---

---

Ernie liked this. He liked walking around, making idle conversation with friends. It helped him forget-- not forget, ignore-- everything happening around him. Cal and Zoe were decent company, a nice balance of personalities. Of course, it couldn't last forever.

The Aberration found himself sharing an umbrella with Cal as they made their way back to the dorm buildings. Zoe needed to go elsewhere so being the gentleman he was (Hah.), Ernie had offered his own umbrella. It was only a short walk with an emotionally vulnerable acquaintance, how hard would it be? As the walk went on, he found his train of thought drifting back to the breakfast conversation. Cal had managed to bounce back but she was noticeably upset back there. The scratching in his chest made him frown. It wanted him to do it now of all times? To the most stable member of the strike team?

Just one little push. Help yourself. Then you can help her after.

Building someone back up meant nothing if he was the one who tore them down in the first place. Ernie smiled ruefully. He'd learnt nothing from what happened with Christmas. He truly was awful. But...

He needed to be clear for the mission, right? Couldn't have his Stigma ruin his objectives like on Monday, right? Otherwise he might take it out on Christmas again! Vapid justifications ran through his head. He wanted this. He wanted this.

Just one more, Ernie decided. If he managed to live through a Category 3 of all things, then he'd take it as a sign that there was still a chance. He'd fix himself. Not today, but sometime in the future.

I'm sorry.

He started innocently enough. "Hey Cal, can I ask you something?"

Leaving Ground Zero with Ernie, Callan found it easier not to think about breakfast. He wasn't Marcus and he wasn't Emma, so that was a bonus. Maybe she could finally start focusing on what was supposed to be the more important issue of the day-- making sure nobody died. Though really, the more she thought about it, the more she began to wonder how fruitful such efforts would be. Her position on the team wasn't exactly the most flexible in terms of keeping an eye out for people. And the information she had on the subnatural monstrosity was limited at best.

She'd thought about asking Ernie for his opinion, but by the time he finally spoke up, she'd decided it was a waste of time. Not that Ernie didn't have any good advice-- he'd been a subnatural much longer than she had and she definitely held his opinion in high regard. But until she knew more about the situation, it all just seemed rather pointless.

"Sure," Callan shrugged, glancing up at him.

Ernie wanted to turn away. But he wanted to see that broken look on her face more. The words started tentatively, slowly, then came out far too easily for his liking. He didn't look away.

"Do you... You have feelings for Marcus. Don't you?"

Well, so much for that.

A deer in the headlights look followed by several frantic glances to make sure nobody had heard what Ernie said accompanied the blatant lie as it slowly eased itself off her tongue.

"Nnnnnnoooooo," her cheeks burned as she touched her face, brushing aside stray strands of hair that weren't there, "O-of course not. Why would you think that??"

The Aberration stared at her for a second, shocked. Wha-- what was she...?

He couldn't help it. Unhindered laughter burst from Ernie and he struggled not to double over.

"C-Cal..." he held his stomach, still giggling, "It's okay. I-I won't tell--Pfft, hahaha!"

The pair stopped in their tracks. There was no way he could keep walking like this.

"You're a-- hah-- you're a really bad liar..."

Callan frowned indignantly. At first confused about what he'd found so funny (and ever so slightly offended), she scrambled for something to say once it was clear he didn't believe her. But what else could she say to convince him she didn't like Marcus? Her fists clenched inside her the pockets of her hoodie. What to say... what to say....

"Heh," she smiled uncertainly, joining in with a few chuckles of her own, "Uhm... w-was it really that obvious?"

Ernie managed to contain the fit with a few well-executed coughs. Why the hell was he laughing at a time like this, with what he was trying to do?

"Sorry, it was just so-- I wasn't expecting it," he breathed heavily, grinning uncontrollably, "Um, are you asking about the lying or the Marcus thing, because both were... yeah, both were pretty bad. I'm surprised no one else had picked it up."

Callan frowned again, concern creasing the bridge of her nose as she mulled over what he'd said. "You don't think anybody else knows?" she asked hopefully, "A-and you won't tell anyone? Promise?"

He looked at her strangely. There was power to be held over her now.

"You don't want Marcus to know?"

Prod the matter. Slowly but surely.

Callan seemed baffled by the question. "Of course not!" she looked away, taking a deep breath, "He's dating Emma."

"But Emma isn't even that great! She--" Ernie stopped himself. Truth be told, he didn't actually have too much to say about the girl. And careless lies were easy to expose. Ernie composed himself and started again, calmer this time.

"I bet if Marcus knew earlier, that would've been you."

"Wh-what?" Callan looked back at Ernie as if he'd grown a second head. Regret. Guilt for feeling regret. Instant regret for wanting to believe what Ernie said was true without using her goddamn brain. "No, I... I couldn't--" she growled at herself in frustration, "I don't think so, Ernie. Doesn't really matter now, anyway." She smiled ironically. Says the idiot who keeps thinking about it.

"What, your feelings don't matter?" he sounded agitated. Even though they could see the dorm buildings down the street, Ernie refused to keep walking, "Do you think you'd make him unhappy or something? Do you think he laughs with Emma the same way he laughs with you? Cal, why do you keep second-guessing yourself so much?"

Hiding half of her face behind her palm, Callan tried not to drown in embarrassment. Her feelings. Making Marcus happy. Dumb jokes and silly impressions. Things she'd noticed and things she'd liked. Things that, despite what Ernie said, didn't matter... right? "Heh heh. Ohh, I don't know. We get along alright, but...." it felt like something was constricting inside her chest. A dull ache of disappointment, "I can't say I'd make him any happier than Emma can. They seem to get along. Emma seems nice. Super strength and the ability to knock his head off his shoulders if he nails me with a scare prank is all I've really got goin' for me."

Ernie looked at her and sighed. "I wish you wouldn't talk yourself down like that. You're nice as well."

He paused, trying to think of more to say.

"Cal, do you know why I even brought this up?"

"No?" she answered, one sideways glance of curious suspicion later.

"I brought it up because of today, at breakfast. That was the worst goddamn excuse I've ever heard for anything," he stated bluntly, " 'I have to go do a thing'. I don't know if you're usually this bad at lying or if it gets worse when..."

He looked at her with worry in his eyes.

"...when you're upset."

"Mm... could be," she shrugged stiffly, surprised by Ernie's concern. She appreciated his words of encouragement, but... did she really want to talk to Ernie about this? She was silent for a moment, stewing over her own question. He already knew. And it wasn't like she had anyone else to talk to about Marcus. Telling Siena, if she hadn't already figured it out, would probably cause some tension in the suite and she definitely didn't want that.

"Well... I guess I'd kinda be lying if I said I'm really happy for them. But that's a sorta shitty thing to say."

"What, are you suddenly not allowed to have an opinion anymore?" Ernie raised an eyebrow. They were outside the dorm buildings by now. He didn't remember walking though, "You're not hurting anyone with it. So it's okay."

"I guess you're right," she smiled ruefully. Something about agreeing with him made her feel strangely sad. She wished she didn't feel that way. If she were a better friend, maybe she wouldn't be like that. Feeling jealous and cheated by pretty girls with clever smiles.

"I am right!" he beamed confidently, "It's okay to dislike things or think they're bad. And people are generally hard to judge correctly upon first impressions. So there's always that chance that your gut feelings were right all along."

And that was all he'd say on the subject. Some things were better left to the imagination. They entered the halls of Building A.

"Which one's your room? I'll walk you to your door."

"430," she answered absently, ruminating on what had been said. Her gut feeling? Was that her gut feeling? That Marcus and Emma shouldn't be dating? That she was the one who.... should... her train of thought blanched.

These new ideas felt all wrong. They were easy to entertain and justify. She was a nice person. Her feelings mattered, didn't they? Her opinions mattered.

But so did Emma's...

"Uhm," realizing that she might've been spacing out for too long, Callan cleared her throat, "Thanks, Ernie."

Although she somehow felt worse, it occurred to her that Ernie had only been trying to help.

Piercing, hazel eyes scanned the girl as she went quiet. Hm. So the best that he'd done today was shove her into a pit of uncertainty. Cal really was a nice person if his words failed to nudge her into more drastic thoughts. His efforts today weren't completely fruitless though. Not as fulfilling as a full on sob session, but it would probably have its longterm benefits. Part of him was glad that he'd only managed to go this far but there was another part of him that was hungry for more. He'd have to deal with that part of his Stigma more effectively in the next few days, if he managed to live that long.

"It's no problem!" Ernie chirped as they reached the door of Suite 430, "I'd rather not see a friend be upset over something I know I can help them with."

"Haha, well-- I appreciate it. Seriously." Ernie had given her a lot to think about. Maybe too much to think about, but... despite everything, she decided it was nice to have a friend like him around at a time like this. Unlocking the door with a quick swipe of her I.D. card, she paused before turning the handle.

"You wanna hang out here for a bit? Rain's comin' down pretty hard out there. We've got an awesome set up and a ton of snacks."

"Well, I can never say no to free food! Especially when I-- uhhhhhmmmm..."

Ernie had been vigorously scraping his wet shoes against the welcome mat when he caught sight of the monstrosity behind Cal. The Aberration's motions immediately came to a stop. It was as if he'd just seen a ghost. Catatonic horror was plastered on his face. Then after several seconds of silence, after a blink and a deep breath, he began to speak again, much more quietly this time.

"Cal. Those aren't yours, are they?"

Blissfully unaware of Ernie's surprise as she swung the door open and made her way towards her bed, Callan glanced over her shoulder at Ernie, chuckling at the funny look on his face. "What are you talking about?" she asked, plopping down on her bed as she kicked off her shoes and started replacing her slightly rain-dampened socks with a fresh pair.

The hapless Aberration stared as the damp socks joined the numerous other articles of clothing by Cal's pillow-infested bed. He was going to have to severely rethink this friendship he had. Ernie tentatively stepped over wrinkled shirts and socks, wrestling the urge to drop to his knees and pick up every single piece. He'd learnt the hard way that people generally didn't like it when he grabbed their things to clean them up. Nervous laughter was mustered to tide over the extreme discomfort he felt. Unfortunately, his resolve completely crumbled when he noticed the corner of a plastic wrapper peeping out from behind Cal's pillow. Ah, screw this.

Ernie dropped down to better scope out the situation, shock washing over his features as the darkness under the bed hinted at inconceivable amounts of more snack packets. Liam would have had an aneurysm. Unnatural compulsion suddenly seized the long-haired boy's body. This was...this was...completely unacceptable. Mess was bad. Mess made people like him get yelled at. Subconscious needs bubbled to the surface until Ernie was unable to control himself. When he finally stood back up, his movements and voice were almost robotic.

"Were you planning to nap soon?"

Callan followed Ernie's movements with her eyes as she finished pulling on her socks. "Uhm..." she voiced herself in concern as he dropped to the ground and peeked under her bed for some reason.

Blinking up at him as he provided another question in lieu of an answer. She folded her legs and shrugged, "Was gonna get a snack and veg out for a bit first. And shower eventually... why? What's wrong?"

"Right, right. Sure, there's nothing...wrong."

Ernie looked like his soul had left his body. Then he snapped straight, as if realising something.

"Wait here. I'll be back soon."

Without waiting for a response, the boy sped out of the suite. Alarmed, Callan called out after him to no avail. He returned with a dull gray vacuum in tow, eyes still as distant as they were when he left. Something about 'steam mops' and buying 'a new model since Evan took it' was muttered under his breath as he plugged the machine into a power socket.

In the span of Ernie leaving, Callan had already obtained a snack pack of beef jerky and returned to her bed, leaving the door cracked for his supposed return. She sat up as Ernie reentered, eyeing the vacuum with curious amusement. "Ernie," she snirked, "What are you doing?"

He left the vacuum unattended for a moment to pick up the stray clothing and toss them into the hamper. The wrappers would have to be dealt with afterwards.

So weird. Callan almost spoke up to alert Ernie that a few of the clothes on the floor were in fact clean, but decided she didn't much care. It had reached the point where almost all of them were due for a wash anyway. Setting down her jerky, she reached down off the bed and gathered up what she could reach, balling up her recently used socks and two shirts and throwing them at an arch towards the hamper. She over shot the bundle by a lot, but they merely hit the wall with a thud and fell into the basket. She frowned, dissatisfied with her shot nonetheless.

"Uh, well, it's just, uh," Anxious hands fumbled with the vacuum's switch once all the articles were safely packed away. A muted hum sounded from the machine. Saturday with Allison had taught him to use the quiet once more often. Ernie spun to face Cal, racking his brain for a reasonable-sounding answer, "I like cleaning. It's a nice thing I like to do when I've got time to waste. Helps me take my mind off stuff."

Right now, his hurried actions made it seem like it was doing the exact opposite of taking his mind off. He recalled a small tidbit from a lunch conversation. Something to make what he was doing look less weird than what it already was.

"You did basketball, right? Did you have some activity you liked to do before a big game?"

"Ew, I hate cleaning," Callan chuckled, following the vacuum with her eyes as she laid on her stomach, arms hanging over the bed with snack pack in hand. "But that's probably kinda obvious..." In between bites, she collected what wrappers she could reach, tightly balling them up in her palm.

"Uh, yeah-- I played power forward," she smiled, "Game days were the best. We'd get sandwiches at this place by the school and hang out in the gym. Shoot around, braid hair, blast music...." Her smile faded at the memory. They'd all been so excited for this upcoming tournament. She wouldn't be there.

"That sounds great," he breathed, meaning it. Ernie had always wondered what he would be like if things hadn't turned out so badly and he went to school. Would he have had good grades, or joined a sports team? How many friends would he have, since he would have never had his Stigma? How many pranks would he pull? It was nice to dream about these things sometimes. But that train of thought always resulted in a different sort of pain in his heart. So he tried not to think about it too much.

Ernie collected the wrappers from Cal to toss into the bin. Then he began vacuuming, starting from underneath the bed. Cal seemed a bit sad towards the end there. He saw an opportunity.

"Yeah, your friends sound really nice. Do you still talk to them?" he pried innocently, making sure to cover himself, "I mean, I know people don't really like subnaturals but I do know some people back at West who still talk to people from their old lives."

"Not really," she answered after a moment's hesitation. She found some far corner of the room to stare at as she propped her elbows up on a pillow, "It's kinda complicated, but...." She paused again, wondering if this was a road she wanted to go down with Ernie right now. It was still a fresh wound and she'd been firm in her resolve not to bother anyone with her family issues thus far. But some small part of her wanted to tell him. To vent about it just a little. Judging by their conversation up to this point, he seemed trustworthy enough, right?

"Well. Far as I know, they have no idea what happened to me. Probably think I died or something," she laughed, a hint of bitterness to the sound. It was a half truth to test the waters. "But you've probably heard enough about my dumb problems for the day. Do you still keep in touch with people you knew?"

Ernie's eyes widened as he struggled to stammer out an answer. Geez, he was really caught off-guard with that one. What was he supposed to say, that everyone he'd known before West was dead or arrested?

"Uh...n-no, not really. I don't think I was close enough to anyone to warrant that anyway."

Even if he was, no one he knew would have the means to contact him. He tried not to think about it too much.

"But that's really old news on my end. And I've made a lot of friends since then. I think a part of me is secretly glad I got caught by the USARILN people."

A nervous laugh escaped his lips as a poor attempt to escape the tension. He needed to change the subject quickly.

"But um, your friends. Why would they think you died? Did something happen when you got caught?"

Not close enough to anyone to warrant keeping in touch? Sounded lonely. The opposite of her life before coming here. Perhaps she'd taken it for granted. A sympathetic smile faded away as Ernie asked about her own friends again. She should've just come up with a lie. Brushed him off. But then the echoes of Ernie's laughter from the last time she'd made an attempt like that made her second guess....

"Uhm," against her better judgement, she told him. "My parents kinda... told everybody I died." The words felt sticky in her throat and she winced as the dull ache inside jumped at the chance to make itself known. Reminding her it was still there. She at least managed not to mention destroying her house-- her secret about Misery was more important than this fleeting closure. "I could probably get a hold of them, but... uh... I haven't really tried. M-might just be best to move on, y'know?"

She hid her frown in the pillow, swallowing hard as she folded the wrapper of the empty jerky bag. Smaller and smaller until it couldn't physically be folded anymore.

"Oh."

Ernie had to admit that that despite all the subnatural stories he'd heard about strained family relationships, this was a new one. He felt... sad. But more than that, he felt guilty. Why was she entrusting him with something so big? She barely knew him and it would be so easy to use all this stuff against her, to tell everyone of her shame and see that shattered expression and--

The vacuum cleaner was switched off since the entire suite was pretty much spotless by now. Plus, it seemed a bit inappropriate to be focused on a chore when Cal was looking so distraught. It was the least amount of decency he could show right now.

I'm sorry. Just a bit more.

"Wow... why would they do that?" Ernie asked solemnly, "Did they really hate you or something?"

Brows furrowed, she glared with a defensive "No" seated on the tip of her tongue. But the word never came out. She took a deep breath to steady herself as the thoughts took form. She'd always believed her parents loved her-- were at least moderately proud of her successes and triumphs. But telling everyone your kid was dead when they weren't. Wiping out all their social networks. Refusing to speak to them. Their choices didn't exactly exude familial love.

"Heh," she exhaled with a broken smile, "Who knows...?"

"I don't understand. Your parents are supposed to stick by you no matter what, right?"

Hah, what would he know about that? There were days where he couldn't even remember his own parents' faces properly. Ernie stared, his expression too neutral to be natural.

"You don't even know why... what made them do that?"

It was basically the same question. Same question. Same answer. Well... lack of answer. But the harder she thought about it, the more frustrated she became. And nothing made her quite as prone to tears like frustration, the vestiges of which she could feel starting to pool. Sitting up into a less vulnerable position, she leaned her back against the wall of pillows, hugging her knees as she tried to stop herself. For the love of God, don't cry, she begged, all the more frustrated by the certaintly of her impending failure. It wasn't Ernie's fault. She had to remind herself of that. But with everything that was going on today... the part of her that didn't want to vent sure wished he hadn't asked so many questions.

"Heh." It was hardly a smile, but it'd have to do. She wiped away the first run away tear with the foot of her palm before it could be seen. "Yeah... I guess they're pretty bad parents. Or I'm a pretty bad kid. I really... don't know...." Broken glass and plaster. Shattered picture frames and other familiar objects crushed beneath pitch black claws. Her biggest clue.

Such a low blow. He couldn't ever fight, talk, do anything, without it being completely filthy, could he? Perhaps this was his punishment for such a garbage power. How could he attack someone physically if he couldn't attack anything physically? Maybe his Stigma realised this and forced him into another method. All because he was too weak to be able to do anything else.

He saw too many opportunities now. Yes, she was a bad kid. Yes, how could a parent love a failure like her. But he didn't want to do it. It was one thing to attack a stranger, an innocent kid. But to do it to a friend? To someone who'd bared so much of herself to him? Cal was lucky that this wasn't one of his bad days. He knew exactly what he would have done in this moment otherwise. Ernie sighed.

"I wish you'd stop trying to laugh when you're upset, Cal. I... kinda hate it. Makes it harder for me to figure out what to say," Ernie knelt by the bed. He needed to see her face with his own eyes, to see what he'd done. Only then would he feel good, "Your parents hurt you, right? And they didn't even tell you why. Cal, you don't have to act like you're fine with all this."

Callan supposed it had been foolish. To think that just by hanging on her advice from Lawrence that day at Ground Zero, she'd be able to 'get over it' just like that. To distract herself with happiness as a far off goal and control as something within reach-- enough not to let herself feel sad since the initial storm had ebbed. Staring at Ernie as he knelt down, she had to bite her lip to keep herself from laughing. This was so embarrassing. She'd never liked crying in front of people and vice versa.

Laughing things off generally made her feel better in any given situation, but she did her best to accomodate Ernie. It was the least she could do for being such a huge buzzkill today. In more ways than one. Without that outlet as she chewed her lip, however, a few rogue tears managed to roll down her cheeks before she could catch them.

"Sorry," she muttered, "Yeah, I suppose I'm not... super fine with it all. B-but hey." She shrugged, wincing at the despondency of her solution. "Not a whole lot I can do about it right now."

Huh. She finally started crying. And it hadn't made him feel as good as it thought it would. Why was that?

Ah well, he'd done what he'd set out to do. It hadn't worked but it was done and that was all that mattered. Now to fix it like he promised himself.

"Cal. My mom and dad...they both died when I was nine."

He wasn't ashamed or upset. The time for those feelings had long since passed. It didn't make it less uncomfortable to say out loud, but he didn't mind it if people knew. This wasn't the secret he'd do anything to keep hidden anyway. It was nothing compared to the nature of his Stigma. Ernie tried his best for a comforting smile.

"So I probably have no right to give you advice on parent stuff. But coming from me, if I had the chance, I'd talk to them. You're not gonna get any answers if you don't ask. I can't guarantee that you'll like what you hear but if you really don't like it, then you've got us. Me, and Marc and Siena and Emma. Then you can move on for real. This is a new life you've got, after all! I knew a lot of people who didn't get that chance."

Her eyes widened at Ernie's sudden revelation. Not that death was a wholly abnormal motif in today's world, but she hadn't expected Ernie to tell her something so personal so suddenly. She wanted to say something, but he kept right along talking as if unphased. She sniffled and wiped at what she hoped was the last of her tears for now, thoughtfully mulling over his advice.

"I guess I don't have a whole lot to lose by trying, huh?" she mused, "Yeah... maybe I'll give it shot. After we kick some monster ass this afternoon."

Ernie laughed heartily. "I think I'd stub my toe if I tried to kick these monster asses."

The Aberration stood up, brushing nonexistent dust from his pants. He probably shouldn't stay around long enough to give his Stigma another try. Ernie looked around at the freshly-vacuumed floor, admiring his handiwork.

"I guess my work here is done. I've got a feeling this floor won't be clean for very long so if you ever need an excuse to call me over and have me raid your snack pile, hit me up. I'll see you after the mission, yeah?"

Callan stood up as well, chuckling as she surveyed the floor around her corner of the room. Save the unruly bed and disorganized desk, it really did look fantastically clean. Perhaps she'd expend some effort towards tidying that up before taking a much needed shower and settling in for a nap.

"Haha, of course. And the door's always open. We can hang out any time-- I've got accounts with literally every online streaming site you can think of, so if you ever feel like wasting time that way...," she smiled genuinely, trying to ignore the distant thrumming of thoughts that felt it necessary to alert her to the fact that she'd basically just invited a guy to 'Netflix and chill'. But she was fairly certain she didn't like Ernie like that and figured, or rather hoped, he wouldn't draw that connection.

"Ernie?" she said before he could make it out the door.

"Mmyeah?" he perked up. Cal's invitation for many more movie nights like what he'd done with Brent had seriously hyped him up.

"Thanks. For everything. You're a good friend. Be careful out there, alright?"

His grin faltered and he turned away so Cal wouldn't see it. But when he turned back, it was more dazzling than ever.

"It's no problem. Y-you too, Cal. Stay safe."

With that, he hauled his vacuum out of the room and left. His movements seemed the barest bit clumsier than before as he dragged it away.

Rain and thunder. Grant was never too good with this kind of weather. Always interrupted his favorite pastime, sleep. So he laid awake, staring up at the bottom of the top bunk as the rain tapped tapped away at the window, never ceasing its endless downpour. Was it raining that night? That night when his life had changed to the way it was now? Wouldn’t that be funny. Rain and thunder to go with the feeling of utter...

There was a harsh knocking at the door that snapped him out of his thoughts, and his head rolled for his vision to meet with the door. Knock knock knock. He sighed. If he couldn’t sleep, at least there was something to keep him preoccupied, so he pulled himself together to greet the, most likely, soldier waiting at his door.

Sure enough, a ‘generous’ guard was waiting for him, offering an umbrella to the tired boy. How kind. He took the already wet umbrella and stuffed a hand down his pocket. He could only guess where this guard was going to lead him. “...Well go ahead and lead on.” He mumbled and with that, the guard began his escort. He stepped out, looking back to steal a final glance at the knife that laid on the table before he closed the door, following the view of the back of the guard.

---

Grant sat back in his seat as the briefing went by, listening to the key information he had to know.

His team, the plan, the time, and the enemy. He barely recognized many of the names on his team, one being completely unknown to him, but the biggest thing of the briefing that stuck out to him was their current target. A subnatural. His kind. A human. A homo-sapien. Call it whatever, it was still what he currently was at this existing moment. And now his mission was to kill that very thing. He wondered what he would feel at the very moment this was done. Guilt? Shame? Anything at all? He knew it wouldn’t matter for so long. He had to do this.

He had to survive. Whatever it took. If it meant taking another life. If it meant anything. He couldn’t just let his life end. Alone, he resolved himself. Alone, he ate his meal. Alone, he made a trip back to his dorm. Almost forgot the knife.

Building A: Suite 226, USARILN East
September 14th, 2020 - 6:45 am

When the knocking started, Sophia was fast asleep. The noise broke in through her sleep, causing her to roll over in bed. That annoying woodpecker, why wouldn't it let her sleep? The knocking became louder and more insistent. Groaning, she opened her eyes to find herself in her room in USARLIN East.

Not a woodpecker. Quickly throwing back the covers, she hurried to open the door. "What," she snapped, before seeing the guard standing there. With messy hair and dark circles under her eyes, Sophia listened as the guard explained that she was to come with him. Though at least she was given a small amount of time to make herself look somewhat presentable. Shutting herself in the bathroom, she threw on the first set of clothes she saw and ran a brush through her hair while simultaneously calculating how much sleep she had gotten. Five hours, and the night before that, six and a half. Wonderful.

The fresh air and smell of rain helped to wake her up, but she still walked without really noticing where she was going. However, once she arrived in the room with the other students she began paying attention, and finally it dawned on her that she and the other people in the room were going to be sent out. It didn't take long for fear to set in, multiplying upon seeing the monstrosity they were to fight. She struggled to keep her attention on the Commander as the words slipped by, barely imprinting themselves in her brain.

Category three was a significant threat. Apparently the thing was a subnatural and not a creature from the Dreamcatcher? It generated metal creatures. Could not summon and move at the same time.

Then, their tasks were assigned. She couldn't help but let out a sigh of relief when she found she was going to be part of the group that found the injured and brought them to the healers. Perhaps it was selfish to be glad that she wasn't even supposed to fight any of the creatures, other people would be doing that instead. But then, she would be pretty useless in a fight, right? So it was best this way.

She ran the names of the teammates who had been assigned to the same job as her through her memory to see if any of them rang any bells, but she didn't remember interacting with any of them before, except with Savannah. She felt like she had heard the name "Lawrence" mentioned sometime before, but she couldn't put a face to the name.

When they were finally dismissed, she took the Commander's advice and decided to eat something. She needed to eat if she was to have enough energy for later, even if she didn't feel hungry at all. Why was she so nervous already, when they still had approximately seven hours until departure? That was so much time. So much time to spend doing whatever she wanted before she would be at the same place as that... metal subnatural thing. So much time until the probability of her and other people getting injured or killed would rise drastically.

She forced herself to finish her plate of food before heading to her room. She needed to prepare.

There wasn't much for her to prepare, most of the preparation for her would be done mentally. She changed into a sturdy pair of jeans and plain gray long sleeved shirt with a snugly fitting black cardigan, nothing fancy. Dealing with her hair next, she began to tie it into pigtails before stopping halfway through. Undoing the one she had already tied, she twisted her hair into a low bun at the nape of her neck instead. She wanted something that would keep all of her hair out of the way. Patting it, she found that no strands were escaping yet, everything tightly fastened.

Looking straight into the mirror, she frowned at her reflection. With no hair framing her face, her dark eye circles now seemed more prominent, and her firm jawline was easily visible. She looked older than the mere thirteen that she really was, but then, she herself had never considered herself as the youthful pretty type.

Next up was the question of what to bring. She didn't really own anything that would be useful for this circumstance. She had a pocket knife, and that survival kit. She doubted she would need the knife, and the contents of the survival kit were meant for someone in the wilderness. Still, maybe she should bring the knife along, even if it would be useless. She could always clean her nails with it or something like that. But she decided again taking the kit, she had no way of bringing it along anyway since it didn't fit into her pocket. Maybe for the future she should consider getting one of those waist bags to carry stuff around in. There was also the phone on her desk, would she need that? Probably not... but... maybe she should bring it along just in case. And her ID. One never knew. The last thing she prepared to go into her pocket later was a few sheets of blank paper, and a pen. Just in case she ran into... difficulties.

That was pretty much all she could think off, or rather, that was all she had. To finish off, she fed Heidi, but didn't feel like playing with her. It had been a little calming to do something productive and pretend that she was getting the things she needed to be prepared, but now that she had nothing to occupy herself with her fears returned full force. What was she supposed to bring in such situations anyway?

There's nothing you can do about it now. Prepare yourself mentally, remember? To Sophia, that meant thinking, more thinking, and more thinking. Grabbing her pillow off the bed, she dropped it on the floor and lay down. Might as well do her thinking comfortably. Laying in bed would be even nicer, but she wasn't wearing pajamas. No laying in bed during the day unless she felt really, really, bad. Rolling over to her side, she took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

Right.

She started at the beginning. The guards would come to her room to get her when it was time to leave, or if they came later, they would find her in the dining hall because she would be having lunch. She would be led to the transport vehicle, and would most likely see her teammates there. Through the many outlines of people in the vehicle, her mind zoomed in on three particular ones. Two of them were question marks, but one person was Savannah. We'll have to introduce ourselves, and probably talk about our powers. She began to piece together words in the order that she would be introducing herself, running the sentences over and over until she was satisfied before moving on.

We'll arrive there, what was it, a few hours later? They'll probably get us out of the truck, and then... As she continued, she felt herself getting increasingly drowsy. Sleep began to pull her down into its depths, and she willingly let it. Sleeping was better than spending the hours worrying. She needed the sleep anyway, five hours was not nearly enough for a girl still growing.

---

---

Lily woke up to the sound of heavy rain hitting her window. The nightmares had started again and a part of it was still in her head. The blonde boy she was always trying to find and protect in her dreams was lying in a pool of blood. While he looked dead, he blinked the moment Lily came to stand by him. He raised an oddly bent arm and pointed a broken finger at her, accusing her of killing him. Faceless people with different colored hair --aquamarine, blonde, brown, pink--came to stand behind her, their voices raised as they flung insult after insult at her.

You killed him.

You're a monster.

You deserve to die.

Lily sighed as she stared out the window. But there was really no time to mull over what to do with her recurrent nightmares as a loud knock on her door made her jump. The booming voice of the guard outside ordered her to get ready and the teenager got out of bed and changed. There was really no sense trying to resist whatever USARILN had planned for her today or for any other day for that matter. She brushed her hair up and tied it into high ponytail before she opened the door and walked ahead of the guard, following his instructions on where to go.

She could have sworn she saw a look of relief on the guard's face when she glanced back at him briefly. Most probably because she was an Aberration that wasn't being difficult.

A few minutes later and she was herded with the rest of her classmates into a big lecture hall. Lily found herself staring wide eyed at the screen that featured a huge metallic creature on four spindly legs. She didn't even bother looking who she was seated beside as her attention was focused entirely on what she guessed would be the next monster they would all be pitted against.

"...classifying this as a category three... significant threat... subnatural... human target... can hear and understand you..." The commander's words seemed to blur together in Lily's mind and these words were the only things that really registered. A human target?

That's not... That's not what? That's not appropriate? We should try to reason with it? Was that what she wanted to think? To say? When she had no problems hurting the clearly human looking copies of people in Ground Zero? She clamped her mouth shut and tried to focus on the rest of the briefing.

The people she was most familiar with were assigned to different group than hers and she was assigned in the first healer group with Allison and Kusari. The two girls would keep her safe.

But who will keep them safe from you? A mocking voice asked in her head.

She tried to ignore it and instead waited for her friends names to be called out. Christmas was obviously assigned to the second healer group. There was no way she would be grouped together with him but nevertheless, she vowed to help him out whenever she can. Sophia, on the other hand, was assigned in the roving group intended to help locate and evacuate any injured combatants or civilians to a healer. Hmm... I guess we'll be working together in a way after all... she thought as she patiently listened as best as she could to the rest of the instructions.

When they were dismissed, she was one of the last to go out.

Were it not for her peeking, Callan might've guessed it was Marcus that came through the door as the sound roused her awake. She hadn't been rooming with either of them long, but just by listening to their movements around the Suite, Cal felt like she could tell Siena and Marcus apart with decent accuracy. Though such acute attention to detail wasn't something she was very accustomed to. Just an alarm for when to hurriedly brush the possibility of crumbs off her chest and run her thumb along the corner of her mouth so as not to look like a barbarian as she snacked on her bed and watched her shows.

Alas. Silly, vainful efforts.

Guilt and regret. The two wicked things kept Callan rooted in place. Eyes closed as she laid there beneath her comfortor, breathing cleverly to hide the fact that she wasn't sleeping. She wrestled with the words in her mouth for far too long. If she pretended to wake up now, things might be super weird. Especially considering the genuine grogginess of her average mornings.

The door shut and Callan sat up with a sigh, staring at the door like it might reopen at any moment. She needed to apologize for her snippy comment at breakfast. She didn't want to leave things like that before they had to leave.

Heya Marcus where u at? :P

Something buzzed on her roommate's desk.

Of course.

It was getting really close to when they had to leave. Would she get a chance to talk to him if she waited? Callan looked through the window at the fierce weather outside, gears reluctantly turning towards a solution she'd rather not consider. Holding her breath, she flipped through the small list of contacts on her phone and found Emma's name.

Chill out, Cal. She's not gonna freak at you for wanting to talk to your roommate.

Hey, Emma. Do you know where Marcus is? He left his phone in the Suite.

He told me he was heading towards the track.

Ok thanks

By the way, stay safe out there.

The cursors blinked back at her as Callan hesitated to answer, though she had no idea why. What else was she going to say?

You too

Pulling on her maroon jacket, Callan grabbed her umbrella and left.

---

Marcus had found himself at the track, getting in some last minute training before they were sent out on their mission. It was mostly something for him to keep his mind off the many ways this whole thing could wrong, and partly because he wanted to test his limits. He found his mind wandering to the claw marks that marred their floor earlier in the week; clearly Callan, but a question he'd never gotten a full answer to. Was that just another example of her testing her own limits? Or was there something else afoot?

Flash

He dashed forward quickly, activating the 'jump' as he did. Then, as the vertigo had subsided for a split second, he did it again. Two consecutive rewinds followed, placing him back into a runner's position.

It was an odd feeling - he'd normally be panting heavily and wiping the sweat off his brow after an exertion like that, but the rewind left him feeling like he hadn't done anything at all. Besides the dull thudding of his left knee; but that was an old injury he'd grown accustomed to - no amount of rewinding would take that one away now.

He sighed heavily and let out a small shiver, slight drops of rain flecking from his face as he did so. The cooldown was his enemy here; a whole minute for his thoughts to run rampant. He dared not to sit down, even though his torn hoodie was mostly soaked through at this point. Fortunately, he'd been intelligent enough to purchase a new one with his free week, but the torn one was now his official training outfit. At least until it got warmer. He stretched once more, having already done so several times between using his ability. At this point, however, it was more out of nerves than anything else.

Do you think we're ready for this?

In the privacy of his own mind, he wasn't as sure as he'd made himself sound.

Rounding the corner of the gym building beside the track, Callan spotted Marcus through the chain link fence a good distance away. She watched and waited, just out of sight, as she collected her thoughts again. Since when was talking to Marcus a difficult thing to do? She was here for an apology, not a confession.

She took a deep breath, spinning the umbrella in her hand a few times before holding it steady and stepping forward. She stopped at the corner of the field, well out of his way while she waited for him to see her.

One more sequence of dashes and rewinds, and Marcus was once again taking another stretch. As he twisted his torso around, he caught a shape out of the corner of his eye. Despite the rain that was pouring down, he could see the strand of aquamarine that denoted his roommate, and he gave her a quick wave.

"'Sup Cal?" he shouted. "Come to break the bleachers again?"

He grinned as he said this, walking over to her position. It was about time he get out of the rain anyway, and get changed for the mission.

"Hey Marcus," she smiled back, "Nah, not today." The words came out easier than she thought they would. "I, uh. I actually wanted to talk to you."

"Well then, talk away." Marcus said, the tone in his voice noticably shifting to a more serious one. 'I actually wanted to talk' was one of those key phrases that even he could recognize as the beginning to a more serious conversation than his usual demeanor facillitated.

"I was just about to head back to the suite anyway. Don't want to catch pnuemonia right before we get sent out!" he added.

"Oh," she blinked back at him, noticing his obvious lack of umbrella, "Yeah. Okay. I'll just. Talk while we walk then." Torn between what she was saying and wanted to do, her umbrella, almost of its own volition, gravitated away from herself and towards Marcus. Not offering to share would be rude and yet sharing didn't feel quite right either. Especially with Ernie's jest during breakfast that morning still fresh in her mind. A fresh sheet of rain splashed across the side of her cheek as she held her umbrella over his head, seemingly unphased.

"Why thank you!" Marcus said, sidling closer to Callan to take advantage of her umbrella offer. His mind flicked to what Ernie had said at breakfast earlier that morning, but he contemplated the humorous parallel silently in his head. Then he thought of what Max had said during their conversation; she'd be having a field day with a situation like this.

"So what's on your mind?" he asked, turning his head to look over at Callan.

She followed Marcus with her umbrella as he moved closer, using every ounce of self control not to visibly tense up her shoulders while her mind reeled from the consequences of her indecision. She should've just handed it to him. Doing her best to brush it off, she turned her attention towards answering his question as they began walking.

"Uh. About this morning," she started, glancing at him without turning, "Sorry for calling you out like that. Ernie pretty much hit the nail on the head. You can think of it like a game if you want. If that helps."

She smiled ruefully, brushing her hair behind her ear, "I mean, I'm guilty of it, too. Uh. Not that it's anything to feel guilty about. Like Ernie said, we're all coping in our own way... and actually...." As they passed under the portico outside the gym's entrance, Callan stopped, shifting a step away.

"That's one of the things I really like about you. I wish I was half as good at keeping everyone's spirits up. But I'm not. And I'm worried. Like-- really worried. About you... and Siena." She almost forgot to tack on the name, feeling relieved and ashamed in equal measure. Not the most eloquent apology she'd ever given, but it would do.

Marcus inwardly cursed himself. This sort of thing certainly wasn't a game; his statement at breakfast had been a little joke, but had apparently turned him into the guy that can't take a job without making it into a little arcade objective. He was well aware that this wasn't going to be a stroll in the park, but maybe everyone considering him childish just came with the jokester persona.

"Nono, it's not a game; this is serious business." Marcus said, the slightly brewing frustration well hidden. "I was just making another one of my jokes; I'm not going to be taking this lightly, don't worry about that." He listened intently to the rest of what she had to say, before responding.

"That's my job as the funny guy! Make sure all you people remember to smile once and while." Marcus said, cracking his own half-grin. That's really all it was to him: a job. More of an obligation than his actual personality. That personality was one that had died when everything fell apart though - and he was happy to fulfill this role instead.

"But..." he said, tone shifting back to serious. "If you think for one second that I'm not worried about you guys, you're wrong. You and Siena are both on the front lines today, while I'm in the back helping people get the hell out of dodge. Even Emma is out there with Siena! The three people I am the closest to at this place are all going to be fighting for their lives, and there is absolutely no way for me to help if something goes wrong. So yeah, I'm worried too, Cal." he said, exasperation in his voice. He mentally kicked himself: this certainly wasn't going to make Callan feel any better about the situation, but it was something he needed to get off his chest.

Callan smiled back sincerely. "No, I know. I know you're taking it seriously. I like your jokes." She stopped herself there. This was beginning to feel like less of an apology and she had to remind herself not to think about crossing any lines. (Not that she'd have the gall to do so anyway.)

"Save your worrying for Siena and Emma-- and especially yourself. I'll be fine. And I'll make sure they're fine. Both of them." She smiled confidently, cocking her head to the side. Of course Marcus was worried, too. But she hoped to put his mind at ease.

"Well, I'm glad you get a kick out of them. Usually people charge for that kind of entertainment." Marcus said. He was regaining a little bit of his funny side now that he'd unloaded his worries onto Callan, and he smirked when he turned to look at her again.

"I'll keep a little worry for you, too; just in case the monster decides to fling his pants at you or something." he said, giving her a slight jab with his elbow as he did.

Callan scrunched up her nose with a faux grimace before laughing. "Well, they can hear and understand us, remember? If all else fails, you can knock'em dead with some jokes." Just like that, they were on their way back to the dorms again.

"If I'm close enough to tell any jokes, it means something's gone horribly wrong. You done goofed if that's the case." Marcus said with a chuckle. "Unless you want to patch me through to a radio or something - I can give the front team some moral support during the whole thing!"

"Of course, it's never gonna happen, but that's probably for the best. If we broadcast your jokes, we might lose half our unit to friendly fire."

"Half? I think they'll just switch sides and come hunt me down!" Marcus said. He chuckled slightly, before falling silent again as a thought crossed his mind.

"Hey Cal..." he said, turning to face her with his hand extended. "A promise: I'll make it back if you do!" he said. Despite the slightly morbid agreement, he still forced a smile out as he said it.

Callan stared at the extended hand. Unlike Marcus, a flicker of melancholy overcame her smile. The remnants of worries that could never be completely laughed away as she quietly observed the way his scars moved when he smiled. "Heh," she grinned back, taking his hand before he had the chance to notice anything amiss, "Easiest promise of my life."

---

Another battle? Already? It had barely been a week since they were forced to fight each other, and not much longer since they were forced to fight monsters. USARLIN was as ruthless and unfeeling as always, sending children with barely any training into a combat scenario. That's just how things were, they were so hurting for reinforcements that they were willing to send group of misfits that nearly killed each other last week. These truly were trying times weren't they? Trying times that called for ruthless leadership.

There had to be another way. There had to be something better than sacrificing children for the "greater good of humanity". What about the greater good of those children? Why imprison people and force them to fight? Doesn't that just encourage more of them to work against you? There had to be a better way. What was the true evil in all of this? The government, enslaving innocent people and using them as weapons, or the mindless monsters and those who fight against the government? Was there a real answer?

We are all monsters

The briefing droned on around Allison Revel, the screen in front of her glowing with the unpleasant reality of the situation. The group of misfits was going to be fighting whatever that thing, no, whatever that person had became. The idea that the mechanical monstrosity housed a person was baffling, though it was something Allison chose not to focus on.

Allison would be grouped up with Kusari Bloodworth and Lilliana Brandt. Healer group. Basically, it was up to her and this Kusari to make sure that Lilliana wasn't taken out, and that the healer could get to people without being harmed. If Allison recalled correctly, Kusari was the girl from last week's first battle who had lost an arm, immediately to replace it with a tentacle. With being able to grow new limbs that fast, it made sense why she would be chosen as a bodyguard. As for Allison's purpose, that was pretty obvious, it would keep her from doing something reckless whilst still making use of her.

---

Eventually, the briefing ended, and the students were taken to the dining hall. Allison had 7 hours of "freedom" before they would be taken to the battlefield. There was a lot that she could do in 7 hours, the first priority of which was to find the two girls she'd be working with and introduce herself. Allison spent a good few moments glancing around for Lilliana, who she had met briefly on her first day, though gave up after finding no obvious sign of the girl.

Kusari, on the other hand, was probably the easiest person in the whole gang of misfits to spot. She sat alone at a table, seemingly sulking in her loneliness. That would have to be put to an end. Allison quickly grabbed herself a plate of food, eggs, toast, and some sort of jam, and sat down at Kusari's table, directly across from her.

"Kusari, right? I'm Allison." The brunette extended her arm across the table, offering the lonely-looking girl an awkward hand shake. "Nice to meet you."

Kusari looked up from her food to see a hand outstretched towards her. It was Allison Revel, one of her soon to be partners. Kusari glanced at the girl's hand, and then to her own grotesque arm. "Yeah that's me... Ya know, the last girl that shook this hand ran off shortly afterwards." Kusari chided herself, her mouth forming a sardonic grin. She used her left hand and balled Allison's hand into a fist. "How about this?" She said, making a fist with her left hand and bumping it against Allison's. "That's more fitting for soldiers about to go to war anyway, right?"

Right, weird claw. Allison accepted the fist bump, and shook off her absolutely wonderful first impression. "Soldiers. huh?" She said contemplatively as she pulled her arm back, adjusting herself in the seat. "That's the last thing I ever thought I would be. Though, I think they see us more as just weapons." She sighed, taking a bite out of her food, the gloomy silence hanging for a moment. Allison didn't let the dead air hang for too long, though, as her own words hit her. She didn't want to let this turn into a philosophical discussion about the less than ideal situation they were in. "Anyway... since we'll be working together today, I thought it would be a good idea to at least talk a bit, get to know each other so that we aren't running into a battlefield working with complete strangers."

Allison looked the tall girl over whilst speaking. She seemed sad and frail, wrapped in an almost impenetrable gloom. Though, if the footage from a week prior had anything to say, it was that Kusari was anything but frail, nearly indestructible even. Her mood, though, seemed to be the most fitting of all of the people Allison had met thus far, a depressing aura to match a depressing situation. Allison had half a mind to sink into a similar depression, to return to the odd wallowings that had plagued her since she arrived.

That isn't going to help anyone. I need to keep moving, keep talking. Being depressed isn't an option, not when there's only 7 hours. Allison's eyes floated to the arm next, the bulky, inhuman limb that sat where Kusari's right arm should be. Of course, Allison was unnerved by this, it was unnatural, odd, and painfully grotesque. She shook it off, refusing to let her disconcertedness fuel any disdain for Kusari. It was out of her control. Probably.

"Also," Allison continued, "I don't really know too much about your ability, and I assume you don't know that much about mine, either." She chased her words with a sip of water.

Kusari let out a sigh as she noticed Allison glance at her right arm. The girl was obviously bothered by it, yet she was still making an effort to try and know her. Allison didn't want to know her, but she didn't know that yet. Kusari pondered the idea of blowing her off now, for all she knew Allison would be the next to die on this mission.

"I... Can heal from just about anything. And uh..." She raised her clawed hand and touched the crimson metallic fingers. "I guess, um..." She didn't want to talk about this, not because she was ashamed but because she honestly had no idea what was going on with her body and it scared her. "Well, you saw the footage from the flag capture game." She lowered her arm and looked to Allison. Kusari was aware that she wasn't doing a good job hiding her shitty mood, she'd always been bad at it. So she tried harder.

"So what's your superpower? Besides looking cute in a tank top." Flirting must be her defense mechanism at this point. Allison's clothes weren't even impressive. She wasn't lying about thinking she was cute, however.

Allison blushed, releasing a slight surprised chuckle. She wasn't expecting compliments, especially from the sad-looking girl across from her.

"I can summon a blade, up to 6 meters in length. It cuts through anything that isn't alive, phases through things that are. It also stops the abilities of those who I cut through, for as long as it's in them." She paused, sipping at her water. "I can only summon it for a minute at a time. Takes three minutes before I can summon it again." Allison glanced at the monsterous arm again. Maybe the shard could effect Kusari's ability in a way, possibly reverting her limb to human. She wasn't sure on the idea, and even though Kusari didn't seem the biggest fan of the arm, Allison didn't want to bring attention to it at the moment. She put her elbow on the table and rested her head on her hand, before adding "And you're kind of cute, yourself, in a way." She wasn't joking on that aspect. There was something sort of alluring about the white-haired girl, something precious about how frail she looked, as if she would fall apart and disappear if Allison looked away. Though, that preciousness was easily contrasted by that damnable arm, though there was some charm to that too, or so the back of her mind told her.

Hearing what Allison's ability was, she immediately thought that it may prove useful against whoever was controlling the machines. If she could stick them with her blade, wouldn't the entire metal giant fall apart. She let out an audible hum, dismissing the idea. Allison would need to get too close to that thing, and they were meant to stay back and provide support anyhow. Kusari blinked, as the next thing Allison said suddenly registered. She let out a cough, and ruffled the hair on the back of her head. The habit was so ingrained she didn't even realize she was doing it with her clawed arm.

"Jeez, I can give em but I can't take em very well..." She mumbled to herself. Maybe she should find a new way to diffuse tension. "Thanks. I haven't exactly been feeling very... Human lately." She said. Allison was the second person to complement her, in spite of the fact that she was growing disgusting limbs at an alarming rate. There was something different about the way Allison said it, however. She should keep a mental note of this.

"That's understandable." Allison picked at her food, letting silence fill the air between her and Kusari. She hesitated to speak, though clearly having something to say. "Well... um, maybe my ability might have some sort of an effect on yours? I don't know if it'll work, but maybe it'd revert your limbs to normal? It couldn't hurt to try, right? If you want that, anyway." Allison was sure she wasn't suggesting it because she didn't want to see the inhuman limb, besides, Kusari was clearly not a fan of it either. Maybe giving the girl an option to revert her limbs to normal would give her the chance to open up more. Though, what if it didn't work? There was a chance of it, Allison barely knew how her ability worked, and hadn't done much ability cancelling. Ernie had been the second person she'd ever done it to. Either way, if Kusari was up to testing it, it would be some sort of an insight into Allison's odd ability.

Lilianna stumbled into the cafeteria half wet from the rain outside. She shook the water off --- at least some of it --- and stashed her umbrella into the bin where other similarly wet umbrellas were before she wandered in. She looked around at the familiar and unfamiliar faces around. Another battle, more people dying...but another chance to quiet down the---

Give them pain. Give them something to cry about.

Make them scream.

Make them wail.

Make them ask for mercy.

Ever since she had used her powers in Ground Zero, the voices had quieted down but not for long. A day or two and it was whispering in her head again, coupled with the disjointed memories, she was unable to sustain sleep again. What she did in Ground Zero had been horrible and she really didn't want to do it again. Maybe being in a real battle is better? Monsters to hurt. That's better, right? Or I could die. That would suck. But then that would mean I won't be able to hurt anyone anymore. Is that better? It was the first time she ever posed a question--or questions--to the voices in her head. Who knows? Maybe they had answers.

But they didn't. It just merely continued whispering things about hurting and destroying.

She wandered absentmindedly towards the table Kusari and Allison were sitting at. The small blonde had no idea if the two girls were her teammates---she really should start taking note on who's who---but she reached out for a chair anyway. "...maybe it'd revert your limbs to normal? It couldn't hurt to try, right? If you want that, anyway." She caught the last part of what Allison said and briefly wondered what they were talking about, her eyes wandering towards the claw Kusari had for an arm. Wow...

But this was not the time to be staring at something...cool. Especially when the owner of the strange arm didn't look too happy with it. "Hi. Sorry to bother you guys," she greeted cheerily. "I hope I got the right table. Allison and Kusari, right?"

Kusari's right eye twitched at Allison's proposal. She didn't know what to say. She'd had the chance to reattach her right arm, but she choose not to. As much as she hated it, she needed this revolting arm. She was weak without the monster side of her body, in battle the most she could do was be mangled as a meat shield. If she reverted her right leg and arm, she'd just have to cut them off again, and that wasn't something she wanted to get into the habit of doing. Kusari broke out into a cold sweat, and clenched her right arm to her body. There was also one other thing, if Allison used her blade on her then wouldn't she lose her healing ability? There was obviously no danger of dying here, but the thought alone sent a shiver down her back.

"Maybe. Another time?" She let out a cough to clear her throat. "I'd rather not have to cut them off again today." She said, going back to eating her food. The air was suddenly silent, thankfully Lilianna came to sit at the table before it could become awkward. "Right. I'm Kusari, that's Allison." Kusari answered simply. She munched on her food, thinking.

"Lilianna." She said, trying to get the girl's attention. "You can transfer wounds between people,
right? If you or Allison are hurt, no matter how badly, I want you to transfer the wounds to me. Also, if things get too dangerous,
you should leave me behind. I'm pretty sure nothing can kill me, so don't worry about that." She pulled out her cellphone, she then remembered that she had planned on getting new phones with Hazel. She decided to talk to the quiet girl about it later.

"Give me your numbers, in case we do need to split up."

Lily looked from Allison--and vaguely remembering her--then to Kusari, not really undestanding their conversation and not really willing to ask. It's got nothing to do with her anyway. When she was addressed and asked about her power, she nodded. "Transfer to you. Okay."

Gotta remember not to magnify when transferring to her, she made a mental note and ignored the voices that said otherwise. There was no way she was gonna hurt a classmate. Besides, if I need to I can always transfer to the monsters in the field. It'll be--- Her thoughts came to a complete stop as she watched Kusari pull out her cellphone and asked for numbers. She thought of her cellphone with the cracked screen back in her room. She had only turned it on once ever since she got to USARILN East and she had left it in her drawer. That and she had no idea what her number was. "I...uh...don't have my phone with me and well, if I did... I don't even know my number," the small girl admitted sheepishly.

Allison hadn't expected Lilianna to show up so suddenly, halfway through a piece of toast whilst Kusari made clear who was who. Allison didn't get a chance to respond to Kusari declining the offer. She hadn't considered the girl wanting to keep the arm for the battle. Kusari asking Lilianna to transfer all wounds to her also made sense, given her regeneration, though the idea of it still unnerved Allison. Kusari's ability made wounds a non-issue, but she still felt pain. Horrible.

"That's fine. We've got seven hours. There's plenty of time to go get it." Allison, truthfully, had left her phone in her room as well. She didn't realize how often the device would be necessary. She would have to carry it on her person from now on. "Don't have mine, either." The brunette continued. "Never had a cell phone before, didn't think to carry it on me. Though, I think I've got the number memorized." She finished off a piece of toast before rattling off the digits to Kusari.

Memorized... Lily thought as she turned her attention to Allison, a wondering look on her face. Must be nice to have memories.

"I could, maybe, run back to my room and get it?" she suggested.

Kusari let out a sigh. "Just how many people here have never used a cellphone? I expected it from Hazel, but..." She shook her head and put her phone away after entering Allison's number. "I can get your number later on the way to the mission Lilianna." She said. She went back to eating, finding that she didn't have much else to say. She thought back to the mission briefing, and wondered just what kind of mage would have a power so self destructive. She supposed it was possible for an Aberration, but to that scale?

"This thing we're fighting, you don't think it's an animus, do you?" She barely knew what an animus was, as far as she knew it was simply an Aberration that had indulged their stigma too much and became a monster.

"I don't know..." Allison said, leaning back in her chair. "Maybe? I don't really know how you explain an ability that powerful, otherwise. Could it just be someone with an out of control ability?"

Lily nodded and sat back on her chair, contemplating whether to eat or just stay where she was. Deciding that it was probably better to stay awhile and converse with the two girls that were her teammates for this next mission, she tuned into their conversation. "Whatever it is, we'd need to put it down. I wonder if we can do it..." she contributed. To be honest, she was actually looking forward to another battle. A chance to use her abilities and put the voices to rest again--not that they weren't tolerable but she missed being able to think without them cluttering her mind.

Neither of them had much of an idea about what they were about to fight, as expected. Kusari crossed her arms, wincing as her claws poked her skin. She grit her teeth and tapped her foot in annoyance. "If we don't do it we'll die. So I'd suggest you don't even consider that an option." She said to Lily.

Lily shrugged. "There's always that possibility of dying whether we have a positive outlook or not. But I suppose being positive is better, right?" She looked from Kusari to Allison then back to Kusari. Her eyes fell on her claw for a few seconds before she averted her gaze, not really wanting to offend by her staring. "I suppose everything will turn out okay if we all worked together," she added.

"Yea." Allison immediately straightened, seemingly imbued with a sudden hopeful confidence. "Besides, it'll be our job to keep everyone alive. We can do this." The trio continued conversing for a while, discussing the upcoming battle, among other things. Eventually, though, they parted ways until the battle called them back together.

---

---

The weather had simmered down to a light, but persistent drizzle by the time guards came to collect the students again as the rain filled in puddles throughout the campus and town.

They were taken back to the briefing room, where Commander Kardos looked as if he had remained there since the morning, evidenced by the dining hall's brown take-out box near the side of the front desk. Laying across the other desks were rolled bundles of what appeared to be clear fabric or plastic, several the length of an arm while others were little longer than a hand. For each seat to be occupied, there was an accompanying combat helmet. One bundle of the material sat on the Commander's desk as well, though he seemed occupied with the computer, eyes fixed on the elevated screen in front of him while a hand busied itself with the nearby mouse.

When the students had been seated (forcefully) once more, he stood, picking up his small pack of that strange, clear material--the same material that coated the students' ankle cuffs, incidentally.

"A demonstration," he announced, by way of greeting (or lack thereof). A flick of his wrist unfurled the short length of cloth-like crystal, revealing its pliability to indeed be similar to fabric. It hung in folds from his fingers as if weighted, but had been measured to be as thin and light as paper--that same trick of physicality reminiscent of Shane Alkana's armaments.

The Commander placed his other hand on the bolt of material, holding it there for nearly ten seconds. The clear cloth undulated for several seconds more before melting downward and upward, splitting apart in the middle soundlessly with a rippling motion like water parting. Two lengths of material wrapped around and molded perfectly to coat the Commander's hands, leaving his fingers free to move with almost no impediment. He checked the motions to be doubly sure, opening and closing his hand repeatedly. The amount he originally held was enough to reach the middle of his forearms, the clear substance overlaying the sleeves of the man's gray uniform as well.

Satisfied with the result, he turned to the group.

"You'll notice similar sets of this material on your desks," he began, clasping his hands behind his back. "A recent breakthrough from Hephaestus, but supply is incredibly limited. We've outfitted several of the advance team with what we could spare, but the intention was to equip this group in particular. It needs more rigorous tests given previous experience with Hephaestus's work, but for now I am assured that it can dampen impact to the point of withstanding most conventional firearms."

He flexed his fingers again, a modicum of disbelief lining his features at the ease of movement. The moment passed, however, and he continued.

"You're advised not to apply the material to your face, however. There's a lot of fine-tuning to be done, and currently it'd suffocate you faster than it'd save you. You'll rely on the helmets instead for head protection. Not ideal, of course.

On your desks are five bolts of the material the researchers have taken to calling 'wishalloy' as something of an inside joke, but it'll suffice for a name. I recommend wearing the material beneath your clothes, unless you don't mind losing access to your pockets temporarily. The longest section should be wrapped around your chest, and the remaining four around your limbs. Leave the material on for the approximate ten seconds it takes to recognize the form and it should neatly merge into a single piece covering up to the base of your neck. Those of you with contact-dependent powers can decide what area you'd rather have unprotected.

Proper armor is still under construction, but given the nature of this emergency Hephaestus has given what prototypes he has."

And now the bothersome part.

"We've yet to test the true upper limits of its stability," and a grimace followed the confession, the man clearly displeased with exactly how many unknowns were involved, "and we've never field tested this equipment before, so err on the side of caution. It will destabilize and revert to its original cloth state with repeated, heavy impacts that cover enough of its surface area. Three or four should be all you risk. Past five and results have varied. For now, if it holds past five, count yourself lucky.

Alternatively, it also reverts after roughly three hours and is useless as feasible protection for another hour past that. Perfected, this might prove invaluable in engagements to come, but for now it's, at best, a gamble."

Explanation over, the Commander turned back to his computer, tapping and clicking through another series of commands and keystrokes that pulled up a blurry image of two seemingly identical figures standing side by side in an open field, the image clarity obscured by night and a fuzzy focus.

"Before I cover the fine details of your fireteam positions, there is another factor to consider. This image is of an unknown operative--subnatural--taken near the outskirts of Crimen Culpae 1 over three months ago. Ability is, at best guess, an assimilation and replication effect, though there are marked differences between the original power and the duplicate.

Mr. Francisco has ascertained with almost complete certainty that this man is part of a larger group pursuing unknown objectives that are, at the very least, detrimental to every facet of civilized society.

I bring this matter up because there is the danger this current subnatural terrorizing Wisford is not acting alone. Your first priority is to neutralize not only the large target, but also the amassing horde. Your second priority is to stay alert for subnatural attacks. If this situation is intentional, then they are expecting a response from USARILN East. If they intend to simply watch, then we should be grateful, but don't bet on that being the case."

The screen flicked back to a distant, bird's eye view image of the clockwork monstrosity curled in on itself near a scattering of mine shafts and battered earth, its four legs crooked in zigzags around its mechanical torso like a sparse nest while its arms were bronze blurs in the air. Around it, clockwork creatures were half formed, the material of their bodies pulling from thin air.

"We'll refer to the primary target as Factory," the Commander announced after a moment, eyes still on his screen. Another click of the mouse and the image changed to a simplified map of the town with markers and designations pre-arranged. A quick drag of the mouse highlighted the first areas to cover.



“The support team will move in first. Your position is here," he said, pointing to the corresponding location on the map, “about one mile North-West of the target. You are to hold position and engage the main bulk of the enemy force at their most concentrated point. Prepare to be swarmed. Your job is to hold as much of Factory's attention as possible.”

Four points of red were selected next.

“The sniper team will be dropped off with everyone else in the same location. Your objective is to reach higher grounds and provide support to our ground teams while picking off any stragglers that slip past the first group. Your main focus is the support team, but keep track of the two healer teams’ positions as well and respond to their requests.”

“The two healer teams will be located here and here.” Kardos gestured with the mouse, circling the area with quick motions. “Your orders are to stand by, as of now. Further instructions will be given when the situation arises. Avoid combat if possible. When threatened, relocate to safer positions and inform other teams.”

A final selection colored another dot in a brighter shade of red.

“As for the evacuation team, you will start from here. You'll be driven around in the back of an armored truck. Keep your eyes peeled and scour the perimeter and aid civilians as best as you can. However, major threats should be avoided and reported back to command. If forced to engage, retreat at the earliest opportunity.”

“The striker team will remain out of the engagement zone until enough of Factory's creations have been baited and annihilated to allow unhindered access to Factory itself. Deployment will commence once appropriate.

Francis will engage Factory first, with the hope that a dragon's aerial maneuverability will provide a sufficient advantage against Factory. Prepare to dodge debris and retaliation even during the approach; we've lost plenty of air support to that. Keep those limbs occupied and the remaining two strikers will drop down to join you once it's fully engaged. Target the lower limbs and bring it down, then destroy the main body while it recovers. With any luck, destruction of the chest or head should shut it down, but be prepared to obliterate the entire construct.”

The conclusion of the finalized plan and equipment briefing was followed by several soldiers entering with a large metallic box which opened to reveal phones encased in a thick shell of black leather and metal with a honeycomb traction grip and protective urethane film surface. On the backs of all the phones were short antenna attachments.

As the students received their devices, the Commander spoke again.

"We've inputted tracking data for this group onto the phones, and they can be used to communicate quickly between members of this team even without cell coverage. Push-to-talk is the button on the right and the radio transceiver covers up to five miles.

The ankle cuffs have similar transceiver capabilities should the phones fail. Preface communications with 'transmit' followed by the message to activate that function.

Some of you will have already realized by now that outside cell coverage areas and certain detectors, the cuffs cannot effectively track you, though they will stun continuously as a fail safe should you leave a detectable area without proper clearance.

The Director is particularly interested in this group, however, so it falls to me to provide both incentive to remain and deterrent for escape. First, we have, on occasion, cleared certain subnaturals for release from the cuffs given prolonged obedience and good behavior. I believe you've all encountered Alkana on the battlefield a little under two weeks ago. Crystals, for those who don't recognize the name. He was cleared for removal of the cuff, but refused, citing it an effective method of group communication that didn't occupy his hands.

Unfortunately, he's not available to verify the statement, but rest assured that it does happen.

Second, the Institutes and surrounding towns are one of the main receivers of supplies. You'll notice there is an abundance of resources at our disposal, most of which are also granted to the students for free: food, shelter, electricity, so forth. Without the Institutes' backing, any escape attempt would require connection to someone well-funded enough to provide even the basic necessities of life, let alone modern conveniences. This is not taking into account the kill-on-sight order for any escapees and general fear of subnaturals worsening the situation. You would be struggling on multiple fronts, and any area far enough from civilization to be safe from humans would render you prey for Dreamcatcher's creatures.

There is little benefit in running away, but should you choose to do so, my order to the rest of the group follows: escapees and traitors are kill on sight."

A supply case of weapons and ammunition was rolled into the room on a trolley cart as he spoke, and the soldiers managing that popped off the lid to display various types of firearms and melee weapons.

"You'll each receive a collapsible baton, knife, and a pocket canister of pepper spray," he continued, motioning to the guards to hand out the respective items along with adjustable belts with compartments for all the tools, "but unless you have former training with firearms, do not take any. A gun in untrained hands is more danger to yourself than the enemy, and magic surpasses mundane weapons more often than not. Any human targets we might encounter will likely be prepared for conventional weapons, as well, and the last thing you want your death to accomplish is providing unknown groups with more supplies. The only exception in this group is Roless, due to the nature of his power, but even then I'll caution to only use what you're sure you can handle.

Selection and final preparations should be handled on the ride. Soldiers will escort you to the trucks."

On cue, the students and their equipment were moved swiftly down the hallway and out towards an underground parking garage and then into a long, reinforced truck whose initial purpose had been to ferry supplies. It was now outfitted with two bars of lighting along the length of the ceiling and wall-mounted benches with ample room even for the large group. The munitions case followed them in along with several soldiers on high alert and with little more than a quick "Roger" from one of the soldiers inside, the back doors of the truck closed and the engine started.

---

---

Roughly three hours later, they had arrived at their destination where rain still sprinkled into muddy puddles and across the ruined, smoking town. The truck parked a safe distance from the worst of the fighting, perched on a hill that overlooked much of the destruction, where flashes of white light and familiar lines of neon-bright colors shattered buildings and automatons alike in the fading evening light. The closest buildings to their location had fared slightly better than the wreckage that stretched further down the street and the sounds of distant explosions and gunfire rebounded off shattered walls and broken glass mixed with gears, springs, and cogs that were the blood of Factory's minions, destroyed in the ongoing fight. Several soldiers stood in the midst of the nearby mounds of debris, eyeing the surrounding area carefully for any further signs of the clockwork creatures in case another straggler had snuck past the bulk of the fighting.

Darker stains that the rain hadn't completely washed away splashed across pavement and walls and the broken bodies of people crushed beneath dead clockworks and rubble defined the battlefield more clearly than any briefing room.

A small town and smaller lives lost to the inscrutable whims of a monster. Or many monsters. And some of them wore the faces of humans marked by Dreamcatcher's magic.

The advance team had managed to hem the combat towards Factory's location by now, providing a clear enough path to each team's respective destinations. A flash of neon blue lines cleaved a wing from a clockwork avian several hundred meters away, sending it careening down and out of sight behind a far building.

On the other side of town, visible even from that distance, an oval of gleaming red lights marked Factory's location, looming over several of the broken, jagged buildings like a downing specter, its body still almost in the exact position shown on the screen.

The maps on their phones marked the locations each group was meant to occupy and an armored personnel carrier sat waiting for the evacuation team at the rendezvous point, ready to escort the injured to safety once the support team had moved in first to attract most of the attention.

From there, it seemed the majority of them would have to proceed on foot, likely because the piles of machine wreckage, rubble, and large, disabled constructs made most of the quickest roads impassable for any regular vehicle.

A quarter of a mile back, a helicopter waited to fly overhead and drop two of the three strikers directly onto Factory once Chris had fully engaged the behemoth of metal, though several large new birds were already creating themselves around the creature, along with what appeared to be a 15-meter snake circling in the sky above Factory on eight mechanical wings that moved out of rhythm with its undulation, a recent creation that floated smoothly on supernatural forces of propulsion.

---

Wishalloy. Factory. Rogue subnaturals. Clearance to remove the cuffs. Deterrence against escape. Positioning. Isolation. Support and finish. Knowledge tumbled in his mind, puzzle pieces that never perfectly fit together. His ‘training’ with Gregory was pointless now. They would be positioned in different areas, taking the high ground in order to snipe enemy clockworks that may prove to be troublesome to the support team that was tasked with thinning out the horde.

Thinning out the horde that the titanic human spewed out constantly, endlessly. It was 2PM. No need for his night vision goggles. Gas leaks were a dangerous possibility. A need for his gas mask. He was ranged support. A need for his Desert Eagle. Close combat was dangerous without a dedicated weapon. A need for his machete. Wishalloy provided much of the same protection, but broke apart after multiple impacts. A need for his vest. They were in an urban environment. A need for his rollerblades.

There were many things he needed, much more than anyone else within the group, and the belt that the soldiers provided brought a smile on Brent’s face. Something to carry many things. He needed that as well. Pepper spray could be good to disable a human enemy. A baton provided bludgeoning force in case there was something he’d rather not cut. A knife to pierce, as opposed to cut.

“Hah,” he laughed to himself, “Slowly becoming a walking armoury, huh?”

But he wasn’t done yet. He was Brent Roless, the Arbiter who was only useful if he had objects to Overclock. He needed more. A scope to improve his accuracy further when it came to long distance attacks. Rappelling gear that could be overclocked to provide a swift descent if clockworks were rushing up the stairs. What else? His eyes scanned over the weapons available in the truck as everyone filed in. Machine guns. Sniper rifles. Flamethrowers. Rocket launchers. Everything that had been denied of him in his request was there, and after asking one of the soldiers, he was basically given permission to take them along, provided he could carry them?

It was too good to be true. It was too ridiculously tempting. Flamethrowers overclocked to generate enough heat to melt hordes of monsters to slag. Sniper rifles to pierce through an entire army and strike the very heart of the Factory. Rocket launchers to generate massive amounts of explosive power. But…

If he were so prone to falling to temptation, he’d just be a loser with an addiction.

His job was to provide support. Not to try to match Hazel in kills. His Desert Eagle, the one firearm that he had extensively practiced with, experimented with, will have to do.

Well, all this shit was pretty damn heavy as well.

After awkwardly loading everything up on him, Brent definitely looked like some sort of B-grade serial killing kleptomaniac, equipped with more weapons than he had limbs. If he could see himself, he would doubtlessly be laughing at himself, but as it was...all these things would give him a slightly higher chance of survival, a little more adaptability in a bad situation. There was no way he’d be able to pull off any sort of stealthy tactical maneveurs with rope slapping against his butt and all the things that were attached to his belt, was there? He’d probably be in deep shit if he had to hide, huh?

Brent slapped a helmet on his head, sat down as comfortably as he could, and let out a deep sigh. Google Maps had already told him the obvious: that the trip to Wisford would take at least three hours. He’d have to take all this off again in order to apply the wishalloy, huh?

“Welp, just how it is.”

His right hand loosely held the phone that they had been given.

His left hand remained in his pocket, tightly clenched.

His eyes stayed in place, transfixed by a target that only he could see.

No hesitation.

It was still three hours before the mission began.

---

---

He was ready when they arrived. It was his own way of taking what little control he had over these circumstances.

When the soldiers came to collect him, Ernie was sitting in the foyer of the administration building they had been briefed in that morning, listening to something on his phone and hugging a backpack to his chest. Lunch had been consumed. His backpack was packed with everything he usually brought to missions, along with some new equipment he’d requested on Tuesday. He was dressed in his combat outfit; loose navy blue singlet, cargo pants, and work boot. Almost identical to what he wore for the game on Monday, apart from the dark jacket to defend against the weather and his hair tied to keep it out of his face. His dorm possessions had been packed into neat boxes and given to some fellow transfers from West. If the worst came to pass, Ernie didn’t want his detergent collection to get thrown into some USARILN dumpster by the guards.

Being prepared was good. Failing to prepare was preparing to fail, right? But as the time crept closer towards the mission, as the minutes passed without Marc or Cal to distract him from the near-inevitable, more and more did Ernie feel that he could do nothing but sit in that lobby and wait. Just wait, and nothing else. Because nothing he could do personally would have any effect on that beast.

At least the wishalloy was something to look forward to. A safety net in case his rope failed him like it had against Allison. Ernie craved that extra sense of security. The parts about contact-dependent powers and pockets was rather concerning though. He’d need to leave his arms and shoulders untouched if he wanted to move around quickly with the rope coiled around him. Anything below his armpits would be fine to cover. He’d probably need to pee beforehand too.

Then came the other equipment. Ernie cringed slightly at the thought of carrying more tools on his belt. The pistol and tomahawk were already weighty enough. Luckily there were some pistol shoulder holsters in the armoury box. His Makarov and two of his magazines would rest on either side of his torso. The currently sheathed tomahawk would stay on the right side of his belt, newly accompanied by the pepper spray and baton on the other side. The knife, though made redundant by the axe, went into his backpack. Just in case. Maybe Zoe would want to dual wield some knives out there? Hopefully it wouldn’t just be a useless weight on his back.

Lunch had been consumed. His backpack was packed. He was dressed in his combat outfit. He had all the equipment he could feasibly bring along. Ernie was as prepared as he could possibly be. There was nothing he could do now but wait.

“The striker team will remain out of the engagement zone until enough of Factory's creations have been baited and annihilated to allow unhindered access to Factory itself. Deployment will commence once appropriate."

Fuck.

Callan balled her hands up into fists as she listened to the plan. She'd have to sit in the back and wait for her turn to fight. While the others went ahead and took on a swarm of those things? Her mind buzzed with discontent. She wanted to protest. To explain that she could easily take on those contraptions AND 'Factory'. (Probably.) But Kardos was an intimidating figure. Not that she was physically scared of him, of course, but it felt wrong to so blatantly go against authority like that. Especially when it came from a man who, like Zhang, seemed to have it exuding from every pore.

Gathering her things, Callan's eyes wondered towards Sander and Chris-- as they had several times throughout the briefing. She noticed right away that Sander had forgotten his gear. Forgetfulness or overconfidence? She snatched it up, but before she could pass it off, the soldiers were already marching them into the trucks. Leaving little wiggle room. Fortunately, her usual crowd managed to gravitate towards the same area.

Taking her seat between Ernie and Siena, Callan refrained from being too chipper. An easy task most of the time-- including this one. She noticed Grant and Building Cleaver sitting across from her as well as Brent on the other side of Siena. She wasn't very familiar with any of them and didn't want to mess with whatever mojo they might have going. Pulling her earbuds from her pocket and starting to untangle them, Callan turned to look at Ernie, softly nudging his arm to catch his attention.

"Hey," she smiled tentatively, speaking in a low volume, "You alright?"

Ernie had chosen a seat in a far corner to give Sander and Christmas the option of staying the hell away from him. He didn't need the added stress of that particular situation, since there were so many other things to occupy his mind. His bulky belt had been taken off for now, resting at the top of the backpack by the bundle of Wishalloy he'd been given. Sitting around with all that equipment around his waist did not sound like it would make a comfortable three hour drive. Ernie fiddled with the buckles of his helmet, clasping and unclasping them around the outer straps of the backpack that weighed down on his lap. Simple, rhythmic motions. It was soothing, in a way. Hopefully the truck would be loud enough so that the clicking wouldn't annoy anyone.

Truth be told, the truck chamber only served to remind Ernie how real everything was. He would be in the line of fire soon, even with the tactical position he'd been given. Talking happy like what he'd done at breakfast would be almost impossible soon. It was getting harder to talk like there was going to be an 'after the mission', to smile and plan future hangouts as if they weren't about to go up against a hulking metal beast and meet their deaths. Cal's presence next to him was a reminder of that. Yeah, it was getting harder to smile too, but she was able to manage it. Cal was strong so she could do it. So he guessed that the good thing to do to smile back.

"Eh," the corners of the Aberration's mouth flickered upwards, "Nervous. Last time I had to sit on a long drive was when we got trucked to East. These seats get kinda sore after a while. How about you? Your nap make you feel any better?"

"Yeah," she nodded. Me, too.

She watched his expression carefully, eyebrows briefly creasing with effort. He really did seem alright, didn't he? As personal as their conversation earlier had seemed, she really didn't know Ernie all that well. But she'd easily decided she knew him well enough to want him to be okay. To come out of this alive.

"I'm alright. Nap did me a whole lot of good," she shrugged and sank back in her seat, turning her attention to the cords in her hands again. Trying to untangle them while looking at Ernie hadn't done her any favors.

"That's good to hear," he replied simply not expanding any further on the subject. Talking about how nervous you were never made things better. He looked to Cal looking at him, then to her clumsy efforts at untangling her earphones. The sight brought a genuine note of amusement to his expression. Ernie nodded to her hands. "What do you listen to to get you pumped up?"

"Never actually been a huge fan of super-hype music," she smiled, making some progress, "I like the relaxing stuff. Soft hip hop... R&B... chillstep," she stifled a yawn as her fingers kept working. "I dunno. Lots more. You?"

What the heck was a chillstep? Ernie nodded politely, acknowledging internally that he probably shouldn't ask to listen along to whatever she was about to listen to with those still-tangled earphones. He shrugged. And as for what kind of music he liked...

Whatever Liam felt like listening to.

"Rock and stuff like that, mostly. I like having something upbeat to listen to in the morning. But I like the old-timey jazz stuff too. Helps me get to sleep sometimes."

It probably wasn't a good idea to mention that his like of the 'old-timey' stuff had come from his parents. Better to keep the talk simple. Something to take the edge off of both their minds.

"Good stuff. Love jazz," she grinned, but immediately set her jaw as she ran into another cord-based obstacle. Daintily tugging at the seemingly impossible knot, she muttered, "I'd love to listen to anything if I could just... get this... stupid..." The rest of her sentence got lost somewhere in the loops.

"Ooh, really? That's cool. My friends always said I didn't look like the type to like it," Ernie chuckled.

Geez, she was taking a while to unravel that knot. And why the heck was she pulling on it like that? Whatever, this was getting tiring to watch. He reached over to take the pair from her with a "Here, let me", trying to unwork the knot from the plug instead. Huh, this was harder than it looked.

"Earphones are such a pain sometimes, right?" he said, grinning as he handed the untangled pair back to Cal, "Do you have any singers you like? Etta James is always a classic for me."

"At last!" she smiled knowingly.

"Oh my God, THANK you," Callan scoffed at herself, shaking her head as she plugged the buds into her phone, "Yeah. They are. I just don't want to break 'em. This is my fifth pair."

"Alicia Keys is my go-to."

"Yeah, yeah, that one!" Ernie laughed. His spirits were lifting gradually with every passing second of conversation. It was nice, "I haven't listened to her in a while, I think. Besides the stuff that's on the radio."

That name meant almost nothing to him. Guess that's what happened when you spent seven years with no reliable source of internet connection and only a handful of radio stations to pass the time. Ernie was going to sound more and more out of touch if this topic went on.

"I hope you don't mean fifth pair since you arrived at East. You didn't try switching earphone brands?"

Callan laughed, "Breaking things is kind of like my other super power. And it doesn't discriminate between brands. Before I came here, I'd been using the same skullcandies for like three years."

"Three years is pretty impressive. I have to buy new ones every few months."

The anxious buckling of the helmet clasp had stopped by now. Ernie smirked.

"Hey, we've got that fancy wishalloy stuff. Maybe you could ask Heph to make you a pair of unbreakable earphones!"

"I wish!" Callan sniggered, still trying to keep her voice down. As the conversation rolled on, she forgot now and again, but didn't ultimately feel that bad. Marcus had Emma, Siena apparently had Chris, and-- for now-- she had Ernie. Just as friends, of course. They talked more about music and the frustrations of 21st century technology until the sway of the truck rendered Callan too tired for words. Falling into silence, she put her buds in and, glancing at rows of knees and shoes, simply listened.

Arms folded, she eventually started nodding off-- or trying to. Three restless shiftings in her seat later and she finally gave in to the allure of Ernie's shoulder.

Ernie froze as he felt a warm weight settle on his right side, roused from the gentle haze his own earphones and music had brought. Was she really sleeping now? Only hours or so after her last nap? And on his stupidly bony shoulder of all places?

She really is superhuman.

His friends at West had always joked that he could pierce a lung with his elbow. Sharp corners were just a consequence of never eating more than what he was used to back in Reno.

He chuckled silently, careful not to shake his body too much in case he woke the girl. Here he was, on his way to a Category 3 mission, and he was thinking back on stupid jokes instead of his impending doom. Guess he had Cal and her conversation to thank for that.

Was it weird, for her to be resting on him so suddenly? No, it just meant that she trusted him. That they really were friends. The pang of guilt he should've felt from that realisation was easily brushed aside. There were other things to think about. And it wasn't like he minded that she was using him as a pillow anyway, as long as he didn't get any of that hair in his mouth. Or drool onto his jacket. That would be a nightmare. Besides, he had said it himself. Long drives made him sore. With the monotonous bumping and swaying easing a bored yawn out of him, a nap seemed like a very good idea.

So he settled into his seat. He hugged his backpack a little tighter and he let his eyes flicker to a close as his head drooped forward and his earbuds rang with the gentle voice of Etta James. He slept with a peaceful, grateful smile still resting on his face.

After her training session with Brent, Angélique locked herself in her room and remained there quiet for the rest of the morning, until a guard would come up to knock at her door and fetch her for the mission. Before doing anything, she had taken a hot shower to brush away the cold weather she went through earlier and got a change of clothes, opting for something simpler and warmer. She was going into battle later today after all, no need to be wearing anything fancy. A pair of jeans and a sweater would do the trick.

Initially, after her strategic and analysis talk with her training partner, Angel was bothered by some aspects of the plans, and decided to review all of her teammates profiles, or at least the notes she had written about them. By the time she finished with Grant’s profile, she was already imagining some measures to take as a group and a use for everyone’s powers.

With that fresh in mind, the wannabe strategist began taking the files and added a new entry for each of her classmates: ‘Strategic Deployment’. If she could figure out what use she could give to everyone, maybe that would help her understand the grand scheme of Kardos’ plan. Hell, it might even help the Aberration in finding out new possibilities should the situation ask for it.

It took a few hours of thinking about her classmates and writing down what she knew and imagined what they could do before she finished. All the while, she had been listening to her music playlist quite loudly through her earbuds, finding the heavy rhythm of rock and metal appeasing, or at least burying over, the voices whispering to her. It helped her being distracted from her stigma and thus focusing onto her work.

Keeping her neck warm and cozy with a makeshift scarf, Angélique could feel her throat starting to feel better after squeezing almost a dozen screams earlier. While she was new to the whole Mage thing, the screamer Aberration was still very familiar with vocal cords soreness. Having experimented with her powers last week, the sonic waves she emanated might be magical in nature and have no real ties with actual sound physics, but her physical limit was just the same as if she was screaming or singing for too long. Having experienced her fair deal of temporary voice loss in the past, Angel was familiar with finding remedies for a sore throat. Keeping her throat warm with a scarf was one thing. The other she had learnt was to mix honey with hot water. The drink made it soothing for inside her throat, appeasing the aching.

When the time was nearly upon them, Angel walked to her closet and retrieved the military protective gear she had requested early last week. All things considered, the gear was plain black and a bit obstructive considering all the padding and the bulletproof vest. But making sure she was safe from the elements and the hazardous rubbles of the city was well worth the encumbrance. Slipping the protective vest first on her torso, Angel then proceeded after with strapping the elbows and knees pads, figuring out she should’ve done it before the vest as she had a hard time bending with the vest in the way. Over all of that, the sonic Mage slipped inside an overlaying pair of black plain military-designed pants and coat. All that remained for the rockstar-turned-soldier was to gather her signature bangs with the rest of her hair and tie them in a ponytail, avoiding getting hair into her face as she finalized her military attire by putting on a black helmet.

Looking over herself in the mirror, Angel felt at odds with her new appearance. She never thought the SWAT-looking figure reflected there would be what she would’ve become one day. The attire stressed her, reminding Angel the reason she was wearing that in the first place.

Just as Angélique finished fastening her Desert Eagle’s holster onto her belt, knocking came at her door. It was time to go.

---

---

It was with a more eased but still anxious mind Angel embarked on the truck that would drive them to Wisford. She was a bit more satisfied to have heard more details about the mission, getting a second briefing cleared out some more aspects of the battle and left room for Angel to think about it and the possibilities.

The mention about escaping still pissed her off however. They already made it clear that once they caught someone, they would not let that person go that easily, which begged the question about what really happened to Aaron. If such countermeasures were established, how would a clockwork-summoning teenager be able to escape that? The conspiracy theory about USARILN holding Aaron captive secretly somewhere on the campus only intensified in the singer’s mind.

When it was time to get proper equipment, Angel ‘gracefully’ accepted the given gear and looked up to the weapon box delivered. Ironically, there were two weapons the raven-haired Mage was trained in their use, and the Desert Eagle fastened on her belt wasn’t part of it. In fact, she had no idea how to properly use a handgun. Taking up on the advice of the Commander, Angel resigned on using her requested Desert Eagle. Instead, she opted for taking two weapons of similar design she had practiced with Lawrence. One was a scoped Remington rifle; the other was a riot-breaker shotgun. Swinging the rifle over her shoulders with the provided strap, Angel kept the shotgun in hand while fastening the mandatory provided equipment onto her belt.

The stuff felt overall burdening, but fortunately Angel was conditioned. Never did she think all the exercises she had been practicing during her younger years and the mandatory training sessions would benefit her this way now.

With a sigh, Angel went inside the truck, taking the first seat available for her.

---

As the briefing commenced, Zoe watched the demonstration of the alloy with interest, if slight irritation. Oh, sure. Armour. Every day, her restrictions got more and more annoying. Admittedly, even she would probably use a little of it, but there was definitely a trade-off to consider there. Maybe just going with the torso protection would be a decent compromise once they reached the battlefield. At the very least, the belt meant she could carry some stuff with her despite not having any pockets of her own.

She wondered if they'd make something her powers would work through one of these days.

Still, the extra safety it granted was definitely reassuring. If nothing else, it made her feel a bit better about the lack of protection she herself could offer the others. A bit. Being stuck hiding in some faraway building still hurt her pride somewhat, no matter how practical the decision.

The rest of it... Well, she already knew an attempt at escaping was pointless, even without knowing that she really wasn't the type to run off and leave the others to their fates. But the confirmation that the order was 'kill-on-sight' sent an odd mixture of feelings running through her head. It was horrifying, the idea that if one of them broke rank, the others would have to kill them. The people they'd fought and trained alongside, some of them even friends. Maybe not friends with her - she found it difficult to imagine most people even considering that idea - but certainly with each other.

So what did it say that part of her wanted it to happen? The yearning was faint, almost imperceptible after her morning session, but definitely there. And still odd, still not quite right in its intensity, in how it felt. But so soon after sating it... Was it just the stigma, or was she growing to like this?

Not right now.

That was right, she had to prioritise. Just focus on the fight. Always focus on what was coming next instead of giving herself time to think about it all. If she could keep moving, she wouldn't have to think anymore.

Mind you, she'd have a lot of time to think on the way there.

But the others would be in the truck, so she'd keep up the mask. Determination and resolve, strength enough to make sure she wasn't looking scared. Once the fight started, it would be true enough. She could lose herself, and then fear would be an afterthought. She was looking forward to it, in her own way, which was abnormal enough in itself. In a positive way, really. Wouldn't do to have everyone moping about their probable demise.

Yeah, she could deal with it. If she could look strong, then maybe the others could take something from that, considering she was basically running on 'completely-normal-human' levels of usefulness here. So if she wasn't scared of this, maybe it'd convince them things weren't so bad. Telling herself it'd help them out gave the facade a purpose, made it a lot easier to hang on to. Her natural eagerness for combat didn't hurt either.

After receiving the belt, she looked over the knife for a brief second before nodding to herself. It'd do. She considered taking a gun, but after a moment's consideration, scowled and decided against it.

I can kill anything a bullet would anyway, right? Waste of energy.

By the time she took her seat in the truck, she wasn't giving it any more thought - Her mind focused on the monsters they were about to face. Despite herself, the aberration wore a lazy, confident grin as she took her seat. It'd be fine. Even if there were plenty of reasons to feel fear, there weren't any reasons for her to show it. If she wasn't coming back, no way was she having them remember her whining like a little kid.

For the time being, she'd just try and relax a little. There were worse ways to spend a journey.

As everyone from Experimental Unit B took a seat inside the truck that would drive them to Wisford, the doors closed and the vehicle shortly departed from USARILN. Whether it was because of their growing anxiousness, or simply to kill time and make the trip more enjoyable, some of the students inside were already starting to discuss among themselves.

Angélique, who was sitting the closest to the truck's backdoors along with Sander in front of her, she had remained silent for a bit, looking around to see where everyone was sitting. Much to her dismay, her teammates were sitting pretty much far from her. But it was probably better this way. Hiding her pooling nervousness was becoming more difficult by the hours. She would not allow herself to look like that in front of her team. The last they needed to see was an anxious mess. She wanted them to be inspired, or look up to her cool-headed behavior.

Having finished looking around, Angel had noticed the blond boy sitting across her, next to the tall lanky Blood Mage in front of her. Seeing Christmas, the raven-haired Aberration was reminded of the role he had been given in this battle, which led to the times the boy had healed her and her classmates in the past. Really, she still hasn't properly thanked him for the Flags and Seek game's aftermath, hasn't she?

"Christmas?" Angélique called out to the blonde Arbiter nearby, her concealed gaze setting upon the Healer. "Thanks. For healing me... and the others last Monday. And the other times before that too." Angel paused, letting the irony of such a late apology settle in with a light-heart chuckle hinted with a bit of nervousness "Sorry if it came out of nowhere. I figured I should be thanking you for what you are doing for us. It takes someone... quite selfless to just accept an injury to save others." Angélique paused another time, a grin forming onto her lips as she gave Chris, who was sitting next to her, an elbow nudge to his sides. "Especially when this guy here doesn't know how to pull his punches."

Christmas looked up at the Aberration in front of him, distracted from scrutinizing his shaking hand wrapped around Sander's forearm. He was surprised to be addressed by someone whose name he still didn't know. The tense atmosphere fattened on that kind of sincere talk as well, and he wasn't sure he wanted a reminder that in a few hours they could all die. People were true to themselves in times of crises, weren't they? He breathed in, his other hand finding purchase on the unnatural heat of Sander's skin as red smoke curled upward from his roommate's body.

The girl nudged a white-haired Arbiter sitting beside her, the gesture implying a friendly familiarity that was a small comfort to see.

"...Don't have to--to thank me," he replied, looking back down. He didn't exactly heal others because he was concerned about them, but it didn't feel like the time to explain. "...Sorry."

The black-haired X-marked raised a quizzical eyebrow, confused and curious. Maybe Christmas was just one of those overly modest people. But why apologize for it? Perhaps there was something else, but Angélique didn't feel like prying, especially now of all times.

Discreetly, her eyes scanned the two young men sitting in front of her, their arm locked to each other. They looked strangely close, that much she could see from the familiarity of the gesture. Ironic, for the Vampire Mage and Blood Mage to be bonded so closely.

Something bothered Angel however as her gaze set upon Sander. The red mist emanating from his body felt somewhat foreboding for the singing Mage. Actually, this was something she had never seen Sander do before. Was it another aspect of his power he kept to himself, or was is a trick he gained recently?

"Are you alright, Sander?" Angel asked, a bit concerned about the whole thing. "What is that smoke coming out from your skin?"

“Huh?” -Sander blinked at his feet, slowly raised his head to look at the Aberration sitting across from him. He remembered her name, vaguely, from the flag football. But he remembered her comments on his power more –“I’m fine. It’s just…my power. Not dangerous.” -He clarified quickly, gesturing to the red wisps of smoking slowly rising from his body.

Not much of a talker, was he? Well, he was like that too last Monday, so maybe he really wasn't a very talkative guy. But seeing that display of his power, the pale screamer Mage couldn't help but feeling curious about it. Maybe she could ask for details, without being too forceful about it? She knew she was a bit obsessive about knowing her peers better, from what only her own hand notes showed.

"What does it do exactly? It reminds me a bit of Christmas' mist, if only less intense."

“It…” -A frown creased Sander’s brows as he searched for the words –“…helps.”

“Not dangerous.” -He insisted again, hoping Angel’s curiosity could be satisfy with just these half-truths.

Sighing softly, Angel dropped the matter. Obviously, the guy didn't want to speak about it. She wasn't really satisfied with this kind of answer, she was a tad frustrated even, but she tried not to show it. Now wasn't really the time to pry into everyone's little secrets. She had to respect their privacy, even if those details could really help into understanding one another.

"Oookay then. If you say so, I'm trusting you." Angel half-muttered, settling down more comfortably on her seat.

Chatting sure was hard with all these closed-up classmates of hers. Really, the only guy she ever spoke so openly was Brent. Everyone else? They all seemed so distant. Even her training partner was somewhat odd. Maybe they had yet to adapt to this new life. Had she adapted to this prison herself? Who knows? Even Angel started questioning herself; how quickly she began building a routine here, how strangely accepting she was towards these suicidal situations she was thrown into.

Surrounded by not very talkative people, Angélique shrugged slightly. She might as well kill time and occupy her mind. Struggling to get her phone out of the jeans inside the baggy overlaying military pants, Angel shuffled on her seat for a bit, ushering a quiet “Sorry” as she felt herself bumping Christopher a few times.

When she finally retrieved her phone, the panting Aberration removed her helmet and set it down on her lap as a cushion of sort for her arms. Riding the truck with all of this gear on made it uncomfortably hot. Her scalp was itching, and she could feel herself sweating in the suit. Maybe next time she’ll consider wearing fewer clothes underneath that military outfit, she thought as she took off her combat gloves and tapped gently the smartphone’s screen.

Chris had been silent for the first moments of the truck ride. Each second that ticked grew dread. When Angelique started on her phone, Chris pushed the thoughts away to spark up a new conversation. He didn't like the idea that this could be the last time they'd talk, but if that was true then why let that keep in quiet?

"Hey, Angelique..." He started, the arbiter had folded his hands over his lap. It took him for a moment to think of what to say. "I want to thank you for that training opportunity we had the other day."

In the middle of watching a video about the guns she had grabbed from the weapons crate before they embarked on the truck, Angélique paused the screen with a tap of her index. She turned to her Dracomancer teammate and offered him a warm smile.

"Oh, it's been my pleasure. Really, I'm glad you joined us that time." The raven-haired Aberration's face turned slightly red in embarrassment after thinking just how much of a fool she made herself of that time. Screaming like a little girl because of her fear of heights and all the tumbling that didn't help it, it surely made a poor impression of herself to the eyes of others.

"I'm sorry if I had been rude to you and the others, and for being so pitiful after the flight. It had gotten a bit too intense, trying to conquer my fear like Brent suggested." Angel giggled nervously, trying to make light of the situation.

"Better try to face them there then well, here." He mused with a smile. "It was no trouble, really. This whole thing is stressful for all of us."

Angel's eyes lowered at the mention of stress, letting our a faint "Yeah..." as her gaze fell back to her phone's screen. Anxiety, stress, fears; there sure are plenty of that in the atmosphere right now, in this truck ride. Hopefully, hers wasn't leaking out too visibly. Figuring out talking would probably help in dissipating some of her raging anxiety; Angel's eyes went back to Christopher.

"How was your week? Did I miss much from the classes?" the fallen rockstar tried to make small chat, even if she despised herself the idea of going to the school USARILN pretended to be.

"Well nothing important in class though..." Chris had paused for a moment, taking a look around his neighbors. He leaned closer to Angelique and talked a bit quieter as if it were some dark secret. "I got on this date with this girl see..I-I'm not sure if she likes me or not."

"Really? Already? Damn, that's pretty cool." Unlike Chris, her voice was just as loud as usual, if not a bit more due to her surprise. But as she realized her comrade was looking around before speaking abd talked with a quieter tone, she giggled softly and lowered her tone "Don't tell me it's with one of the girls in our class?"

"Not sure if I'm comfortable telling you who it is but..uh..I'm not good with girls. I could use some advice." He was a bit alarmed with her initial volume. He didn't want people to know about his own business. He also didn't want the crush in question to find out either.

"Ah c'mon, I might look like a loud mouth, but I can keep secrets." Angel chuckled at Chris' shyness, finding it cute of its own. "I'm no love guru though. I haven't experienced much romance in my life. I don't think I would be the best person to give you advices. Unless it's something very broad."

He sighed. "Its Siena."

Angel restrained herself from laughing too loudly, slapping a hand to her mouth as she slipped a faint laughter underneath the palm of her hand. "R-riding you had quite the benefits." she stifled another laughter from her innuendo. After silencing herself, she let out a sigh and wiped away a tear from her eyes. "I-I'm very happy for you both though." Her wide grin returned to a more serene smile. "I can't say I know her that much. Hell, you might know much more about her than me. But if you are going out with her, then I have one advice."

Angel's smiling face turned into a most sincere expression. Her mind went back to the time she had witnessed Siena's mental breakdown after abusing her powers. Through her hugging with the then distressed girl, she felt an unknown bonding with Siena. She could not place what was wrong with her classmate, but there was something that she had felt that day.

"Support her from whatever she is going through. If you two dated, then there's something she likes about you. You're straight-forward and honest to others, so just remain true to yourself and everything will just unfold from there."

He nodded, and returned to his seat in quiet. Thinking about that kind of stuff was a lot easier than the thought of not returning to the school in one piece.

Kusari stared blankly at the stock of weapons before her. Half of her mind was trying to remain focused, stoic and objective, the other half wanted to scream. She'd only taken one strip of wishalloy, having applied it to her neck. As far as she knew as long as she protected her neck and head she could keep fighting, or at least stay conscious. The extras were pocketed away.

She felt her eyes wandering, looking for Callan, she forced her eyes back to the weapons. She looked over the firearms, with no training she wasn't authorized to use them. She found that a little silly, of all things firearm safety was something they took seriously. She needed something that could do damage to hard targets. She looked at her right arm and leg, she was able to damage that golem a bit, maybe being unarmed was viable. She would have left with no weapon, but she saw two things that looked like they could be useful, a breaching hammer and a combat axe. She attached the axe to the belt she'd been given and picked up the hammer. It was eerie how easy it was to carry in her right hand.

She got onto the truck with the other students, taking a behind Sophia, with Lily just to the left of the girl. Standing up, she took out two strips of her wishalloy and gave them to Lily. "Take them, you need them more than I do." She sat the wishalloy on Lily's lap and faced forwards. She closed her eyes and tried to relax, tried to stop thinking about she could screw up again and get someone killed.

She wondered what her mother was doing. Her teeth clenched as if she'd taken a line drive to the gut. Why was she thinking of her mother now of all times?

---

---

It wasn't too long after Marcus had changed into some dry clothing that he'd been marched back down to the briefing room. Forcefully sat once again, he'd learned exactly where to look, either at the screen, or the man himself. The correct answer in this case was the commander, as it seemed he had gathered a new toy for them. Some sort of film, or wrap, or...something. Something that wrapped itself around the man's arms by itself. A beautiful alternative to body armor, save for the one little sticking point.

It had never been tested, and they were the lab rats.

He wasn't sure how to feel about the situation. On one hand, state-of-the-art untested equipment. On the other, state-of-the-art untested equipment. They were being loaded up, but he wasn't sure if it was for their benefit, or for the data. He wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth, though - even the ability to shrug of a single hit was better than his current armor of a single hoodie. The three hour time limit meant they'd be suiting up when they got to the destination - as long as they didn't get ambushed on the way there like the very first day.

Then there was the other catch. A subnatural group, believed to at least be unfriendly. Another threat, that could come from absolutely anywhere and do absolutely anything with no warning. It was not an update that made him feel any better about the situation. This kind of thing meant that nobody was 100% safe - even the evac team could have nasty run-in with an angry subnatural.

Still, the big monster needed taken care of, and they had a plan that should work even with the added threats. He was just left a little more uneasy than before. At least he'd be riding around in a heavily armored truck while his friends were getting slaughtered.

Yeah, that didn't help.

Gear was the main concern for him, once the briefing had ended. First thing: a pistol; he didn't want to be caught unarmed like the first mission. Fortunately for him, the armory box was happy to oblige - even containing what appeared to be the same model he was accustomed to, not that he could name it. All things firearm was Max's area of expertise, but she'd at least taught him how to use one. A skill that he was exceedingly grateful for now.

Pistol? Check. Ammo? Check. Holster? Check. Knife, pepper spray, and baton? Check.

That would have been all for him, had a few other things in the boxes not caught his eye.

A trusty crowbar - apocolypse survivior's best friend. All the bludgeoning power of his collapsible baton, but with the added benefit of utility. Hopefully Daisy wouldn't be too mad if he snagged one before the requisition form could go through. He traded the spot where the baton sat for a makeshift crowbar-holster, leaving it hang clumsily at his side. It'd probably be less annoying in the long run if he just carried it, but that belt loop would serve as a makeshift holster for now.

And finally, the bright orange pistol. Flare gun. Neatly clipped to his side in the event of an emergency. A surefire way to get a million different enemies to come swarming over them, but a potential life-saver if there were already a million enemies swarming over them.

He fastened the belt around his waist, the crowbar bouncing lightly, but expectedly, off his leg. He untucked the hoodie and pulled it over the belt, double checking to make sure he could still reach everything just fine.

Geared up and ready to go, or that's what he hoped.

---

A swarm.

'You'll be okay.'

Siena remained silent through the briefing, her mind turning over a myriad of scenarios. She had been aware that they were going to be sent into combat situations, and had evena accepted that bleak reality early on. Every rational part of her body told her that she should be afraid, and yet the brunette felt an unnerving calm. It wasn't the same feeling as the training exercise from hell, it was...relieving? Plenty of excuses why, of course. No people as opponents, only monsters. Monsters that were cold, unfeeling machines in literal sense. There was lingering concern over the wellbeing of her teammates, but the girl had seen what they were capable of.

Her mind went back to the training exercise. Collateral damage. There were people still there, still trying to escape certain death. Still praying that they could run far and away from the clockwork fiends that felt nothing as they trampled them like grass underfoot.

'Far and away from the monster you are.'

Siena was quiet as she examined the equipment, as she traced a finger over the hilt of the knife--it was heftier than what she was used to--and considered her options. Firearms would likely be of little use against what they were up against, or...at least conventional ones. The knife would be equally useless without serious support from a name unless...

...well, that was a thought better left for the heat of battle.

With a soft sigh, Siena unbuttoned her coat. Losing access to her pockets was absolutely out of the question...perhaps it was time to look into getting her hands on something less cumbersome than an e-reader for her abilities. Really, she doubted the utility of the Wishalloy in the position that support would be in, but it was better safe than sorry. If it even worked at all...but that wasn't what she was after.

The knife, the baton, no pepperspray...her eyes drifted towards the firearms again. Not useful against the monsters, she told herself. Not useful against the monsters.

'Unless that monster is just like you.'

"Stop thinking."

If only it were that easy.

"How're you feeling?" Marcus said, giving Siena a little nudge with his elbow. Siena was one of the few people that he was legitimately worried about, and he didn't even know how she was taking the whole situation.

A voice made her jump, her fingers immediately gripping the hilt of the blade. Had her mind been slower in reminding the girl of her company, no doubt she would have drawn it. A breath, her fingers relaxed as she turned to the source, the blade staying safely tucked into its place. "O-Oh...Marcus..." Another breath and the tension dropped, grey eyes peering at her roommate.

'Careful...'

"I um...I guess I'm a little worried..." Nervous, but perhaps for the wrong reasons. "What about you? You're the one that has to worry about...well, other people..."

"It's...yeah." Marcus said, sighing a little bit. "Little tense, that's for sure." he was understating that fact - there were people out there that would be counting on them - and there were people that they weren't going to be able to help. That was the part that was drowning his thoughts out the most.

"Should be fine though; just keep my eyes open and pull people into the truck. Nothing to worry about!" He followed this statement with a hesitant smile, eyes darting to the rest of the people in the room. "Any idea who you're gonna use?" he said, referencing her power.

"Yeah, between you and the others, I'm sure you'll all do the best you can." A faint smile and a little distance between herself and the next question. "I'm hoping I can get away with someone that can soak up the hits, but in the worst case scenario..." Here, Siena hesitated, a faint light of discomfort breaking past the mental barriers for a fraction of a second before she replaced the mask. Her problem, not his. "Well, if it gets to that point, I'll have to fight fire with fire." Or...well, a monster with a monster.

"Just make sure we know which one is which: I don't want you running up on us and scaring the bejeezus out of me!" he said, giving one last look over the gear in the box. He had everything he needed; adding to his belt would just weigh him down. But what if there was some situation he wasn't prepared for?.

"Get in a couple shots for me, too!" This statement was met with another shaky grin, his optimism slowly starting to dwindle as he fretted about the mission.

Uncertainty, and it wasn't her own. Countless thoughts came to mind, but the faint echo of sympathy quicky doubled over the rest of the sea. Certainly, it wasn't as though Marcus was going to be running into battle facefirst, but responsibility over lives that weren't one's own was always taxing. The thought plucked a chord of guilt out over the girl, but she tucked the turmoil away. There would be time enough for that later, when there wouldn't be adverse effects.

Instead of returning the grin, she released a breath that had been coming too slowly and drew from experience. What was it that Maya did...? The memories were harder to conjure up properly.

"Marcus, you're going to do a good job out there." A reassuring smile, a gentle hand on the shoulder to associate with the emotion she wanted to elicit. It wasn't quite as easy without a target in mind, without Maya telling her exactly how to behave and feeding her lines as she went. Her mind went on. Pull hand away before changing tone. Good. Siena replaced the warmth with a--not too much--halfhearted grin. "But sure, if kicking a few monsters is what it takes to encourage you, I can do that too."

"That's all I ask!" Marcus said. Siena's enthusiasm had at least given him a little bit of a jump, which was all he really needed at this point. He couldn't shake the feeling that it was a little too 'motherly' for his taste, but he wasn't going to tell his roommate to stop being so supportive.

"You all geared up? Taking anything fun with you?" Not a great attempt at small-talk, but perhaps he could be excused in this one instance.

"U-Um...if a knife and baton are...fun...?" Giving a nervous laugh, the brunette found her fingers tangling themselves in her hair for a moment before she brushed the locks behind her shoulder. "I don't really want to shoot one and then have the bullet ricochet into someone else. Magic armor or not, I don't want to shoot my teammates..."

Marcus hummed to himself. He'd forgotten that he was one of the few people here who actually knew how to use a pistol - a skill that he figured should have been at the top of the training list, instead of push-ups and junk like that. It was a useful skill to have, and he imagined that the first fight could have gone way worse without it. Perhaps if the institution wasn't going to train them, he'd have to take up the mantle himself, if only so they could have another line of defense if things went wrong.

"Tell you what! When we're done with this, I'll take you out and show you how to fire a pistol! Then you won't have to worry about accidentally shooting your teammates!"

"That...actually might be a good idea," Siena replied with a smile to mask the surge of uncomfortably familiar memories that came at the offer. Calloused hands and gruff words. "Hm, guess we'll stick to knives 'ntil you get a little bigger." She continued smiling through it, putting a faint sense of cheekiness into her next statement. "I'll trade you lessons on not getting pushed into sewage for firearm training?"

"I think I learned the one lesson from that experience: 'Don't let the opposing team fall directly on top of you because who knows what's gonna happen after that?'" Marcus said, shrugging and rolling his eyes at Siena. "But if you've got any other tips you'd like to impart, then I would be happy to hear them."

"A good a lesson as any," Siena shot back. "But really, I can show you how to use a knife when we get back. In case you ever need it." Adjusting her coat, the brunette checked her pockets by patting them down briefly, making sure that all her usual sources were in their proper place. Another smile that wasn't entirely there. I guess we should head to the truck before we have to stand for three hours."

---

---

As Lily said to her current teammates earlier, she really did run back to her room to get her cellphone albeit it being the last minute. (She really meant to get it but being the scatterbrain that she was sometimes, she actually forgot until it was almost time for the briefing before the battle. She didn't bother looking at the screen and just slipped it into her pocket as she hurried back.

Back in the briefing room, the golden eyed teenager's attention was occupied entirely by the Commander's demonstration, eyeing the material that was on the table in front of her. She tentatively touched it while listening to what was being said. But then I'll need to have some part of my body exposed just in case I need to go on offensive, was the thought at the back of her head until the order for the healer teams to avoid combat was given. She looked up then, her eyes zeroing in on the blue dot that was labeled the striker team's target: Factory. She glanced around the room and found the members of that team and wondered briefly how each felt being assigned to the frontlines.

But soon she found herself distracted again by the equipment given to them. A baton, a knife and pepper spray... They should be useful when I need them... She obediently wrapped the wishalloy around her body, making sure she left some parts of her arms and legs exposed just in case she needed to use the more violent aspect of her ability.

---

Eventually, the time for talk was over and they were all led to the truck.

Lily was silent, having checked out who she was sitting around her the moment she stepped in. In front of her was a boy she didn't know. To her right was Marcus and to her left was Sophia. Both were familiar to her and so she felt comfortable sitting between them despite the knowledge that they were riding to what could be their deaths. When Kusari dropped the extra wishalloy in her lap, she merely nodded and muttered a quick thank you. Her attention was however occupied by the gadget she was holding in her hands. The broken screen of her cellphone displayed several missed calls from Sebastian and a few messages from him. Did she want to open them? What will she find in his messages?

Maybe I should look at them now? Or maybe I shouldn't? she argued with herself mentally.

As she chose a random place to sit in the truck, Sophia's hands were still filled with the items she had gotten prior to being led to the vehicle. Occupying herself with the job of attaching the items to the belt in her hands and examining the wishalloy, she didn't look up until Lily settled down beside her. It had been three days since they had last interacted with each other, and she wondered how Lily had been doing. It seemed that the girl was absorbed in whatever she was looking at on her phone, so she wasn't sure if she should interrupt. She spoke quietly, "Hey... Lily?" If Lily wasn't in the mood for talking, then they could just leave it at that, a greeting.

With Sophia's quiet greeting, Lily acknowledged her with a soft "Hmmm?" before she actually looked at her. "Oh, hi, Sophia," she greeted a little distractedly and then held up the wishalloy Kusari gave her. "Do you need more of these?" she asked.

More wishalloy? Nope, she didn't need more. Shaking her head, she motioned at the rolls of material in her lap. "Maybe someone will need it later," she suggested, unzipping her cardigan. Might as well put as much of hers on as she could while they were still safe on the truck. Unrolling one of the smaller bundles, she ran her fingers lightly over it before beginning to put it on. "It's so strange," she murmured, "I really hope it works."

Lily gave her cellphone a long thoughtful look before she tucked it back into a pocket. No need to distract herself for now. She nodded towards Sophia. "I hope so too. Although if it doesn't, I guess I could always transfer whatever injuries to..." she paused for a moment. "...to the enemies," she finished.

Sophia merely nodded, though there was a small doubt in her mind. How did transferring injuries to the metal clockwork objects work? But that wasn't her power, so she wouldn't know the specifics. Better to keep quiet than to voice her doubts and worries. Putting more of the wishalloy on so that it now covered both her arms and her torso, she put her cardigan back on before putting the remaining wishalloy away. She would put it on her legs later when they got off the truck.

There really didn't seem to be much else that she could say or felt like saying at the moment, for most of her attention was being occupied by thoughts of their upcoming mission. Lapsing into silence, she leaned back against the side of the truck, closing her eyes in preparation for the long ride.

It didn't take too long for Marcus to find Emma in the small space of the transport truck. Especially not with the gear that she was currently sporting. He sat down next to her, already chuckling and shaking his head, giving her one cocked-eyebrow look up and down. There was a brief second where he looked her in the eye, just to check if what he was seeing was a joke.

"So...uh...how's your day going, Mr.Roboto?" he asked.

Emma responded with a grimace. ”Very funny. We’ll see who’s laughing when me and Hazel are the only ones that come back without a caved in chest.” Emma paused, stretching out in her seat, leaning slightly against him. ”Anyways, speaking of Hazel, things went all right with her, thanks for asking. The armor was a… gift, I guess, from her.” She gave it a light tap, ”Probably not my cutest outfit, but maybe it’ll help.” she said, a soft sigh escaping her lips.

Having followed Marcus into the truck, Siena had quickly taken her opportunity to settle in with a familiar group--primarily speaking, taking the empty seat next to Callan, considering that was where Marcus, Ernie, and Emma were all gathered. Interesting...their group was pretty firmly set in place. She hadn't expected that, but Siena had no complaints. Familiarity was something she wanted to find comfort in, after all. With one hand firmly placed on her tablet, Siena had been quick to slip it from its confines before she even settled down, but her initial plans to have some false sense of preparation were quickly trampled when Marcus brought up a fair point.

Glancing up from the object that should have held her interest, Siena took in the armor. Interesting...it made sense for Emma, given her abilities. The girl wasn't about to go rushing in headfirst with her summons doing the work for her, so there wasn't any fear of lost mobility. "Ah...it seems like it's sturdy, but..." But was it really going to be enough against the monsters? Siena discarded that thought. "Is it easy to move in...? Maybe the support team should have all looked into armor..."

Clunk clank clink.

Waddling inbetween the corridor of human feet like a penguin, Brent made his way into the truck with his gear swaying at every step. He had done as much as he could to ensure everything was in place, but still, as expected, if he didn't want to wear a backpack, attaching everything to various parts of his body was going to make things awkward until he adjusted. Filtered air and the smell of rubber passed through his gas mask, while his almost entirely black attire made him look like some sort of freak that'd show up in Doctor Who.

Well, at least it looked like others had the same idea, showing up in shiny plate instead of black faux-military. Taking the first seat he found, Brent adjusted the ropes so they rested on his lap instead and sighed. Being inside a truck with twenty or so hormone-oozing teenagers should have made the air much worse than what his filters let through, but the lingering discomfort of the mask was more annoying than Axe body spray. He tore it off, breathed in, and si-

Wow.

Amethyst eyes flickered towards the other end, where Chris and Angel sat.

Wow.

"Oh yeah...if we all want to try and undress with can openers later, su-" Marcus said, stopping suddenly as a figure boarded the truck. A walking armory of various weaponry and items, along with an unnerving looking gasmask. Whoever this guy was, he was certainly ready to go for the mission. Probably a little too ready.

Marcus let out an inner sigh of relief as the man revealed himelf to just be Brent, all decked to the nines. With that revelation out of the way, he continued. "Between the state-of-the-art alloy stuff, and your soup cosplay, you're not going to even get touched!"

Emma’s eyes quickly shot towards Brent as he sat down next to them. She turned back towards Siena, hopefully before he noticed, secretly hoping that he wouldn’t get involved in their conversation. ”Well, that’s the idea. At least I’m a pretty can of soup.” she said, accentuated with an exaggerated hair flip.

Emma stretched her arms out in response to Siena, ”It’s a little uncomfortable, but if anything goes south I can always have Determination toss me down an alleyway.” she shrugged, ”And anyways, if all goes to plan I shouldn’t be the one who’s in the middle of a fight.”

The first thought that came to Siena's mind was something along the lines of 'That's way too much to carry, and--oh, no, the armory is sitting next to me.' The next was something more comfortable--just Brent. A twinge of awkward familiarity, but one that she didn't get to think on before Emma responded to the question.

"I see, that's a good point, but, er...Determination? Is that one of your summons...?" Siena questioned with a faint furrow of her brow. Also...throwing her down an alleyway? Was that really okay? "Is...is getting thrown by your summon really safe...?"

Determination? Was Emma...naming her summons now?

Actually, she probably couldn't call them 'tank dude' and 'pull dude' forever, now could she? Leaning back against the wall only for his helmet to smack against it first, Brent made a disgruntled noise before taking that off as well, creating a growing collection of things that were lying on his lap. "It's throw-and catch, Siena," he explained, not really looking anywhere in particular, "Like when Emma stopped herself from falling by using one of her summon's powers."

Not that throwing would necessarily be as safe as just...not being anywhere near the fight to begin with. A power with a range determined by sound, in a world where phones allowed for long-range communications, and the administration still haven't made some sort of battle station in USARILN for Emma to do remote combat from?

Maybe it's cause she's x-marked.

Emma laughed, ”Really, it’s mostly a joke. If it actually came down to a situation like that it would probably be easier to be carried out... unless I needed to dodge something, I guess.” Emma hesitated for a moment before continuing, ”And yeah, they’re named… they… I guess they kind of came with names.” she decided not to elaborate on that.

She still wasn’t exactly eager to explain the exact mechanics of a power- she’d prefer if they didn’t know that their lives might depend on her mood. That was a whole can of worms which she’d prefer not to open. No doubt people would start to treat her differently, and of course if her powers didn’t work everyone would see her for what she was, they would know exactly how she felt.

She didn’t want either of those things. An urge somewhere between her desire to keep up the lie and a resistance to change. Omitting the truth made her feel a guilty, but then again lies had always come easy to her.

"There you go, just have Ink Man grab as many people as he can and haul ass out of there!" Marcus said. As far as he remembered, Emma's creatures were the big black looking things that had once startled him way back in the lunch room.

God. That seemed like it had been so long ago.

"Ah, I see..." What an odd name for a summon...but given Siena's own tendencies, she supposed it wasn't something she had to dwell on. With her tablet occupying her hand of choice, she soon found the restlessness changing from twisting her hair to mindlessly using her thumb to tap the corner of her tablet's screen. Off. On. Off. On. The flashing wasn't really registering. "At least we have some security with that. A whole team would be harder to evacuate on my end than just one or two of us..."

The thought of having to evacuate was a little unnerving, actually. She hid the internal grimace and kept her attention on the present instead of the future. Sending her gaze over Emma and Brent, the brunette allowed something that might have resembled a nervous smile to cross her face. "I feel like I came underprepared between you two, though..."

"Nah," Brent said, readjusting his handgun's holster, "It just looks like I'm prepared, but believe me, you have way more options in a tablet than I do with my miniature armory. Even with all this gear, I still can't make buildings explode, after all."

"Brent's right. Your power basically consitutes a mobile armory but with none of the weight. And anyways, who knows how well this thing'll do against one of Factory's monsters..." a slight frown came onto Emma's face. "I'm sure we're going to be fine. After all, by all appearances Zhang has some sort of vested interest in us... if it was that dangerous would they really be sending us?" that certainly wasn't the case last time they'd been sent out, but wishful thinking seemed to be a trend lately for Emma.

"Plus," Marcus said, adding onto Emma's point, "they trust us enough to give us this wishalloy stuff - which doesn't seem like the sort of high-tech thing you falling into enemy hands. They wouldn't outfit us with the stuff if they weren't confident in our abilities."

Another round of Marcus trying to convince himself more than anybody else. Once again, he'd managed to make an excellent point while they cynicism still coursed through his mind.

"I...suppose that's true." Another uncomfortable squirming in the back of her head. That seemed awfully...hopeful--she supposed that was the right word for it--considering their previous engagement against literal monsters. A vested interest didn't mean very much if there were those deemed as acceptable sacrifices in the grand scheme of things...but she supposed those weren't words that should have been said out loud. Instead, Siena gave a nervous smile. Little more than an upward tic of the lips. "Well, at least I know you guys have some preparation."

She tried not to think too hard on the last person she'd thought was prepared for a fight.

He could mention some things, couldn't he? About how an unstable prototype that can only be produced by a single person didn't matter too much if it fell into the hands of the rogue subnaturals that caused this incident. About how they clearly didn't care about safety if they were bringing children like Savannah into this. But that was pessimism, and pessimism was losing. This was most likely another trial by fire, weeding out the weak. Twenty or so students, but not all of them were useful.

"Meanwhile," Brent smiled, "All the preparation you'd need would be to find that one character who can turn metal into rust and dust, and you're set, Siena! Got some real champions in your particular team as well, so."

When was the last time he said stuff like that?

"Like Emma said, things are going to be fine~"

”Yeah. Things are going to be fine.” Emma was trying to convince herself as much as the others when she repeated the words. ”After all, we’re the new guys and they’re already making us into some kind of team. We must be some pretty badass subnaturals if that’s the case, right?” Emma’s grin grew. Maybe the lie was working.

"Well, this time Hazel's on our team, and if she can do to metal what she does to your Determinations and Ink Dudes..."

Shit, was this another landmine he stepped on?

If Emma cared, she didn’t let on. ”Right. I’m sure Hazel will be a big help. Between Siena, her, and I we’re going to clean up.” Emma’s tone seemed somewhere between genuine optimism and hopefulness.

"Going to have to keep score with a power group like that." Marcus interjected. He chuckled a little bit to himself, but more of a nervous chuckle than he meant to let on. "At the end of all of this, I want to know which one of you got the most points!"

"Can I concede before we start that competition?" Siena questioned with a shadow of a smile. The sound of Maya's voice chiding her for backing down accompanied by an image of Gerwulf's disapproving frown made the brunette almost flinch physically. Almost. "I don't think I can match up to five summons or someone that can level a building with no trouble..."

"Just gotta find an common weak point and get the perfect power to exploit it," Brent replied, "Emma and Hazel are basically demigods of destruction, but you don't need to destroy buildings or have your own summoned entourage if you can just press the self-destruct button on those robots!"

"And guess I'll play as record keeper then. Doubt I'll need to do much outside of the occasional sneaky pew pew."

Well, he'd probably still have to pick up Gregory's slack.

”I’m sure we’ll all do fine. Anyways, it doesn’t matter how many you get as long as we all come back alive.” as Emma spoke she fiddled with her armor, still mentally pouring over the question of who would die first despite the words coming out of her mouth ”That being said I’m sure you’ll be able to hold your own. You can do all kinds of stuff with your power Siena, I doubt you’ll have too much trouble keeping up.”

"Y-Yeah, right..." At the least, it was relieving to see that there was enough faith in her abilities to keep up with the others. Certainly, there was a bit of momentum in it, but...it was better than being a burden. Her mind conjured images of the metallic creatures, uncertain of what she could have done if she relied on conventional means. How in the world did common soldiers face off against monsters like that? "I've gotta do my best not to hold anyone back. Hopefully with orders, we won't have to worry as much about potential friendly fire."

"Yep, just keep your wits about you, keep an eye on your surroundings, and check your targets. Should be easy-peasy lemon squeezy." Marcus said, locking his hands behind his head and leaning back.

"Mhmm, got six others to share the burden in this group project of ours, after all!"

Emma emerged from the truck, the smell of smoke and burning flesh hanging heavy in the air. She was filled with apprehension and fear, but at the very least the fact that she would die with friends helped calm herself a little. She'd only known them for a little over a week, but cataclysmic situations tend to bring people together. Time for one last goodbye... Emma remarked to herself.

For all the people that had vowed to live, today seemed to be full of farewells. If they were all going to make it out safely, why did it feel like it was going to be the last time she would see some of these people? A cynical voice rose in her, as it always did, lamenting the futility of this fight. They were still all inexperienced, barely trained, so what hope could they have against Factory? A subnatural with the power to completely demolished a small town. Emma sighed to herself as their ragtag lunch group began to form around each other.

Put on a brave face. Don't let them see how scared you are.

Her smile formed- a weak smile, but a smile in spite of itself. She paused for a moment, considering what to say. Something encouraging, something brave, in other words a lie. "Listen, no matter what... we're all going to make it back safe, right?" the words sounded hollow to her.

The sounds should have given her a better idea of what was to come. Callan had seen reports on the news of such things. Clips from cell phones prefaced by warnings to look away for the faint of heart. High casualty disasters. Numbers on a screen. But this wasn't the same. This was their disaster. These were their numbers.

And she was expected to sit back and watch.

Gripped by apprehension like she'd never known before, Callan looked at the faces of their little group. Each of them had their strengths. She had to remind herself of this, but... was it enough? Emma's tulpas? Siena's books? Ernie's invulnerablity? Marcus's time jumps?

Looking back to the carnage, one certain corpse in the distance caught her eye. Positioned just so she could make out the mark across his cheek. She recognized him from the lunch room. A younger boy. With thick black hair and wide brown eyes-- now entirely lifeless. "What are you looking at?" -- the last and only thing she'd ever said to the kid. Whatever strength he'd had... it hadn't been enough.

Without thinking, Callan grabbed Siena's hand and gave it a light squeeze as she released a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. What else could she do? These people were all that she had. She didn't want to even think about losing them.

Callan nodded once at Emma's question, but said nothing, waiting to hear from the others.

Familiarity had Siena following with the group she'd grown to be comfortable with, her eyes taken with the carnage. It wasn't the same as their first fight. It wasn't even the same as the hazy memories that Siena tried to put together--it was worse. The girl did her best not to think about it, did her best not to consider the weight of the belt cinched around her waist. Did everything she could not to consider that the knife wasn't meant for any of the monsters she was expecting...hoping to fight. There were too many things to think about.

Would she survive? Would they survive? What about all the citizens, and what exactly were they supposed to do against Factory...?

'And why aren't you scared...?'

The world seemed to come to a stop for an instant, as if something became painfully clear. A terrifying clarity that brought an equally mortifying image of an infinite expanse--the same one she'd seen once before. Another few drops to add to the storm. It was only an instant, and one brought to an end by the feeling of a hand on hers, a gentle squeeze. Things came back to view, grey eyes immediately turning to the source.

Callan...was she going to be alright? She'd been a hero in their previous encounter, hadn't she? Had lost a teammate without even knowing and had to deal with the aftermath. She returned the squeeze with one of her own, her attention going to Emma, even if her words were meant for her roommate. "Don't worry about me. I've got an arsenal to use." An arsenal of abilities. An army at her back.

"We'll be okay..."

He'd seen it all before. Lived it, even. That didn't make the second time any easier though. Familiar sights awaited him as he stepped out of the transport: bodies crushed in a failed escape, smoke billowing softly through the breeze, a smell that was a mixture of things he had no desire to try and distinguish. All little things that took him back to a place he desperately didn't want to think about.

But now they were on the other end of the spectrum. They were the help, the heroes; but looking over their motley little crew, he wasn't entirely convinced. A bunch of scared children, who hadn't even lifted a finger to help and were already starting to panic - or at least, that's what he was feeling, and he'd known exactly what would be on the other side of the transport door.

He knew his place - gather the survivors and get out. Nothing as dangerous as what the rest of were assigned. They would be the ones dying for a university that didn't care about them. It was hard to keep himself from pulling out the anger and frustration he buried, but he managed.

"Yeah...we'll...we'll be fine." he said, lost in his thoughts as he looked over the destruction. "Hell, hopefully we'll be back before they start serving dinner!" he added as he snapped back to the group, the words still containing a hint of distance.

"Gonna be a really late dinner then," Ernie murmured vacantly, "That drive back's a nightmare."

Insignificant talk in the face of death and chaos. All the carnage Ernie was used to had always been tightly contained. Never a warzone like this. For all his mission experience, there was no way he could compare a few isolated skirmishes to the burnt wreckage of a town. He was afraid of how small and insignificant he felt in the midst of it. If he died, he'd just join the faceless dozens that littered this place. Would anyone remember him?

Ernie brought his hand to his face at some half attempt to scratch or cover his nose. He wanted insignificant details to tide over this dark feeling. It worked. His mind trailed blankly, noticing that the smell was probably the worst part out of all of this.

He looked to the group, trying to smile. It was fine if he couldn't, right? The others could do it for him. Despite his solemn expression, his tone was kept light.

"I... always bring some cards for the drive back," he spoke as he pulled his utility belt out of his backpack, "If everything works out, we should play."

Emma gave Ernie a nod. ”Yeah. Yeah, we all will.” now wasn’t the time for pettiness or hostility. She didn’t like Ernie, but she also didn’t want him to die either. Her hands clasped together behind her back, wrestling each other nervously.

She wondered if Padma and Alexis knew that they were dying when it happened. At least Emma was prepared, at least she was ready for the likelihood of the end. They probably had no idea they were going into such a dangerous situation. At least the people Emma died with would know her name, know who she was. She had only learned who Padma and Alexis were after watching them get eaten below the medical building…

At least Emma knew where she’d end up. She looked across the congregation, her gaze lingering for a moment on Marcus. Doesn’t he deserve to know too? She sighed. A deep, long sigh. Her smile disappeared within it, a grimace taking its place.

She looked down at the cuff on her ankle. Would they care if she told them? No, she decided. If they cared about that secret they wouldn’t have let her gone after Hector again. ”Hey, there’s something I want to tell you guys…” her voice was quiet, the words scratching at her throat. She knew part of the reason she was telling them was her own sake. She’d feel better if she wasn’t the only one them that knew.

”You… you should know what they do with the bodies when you die here. I found out. T-there’s a room below the medical building with a subnatural inside it that eats corpses.” Emma didn’t need to say the rest. ”It's horrible. So let’s all promise each other… we’re going to live. No matter what. I don’t want that to happen to anyone here.”

A subnatural...? Corpses? Callan's mind immediately went to Padma and Alexis. A different image came to mind then-- of an unpleasantly proportioned individual with sharp, glistening teeth crouched over the lifeless bodies of the tall redhead and tan skinned girl. Of course, this sudden revelation brought with it a number of questions, but now wasn't the time. She replaced the image with one more pleasant.

Sitting on a truck and playing cards with everyone, dirty clothes and a feeling of victory being the only evidence of their time here. Laughing at jokes that weren't that funny-- because why not? They'd won.

"Wha-?" Marcus found the words inadvertently escaping his lips as he turned to look fully at Emma. Eats corpses? The bodies didn't even get sent back to their families? Not even the injustice of an unmarked grave? Completely devoured? His mind whirred to come up with something to say in response to the sudden enlightenment. If they died, there would be nothing to remember them by - not even a gravestone.

"Yeah...." Marcus said almost absentmindedly. "Yeah, let's make sure that doesn't happen. Everyone come back in one piece!"

'They do...what with the corpses...?' The thought was more out of surprise than anything else, but it only took a moment to rationalize it. Of course. Why bother keeping a corpse of someone that wasn't likely to see their loved ones anyways? After all, what was left of Padma's was hardly something that could be returned to the family, so in a purely logical view...but that didn't entirely lift the uneasy feeling that crept over Siena's mind, her eyes quickly darting to the others to gauge their reactions. As expected, they weren't good ones.

Perhaps the stories that Gerwulf told her had been harder to shake than she thought--or worse. Perhaps she was starting to think like the warworn individuals she took from.

"Eugh...that's certainly a lot of incentive to make good on a promise to get back safe." The brunette willed herself to give a faint shudder and a grimace.

"No kidding," Callan agreed.

Ernie frowned, dropping his bullet magazines into his pants pockets as he mulled over this new information. "You 'found out'?" he repeated, mostly to himself.

He had no reason to be surprised, considering all the other nasty shit East had made itself infamous for. Corpse disposal was... annoying, especially when there were no family or friends to take care of the body afterwards. On the rare occasions where it was necessary, Liam had always been the one to take care of it. All Ernie had to do was scrub. He hated seeing those lifeless, foreign eyes anyway.

If Ernie were to die, there'd be no use for his body, no one to send it to. It made a weird sort of sense to toss it into a cannibal's feeding ground. Not that the practicality made it any less inhumane or disgusting. The mention of facilities under the school caught his attention, bringing an unwanted memory of Rain. Yet more shifty East things. A subnatural eating their own. Subnaturals... against subnaturals. Ernie was given a grisly reminder of the potential human threats in this mission. He would need to talk about that soon. His mind started ticking towards something. But right now there was a conversation to focus on.

Emma's 'promise' schtick was a bit cheesy but Ernie didn't have anything major against it. Promises were easy to forget once you were dead, especially if they were with Emma of all people. So he went along with it.

"Sounds good to me," he managed a small smile of confidence.

Emma nodded, "Yeah, alright." she gazed across the battlefield. She was hesitant to go, but she knew that their USARILN handlers wouldn’t let them stay. Still, a part of her just wanted to sit down and refuse to fight Factory. What would they do if she stopped here, kill her? They could probably think of something worse than that. She decided that she might as well try to be a hero at least once, if that was her fate. ”I guess it’s time to go, then.” she bit her lip, her gaze drawing itself towards Marcus.

Emma had never killed before- only a week ago, she’d never seen anyone die. But, she decided, she would kill Factory or any other subnatural that got in her way. For her sake, and the sake of her friends. She had to live. She had to make sure that none of them would end up as food to sate Miranda's hunger. She wouldn’t hesitate if it came down to it.

They were only monsters, after all.

Callan tensed her shoulders. Time to go. Tearing her eyes away from the broken city, she looked between the faces of her friends again, inhaling slowly. This was so different from their first fight. Had she been less concerned because she hadn't known any of them very well or because she hadn't understood how dangerous the monsters were? After the fight and the Flag and Seek game, she thought she understood the potential dangers of monsters as well as subnaturals, but... what if she was underestimating things again?

They'd promised they'd all come back. Somehow that didn't bring her quite as much comfort as she'd hoped it would.

"Fuck, you guys," Callan said suddenly, bouncing one leg in agitation, "Be careful out there! Seriously." She pulled Siena into a hug first, perhaps a tad more roughly than she'd intended. She hugged all of them individually-- quickly, but with meaning and absent of bias. She didn't want anything to happen to any of them. It was maddening to know she couldn't go with them now.

It was easy to listen to the promises, somehow familiar. Sharper images than just hazy memories, more anchored into her than the events she'd separated from reality. There was a sense of dread building in the back of her head, telling her that there shouldn't have been anything familiar about watching people she'd grown fond of go to what was potentially their deaths. About being oddly calm about the situation beneath the film of uneasiness that blanketed her.

It was the sudden hug that threatened to break that calm. Sudden, a bit rough--why did that send a surge of trepidation through her? How terrifyingly familiar it was...no. Such things weren't real...right?--and over just as suddenly as it started. The surprise quickly faded into a weak smile as her eyes settled on her roommate. Waiting around...that was probably a nightmare in its own right, wasn't it? She sent her gaze to the ones she knew wouldn't be coming with her.

"W-Well, we'd better go," Siena claimed while sending a sidelong glance towards Emma. "...especially us, I guess."

Emma accepted Callan’s hug with a telling eagerness. Truth be told Emma had been somewhat worried that perhaps Callan hadn’t liked her. It had seemed that whenever Emma had talked to her there was some degree of awkwardness, but now… well, it was nice to know that Callan had said her farewells to her with the same enthusiasm as she had the others.

Emma gave a wide smile to the group as Siena suggested that it was time to leave. The smile was a lie, but it was a pretty lie. ”Right.” she said with a surprising ardor, nodding towards the brunette girl. Emma hadn’t known her all that well, but it was nice to know that between her and Hazel she had people she could probably count on with her.

With that she finally turned to Marcus. She wasn’t eager to leave him, especially since he had the easier assignment of the two. They were all so separated, there was far too much to worry about that Emma couldn’t change… but she would at least have the opportunity to make things safer for everyone by fighting the Factory’s horde.

”Well, I guess… I guess this is it for now.” a dull ache filled her chest. She approached him, her hand extending towards his own, unsure of whether to pull him in for a hug or a kiss. Here, at what seemed like the end of the world, a battlefield where one or both of them could very likely die, she was somehow still nervous about PDA. After all, they’d hardly been dating for a week, and there were people watching. So, she decided, she would defer to his lead.

Marcus gave Callan his best grin as she hugged him, giving her a quick pat on the back. "Be careful yourself, got it? he said quickly.

He looked to Emma as she approached, grabbing her hand as she extended it and giving a reassuring squeeze. "For now, at least."

She'd be back. And he'd be there for her when she made it back. That's how it had to happen.

He pulled her in for a hug of his own, possibly the final farewell before they all went to meet their deaths. A possibility that Marcus was still trying desperately to deny existed. "Stay safe out there, Em." he said softly. "You better be coming back to me, alright?" he added, looking down to her and smiling.

Emma held him tight. It was a moment that felt nicer than it should have… another moment that she didn’t want to let go, another moment where she felt that distant pang of guilt. ”Yeah. You too.” her voice was marked with a soft wistfulness. She looked up at him, a moment of hesitation coming over her. It passed, and in its following she planted a soft kiss on his lips. It might be the last kiss she would have, she decided, so she might as well take it.

Another moment of hesitation and she pulled away. If she didn’t she’d be tempted to stay with him. Finally she looked towards Siena, ”Alright! Well, you’re right, we should get moving before Kardos decides he’s had enough of us lollygagging.” her voice carried a false enthusiasm with it. She favored the others with a nod, ”We’re all going to be playing cards on the way back.” the statement sounded more like an order than a suggestion.

With a final wave goodbye she turned away, scanning for the remainder of her team, pausing to let Siena say her goodbyes as well.

Ah, well. Siena couldn't say she was entirely surprised. Taking a quick survey of the surroundings, Siena put her observations to the bottom of her priorities list--she could ruminate on that later, assuming she survived. The fact that she considered the latter point without a significant hike in her typical anxiety levels was what made something in her chest squirm with discomfort. Shouldn't she have been scared? Or, she supposed, moreso than she could distinguish then. The makeshift phantom of a smile faded as she gave a brief nod to the others by way of a farewell before moving to follow after Emma.

She didn't really like to drag them out, really.

Callan averted her eyes as soon as she saw Emma's face move towards his. She stared at the ground until it was over, feeling a tinge of heat in her cheeks. She shouldn't be focusing on things like that right now. As quickly as it came, it was gone. Drowned out by the sounds of gunfire and destruction. The audible embodiment of all her concerns. Callan nodded at Emma's statement, but didn't quite meet her eyes.

"See you guys later," she half smiled, before making her way towards the helicopter where Sander was already waiting. Her first few steps were done backwards as she waved, sparing everyone one last glance before turning around.

That was nice. Ernie smiled involuntarily but was unable to make any sort of reassurring comment when Cal hugged him. He couldn't keep his focus on the moment. There was a detail, something he'd missed because he'd been too wrapped up in his own shit. His mind raced to find out what it was.

Subnaturals against subnaturals. Subnatural... groups. Kardos had mentioned a group behind this, didn't he? Ernie strained against the fogginess of years-old memories, trying feebly to sift through backlogs of overheard whispers and drunken conspiracies. Underworld talk, unimpeded by a dark-haired kid because he didn't matter enough to keep a hushed voice around. Talks of subnatural groups, theories and discussions. Groups like the Senators and the Amigos and...

His eyes widened. Fracture. That was it, wasn't it? Ernie grimaced at the weakness of his memory.

He wanted to reach for more details. They were big, he knew that at least. Lots of money, lots of connections. Lots of Aberrations too. All in all, enough power to make even the big boss of the Senators nervous. But what did they do? That was what so much of the conspiracy talk was about. No one, not even the big bosses had a single fucking clue. Well, there were plenty of rumors floating around, but nothing concrete that could be tied back to Fracture. But all that anyone knew was that when Fracture activity started up again, incidents similar to this mission happened. Never any direct correlation between the incidents and the group though. That's what made them so scary. What made them so dangerous.

Ernie wanted to break something in frustration. All he had was baseless, hole-filled conjecture. He didn't even know if this was a major named group or just some psychopathic assholes who thought it was fun to destroy a whole town. But either way, he needed to give a warning.

"Marcus," Ernie clapped a hand onto the Arbiter's shoulder. Any semblance of the casual guy before had disappeared. The Aberration's face was a grim frown, "I need to talk to you."

Marcus's attention was diverted as he felt a hand on his shoulder, and he turned his head slightly to look at the perpetrator. He'd expected it to be Ernie, giving him some 'wink wink nudge nudge' joke or trying to pull him in for another dumb hug; some sort of jokey thing like that. He was almost startled when he instead found a grave look staring back at him.

"Hmm?" His brain started trying to figure out what would be so important that Ernie would need to tell him now. It couldn't be the Sander thing, could it? Surely they weren't going to be worrying about little squabbles in the face of a danger like this.

"What's up?"

"I've got a bad feeling about this subnatural... group," Ernie began tentatively, "If it's who I'm thinking of, then we might be in serious trouble."

"You know them?" was Marcus's slightly shocked reply. He'd certainly not thought of Ernie as the type of guy to know a whole lot of the subnatural groups. He'd read about a couple of them on Death and Taxes, and they didn't seem like the type of people to allow very many first-hand encounters. "Who exactly do you think it is?"

"Uh, sort of? Not really. Not at all," Ernie cringed as he said it. Would his threadbare knowledge even help them?

He wasn't sure if anyone would even recognise Fracture's name outside of the subnatural underworld. But there was no harm in telling Marcus, right? Their name wasn't the important thing here.

"Some guys called Fracture or whatever. Bad guys who do big, bad things. Look, that's not what you need to worry about here. Kardos said there could be other subnaturals in the area. If it really is those guys, then that's bad news. The girls are gonna be in the middle of it all so I doubt that there's gonna be anyone with weird enough priorities to jump into the middle of a horde of monsters just to get at some USARILN cleanup kids. They probably won't run into anyone bad. But we're gonna be on the outskirts of the whole thing and..."

He was rambling now. Shit, where was he going with this? There were too many details, too many dangers to look out for. Ernie pointed vaguely at the pistol on Marcus' belt.

"Listen. Subnaturals--mages-- outside of USARILN are dangerous. There aren't any rules for them to play by," Ernie stared solemnly, "If you see a subnatural, anyone outside of USARILN, you either run or shoot to kill. Nothing in-between. If they haven't noticed you, then run for it. You can't hesitate. Especially if it's an Aberration. Especially if they're an adult. Do you get me?"

No hesitation

It was easy when he knew that it was just another Dreamcatcher creature, but if they were fighting subnaturals, then they were fighting people. For all the hesitancy that he had about Aberrations like Ernie or Sander, he still felt that they were just people. Now, he was being told to kill people like that without a second thought; people that had only made the mistake of choosing a different dream than he had.

But if what Ernie was saying were true, he might not get a second chance if he erred on the side of diplomacy. Worse, he might actively endanger other people. Was he willing to kill somebody - another human being - without hearing their side of the story, just to make sure everyone around him was safe?

He would, but the swiftness of his decision probably wasn't a good thing.

"Got it. Shoot to kill. No chances." he said, tapping his holster.

Ernie continued staring at Marcus, testing the validity of his promise, before breathing a sigh of relief. He believed Marcus could do what needed to be done. Hopefully Zoe would be proven wrong about their classmates. He managed a proper smile this time.

"Thanks, man," Ernie pat the Arbiter's shoulder, friendlier this time, "Sorry about me freaking out. Just remembered a lotta things."

"No problem, man. he replied. "Just keep your head on your shoulders, and we'll be fine. I can kick your ass in poker on the way home!" This bit was met with a confident smile, and a light fist-nudge. Despite his outward facade, Ernie's words were still playing on repeat in his mind.

"Hah! In your dreams, buddy," Ernie grinned back. Better details now. Unimportant, happier ones, thanks to Marcus. He looked around, realising that the majority of their class was moving out. He hadn't noticed.

"Guess we'll be leaving too, huh. Do you want a fist-bump or manly bro-hug for the road?"

"Pssssh," Marcus said with a wave of his hand. "If you're gonna try and get me to bro out, I'm gonna go the whole way. C'mere, chest bump me, brah!" he said, patting his chest and adding a very 'frat house' style of talking to the end of his request.

"Nah, I'm kidding. Be safe out there, man." he said, voice back to normal and moving in for the fist-bump.

Ernie completed the bump with his own fist, laughing. "You too, Marc."

They'd be fine. All of them.

---

Siena had remained largely quiet while following after Emma to meet up with the others, her mind turning over thought after thought--none of them particularly pleasant. The prime culprit was the unsettling calm that had settled over the brunette since exiting the vehicle. The Arbiter was aware that she should have felt more concern. More fear for what they were marching into, but...nothing more than some faint echo of what she wanted to feel had come when she beckoned. It was concerning, and it was getting harder to conceal as tensions mounted higher than she could pretend to reach.

Perhaps part of her hadn't returned the last time...?

No...nonsense. That wasn't a permanent thing for her, was it? Still, the girl couldn't put aside the nagging sensation that something was wrong. Her pace slowed...maybe she should have said something to the others while they were still there. Mentioned that she probably wouldn't be in any shape to partake in whatever celebrations or grief they would end up facing after the fact, but it was too difficult to even imagine. How would she even start with words like that? And would Marcus and Callan even understand? The thought of both her roommates requesting a different suite and leaving her alone was almost unbearable.

Her feet stopped.

"...Emma?" There were a thousand reasons why Siena knew this wasn't wise. She wasn't even entirely certain she was comfortable around the older girl, but...there wasn't anyone else she would trust. Nobody else that she assumed wouldn't change their approach. "Um...do you think I could tell you something before we get to the others...?"

Emma was distracted. If not for her own trepidation at the battle ahead she might’ve given Siena her usual interrogation, but now hardly seemed the time for a game of twenty questions. That was until Siena spoke up first. Emma raised an eyebrow at the girl, stopping alongside her. ”Hmmmm? Yeah, of course. What’s on your mind?”

Deep breaths. She'd never told anyone about it, not directly, at least. Even Maya and Gerwulf had to find out after the fact.

Deep breaths.

"I...er..." Siena felt hesitation grip her and dig its claws deep, trying to anchor her into her usual defenses. Don't tell anyone. Her problems, her problems, her problems. But they wouldn't just be hers forever, would they? Another careful, shaky breath. "After this fight, I um..." And here was the difficult part. How far did she dare go? No...only the surface, but how would she explain it? "...the names I'm thinking of using are going to take parts of me away. I...I think that's the easiest way to explain it." Instinctively, the girl reached for the stray locks of hair on her left, pulling at them until they snapped. "I think it...it might be easier if I'm not around you guys on the ride back."

Emma frowned. ”Listen, Siena… I’m… I’m not going to tell you not to do what you’re considering. What you’re saying… it doesn’t sound pleasant, but it’s going to be dangerous out there, and it’s your choice to decide how much of you power you want to use…” Emma sighed. ”Just be careful. Cal and Marcus care about you. I care about you. I’m not sure what exactly you mean when you say they ‘take parts of you away’ but… if that’s going to happen, make sure you come back, alright?”

"I know." She resisted the urge to admit that it didn't matter what names she took. That she'd rather take names that took away than ones that gave. Instead, she gave a weak smile. "It's usually not permanent, I just..." Hesitation. Another breath, in and out. "If I'm being honest, I don't think I can borrow any names that won't leave some sort of mark this time. Not if we want to stay safe." Her volume had tapered off by the end, but Siena caught herself quickly. Held her tongue on the fact that she was struggling to feel fear and guilt. "I just don't want to say or do anything I'll regret on the way back. I don't mean to put you on the spot, I just...I thought if it came down to it, you could cover for me."

'Because you know she can?' Quiet. "I-I mean, since you'll have the excuse of being there."

Emma nodded, ”Yeah, Siena, I’ll cover for you, just…” Emma gave a slight laugh. ”Sorry, I already told you to stay safe. I don’t want to sound like a broken record, but don’t do anything crazy.”

Another sigh. More hesitation.

”The truth is, I’ve been lying about my power too.” Emma shifted uncomfortably, ”There’s a reason why I chose to call them by the names I did… my power has another limit that I haven’t told anyone about. Love, Happiness, Devotion, Determination, Charity… each one is tied to a different emotion, and I can only use them if I’m feeling it.” Emma bit her lip. If Siena was going to tell her this, it was only fair that Emma told the truth too, right

Something akin to surprise bloomed like a firework in the back of Siena's head. Was that it, then? Something uncomfortable nagged in Siena's chest. That kind of overt display, even if it was necessary for survival, would have driven her mad. Would have shown that she had even less control than she presented to the others. That the bright-eyed bumbling was only a costume at best, a complete farce at her worst. If her own abilities had a similar limit, a similar tell...Siena tried not to think about it. And yet...

"I understand why you wouldn't want anyone to know. I wouldn't be comfortable with my emotions out for everyone else to see either." Siena said, some semblance of a reassuring smile creeping over the usual mask. "Your secret is safe with me."

”Right.” that was only one of numerous reasons, but Emma decided that she was done pursuing this conversation unless Siena pushed for more. ”And your secrets safe with me.” Emma’s own smile grew over her face. ”Well, unless we’ve got other deep-dark secrets to share we better go find our team.” a forced giggle followed.

Once on the ground, Chris walked behind the truck to begin his transformation. He didn't bother removing his sweat pants or t-shirt once he had started the process, but he had hoped that the 'new' transformation process could spare him his clothes.

It didn't.

Callan made her way over to Sander, holding her own bundle of equipment as well as his. Tearing her eyes away from the lifeless bodies, she did her best to shake the negative thoughts out of her mind before addressing her teammates.

"Hey Sander-- heads up! You forgot your stuff!" she said, tossing his backpack of equipment towards him.

Sander caught the backpack in his arms, blinking in surprise –“What stuff?” -He quirked an eyebrow at Callan.

"Your... wishalloy?" Callan answered, starting to open her own pack. "And helmet."

“I don’t need them.” -Sander only shrugged, walking over to Callan and offering the backpack back to her.

Callan reached out to take it back. An automatic reflex. She stared at him in utter confusion. "What?" she frowned.

“I don’t need them.” -Sander repeated firmly.

"You... what?" she shook her head and furrowed her brow before pushing the bag towards him again. "You need to put this on."

“It’s…my power. I told you.” -Sander pushed back –“I don’t need them.”

"No," Callan answered firmly, pushing back again, "You should still put it on."

“Uh…” -Sander hesitated, frowning slightly before pushing right back –“…you should put it on.”

"Wh--" Callan gawked. Why wouldn't he put it on? She didn't care how invincible he was. It was meant to protect them and if he somehow needed it, however unlikely, it was a good idea for him to have it. She talked through her teeth as she pushed back again, "I already have a set."

“You should…wear more. For protection. Please.” -Sander still protested, but he let Callan push the backpack in his arms –“I don’t need it. Armor will just fall apart, right? There’s no point.”

“Trust me on this.” -He insisted, voice soft –“Or if you don’t, trust the power. It never fails.”

Arms outstretched, Callan still held the bag, but frowned again. She wanted to trust him. She really did. But she couldn't shake this feeling that he should take the equipment. No matter how confident he was in his power. "Please take it," she said, dropping her hands to her side, "Just in case something... weird happens." She knew about weird things happening. How it felt to have your ability suddenly pulled away from you-- manifesting into something else entirely. Something you couldn't control.

“Something weird?”

"I don't know," Callan rolled her eyes, "I just... I think you should wear it. Just in case you need it. Please?"

Sander sighed, looking down at the backpack in his arms. He eventually retrieved the clear material, the ‘wishalloy’, and applied it on his bare torso, just like Callan requested. He left everything though –“I’ll be fine…But thank you.” -He smiled, unsure how else to respond to Callan’s concern. As far as he knew, she didn’t need to. Strange. Like Christmas.

"I know you'll be fine. But if there's a choice between extra fine and just fine-- I'd prefer the former. Thank you." Relieved, Callan smiled as Sander finally consented. But her relief didn't last long. She pursed her lips unhappily upon noticing the four neglected pieces. She stared expectantly, hands on her hips.

“This is…enough?” -Sander raised an eyebrow, the look of confusion returning.

She tilted her head and rolled her eyes again. Such persistence. With so much danger and so much riding on her and Sander and Chris... why was he acting this way?

"You trying to prove something?" she frowned, shrugging one shoulder. She shook her head in disbelief, still trying to make sense of it.

“I…uh…No.” -Callan looked rather irritated, and Sander wasn’t quite sure what he had done wrong –“I just…trust my power, I suppose.” -He fumbled, getting the words out even when they didn’t really make sense in his head.

At a loss, Callan hesitated to respond. Trusting in yourself was supposed to be a good thing. She couldn't say how big of a difference there was between trusting in oneself and one's power, but... She thought back to their sparring match, in spite of Sander explaining he'd basically allowed her to win. A bloodied Sander that could barely talk and yet still managed to profess he was 'fine'. She wasn't buying it.

"Ok," she said, almost defeatedly. Dropping her own backpack on the ground, she stepped towards him wordlessly, pointing to the discarded pieces of his wishalloy and holding out her hand, beckoning with her fingers.

Confusion still etched on his features, but Sander complied.

Singling out one piece, Callan handed him back the three. "Arm," she said, beckoning again.

Sander lifted his arm toward Callan, and to his surprise, she began to wrap the material around him –“W-Wha?” -The words were barely out of his mouth when Callan began to work the other arm. This level of concern confused him. He didn’t expect it from Christmas, and he most certainly didn’t expect it from Callan, who had been to there to feel the extent of his power firsthand. Why did they care? He was probably the same thing as whatever they were fighting. And he couldn’t even get hurt. What use did he have for concern?

It confused him, like that promise. But if this was Callan wanted…

He took the two remaining pieces that Callan offered and wrapped them around his thighs, completing the armor she insisted on him. With than done, he glanced up tentatively, the look of surprise and confusion lingered –“Thank you.” -He still managed a grateful smile though. Because she really didn’t have to care.

Stepping back, Callan surveyed her handiwork as it quickly conformed to Sander's shape, smoking red. She locked her eyes on his for a moment before breaking into a smile of her own.

"Don't thank me," she scoffed, facing her bag and unzipping her hoodie, revealing a black tank top underneath with a red-orange basketball insignia on the front reading 'Westlake Werewolves 2019'. "Just don't be an idiot. And hold this." She held her hoodie towards him as she pulled her own wishalloy out of her pack.

Applying the fabric to her limbs and torso, she looked back towards the rest of the group. "They're all counting on us...," she said, managing an uncertain smile, "We've gotta be at 110%."

“You’re worried?”

"Aren't you?"

“Not about…” killing “…real fighting.” -Sander let his gaze drifted off into the distance, where the horizon was marred by jagged edges of broken buildings.

Callan sighed, following his gaze for a moment before looking back at the others. "What about them?" Looking back to Sander, her face twisted with concern, "They've got armor, too, but--" She sighed away the rest of the sentence and shook her head. This wasn't helping. She needed to focus on her task. She had little trust in the school's concern for her friends as people, but surely they'd crafted this plan with the intention of preserving them as resources. Why else would they be put on this special team?

"Anyway," Callan continued, "What's our plan once we get out there? Any ideas?"

“Plan?” -Sander really didn’t have any. Then again, there was no place for a ‘plan’ once his bloodhigh got going –“I…We just fight the Factory?”

"Ha," Callan chuckled, taking his response as more of a joke. Sounded a lot like a plan she'd come up with. "Well, Kardos said to take out the lower limbs while Chris distracts it. Between the three of us, that should be easy. Right, big guy?" Callan caught sight of Chris out of the corner of her eye, turning enough to include him in the conversation as he approached.

The black scaled beast strode its body over to his squad. Chris stretched his wings which were still cramped from being recently transformed. The arbiter lowered his head to listen into their conversation. He couldn't speak, but he could at least understand what they were strategizing.

On the topic of strategy, the arbiter had an idea. Since he couldn't communicate verbally, the tip of the dragon's tail arced over to the dirt between them. It carved out a crude drawing of two figures, a giant, himself, and a serpent. The drawing illustrated the two stick figures pushing on the left foot of the giant, while the dragon was dragging the serpent around the ankles of their target. His tail helped guided his point in hopes they'd understand what he was conveying.

Sander looked slightly alarmed as the dragon approached. He knew who was beneath the monstrous form, but this concern wasn’t for his benefit. It was for the other boy. Chris had made it very clear how he felt about Sander, so the blood mage backed away a few steps, figuring that it would be the best solution for now. Same team or no, he would just stay out of Chris’ way.

Callan tied her hair as she watched Chris drew in the damp dirt between them.

"Hmm." Finished, she rubbed her chin and tilted her head, stepping next to the massive dragon that was her teammate. Besides the wings, he'd gotten bigger. She brushed aside the thought in favor of deciphering Chris's crude drawings.

"So... you want us to use that big snake thing to trip up Factory?" she said finally. "That could work, couldn't it? That thing looks pretty unsteady. Once it falls over, Sander and I could bum rush the center."

The dragon attempted a nod as it stood upright. His eyes watched the sky to study the atmosphere.

"You sure you can outfly it?"

Chris looked to Callan and attempted a nod, in truth he wasn't entirely sure, but he couldn't of a way to communicate that.

The motion resembled enough of a nod for Callan to take it as such. Callan looked to Sander for some sort of confirmation that he liked Chris's idea, but he said nothing, only holding her gaze. Not entirely out of character for him. With a sigh, she pulled her helmet on, accommodated by the low ponytail she'd tied at the nape of her neck.

"Alright, well-- I guess that's that then." She rose one fist in the air half heartedly and waved a small, imaginary flag. "Go Stiker Team..." she said, lacking some enthusiasm, before fishing the special phone out of her bag. Folding her arms and watching as the other teams took their leave, a frown settled onto her expression as she listened. Fearing the worst and hoping for the best.

When Callan attempted her cheer Chris tried to back up her confidence with an almost bipedal stance and a roar following her command, as if he was trying to make it even more cheesey then it already was.
Once the pose was done, he lowered himself back down and folded his wings.

"And now we wait...."