Marcus was in a difficult situation. Hopefully his little talk with Emma had put her a little more at ease, even if had done the exact opposite for him. Right now, with everything catching up to him, he just wanted to hide. Find a place away from the reminders and just stay there for a while.

Unfortunately, he needed to go check on the rest of the team; his roommates, Lily, maybe even check up on Lawrence and try to stammer out some sort of half-apology to him. It's not like there was anyway to defend himself, and it seemed insulting to just apologize and then leave him there. Perhaps that was an interaction that would have to wait until after they got back.

If he passed by a store on the way, he'd probably have to stop in and get some food that wasn't motel food; a dish he'd learned to not trust far before the current events. He pondered this as he walked down the hallway, trying to think of the best way to exit without being mobbed.

"A hospital a few blocks down the road," Brent repeated to himself, taking steps two at a time as he descended. It said a lot about just how little he did when he had come out of a warzone feeling relatively energetic. Outside of the faint emptiness of his stomach everything was disgustingly 'normal', and with all this excess energy, the brunette had resolved to burn it away productively, by acting the part of a deliverer of dinners.

Hospital food, after all, was notoriously bad, even when the cooks would have known that they would be serving hangry subnaturals that night.

Turning the corner, Brent blinked, before waving at a familiar face. "Heyo," he said, "Going out for a stroll?"

Ernie froze and turned to the voice, the instinctively distrustful expression on his face falling away when he saw who it was. Though he considered Brent a friend, Ernie wasn't really in the mood to talk with anyone right now. He tried anyway, since it was Brent.

"Kinda, yeah," he nodded, raising the empty canvas bag in his hand, "Need to buy some supplies. News guys are gonna be a nightmare to get past though."

"You think so?" Marcus said, strolling up to the two. He'd seen them as he walked down the hallway, but had only just gotten close enough to discern their identities. Brent, who he hadn't had the opportunity to talk with much, and Ernie, who he was tentatively friends with.

"Don't think there's a back door or something they're not perched by, do you?"

"There usually is a fire exit," Brent replied, dragging his fingers through his hair, "And I saw them congregating mainly at the front entrance. Honestly, even if there's a bunch of them just staking out the alleyway...well, I don't think I'd particularly mind?"

"Not like we're the most photogenic anyways. With Ernie being a dangerously unstable x-mark who lives on the edge of a homicidal rampage and you being a veteran subnatural who had seen a thousand battles, maybe we can just scare them enough to consider going after someone else."

Was that a little too much, a little too soon?

"Unless you guys wanna go on a roofhopping adventure instead."

Ernie stared at Brent, looking horrified. More than that, he was hurt. his actions following the collector attack were still branded so heavily into his mind. So he didn't say anything. Instead, he shoved past Brent and stalked towards the fire exit.

"Roofhopping sounds dumb as fuck," he muttered heatedly through grit teeth, "If you need me to play the 'angry X' then I'll do it. Whatever."

Marcus gave Brent a less-than-subtle glare at the 'homicidal rampage' remark. He was prone to sticking his foot in his own mouth more often than not, but even he knew that calling an aberration 'dangerously unstable' wasn't exactly the best way to make friends. And depsite his general unease of his X-Marked companions, he still considered Ernie to be a friend.

"Yeah, and I doubt you want to scrape me out of the alleyway after I miss a jump." he added, attempting to defuse the situation a little. "If we sneak out the back, hopefully we'll be able to move without attracting too much attention.

"Wait. Veteran subnatural?" he muttered mostly to himself, almost as an afterthought.

Too much, too soon indeed.

Fuck.

Brent let Ernie shove past him, before gritting his teeth. It was still hard for him to figure out how other people would react, especially when he had spent all his time up above, away from the chaos of fighting against clockworks and dealing with subnatural assassins. He had regressed once more, a split second of immaturity exposing how horrible he was.

He could take solace though, in the fact that this time, he recognized it, right? Unlike with Alex?

No, comparing himself to himself from a month or so ago was doubly pathetic. And though Brent mentally thanked Marcus for trying to make light of the situation, he didn't want to just drop that shit.

"Ernie," he said, swallowing the part of him that tired of apologizing, "Sorry about that. Wa-"

An excuse? Now? 'Wasn't thinking'?

"Was my bad. I'll head out first, and if there's any reporters, just slide on by while I chat them up."

Ernie regarded Brent with a blank glare before turning away with a small but unresentful "Okay". Not full forgiveness yet, but it was clear that there wasn't going to be a lifelong grudge sprouting from the careless words.

"So....bait." Marcus said, putting Brent's plan into simpler terms. It certainly meant his life was easier if he didn't have to deal with the cameras and shit, but the concept of using another person as bait didn't sit well with him.

Still, it seemed karmatically appropriate.

"I guess that makes you our glorious leader, then." Marcus said, giving a slight hand gesture for Brent to lead the way.

"Just don't get caught by the ones out on the road," Brent replied, finding it in himself to smile again. Reaching into his pockets, he pulled out a length of now-useless wishalloy, offering it to Ernie. "Was thinking about using this as a facemask or whatever, but it's probably more inconspicuous as a makeshift scarf."

All that needed to be said, really.

Hands pressed against the bar, he let out a deep breath, before pushing the door open as hard as possible, striding out with the self-confidence that he always faked.

Ernie accepted the wishalloy and wrapped it gratefully around his neck. Brent wasn't such an asshole after all, huh?

"Thanks, Brent," he said with a small, reluctant smile.

The tech mage opened the door to a dingy-looking alley. A bulky man was jostling the camera on his shoulder while a well-dressed woman, most likely the reporter he'd been assigned to, took a long drag from her red-smudged cigarette. Another pair of reporter and cameraman, a group from a separate station probably, was also present, staring vacantly at down the alley. All four jumped as the door swung open, the smoker quickly stubbing her cigarette on the ground and leaping to action as Brent's white streak was caught in the dim light.

"Hey! You're one of the USARILN East subnaturals, correct?" she leaned in, shoving a microphone into Brent's face. The microphone read "WBALTV".

The other reporter didn't take kindly to the sudden snipe and borderline shoulder-checked his rival.

"Can you give us any information on the attack on Wisford?"

"Hey, back off, I asked him first!"

"I'm asking the important questions here!"

The cameramen filmed on passively. It didn't seem that they would be making any move to stop an impending fight.

For a moment, Brent paused at just how voracious these regulars were. Then, he reminded himself of all the news he had seen on TV before, microphones and reporters jostling each other in large crowds in order to get a comment from some celebrity-turned-murderer, and forced a thought to remain in his head.

This was nothing. He was used to it. Why?

Because he was East's strongest.

Squaring up, he shot a quick glance towards Marcus and Ernie, before saying, a perfectly stunning smile on his face, "Before I talk to any of you specifically...which one of you is the bigger news channel here?"

The question gave the reporters pause. They hadn't been expecting a subnatural to be so co-operative so they weren't going to let this opportunity slide.

"Us, definitely!" the male reporter urged, "We won the Peabody Award, after all!"

"Only because you spout slander that bored housewives eat up," the woman hissed.

Ernie and Marcus began to creep out as the anchors continued their squabbling.

"Eh..." Brent said, tilting his head to the side, "I don't exactly want to share the raw and brutal details of the Wisford attack to a news channel that's known for slander...is what she's saying true, sir?"

What the fuck even was the Peabody Award? Was it even worth Googling after he got out of this alleyway?

"Wh-what, no... Hey, you asked who the bigger channel was! That's got nothing to do with it."

"So you'll tell us about Wisford?" the smoker brightened as her rival got questioned, ignoring his stammering.

Brent's companions were halfway down the road now. One of the cameramen attempted to point out the other two subnaturals but was rudely brushed off in favor of the information Brent was teasing.

"It has a lot to do with it," the arbiter replied, eyes narrowing, smile gone, "A hell lot of shit went down in Wisford, and the last thing I want to do is see the general public brush off the uncomfortable reality of the situation due to the ill repute of the channel."

A deep breath. A faked mood swing, before he was all smiles again.

Turning his attention to the bright-eyed lady, Brent said, "You're WBALTV, right? What's that supposed to stand for?"

The two reporters moved back slightly at the disconcerting mood shift. Though the woman was eager to get her hands on this scoop, she knew better than to provoke a subnatural, especially a potential nutjob that seemed to shift moods as quickly as this one. Best to just humor the boy and answer his strange question.

"Um, the W is for Woodberry, where the network's transmission tower and station is. BAL is for Baltimore, our designated area. And the TV is for television, of course. Is this important? Can you tell us what you know now?"

The two boys were almost completely out of the alley now. The out-of-nowhere tangent had bought a decent amount of time.

"Woodberry Baltimore Television," Brent muttered, repeating those pointless words as if it had some sort of deep meaning.

Then, he let out a sigh. Let's start with a cold open.

"...we codenamed it Propagator. A monster that created more, without requiring the consumption of resources." A pause, a furrowing of the brow. Remembrance of a painful memory. "You heard of the monster attack on Crimen Culpae, right? Perhaps did a report on that?"

"Y-yes, of course!" the reporter piped, getting more and more excited as Brent spoke, "Are you going to tell us about that too?"

A distant metallic thump suddenly sounded from around the corner, down the alley and out of sight from the reporting group. Ernie's attempt at some sort of "OK, go" signal.

Another dramatic pause. Pursed lips.

"They're related."

His arm flared up, silver circuits racing down from his shoulder to his fingertips. Tensing suddenly, Brent brought two of those fingers up to his temple, before a small puff of light burst.

"This is Gearhead." ... "What? She's awake?" ... "The cuffs are functioning, right?" ... "Got it, I'm heading over now."

The silver circuitry faded, before he turned to the woman apologetically. "Sorry," Brent said, "Got called in by Command. Got a business card or something?"

Both news crews had jumped back at the sudden light show. The woman protested while the cameramen filmed intently.

"What? You can't be leaving, we haven't even set up for an interview yet!"

The male reporter's hands rushed to his suit's pockets, patting frantically.

"There's a reason why we're not in USARILN right now." Brent said flatly, before brazenly walking through them, the very picture of a man on a mission. The reporters didn't let him go so easily, speedwalking with him as he moved. Two business cards were held out towards him.

"No, you can't leave now! Five minutes, tops. It doesn't have to be a proper interview, just give us one more official statement!"

...

Holy shit, they were annoying.

Brent looked at the cards, then back at them, and said, very slowly, enunciating each word to ensure that every syllable was pronounced perfectly, "I can't?"

His unnatural, amethyst eyes smouldered. This farce has gone on for long enough.

"I was going to offer an exclusive over the phone, but I suppose courtesy is dead now," he spat, before turning around. "Have fun trying to pry anything out of the others."

He burst into a shit-eating grin the moment his face turned away from the two, before Brent put eight years of leg day into good use, sprinting like an athlete off into the distance, adopting the perfect form that he learned from the greatest teacher of all: Google. The reporters tried to follow but were easily outrun, their protests still audible from behind.

"Dude, what did you do?" Ernie stifled a laugh as he and Marcus fell in step with Brent's fast pace. They'd have to keep running for a while if they wanted to leave those pests behind.

"Told them they were both worse than Fox News," Brent said, failing to maintain a straight face as the trio dashed on.

"Well that's a little bit harsh, dont'cha think?" Marcus said, laughing in between breaths as they took off. For a guy who'd been given a mobility power, he wasn't in the greatest of shape - running away from cameras was probably going to be enough cardio to last him a week.

The green and orange decal of the local 7-Eleven came into view after a few blocks. Fluorescent light spilled outwards as the boys entered the automatic doors, reflecting off the linoleum floor and sufficiently displaying all the products available. The store was well-heated too.

However, the warmth didn't seem to reach the store-owner, a middle-aged bordering on elderly woman with a stout frame. She scowled as the subnaturals walked in, though she didn't dare step out of her booth.

"I don't want trouble here," her glare moving over all three of them but lingering on the wrapping around Ernie's throat, "Get out of my store."

Marcus reeled back slightly, as if the words had physically hit him. He turned around, a puzzled expression on his face, trying to see if perhaps the lady had been mistaken, and was talking to another group of people. However, it appeared that they were indeed the target of the snippy geriatric, and it didn't take him many guesses to figure out why.

"Well that's a little bit rude. Marcus scoffed, immediately crossing his arms in irritation. "Whatever happened to 'the customer is always right'?"

Ernie regarded the store-owner with a deadly glint in his eye, his resentful glare remaining glued on her face as he removed the wishalloy to reveal his X mark. Not quite a threat, but the implication was clear. The woman bristled as he spoke.

"We're not moving," he said coldly, "Just let us get what we need and we'll be out of your hair."

As Marcus reeled and Ernie glared, Brent went on with his own business, quickly and efficiently grabbing plastic-packaged salads and sandwiches. For all the vitriol in the elderly woman's tone, he didn't appear to be effected at all. After a small mound was gathered, Brent stood up first in line once more, pulling out his ID.

"Good evening," he said, a smile on his face, "I'd also like to grab ten chicken thighs, four corn dogs, and four kebabs. Oh, and this is debit."

The arbiter didn't want an argument, nor a discussion. He didn't even bother to greet that woman by name. His amethyst eyes flickered towards his buds, before redirecting them onto the woman. There was a raised platform that she stood on, but even then, he was taller than her.

Brent's straightforwardness was met with a scoff. She looked to Marcus to answer his question. "You're not customers. We don't cater to subs here, 'specially that X one. And I got the right to refuse service. Beat it."

Marcus stood for a moment, as if trying to decide whether arguing with the old lady would be in any way beneficial. It took a long moment of deliberation with himself before he decided that it was at least worth getting the stuff that he'd come in here to get. It was just a few things, even if he had to throw the cash at the woman on his way out the door, he'd take it.

Still he waited to see how the others would react to the situation. If Brent had an answer for everything like it seemed he did, maybe they'd be able to resolve the whole problem.

"Okay," Brent said, eyes sliding around the store in search of a sign. Was there a sign? No there wasn't, she was just being a bitch. "You can bill this to USARILN East then. Our Director, her secretary, and the Commander of the security force there are all regulars. I'm sure they'd love to deal with this too!"

He gestured with the goods that he already had. "Either way, we'll be getting what we need and leaving with it. It's up to you whether we pay now or later."

There was a small part of him that wanted to just smash open the glass display case to all those trays of low-quality food and grab what he wanted...but Brent suppressed that urge. He wasn't an x mark. There shouldn't be any reason to want to rob the store.

But was there any reason for this old hag to be so stubborn?

The cashier's eyes narrowed at Brent. "Are you threatening me? That's it, I warned you. I'm calling the police."

Ernie strode up to the counter beside the upgrade mage, still glaring.

"That wasn't a threat. But you're gonna start hearing some if you don't get that hand away from that button under the counter," he growled lowly and summoning his rope but keeping it out of sight of the cameras he knew the locations of. This wasn't his first convenience store crackdown. The golden glow that coated his body made his X-mark look even darker in comparison. The woman gasped and shuffled back, her back pressed firmly against the wall.

"Woah, woah, woah." Marcus said, putting his hands up defensively, but not stepping between Ernie and the woman. "We're just here to enjoy the fine art of capitalism. We're not going to hurt anybody." he said, looking between the woman and Ernie.

This was quickly spiraling, and he certainly didn't want to be hunted by the cops for however long it was that they were stuck here. Not that he thought USARLIN would let anything happen to their precious students, but it was an added inconvenience that just didn't need to happen.

"It was a compromise," Brent added, his genuine, reflexive smile emerging once more. "I understand where you're coming from, cause I was a regular just a month or so ago, but Martha, both regulars and subnaturals need to eat."

"We're willing to pay and we put our own lives at risk to protect yours," the arbiter continued, shrugging. "Really, if you'd just take our money, we'll be out in a jiffy."

"It seriously doesn't have to be this hard."

Ernie looked curiously between his two companions. Damn, they were handling this a lot better than he did. He seriously needed to reevaluate his anger around Regulars.

Martha grimaced, but nodded reluctantly at the two arbiter's words. Her eyes kept flickering towards Ernie however.

"Make it quick. I don't want to see any of you here again after this."

"See? Isn't that way easier?" Marcus said, shrugging his shoulders and wandering off into one of the aisles in search of a few select items.

If he was going to go see his two roommates in the hospital, then peace offerings probably wouldn't be frowned upon. If he remembered his time in hospitals, then it was awfully drab and dreary, and he very much doubted any of the staff were being any more accomodating than this lady.

His arms loaded with a few things, including a bag of jerky for Callan and some snacks for himself and Emma, althought he was disappointed to see that the store didn't have any reading material for Siena, not even a grocery store tabloid or anything. Still, despite the lack of literature, he walked up behind Brent, patiently waiting his turn.

Brent was fairly certain that Martha, using tongs to grab chunks of chicken, was purposefully aiming for the smaller ones, or the overcooked ones, or basically all the ones that didn't look too good to eat. Would he have done the same if he was in her position?

...No, of course he wouldn't. What a pissy bitch. Hopefully Dreamcatcher airdrops some of its minions onto this town and does enough destruction that when the subnaturals come in to save the day, Martha would start treating them like the second coming of Jesus instead.

Wait, no, Jesus was Benediction.

Nevertheless, food was obtained and Brent thanked her as she tossed the receipt at him. Stepping out of the way, he walked out of the 7-11, opting to wait for his friends outside.

Ernie took little time to grab his own items. Shampoo, bodywash, and the like. No hair clippers though, much to his chagrin. He'd have to find another store for that. He hesitated as he crossed the snack section, eyeing the jerky with a frown. The blue phone was still weighing in his pocket and he contemplated the pros and cons of visiting Cal after what he had found out earlier. Maybe he'd be able to find a compromise.

Noticing the large amount of assorted goods Marcus was lining up to buy, Ernie called out. "Hey Marc, are you visiting the hospital after this?"

"That's the plan! If I can get out of here without being in handcuffs, that is!" Marcus called back, making no effort to hide the jab at the all-too-difficult saleswoman. The woman bristled again but bit back a retort as she scanned the items with a practiced efficiency. Marcus' purchase was finished in no time.

"Oh, cool," Ernie handed his own things to Martha and added some sweets and phone chargers to the pile. The cashier moved even faster than she had with Marcus, "Could you do me a solid, then?"

Ernie prepared a separate plastic bag, placing a phone charger and a bag of jerky in it. The blue, starry phone, wrapped with Cal's earphones was pulled from his pants pocket and tossed in last.

"I won't be able to visit Cal tonight. Can you give this to her for me?"

Marcus paused for a moment, taking his bag and looking to Ernie. "Is that her phone? How'd you manage to get your mitts on that?" Marcus said, taking a look at the items inside the bag, like how a small child would peek in their candy bag on Halloween.

It wasn't quite what he'd expected; he didn't take Callan as a 'fancy patterns across everything' kind of person, but how much did he know anyway? Not like he was an expert on phone design.

"Mitts?" Ernie raised an eyebrow. The weather was getting pretty cold recently, maybe he should buy himself a pair too. He blinked, and tried not to hesitate too much when he replied. It wasn't how he got the phone that was the problem anyway, it was what he'd seen on it, "She left it on the APC on the way here. Didn't really have a chance to get it back, being on the emergency truck and all, so I thought I'd keep it for a bit and give it back to her later."

"Yeah, 'mitts'. It's slang for....never mind." Marcus said, shaking away the meaningless diversion. The explanation was reasonable enough, and he mentally kicked himself for immediately assuming Ernie had done something shifty.

"I suppose I can play delivery boy for you!" Marcus said, with an over exaggerated eye roll and accompanying sigh. Grinning lightly, he snagged the bag from Ernie, gripping it along side his own.

"Heh. Thanks, buddy."

They left the store together, with Ernie ignoring the muttered "Good riddance" from the cashier. It wasn't worth the trouble, not while he was in front of two friends. As they rejoined Brent outside, the Aberration scratched his head sheepishly, addressing them both.

"Sorry for what happened in there. Guess I need to brush up on my Bad Cop routine."

He hadn't lost control in there. It wasn't a complete act either, but he didn't need them to know that. It worked, hadn't it?

"You two heading back now?" Brent asked as the duo left, spotting Martha's evil eye while their backs were turned. No need to start any shit though, only cross the 7-11 off potential places to grab food from.

"And no worries, the bad cop good cop only really works if there's only two cops." A pause. "Good thing you didn't get tazed though. Be super awkward for our routine if you start convulsing like a frog."

"What? You calling me a third wheel?" Marcus said with poorly feigned anger. He quickly shifted gears though, answering Brent's question: "Nah, I'm heading to the hospital. I want to check in on everybody and see how they're doing now that we've gotten a chance to relax."

Ernie laughed heartily. Ah, he missed this. It was nice to have a hangout like this after such a long day.

"Gosh, I didn't even know frogs did that. I think I'm gonna do some more shopping though. Still need some stuff. Hopefully the other places'll be nicer than this one. Are we parting ways here, then?"

"Yeah, sounds like it," Brent said, adjusting his grip on the bags, "Guess I'll be heading off to the hospital with you then, Marcus. Better not get shanked by some regular on the streets, Ernie!"

"I guess so!" Marcus added, giving Ernie a small salute. "If you do get shanked by regulars, make sure you get a few hits in for us little guys when you're beating the shit out of them!"

"Geez, you guys are the worst. But I'll do my best!"

Ernie wasn't too sure about Marcus' comment about 'beating the shit out of them' but he laughed along anyway. Hopefully he didn't mean anything too bad by it.

The Aberration waved and took his leave, jogging towards a CVS down the street.

"I'd say that went fairly well!" Marcus said, watching Ernie run off for a moment and turning quickly to face Brent. "Got a bunch of snacks, made some paparazzi angry, and only pissed off one grouchy old hag. I'd call that a win for team...us."

"Tsk tsk," Brent wagged his finger, "That's much too unambitious for a victory. Imagine if we got a cartload of snacks, convinced all the paparazzi to leave everyone alone, and turned the grouchy old hag into a subnatural rights activist. Now that'd be an A+ victory for Team Sesame Street!"

"Listen, we're a rag tag group of- Team Sesame Street?" Marcus said, his own thought process interrupting his sentance. He shook his head once, getting back on track. "A rag tag group of subnaturals, not miracle workers. I'm not sure what you've just described is at all feasible, if not completely impossible." he said, chuckling slightly.

"Just gotta try harder," Brent sang, "If you got a goal, might as well make that goal impossible and see how far up the ladder you go!"

He thought for a moment then, tilting his head to the side.

"But yeah...I guess I did shoot myself in the foot there by playing with those reporters that much."

"Oh yeah, that's definitely a segment I'm gonna have to record. How far did they follow us anyway? I wasn't paying attention: too busy trying not to trip over myself and end up sacrificed to the cameras."

"Wasn't like I was running backwards to taunt them either," Brent replied, "But man, if they actually do show this segment on TV...ugh, may have gone a bit too far. Hopefully Kardos doesn't roast me for the shit I spewed."

"Please. You think anybody actually cares what we do or say around here?" Marcus scoffed, giving Brent a side glance. "They're probably too busy trying to make sure all the super-powered kids don't blow up the school or something."

He gave a nonchalant shrug, following with: "Hell, if they really cared, they've probably got ways to take it off air. You know how powerful some of these government places are."

"True true," Brent nodded. "Martial law just never ended after the Slumber, eh?"

This was getting unpleasant.

"But that's enough about that. Tell me, Marcus my boi, how's the Emma life going for you? Was it you who struck first? Or her?"

Marcus nodded in silence with Brent, thinking about the whole situation. He'd only ever heard it referred to as 'The Slumber' a few times in his life. With everything going to shit like it had, most of the people he was around just referred to it as 'The Day Everything went to Hell'. He shuttered slightly - there had been a chill that day that he just couldn't describe, and thinking about it now still gave him goosebumps.

He looked up to the sky, hoping to catch a glimpse of the 'veil' DC had supposedly made, but no such luck tonight.

The sudden change in conversation caught him by surprise, but as quickly as the topic came up, Marcus's tone became coy just as quickly. "Now now, don't you know it's rude to kiss and tell?"

"Wow, first base so soon?" Brent said, laughing, "Gotta go fast, eh?"

Marcus cocked one eyebrow, staring at Brent for a long second. A second that he ended by grinning and sassily flipping his non-existant flowing locks, grinning coyly. "Like I said; it's rude."

"My bad my bad, but it's stuff like this that really matters between us kids, eh?" Brent replied, hanging his bags by his wrists as he raised his hands in surrender. "Still though, if you won't share dem spicy deets, mind passing on some of your nuggets of romancing wisdom?"

Would he believe it? Nah, even if he didn't, it didn't matter.

"Gotta help a friend out and all, Mr. Love Master!"

"Man, I don't even know what I did. I couldn't pass on any 'nuggets of romancing wisdom' if I wanted to. Be yourself, yadda yadda puke, I guess?" he said, shrugging. It was honest; there was no reason one of his first interactions with Emma should have ended in a date, but it did.

Although, 'Have your roommate punch a hole in someone else' would probably be considered bad advice.

"Ew," Brent gagged in mock disgust, "Didn't realize you lived in a bad romance film, Marcus. Don't have any secret techniques like throwing love cards or making heart-shaped balloons?"

"Do I look like a Hallmark Movie character, man?" Marcus said, his tone one of fake disgust. There was a moment of silence before Marcus continued. "The correct answer here is 'no'. In case you were wondering. I don't have any super special 'romance moves' for you to steal."

"Well, you do have the whole lean and blond thing going on," Brent replied, grinning, "So yes, wouldn't be surprised if you showed up on the covers of those Walmart romance novels."

"Figured though. Guess the two of you just clicked, eh?"

"I guess! I made a joke, and she made the mistake of showing an interest in me, or at least my blooming charisma. Now we're here, and she has nobody to blame but herself!" Marcus said with another chuckle.

"A most nefarious scheme, befitting of such a dashing rogue," Brent said, going full thespian with his delivery.

"Truly it is, my good sire!" Marcus said, rebutting with his own thespian act. "And I did not even mean to scheme, but I've accidentally stolen the affection of a fair maiden. Truly my cunning knows no bounds, if it plots without my knowlege!"

The dim lights of the hospital cast across the pavement as the two subnaturals approached, Marcus looking up to the few windows to see if he could trace any activity. "You just visiting at random, or do you have a list of people you're here to see?"

"Plan on visiting everyone, so my course shall be dictated by the winds of fate," Brent replied, still coasting off the drama, "You got a hitlist, ye blackhearted scoundrel?"

"Gotta hit the roommates first, make sure they're adjusting well to the whole thing. Then probably check up on Lily, and Lawrence if he'll talk to me..." Marcus's tone was very businesslike as he counted the people on fingers as he said their names, and for a moment it almost seemed like he was reiterating the list for himself, but he turned back to Brent by the end of it.

"So yeah, I've got a bit of a hitlist!"

"I'll leave you to your assassinations then. See ya, dude."

"You as well, man! Marcus said, giving Brent a little wave. As they parted ways, he felt a little bit bad; the guy he'd been referring to as 'Dude McSpine Grab' for the last few weeks actually didn't seem like a bad guy.

Plus, if what Emma had mentioned was true, he was probably the only reason that everyone hadn't been killed. Something Marcus probably should have thanked him for, but by the time he turned around to say something, he'd decided against. It was too soon. He wasn't ready to talk about it, even in thanks to another teammate.

Maybe later, then.

It was the same scene he’d lived over and over – that fateful afternoon when he had everything taken from him. His neighborhood burned, turning the sunset into an even more striking shade of red. Ever since he’d been brought to USARILN, the cast that showed up in his sleeping moments had been increasing.

The first newcomer had been the athletic girl, throat brutally torn open and eyes staring at him.

It wasn’t really a surprise that Savannah would be the next to condemn him – head twisted at an impossible angle, blonde locks falling over glassy eyes, an unspoken accusation on her lips.

He’d expected it, but it didn’t stop the cold fear that settled in his bones.

The next ones to show up were Lawrence and Lily, their bodies oozing crimson far faster than what should have been possible. His mistakes - his moments of hesitation and panic, which had almost killed both of them.

The last group was the worst, and then one he had been dreading.

Emma. Callan. Siena. All sporting fatal wounds, their bodies cold and pale, but still taunting him. Half of Emma’s face was obscured by the gore that poured of the gaping hole in her head. Callan’s entire left side had rotted away, turning the superhuman girl into a shambling mess as clumps of flesh fell from her. Siena’s awkward gait; bones sticking out where they shouldn’t have, while her head hung loosely, almost cleanly severed from her neck. They seemed to dance in a perverse circle around him, as if they had no other objective than to been seen. It was enough – they didn’t have to say anything for the terror in his heart to swell.

Would they be his fault too?

His cold sweat grew warmer. Too warm and too fast. Fire engulfed him again – no matter how much he tried to stop it, it always caught him. The stink of burning skin, filling his nostrils to the point where he could almost taste it. The screams. Someone was desperately pleading for help. The pleading turned to screaming. It was so loud. He just wanted the screaming to stop. He just wanted the-

By the time Emma had come out of her room it was night. She’d hid in the modest motel room for the last several hours. First, she took a long shower, washing off the grime of the battle. Then she went to bed, or tried to go to bed, her weary eyes begging for sleep that never came. She got up and showered again, still feeling unclean, before she left.

She needed to move, she decided. There was something that she found so inexplicably peaceful about night. Maybe it was the lack of people, or the sound of crickets that so often accompanied it, or maybe it was the cool air…

Regardless of what it was, it felt right. Oddly calming. She desperately needed some respite from her stigma, something to turn her away from the thoughts Savannah’s twisted corpse… so she began moving, not sure where she was going.

The people looking after the students were lax in the strangest ways. Kusari had decided to see what kind of drinks the motel had. She saw that they had various alcoholic drinks in the room's fridge. She figured the school would front the bill, and grabbed a bottle of wine. She smirked at the price tag, it was probably one of the most expensive things in the room.

Kusari rarely ever drank, but she figured now of all times was a good excuse to do so. She glanced back at Allison, who was still asleep in her bed, and exited her room, bottle in hand to look for a drinking partner. Drinking alone just seemed a tad too sad, and she didn't want to awake Allison just to drink. As she rounded a corner she nearly bumped into Emma, who looked rather out of it. "Hey, you aren't sleep walking are you?" She asked.

A hint of surprise crossed Emma’s face, but it quickly slipped back into the apathy before reformulating into a sad smile. ”No, wide awake I’m afraid.” Emma’s eyes flickered to the bottle in Kusari’s hand, but she didn’t say anything. It’d been a long while since she’d touched the stuff… but right now it didn’t sound like the worst idea.

Emma was having trouble sleeping, she wasn't alone there. Most of them were likely having trouble sleeping. Kusari noticed Emma eye the bottle of wine in her hand. "It's a bit fancy for the occasion, but you want to join me?" She said, holding the bottle up.

Emma took a moment, a contemplative look crossing her face. She could remember the last time she’d been drunk very well… it wasn’t exactly pleasant, but… ”Sure. I could use a drink after…” she made a vague gesture around her, ”All that.”

Kusari wasted no time dragging Emma back to her room. She grabbed two glasses and sat down at a table. Using one of her claws, she poked the cork of the wine bottle and yanked it out. "Now that I think about it, I've never had wine before." She said, pouring herself and Emma a glass. She swirled the drink around in it's glass a few times before taking a sizable gulp. She sat the glass down and looked at it with the same expression one gives to a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar. "Meh..." She sighed. "Well that's disappointing."

Emma took her own sip, taking a seat. She'd noticed Allison in the bed when she walked in- Emma didn't intend to ask questions. They were probably just friends rooming together, right? ”It’s… an acquired taste, I guess.” Emma gave a polite smile… so quickly she’d gone from hiding in her room to drinking in Kusari’s. Truth be told she wasn’t much in the mood for talking and likely would of declined Kusari’s offer if not for the temptation of the wine. Unlike Kusari it was something she enjoyed, ”Not much of a drinker?” Emma probed.

"Not really." Kusari said. "I guess I don't really get much from it. It was always something I did just because other people were. Not being old enough to buy it myself didn't help." Kusari leaned back in her seat and chugged the rest of the glass. It was probably rude to invite someone to drink and not even drink yourself. Sitting the empty glass back down she looked to Emma. "How is Marcus doing by the way? It looked like he had to deal with a lot back there."

Emma nodded along as Kusari spoke, taking a contemplative sip. Despite her apparent dislike of the drink she sure was quick to finish it. The question about Marcus, however, caught Emma a little off-guard. Did Kusari know they were a ‘thing’? How many people knew? Emma didn’t let her face betray that she was surprise, though. ”I… don’t think any of us are okay. Him especially. He’s trying to play it off, but… well, Savannah died.” Emma’s smile turned to a frown, ”I’m sure that everyone involved is finding some way to shoulder the blame.”

Kusari grumbled with irritation, eyeing the label on the wine. "This is some weak stuff..." She poured another glass and downed it. Slamming the glass on the table she narrowed her eyes at Emma. "We really need to cut that nonsense out. Remember, none of us asked for this. This is not our responsibility. Unless you killed Savannah with your own hands it's not your fault. The more we get used to this and blame ourselves, the more we'll forget who really did this to us."

Emma took another sip. She didn’t think it was that weak, but she hadn’t had enough for it to have an effect yet. ”I mean… you’re right, but it’s not that easy to disassociate yourself from it. But yeah, we should be worrying about whoever those guys that actually did it were, not ourselves.” the words were hypocritical, Emma knew, as she was taking the blame on herself as well.

"I was talking about the people that put the slave cuffs on our legs, but yeah, them too." Kusari said, downing another glass. At this point she was drinking it out of spite. "There wouldn't be so many rogue subnaturals if they didn't treat us like trash in the first place. They're lucky someone too powerful to handle hasn't shown up."

”You’re… you’re not wrong. Trust me, I’m the last person to agree with USARILN’s methods.” as she said this she glanced towards her own cuff, ”It’s… I’m not sure what the rest of the world would do without them though… we’re barely making it as is, so without the school, the Precursors… but there has to be a better way, right?”

"It's possible, but it might as well be impossible." Kusari said. "People have always hated other people just for silly shit like the color of their skin or where they happen to live. It had always been nonsensical, because obviously we're all human, right?" Kusari rubbed the crimson claws of her hands together, looking at her hand with a tepid expression.

"So what happens when they have an excuse to treat a group differently, heck to not even think of them as human? They can demonize us, scapegoat us, and use us without a second thought. Even your own famil-" The glass in Kusari's left hand suddenly shattered, she hadn't realized she was gripping it so tightly. She moved a plate under her hand just as blood began dripping from her palm. "Sorry, I guess this power is making me a bit... reckless." She said. Shards of glass were pushed out of her hand and clinked onto the plate, a few seconds later the cuts were fully healed.

Emma pushed herself out of her chair, walking over to Kusari, concern crossing over her face. However, by the time she got there her injuries were already healed, ”I almost forgot about your power…”

Still, Kusari had said all she needed to, ”Listen, Kusari… my… my family was the same way. M-my stepfather’s father… he was killed by a subnatural. When… when it happened, when I became what we are now… they… they hated me. Him and my mom…” Emma’s tone had turned somber, a slight shake setting into her voice.

Emma placed a cautious hand on the girl’s shoulder, ”It’s hard, I know.”

Kusari nearly flinched as she felt Emma's hand on her shoulder. It had been a long time since someone physically comforted her. It felt nice, but at the same time it was frustrating. She wished she didn't need it, her desire for affection contradicted everything about the way she acted towards people.

"Thanks... and I'm sorry to hear that." Kusari said. She had figured she wasn't the only one with family that had effectively disowned them. "You're better off just forgetting about them. They wrote you off, if they really loved you being a subnatural shouldn't have mattered. It's in situations like this that you find out who really cares about you."

”Yeah…”

That doesn’t make it hurt any less though.

Emma gave a contemplative glance towards the wine. ”Y’know, if that’s not doing it for you I’m sure we could find something stronger.”

"Ehh..." Kusari glared at the wine bottle, she'd had nearly half the bottle already, but felt nothing. "So... I'm not feeling anything actually, maybe my ability is stopping it from effecting me. Now that I think about it I wasn't really bothered by that fog of poison in our first battle either." She shrugged. "Oh well, not like I've ever really enjoyed getting wasted."

”Oh… I see. Your power extends that far? I… I guess that makes sense.” Emma sighed, walking back to her seat, placing the wine glass down. She gave Kusari a slight smirk, ”Well, I guess if you can’t get drunk it’s on me to keep things entertaining.” Emma shifted slightly in her chair, crossing her legs, ”You do anything outside of being a child soldier? Like, hobbies?”

"I'm eighteen you know? That's young adult soldier to you." Kusari said with a smirk. She would have rather avoid the topic of hobbies, but she supposed there was no point in being secretive about something so small. "I guess you could call me an artist?... I used to draw and paint a lot before I became a mage. Don't really have much motivation for it lately, for obvious reasons. What about you?"

Emma gave a slight nod, ”Art. That’s cool. I always wanted to be able to draw, but… well, as for myself, I guess… I’m alright at the guitar. My sister taught me, but she’s way better. Kind of the same, I didn’t bother to requisition one… I’d probably just annoy my roommates anyways.”

I wonder if Hazel’s ever heard music? the question came and went, something to be saved for later.

”Anyways, I asked a question, now you get one.”

"Guitar, huh?" Kusari titled her chair back and planted her left foot on the edge of the table. She slowly rocked the chair forwards and back, probably not the best pose to make considering the state of her skirt, but she didn't seem to care.

"Angel's a musician right? Maybe you could do something with her." Kusari said, tightening her lips as she thought of something to ask Emma. She couldn't really think of something to ask, Emma seemed quite unassuming. "Oh." She let all four legs of the chair hit the ground. "Is there anyone you're interested in?"

”Angel? Yeah, maybe…” Emma was quick to notice Kusari’s unflattering position, a quick glance darting down before she quickly looked away. ”Well… I guess me and Marcus are a ‘thing’. We went on a couple of dates and before I knew it everyone else knew…” Emma was still very embarrassed about how quickly things were going. They’d only been here for what, a little over a week?

”Did... things ever pan out with Callan?” Emma asked cautiously, raising an eyebrow slightly.

Kusari blinked a few times, processing. "You're dating Marcus? How did I miss this?" She'd been spending far too much time by herself, of course people would be living their lives even without her around. Kusari tensed a bit as Emma mentioned Callan, she only had herself to blame, she'd brought this topic up in the first place.

"That's... probably a no. She doesn't seem interested in me, and believe me I've made more than one pass at her. I don't know why I even assumed she'd be into girls in the first place."

Emma shrugged, ”Well, y’know, plenty of fish in the high school for super-powered teenagers and all that.” Emma paused for a moment before a mischievous smile crossed her face, ”Well, now I get a question. Do you just like girls, or…?” she said, a slight playfulness in her voice.

Kusari let out a chuckle at Emma's question. Her mind went to her encounter with Marcus in the showers. "Marcus can probably answer that." Her eyes froze in place the moment she spoke. She really needed to develop a filter. "I mean, after the flag game, in the shower... I kinda sorta... said something to him that was probably a bit leading. I was just teasing him, mostly." The talons on Kusari's foot tapped the floor a few times as she rubbed the back of her neck. "Yes, the answer is yes."

”In the… shower? With Marcus…?” Emma raised an eyebrow, clearly confused, a tinge of red hitting her face.

"Yeah, the showers weren't really separate. Kusari waved her bulky hand side to side in a dismissive manner. "Nothing to worry about, chill."

”Right… shared showers… yeah, of course.” Emma shook her head, trying to control the burning in her face. ”Alright. Your turn. Question, before I die of embarrassment.”

Kusari was tempted to further tease Emma, but she didn't think they were quite close enough for it to be endearing. "I've been thinking that we need to work on our team composition more. Like, finding out which of us work best together. I think you and Hazel could be a killer team. If you had that summon slow down the enemy, she could just pummel them into the dirt. What do you think?"

Emma shrugged, ”Yeah, that could always work. There are a million things we could do, I’m sure. We need start figuring out how to use our powers, work better as a team.” Emma’s smile morphed into a slight frown, ”The better we get, the higher chance we have of avoiding more casualties.”

Kusari let out a sigh, of course talking about battle tactics would make Emma think of possible deaths. Even so, they needed to talk about it. "We have to do better, keep getting stronger. At the rate our powers are growing we should rival the Precursors at some point, right?... At least I hope so, that may be what it takes for us to ensure no one else dies."

”Rival the Precursors? You really think we’re going to get that strong?” Emma’s face brightened a little, ”It’d be nice, but no one’s topped them in what, ten years? Why is it that we’re suddenly so special? It’s kind of hard to imagine it’s just… random.”

"Well..." Kusari folded her arms, or rather, she almost did, remembering that she was a few inches away from slicing a gash in her side. "Do mages usually improve as quickly as we do? Maybe they're injecting us with some drug or something." Kusari glanced at her cuff. "Maybe through these damn things."

”I wouldn’t put it past them. I’ve… I’ve seen them do far worse.” Emma sighed, remembering the medical building, Miranda, who was somewhere between girl and monster, Clark’s jagged row of teeth, and Hector the Heartless. ”We’ve definitely landed in the shit.”

"Tell me about it. We'll just have to rely on each other, basically everyone else in the world either wants to kill us or doesn't give a crap if we die." Kusari let out a yawn, her fatigue was finally catching up to her. "I think I'm gonna get some sleep, no telling what nonsense we'll have to deal with soon."

Emma nodded, ”Good idea. After that battle I’m sure we could all use some rest.” Emma stretched up out of her chair, eyeing the remainder of the bottle before grabbing it. ”Hope you don’t mind, considering it doesn’t work for you.” she said, taking a swig and finishing the bottle before Kusari could protest. Emma headed towards the door, hovering for a moment before turning around. ”It’s been fun. Y’know, you act all mean, but you’re actually pretty nice Kusari.” she said, giving the girl a slight wink.

Kusari shrugged as Emma took the wine bottle, if anything that saved her the trouble of tossing it out. What Emma said before she left made her let out an amused scoff. "I'm only 'mean' when I need to be... or when I can't help it. Goodnight, Emma."

Emma took a breath before stepping into the hospital room. The last time she had seen Callan the girl had been armless. Well, that was up for debate. She wasn't exactly sure how Lily's power worked but the damage, at the very least, seemed to have been fixed. Still, Emma was sure Callan had her fair share of injuries if she'd been taken to the hospital... of course, there were more types of injuries than the physical ones.

Emma knew that all to well.

A small knock came, followed by Emma entering the room, several bundles of flowers in her arm. It seemed that she had more than one hospital visit to make. She didn't visit people in the hospital all to often, but bringing flowers was the appropriate thing to do, was it not? At least, that's what movies and TV had taught her. She tried her best to put on a genuine smile as she came into the room, the hospital staff having already informed her that Callan would be awake.

"Callan!" she exclaimed, a tinge of excitment in her voice, as she made her way into the hospital room. "I, uh, got flowers..." this time there was a hint of awkwardness in her voice, as she sought a spot to set them down.

Callan had been awake for a hours by the time Emma arrived. After that nightmare, sleep had evaded her entirely (or perhaps the other way around) and it showed. Curled up in the seat by the window, staring out at the small town she'd seen sluggishly wake up and set itself into motion, she turned to face the door as the knock sounded.

The TV was on, softly abuzz with local news that mainly concerned the arrival of USARILN subnaturals. Amazing as it was that a single news station could rehash the same story so many times in a row, Callan had long since stopped paying attention to it.

"Emma?" Genuine surprise crossed her face as the brunette entered, flowers in hand. For some reason she hadn't even considered that Emma might pay her a visit. Let alone bring flowers. She mustered up a tired smile, "Oh... thanks. You didn't have to do that," she chuckled, "I'm not even hurt."

Emma finally found the nightstand by Callan’s bed, placing the flowers on top of it. ”And I’m glad you’re not… when I saw what happened with Zoe…” Emma gulped, a small frown crossing her face. ”Well, let’s just say I’m glad you still have an arm. How… how are you feeling?”

"Oh." She saw that. "Yeah. Me, too, y'know?" Callan said with a crooked smile. Zoe was a topic she'd rather not get into, but perhaps it was the lesser of two evils. She definitely didn't want to talk about Savannah. She didn't want to talk about the fight at all really. She felt she'd done enough of that last night.

"I'm... doing okay. All things considered," Callan answered, glancing at the flowers on the nightstand before turning her attention back to Emma. She nervously twisted her fingers in her lap. Callan hadn't had much one on one time with Emma since they met yet she'd already been trying to make up her mind to dislike her. She knew how unfair it was, but that shred of animosity was still there. "What about you?"

Emma gave a small nod. ”I’m…”

Of course, what she was going to say was a lie. Emma still had the image of Savannah’s twisted body burned into her head, still couldn’t stop thinking about all those that very nearly died, couldn’t stop thinking about how she did absolutely nothing to save them, taunted by the Stigma, constantly reminded of her failure, she just couldn’t…

”I’m fine.” the hesitation lasted only moments, a small pause as she hesitantly took a seat, ”Well, as ‘fine’ as ‘fine’ is nowadays.” Emma shifted in her chair a little, slightly uncomfortable. Was it just her, or was there something awkward about this? There shouldn’t be, she was just visiting a friend… but at the same time Emma still felt the air of discomfort that she always seemed to around Callan.

"Mm," Callan nodded. 'Fine' as 'fine' is nowadays. A fitting way to put it. Callan inwardly winced as Emma took a seat. She wanted to talk for a bit then. But, besides yesterday's events, what was there to discuss? For all her jealousy, she really didn't know very much about Emma. She caught herself staring at the features of Emma's face, noting their prepossessing qualities, before quickly looking away-- back to the flowers. "Uh. Thanks again. Those flowers are really pretty." The words felt terribly gauche as she said them. The small arrangement was indeed pretty, but also sparked an eery memory of the gift shop bouquets her family used to bring her grandmother during the few weeks before her death. She swept the thought aside, rubbing at the corner of her eye. Why would she be thinking of that now of all times? Maybe she was just tired. She forced a small smile.

Emma rubbed the back of her head. ”Oh, yeah, not a problem…” she quietly tapped her leg with her finger, ”Sooooooooooooooo…” she said with an exaggerated tone of awkwardness, ”We’ve been hanging out for a while but I guess we haven’t really had the chance to talk like this before…” Emma said with a small laugh, trying to address the awkwardness with a little levity.

"Yeah," Callan smiled in return, "We've both been kinda busy, I guess." For all she knew, Emma had probably been out doing things with Marcus all week. Meanwhile she... hadn't been that busy at all actually. The whole ordeal with her parents hadn't put her in the most social of moods. Outside of class, meals, and her roommates, she'd been keeping mostly to herself. She-- wait. Why was any of this relevant? Did she really feel bad for not going out of her way to hang out with Emma more? For not feeling as relaxed around her as she did literally any of the other members of their lunch crew?

If anything, she'd been avoiding this very situations. Being stuck with Emma alone. Maybe because the less she actually knew about Emma, the easier it was to dislike her being with Marcus. A harrowing concept, really. How miserably selfish.

"We should hang out sometime."

Emma nodded eagerly, ”Yeah. Fosho.” she said, genuinely happy that Cal in fact didn’t hate her, ”It’s a little surprising how much free time we get considering… well, y’know. Where we are.” another moment of awkwardness came for Emma, as she wasn’t quite sure what to talk to Callan about. She decided that the usual routine was best… she should just act normal, ”So… getting along with Marcus and Siena alright?” a half smile crept across her face, ”Living with Marcus must be… interesting. Guy’s a total dork.” she said jokingly.

"O-oh.... Yeah. Total dork. For sure," Callan replied, almost immediately regretting the plans she'd just made. Was Emma not going to ask about the battle yesterday? Maybe that would've been better.... She laughed, but it was woefully unconvincing.

"They're both chill, though. We've gotten a lot closer than I thought we would. So guess I got lucky," she pushed on, "One less thing to worry about anyway." Good, good. That was enough. Next topic. "What about you?"

Emma nodded along, feeling a vague tinge of jealousy at the mention of how close they were. ”Well…” Emma gave a distinct sigh. ”I’m a little envious of you guys. Lawrence is a good guy, but he’s not much of a talker… and Hazel… well, I don’t even know where to begin with her. I guess we’re friends, but…” Emma sighed again, ”I mean, you saw her during that ‘game’ they had us do earlier, right? She’s like a robot.”

"I, uh... I heard she sorta lost it. Back at Wisford. Any idea what happened?"

Emma raised an eyebrow. ”Did… she? Honestly, that doesn’t sound too surprising… but I don’t know. I can’t say she doesn’t strike me as the sort to do something like that.” Emma shrugged slightly, ”I plan on visiting her too, so I guess I’ll find out.”

Callan briefly debated on whether or not to ask her next question. Hazel hadn't been the only one to attack a teammate-- yet she'd been the only one surrounded by guards as they were led into the hospital. Unlike a certain redhead she knew. And then there was that strange collar she always wore.

"Do you think it was because of her stigma?" she asked. Could have maybe phrased that better, but she was curious.

Emma gave a contemplative ”Hmmmmmm.” after a moment she continued. ”Certainly not out of the realm of possibility, that’s for sure. I guess you Arbs don’t really know, huh?” Emma gave a slight frown, ”The Stigma could certainly do something like that…”

"Uhm... but yours isn't like that... right?" Callan asked tentatively. She felt she was treading on dangerous territory here. Maybe she shouldn't have brought it up at all. She'd made the mistake of asking too many questions that day with Lawrence and, even though he seemed to forgive her, she didn't want a repeat. She wasn't sure how delicate of a subject this was. She'd learned from the forums that the dreams weren't something most mages felt comfortable sharing-- that was understandable. She hardly knew what hers had meant anyway. It hadn't been quite as clear about stigmas though.

Emma’s frown became a little more distinct. Of course Callan was curious, it was a natural question… but one that Emma was uncomfortable with. ”I mean… I’m not going to do anything crazy because of it, or at least I don’t think I am, but… it affects all Aberrations, myself included. Maybe not in the same way, but it’s not like I can just ignore it- it’s always there. So… yes and no, it does make me do… certain things, but not anything dangerous.” Emma sighed. She’d need to explain that better.

”Like… like, it’s made me have… certain outbursts. Made me act unnecessarily angry towards people before, but… I won’t be a danger towards them.” Emma hoped that would explain it without making her seem scary, but she somehow felt that she was slowly digging herself into a hole.

Immediately noting the discomfort in Emma's voice, Callan felt a pang of regret for having asked. Nonetheless, she mulled over what she'd said. It made sense... sort of. From what she gathered, it was a little different between abes. Zoe hadn't exactly tried to pit all the blame on her stigma alone, but... still. It was interesting.

"Sorry," Callan said quickly, "I've just been kinda curious ever since... uh. Anyway, it doesn't matter. We can talk about something else if you want."

”It’s… fine. Not my favorite thing to talk about, but don’t worry about it. It’s just… really hard. The Stigma.” Emma paused for a moment, the smile on her face taking a second to reform. ”But yeah, something else… where are you from, Cal?”

She couldn't even begin to imagine what it might be like. But it was comforting to hear that Emma wouldn't be a danger. For everyone's sake. "Atlanta," Callan answered, thinking fondly of home for a moment before remembering the state it was in now. She didn't give herself time to feel sad before she flipped the question around. "You?"

”Originally New York City. Tribeca, specifically… and then we moved to Lake Pleasant. Little tourist town in New York. A lot of people in the summer, but dead for most of the year.” Emma forced a small laugh.

"Oh. Same as Marcus," Callan said without thinking. There it was again. The irrational jealousy.

”Haha, yeah.” if Callan was uncomfortable with that, Emma didn’t notice.

Gah. What was she doing? She was supposed to be avoiding the whole Marcus subject. "How is New York anyway?" she queried, "Do the movies do it justice?"

Emma gave a small shrug, ”It’s… well, like all places it has its ups and downs. Where I come from, Tribeca, is a pretty nice place… looooots of rich people. Outside of that, well, there’s about a million places to eat within three blocks of you… beautiful city, although that’s no secret. What a lot of people won’t tell you is that it smells bad. Like, real bad. Especially in the summer. And of course there’s all the… well, there’s a lot of people. A lot of people. A lot of things are always happening everywhere… it’s always crazy busy, the people are rude… but there’s a certain charm to the place. Nothing like it.” Emma gave a polite smile, ”And what about Atlanta?”

"Heh," Callan listened intently to Emma as she described the ups and downs of her hometown. "That sounds a lot like Atlanta actually," Callan chuckled, "But I guess all big cities are gonna be a little like that. I definitley get the 'lots of people' thing. Atlanta's pretty crowded. There's always stuff to do there, too. And it's really pretty-- especially the botanical garden around Christmas time. We rarely ever get snow, though. It's mostly hot and humid and horrible, but I guess you get used to it."

Emma sighed, ”I don’t envy the heat. New York already smells bad enough in the summer, I can’t really imagine it getting hotter… the snow’s interesting. Kids in the streets making snowmen… on the really snowy years you can see people skiing in the streets. It’s a pretty crazy place.”

"Really?" Callan said, smiling, "That sounds amazing."

Emma nodded, ”Yeah… actually, me and Val- er, my sister, tried it once. Thought it looked fun… surprisingly trying to ski in a city full of millions of people that has traffic everywhere isn’t quite as entertaining as it sounds. Sure way to piss of a lot of people, though.”

Emma gave Callan a half smirk, ”But enough about home, it’s starting to bum me out a little. Hmmmmm… well, what do you think about the other people in our class?” A small pause as she gave Callan a wink, ”Like anyone”

Hearing Emma talk about her sister was making her think about Dom-- and everything that accompanied those memories. She'd lived in the same house all her life.... Callan was almost grateful for the subject change. Almost.

Her eyes widened, perhaps communicating way too much by the way her mouth opened and closed. "N-no," she lied poorly, color flooding her cheeks as she cast her eyes back towards the flowers. A feeble attempt to hide the face that had already been seen.

Emma raised an eyebrow. Clearly Cal was lying. Was she just bashful? Or maybe Cal just didn’t know Emma well enough to feel comfortable talking about it with her? Either way Emma decided to play it off, giving a small laugh, ”Yeah, sure thing.” she said with no small degree of sarcasm. ”It’s not Kusari, is it?” Emma asked, suddenly remembering her conversation with her earlier, ”I know you like… went on a… uhhh… y’know, but you’re not…?”

Very well phrased.

"Ku--" Callan turned her head back to Emma in alarm. Did... did she hear that right? She... she knew about the date she went on with Kusari?

.......

H... How much did she know?? Kusari's less subtle comments from last night came rushing back to memory, fueling the flustered inferno that was Callan's face in that moment.

"O-oh," Callan smiled uncomfortably, pretending to brush her bangs aside, while hiding half her face. She rapidly ran her fingers over the aquamarine curls as she continued, "We went on a date, yeah. I-- uh-- we had a pretty fun time. Sh--... she's pretty cool. I'm not really sure how I feel about her, though.... She came on kinda strong," her voice was graduately degrading into a mumble as she tried to simultaneously chew her lip and talk.

Emma gave a mischievous smile, ”So, you are… er, you do like girls? To be honest I thought you only accepted because she put you on the spot.” now this was getting interesting. Emma just had to narrow it down.

Callan inwardly shrank beneath Emma's smile. Oh no. "That's..." Callan wasn't sure how to explain it. She didn't want to throw Kusari under the bus by saying she only went because she felt bad for punching her guts out... that would be a lie by ommission anyway. She DID find something strangely captivating about the girl-- physically and intellectually. Even in spite of their obvious differences of opinion when it came to certain things.

"It's not that I don't like girls," Callan said finally. Strange. She'd never been very open about that fact in the past. Perhaps it was easier to say outloud without worrying about the opinions of people she'd grown up with. Namely her mother's side of the family. It actually felt nice. Being able to say it outloud so casually. But alas-- that wasn't the only thing they were talking about here.

"I think Kusari's attractive. It's just..." Callan hid her face behind her hands as another wave of embarressment came rolling in. She couldn't tell Emma about what Kusari had said. She just couldn't. "Ugghh, I don't know."

”No, no, I get it… Kusari is… abrasive. Although your right, she is attractive… if not a little bony,” Emma’s smirk grew, ”And… guys too, or…?”

"Y-yeah... I like guys, too," Callan answered, still reeling from the whole Kusari debacle.

Emma thought for a moment. That left a pool of fourteen… no, thirteen potential candidates. Emma though back to the people she’d seen Callan with before deciding her next target, ”Hmmm, what do you think of Sander than? You two seem… friendly.”

Sander? Callan stared blankly. Attractive, but...

Also taken.

"No, no, no. Not Sander--" she caught herself, immediately biting down on her lip.

"W-wait... are you trying to guess?" she said suddenly, narrowing her eyes with faux anger. She gave a nervous laugh, "I told you-- I'm not... er-- I don't like anybody like that. Really."

Emma laughed, ”Oh, come on Cal, you can’t pull one over on me that easily.” Emma gave her a wink, ”But if you don’t want to talk about it I can stop pressing… I will find out though.” the last part of the sentenced was accentuated with a playful sarcasm.

Still, Emma mulled over the possibilities in her head before arriving it the next logical conclusion, quickly deciding to ask about one more person, ”W-wait, it’s not Ernie, right?”

Callan tried to keep her smile up, failing severely in the aloof department. Especially at Emma's 'I will find out' statement. God damn it, how did they even get on this topic again? Something about skiing in the streets?

Even with her defenses up as high as she thought they could go, hearing Emma mention Ernie's name came as a unexpected surprise. "Ernie?" Callan repeated the name. She definitely liked Ernie. As a person in general. But... probably not in the way Emma was describing. No-- "Probably not," she mused. Out loud. For Emma to hear.

"I mean-- nah," Callan choked. A million and one curses streamed through her head.

”Proooooobably not?” Emma said teasingly. ”So, he has potential, but not your big crush…? I’ll make a note of that.” Emma said with a smirk. Still, Ernie’s name soured Emma’s mood a little. She was having quite a bit of fun, but now…

Just tell her.

No, Emma couldn’t go around trash talking Ernie their friends. That’d be way too rude, breaking whatever semblance of a truce they had.

Say it.

But still, Emma couldn’t just let Cal make a mistake like that, could she? That would be a total bad friend move. ”Really though, Ernie’s an ass-” no, wait, what was she doing? She couldn’t just say something like that, ”An ass… astoundingly bad choice.”

Wow, nice save. The voice spoke sarcastically.

”I mean, don’t get me wrong, he’s a nice guy, but like… I don’t know, I just don’t think he’s really relationship material.” that was good enough, Emma decided.

Callan stared back at Emma quizzically. Not relationship material? What did she mean by that exactly? She considered prying deeper, but it didn't feel right. Whatever Emma's preconceptions of Ernie, surely they were wrong... maybe a vague throwback to that first day they'd all sat together during lunch?

In any case, it didn't matter. She didn't like Ernie like that, so who cared if he was relationship material or not? He'd been a good friend to her and that was all that mattered for now. In fact... she found Emma's opinion of him slightly offputting.

"Hmm," she hummed, "Well, it doesn't matter anyway. I'm not into Ernie, so don't worry." She smiled, her expression more guarded as her mind raced for a different subject, "Anyway, you've gotta be way past 20 questions by now. You know too much. If you want to live, you'll have to give me a turn."

Shifting in her seat, Callan conjured up a mischevious smile of her own, "Anybody in class you think is cute besides Marcus?" She mimiced Emma's winking from before, "I won't tell."

Emma nodded. ”Right. I guess I deserve that… I’ve given you a lot of grief over the crush thing, so I guess I’ve gotta be honest.” her smile did brighten- Emma was worried that she might’ve been making her uncomfortable, but maybe she was wrong. Emma took a second, composing her thoughts.

”Well, in terms of pure looks… I gotta say, Brent is pretty hot. Those muscles, and… well, he’s a nice-looking guy. But even if Marcus wasn’t here I don’t think I’d ever do anything with him… I mean, looks aren’t everything, y’know? I don’t know how much you’ve talked to him but… he’s kind of… I don’t know how to put it, kind of off putting.”

Emma wasn’t going to mention the fact that he explicitly told her to kill herself.

””Hmmm, who else… well, I already said Kusari is attractive. Very unique looking... she might be a little rough around the edges but she’s not as bad as she seems… oh, yeah. Just between you and me- and you better keep your promise not to tell- Siena is very pretty. But she’s my boyfriend’s roommate, and yours, so… whatever. And, I guess If I had to pick one more just for safe measure, Lily is pretty cute. That long messy hair is… well, it works for her.”

Emma’s smirk lit up a little. Suddenly, another idea to escalate the little game that was now going between the two.

”Y’know, Cal, you’re not so bad looking yourself… maybe if Marcus wasn’t in the picture…” the first part came out sincere, the second came out jokingly.

Callan listened intently to Emma's answers, agreeing with her assessments for the most part while also noting the girl's tastes. She pursed her lips at Emma's final statement, only briefly losing her cool as a bit of warmth swarmed her cheeks before she narrowed her eyes playfully. "Mm mm, girl. You couldn't afford me," Callan laughed.

Feeling a bit more comfortable in spite of the frequent mentioning of her roommate's name, Callan relaxed in her seat a bit.

Emma gave a slight tilt of the head at Callan's statement. "Right, of course. We may have those cards, but I guess being superheroes doesn't really pay the bills." She paused for a moment. Maybe she could use this as an excuse to narrow her list a little more, "Well, I told you, it's only fair that you share too. Or am I going to have to start interrogating you again?"

"Agh," Callan rolled her eyes, "Can't I just say I agree with what you said? Except maybe that last one."

Emma grimaced with faux anger. "Come on Cal, fair's fair. At least have the courtesy to compare notes with me."

"Tch. You're horrible, you know that?" Callan shook her head. She paused, thinking for a moment as well gathering up the courage to be semi-honest. "Uh... Lawrence is kinda cute? Probably too mature for me, though. Right?"

"Hmmm, Lawrence is alright, but... well, he's a bit of a cold fish. At least, he strikes me as one. I mean, I live with him, I've tried talking to him and he's polite enough but... he seems like the kind of guy that prefers solitude." Emma gave a little shrug, "Cute enough, though."

Callan nodded thoughtfully, propping her head up on her knee.

“Mm, yeah. I can see that,” she shrugged. Guy that prefers solitude, but will chill out with a sleeping idiot for several hours? It wasn't quite adding up, but Emma probably knew him better than she did.

Callan caught herself mid-thought. How long had they been chatting like this? She hadn't so much as thought about the fight at Wisford. A feat which, after a tortuously sleepless night, she found nigh unbelievable. A small, stupid smile spread across her face as she pondered that. Maybe that was why Marcus liked Emma so much. She was... surprisingly easy to talk to. Talking about unimportant garbage like high school crushes and skiing in the streets... she could almost forget about everything else that was going on and feel... normal. Blissfully normal.

Emma took a moment, thinking again for a moment about the secret identity of Cal's crush. It wasn't Lawrence, that was clear... she said his name a little too quickly, she'd need to pry a little more, but Lawrence was a nice baseline for her type... blonde, kind of longish hair... that sounded a lot like... Christmas. But no, Callan didn't strike Emma to be the sort that was into a guy like him... Christmas seemed nice enough, but he was a little pitiful. And the only other guy that matched that description was...

No, not him. Looked like Emma would just need to fish for a little more information, "Well, give me a little hint about your crush at least. Is it a guy or a girl? What color hair? Abe or arb?" the questions came rapid fire, Emma's grin growing

"Oh my God. Emma. Please. Stop." Callan laughed nervously, but her eyes were pleading, a hint of seriousness in her tone. As fun as this was, she really needed to get off the topic. At this rate, it was only a matter of time before she slipped up. "Seriously-- I don't like anyone and I'm not talking about this anymore."

Emma gave a half laugh, "Okay, okay, I get it. Cal's crush is a big secret." Emma shifted in her chair, crossing her legs, "Well, if you wanna stop talking about it than it's going to be up to you to pick another topic."

Callan smirked, shaking her head. The fear of almost having been found out still nagged a bit at the back of her head, but she was willing to keep chatting. Happy, even.

"Alright. Time to find out if we can seriously be friends. Choose wisely. Shaun of the Dead or Zombieland?"

”Shaun of the Dead.” Emma answered with no hesitation. ”Zombieland is pretty strong, and Emma Stone was pretty tasty back in the day, but… what can I say, Shaun of the Dead is Shaun of the Dead.”

Callan beamed. It was almost a fifty-fifty shot (depending on who you asked), but the fact that Emma had seen both of the movies she was talking about already made her a stupid sort of happy. "Correct!" she nodded, "But really, yeah. They're both gold. That was the secret answer, so I guess you get bonus points."

”Hell yeah.” Emma beamed in equal part, ”Well, this is starting to get interesting. Looks like you know your movies, Cal. We’re going to have some fun.”

Emma leaned in. She was a total movie nerd and, as it turned out, so was Callan. Their tastes were fairly in line- Callan, much like herself, had a strong appreciation of classic comedies. However, just as Emma was starting to engrossed… ”Oh, god. The clock… I still have, like, 3 visits to make. I’d love to stick around and chat more, but…”

Callan glanced over at the clock, surprised to see how much time had passed. "Oh. Wow," she gawked through an embarrassed smile, "Yeah, no. Don't let me hold you up. I'll see ya later."

”Yeah… bye, Cal.” Emma got up, but didn’t leave yet. ”It… was nice talking to you… and I’m glad you’re okay. After the battle, I mean.” Emma gave the girl a smile, a genuine one, before heading for the door.

"Likewise," Callan smiled back with the same amount of sincerity. Watching the door close after the brunette, she felt a strangly heavy pang in her chest. She'd been right after all. Emma was nice. Sighing heavily, she leaned her head up against the back of the wall. It'd been a lot easier to cope when she thought there was chance Emma might not be. They shared a lot in common, actually

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

She groaned in her throat and patted her cheeks with her hands, trying to snuff out the warmth as it gathered there. Ernie had said it was okay to think like that. To not be happy for them or wish them the best. But she just couldn't do it. Especially now that she knew Emma a little more personally. All that was left to do now was keep trying to put it out of her mind. It wasn't like she'd planned to interefere anyway.

Ernie moved through the hospital with a peculiar pep in his step, a giftbag filled with assorted drinks, snacks, and magazines in hand. He wasn't entirely sure what Cal's tastes were yet, so hopefully the variety of the gift would make up for the lack of specifics. Honestly, he was just hoping that it would be enough to help keep his mind off the things he'd seen in her phone.

Fortunately, the giftbag wasn't needed as a distraction. Unfortunately, it was because Emma just emerged from the room Cal was in. Ernie grimaced internally as he saw her walk out, the resentment from the day before still lingering in his mind.

He looked around the halls, hoping to find some way out of this interaction, but found nothing. She'd probably already seen him anyway. Ernie sighed and his hand instinctively moved up to run through his hair, making his frown only deepen when he was reminded that he now had none. A tired look was fixed on Emma and he tried to fumble out some line that wouldn't make it seem like he was avoiding her completely. She was a 'friend', after all, ignoring each other would only lead to questions from the others.

"How's she?" he asked, nodding to Cal's area, "I haven't found a chance to visit her yet."

Emma had been surprised that Ernie approached her. After all that had happened, he was still trying to be friendly. She regretted what she had said to him in Wisford, although she wasn’t sure she was wrong about it. Still, there was a clear hint of awkwardness in her smile. ”Well… she has an arm again, so that’s good. She seems fine… well, as fine as any of us are after what happened out there.” Emma shifted uncomfortably, one of the bundles of flowers she had brought still in hand.

”So… uh, trying out a new look?” it was the best small talk she could make. She didn’t have it in her to pretend that this wasn’t incredibly uncomfortable. She wasn’t sure why she bothered feigning politeness, but she did.

Ernie's expression turned to one of alarm at the mention of Cal's lost arm, before settling back into an awkward half-smile. "Less 'trying' and more just dealing with it. Couldn't stand the gunk that was still in there from Wisford."

He spied the flowers in Emma's hand and immediately grew conscious of his own gift. Shit, should he have gotten those? Or would Cal's room be overflowing from the hospital presents everyone else would have given her. The comtemplative moment stretched much longer than what was comfortable and Ernie was suddenly very eager to leave this talk behind him.

"Well, I guess it's my turn then," he spoke hurriedly, moving towards the door, "See you...around?"

Emma nodded. ”Right. Yeah. Uh…” a frown set in on her face as she gave a slight nod. She took a deep breath before speaking again, ”Listen, Ernie, before you go… I… I know you probably hate me… and I’m sure you don’t want to hear this from me… but, for whatever it’s worth, which probably isn’t a lot considering what happened… I’m sorry about what I said.”

She sighed again, trying her best to keep going, to be honest, ”The truth is, what I said about my stigma was a lie. It does affect me. Not in the same way, but… and I know this isn’t an excuse, because I should have been able to control it better, but yesterday I said what I did because it’s what the stigma wanted.” she looked towards the ground, avoiding his face. She was an idiot, and she knew that. The realization that you couldn’t just say you’re sorry after telling someone that you wished they were dead dawned on her all to late.

Ernie looked at her curiously for a moment. Then he chuckled. It sounded eerily genuine.

She was a good faker. A lot better than he was.

"I'm glad we can be honest with each other," he smiled sarcastically. There was something very malicious behind it, "But now I'm starting to think that talking to you was a bad idea."

His eyes revealed the depths of the disdain he held for the girl and his voice suddenly took on a cutting tone.

"It seriously weirds me out when you play nice like that. But I started it so I apologize for it this time. How about we just not talk to each other outside of the group? I'd rather not spend so much effort skirting around something we both know, that you're an asshole and I'm an even bigger one and we hate each other's guts. Trying to sorry your way out of that is just insulting. Blaming all of it on the Stigma is almost just as bad. I don't really like it when people hate me, but honestly, lying about it is so much worse. Don't talk to me like I'm a complete idiot, please."

That was all he needed to say. But Ernie couldn't help but try one final dig.

"But it was nice to hear that you're not completely immune to your Stigma. Not so perfect after all, huh? Pro tip, next time you rage out at someone like that, try not to brag about it so much. It just makes you look stupid when you come crawling back to apologise."

”I…”

Emma paused. She didn’t know what to say. So instead she decided to say everything. All she could do was go for broke.

”You’re right. I’m an asshole. I guess… I’m sorry, I shouldn’t try to talk my way out of saying that I wished you were dead. I’m trash, really… the stigma does get to me, all the time. But I was like this before the stigma. It’s not a real excuse… and I’m not sure why I’m telling you this, but I am. I blamed you because I wanted to evade the truth: Savannah would be alive if I wasn’t such a coward. I fled when I could have saved them. I shut down on that battlefield. Hell, I have no doubt you did much more than I did out there, even without some badass power. So, go ahead and hate me. You have every right to. Hell, go ahead and tell the others what a piece of shit I am. It’s not like I deserve their friendship. When it comes time, I’ll be the one dying, not you, Ernie. Because really, I’m the useless one, even with this power. I’m not reliable, and I’m not strong. So… whatever you think of me is probably right.”

She didn’t realize she had started crying until she stopped talking.

”I’m sorry… I don’t know what the hell am I doing, telling all of this to you. I’m sure you’re the last person that wants to hear it. But, I guess you win. You got me to break down.”

Was it the crocodile tears? Reverse psychology? Ernie felt his smug smile turn to an uncomfortable frown as her breakdown continued. Urgh, it was his first meeting with Angelique all over again. An unsettling trend was starting to form with Crying Girl No. 3 here. He was unable to deny the warming of his Stigma however, as it filed away an immeasurable amount of notes on Emma's weaknesses.

"It doesn't feel like winning," Ernie murmured, narrowing his eyes.

It didn't feel like it because this wasn't the response he was hoping to see. Why wasn't she angrier? Where was that fire that she'd shown yesterday, the one he was so eager to mercilessly douse?

He knew it was still there. He knew that Emma was a force to be reckoned with and frankly, he wouldn't have been surprised if the conniving bitch had learnt to fake cry somehow. There was no sympathy to draw out of the boy, only the simmering anger that was much easier to understand.

"Why are you telling me this? Are you trying to goad me into reacting the way you did, the way you predicted I would yesterday? Are you trying to provoke the maniac who lost it and endangered his friends?"

Because if that really was her goal, Ernie feared that it was working.

" 'People died, people got injured, because you were sloppy.' Is that what you want to hear? Because I doubt you shat all this at me because you were expecting me to give a crap. I don't know what you're trying to get out of this. The sight of Ernie the Heartless Bastard beating down and scolding a girl in tears, maybe, so you could prove yourself right. Or maybe the opposite of that. God, I hope for both our sakes you weren't hoping I'd actually comfort you or tell you that everything's okay. Because right now, it's the furthest it can get from that."

There was so much he wanted to rage on about from her confession. The wasted potential of her abilites. The fact that she ran away when she had the power to help the people she cared about. He wanted to yell at her, he really did. But what had she done that Ernie himself hadn't done so many times before?

Suddenly, he didn't see someone worth despising. He just saw a pathetic reflection of everything wrong with himself, sobbing out the sadness he always kept shoved away. Pity, anger, and distrust congealed into something that revolted him, but he couldn't find it in himself to openly resent the girl anymore, not at the moment at least. He couldn't find it in himself to give a right answer to all this either. Finding an answer for Emma was impossible when he couldn't even find one for himself. He wasn't smart or strong enough to do that. But honesty had always been a good stepping stone towards that gargantuan task.

"I'll never be able to trust you out there," he admitted coldly, "You showed me a side of you that I doubt anyone else has seen, one that I'll never get out of my head. Because I sincerely believed you then. I still do. Even if we ever manage to get along, which I seriously doubt, there will always be that Stigma-driven side of you that gets brought out by battle. The side that gets brought out of all of us that makes us so angry and sad and pathetic. There's no escape from it. As long as we have those X's on our throats, my life will be in danger around you."

His voice became the slightest bit more gentle, and the hardness in his eyes faded.

"If...you told me all this because you wanted me to forgive you then...I'm sorry. Really. Forgiveness was never an option here."

He wasn't strong enough to do that. Not yet.

”You’re right. Of course you’re right.” she said, wiping away the tears from her eyes and trying to regain her composure. ”I don’t know what I want. Maybe you’re right. Maybe I am just being conniving. Maybe…” she sighed.

”I’m not really sure what I’m doing these days. I’m sure you know how it is, the stigma, driving your actions…” maybe that was what she wanted, someone else who understood what it was like, because none of her other friends did. But she wouldn’t admit that she wanted that.

”But… I know I can’t take back what I said yesterday. And I know that this is the last thing you want. And… I know that this doesn’t make much sense, because I’m a total mess. And you’re right about the X’s too. Being an Aberration fucking sucks, doesn’t it?” she said, a deep sigh escaping her lips.

”Like you said, I'm glad we can be honest with each other. Because either way… whether we like it or not, we’re friends. Or maybe 'friends' isn't the right word for it… but regardless… we shouldn’t have to get along, two people like us, but that’s the way it’s going to be, right?”

"Yeah, it's hard on all of us. But getting along, or pretending to anyway...I don't think it'll be too bad. We've done it for this long, haven't we?"

Ernie shuffled his feet, suddenly feeling very conscious of himself again. He didn't know what to feel about the 'friends' thing, not after everything that had been said. But it seemed that there would at least be some unsteady truce called between them.

Truth be told, he felt a little guilty about it all. She was going through the same thing as him and he wasn't doing anything. At least at Reno he was surrounded by people going through the same thing, though the 'help' they offered was sketchy at best and horrifying at worst. Were he a more noble person he would have offered his experience and knowledge, maybe even someone to talk to. Perhaps he would have gave her some encouragement and told her that even though she didn't know what she was doing now, Ernie believed that she was smart enough to figure it out. But he didn't think himself capable of swallowing his pride to that extent. So he said nothing.

”Right. We’ll get along.”

If she were a better person, if she were braver, she might’ve begged him for forgiveness. She might’ve asked for his help. She might have told him that she felt like she was drowning and didn’t know how to stop the stigma, that she was scared, that she wanted it all to stop, that…

”Well… unless you know of some magic way to stop the stigma, I guess we’ll just keep going. You should… you came to see Cal, I’m sure she’ll be happy to have another visitor.” she said, nodding to herself.

"Oh, yeah," Ernie blinked, suddenly worried that Cal had heard the entire thing. Please no. He took a small breath, "Yeah, I'll see you later then."

His hand remained on the door handle for a few seconds, as if he were unsure if it was a good idea to go in. But he steeled himself eventually and took the first step in.

A small knock came from the door of Siena’s hospital room, followed quickly by the entrance of Emma, two bundles of flowers in her arm and a smile that tried its best to be genuine on her face. She wasn’t entirely sure about bringing flowers, but it seemed like the right thing to do.

”Siena!” she exclaimed, just like she had with Callan, just like she had practiced in her head, a small bit of excitement intentionally eking its way into her voice. This time she knew exactly where to place the flowers, on the nightstand beside the hospital bed. ”How’s it goin’?” followed quickly.

Alone in a hospital room was a terrible place to be. Sterile, cramped, and most importantly, uninviting. Siena had never liked hospitals. She'd only been to one before, and even then that had been under strict supervision by Gerwulf and Maya, both hovering near her, obscuring her from view from the outside world until they reached a disgustingly empty building. A small, private hospital where nobody would see her and nobody would miss her. All because she'd been young and stupid just like she'd been in the fight.

Perhaps that was why Siena latched onto the knock so quickly.

"O-Oh, Emma." A weak smile pushed onto her face. Weak, weak, weak. She didn't know how she was supposed to act in the situation. She didn't want to bring the mood down, didn't want to burden anyone with her own issues...but it didn't feel right to be smiling or beaming. It was so damn hard. "Probably better than the others here. I wasn't as injured with Lily taking my injuries..." Guilt. Too many mistakes. Lily had taken her injuries. Other people had gotten hurt. Too many mistakes. She pushed forward. "What about you?"

Emma frowned. ”I’m fine.” she said, but her face said otherwise. ”I mean, besides… y’know… just wondering if things could have gone differently.” Emma quickly shook her head, ”But that’s not important. I wanted to come to check… I was worried about your… well, what you told me before the battle… are you still all ‘you’?”

Somewhere in the back of Siena's mind, there was a sense of some emotion that resembled relief. She liked it better when she could read the people around her, liked it better when there was a more obvious dissonance between face and words. But the topic was quickly discarded as Emma brought up another--one that Siena wasn't sure how to approach. Part of her wanted to talk about it. To talk about the little "stigma" that came with her own powers because there was no one else. No Maya. No Gerwulf. Nobody that knew, and nobody that she had trusted because people weren't so hard to read.

...and then there was the part of her that recoiled at the thought of sharing more than she already had. As if there was some invisible wall that had erected itself between herself and her peers. The film of distrust that had been glued into place after years of experience.

"That's...a hard question." Something that felt unusually like weariness bore onto her, but Siena pushed it away as best she could. "I don't know the answer, but my best guess is--" Hesitation. "...honestly, probably not." Not after she lost control of her emotions and lashed out to hurt. To inflict agony because she could, and because it felt right instead of out of a raw necessity. Memories she preferred not to keep intact tried to break back into her head, and the brunette released a breath as if she could blow the thoughts away.

"But I don't know. I'm more afraid of still being myself after everything that did happen."

Emma nodded slowly. ”Well… if it’s any consolation, I’m glad that you’re still you.” Emma uncomfortably tugged at the hem of her shirt. Luckily she’d taken the opportunity to get new clothes earlier, no longer in the ruins of a hoodie she had before. ”I… I know… well, I don’t know, but I’m sure it’s tempting to lose yourself after all of that. But remember, your friends, Marcus, Cal… Ernie… me, we don’t want to see that happen.” the words came out uncertainly.

”We lost enough yesterday.”

Emma opened her mouth to talk again, but paused for a moment before continuing, ”But there’s no use dwelling on all of that, I’m sure we’re all thinking about it enough as is. Do you want to rest, or should I stick around? It must be boring posted up in a hospital room by yourself… they could’ve at least had the courtesy to toss you and Cal in the same room.” Emma offered up a smile.

'Still me...' A surge of discomfort. Something about that didn't sit quite right. Still the Siena Santana that she'd taken painstaking care to present. She should have been proud that she was still holding up, but...somehow it was a hollow triumph. Still, she smiled hesitantly. A perfectly simulated uptic of the lips, tinged with a hint of nervousness. Still Siena Santana.

"I...suppose that is true." But there was the vile little voice that jeered in the depths of her head. No, it wasn't true. They wouldn't even notice, would they? She kept the smile unfaltering. "Oh! You don't have to stay, I'm sure you have better things to do than being stuck here too." 'But she's right, isn't she?' "I'm used to being stuck in a room by myself. It's actually a little less lonely than usual knowing that at least someone else is on the floor."

Discomfort gripped suddenly at Siena's chest at the thought of being left alone. Again. She hated being in the room alone. "But um...do you think I could ask you something? Just...between the two of us?"

Emma gave a small laugh at the suggestion that she’d be stuck. Really, she was seeking out someone to talk to. People to talk to. She needed distraction, to keep the stigma at bay and to keep herself from thinking about Savannah’s broken neck. ”Really, it’s no bother. We’re friend after all, right? It’s not like there’s a lot to do around this town anyways.” she said, rubbing the back of her head sheepishly.

As for Siena’s next question she nodded slowly. She had though that perhaps Siena had disliked her a little before the battle, but it seemed to Emma that she was slowly becoming her confidant. ”Yeah, of course.”

"Um..." Breathe. It was hard to put into words exactly what she wanted to say. What was okay to ask, what wouldn't make Emma think that the unintimidating Siena Santana was still the one calling the shots. That she'd always been the one in control. She wanted to mull over it, but every fraction of a second stretched into an agonizing eternity. Each instant she felt her courage waning. Whittling away until it was next to nothing.

Keep pushing forward. ...but she couldn't do it, could she?

"I'm going to sound like a complete idiot, but...is it wrong that I keep hoping we'll do better next time we fight?" Close enough. "Or that I'm not even thinking about how terrible it is that people my age are doing a soldier's job, just...that we keep failing at it."

Emma took a deep breath. She hoped for the same thing, completely ignorant to the fact that the words coming out of Siena’s mouth weren’t what she was going to say. She hoped that they could work together, that they could do it without losing anyone, that they could all become competent.

That I could become competent.

She squirmed a little, taking a seat in a chair beside the bed. Clearly Siena could use a little company. ”I… I don’t know. I can’t help but play back everything that happened in my head. I have no idea how we can become a force like Shane’s team, but… it needs to happen. We can’t have another… another situation like Savannah.” she let the words hang in the air for a moment. ”But no, it’s not wrong to want that. I don’t know if we’ll ever really be what we have to be, but… USARILN seems to expect a lot from us, and we’re going to keep getting thrown out there. We’re either going to acclimate, or…”

She didn’t need to say what could happened.

Again the relief buzzed in the back of her head, in the pit of her stomach, as Emma took the seat by the bed. Siena wondered if she'd always been so easy to please, if she'd always wanted nothing more than to not be alone...but then pushed it out of mind as she listened to Emma's answer. Of course, the older girl was right. Siena knew that from the start. She knew the answer to the question.

But still, she couldn't help but feel her muscles tense at the mention of Savannah's name. Dead. And Benediction wasn't going to waste his power on a little girl, was he? He hadn't revived anyone their first fight. He wouldn't bring the blonde back. It was a realization that she had to accept, but that didn't make it easier to stomach.

"...yeah..." Dejection slipped into her voice, just the right amount. "I guess I'm still struggling with the idea that we're special enough to be sent out as a unit for situations like that." She averted her gaze to her hands, the smile fading by the barest amount. "...I never thought being surrounded by people would be harder than being alone."

”Yeah…” Emma let the vulnerability slip in, just a little. Things she would usually talk to others about. ”I… It’s nice to have everyone but… I don’t think…”

A small pause.

”I don’t want anyone else to die.” A long sigh came from Emma. Now was a good time to bring something up that she hadn’t mentioned to anyone yet, ”About… about why they care about us so much… I had an idea. Have you… have you been having weird, like, visions, followed by your powers getting stronger? I saw someone mention it on Death and Taxes, and… well, I’ve been having them.” Emma gave a hopeful glance. Maybe that was what bound them together.

Visions? Siena blinked at the word in legitimate surprise.

"I...I have. I don't know how to explain it." Pausing to regain herself, Siena instinctively moved to tug at the ends of her hair. Something to do with her hands as she tried to process everything. Was that really what made them special? Or...? "It's just a flash for me though. But...it feels safe when it happens." That wasn't the right word to use, but she didn't have a way to really explain what she felt or what she saw.

Emma nodded. ”I… see what you mean. For me it’s a bit of a mixed bag… but something changes every time. I think… it might be different for us Aberrations. Sometimes the stigma gets worse alongside it, I think.” it was nice to know, however, that it was a shared experience. ”I haven’t seen a lot about it besides a few messages… I wonder if it’s just us, of if it’s just a Mage thing…” a hint of uncertainty was in her voice alongside a small frown.

”There’s too much that we don’t know. About USARILN and about ourselves. But either way there’s gotta be something different about us, or they wouldn’t go through all this trouble for new students. At least, I don’t think they would.”

Something different about them. That much was starting to become clear. If not from the visions, then at least from the way that they were being treated. With her mind cutting through countless thoughts in a second, Siena turned her attention away from Emma for a moment, but not to anything in particular before she pulled back to reality with a wry smile.

"The way that the other students looked at us the first day of 'class' was a dead giveaway that we were different. I doubt any of them would have kept eye contact if we tried to look at them." So quickly the words were torn from her, they didn't pass through every filter. A faint hint of bitterness, one that she immediately regretted. "...sorry, that's probably just...I'm just reading too much into it."

”I… I don’t know.” Emma said uncertainly. ”There are just too many weird things going on here. Too much for it to be coincidence… the visions, the special treatment, the fact that we’re new students yet we’re their go to team… after the precursors and Shane’s group, of course… hell, they got Benediction to heal our injuries. That must mean something, right…?”

Emma leaned back in the chair. ”Or maybe I’m the one reading too much into things. I don’t know. It just… seems like there’s some big secret everyone is in on but us.”

"I doubt you're reading too much into it. It really does feel like there's a secret that we're not supposed to know." Shaking her head, Siena released a soft sigh. "I'm not sure I like being a mystery topic to myself."

”Yeah. It’s not a good feeling… it seems like everything is a big secret around here.” Emma gave a slight frown. ”Not to mention all the stuff I saw beneath the hospital building… er, the monster I mentioned. You know, before the battle…” she didn’t want to say it again, reminding herself of Savannah’s inevitable fate, ”There was a whole lot of weird stuff going on down there… I’m sure there was more I could of seen if the guards didn’t stop us.” Emma sighed. ”No point worrying about it though. Not like I’ll get the opportunity to check it out again.”

Right...the monster that might inevitably devour Savannah's corpse. Weight pressed against Siena's chest, but she hid it away. Back and away to be compartmentalized for later. Just like always. Instead she gave a thoughtful pause.

"Maybe if we end up meeting their expectations, we'll get to see those secrets." Quietly, the girl twisted her hair in between her fingers again. "I hope that we're actually prepared to deal with it by then."

”Maybe we will. I don’t know if I want them, but… well, if anything, maybe some of this insanity will make sense one day.” Emma gave a long sigh. ”I doubt it, but…” she tapped her finger against her leg.

”Let’s… talk about something else, if that’s alright…”

Emma approached the door to Hazel’s room slowly, noting the guards that were mostly absent from the rest of the hospital. What the hell happened to warrant all this? she wondered to herself as she walked up to one of the guards. ”Uh, excuse me, may I see Hazel?” she said, mustering up all the politeness she could.

The soldier watched her carefully, eyes narrowing as he tried to gauge how much of a threat she would be if she didn't get what she wanted. He shifted the rifle in his hands so the movement of bringing it up to fire at the girl's head would be that much faster and easier.

"No, unless you're authorized by the commanding officer."

Emma sighed. ”Listen, whatever happened out there… I’m Hazel’s roommate, we kind of get each other.” a blatant lie, but a convincing one. Emma mustered up all the sweetness in her voice she could, ”I’m sure that seeing me would… make things easier. I’ll go through the commander if you need me to, but don’t you think you could make an exception?” Emma choose her words carefully, aware that the man had a gun and wouldn’t hesitate to shoot her.

"Nice try, but she's unstable at the moment. Commander Kardos himself gave the order to quarantine her if she proved dangerous to her allies. No guarantee she won't go berserk again."

Emma frowned. ”She was that bad, huh? Well, I get it. Just doing your job.” Emma gave him a slight smile. A convincing one at that. ”Well then, if you’re not authorized to let me through, can you point me in the direction of who I need to talk to? I… I know Hazel can be a pain, but I need to make sure she’s alright.” she sighed.

”I know that it’s your job, but I just want to check in on my friend.”

"Look, it's not a call even the commanding officer can really make without the Commander's explicit permission. But if you really want to try, you'll have to talk to Officer Brahms. He should be back at the motel."

Emma nodded. ”Alright. Great. I’ll be back soon, that’s a promise.” she said, still doing her best to maintain her smile.

---

After a short walk, Emma found herself back at the motel. She wasn’t exactly sure where to find Officer Brahms, so instead she choose to ask the nearest guard. “Uh, excuse me, I was hoping to find Officer Brahms?” she said, putting on a guise of politeness, hiding her rising irritation at the situation.

The guard pulled at the strap of the helmet he was readjusting, looking at her curiously before jabbing a thumb towards the parking lot. "Should still be out there."

”Alright, thanks.” Emma said, walking off towards the parking lot. It wasn’t hard to find Officer Brahms, who had a number of soldiers moving to and fro around him for orders. She approached him slowly, clearing her throat to grab his attention, feeling just a slight bit silly with one of her bundles of flowers still in hand, ”Er, excuse me, you’re Officer Brahms, correct? I’m, uh, Emma Halwell, from Group B. I was hoping to visit Hazel Baker’s room. I’m her roommate back on campus, and I wanted to check in on her.”

The man looked younger than expected--no more than late 20's at a guess--and he appeared not to have heard Emma for a moment, skimming through lines of information on his phone.

But his response was clear enough.

"Off-limits. Quarantined for uncontrollable behavior. Orders from up top. You can give that to the guard near her room if you want," he said, motioning to the flowers in Emma's hand.

Emma was starting to get annoyed. She sensed that it was going to be a long night. ”Is there really nothing you can do? Talk to Kardos? Or, let me talk to Kardos? Like I said, she’s my roommate, and I’m sure that if I get in there I can calm her down a little. Anyways, you probably have plenty of restraints on her, right? Between that collar and the cuffs she can’t be that much of a threat, can she? I just… want to make sure she’s okay. That battle was stressful for all of us. I’m sure she could use a friend.” the pleading tone in her voice was clear as she put on her best puppy-dog eyes, resigning to the fact that if this didn’t work she’d have to keep going down the line until she could find someone she could convince.

"Trying to free her or something?" His tone hardened abruptly and he straightened from the previous relaxed posture. "Most people go through a battle and want to rest. But you're here trying to get in to a quarantined subnatural. I assume the guards at her room told you to come to me, or you wouldn't be here. And it makes me wonder."

He motioned for a nearby soldier who, noticing the atmosphere, tensed as well.

"Something wrong, sir?" the guard asked on the approach.

"Not yet," Brahm replied, voice calm.

Emma gave the commander a clear look of surprise. ”With… with all due respect, sir, really? I got enough rest last night and now I just want to see my friend, because after a battle, I’m sure you know, people are also concerned about the people close to them. You really think I could stage an escape? Not like we’d get very far with these cuffs.”

Emma sighed.

”If the choice is leaving or getting shot, I’ll go back to my room. I just want to make sure she’s okay. I have zero intent of getting in trouble with you guys… after all, you may be here to watch over us and we may be subnaturals… but in the end we’re on the same team, right?” she put on as convincing a smile as she could muster.

"She tried to kill two of your team mates, healer included. Hardly the same team. But she's fine, last I checked. I'll allow you to stand at the doorway to her room, but a single suspicious move and both of you get shot."

He turned to the nearby soldier, pulling up the appropriate channel on his phone.

"Hospital units, double up security on Baker."

That done, he nodded at Emma's soon-to-be escort.

"Take her to the Baker girl. Keep a weapon trained on her at all times."

"Yes, sir."

Near Hazel's room, the order came through the respective phones of the soldiers assigned to watch the students in the hospital and they followed commands swiftly. Another four soldiers crowded the space around her bed, and three remained stationed outside her door, backup units pulling in from the patrols set up around the area to watch for any attempts at escape.

By the time Emma reached the hospital room again, all eyes and muzzles in the hallway were directed entirely on her. Around Hazel's bed, the soldiers' fingers were ready on the triggers.

"Officer Brahm's orders," Emma's escort announced. "She can talk to the prisoner from the doorway."

After a moment, the soldiers barring the door parted, one turning the knob and the other three holding aim on Emma's head.

Killed two of my teammates. Emma certainly wasn’t aware of that. Regretfully, the first question that came to her was who and then came the why. She didn’t bother asking Brahm, as she got the sense that he wasn’t too big of a fan of hers.

Still, she supposed he was doing her a favor, given what she now knew, and for that she was thankful.

She approached the doorway slowly, giving a cautious glance to the men whose guns were trained on her. Part of her wanted to protest, but her better judgment stopped her. Didn’t want to give them a reason to shoot, after all.

Instead, she spied the girl from the door. She wasn’t in a good state, clearly injured. Clearly in pain. She was also heavily restrained, certainly not a good sign. ”Hazel…” she called out from the door, but a hint of sadness in her voice, ”They wouldn’t let me enter the room. I… I wanted to come make sure that you were okay.” she said, giving an ever so slight glance to the guards around her who remained silent for the moment.

"Emma?"

So that was why there were guards all around her. Hazel had assumed there was going to be some sort of high ranking person coming in to inspect her or the like, but it was just Emma visiting her for... to check up on her? Turning in the bed, she looked towards Emma, noting the flowers in her hand. It seemed Emma wasn't really affected much from the previous battle. Wasn't that why she was worried before? As for the question of whether Hazel was okay or not, she was still alive, so she assumed that would be enough for Emma.

"See? Don't worry." Hazel spoke, referring to the conversation they had before.

Emma couldn’t help but smile a little. She didn’t know what happened out there, but Hazel never seemed to be the monster that other people said she was. Instead, she just seemed scared. Scared and lonely. Emma nodded, ”Yeah. You’re right. I shouldn’t have worried. Although, I’m sorry to say, your armor got a little shredded out there.”

Emma tapped her foot against the ground. If she could’ve she might’ve given the girl a hug. ”I got you flowers, but I can’t exactly hand them to you.” she glanced towards one of the guards in the room, ”Uh, you think you could hand these off? Brahm said it was okay.” she said, cautiously extending the flowers, careful not the cross the threshold of the door.

The guards eyed the small bouquet like it was a bomb, but after several seconds of silence stretched out between them, one of them took the bundle from Emma's hand, eyes never leaving her face as he backed up slowly and placed the flowers on the bed beside Hazel's fingers. He was quick to resume his position afterwards, weapon raised once more.

Hazel grasped the bundle in her injured right hand, the bouquet visibly shaking as she raised it. She had no idea what the flowers were for, but it certainly lent some color to the stark whiteness of the room and the grimness of the guards around them.

"Thank you." There was a small pause as she gave an experimental nibble on one of the flowers, before spitting it out. "How do I use this?"

Emma nodded at the guard. ”Thanks…” as for Hazel, even in the current situation, Emma couldn’t help but giggle a little. ”You… they’re not for eating, at least, they’re not very tasty. They just…” Emma took a moment, considering what the actual use of flowers was.

”They make the room look nice. It’s a little boring without anything else, don’t you think?” she finally decided, giving a small smile. She couldn’t will herself to ignore the presence of the guards watching them, but tried her best to push them out of mind. For their part, the guards didn't interrupt, choosing instead to keep a silent vigil.

"I see."

Hazel swished the bouquet once, twice, then thrice before it slipped out of her limp hand, landing neatly on the small desk beside the bed. Unintended, but it did look nice there. It was faint, but at least she could smell something than her own blood for once. That and she did not have the mind to put some effort into sitting up and picking it up again; not when pain shot though her entire body every time she moved.

"Hmm." Affirming that it did indeed lend a dash of color there, Hazel turned again to Emma, looking expectantly at her.

Emma stood for a moment, not commenting on Hazel’s treatment of her present. She didn’t exactly expect the girl to treasure it, given what she knew about her, but the gesture made Emma, at the very least, feel good. Emma nodded to herself for a minute before speaking, a small gulp coming before she started, ”Hazel… I… I’m glad you’re okay, but… what… what happened out there? In Wisford? You don’t have to tell me… but if you want to talk about it, I’m here.” Emma said, leaning against the side of the doorframe, crossing her arms.

"Wisford?" Hazel looked up at the ceiling, before turning her head back to Emma. "We were ordered to go apprehend Factory, I was with you in the frontlines, drawing attention from the strike team sent to fight Factory and only Factory. There were several machines that we destroyed, including those mechanical monsters resembling spiders, which deployed a large net. We destroyed what was left of those monsters, and Factory was defeated. I do not have knowledge of what the other squads did, or their particulars."

Blinking, she continued. "Should it be needed, I could write a full mission report should you wish to review it."

Emma nodded slowly. She was surprised that she had expected any different from Hazel. ”Hazel’s that’s… that’s not exactly what I meant. What I’m trying to ask is how you’re doing emotionally. Are… are you holding up okay? I know things got stressful out there, and if… if you’re sad, or confused, or… just, you can talk to me about that… if you want to.” Emma hoped those were the right words. She was never quite sure how to get her point across to Hazel, but she thought she was getting better.

Hazel looked quizzically at Emma for a moment. Emotionally? Perhaps she was referring to her self control.

"Do not worry. I am completely combat ready, even if I am currently injured. Even if I should lose control, the collar I wear will shut me down in a short while."

She paused for a moment, considering what else to say. "In Wisford, after the battle, a dream..."

This girl could not be trusted. She could be trying to find your weakness, she could be afraid of you like all the rest. Look at how afraid she is to go near you, look at how they restrained you, look at the fear in their eyes.

Hazel closed her eyes, trying to shut out the whispers, the ragged screaming of anger scrabbling for control, for dominance, for destruction. A short while later, she opened them again, lightless green eyes meeting Emma's.

"No, that was unimportant. Was there anything else you wished of me?"

Emma frowned. The dream. She remembered her conversation with Siena, but the moment was over before she knew it. For just a second she had thought that she was about to get something from Hazel, something real, but it was brushed away just like that.

She didn’t push.

Emma nodded slowly. ”Just…” Emma gave a smile. A sad smile. She wasn’t getting anywhere. ”Make sure you get better. I’m sure you’ll be out of here in no time. And…” a moment of hesitation.

”Just remember, you’re my friend, and for what it’s worth, I worry about you.” but Emma didn’t say what she really wanted to.

"Friend?" Hazel stayed silent for a bit, eyes still locked onto Emma. "Unh. I understand. Do not worry."

It was a cold night. Emma found herself wandering around the grounds of the motel, her encounter with Brahms and her visit with Hazel still fresh in her mind. Hazel, her friend, her roommate, Hazel who attacked two of her teammates and went on a rampage, now chained up to hospital bed with a tight blanket of security.

Too many questions, not enough answers.

She also couldn’t get the battle out of her head. Her indecision, her failure to protect Savannah, her inability to do anything. She was so wrapped up in these thoughts that she nearly missed the form of Angel Lachance, sitting, seeming to be writing, or working up the courage to start writing. Emma very nearly walked past her, but then she remembered the battle. Angel was on her team, was she not? Surely she’d know more about Hazel.

So, instead, Emma stopped. ”Um… excuse me, Angel? Hello?” she said cautiously, hoping that she wasn’t interrupting anything.

Lost deep in thought, Angélique was staring at the blank sheet of paper in front of her. After speaking with Siena yesterday evening, she kind of wanted to give the girl an authentic gift as a token of her appreciation. She wouldn’t really be satisfied in herself to simply make a cover of a song Siena might like. She felt like composing a song herself, just like how she did so many times in the past.

One covered end of her pen was tapping rhythmically on her lips while the fingers of her right hand rattled the table in harmony with a humming that mimicked the music on her phone playing right next to her.

A voice however made it through her pensive state of mind and popped her back right into reality, turning to see the familiar of Emma looming right beside her.

“Oh, hello Emma. Sorry, I was thinking. How are you?”

Emma offered her a small smile. ”Good… well, ‘good’ is relative nowadays, but… good. How about you?” Emma said, with a slight tilt of the head towards the spot next to her, ”Uh, is it alright if I take a seat? There were a couple of things I wanted to ask you about.”

“Yeah, it’s just as you say. I suppose I’m good, considering the circumstances.” Angel replied, her free hand wandering to her phone and turning down the volume of the background music as soon as she heard her fellow Aberration had something to ask.

“Sure. I’m all ears. Want something to drink? I’ve made some coffee not long ago. I think there’s a bit left.”

Angélique wasn’t one to usually drink coffee. As a matter of fact, she hated the taste. But she had to admit that it helped getting her creative juices flowing when she was hitting a wall, productivity-wise.

Emma shook her head. ”No, I’ll take a pass on the coffee, but thanks.” Emma sat down next to Angel, for a second looking down towards the ground before she met her eyes. ”I was… I wanted to know what happened with you guys after I left to support Evac. I heard… I…” Emma sighed.

”I heard that there was some trouble with Hazel?”

Angel’s pen twirling between her fingers was brought to a stop right as Emma asked the killer question. Of course she was going to investigate what had happened while she was gone. Why a few, including Hazel, were injured and the girl locked up. To be fair, Angel expected that situation to come popping around, but she never prepared herself for the moment it would surface. She tried her best to keep it under wraps, lest the harmony in her group be broken by mistrust. Not that any lack of trust towards Hazel would be unjustified. Angélique herself didn’t feel particularly fond of the girl after what she did, nor was she looking forward to work with her again.

“So you know what happened, huh? I suppose I don’t need to hide it to you, especially since Hazel is your roommate.” Angel sighed, dropping the pen next to the sheet of paper. What friendly expression that was on her face when she first saw Emma had turned into a frown, clearly visible in her eyes now that she was no longer wearing shades.

“What exactly do you want to know?”

Angel's tone wasn't outright unpleasant, but her voice and her eyes suggested she wasn't particularly looking forward to the discussion.

Emma was a little taken aback with Angel’s tone, giving the girl a curious tilt of the head, her smile eroding just a little. ”I want to know why my roommate… my friend, is in the hospital, severely injured. I want to know what exactly happened when people are telling me she went ‘berserk’. I want to…”

Emma’s put her smile back on.

”I just want to make sure everything’s going to be okay next time we have to fight together.”

"You want to know what happened exactly out there? Very well, I can tell you things from my perspective. But you have to know, Emma, Hazel is an Aberration like the two of us. I never got a grasp of what exactly Hazel is except when I witnessed her bouts of destruction during the Flags and Seek game. What went through her mind during that time, I don’t know any of it. I don’t read minds.”

Angel paused, taking a sip of coffee. She grimaced at the taste before turning her black-circled tired eyes towards Emma.

“After you and Siena left to help Marcus and his team, Grant and I took care of the Collector that was coming towards us. Hazel left on her own without saying anything. Didn’t seem like the Collector was bothering her. Like I said, god knows what was going through her mind. I think she was headed towards the drop-off point’s direction? Anyway, after Grant and I took care of the collector, Hazel started screaming and…”

Angel trailed off; remembering something important that happened right after the Collector was felled by Grant and her combined efforts. Just like that, the screamer Aberration’s frown faded away and instead was replaced by what seemed to be like enlightenment.

“Emma, did you… saw the ocean shortly after you left to help?”

Emma nodded slowly. What Angel was saying about Hazel didn’t sound unreasonable, but… ”The ocean? You mean… the visions. Yeah. About… five minutes after I left. Why, do think it has something to do with Hazel? What exactly did she do?” Emma said slowly, trying to get Angel’s point out of her.

“Hmm… then perhaps… there’s something about those visions after all. I saw it too, and I suspect Hazel saw them too, about right at the same time you did.” Angel started explaining, her eyes looking unfocused as she seemed to be lost in thoughts.

“I’m no expert on Mages matter. I just know what I’ve read from Death and Taxes, from personal experiences and observations. But Hazel, she’s one hell of an Aberration. She’s fucking strong. The only person who could potentially rival her in power is Zoe, although their powers are direct opposites.” The suddenly enlightened Aberration continued explaining, things started making sense but yet brought more questions at the same time.

“What I mean to say is, perhaps Hazel’s Stigma reflects her power? If the visions triggered her Stigma, then that would explain the screams and the clutching at her head.” Perhaps this was too much information, a bit too gruesome to Emma. But the girl wanted the truth. Angel would be an asshole to not reveal what happened to her roommate now that they were trying to explore Hazel’s case.

“Look, I’m not going to beat around the bush as to what Hazel did. It was more than just trouble. It was straight disaster. Fuck, I think Hazel’s screaming was just as loud as mine. She just launched herself away using one of her ‘arms’ to obliterate another Collector that was standing between us and Ernest and Christmas.”

Angel paused, feeling her throat going dry from all the talking. She took another sip of her mug.

“I heard unknown panicked screams and gunshots, so I rushed down the street to know what was happening. Just when I arrived, I saw Hazel charging Ernest and Christmas with one of her projected fists. I tried to call out to her. I asked what everyone was doing. I asked her to stop. She didn’t.”

Angel sighed, remembering clearly the scene at that time. Her frown returned to her face as she continued her story.

“I just… tried to make it all stop. I screamed. I tried to make it all stop. Stop Hazel from smashing Ernest and Christmas into the pavement. It was a bit too late though, she knocked them out cold. But at the very least, when she regained composure, she charged me instead of dishing out more punishment on the boy. She was just about to turn me into a bloodstain onto the road, but she fell unconscious. I felt her fist, her fleshy one, graze my head.”

Angel’s eyes turned somewhat remorseful as she was telling Emma ““I… lost it. My Stigma wouldn’t allow me to die. So I screamed... again.”

The raven-haired Aberration sighed,8 her face looked morose.

“That’s pretty much all that happened. I fell unconscious shortly after. Hazel didn’t injure me at all. I just blacked out from the blood loss after physically overexerting my wounds.”

Emma stayed silent for a long moment. She didn’t know what to say. She couldn’t blame Angel, not like she wanted to. She couldn’t quite bring herself to blame Hazel either. Maybe she should’ve blamed herself for leaving them. ”I see.” she paused for a moment more.

”I can’t… I can’t say what you did was wrong. But… don’t hold it against Hazel. She’s not… she’s not like us. There’s something different about her. I don’t know if it was something the school did, or if she was always like this, but it’s like… mentally, she’s a little kid. A kid with military training, very strong superpowers, and a Stigma. I mean that, really. Whenever I talk to her it seems as if she hasn’t spent a day outside of wherever they held her.”

Emma took a breath.

”And I know… I know that you went into the battle scared of her. I could tell. But we can’t be like that. We have to be a team. Remember when we were fighting the spiders, and she swept you away with her hand, and you yelled at her? She saved you. The spiders threw their net at you guys and she was protecting you… and you just raged at her. I know she can be scary, but… she’s not as bad as you think.”

Emma sighed, tapping her foot against the ground.

”I know… I can’t ask you to forgive her, not after what happened, but just… keep that in mind.”

Angel listened intently as Emma tried to explain Hazel’s case. So the girl wasn’t a reckless insensitive teenager as she thought she was. But really, did it make any difference? Whether she acts like a child or like a berserking teenager, the fact remained she attacked her teammates. Understanding what was going on with the girl will not help any further next time she loses control.

“Look, I don’t want to pretend to look tough, but it’s not that I was scared of Hazel when we were teaming up with her. I just tried to be wary of the reckless behavior she showed in battle before. I was willing to give her the benefit of a doubt, a second chance. I wanted to confirm just what kind of teammate she was now that I was teaming up with you guys.”

Angel fell silent; reminiscing of the moment she lost control over her words and shouted at Hazel for disintegrating her gear and parts of her clothes.

“I admit that I’ve lost control in the fight. I’m sorry for that. It just happened so suddenly, I didn’t immediately know she did this to save us. In my mind, if she simply swatted the spiders and the web along while they were airborne, it probably would’ve saved us the trouble of having them circling us. But I think I can understand your point. We don’t share the same mentality on this battlefield.”

Angélique paused, her face dragging itself towards the flesh of her face, feeling the ghostly ensation of the web slicing into the skin of her face as she remembered the scene.

“Listen, I know you’re protecting your roommate, and I am actually a bit envious of you guys getting to share a room and be together. But it’s not about forgiving, being scared or wary of her. It’s about her actions, what she does. It will sound harsh, but if Hazel keeps this up, she will be considered a liability to keep around by the institute and will end up either locked away permanently, be disposed of, or worse.”

Angel coughed, words spoken by a familiar redhead training partner came into mind.

“Imagine if Zoe hadn’t left her team to help the others. You may not know her, but you saw what she did to Gregory. If Hazel went to attack her, she probably would have melted her off without any second guessing. I’ve trained with Zoe at Ground Zero. She’s ruthless. She’s not someone you want to mess with.”

“My point is, Hazel has to learn to control herself better, or become more mindful of her teammates. Before the worst comes to befall her. If she is just like you said, then I assume you are the closest person she has right now. You’re probably the only person she will listen to. Give her some insights, some advices, I don’t know.”

The obsidian-haired singer finished her cup of coffee in one gulp.

“We’ve lost enough of our classmates already. I just don’t want anyone else to pointlessly die because of some in-fighting.”

Emma’s face turned venomous. ”Are you kidding me? It’s a good thing you mentioned Zoe, because you want to know what she did? She melted Callan’s fucking arm off. It’s a good thing Lily was there, or it would still be gone. We all have problems with control. You, me, Zoe, Ernie, Hazel… all of the X-marks. You understand that, don’t you? I’m not asking for you to forgive her, I’m asking for your cooperation. Because whatever you were doing to Hazel out there, it certainly wasn’t helping.”

Emma got up. She wasn’t leaving, though, instead starting to pace in front of Angel.

”Hazel locked away, disposed of, that’s exactly what I want to avoid, because right now she’s shackled to her bedpost, surrounded by guards, covered in cuffs… you understand what I’m saying, right? Group B. We’re a team. If we’re going to be a unit, we have to work together. And you losing your shit on the battlefield might’ve been what sent her over the edge. And that doesn’t excuse her, of course it doesn’t, but we can’t have that happen again. Hazel isn’t the only one among us that has to learn control.”

Emma stopped.

”I’m not placing the blame on you. Really. Not all of it, at least. Hazel can’t be attacking her teammates, that’s obvious, but it goes both ways. You can’t give her reason not trust you. That doesn’t sound fair, I know, but… we have to keep this team together.”

Ah… there it was. A crack through the calm aura Emma was trying to exude ever since she arrived. She wasn’t wrong. Angélique herself had to learn control, that much she was aware of. She gained some, lost some. It went forward as it went backwards most of the times. As much as she was willing herself to become better, her weaknesses would just bring her back to square one. That’s why she was kicking herself in the shin so much. The reason she accepted to go along with Brent’s suggestion and spent the whole morning working her ass off through his hell training session.

Still, while Emma tried to be passive throughout the whole discussion, her now direct accusations sparked some embers that were still burning, the hatred she felt towards herself as she had spoken to Brent. For the moment, she didn’t care what Zoe did to Callan. What the fuck could she do about it? Bitch and moan at Zoe for being such an asshole? She knew how Zoe was. The girl probably couldn’t give two shits about what she did. If she did it, there was a reason she pulled the trigger.

“You think I don’t fucking know that already? Why do you think I go to Ground Zero each fucking day of the week? I’m trying to find that control! You think I’m enjoying screaming at other people? That I enjoy hitting my teammates along with my enemies? I’ve been trying to become better.”

Akin to Emma, Angélique’s voice started to grow. The difference was that it had no venom, only hatred. She wasn’t attacking Emma simply because she had nothing to say against her. She just looked so perfect, aside from the venom that she was trying to spit. But Angel would not play this game of accusations. She only spoke what was in her mind and offered her input on the situation.

“Trust me, I’m trying to be as cooperative as I can be. Fuck, do you even know just how hard I’m trying to bring everyone together? I’ve organized training sessions outside of class days, dinners and tried to convince a few people out there to work with others for our mutual survival. I’ve kept silent about Hazel’s attack from the others and hoped they wouldn’t know exactly because I don’t want to segregate her from the class for what she did. ”

Angel sighed. Her voice grew calmer as she didn’t want what she was going to say next to be perceived as a personal attack.

“But even after all that, I’m still just an Aberration. I’m trying to keep my rage under wrap, but even I have limits despite all the efforts I put. We can’t all be as perfect as you are. I just don’t have the control you simply exude whenever I see you guys at lunch.”

Emma narrowed her eyes.

What the fuck did she just say?

Emma quivered, for just a moment. She considered slapping Angel, wanted to even. ”How fucking dare you Angel. You think this is easy for me? You think I’m so perfect? You don’t know anything about me. You think I don’t have the same voices constantly fucking screaming at me? All… ALL that I am saying is that you need to cut Hazel some fucking slack and not spaz out on her in the middle of battle. Try to understand her situation, because you should get it. You said it yourself. You don’t enjoy hitting your teammates, do you think she does? Do you think that she raged out on you because she wanted to? You’re standing here calling her a liability when any of us could’ve done the same. And don’t… don’t you dare make this about me. I’m not… I’m not perfect…”

She couldn’t help it. For the second time today, she couldn’t stop herself from crying.

”Why the hell… you, Ernie, why the fuck do you guys think that? How do you not see? I’m so useless. Savannah died because of me. I couldn’t do anything, I froze up because of my Stigma and my shitty fucking power that in the hands of literally anyone else here could actually have done something. So yeah, I’m just as bad as Hazel and Zoe. Just as bad as you. This is hard for me too. We’re all facing the same fucking dilemma, so don’t try to diminish my fucking feelings. We are all in this shit equally, even if it comes out in different ways. And we all need to control it.”

Emma paused.

”Or you know what, never mind, clearly a little fucking empathy is too much to ask for.” she was tempted to leave right there, but instead stood, staring down singer, reminding herself of how much this remind her of Ernie.

Clearly her words hit a nerve. A landmine Angel didn’t mean to step on, but couldn’t help it in this situation. Seeing the girl fighting against her presumed perfection, and then on the verge on crying. This whole discussion made Angel feel like shit. She had just been saying what’s on her mind, pretty much like Brent always did. How could he stand facing people when saying things like that? Was she too soft, too caring to be like him?

Angel blinked, sighed and looked down for a moment. As she abruptly stood up, she knocked the mug sideways and the blank sheet she had been working on, revealing underneath a stack of paperwork she had previously written all over it and crossed, as if the ideas weren’t satisfying enough.

“I’m… sorry. I’ll… just leave before it gets worse.”

Angel walked past Emma and headed towards the exit. Right now, the voices were not just whispering. They were screaming insults, aimed both towards her pathetic self and towards the pitiful Emma. Her Stigma wanted her to stay and scream those insult at the other Aberration, but Angel had to prove she could still exercise control over herself. At the very least not show this stigmatic outburst to someone she was trying to convince she was growing better. She couldn’t let her inner darkness infect the others. They had enough shit on their plate as it was.

---

---

But despite the faceless people in her dreams, despite the harsh words, she slept through the night and woke up the next day still in the hospital bed. The blanket was twisted around her torso and legs, no doubt from turning restlessly in her sleep. She sighed as she looked up at the bottle of IV fluid she was still hooked to.

I really should just stay put until I'm told that I can go. No real use trying to break free or escape. But it's so boring here... Where would she go? To interact with the people she wasn’t really able to help as much as she should have?

A small chime from her pocket brought her out of her reverie. She looked down and pulled her cellphone out of her pocket. Miraculously, the gadget was unharmed, save for the pre-existing crack on the phone’s monitor.

Three missed calls and 10 new messages.

Lily blinked and stared at the LCD.

For just a moment Emma hovered outside of Lily's room. She didn't know her as well as the others, in fact, she hardly knew her, but... after all she did yesterday, it only felt appropriate that Emma should give their healer a visit. She shifted the bouquets in her arms uncomfortable as she moved to open the door, giving a short knock before walking in.

"Hey, Lily! I hope you don't mind, but I figured you could use a little company... I'm sure it's not too fun being cooped up in a hospital." Emma said, making her way towards the girl's bed. "I also brought flowers." she said with a slightly awkward smile, extending one of the bouquets towards the girl.

Lily was just about to open the messages, a finger poised over the screen when she heard a knock, followed by someone walking in. A pleasant voice coupled with a beautiful face. She looked at Emma then at the flowers she was giving her then back to her face. She blinked. "Thanks..." she said in a dejected voice as she tucked the phone by her side and took the bouquet. "...Emma," she finished. Normally, it would have elated her that she remembered a classmate's name. But in her present mood, there really was no being happy about anything.

Emma gave Lily a long glance. Was she intruding? Was this a mistake? Emma was a near-stranger to the girl, so maybe she was intruding. Emma shifted slightly, suddenly uncomfortable. ”Er, sorry if I barged in, I can… come back another time, if you want me to.” Emma said as politely as possible, still maintaining her smile.

"No, it's okay. You can stay... if you want," Lily said in a quiet voice and gave Emma the smallest of smiles. "You weren't hurt in the fight, were you?" she asked as she looked at the flowers. She laid them gently across her lap, wondering if she had ever been given flowers before.

Emma smiled. ”No, I wasn’t hurt. Not seriously at least. Not like you and the others… although I appreciate that you’re concerned about me when you’re the one in the hospital bed.” Emma took the chair next to the bed. She wasn’t exactly invited to, but she was sure Lily could use the company.

”I mean, you took everyone’s injuries. That was super brave. It was dangerous too… I appreciate it, you saved my friends, but you’ve gotta be more careful when you’re doing something like that.” Emma realized partway through her sentence that this sounded like an unwanted lecture, but she pushed through.

The small smile on Lily's lips wavered. "I... helped...?" she asked, uncertainty, self doubt and weariness on her face. She looked up and met Emma's gaze. "Somebody died. I should have done more. Prevented that from happening," she said in a flat tone of voice. It was strange saying it out loud. She had never had anyone listen to her...or at least she can't remember if anyone ever listened to her.

Emma was surprised. She’d expected the people she knew to play the blame game, but Lily was so… open. ”Lily… That’s not true at all. What happened to Savannah… there was no way to anticipate that. Zero chance. She died in seconds. There are… there are plenty of us that can take the blame for her death, but you’re not one of them. What you did do, though, you fixed Cal’s arm, healed Siena’s injuries, saved Lawrence’s life, and all the others you helped too… at your own expense. That’s… I can’t thank you enough. Those people are my friends, and they’d be dead without you.” Emma shifted her weight in her seat.

”Trust me, as far as I’m concerned you were the biggest hero out there today.”

Emma's words should have made her feel better, made her feel reassured that she was a helpful, useful part of their team. But she felt more disheartened. Yes, she helped remove injuries. But she wasn't a healer at all. All she did was to transfer it to someone else. And that horrible feeling of wanting to amplify what she gave out. She began shaking her head and once again spoke her mind. "No, no, not a hero. Far from a hero. I'm not a healer like Christmas. I just take injuries. I take them and give them to someone else. And... and..." she paused, a horrified look making her golden eyes look darker.

A loud laugh echoed in her head. SAY IT. Say it and reveal to her what kind of monster you really are. SAY IT.

"And..." she hesitated. What would Emma think when she finds out about what she really wanted to do with the injuries she took. Would she be afraid of her when she reveals that she wanted to maim and to kill? She took a deep breath. The voices in her head was right. No one would understand.

"Is Kusari okay?" she asked instead in a small voice.

Emma gave a slight smile. Lily, a girl that was concerned about everyone but herself, it seemed. ”Kusari’s fine. Not even sent to the hospital. She’s staying with us at the motel… and…”

Emma sighed. It seemed like she was doing a lot of that lately. ”You’re right. Healer isn’t the right word for it, but… that’s not what matters. You still did something important. Something good. If you didn’t transfer those injuries, they might be dead right now. Lawrence was on death’s door, Cal lost an arm and was bleeding out on the street, and Siena’s injuries were just as severe. Even if you didn’t heal them what you did was worthwhile. You saved them, and you can’t just brush that off.” Emma started to lean forward in her chair, smile still planted firmly on her face.

She can say that because she doesn't know what you really are. More laughter in the small girl's head. She tried to ignore them and instead focus on how Emma was trying to make her feel better.

"I'm...glad I can help out. I should do better next time, help more," she offered the pretty girl a bigger smile this time despite the chaos in her head. "Thank you,"

”Well, we all have room for improvement. It’s not like we’re real soldiers… we don’t exactly have the skillset to be out there fighting… whatever that was.” still, Emma leaned back in her chair, satisfied with Lily’s response.

”Well, since you’re stuck in here and I’m intent to make sure you’re not lonely, we might as well get to know each other a little… after all, I haven’t really seen you outside of those battles. Is that alright?” Emma gave the girl a curious glance. Lily seemed nice enough, so the prospect of getting to know her a little better seemed nice to Emma.

"Uh... yeah, I tend to keep to myself... I'm not exactly... an ideal person to be friends with but sure, it'll be nice to make another friend. I'd appreciate it," Lily nodded, looking a little more relaxed than when Emma first stepped into the room. She heard a small chime from the phone that she had tucked beside her leg but she ignored it. There was only one person who seemed to bother sending her messages. Sebastian. Whoever he is, he could wait.

Emma’s smile brightened a little. ”Right. More friends certainly doesn’t hurt, especially in our situation…” Emma looked up at the ceiling for a moment, considering where to start with Lily. ”So, Lily, where’s home to you? Y’know, from before we became crazy supernatural child soldiers.”

The question instantly made the golden haired girl's smile turn into a frown. She sighed, lifted a hand and touched the part of her head where the open wound had been. Even the voices in chattering continuously in her head came to a screeching halt at the question. "I don't remember," she answered honestly. "I was found near USARILN East with a big head wound and zero memory of who I am or where I came from. I don't even know if I had a family."

”Oh…”

An uncomfortable moment of silence passed.

”I’m so sorry Lily… I couldn’t imagine what that’s like.” Emma shifted uncomfortably in her chair. Lily was, if anything else, very open. If she was so ready to say it, maybe she needed someone to talk to? ”Well, uh… if you want to talk about it, I’m here… or…?

Lily's frown turned into a sheepish smile. "Well, it doesn't really matter. I can't miss anyone or anything cause I don't remember them," she shrugged and then glanced at her phone. "Although, someone has been sending me messages and calling me on my phone...or at least they said that the phone was mine." She took the phone and glanced at the lit up screen. "Twelve messages now," she mused out loud. "I'm not really sure if I wanna read them or not," she said. She looked up at Emma again. "Do you get messages from your family?" she asked.

Emma frowned. ”No… not since… not since I’ve gotten here. Honestly, I kind of expected it from my parents… they never… never really liked subnaturals. But I thought my sister, at least would say something.” Emma subconsciously glanced towards her phone. She hadn’t looked at it in a couple of days, but it hadn’t rang or buzzed since she started blocking the people the that didn’t matter anymore.

It had been too long for her to keep hoping.

She sighed, ”Well, if you want my opinion, you should at least see what they have to say. Aren’t you curious about where you’re from?”

Lily sighed and tucked her phone back by her leg. "I am. But I'm not sure I wanna know why I was left behind almost dead near USARILN East or why I chose this," she pointed at the X mark at the base of her neck.

Emma gave the girl a sad smile. ”You never know. Maybe whoever left you out there had no choice. Maybe it was an accident… or maybe not. But either way, there’s only one way to find out.” Emma stretched out in there chair, nodding at the other girl’s X. ”Sucks, doesn’t it? Take it from me, knowing how it happened doesn’t really help. You still gotta sit there and wonder where exactly things went wrong. Only thing we can do now is adjust. The X really does blow, though.”

Lily nodded. "I'd say that Arbiters are better off but then again normal people are still afraid of them. Though it must be nice not to deal with so many voices in your head..." she paused for a moment before she stared wide eyed at Emma. "Do you have voices whispering in your head too? It might just be me...?"

A hint of surprise crossed Emma’s face. Lily still doesn’t know about the Stigma? They’d been here for more than a week now, and among the students it was common knowledge. ”Yes. It’s not just you, we call it a ‘Stigma’. All Aberrations have to deal with it, and it really sucks.”

Emma frowned a little. ”If you’re having trouble with it, don’t worry, I don’t think any of us are really coping too well.”

Lily shrugged. "Oh, I know what it's called. I just wasn't sure if it's the same for all X marked... plus..." she gestured to her head as though Emma could see the already healed wound she had there. "I don't think anyone else suffered the same head injuries I did so... I dunno. I thought maybe I was just...uh...weirder than most." she finished with a small embarrassed smile.

Emma smiled. ”I don’t think you’re weird, for whatever that’s worth. We all hear the voices, have those… urges, and…” Emma tapped her finger against her leg rhythmically. Another nervous tic, ”Well, it’s hard for me too.” Emma was going to say more, but she left it a that.

Lily nodded, feeling her mood lighten up a bit. It was nice having someone talk to for a change. Maybe I should do this a bit more often and--- her thoughts were abruptly interrupted by her phone ringing.

The small teenager jumped and nearly fell off the hospital bed in surprise. She blinked at Emma and then when she regained her composure, she looked down at the offending gadget and glared at it.

Emma’s gaze also turned to the phone, followed by Lily herself.

”Are you going to answer it?”

An uncertain look was on Lily's face. "Uhm..." Slowly, she reached out for it and stared at the screen. The name Sebastian stared back at her. She glanced at Emma, a slightly terrified look on her face before she finally lifted the phone to her ear.

"Uh..." the blonde said into the phone.

"Hailey! You're okay. What---"

Lily removed the phone from her ear and stared at it. With a frown she laid it aside, not bothering to end the call. "They must have made a mistake at USARILN. This phone isn't mine," she looked at Emma and said with a flat tone of voice.

Emma frowned sympathetically. ”I… I see. Well… the past isn’t everything. It’d be nice to know, but… we’re in the now, right?”

Emma gave the girl a slight smile, ”I mean, I guess we’re all a team. ‘Experimental Unit B’. And we’re probably not getting out of here anytime soon… what I’m saying is that your family doesn’t have to be the people from your past… right?”

"We're in the now..." Lily repeated, her head slowly nodding. "I guess you're right. Can't always try to hold on to the past. I don't remember it anyway," she smiled. "It's nice that you came to see me. I'm not exactly as friendly and outgoing as you are."

”Of course…” Emma gave a polite smile… not friendly or outgoing. Emma wasn’t always able to pull this off so easily, ”Y’know, if you’re looking for friends you can always tag along with me to lunch.”

Lily perked up at the offer, her smile brighter and her mood lighter. "Really?" she asked with uncertainty in her voice.

"Yeah, of course… there’s a nice little group that usually meets up for lunch… Callan, Marcus, Siena, Ernie… they’re pretty good people.” Emma gave a little shrug, ”And, y’know, they’re my friends… and now you’re my friend, so… why not? It’ll be fun.”

"Oh, I know Callan, Marcus and Siena," she grinned, nodding her head excitedly, her mood lifting up a bit more. "I'll look forward to it then."

"Right. It's a date." Emma leaned back in her chair, taking a glance at the clock, giving a small sigh, half-rueing how long she'd spent talking to Callan, "I've still got to see Siena and Hazel... I'm going to end up getting kicked out before I can finish my round at this rate." she gave a small laugh, "I'd like to stay longer, but..." Emma said, rubbing the back of her head sheepishly.

The amount of time Emma spent with her was more than enough for Lily. Most times she didn't think that any of her classmates would want to interact with her and it was nice that some of them actually did. She flashed Emma a bright smile. "Oh, go ahead and see them."

You think she wants to spend time with you? Look at her. She can't wait to get out of this room and away from you.

The golden haired girl's brow furrowed for a brief second as she tried to ignore the voice in her head and her smile wavered a bit. "Thank you for coming to see me." She gesture to the flowers on her lap. "Thank you for the pretty flowers too."

”Not a problem… it was nice talking to you.” Emma got up from the chair, ”I’m glad you’re okay Lily. You made us pretty worried during the battle, but… I should be thanking you for what you did.” Emma gave the girl a smile, ”I’ll see you soon, I’m sure.” she said, before heading towards the hospital room door.

Lily lifted a hand and was about to call Emma back when the phone beside her rang again, completely distracting her.

---

---

When Angelique left her room, Lily wondered why she was being kept in the hospital when she was perfectly fine. A few cuts and bruises weren't life threatening and they had hydrated her enough for her body to replenish the blood she lost in the battle. She looked at the closed door and narrowed her eyes at it. All she really needed to do was walk out of it, right?

With a determined nod of her head, she gently removed the tape that held her IV line secure on her arm. As soon as she had removed it, she took a deep breath and gave the IV line a quick pull. "Ugh," she wrinkled her nose when blood oozed out from where she had pulled the IV cannula from. She grabbed a couple of cotton balls from the table near her bed, pressed it onto the small wound and applied pressure on it.

And then without wasting any time, she swung her legs to the side of the bed and got down. She kept a firm grip on her hand to make sure that she didn't continue bleeding. If the doctors and nurses see that she's bleeding, she'll never get out of this boring place. She slipped on her shoes and hurried over to the door. She pressed her ear to it for a few seconds, trying to hear if anyone was coming. When she didn't hear anything, she opened the door a crack and peeked out.

The hallway outside was empty.

Perfect!

You'll get caught and they will strap you onto the bed like a madman, you know, came the all too familiar voice in her head.

"Says you," the blonde hissed irritatedly and then stealthily slipped out the door.

It had taken Sophia a long time before she had been ready to leave her motel room again, with its unfamiliar yet somewhat comforting bed. She would rather remain in the room, so she wouldn't have to see anyone or the town that was yet another place she didn't know. But Lily was supposed to be her friend-- they were friends, so it would only be right to visit the Aberration. Especially considering that Lily was in the hospital, and considering the girl's powers.

Still, she was tempted more than once to turn around and head back again. She'd had to find one of the guards to talk to so as to let them know she was leaving the building. And then she would need to talk with Lily. It didn't help that Sophia had no idea what mood her friend would be in when she arrived. Memories of a cheerful, grinning Lily contrasted with images of a distraught, scared girl as she walked, making her way towards the nearby hospital.

Once in the hospital, she found out where Lily should be within a few minutes, but it wasn't easy as it should have been. Her normally quiet voice was even more muted today, only just loud to be heard by the two people who were used to her quiet whispers: her two sisters. It had taken many tries before she had gotten the information she needed regarding which room Lily was in.

At last, walking down that hall, she spotted a person of shorter stature, and a golden head of hair. Quickening her pace to catch up with her girl, she whispered, "Lily?"

Lily had just decided to head over to the door at the end of the corridor when she heard someone whisper her name. The voice wasn't really loud and was somewhat familiar but it still made her heart beat faster than normal. She froze in place, one leg lifted to take that supposedly quiet step towards freedom. She would've thought it was funny if it weren't for that irritation of being caught.

Her mind scrambled for an excuse on why she was out of the hospital room. "I-I was just gonna go look for something to eat. Donuts. I think someone forgot to bring me some and..." she slowly turned around as she voiced out her alibi.

As soon as her eyes fell on Sophia's face, a relieved look came over hers and she grinned widely. "Oh, it's you, Sophia! I thought you were one of the nurses or doctors," she giggled, obviously in one of her happier moods.

No one had brought Lily donuts? Perhaps that was one of her favorite foods. Noting the relief, then the grin on Lily's face, she responded with a small smile of her own, starting out a little forced but growing more genuine as she saw that Lily looked well enough. "Yeah, it's me. Sorry I didn't bring anything... am I interrupting?"

Lily grinned sheepishly. "I was actually trying to sneak out," she admitted with a quick glance around. "Was it difficult to get in?"

"Sneak out?" Sophia parroted Lily without realizing it. Were the nurses not treating her nicely? Or did she just not like hospitals? "Well it wasn't hard, but... I got noticed. There are guards around and all?" She looked Lily over once more. "They haven't been mean?"

Lily wrinkled her nose. How would she sneak out if there are guards? "No, they haven't been mean. They mostly stay away from me. And I was just bored," she explained.

"Mhmm." Okay, so it was boredom. Good thing that she had come then, right? Except that she didn't know what exactly she should be saying now. It was nice to see that Lily was fine and everything, but apart from that she wasn't much of a conversationalist. "Well... I came to see you and uh, maybe keep you company and make sure you were alright? After the battle and everything?" Was the fighting something she should be bringing up? Ugh. To her dismay, she felt her eyes begin to sting, a sign that tears might very well be on the way if she didn't do something about it. Turning her head away, she blinked rapidly before looking back at Lily, smile gone.

"Oh, I'm okay. I wasn't really hurt... well, not really after---" Lily stopped short, noticing the change in the other girl's mood. With a sigh, she stepped forward, grabbed her hand and led her back to the room she had been confined in. "Might as well make sure I don't get you in trouble," she said as she pulled Sophia into the room and shut the door carefully. "Are you okay?"

It felt strange, to be taken by the hand and led by someone else. Shouldn't it be the other way around? Then there was that question. "Are you okay?" That was what everyone always asked, but how many people ever really got a truthful answer? It was often just too hard to explain properly, and it took her too long to begin. So long that they would walk away before she was even ready. And so, "I'm fi-" Sophia stopped abruptly in the middle of that well used word. She used it often, but this time, maybe, she didn't want to use it again.

But she always took too long.

"I don't know." She sighed, fighting the pricking in her eyes once more. "I should be."

The strangely perceptive bipolar Aberration peered into the taller girl's face with a curious look. "It's okay not to be okay. We were hurt, people died. I would be surprised if you were happy and cheerful," she stopped and blinked, realizing that she was describing her current mood. "Uh... not that I'm happy and cheerful about what happened," she quickly explained. "It's just nice to have people visit," she gestured towards the table where the bouquet Emma brought her laid.

Sophia listened to Lily, turning her friend's words over and over in her mind. She still thought it wasn't quite right that it was Lily trying to comfort her, it seemed strange. And she didn't want to burden her, when the girl had many more issues than she did. There was silence for a bit between them as Sophia thought, her gaze flickering over to Lily before looking around the room instead. When she spoke again, there was a heaviness to the quiet voice. She got what Lily had said about being happy out of the way first. "No, I think it's... good that you can... remain happy even after everything happens?" She sighed. "I like seeing you smile." A small smile to accompany her words.

There was still more she wanted to say, but... it wasn't necessary. She shouldn't bring up Sav. She struggled to come up with something else that sounded okay, but instead something else burst out as she twisted her hands together. "It's not okay to not be okay." She began to shake her head slowly, tears now beginning to fall. "Because everyone else isn't okay either... so then... if they all thought the same way, then no one would be happy. We all have something that isn't right, something that's happened and-- I don't know." What was she babbling about? Was she even making sense? "Someone has to look okay."

"Someone has to look okay..." the small blonde repeated, paused for a beat and then shook her head. "At one point we all try to look okay. But once in a while, it's okay to show that we're scared and we're sad. And we just have to do our best to stay together and stay alive..." a dark look settled over her face as she remembered the faces of the dead. Savannah's face was mixed in with Padma's and Alexis' and those 'fake' people she killed in Ground Zero.

With you, everyone will eventually die, a single voice in her head whispered.

"If only I had a power similar to Benediction..." she muttered in a low voice.

A sniffle. Then a nod. Pressing the palms of her hands to her eyes for a moment, when she removed them she made an effort to look a bit more perky. Lily was probably right about what she was saying, but still, it was hard to fight off the feeling that it was her duty to stay okay. Though maybe she could let herself be sad and not okay for a little while. Then once they returned to USARILN East, she could start again and be "okay" once more. Maybe I can even try to get stronger and better? Maybe? Missing whatever it was that Lily had muttered, she nodded once more. "Yeah, I guess you're right. We just have to do our best... and yeah." Meeting the Aberration's gaze, she whispered, "Thanks."

The thanks that Sophia whispered made Lily perk up just like she did when Emma invited her to hang out with her and when Angelique spoke encouraging words to her. She felt needed and useful. It was a wonderful feeling.

One that was dampened a little by the voices that continued echoing in her head.

You're not useful. You're not helping anyone. You're good for destruction. The bringer of death.

"I wonder if I would have been better if I chose a different path..." she wondered out loud, openly staring at the white mark on Sophia's cheek.

Seeing how Lily was looking at a certain spot on her face, her hand drifted up to trace the white mark there. Arbiter versus Aberration. She still didn't know much about the two different groups, but she knew about the Stigma. And the dreams. She could still remember her dream, she doubted she would ever forget it. Things probably would have been very different should she have chosen the other path, but different how?

"I... don't know, Lily. I don't know if anyone will ever be able to figure out what would have happened if we would have chosen the other path. But..." she thought back to what Lily had just said a minute or two ago. "You said it yourself. You still just have to do your best, and as... bad as it sounds, there's no changing it." She rubbed a finger roughly against her mark. "I've wished many times that I could just rub this away and go back. But I can't, and we just have to deal with it." Another sigh. "I'm not helping, am I?"

Lily looked lost in thought and didn't appear to be listening. But when she spoke, it was obvious that she heard every word. "Yes, there's no changing it. We just have to do our best," she agreed. "Sometimes I just wonder what made me choose what I chose. I can't even remember the dream and the nightmare that came with it..." she paused again, a thought occurring to her. "Arbiters are good and Aberrations are... well, anomalies, right? Does that mean that we'll eventually have to fight each other?"

Wait, what? Sophia looked surprised, her eyes widening slightly. "No! I don't think so. It wouldn't make sense, they've already made us a team, right? We're supposed to work together as a team. They wouldn't bring us together just to tear us apart later. Don't think that, Lily." She spoke with unusual firmness, not allowing herself to believe that even USARILN would have such... unpleasant plans for them.

Lily pursed her lips, looking thoughtful for a moment before finally nodding her head. "Okay," she said. She looked like she was about to say something else when the phone she had left on the bed began ringing, the name Sebastian flashing on the screen. The golden-haired girl furrowed her brow and glanced irritatedly at the gadget. "That person keeps calling the phone. I should really return it to USARILN the first chance I get. I don't know why they would give me a phone that belongs to someone else," she muttered in a frustrated tone.

The ringing of the phone made Sophia start, and she looked over at it curiously. "That's strange," she admitted. "Have you tried picking up and asking what the person wants or telling them it's the wrong number? Then maybe he or she will stop."

"But is it the wrong number if it belongs to the person he's calling?" Lily made a small humming sound while tapping one foot irritatedly. "He's looking for someone named Hailey."

Oh, oops. She had forgotten the part about how the phone might have belonged to someone else. But it didn't make sense, how Lily would have ended up with something that wasn't hers. "Hailey..." she mused over the name, wondering who this Hailey might be. If this Hailey kept getting calls from the same person, maybe she was important to this caller. "Where did you get the phone, anyway?"

"The doctors gave it to me when I woke up. I think they thought it was mine. Maybe belonged to someone else they brought in the same time as me," Lily explained as the phone finally stopped ringing and instead chimed several times signaling the arrival of several text messages.

"Hmm... maybe," Sophia said, gazing thoughtfully at the phone. When it started to chime, she bit her lip. What was so important that this person kept getting messaged and called? Repeatedly, from what Lily had said. She felt her curiosity peaking, wanting to know more about this mysterious caller and person. "What do the messages say?" The question was asked tentatively; would Lily get angry if Sophia seemed like she was prying?

"I've read a few of them. He just keeps apologizing, asking how the owner is doing and promising to come and get her." A dreamy look came over the X-marked face. "It must be nice having someone worry that much for you..."

There wasn't really anything that she could do about these calls, though it did kind of bother her that there was someone out there looking for this girl, not knowing that the owner of the phone had changed hands. "I hope he finds this girl one day," Sophia murmured. Changing the subject, she glanced around the room that Lily was staying in. "Do you know when you'll be let out of here?"

The change in topic made Lily immediately forget about her concerns about the phone, Hailey and Sebastian. "I don't know. I wanted to go out now. But if I get caught, they'll drag me back in here and you'll get into trouble too," she pouted.

Sophia frowned, thinking about the time. It had already been getting late when she had come here, so it would probably be best to head back to the motel soon. "Maybe you could go and ask one of the nurses and convince them to let you out? I probably will be going back soon, so..."

"I didn't think they'd listen to what I would say..." Lily said in a small voice but walked over to the bed, pocketed the phone and nodded. "I think they're too afraid of me to actually want to keep me here so I guess it's worth a shot." She headed towards the door.

A few minutes later, a giggling Lily walked out of the hospital side by side with Sophia. "That was easier than I thought!" she exclaimed. She just barraged the nurses with one sentence after the next explaining why she should be let go and how she was feeling fine. The poor flustered woman merely stared at her and nodded.

Now outdoors, Sophia performed a cursory glance of her surroundings, finishing with her gaze on the giggling Lily. She's the only person I ever talk to, she realized. Her interactions with people inside of USARILN East had been limited to a few muttered sentences here and there, nothing more. But with Lily... she got the feeling that Lily would not judge her so heavily, at least not as much as the other students might? They had only really interacted three or four times so far, but she hoped that it would continue this way. She hoped, even though there were many doubts and worries that the more she got to know Lily, the harder it would become to talk.

She shouldn't be thinking about that now. Enjoy it while you can.

"The motel we're staying in is just a few blocks away."

Lily nodded and continued walking side by side with Sophia. "It should be fun to be staying with other students for a change. Although, I should probably look for a single room to stay in alone. Just like back home..." she paused. "...I mean USARILN East."

It’ll probably sound weird to Sophia that she called the school home. But to Lily, who had no recollection on who she is and where she came from, it made sense to call the place home.

“Oh, come here, baby! Look at this! Come over here and look at the TV!”

Gramma Webb had turned 84 that day. It would be the last time they got a chance to celebrate it at her house.

Second slice of cake in hand, Callan rushed back into the living room to see what all the fuss was about. Her grandmother’s eyes were glued to the screen as her aunt laughed and pointed, shaking her head incredulously, “She likes that girl’s hair.”

Callan recognized the commercial as one that played often, but this seemed to be Gram’s first time seeing it. It was an advertisement for the upcoming Color Run that year. The spokesperson was a girl with long, billowing dark teal hair. “Isn’t that beautiful, Cal?” Gram smiled. Callan agreed through a mouthful of cake. The color was nice, but definitely not her favorite. Definitely not something she’d ever pull off anyway.

“I’m gonna go just a little bit lighter than that,” the old woman boasted, drawing a good deal of laughter from the other family members. “What? That color has our names written all over it! Ain’t that right, babygirl?”

“Sure, Gram,” Callan smiled. Gram pulled her into a tight, one-armed hug as she took a seat beside her.

“See? This is why she’s my favorite grandbaby! The rest o’ you fools aren’t invited to my next party!”

It became something of a running joke after that. Gram had been so enamored by the color of that girl’s hair in the commercial that day that every holiday after, “Why isn’t your hair green yet, Gram?” became everyone’s go to remark when they wanted to tease. Gram had always been a good humored lady, but even then, Callan could tell that every time she said she wanted to dye her hair, there was a hint of seriousness in her tone. The way her eyes lit up with an endearing passion every time the commercial came on or she talked about it… even now, she could remember how her face looked.

Never a hair out of place in Callan's eyes. Her warm smile could cure any bad mood. Her laugh was infectious. And she'd always been so deceivingly cunning. It never made sense to her-- why she favored her so much. She'd never really felt like she deserved it, so she did her best.

Ten months later, Gramma Webb fell ill.

It was meant to be a surprise.

"Oh, Callan. It's beautiful."

Gramma's voice was weak as she ran a shaky hand over the freshly dyed curls.

"We'll take you in when you get out," Callan grinned desperately from her seat at the bedside, "Then we'll be matching!"

Gramma laughed, "Bless your heart, babygirl. Thank you so much. You didn't have to do that for an old crone's birthday." There had been a sadness to it even Callan couldn't ignore.

"I had to! They stopped playing your favorite commercial!"

Another weak laugh, barely audible through the dryness of her throat. "You're a good girl, Cal.... Don't you ever change for nobody."

Those were kinds of things Gramma had started saying before she died. Corny feel-good statements that Callan loved and knew she meant, but, at the same, hated. She didn't want to believe that her time was so close at hand. It'd been too hard to think about then, but it was easier to recall now. Especially in lieu of other things....

"Well, I was thinking we could just timeskip," said Ernie.

"Ohh, yeah. Of course. Why didn't I think of that?!"

"Shh. It's about to start Cal--"

Safely back at the motel, Ernie and Callan were relieved to have made it past those pesky reporters.

"We should really do that more often, Ernie."

"Oh, I agree Cal. I agree. Would make everything way easier, but our dumbass writers seem to enjoy watching us struggle all the time."

"What a bunch of grade A assholes."

"You said it."

It didn’t take very long for the unconscious raven-haired Aberration to wake up from her comatose state as Christmas’ blood began coursing through her veins. The pain of bandaged but still open wounds slowly faded away until it was no more. The pricking sensation in her throat was no more after a few minutes, leaving Angélique able to speak clearly without coughing or straining her voice.

Soon enough, Angel could feel heat rising up from deep within her being, washing away the cold darkness that had invaded her mind. Christmas’ blood had done its job as effectively as it had always been, unbeknownst to the young woman. But as she opened her eyes and felt like she had never been injured, aside from the aching in her body and memories of the pain inflicted by the clockwork spiders, the ex-musician was quick to realize that it was her fellow Arbiter classmate who had been responsible for bringing her back into top shape.

The light of the hospital room was slightly too intense for Angel just after waking up and being sensitive as always to intense brightness. She let out a displeased groan as she shielded her eyes with an open palm as she brought herself to a sitting position on her bed. Seeing the X-marked whose neck was covered by a leather choker starting to wake up and move, the nurses that were grudgingly attending to her started to panic slightly. When the hospitalized Subnatural took a tired glance towards them, they stammered an explanation that she was clear to leave the hospital now that she was okay, before leaving the room in a hurry. She didn’t even have time to ask what had happened to the battle in Wisford and to her classmates. Strange… nurses in USARILN were quite the bitches, cold and uncaring. Those people though, it felt as if they had never dealt with Mages before.

So that’s what Aberrations were suffering about when interacting with Regulars. Angélique didn’t know if this was better or worse than being held at gunpoint by soldiers. She felt like she would never be welcomed into normal society ever again just by having witnessed how the nurses were seemingly terrorized and anxious of leaving her. As a Regular before, Angel pondered why she was so accepting of the existence of Subnaturals, compared to the rest of the world. Perhaps it was because fate had decided to brand her with a magical mark in the future, so that the transition wouldn’t be a shock?

It felt weird to have all this padding and the bulletproof vest on her being, now that the battle was seemingly over. But the added protection remained steadfast on her body, unmoving and seemingly stuck on her body. Feeling the material wrapped around her body, Angel deduced that the Wishalloy was still functional. Was this prototype defect and lasted longer than intended? Or has it been less than three hours she was out? That was impossible. USARILN was about more than a three hours’ drive. The Wishalloy should’ve faded away inside the truck. Unless…

Angel reached for the pocket of her jeans holding her personal cellphone. At that very moment, the raven-haired young woman realized that her wallet was no more, obliterated by Hazel when she swept her left side, her unprotected jeans’ left pocket along with it. Not that she had anything very useful in there anyway. No money, her driver’s license – that she felt wouldn’t be of use because it was unlikely USARILN would let her drive a car – the debit and credit card of an empty and rejected bank account and her…

“Oh fuck...”

Her student ID. Angélique had the habit of carrying it around in her wallet at all times, in case she needed it on the spot. Guess she’ll have to request another one.

Fortunately, her phone was still intact. It surely held the answer to some questions she had, using the built-in GPS and some other tools. And…

Of course there was no signal. Whether the hospital room had thick as hell walls, she was in an area with no signal coverage or her data plan expired, there was no way to tell now if she was at USARILN or not. Although she had been using wifi on the campus before, so that meant maybe she was not at USARILN right now. Maybe she required immediate medical attention and was brought into Wisford’s hospital?

No use sitting here and wondering, Angel figured. She slowly got up on her feet and walked towards the door.

What an unlikable atmosphere.

Though it was easy enough for him to ignore when he was still hanging with Ernie and Marcus, gathering up a variety of greasy foodstuffs from a nearby 7-11, now that he was alone in the hospital, with the jittery eyes of staff and patients flickering from his cuff to his mark to his two large, plastic bags filled with stuff...it was getting harder to ignore.

But his smile persisted, even if he knew the ability to smile after just walking out of a warzone was more frightening than appearing like a jittery, traumatized mess. He spoke a few greetings towards the staff, nodded at one of the soldiers, and headed off towards the upper floors. A receptionist had previously been 'kind' enough to provide him with a list of room numbers that pertained to his subnatural classmates, and from there, he headed down the corridor to the closest one: Angelic's.

It was a small blessing, really, that the cashier had given in at the end.

Brent couldn’t have any better timing for as he reached Angélique’s door, the door slowly opened. A tired-looking Angel wearily walked out from the room, barely bumping into her visitor as she stopped short after noticing someone was standing in front of her room’s door.

“Oh… Brent. Nice to see you… What are you doing here?” the obsidian-haired Aberration asked in a monotone voice, oblivious to what her friend was carrying in his hands.

Her voice was lacking her usual lively and passionate tone, as if she had just woke up and still in a daze. However, now that she wasn’t wearing her usual shades and her face had been cleaned from all the blood and the dirt, one could clearly see the dark shadows under her usually hidden eyes, signs of a girl who haven’t had a good night’s sleep for a very long time.

A familiar appearance greeted him. Half open eyes, heavy bags, and skin that was a shade paler than normal. Not a trace remained of the facial injuries she had sustained, but Angelic looked half-dead regardless. Had she been this tired in the morning? Nevertheless, at least she was up and walking about, however zombie-like she was.

"Just doing a food run," Brent replied, hoisting up the bag, "Town's real small, so I more or less figured that the hospital food wasn't going to be spectacular."

His amethyst eyes peered a little closer to her face.

"You alright, Angelic?"

Angel’s eyes squinted to shield themselves the most they could from the ambient light and still make out what was in front of her without being a burning aching mess. Brent’s words felt just as confusing as when she just woke up and realized her Wishalloy prevented her added protective gear from being removed from her body. So were they really not at USARILN right now?

“How considerate of you. Thanks…” Angélique flashed a smile towards Brent as she finally noticed the heavy bags he was carrying. “I’m… alright. Just a bit tired. I’ve just woke up. Injuries are all gone now, I can still talk and I’m not dead, so I guess I’m in top shape?” Angel tried to let a chuckle out, but it more sounded like a half-assed attempt at humor after coming back from hell.

“Where are we exactly? I’m starting to think we’re not at USARILN, right?”

"Welcome to La Plata," Brent said, using the tone of a slimy tour guide, "Population: insignificant, location: not sure. You're in their hospital, a world-renown location full of only the most stunningly handsome doctors and ravishingly beautiful nurses, as well as cafeteria food that will probably rot your stomach from inside out."

He bowed, before saying, "Dunno how long we're staying here for though. Dunno why we're even here...but anyways, you're hungry, right? Got the usual fries and chicken and hot dogs affair from 7-11, but there's also salad and sandwiches, if you're feeling healthy."

The arbiter tilted his head, looking past Angelic into the sterile room she inhabited, before saying, "Probably should sit first though, eh?"

“La Plata, huh? Never heard of it. Sounds very… Mexican though. Hopefully they didn’t drop us off in the middle of a desert for confinement.” Angel joked, nodding slowly as some things made sense. At least why her Wishalloy was still wrapped around her. Like Brent said, she had no idea why they stopped here instead of returning to the institute.

“You did? That’s so cool! To be honest, I was just thinking about eating as soon as I would have known where we are.” Her tired face beamed with the mention of junk food. She was so hungry, she felt like she could eat through a bucketful of fried chicken.

“Uh, yeah, I suppose so.”

Angel walked back into the room, taking a seat onto the edge of her bed. Now that Brent was here, she could probably get some news from what happened after she fell unconscious while she was eating and regaining some strengths.

“So… uh… how are the others? What happened after… you know…” the young Aberration woman stammered through. Truth be told, even if she was still mad at Hazel for attacking her, she was still trying to preserve what little harmony was left during that bout, hesitant of talking in detail about the other girl.

Pulling out a carton of greasy chicken, Brent popped it open, reminded himself that he could eat later, and offered the deep-fried heartkillers to Angelic. It really was too clean of a place, and how quiet and empty it was bothered him slightly. The hospital at USARILN, if nothing else, had books and video games to occupy people with, even if the x-marks were fully sedated, but here? Too quiet, too dead. Like the patients here were already in the grave.

His nose twitched, catching the smell of bleach mixing in with the aroma of cheap chicken.

As Angelic began to eat, he slid the trash can over, before finding a stool for himself. "Zoe took care of the enemy subnaturals, and Lily healed mostly everyone up. Lawrence survived, but we weren't able to make it in time for Sav," Brent tonelessly spoke. "Cat's Cradle appeared as well, but I don't know what they were doing there."

He recalled that scene once more, a black monster that swallowed up the stars itself, towering over the far-off buildings.

"They were definitely fighting something though. Perhaps the subnaturals behind the Factory incident? I don't know." He laughed suddenly. "Shit, I don't know much at all, even after being there the entire time."

Angélique listened intently to Brent as he explained the situation. Of course Zoe had the situation under control. She knew all too well what she was capable of, after training intensely with the red-haired Mage and witnessing just how much damage she could inflict to fleshy opponents. Not only that, but she was certain Zoe would not have any issue killing another human being. Their deep discussion had revealed the Aberration’s will to stain her own two hands instead of the others’.

But Angel froze at the mention of Savannah. Her mouth was left agape in the middle of her chewing and the drumstick of chicken falling back into the cheap box as she felt the shock behind Brent’s words.

“S-Savannah died? H-how?”

Her stomach suddenly tied up. After hearing that news, she no longer felt any appetite. Instead, her mind was ravaged by sudden flashbacks. The few moments she shared with the little girl. Their first battle. The sight of the young blonde girl with a focused look on her face as she tore off a part of her clothes and bandaged Allison’s bleeding side.

The day they went all shopping for new clothes, when they went to eat at McDonald’s and went shopping some more after for more or less useful accessories. The little moment she spent trying to defuse her initial blunder of an introduction to the trip.

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

"A girl gotta get clothes when she has nothing left to wear. But hey, better go around town with a bra on than wait until my pants and my underwear get torn up as well. Now that would be embarrassing, wouldn't you say?" Angel added, now smiling warmly as she managed to ease off the tension and see the girl's smile for the first time ever since they had arrived at USARILN.

The dinner she made to the survivors of Green Team a few days after. A small, meaningless moment when Angel tried to unite her partners and bring harmony to the table, only to realize how hard it would be to get everyone working together.

"Already? Damn, that was so good I lost track of time. Thanks for the food, Angel. It was awesome. Savannah said, smiling. The food had been good, Savannah had devoured a lot of it. Especially the pie. Especially the pie. What could she say? Savannah had a tooth for all things sweet and sugary.

She is going to miss that innocent, childish smile. Savannah was too young to die. She wasn’t ready to be shoved into this cruel world. No one was. But the world showed just how despicable it had become, for children to be involved in such bloody situations, and die because of it.

Tears began trailing down the Aberration’s cheeks, but she was quick to realize it and swiftly brought an arm to her eyes, trying to wipe out the opened flow.

Brent's laughter stopped. Ah, this must have been the first time for Angelic. She really was unaware of how much shit the Evac group had to go through, wasn't she? And now...now, she wanted to know how Savannah died? How she was slowly being strangled to death, before Callan charged into her assailant and the force of the tackle snapped her neck? How the subnatural that attacked her came from within the APC, the implication being that Marcus, Lawrence, Sophia, or Savannah failed to properly confirm that the people they were taking in weren't enemy mages? How he had been lazy enough himself that he thought Callan's arrival would resolve everything, instead of trying to get the gargoyle bitch off her?

He felt like letting his shoulders slump, like falling into the same mindset that plagued him before, where thoughts were overrun by emotion. But he held firm. Pulling out a few napkins from the bag, Brent handed them over to Angelic, watching her suppress her tears.

Was that the proper way of reacting? With grief instead of sadistic anger?

He didn't know. Didn't know so much.

But at the very least, he knew this.

"Sav's neck was broken," he said, "Her death was quick and painless."

A pause. What sort of weak, consolatory bullshit was this? His hands curled up into fists.

"But I could have saved her still. Sorry."

A sigh followed.

"You can cry as much as you want, Angelic. Think it's healthier to release it all while you can."

The fact how quick and painless Savannah's death meant very little to Angélique. As a matter of fact, this wasn't the kind of answer she was hoping to get. But, through her grief, Angel realized just how hard it must be for Brent to announce her death, just as it was hard to accept the death of a girl the rockstar was starting to grow fond of, despite her quirks.

Anger began surfacing through her guts as she heard the rest of what Brent had to say. He could've saved her, but she was still dead. What exactly the fuck had he been doing then? And then he told her to cry as much as she needed?

Is that the impression she was leaving on the others? The image of a big softie who was crying for every death and bouts of embarrassment? Was that the impression she left of herself?

Angélique's hands trembled from rage. Anger that wasn't directed at Brent. It was self-loathing. Angel's tears stopped just as quickly as they came in. For a moment, Savannah's death was forgotten as swiftly as the subject came crashing on her. Her obsession over what others thought of her was embedded in her mind. She could not stand being looked that way.

Without thinking, the raven-haired Aberration had taken the napkin Brent offered her in one shaky hand and crumpled it as soon as it was brought near to her face. No way. She had to stop this. She had to stop looking so weak, so pathetic, and so pitiful in front of the others. She already showed this side of herself enough times in front of others. It had to stop.

"No... I've had enough... of crying. I can't be like this... forever. I can't cry for every single death that happened and is going to happen. I can mourn their death... but it has to stop."

For the whole time, Angel had a pitiful face, looking downwards. But as her anger rose, her face showed some sort of twisted conviction. A face born from a mix of resolve and the darkness dwelling deep inside as an Aberration.

"I have to stop being so fucking weak, Brent! I won't save anyone being like this!"

And there it was. From grief to hatred, just like that.

He let his shoulders slump, tired of holding himself up. He let his back curl, tired of sitting up straight. He leaned in, looking more at his tented fingers than the person he was speaking to.

"Hey, Angelic, do you hate yourself?"

What kind of question was that all of sudden? Was Brent trying to test just how much hatred she could spit? A part of her wanted to remain calm and composed, not let herself turn into this pitiful mess in front of someone she knew well. But another part of her felt like she could use opening up to someone who was already so close to her, felt almost like a mischievous little brother.

Could she really fall so low as to rely on Brent to emotionally support her? The guy who was more focused on looking at his fingers instead of staring into her eyes as he spoke this vital question?

“Why the fuck are you asking that all of a sudden?” was the only thing she could spontaneously answer.

"Don't answer a question with another one." Fingers clasped together, tightening. "Yes or no?"

Angel felt at a loss. A loss she refused deep down. Being a superstar throughout her life, she rarely met anyone confronting her like that. Speaking with someone so obstinate, she didn’t know how to escape this situation.

In the end, she would only fall back to her honest and passionate side. If Brent was so hell bent on coaxing the truth out of her, then so be it. Now would be the time to see who Brent really was depending on his reaction.

“You want to know that badly? Fine then! Yes, I fucking hate myself. I hate myself for what I’ve fucking done before being locked away as a Subnatural. I used to think I had no regret in choosing the path of a Destroyer. Seeing the consequences of it, I fucking hate it. I hate the fucking voices whispering all day long. I hate those fucking nightmares I keep having each night. I hate my inability to help anyone, to cause only pain and suffering. Had I known I would be so fucking weak despite choosing the way that promised more power, I would have chosen Harmony instead of Destruction. I fucking hate myself for sucking so much at taking important decisions. I fucking hate being so weak and looking that way!”

He held his tongue throughout her entire rant, hands clasped like a prayer. Self-loathing for making all the wrong decisions, self-loathing for admitting all the wrong decisions, self-loathing for the entirety of their life. He could hear that voice once more, the poison that kept him alive, that woke up him up every morning, and he suppressed it. Kept it inside. Deep.

Not now.

He turned his face up, to look into Angelic's. There wasn't a trace of a superstar at all. Just a tearstreaked face full of agonizing fury, messy strands of hair clinging onto the sides. And on his own face, there was no longer a smile to soothe the violent intensity of his own eyes. "If," he began, slowly, the last traces of hesitation stubbornly remaining, "you hate yourself, then kill yourself. Tear your muscle fibers to shreds, burn away every trace of fat in your body, destroy your opinions with the knowledge of others, reconstruct every habit you have for every activity, don't even think about being satisfied with the pathetic little shitstain that you are."

He swallowed, teeth grinding together.

"Kill yourself every day, replacing each unnecessary, unwholesome, useless part with something that's marginally better. Use whatever you can to make yourself obsessed with changing who you are. If you hate your past decisions, then just make better ones the next day, until you can bury the past with the present. If you went down the wrong road, stop dreaming about the other path and just break your fucking mind until you come up with a way to make your path the right one."

He wanted water. Drink something and shut himself up.

"Hazel's a god of destruction, Sander is an unkillable juggernaut, Emma has nigh infinite range with her powers, and there is not a thing in the world that Zoe can't kill. But all the prayers in the world won't turn a line into an x, and all the prayers in the world wouldn't have taken an opportunity that had already passed."

He didn't want anything.

"All I can do is kill myself every day, and hope that my future is better than my past."

When did he start talking about himself?

For once ever since they met, Angel saw the true meaning behind Brent’s words. For all the time she accidentally misunderstood him, it was at this time she caught a glimpse of who Brent was. The idea of killing herself sounded rude at first, but as his speech went on, Angélique finally understood. Is that why Brent was up so early in the morning, each day? Why he looked so distant when speaking to others, but at the same time so close?

Angel’s mind shattered as she heard her classmate talk as if he was talking about himself. All of her past convictions, her goals, her lamenting, they crumbled. Was that why she was such a failure? Because everything she stood for was a lie to herself? Had her beliefs put a stop to her ambition? Was she weak because she imposed limits to herself?

Oddly enough, Brent’s reasoning sounded close to what Ernest once told her. About giving up on trying to control what she can’t and accept her fate. Stop looking back and mourning her past. Acknowledge who she had become and use it to her advantage.

So that was the final answer.

Angélique nodded silently. Her rising voice had been silenced by the harsh reality Brent had voiced out.

“Will you…” Angel hesitantly said; vestiges of her past decisions trying to cling onto her.

No, it had to stop. She had to change. If she would remain the way she is now, nothing will change. She will still remain the pathetic lamenting sack of crap she now is.

“Will you help me down that path? Should I sway from the road, slap me back into the way?”

He didn't understand music. Nor had he spent years in kickboxing. In terms of knowing how to deal with paparazzi and adoring fans, his experience was zero. He doubted he could organize large events that easily. But there was still a part of him that felt glad that Angelic, someone who had so many things that he'll never have, wanted to rely on him.

You fucking leech.

The words that didn't voice itself when Siena showed her gratitude rang through his mind, and he knew that he could not bring himself to smile. Not yet. No jokes either.

Brent straightened his back, felt a crick in his spine.

"It'll be a punch, not a slap. You don't want to be a little sissy that can't take a hit, right?"

A grin appeared on Angélique’s face. Of course, she had to expect no less from the man

“Damn straight! Bring it, bitch!”

It felt weird to say that, but it came straight from the heart, without restraints. And to be honest, it felt damn good.

"Better not hear you regret this later," Brent replied, a small smile emerging in response. "Now go eat and sleep. I'm waking you up at 5."

"Aye aye sir!" Angel returned him an exaggerated salute in answer as she watched Brent heading to the exit of her room. She watched him leave with a solemn look into her eyes.

Guess she will have to mentally prepare herself for the incoming change. Double her efforts and work her ass off until she can finally live with herself.

After Brent’s visit, Angel had tried to feed herself with what remained of the fried chicken he had brought. However, after all the emotional torment she had gone through during their discussion, a metaphorical noose formed itself in Angel’s esophagus, cutting her appetite short and refusing to swallow anything for now.

She had tried to go to sleep, like Brent suggested, but with the WishAlloy preventing her from removing her clothes, take a shower and head to sleep, Angel couldn’t fall asleep. Instead, her mind drifted to what happened today and her classmates. Were they alright? Was she the only one hospitalized?

In the end, curiosity killed the sleep cat and made Angel leave her room. She headed towards one guard patrolling the corridors, seemingly on high-alert. However, he was diligent enough to point her towards the rooms of her hospitalized classmates, who were really not too far from each other.

Angel's feet brought her in front of the door to one of her classmate's room, Siena. Out of all the ones that got injured in this fight, Angelique was worried the most for her friend. She blamed partly herself for having let Siena go help Evac Team without proper healing first. Hopefully Siena was in there because of the 'superficial' wounds she had sustained before leaving the fight.

The door was already open, but Angel didn't want to intrude into someone's room unannounced. She knocked on the frame of the door, hoping that her brunette friend wasn't bedridden with life-threatening wounds. Christmas would have healed her anyway, just like he did to her face, right?

After Brent's visit, the unwelcome feeling of isolation had been lifted briefly off Siena's shoulders, even if other troubles had risen in its place. Though she was far from bedridden, the brunette had been hesitant to show herself as capable of leaving. Not when she didn't have her usual sources with her, and especially not when the only thing she had was the handwritten book tucked away on the side of her coat that had been spared from Hazel's disintegrating sweep.

'The one you should have used, you mean?'Jeering, hateful, bitter. She should have. Hand picked names from one of the two people in the world that she trusted without batting an eye. Even if she'd never dared to break the seal of the cover before, Siena was aware that whatever had been placed in the little thing was likely more useful than any name she'd taken herself in combat. A surge of guilt rushed through her at the idea. She could have done more. Maybe she could have helped finish their fight sooner. Maybe she could have helped Savannah.

Her fault again.

That was why she didn't want to be alone.

That was why the knock at her door pulled her in so easily. Why it would keep pulling her in without a hitch.

"Oh, it's...it's open...!" Siena called while pushing herself up. Her mind was still buzzing with the events of the battle. With emotions attached to events that she knew didn't belong to her. Not her. The mantra that she repeated while using a name that could threaten her control. The mantra that she continued to use long after the presence had faded. "P-Please, come in!"

After hearing Siena's invitation, it didn't take long for Angel to slowly slip inside the room. At first glance, the girl looked alright on the outside, not a single wound had been left behind. But then again, she had been healed by Christmas. What was her condition before being healed?

The wounds inside are harder to detect than the injuries of the flesh...

Siena probably had been there when Savannah died, when shit happened on Evac Team's side. Angel didn't know what happened on that side of the field. But if anything bad happened and was tormenting Siena, then Angel felt compelled to make sure her Arbiter friend was alright. There was always this lingering feeling of unease concerning Siena. She was a capable girl for sure, but the scene of both being crying messes after overdoing it on their first training session kept replaying in her mind.

"Hey Siena. Are you alright? Is everything okay?"

Angel was genuinely concerned, but nagging at the back of her mind were the words told her she should stop caring. It was what made her weak, the worthless piece of shit that couldn't do anything useful in battle. The reason why she hated herself so much.

Are you alright?

No.

"O-Oh, I'm fine. Most of my injuries were taken before we got here.

Is everything okay?

No...but it was too hard to let on that it wasn't. So the brunette gave a tired smile as she spoke. Her problems, not theirs.

"I'm not entirely sure they thought it was necessary to use additional healing on me...but I guess I wasn't a good judge of my own condition." Siena thought about Christmas's unconscious body being carted to her room. To the syringe of blood. To the fact that they treated him like a human medicine pack. She didn't like the idea, but she hadn't opposed to it. The same bitter voice that mocked her had whispered that it was his job as a healer. Because he could do something that would make a difference and last unlike her. "...I'm glad that it seems you were healed though. I...I was worried."

Unease squirmed in her chest like a serpent. Angel's condition had been far worse than her own when they'd been transferred to the separate transport. Siena didn't like seeing the end results of battle, and never would. The fact that Angel and Hazel had been injured to the point of unconsciousness...maybe she should have stayed. She might have been able to do something more. All that leaving had done was hurt people. Hurt the Evac team, let the Offensive Support team get hurt...she didn't arrive quickly enough to help anyone.

"I'm sorry I left. I...I should have stayed with the team."

Angel walked further in the room, pulling a stool and setting it right in front to Siena, so they could talk face to face without tiring herself out standing up like that. Feeling that mutually feeling worried for each other brought both some ease and unease at once in the singer's mind. Glad someone was caring for her, but hating that she was leaving others to worry about herself, a self she wanted others to look up to as a strong woman.

She shook her head negatively "No please, don't say that. We both agreed we should help the others as soon as possible. If anything, I should have pushed forward onto that thought instead of staying behind to get healed and play hero. I... got the others into a mess they shouldn't have been involved in the first place."

She should have known better than looking out for herself. The safety of her teammates should have been a priority instead of making sure civilians were alright and getting herself patched up.

"Don't be sorry. We did the best we could. We... just need to be better prepared next time."

Angel's approach brought up conflicting emotions that Siena wasn't sure she could separate. Relief. Concern. ...Anxiety? She masked them all with a welcoming smile, still tinged with a sense of fatigue--she wasn't sure whether it was mental or physical, but one usually bled into the other regardless. " could say the same thing about myself. I...if we hadn't had the WishAlloy... Memories of being flung upwards. The fact that she had still started to fall. What would have happened if the others hadn't had the magic armor? All because she hadn't killed her target. "But...you're right. Maybe with better preparation, we can avoid a repeat." Because there was going to be a "next time" whether Siena wanted it or not. Instinctively her hand tried to reach for the remaining booklet tucked away, but Siena changed course. Swapped to twisting the strands of hair in her fingers. Act normal.

"I'm glad it's over." But Savannah was gone, and Siena was too busy trying to sort through the shambles left in the wake of people stronger than her to feel the grief she wanted to feel. Instead, she felt hollow. Different from when Padma...when Padma... A flicker of pain came to life, cracked through the facade for an instant before the seams melded back together. More memories. More events, but these were...these were undeniably things that she experienced...just like other tragedies and joys that she'd also thought belonged to her.

What if they got lost in the sea too?

"...I'm glad you're still alive too."

Angel looked at Siena while she was hearing her talk. She never was good at picking up the faintest hints, or really understanding people. She always had been a good spokeswoman though. A lot of people were drawn to her speeches, but it was a shame that the idol wasn't great herself when it came to understanding the feelings of others.

She watched Siena twisting the strands of her hair, a habit a lot of people would usually associate with anxiety. But in her state of mind, Angel simply assumed it was just a bad habit as anyone toying twiddling their fingers. Her tired eyes and blurry vision from the ambient light further tiring her eyes didn't pick up the jagged end of Siena's hair.

"I'm glad you are safe too. I feared the worst when I learnt you were hospitalized. I... blamed myself a bit for letting you go without being healed first."

Angel tried her best to steer away from the subject of Savannah's death as it went in that direction. She already cried in front of Brent earlier. It won't happen again in front of Siena. She promised earlier to herself she'd stop being weak, as she screamed her hatred to her earlier visitor.

"Do you remember that guitar you bought me the week before last week? I still haven't got the chance to play that something I promised you."

"Oh..." Grateful for the change in topic, Siena felt her smile grow faintly. Part of it felt forced, even for her. "Now that you mention it, you're right." It felt like an eternity ago that they'd gone shopping together in town. Shopping with Aaron, who'd been missing ever since, and Savannah. Another flicker of pain, once again fading back into the mask. "Though I don't think that we can make good on that here. They might think we're rowdy teens trying to rile up the patients."

Letting her visage brighten a bit further, Siena tried to slip away from the thought of their comrades no longer with them. "But...maybe once we get back, I can take you up on that offer."

"That would be... pleasant." Angel only replied to the idea, preferring to think of that rather than everything that had happened today. It was something to look forward to for when she'll return with the others, a small reason to live up for tomorrow, to push herself into becoming better.

"What kind of music are you into? You wouldn't happen to be the daughter of the awesome Carlos Santana, would you?" Angel joked, trying to ease up, if not break, the tension that had built up in the last few hours.

She just wanted to leave what happened today in the past and look forward to a better moment. See the brightness faintly slipping through Siena's face transform into a genuine smile by the time she would leave.

"Oh, no...though maybe he's somewhere in the family tree," Siena replied with a light chuckle. Twisting her hair around her fingers and snapping a few strands. It felt...unsatisfying, even when the faint popping sounds managed to reach her ears. "Maya was a big fan of his, though she said I should keep up with modern music." A pause. Siena didn't really consider her own music tastes, having adopted her caretakers' when everything was said and done. Classical music that came largely from Gerwulf and his travels and....whatever it was that Maya thought was relevant and made Siena seem more in touch with the times than she really was.

"I guess I haven't really explored much music myself though. I listened to classical music and alternative rock myself, but...most of the music I received was for culture training," Siena claimed with a thoughtful tone. She hadn't really ever considered looking for more--there was always plenty to listen to. "It probably made me less cultured than if I listened to things as I found them, but once you reach a certain circle, everyone talks about the same movements."

“Awww, that’s a shame. I could’ve bragged to the others I would have been friend with someone closely related to one of the best and my favorite guitarists.” Angélique further joked, letting a giggle gleefully escape her lips.

Classical and alternative rock? Well that was a strange mix. But who was she to judge? Angel was an avid listener to metal, rock, blues and country music. While she never composed any blues song, she did wrote plenty of the three other genres of music. Pop music was something she had been playing too when she was younger, and country was something she had taken on her late teenage years before fully dedicating herself to rock and metal music.

“I can’t say I’m a big fan of classical music, but I do enjoy alternative rock. Maybe I could try to work something of that genre?” Angel pondered as she was trying to make out about the whole cultural side of music. Siena came from a rich family, maybe it was part of her ‘etiquette’ training?

Angel didn’t prod further into that subject. High-class matters weren’t really her cup of tea. Despite being someone largely successful financially due to her hard work in the musical industries, Angel had been standing on the opposite side of wealth. She simply enjoyed what small things life could offer her. The difference to the common folk was that if something ever happened, she would not immediately hit the bottom of the barrel, and could afford whatever she wanted. At least that was before the whole concert incident happened.

The black-haired Aberration stood silent. Small talk was good to escape this harsh reality, but there were times like these she couldn’t exactly find a lot of subjects to talk about. Initially, she just came to check up on Siena and see if she was alright.

"Most people aren't that interested in classical music so much as the image it presents." Siena admitted with a nervous laugh. Well, most people, at least. "I wouldn't mind listening to more than what I did before. Gerwulf and Maya had decent taste, but I would like to expand my horizons a bit." Finally releasing the locks of hair from her grasp, Siena averted her gaze briefly, as if in thought. "Though...now that I think about it, I'm grateful for classical music. Telling an entire story without a single word is something I've learned to appreciate since this showed up."

Motioning to the white mark on her cheek, the brunette let her hand drop back into the sheets with a soft noise.

"It's nice not to think of a story as something that I might have to turn into a weapon. Maybe that's why I ended up liking it so much after the fact."

Angel listened to Siena with a solemn look on her face. It was good, to know a bit more about Siena. She considered the Arbiter as one of her friends, but now that she was thinking about it, they barely knew each other that well. Their likings, where they came from, even their personalities. That’s probably what compelled Angel to stay despite having nothing to say. She wanted to know more about her friend, and hoped the small sparks that were small talk would ignite into a more passionate and revealing discussion.

And her patience bore fruits. Listening to what Siena had to say about music, the raven-haired Aberration looked both genuinely interested and curious.

"That sounds... quite enjoyable, looking at it this way. I've got to admit, when I was composing music, it had always been the opposite for me. I used music as a tool, a weapon like you said, to convey my thoughts to others, my opinions or simply wishful messages." Angel started opening up, taking a strange turn into slowly revealing her old persona. "Maybe I ought to listen to more lyrics-less music? Bask into the rhythm of the music and make out those stories?" she chuckled slightly at the thought.

"Those people you mentioned... Are they your siblings? Members of your family?"

It was...calming, to some degree, to be able to talk with Angel about music. It wasn't the same type of animated conversation she used to share with Gerwulf or the quick quizzing that she used to receive from Maya, but it was nice to talk about something that seemed normal. A faint ping of longing for the old days came to mind...something that she brushed aside. She chose to leave. Even if she didn't know exactly what she'd signed up for, even if she was going to be sent into battle after battle, she chose to leave. The shattered wall, the panicked expression, the blood...

...something about that memory felt out of place.

"I think that's still a good way to use music," Siena claimed with a smile. Brushing a few strands of hair over her shoulder, the brunette considered Angel's own thoughts. "But maybe we can both broaden our views. It might be a little bland, but I'm sure there must be some classics that will interest you."

And then came the question. Ah, right. She'd never really brought up Maya or Gerwulf around Angel--mostly because there hadn't been a reason. Drawing from them during their last encounters had been the extent of her thought. "Oh...no, they were my caretakers. You know how it goes with successful parents. Always globetrotting and never home." A lie, but at least a believable one. Her parents were never "home" as she put it--her concept of home had never really involved her parents. "What about you? Do you have any siblings?"

“That would be an interesting experience. Maybe we could set up a musical evening when we get back? I’m intrigued by your view on music.” Angel smiled.

Ah, so that’s how it was. Stories of rich little girls left to themselves and an army of butlers and maids to raise them was not unknown to the singing Aberration. For just a glimpse of a moment, Angel felt a bit ashamed of herself. She always lamented herself about having crappy parents more interested in the fame and wealth of their daughter than who she was. At least it was better to have parents around than not seeing them at all, right?

“Nah. I’m an only-child.” Angélique paused, a crack of a faint wishful smile appeared. “But… I’ve always wanted to have a little sister though. Show her around the world, teach her new things every day, sit behind her and groom and make her all pretty, cuddle the heck outta her until we both fall asleep, look out after her well-being, punch her boyfriend in the guts for making her sad, that sort of things.” The raven-haired imaginary elder sister chuckled with a hint of melancholy behind it.

Just how she wished to have a younger sister to hug her pain away at this moment.

'Ah...' Something lit up in the back of Siena's head, triggering a faint alarm that tried to drown the rest of her thoughts out, feeling a surge to correct what was wrong. Gray eyes flitting to the dark-haired musician beside her, Siena's mind immediately began to cut through ideas. The mask began to form, and quickly. Maya's words poured relentlessly into her ear, feeding her lines, telling her what to do, how to act, honing in on a specific course of action even as Siena gave a nervous smile.

"Ah, I see..." Carefully, Siena readjusted her position so she was sitting in a more upright position, attention fully focused onto Angel. Another flurry of mental whispers that came to mind, quieted only when her mental filters accepted one at last. Sweeping her hair behiind her ear, the mage gave a weak smile. "I...maybe it's a little presumptuous for me to say it, but...you seem like you'd make a great older sister." A pause as she twisted a few locks around two of her fingers. "If I had a choice, I would have liked to have a sister like you...though, I think you'd have to get in line behind Gerwulf on punching any unsavory suitors."

Angélique giggled slightly in answer to Siena’s statement. The pale tone of her skin slightly reddened in embarrassment at this sudden revelation. The compliment made her feel somewhat whole inside, filling a bit of this hollow and lonesome part of herself. Ah… if only they would have met earlier in their life. Become childhood friends before the whole world had become hell. At the very least, they were together here in now, going through the same hell and fighting it with everything they had.

“I’m sure that…” Angel carefully weighed her own words, wondering if this odd sisterly discussion would not be freaking the brunette Arbiter out. Unfortunately for the both of them, the raven-haired rockstar’s honesty and direct approach was always something to count on to create those bizarre situations “I would’ve liked to have a sister just like you. You look always so calm and focused… I could actually learn some things from you.” Angel let out a soft but nervous laugh.

A sudden knock at the door heralded Marcus's arrival. Thanks to his fight with the lizard boy earlier, he didn't have to track Siena's room down like he had Callan's. Fortunate, given that he imagined it would be difficult to do based on the lack of descriptors available for his second roommate, and the apparent aloofness of the passing nurses.

He certainly wouldn't tell them how long he'd been standing at the door. That'd ruin the little bonding moment they seemed to be having. All he needed to do was drop in and make sure that Siena was doing fine, and then he could leave them to their little 'sister talk'. Watching the scene had caused an unexpected gnawing to catch him by surprise; he'd never really had the chance to be an older sibling to anybody. Hell, he'd had one opportunity to prove himself a protective team member, and that had met with...

"I hope I'm not intruding on anything." he said with a smile, forcing the thought out of his mind. He gave the two girls a small wave, revealing the shitty, hospital room tabloid he'd stolen along the way.

A knock and a familiar voice broke into the moment, tugging Siena's thoughts out of their fixed state and sending them into a furious storm once more as her attention snapped towards the source, eyes darting there, absorbing the figure of her male roommate and processing it before her head moved to follow the motion. Lips parted briefly in an expression of surprise before sealing again in a smile. Careful, cautious, but not quite nervous. She supposed not every conversation was able to take place in a controlled situation like before. Unexpected interruptions were bound to happen every now and then.

'Why are you bothered by that?' The thought went unvoiced.

"Oh, Marcus! I hope you haven't been waiting long...uh...at my...doorframe." It took almost all of Siena's self-control not to eye the pages he held in his hand. Printed words, potential sanctuary. Escape, her mind tried to declare. It took whatever remained of that restraint to keep from trying to bring it up. No. She didn't need it, didn't need it. Her mind wandered to the booklet in the tattered remains of her jacket, to the mentally placed red tape. No. "I guess everyone lucky enough not to be stuck here is making their rounds."

Angélique got startled when a voice came through the frame of the door she had left open earlier. Like Siena just voiced, she hoped he hadn't been over there, eavesdropping on their whole discussion. A slight shade of red took hold of the Aberration girl's face as she returned Marcus' wave with her own.

Feeling suddenly like an intruder between the talk of two roommates, Angel mostly kept to herself. She didn't know if she should be leaving the room now that there was someone else closer to the Arbiter girl now visiting her.

"Nah, not too long." Marcus said, pushing himself off the doorway and walking into the room. "Figured I should probably make sure that neither of my roommates were-" he stopped himself. The words he was going to say were 'not dead', but that was perhaps not the best thing to start with. He tried to mask his sudden hesitation by coughing slightly, before continuing. "-were bored out of their minds sitting in a hospital bed. But it looks like someone already beat me to it!" he punctuated the sentence with a friendly smile to Angel.

Come to think of it, he hadn't seen Angel on the APC ride over, which meant she had probably been injured or something in the fight. There were a lot of other people he hadn't seen either, the more he thought. A slight wave of guilt flooded over him; he'd not even thought about the other people that had been missing, despite them being classmates. Hell, Angel had been one of his teammates in the CTF game, and her absence still hadn't crossed his mind.

"How're you feeling, Angel? Didn't get too roughed up, I hope?" He sincerely prayed that he hadn't just stepped on a landmine or something, otherwise this visit might be a little short.

Angel grinned at the obvious jab sent her way. “You ought to sharpen your timing mate. Time wizards shouldn’t be beaten by noisy Mages like me.”

Oddly enough, the girl’s grin didn’t fade away at the mention of being potentially injured during today’s battle. She bitched and moaned enough about it, she just wanted to go with the flow and joke around with Marcus and his up-lifting spirited attitude.

“Nothing Christmas couldn’t handle. It’s a blessing our Healers don’t leave scars when they do their thing. Wouldn’t want to steal away your ‘Scarface’ title, would I?”

Perhaps it was too much considering the current situation? Angel’s humoristic moments were few and rare, but it had always been a sarcastic or dark thing. That’s probably why she didn’t pick comedy as her part of her linguistic skills.

Angel was about to say something, opening her mouth, but she suddenly stopped and faked an awkward yawn. She had considering returning him the question, but Marcus was part of the Evac Team. Shit happened over their part of the battlefield, stuff that Angel’s little bout against Hazel paled in comparison. He probably didn’t need to be reminded of Savannah’s death and the injuries a lot of people seemed to have sustained from their skirmish.

Feeling a somber sense of uncertainty trying to settle over the group, Siena was quick to try and figure out how best to steer the conversation away from the battle. There would be plenty of time later to grieve and ache, but...not when they were still trying their best to recover. Everyone was still a little too raw, a little too vulnerable--if people were anything like she'd come to expect, they'd try to take the blame. Over and over again without any real rational thought applied. Siena was aware, even as the guilt continued trying to rip out the logic.

At least, that was what she kept telling herself.

"Angel has a point. What was it that Kell said...?" A pause as the quote appeared instantly. in her mind's eye She'd read the words enough times that some of them might as well have been imprinted into her head as well. "Ah, right. 'Lovers like men with scars.'" A small voice that giggled in the back of her head, aware of what she was saying even if her face didn't allow it to show as she finished the quote. Whether they caught it or not...well, that wasn't her concern, was it?"Or so I've heard."

Ooh, 'Time Wizard'. That was a nickname he could live with. Of all the stupid little titles he could be given, that one didn't seem to bad. Inevitably it would at some point, but for this exact moment, he didn't mind. Just as he was going to say something, Angel's 'Scarface' joke came across. His face fluttered for a singular moment in a mixture of surprise and what could only be described as hurt confusion.

Of course, it was just a joke; and he certainly couldn't be the jokester of the group if he couldn't take as many punches as he gave, so the expression was (hopefully) gone before anybody could catch a glimpse of it. Any witty comeback he had was blown to smithereens by Siena's statement though, a sentence that completely stopped his train of thought as his face flushed slightly red and he turned to look at her.

That certainly wasn't something he was expecting.

Angel couldn’t help but reveal a toothy grin as Siena took a turn at a comedic crack. She had heard that one many times over, even though she did not believe herself it made a man any more attractive than how she already felt regarding the opposite sex. But the look on Marcus’ face was priceless. It made the sole Aberration in this room laugh heartily.

Well...her plan seemed to work, though she wasn't entirely certain at what cost. Well, at least someone was laughing. Flashing Marcus a mischievous, if still apologetic, grin, Siena joined in with a softer laugh of her own. 'Sorry, Marcus.' Feeling some of the tension leave her shoulders, the bookish mage settled into a more comfortable position to face both her visitors. "Oh dear, was I wrong? Haha..."

Marcus recovered slightly, just shaking his head in disbelief. He said nothing at Siena's second statement, allowing his face to grow a little bit redder and continuing to just sit there. He joined in the chuckling after a while, looking to Siena and holding up the tabloid. "And here I even brought some reading material for you, because I was worried you'd be bored. Seems like you're entertaining yourself at my expense enough, I might as well just keep this to myself and read it back at the motel!" he shot her a wicked grin of his own in retaliation, flipping through some of the pages without actually reading them.

There was a surge of mild panic that tried to surface at the thought of having the pages taken away, even if a cursory glance told her that it wouldn't yield anything useful for her purposes. With practiced grace and an masterfully forged mask, Siena let the fear slide off her without letting it break through the filters. Instead, she gave a fake pout at her roommate, unruly bangs slipping from their place and falling back into her line of vision as she cocked her head ever slightly. "Aww, so mean. How else am I supposed to keep up with scandals to gossip to you about?"

He glared for just a moment, before shrugging and tossing the magazine to Siena. "Fair enough, I'm certainly not going to be the one to read this stuff, so you might as well keep up with all the hot celebrity news."

He moved into the room a little more, leaning on the side of the bed next to where Angel was currently seated. "I wasn't sure what kind of stuff you liked to read, and the jerk at the store didn't exactly have a wide variety." he said, suddenly feeling the need to explain himself for some reason.

A thought crossed his mind though; as nonchalantly as he'd said it, he actually didn't know what Siena's taste in books was, despite constantly calling her the bookworm of the group. He gave her a puzzled glance for a moment, speaking the thought aloud: "What do you like to read anyway?"

Snatching the magazine from the air in a flurry of sounds largely consisting of paper fluttering, Siena felt a vague sense of relief. It wasn't exactly what she'd normally read, but something was better than nothing in that case. Glancing over a few of the cover story titles, the brunette could practically hear Maya making sounds of disapproval in her ear. There were much better ways to manipulate and draw the eye, right?

Ugh. She really didn't want to remember those particular lessons.

Instead, she returned her attention to her visitors, just in time to see the expression pass over Marcus's face. An expression of confusion that quickly gave way to a question...a particularly enlightening one, really. It took a moment for Siena to process that she hadn't, in fact, shared any titles of the works she read, reread, and bookmarked. It took another for her to realize that she hadn't been reading to enjoy it in recent times. It had all been to hone them as weapons of warfare. Had been forcibly forging links that she wouldn't have considered before because they were useful and not because they were enjoyable.

A pause.

"Hm...almost everything, really." A pause as she thought about it. "Mostly fiction or fantasy though. Foreign books too, since I like seeing the differences in culture."

"Alright, fiction or fantasy, or anything foreign." Marcus said, making a mental note of the aisles he'd have to go down in the library. "Guess I should probably make sure to grab something you can actually read, though huh?" Marcus said, chuckling slightly. "Wouldn't want to grab something that looks interesting only to have it be a People's Magazine in Arabic!"

What was so difficult about Ara--ah. Siena blinked faintly in confusion even as the realization started to dawn onto the mage. It really hadn't occurred to her that other people weren't going to be quite as knowledgeable as her caretakers had been on the topic of her reading materials, or even on her ability. With a half-smile on her face, Siena gave a nervous laugh while scratching the back of her head. "Oh, u-um...I could read that, actually. Or um...any language. Guess it kind of came with the power...?"

He stared for a second, involuntarily blinking in surprise. "Wait. Waitwaitwait. You can read literally anything?" Marcus said, the disbelief evident in his tone. "So I could show you the diary of some German dude, or the recipe straight out of a Mongolian kitchen, and you would be able to tell me what they say!?

He'd never thought of the powers as being that useful before - he was grateful for his ability to rewind bumps and scratches and the occasional gunshot wound, but being able to read any language flawlessly? That was a little more useful than his was!

Though she knew he had every right to be, Siena was still moderately surprised by Marcus's apparent disbelief. No, it made sense. While her ability was flashy and versatile, she'd never made any indication of which names she was pulling, which languages she was borrowing from. Given the way that it seemed to work, what language she was looking at was never really something the mage thought about. "W-Well, um...yes? I-I mean...it's hard to explain..." ...and now that she brought it up, she imagined there would be at least one conveniently foreign book in whatever Marcus brought. "When I see the words, I just...know what it means."

Marcus's mind reeled slightly with the new information. He had so many questions to ask her, but he was having a hard time getting them put into any sort of coherent order.

"Can you write in other languages too? How about speak them? Could you teach other people to read different languages if you wanted to?" The questions poured eagerly out of his mouth, before he stopped himself. He didn't want to overwhelm the poor girl, but now that he knew the secondary effect to her power, he was curious to test it out. Maybe he'd grab a foreign book for her while he was out.

A count had started in Siena's had as soon as she noticed the expression on Marcus's face, ticking off the seconds before the inevitable. When the revelation had come to her caretakers, both had reacted similarly. Sort of. Maya had been more straightforward with her questions in a strange twist, having Siena test the limits for precise information, whereas Gerwulf had worn an expression like he wanted to ask, but simply acknowledged the utility of such a skill. Of course, neither of them had launched an avalanche at her, so Marcus gained a point in the "original reaction" category.

"E-Er..." Giving a nervous laugh and unable to resist sending a sidelong glance of mild distress towards Angel, the bookworm tried to organize the questions into easier-to-answer groups. It didn't really work. "I uh...it's kind of complicated." Which bought her another moment to figure out how exactly to answer those questions in a concise manner.

It was much to Siena's own annoyance that her first instinct was to lie.

"I can't speak ones I don't know, but um...I guess I could use my not-so-magical gifts in conjunction with the power to learn to write them...?" She let the insinuation that the same went for teaching someone how to read another language. It would be rudimentary at best, she knew, for the languages that she didn't make a point to read often. Nordic tongues, for instance, weren't exactly her forte, but...there were languages that she had become more capable of, given her previous experiences with Maya and Gerwulf. Memories of strict lessons and whispered conversations in languages that the masked masses around her couldn't understand came to mind. She missed the sanctity of those moments. "Th-though it's all a little more complex than that..."

Marcus gave a short whistle of surprise, his eyebrows raised the whole time Siena answered his questions. He could tell that she was a little bit uneasy by the sheer amount of questions he was giving her, as the glance to Angel hadn't gone unnoticed. He took a breath, calming himself down from the original twenty questions moment, looking over to gauge Angel's reaction as he spoke.

"That's pretty cool, Siena!" Marcus said, deliberately trying to give the poor girl a moment to catch her breath. "Did you just...know you could do that, or did you catch a glimpse of something and realized you could read it?"

'Did you know you could do that?'

Unwelcome memories. Unwelcome, almost frightening memories that made her flinch visibly. For a second her breath didn't come to her and her muscles froze. It was fine, she could answer. No. "I...u-um..."

No. She couldn't answer.

Angelique sat in silence as she watched the two roommates discuss to each other. She didn't dare to really interfere with their talk, as she felt a bit out of place. But watching these two go at it, she felt envious. She wished she could have roommates like that too. It would make her living in USARILN so much bearable, much more interesting.

Bit it was no use dwelling on things that were not. Instead, she should be focusing on working on it. Maybe if she proved she was stable enough and cooperative, the institute would actually let her be paired with someone as a roommate? That could be something to be work on. At the same time, it would probably fix that bitchy behavior of hers she exhibited more times than necessary ever since she arrived there. Really, there could only be winning aspects in this decision.

Sadly, when Siena turned to Angel with an uncomfortable look, the raven-haired Aberration did not immediately pick up the distress on her soul sister's face. By now, she felt her eyes burning because of the usual brightness of hospitals lighting. A headache had started to punch its way into her head, and the intensity just kept growing. Hopefully it would not develop into a migraine.

But Siena's voice barely hinted her desperation to Angel's keen hearing. Angelique did not really know the cause behind Siena's distress, but as Marcus kept bombarding the poor girl into explaining the finer details his roommate's power, something clicked inside Angel's mind. A flashback from previous training sessions.

Siena never seemed really comfortable in trying to explain how her power worked. The Arbiter was vague in her explanation the first time they trained together, keeping it relatively simple for Angelique to understand the basics. Then, when it came down to Brent, she had basically blurted out a jumbled mess of explanations as the overclocking Mage kept trying to coax out ever more details from Siena.

Blaming herself for not having realized this sooner, Angel turned to Marcus, her tired eyes lingering onto his face with what seemed to be a grim smile. "Now now Marcus. Siena had it rough today. Let's not bother her with all these question, shall we? She must be pretty tired. Surely she can answer those another day, right?"

Oop. Looked like he hit a nerve without meaning to. And just as he'd realized that, Angel turned to him and gently asked him to stop his inquisition. It was fair enough; there were some things about the first couple days with his power that he didn't want to talk about either, made sense that Siena would have some of those.

"She's right. You probably need some rest, and I am probably not doing you a favor at all in that goal, huh?" he said, a slight unsure grin on his face. He tried his best to make it seem like he was following along with Angel's idea, and not that he'd noticed how uncomfortable Siena appeared to be, because that could make her feel even more uncomfortable.

"I should probably make my way back to the motel anyway, before they barricade the doors or something. I promise I'll be back tomorrow with an actual book, though! G'night Siena, g'night Angel!" he said, giving a small salute and making his way back towards the door.

"Good night, Marcus. See you soon." Angelique replied, waving a farewell to the time Mage as he seemed to take the clue and leave.

'Thank god...' The topic fell back like the tide, stopping Siena from getting plunged in. Part of the mage was irritated with herself for letting anything slip past her filters, frustrated that the panic had managed to root itself deep enough to control her. Ashamed that she was still afraid of things that happened long enough ago to be a cracking memory. The only thing that made her so certain was that it was too real to deny that it happened. As Marcus left, Siena tried to bid him farewell, but her voice still caught like a shard of ice in the center of her esophagus, so she gave a wave instead. Better that than whatever choked sounds she might have made in the moment.

And then the backlash started, the emotions that broke free of their confines taking turns trying to batter Siena into submission. Pain won out for a moment, etching itself onto her features like a flicker of candlelight, little more than a ghost that passed through her before she forced it back. She was in control. Her. The mask settled back into place, fragile, weak little creature with an even frailer smile.

"Th-Thanks for d...deflecting that, Angel."

"Mhm, you're welcome." Angel smiled, oblivious of the moment of pain Siena just showed.

She sighed, scratching her eyelids as she desperately tried to shake off the burning sensation in her eyes without letting Siena know how troublesome her eyesight had been ever since she woke..

"You know, Siena. I've come to understand you aren't particularly doing great when people are asking you about your powers. And it's okay, really. We all have our own little secrets concerning who we are and what we do." Angel started slightly scolding Siena, just like a mother or a big sister would do. "If you don't feel comfortable talking about it, then don't force yourself to do it. In those cases, you just refuse to answer. No means no. If they truly respect you, then they'll understand."

Another surge of emotion broke free, these particular ones undeniably belonging to one Siena Santana. The brunette grappled with them for a moment, tried to drag them back under control. But these were different. Just like it had been with Maya, Siena couldn't keep hold of them. Couldn't stop them when they ran rampant, destroying the carefully maintained order that she was desperate to cling to. They couldn't be controlled. First came the affection, swelling like a river beyond the banks. The feeling of comfort and irrevocable safety that would have comforted her if not for the quickly approaching flood of the next surge.

Guilt. Shame. More guilt. She couldn't control it.

"I-I'm sorry, I know I'm not supp--" What was she doing?! Catching the instinctive phrase before the rest of the sentence could escape, Siena blinked in surprise. Not supposed to talk about her powers to people that knew she had them? And more than that, there had only ever been one person that managed to shatter her neatly put together self without even trying, and that was because that woman had built everything from the ground up. Taught her how to control herself, to slip in a few gestures, touches, words... "Um...I mean...I know, b...but I want to get better at e-explaining them. In case we have more deployments in the future." Liar.

"Alright then, if you say so..." Angel simply replied. Honestly, she still couldn't get just how Siena's words seemed so hesitant, if not a bit tense, despite maintaining that peaceful appearance. What was the reason behind it? Or perhaps was she just imagining things from being so out of her mind because of that lingering pain and fatigue? But then, why would Siena have thanked her for deflecting the discussion?

Maybe both girls were tired and needed to rest their heads to think clearly. At least, Angel wanted to acknowledge for herself what she told Marcus just now. Siena was probably tired, and confronting her for her conflicting actions would probably just pour fuel on embers. The Aberration singer knew better than trying to start an argument with one of her closest friends after what they went through tonight. Plus, she promised herself to not be so pathetic in front of someone ever again like she did with Brent just before coming here.

"Well, I suppose it is getting a bit late. I'll let you have a well-deserved rest. I still have a few more people I want to check up on before going to sleep too." Angel said, feeling the development of the situation had called for her visit to end. Better ending it here on a rather good note than push forward and risk creating unnecessary tension between the two. There could always be another day to discuss this kind of matter.

Shifting herself onto the mattress, Angel pulled herself closer to Siena, hesitantly reaching out for the Arbiter soul sister with open arms as she wrapped them into a warm hug.

"Good night, Siena." Angel wished to her friend before letting go of her and heading towards the exit.

Out of all people, Callan wasn’t on the list of classmates Angélique expected to be hospitalized. The girl had shown such resiliency and strength before; it was frightening to know the enemy was powerful enough to actually land a few injuries on their resident Super Girl.

Angel didn’t really know Callan all that well. The first time they crossed each other was quite awkward, despite the Aberration’s efforts of befriending the Arbiter. But being a classmate, the obsidian-haired fallen rockstar felt compelled to go and check up on the girl, just as she did with Siena.

Having looked at the clock on her smartphone, Angel figured it probably wasn’t so much late as she would fear waking Callan up. Plus, it would be a hour or two before the Wishalloy would wear off, if what Kardos said was true.

Angélique’s footsteps brought her in front of Callan’s room. Softly, she knocked at the door.

Sleeping usually came as easily as drawing breath, but tonight she simply couldn't stop her head from ticking through everything that had happened that day. Callan laid on the bed, staring up at the ceiling while spinning her cheap headphones around her fingers. One of her old sets had met its demise that way, but she didn't notice she was doing it until the knock sounded. She stopped abruptly, turning her head towards the door. She'd only left the lamp light on, so she could barely make out the figure in the small window. A nurse, probably. Or maybe someone else coming to check up on her. Siena or Ernie came to mind, but she called out anyway-- just to be sure.

"Who is it?"

"It's Angel. Can I come in?"

Angel? Callan sat up. "Y-yeah," she answered hesitantly. Why was she here? Had she... known Savannah, maybe? Maybe she found out what happened?

Slowly, Angel entered Callan's room. However, unlike the others, Angel stood by the door's frame. It was probably too presumptuous of her to join the Arbiter's side so closely as they didn't know each other all that much. And somehow, Cal felt a bit distant, sitting up on her bed like that? Was she still injured? From an outside point of view, she looked tattered but fine.

"Hey there. I just wanted to know if you were alright, You know, I was actually surprised to hear you out of everyone had to be hospitalized."

Callan seemed somewhat relieved by the question, but she kept her guard up. "Hey... yeah. Just had some mild blood loss." she answered. Definitely an understatement, but she didn't want to make her worry. She sat up a little more, hugging one knee to her chest. "Ah-- looks like Christmas fixed your face up. Those were some nasty cuts."

"Ah... yeah. And not even a single scar left. The boy sure makes miracles. I just wish these people would stop abusing him for his blood though..." Angel added bitterly, having caught glimpses of the Arbiter being carried around in a wheelchair and being used as a living blood packet.

The blood loss part had intrigued Angel. What kind of wound did she sustained to be bleeding that much? She kind of wanted to know, but Angélique knew herself better than push for details after what happened today. Especially with Savannah's death. Callan was the first person Angel had seen rushing to Evac team's location after Factory fell; surely she had seen what happened to the poor girl up close. Brent said her neck was snapped, but the circumstances that led to it were left vague. As a matter of fact, the whole ambush battle was left unknown to the Aberration singer.

"How's Lawrence? I heard a bit of what had happened through the cuffs, but I was told he was still alive despite having sustained bad injuries." Angel shifted subject, not completely off-track to what she was thinking but at least she wasn't bringing up a dead girl's name.

More guilt yet as the subject of Christmas and his stolen blood came up. She felt sorry for having not said anything to stop them from using him like that. She idly wondered about Sander and what he would think. It would probably be kind of disturbing-- being carted around to all those different rooms so doctors could inject your blood into numerous people. Then again, maybe it wasn't so different from a blood donation. Either way, perhaps it was a boon that he'd slept through it all.

God, she wished she could sleep.

"Lawrence," Callan perked up at the name. She'd seen him in the ambulance, too. "I haven't spoken with him. Looked like Lily and Kusari healed the worst of it, though...."

"That's... good to hear."

Silence slowly settled in as Angel started to think everything was alright with Callan. Her half-blinded state could not pick up well the minor details that would make her see this faint aura of sadness Callan had around her, and the fact that their usual talk always had been quite short and awkward enough to not detecting a depressed tone.

While it was good to know she was alright with those very few words they shared, Angélique felt it was a shame she couldn't find grounds to socialize more with the Arbiter. She looked quite a cool girl to talk with, if she would go according to all the action she witnessed during their lunch breaks. She kind of wished she could be a part of that group as well.

Looking over the tattered clothing Callan wore, the raven-haired Aberration recalled a bit of their last discussion "You know, if we're to come out of each battle with our clothes reduced to that, we really ought to go on that shopping trip and get more trends before we're stuck wearing our underwear on the battlefield." A grin managed to creep on Angel's face, trying to lighten up the mood with a bit of comedy.

Callan couldn't help but smile. The demise of all her favorite hoodies did seem to be a growing trend when it came to these missions. She still couldn't say she was a big fan of gal-pal shopping trips, but Angel definitely had a point. "I hear that," she chuckled tiredly.

And score another happiness point for the rockstar. Going about to check up on everyone was a good thing after all. Maybe it was because she tried avoiding most of the talk about the hell they just come from. Still, to see her classmates managing to crack up a few smiles and chuckles this evening, it's only what mattered the most to Angel.

Callan's tired state did not go unnoticed though. Despite not being able to see her well, Angélique could hear it. Maybe this small talk was just about enough for tonight. She came to know if Cal was alright, both physically and mentally, and it seemed she was, if not sounding a bit bummed. Nothing a night of rest couldn't fix, Angel figured.

"Alright then. You sound quite exhausted. Can't blame ya, I feel a bit tired myself, even after coming to be not a few hours ago. I'll be taking my leave let you get your beauty sleep. I still have a few others I want to see before going to bed. Hopefully I won't be waking them." The Aberration chuckled, turning towards the door she had been leaning against its frame ever since she came inside the room.

"I'm glad you are okay." Angélique casted a glance back at the aquamarine-haired Arbiter. "If you need anything, or want to talk, my room's just across. Have a good night, Callan."

Another invitation to another room. But this time with less innuendos. The fact that she was making such a connection had to be another sign that she was tired. She was... kind of touched by Angel's concern, actually.

"Okay, cool. Thanks. Glad you're okay, too," she said--and she meant it, "Have a good night."

It wasn't much of a surprise for Angel to hear that Lilianna had been hospitalized with a few others. With the nature of the girl's ability combined with her personality, it was to be expected Lilianna had sustained injuries probably not directly inflicted to her, but by taking the others’ wounds. Fortunately, someone like Christmas existed in their classroom, to heal the cursed Healer.

Still, it was worthwhile to check up on her fellow Aberration classmate. Make sure the girl was alright. Lilianna seemed to be the odd type, from the very few times she interacted with Angel. But Lily had done her fair share of healing people important to Angélique, and she was genuinely worried about the girl’s mental state. Taking over all of everyone’s pain, it was just too cruel for the Healer. Angel feared one day the girl’s mind would snap from receiving this amount of pain. A bit like how Kusari was oddly accepting of suffering pain through her immortality.

Reaching the door to Lilianna’s hospital room, Angel checked the time on her phone. It was getting a bit late. Hopefully the girl wasn’t sleeping her injuries off. She wouldn’t like to disturb a well-deserved rest.

With that in mind, Angel’s knuckles rattled softly on the door.

Lily was contemplating on sneaking out and was staring at the IV tube taped to her hand. It was strange that she was afraid that pulling out the IV cannula out of her vein would hurt when she had actually gone through a lot more pain earlier in the battlefield. Would they be angry at me if I walked around? she thought to herself as she dangled her feet on the edge of the hospital bed. Can't be hooked up to this bottle if I wanna walk around so I should really just... she reached out to remove her IV line when someone knocked on the door. For the second time that night, she jumped in surprise and glared at the door. And then realizing that it might be a nurse or a doctor coming to check up on her, she hurriedly lifted her legs back up on the bed, tucked herself underneath the blanket and feigned an innocent look.

"Come in," she called out.

Hearing Lilianna's answer, Angel slowly opened the door and made her way inside, looking at the blonde Aberration tucked in her bed and stuck to an IV machine. Seeing her like this, she wondered exactly why all this apparel was needed if Christmas would have healed her wounds just as easily? Maybe the nurses ran out for their lives when they saw her X mark? Surely it was what had happened. Angélique could remember the face of the nurses when she woke up. They cleared her out from hospital stay just before running out from her room.

"Hello Lily. I hope I did not wake you up? How are you feeling?"

The blonde Aberration didn't expect another classmate to come by and see her. She wasn't exactly too friendly with any of them. But it was a pleasant that people wanted to at least see how she was doing.

Of course they'd want to see how you're doing. You're useful to them. They don't see you as a friend. They see you as someone they can use to keep themselves alive, the voice inside her head whispered.

Outwardly, Lily sighed as she looked at the dark haired girl she remembered meeting the first time they arrived in USARILN East. "No, I don't really sleep that much. And I suppose I'm okay... The worst of the injuries I... uhm..." she paused as she looked down at herself. "...they didn't really stay with me that long." She looked up. "Are you okay? And everyone else?" she asked almost automatically.

Hearing Lilianna talking, the sonic Aberration could not help but feel sorry for her X-marked. All those injuries she had taken for herself, it was no wonder why she was hospitalized in the first place. All this pain... She was willing to take them all away and suffer through it for the sake of others. Sometimes, Angel wondered why Xs were reputed so badly as most of the ones she had met were selfless people like Lilianna, Emma and Allison. It probably was the Cat Cradle’s and Hazels of this world that made people scared shitless of Aberrations and the curses burdening them.

“Yeah, we’re all fine…”

Except Savannah.

“…thanks to you and Christmas. I don’t know what we would do without you two.”

Christmas is enough to help them all. You're not really needed, the voices relentlessly whispered in Lily's head.

The all to familiar feeling of uselessness resurfaced, one that the small girl tried to push back down but was unsuccessful. She shook her head and spoke her thoughts. "Christmas is enough for everyone. He's the real healer, not me," she said with a slight shrug. Her thoughts shifted to the lifeless eyes of a classmate that died in the battle. "Although I wish I could have done something for that girl who died..."

"Don't say that, please!" Angel had initially replied upon hearing Lily's lack of self-esteem. "You are right in some way, about not being the same kind of Healer as Christmas, but..." her mind was bringing her back to the strategic deployment section she had written for the blonde girl's profile sheet. "You have an asset other Healers don't. You can inflict damage by giving these injuries where it matters, on an enemy. So really, not only can you heal wounds, but you can cripple opponents as well. Now from the way I've seen it, there is only winning in your case." Of course' she purposefully avoided the fact she had to injured herself first to do that switcharoo, but Angel figured she might as well only focus on the bright side given the situation

"Plus, it is a blessing you were there for the whole ordeal. I was with Christmas and he... wouldn't have made it in time to save the other injured if you didn't take their injuries. So yeah, I'd say it's thanks to you some of the folks here are still alive. You... did the best you could, and I believe you did."

For the moment, Angel wanted to avoid the subject of Savannah's death, rather focusing on bolstering her classmate's morale. If what Brent said was true, about the little girl's snapped neck, there was simply nothing Lilianna could have done that would've resulted into some sort of self-killing injury transfer.

Lily’s erratic mood swings shifted at the encouraging words, much like it did when Emma offered to have her hang out with them at lunch. Take injuries and cripple opponents with it. Yes, she can definitely do that. And maybe she should ask to be put in the frontline the next time there was a battle. "I'm glad I could help," she smiled and then blurted out the first thing that came to her mind. "I wonder though if I can do more..." her sentence drifted off. "Transfer death, maybe," she added in a softer voice.

Angel quirked up an eyebrow at the mention of transferring death. Surely she must mean from one being to another? She couldn't think of killing herself using her own power. "One day, perhaps. Our powers always seem to grow the more we fight, right? Now that would be quite something, huh? Lilianna: Life and Death Bringer." Angel tried to encourage the girl a bit more, dismissing completely the fact that Lily thought of transferring someone’s death onto herself.

But all this talk of taking injuries and death made the young womanly singer quite uncomfortable. She just wished to have small talk with the girl, seeing they haven't spoken much to each other ever since that first night at USARILN. "I didn't see you a lot last week. How have you been? Did you go to class even though we earned a week free of it?"

At the mention of classes, Lily wrinkled her nose, completely forgetting the previous topic they were on. "Class is boring. But I had nothing to do so I attended some of them. Most times I stayed in my room or the library or just wandered around..." she paused. "Hanged out a bit with Sophia too. She's nice."

Oh... I haven't go the chance to meet and speak to her personally. I'm glad nothing bad happened to her. They both... shouldn't be caught in this mess." Angel involuntarily brought up Savannah back into the discussion, feeling a hint of guilt and remorse after realizing it.

Lily looked at Angelique for the longest time before speaking again. "We all shouldn't be caught up in this mess," she said in a serious, soft voice. "There shouldn't be deaths all around. We shouldn't be scared of dying every single day..." she sighed as she trailed off and then her train of thought veered off into another direction. "I came close to dying once. But people in USARILN East took me in. Should that make me thankful to them?" She wondered out aloud.

Angélique could only but nod at Lilianna's statement. She was right. No one deserved to be here, treated like soldiers without even being given a choice. Fight or die. She was surprised to hear her fellow Aberration being so open about how she was brought to USARILN, or rather that detail that only made Angel the more curious about her life before being brought here.

"Dying? What happened to you before you came to be there, if you don't mind me asking?"

"I lost my memories so I don't really know. I just know what the doctors told me when I woke up in the hospital," Lily reached up and touched the part of her head where the wound had been, a habit whenever she recounted what happened to her. "They said that they found me just outside USARILN East with a huge head wound and barely clinging to life. So, I guess someone must have hated me so much that they tried to kill me," she shrugged. "I can't say I'm not surprised. I do have this mark after all," she touched the X mark at the base of her neck.

"I'm... sorry to hear that." Angel really didn't know if it was a boon or a curse to not remember about the past. For all she knew, she would have preferred to forget about everything that happened before. Perhaps if only to stop remembering about that day she screwed up badly.

"Don't be so quick to makes guesses, Lily. Perhaps an accident happened?"

A bold lie. She knew better about all the harbored rage towards the X-marked. Enough to warrant death threats and even violence against them. But for now, all Angel wanted was to comfort the blonde girl in front of her, escape from this harsh reality.

Lily shrugged again. "It doesn't really matter. I can't remember anyway," she said. "Sometimes I get flashes of memories. But they're too fragmented to make sense of," she explained.

"I see... Maybe it's for the best, who knows. So much shit happened for a lot of us before coming to the institute. Sometimes I feel like it would be best to just erase the past and start from scratch here. Angel rubbed her eyes, feeling a bit hypocrite of saying something like that when she is one of those people clinging onto her past actions, either lamenting it or using it for a reminder of what she was.

"It's... not like our past lives matter anymore. Might as well burn the bridges and build something entirely new with the others." Just how she wished to believe in her own words.

"I suppose I can't miss what I don't remember," Lily said. "Tell me something about you in return. Your powers are cool."

"T-they are?" That wasn't the first time someone said her powers were cool, but Angel still wasn't used to hearing this. Despite all the training she undertook and the growing ease of using her unbridled voice, she still felt a bit afraid of hurting the wrong people with her powers. She still was remorseful and afraid of causing another incident.

Still, with her newest addition to her arsenal, she supposed she could agree with Lilianna. "I... suppose so. I mean, I finally got something else from the visions than outright screaming people's ears off.” Angel added, gathering magic into her being as she spoke.

"Like this." came Angel's displaced voice, far away from the corner of the room instead of next to Lily where the speaker stood.

She was hesitant to spoke of herself to Lily, but she felt obliged to answer her for having pried on her current amnesia problem. "I... was a musician before coming here. I used to sing and play guitar a lot. Earned my life doing that even."

Like a child, Lily clapped her hands at the demonstration. "That is so cool. Did you do concerts before going to USARILN?" she asked. It was nice hearing about other people's past lives. It gave her a bit of hope that she'd eventually remember hers.

The discussion was getting a bit too revealing for Angélique's taste. Already, she could feel the Stigma trying to worm its way out and give Angel flashbacks of her biggest failure. But the smile on Lily's face was precious. In these dark times, she would rather cling onto other's smiles than deny them.

And so, the musician Mage kept on her facade with a forced smile. "Y-yeah, I did. With a lot of people, lots of chants, plenty of cheer and so on."

God, why was it so hard to keep this face straight and hold the tears back.

'Wow... It must have been great... I wonder if I ever attended any of your concerts?," Lily chuckled. "That would be really really cool if I did. Although if I didn't, I'm glad I met you now. Maybe I can listen to you sing and play sometime?" she suggested a little shyly.

It was harder for Angel to keep this facade when Lilianna just kept on going with the concerts. Hopefully, Lily would have not been a fan of her music in her forgotten past. She hoped even more she hadn't attended to any of her concert, especially the last one.

"Ah... the pleasure is all mine. I was looking forward to speaking a bit more with you after we met on the night I arrived at USARILN." Angel managed to say, deviating a bit from the subject.

"But sure. If you want to, I play a bit of music every now and then in my room with Allison in the evenings. How about stopping by sometimes and relax with us?" A faint trail of tears managed to escape from her left eye, almost immediately wiped off Angel's face when she realized the sudden wetness.

Lily's smile turned brighter at the invitation. She was finally making friends. "I'd love to stop by. It'll just be like back home. He used to play the guitar all the time and the music was really nice..." a faraway look came over the blonde's eyes but she blinked when she caught Angel wiping her face, the burst of memory gone. "Oh, are you okay?" she asked, demonstrating her occasionally keen perceptiveness.

"Oh, it's okay. I'm just tired. And I've never been all that good with lights on." Angel managed to blurt out an unsteady excuse. Her voice tried to hold firm, but unusually shades-less eyes told a different story.

"He? Have you just remembered something?"

"Really?" Lily asked, leaning forward to peer at Angel's face. She seemed... sad... She was just about to pry more when the singer's question made her pause.
"He?" she repeated and then furrowed her brow. "Hmmm... I think maybe I did..." she said, trying to grasp what it was she had been thinking about a mere second ago. Concerts and music. Who has she remembered? She reached up and scratched her head, feeling a little frustrated that her memory was in such a state of disarray. After a while, she gave up and shrugged. "It's gone now."

"That's... quite strange." Angel commented, wondering just what was going on with the blonde Aberration's memories. "Is your memory loss affecting only memories from before the time you came at USARILN, or does it happen you lose some memories of the time after you arrived as well?"

"Oh, it doesn't affect the memories I have after coming to USARILN. Although, I can be forgetful... I'm not entirely sure if that had to do something with the head trauma," Lily answered.

"Perhaps the trauma damaged the memories-managing part of your brain? Can't say for sure though, I'm no brain doctor." Angel suggested, unsure as what to think of that. "Well, at the very least, you still remember about all of us, right? It would have been a shame to have you wake up in the morning and keep having to introduce ourselves to you each day." She cracked up a smile, trying to bring a bit of light on her mental ailment.

Lily wrikled her nose a little comically. "Oh, that would be horrible," she commented. "I bet no one would want to talk to me then."

"Nah, we'd do just like in that love movie at the end. Record the events of the days and put it in your room so you can watch before starting your day. Well, at least that's what I think I would do." Angel offered a smile to Lily.

"Makes sense but that would be a lot more frustrating than what I have now... So, I guess this is not so bad," Lily gestured to herself.

"Yeah." Angel trailed off, letting silence slowly settle in.

It was getting late, for both of them. Right now, even though she was an emotional rollercoaster, Angel did appreciate having taken the chance to check up on Lily. It was good to know she was relatively alright, considering her amnesia, and get to know her a bit more.

"Well, I think I should get going. I should leave you to rest. You probably need it after what you went through." Angel slowly got up from her seat, her shadow-ridden dark-green eyes meeting gold. ”It's been nice to talk with you, Lily. We should do that more often."

Lily nodded. "Thank you for dropping by. I appreciate it," she smiled a genuinely friendly, happy smile and raised the hand that was connected to the IV fluid to give Angel a small wave goodbye. As the IV tube hit her arm at the movement of her hand, she looked towards it and frowned, her attention already distracted from the friend that was just about to leave.

"It's my pleasure, really.replied as she reached the door. She gave a last glance towards her bed-ridden classmate, returning a curt wave of her hand. If there's anything you need, my room's not far from yours. Goodnight, Lily."

Following the instruction given by the guard earlier, Angel figured she might as well go and see Sander and check up on him. Not that she knew him all that much, but she knew he and Christmas seemed rather close to each other, and she also wanted to know about the whereabouts of Christmas in this hospital. Furthermore, there had been questions nagging at the back of her mind. Questions only Sander and Ethan could potentially answer. But she’d rather talk with a fellow classmate than someone who seemed just a bit too close to the authority.

It was late in the evening, and Angel was feeling very tired. Perhaps Sander would be the last person she should check up on for tonight and wait tomorrow for the others.

Stopping in front of Sander’s room, her knuckled rattled the door thrice, hoping he was still in there or wouldn’t wake him up if he was still in here.

The knocking had, indeed, woken Sander.

He slowly sat up, blinking the last vestiges of sleep out of his eyes before looking around. He was in a strange room. Hospital room. But not the one he was used to. This was strange. Where were he? The withdrawal nagged at him, and he could tell there was some blood in a nearby cooler. However, the person waiting outside the door required his immediate attention.

He could tell it was Angel.

“I-I’ll be right there.” -Sander stood up carefully, his movements were still awkward from an extended period of immobility. Spotting a folded set of clothes on the chair nearby, he quickly threw on a blue hospital shirt before walking toward the door and opening it.

“Hey.” -He greeted the young woman with a curt nod.

Judging by how unkempt his hair was and from his facial expression, Angélique could tell she probably woke the guy up. She kicked herself mentally for being such an idiot.

"Hello Sander. Sorry if I woke you up. I... just wanted to know if you were alright."

Sander wasn't a man of much words, that much she had learned from her previous interactions with him. Whether he was simply antisocial or just awkward, Angel felt like she shouldn't bother him for longer than she needed to.

“It’s fine. I was just about to wake up anyway.” -Sander shrugged –“…Can I help you with anything?”

Well, he didn’t quite pick up on the hint about her asking how he was feeling, but he seemed quite alright anyway. Not that she had any reason to worry about him though. He was a ‘walking juggernaut’, as Brent qualified him. Still, it was only right to make sure he was alright, no?

Nonetheless, now that he was asking, she just had to take him up on his offer. She didn’t simply come here to check on his superhuman well-being. There were questions she was meaning to ask him.

“Actually, yeah. Can I come inside?”

She preferred if their discussion was in private, away from prying ears. Hopefully Sander would pick that up

Sander blinked at the question, peering into the hallway behind Angel for a brief moment. But if she wanted to talk in his stuffy hospital room, he supposed he could oblige.

“Sure.” –With that said, he turned and walked inside, clearing off the spare chair in the corner so Angle would have somewhere to seat. As for him, Sander merely sat down on the bed.

Angélique took gracefully the seat Sander cleared for her, giving him a small thanking nod as she sat down. She joined her hands together, her right leg shaking in anxiety. She had told herself she didn’t want to speak any more of the battle yesterday, but deep down she yearned to know the truth. At least, a possibility that could hold a small truth. Depending on what she would learn from Sander this evening, it could actually bring more questions to mind.

She cleared her throat, not because it was sore but more like out of nervousness. She really didn’t know how to start on the subject, and so stood silent for a moment.

“I… uh… heard you from my cuff’s speakers yesterday… about you having killed him.” She started slowly, working up the courage to outright ask him the question that burned inside her.

“Was Factory really a Mage? A human, like us?”

" It's human inside, yes. " -Sander nodded.

"Do you remember how he looked like" Angel pressed on

"...It was...strange. Wrong. Very wrong."

"Could you... elaborate? Please?"

“…I’m not sure?” -Sander only shrugged. He had already told Angel all he knew; her request was rather confusing. Why would she care about an enemy? There was an order to kill it, so he did. What else mattered?

“Why do you care? The missions was successful, wasn’t it?”

Looks like she was meeting some resistance. It would be a lie to think she didn’t expect it. Still, if if it meant being an annoyance, she was willing to look bad to Sander’s eyes if it meant coaxing out a truth she was desperately trying to know.

“Yeah… it was, despite the casualties…” Angel admitted. “I just… I want to confirm something that had been bothering me about this whole mission.”

Her tired naked eyes grew more intense, the burning desire to tell him what was on her mind only became stronger. But she had to keep it for herself. IT was her burden to know. She vowed to herself to find the truth. For Aaron’s sake.

"Trust me. I'm going to figure out what happened, without your help. Thanks for nothing, sir."

She remembered the vow she took upon her shoulders when she spat these words to Fredric, on the morning Aaron had disappeared.

She was tired of beating around the bushes, aimlessly getting nowhere with someone as dense as Sander. Taking her phone out of the remaining pocket of her ruined jeans, Angel browsed through many layers of hidden files and scrolled down to a name. She opened the file, a black and white picture of someone popping out on the screen.

The black-haired young woman practically shoved the phone in front of Sander’s eyes, revealing to him the very same picture of Aaron that was originating from her profile sheets.

“Did he remotely looked like him?”

Sander squinted at the picture, trying to link the teenager's features to whatever he could pull from his tattered memories. However, nothing really matched. The fine details escaped him, and to be honest, he hadn't really noticed in the first place. -"Sorry. I don't know."

"Who's that?"

Angel’s heart sank when she heard his answer. She didn’t know whether Sander didn’t bother remembering or if the truth she was trying to get was elsewhere. Still, it somewhat hurt nonetheless. Perhaps she should rejoice that it wasn’t Aaron they faced in Wisford. Maybe there was still hope he was somewhere out there alive.

“He… was a classmate of ours. A member of my team during our first battle. A friend to me.” Angel answered, looking defeated. She stood silent for another moment, dropping the phone onto the bed.

“I’m sorry if I’m being a bother. I just... wanted to confirm if it really was him masquerading as Factory, or even as Aaron, for all that it matters. He disappeared just before our first day of classes. He was a clockwork summoner, but I never got to see his ability myself. He never did get to summon his creatures in our first fight. Or didn’t want to. I don’t know anymore…”

“Why would a classmate of ours masquerade as a monster?” -Sander was thoroughly confused now. Had he really missed that much details?

"Beats me. Why and how did Aaron disappear from a place that is known for its tight security? Just look at the fucking cuff on our ankles. They threaten us to zap the shit out of us if we stray from the line. And everyone at the institute refused to answer my questions? Hell, I know Fredric was hiding something from me when I straight up asked him." Angélique let out an exasperated sigh. The whole situation was a complete mess in her head. She was seeing links that may not even make sense from her obsessive quest of finding the whereabouts of her would-be 'friend'.

"I have just no idea where else to turn to. When I heard Factory was making clockwork creatures, I just... thought of Aaron. It's been a week since I haven't heard anything about him. And USARILN pretends nothing happened about him."

The young woman lifted her defeated black-circled eyes towards Sander "You were really the only hope I could trust to know if my suspicions were correct. Ethan confirmed Factory's death too... but I feel like he'll just repeat what the rest of the Institute's staff told me. I just don't trust anyone outside our class anymore..."

“Sorry.” -Sander repeated, unsure what to do with the hope this stranger had banked on him. Angel wasn’t really a stranger, though. She was a…classmate? He wasn’t sure what that really meant, but for some reason, she trusted him because of that? Sander couldn’t be more confused –“I…can’t really help you with any of that.” -However, she had been nothing but nice, so he supposed he would try to return the favor.

“Maybe you can…talk to someone else? Ethan?”

Angel found herself confused by Sander’s advice. Didn’t she just told him she wasn’t trusting Ethan to tell her the truth about Aaron? Maybe he is so sleepy he’s just half-listening to what she was saying. It made her mad a bit to think of that possibility, but she was the one at fault. It was her mistake to place her faith into someone for something that probably wasn’t what she was looking for. If he didn’t know anything, then what else could she do about it? There really was no reason to not believe Sander. He was a classmate and she doubted they had any trusting issues between the two of them.

“Like I said, I don’t trust him. I feel like he is too close to the higher authority.”

The Aberration girl sighed once more. She was getting nowhere with this discussion. Sander clearly knew nothing about Aaron, and it seemed like her missing friend wasn’t Factory after all. No need to extend her stay here and bother Sander about it more than she already did.

“Anyway… I’m sorry if I’ve been bothering you about my personal obsession. I just needed to talk to someone about it. Get this thing out of my chest.” Angel took the phone she dropped on Sander’s bed and slowly got up, heading for the door.

“Good night, Sander. If you happen to see Christmas, thank him on my behalf, for bringing everyone back into shape again.”

“Good night. I will.” -Sander nodded, watching Angel’s retreating back –“I hope someone can give you a better answers for…whatever you’re looking for.”

Yeah... me too..." Angel solemnly replied before opening the door and leaving, returning to her room and return to her own bed for the rest of the night.

𝕄: 𝕊𝕖𝕡𝕥. 𝟙𝟜, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘 / / 𝕃𝕒 ℙ𝕝𝕒𝕥𝕒, 𝕄𝕒𝕣𝕪𝕝𝕒𝕟𝕕 / / 𝕋𝕠𝕨𝕟 / / ~~𝟚𝟛𝟜𝟘

The familiar scent led Sander to another closed door, so Sander shuffled in, the bag of blood tucked under an arm. Right there on the bed was exactly who he was looking for. Christmas was still asleep, bandages around his neck and several patches on his face. However, the scent was strong. His roommate was alive and well. Good enough.

Sander let out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding.

Upon reaching the bedside, he spent a few moments just staring at Christmas’ sleeping face, and hoped the boy would wake up right then. However, his wish only fell flat. Several seconds passed, but Christmas’ eyes were still closed. With a suppressed sigh, Sander sat down on the ground, leaning his back against the bedframe.

He wanted Christmas to wake up so bad. He wanted to tell the blond boy that he had got better. That his power wasn’t all that he was. So the boy wouldn’t be afraid anymore. So he would stay. But Sander couldn’t do that now. Christmas was sleeping, so he supposed he would let the boy rest.

As he waited, Sander reached for the blood bag. Improvement or not, the withdrawal still hit him, and it hit hard. Especially when he had dragged out the blood high so much. They only left a small blood bag for him though, but it would be enough. For now. He would ask for more, later though. This hospital was unfamiliar. It didn’t seem like they were at the school. He needed to get his bearing first.

Where were they, he wondered briefly, nibbling a corner of the blood bag.

The anxiety-inducing smell of antiseptics and sheets laundered to an inhospitable scent of “clean” kept Christmas’s eyes closed longer than he liked. He heard the shuffling in the corner and presumed it to be a doctor or a nurse, because surely only hospitals smelled like disinfectant and medicine all the time, right?

He wasn’t wrong when he opened his eyes at last and took in an empty tray on the nightstand, forgotten by a nurse who had wanted to leave as soon as possible. An IV drip twinged at his left arm when he shifted and he let the prickling settle before properly waking up and surveying the room.

“Sander…?” he asked the figure seated beside the bed, the strangeness of the posture in an otherwise normal setting surprisingly a better indicator of the person than he expected.

“Huh? Christmas?” -Sander turned around at the voice calling out his name, the blood bag forgotten in his hands.

The healer blinked back at his roommate, staring in place of the sentence he had forgotten. A dull pain lingered on the side of his head, but that wasn’t so pressing when he had so many things he wanted to say to Sander and not a single word would come out right.

He settled for ”O-okay?” instead as a question of concern that also didn’t come out right.

Sander rose to his feet and turned around to hover above his roommate, leaning down with concern in his eyes. –“How are you feeling?”

The question made sense in a roundabout way to Christmas, who took several seconds to slog through an answer, arriving at better version of his previous query, ”Y-you’re okay?” His tongue felt thick, so the words came out slightly slurred, but comprehensible.

“I’m fine. Not hurt at all.” -Sander let his gaze roamed all over Christmas once more, trying to catch sight of any injuries he might have missed –“Anything’s hurting?”

” ’mm…some…” Christmas mumbled, surprised at the easy honesty. ”I-I’m okay,” he corrected.

“ Do you need anything?”

A drop of blood from the plastic bag in his hand leaked out on his finger, and Sander brought the hand to his mouth without much thought, lapping at the red stain.

Christmas watched the motion curiously, eyes slightly unfocused from a combination of painkillers and the mild aftereffects of a moderate concussion scrambling a bit of his thoughts and moods.

”I’m…okay,” he repeated, a small mote of frustration forming at his inability to construct any complex thoughts. Was this what it felt like to be nearly mindless? Just trying to ponder anything beyond what his eyes could see and what his brain could easily remember was a migraine of a struggle and his hand reached for the ribbon in his hair instinctively.

It wasn’t there.

He checked the other side of his head, uncoordinated hands pawing and pulling clumsily at his hair.

Not there.

Not on his wrists. Not on Sander’s wrists. Not anywhere.

Panic mixed with the heavy weight of his body and Christmas felt his breaths hasten, hands pulling at the sheets and hoping the ribbon had just fallen off in there.

Sander’s hand froze right then as he noticed Christmas’ sudden shift in mood. He lowered his right hand, while his left immediately hid the blood bag behind him.

He shouldn’t have done it in front of Christmas.

He had made the boy afraid. The realization sent chills down his spine, despite the vestige of fire that was building in his chest.

“Uh… Christmas. I’m sorry. Please calm down.” -He said, his eyes widened. The blue was slightly darker now, tainted by the faintest shade of red. –“I’ll…leave.”

”N-no, no—r-ribbon. I can’t—” his breaths were running short and Sander was leaving and he didn’t know which was the scarier issue ”--c-can’t find it. No—b-but don’t…l-leave.” The thoughts tumbled into one another and tears pricked at the edges of his vision. ”I lost it…?” It felt like a crime.

“Ribbon?”

”I’m—I’m s-sorry.” The words broke under the opening sobs of tears and Christmas couldn’t understand why he was so emotional over it so vividly. Everything was either too much or too little and he wondered what had happened after that terrifying moment where bodies had piled all around him. He couldn’t remember, and everything felt too much for him to think about. Thoughts wouldn’t sequence themselves and in the middle of it all the roaring panic surged at the loss of a ribbon like it meant the loss of something more.

He covered his face with his hands, realizing too late he was calling Sander’s name repeatedly in a voice so quiet he had almost missed it himself.

“D-Don’t cry. Please.” -Sander couldn’t help but reached out for his roommate, touching Christmas’ hands with one of his own. He just kept his hand there, unsure of how else he could help, and the blond boy’s quiet voice calling out his name only made him feel worse. So he relied on old promises and haze memories instead –“Hey. It’s alright. I’m here. I’m okay. You are okay. It’s fine.”

A warm hand against his grew hot to the touch, but Christmas didn’t dislike the heat. Shaking hands clutched at Sander’s instead while he rubbed his face on the sleeve of the hospital pajamas he had only just realized were on him. He pulled the hand closer to his cheek and turned onto his side, goosebumps rising across his skin from the radiating heat that swept away the morning chill of the room.

Minutes passed like that, then more.

Finally his voice found its bearings again and Christmas let out several trembling breaths before trying, once more, to speak.

”C-can’t find the—the ribbon. C-can’t give back to—to you.” He swallowed, the movement loosening the tightening muscles around his throat. ”I’m s-sorry.”

“It’s alright.” -Sander repeated, fingers moved tentatively in Christmas’ hold, running along his roommate’s cheek in motions that he hoped was soothing –“You’re still here. That’s enough.”

”You’re…still h-here,” Christmas repeated the words, the gentle touch smoothing down his crumpled nerves. ”Th-thank you.”

“Until you tell me to leave.”

”D-don’t leave,” the blond answered automatically, again surprised at his lack of inhibitions. He wanted to blame something that would make sense like the vague pounding in his head, because it felt unreal to say small things so readily. And yet more jumbled thoughts scattered onto his tongue and fell from his mouth almost without his control. ”Do you…do you need…need blood?” The old question surfaced in imitation of another hospital room. Another time. Another place. But with the same actors.

“I already got some.” -Sander answered immediately, though he still kept the blood bag out of side –“…It’s safer, now. I got better. I can control it. A bit.” -He added after a few moments, a tentative smile stretching his lips.

Christmas mimicked the smile reflexively, the mirrored expression just as small.

”You did it,” he said, the words taken from another person, but they were the best encouragement he knew.

“I didn’t. But the water gave it to me. It’s mine now.”- Sander’s smile seemed to grow wider, if only just –“You don’t have to be afraid.”

”Okay.” The agreement felt natural to him, with his face resting against Sander’s hand and a comfortable sense of detachment from the moment. Just enough, he thought, to keep him right where he wanted to be. Maybe it was too easy an answer, but words wouldn’t come well when he tried to think hard on them. ”You—you don’t have to be afraid,” he repeated, testing the words and offering them back to Sander as well. The tears drying on his eyelashes were uncomfortable, so he rubbed at them with the back of his hand, still not letting go of Sander’s.

It had taken all of that time to process that Sander had been drinking blood before, despite the clarity of an old question. He looked expectantly up at the blood mage, blinking into red eyes.

”…St-still need to drink? S-sorry,” he mumbled, letting go of the hand he had been holding hostage. ”D-didn’t mean to…interrupt.”

“It’s fine. I’ll just…go outside.”

”D-don’t leave.”

“B-But…is it okay if I drink here?”

Christmas nodded automatically, unconcerned with the content of the question. ”Don’t leave,” he repeated quietly. ”P-please.”

“Okay.” -Sander nodded easily, however, he still felt the need to reassure Christmas –“It’ll be alright, I promise. I got better.”

The torn blood bag in his hand was growing warm from the heat of his own skin, so he turned around and assumed his previous position: seated, back leaned against the bed frame, face turned away from Christmas. Slow but steady, he brought the plastic bag to his lips and began drinking.

Christmas didn’t know where the nerve came from. Maybe the impact against his head had shaken up his brain in just the right places, but he felt a disturbing lack of stress. He and anxiety had become bosom buddies throughout the years and to find his chest free of that weight, if just for the moment, felt almost terrifying in its lightness. His fingers brushed against Sander’s hair and he blinked in surprise.

”Soft.”

It was difficult to form words when heat was pouring down his throat and flooding his veins, so Sander’s only response to the feather-light touch was a blink. His focus remained on the blood bag and he kept on drinking.

The heat climbed higher, so Sander tugged on the hem of his own shirt. Even with the thin fabric around his torso, the heat felt trapped in. After a few moments of pondering, he took it off, discarding the shirt at his feet.

Emboldened by the lack of protest and Sander’s calm acceptance, Christmas ran his fingers through the fine strands of hair, marveling at the silkiness and the different color growing out at the roots. It felt vaguely therapeutic, stroking soft hair, and it took him a moment longer to remember how he had petted his stuffed animal for the same attempt at comfort. But Sander clearly wasn’t a blue manatee, and that only bolstered his small joy.

”I like it,” he found himself blurting out again and it didn’t make sense how easily the words came out when he had so little control over them.

There were fingers running through his hair, and Sander wasn’t sure he liked it. He used to like it. Before. But it was a long time ago, and he couldn’t remember the last time someone got close enough to stroke his hair like this. The distance was…intimidating. Especially when the plastic bag had shrunk in his hand, before dropping soundlessly on the ground.

He caught the smaller hand in his bigger one. The grip was strong at first, then it loosened slowly. He pulled the fingers away from his hair and toward his cheek instead, turning his face to the side so he could press his lips against the refreshing coolness.

“Me too. ”

“Why…are there different colors? In your hair?”

The lips against his hand tickled a bit, and Christmas laughed in a brief and quiet burst of sound before a small fear struck and he coughed away the noise. ”S-sorry.”

“Don’t have to…You’re here with me.” -Sander reminded his roommate absentmindedly, just as he pressed his nose against the faint pulse beneath Christmas’ wrist –“I dyed my hair a while ago.”

”How come?”

“Gold doesn’t suit me.”

Christmas stared for a moment, picturing Sander with blond hair.

”I think…you’d look great with either color.”

There it was again, the kind of unfiltered remark that felt so easy he thought there was something wrong with him—in a different way this time.

”S-sorry, I keep…saying things.”

“Don’t stop, please.” -Sander said into Christmas’ palm, savoring the scent -”I like listening to…your things.”

“Let me.”

Christmas’s fingers pressed themselves hesitantly against Sander’s face, a more persistent touch in response.

”I like listening to you, too.”

“Do you now? I’m told I do not make good conversations.”

”It’s okay. When—when you do, I like it. A-And your voice, too.”

“Thank you.” -Another inhale as Sander breathed in the heady coffee scent, leaning his head completely in Christmas’ hand.

“Hey, can I share your blanket? It’s just…a little cold.”

”Okay.” There was a small smile on Christmas’s face, but with one arm left still so the needle wouldn’t bother him and Sander clutching the other hand, he didn’t have any way to hide it, so he tried turning his head away, scared of something that didn’t make sense, but persisted out of habit.

Slowly, Sander stood up and crawled into the bed beside Christmas, mindful of the IV line and the blond boy’s bandaged neck. The single bed didn’t leave much leg room for him even when Christmas shifted over to make as much space as possible, but he supposed he didn’t mind very much. As long as there was Christmas’ warmth next to him. Just enough to ward off the inevitable frost of the withdrawal. Wordlessly, he threw one gentle arm over Christmas’ torso, just as his eyes were drifting shut.

Christmas listened to the steadying breaths for several minutes longer before letting his eyes drift close as well, comfortable in the warmth of Sander’s body heat and presence. A nurse who eventually came in to replace the blood bag stared, but didn’t say a word. The patients would be gone soon, and she didn’t want to disturb the sleeping X mark, especially if he had made his way here just to sleep with someone. They were USARILN subnaturals, but it didn’t abate her fear. She finished her business quickly, though carefully, taking great pains to make extraction and insertion of a new needle as painless as possible so the sleeping healer wouldn’t cry out or wake up. A soft whimper and light stirring, but the boy’s sleep resumed without any real interruption. Satisfied, the nurse gathered up the discarded bag and equipment, leaving the two behind with a sigh of relief.

𝕄: 𝕊𝕖𝕡𝕥. 𝟙𝟝, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘 / / 𝕃𝕒 ℙ𝕝𝕒𝕥𝕒, 𝕄𝕒𝕣𝕪𝕝𝕒𝕟𝕕 / / 𝕋𝕠𝕨𝕟 / / 𝟘𝟡𝟚𝟘

Christmas woke up to a chilly morning that outlined with minute precision the shape of the warm arm draped over his torso. The hospital building didn’t seem like it had seen any substantial upgrades to internal temperature regulation systems for decades and the uneven sputtering of the heater clattered quietly from the aging vents. Without thinking, he placed a hand on the arm laid across him, holding the heat carefully.

Sometime during his sleep the hospital staff had removed the IV and left behind a patch of gauze to staunch the blood. He shifted the arm slowly, feeling minimal discomfort. The ache on the side of his head had also mostly faded, the injury nothing severe in the end despite how thoroughly it had knocked him out.

The thought brought back memories of the battle and how, once again, he had been entirely useless. He at least lasted a bit longer this time before falling unconscious, but that was no improvement. Somehow, he had made it through, and he was willing to bet it was almost all luck.

The understanding was humiliating and he was shocked to find that his pride still cared after all this time. His light touch on the arm laying over him turned into a hesitant grip at the surge of shame.

But as much as he wanted to wallow in self-pity for much longer, his body had other plans—restroom plans.

A check on Sander sleeping peacefully beside him and Christmas had to resist the urge to touch his roommate’s hair again. Instead he slid out slowly, feeling the stings and aches from the battle’s aftermath. Standing up after laying down so long was also disorienting and he spent the better portion of the next ten minutes just gripping the small table nearby for balance.

The hallway was empty when he emerged from the room, and he quailed at the thought of having to ask someone where the bathroom was. The sign of the men’s bathroom on a door just down the hallway caught his eye and he sighed in relief, stumbling quickly into the room.

A guard was waiting for him when he stepped out of the bathroom and Christmas heard a quiet whimper that he realized seconds later had been his quiet whimper.

”Headed somewhere?” the soldier asked, voice gruff, but otherwise calm.

”N-no…?”

”Back to your room, then,” the man ordered, peering suspiciously down at the healer.

Christmas nodded, shuffling back into the hospital room he had come from while the guard watched to make sure he obeyed.

Just as Christmas entered the room, Sander stirred from his sleep. It took the blood mage a few minutes to finally wake up fully, just in time to catch sight of his roommate at the doorway.

“Hey. Morning.” -With a lopsided grin on his lips, Sander greeted, voice still slightly hoarse of disuse. The grogginess from the withdrawal clung to him still, but he was feeling much better compared to last night. Before Christmas could return his greetings, Sander was already out of bed, rolling his shoulders to get the stiffness out of them. His hair, as expected, was still a mess, so Sander ran fingers through the clumped strands, hoping to straighten them out as much as he could.

Christmas ducked his head at the greeting, curling his lips inward to suppress the instinctive smile. He didn’t succeed, so he settled for rubbing his nose instead, hand over his mouth. The downward gaze finally drew his attention fully to his hospital pajamas and the slippers he had automatically put on earlier when he was in a rush to use the bathroom. It dawned on him that he wanted his usual clothes again, though he was in no position to demand anything more than what he had.

He peeked back up at Sander, who was stretching and combing fingers through messy brown hair. Half-naked. He wasn’t the only one who needed different clothes and Christmas looked away from the sight, shoulders and neck warming up with embarrassment and something more when he remembered Sander had been half-naked since the previous day.

”M-morning,” he mumbled back, turning back to Sander with a tiny wave because his hands suddenly felt awkward and unwieldy. ”How—how are you?”

“I’m good. Feeling much better now.” -Sander turned his eyes on Christmas then, and he wasted no time walking over to the blond boy –“How about you?”

Christmas nodded, then realized that wasn’t an answer.

”I’m…I’m fine, but…um…” His voice trailed off as he tried to avoid looking straight at Sander. ”C-clothes…um…didn’t notice before. I’m sorry.”

“What’s wrong with your clothes?” -Sander’s voice was laced with concern as he stepped closer.

Christmas locked his hands behind his back, grasping them tightly while he looked down.

”Your…your clothes…um…” He could barely hear himself. ”Y-your shirt?”

“Oh. I took it off earlier.” -Sander shrugged, still largely unware of his own indecency. There was a shirt he found on his chair, but the heat from his high earlier forced him to take it off –“I…go put it on?”

Christmas nodded, swallowing visibly and not meeting Sander’s gaze.

After Sander had put his shirt back on, he turned back to his roommate, eyeing the smaller boy curiously –“Are you…okay? Do you want to lie down a bit more?”

Mostly. He was mostly okay, Christmas decided, but the room felt a bit too warm all of the sudden. Maybe the heater was finally working properly. His hand plucked at the loose pajama pants, before raising up halfway to fiddle with his ribbon. The ribbon that wasn’t there anymore, and that bothered him. He stared at the floor for several seconds, parsing why losing the ribbon still dragged on him so heavily, but the reasoning wouldn’t come. He just knew he wanted one again—and he tried to assure himself that it would have happened eventually. The previous ribbon had been too dirty and damaged from the harsh fight on the first night at the Institute. A matter of time, really, but he had wanted it to be on his terms. Somewhere, somehow, he had grown just the smallest bit tired of not doing what he wanted.

”…I…I want to go…b-buy something,” he murmured, voice shaking from the irrational fear that Sander would, for some reason, forbid him from doing that.

“Go where?”

”Clothes and—and…” It embarrassed him to admit he felt vain enough to want a ribbon after everything that had happened and after everything he was trying not to panic over and think about. The sentence finished eventually. ”…a ribbon. O-or, um…” and audacious suggestions broke through unfiltered, something Christmas was just as grateful for as he was scared of, ”…two…f-for you and…and me.”

“Clothes.” -Sander mumbled, mulling over the thought. So they were no longer at the school. It explained the different surroundings. But why? More missions? That was his only guess. However, it seemed that they were in no rush for now, so he supposed he could enjoy the moment –“Yeah. We need clothes. And new ribbons. Maybe…I can ask one of the guards? They’ll bring us new stuffs.”

”O-Okay,” Christmas replied, relief coloring his tone. He sighed out the tension and looked up at Sander, double-checking with a questioning glance if Sander was sure.

Sander moved toward the door then and peered outside, looking for a guard. Fortunately, there was one just outside. The man narrowed his eyes as Sander approached, but he made no other move.

“Uh…We need more clothes.” -Sander said simply, returning the man’s cold gaze.

”…There’s a store one block over,” the guard said, nodding with his head in the general direction.

“…But we are not supposed to leave?”

”You can leave,” the soldier answered grudgingly, ”but you can’t go far.”

“Can…you go for me? Isn’t it safer that way?”

The man looked at Sander incredulously.

”The soldiers need to keep an eye on things in the hospital. And certain students. If you want something minor, you can get it yourself.”

Sander blinked, taking a moment to actually process the information. They were letting him leave. That was…unexpected. Then again, they had never specify that he had to remain within the premise of the school. Did they know about the Change? How?

Wordlessly, Sander turned and went back inside the room, closing the door behind.

Christmas was seated on the bed and blinking at his knees when Sander returned. He looked up reflexively at the sound of door opening and closing, a half-smile on his face that he quickly disguised as another itchy nose.

”H-how was it?”

“They said…we can leave to get it.” -Sander breathed out slowly. Despite his casual tone, he seemed to be deep in thought.

”O-oh…then—I can…I can go. D-did you want anything?”

“…Alone?”

Christmas blinked, then nodded hesitantly.

”…I’ll—I’ll be back soon…” But his mind was on the last time he had said that, when a shopping trip had turned into disaster in an alley. And he was embarrassed for thinking so highly of himself that an incident like that counted as a catastrophe. ”Wh-what’s your, um, f-favorite color?”

“…You shouldn’t go alone.” -Sander frowned, ignoring the question. His mind was set on the memories of his last encounter with Ernie. As far as he knew, the other Aberration was still alive and well. Good for him. But not so much for Christmas.

”I’ll be back soon…” the blond boy repeated, tension settling around his shoulders again.

Sander frowned again. That was not a solution. Ernie could still find Christmas out there. Not to mention…other people. His eyes fell on the patch of bandage around Christmas’ neck, and his frown only deepened.

“I’ll go with you.” -Simple words, but the decision behind them weighed heavily on his mind. It had been so long, and for good reasons. Even now, when the Change had favoured him so much, Sander still wasn’t sure he was making the right choice.

”Is—is that okay?” Christmas’s tentative stare was directed at Sander’s jaw, where the lines of his roommate’s face had set firm with the frown. ”I’ll be q-quick.”

“It’s fine. -Sander racked a hand through his hair once more, before answering –“I’ll be fine.”

The second they were out of the door, however, it quickly turned out not fine. Neither of them had noticed their lack of payment solutions until the same guard on patrol in the corridor eyed the small boy in hospital pajamas (with no pockets) and the half-naked X mark before calling out to them.

”Headed somewhere?” His walked towards them, rifle in hand, though the pose was at least relaxed, even if he was ready to whip the gun towards them and fire at any second.

Christmas flinched at the approach and stared fearfully at the guard for a moment. He gulped and found a half-answer to the question.

”B-buying clothes,” he managed, trying not to hide behind Sander in case that made them look more suspicious.

”…IDs?” the soldier asked, already pulling out his phone to cross-check the information.

Christmas stared, eyes wide. He had no idea where his ID was. No one had ever brought his previous clothes back, either, and he didn’t have the nerve to ask.

“I left it in my room.” -Sander’s eyes flicked to his roommate for a moment. From the boy’s expression, it seemed he was in a similar situation -”We both did.”

The soldier sighed heavily, of half a mind to send them both back to their rooms and save himself the hassle, but a thought about the unstable Aberration they all had to guard carefully came to mind. He didn’t need any more headaches than he already had and his commanding officer had already cleared them for restricted movements within a certain perimeter.

”Stay,” he commanded the two, swiping and tapping quickly on his phone, the motion habit by now.

He opened a separate line to the commanding officer, so the minor inquiry wouldn’t need to be broadcast to everyone.

”Hospital unit here, sir. Got two subs with no IDs and they want to go shopping.”

He paused while he listened to the response from the other end.

”No, doesn’t look like it.”

A quick glance at Sander and Christmas and he focused again on the conversation.

”Understood.”

The call ended after a minute and the soldier nodded at the two of them, reciting something that sounded like official policy, ”For essentials and minor expenditures in cases of emergency, USARILN staff and approved students are allowed to transfer the costs of purchases to the Institute if they can prove affiliation.” He nodded at the thin cuff that was slightly visible under the long pant leg of Christmas’s pajamas. ”That’ll work as proof. Tell them to send the bill to USARILN East.”

“Alright. Thanks.” -Sander offered the soldier a curt nod, before walking past him. He kept his eyes forward as he moved, still far too occupied with his own thoughts and doubts to notice much else. It was funny, how he was so hung up on such a small thing. He got better now. He could handle this. Fortunately, his sated Stigma stayed relatively quiet.

After a few minutes following the signs displayed thorough the hospital, Sander found himself standing at the entrance. Quite a few people there gave both him and Christmas wary stares, but they turned away as soon as Sander turned to look back, so he just assumed there were no trouble brewing.

“Where do you want to go?” -Sander raised an eyebrow, turning around to look at his roommate.

”A-anywhere that sells clothes…” he mumbled, looking around hesitantly. It was a completely unfamiliar town and he had no idea where to go. Forethought wasn’t his forte—never had been. Luckily, a rectangular rock sign displaying the hospital’s name nearby had a hard plastic map embedded in the back, though the map only noted hospital entrances and exits clearly, leaving the rest blank save for the buildings clustered around the hospital.

Tiny print a block north denoted a “Plato’s Closet” and Christmas vaguely recalled the name from his hometown as well. It was a big chain of small stores and he passed by one every day on the walk home from school, until he finally entered it one day. The memory felt far away.

”H-here?” he said, pointing at the map and turning back to Sander.

Sander noticed the scents first, despite everything. Nothing he hadn’t felt before; USARILN East’s population was quite sizable. But those were…subnaturals. People like him. Not regulars. It didn’t mean that they smelled different at all. They were just…different.

Sander had to fight the urge to scoff at his own baseless fear. There was nothing to be nervous about. Yet, a heaviness coiled in his guts anyway. He turned his eyes to the crowded street ahead, and let out a long breath. He could do this. For his own sake, as well as Christmas’.

“Sure. Let’s go. We’re walking or…?”

”I-I guess so…” Christmas tried to avoid eye contact with the people around them, and most of them did the same after a cursory glance at his unusual attire going out.

They had barely left the safety of the hospital grounds when a young woman in a fitted pantsuit jogged up to them, her light makeup and styled, brown hair carefully constructed to mimic the glamorous, yet minimalist style that was all the rage these days—the type of look that seemed simple, but actually took hours of preening to accomplish.

The microphone in her hand ringed with a square of blue and white that flashed the station name at them was enough indication of who she was.

Several seconds later, her cameraman joined her as well.

”Hello there!” she greeted them, voice chipper, ”I’m Marianne Forhan of KLPN and I’d like to interview you two as part of our channel’s special on subnaturals and the nearby disaster in Wisford!”

She seemed undeterred by their marks and lack of proper attire, turning instead to her cameraman and beckoning him to pan over their faces and marks.

”We’re not live yet, but if you’d like to come back to the station with us, it’ll be much more comfortable than an interview here.” She flashed another bright smile at them as the corresponding news van rolled up nearby.

As soon as the stranger approached them, Sander walked up to put himself between her and Christmas. The woman didn’t seem to be hostile though, but instead appeared to be a report of some sort. Sander squinted, trying to remember those rare days when his father took him to work. He recalled the scenario, if anything: a report rushing up to meet the person of interest, the cameraman following closely behind to record.

At least they weren’t ‘live’, at the moment. Sander didn’t think putting his face on the television would be a very good idea. Not after what happened.

“Uh. No. We’re busy.”

”That’s fine! We can interview you while we take you around to wherever it is you need to go. And it should be easier for you two, right?” She glanced meaningfully at their clothes.

“No…Not gonna be on TV. Sorry.” -A twinge of fear formed in Sander’s stomach at the thought of his face on national television. Hastily, he grabbed Christmas’ hand and began to walk away -”We really have to go.”

”Hang on!” The woman ran after them, grabbing the lagging Christmas by the shoulder. ”It doesn’t have to be both of you then! Just him would be fine.”

She looked determined, and her grip on Christmas was quite firm. The healer trembled under her intense gaze, his breaths coming in short gasps from the familiar way a hand tightened on his shoulder. Panic stirred and Christmas looked to Sander for an answer.

“No.” -Sander frowned, letting go of Christmas’ hand in order to catch the reporter’s offending wrist, his brows creased in frustration. Fear built in him, and so did something far darker. Something that told about the lilac scented blood under the soft wrist in his grip.

But he digressed.

“Please.”

She stared back at him, unfazed, but her cameraman seemed to panic, backing away quickly in case something worse happened.

”Amateur,” she muttered, glancing quickly at her retreating partner before turning back to Sander. A moment longer of an impromptu staring match and she let go of Christmas’s shoulder. ”I’m sorry for scaring you,” she said, watching the expressions of both boys, ”but an interview isn’t as bad as you think it’ll be. Not with me at least. I can’t say the same for any of the other reporters, so it’d be a good idea to take me up on my offer. Or at least let me ask you some questions on a quick drive around the block. We’ll even take you where you need to go.”

Sander only frowned, turning to Christmas to hear the boy’s opinion.

”…J-Just a quick drive? R-really?”

”Really,” the woman smiled, kinder this time, though there was a hardness to her gaze that didn’t seem directed at them.

”…Clothes store,” Christmas admitted, looking at Sander to check if that was fine. ”B-but if…if he doesn’t like it…”

”Don’t worry, I won’t interview your friend if he doesn’t want me to. And I won’t ask you too much; just a few quick questions.”

Christmas’s eyes darted between the two of them, but when the reporter beckoned towards the open doors at the van’s back, he held on to Sander’s hand and didn’t move just yet.

”…S-sorry…do you—do you want to?”

Sander sighed, looking between Christmas and the reporter, weighing his options. After all, Christmas had wanted it. Sander didn’t mind walking, but he wasn’t sure about the blond boy.

“Alright. If that’s what you want.” -Sander nodded, letting go of the woman’s wrist. His gaze shifted to the cameraman –“But…no filming.”

”Just him, then,” she insisted, leading the two of them into the back of the van where another man stared fearfully at them, mirroring Christmas’s terrified gaze.

When they were both seated and the van was in motion, the woman pulled out a small notepad and a pen, quietly reminding the cameraman to make sure the focus was only on Christmas’s face.

”So, what’s your name?” she asked the shaking boy.

”C-Christmas,” he replied, not meeting her eyes.

She jotted the name down and continued, undeterred by his slow, faltering speech.

”What’s your power?”

He paused, staring up at her now with eyes as wide as saucers.

”…N-not sure if I…” he gulped.

”All right, you can’t tell me that. How about this, then: how old are you?”

”…Eight-eighteen.”

”How long have you had your powers?”

”M-more than a month.”

”What was it like receiving powers?”

”…Um…” he stared at the floor of the van, feeling the subtle vibrations of the car’s movements under his feet. ”…R-really weird.”

”Can you describe it?”

He didn’t respond for a while, but eventually shook his head with a feeble ”S-sorry.”

The woman leaned back in her seat with a sigh, not making any headway with this particular type. And while most of the brazen sorts would talk more than they needed to under force or coertion, the quiet, fearful sorts would simply clam up. And it wasn’t like she could keep them indefinitely, given how USARILN East in particular tended to operate. They could be out of town and gone in half an hour if an order came.

”I’ll skip to the real questions then, if you don’t mind,” she said, flicking deftly to another page in her notepad. ”Tell me about yourself.”

Christmas stared at the camera like a deer caught in headlights. His mouth opened and closed repeatedly, but nothing really came out besides quiet stutters.

She watched him a moment longer, the floundering look of someone who had never been asked that type of question obvious from her perspective. But even in that case, people could still come up with some sort of satisfactory response. This boy, on the other hand, looked ready to jump out the door. Of course these types existed, and in her years in journalism she’d had to handle all sorts in a variety of situations, but the fear on his face was disheartening, especially after she’d done her best to be accommodating. Expected, given the current state of affairs between subnaturals and regular people, but still discouraging. It was an old trick for the verbally reluctant, but it worked, so she flipped to an empty page in her notepad and handed it to him with the pen tucked into the spiral binding across the top. He took it automatically, thoughtlessly, the reaction of someone afraid to offend.

”I’m going to ask you a few questions, okay? And you can just write down your answers—” She stopped at the look of surprise on his face. It persisted much longer than a reactionary expression and he seemed to marvel at the pen and the notepad like he had never seen the tools before. ”Why do you look so surprised?”

It was her turn to raise both eyebrows when the boy put pen to paper and wrote out a response to a question that hadn’t even been intentional. The movements were slow and unsteady, shaky and unsure, and she saw him cross out words and think on more, but he was at least answering them to the best of his ability.

”All right. Let’s try this again. Tell me about yourself.”

She waited until the pen stopped moving.

”How was high school? Did you have a lot of friends? Maybe a girlfriend?”

“What were your best subjects in school?”

“Do you like your name? Or would you change it to something else?”

“What’s your biggest fear?”

“Was it hard making the transition from your previous life to USARILN East?”

“Have they sent you out on a lot of missions?”

“Have you killed any Dreamcatcher monsters or worked with groups who have?”

“Do you still keep in touch with anyone from home?”

“How does USARILN East train its subnaturals?”

“What are you studying in USARILN East aside from combat?”

“Any favorite sport? Hobbies?”

“Do you have any pets?”

For each question she waited until he was done writing, even if sometimes it seemed like he only scribbled one word to a question that deserved much more. It wasn’t as effective a dialogue as she would have liked considering the one-sided nature of the conversation, but Marianne took what she could get. There’d be ways for the editing team and the station to make it more visually appealing later, but she made sure to tap the cameraman’s leg and remind him to pan towards the ankle cuff as well, which was the most easily recognizable proof that this was a legitimate USARILN subnatural.

Finally, she concluded the interview with ”Were you in Wisford during the attack just several days ago?”

When Christmas’s pen stopped this time, she shouted to the driver to take them to the nearest clothing retailer. The van parked on the curb in front of the store and the reporter helped Christmas out first, patting his arm with a brief ”Thank you” before climbing back into the car. A quick skim of his tiny handwriting on the notepad revealed more disappointment than proper answers and plenty of scribbled out lines or half-finished thoughts where she had moved on to another question before he had completed an answer. It was her mistake, assuming his longer-than-usual pauses were his signs that he was done.

Still, what he did answer was enough for a segment, and what they had recorded of his demeanor was perfect for the sort of controversial, humanizing story she wanted to present when the overwhelming popular opinion was to isolate them for everyone’s safety.

Throughout the interview, Sander remained silent, the lines of his face hardened into cold impassiveness. He wasn’t sure what Christmas wrote down though, and whether the school would approve of them answering interviews, but seeing as how the van wasn’t surrounded by armored trucks yet, he decided to just keep his eyes on the cameraman instead.

The man returned Sander’s gaze occasionally, a terrified expression etched on his face.

Fortunately, the interview was over soon enough. They dropped him and Christmas right in front of the clothing store. As soon as the van disappeared from view, Sander turned to his roommate, placing a hand on the blond boy’s shoulder.

“You’re alright?”

Christmas stiffened briefly at the touch, but relaxed within seconds, nodding excessively because his mind was on other things—or other words left behind on a familiar notepad.

”F-fine—I’m fine.” He nodded a few more times to reinforce the assertion for himself, eyes on the windowed displays of used, brand-name clothing—Plato’s Closet specialties. Instead of going in, he looked at Sander, waiting if his roommate wanted to go anywhere else.

“We’re going inside?” -Sander titled his head slightly at his roommate’s gaze, confused.

Relieved that Sander hadn’t changed his mind, Christmas shuffled inside first, looking astoundingly out of place in hospital clothes and even hospital slippers. A bell over the door announced their presence and several of the customers inside shouted at the sight of two subnaturals in hospital patient-wear. In a corner, a teenage girl screamed and cowered.

The manager—a man in his late 20’s or early 30’s with a neat comb over—rushed out from the back room at the commotion, stopping dead in his tracks when he finally saw what had spooked everyone else. The two of them looked unnatural dressed like that—even for this day and age—and the manager backed up against the wall behind the counter, afraid to make a move and entirely misunderstanding the situation from the fearful reactions of the patrons around him.

”Who—who are you?! What do you want?!” he stammered, pulling out a small knife from under the counter that had, thus far, only seen use as a fruit peeler.

Christmas flinched at the reactions, edging closer to Sander reflexively.

Sander grimaced slightly when the variety of scents hit him. Worse, one of the employees had pulled out a knife as well, further escalating the situation. He let out a breath before finally speaking up.

“…We just want to buy some clothes. We’ll leave afterward.” -He stepped in front of Christmas then, holding out his hands.

”Go—go somewhere else!” the man shouted, his grip on the knife shaking. ”I’ll call the police!”

”Just leave us alone!” a woman screamed from behind a rack of clothes, shaking in fear.

Christmas pulled on Sander’s shirt, stepping almost entirely behind the taller boy in response to the verbal onslaught.

He was just as afraid.

”C-can—can go if—if you want.” The trembling in his voice only grew worse the harder he tried to speak normally.

The experience was almost…unreal. Sander knew what sort of treatment to expect; he had been a subnatural for far too long, enough to put away those naïve optimism. Yet, it was still hard to deal with when expectations turned out to be reality. Sander stood very still then, unsure of what to do next. At least at the Facility, people had guns.

The tug on his shirt reminded him that Christmas was still there.

“…It’s alright.” -He reassured the blond boy –“Do you want to leave?”

”D-don’t want tr-trouble for—for you,” he replied in an almost whisper, eyes on the manager’s knife. He stepped back towards the entrance, nearly tripping over his own feet in panic. Sander’s arm was behind him this time, steadying the balance automatically while they moved backwards in unison and exited the store.

The street was host to several restaurants and more clothing stores, luckily, and the two wandered to a second, much smaller place in relative silence. The clothes here weren’t as unique and stylish, but the aging man at the counter only narrowed his eyes at them, keeping mercifully silent even though he followed them from rack to rack, standing just close enough to make it clear he was watching.

Sander wasted no time looking through the racks of clothes. Hardly the brand he would usually buy, but he supposed it would do. Anything was better than the flimsy hospital shirt he currently had on. Quickly looking through the available selection, Sander managed to snatch several items: two pairs of jeans, one plaid button-up shirt and several T-shirts, as well as a thick blue hoodie. There was no need to try them on; Sander already knew his sizes too well. Once that was done, Sander turned back to Christmas, patiently waiting for his roommate to finish.

The blond boy seemed to be fumbling, though.

“You’re alright over there?” -Sander asked as he walked over, bundle of clothes in hand.

Christmas let go of a shirt he had pulled partially from the rack, looking towards Sander like he was lost.

”S-sorry, I, um, d-don’t know which to get…”

He snatched a few shirts and a pair of pants at random.

”We—we can go.”

“…Those aren’t your size.” -Sander looked at the shirts in Christmas’ hands, raising an eyebrow –“Do you need any help? I can help you look?”

”…Um…” Christmas looked at the motley of colors in his hands, figuring the path of least resistance was to quickly leave so they wouldn’t get into any trouble. But the idea of Sander helping him choose clothes was appealing in a peaceful, pleasant way.

He nodded, eventually, but added a brief ”O-only if you w-want to…”

“I don’t mind.” -Sander flashed his roommate a brief smile, glancing around quickly to find a place to deposit his bundle. Spotting an empty bench in the corner, Sander walked over and dropped the clothes he had picked out. With that done, he walked back to Christmas and examined the shirt he just pulled out a few moments earlier.

It wasn’t hard to find something he thought would fit his roommate. However, he wasn’t sure about the exact size.

“Do you have a changing room?” -He turned to the old man then, tone still polite despite the other’s obvious disdain.

The owner only nodded, pointing toward a curtained room in a corner.

Sander picked out a few more items, including better shoes than hospital slippers, and looked expectantly at Christmas, who took the clothes from Sander’s hands carefully and eyed the changing room like something would come out of it and attack him.

”W-we can just go if—if you want…sorry for…t-taking so long.”

“It’s fine. You should try these on. See if everything fits.” -Sander only smiled. He turned toward the changing room then, beckoning Christmas.

Another glance at the irritated owner and Christmas stopped protesting, stepping inside the room with Sander to escape the silently glaring man. When the changing room curtain covered the entrance behind him Christmas let out a small sigh, recuperating from the unpleasant hovering of the store owner.

”S-sorry…shouldn’t have—have left the hospital…”

“It’s alright. I told you. Don’t have to be sorry around me.” -Sander replied absentmindedly, far too occupied sorting through the mound of clothes he had picked out. A light blue shirt caught his eyes, so he held it up for Christmas -”I think this would suit you.”

Christmas watched curiously until Sander pulled out a pale blue shirt. It would suit him? He had never given that sort of fashionable concern much thought so he just blinked at the shirt before taking it in both hands.

”So we’ll, um, just take this one…then.” He waited for Sander to leave first.

“You should try it on first. I don’t know your size.”

Christmas stared at him, unsure how to proceed. It wasn’t the first time Sander had shown that strange lack of social mannerisms, and he probably shouldn’t have thought it was a problem by now, but he still felt that twinge of embarrassment that always came with taking off his clothes, even in private.

The shirt did fit and Christmas stared at his reflection in surprise. He liked it. The shirt, the color, the situation—even with its shortcomings.

”Th-thank you,” he said softly, tugging on the shirt hem from embarrassment and gratitude rolled into one.

“It looks good.” -Sander smiled, though a wrinkle on the shirt’s collar caught his eyes –“May I?

He didn’t know what Sander was referring to, so Christmas just nodded.

”D-don’t have to ask…s-sorry.”

“Don’t have to be.” -Sander reminded gently, reaching for the collar of Christmas’ new shirt and adjusting it -”There.”

“You should try everything else, too.” -Sander suggested, gesturing at the bundle of clothes.

A brief moment of hesitation and Christmas complied, trying on the various shirts, pants, and shoes and setting aside the ones that didn’t fit until they had curated a selection of clothes that wouldn’t sag around his small frame. Despite the various no-name brands and different styles of sizing, most of the clothes ended up in the XS or XXS range, especially where men’s clothing was concerned. Compared to most of the “small”s and “medium”s in the menswear racks, Christmas’s clothes looked childishly tiny. Finally finished with the large bundle of clothes Sander had picked out, Christmas was changing out of the pants he had kept on for the past few shirts and reaching for the hospital clothes lying nearby when Sander noticed.

“…Uh. You don’t have to wear your old clothes, you know.”

He looked questioningly at Sander.

“Do you prefer the hospital clothes?”

”N-no.”

“Then you don’t have to. Just wear the new clothes.” -As he spoke, Sander began to strip as well, reaching for his own bundle of clothes. Moments later, he had already discarded the dirty clothes at his feet, sporting a fresh white T-shirt with jeans. The scent of cheap detergent was thick in the fabric, but he supposed it was better than the stench of grime from the battle.

”O-okay,” Christmas said, following his lead and leaving the new clothes on. Most of the clothes in the small store were secondhand and lacked the usual tags and anti-theft devices that more professional stores had, but that just made it easier for him to justify keeping it on. He still picked up the hospital clothes afterwards, though, watching Sander out of the corner of his eye and trying to keep his gaze focused on the bundle in his hands.

”Thank you,” he said again quietly, tucking his hands into the folds of the clothes he was carrying so they wouldn’t feel so awkward.

Once he was done adjusting his new clothes, Sander gave Christmas a quick glance before pulling the curtain open and stepped outside. The owner was already waiting for them; the old man probably stood outside the whole time or something. Regardless, Sander informed him that the school would reimburse any charges later, and the grumpy old man finally let them leave after totaling up the costs and giving the local police a call to be sure. When there was no outright denial of service, he reluctantly let them go with full plastic shopping bags.

𝕄: 𝕊𝕖𝕡𝕥. 𝟙𝟝, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘 / / 𝕃𝕒 ℙ𝕝𝕒𝕥𝕒, 𝕄𝕒𝕣𝕪𝕝𝕒𝕟𝕕 / / 𝕋𝕠𝕨𝕟 / / ~𝟙𝟚𝟘𝟘

On the crowded street once more, Sander looked around, catching sight of a McDonald just around the corner. Food didn’t seem like a bad idea right now, especially when he couldn’t remember the last time he had eaten something.

“Want something to eat?” -Sander turned to Christmas, pointing at the red and yellow sign.

No longer so out of place in hospital clothing, Christmas nodded gratefully, his quietly rumbling stomach in agreement. He had eaten whatever they had given him in the hospital, but most of the food had been bland—albeit filling. Fast food sounded good at the moment, and eating with Sander was—he glanced away quickly—definitely a good thing.

Sander made a beeline for the counter as soon as they stepped into the fast food restaurant, uncaring of the fearful glances thrown his way. Looking up at the display behind the cashiers, he was greeted with so many choices, definitely far more than what he had seen the last time he came.

“I’ll….get whatever. Just…well…a lot.” -He mumbled his order, obviously distracted by the flickering display above.

”So…one—one of everything, then?” The teenage girl behind the counter seemed almost afraid to touch the register. ”C-cash or credit?” But the look in her eyes was practically pleading for the subnaturals to leave.

“Erhm…USARILN East will contact you about reimbursement.”

”Okay,” she squeaked, inputting the order and running off to inform the manager, who had disappeared into the small office to the side and seemed hellbent on staying there. The girl eventually returned, looking like she’d rather be anywhere else. ”W-we’ll call your number when your order’s ready,” she informed Sander, sliding the long receipt just a few millimeters towards him before snapping her hand back like she was afraid a fire would break out on the counter.

“Thank you.” -Sander took the receipt and turned around, looking for an empty spot. Despite the lunch rush, the restaurant was actually emptying out, since many customers didn’t deal with the presence of two subnaturals very well. Sander did feel a bit guilty about disrupting these people’s day, but he just had to. There was no other way.

So he sat down in a random table, waiting for Christmas to finish up ordering. The girl looked ready to bolt when she saw yet another subnatural coming up to order. The look on her face—fear, distaste, aversion, disgust—didn’t escape the blond boy and he turned away instead, hurrying to Sander’s table and sitting down. At least the hospital staff didn’t make him ask for food. He pretended to rummage through his shopping bag instead, trying not to think about hunger when the smell of fries and burgers surrounded him.

Sander seemed content to just watch their surroundings in silence. His expression remained neutral, but there was that unmistakable twinge of amazement in his eyes. Eventually though, he turned back to Christmas, just looking at his roommate quietly.

Christmas caught the gaze when he finally looked back up. He blinked at it, but when Sander didn’t turn away he looked back down.

”S-sorry…?”

“Don’t have to, remember?” -Sander reminded gently, as patient as ever.

A small nod from Christmas and the boy fell silent, unsure what to do when they were sitting in a fast food restaurant together. Silence or quiet talk had been the norm at the school, but he didn’t know if he could maintain that when a smattering of heat lingered on his back and neck.

”Thank you,” he said instead.

“Don’t worry about it. Thank you for being here with me today. It has been a while since I last…got out.” -Sander smiled, gaze began to roam once more.

”Any—anytime,” Christmas replied, hugging his bag of clothes to his chest and hiding his face behind the handles. ”…Really,” he finished on a whisper directed mostly to himself.

“Yeah, I think we should do this again sometimes. Going into town, I mean.” -Sander seemed to brighten up as he put more thoughts on it.

”O-okay.” He nodded to make sure his agreement was clear. Behind the opaque white handle of the plastic bag, Christmas was trying hard to suppress a smile.

Comfortable silence stretched between them afterward, until Sander noticed his number was called. He quickly got up and walked toward the counter, retrieving the heavy trays of food from a nervous cashier. It required a few trips and there was just a little too much food, but from the way his stomach was rumbling, Sander figured he could take it.

As soon as he sat back down, he grabbed a hamburger and began chomping down, but not before nudging one of the heaping trays toward Christmas.

”Huh?” The small boy seemed entirely surprised to be offered food.

“Lunch.” -Sander only managed one word, as his mouth was stuffed full.

”Um…can—can I?”

Sander simply nudged at the tray one more time. It was enough permission. Christmas picked up several fries, eating them tentatively and wholly expecting Sander to change his mind. But when nothing happened and Sander simply dug in to more food, he grew bolder, especially when he remembered that he was ravenous. Hunger propelled him to finish off several boxes of fries and the three burgers that were on the tray Sander offered. He couldn’t pinpoint the last time he’d had the peace of mind to eat so much without worrying how it looked to other people and by the time both of them were finished with the meal, Christmas was veering into the sleepy aftermath of hunger fulfillment. Leaning against Sander on the short walk back, he hardly noticed the peering eyes of the crowd around the hospital and only vaguely registered several of the guards stopping the reporters from drawing any closer as they made their way back to the hospital room.

A nurse poked and prodded him briefly, but sped away the moment cursory checks were done. Tired thoughts wandered back to the horrors of the fight and the tension in the air, but Christmas just held Sander’s hand a bit tighter, head already nodding.

It was strange and scary to find a moment of peace when turmoil roiled around them and when he had always broken from anxiety and fear all his life, but try as he might to muster any familiar sense of impending doom, the weight of his eyelids refused to be held back. He was sure the sensation was temporary, that this gentle moment wouldn’t last and that whatever minor brain damage had granted him this small respite from the knots that always tightened in his stomach would be gone soon enough—with the morning, with the wind, who could say? But for now he leaned against Sander, both of them seated on the hospital bed, and he managed a small ”Thank you” before sleep took him away and the full weight of his upper body rested entirely against Sander’s shoulder.

The taller boy merely wrapped an arm around his roommate, then gently laid him down onto the bed. Afterward, he crawled into the bed next to the blond boy, pulling the blanket over both of them.

A nap sounded good at the moment.

Ernie stood outside the doors of the hospital, bracing himself for his visit to Cal. His weapon of choice, a canvas bag filled with assorted convenience store goods. His armor, a beanie covering his buzzcut scalp and a cheap scarf to hide his mark. Hopefully they would be effective enough conversation starters, distractions to keep him from breaching that forbidden topic. He eyed the guards and roaming nurses warily as he stepped into the lobby.

First thing to do was find to someone for Cal's room number. But who to ask?

His saving grace came in the form of Angelique making her way out from the hospital. He jogged to her without thinking too much about it. "Hey, Angelique!"

The growling in Angel’s stomach just wouldn’t stop. Ever since she woke up this morning and went to train with Brent in the early hours of the morning, she was hungry from the lack of proper feeding ever since yesterday morning.

Not intending to eat the crappy kind of food hospital cafeteria usually serves, Angélique wondered if she could find her classmates somewhere in town and ask them if they had suggestions for a place to eat breakfast.

As the elevators doors opened, the raven-haired Aberration left quickly, but was soon to be intercepted by what seemed to be Ernie’s voice. But his appearance seemed to have changed… greatly. Unless her light-blindness really was pulling tricks on her.

“Ernie? What have you done to your hair?”

The boy blushed, suddenly self-conscious. It didn't look that bad did it? He stepped back from Angelique's squint.

"Um, I cut it?" Ernie replied tentatively, "Wisford messed it up pretty badly."

It felt stupid to be complaining about his hair when Angelique had suffered so much worse than him. He looked at her again, faintly surprised to see no lingering scars or injuries on her face. Thank god her only treatment wasn't his mess of bandaids.

"Your face is okay."

"Yeah, it is. Thanks to Christmas once more. I swear, I don’t know what we would be doing without him. I’m… just mad he gets treated like a walking healing blood dispenser here. But the institute is allowing it, and we can’t just go against their orders.”

Angel paused, her eyes narrowing as she tried to take a closer look upon Ernest’s new haircut, or at least the beanie he was wearing.

“You know, it doesn’t look half-bad. Gives you that street punk look. In fact, I think it looks cool? Build some more muscles and get some tattoos to complete the look." the raven-haired singer chuckled.

"Really?" Ernie lit up instantly. He never thought that Angelique Lachance of all people would compliment him. He was probably grinning like an idiot now but he couldn't seem to care, "Thanks, I'll take that into account. Hell, maybe I'll ask Brent for workout tips!"

Ernie held his tongue at the mention of Christmas' powers being used. To him, it seemed like the most sensible method of using that power. But he wasn't looking to start a fight here.

"So where you off to? Nowhere too wild, hopefully? The news guys haven't budged since last night so it's kinda hard to get around town."

Angel’s jaw dropped at the mention of media coverage going around town. Fuck, what if her face was caught on camera and people now knew her whereabouts? By now, anyone following her would know she was incarcerated in USARILN. She hoped the fandom would die down with what happened in Montréal and she would stop worrying about her public image. But the opposite actually happened. A lot of Regulars had turned their back on her, but now that a popular personality had become a Subnatural, activists that had been agreeing to her earlier stance on Subnaturals and more of them, both Arbiters and Aberrations that could relate to her, began surging on social media and express their idolization for the fallen Aberration rockstar.

This whole thing made her feel uneasy. But since Ernest seemed to know a bit more about this town than her, maybe he could guide her around without raising suspicion.

“Well, you just happened to appear at the right moment. I was thinking of finding one of you guys. I’m dying to eat something, but I literally have no idea where to head to.” Angel explained while she was tying her hair into a ponytail and brushing her signature long bangs behind her ears.

She wasn’t exactly clothed the way she used to be, and wasn’t wearing her shades for once, much to her dismay. Maybe the cameras won’t recognize her if she changed her hairstyle too during her stay in town.

Breakfast, huh? That would be a fine way to delay his visit. It only occurred after he said it that former celebrity would have the most trouble with the press out of everyone in the class. But the thought of having breakfast with a rockstar quickly overshadowed his doubts. He was determined to make this fun for both of them.

"The most obvious place to avoid is the motel. You wouldn't believe how hard it was to get out of there last night," Ernie scratched his head, formulating a plan, "Looks like most of them don't have the guts to enter the hospital, though. Or maybe they just don't know that some of us are here."

If he'd known that this would be happening he would have brought another scarf.

"Do you want to eat here instead? I could just get some stuff from the surrounding stores and bring 'em back to the hospital."

Angel looked hesitant to Ernest’s proposal. Part of her didn’t want to try her luck and come face to face with the media. But she really wanted to eat somewhere else than in the hospital. Actually, she probably had enough of being in that hospital. She wanted to be somewhere else. A quiet place she could spend the rest of their days in La Plata in peace.

She really was torn apart there. In that case, there was only one thing to do…

“Eeeeh… I really don’t know. Tell you what. You call the shots this morning.”

"Oh, me?" he swiped sheepishly at his nose, sniffling slightly from the cold air. He could understand if she wasn't keen on the idea of eating at the hospital, with the guards and chemical smells constantly wafting about. The stench of disinfectant was nothing he wasn't used to, but he supposed that Angelique didn't feel the same way. He looked out the doors a brief moment before turning back to the singer with a smile.

"I might take a while. Hold this for me, will you?" he said, handing his giftbag to Angel before running out.

Angel slowly nodded as she held onto Ernie's bag, tilting her head slightly in curiosity as she watched the teenage Aberration leave the hospital. While Ernie was gone, the young woman mostly kept to herself and took a seat in the corner of the room, adjusting her leather choker. She wondered if that thing was still good enough to hide her mark?

Fifteen minutes later, he returned, one hand holding a plastic bag overladen with wrapped goods, the other carrying a cardboard cup holder with four different drinks sitting in the spaces. A second scarf was hanging from his neck, which he promptly draped over Angel's shoulders as soon as he set down the food. He left the girl to wrap her own scarf though.

"I found a nice place nearby, follow me."

A soft smile crept on Angelique's face with the proposal and what he gave to her. The scarf was just about perfect to complete the disguise. She draped it around her neck and the lower part of her face, stopping just under her nose.

The place in question was a gazebo behind the church, a quiet place to sit that was a fair distance from the footpath. With the distance and the scarves in the way, it was highly unlikely that any passersby would see their X-marks.

"The cold might be a problem but, well, you're Canadian so I'm hoping it'll be okay for you," Ernie made small talk as he unwrapped one of the burgers he'd gotten from the nearby diner. The morning sky was cloudy and bright, but the chilliness was manageable. Distant cars and neighbourly conversations could be heard from where they were sitting.

"Ha, don't worry about that. I've always enjoyed the autumn's breeze. I find it... refreshing. It's quite moderate when compared to the heat of summers and the chill of winters. I kind of like autumns and springs for that." Angel chuckled slightly as she unwrapped one burger.

Been a while she did not have this much junk food. Yesterday was fried chicken for late night dinner, today is burgers for breakfast. At least she could count on Brent's hellish training to burn off the fat.

The black-haired Aberration paused between two bites, swallowing her mouthful of food before turning her black circles-ridden eyes towards Ernest.

"Thank you Ernie, for helping out." she said, for the first time using the guy's nickname.

"Yeah, fall is a neat season. This town is pretty nice too." Unlike its residents.

Ernie felt his spirits lift when Angelique finally used the nickname. He would've eventually asked her to do so anyway, just because of that weird feeling he got when someone called him his proper name. It was a superficial thing to dwell on, but it was definitely more comfortable to leave all traces of his past behind. Even if it was just a name.

"It's no problem, really. I want to hang out with you," Ernie chuckled into his burger, "But it really should be me thanking you. For yesterday. I might not be even sitting here if you hadn't been there."

"Oh..."

Angel didn't expect the small talk to suddenly shift to what happened yesterday. As a matter of fact, she tried to not talk too much about it, especially about the part when Hazel lost it and started attacking her own teammates.

"You don't need to thank me. You guys shouldn't have been involved in this mess. I made a bad decision that time. It's only right that I should try and make up for the things I do wrong."

Angel lowered her burger, a bitter expression slowly crawling out from her fading smile.

"I'm sorry to have you two exposing yourselves to danger like this. And for getting you caught in my power's range. I... guess I still need to train on that control thing, huh?"

"No! No, you can't blame yourself. I should've waited for you guys to take out the second collector instead of rushing out with Christmas. And it wasn't your fault that Hazel..."

It was his fault. They might have had a chance to sneak away if he hadn't lost it and drawn that monster's attention with panicked gunshots.

"I mean, at least you weren't actively trying to kill us. I can get over a few scrapes if it means you saving my life. Control will come with experience. And I know you can do it."

A thoughtless steadfastness. His half-blind adoration had pushed the words out before his experience-tinged cynicism could stop them.

Angel was taken aback, slightly startled as Ernest abrupt negative answer shook her out of this self-blaming cycle. His words held some truth to it, and she was thankful of him being so kind to her, even though she could not completely shift off the weight of her responsability from her shoulders.

"T-thanks for believing in me. I... appreciate it."

It somewhat felt good to have someone who wanted to believe in her and encourage her. Sort of like Brent, even though his approach had been way more direct and harsh. But still, to be surrounded by people believing in her strength, even though she was still lacking, it brought more conviction into becoming stronger.

The uneasiness of the whole event just called for a change of subject.

"So... where were you heading with those bags inside the hospital in the first place? Wanted to deliver something to someone in particular?"

Angel tried to shy away from the discussion about yesterday's battle, wanting to focus on something else more enjoyable happening at the present time.

Ernie nodded, accepting the sudden subject change. He wasn't keen on talking about the battle either.

"Uh, yeah, I was meaning to visit Cal. I should've done it last night but..."

He still didn't know if he needed to be afraid of her. Ernie shrugged.

"I didn't really know what to get her, so I just got a bit of everything. Do you think she'll like it?"

“I know it’ll sound corny as hell, but I think it’s the thought that matters. I’m sure she’ll appreciate the gesture.”

Memories of yesterday evening replayed in her head; of the moment she went to visit Callan in her hospital room. A lingering sadness that was difficult to watch.

“She’s… quite down from what happened yesterday. I think she needs emotional support from her friends.”

"Emotional support?" Ernie repeated, taking another bite from his burger. Him, actually going good with his words? He laughed at the notion, "I don't think I'm the right guy for that. My words have never really... helped."

“It doesn’t have to be with words though. Just going to check up on her, making sure she’s alright and bringing food to share is just as good as any speech.” Angel promptly corrected Ernest, her brows furrowing as he was underestimating his own cheering capabilities.

“Plus, you shouldn’t be so quick to denigrate yourself. I mean, I did find your words meaningful and helpful when I wasn’t feeling well last week."

And just now too.

Angel took a bit of her burger, savoring this delicacy she always did enjoy. For a moment, she looked thoughtful.

“You know, I’ve been taking you up on your advice. Every day, in the afternoon, I went to Ground Zero. To release pent-up stress, aggression and ease my mind. You were right, in the end. Whatever crap I tried before just couldn’t measure up to wrecking something in there.”

There was a solemn tone in her voice. She was willing to admit she was wrong and he was right, a small defeat that however turned into a victory.

“But I used this opportunity to train as well. I may not have become more powerful, but…” a grin flashed on the Aberration girl’s lips before she continued speaking.

“At the very least I managed to gain more control.” she continued, her voice however did not come out from her mouth. Instead, it echoed behind Ernie.

He'd... helped? But he hadn't even meant most of what he said that day. Still, Angelique's comforting words warmed him better than the food ever could. It gave him that small bit of pride he never knew he needed.

He did want to see that Cal was okay, really. Any intrusive doubts about her background could wait for the time being.

A "thank you" was about to leave his mouth before a sudden voice, Angel's, sounded from behind him. He jumped from his seat and yelped, stood and looked behind him to find the source. Once he saw the grin on Angel's face, he let himself relax, his own smile forming.

"Was that you?" he asked incredulously with a small chuckle.

The obsidian-haired Canadian tried to stifle a laugh, but Ernest’s startled expression emancipated that which she was trying to suppress.

“Unless I have an invisible twin sister, of course it was.” The girl explained, still giggling from seeing her classmate’s incredulous face.

“Whatever happened out there yesterday, after seeing those visions again…” Angel spoke, but her voice eerily coming to Ernie’s left side.

“I gained enough control over my voice to project it elsewhere. Think of it like a ventriloquist, only that the range is far more greater.” Angel’s voice this time switched to Ernie’s right side.

“It’s not only that. After training for a whole week, I managed to gain more control on my sonic blasts. Sure it takes some focus and a good aim, but I can make precise enough shots to hit a single target, instead of an area.” Angel further explained, her voice however returning where it belonged.

Angélique wanted to tell Ernie that she also felt the rushing tides of darkness being blocked out by something powerful, but the concept was so vague and so unknown even to the Aberration that she was reluctant of talking about it. One thing was certain though. Her last improvements gave her control beyond what she would have thought possible when she first started discovering her powers at the institute. It had brought her some hope concerning herself. If she could only try and find a way to further improve her power and her control.

Ernie laughed like a child, leaning away from side to side as the voices rang out.

"God, that can be really creepy when you want it to be. I can already think up some pranks you'd be able to do with that."

Visions, though. That was an interesting topic. He'd known many subnaturals in his time so he was confident in his knowledge of power progression among mages in that, well...

Subnatural powers didn't develop sudden new perks. They didn't evolve the way he and Angel's apparently did.

Mages, whether they were white streaks or X-marks, were generally stuck with the base power they had been given by their Awakening. If they wanted to get better then they had to just train and work to make the most of their abilities, form their own techniques and skillsets, or wait until they transformed into an Ardor or Animus. There was never anything in-between, no small packages of new abilities granted without the prerequisite training like what he (and now Angel) had gotten. And there were definitely no visions involved.

For the longest time, Ernie was alone with these once-in-a-while dreams. It had never been comforting or terrifying, it was just...strange. But now that he had found another, someone else who saw the same thing and reaped even more than he had, he wasn't sure what to feel. Relief, maybe. But there was something else, something much more familiar.

Jealousy.

"Yet another stronger classmate. You just keep getting left behind, don't you?" a sadistic voice taunted him.

Shut up. At least Angelique actually liked him. Ernie tried his best to be happy for her. Plus, this was a very strange situation he wanted to explore. The rate at which her powers were changing was something to discuss.

"Your powers change after you get visions too? Can you tell me more about that?"

Angel thoughtfully chewed into the final remnants of her burger, finishing it before starting onto this new turning point of their discussion.

And it kind of slapped her in the face. Why did she went through all the trouble of asking on Death and Taxes about those vision when this one experienced Aberration was part of her class? Ernest is probably one of the oldest running Mage of her experimental group. He probably had seen and know a lot more about Mages than any other person she could actually trust here.

"Not simply changing. Improving, I dare say. Range, control, power. Hell, I think even the strain my sonic screams inflict on my vocal chords also lessened."

Angel paused, thinking about the visions for a moment. Would it be alright if she talked to him about those? Was there a way to even describe coherently what she saw?

"How could I put it in words... Every time, it feels like... the ocean comes to me. An endless, dark abyss trying to consume me. But instead, it slowly drips into me. Each time it happened, I felt... dirty? But recently, it just feels right, especially ever since that unknown force just showed up quite recently and started blocking the ocean. Retaliate against it even."

Angel showed some enlightenment as she was speaking about her visions. Nothing made sense, but at the same time, it sort of did. At least that's what she was trying to believe.

"As a matter of fact... ever since that force showed up, I only gained more control over my powers, as opposite to the times the ocean was left unopposed. Before, the ocean seemed... content by feeding me more power to the destructive side of my abilities."

The Aberration girl stopped, looking at her classmate before rubbing the back of her head in embarrassment, smiling earnestly.

"I'm sorry if I don't make much sense. This whole thing is still pretty much vague even though it happened a few times already."

Ernie stared and listened attentively. He hadn't been expecting her to open up so much about it and was suddenly worried over whether or not he'd provide a satisfactory answer. There were parts that he could relate to but also just as many that he'd never experienced. It seemed that Angel knew and had received much more than him, even if she didn't know it yet.

"So much info! And she didn't even have to fester for years in a Senators den to obtain it. Jealous?"

Of course. Shut up.

"Nah, no need to apologise, I get what you mean," Ernie waved her concerns off with a smile, providing zero indication of his inner thoughts.

"I've seen that ocean. And I've felt that dirty feeling. But...I think you know a lot more than me about whatever those visions are. I don't really know what you mean when you talk about that force. My ocean's always just done whatever it wanted."

He chuckled.

"It sounds like I'm describing that Disney movie. But yeah, looks like your power's evolving a lot quicker than mine too. How often do you see these visions? It's only been a month or so since you got your powers, right?"

"Honestly, I don't know for sure. They... just happen when they need to? I could spend a week without experiencing them, just as they can happen two times in the span of a single day."

Looking back at it, it was pretty much what happened to her. She spent her first two weeks without seeing a vision other than The Awakening a month ago before being imprisoned at USARILN. Then, on the night of her first battle, she saw the vision for the first time. A few days after, she saw another one during the Flags and Seek game. It took almost a whole week afterwards to happen again, then not even a whole day passed before she saw the fourth one in Wisford.

"I've been meaning to ask, now that we are talking about it. Are those visions a rare occurrence to Mages? The way it sounded like when I asked on the Death and Taxes chatroom, it felt like very few knew what I was talking about, thinking it was the work of a Dream Mage."

The green-eyed monster's jeers only multiplied as Angelique kept talking, and Ernie felt it become more and more difficult to smile with every passing moment. The strong always took their gifts for granted. That was a fact he had bitterly come to terms with long ago.

His eyebrows raised at the mention of the subnatural forum. If he recalled correctly, the conversation she was referring to had a few people admitting to their own visions. Ernie pulled out his phone, scrolling through the backlog and ignoring his companion for the moment.

References to a sea. A flash. And the evolution of abilities resulting from it.

It looked like there were at least two people beside him that had experienced what he knew. And it was definitely not the work of a dream mage, despite what the moderator suggested. Ernie turned to Angelique and showed her what was on his screen. He pointed to the username 'Misfortune'.

"This is you?"

"Who knows?" Angel faked a grin to hide her embarrassment, leaving the boy to piece the puzzle together.

Looks like she blew her secret identity for over there. Well, only to Ernie at least. Surely he wasn't going to scream in every dorm her online persona.

Her question was left unanswered though. She had expected him to at least follow up on her question after having so diligently revealed details most Mages either kept for themselves or simply were ignorant of.

"You see? It doesn't look like a lot of people, even the moderators, know about it. Was it the same in West?"

Ernie raised a quizzical but amused eyebrow at Angelique's sudden coyness. He decided to count that as a yes, though he understood why she was so secretive about her online status. He'd made some pretty bold claims himself in the chatroom under the guise of anonymity. If anyone found out that it was him, it would be pretty embarrassing.

"Yeah, there was no vision talk at West. Or on the old DnT either, the one that wasn't just for East students."

He still had some things he wanted to investigate before he revealed all his cards. He pointed to another username, the only other person who seemed to have visions like them. 'Anon'.

"Wait, isn't Anon that dragon guy in our class? I prepped a suit for him a few days ago. Shouldn't we ask him for info too?"

"No, I don't think Christopher knows any more than we do. That wasn't the impression I got from him anyways."

Ernie was silent for a second.

"Angelique, I've been an Aberration since I was nine. I've met more mages than I can remember, even before West. Hell, I probably know more about subnatural life outside of the Institutes than anyone at this school. Which is why I find all of this so weird."

Hazel eyes met green with utmost seriousness.

"Powers aren't supposed to change like they do for us. That's the way it is for literally every subnatural I know, except for Animi and Ardors. But that's the thing, right? When a mage undergoes that giant transformation, that's the only time their powers evolve so noticeably. The only time, except for us apparently."

His brow furrowed and he looked away, deep in thought.

"I've known strong mages for stretches of months and years. They got stronger because they learnt to use their power better and practiced, not because they were suddenly granted new sub-abilities by a magic dream ocean. I mean, look at this!"

Ernie demonstrated by summoning his rope and throwing out his hand, sending his rope flying towards one of the gazebo's posts and automatically tying a noose around it.

"I couldn't even do this auto-latch thing until last week! If no one else is getting upgrades like us, then they're almost definitely not getting any visions either. For years, I thought that I was the only one getting these. But now there's you and this Anon person and all three of us are at East for some reason..."

The rope was dissipated and Ernie took a deep breath. This was a lot more rambling than he'd expected to do this morning. An idea came to mind and he looked to Angelique once more.

"Do you know anyone else who's had this happening to them too? Besides Dragon Boy? There's something seriously weird going on."

"You don't need to look that far away to find out who else are affected by those visions, if we go according to sudden surge of new powers." Angel paused, taking in account everything she had witnessed so far.

"Our whole class is made of those people. Grant keeps sprouting more chains; Hazel can actually make things explode now, not to mention I've noticed her projected arms growing longer. Christopher keeps becoming a bigger dragon by the weeks; Allison's blade is also getting longer; Zoe can make her rotting ability spread from one person to another. And I'm skipping a lot because I haven't seen them fight yesterday or on the first day we were brought here."

Angel sighed, the whole situation having turned into some sort of weird conspiracy theory.

"Take a closer look at our classmates. Some exhibit new powers each time we get into a fight, while some are more discreet about it. But point remains. We're Experimental Unit B, and it doesn't seem to be a coincidence to have all these... 'Gifted' people united in a single classroom, if we are that few in number, as you told me."

Angel looked thoughtful, wondering if anyone from her team had been hit by visions yesterday, just after their fight with the clockwork army ended.

"I suspect everyone else from our class has had these flashes of insight at least once."

"Our whole...class?" Ernie paled.

Well, there went his inferiority complex again. No wonder he was surrounded by such strong classmates. It wasn't just an East thing after all. He tried to deny the disappointment of losing what had just been his thing to seventeen other people but failed. Seventeen people who not just had his speciality, but were apparently better at it too. They got more out of it over the span of a week or two than he had gotten from over more than half a decade. Seventeen strong mages, moving on while he remained frozen, exactly the same. Nothing ever changed. The strong got the spotlight and he was just...there, barely holding on.

"It's Reno all over again! You'll get over it eventually."

But that wasn't even the worst of it. Angelique was right in that it wasn't a coincidence that twenty or so kids experiencing the same visions had been sought out and put in the same class. That was his biggest concern. How did they round up all these subnaturals with these specifications? Ernie's eyes widened with a horrible realisation.

USARILN was a Regular-run government organisation. Regulars. How did they know about all this? Did they know?

Perhaps. But they weren't all unpowered oppressors. His mind went back to Monday, to a particular pair of subnaturals. A suave, lanky man and a short, peppy woman, both bearing white streaks on their faces. But even if they were fellow subs, Ernie didn't trust them. They were USARILN staff after all. There was another thing. Ernie knew it was close-minded and childish, but he couldn't help but think of them as traitors of a kind. They had probably been captured when they were still young, and probably had no choice but to be affiliated with the organisation. Even if they were doing their best to make the transition comfortable for new kids, they were still just submitting to their tyrant Regulars without a fight. He couldn't help but feel a bit of resentment for that. If they did have answers for this conundrum then he doubted that they'd be reliable.

Ernie sighed before remembering that he still had a conversation he needed to devote his attention to. There would be plenty of time to think afterwards.

"Guess we're not so special after all, huh?" he smiled weakly.

'We're'? He knew that he was only referring to one person.

Angelique raised an eyebrow at this statement. Now that was a weird way to view things. Wasn't being a Mage good enough for him? As a matter of fact, she was a bit caught off-guard by how he seemed okay with being a special case of Aberration. Until yesterday, after her talk with Brent, she always was lamenting that she had taken the wrong decision, becoming a being of destruction rather than a being of harmony.

"I wouldn't exactly say that, Ernie." Angel's fingers drummed on the table, now that she had nothing to eat and her fingers ached to play with something when she was feeling anxious.

"Out of the billions of people on this earth, you're one of the few thousands to have become a Mage. And out of those thousands of Mages, you're part of a group experiencing visions that probably doesn't number more than half a hundred, at least from what we believe. If that doesn't make you feel special, then fuck man, we can't all be Precursors, Animi or Ardors. But at the very least, we're breaking away from the 'mold' and walking down a path few Mages had treaded."

Her shadow-ridden eyes, despite looking tired, brightened to their vivid emerald color as some sort of burning conviction was blazing in them. An aura of confidence she was exuding akin to what she was emanating in her career before.

"Who knows? Perhaps, one day, we'll be at the top. Those gifts granted to us will elevate us into powerful people who could actually do something of the fucking mess that is the world right now. Even if the visions don't, then I'm just as willing as to work my ass off 'till I become that something. Hell, if whatever is making us so special in the first place is helping us survive and fight back the monsters, then fuck yeah I'll gracefully accept it and make sure I live another day to fight and protect people I care about."

Ernie stared in awe as Angel delivered her speech. A strange feeling overcame him, one he struggled to identify at first. It was the same feeling he got when he watched a video of one of his favourite rockstar's live performances or watched one of her interviews. That limitless energy and confidence she seemed to radiate, the one that could bring thousands of people jumping to their feet. The one that was bringing a smile to his sullen face right now.

He couldn't help it. Ernie burst out laughing, louder and more genuine than he could ever remember. He knew it was a weird, maybe even inappropriate, reaction. But it was what he felt like doing. The joyous sound continued trickling out even after he tried to restrain himself.

She was right. Absolutely right. It all seemed so simple when she laid out the numbers like that. Eighteen subnaturals out of the thousands in the world, all with powers with unlimited potential. And he got to be one of them.

With everything going on in the past week, it was easy to forget that his powers were comparitively stronger than most. Seven months at West had confirmed that for him. Hell, even some of the bigger guys at Reno would have had trouble fighting him at the level he was now.

Yes, that was another thing to remember. Like his classmates, he was also improving, even if it was at a slower rate than he would've liked. But his time would come eventually.

"Will you even be alive long enough to see it?"

Who knows?

"Being 'special' won't help you survive Sander. It won't back you up when you're outnumbered by Emma. It won't let you withstand Hazel's disintegration."

Those thoughts were right, of course. Always right. But Ernie didn't care. Angel's words had moved him, and for that brief, rapturous moment he actually felt good about himself. No matter how delusional this feeling was, he was going to cling to it for as long as he could.

After all, it wasn't every day that he got to recieve a tailor-made pep talk from a rockstar.

"How did you find exactly the right words to say?" he grinned widely, wiping a stray tear from the corner of his eye, "Is that another one of your upgrades?"

He coughed out the last of his fit before turning back to her with shining, grateful eyes.

"Really though, thanks. The transfer's been sorta rough on me and, well, I guess there was some other stuff from before that too. I think I just really needed to hear that. Sorry for laughing, it just...it just surprised me, I guess, how better I feel now."

Ernie scratched his head, slightly embarrassed. But he felt like this was the best time to take a risk.

"You're seriously inspiring, Angel. That's probably why you're one of my favourite musicians."

Ernie's laughter did indeed surprise the rockstar off her socks. Her fingers stopped drumming as she wondered what she said that was so funny. But hearing that genuine laughter, she could not help but smile warmly.

Angel scratched her cheek, a bit self-aware of her position. She had always known her words had great impact on others. That's why she had always tried so hard to set herself up on the right track and become an example. She had many fans in the past. It was only right for her conscience to lead those people down a good road rather than exhibit the same debauchery many of her past bandmates showed. Angel wasn't only in the music show-business for the music in itself and the fame, but largely to inspire people in these dark times.

"It has always been who I was. You said it yourself. I am Angelique Lachance and forever will be." Angel took up on a more solemn look as she recalled their first discussion "You just happened to catch me at a bad time, at the gym. A moment of weakness that I wish you would have never met. And yet, at the same time, maybe it was for the best you saw me that way. Otherwise you probably would never had come see me and offered me help."

Her heart sank though when Ernest revealed she probably was one of his favorite musicians. It was difficult, to hear someone say those words after what she had done to her fans a few weeks back. But she promised herself she would stop crying like a little bitch about it. Move forward and kill the past, like Brent suggested. Still, it was a hard thing to come to term with, but perhaps the first step to healing was to accept it?

"I... I'm sorry for what happened in Montreal. I just wanted to impress my fans with my newfound power. I didn't mean to maim people with it." Angel said, her voice filled with honest mourning, without however lamenting over it. "I don't know how you still can be able to say that despite what I did. But… I'm somewhat thankful you can look past that, even if I probably don't deserve it."

The raven-haired fallen idol sighed, her eyes slowly looking up and closing as the intensity of the ambient light was a bit too much when looking at the sky.

"I'm not trying to look pitiful here. I think I've done enough of it for the past weeks to finally understand that moping about it isn't going to help me here. I just… wanted to let you know that I'm sorry if I've become a huge let-down because of it. That's exactly why I'll be working double on becoming a stronger Mage. To make up for the people that died that day, and for the people I will want to protect in the future, like you guys. Moving on from that tragedy won't be easy, but if I can turn it into a stepping stone to my ascension as a greater Mage, then I can surely find solace in that."

"I'm glad I saw you that day too. It might sound kinda messed up here but," Ernie shrugged, "I liked that I didn't have to see you as one of my idols. I could talk to you like a person I could relate to, like maybe even a...friend."

He cringed at the sappiness of it all and got to work folding up the wrappings from their shared breakfast and putting them back into the bag.

Montreal was an...interesting topic for the boy. To this day he still hadn't figured out how he felt about an idol suddenly revealing her self as an X-marked subnatural and causing a small massacre. Surprised, definitely. But any resentment that could have lingered had faded immediately once he saw that picture of a tear-streaked Angelique in an article regarding her trial and sentence. There was no way she was as bloodthirsty and evil as the people he had lived with, no matter what the Stigma said. He was glad he didn't stop believing.

"Nah, it's cool. I know that we shouldn't wave off something this big so easily, even if it was an accident. But you've shown me the guts you've got. You've saved me once already so I know you'll be saving others just as well. And I can see that you're gonna work your ass off. Makes me more than sure you'll make up for what happened someday real soon."

He chuckled again, crumpling the collected rubbish into a strangely neat package.

"Makes me want to work hard too. Maybe I should start with those muscles and tattoos you were suggesting earlier."

Angel's solemn face returned to her earlier smile as she heard Ernest encouraging her even if she had been confronting his beliefs for her past deeds. Even if it was just him, it felt good to have someone believe in her.

She chuckled in turn at his last statement. "Then work hard man. It would be enjoyable to see you standing on top with the rest of us."

The black-haired Aberration fell silent, thinking about what her classmate just said. About being an idol and talking to a friend.

"Say, Ernie. Since we're both stuck at USARILN for the time being as classmates, and I'm no longer continuing my career as a rockstar for obvious reasons, wouldn't you want... to become my friend instead of a fan? If it means to break the walls of idolization and discuss of things we could both relate to each other, I would very much like that."

Ernie nodded eagerly, "I'd like that too."

He toyed with the trash bundle in his hands, seeing his giftbag for Cal at his feet. He didn't feel much like stalling now. That pep talk had really done a number on him. The boy stood.

"Well. Guess I should go see Cal now. It took some weird turns but..."

He smiled brightly. Innocently. That wasn't a word he'd use to describe himself often.

"I really enjoyed our talk. Catch you later then?"

"Oh! Yes, of course! I'm sorry I took some of your visiting time. Please do go and see her. Cheer her up!"

Just like you have done for me.

Angel stood up as well. However the destination she had in mind was elsewhere.

"And Ernie... thank you for believing in me. I'm glad we've got to sit down and talk about all this"

He was tempted to say that he'd never stopped, but that snarky cynicism rudely reminded him of the impatience he'd felt at her weakness during that first meeting. He wasn't sure what part of his belief she was referring to so he said nothing. Instead, he just nodded again and dashed off, feeling a lot braver than he had been that morning.