the smallest things, Christmas would forgive almost everything.

He had gasped awake at 4:17 AM by the clock on his phone, when he had looked down in the nightmare and found ice encasing and spreading up his legs with a series of rapid, watery noises like a river boiling over.

Sander was still asleep on the bed nearby, and Christmas let his heart calm and his breaths slow before he dared sit up despite the dull aches across his face and body. Rain and wind were hammering against the walls and windows--the source of his dream's noise and steady enough that it drowned out the sound of his fearful gasps.

I'm scared.

Of things he wouldn't admit because he had been thinking too much about everything that could go wrong and jumping the gun.

It didn't matter, he reminded himself carefully like a mental pinch to startle his "what if"s and "why"s. Even if Sander seemed to care about him ("important" rang in his ears again and he focused on the roaring wind and water outside), even if Sander constantly offered him that missing warmth (and he focused on the cold seeping into the room), none of it meant anything.

It couldn't mean anything, because he had nothing to offer in exchange and so he could never have bartered for that kind of connection to begin with.

He couldn't afford it and because his capital was so little he--

--really can't negotiate here. Just a basic rule of economics, Snowflake. You have to be worth something to demand something. As it is, you owe me a lot right now.

He pulled at the sheets, crumpling them towards himself so he could remember something--anything--else. A different day. A different moment. Quiet words murmured on a sofa and Alvin's fingers combing through his hair. Christmas would forgive almost everything.

Bleary eyes looked to Sander's sleeping form, turned on his right and facing away, and Christmas watched the slow rise and fall of his roommate's thin shoulder, traced the tip of hair that ended at the nape of Sander's neck.

His gaze snapped away.

I'm sorry.

He couldn't afford it, and so--and so it was okay.

When the guards pounded their fists on the door, Christmas was already wide-awake in sweatpants and a T-shirt on the sofa in the living room, teeth brushed, face washed, and pain medicated because he had thought going through those motions would let him focus on something else. It didn't, not really, but he could at least spare Sander the hassle of waking up to pleading eyes and zero worth.

---

---

How stupid of him.

His problems paled so much to the terror on the screen, the stress of another fight. His mind had meticulously avoided the thoughts of another battle, thinking it would stave off the dangers of the world. The worry had lurked in the back of his thoughts with every training exercise and every strained muscle on his body, but it wasn't until the intimidating man had briefed them on the details had it become remarkably clear how tenuous their moments of peace were.

The weather howled around the front steps of the dining hall and Christmas vaguely registered Sander nearby, but even that presence couldn't distract from the panic flooding his mind with every possible way this could end badly. Every possible way he could die and he knew it was dangerous to think like he was foreshadowing his own demise, but what could he possibly do?

Eat. The Commander had told them to eat.

Unsteady feet took him towards the glass doors of the dining hall and his trembling hands handed the ID card to be swiped.

He didn't want to die.

A plate nearly dropped from his hands when he first tried to grab one, and he tucked the large piece of ceramic against his chest the second time, one hand splayed beneath the dish.

He didn't think it was large enough for a last meal.

His hands wouldn't stop shaking and scrambled eggs kept tumbling out of the large serving spoons while toast kept dropping from the tongs as he tried to fill his plate and failed more often than not.

He didn't even have an appetite.

The dining hall was empty beside their group and the staff, so Christmas found a small corner of sofas and couches arranged around several coffee tables, sitting down and staring at his plate like eggs and bread would help resolve the screeching static in his mind. He thought Sander sat down somewhere near him, but he couldn't afford that.

He ate something. Was it the toast or the eggs and did it matter?

His breaths were coming in shorter now and Christmas finally caved, stumbling to his feet and almost running to the nearby bathroom where he slammed a stall door shut behind him and flinched at the sound reverberating off the walls. Jittering fingers fumbled with the sliding bolt latch before he fell backwards into a seat on the toilet, hands gripping his knees as he watched the reflection of ceiling lights on the bathroom's tiled floors and tried his best to be here between heaving gasps and the heat of tears rising.

---

---

Sander woke up once during the night, when it first started to thunder. Only then did he remember how long it had been since he last heard that noise. Funny, but it was one of the rare things he didn’t miss at all. Just noises, grating on the nerves. So he closed his eyes and went back to sleep.

The rest of the night passed peacefully enough, at least until guards burst into the room to wake him and Christmas up again. At least they gave him time to use the bathroom and wake up a bit. As they were ushered out of the suite, Sander had just enough time to grab his blue hoodie. It was the same one he wore on his GZ trips. He wasn’t completely sure, though he could hazard a guess.

Another fight. Worry and fear coiled in his guts, but his steps were steady. A small mercy (?).

---

Sander wasn’t wrong. He would be surprised if he were, really. Why else would they keep him alive, after everything he had done? They wanted his power. Wanted the beast that breathed for war and thrived in slaughter. And so they would get it. But what gave him pause was a simple word.

Human.

He looked at the thing of brass and chrome and wondered. Was it still human underneath? Well, was he?

He decided that he didn’t have any answer for both of those questions, so he didn’t think about them anymore. All in all, he just didn’t want to fight humans. He knew that they would have to, eventually. He just didn’t want to. Didn’t want to hurt anyone, because he would like to believe he was more than his power. Yet, he was so willing to throw all of that away for a little blond boy.

Funny. Because even when he would like to be more than his power, it was all he had left. The only thing that wouldn’t crumble and fall apart like flakes of dried blood. The only certainty he ever knew. Yeah, funny. But he didn’t feel like laughing. Just more thoughts for him to push into the back of his mind.

While Sander didn’t eat breakfast often, Christmas did, so he just hovered around the blond boy, fingers wrapping around a paper cup of black coffee. He was…distracted though, far too occupied with tracking the sweet scent of mudslides across room. They did mention that Ernie would be in the same team with Christmas, so that meant he would be near his roommate. And Sander didn’t like that. He couldn’t argue with them. Not with these matters, so he didn’t. To be honest, Sander wasn’t quite sure what to do at all. Wasn’t quite sure if he should do anything, especially out in the field where the blood high twisted his thoughts.

Lost in his thoughts, Sander just leaned back into the sofa, staring off into the gloomy weather outside. He barely even noticed Christmas running off.

The knock on the door wasn't a welcome noise to Zoe, especially as she noted similar noises coming from further down the hall. So they were fetching the class again, no doubt because something had gone wrong somewhere and throwing kids at it was the best solution. Sometimes Zoe wondered if they'd considered just making better guns instead and letting her get her goddamned sleep.

"You can stop knocking now." She groaned, rolling out of bed. At this rate she'd have to just give up on having a sleep schedule. Maybe she could just learn to get up earlier in the mornings, but that somehow felt like giving in. Part of her wanted time to get dressed, but if they were going to be fighting then it didn't seem worth it all things considered. She sighed as she glanced out of the window, grabbing her phone, and after a second's consideration, her knife.

It was the kind of day where the freedom to put on a few extra layers would have been appreciated, really. Zoe had gotten over the actual 'running around in her underwear' issue by now, 'cause there were way more important concerns at this stage and if anything she figured some of the others were probably more embarrassed about it than she was herself. Honestly, she found it kind of funny looking back, but when conditions were like this, the irritation more than outweighed any entertainment she'd get from her situation.

As she opened the door, slightly groggy from her rude awakening, she couldn't help but notice the umbrella. On the one hand it was actually kind of helpful, but on the other she genuinely couldn't tell if they were making fun of the group at this point. Like, some of them were probably about to be sent to their deaths but the guys in charge were worried they might get rained on? What were the priorities in this place? Seemed dumb.

Heading out into the corridor, she glanced around. The others were being taken out of their rooms too, which at reassured Zoe that it was a group problem and not anything specific to her. Nothing unexpected seemed to be happening, at the very--

Like the stars. A shower of stars, crashing together. Seemed as logical as these things ever were. There was an ocean and now stars. Made sense as much as this place ever would.

It was far away. She couldn't tell what it was, couldn't quite understand but it was something. Too far for her to hope of touching it. But it was desperate to touch, and she didn't know why. Trying so very hard to get a hold.

There was strength here, endless strength, holding back the ocean as well. Keeping it back. How much power did that take? How long before it wasn't enough?

And as always, something approached. Tainted sparks of power she had no choice but to take, yet somehow less tainted this time.

For all of her doubts, it still didn't make her afraid.

Zoe stumbled as she came back to herself, disoriented by the suddenness of the vision. It felt... Odd. Like something was off, something she couldn't quite put a finger on. Forcing a chuckle at her own apparent clumsiness, she looked at the guard. "Guess I'm not really awake yet, huh?"

He didn't reply. Apparently he wasn't the talkative type.

---

The walk itself was uneventful to say the least. Not even a single explosion to liven things up. In a way, it was almost disappointing.

As for the briefing, Zoe had planned to pay full attention to everything said. Really, really planned on it, but as the construct showed up on the screen her eyes remained fixed there. One key fact about the image had caught her attention, and what she picked up on from the commander's words in the background seemingly confirmed it. The things were metal.

Metal. A one hundred percent non-living substance. Which made her certain of at least one thing.

This is bullshit.

Zoe scowled, frustration clear as day from her expression as her attention turned back to the commander. It felt like the whole thing was the universe conspiring to mess with her, leave her useless. Twice in a row, she was stuck with fighting in a situation where her power couldn't do shit. First time it was 'too lethal', and now they were up against robots? How was having her power grow so much supposed to help when she was never in a place to use it? How was she supposed to be strong when she was apparently gonna be the most useless person here?

She was with a healer group. Made sense that she wasn't on the frontline this time, she supposed, considering there was every chance she'd be defenceless against these things. Of course there was always the chance of an unexpected threat, but none they were aware of unless you counted the subnatural responsible for all this. That was another thing that concerned her.

Powerful though the strikers were, you could never be sure they were capable of carrying out the kill order on a real person, or dealing with it afterwards. There didn't seem to be much Zoe could do about it though - her job was to look after the healer and keep the others informed. Her, Christmas and Ernie. Ernie had been on the other team in the game, which made Christmas the healer. Didn't know much about the pair, but they had several hours, so she'd have time to figure out a plan. Hopefully a plan where she could actually help, though the odds were stacked against it working out that way.

First priority was dealing with her stigma and clearing her head, making sure she wouldn't be a liability. She'd been at Ground Zero yesterday, of course, but the vision meant she wanted to play it safe. There was that underlying strangeness to it, a feeling that she couldn't quite place yet. Maybe it wouldn't affect her Stigma too badly, but if she had to look after people then that wasn't a risk worth taking.

Once they had permission to leave, she was quick to do so. Five to seven hours sounded like a long while in theory, but there wasn't any time to waste.

---

---

The target was...human?
He was satisfied on killing monsters, there was a sense of an ironic karma when his own alternate form decimates such vile creatures. But someone that could be reasoned with...that was different. The thought of it wasn't cathartic, it was..terrifying.

It wouldn't be so bad if Chris wasn't picked to be one of the few to attack the person directly. He was still shaken with what the demon inside him did to those fake people in ground zero. They sounded so real...
No it isn't just that, they felt real.

Chris shook his head over such thoughts. He couldn't let that distract them. They weren't real, just some magic that was invented to satisfy those aberrations. Something in the back of his head didn't like that explanation, but he didn't have any time to have some sort of existential crisis over it. It is what it is.

The arbiter looked around the room to his fellow students. He was unsure of what to do. They had seven hours. His eyes tried to find Siena. Maybe he could spend some more time with her before they go off to another disaster..He didn't want to think about possible casualties.

---

---

The lonesome arbiter couldn't sleep. For hours upon hours he tossed and turn in the darkness of his room. The same room that once held other students in the their beds, safe and sound, until their untimely demise. Chris was the last one remaining of suite-225. Four more faces to add to his haunting troubles. With a storm growing outside, the sound leaked illusions of voices saying help..

Each voice reminded him of someone he once knew. His parents, his childhood friends, his former roommates. Each turn he made in bed Chris saw a glimpse of a decayed face that resembled one of such memories. Every moment that ticked away, more sweat drained from his body. It was 5 in the morning when the subnatural could no longer take the night terrors that plagued his attempts of slumber.

He had risen from his sheets, gasping for air, and an expression of shock. Despite his full awareness, the nightmare didn't end. Dead corpses with familiar features all had gathered around his bedside, and were barely visible in the darkness. The room had started to spin as his mind continued to torment him with images born from his guilt. Then, his eyes snapped open, and everything flashed.

Once again he was returned to a dimension of nothing but a discolored sea and sky.
The sea from above and around continues dripping down, finding purchase somewhere in the depths of his thoughts. Somewhere far, an intellectual...boils? Spins? Writhes? Spreads? Seeps? Slow and gentle, like a curious touch.
Was it just below the dark waters? However his vision ended almost immediately, and he was back on his bed. He was washed from the night terror. Everything had stopped, he no longer felt fear. Rather, he felt numb. As if the vision calmed his trauma. Still however, he was exhausted, and there was still a lingering thought of dread.

I thought my life was getting better He muttered to himself. This past week was good for him, his talk with Angelique, the training in ground zero with a team, and his date with Siena...He had been smiling for once, enjoying himself. Now it seemed that the closing of that joyous week marked the return of negativity.

Having noticed the sun would start to rise soon, the arbiter found no point in trying to sleep back in bed. What was the point if his own head didn't want him too enjoy peace beneath a blanket.
His solution to his predicament was to go into the bathroom, take off his clothes, and take a nice hot shower. Once the warm running water and thick steam flowed around his body, the arbiter felt safe, comfort. Because he was alone, he had no shame when tears started to form under his eyelids. Eventually, Chris sat on the floor of the shower. He was holding himself as the salty tears burned his eyes. The long almost two hour shower ended when he was summoned along with the rest of the students to the campus.

Not My Usual Alarm Clock

An Autobiography by Marcus Howell

---

For the first time in many nights, Marcus was actually sound asleep. Perhaps it was the training regime they’d been put through shaving off the excess energy he always seemed to have, or just an overall good week having helped to settle his constantly whirring mind; a few lunch dates with Emma, a class free week, and the relative peacefulness of his strolls around campus (barring a single occasion). Whatever the case, he was completely passed out by the time the guards arrived.

The sound of knocking woke him up from his slumber – while he had been sleeping well, he certainly wasn’t a heavy sleeper anymore. His groggy mind had mostly collected itself by the time they were traipsed down the hall; a splash of cold water having given him a little bit of a boost. He unconsciously smoothed down the jeans and t-shirt he’d accidentally fallen asleep in again, along with a fruitless attempt to calm his hair and a quick sigh to calm his nerves.

The walk there passed with uncharacteristic silence from Marcus, who still sleepy mind was preoccupied trying to figure out what was going on. It looked like everyone had been called out, and he caught Emma’s eyes in the crowd, her worried expression mirroring his own slight anxiety. Last time they’d been marched out like this had been the first day, a day that hadn’t gone over so well.

When they sat down and were being fed information, Marcus’s mind hurriedly went about its frantic mile-a-minute thinking. He was already sorting through the briefing, the relevant sections standing out in his head.

A significant threat. Had they been told what category the first day’s creatures had been? Not that he could remember. Still - an entire platoon of students for a single subnatural seemed like it was a bit overkill, but the target’s ability presented a unique situation. Teams. Callan was a Striker; a position that suited her, but didn’t help to ease his worries. Sander would also be there. Better at control? Siena and Emma, Support: actively putting themselves in danger trying to get the clockwork creatures to attack them. Christmas and Ernie were on the same team. Bad pairing. Hopefully Ernie had taken his advice. Not his problem, as long as the healer was protected.

A team for him: two names he didn’t recognize, and one that he did, but which lacked a face. Lawrence? He’d heard that name somewhere. Civilian help. A pseudo Evac Team, as he simplified in his head. A position where he’d hopefully not have to deal with combat at all. Back away from the actual fight, where he’d likely be the last to know if his friends were getting slaughtered.

It all made strategic sense, but that didn’t stop his fluttering heart.

They were given seven hours before deployment. He needed to find his roommates and Emma, make sure they were going to be okay. Find his team – see if anybody recognized Lawrence’s name. The group was starting to disperse. An umbrella for him. A quick gaze over the crowd to see if he could find the people he was looking for. Emma was walking towards him.

He thumbed over the tags beneath the fabric of his shirt. Breathing slowed. Frantic analyzation stopped.

Mask up.

“We’ve dealt with worse than a single huffy subnatural!” Marcus said. The words helped to calm his own heart – the rationalization finding root in his convictions. If he could say it so easily, then actually making himself believe it wasn’t much harder. “And that was when were split up against four different groups of DC’s boys, and we didn't have a strategy, AND we'd been here less than twelve hours. We’re all focusing on the one target, and they’ve got a pretty well thought out plan for us – so I think we’re going to be fine.

Hopefully

“You wanna grab breakfast?” The words came out casually, as if they weren’t about to go out on another life-threatening mission. “No use sitting around for seven hours psyching ourselves out – and you certainly don’t want to be out there on an empty stomach!” he said, forcing the hints of worry back behind his usual grin.

Lying down on her bed, it was still too early for Angélique to find any sleep. Her mind was drifting to different thoughts. What a week it had been. There was that Flags n’ Seek game that got out of hand Monday, something that probably made everyone stop and think about themselves. She couldn’t think for the others, but Angel knew for herself that there were things that needed to change. She had met many of her new classmates, bonded and trained with most of them. At the very least, she could see some links being made, some semblance of a potential cooperative effort to survive the miserable fate they were forced to live with.

Remembering the first days she got here, and then this week, Angel realized in such a short amount of time, she somewhat went some way to become better. Sure, she still had to fix some more of that extraverted attitude of hers, deemed immature and noisy by SOME people, but she was making progress by establishing a routine, talking with people and focusing on her objectives.

The proof resided in the small degree of control she gained over herself and her powers by coming frequently to Ground Zero. Even if it was sometimes to vent out her frustration, she willed herself to become better, not be overcome by the darkness lurking inside her mind. She wanted to not just simply let it all out. She wanted to take control of it. To use it to her whims, not simply for the sake of destruction.

---

Before her eyes, there laid an ocean of darkness, black as the void, nothing in sight. Not even the faintest light, the faintest clue of either person or object. She found herself surrounded by the oppressive pitch-black darkness, blind and disoriented. It was as if this dark vastness had been trying to claim her.

All but one of her senses felt numb. It seemed so far away, but she swore she could hear what sounded like a familiar yet at the same time unknown rhythm . But as she focused on her hearing, the rhythm started growing stronger , accompanied by another set of just as strong, yet soother rhythm. One set seemed to come from further away, from the ocean itself, while the other set was much nearer, as if standing in front of the ocean, blocking its path

Like unknown forces colliding, screaming words of pain from the ocean clashed against serene and focused chants of hope. And while she was bearing witness to this clash, splatters of the ocean managed to splash its way onto her. But for some reason, she did not fear the tainted dripping on her now-sullied hands.

---

Angel gasped as her mind re-focused on her previous thoughts. What exactly were those visions she kept having? What was their meaning? Why was she feeling so focused, so calm, so accepting? It should’ve felt wrong somehow. She should feel distressed and uneasy about all this.

And yet, for some reason, she didn’t feel any of that.




This morning, Angel felt unusually calm after waking up. She still felt distressed about the whole gory show, and the remembrance of a missing Aaron, but she felt as if this new variant of the nightmare could’ve been worse. She felt something was keeping the rising tides of a tsunami at bay. That fact alone was putting her at ease. Whatever was blocking out the ocean’s rush put her at ease. Hopefully, things would get only for the better from now on. If those were the results of the discipline she tried to bring back to her life here, then it gave her the more reason to reign in those feelings and start acting like she should be. Act like herself, like who Angélique Lachance was, is, and will be.

Slipping into her morning footwear, the raven-haired Mage lifted the black curtains from her window. She had expected the weather to be this bad, judging from how cloudy it had been all week, but she didn’t quite expected it to be this bad. From behind her window, she could see the lightning illuminating the sky beyond the thick veil of dark gray clouds and the heavy drops of rain smashing soundly onto her window and the ground below.

So much for going for a morning jog this morning…

Yawning the sleepy bits out of her eyes, Angel made her way to her closet and grabbed a precise selection of clothing for today. No need to put on her usual training clothes on today, she figured. Instead, she’ll just take the day easy, even though her recent discovery of her powers being potentially linked to the visions she was having left her anticipating for the next time she would go back to Ground Zero. She had something she wanted to test badly, see if there was anything new concerning her powers.

Just as she had finished slipping into her clothes and was putting on make-up, rattling at her door made the Angélique snap out of her beauty-making trance. Wasn’t it early morning? Classes weren’t supposed to start until three hours. Maybe Allison or one of her classmates wanted to talk, this early in the morning.

The loud banging at the door intensified

No, this impatient knocking couldn’t be anyone from her class. In fact, it brought the unpleasant memory of one particular night she wasn’t ready to forget so soon.

The door automatically swung open, and hurried footsteps stepped into the room, stopping this close to a surprised Angel, still in the middle of applying a light touch of makeup on her lips. It was a morning ritual Angel had been doing for just as long as she could remember. Her agent always said that she had a nice set of lips that should be highlighted because of her shades hiding the rest of her face; bring out their gloss to overshadow the loss of what her smoky glasses were hiding underneath.

“Are you deaf, Missy?”

Angel stood there, speechless. Somehow, this sudden appearance was sinking into her chest. What the hell was this guy doing here this early in the morning, with a soaked umbrella in hand? It couldn’t be…

“Playing mute now, are we? Well, since you are already clothed, get up and come with me. You have a briefing to attend to this morning.”

Slowly, Angel started to realize just what was going to happen. They were about to get thrown into another battle, weren’t they. Shutting her makeup kit with a low thud, the sunglass-wearing young woman slowly got up and let the guard escort her to the briefing room, trying as much as possible to not comment on every nudge and stab the guy made with the muzzle of his weapon.

---

Angélique listened with keen interest to commander Kardos’ plan and explanation about the details of their next mission. So basically, they were to kill a machine-summoning colossal Subnatural who was wreaking havoc on a small town. So the mpowerhouses of their class were to take head on that Mage, while Angel and some other powerful Mages were to distract the machinery and back up the strikers, while the less offensive people were to either defend the healers or assist the injured/townsfolk.

The plan sounded right in Angel’s mind, except for her own involvement. Why the hell was she among the supportive group? Being someone who could emit powerful sonic waves, she could not affect machines, as they were lacking earing organs. The best she could do was put a dent and knockback a few machines herself, but she was more less useful than someone like Allison, who could probably cut through them easily with her anti-inorganic blade. Combined with Hazel, they could be a devastating duo. Angel saw herself more at the back, probably with Zoe, safeguarding a Healer, or even helping people out of the town.

She wanted to protest about the plan, but she was kept under silence by one of the nearby guards. When everyone was dismissed, they were escorted so quickly out of the room, Angel didn’t even have time to give a call at Kardos and have a talk to him about the tactical aspects of his plan.

Left out by the door, Angel turned to the guard with the gun still nudging against her back.

“Jeez, thank you so much for not making me waste my time! I wanted to actually speak with the Commander. Don’t need to fucking push me around with your shit. I got it already, after the Nth time you asshats shove your guns into my back.”

“Can’t do, Missy. The commander is very busy with this crisis right now, so he isn’t available to waste his precious time into ordering this mess. You got your orders, so move out.” The guard’s tone betrayed his inner thoughts despite trying to look unfazed by the brazen attitude of his care.

Annoyed by the man’s condescending tone, the black-haired musician ripped the umbrella from the man’s hands and stomped her way outside, leaving him dry inside the building.

Heeding Kardos’ counsel, Angélique headed for the cafeteria to grab a brunch. If they were to leave in seven hours, she might as well eat a mix of breakfast and dinner before heading to Maryland.

Inside, Angel picked up a tray and grabbed a few toasts, eggs, bacon, potatoes, fruits, sausages and pancakes. With her overfilled tray, she sat by her lonely self at the far corner of the deserted cafeteria. She figured she might as well get some peace and quiet for what could be her last meal, even if part of herself refused to acknowledge the probability of dying.

Just as she started eating, her mind drifted to memories of Aaron. A mechanical-summoning Subnatural? Aaron was pretty much the same, power-wise. This humongous creature that was supposed to be Human didn’t look a thing like her disappeared friend though. In fact, this thing was nothing like him. If that… thing… was willing to kill people, then by all means, she would gladly shout that thing apart.

---

---

Pathetic fallacy.

Thomas Mars, the movie junkie he was, had tried to explain that fancy-sounding term to a half-asleep Ernest some million years ago. They were watching some film about real estate, something with way too many adults and way too much talking for a kid to care about. Lots of swearing, but still talk he didn’t understand. Ernest hadn’t been paying attention. But even so, the memory of being tickled awake by his laughing father was prominent enough to brand those words into Ernie’s mental dictionary.

His father had gotten yelled at for showing a nine-year-old a movie with so much profanity. They laughed about it afterwards.

Shitty weather for his shitty mood. Ernie didn’t like it. If he was going to be miserable and afraid, he wanted to do it in the sunshine. Sunday was spent holed up in his dorm, blankly sorting through the requisitions he had received earlier in the week. By the time he was rudely awoken by the persistent guards on Monday, the paralysing fear had thinned out to something manageable. USARILN staff ruining his sleep hours before class with no warning? It probably only meant one thing. Ernie yawned as he changed and reached for that weighty backpack he kept in his closet, the one he never used except for occasions like today.

“You’re not leaving yet. It’s just a briefing right now.”

“Oh. Right.”

With five missions under his belt, Ernie naturally assumed that he had the most combat experience in the room, though the word ‘experience’ was a stretch. All he’d done in those battles was stand in the back and shoot from a distance. Guard duty for the less offensively inclined in his team. In the end, experience was jackshit compared to power or skill, and he’d gained neither of the latter from his missions. But it was that deadweight duty that had kept him alive to this day. Not a really good achievement, considering his current circumstances.

Ernie didn’t realise he’d zoned out until his name was called out with the rest of his team. Christmas and Zoe, huh? Geez, someone in the higher ups had a cute sense of humor, putting a bully and his victim in the same team. Not only that, they were going to be grouped with a psychotic face-melter. Ernie recalled Savannah’s summary of the redhead’s powers. Living things only. So with the complete lack of organic enemies (and from that, their team’s complete lack of offensive ability) Ernie and Zoe were just deadweight. A glorified taxi service for the precious healer. They’d be starting on the backlines, something Ernie was grateful for, but as the battle raged they’d have to navigate the battlefield, praying that they’d reach their injured classmate before a monster robot slaughtered the lot of them; casualties, escorts, healers, and all.

Slaughtered… Battlefield…

Ernie clamped his hands together, interlocking his fingers to hide the uncontrollable shaking in his palms. Had he known that it would come so soon he wouldn’t have spent the week prancing around and acting like such a piece of garbage. Maybe spending his last week in ignorance was infinitely better than the knowledge that the class would be facing death against that brass monster. But for Ernie, for the past few days, Death had loomed around a little blond boy. Whether the dark-haired Aberration’s life came to an end inside or outside of USARILN grounds was of little importance. The cold dread in his heart told him the end would be here soon.

God, don’t let me die while I’m like this…

Like this? Like the selfish coward he’d been since he’d gotten shot and captured on that filthy, cold street in Reno? Ernie shook his head, berating himself silently.

Empty hopes. Words with no substance. It was fucking pathetic to start wishing for something like that at a time like this. Wishes triggered by such primal emotions had no real meaning. The intentions behind them would dissipate along with whatever danger that created them in the first place.

As they were dismissed, Ernie fiddled with his umbrella. He’d need to talk to the decay mage soon. Preparation and communication were going to be absolutely vital. The rain created a noisy barrage against his umbrella as it hit and Ernie was reminded of that old conversation, back before the roof had collapsed and his father’s DVD collection had been shattered to pieces. Ernie had never found the nerve to look for his parents under all that rubble. He’d never found the nerve to do many things.

I can’t see you yet. Not while I’m still like this.

He shook the intrusive thoughts out of his head once more. Thinking could come later. Right now he just wanted to eat.

Curfew ended at 5AM.

Which meant that, past 5AM, he was free to do whatever he wanted.

If he woke up at 5AM in the morning and spent half an hour before and after to prepare and then rest up, he still had an excess of three hours before classes. And because his priorities was on attaining ‘skills’, he didn’t need to rest his body nearly as much. Callan, Sander, and Chris can become physical gods if they wanted.

He needed skill.

And that’s why he was awake at 6 in the morning, vicious rain whipping against the dark blue jumpsuit that covered his body entirely. A transparent, perfectly spherical bubble kept the rain off his face, the rain sliding right off the non-existent material, while, within that bubble, futuristic shades covered his amethyst eyes, filtering out the rain from his vision and turning ‘living’ beings into blobs of color.

An overclocked raincoat, keeping him dry, warm, and undeterred by the rain.

Overclocked infrared night vision goggles, allowing him to find targets even within all this visual ‘noise’.

And…

A magenta beam flashed through the torrential downpour, piercing through a concrete wall before spiralling into the right leg of a colored blob. It exited out the other end before the blob fell over, squirming. In this weather, at such a distance, Brent couldn’t hear the response at all. Which was fine with him.

This was just target practice, with a Desert Eagle overclocked towards accuracy.

Legs, arms, chest, head. If he couldn’t pick off six different targets from a more or less standstill target at this range, that was pathetic. Right. This wasn’t a ‘success’. This was not yet ‘winning’. This was just a rehearsal, for when such accuracy actually mattered.

He breathed out, his breath fogging the bubble momentarily. His fingers, the only parts of his body not covered by the raincoat, were chilled to the bone, but still, Brent leveled his aim towards the next targets within his vision, wandering aimlessly about within buildings. Their heat signatures disappeared as they crossed inbetween each window, but that was fine.

He could still extrapolate their movements, still predict where their limbs will be swinging.

More shots split the rain. Some missed entirely. Others missed their mark. A few hit. Rain steamed off the overheated firearm, and Brent lowered it, releasing a deep breath. It was enough for now. He could hardly feel his hands, and his accuracy was dropping with each shot due to that numbness. Still not at the point where he could decisively end a fight with a cracked head.

The stainless steel hand cannon was holstered and he pulled out his machete, just in time to hear a voice call out from behind.

Ah. Guards once more. Holding umbrellas that certainly didn’t prevent them from being drenched in the rain. One gestured towards the blade with his gun, and Brent sighed, sheathing it.

“Sorry guys. I would have come over if you just messaged me, you know?”

No response, as always. Wouldn’t hurt if they showed a little more personality, really.

“Well, whatever. Just lead the way I guess? I’ll hold the umbrella too. Keep us all…oh, right, you’re already wet, so it doesn’t matter.”

A bit too much? Brent laughed at his own jab anyways, before they started prodding him with their guns.

Yeah, maybe next time, he should bring a thermos of hot chocolate with him. Give these peeps something to be cheered up about.

Maybe.

---

There was nothing to be happy about.

Of course this was what they were brought in for, instead of having it be announced during morning classes. The blurred image of a monstrosity of gears and cogs, nuts and bolts. The announcement that this was a category three threat, something that was just as, if not more powerful, than the golem that Shane had turned into powder during a time that seemed so long ago. Except this one created more monsters, spewing them out like a demented factory.

A subnatural that had fallen so far, that hated this world so much, that it became a monster instead.

A clockwork titan that served as the fortress of the subnatural. The strikers should be strong enough to tear through such a frame.

An army of inorganic beasts. Unless something had changed, Hazel should be more than capable of cleaving through them all by herself.

A town turned to smithereens. Most likely, it was the supporters, the ones that had to help with evacuation while not possessing much offensive ability, that had their work cut out for them.

He was in a duo with Gregory, the ‘healer’ with that curious projectile ability.

“Long range support meant to assist both supporters and strikers,” Brent muttered, slowly internalizing the information. His hand, still cold to the touch, went for his gun once more, stroking the hefty grip. It wasn’t comforting at all, but it was still…what? An object that promised some degree of protection? An object that promised to make him ‘useful’ because he wasn’t useful by himself? Hah.

This was going to be fun.

A meaningless smile formed as the meeting was adjourned and everyone was lead to the cafeteria. His head was already spinning, already thinking, spitballing all sorts of ideas. Sophia to track down where exactly that subnatural was within that clockwork giant, if they were there at all. Hazel to turn into the ultimate shield, leading Allison over to the point that Sophia detected.

And from there?

All Allison would need to do is graze that subnatural with her own sword, and all those creations should disappear. It would take time for that subnatural to regenerate that massive army. Enough time for the strikers to descend and turn that bastard into paste.

Then, unexpectedly, Brent recalled what had happened last time he thought of a ‘good’ plan. How quickly everything fell apart. How much harder everything was compared to the simulated ‘best’ scenario. How ultimately, he lost. How he failed them all.

…

Didn’t mean he had to be a bitch and give up just because of that, right?

Lean meats and fruity salads found their way onto his tray, filling it up halfway before Brent decided he wasn’t all that hungry yet. Spotting his extraverted kickboxing instructor, the Arbiter was about to call out to her, maybe make some joke about how she must still be sleepy if she wasn’t going about tracking down her team members and discussing strategy, before stopping.

Right, they could die before the day ends, huh?

He settled for sitting at the same table and shooting Angelic a small smile.

“Morning.”

He wouldn’t push it if she wanted the conversation to die there.

Kusari was sliding a bottle of water into a gym bag when she heard loud banging on the door to her room. Such tactless banging could only be the school's soldiers here to drag her off somewhere again. She sighed and put the bag down. She'd been exercising early in the morning whenever she could the past week. It hadn't been long, but she could swear her body felt lighter and a bit stronger already. She chalked it up to her freakish body.

Before her escort got too impatient Kusari opened the door, greeting them with a half-baked attempt at eye-contact. She didn't say anything she didn't need to, and simply followed them. The rain had looked bad from her window, but walking outside she could see that it was turning into a full on storm. The thought that they might have to fight some sort of weather manipulating creature entered her mind. Maybe that was a bit too silly even in this world.

She kept her gaze low as she and her fellow students were led into a room in which many tables with screens were set up. As she listened to Commander Kardos brief them on what their mission would be, she found it odd that she wasn't afraid, at least not for herself. She was afraid for what this next mission would do to the others. Someone was going to die, of course someone was going to die. This was just normal for them now but it never stopped being frustrating. As they were split into groups she glanced over at the two girls that would be on her team. She hardly knew them besides a basic idea of what their magic could do. Maybe it would be a good idea to keep it that way.

They were dismissed to the cafeteria, Kusari again kept her head down, even as she grabbed a plate of eggs and pancakes. She sat down at a table alone. As she ate she caught Callan out of the corner of her eye. She turned her gaze back down to her plate. She tried to think of the coming mission, what it meant that their target was human. She honestly couldn't care less about killing someone like that, at that point she wouldn't even call them a person.

Maybe she's finally realized what an asshole you are.

Kusari's rogue thoughts berated her, refusing to let her think of the mission. There was a reason she'd been doing nothing but exercising. Recently Callan had been avoiding her, going so far as to turn around and hurry away from her when they crossed paths. There was also the fact that Sander and Christmas had clearly moved out of the dorm room. She tried to convince herself that it was just the director experimenting on them, or something like that. But she didn't have any excuse for why Callan was avoiding her.

She felt her chest tightening. Deep down she knew it was no coincidence that the only people she'd been close to were now avoiding her. She was only doing what was right, at least that's what she thought.

She could see how easily Sander and Christmas had bonded, even as she tried to get in the way of it. Callan was also getting along with others, and why wouldn't she? All Kusari had done was cause Callan grief, either traumatizing her or forcing her into an awkward position.

Her heart felt as if it were going to implode. As much as she wanted to believe she would be fine, it wasn't true. She was miserable alone, and she was misery to be with.

---

---

---

---

The starry sky and vast ocean greeted her once again. Fear tainted the optimism she tried her best to cling to as she stood upon the surface. Control. This meant she would be stronger, didn't it? More capable of controlling the contemptible monster that was glued to her heels. Like a diseased stray dog that couldn't tell the difference between its food and the hand delivering it.

The breathless beauty of her surroundings helped her do away with such negative thoughts. In spite of her fear, she liked this place. In spite of her fear, it seemed perfect. Tailored for her and her alone. This was only her third visit and already she felt she knew it like the back of her hand. Enough to notice that something was different.

A warm breeze moved sea and sky alike. As if both were made of water, the wind rippled each surface until, slowly, they fell into a perpetual motion. The sound of crashing waves lulled her forward as a familiar droplet of water rose to meet her. She knew what to do.

I knew what to do. Reaching forward, I knew something was off the moment I touched it. Or, I should say... for the first time, it seemed to touch me. It was warm and tender and curious. I felt no hostility towards the strange sensation as it not only spread across my skin, but into the far reaches of my mind. Where words do not exist.

She thought the vision might end there. It felt as though it were meant to, but then she caught sight of her hands. As before, a thick black substance encased her skin. It was disgusting and wrong. She hated it. Callan sloughed it off like thick amalgamating tar. It fell at her feet in sheets and globs, squirming and writhing and looking altogether quite terrible until the sudden onset of gravity pulled her back through the starry waters.

---

When the guards came pounding at the door, Callan was already awake. A ringing in her ears and a pounding in her head left her stationary, waiting for the fog to clear. In contrast, her heart was racing with excitement. Something had changed. Something good. Beneath a mess of starry blankets and sheets, Callan burrowed her head beneath pillows as the pounding at the door grew louder, interrupting her thoughts and irritating her brain.

From the abyss beneath several pillows, she withdrew a maroon colored jacket with a diamond pattern across the right shoulder and collar bone. Its water repelling fabric was Callan's testament to just barely having enough presence of mind to recognize the harsh rain beating at the outside of the window. As she slid her feet into her tennis shoes, Callan pulled the elastic band away from her nightly hair bun, tousling her curly locks as they fell just past her shoulders.

A quick glance in the mirror confirmed she had enough mascara left over from the day before to absolve herself from reapplication. Carefully rubbing the sleep from her eyes as she and her roommates were led out into the hellish weather, Callan steadily grew more alert as she realized they were not being led to class. It was too early for class anyway. Were they fighting monsters again so soon?

Suspicions confirmed, Callan attentively listened to ever scrap of given information. Staring at the screen before her, she felt unnerved. After the last battle, she had promised herself she would stay closer to her teammates. Make sure what happened to Padma wouldn't happen to anybody else. But, while she couldn't argue with the apparent logic behind this set up, she feared for her roommates.

Perhaps that was somehow selfish. Callan quickly realized that she was far more worried about Marcus and Siena than any of the others. Worse still, she even felt a tinge more of concern for Marcus than Siena. She should be equally concerned about everyone-- shouldn't she? That's what a real hero would do.

But Marcus and Siena were... all she really had. She couldn't bring herself to feel that burning desire to win like she had when she used to think about home. Home was gone. In every sense of the word, she had destroyed it. Suite 430 in Building A with Marcus and Siena-- that was home now. And though she'd only been there for a short period of time... she liked it. Enough to do anything within her power to protect it, anyway.

Perhaps this latest development was a sign. Dreamcatcher giving her the tools she needed to succeed.

Only one way to find out.

Angel's bubble burst when she heard a familiar voice near where she was sitting. Slowly raising her head up from her half-eaten plate of food, she flashed a faint smile to Brent.

"Oh, good morning Brent. One hell of a morning, huh?"

"Yeah," he said, surprised that she broke out of her shell so quickly, "was looking forward to acing the test today as well. Guess showing off will have to wait."

"I still can't decide whether I prefer going out there rather than spending a day in class. Guess we should be thanking the commander for that." the raven-haired girl joked, chuckling half-heartedly in trying to make light of the situation and hide her anxiety to the coming battle. "What were you up to this morning? Knowing you, you must've been already up before they came to get you."

"Seems like the guards really like to walk in on me during awkward times," Brent replied, slowly getting into the flow of the conversation, "First time they literally just waited outside my shower. This time they went out of their way to get to Ground Zero with just a flimsy ass umbrella, when I already had my raincoat with me."

"But yeah, was just doing some experimentation hijinks. Still sleeping on your side, Angelic?"

Angel grinned widely at the mention of being caught at awkward times "Oh, I thought you meant something more awkward." she jested, lightly poking a half-eaten sausage with her fork. "No no, I've been up for about half-a-hour before they came. I'm an early bird. Well, not as much as you are, but it's ingrained into my routine. Honestly, I had already resigned from my morning workout because of the weather, so I took some bit of time to prepare myself for the day."

"Well, for their sake, I hope the guards never have to walk into someone masturbating." Too crass of a joke? His eyes flickered towards Angelic before turning to his food. "And I only tried starting off my mornings at 5 AM recently. Think I might actually have to start drinking coffee now. Know any good coffee prepping techs?"

Angel cringed a bit at how straight-forward Brent was replying to her subtle innuendos, but she giggled nonetheless at the hilarity of the situation. "With the ways they come in so suddenly like that, I'm pretty sure they walked in on worse situations."

"Unfortunately, I'm not much of a coffee drinker myself. My manager tried that for the first days. I disliked the bitterness of it..." the ex-rockstar trailed off, suddenly realizing she was spilling out her old life again without thinking.

"Literally all those problems could be solved if they just gave a quick warning via cuff beforehand, but hey, maybe they secretly enjoy pretending to be moms who don't knock."

"And yeah," he said, smoothly continuing the conversation, "That's what made me go 'bleh' with coffee too. Just feels like you lose something though, if you have to resort to adding cream or sugar to make a drink taste good, right? Really, at least tea has a gentle flavor. Coffee's just the punch in the tongue that no one asked for."

He was talking too much, perhaps, but now wasn't the time for Angelic to clam up and start a self-destructive cycle of thinking about her oh-so-tragic past.

"Hmm... I tried a lot of stuff to sweeten the drink, but I just can't seem to enjoy it either way. Same goes for tea. Sure, it isn't as bitter as coffee, but it tastes... how do you say it... plain?" Angel fumbled a bit with the word. "I'm more of soft drink person. Soda, juice, a bit of alcohol doesn't hurt either from time to time. Usually, nothing gets me in a better mood than a nice glass of pulp-free orange juice."

"Mmm, a fan of feeling your taste buds get eroded by acid, eh?" he grinned, "Never understood masochistic tendencies like that. Orange juice is nice though. Lotsa vitamin C."

"I mean, if you haven't figured it out, I like sweet tastes. Maybe I'm a sugar person?" Angel chuckled, never thought of herself that way before now. "Well, it could be worse. It's not like I'm totaling my health like smoking or having bad life habits, right? Sometimes, you gotta spice your life up a bit, else you'd just be stuck in a boring self-imposed routine." Angel realized just how ironic it was for her to say that given how things had been going for her around here. That's who she was deep down after all, despite having a bit changed on the outside ever since she came here.

Sugar? Something to note down then. Nodding along with her chat, Brent stabbed an apple slice and bit into it, savoring the healthy crunch. "That's true enough," he said, not really committing to any particular argument, "But a sense of normalcy is a rarity here. No need to add extra spice when the world does it for you."

After all, regardless of how many safe topics they bounced around on, the upcoming 'mission' wasn't going to leave his mind.

"Got any plans after this?"

"I can't argue with you there. A routine does sound nice, given what kind of crap is looming over our head every day. But I'd personally add the kind of spice I like before being handed something I'd most probably hate."

Angel stood silent for a moment. Truthfully, before Brent had joined her, she wasn't even thinking about what to do before the battle. She had been just content with enjoying her potential last meal before going to battle. But now that the subject was brought up, the black-haired Mage looked thoughtful, the tip of her fork tapping against her glossy lips.

"Probably the same as everyone else. Getting ready for what's coming. Get a change of clothes, change into the protective gear I requested earlier last week. Ensure whatever gear I bring with me is functioning, that kind of crap."

Pausing, Angel was thinking back at the briefing, remembering her position and her role in this battle. Again, she could not help but feel uneasiness creeping back. "Brent..." she trailed off, wondering if it was a good idea to let her doubts show.

"What do you think of putting me at the frontlines?"

"Sugar instead of ghost peppers, eh?"

He leaned back as Angelic posed her question, studying her expression. Truth be told, the arbiter had thought that the allocation of power seemed to be off in this particular mission. Their healers, after all, were important, and yet, Christmas was protected by Ernie, who made rope, and Zoe, whose power was functionally useless against these monsters? On the other hand, Gregory, whose power was dependent on his ability to set things up, was put up with the task of supporting two different groups without attracting any attention to himself? And then you had Hazel, who's power should be amazing against these monsters, relegated to mopping up fodder?

"...sounds like a mistake. You're a ranged attacker, after all. Would make more sense that you'd be with me and Grego, instead of on the frontlines," he began, "But I can understand why they'd want you to cover Hazel's back. Your shouts are powerful enough to knock Chris on his scaly ass in close range, after all. Those robotic losers got no chance."

"So, hey, chin up! Sorta strange to think about it this way, but if you're in the same group as Hazel 'I Vaporize All Inorganic Matter' Baker and the omnipotent Siena, as well as the unstoppable, untouchable 2Chainz Rotem, you're probably in the safest position ever!"

In the end, Angel was right to have asked Brent about this matter. She figured he was like-minded when it came to strategy and analysis. While he wasn't off point, he wasn't completely right either. There were other people to take into the matter, people Angel felt would be more suited for taking her job.

"It's not really a matter of being a ranged attacker; it's more about my effectiveness against machinery. Sure, I may have kicked Chris' ass in the Flags game, but that was because he was affected not only physically but also mentally by the screams. I figured out, after training with my powers throughout the week, that the sheer sound of the shrieks cause some sort of mental breakdown... paralysis. It's basically like overloading your hearing with sound. Machines don't hear the same way organics do, so they won't be affected besides being simply pushed back. What good is that really is, compared to let's say Allison who can cut through inorganic matter just as efficiently as Hazel?"

"Following up on Gregory's matter, it would've been best if he was taking Allison's place as Healer defender, send her to the frontlines in my stead, and have me as ranged backup. I can't protect the healers myself, as my voice would just give my care's position away."

Angel crossed her arms, looking down at the almost-finished plate of food she no longer had room in her stomach to take anymore. "Don't get me wrong. I don't want to sound like a coward. I'm not one. I'm not very concerned about my safety in this plan. I'm concerned about how efficient the teams will be. Like you said, putting Zoe and Ernest together for protecting a Healer isn't something I trust either. If a monster comes up to Christmas, our most efficient Healer, what can someone summoning a rope and outstandingly resilient and a Mage that can only rot organic matter be of help to protect him? There are things I'm not quite grasping into this plan."

"Probably finding an excuse to use everyone in this plan," Brent said. Angelic was definitely taking this seriously, wasn't she? The plan definitely was strange, especially when it was confirmed by Rosa that there was only one subnatural involved in this situation, and said subnatural used inorganic materials as the base for their power.

"Positioning is nice and all, but really, it feels like the Strike team is organized strangely as well. As you mentioned, Hazel basically disintegrates matter, and Allison does the same, with the added bonus of being able to negate powers. Why not just have Hazel and Allison ride Chris towards the titan instead? Bring Siena along, perhaps, to increase the power of his flames to drive back the monsters. While Hazel shreds at the titan, Allison searches for the subnatural with her sword, and once that sword stabs them...well, that should probably erase or stop all the robots that the dude controls."

Brent laughed then.

"Hell, what is Savannah even DOING in the support team? Really makes me wonder if there's some sort of political shenanigan going around here, like Zhang trying to use this incident to show how everyone here is useful, when only some of us are."

Angélique listened intently to Brent's point of view. She approved most of what he said, voicing yet more logical fallacies into the plan. Playing around by spinning the now-cleaned fork between her fingers, the young woman looked back to Brent. "The only logical reason I think the Strike Team is composed as what is it is mainly because they are dropping them off completely for a helicopter. Hell, I think they are just going to launch them off from high above, counting on their superhuman resilience to just shrug off the landing. That and they will be in the heart of the swarm, outnumbered and counting on the Support Team to take the fuckers off their back. I gotta admit, even I thought I would be useful against the colossus. If there's really a human in there, then a well-placed scream can lock them down paralyzed until the other three tear open their armor and put an end to their rampage."

"But yeah, I'm not agreeing with placing Savannah directly in the heat of battle. If timing was the reason they didn't put Allison at the forefront of the fight, the girl is even worse in that aspect. She had told my team on our first encounter with monsters that she had a five minutes timer between each explosion. Is it worth blowing a few machines and being next to a liability for five minutes? No, it isn't. That makes just one more person to look after, who can't help herself."

Angel coughed, slowly realizing she was starting to sound exactly how Zoe had been in the aftermath of their gruesome battle. In the end, it looks like the fight left an impression on her, a lesson to Angel that she wanted to make sure she learnt and avoid repeating mistakes like last time.

"I wanted to speak with Kardos about my concerns about this plan, but I've been told he was too busy to even hear me out. Do you think we could manage something out , without fucking up badly, during the battle? They did say adjustments should be made as the circumstances change."

"Yeah, but even the whole dropping tactic seems...dunno what it makes me feel. Sander's invulnerable and Callan's super strong, but Chris can FLY. And you saw how valuable the ability to go airborne is from Shane, right?" Brent grimaced. "And if they're going to be tossed into the heart of the swarm without the support team right alongside them, how exactly are they going to keep the monsters off their back? The support team would be attack the horde from an entirely different location."

Ultimately though, they were just subnaturals that had no actual authority, so of course Kardos and his staff would be focusing on strategizing and whatever else. Was this supposed to be a test in its own way? To see how disciplined the students were? To see how flexible they were?

"Well, its not like we haven't disobeyed before, so they're probably expecting that. Maybe Sander will run off halfway during the fight to sniff down Christmas. Maybe Emma will just give up and crawl into a hole. Maybe Grant will fall asleep on the way there and then refuse to get up."

He chuckled at how silly and absolutely game-changing such things were, before getting serious again.

"Ultimately, though, we don't know how Hazel's power will interact with these things. Before we start changing the plan, it'd probably be best to see if our VIP's power works as advertised against them. Gotta get achievements and evidence under our belt before people start giving a shit about our opinions, eh?"

"Maybe you're right. Shouldn't get ahead of ourselves and start conspiring against the authority here. Still, I'm not quite fond of simply following blindly without thinking ahead of time. I can assure you, I won't wait for our classmates to fall one by one if shit indeed gets real to do something about it."

Angel leaned back on her chair and stared at the ceiling, letting out a sigh as she acknowledged Brent's statement about higher-ups not giving a damn about their opinion, for now.

"Speaking of Emma, how is she? You worked with her during the Flags game, right? What kind of partner should I expect her to be? I haven't had the opportunity to speak with her yet."

"As long as 'do something' isn't suicidal, go for it," Brent replied. Looking at his finished tray and his lack of a glass of milk, he was about to go up and grab something to drink when Angelic blindsided him with a whole different question. Emma, huh? He scratched his head, mulled over his thoughts, separated opinion from fact, and ultimately...shrugged.

"She's probably not a morning person. Probably also gives up too easily. God knows what she would have done during physical training classes if the teacher wasn't cracking his whip so much." Being a bit peeved here? Maybe he should dial it down. "Has an amazing power though. A summoning ability that has infinite range, as long as she is within earshot of her summons. That's why I was using phones and all that. Personally, Emma can be a super back-liner if everyone were equipped with cameras and microphones that allowed her to 'video chat' in their vicinity."

He paused then, thinking over some more things, rolling them within his mind. No, not this time.

"Not particularly bloodthirsty, or, at least, has a better handle on it than others. Was the least enthusiastic one on the team, but seemed to follow instructions well?" Brent's head tilted to the side. "Ultimately, a powerful follower with low morale. But perhaps that's just how she appears to me."

"An Aberration with good control over herself, huh? That does sound like someone I should get to know and learn lessons from." Angel chuckled to herself. "Well, that's good to know. Of course, I'll see it for myself when we are on the field, but at least I have a few guidelines of what to expect. Thanks for indulging into my request."

Pushing her tray of food aside, Angel laid her shoulders on the table and leaned on her knuckles. "And you? What were you thinking of doing after breakfast?"

Uwah, Angelic learning to become like Emma? Sounded like a downgrade to him.

"More experiments. Gonna have to get a half-decent map of the town as well. See what the internet brings up in regards to Maryland. Hopefully the conditions on the road would allow me to go rollerblading, eh? After that, it's just refueling for the mission. Can't waste any time faffing about, after all."

"Still experimenting about your powers?" Angélique hummed, suddenly looking a bit lost in thoughts before resurfacing. "I should be doing some experiments as well. There's... something I have been thinking about my own ability. It might be something worth looking further into before heading off to battle."

"Eh? Gonna try to make sonic swords now?"

"I wish!" Angélique laughed light-heartedly, despite how serious this situation was supposed to be. "You know what the problem with my power is? It's simply too damn wide. It's useful to get a lot of enemies or a big one, but it really sucks when I have allies standing in front of me. Can't go all out and risk dropping the others in a wide-ass sonic blast, you know?"

Again, Angel looked somewhat thoughtful, as if searching her brains out for something deep inside her mind. "I thought... what if I tried to concentrate those shouts? Reduce their area of effect, so I could target specific creatures?"

"Uh..." Brent scratched his head. "Yeah, I was planning on asking you about that too, on Thursday...but then you went off with Chris. I mean, it IS your voice, right? And the rain's perfect for seeing just where your shouts are going, so...can't miss this opportunity!"

"That being said...your voice going hoarse while you train would be pretty shitty right now."

"Well, true, it is my voice, but the way my power affects it is beyond my understanding. I mean, I do have some control over it now that I'm actively training it." Angel found it somewhat hard to properly explain how it worked. It just came naturally to her.

"A training date it is, then! Let's make sure we don't end up abusing me before the mission. I know for a fact, over the week, that I can recover if I rest up for some hours, depending how much I used my voice."

She was being strangely enthusiastic about it. The part about actually seeing the sonic wave showing through the rain was compelling.

"Yeah, if you're just there to test new things out, we should have plenty of time," Brent said, "Wanna finally try out the whole megaphone combo too?"

"Oh yeah... we didn't get to test that one out last Thursday, right?" Angel chuckled nervously, remembering that it was probably because she freaked out while dragon-riding Chris they stopped their training session earlier.

"Sure! Let's stop by my room and fetch that stuff."

---

Getting up and leaving the cafeteria, the two plotting Mages went to the Aberration Dorms. Reaching outside, Brent used his Overclocking ability to upgrade Angel's umbrella into an encompassing and transparent membrane. Its frame was study enough to take the force of the wind and sheltered effectively the two against the downpour.

"That's quite convenient, I must say."

"Technology exists to make things convenient, after all."

Reaching out the door to room 300, Angel opened the door with a quick swipe of her ID.

"Come on in. Shouldn't take more than a minute." Angel invited Brent inside as she stepped in, switching the light on. The inside of her room was tidy, her bed neatly made as the black and gray sheet aligned itself perfectly along the frame of the bed. The black curtains adorning her windows were held open in a stylish "< >" fashion by black lacy cords. Her desk was perfectly organized, stacks of paper neatly placed on the corner of the crooked-legged desk, showing some signs of damage. Hints of what Angel had been up to before being taken away by guard were sitting on her bed: a makeup kit next to an obvious spot Angel had been sitting where the bed sheet was unmade.

However, the most prominent feature of her room was sitting in the corner of the bedroom, next to the window. When the light came up, excited chirps came from the cage by the window. before heading to her closet, Angel walked to the cage, leaning to get a better view of the black-feathered canary inside.

"Hello~ Pav!" the rockstar half-singed to the bird, from which came a reply in the form of a few happy chirps.

"Chirp chirp," Brent mimicked as he waved at the canary. Looking about the room, it was fairly clear to him that Angelic enjoys her dark, modern design. Pretty impersonal, all things considered, but it also exuded a maturity that Grant's sole devotion to his bed and Brent's lack of shits about home design lacked.

"Taught it any songs yet, Angelic?" he said, unsure if he should sit while she grabbed her stuff.

"I tried to, but she has yet to repeat after me. She probably need more time to learn after hearing the same song being repeated over and over." Angel giggled cheerfully, whistling something rhythmic as she dug one hand into a small bag sitting next to the cage. Reacting to the whistles, the small bird singed along its raven-haired master as the girl was pouring some seeds into its feeding cup.

Judging there was yet enough water for Pav to last for the day, Angel put the bird seeds back into the duffel bag and turned to her closet. Swinging it open, it did not take long for the young woman to find the microphone and the pair of speakers she was looking for.

"Sorry for the wait. Didn't have time to feed my little darling this morning. She was still sleeping, dark as it is outside."

"No problem," Brent waved, "Gotta care for the peeps you're going to return to, after all. And hey, maybe one day you'll be able to give other people the same super-shouts. Then your canary will become your right-hand bird."

Offering to help Angelic with the load and making a silent prayer that the electronics didn't get absolutely wrecked by the water, Brent headed out alongside the raven-haired aberration. Another two overclocks ensured that everything remained dry, and from there, it was simply a matter of trekking all the way to Ground Zero once more.

Hopefully he didn't do it and run out of his silver blood as well...but then again, could he even run out of that?

---

The grounds were as desolate as he had left it, deep puddles forming within depressions in the ground. Finding actual cover from the rain in the form of a building, Brent released his grip on the umbrella, the large construction wilting as his power left its form.

"Alright then, Angelic, whatcha wanna get done first?"

"Let's get the electronics experiment out of the way first before it gets soaked and malfunctions."

Angel took the microphone in hand while giving the speakers to Brent. "I don't precisely how your Overclocking works, but here's what I was thinking. How about upgrading the mic's sturdiness and enhancing its sound reception, while also upping the speakers' sturdiness and raising the sound distribution. Think you can somehow do all that at once?"

"Unless you have a better idea. You are the techno-master after all."

"I definitely can do it all at once," Brent replied, "But it's better to see if the mic can handle it by itself first, right? After all, if the mic explodes, we can't even do anything with the speakers."

With that reasoning, he took the microphone from Angelic, examining it a couple of times before deciding that, given his lack of knowledge, he really had no clear idea of how to advance such an object. So it was back to the basics after all. The first function, Selector, would serve to improve its ability to further amplify sound. The second function, Incitor, would improve upon its physical durability, ensuring that Angelic's own destructive voice wouldn't just destroy it.

It exploded, reformed, and then warped within his hands, a molten mess of technological evolution, and finally, cooled.

A dark red cone, lightly pulsating with white LED lights, was what came out of the Overclock, and, still holding onto it, Brent directed the open end of the cone to Angelic, saying, "Try not to blow off my hand, yeah?"

While the whole show of technological-advanced upgrades were impressive, the final result of the overclocked microphone looked terrible. Megaphones made the whole thing look silly, Angel thought.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to use the force effect on those. Don't want to yank your arm or anything."

Directing Brent's arm away from his body, Angélique positionned herself as to scream into the rceiving end of the megaphone without having her training buddy in her area of effect. Clearing out her throat, she inhaled deeply before letting out a high-pitched "E" note from her throat.

While the ear-splitting screech did demonstrated the black-haired young woman effectively used her power, nothing left trace of her ability usage. The upgraded microphone itself still looked just as functional as before she screamed into it.

"Well, it looks like the thing held on."

Alright. At least the mic didn't explode or anything. Now then...

Taking the cord from the speakers and plugging it into the microphone, before releasing another deep breath. This was now a 'singular' object. Silver circuits coursed through the wire into the speakers, and once again, everything changed. Matching the dark red of the twice-buffed microphone, the two speakers grew taller, attaining a wicked flame-like frame and practically crackling with the magical power that fueled it. Voice amplification + durability once more.

"Ready to rock?"

Setting up the speakers to face a nearby building, Angel nodded with a grin before returning to Brent's risen arm holding the megaphone. To be safe, Angel stood at the opposite where the speakers were facing, behind them as to not expose herself from the potential sound waves that could come out of the sound-reproducing devices.

Again, she inhaled deeply and let out another mind-wrecking scream straight in front of her. While her voice was perfectly replicated, even amplified to an ears-hurting level, nothing seemed to happen beside the screams being annoyingly loud.

Turning around, Angel looked at Brent, then at the undamaged building in front of them, perking up a quizzical eyebrow "So...? Anything happened?"

"...yeah, shoulda seen that coming," Brent said, looking back towards Angelic. "My power can't be used to buff other powers at all, only inanimate objects. Since your voice IS your power now, I'm guessing that no matter how much you shout, your power will...interfere with my power and won't allow it to do anything."

He nodded, hiding the vestiges of his own disappointment.

"It's the same if I try to, say, Overclock a magically generated object. I can make an ordinary object as good as that magical one, but I can't make the magical one better than it already is."

"Yeah... that sucks." Angel let out a much visible disappointed sigh of her own. "Guess I was overthinking things. Believing I was simply amplifying the sound frequency of my own voice, and let science do the rest. Sort of like a sonic boom from those jets, you know?" the raven-haired screaming Mage chuckled bitterly at her own ignorance.

"I suppose there truly is no explanation when it comes to 'magic', other than figuring out what can be done, right?"

"Well, c'est la vie," he replied, releasing his power's hold upon the objects. "At least we now know that everyone can be as eardrum-shatteringly loud as you, just without all the other benefits."

A smile remained on his face despite the slight disappointment.

"And yeah, perhaps the lesson here is to focus on your power by itself, without trying to get drugs or accessories involved. Next is the whole 'focused' scream thing, right?"

"Ah... yes... let's get to tha-"

Angelique was interrupted by a loud obnoxious "HEY!" coming from her jeans' pocket, "Whoops, hang on a sec." she said as she dug into her pants to retrieve her phone

Hey angel do you know that zoe girl? I want to talk to her before the mission but I don t know where she is. Do you know her room number or where i can find her?

Browsing through some notes she had typed into her phone - basically a copy of her files - she returned a reply to her classmate as soon as she found the girl's room number.

I do. Her room's 201.

Thinking of Zoe, would she be around here too? Throughout the last week, Angel did managed to get a few glimpses of her former teammate, chasing around the citizens of Ground Zero with her still gruesome abilities. Taking mental note of that, the young woman added another quick reply to Ernest about the possibility of finding his teammate in the area where she currently was.

If you can't find her in her room, try at Ground Zero. She often uses the area.

Thanks buddy

"Sorry for that. Ernest is looking for Zoe. Probably going to meet his future teammate before the actual battle." Angel returned her phone to her pants as she looked up to the building standing in front of them.

"Alright, focus time. It'll be useful if I can manage to pull this off. Help in knocking down those robots without getting my team caught in the wake of my screams."

Remembering last night's week, Angel closed her eyes after visualizing her intended target: one of the many sets of windows still left intact. Before, she would simply scream at them and watch as they would all shatter at the same time. Today, however, was to break on set at a time. Taking a deep breath to clear her mind, she let out a sharp whistle. While surprisingly loud, it wasn't as deafening as her usual powerful shrieks.

Another failure. Angel let out a groan of frustration, her plans not going the way she wanted them to today. Why couldn't she do it? She clearly remembered that part in her nightmare. Was it something she couldn't do yet, didn't have enough control of? She knew something changed that night.

"Wa-" Ah, she was already going ahead and screeching. As Angelic groaned from her failure, Brent patted her on the back and said, "Was gonna tell you to 'wait' and all. Geez, what's the point of me being here if you're just going to train by yourself anyways?"

Pulling the hood over his raincoat once more, and this time not bothering to overclock it, Brent brought out his shiny new phone, walking off into the heavy rain. Drops splattered over the hood and his shoes were instantly drenched by an unfortunately deep puddle, but the arbiter didn't mind too much. He positioned himself a safe distance away from what he presumed to be Angelic's range, before starting off a video.

"Angelic! I want you to scream as long as you can while modulating your voice! Do as many weird vocal tricks as you can with it, and hopefully my camera will be able to capture what your shouts look like!"

"Oo~kay?" Angel was a bit confused about Brent's request, his words processing into her mind until it finally dawned upon her.

Nodding, the girl breathed in deeply and, this time, let out a forceful "O" pitched scream. The sonic wave became visibly apparent as the rain was pushed away wherever the sound reached in front of the screaming Mage. She had held onto her shout for a few seconds before coughing and gasping for her to refill her lungs. Once more, she let out another shriek, this time while trying to modulate her voice as she let it out forcefully. Changing pitches from "O" to "E" seemed to stop the rain from being pushed away, while going to "A" pitches brought back the same force effects. There was however little change in the wave's range and width as the intensity always remained the same.

"D-did you get what you wanted? I can keep going if you haven't." Angel stuttered as she tried to take back her breath.

"Try these two things now! A scream that becomes quieter as you go on and a scream that's like..." Brent paused, before letting out a sharp shout with his mouth as small as possible, as if spitting, "...BEH! Like that!"

Angel laughed at Brent's demonstration, suddenly feeling silly if that's what she looked like while screaming. After silencing herself from having a good laugh, Angel returned to the building's front view.

Starting out in full force, Angelique followed Brent's advice, resulting in growing quieter made the visible force wave lessen in length until it disappeared as she grew near silent. Then, grinning, Angel proceeded to let out her own version of what her training partner tried to show her, starting out with a low "O" before unleashing it into a focused "WAH".

Finally, the desired result came in. The sonic wave that came from the last note was significantly less wide than her usual sonic waves, shaped just about large enough to hit one or two persons,

"Think that worked," Brent called out, "Now make that 'wah' into a 'weh'!"

Tilting her head quizzically as she wondered what the difference was between the two, Angel slowly nodded and went for that "O-WEH" the Overclocking Mage was asking for. Surprisingly, the shout was even more focused; the sonic wave concentrated enough to be as wide as a single individual.

"Still got it in you, right?" The arbiter continued to call out encouragingly. "One last spurt now, Angelic! PEW PEW!"

Angel turned her head towards Brent, a face clearly showing a look of disbelief. "Are you fucking serious?"

"The smaller your mouth is during the screams, the smaller the radius is! Dead serious!" he countered as the wind picked up.

"Of course I knew that! It just sounds so fucking retarded."

"Causing friendly fire because you're afraid of sounding retarded is even more retarded!"

Snapping her head away from Brent, Angel let out an ear-splitting "O-WEE" scream. While this one might be about the same condensed radius as the last one, the pitch of the shout didn't bring any force effect, making it invisible in the rain.

"Did that sound retarded enough for you?" Angel mockingly shouted to Brent, before turning back to the window and letting out a sudden deep and resonating "POW", sending out a wave so small it broke only a few squares from one set of windows.

"We can always go stupider," Brent replied, capturing the profile of that last scream before stopping the phone on the camera and running back into cover. Taking off his raincoat and roughly shaking off the droplets that still clung to it, the amethyst eyed youth rubbed the screen of the phone dry, before showing Angelic a recording of her shouts as they parted rain and visibly made their different profiles known.

At the end of it, he asked, "How's your throat after all that? Do the pow pows exhaust you less than your waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaas?"

"That's so cool!" Watching how the raid was being affected by her supersonic screams made Angelique excited and quite enthusiastic over the footage of Brent's recordings. It was just as spectacular, if not more, than the special effects she would've seen in the movies. "I'm feeling just small itching. Something that will go away later today if I rest my voice for a few hours."

"Honestly, I don't think either type of screams is more or less exhausting than the others, It's just, one requires more focus and precise tuning. Otherwise, they pretty much feel the same exhaustion-wise."

"Mmm," he said, leaning against the concrete wall, "Shame there's no 'efficient' scream then. Sounds like you'll be doing a lot if you're going up against an army. Guess you'll be putting your gun skills to the test?"

"Mhm. it'll come around eventually. I'm sure of that. I've actually noticed my voice has gotten more accustomed to the screaming ever since I came here. I think... it happened at the same time my reach grew further? Felt like that suddenly, my voice wasn't taking its toll on my vocal cords as much as before." Angel paused, remembering exactly that it had happened sometime during the Flags and Seek match, just after she had beaten Chris and had that weird vision all of a sudden.

"I don't expect guns to be as efficient, but yeah, I do need a backup plan. That's one reason I had requested mine. Still... I haven't trained yet on how to properly use handguns, to be honest. Got so caught up in investigating my powers that I neglected firearms study."

"Must be because you're so gungho about power training, eh?" Brent joked.

Must be because of those fucking visions.

"But yeah, guess you're just gonna have to be careful about how many shouts you do then. Gonna be a bad time if you run out of gas in a dire situation, eh? As I mentioned before, Hazel can probably do like, 400% of the heavy lifting with her giant ghost-hands."

"Agreed. With powerhouses like Hazel and potentially Emma covering us up with her golems, I'm thinking of taking a more conservative approach, It's not like I can do much of my own by only knocking those things on their asses, right? I think i'll take a true 'Support' role and use my powers only in dire situations, like if we're somehow overwhelmed or someone's about to be jumped on."

"Sounds smart. I'll try to keep you all updated on horde movements so that stuff doesn't happen."

"Speaking of which..." Angel got her phone out of her jeans once more "Might be a good idea to get each other in our contacts, in case something happens or if they don't provide us with communication devices on the field, don't you think?"

"Sounds good. Even bought a bluetooth for that shit," Brent said with a grin, "Did you?"

"Same fancy model they give out to our classmates. Gotta stay in touch with the latest tech." Angel said as she handed out her phone towards Brent.

Spinning his own phone in his hand before tapping it against Angelic's, he waited until the 'blip' sounded before taking a look at the screen. "Lucky Angel?" he asked, cocking an eye at the contact info.

"Oh..." Angel's expression turned a bit sour when she heard her old pseudonym being called out. "That... was my old stage name," Angel admitted.

"Lachance means 'Fortune' or 'Luck' in French. Ultimately, Angel was a nickname given to me because of my first name, so it turned out this way when my manager proposed to turn my translated name into a stage brand."

"Damn," Brent laughed, "That's a pretty misfortunate nickname."

"You tell me..." Angel sighed. Really, looking back at everything that happened in the span of a few weeks, Angel had reconsidered if she truly was someone 'lucky' to have this voice of hers. While it did brought her fame and success before, now it was only used to destroy. A girl like her, who used to be something like the metal version of a hippie with all this 'Peace and Love' mentality. In the end, she thought that if she wouldn't be Miss Fortune anymore, then she would be Misfortune instead.

"I suppose that's about it for now. Can't go wasting all my voice here before the actual battle. And I'd rather not catch a cold either because of this awful weather."

"Oh, you know that porn star too? Damn, must be super awkward then," Brent patted Angelic on the shoulder, before handing her the umbrella. "And yeah, see ya then. Gotta go do my own stuff now before I run out of time."

"Oh you fucking-" Angélique threw a light jab at her partner's arm, her cheeks painted with a slight shade of embarrassed red. Despite that, she grinned playfully and waved a farewell hand while holding the umbrella above her already-drenched body.

"See you later."

"Yeah, looking forward to the robo-kicking date."

Angel laughed as she parted ways "Me too."

Me too...

If there was anything the last fights had taught her, it was that she lacked protection.

Sure, her projections could act as a shield for her, but it could not protect her against attacks from unanticipated angles. It was with those thoughts that she had taken to looking in the library for armor, for protection. And it was with those thoughts, that she had come back into the dorm, to wear the armor she had bought online. Hazel wasn't sure how much protection these will offer from those clockwork monsters, but at least she had some degree of protection. But...

It was not the monsters that she was truly worried about. It was the people on the other teams, more specifically the people who had participated in the last flag game. There was no assurance that they would not suddenly attack her out of spite once more for whatever reasons. That person, for instance, had no intentions of abiding by the rules of the flag game, and had tried almost immediately to murder her. If not for Zoe, she might have died right then and there.

Hazel finished buttoning up the gambeson, and moved towards the chainmail, wondering briefly if she should bring some of her medicine along.

Emma had been apprehensive. About the coming battle, of course, and about her friend’s safety, but right now that wasn’t what she was concerned about. No, as she headed towards her dorm she was more worried about Hazel. The announcement earlier that morning that she would be on her team had filled her with a sense of… well, the word that came to Emma’s head was dread, but that seemed a little extreme.

But if Emma was being honest with herself she was scared of her. Scared of the way that she had completely swept up her team with almost robot-like precision and scared of the way that she had slapped her to the ground without a second thought, leaving her naked for everyone to see. Emma had wanted…. maybe did want to be friends with Hazel. They were roommates, after all, it was only natural that they should get along.

But how could she get along with someone like Hazel? Someone that was seemingly devoid of emotion? Emma had been mulling over that question when she opened the door to find Hazel putting on a suit of armor, something seemingly straight from Monty Python and the Holy Grail. She favored Hazel with a glance of curiosity, ”Are you getting ready for a battle or the renaissance faire?” she joked. It was a joke that she had no doubt would go over Hazel’s head.

"Rein a sans?" Hazel looked up towards Emma. "I do not know what that is, but I am getting ready for the coming battle."

Emma looked... different? Strange? She did not seem to be all there, was the thought that flashed in her mind. Like a conspiciously missing portion off a plate of food. As the chainmail slipped over her head, the thought that she might be worried about the battle slipped into Hazel's head. Like her, Emma did not have much in the way of protection, so perhaps she too was worried about her own protection. Had she not been under the influence of both the collar and the drug, Hazel might have puffed up a little with pride, having knowledge of something Emma didn't. But since she was, Hazel simply nodded and took up the cuirass.

"Armor." She said simply, pushing the cuirass at Emma. "Put it on. It protects you."

Emma accepted the armor. She was half-tempted to take that as a gift or perhaps a sign that Hazel cared for her well-being, but that was probably wishful thinking. She found it far more likely that Hazel had some sort of utilitarian motive behind her actions. All the same her face brightened slightly as she glanced at the cuirass, ”Armor. I-I see.” she figured it would be best to comply, and began to put on the armor.

”A renaissance faire is like… hmmmmm… a gathering where people dress up and pretend that they’re in the past. Like, middle ages, y’know? They dress up in outfits like that.” she explained. She wasn’t exactly sure why she had expanded on the subject since she was sure that Hazel wouldn’t be interested, but she did.

"Middle ages? The past?" Without being asked, she helped Emma put on the cuirass, first attaching the gorget. With it, the straps would distribute its weight evenly on the gorgets instead of just digging into her shoulders.

Relieving the past seems like an odd thing, but Hazel could understand it somewhat. This facility was far more taxing than anything she had ever experienced before. Before, all she had to worry about was her own performance; there was an air of routine and predictability that she preferred. Perhaps there was a time before where people would like to relive, perhaps one without threat from those monsters. She found the thought intriguing.

"Do you mean to say that they have better armour than this?" She secured the straps on the cuirass, before giving it a little tug. Satisfied, she continued. "Where can I find one of those faires?"

Emma’s face reddened slightly as Hazel helped her. ”T-thanks.” she said quickly. As for her question Emma didn’t have much to offer her, ”Hmmmm, well, I don’t really know enough to judge the quality. I’m not sure how good this is, although I’m sure there would be some people with some expensive stuff there…” Emma gave a slight laugh, ”That being said I don’t think there’s a high change of a renaissance faire suddenly popping up in CC1, or anywhere near here. Don’t think they do so well with this kind of weather, considering it’s mostly an outdoor event.”

"Expensive..." Hazel seemed to ponder over it. "I understand."

Of course, since the gorget was being worn by Emma right now, Hazel had no way of attaching the spaulders to herself without it. The tassets as well, considering those needed to be attached to the breastplate. Raising Emma's arms slightly, Hazel started to attach the spaulders as well. As Emma mentioned the low probability of the faire happening in CC1 however, she stopped for a moment, before briskly continuing on securing the other side of the spaulders. Emma, once again seemed different, but why, Hazel did not know.

"Are you worried?" She asked.

Emma’s smile grew a little. Was that concern? Or maybe Hazel was just worried about Emma’s mood affecting her performance in battle. ”Am I… worried? Of course I am. Every time we get sent out there… well, I could die.” Emma’s voice began to grow slightly shaky, ”Or Marcus could, or Callan, or Siena, or Ernie, or Lawrence, or… you. I don’t want any of that to happen.”

Hazel tilted her head slightly at that.

So Emma's worries extends to more than just her own protection, but to most people she knew including... her? Hazel remained silent as she attached the tassets to Emma's cuirass, tying up the cords with practised precision. Finished, she stepped back to look over Emma, trying to see if any of the armor pieces were loose. Satisfied, she took the gauntlet and helm for herself. Even without the plate protecting her, the chainmail and gambeson should give her more protection than just wearing her clothes.

"Don't worry."

She gave the cuirass a light blow with her palms, as if demonstrating its use.

A small giggle erupted from Emma. Maybe Hazel really was concerned. She was surprised that such a simple pair of words could put her a little more at ease. Emma wasn’t sure if things were going to be fine, but she felt guilty. Guilty for fearing Hazel. Guilty for being an idiot and losing her powers over the fight with her. Guilty for coming in here prepared to confront her. Emma glanced towards her, ”Thanks, Hazel.” her voice was warm, and so was her smile.

Yeah, maybe things were going to be fine.

"Siena," Callan said the girl's name to catch her attention after dismissal, her expression grave. Umbrella in hand, she stared at her roommate with traces of fear quickening her heart beat and forcing deliberation into her breathing. Only it was less fear and more worry, mixed with that same rush of adrenaline from the first fight. She'd be fine. What else was super strength and resistance good for? But her roommates....

"Help me find Marcus. Let's get breakfast," she said after a short pause, as though she'd considered saying something else.

After a brief surveyal of the area beneath the portico outside the dining hall, Callan spotted Marcus. It came as no surprise that he was already chatting with Emma. A dull pang of jealousy that had become all too familiar the past few days gnawed away at the back of her head, but she had other things to be worried about now. More important than stupid crushes or barely present rivalries. She tried not to think about it, anyway.

"Hey," she said quickly, glancing warily between the two. "Breakfast?" She kept it simple. Few things ever managed to get in the way of Callan's appetite, but she was more eager to sit down and talk about what was going on than anything.

Emma responded to Marcus with a smile. Anxious, but a smile all the same. "I wish I had the same confidence..." she bit her lip, a sign of the nervousness mounting in her. "I can't help but think-" Emma cut herself off when she saw Callan approaching. She looked at Cal and than at Marcus, responding to both of their offers for breakfast, "Yeah. Let's." she replied. Wouldn't want to die on an empty stomach, after all. With that she gave the pair a slight nod and pointed towards the buffet before heading off in the direction.

"Oh there you two are! I was starting to wonder where you'd gone off to." Marcus said, with a slight chipperness that seemed to be in short supply currently. Everyone likely had the same worries and questions he did, with Emma having asked the really big one already. He tried to hide his own thoughts; focusing more on trying to put everyone else's fears (and his own, if it worked out that way) to rest.

"Read my mind, Cal: gotta make sure you get the most important meal of the- yadda yadda, blah blah, let's get some pancakes!" he said, interrupting himself with and eye roll and dismissive hand gesture, followed by an excited little bounce - one that probably mirrored Tater Tot's eccentric hopping more than he was willing to admit.

With a hollow smile, Callan nodded and led the way. Entering the cafeteria, she noticed Sander as her card was swiped through. He was sitting on one of the couches with a cup of what was probably coffee. Staring out the window as if lost in thought. "I'll meet you guys at the table," she said quickly as she slipped her I.D. back into her pocket.

---

Callan stopped just a few feet in front of Sander, looking across the cafeteria as if searching for someone as she walked. "Hey, Sander," she said simply, hands in her pockets, "You want to come sit with us? " Her nervous smiles and light hearted attitude were replaced by a serious calm. Every movement felt painstakingly deliberate as she tried to will herself to relax. She glanced past Sander again before her eyes finally fell on a tray of food that wasn't quite aligned right on the table. "Where's Christmas? He can come, too." she added.

Sander turned his head a little bit too soon, even before Callan came to stand in front of him. He looked mildly surprised, as if he didn’t expect her to be there at all –“Huh? Christmas is…busy.” -He cast a meaningful glance toward a direction, before turning back –“Just me.”

"Is he okay?" she asked. The last monster fight hadn't ended very well for Christmas. Of course, it could've been worse, but that wasn't super reassuring.

"He's fine." -Again, empty assurances that Sander had used for others and himself both over the course of the last few days. It wasn't the truth, not even half of it, but it was all he had.

"Are you okay?"

Another surprised look from Sander, but this time, it was soon followed by a soft smile -"I'm fine. You?"

Callan seemed just as surprised by Sander's smile. It was a small comfort. "All things considered, I'm doin' alright," she replied, hesitently smiling in return. The quicker she, Sander, and Chris eradicated whatever the hell that thing on the screen was, the less danger there would be for Siena and Marcus. And everyone else. "Glad to see you're not losing your nerve," she smiled a little wider, "I'm gonna need your help out there."

She lowered her gaze and the smile slightly faded, "Just coffee for breakfast?"

The prospect of fighting near someone he could say he knew, or liked even, still scared Sander somewhat, but he pushed the irrational fear to the back of his mind. Callan had seen him there, and she was alright with it. So maybe he shouldn't be too concerned himself.

"...yeah. Not really hungry. But you are, right?"

She shrugged, "I'm a little more tired than hungry. Not sure why they woke us up so damn early just to have us wait around for seven hours, but oh well. Pancakes sound pretty good right about now anyway." Visibly she seemed to relax, but there was still that slight edge to her voice. It was easier to talk to Sander in spite of everything that was on her mind. Maybe because she wasn't as worried about him? Not like her roommates.

"Just make sure you don't starve yourself all day, right?" she smiled apologetically. "You'll still sit with us, yeah?"

"Yeah, don't worry." -Sander moved to stand up, waiting for Callan to lead -"Let's go."

---

With their next so-called mission in mind, Siena had been quieter than the norm, her mind already racing through unpleasant memories of their first true combat experience. The image of Padma's demise was still fresh--why wouldn't it be? She still had vivid dreams that replaced the girl with other figures--and more than enough to drive a blanket of unease. The thoughts consumed her so efficiently that Siena barely noticed that she had probably been listlessly staring in the general direction of--nothing. Just the space ahead of her, which might have had people during their trek, but...well, nobody was waving a hand in front of her face, questioning her presence mentally. That was probably some indication that she hadn't been intently peering at someone without realizing.

Shaking her head to clear it, Siena realized soon enough that she had effectively lost Callan and...

...Marcus? That was the one they'd been looking for, right?

"Oh...oh no..." When had she gotten to the cafe--where had she put her wallet? A mixture of relief and anxiety twisted in her gut, both familiar and yet entirely confusing. Maybe she wasn't adapting to her new life as well as she wanted to. Sending her gaze around the cafeteria, the brunette caught sight of a familiar face not terribly far away. Faced with the option of dining alone or helplessly wandering around until she found the group, Siena decided to take the plunge, calling to the boy with a full-motion wave of the arm. "Chris!"

"Hey Siena." The white haired arbiter said as he had walked over to her. "Whats up?"

"Just getting breakfast with my roommates." A pause followed by a sheepish smile paired with a faint wince. "...or that was the plan before I lost them."

"Well that sucks. I am a bit hungry myself, why don't we go get breakfast instead?" Chris returned a warm smile. An expression he had become more accustomed with everytime he saw her. He had placed his pale hands in the pockets of his blue coats as he awaited a response.

"Yeah...I'm sure we'll be able to find them too." There weren't that many people around either way--it was more a matter of figuring out where her roommates decided to sit. Giving a smile, Siena sent her gaze over the tables briefly. "I keep hearing about this 'waffle' thing. I figured it might be good to try it."

"Y-you never had a waffle before?" Chris stuttered a bit, waffles were almost as common as pancakes for breakfast. At least thats the impression he had. Were waffles not that well known outside of his own town?

Quickly realizing her mistake, Siena formulated a quick excuse to cover her tracks--a grain of truth, even if it wasn't entirely. "Oh, well...I didn't get many options. Something balanced and healthy for energy." Flicking her bangs from her eyes, the brunette left a thoughtful pause linger in the air. "Though I guess I also never asked for them, so nobody brought it up."

Chris shrugged off the minor quirk, not bothering to think about how unlikely that was. "Well its sweet. You need to put butter and maple syrup on it though, maybe some cream too." He explained. "I think I'll get one too."

"Haha...maybe I should get one after you to get a few tips to follow." With a faint smile, Siena shifted her weight slightly, as if preparing to start walking. Maya's voice echoed in her head, scolding her for too much of a shift. Too much and it's pushy, just enough to suggest it. "It'll be an adventure for one of us, at least."

"Well I never thought I'd witness someone discovering a waffle." he teased lightly, and followed her shifted direction as he walked. Chris obtained two stacks of belgium waffles covered in butter and syrup, and a buttered toast on the side.

"Well, I guess there's a first for both of us then," Siena shot back with a sense of ease that she was surprised at. Another wave of familiarity and discomfort, but she pushed it away as she followed Chris's example, the thought that this might be the last meal she ate fluctuating from an alarm to a whisper in the din that frequented her mind.

---

At the sight of Marcus excitedly bounding towards the pancake section, Ernie grinned and gave a short wave. The Aberration's own tray was stacked with a multitude of pancakes, exotic looking fruits and yogurt tubs, uncharacteristically more than the usual meager pieces of toast he ate. His last meal had to be something special after all.

"Someone's an eager beaver," Ernie laughed and grabbed another piece of dragonfruit. He didn't even know how to eat that crap, "Getting ready for the big day?"

Marcus was interrupted in his food gathering by the familiar voice of Ernie. He turned aorund to face him, the one pancake he had on his plate sliding slightly across the tray. "Listen, I haven't been up early enough this week to get breakfast, and do you know when the last time I had pancakes was? I don't even remember!" The child-like mirth in his voice was evident, but spiced with a slight dash of the same apprehension that seemed to hang over everybody's heads.

"Not early enou-- Geez, what are you even doing up all night?" Ernie looked confused, "Hey, I don't wanna hear that kinda talk from a guy who gets to have a kitchen in his own dorm. Make yer own damn pancakes! Invite people over for a pancake party! Simple."

Marcus nonchalantly shrugged, looking over the assortment of fruits that were laid out. "I'll be honest: pancakes didn't exactly seem like a priority in the grand scheme of things; but you sir, have made an excellent argument! I hadn't even considered having breakfast at any point in the day! Truly, this is a magical place!" he said the words with as much sarcastic excitement as he could, grinning slightly and throwing an apple on his tray.

"Why stop at pancakes? Two minute noodles, stirfry, wedding cakes," Ernie looked as if he could ramble on for a while, but stopped himself, "You gotta let me borrow your kitchen sometime. Steak just ain't the same when you don't make it yourself. Or when you have to share a cooking space with a gazillion other Aberrations."

As Ernie rambled, Marcus's brain was thankfully thinking of something other than the mission they were about to go on. He'd learned quite a bit of cooking back before the incident - he was certainly home alone enough to pick it up out of necessesity. Max hadn't been much of a help when she was around either; she always preferred the quick and easy meals. Maybe it was something to look forward to in the coming week. Callan and Siena would probably enjoy a good meal - he sincerly doubted either of them had ever cooked for themselves if Siena's apparent wealth and Callan's plethora of discarded snack bags were evidence. Hell, Emma'd probably appreciate a meal too...a nice little gesture she'd undoubtably make fun of him for.

"Not a bad idea." Marcus pondered. "As long as you pinky promise not to accidentally burn the room down or steal my food and run off with it!" he joked, chuckling slightly to himself.

Roast potatoes, curly fries, pot stickers. Ernie's smile was almost wistful now as his brain reeled off a list of everything he wanted to try before...

"Please, dude. That only happened, like, once. And it was only the curtains that really got damaged!"

He liked this. Talking as if they weren't going to die in a few hours. Ah well, a guy could dream.

"How 'bout this? You set a date and we can plan a menu when we get back, yeah?"

"We'll have to see what days they give us off; I would absolutely not be surprised in the least if they give us classes on a Saturday because we missed them while fighting unimaginable horrors." he replied. He was kidding of course, but there was a small part of his mind worried that he's just jinxed it. They wouldn't be that mea- yes they would.

"Ew, don't even joke about that," Ernie grimaced but inside he felt pretty nice. Why couldn't they worry about these little things more often, instead of fearing for their lives? "Anyway, where we sitting?"

Emma was already seated at one of the larger tables so they made their way to her. Easy to spot, now that the cafeteria was empty. Marcus took a seat by the girl while Ernie sat across them. Soon afterwards, Siena approached with a white-haired boy beside her. Chris the Dragon, if Ernie recalled correctly. He welcomed the pair with a friendly wave, as Marcus greeted Chris with a small salute and knowing grin.

Emma gave Chris her usual smile. "I'm Emma." she said with a small wave.

Approaching the table everyone had flocked to, Callan knew it probably wasn't necessary, but she felt obligated to introduce Sander. She hadn't seen him chat with very many people and it would probably be rude to dump him here without any explaination. "Hey guys, this is Sander. He's sitting with us." she said simply before lightly knocking the back of her hand against Sander's arm to catch his attention. "Gonna grab some food. I'll be right back."

“Hi.” -Sander nodded, eyes flickered across the faces that had gathered. Pointless, since he knew most of everyone here by scent already, but still, it was only the polite thing to do. There was Callan, of course, then Marcus and Emma, who he still remembered vaguely from that first fight. Siena was there as well, along with…the white-haired boy. Sander remembered those two as well, though his memories of them were far less pleasant. And speaking of unpleasant, Ernie was seated just right across from him. That brought a frown to Sander’s expression, but he willed it away fast enough as he settled down into his seat.

But he no longer had any business with Ernie. The other Aberration had promise to stay away from Christmas, and that was all he never needed from Ernie. Yet, the school wanted Ernie to protect the blond boy. And Sander couldn’t really trust him to that. He just stared at the Aberration, and wondered, fingers tapping slightly on his cup of coffee. There was no anger in his eyes. No hatred. Just a simple, curious look. But it was rude to just stare, so he forced out a few words for the rope mage –“Good morning, Ernie.”

Ernie stiffened as Sander approached. So he was friends with Cal too. Did she... No. If she knew she would have said something about it. Probably. It's not like Ernie knew her outside of idle cafeteria conversations. Still, he didn't want on the bad side of the class' two biggest powerhouses. The dark-haired boy turned his gaze down to his plate, knowing that dangerous blue eyes were watching him. Urgh, he didn't need the rest of the table seeing him act weird. Just be natural.

Ernie swallowed his mouthful of pancake and gave Sander a nod of acknowledgement. "Morning."

Too stiff? Too brusque? He tried to add more.

"Not hungry?" he asked, indicating at Sander's noticable lack of breakfast.

"No." -Came the curt answer, and Sander's gaze didn't falter.

"Yeah, well, shout if you want anything. Got plenty here, as you can see," Ernie gestured to his overloaded plate. By now, Ernie's tone was noticeably more muted than usual. God, that stare was unsettling. He looked down at his plate again in a vain attempt to ignore it.

Sander merely held his stare after nodding once to acknowledge Ernie’s offer.

Marcus gave Sander a short wave when he showed up and sat down in the seat directly beside him. Although he was trying to bury his prejudice, He was still a little bit unsure of Sander despite the talk they'd had, similar to how he was still a little unsure about...oh no..

The realization caused him to stop mid-chew and also stiffen, albeit a little less than Ernie himself did. Having these two at the table was probably not a good idea - especially considering that he'd told Ernie to give it a week or so before he got within range of Sander, not two days. And there did seem to be quite a bit of palpable irritation between the two, something Marcus noted as his wide eyes worriedly flicked back and forth between them. He very slowly shifted slightly towards Emma and away from Sander, in preparation for the brewing shitstorm.

Emma wasn't ignorant to the awkward tone that was settling over the table. She gave Marcus a slight look of curiousty, but didn't hold it very long, instead looking towards Sander with a wide smile. "I, uh, don't think we've really met. I'm Emma, but you might already know that... just 'Em' is fine, also."

“Emma.” -Sander nodded, tearing his eyes away from Ernie for a moment. He forced a stiff smile in return for Emma's much brighter one –“Yeah. I haven’t seen you around since…the first day. How have you been?”

Emma responded with a small shrug. "All things considered not too bad," she lied, glancing across the table, "Friends make it easier, right?" she said, trailed by a small laugh.

“Yeah. Your friends.” -Once again, Sander nodded in agreement, his gaze drifted across the table to follow Emma’s and stopped at Ernie. Fingers dug into the wall of his paper cup, its shape deforming a bit before Sander could will himself to relax –“Good for you.”

Emma gave Sander a confused look. Was he mad at her? "Uhhh... y-yeah."

'Friends'? Was that some kind of subtle dig about Christmas? About Ernie? The black-haired mage covered his scowl with another mouthful of pancake, watching as Sander slightly crushed his cup. He was mocking him, wasn't he. Some kind of 'I'm always watching' message. He could kill Ernie with the squeeze of his hand. It was bad enough that he came to sit with them, but staring too? He wanted to watch Ernie squirm. And on such a day like this. Fuck Sander. Fuck him. That bastard wanted to ruin his last meal? Wanted to play around with Ernie in front of everyone? Well Ernie was rarely one to turn down such a challenge.

"I got something on my face, Sander?" Ernie stared pointedly back at the boy. Bring it, asshat.

Callan's tray hit the table as she took a seat beside Ernie, oblivious to the influx of tension from Ernie's question as well as the question itself. The anticipation of a good meal was yet another small comfort she was grateful for as she tried not to let what if's and maybe's permeate her thoughts. Looking across the table, however, it was clear to see something was amiss.

"Huh?" -Sander blinked, slightly taken aback -"No."

"In my teeth, then?"

"No."

"On my shirt?"

"No." -Sander quirked an eyebrow -"You are clean. Don't worry."

"Then what's with all the staring?" Ernie leaned back and crossed his arms. His tone was joking but his expression was unamused, "You think I have a pretty face or something?"

"No." -Sander frowned, unsure of what to make of that latest question.

"Quit staring then. I wanna eat breakfast."

"Alright. Go ahead." -Sander agreed easily, looking back down at the coffee cup clasped in his hands. Ernie merely clicked his tongue in response and continued eating.

"Man..." Marcus interrupted, halfway through his pancake, and looking for any reason to break the rising tension. "What do you think the deal is with that thing we're up against, anyway? The guy said it's human - but it certainly didn't look like it. You think that's part of the power?" he said, looking to everyone at the table.

Engrossed in the bizarrely tense conversation that was happening between Ernie and Sander, it took some effort for Callan to steer her thoughts back towards the matter at hand. The whole reason she'd invited Sander to sit with her in the first place. "Maybe it's a transformation thing," Callan mused, shooting Sander one last wary look before fully commiting to the change in topic, "Like what Chris does?"

Emma stared at the pair as they went back and forth. There was obviously... something going on here, but Emma didn't care to involve herself in it. "I... don't know, but I don't think Kardos would say he's human if he wasn't sure..." Emma said, shrugging.

Sander pondered the question, but he decided to keep his answer to himself. The power changed them, and that change went deeper than the mark. Some more than others. Human or no, the outcome of the battle wouldn’t change, as far as he was concerned. Someone must die so the rest could live. The pressing question, for him, was who would die. His gaze flickered back to Ernie again, despite his words.

"Well, whatever it is... you guys shouldn't worry about it," Callan said firmly, "Sander and I will take care of it. Chris, too. That thing's as good as dead." For all her confidence when it came to her strength, even Callan wasn't this dumb. Apparently they'd been throwing subnaturals at that thing all night and a category three didn't sound like anything she should be taking lightly. Even so, she didn't want the others worrying about her when they should be worrying about themselves. An army of mechanized monsters didn't seem any less harmless than attacking the source-- especially when all it takes is a single well-aimed blow to the head.

"Those bots seem like they could be a problem though. Strength in numbers and all that, right?"

"Nothing our support team can't handle," Ernie mused. It seemed that he hadn't noticed Sander's eyes on him yet, "Emma's pull-guy can sweep them in while Hazel and stuff wreck the lot, right?"

Emma smiled at Callan's confidence. That was something she could admire, even if she wasn't sure if it was true. ”Yeah. I'm sure you guys will kick their butts!” she said with no small amount of enthusiasm. False enthusiasm, but she was making an effort. As for Ernie's apparent certainty that they would have the small fry handled, well...

Emma's power was still inconsistent, as it had been since their 'game'. Things had gotten better since her date with Marcus, but there was still a degree of trepidation within her. She'd actually had sporadic periods of her entire arsenal available to her... except Determination. She'd only succeeded in bringing him out a single time since Hazel publicly shamed her. She found it quite discouraging that her most valuable summon might not be there for the battle.

She was, however, able to consistently summon Love, something that she found incredibly embarrassing and caused her no small amount of guilt. Foolish, stupid girl. one of the voices inside her echoed. She, of course, wasn't about to share any of that information with the group. Instead she nodded at Ernie, ”If we don't keep them down they'll cause you guys trouble... I... we've all got to do our part so we can all come back.” she said, her smile growing. Her forced smile.

"Yeah, and as long as you guys keep them from spilling out, my job will completely consist of a fun little game of Hide-and-Go-Seek!" Marcus grinned widely, pleased with the sudden boost of confidence everybody seemed to be having.

"Heh," the corner of Callan's mouth quirked into a half successful attempt at a smile, "Try not to have too much fun, Marcus. It's a not a game this time." That was bit unfair of her. Everyone was trying to stay positive and confident, but as they all trivialized the task at hand, she couldn't help worrying that they might not be careful enough. Immensely hypocritical, but she couldn't help it. Not when Marcus was the one saying it.

"A game's just a situation with win-lose scenarios though," Ernie scratched his face, "You could call anything a game, really, especially the mission. With me it's just another round of Protect the Healer, only with bigger stakes this time."

He looked at Cal. He wasn't joking this time. Did she really think that being such a buzzkill was going to help anyone? Ernie didn't need bummed out teammates getting their asses kicked and exposing his own group just because their morale was down.

"If thinking of it as a game makes it easier to know what to do, then I don't see a problem with it. Mission objectives and all that, yeah? If Marc could find a way to get some fun out of these win-lose scenarios, then maybe we could all do a little better."

"We" referring to Cal, of course.

"But hey, whatever gets you in the zone, man."

"I'm just saying," Callan answered quickly, glancing at Marcus again before looking down at her tray, "You guys should be careful."

Marcus seemed slightly taken aback by Callan's response, preparing to stammer out a response interrupted by Ernie. He sat silently while the two talked quickly between each other, before speaking up himself. "N-no, I just meant..." he trailed off. Of course he knew that this wasn't a game - this was an actual mission; and it wasn't like he was actively trying to make a scenario where people could get killed into his own fun playtime.

He found no words to continue his defense, instead choosing to avert his eyes back down to his breakfast, taking a small bite.

Emma gave Ernie a glance filled with venom, and then Callan one with significantly less venom. She cleared her throat, ”We’re all just trying to cope in our own ways, right? I’m sure we all know well enough that it’s going to be dangerous out there.” she said as cheerfully as she could.

Ernie met Emma's glare with an amused look. Damn, it was fun annoying her. He'd have to do it more often.

"Yeah, as long as you know what the stakes are, do whatever the hell..." Ernie was caught off-guard when he looked over the table and saw Sander's eyes on him again. Did this fucker really... No. Not right now. He coughed and continued more meekly, "...yeah, whatever works. We'll all be giving it our all out there anyway. Just different approaches, that's all it is."

"Will you be giving your all? - Sander spoke suddenly, breaking out of whatever train of thoughts he was chasing at the moment. The question was obviously directed at Ernie.

There was a moment of silence as Ernie glared back, obviously irritated by Sander's interjection.

"Even I'm not stupid enough to let anything happen to our 'precious healer'," the Aberration practically spat the last part out. It seemed that he was avoiding uttering Christmas' name out loud, "So yeah, I'll be doing that. I'll do my job and you make sure you keep that berserking pointed at the robot, yeah?"

"I...don't want to hurt you, Ernie." -Despite the other party's aggression, Sander remained oddly calm. Melancholic, even -"But I can always find you. And I will." - Once again, threats that sounded more like warnings.

Emma gave Sander a look of incredulity. Sure, she didn’t like Ernie but that was a straight up threat. She couldn’t just let that slide, could she? She cleared her throat, trying to get their attention off of each other and onto her. ”Okay, that’s it. This is super awkward. What’s going on here? I don’t care if you guys have some kind of beef, but I’d like my last breakfast to be pleasant.” she said flatly.

From bad to worse. Callan looked up from her tray as Sander addressed Ernie. What had gotten into him? Had she missed something? Thankfully Emma managed to intervene before she worked up the courage to say something in spite of her previous embarrassment. "Emma's right. Sander, do you have to do this right now?" Callan looked to Sander with frustrated betrayal. Even without knowing why the two were on bad terms, she'd expected him to be better than this.

They were seriously taking his side? Well, it was a pretty idiotic move for Sander to do it in front of everyone.

"Emma's totally right. This is my last breakfast. So instead of fucking around and threatening to do shit to me, why don't you just wait a few hours and let the robots do it for you? Would save you a lotta blood on those designer jeans," Ernie crossed his arms, seething, "If not, then shut up, fuck off, and let me eat in peace."

If he were talking to any other person, Ernie probably would have goaded them on to hit him then and there. But this was Sander. Not even this nihilistic bravado gave him the guts to challenge the boy straight on.

Sander blinked, mildly surprised as he looked at Emma first, then Callan. Of course, they didn't approve. He couldn't say he did, either -"I'm sorry. -He said quickly, eyes retreated back to the cup of coffee in his hands.

"Man." Marcus said quietly, eager to change the conversation for the second time so far. "You think we'll still have that physical training thing today?" He joked, his grin still recovering from Callan's scolding. "That thing's taken up enough of my well-earned free time!"

Content with Sander's apology, Callan decided to forget about it for now, firing off one final warning look before Marcus stepped in to change the subject. His lack of response concerning Callan's earlier statement hadn't gone unnoticed. She could've been a bit more tactful with voicing her concern, but she didn't mean to make him feel bad. Even if it had caused some momentary friction, she hoped he wouldn't forget what she said. Joking around was kind of his thing, but she wanted to make sure Marcus would take this seriously-- for his sake.

Emma gave a slight nod at Sander's apology. Hopefully that would be the last she heard of their rivalry, at least until they were past the life-threatening situations. Well, she doubted they would ever be entirely safe, but at least past the immediate danger. Emma gave a sharp sigh at Marcus's mention of their training. She had never exactly been athletic and the aches she felt over her body told her that mandatory excercise certainly wasn't doing her any favors. "I sure hope not. Things keep going at this rate and I might start to lose some of this flabbiness." she joked, pinching some of the flesh on her arms to accentuate her point.

Ernie looked up from his food, desperate to get back into the usual swing of conversation after embarrassing himself and blowing up like that. Thank god Marcus was here to make a distraction. Ernie raised an eyebrow at Emma's self-deprecating comment. High school people did that a lot, right? Say bad things about themselves so people would laugh or reassure them? Ernie gave it a spin.

"Aw, no need to put yourself down like that, Emma," he smirked and flexed a rather pathetic, skinny arm, "Keep up the hard work and soon you'll get to be as scrawny as me and Marcus!"

"Aw yeah, aren't you jealous of our rockin' physique?" Marcus said, his mood immediately lightening up a bit at Ernie's remark. He rolled down his right sleeve to flex his non-existent muscle, giving everyone at the table a cocky look. "Don't you just wish you could be this beefy?"

Sander looked up briefly, brows scrunched up in confusion. Despite herself, Callan chuckled sheepishly.

Emma joined the laughter with a small giggle of her own, "Oh yeah, beefcake, you betchya. With chicken arms like those you're lucky I give you the time of day." in response Emma flexed her own arm, displaying her distinct lack of muscle, "I think I might be more built than you, and that's saying something" she teased.

"Well there we go: next date idea." Marcus said with a grin, rolling his sleeve back down. "Gym date. Nothing like a gross, sweaty, workout session!"

SNAP. Callan's plastic fork broke in half. She blinked up at Emma and Marcus in surprise. "Whoops," she muttered after a moment's hesitation, heat rushing to her face. "Good thing I grabbed a spare!" she forced herself to laugh. Uncomfortably shifting in her seat. She wrapped her hand around her glass of orange juice and quickly brought it to her lips. "You guys are dating?" she chuckled into her cup, poorly feigning disinterest as she took a sip.

When Callan broke her own fork in two Emma regarded her with an awkward smile, shooting back at Marcus, "Not sure if the gym is a great idea, I'd probably make you look bad." she said, her smile shifting back into a more natural one. When Callan asked them if they were dating her expression went flat. She looked towards Marcus, shrugging "Well... uhhhh..." he didn't seem to have a problem with proposing a date right in front of them, so she supposed that he didn't have an issue with labeling their relationship, "Y-yeah. We are." she said, smiling again.

Uhhhhh.

Ernie's gaze shifted rapidly between Cal, Emma and Marcus. Did Cal... really not know? Did Emma really not know that Cal didn't know? Did Marcus know anything? Ernie flinched at the sound of snapped plastic and quickly bundled the fragments into a spare napkin. Messes were bad. This situation seemed bad too, for Cal anyway. She seemed particularly shaken, with that terrible fake laugh and orange juice. Emma... looked strange for a second too but seemed to brush off Cal's reaction. Ernie would have to follow up on both later but right now the conversation came first.

"Eyy! Nice to get some good news in this place for once!" Ernie tossed the bundle into an empty corner of his tray for later disposal. Eyebrows were suggestively raised at Marcus, "If you need me to steal an umbrella so the two of you are 'forced' to share one, just hit me up, yeah?"

Marcus's head jerked upright as Callan broke her utensil, settling down when he realized. His eyes flicked to Emma after Callan's question: they'd been on one date, and he thought they had been dating, but he'd learned in the past not to be so presumptuous. Of course, if he was avoiding that, he probably shouldn't have mentioned a date right in front of everyone. Fortunately, it seemed that Emma had the same notion, and he grinned as he took another bite of of breakfast.

"Thanks, pal." Marcus said to Ernie with a roll of his eyes. "I can always count on you to have my back."

Callan forced another grin as Ernie congratulated Emma and Marcus for the good news, hoping that was enough to comminucate the lie that she felt the same. Her glass hovered in front of her mouth as Callan silently watched Ernie collect the fragments of her old fork into a neat little bundle. Had she been present, she might've thought that was odd but thanked him anyway. As it were, her mind was far away and barely processing much of anything aside from the smiles of the 'couple' sitting across from her, which she caught in small half-second bursts as her amethyst eyes flickered between Marcus, Emma, and the glass in her hand.

Callan remained quiet as the conversation went on, eventually setting down her glass and poking at what was left of her pancakes with her spare fork. Why are you surprised? She inwardly berated herself. All week, Emma and Marcus had exchanged their fair share of silly banter, but it had been different than when she joked around him. She wasn't entirely clueless when it came to this sort of thing. Though she had to admit how foolish she'd been for trying to hope she was closer than she was.

Ernie cackled at Marcus' eye roll. "Just trying to help a buddy out. Listen, if you need a bucket of rose petals for whatever reason, I can hook you up. Got transferred with a guy who can help you. Just ask for 'Hurk from West'. And don't ask where he got the petals from."

The way Ernie pronounced 'Hurk' like a vomiting noise was suspicious but he seemed unperturbed.

"So how long has this been happening? Couldn't be all the way from Monday, could it?" Ernie's eyes flickered to Emma at the mention of Monday.

Emma forced a smile at Ernie’s joke. She still didn't know why everyone liked the guy (Except Sander, apparently), but it wasn't her place to try to excommunicate him from their motley crew. In response to his question she rubbed the back of her head sheepishly. If Emma was bothered by the mention of Monday’s lunch she didn’t let it show, ”I guess since Tuesday? It hasn’t really… it hasn’t been a ‘thing’ for very long.” she said, shrugging slightly.

Marcus sat quietly, nodding along to everything that Emma was saying. He never really was one for conversations on relationships; all too often his humourous nature would swing back around to bite him in the ass. Plus, it appeared that Emma was quick to respond anyway, negating the need for his input. Which he was all to happy to comply with.

"Dang, you guys kept us in the dark for almost a whole week?" Ernie scratched his head, "Huh, now that you've told us, I guess it was kinda there. I'm glad you trusted us with this. You two make a good pair! We're all in your corner here."

Ernie paused. Should he? Yeah, he should. It'd be good to get some Stigma clearing done before the mission. And... it wasn't like Christmas. She would be able to bounce back. It was just a silly crush. She barely even knew the guy, it had only been a week! It shouldn't affect the mission too much if he was there to fix what he broke.

Ernie turned to face her.

"Right... Cal?"

Roused from her thoughts, Callan looked up with a culpable frown. Realizing Ernie was asking her to agree with his previous statement, she laughed through her nose and smiled. "Yeah," she said simply, quickly filling her mouth with pancakes. Disappointment felt heavy in her chest as she tried not to think about it. About how happy she'd felt when Marcus waited up for her that night. Of course, she'd just been seeing things that weren't there all along.

Emma wasn't sure how to respond to that. She'd prefer if this wasn't some kind of big deal, for her sake and Marcus's. "Uhhh... thanks." she said, her embarrassment towards the topic evident.

While Marcus was bad with social cues, he did notice that the conversation seemed to be a little embarassing for Emma. He wasn't as concerned about it as she apparently was; a fact that gave him slight pause. Did she want this whole thing to have stayed a secret? Was she embarrassed to have gone on a date with him?

He shoved these thoughts to the back, convincing himself it was just because she was shy. That was a good reason for it, and one that didn't send him into a spiral of self-conciousness. There was the awkward silence to deal with, though...

"So does anybody remember who Lawrence is?" Marcus asked suddenly. "It'd be nice to get to know my team before we head out, but it's hard to do when you don't know the people."

Emma looked towards Marcus, face lighting up, glad for a change in topic. "Oh, Lawrence? I guess you haven't really been around my roomates as much as I've been around yours. Or at all, really. He's one of them... he'd probably be out walking Lizzy right now, at least I think he is. Uh, Lizzy is his dog." Emma said, vaguely remembering that Marcus didn't like dogs. Hopefully that wouldn't be a problem.

Well that was a problem.

"O-oh." Marcus stammered. His plan to meet his team had basically hinged on him finding the one name he actually recognized. Now, though...he certainly wasn't going to hunt down a guy and his dog - especially after what had happened Saturday.

"I guess first impressions can wait!" he said with a nervous chuckle, trying to bury his increasingly red face in his breakfast. Here he was, about to go after a Cat 3 with the rest of his classmates on a life-threatening mission, and he was being stonewalled by a dog. Some part of him was ashamed, but certainly not enough to overcome the phobia.

"C'mon man, what happened to the exotic dessert we all know and love?" Ernie teased, "I bought some vinegar the other day if you need some."

A pause.

"Actually, I should be trying to find my teammate too," Ernie muttered and quickly began typing on his phone.

The conversation moved on without her. Callan couldn't keep up. Couldn't focus. As Ernie pulled out his phone, she pretended to check her own. "Oh shoot," Callan grinned, sliding out of her seat, "I have to go do a thing." Avoiding all eye contact with the right side of the table, Callan shot Sander an apologetic glance as she gathered up her tray. She'd invited him to sit with them so they could potentially discuss strategies for the upcoming fight, but... well, there was still time. They could make plans later. With a curt wave, she carried her tray over to the trash and-- perhaps for the first time since her arrival at USARILN East-- scraped what was left of her food into the repository.

Emma's eyes followed Callan as she left. "Bye?" she said, trying to sound as polite as possible. But sounding polite was hard, given how blatant Callan's eagerness to leave was. 'I have to go do a thing' wasn't exactly a great excuse. Emma also took note of the fact that she didn't look at them as she left. She wasn't sure why Callan had made an escape, but it certainly did make her slightly suspicious. "Well, it looks like we all have people to find... I should probably talk to Hazel before we leave." Emma made no effort to hide her grimace, she wasn't exactly looking forward to talk to Hazel after capture the flag.

Ernie didn't need to look up to know that Cal was upset. As his phone pinged with a response from Angel, he grinned.

"Got a hot tip, courtesy of Angelique. Guess I'll see you guys on the bus later! Good luck with Hazel and the... dog."

He departed with a wave and a neatly arranged collection of food scraps on his tray.

As the conversations around him ebbed, Sander tore his gaze from the paper cup and looked up, having half a heart to just leave. But Callan had asked, and he was sticking around for her sake. However, the aquamarine-haired girl left quite suddenly afterward, barely an explanation as she did. Seeing as how he didn’t have any reason to stay, Sander finished his cold coffee in one gulp and rose to his feet –“I should get going too. See you later.” -With a nod and a half smile, he walked off, stopping only once to toss the empty cup in the trash.

Marcus gave Callan a cocked eyebrow and confused look as she walked off. She didn't usually seem that curt - his only other point of reference being back when she'd punched a hole through Kusari, and he'd upset her with a joke. Now, he watched her go away, and had to think about what had been done, and if it was his fault that she didn't seem happy. He eyed Emma once, confirming that he wasn't the only one who had noticed the odd behavior.

"I guess I'll...do something to kill the time then." He said, still sitting at the table as everyone walked off.

Emma turned to Marcus. ”Well, that was… weird.” she said, a slight frown on her face. ”Sorry to ditch you here, but I feel like if I don’t talk to Hazel things are gonna be kind of… weird. Y’know, after the whole capture the flag thing.” her smile was returning to her face, ”But I’m sure I’ll see you again before the battle, right?”

"Definitely, if I've got any say in the matter." Marcus said. The unfortunate part of his statement was that he might not have any say in the matter. The thought that this little breakfast of theirs could be the last time he saw some of these people hung slightly in his mind. It certainly wasn't how he wanted things to pan out, especially with that possibility.

"Alright, get out of here, you. Go make your friends, or slap her right across the head. Whatever makes you feel better." he added with a grin.

”Right…” she said wearily. She started to get up, but before leaving turned back to Marcus. ”Oh, yeah… if you’re still trying to decide if you want to track down Lawrence, Lizzy’s a good dog. If that makes any difference.” Emma gave him a sideways smile, ”And listen, if I don’t see you, just… don’t die. I’ll be mad at you if you do.” with that, she turned towards the exit.

It doesn't

"Thanks. That goes double for you - got it?" Marcus said, sighing softly to himself. They'd be fine. They had to be. With the setup they had - everything would be okay.

---

---

Entering Ground Zero, music blared from Callan's headphones as she kicked at a pebble on the ground. The rain pattered on her umbrella and, with every gust of wind, smacked at the back of her hood. The poor citizens of GZ fought the storm through raised elbows and tilted umbrellas, but for all of mother nature's harshness, Callan remained unphased and lost in thought. The news about Marcus and Emma shouldn't have come as a surprise-- but it did. Perhaps hope was something she should be a little more careful with in the future.

Some GZ man suddenly ran into her shoulder, ricocheting sideways as if he'd run right into a brick wall. He seemed to be in too much of a panic to notice, however, as he simply resumed running without so much as a second glance. Removing her headphones, the screams became more audible as several more people rushed by. Up ahead, she spotted Zoe. Finishing up with... some... whoah. Not of her own accord, she started to tense up. Callan quickly returned her free hand to her pocket, trying to seem more relaxed as the redheaded aberration took notice of her.

"Uh," she tore her eyes away from the grisly scene. She was probably just sating her stigma. This was normal. Perfectly normal. "Hey Zoe. How's it... goin'?" She smiled, but it was easy to see she was a bit perturbed. Of course, by now she was familiar enough with Ground Zero to know its true purpose. These people weren't real and Callan was well aware of that. She was able forget about the carnage wrought by Misery several days ago thanks to that very fact. That was not her concern.

Zoe's ability was incredible as well as incredibly spooky. She'd melted through that person in seconds. No wonder her cuff had gone off as soon as she started melting that blonde kid's face.

Zoe was almost disappointed by the distraction, irritated as she watched the remainder of the people run away. She'd lost herself in the fight there, for a while - Forgotten about everything she'd had to deal with over the past few days. Still, there'd been more than enough time for her to sate her stigma. It almost begged the question of why she'd kept going past that point, but that wasn't something she really wanted to think about right now. Too much else came with it, too many questions she didn't know how to answer.

She looked at Callan with a shrug, noting the other girl's obvious discomfort. "About as well as I could expect, considering." Glancing at her hand, Zoe quickly melted away the last of the gore, not really bothered by it herself but figuring it didn't exactly scream 'approachable'. "Something bugging you?"

Urgh, he seriously hated the rain. Ernie squinted as the wind and rain battered his face, his legs working furiously to speed-walk him to his destination as quickly as possible. Even with a heavy, blue parka and umbrella, the weather was a total pain in the ass.

He'd checked at the dorms first, Room 201 as Angelique had told him. The dorms first because goddamn, who in their right mind would be out in this mini-cyclone? Unfortunately for Ernie, the only result he'd gotten from loudly knocking and calling from outside the door was angry threats from the neighbours. So he was forced to head out to Ground Zero but not before stopping by his own dorm to fetch some things. His coat, for one, but also his tomahawk and pistol. If him and Zoe were going to have some kind of training-bonding moment before the mission, Ernie wanted to be properly prepared.

Ernie arrived after a short while, seeing a conspicuously tall ginger further down the street as screaming Ground Zero fakes raced past him. A ginger girl that was tearing through a crowd of pseudo-civilians like a rabid animal. Oh boy. Ernie could only pray that she'd have her crankiness worked out before he had to work with her.

He was only about a block away but stopped in his steps as he saw a familiar head of aquamarine go up to Zoe. Cal? After finding out her crush was into another girl, Cal, an Arbiter, came to Ground Zero of all places? Strange coping mechanism, but understandable. He wasn't quite close enough to catch the conversation yet, though.

At Zoe's casual dimeanor, Callan's smile turned more genuine. "I'm just glad you're on my team," she laughed quietly. Her posture relaxed considerably, but she still held on to the tiniest sliver of caution. The feeling was similar to yesterday-- when Sander had informed her that he could probably take on Misery. However, in lieu of wanting to test Sander's limits, Callan felt significantly less inclined to do so with Zoe. Even so-- the embodiment of Supergirl could probably survive disintigration... right?

"Guess I'll take that as a compliment. Not gonna be much help today, though." Zoe smiled slightly, though it didn't seem quite right to her. If anything, she still felt like a liability - but she'd take it at face value for now. No denying that her ability was at least effective when it worked, anyway. Raising her eyebrows, she looked at Callan questioningly. "So what're you doing here? Just last-minute training or what?" Unless she'd gotten something confused, the other subnatural wouldn't have a stigma to deal with.

"Actually," Callan visibly perked up at the question, folding her umbrella as she continued, "I'm here to practice my new trick."

"New trick, huh? Sounds fun." Zoe grinned, figuring anything that distracted from her own powers was a good topic. Hopefully whatever Callan did was less disturbing. "So what's it like? You just get stronger or what?"

"Haha," her smile widened, "Pick a weapon and I'll show you." Callan's expression didn't change even as the she started to second guess her decision to show Zoe. She didn't know the girl well enough to really trust her and this shift in her ability... it was still Misery. She'd come here to test it out on her own. Perhaps she was getting too carried away.

Zoe shrugged, thinking for a moment. She'd figured Callan's powers were just the whole super-strength deal, but this was interesting. "How about a knife? Nice and simple." It made sense to Zoe not to try anything too complex - they weren't exactly in a position to waste anyone's energy today.

"A knife?" The question was steeped in dissappointment. Staring down at her shadow, Callan couldn't help feeling like the suggestion was a bit underwhelming. Knives were small.... but maybe starting off small would be best.

At her will, Callan's shadow darkened and writhed about on the ground. Almost as if in protest to what she was about to do. Suddenly having so much power over the very thing that had caused her so much trouble. It almost seemed wrong and yet she couldn't be happier. Crouching to greet her shadow, she set down her umbrella and pressed her palm against the wet cement that currently housed it. Following the steps she somehow knew by heart, Callan began to draw the weapon from the ground. As she pulled, her shadow shrank-- like a shockingly black cloth being picked up from the center.

At first, the dark mass did not resemble a knife in the least, aside from its size. As a small ball of black smoke with tendrils and sentience, it squirmed weakly in her hand. Against her skin it felt cool and irregular. She furrowed her brow in concentration, imagining the smooth handle and sharp edge of a knife. No sooner had she solidified the thought when the wispy black tendrils tensed outward and snapped into the shape she desired. The rest of the smoke slowly started to fade, revealing a stark black kitchen knife. A cheeky grin spread across her face. What had she been so nervous about?

"Well!" Callan turned her eyes on Zoe as the knife finished forming, "That was eas--HURGH"

The sudden weight completely caught her off guard. Nearly yanking her arm off, Callan's body lurched forward and sideways. She might've caught herself if it hadn't been for the merciless rain. Her inside foot slipped out from under her, knocking the other foot aside as it went. With a wet smack, she landed on the pavement, catching her fall on her elbow and hip. Fortunately, her body seemed unmarred by the incident.

"Whoa. What the--" Callan grunted as she moved to her knees, ignoring the uncomfortable dampness. "This thing is-- hella-- heavy!" She at first tried to lift the knife with one hand, but to no avail. Resorting to the use of two, she regained her footing and held the immensely heavy little object up for inspection.

"Woah, hey!"

At the sight of Cal falling, Ernie's walking pace had sped up to a heavy jog. The girl managed to get back on her feet before he arrived, but her hands were weighed down by something she pulled... from the ground? Could she summon weapon now?

"Is that a new trick?" Ernie asked, giving Zoe a small apologetic wave as he greeted Cal first, "It looks, uh, hard to work with."

Recognising Ernest, Zoe nodded in acknowledgement of the greeting before turning her attention back to the scene in front of her. Strange, really. It wasn't a large weapon at all, but there had to be something unusual about it if it weighed that much. Whatever it was, Ernest wasn't wrong about it looking like a pain to deal with. "No kidding. Maybe save the 'that was easy' stuff until you're sure you won't fall on your ass next time." She remarked, a slight smirk unconsciously appearing on her face. On the one hand she knew it could be hard getting to grips with new powers, but on the other Callan didn't seem to be hurt from the fall so Zoe didn't feel too bad about finding it entertaining.

Callan chuckled sheepishly, but her expression quickly grew more serious. "No," Callan disagreed, contemplating her dilemma. She wasn't going to give up on this new trick of hers so easily. "I think I just need something... bigger...? Something a little easier to hold in two hands."

"You want to hold more?" Ernie raised an incredibly skeptical eyebrow. That was some stubbornness worth admiring. Or maybe it was just stupidity. Ah well, no harm done, "Okay. Want me to hold your umbrella for you?"

At least she was determined, if nothing else. Ernest seemed to be going along with the whole idea anyway, although he didn't seem too certain about it. Zoe wasn't entirely convinced herself, but figured she didn't know enough about the power to question it. If it weighed the same no matter what, then maybe it'd make sense to use a larger weapon. Had to wonder if there was a restriction on the size, but pushing that kind of limit seemed better for another day.

Shrugging, she took a step back. "Your call. Just don't hit me with anything." A little rich for Zoe to worry about someone else hurting her, considering everything, but she didn't really feel like dying 'cause Callan dropped something on her head.

"Yeah. Thanks, Ernie," Callan smiled. A mental command to dissipate allowed her hands to close through the shadow knife. The matter dispersed through her fingers in all directions before slowly sinking back down into the shape of her shadow. Watching the display with reserved awe, she did her best not let on how cool she thought her newest trick was. Geeking out over a thing like this probably wasn't the best thing she could do. Especially considering everyone's current predicament.

Picking up her umbrella, she handed it to Ernie. It was nice to see that he wasn't hung up on her out of place comment during lunch. That was one thing she liked about Ernie-- he was generally really positive and few things ever seemed to really bother him. Save Sander apparently-- though she wasn't about to bring that up any time soon.

"Might as well give it a shot, right?" Stepping back for extra girth, Callan repeated the summoning process again-- this time imagining a large hammer. Drawing it from the ground, the handle was a great deal longer. As the tendrils snapped into the form, she braced herself for the sudden increase in weight, holding the heaviest end at a downward tilt. Once finished, Callan held on to the handle as the head fell and hit the ground with a heavy crash, leaving a good sized dent in the concrete. It wasn't anything ornate. Just a generic war hammer with a spike on top. Perhaps if she did a bit more research, she could come up with something better. This would have to do for now.

Callan pulled, managing to lift the hammer off the ground. It was still heavy. She could tell that swinging it around wasn't going to be a picnic, but she could probably land a few blows with it before tiring herself out... probably. Carefully holding it upright for a moment to further test the weight, she rested it on her shoulder with a strained grunt, shifting her body to the side to help balance the weight. Though her arms shook precariously with the movement, she smiled triumphantly.

Ernie stifled a laugh at Cal's unsteady stance. Her determination was almost cartoonish to him. Kind of adorable, in that clumsy, blind, and three-legged puppy sort of way.

"Wanna take a few test swings?" Ernie glanced up at the sky, squinting irritably at the rain, "Maybe somewhere less wet? I don't think I'll be able to umbrella you safely while you fling around that hammer."

Zoe had forced herself to ignore the weather for the most part, but Ernest's suggestion made her keenly aware of the fact that she was both cold and soaked to the bone. Probably should have brought a jacket, 'cause her stubbornness wasn't doing her any favours right now. She laughed awkwardly, looking away from the pair of them. "Now that you mention it, I wouldn't mind finding some cover. I'm, uh, kind of freezing to death here. Didn't exactly dress for the weather."

"Uh, Callan adjusted her shoulder beneath the uncomfortable weight of the hammer, "Yeah... Not sure if swinging this thing indoors is a great idea, though. Probably gonna have to change my clothes after this anyway. So you don't have to worry about 'umbrella-ing' me."

"Huh. Alright then," Ernie looked to Zoe, spying an abandoned clothing store behind her, "I guess we'll wait inside then? Maybe find something so you won't die of hypothermia? Cal, we'll get you something too."

CLANK. Callan set the hammer head-down on the pavement. "I don't need anything," she said, pulling up the hood on her maroon windbreaker. "The cold never bothered me anyway," she joked, cinching it tighter.

After a second of silence, Zoe grinned, shaking her head. "Right. Just come find us when you're done I guess. Shouldn't be too far away." Zoe glanced at Ernest, shrugging as she turned towards the abandoned store. "Come on, let's get out of her hair."

Ernie snickered all the way to the store, nodding at Zoe's suggestion. "Sure thing."

As they walked in, Ernie noticed that the selections on display were predominantly... black. Oh, he should've guessed from the font of the store logo outside. With his phone flashlight, Ernie flipped through a pile of cartoon graphic tees. Nothing warm enough. Maybe those gaudy leather jackets would help better? He turned to his future teammate.

"So, you're Zoe, yeah? With the melty powers?"

"That's not exactly how I'd describe it, but yeah, I'm Zoe. And you're Ernest, right?" Zoe had been waiting for Ernest to start questioning her, and sure enough, there it was. It was logical to try and have the discussion, at least. Turning away from him, she searched through a heap of crumpled hoodies, eventually just sighing and picking one up at random.

"Lot of this stuff isn't exactly practical, huh? Just toss me a shirt." It'd hopefully help to keep her slightly warmer, if nothing else. Zoe just couldn't be bothered spending a long time searching around for clothes. If they got this out of the way they could move on to something that was actually important.

A tee emblazoned with the emblem of some punk band he'd never listened to was tossed to Zoe. Seeing Zoe holding a fluoro green Invader Zim hoodie made Ernie's eyebrows shoot up and he struggled to contain a smirk.

"I like that colour," he grinned, completely failing in his efforts, "But yeah, I'm Ernest. Everyone calls me Ernie though. Are you pumped for the mission?"

"Oh, you know, I was going for the 'subtle' look." Zoe chuckled as she looked at the hoodie. Yeah, that was definitely a colour of some description, but putting it back now felt like an admission of defeat. After pulling on the shirt, she spoke, her smile fading.

"Not this time. I'd be happier if I could actually be any help. Last time we got sent out, a lot went wrong, I had to bail several people out, and I kinda got eaten alive." Still hadn't been enough to save everyone, but Zoe stood by most of what she'd done out there. This wasn't the same situation. "And now this time I'm gonna be stuck on my ass without the ability to do anything about it when things go wrong. You know, metal enemies and all."

"Yeah, I've been there," Ernie replied distantly, recalling his own missions that had gone downhill, "The 'lot went wrong' stuff, not the getting eaten alive. Wow, you've got to tell me that story sometime."

Zoe's mention of the impracticality of her powers triggered something in Ernie too.

"My power only really makes me harder to kill. Guess they wanted me to play as some sort of human shield for the healer, since I'd be useless anywhere else on the battlefield. Looks like got paired for the safest job. Biggest danger we've got is pulling a leg muscle from all that running and healer transportation."

He didn't dare reveal that he was happy with that promise of security.

"Go team useless, huh? I feel like you're tempting fate here, though. Saying 'we shouldn't be in much danger' basically guarantees we get chased by something." Zoe shook her head, not quite sharing Ernie's optimism about the situation. Besides, even if everything did go right for their group, it didn't change how frustrating the whole thing was.

"Nothing we can do about it though. Whatever happens, happens, we can think on our feet and deal with it. It's the others I'm worried about." She trusted most of them to handle themselves, but there were some issues weighing on her mind about the whole thing - Issues that she wasn't sure the others would cope with.

"Heh, yeah. Can't mess with those jinxes," Ernie smiled and looked out the window, seeing Cal practicing with her hammer. She still looked ridiculously clumsy. On a whim, Ernie began recording the spectacle. That was how athletes improved their technique, right? With taped matches? He addressed the rest of Zoe's comments as he watched.

"Well, we're the ones with the healer. It's up to us to keep the others on their feet," Ernie paused briefly, remembering the talk about games and missions, "This is a game of endurance. We're gonna be the ones juggling the health of the support team. The strike team's the timer, yeah? If... or when they take down the big guy, that's when the match is finished. So we just gotta make sure he doesn't run out of blood before then, I guess."

He observed Cal finally taking out a small building after a few too many clumsy misses. She was the most sensible of the strike team, from what Ernie had seen on Monday. Not really inspiring for the small fry like him and Zoe.

"You're right, but that's not what I meant. The problem is, we're fighting another subnatural. Another person. I'm more than capable of doing what needs to be done, but I'm not likely to have the chance. The others..." At the sound of a loud crash, Zoe gestured towards the doors.

"Well, take Callan out there as an example. She could probably snap most of the people here in two if she wanted. Almost definitely one of the strongest in our little group. I've not talked to her too much, but you tell me - Do you honestly think she's capable of killing someone? Not in retaliation, not by accident, but making the decision." Zoe's expression had darkened, a hint of the girl that had attacked Gregory visible on her face.

"Even if they make the choice, I don't trust that they'll know how to deal with it afterwards. They're decent people." 'They', in this instance, not including her, although she didn't realise herself how telling that was. Just didn't think of herself as one of the good ones.

Ernie peered at the girl curiously, feeling a tentative spark of... something light up in him. The closest thing to respect he could muster for someone he'd only just met. Perhaps admiration?

Zoe was a real Aberration. Not like Angelique who was still coming to terms with her new identity. Not like Emma who was far too 'normal' for Ernie to ever be comfortable with. Not even like Sander, who hid his true nature behind meek smiles and an infuriating calm. Ernie was reminded of the patrons back at Reno, the ones he'd learned to fear and admire in equal measure. He was reminded of Owen. Suddenly, he was very glad to have Zoe on his team. He turned to the windows again.

"I don't think Cal could hurt anyone," Ernie hoped that Zoe wouldn't see the continued smile on his face despite the somber topic. He couldn't really do anything about that. After all, he'd only just received the good news that he'd been paired with a mental powerhouse, "But she's got Sander with her. He'll probably be all the muscle she needs to get her head on straight. As for the rest of them..."

Running through his mental database, Ernie was mildly surprised to see how little he knew about his classmates, even the ones he'd talked to. Well, he'd only known the lot for a week.

"They're... we're all just a bunch of teens. We've got so many rookie mages who've only had their powers for like a week or two. That, on top of having to kill someone?"

Ernie chuckled ruefully. As if he had any experience in that area. He refused to think about Rain.

"I'm gonna be honest here. Majority of our classmates aren't people I trust with that sort of thing. The best thing we can do is just hope that when the time comes, they'll do the sensible thing. Decency's got no place in a warzone."

It was cold, he knew that. But he didn't want to get trampled by a robot just because some kid lacked the balls to do what had to be done. The dark-haired Aberration sighed. It seemed that Cal was finished with her practice. She looked exhausted so Ernie chose then to step out.

"As long as they don't leave it too late."

Zoe hadn't noticed Ernie's expression, instead too caught up in her own thoughts to really pay attention to it. Maybe Ernie was right. She expected he was to an extent - There weren't many people who wouldn't kill to save their own skin when it really came down to it. The question was how far they'd have to be pushed first. If they overestimated themselves, waited too long when the opportunity appeared, it would lead to a whole lot of trouble.

But in the end there was nothing she could do about it short of threatening them herself. With a shake of her head, she followed his lead, heading back out into the street where Callan stood.

---

Don't think about it.

Another swing of the hammer sent her dancing sideways.

Ugh, why is this thing so damn heavy??

A swing and a crash as she took out another wall of the building in front of her.

I mean... what's so great about Emma anyway?

Another swing and a crash.

Well, she dresses better than you. For starters. And she doesn't dye her hair for attention.

A swing and a miss.

I do NOT dye my hair for attention.

She swung the hammer downward, crushing a blue city mailbox like a pepsi can.

So... heavy....

With a heavy thud, the top of the hammer's head hit the ground as Callan leaned against it, out of breath for the first time since Tuesday. Needless to say, the school still seemed to be working on a proper training regime for the girl who couldn't turn off her ability without sending a giant shadow monster chasing everyone down and murdering them. Was that why? Callan couldn't say much when Marcus brought up what a pain afternoon training was. Not like Emma. It was hard work for both of them. Not her.

"Urgh," she grumbled, pushing back some stray hairs that had stuck to the side of her cheek in her collection of rain and sweat. Since Ernie and Zoe had left, she'd been trying to keep herself from dissecting the conversation at lunch. It wasn't complicated and it wouldn't do her any good to try and make it so. Hell, it wasn't even that big of a deal. She'd had a few crushes before. Maybe she was just getting everything mixed up. She was still pretty sad about the whole ordeal with her parents. Perhaps that was why she felt like she needed Marcus around? To cheer her up? Make her feel happy?

But that was ridiculous. Apparently he and Emma had been dating since Tuesday and he hadn't spent any less time with her and Siena because of it. So why? Why did she feel so jealous?

Callan did her best to shake off the conundrum of feelings clouding her brain as she noticed Ernie and Zoe approaching, each donning some spiffy new clothes. From Hot Topic, if she had to guess. She offered them an exhausted wave and smile as they approached.

Looking Callan up and down, Zoe met the other girl's gaze with a mixture of surprise and irritation. It was apparent that she'd been pushing the limits of her stamina, seeming genuinely tired out for the first time Zoe could remember seeing. It didn't occur to Zoe that there would be much of any reason behind it, considering how annoyingly relaxed and easygoing the others always seemed to be - As far as she was concerned, without any context it just seemed like a case of poor judgement.

"You do realise we're fighting later today, right? Swinging yourself out's not gonna do anyone any favours." She spoke sharply, though it was at least clear her words came from a place of concern. Whether that concern was about Callan's well-being or just the worry that it'd affect the fight was anyone's guess.

"Heh," Callan smiled apologetically, pressing her foot down on the hammer head to disperse it, "Don't we still got like five or six hours before we have to leave? Plenty of time to sleep it off. Don't worry, I'll be back at 100% by the time we get there." Probably. Callan hadn't expected to tire herself out so much, but, while she thought she understood Zoe's concern, she simply wasn't worried about it. Maybe because she had other things on her mind.

"She's right, Cal," Ernie handed back the umbrella, realising too late that Zoe would be completely uncovered again. Whoops. He shrugged apologetically, hoping that the girl wouldn't mind too much, but continued addressing Cal, "Don't let us catch you doing any more hammer stuff. You should be resting now."

Zoe shot Ernie an appreciative look before turning back to Callan. At least he was backing her up here - Made her feel like her concerns were at least somewhat grounded in reality. She smiled, speaking before the girl could raise any objections. "You might think you're totally fine and I get that, but I really don't care. Quit the training for now, or I will personally drag you outta Ground Zero and make you get some sleep. We clear?" An unlikely-sounding proposition, but Zoe sounded just serious enough that it was hard to tell whether she was joking or not.

"Woah, alright alright," Callan chuckled, raising both hands in defeat. The last of the hammer sank into her shadow. "No lie-- a nap sounds like a pretty good idea right about now."

Zoe's gruff attitude and Cal's relaxed tone brought a quiet giggle out of Ernie. It was pretty nice, seeing normal conversations right before a mission.

"Yeah, get some rest. Some place warm and not wet preferably," Ernie stretched, but in a strange manner that still kept the umbrella fixed above his head, "We wouldn't want our MVP to be tuckered out or sick during the big mission."

The trio made their way out of the broken city together, with Ernie constantly constantly fretting over the allocation of umbrella space. Talk of preparation for the mission kept the looming uncertainties from crashing down. It made things better, for Ernie at least. The smile on his face was genuine. He hoped that it would stay that way, since he knew what exactly kind of teammate he had now.

Gregory Irving

---

---

“Ah shit.” Sniffing a bit as he returned to the dormitories, Gregory picked his pace up to a run as armed guards entered the building some hundred meters away. Course he didn’t know if they were here for him, but he wanted a chance to get out of the partially soaked clothes if they were. By the time he reached the doors, the light on his cuff had already started to blink and two stony expressions greeted him when he stepped inside. Ignoring the water that flowed and dripped off his jacket, they didn’t spare more than a glance and then a, “Wait here,” before silence resettled.

Their escorts didn’t seem to care if he looked around as long as he kept pace, and there was still much of the school he hadn’t seen yet. His looking around didn’t stop until they had all wound up in what looked like a control room or something, and he was nudged into a seat. The Commander’s voice proved to be equally distracting though.

As the hour finally came to an end, Gregory blinked a few times as he processed and went over all the information that the briefing included. Well they didn’t seem to want him dead at the least. Still… the idea of suppression was laughable, and he was pretty sure the Commander hadn’t missed his snort when his name came up. Well, hopefully the others would be fine while he kept out of the way.

Five mile retreat though? Well hopefully the base was next to a paved road then, or the order never came. Prodded out of the room by the guards once more, he glanced around the dining hall and then towards the umbrella in hand. Tapping the end of it against the floor, Gregory looked towards a nearby clock and then shrugged. Who cared if you’d get fat eating before you slept? He might be dead by the time dinner hours rolled around…

Get some food in him, grab another few hours of sleep, and then head on over to GZ to make sure his aim was still only describable as atrocious? Sounded like a plan. Not a great or even good one, but it was a course of action at the least.

He moved through the meal line quickly, forgoing hot foods for stuff that didn’t have lines. Cereal, the dairy fridge, fruit bar, and so on. Eating was done in a similar fashion, and he was out of the hall with umbrella in hand before everything had a chance to fully settle in his stomach. Uncomfortable damp clothes and a cozy bed were a fine motivator to do so after all.