The scream that rang out through the dark was something visceral, the kind born from genuine fear and agony. Only lasted for a few seconds, just long enough to be unmistakable for anyone still awake. It would be simple enough to guess the noise's source - Zoe had immediately claimed a room to herself for reasons she felt no need to share with the class. Perhaps more worrying was the way that it ended, cutting off abruptly followed by a dull thump against the floor.

After that, everything went quiet.

Not too far from the room Zoe had taken residence in, Angel was up and still fully awake when the scream happened. She had been trying to kill her boring evening by trying to come up with more lyrics to a guitar rhythm that replayed in her head. Needless to say, to say, the scream made the raven-haired Aberration jump from her chair, her heartbeat increasing immensely as her mind grew more alert. That voice, it was…

Angélique rushed out of her chair, knocking it backwards in her hurry as she left her room, mentally preparing herself for the possibility of fighting rogue Mages that may have been following them to La Plata and using the cover of the night to ambush them.

Reaching Zoe’s room, Angel banged loudly at her door and calling her out from inside the room using her new ventriloquist power “Zoe! Are you alright?”

Her worry would only grow as no answer could be heard from the other side of the door. If something happened to Zoe, then time was of the essence and there was none of it to be wasted. The black-haired young woman tried to open the door, but it was locked.

No time to wait for the others. Angélique took a step back, breathed deeply and tried to focus her mind on the door. With precision, she let out a low-pitched booming shout. The concentrated sonic wave slammed against the door, swinging it open with such force the door barely held by its hinges.

She didn’t take long to enter inside the room, looking for any sign of her redheaded classmate

The room was surprisingly neat, for the most part. Not insanely so, but considering Zoe's usual appearance and behaviour less scruffy than might have been expected. There were a few signs of the girl's outbursts - A mark on the wall, a pillow tossed across the room in frustration - but otherwise, there would be nothing much to note about the room's usual state. That made the evidence of what had happened all the more striking.

The first thing to see coming in would be the chair - Streaks of fresh blood trickling down the back and into the seat itself. A few steps back and just out of view from the doorway was Zoe. The girl was lying in an awkward position half propped-up by the wall, unconscious but slowly beginning to stir.

While her position obscured some of the damage, her wounds were obvious once you looked at the right place. Her hands and wrists were... Bare. The skin on the surface almost completely destroyed, and some of the muscle the same way. There was bleeding, a lot of bleeding, though none of it quick enough to suggest a severed artery or anything similar. She didn't appear to be in immediate danger of death unless she was left to bleed out, but the wounds would be agonising when she woke.

Still, despite the extensive damage, there was no sign of any intruder. Or, for that matter, of any confrontation at all.

The first scream had roused Ernie from a session of nightly texting and music blasting, slightly irritated. The second, one that sounded like it had come from a different person for some reason, had prompted him to get out and figure out what the hell was going on down the hall. The boy scratched his head, not really sure what he was going to do. Politely ask Angelique to keep the volume down?

His brief investigation led him to a blown door. Forcibly opened, no doubt, considering the screamer mage standing in the doorway. The way she was standing made it clear that this wasn't the singer's room though. Ernie looked around warily.

"Angelique, why are you screaming? I know it's not late or anything but it's just sorta...interruptful."

That wasn't a real word, was it? But hopefully the message had gotten across.

Was it strange that his first reaction upon hearing an agonized scream and a thud was to grab a weapon? No, it shouldn't be. What was strange was the fact that he didn't bother alerting everyone else about it yet. Was the secondary scream, no doubt from Angelic, enough to persuade him that he could take it easy, that others were already on the way?

No, he knew just how 'useful' Angelic was. Merely two days of early mornings wasn't enough to change someone.

Taking the stairs three steps at a time, Brent ran over, the third to arrive, surprisingly. Ernie was present as well, his own posture tense, but not nearly as concerned as he would have been if there was some sort of rogue subnatural assassinating Unit B members.

"Angelic," Brent said, eyes flickering from one place to another, "Explain."

Emma was slow to rise. Far slower than she should’ve been, given what was happening. She almost considered ignoring the scream… she certainly needed the sleep, but another quick shout forced her to rise, quickly finding a shirt and pants before heading out the door.

The scene, when she arrived, did not look promising. A group of people had begun crowding the room- particularly, she picked out Brent, Ernie, and Angel… not her favorite bunch at the current moment, but her curiosity overrode her animosity towards them.

She look past them, trying to get a good luck at what exactly was going. She saw the form of Zoe, along with her wounds… ”What’s happening? Are we being attacked? Do we have a healer?” she said wearily, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

The room wasn’t a complete mess as Angel had expected when she came rushing into to room. A bloodied seat, with a few thrown objects, what really just happened in here? As the Aberration girl spotted the lifeless body of her fellow Mage, she feared for the worse.

“No no no no no!” Angélique muttered as she approached Zoe.

“Zoe, are you-…”

Just as she was about to verify if Zoe was alive, others started gathering on the scene. She first frowned at Ernest’s oblivious comment, then her gaze shifted to Brent.

“How the fuck should I know? I heard Zoe screaming. Came here as fast as I could. I banged at her door, but she wasn’t answering, so I blasted that damn thing open because it was locked and…”

Her eyes wandered back to the red-haired Aberration she was kneeling beside of. And then she realized the horror of the situation. Angel softly lifted one of Zoe’s arms, revealing the bloodied rotten flesh that barely exposed the muscles on her hands and wrists.

Angel jerked back in horror at the sight, her stomach shifting at the disgusting gory sight. She slapped a hand in front of her mouth in shock.

““She… Why?”

Despite her shock in front of such a situation, Angel was determined to not let her classmate to her fate. Her eyes returned to her other classmates.

““One of you know how to patch her up? We have to bring her to the hospital!”

Ernie assessed the scene. No signs of a struggle or break-in, apart from Angelique's. And even in the motel room's dim light he could see the injuries inflicted.

They were just like the ones Zoe had given to David.

"This bitch really thought she could escape this way?"

The implications of this information were clear but this wasn't the time to dwell on how fucking pissed he was feeling all of a sudden.

"I have a first aid kit in my room," he snapped briskly, "Put pressure on the bleeding."

A pause. His distrust for USARILN staff had only increased due to recent events.

"Guards might think we did this. They've probably heard the screaming and are heading over already, but keep this between us as long as you can."

And he rushed out.

"Got it," Brent said, walking past Ernie as the aberration rushed off to his own room. "Angelic, keep her arms up. Above her heart."

With one pulse of silver blood, the machete's edge sharpened, enough that an unused, hopefully clean, bath towel was easily cut into two equal pieces. The stench of blood and rotten flesh was overpowering, but it wasn't the worst. He could work in such an environment, though the gas mask he didn't bring was looking more useful as he approached

Closer now, his amethyst eyes caught the white of Zoe's bones in the dim lighting, scraps of flesh clinging stubbornly on it. His mouth twisted into a grimace, before he covered the mutilation with one half of the cloth. Tossing the other half to Angelic, he said flatly, "Focus on the wrist. The hands are lost."

How terrible was it, that the worst moment of his life served as the only reason he could act so lucidly?

"Emma, find one of the healers. Preferrably Christmas."

So flat. So neutral. So calm.

He didn't really care if she survived this, did he? That had to be why he was so dissociated.

Emma glanced over Brent… those wounds weren’t made by someone else, she realized. She’d seen Zoe’s power in action and there was no mistaking it.

Emma was glad Brent called on her, because she couldn’t get out of that room fast enough.

”Right… right, I’ll see if I can find one.” her voice was shaking. She wasn’t sure where exactly Lily or Christmas were, but she ran off anyways. Any excuse to escape.

Shifting weakly, Zoe's eyes began to open, a pained groan escaping her as she tried to move. It hurt. Fuck, it hurt. That was what she'd wanted. She glanced towards the figure nearest her, murmuring something as her consciousness returned. "You--" No, not him, of course. Her stigma had been going insane last thing she could remember, images were still fresh in her mind, but that wasn't here.

These people were her classmates, she realised, recognition slowly coming to her as she looked between them. Angelique, Brent... Trying to help her, somehow? She couldn't be sure. Forcing her words out in between shuddering gasps, she spoke. "What's happening? What are you--"

Angélique nodded weakly to Brent’s command. She was awed to see him keeping his composure like that. She had tried to remain calm, but she was far from as focused as the brunette Arbiter looked. She did as he instructed, lifting Zoe’s arms just above her heart.

She cringed at the sight of the Aberration’s wounded hands. No matter how many battle or how many injuries she suffered, she could not help but feel uneasy around this much blood. As a matter of fact, she could feel her own hands growing limp as a side-effect of her unease.

Her hands wavered a bit, but she snapped back into a focused state when Brent handed her half of a towel and instructing her what to do with it. Hesitantly, she wrapped the tower around one of Zoe’s wrists, keeping pressure on it like Ernie suggested earlier. It was easier said than done, in her case, her limp hands had trouble forcing a pressuring grip on the wrist.

So pathetic. All that bravado of bearing the burden to pull the trigger, only to try off’ing herself like this.

Shut up! Focus, Angie!

Angélique’s grip started tightening around Zoe’s wrist, slowly applying the needed pressure to contain the blood loss.

It took great mental restrain for Angel to not outright scold Zoe’s ears off as the girl return to consciousness, letting herself known to be awake through weakened gasps. Instead, Angel kept the pressure, perhaps a bit too much now, and faked an unconvincing angry smile at her classmate.

“It’s okay, don’t panic. We’re here.” Angel said grimly, her eyes turning to Brent’s “Right?”

"Ernie's coming soon with actual medical aid and Emma's looking for a healer." The facts rolled off his tongue smoothly, as if that was a better salve than Angelic's kindness.

The stench of blood only became apparent to Ernie when he entered the room the second time, practically sliding to the group on his knees as he rushed with the first aid kit in hand. He noted Zoe's semi-lucid state. Good. He was running out of smelling salts and he would have woken her up for an interrogation one way or another. The boy's nose wrinkled at the smell and the gory state of her hands. Far from the worst he'd ever encountered, but still pretty damn gross.

Gloves were snapped on for formality. After a moment's hesitation, his rope was summoned too and Ernie got to work, swapping out Angelique's towel for thick and tightly wrapped gauze and dressing over the most essential parts of the limb. He did his best to cover her bleeding hands too, though they didn't receive nearly as much attention as the wrist.

"Brent, can you overclock bandages?" Ernie spoke as he finished the first wrist. They were dealing with a lot of blood here.

"Easily," the arbiter replied, "But keep the bandages connected if you can. Makes it more stable."

Connected? Like a pair of handcuffs? Ernie recalled his treatment towards David, how he completely wrapped the mage's arms. Considering the contact conditions of Zoe's power and what she had just attempted, Ernie had no problem with obliging Brent's request. By the time he was done, Zoe's arms were restrained to each other by the wrist and completely wrapped up from the tips of her fingers to her elbows. Bleeding out, escaping, trying it a second time? None of those things were going to happen while Ernie was here.

Once Ernie was finished, Brent placed a hand against the already-soaked bandages. Letting out a breath, he visualized just what they needed. Something to staunch the blood, to automatically put pressure without causing too much pain. A softer material then, with the ability, perhaps, to seal open wounds like plaster.

For a brief moment, as silver circuitry coursed through and unravelled the bandages, the full extent of Zoe's injuries was exposed in fluorescent light. Then, just as instantly, all the fibers that composed the bandages wrapped up once more, melting into each other to form an almost foam-like substance.

"Should be good for another ten minutes," he said, keeping his hand on the construction, "Painkillers may be good too."

The Aberration nodded, taking a small vial of painkillers out of the kit. He didn't particularly feel like wasting his pills on someone like Zoe though, so he placed the bottle beside her. If she wanted them then she could ask for herself.

"Probably shouldn't drug a girl without her permission," he shrugged.

Zoe looked at the painkillers for a long moment before shaking her head. No. "Wanted it to hurt. Didn't realise how far it went." No further explanation came as she tried to find something else to look at. Anything to distract her from the confused feelings that were beginning to set in. Full sentences felt like an impossible task.

Her eyes focused on the bandages wrapped around her arms, trying for a second to escape them but getting nowhere. She was growing increasingly lucid, though the pain still left her thoughts clouded. Funny, though. It had reached a point where she couldn't really register it properly, so many different nerves screaming in pain. There was something frightened about her expression. They couldn't be here. It wasn't like before, they weren't safe just because she was tied. "Shouldn't go near me. Dangerous."

Ernie packed away the painkillers a bit too eagerly, scoffing derisively at the last statement but ignoring the warning, "Yeah. I heard."

Self-harm? Zoe didn't strike him as the type, considering how she actually did a hell lot during the Factory fight. "You'll bleed out if we left," Brent replied matter-of-factly, "And no one wants that to happen."

"Wouldn't be so sure." The barest hint of a smile at the corners of her mouth. Could think of a few people that wouldn't mind getting rid of her, now that her thoughts were making some kind of sense again. Still, the blood loss meant everything was just a little foggy, leaving her with even less of a filter between her brain and her mouth. It didn't even occur to her to keep up the untouchable persona.

"You'd be safer without me. Ask Callan. Gregory. Aaron. Keeps going further." She frowned as she thought about the incidents, how close she'd come to killing her classmates. Once was an incident, three times was a pattern. A foregone conclusion if she didn't stop it. "Can't risk killing one of you. I'm... Not important."

"She wouldn't have bled out," Ernie replied coldly to Brent, "Stigma wouldn't've let her die in such a stupid way. Just putting it out there if that's what you actually wanted, Zoe."

Ernie had to admit that he was thrown off-guard by these injuries. It took a shitload of effort to bypass the safeguards that came with powers.

"She really wanted to hurt herself."

The slightest sense of pity rung through Ernie but he hardened once more.

"We're not gonna let you die either. Guards would off all of us if they saw what's happening here."

Angélique had let go of Zoe’s arm as she watched with interest her two classmates at work. She wasn’t aware Ernest was well-versed into first aid, a skill that was beyond doubt very useful for the kind of lives they were living. Maybe she could ask him to teach her about it on another day?

It pained Angel to see Zoe like that, to hear her still go on about that whole lone wolf act. But in a sense, she was right. She was volatile, and willing to hurt others. But was it because of her Stigma, or just an uncaring attitude? This whole Stigma and hurting others deal brought her mind back to the discussion she had with Emma yesterday. Her teeth grinded against each other at the thought of what happened that time.

Still with a frown, Angel got up from her knees and headed towards the room’s door. Ernest was right. If the guards would get here and see the mess, Ernest and Angel would probably be branded as unstable Aberrations while Brent could as easily be mistaken for an accomplice looking for revenge. She can’t let the others that have been drawn to this scene, herself included, be imprisoned or shot down for what happened.

“Brent, take Zoe over there by the bed and make sure you both are hidden from sight should anyone come looking by the door. Ernest, clean up as much blood as you can. Cover it up with blankets if you can’t clean it quickly. I’ll stay over there and make sure no one comes peeking in the room until Emma arrives with a Healer.”

Considering how bad the situation looked, Angel acted with utmost seriousness, going as far as ordering her classmates around. She didn’t care for the moment how snappy she sounded. The stupid act Zoe just made was probably endangering everyone present here, and she would not let anyone get hurt because of that.

“And keep quiet.” she added sharply, aimed at everyone for a bit more than the sake of keeping hidden. Brent’s blunt manner of speech, Ernest’s bitchy attitude and Zoe’s self-lamenting was getting on the sonic Mage's nerves the more she was hearing them talk.

Inside her mind, whispers had started to intensify. Telling her how foolish she had been to get herself into this mess; how stupid this whole situation is; how worthless of her caring all the others were.

"If the guards offed the rest of us," Brent reasoned in return, "That's just four subs dead from Zhang's special little group. Sounds like a hell of a waste."

He knew little to nothing about what Ernie was even referring to, and he cared little for how there was an undercurrent of irritation in everyone's tones. From Ernie, who seemed more pissed that he got woken up for this shit, to Angelic, who suddenly decided to take action in the most passive-aggressive way possible.

Nevertheless, he did as the screamer commanded, opting to sling Zoe over his back and bring her over to the bed. Laying her down carefully, if not gently, the brunette wondered how much easier hiding this would have been if Angelic hadn't smashed open the door to begin with, before turning his attention back to the rotten suicidal bitch.

"I have no idea what you did to Aaron, and I can't say shit about Grego considering what I pulled off on Hazel," Brent said, his voice low, "But yeah, you fucked up real hard with Callan. So much for protecting everyone with your power, eh? Nice to see that you have a conscience after all though, if you can feel bad about it, but really..."

He turned his face away, ensuring that Angelic and Ernie couldn't see it.

"...you still killed three of those rogue subs that made everyone else go through hell. We aren't better off without you. We're worse off. You're dangerous, but so is every other fucker with access to a weapon."

There was a part of him that did want Zoe to die, but it was all too easy for Brent to recall the mixture of fear and admiration he held for Hazel, a similarly destructive x-mark. Equally dangerous and useful. Another person with too many qualities that he did not have.

"Learn to use that weapon properly, you sad sack of shit."

Ernie nodded at Angelique’s command, sliding off his bloodied gloves and tossing them into the room’s bin. He’d have to dispose of them properly later. No trace of this incident was to be left behind. He looked to where Zoe had been found.

So much…

A harsh blink to shake him out of his thoughts. He wasn’t going to fail.

The site was scanned with a practiced and professional gaze. Location was out of sight from the entrance. He’d have to keep an eye out for stray drops. Furniture needed to be checked. He doubted that he’d be able to do much for the hole in the wall. Weapons, unlikely as they were, needed to be considered too. The blood looked fresh, easy enough to clean. But not with the meagre soaps the motel provided for the bathrooms. If he was going to erase this incident properly then he needed supplies. And he knew where to find them. He hadn’t spent all that time lounging around the motel for nothing.

A soaked bathmat was thrown over the area Zoe was found, with the stained chair pushed to rest on top of it. Ernie covered the chair with similarly drenched towel, then gave the area an extended burst of the bathroom spray he’d found by the toilet to mask the stench of blood. Lemon-scented, urgh.

That would have to do for now. Ernie quickly strode to the doorway.

“Best I can do right now. I need equipment for the rest.”

He left without further explanation.

Of course. The others were in danger, weren't they? Her fault again, she reflected, as they began to move around the room. There'd be fallout, inevitably. There always was. At least Brent initially seemed a little less pissed than the other two, although she wasn't sure it was that high a benchmark as he lay her down. Not that it mattered, because she grew increasingly less sure as he spoke to her.

It felt like he was trying to be helpful, in his own way. It was certainly true that she was effective on the battlefield, she'd already known that for herself. And that her ability was powerful - If she hadn't been there, maybe more people would have been hurt. More of their people, the ones that mattered. No-one else at that scene had been in her position to help. Not with her power, her mentality. Out of all of them, Zoe knew she was maybe the most lethal.

But then, he wasn't exactly right. About her conscience. Because the memories were twisted, weren't they? Always forcing that horrifying joy on her when she thought about it. That rush surrounding every memory, every dream that forced her to grin and laugh instead of crying. In her right mind, she wouldn't have said anything. But she couldn't think things through, speaking more to herself than to either of the people in the room.

"Can't feel bad about it properly. Pain's good... It makes me want it. Especially people." It took a couple of seconds for her eyes to widen in realisation as she tried to take the words back. Might've worked for someone else, but there was a problem with her fixation on honesty: It made for a terrible liar. "I mean. Today. Just a bad mood. Everything was getting to me or something."

A shuddering breath.

That was close.

Almost the same.

His eyes turned to the side. Ernie was gone. Angelic was guarding the door. Good.

"Same," Brent said, his eyes locking onto Zoe's, "In the heat of the moment, it's wonderful. Splitting Hazel's head was exhilirating, I kept forgetting to apologize. Blasting a hole through that gargoyle's eye felt like validation, even though it did nothing."

A pause. This was getting dangerous. These scenarios were making him weird. He needed to stop.

"It doesn't matter if you're screwed up in the head. All that matters is that you know which people to turn your power on and which not to. As I said, everyone's dangerous. Learn to aim." He almost felt like throwing up from the sheer audacity of what he was saying. "Learn to control yourself. These passions will ruin you if left unchecked."

But haven't they already?

Of all Zoe had expected from that slip of the tongue, she wasn't expecting empathy.

"You're a white mark. It's not the same." How could she make it clear? There was something deeper about it. It wasn't just a want, almost a need, to hurt and kill and tear. Besides - Restraint, calm, mercy? Those things weren't in her nature.

"I don't know how to fight it. Because it's good. I can endure bad, but I don't know how to fight good. And fighting's the only thing I know how to do." Or at least, the only thing she didn't monumentally fuck up. "Besides, aiming at the right place isn't..." The same. But she couldn't say that. That was too much to admit.

Temptation. It would be so easy to kill him right now. She was vulnerable if he knew this part of her. The part that was weak.

Sudden urgency as she realised. "Brent, back off. Now."

His eyes narrowed, noticing the change.

"Zoe. Your range. What is it?"

"Two metres. Forty-five after that." There'd been a moment of hesitation before she spoke. Looking around the room, she realised it wasn't that simple. At least not right now. "Can spread it through other things, one to another. Don't touch the blood."

It had become an airborne contagion. Somewhere along the way, Zoe's power had gone from a minimally effective close-range weapon to something that was absolutely monstrous. Almost reflexively, Brent grinned. "Hella impressive, Zoe. Definitely more flexible than before."

Nevertheless, the bandages wrapped around her wrists filled with his power once more, creaking in spite of the fact that there should have been nothing within it that'd make such a sound, before the material changed once more, the hot winds settling.

It now stretched, and, pulling at the foam-like material, Brent took five large steps, keeping his distance from the blood.

"You pig out on junk food and play video games all day as well?" he asked, raising his voice to be heard.

Despite herself, Zoe smiled a little. She was powerful, that was true. Grown a hell of a lot, and the reaction helped her remember that. Yeah, if nothing else, she was strong. Still, the change in subject was surprising, to say the least.

"Not where I thought that was going." But maybe this was better, a distraction from the horror that was everything else. "No. Can't sit around for that long. I'd rather be outside. Junk food sometimes, I try not to." She gave him an odd look. "Not sure this is the time to discuss my daily routine."

"Well, what else are we gonna do? Moan and groan about how Dreamcatcher's a giant dick?" Yeah, this was better. He could recover like this. "You play any sports? Or do you just like getting into scraps a bunch?"

"Fair enough. Wouldn't want to be depressing." She laughed at that, considering the situation. Angelique would be able to overhear them now, wouldn't she? One person knowing was enough - lucky that Brent had been the one to find out, apparently.

"Second option. Usually won, to be fair. Think 'delinquent' got tossed around a lot." Zoe looked faintly embarrassed at the admission. "Not really the organised sport type. My old school tried to get me to play basketball for obvious reasons, but I'd rather just work out. You?" Strange, to be having a normal conversation in these circumstances.

"Nice," he whistled, raising his spare hand in an air fist bump, "Got my ass beat in most fights myself. Apparently learning martial arts at five years old was normal for the kids in my school, yah know?"

"Surprised they didn't try to get you into boxing or something though. Feels like that'd make more sense than shooting hoops." A shrug. "Guess administration is retarded no matter where you go."

"Can say that again." Zoe almost attempted the fist bump, but then remembered she probably didn't have fists to speak of. Her breath hitched as the reminder brought the pain back to the forefront of her mind. No reason to hide the ghost of a smile this time. "Any sign of them yet?"

"Finally realized you're not cut out for masochism?" Brent grinned in response, before turning towards Angelic. "Yo, any sign of Ernie or Emma?"

While Brent and Zoe were having small talk, Angel had been standing guard over the door frame. Realizing the blown door was making it more difficult to conceal what was in the room, the raven-haired Aberration grabbed the near-unhinged door and began fiddling with it onto its frame, forcing it to open towards the outside rather than inside the room. If a guard was coming over, she could just lie about having blown it from inside for reasons she had yet to figure out.

Despite having told the two to remain silent, they were talking as if nothing had happened. Angélique did not say a word about it though. They weren't loud enough to signal their presences from afar, and by the tone of their voices, they seemed to be discussing rather than cussing each other out. At least their discussion was a bit better to hear than what they were saying a bit earlier.

While fiddling on the door to straighten it onto its frame and hinges, she listened once in a while, without paying too much attention to the details of their exchange though. Her mind was addled by taunting whispers and scenarios of how an encounter with some guards would unfold. She tried coming up with convincing lies, but she was someone bad at doing so, having always been a straightforward and honest person.

Why lie and get yourself into trouble for these idiots?

Better save yourself from the pain and stick to the truth. Ditch these fuckers!

Hearing Brent's 'yo' and the question following it, Angel took another peek on both sides of the corridor, spotting no one. As soon as she began formulating an answer to Brent, the familiar warmth of her magic invaded her throat. She focused her voice to be projected elsewhere.

"Nothing yet so f-... wait... Ernie is returning with some stuff." the sound Mage whispered, her lips moving but her voice reaching quietly to Zoe and Brent as if she had been standing right next to them.

The Aberration boy strode down the hall, protective glove-covered hands pushing the janitor's cart laden with chemicals, scrubbers and a vacuum. Though the respirator mask covered most of his face, narrowed, hazel eyes made it clear that whatever expression lay beneath the mask was likely that of irritation. Ernie paused at the door, glaring with dismay at the Angelique and the hinges before letting out a "Jesus, fuck," under his breath. Another job for the self-made janitor. There went his sleep for the night.

He didn't bother greeting the others in the room, instead pouring his needed liquids and chemicals into a series of paper cups he'd snagged somewhere. Then, after removing the chairs and towels from the stained area, he knelt down to begin scrubbing.

"There's a line between masochism and melted hands. Maybe--" Zoe stopped. Wait, what? Okay, no. Not finishing that sentence. Could leave that train of thought for when she wasn't in a room full of people. At this point she was starting to half-wonder if she'd somehow given herself brain damage.

She was thankful for Angelique's interruption, although slightly irritated. Oh, great. Ernie. At least she'd be suffering in a cleaner room. Thinking about it, though, leaving him to scrub it all would be kind of a dick move. Reaching out to whatever blood was in her range, she tried to start melting it away.

It wasn't working. Safeguards. Always safeguards. Gritting her teeth, she kept pushing but it was harder to do this time. Maybe it was because she wasn't as invested in getting past it. It would be obvious that she was struggling to do something, and finally, slowly, she thought she could feel it start to work. It didn't occur to her that she probably should've given them some warning.

The Aberration boy shuffled back as the stain on the chair started changing. Was it seeping in or something?! God, this room was becoming more irritating with every passing second. Ernie's gaze shifted to Zoe, who was obviously straining herself. The stain continued shrinking, changing at a painfully slow rate but shrinking nonetheless. His mind put the puzzle together. The girl had some kind of range. Had she always had that or was it from one of those visions he had been discussing earlier?

And geez, what was the point of him even being here if someone else was gonna mop up?

"Please. You leave a mess behind and it's gonna bite you in the ass later. Don't think about it too hard."

Right. He was always the one cleaning after others. Always. But a helping hand didn't sound too bad for this situation.

"If you're gonna help with this, can you focus on the carpet first? Don't want any gunk growing underneath. I'll just...fix the door while you clean up or...?"

Even if she could clean it herself, she was taking an awful lot of time doing it. He wondered if she could even take care of it all.

Zoe tried to reply, but couldn't get the words out. All her energy was focused on just getting her ability to work. She was suddenly exhausted - If she was honest, she probably shouldn't have been exerting herself like this at all. Even sitting on the bed, she felt unsteady. Still, she nodded. He could fix the damn door.

"Alrighty. Angelique, hold that door up for me."

A pause.

"Geez, I need more tools."

The Aberration sped out the door yet another time. Zoe would be fine, right? It was a sorta poetic thing, having her clean up her own mess. He couldn't help but frown as he recalled the exhausted look on the girl's face. Hadn't this been the mentality that made Christmas bleed out from shoddily self-wrapped bandages? Maybe having someone who had just attempted suicide with their own powers perform a menial chore with the aforementioned powers was a bad idea...

Ernie's steps quickened heavily.

After a few minutes, the boy returned, completely out of breath and hauling a hefty toolkit. The power drill was pulled out, but Ernie hesitated.

"Uh," he turned to the others, hoping that they would have some advice, "This is gonna be loud. Should I?"

Angel watched with widened eyes Ernest bringing out the power drill. She crossed her arms, whispering. "Yeah, no. Put that away. Don't you have a screwdriver in that kit?"

The handyman visibly deflated and mumbled a quiet "yes". Urgh, so much unnecessary labor. Pulling a bottle of wood glue and a Phillips screwdriver out of the toolkit, Ernie got to work removing the loose screws.

"Uh...Angelic, I could just overclock that power drill and have it become super quiet..." Brent said, before confusion emerged on his features. What even was the point of this? "But now that I thought about it, is there a particular reason why we're being all quiet? Pretty sure everyone would be awake after your scream."

Angel's frown deepened as she heard Brent commenting about no longer needing to be quiet.

"Exactly. And that probably includes the guards surrounding the motel. Excuse me if I don't want one of them to drop in on us and mistake this whole event for a bunch of subs trying to kill one another."

"Stop bitching at each other or fuck off." Zoe paused her cleaning attempts, panting, only to raise her head and practically growl at her classmates. She was a tiny bit on edge. "Not like I'm dying." Just permanently crippled without a healer, she reflected. Speaking of which, where were they?

---

Lily was wandering around the rooms, feeling a little bit better than she did the previous days. In her right hand was the cellphone she told Emma wasn't hers. It had rung thrice the past hour, all three calls from the same person, Sebastian. Ever since he called the day before, she never really bothered receiving the call again. Why would she? She wasn't who he was trying to talk to.

"Funny that they would give me someone else's phone. Maybe to save money, they gave me a used phone?" she spoke out loud.

You're not important. They don't need to bother with giving you stuff.

"Oh, I know that. It doesn't matter. I just want donuts right about now," the blonde teenager conversed lightheartedly with the voices in her head. "But you think I can find any at this time?"

There was no answer.

"I guess that's the way to shut you up," Lily laughed, not really caring how crazy she must look talking to herself.

Crazy girl. No one would want to be near you. No one needs you.

"Mmhmmm..."

Emma came rushing out of Zoe's room, clearly in a hurry. She didn't have time to run around the motel right now, as far as she knew both Christmas and Lily were still in the hospital. It was just down the street, but she still wasn't sure how severe Zoe's injuries were... if she wasn't fast enough, there was no telling what could happen to her. She didn't exactly like Zoe after the incident with Callan, but she wasn't going to let her die.

Which is why Emma breathed a sigh of relief when she caught sight of Lily. She didn't waste any time, "Lily! Lily" she called out, rushing towards the girl. Emma had no time to worry about the fact that Lily seemed to be talking to herself, "Thank God I found you. Zoe's been injured, I don't know how severe it is, but we could use a healer. Can you come with me, quick?"

At the sound of someone calling out her name, she looked up and found Emma heading towards her. "You lose. See? Someone needs me, " she said and then flashed the taller girl a loopy grin. "Okay," she said with a nod.

So, she is talking to herself...

Emma didn't have time to worry about that. "Alright than. Let's hurry, she didn't look very good." Emma said. She didn't wait for confirmation to start running back to Zoe's room.

Didn't look too good... was she attacked? Lily wondered to herself as she started running after Emma, tucking the phone into her pocket and quickening her pace a bit to avoid being left behind by the taller girl. As soon as they were both near Zoe's room, the blonde X-marked stopped short in her tracks, her eyes widening.

She didn't need to see the injury to know what it was. She could feel it. While the injury wasn't as bad as Callan's severed arm, it was still bad. Her eyes were wide as saucers as her mind processed the anticipated pain that would follow after she took the injury onto herself. "W-what happened? Why are her hands...?" she stammered as she resumed heading towards the room, her footsteps slowing down from a run.

A few more minutes and she was standing at the doorway. Her eyes immediately fell on Zoe and her hands. They were bandaged in some sort of foamy material and although the injury was hidden from plain sight, she knew what was underneath. And she knew that no matter how much she cringed from the pain that would obviously come with it, she wouldn't refuse healing her classmate...someone she didn't even know the name of. She ignored everyone else and calmly walked in.

All the voices in her hand erupted into chaos as she settled down on the floor, her back to the wall.

Take it and give it back. Make it worse.

Make them hurt. Make them beg.

Make them wish they died instead.

The uproar in her head made it impossible for her to think her actions through. She didn't consider what would happen to her after taking the injuries or who would heal her. She just focused on what was asked of her and tried to ignore the voices that permeated every corner of her mind.

She closed her eyes and as soon as she did, the black thread that signalled the activation of her power appeared on her wrist, the other end automatically wrapping around the injured's wrist. As soon as the connection was complete, the flesh on Lily's hands and wrists became a bloody, rotten mess.

And the pain. It was so intense, so horrible, that the small teenager bit down so hard on her lip that she made it bleed. She whimpered as she kept her eyes closed tightly, her bloody hands on her lap.

GIVE IT BACK TO THEM, the voice in her head roared.

Angélique watched in sheer bewilderment Emma running towards the room, accompagnied by Lilianna. No fucking way. Did she really asked her to come here and take up Zoe's injuries without even bringing someone else to regenerate the injuries? Was she a fucking idiot?

Just as se was giving a scowl in Emma's way, her attention was quickly brought back to the calm-looking Lilianna who walked up in the room and activated her power without thinking.

"Lily! Wai-"

Too late. The golden-haired Aberration's skin peeled off from her hands and wrists, leaving them into a dripping bloody mess in the middle of a room that had been freshly cleaned by Zoe, clearing out her own mess.

They were back at square one, as if they had just entered Zoe's room to find Lily injured by Zoe. Before, it was plausible to come up with an excuse that Zoe trying to kill herself, seeing how her powers seemingly affected her own skin. But now? Now it seemed as if Zoe had attacked Lily and had been put down by her fellow classmates.

Things just took a strange turn, perhaps not for the best.

At least you won't risk being blamed by the higher-ups for what happened here.

They should have tried to get Christmas to heal Zoe instead of Lilianna. Or at least have Kusari to take the injuries and regenerate them. Even better, they should have bandaged Lilianna's hands beforehand to prevent blood spilling on the ground again.

"God fucking damnit..." Angel muttered under her breath. "I'm calling Kusari over here right away."

"No," Ernie snapped harshly, "We can't have more witnesses here."

Realisation quickly overshadowed the mild disgust as Zoe's injuries appeared on Lily's hands. The injury transfer girl. Her power made her a strong healer at the cost of her own health. Ernie's mind replayed past conversations numbly. Lily was the one who healed Cal's severed arm. But if her power was injury swapping... Oh god.

This girl was either an insane masochist or the bravest, most selfless person in the class.

"Yet another stronger classmate."

She hadn't even hesitated when she saw Zoe's state. Didn't even blink at the possibility of suffering for others' sake. Plus...

Small girl. Blonde hair. Golden eyes. This was a fucking joke, right? The world was getting back at him for not giving enough shits about a dead child? This girl didn't look much older than Savannah. And to top it all off, she was an Aberration too. An X-mark taking away pain instead of inflicting it. Truly incredible.

All at once, Ernie felt his inadequacies plumet onto him like a collapsed building.

What the fuck was he even doing here? What the fuck was his excuse for not helping with these injuries? The only 'right' he was doing here was sorting out the cleaning of the room, and he wasn't even fucking doing that without Zoe's help. This little girl was bearing the nightmarish injuries of a monster and he was just there fiddling with screws. What the fuck was he doing? What could he do?

He...his rope! He still had his durability. Yes...yes, he needed this to work. Anything to feel like he was doing something right for a change.

The screws and tools were dropped immediately while his rope was summoned. Ernie knelt by the pained girl, holding out his right hand. The words were shoved out before he could think them over.

"Lily, there's no reason for you to take it all yourself. Give me half."

Half? Half of it? There's no half. Give it all. Give him everything and more, the voice reacted savagely to Ernie's request.

Amidst the pain and the noise in her head, Lily managed to shake her head. "No, no, no..." She didn't even know who was asking for the injuries. She kept her eyes closed tight. She was barely able to keep the impulse to hurt someone at bay and the voices roaring in her head was not helping at all. She tried to focus on how she felt when she hurt and killed those people in Ground Zero. But all it did was make that desire to hurt flare up more.

With the realization that she might lose control and end up hurting people around her, she opened her eyes and found herself staring into the hazel brown eyes of a boy with a buzzcut. "Need to... get out of here," she whispered urgently, struggling to get up.

It happened too fast. He thought they would have figured out what to do after Lily transfered the injuries onto herself, but the young, blonde-haired x-mark acted too fast. As if she had no sense of self-preservation. Her wrists seemed to almost blossom outwards, before more blood splattered everywhere. Fresh. Too fresh.

And, just like that, they had an even bigger crisis on their hands. One of their healers were suffering now, and...she was trying to leave instead?

Leave, with such injuries?

Overclocking the bandages on Zoe was pointless now, and Brent released his grasp immediately. Ernie was willing to take the pain, but they still had no way of getting rid of it. What was the logic behind injury transferrance? Was Kusari their only option? Was there a better way?

Could Emma's monsters take it?

"Emma, summon one of your monsters now. As humanoid as possible. Lily, if you can, transfer the wounds on that," Brent said, "Angelic, get moving! This..."

Hazel's hands destroyed those monsters easily. Does it not work if they aren't living beings?

"...might not work."

Emma cringed back. This was a mistake. A big mistake. They didn’t need Lily, they needed Christmas… she’d been told to get a healer. Brent told her to get a healer. She thought that Zoe’s injuries were worse, that she needed help right away, she couldn’t see how hurt she was, Lily was the first person she saw and she had no idea where Christmas was… she was just going as she was told, right? It wasn’t her fault, it was the other’s, but…

But now Lily, her friend, was the one injured and it was her fault.

She saw Angel‘s scowl, ”This… this… I was told to get a healer, I didn’t know…” she muttered, but she wasn’t sure if they could hear her. She looked down for a moment before Brent snapped her out of it, ”R-right.” immediately after the affirmation the form of Charity appeared beside her.

Seeing this recent development, Angel sighed, annoyed. Looks like they will have to bring Kusari into this mess as well.

Backing off from the room, the raven-haired Aberration closed her eyes, focusing. She never tried this before, but she had a bit of insight about how her newly acquired power worked.

Letting the warmth of her magic flow into her, Angel's lips moved, but no voice came out from her mouth, once more.

However, somewhere in the motel, her voice reached out to the girl Angel had focused her power on to reach: Kusari. She had no time looking out for where she was. If she was somewhere in the motel though, she'd hear Angel's voice.

"Kusari! We need you inside Zoe's room as quickly as possible. Don't question the voice, just get moving!" the disembodied voice ordered, tinged with panic.

Kusari didn't know why she thought taking a walk outside was a good idea. Even at night this town was crawling with regulars, and they were defeating the purpose of her relaxing stroll. She should have known better, she did her brooding best alone in a dark room, like any respectable suffering artist.

As she was nearing the motel she nearly jumped out of her skin as she heard Angel call her name. She frantically looked around for the girl, but stopped as she heard the rest. "R-right!" She said, though Angel likely didn't hear her. She didn't know what was happening, but she had no intention of standing around and questioning why a fellow mage needed help.

She nearly broke the motel's front door as she rushed through the building, scrambling up stairs and down a hall until she reached Zoe's room."W-what the hell?" It seemed like the majority of Unit B was here, all crowded around Zoe's room. Kusari's focused was drawn instantly to Lily, however. Her hands looked as if she'd bathed them in acid. She didn't care to find out how it happened, she needed Lily to be healed first. Running over to the girl Kusari placed her left hand on her shoulder. "Lily calm down, look at me. Use it on me, give me your wounds."

There were roars of laughter in Lily's head, her stigma going wild as her physical body felt the pain and that horrible need to hurt someone. They're all wishing it wasn't you that came. You're no healer. You're a monster. And at one point you'll have to give in to what you really are.

HURT HURT HURT.

DESTROY DESTROY DESTROY.

KILL KILL KILL.

The voices were loud as they chanted over and over in the small teenager's fractured mind. She looked around, looking for those hazel eyes she had been looking at when she had opened her eyes. Maybe if she focused on those eyes, she could bring the raging stigma under control. But in front of her was the porcelain skinned Arbiter.

For some reason, her mind brought back the recent battle, that moment when Kusari yelled at her for not transferring the injuries to her.

HURT HER, came a single clear voice in her head. It rose above the noise. And it was familiar. It was her voice.

There pull was irresitible, the need horrible. Lily bit down more on her lip, drawing out more blood, trying to remind herself that the person in front of her, no matter if she was immortal, was an ally. And allies are kept safe, not hurt.

But it was a losing battle. The pain, the voices, the need. She'd have to transfer the injuries. It was just a matter of how much she would give out. The black thread immediately connected Lily to Kusari. Her control was slipping.

"No. Just..."

She gave out more than what she needed to. A red claw fell to the floor, severed from the wrist. Lily's manic eyes stared at it as it fell, a gleeful feeling spreading through her.

MORE MORE MORE the voices egged on.

No... a small voice inside her head. Her voice.

The single word was enough for Lily to reign in her destructive power that Kusari's left hand and wrist merely took on the original injury that she took from Zoe.

Kusari watched as a black string floated towards her and connected to her body. Lily seemed to be in excruciating pain, so much so that she'd bitten through her lip from the agony. The sooner she transferred the wounds, the better. "Huh? Just wha-." Kusari let out en empty gasp as she lost all feeling in her right hand, a painfully familiar feeling. She clenched her teeth and tried to ignore the pain, at some point she needed to get used to this. But this seemed odd, Neither of Lily's hands had completely fallen off. She looked at the bulky bleeding hand in confusion, not quite understanding what had happened.

While she was dumbstruck, Lily transferred the other wound. Kusari winced as she watched the flesh on her left hand rot away, her healing factor activated at the same time, but was much too slow to even come close to nullifying it until it was done. She noticed that it didn't fall off like her other hand. That was strange, if anything she figured the clawed hand would be more durable. Maybe it wasn't as dense? No, that didn't make sense. She reached out with her numb and twitching left hand to pick up the claw. After a few moments holding it in place it reattached to her arm.

Now that it seemed no one was in mortal danger, her mind decided to focus on the next glaring problem.

"Would anyone mind telling me why Zoe attacked Lily?" She suddenly asked, her voice teetering on the edge of fury. It wasn't as if she didn't recognize the wounds, she'd seen it enough by now, and there didn't appear to be any unknown mages around.

As soon as Lily was injury free again, she slumped back onto the floor, exhausted from both the pain and the stress of trying to fight off that need to hurt people. She had originally wanted to get out of the room and get away from her classmates. But in the end, she gave in to her stigma, which was now slightly quieter having been half sated. She turned her horrified eyes on what she had done to Kusari. Instead of just transferring what she took, she had managed to cut off an entire hand... or in her case, claw. She licked her bleeding lip, tasting the blood. "I'm sorry..." she said in a small voice.

Still keeping guard outside of the room, Angel could not help but take a few glances inside the room as Lilianna transferred her wounds to Kusari. It had become even messier than before. As a matter of fact, Angelique could barely watch and not be sick as she saw the pale Arbiter's clawed hand severed from the forearm. Her gaze shifted elsewhere, trying to avoid the sight of all the gore.

It was only when Kusari was furiously asking why Zoe had attacked Lilianna that Angel-s focus was brought back to the room. This was the exact reason why she tried to be as discreet as possible. If Kusari though like that, then the guards surely would have too. And Angel couldn't allow anyone to get hurt because of Zoe's blunder.

"Kusari, come with me. I will explain." A calm but pissed whisper came from next to the girl's ear, only meant for her alone to hear.

"I'll make sure no one is coming while you guys clean that up. That's... a disturbing amount of blood." Angel announced to the others, slowly leaving the door's frame and walking back into the corridor.

"This better be good, Angélique." Kusari mumbled, glaring at Zoe before she walked out of the room with Angel. Once they were in the corridor Kusari crossed her arms and looked Angel in the eyes. "So? What the hell happened?"

"I can't tell you for sure what exactly happened concerning Zoe, but Emma had brought Lily here to heal Zoe's hands. When she screamed earlier, I was the first to arrive here and saw Zoe lying down with her own hands rotting down barely to the muscle tissues." Angelique explained to Kusari, maintaining a dead serious eye contact with the Arbiter.

She paused, giving herself time to recollect what had happened tonight. "Ernest thinks Zoe might have tried to suicide herself, but the Stigma stopped her from injuring herself too badly, as it does to all of us Aberrations."

The raven-haired girl sighed in annoyance. Truly, what kind of bullshit did they step on tonight. "We thought the guards would have arrived on the scene after hearing the scream, so we tried to keep quiet about it for the most part. Didn't want everyone who came to check up on her to be gunned down for a misunderstanding. You know how trigger-happy those assholes are."

Kusari didn't know what to say. Her intense glare softened, and she lowered her gaze to the floor. "She tried to kill herself?" She whispered to herself. She knew Stigmas tormented Aberrations, that they were hard to live with. Yet the thought never occurred to her that it could drive one of her classmates to suicide. This was messed up, this was all just too messed up. "Why- why would she..." She knew why.

Her face hardened again, turning to anger instead of wallowing in pity. "She didn't have to do that, no, she shouldn't feel the need to do that, she should just... just..." Kusari took deep breaths, she wanted to take her frustration out on something, but there was nothing she could do. She didn't know what to say to someone like Zoe, not when she'd contemplated ending her life the moment she was lined up with the rest of them. There was no promise that things would get better, she and everyone else knew that things were only going to get worse. Death just might look like heaven compared to hell on Earth.

"What can we even do?" All the steam inside of her burnt away. "She's not going to try it again, is she?"

"Don't know. Like I said, I really don't know what's up with her. If it wasn't for the fact she was bleeding over when I came in, I would have slapped the bitch and yelled at her." Angel explained, her hardened features tracing themselves up to her tired-looking angry eyes.

"We'll just have to deal with it until we reach the institute, and pray she doesn't get the bright idea of using her powers on one of us... again."

"Yeah..." Kusari sighed and turned around, she didn't want to deal with any of this, she wouldn't know how to anyway. She took a step when something hit her, something Angel said. "Again?" She turned her head back to Angel. "You're talking about the flag game, right?"

Did Kusari really don't know what happened to Callan? Strange, Angel thought Kusari had been there to see what happened over at Evac, considering Lily - and thus the others from Healer Team Brandt - had to rush in there to help.

"Weren’t you with Evac Team at some point? I've been told Zoe melted Callan's... arm off... in... hey, are you alright?" Angel interrupted herself as she saw Kusari's face changing.

For once, she was the one who stepped on a landmine without knowing.

Kusari was certainly not 'alright.' She had assumed it was one of the enemy subnaturals that had injured Callan, for what reason did she have to assume it was one of their allies? Was this why Zoe had tried to kill herself? Had her stigma driven her to do it and she couldn't take the guilt? "Answer this carefully." She said, her crimson eyes boring into Angel. "Was this an accident, or did she do it on purpose?"

Angélique only shrugged to the girl's question. Hearing that threat however, the raven-haired Aberration's brows furrowed. Memories brought back the last time Kusari had tried to manhandle Angel around during the Flags and Seek game, only to be felled by a debilitating scream.

"Hell if I know. I was too busy trying to prevent Hazel from making a mess out of Ernie and Christmas to be there myself. I'm just telling you what others told me." Angel answered, her vivid green eyes returning a defiant stare.

"Don't even think of making anything stupid now. We've had enough shit that had happened this week for all of us. If you want to trashtalk the bitch, then by all means do it. Hell, even I plan on having a word with her. But wait until we get to school. Right now's not the time for that."

"Hazel too?" Kusari didn't understand what was wrong with them, the Aberrations, and the fact that no one had told her about any of this. They were supposed to be a team, weren't they? At some point someone was going to die because a mage just "couldn't help themselves." Even still she couldn't make a big scene right now, she would just make things worse for everyone. What a hopeless situation. "Fine." She said, visibly calming down. "Once we get back to the school, we're going to have a nice. Long. Talk." Kusari turned once more and headed for her room. She needed to go to sleep before she did something she regretted.

Angel only nodded, letting out an apprehensive hum as she watched Kusari leaving with the promise of a talk. Whether it was directed at her or at Zoe, she couldn't tell. What mattered the most is that this situation had gotten under control, and no guard had come knocking down at the door with guns blazing.

Perhaps they didn't care if they would be at each others' throats. Maybe she dramaticized the situation. Still, Zoe made a mess of herself and required medical attention. In the end, they were able to provide.

It was just a fucking shame more tension had to be created tonight. Already, she could feel the bridge between herself and Kusari burning because of what just happened. Probably Zoe too, depending of what was going to happen the next time they speak to each other.

Mind addled with more whispers, Angélique left the corridor without so much bidding farewell to the two boys that were just leaving, nor to the red-haired Aberration that was the source of this commotion. Angel was already on edge enough tonight. There was no need to bother anyone anymore with her foul mood. She needed to sleep, and hope they would return to USARILN as quickly as possible. She much needed a visit to Ground Zero.

---

Ernie scrambled back as Lily's powers took their hold on Kusari.

More blood. So much.

No, stop it. Ernie blinked himself out of that obsessive fixation on the state of the ground. There were more urgent things to address.

The rope was dissipated, its wielder suddenly very glad that the healer hadn't chosen him to transfer the injuries to, considering what the immortal just went through. But now there was so much more to take care of. Angelique left him alone with the door. There was so much more carpet to clean. Lily's clothes would have to be binned or cleaned, there was to be no evidence of an incident. One more witness to this mess, thanks to Angel. Zoe was still bround, and frankly, Ernie had no interest in cutting her free. And he still wasn't allowed to use the fucking power drill.

The boy took a deep breath. Getting worked up would solve nothing. He needed to split this nonsense into manageable blocks. There were still people here who could pull their own weight, he just needed to make sure they were pulling it in the right direction.

"Zoe, can you clean Lily's clothes as well? I'll just..." the boy gestured absently to the door frame, "Brent, help me with the drill. I'll have it fixed in five minutes tops if I can use it."

The Aberration looked to the blonde with a grim expression, looking at the bloodstains surrounding her too. He didn't want to be afraid of another one.

"Emma, you make sure she's okay."

Emma had been quiet, perhaps because of guilt or maybe revulsion, trying to avert her eyes from the scene before her, but when Ernie called on her she responded with a nod. This was her fault… she wanted to leave, it was clearly a mistake to come investigate the screaming but she couldn’t just bail on the others, on Lily. Lily… why exactly did Emma bring her here? She should’ve known better than that, it was a stress of everyone, especially Lily and Kusari.

But Emma could focus on her mistakes later. For now she took a slow step towards Lily, reaching out to the girl with a cautious hand that found it’s place on her back. ”Lily… are you… are you okay?” Emma asked, concern filling her voice.

Lily looked towards Ernie. Oh. He's the guy asking for half of the injuries, she thought, clearly remembering that desperate search for his eyes, his face and the thought that maybe by looking at him, she'd be able to bring her stigma under control. Why she thought that it would, she didn't know. When she heard Emma address her, she turned her golden eyes to the taller girl and her thoughts made a U-turn from Ernie to what had just happened. "I... I'm okay. But... but..." she couldn't say it out loud. What would she say? That she amplified the injuries? That she enjoyed it? That it calmed down the voices in her head?

She had been okay earlier, talking to what she always believed were voices that belonged to somebody else. But it was a stupid thought. How would anyone's voice be inside her head? In the end, it was all her. The voices had always been hers. She wanted to hurt people. She knew what she was and was merely hiding behind the facade of a nice girl. USARILN was right all along. She should be kept in isolation. "I'm just gonna... I... I'll just go. I can clean myself up," she said, turning away and hurriedly walking towards the door.

Ernie frowned as the girl moved to leave. Her shirt was completely ruined, why wouldn't she take the chance to have it cleaned? He supposed that the sensible thing to do would have been to mind his own business and let her go as she wished. But that compulsion of his kept his attention on the dark stains like a ball and chain. He needed to rid himself of that unpleasantness.

He couldn't offer to wash her clothes right now or buy a new set like he'd done for Cal. But there was another solution in his room.

"Lily, go three doors to the left and you'll find a change of clothes on one of the dressers. Just don't touch anything else if you go in and take it."

And don't get blood on the carpet either, please.

Lily paused and blinked. Didn't they see what she did? Why were they being nice to her? Were they pitying her because although she was labeled as a healer she wasn't really useful? She glanced towards Ernie, gave him a curt nod and disappeared out the door, muttering thanks under her breath. Might as well take the offer. She didn't even know if she had any change of clothes in the room she was staying in.

As was told, she opened the dresser and grabbed the first article of clothing she saw, a plain blue shirt. She made sure that she didn't get any blood onto the dresser or anywhere else. It wasn't a big problem since the blood on her hands and on everywhere else on her body were already caked dry. Without wasting any time, she swapped the blue shirt with the bloodied shirt she had on after which, she balled her soiled shirt in her hands and exited the room, making sure that she didn't touch anything else. Outside, she contemplated on going back and helping the others but after a few seconds, she decided not too. She silently made her way back to her room at the end of the hallway.

Emma was going to call Lily back, but she couldn't work up the nerve. Something was wrong, she knew that much. This situation was her fault- she knew that too. People were starting to leave- maybe that was here cue to get out of her too. What she'd seen brought back bad memories. She gave a glance towards Ernie, Brent, and Zoe, the form of Charity disappearing, "Looks like things are handled here... I'm... I'm going to go back to my room now." she left quickly, without another word.

"You guys can go too, you know." Zoe turned her head to the pair by the door after watching as Emma left. "I can fix the rest, if you undo this." She raised her bandaged hands with a slight scowl. As much as she'd like to have made a decent argument, she just didn't have the energy to make much of a case. Glancing at what remained of the blood, she sighed. "I don't think I'm gonna get much sleep anyway."

It was...more or less resolved. With Zoe stable, Kusari taking on the wounds that plagued Lily, and Ernie revealing his high-level handyman skills once more, Brent sighed. Maybe the guards really didn't care, if even Kusari could run past before a guard came to check up. Or maybe they were just eavesdropping on the lot of them through the cuffs, to ensure that everything sounded about right. Nevertheless, even with Zoe cleaning up the bloodstains with her own power, the door was still busted, something that no amount of biological disintegration could solve.

He felt the silver blood within him. It was still going strong, nothing to worry about in particular.

"Alright," Brent said, walking over to Ernie, "It'll be a bit awkward with two people holding it, but let's get this done. Don't suppose you got a steam mop or something too?"

One hand gingerly placed itself on the bottom of the power drill, a jolt of magic disassembling it before it reformed, roughly five times cooler and half as heavy as it was before. White with black lines, the brand of Overclock was printed on the side, guaranteeing a quality that came with the cost of stability.

"Gotta scrub first, then mop. Then vacuum. Everything's on the cart," Ernie murmured.

As promised, the door was properly repaired within minutes thanks to Brent's upgrade. He looked to Zoe as they were done, frowning. He still didn't want to free her and he had no doubt in his own cleaning abilities, even if he'd be slower than magic. He looked to Brent, wanting to see if he'd help with the stains. An upgraded steam mop did sound pretty cool.

"Could just as easily do it all at once," Brent said, finding it in himself to smile despite how gruesome their work was. "A scrubbing steam mop that simultaneously vaccuums. How does that sound?"

Ernie's eyes lit up despite the situation. "Sounds awesome. Let's do it!"

There was, of course, the question of where all the vaccuumed stuff was going to go after the overclock faded, but Brent doubted that these were Ernie's personal cleaning tools, so the arbiter didn't pay much heed to the problems that his own power could bring up. Releasing the power drill, he moved over to the steam mop next, his hands tingling with sparks of silver.

Ernie looked like he'd have the most fun with these types of toys, and with that in mind, the brunette grasped a random part of it. For two functions, two overclocks were required, this time converting the appliance into what almost looked like a metal detector. The white disc had a blue-and-white mophead that spun at the press of a trigger, almost like that of an automated tootbrush, while another trigger activated the vacuum function instead, allowing one to seamlessly transition from one task to the other.

Brent had no idea where the steam part actually came in, but once he showed all the features of this pulsating device to Ernie, the arbiter let his buddy have the fun, hovering by to hold onto the elongated handle.

The cleaning tool was grasped with eager hands. Aw man, this was just too cool. Ernie marvelled at the ease of use, the way the stains were scrubbed and steamed out within seconds by the swivelling brush head. Though the Aberration was excited to try it out a bit longer, he made sure to stay focused on the task here, cleaning the floor, wall and towels used to initially cover the stains with a highly practiced efficiency. The job was done completely after a few minutes.

"Man, that's incredible," Ernie breathed a sigh of relief when there were no more stains to be found. Freedom at last, "Thanks, Brent. This whole thing would've been a lot worse without you."

He wasn't just talking about the cleaning. The door, the bandages. His calm under pressure. Ernie wouldn't have been able to do this much alone.

"Enjoyed yourself?" he asked once the task was complete. Brent felt like he could understand a bit of why Ernie was obssessed with being a janitor for free now. There was something satisfying about turning a bloodbath into just a bath, after all, especially when Ernie's skill with handling the mop felt almost meditative.

Waving off his thanks, Brent said, hands resting against the back of his neck, "No problem, dude. The future's now with Roless Industries. We thank you for your patronage."

He paused, before helping out with putting everything back where it belonged.

"Seriously though, anyone would have helped out in a situation like this. I just got here early."

"Yeah, it was great. Swing by the Abe dorms sometime and do that with my vacuum," Ernie laughed but the seriousness of that last request was questionable, "Don't sell yourself short, buddy. This team could use more people like you."

People that Ernie could actually trust on the battlefield, who had their wits about them. People that weren't like Ernie or Emma or Zoe. Speaking of which...

The Aberration strode over to the bound girl, severing the length of bandage between her hands. No move was made to unwrap the rest or make a snarky comment. He wasn't interested in spending any more time with this psycho than needed. With everything back in its place, Ernie moved to push the cart back to where he'd found it.

"I should probably return this. Then go get some sleep. I'll see you later then?"

"Well, we definitely could go for more snipers," he replied airily, deflecting Ernie's compliments, "But thanks anyways. Call me whenever your baby girl needs to go super saiyan, eh? Just work as my food tester in exchange."

With that, the two went their separate ways, Brent waving at Zoe one last time before closing the door behind him. Ernie parted with a reminder to dispose of the bloodied bandages where no one would find them.

Brent let out one breath, then another.

He had to compose himself. He didn't expect to have lost so much control while watching Angelic speak. He needed to calm down. Siena didn't need to see this. Even Angelic didn't really need to see this shit. Gah, it was like Emma all over again. Fucking shit.

The arbiter narrowed his eyes, a snarl forming, before he let out a third, deeper breath.

"Yo 'ena," he called out, pushing the door to the room open, "Hungry yet?"

There were things that Siena did and didn't like about hospitals, but the latter vastly outweighed the former. People only showed up to hospitals when someone was sick dying, or dead, they were sterile to the point where they smelled sterile, and while she'd never liked them to begin with, being a subnatural in a hospital was...worse. Other than the occasional sound of footsteps out in the hallway and the initial visit where she'd been jabbed with a syringe full of Christmas's blood, Siena had been alone in the room. Was still alone in the room.

She hated it.

It was worse, even, considering that she no longer had a phone or a reader to utilize, and most of her sources had been wiped out in the battle. By her own teammate nonetheless. It was lonely wthout the company of characters, especially when her peers weren't around and...and especially without Maya or Gerwulf to help fill the void. More than that, it was...it was frustrating to be stuck with nothing to do but review what she'd done wrong and consider her next weapons. An arsenal at her disposal, all with different names and stories. When did she start thinking of the words like that?

Hearing a voice that had kept her grounded during the fight, Siena turned to face the Arbiter in question, gving a faint, welcoming smile and a small wave. "Oh, Brent. I'm glad to see you." Truer words than she really wanted to admit. The grey-eyed mage paused and thought about it. Hungry...huh. She should have been, but...somehow the appetite simply hadn't been there. Between the battle, her injuries, and the influx of emotional backlash she had to deal with, Siena had felt hollow in a way that tore her hunger away from her.

Lie.

"A little bit. Guess I was thinking too much to think much about eating." Offering a laugh while sweeping a few stray locks out of her eyes, Siena smiled. "You just keep figuring out all my diet secrets, don't you?"

About the battle, huh? Brent tried to envision the sights that Siena was privy to. The jaws that could have torn out her throat, the mess of spikes that she was impaled up, Savannah's neck, twisted like a broken doll. With trauma like that, it must be easy to forget that her body still had its own needs. Setting down his bags of food, he managed a smile as well, putting away the fact that there was something about her's that bothered him.

"Well, that's what I'm here for! I swear, Angelic was probably just gonna march out and chow on some subpar celery sticks in the cafeteria if I hadn't brought some real food." He said, faking irritation. "Gotta make sure everyone's fuelled up after an incident like that, or they'll just be blown by the wind."

As he spoke, the arbiter began to pull out his collection of not-that-fresh salads, sandwiches, and all the fried, greasy comfort food that he managed to wrestle from Martha's hands.

"Take your pick! You worked super hard, after all, so eat even if you don't feel hungry, or you'll wake up in the middle of the night with your stomach trying to eat itself."

Ah...was Angel already walking around? The older girl's injuries had seemed severe on cursory examination on the ride to town, but...Siena did have to acknowledge that their blood healer's power was potent. It had managed to fix her blood loss, it was no wonder that it would manage to repair all of Angel's maladies. A weight lifted itself from her chest, allowing her to breathe a little easier...but it wasn't quite enough. But if Angel was already up and about with the extent of her injuries, then...there was really no reason for Siena, whose injuries had been taken prior to their arrival, to be trapped in the hospital room. She could leave, and it would have been fine...but something kept her from it. A feeling of uneasy discomfort that threatened to dig into her.

Instead, there were other things to focus on like the feast that Brent had produced. She tried to elicit a reaction of hunger, but...it failed. The salads looked like they might be wilting, the sandwiches lackluster, and the remainder greasy...all food that wasn't entirely familiar with her. All food that Maya wouldn't have let her eat--the sensation was different from McDonald's. Still, Siena peered over the choices with an expression of interest. Better not to let such things encumber her...right?

"Hmmm, this one looks pretty good!" Feeling a sense of triumph over finding a salad that looked relatively well balanced, Siena gave a grin to Brent. "Thanks for bringing food to us." Always above and beyond.

'Remind you of someone?'

Stop it. Please.

The thought struck her so powerfully that it even cracked the mask for a moment, Siena's usual smile slipping from its place as she blinked away the memories.

"What about you? Don't tell me you brought food for everyone before you ate."

Of course it was a salad. It was no wonder that she was 80% air when her choices were 0% calories. Putting away the rest of the salads, sandwiches, and boxes of chicken, Brent waved off her own concern about the state of his own stomach. A small fib was fine, after all. No need to concern her about the fact that he too had forgotten to eat before getting everyone else their food.

And really, unlike how active everyone else had been, all the arbiter did was sit on his ass and talk about random observations for the better half of an hour. No matter how much he spoke, and how valuable the information may have been, the frontliners deserved it more than the backliners. His own hunger could wait.

"Of course," he beamed, "Would be pretty silly if I railed on you for not eating, when I did the same, eh?"

A pause. Yeah, it did bother him a bit that Siena didn't even consider the amount of energy she had burned during the entire ordeal. Though Lily's healing capabilities had removed the injuries, and though she probably had received blood transfusions to make up for the loss there, the brunette still recalled how she had slumped against his shoulder during the ride to the drop-off point. Energy burnt was energy lost, and a salad with a few pieces of cold chicken wasn't going to cut it.

Pulling out one of the corndogs, he pointed it towards his fellow mage. "Try this as well, 'ena. Figured that convenience store food is out of your depth, but they have some pretty fun culinary inventions too."

Meanwhile Chris walked down the hall to visit Siena. In his hand was a dandelion, the only flower he could even find to pick, but it was thought that counts he figured. He didn't plan to stay long, just to check up on her was all. However when he got closer to her room, he heard both her and brent's voice from the wall that seperated them from him. A sudden weight dropped in his chest as he felt conflicted, and somewhat envious. He shook his head and decided to listen, just to get an idea of what they were talking about and hoped to god it wasn't anything he'd fall apart about.

Well, at least Brent wasn't ignoring his own health in favor of the others. Something felt wrong, but...

...it wasn't important, she supposed. The gnawing unease didn't mean anything in the moment, and she didn't want to let her thoughts linger on a single focus for too long. Not when she wasn't done compartmentalizing the parts that she didn't think belonged to her, and the parts that she didn't want to belong to her. Besides, even if that suspicion was correct, it wasn't as if it coudn't be easily men--

"...h-huh?" Her eyes were brought to full attention on the...

...

...bread on a stick? Was that the biggest thing since sliced bread? The shape was familiar, and it smelled faintly of cornbread, but the concept wasn't exactly settling. That aside, it looked oddly--"O-Oh, er...alright..."

"Yeah," Brent waved it a bit, wondering what exactly she saw that made her eyebrows move like so. "Go ahead!"

Brent seemed to think it was a good idea, and...er...she supposed it was a good idea to broaden her horizons a bit. With that in mind, she decided it would probably be more acceptable to follow the boy's suggestion. Well, it would have been, if Siena wasn't so accustomed to the familiarity of Gerwulf and Maya. If she hadn't made too many familiar comparisons in too short a time for her mind to bring up that her next course of action was not, in fact, customary for people that weren't quite so close as she was with her caretakers.

She opened her mouth and took a cautious nip at the end of the food item, receiving little more than a small portion of cornbread from the effort. Was...was it really just cornbread on a stick?

"..."

Wow, no sense of adventure, huh? If it's like this, Siena really would get a bad impression of convenience store food, wouldn't she?

"Too reserved," he chirped, "Gotta jam it in in order to enjoy it, 'ena. Trust me, it'll be a blast."

For not only were these corndogs hiding meat within the bread, there was also a gooey cheesy core within that meat, and that explosion of tastiness would definitely send Siena into Flavor Town! Or send Brent into a food-related existential crisis.

J-Jam it in? That sounded like an abnormally violent way to eat anything...certainly not the way that she'd ever expected anyone to tell her how to eat...anything. Considering the idea for an instant, Siena braced herself for anything ranging from something pleasant to something atrociously bitter. It wouldn't be the first time she'd been tricked into eating something vile under the pretense that it was "good for her".

Well, there was only one way to find out, right?

"E-Er, if you say so." Trying once again in vain to sweep her bangs out of her vision, Siena went for it, lips parting just so, brushing lightly against the soft flesh of the breadstick--only tepid--a sweet taste spreading over her tongue. Another flash of hesitation, only a fraction of a second where she stopped, mouth around the rod-shaped bread skewer...then she bit down.

There were a number of things that happened in that instant.

First, was the taste of meat, a startling contrast to the flavor of cornbread, but more than that, something that was a little warmer than tepid broke free from its confines, spilling some thick, savory fluid...which would have been fine if she'd been expecting it. Recoiling with surprise, Siena managed to keep the bits of what she assumed was sausage, cornbread, and mystery sauce number 453 in her mouth with a combination of effort and a distinct desire to not have an embarrassing moment where she made a mess of herself. Except she was also trying not to choke on what pieces had tried to make their way down her throat when the mage had gasped, leading to a few restrained coughs, one hand clamped carefully over her mouth. No need to repay Brent by spitting up what he'd brought.

Despite that entire fiasco, she had to admit that it didn't taste bad. Still, a little warning would have been appreciated.

...

She'd figure out how to express that after she swallowed.

'Well, how was it' was going to be Brent's response if it wasn't for the fact that Siena's eyes bulged out in a way that definitely wasn't from the amazing tastiness of such a cheap treat. It took the arbiter only a couple seconds to realize what he needed to do, and Brent leapt into action, pulling the waste basket over as he tried to figure out whether she was going to throw up or whether it got stuck in her throat. She was...trying to keep it in? While still coughing with her mouth closed?

"Shit, did it go down wrong in your throat? Spit it out, Siena, it's fine if you don't swallow!"

Cough.

Brent was quick to spring into action, another familiar image--stop it. Giving another half cough, Siena took the moment to chew what hadn't gone down the wrong pipe. Another cough, then another...it took a few attempts to swallow everything without immediately coughing a few pieces back up. That was her bad, totally. Grimacing faintly, the mage choked down a few breaths of air before flashing a half-formed smile.

"'m f-fine, just k-kind of surprised." Another weak cough to clear out the feeling of something clogging her throat as she attached a faint laugh to the next words. "M-maybe a little warning next time though."

"Really sorry about that," he said, cursing the fact that he neglected to get drinks alongside the food that he grabbed, "Thought it'd make for a surprise, but, well..."

He scratched the back of his head. A part of him wanted to say something pitiful like 'oh, thought you'd be used to culinary surprises due to eating super special gourmet food made out of god knows what', but that part of him was weak and irresponsible.

"...yeah." A pause. "Still, how was it?"

Just by listening to the whole ordeal only increased Chris's envy. What were they doing in there?! That kind of internal pain was something new to him, something to add to the other turmoils that plague his emotions. Envy boiled his lungs like a roaring fire. Such pain warranted that he shouldn't stick around. He didn't want to make a scene, though perhaps he could confront Brent about it later. He merely tossed away the flower he was going to present to Siena and turned the other way, his hands now dipped into his pockets and his head lowered in shame, teeth gritted in fury.

"What'cha doing there, stranger?" Marcus said, standing behind the figure he'd found in the hall. While normally not an uncommon thing to see, it was the fact that the figure was apparently eavsdropping on one of the rooms that had caused him to stop. The fact that it was Siena's voice that he could faintly hear in the room only served to make things a little more heated in his mind.

"Little rude to listen to sick people, don't you think?" The tone of his voice made it clear that this was not a friendly discussion.

Chris immediately sprung his head up, and by instinct of the surprise, forced his hand over the boy's mouth. By extensive force, he also pushed him against the wall. It was that same kid that mocked him post football match with Siena. "Its also rude to sneak up on people...Jesus." Though he stilled glared at the kid, he released his grip and sighed a bit. "I was going to visit a friend but she already has company it seems. By their conversation, I don't want to stay around any further." He explained, his anger was still directed at the student that gave him such a surprise.

He certainly wasn't expecting the kid to whirl around and pin him to the wall, and he most definitely wasn't expecting the hand over his mouth. His own hand came up to grab the wrist of the offending arm, while he gave the kid a look that he hoped got across the message. The message being "you had better rethink that."

It only took him a few moments for Marcus to realize who the kid actually was. The white hair was a little hard not to connect once he'd realized the kid wasn't a regular. The moment of realization could been seen as it crossed his eyes, followed quickly by a stifled snort. This was the kid that Siena had been feeding in the post match!

"You ever thought about the foreign concept of knocking?" Marcus said, his tone a little sassy. He certainly didn't appreciate being pinned to a wall by some kid he'd only ever seen once, and had been literally eating out of his roomate's hand when he had. "Real new technology, useful for announcing your presence, instead of waiting for them to develop x-ray vision."

Now Chris was pissed. The arbiter's envy was enough to make him a loose cannon, but that little cheeky subnatural made his blood boil. Without thinking of a consquence, unlike his usual demeanor, he summoned his dragon scales along his arm and immediately use his armored arm to strike Marcus across the face.

Marcus registered a moment of surprise as scales shot across the kid's hand, and registered a second moment of surprise as the scales rushed to meet his face. The taste of copper filled his mouth as it felt like he'd been hit in the head with a bat or something, before the sound of static filled the air and Marcus suddenly shifted back to standing, looking relatively unpunched. He was a slow one to anger, and the sudden rewind probably spoke enough for him.

"Looks like I struck a nerve?" Marcus said, crossing his arms. "What did you come here for, anyway? Were you going to have Siena feed you that flower there?"

There was a fraction of a second where Chris realized that this kind of violence was stupid, where he felt remorse for his actions. But before he could even try to apologize the arbiter had immediately sprung in his face, uninjured, and proceeded to give him sass which only threw more fuel on the fire burning inside him.

"Just leave me alone you fucking clown." He shot a glare at him before the angry arbiter started to turn the other way and try to get away from it all. All of this bullshit today, he didn't want to deal with anymore.

"Honk honk, Scales." Marcus said. He certainly wasn't going to take 'getting punched in the face' without a fight, even if he had managed to rewind to damage. "Do you want me to feed you the weed, since Siena's apparently busy, or are you just gonna sulk off and pout?"

There was a twitch in Chris's eye. His teeth pressed down against each other as a side effect of his boiling anger. It was the kind of anger that was silent. He didn't rush to punch him in the face or scream an angry battle cry. No. He just slowly turned around to look him straight in the eye, then he looked to dandelion he threw away, picked it up, and turned back to the arbiter that mocked him.

Then it all bursted out.

"Eat this you bitch!"

He then sprinted back toward Marcus, he went to grab him by the shirt so he could force the flower down his throat.

With the sudden yell, it wasn't too hard for Marcus to figure out the kid's next move. And he really didn't feel like eating weeds today. The sluggish sound of static down the hall behind Chris would indicate Marcus's jump, and there he stood, arms still in his pockets. He shrugged once, looking to the kid where he stood a small distance down the hallway, shooting him a cocky grin.

"Sorry Komodo, not hungry!"

With Marcus practically warping out of the way, the angry arbiter stood upright and glared at him after his little comment. He crumpled the flower in his hand and debated his options. Fighting was stupid, subnaturals already had a bad rep and causing anything like this would just further disrupt any peace we can obtain here, which in turn could lead to some punishment from the soldiers. He couldn't let his emotions do anything he'd regret later. Besides, such commotion can draw Siena and that Traitor out here, which would be problematic. Instead, Chris tucked his hands into his pocket and deactivated his armor. "You're not worth my time." He said with an apathetic tone. For now, he would let that squirt go, but he won't forget his mockery.

"Alright, just let me know if you want to dance again, Snakeskin! I've got all the time in the world! Marcus said, cupping his hand to his mouth and waving down the hallway.

Sounds from the hallway, muffled by distance, but amplified by material, dug hooks deep into Siena's attention. What was happening out there? And...the voices, though distorted, were familiar. "Wh-what's happening out there...?" Without waiting for an answer, Siena moved to stand from the bed, darkness pulsing at the corners of her vision, colors rippling in spots when blood rushed to her head. The mage staggered from the instability. Too quickly, but her curiosity ate at her, threatening to burn everything from the inside out.

She took a shaky step toward the door before her mind could catch up to the instinctive need to know. She had to know before the one irrational impulse caught up with the other, while the drive was still overwhelming.

It wasn't that loud, but it wasn't that quiet either, and the parting shouts were the clearest. Marcus's voice was distinct, while the other, angrier one sounded familiar, yet Brent couldn't place it. A fight? In a hospital? Confusion override his instinct to grab something that could be weaponized, and instead, the Arbiter rose alongside Siena, keeping one eye on her as she wobbled over.

Nice. He liked that small display of willpower.

"Don't know. But it's Marcus and someone else," he replied, speedwalking past her. Opening the door, the arbiter peered out and, as expected, saw the scar-faced time mage...or his back at least.

"Sup dude? What was that just now?"

Marcus watched down the hallway to make sure that the kid was gone, before he recognized Brent's voice behind him. "Oh, nothing!" he said, prodding at his jaw to make sure the damage hadn't stuck around for some reason. "Friendly debate between classmates, is all."

He gave Brent a wicked grin before continuing. "He thought I deserved punched, I thought the opposite!" he chuckled a little bit at himself as he said it, glancing once more towards the end of the hall.

She didn't cross the threshold of the door, instead using the frame to regain herself, blinking away the swirls of color and darkness that tried to rob her vision. Instead, Siena shot a look down the hallway, her eyes trailing to Marcus and Brent. A fight...? Marcus didn't seem like the type to start up a fight, but...

But you know who would, right?

'Stop it.'

"I could have sworn I heard Chris..." The words were faint, and if she'd had a little more courage, she could have stepped out the door. Could have moved to look further down the hall to see if she was right. Hell, her feet even tried to take that step, but almost as soon as she did, a surge of panic rose like bile. No. No, no, no, she didn't want to go out with nothing on her. The brunette took a breath to hide it, pretended that she was still trying to recover for a moment. Tried again and failed.

She couldn't do it.

"A-are you alright?"

"Friendly debate" Brent asked, cocking an eye at Marcus's toothy grin. "What, did our mysterious classmate think you were creeping on Siena's door or something?"

Amethyst eyes slid over to Siena's own expression, and Brent made a conscious decision. He won't ask Marcus to describe that 'classmate', not now, at least. Did the bookworm somehow get herself a stalker? Or did she just not like the concept of fights popping up amongst classmates, especially if it's in a hospital of all things? Or was it...

"Welp, at least no one got tazed, eh?"

"Oh yeah, I'm fine! Not a scratch on me!" Marcus said, turning in a slow circle to show off his lack of damage. "Only had to rewind once, too! Could have taken a second punch and still not had a scratch on me!" he stopped turning, eyes looking over to Brent.

"Something like that, yeah! And no, there wasn't any 'light persuasion' from our friends back home. At least not on my end, and none that I noticed!" He considered saying more. Perhaps he'd tell them who it actually was, what he was doing, the cute little flower he'd brought along with him? But he didn't. He'd done enough damage to the kid, or at least to his pride, he imagined. After a while, it was just highschool level bullying.

Even if he was dealing with a bully, he hated bullying.

The high of adrenalin was starting to wear down a little bit, the excitement in his voice starting to drop down to normal levels.

"That's good to hear..." At least nobody was hurt if she didn't account for pride. Siena tried to will herself to step past the doorframe again--it didn't work. She remained at the border, as though kept in by an invisible wall, and all she felt was shame. Should have been strong enough to walk out the door without having a thousand sources at her finger tips. Should have had the courage to open the little booklet that remained. Too many thoughts that began with the words "should have".

But she couldn't let that show, so she kept wearing concern like a veil.

"That might have been a l-little more excitement than I expected here."

Had he been like this during the Factory fight too? Or was Marcus so excited this time because he 'won'? Brent nodded at that, slowly.
"Mm, nice to see that you're sturdier than you look, Marcus. Must be causing all these soldiers a hell of a headache though."

At least they kept it street-level. Considering what his classmates could do in a vacuum, the fact that no property was destroyed at all was a blessing. He grinned at the bookworm, trying to assuage the concern she had, whether it be for Marcus or herself. "Never seen one of those medical dramas, 'ena? A little scuffle is pretty tame considering how melodramatic those get."

"Ah...I guess that's true..." Not that she really watched any medical dramas. Or much television in general. Finding it in her to try and lighten her own mood, the brunette gave a small grin. "Though I guess I haven't seen enough television to know." Pausing for a moment to feign a moment of unstable footing, the girl readjusted her weight to lean more comfortably on the doorframe. "I...should probably lie down a bit. I guess I used more energy than I thought."

Not her cleanest extraction, but...it would have to do.

"Yeah, not the fragile porcelin doll that I look like?" Marcus said, giving a pathetic flex at Brent, before looking back to Siena. "Sure, go ahead. Fair warning though; I'll probably be back after I find the required snackage, so don't lock your door or anything!" he finished, giving her a slight nod and warm smile.

"Bring some drinks as well," Brent suggested, "I dun goofed with my own food run, forgetting to grab water and juice and all. And yeah, probs should catch up on sleep and all. Guess I'll take my leave and all..."

His gaze became comically serious.

"...but you better finish that salad. I'll leave another corndog here as well, cause you gotta stock up on those calories."

@VarionusNW @Lasrever @ERode @VampireOracle @Zombehs @GreenGoat @Diggerton @banjoanjo @Baklava @RedDusk @Piercing Light @Dragonmancer @Riffus Maximus @Deathmyster @Chasers115 @PapiTan @Kyrisse @January

Enjoy the ritzy accomodations.

You have three days IC (so until the 20th of Sept., 1200) before the next update.

Info about stuff in the city? Ask one of the GMs. For generic stuff, you can just write in a coffee shop or the like. For divebombing the Pentagon, make sure the GMs know so the Precursors can kill your character.

General town climate: hatred. Seething hatred mixed with distrust, resentment, and overwhleming fear. The metropolis has been inundated in anti-subnatural propaganda and rumors for years and will be on hair triggers around subnaturals, even if they've been tagged by USARILN. In fact, the cuffs are the only things saving the students from local law enforcement and military forces stationed in the city. The atmosphere is quite tense right now, with news of Cat's Cradle nearby setting the already fearful city on a razor-thin edge.

News will be covering the interviews/photos from La Plata along with precautionary warnings about Cat's Cradle, so expect people to know your faces and hate you for existing.

We may accost certain players with utter bullshit and one of the GMs may just invade a collab if the situation feels right.

After leaving the arcade and Marcus behind, Zoe hadn't found much else to do with herself. She didn't feel like returning to their accomodations yet, but a few hours of wandering made her realise that this place was starting to wear on her. Never thought she'd miss USARILN of all places, but there was something to be said about people being used to their presence. The whole atmosphere of the town was as hostile as ever, and being in town for most of the afternoon had just meant more people hanging around to look at her like the shit on her shoe.

Well, that was unfair. After all, there was terror and anger and all the rest to consider. More to this kind of hatred than just disgust, when you really thought about it. Not that she didn't understand the reasoning - She hadn't exactly been a fan of subnaturals before she became one, but that didn't make it any less irritating to have everyone crossing the street when they saw her. Couldn't tell if that was better or worse than having to deal with them, either.

But somehow, she'd ended up here. Sat underneath a tree in a park, watching the sky. It was comforting to look up at - No matter where she ended up, it was always the same at its core. She liked things like that, things that were unchanging. People were still avoiding her, but it was easy enough to ignore from where she sat - For once, out in this place, she'd found a little peace and quiet. Enough that she didn't even notice the figure that approached.

Of course, the quiet had never been likely to last.

"Ah, you're one of the Wisford subnaturals, aren't you? Would you mind if we asked a few quick questions?"

A dark-haired woman stood behind the teen, a somewhat respectable distance outside her personal bubble, if respect had ever been her intent. The reporter was neatly dressed, her lapels ironed, and, perhaps most worryingly, her smile very self-assured. As expected, a lean cameraman was following not too far behind her.

"Barbra Tyson. WJLA. We'd love an interview, please."

You've gotta be kidding me.

Zoe was mentally swearing up a storm for not keeping an eye out. Who knew how long these guys had been prowling the city looking for a victim - Sorry, interviewee. In an ideal world, it'd be as sympathetic as what Marcus got. But in this town, she knew that wasn't likely. Turned her head to look at them, first at the woman and then at the cameraman behind her. Oh no. These guys looked professional, polished, and as far as Zoe was concerned, irritating. Something about the whole 'not a hair out of place' thing was annoying.

"Yes, I am, and yes, I sorta mind, but I get this sinking feeling you're gonna do it anyway." She didn't sound angry, just tired. Definitely not an agreement, but not enough of a disagreement to be taken as overly hostile, despite the intense temptation to lead discussions with 'go fuck yourself' instead. After all, if the reporter freaked out Zoe knew she was liable to get shot. Despite knowing it was probably hopeless, she paused to see if the woman would somehow leave that easily.

Barbra chuckled, the sound strangely level. Controlled. "Intuitive, aren't you? It will only take a few minutes. That little segment with your scarred friend made quite the buzz so I'm sure the world would love to see an X-mark in the same position. Would you like to stay here or find a place less chilly for this?"

'X-mark'. Of course. Stupid Xbox logo. At least the woman was honest.

"...Nice of you to ask anyway, I guess." Zoe felt herself shiver, and she wasn't sure if the cold was what did it. Maybe indoors would be better, but she felt safer out here - Like there were less people to overhear. Dumb, considering she was about to end up on TV, but that was how things were. After a glance around the park, she sighed and got to her feet, leaning back against the tree. Felt stronger that way somehow, even if it was the pettiest kind of victory.

"Out here's fine, but if we start drawing a crowd or something I'm out. Don't wanna be stuck with five interviews at once." And frankly, she didn't want to be stuck with one, either. It was taking a lot of effort for Zoe to keep the acid out of her tone. "But I'm sure you want your exclusive anyway, so I doubt that's gonna be much of a problem. You, uh, need some time to warm up first? Practise questions or something?" Asking for purely selfish reasons, in the hope that she could at least prepare herself a little for whatever the woman had in store.

"Please, I'm a professional," the woman's smile more practiced than genuine, "We'll go live in a minute."

True to her word, the pair of strangers set themselves up, Barbra positioning herself so that she and the subnatural could both fit on screen. The cameraman commenced a small countdown, leaving Zoe little time to react before they went live.

"Good afternoon, D.C.! Barbra Tyson, here today in the heart of the capital with a very special guest: an X-marked subnatural from USARILN East, who have created quite a stir recently after the Wisford disaster. Can you please introduce yourself?"

The microphone was held towards Zoe.

Wait, they were starting now? That caught Zoe off guard, as well as the introduction. On top of being called a 'subnatural', a term which somehow felt a lot more insulting coming from someone else, there was something... Passive-aggressive about the whole thing.

If you people could stop being dicks for two seconds, there wouldn't be a stir to deal with.

But maybe she was just being paranoid.

Either way, it was becoming increasingly obvious to Zoe that she was going to regret this later. But then, there hadn't been much of a way out of this, at least not without massively annoying the press. Better to try and minimise the inevitable train wreck. So she looked up at the camera, albeit without a smile as the microphone was shoved into her face. Of course, with the lack of time to prepare, the idea of a convincing fake name wasn't gonna happen.

"My name's Zoe. USARILN 'X-mark', like you said."

"Can you tell us what brings you to Washington D.C., Zoe? To a luxury hotel of all places?"

That... Was a good question, actually. "I'm not sure - It's temporary, that's all they told us, so I'm just trying not to get too used to the luxury." Other things had been said on the forums, but the staff would have her head if she went saying anything about an attack unless they decided to reveal it themselves. She didn't feel like sticking her neck out for the sake of some reporter. "We only get told what they need us to know."

"Of course. We wouldn't want our special guests so out of their depth outside their facilities. Can you tell us about Wisford, your role in that operation?"

We're not animals, you smarmy-- A spark of irritation before a pause as she took a deep breath. Had to keep her cool.

Zoe's expression changed when Wisford was brought up. Not upset like Marcus' had been - something colder crept in without her even realising. How much was she willing to tell? "My orders were to escort one of my classmates, so that's what I did." She was holding back: Holding back what she'd actually done, and being a poor liar at the best of times, it was obvious she was thinking of something else.

Something in the reporter's expression shifted, as if she was disappointed, but her professional veneer returned as soon as it had left.

"Not quite on the frontlines then. And why did this classmate need to be shown around by one of their own on the battlefield?"

"Poor defensive capabilities." Not really an answer - But knowing whoever targeted them was after a healer, Zoe wasn't about to invite an attack. Had to change the subject away from Christmas. "I had to cover for them for most of the battle, that's all."

"Oh, you must have some capabilities to cover for this classmate then. Can you give us more information about that? Your abilities?"

"I--" Kill things. Kill people. A head ripped from a black-haired girl's shoulders. Warm blood under her fingers, the screams of a once-invisible boy. Again, a shadow over her expression as she recalled the events. Details she didn't want to admit - Didn't want to erase what little progress the other interview had made. "I break down organic matter. Quickly."

"Organic matter," the journalist repeated, clearly intrigued, "As in living flesh? Plant matter?"

"Living and dead, so long as it's organic." Zoe nodded, looking slightly on edge about the subject matter. "But otherwise, pretty much. I've not really tried it on plants, but it seems to be living things in general. Anything that can... I don't know, rot."

"I suppose a demonstration would be too much to ask for then, unless you wanted to rot something, or someone, in the vicinity," Barbra glanced meaningfully at the tree beside them but continued, "Sounds rather dangerous if you don't keep careful watch over it. This destructive ability wasn't put to use on the frontlines at Wisford, though?"

Zoe felt the annoyance creeping in again, partly because she had no idea how to deal with the interview, but mostly because of the implication that she was a danger. It annoyed her more because it was probably right. She hated when these people were right. "No, for the most part. The situation didn't suit my abilities much. From what I could tell, the monsters were completely mechanical." And the attackers weren't.

"Ah, that makes sense. Now you mentioned earlier that you haven't tested your power on plants and such, but you have used it on living beings? Can you tell us about that?"

"I'd prefer not to go into detail, but we were attacked by rogue subnaturals at--" She frowned, trying to keep control of her expression. Shit, that was the wrong thing to say - But the incident had been at the back of her mind since the fight. The words had come out without her having a chance to think them through. "During operations." Leave it with the implication, hope the point wouldn't be pushed.

"Hold it," Barbra's demeanor suddenly shifted. Something more ravenous now, as the questions amped up, "We hadn't heard reports of rogue subnaturals at Wisford, apart from the anomaly codenamed Factory. What happened there? A criminal faction like the Senators? Did you kill them with your power? What do you believe they were after?"

That's not good.

Zoe's eyes widened as she realised the regulars didn't know. Or at least, they hadn't known - Judging by this lady, they'd all have heard about it by the end of the week. This was gonna lead to some awkward questions, wasn't it? At least, once she got her head round the barrage that got fired at her all at once. She could deny meaning Wisford, but the story was getting spun either way, and she doubted she'd persuade the reporter.

"Give me a second, would you?" Irritation, defensiveness. Zoe was getting increasingly on edge, close to doing something she might regret. It wasn't all directed at the reporter, half of it was at herself for being unable to get through one week without making a mess of things, but either way she had to bite her tongue to prevent a rant that would definitely get her in trouble.

"We were attacked by rogues. I don't know who they were with, and I don't know what they wanted. There weren't many." That was the easy part. The sensible thing to do for the rest would be lie, say she just neutralised the threats, but she just wanted this bitch to back off. There was something undeniably cold about the gaze she turned on the reporter, even knowing that this was an incredibly stupid thing to do.

"But yes, I did. And I'd do it again if I had to." Not quite an explicit threat. At least, not yet.

The reporter noticed Zoe's now-deadly gaze but remained steadfast in the face of impending fury. This was a scoop she absolutely couldn't miss. It would take more than an X-mark's hissy fit to throw her off. "So subnaturals were indeed behind that senseless, aimless catastrophe. We've heard that the death toll numbered in the hundreds. Do you feel any sort of responsibility for what your kind has caused at Wisford?"

"My kind?"

Zoe stared, dumbfounded. This lady wasn't kidding. She was serious. Seriously trying to put the blame for what happened on them? White-hot rage, searing and clawing against the whole world that dared to put this on a bunch of scared kids. Death after death, hurt after hurt, tossing away their humanity bit by bit and this was the thanks they could expect. It wasn't fair. It was bullshit. This was all such bullshit.

So she looked at the woman, the woman who was making that accusation.

And she smiled. Oh, that was it, and it was funny, right? Zoe was too pissed to take this rationally. They wanted violent, they wanted unhinged? Oh, they had no fucking idea.

"Let me answer your question with a few of my own. To you, Barbra. Have you ever thought you were going to die? Watched someone else's last breath and known you could be next? Have you ever had to kill someone?" Her eyes were cold, dead. The eyes of someone who had done all those things far too quickly. A murderer. The girl the others were rightfully afraid of.

Too far. Both the journalist and the cameraman stumbled away from Zoe. A killer subnatural was one thing. A powered, smiling psychopath was another.

"I-I...sincerely hope that's not a threat, Zoe," the woman spat, still trying to retain her dignity in the face of impending doom, "I'm just asking what the people are thinking, showing them what they want to see. And, quite frankly..."

A look, deep into the lens of the camera. Millions were going to be watching this back home. There was no taking back what had just passed.

"I think they've seen everything they needed. My answer to all those questions is no. But I'm assuming you and your subnatural classmates wouldn't answer the same way?"

A show of defiance. Barbra still had some nerve in her. Or perhaps just stupidity.

A laugh, short and bitter.

"On the contrary, my classmates would share your answer on the killing front. Let's not make a mistake here - I'm the worst of us by a long shot." She shook her head, resentment mixing with sadness even as she maintained her glare.

"One of us died in Wisford. A little girl. She'll have no memorial, no grave. People like you would probably celebrate that we don't even get the 'luxury' of being left to rot. I'm eighteen years old, and I killed three people this week. Soon enough, I'll have to do it again, and you'll call me a monster for it while you go home to a warm bath and a four-poster bed."

This wasn't for the cameras anymore. None of this was planned, or scripted. Zoe's speech was meant purely for Barbra, and every other smug dressed-up asshole that thought the same.

"We never asked for this. None of us were given a way out. But we fight and we die for people like you. Throwing our lives away for the sake of a world that wants us dead. Don't you dare stand there and blame us for the things we risk our lives to stop."

A clenched jaw in lieu of the professional smile Barbra had so confidently shown before.

"Indeed," the woman borderline hissed. A flash of disdain before she turned to address the camera once more, "Well, an intriguing development concerning the Wisford Disaster. I'm sure that there will be more news on the way but for the moment, we should thank Zoe here for such an intimate interview."

A turn to the girl once more, expertly-disguised malice in every syllable.

"Getting the chance to observe an X-mark's behaviour, live and personal? Not something the viewers at home marvel at everyday of the week. This is Barbra Tyson, signing off."

The feed cut and the woman immediately brushed herself off, as if Zoe's mere presence had dirtied her suit.

"Thank you for your time, Zoe," she smirked, obviously not meaning it, before she and the cameraman turned to leave. Heated whispers of "you better had zoomed on her X, and the cuff" could barely be heard as they quickly strode back to their van.

But as they did, black spread across the ground - A ring of grass around them reduced to dust. Right at the edge of Zoe's range, but that was close enough. Oh, Zoe knew she couldn't touch them, but the reporter didn't so as far as she was concerned, the casual use of her power was sending a strong enough message.

I could kill you whenever I wanted.

"I'd be careful if I were you." Zoe called out from where she stood, as leaves blackened and crumbled off of the tree behind her. Oh, she'd messed up, she knew that, but at the very least she could discourage the reporter from trying again. "Wouldn't want your answers to change too soon."

No intelligible retort. The reporting pair merely screamed and sprinted as quickly as their legs could take them. The message had definitely been received, though 'inflicted' was likely a more fitting word.

Zoe watched the reporters run with a dim sense of satisfaction until it was replaced by mounting dread. Of all the people they could have interviewed, she was the worst choice by far - and she could only imagine what people would have to say about this colossal fuckup. So much for the progress Marcus had made, anyway, at least as far as aberrations were concerned.

It was certainly one hell of a way to make her debut.

---

---

Zoe wasn't sure what to think as she walked back to the hotel.

She hadn't been sure of much since the motel and perhaps that was the core of her dilemma. Perhaps the rest cycled around it, a hurricane of destruction and movement where nothing ever stayed the same, where everything would always shift and change.

And here she was, trapped in the eye of the storm. The storm that reshaped everything, everything except her. Was it wrong to wish that it would? That the weight of all that had happened could make her into something new, something that wasn't this? Even as she sank deeper into it all, the facts of what she was weren't changing, even when people reached out she was still afraid.

Pifitul, and yet totally undeserving of any pity.

Searching for an escape, for isolation, had only brought her closer to the edge. And she'd fallen. Faltered. Another broken promise - Perhaps she should have just abandoned them all a while ago, embraced callousness and apathy. It would be a lot less of a pain if she'd just let go of the few principles she'd maintained, for no-one else even knew they existed. She'd done what she promised, and then she'd tried to run away from her choice.

Failed her escape, because of an inherent weakness. A weakness set in stone those months ago when she'd taken the wrong path. Oh, they denied it, said that 'there was no wrong path' but that just wasn't true. Perhaps her choice was a symptom of the faith she'd lost, the weakness of her character that was so easy to confuse as being strength. Fierce, brave, protective--

Ha.

That wasn't it at all. She was just a child, clinging to the last scraps of life. So scared to lose anyone that she was willing to hurt them just to make them stay. It was sickeningly familiar. Zoe had always twisted things like that, made them wrong when they should have provided happiness. Or maybe it just seemed that way to her, because she was the one that always stayed in the dark.

But that was such a lofty view to take, and it didn't reflect reality - She was no martyr, and she had no cause to die for. Survival was all that mattered. The strong and the weak, the circle of life, simplicity. But where did she belong, when she was so strong and yet so weak? How had the simplest things in life become tangled so badly?

She wasn't sure at what point she'd broken irreversibly, at what point she lost her grip on what she was meant to be. All she knew was that it had happened, that she was beginning to slip down a path she couldn't come back from the same. Because letting go of her fear, her blame, her distrust, meant letting go of everything else. And it scared her, it really, truly did.

The question was whether it scared her enough to make her run away, whether she was willing to sacrifice so much for people she knew so little. In any other situation, her dilemma would be seen as a noble one, but this was no story. Zoe had stopped believing in fictions a long time ago, when the need for money had outstripped childish desires. When she learned not to flinch at sudden screams.

Even the worst of the normals were no longer feared like they should have been, and ruthlessness made up for what they otherwise lacked. And even before this place became her life, she'd embraced that because she had people to protect. And still taking them in, acting as some kind of self-righteous saviour to make herself feel better and ease her conscience. Every time just adding another burden on her shoulders.

The more Zoe thought about it, the clearer it became, that her life was just one big catalogue of self-destruction. A testament to her weakness, then, that she couldn't even finish the job. It scared her too much to try again, and she wasn't naive enough to think she'd succeed.

So she had to find another way out. A reason to fight, something that could give her the strength she so desperately needed to find. If she couldn't escape, if she couldn't give in and be weak, then she'd be strong. Stronger than she'd ever needed to be before. If there was nothing she could do to fix the world and all of its flaws, then she'd just have to be stronger again.

Because on some level, it wouldn't have mattered what she'd said to them. Changing the world through pretty words was impossible, and it always had been. What changed the world was power.

And perhaps, in that, she could lose herself. She could seek no solace, no sanctuary in the world at large, so that left only herself. Because they would never be seen as equals, not in this place, their lives changed by powers not their own. Saving a billion lives wouldn't stop her being seen as a monster by those who blamed her kind for the danger in the first place.

But that didn't matter, did it? Because the others needed her, and they were the only ones that mattered. And she'd cling to that even if it meant giving up every piece of what she was. Her decision had been made. Power and resolve, that was what mattered. To know them, and know that they had a chance at a happy ending, to make that possible, she could cast aside her humanity.

As for the rest of the world? Before she'd snapped, before she'd broken and tried to die, she would have cared. Before her weakness shone through, showed the cracks in her resolve. But now that was reserved for her team, and them alone. A weakness she couldn't afford to feel for anyone else in case she broke and shattered. No, there was only so much she could take. Only so much of a burden she could carry. She'd help her classmates, the people she gave a shit about.

But as for the people like that, the ones who would cast them aside when they were nothing, like the rest of the subnaturals, when the time came...

Zoe would gladly tear them all down.

𝕋𝕙𝕦𝕣𝕤𝕕𝕒𝕪: 𝕊𝕖𝕡𝕥. 𝟙𝟟, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘 / / 𝕎𝕒𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕥𝕠𝕟, 𝔻.ℂ. / / ℝ𝕠𝕪𝕒𝕝 ℙ𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕦𝕤𝕖 𝕊𝕦𝕚𝕥𝕖 / / ~~𝟙𝟙𝟘𝟘

With a plastic bag full of clothes as his only luggage, Sander felt awfully out of place amidst the extravagance. The hotel’s bright interior, along with the formal clothing of many other guests reminded him so much of those documentaries about the gaudy mansions of the richest. Not that he remembered all the details, but this came very close.

He never thought he would see this sort of luxury in person. Then again, he never thought he would get super powers, either.

As Sander stepped into his assigned room, he was only further amazed by all the expensive amenities. With his bag forgotten on the plush carpet, he wandered inside the suite, examining everything with a childish spark in his eyes.

Christmas, on the other hand, had followed Sander into the same room, balked inwardly at the single queen-sized bed, come to terms with the accommodations, and was now seated on the sofa tucked against the wall, wondering where to start with the lavishly furnished room. He focused instead on Sander’s presence, calming down slowly after the initial rush of tension and fear as they had trudged through the hotel lobby in front of cold, judging eyes.

“You want anything?” -Sander said to Christmas, but his eyes remained glued to the snack shelf that just slid out of the wall with a press of a button. He pressed it again a few more time, just to watch the motion.

Christmas’s eyes followed the motorized shelf, too, dazzled by the display of plastic-wrapped snacks tied with artful ribbons that bounced in light, colorful curls with the back and forth motion of the shelves.

”…The ribbons…” he mumbled at the sight.

"Which one?"

”Uh…” Realizing too late he had been heard, Christmas looked away from the shiny swirls of glossy satin, blinking at the gleaming cityline that the floor-to-ceiling windows offered. ”N-nothing. Sorry.”

"Alright." -Sander turned his gaze back to the shelf as he picked one for himself. A particular package wrapped in plastic and tied with a blue ribbon caught his eyes, so he plucked that off the shelf. A quick tug at the ribbon loosened the knot, and the pieces of chocolate coated macadamias fell into his waiting palm. He tossed one into his mouth as he walked to Christmas.

"Mhm…This is pretty good." -Sander said, offering his roommate a handful of the treat.

Eyes on the ribbon, Christmas automatically took a piece of chocolate from Sander’s hand, but stared instead at the thin length of electric blue sheen falling around the bag.

Noticing his roommate's attention, Sander took the ribbon and placed it in the blond boy's hand.

"Guess we need a new one now, huh?"

Christmas pressed the material between two fingers, rubbing it briefly. It felt papery and disappointing, where he had thought it to be more fabric at first glance.

”Y-yeah…thank you,” he replied, holding on to the small ribbon tie anyway. It was comforting that Sander could almost read his mind, though he knew his face was more or less an open book of expressions. Never had been able to hide anything he was feeling well.

“Where did you buy that last one though? We might be able to find it here.”

”Oh…um…a store…?” And it sounded awkward and obvious even to him. ”A-arts and crafts store?” Nope. Not much better. And the small place he had visited once had been some strange mixture of art paraphernalia and Etsy-designed clothing, so he couldn’t quite name its category anyway. The next words that came out of his mouth surprised him, though they were so quiet as to be nearly inaudible. ”…I’d like to…get a new one.”

" We can go now, if you'd like." -Sander offered.

”Is it…is it okay to?”

"It's fine."

”Th-then…one for you, too?” He cast a hopeful look at Sander.

"Sure." -Sander nodded.

”Um…what—what color?”

"What do you think will fit me?"

He blinked at Sander, unsure if it was all right to suggest something when he wasn’t sure if Sander would even like the color. ”Maybe…maybe red?”

Sander paused for a moment to look at his wrist, as if considering it -"Do you think…red would fit me?"

”I think it…” Red eyes and wisping vapor came to mind. ”…Only—only you wear it that well.”

Sander's eyes widened slightly in surprise for a few moments, before he found his voice again -"Only you would say that. -He said with a soft smile.

”B-because it’s…um…you…uh…” Christmas fiddled with the looping blue in his hands, looking towards the soft carpet and curling his toes inside his socks. A glance at the shoes Sander had recently purchased for him ignited a small hope that they could have that same moment again. ”D-do you think we can?”

"I don't think anyone would stop us." -Sander shrugged as he walked toward his bag, getting ready to leave.

He wasn't wrong. None of the guards stationed in the hallway stopped them, they were only questioned about their destination and reminded to not cause trouble while the soldier informed the local military and police to avoid any confrontations. The hotel staff and clients milling about in the lobby also left them well enough alone, though it was hard to ignore the distasteful glares from those who bothered looking at all.

A curt talk with the receptionist gave them a destination and a taxi drive later, they arrived in front of a glassy boutique polished to gleaming perfection. “Violet Boutique” in elegant lettering across the top of the old-fashioned double doors welcomed them into a quaint shop of female clothing and accessories that looked like it catered to the working class rather than the trendy high end. Wooden flooring and wrought-iron raindrop chandeliers gave the clean place a touch of opulence while rounded, wooden blocks had been stacked together near the counter by an interior designer with an eye for the rustic finishes. The block design served a dual-role as classy shelving for handbags, jewelry, and small decorative statues, bringing the store together into a cohesive, old-world refinement.

Christmas stopped for only a moment at the sight of the store’s interior artistry, eyes drawing towards a wall display of accessories ranging from necklaces and bracelets to—and there it was, sitting in a wooden cabinet display at the corner of the ornamentation—laces and ribbons of all shapes, sizes, and materials with a neatly printed tag declaring a “buy one get one free” sale on what appeared to be the store’s miscellaneous bits and bobs from past seasons.

The store was mostly empty at that time of day, the receptionist having directed the two towards a lower end boutique well away from the main commercial strips and market areas. An older woman and her daughter had been browsing one of the racks when Sander and Christmas entered and both of them screamed comically in unison. They left without buying anything and from their reactions on exiting, anyone nearby wouldn’t be entering the store until the “subnatural terrorists” had disappeared. Their commotion brought a policeman to the location, but luckily the patrols in the area had been informed about the USARILN East subnaturals’ visit. Lip service eased the woman and she left without another word, but the officer remained outside the store, tense and waiting for the first slip up.

Oblivious to the small drama outside, Christmas had drifted towards the little case of ribbons, sifting through them almost reverently while the woman in charge of the boutique looked on disapprovingly from the counter, fake eyelashes and mascara thick around her dark brown eyes. She had half a mind to throw them out, but her other half reminded her any of these two could kill her before the authorities could intervene, so she held her tongue and settled for scowling at them instead.

Sander just gave the owner an apologetic glance as his roommate browsed the section, knowing full well the consequences of their presence. There wasn’t much he could do about it at this point, though.

Maybe if he had made a better choice…

Sander sighed, banishing the gloomy thoughts. Nothing he could do about it. So he just hovered at Christmas’ shoulder, focusing on the ribbons in front of him.

A snarl of ribbons had, by now, bundled themselves into Christmas’s left hand while he continued picking out his favorites among the selection on display—grosgrain, organdy, jacquard—he clutched at the most eye-catching of the patterns and colors, favoring the blues but not immune to the attraction of the remaining colors.

Despite the ornate picks gathered in his left hand, however, Christmas’s right hand eventually held just two ribbons—the ones he cared about the most out of the choices: a cornflower blue silk strip and a ruby-red length of satin ribbon, its finish iridescent. He turned back to Sander eagerly, displaying the intended purchases with a small smile, left hand and its ribbon bouquet tucked against his chest.

”What—what do you think?” he asked, raising the two ribbons in his right hand.

“They look nice.” -Sander reached out for the offered ribbons, caressing the blue one with his fingers. His eyes eventually landed on the bundle in Christmas’ left arm though –“Trying out other colors?”

”R-red is yours but…I, um, I think you’d look good with—with anything…really.” He brought the lone two towards the much larger bundle, trotting almost eagerly towards the counter until the manager’s cold glare dampened his mood almost instantly. The remainder of his approach was mostly subdued and careful, though he still watched the ribbons in his arms with a hint of excitement.

”…Payment,” the woman demanded, before she even touched the items to be rung up.

Christmas flinched at the biting tone, words failing in the face of her brusqueness.

Sander watched quietly from over Christmas’ shoulder, but eventually, he stepped out in front of the blond boy, returning the woman’s gaze with an equally cold one.

“USARILN East will reimburse you.” -He repeated the exact words those guards had told him, tone curt and passive.

The manager doubted their story, a mixture of fear and revulsion on her face until she peeked carefully over and checked the cuffs on their ankles.

”Is that right? How do I know you’re not lying?” she shot back, narrowing her eyes at Sander even as she backed up several steps.

“I…uh…you can call up the police, if you want.”

”Maybe I will,” she snapped, snatching her phone from the counter top and dialing for emergency law enforcement.

But the result was thankfully on their side and 15 minutes later they had left the toxic environment behind, Christmas giddily peering into his plastic bag and picking out the two ribbons he had selected earlier for himself and Sander. Several taxis had skipped over them despite their attempts to flag one down and they had needed a police escort back to the hotel when the nearby officer decided the two subnaturals had been “harassing the taxi drivers” for long enough. But with his bag of ribbons in hand, Christmas hardly noticed the even colder atmosphere of the hotel’s patrons, seating himself in a distant lobby chair far from the main congestion of people. It was still early enough in the day that most of the hotel’s guests remained busy with their own matters and hadn’t returned to the commercial lap of luxury.

He pulled the ruby satin ribbon out first, admiring the color in the chandelier light before looking hesitantly at Sander.

”D-do you want to wear it?”

“Where do you want me to wear it?” -Sander sat down beside his roommate, peering over at the plastic bag Christmas was holding tightly in his hands.

”Wh-wherever you like…”

Sander looked at the crimson ribbon for a few moments, expression thoughtful. Eventually, he took the red strip from Christmas’ hand and tied it into his hair, mimicking the blond boy’s habit.

“How about this?”

Christmas stared, wide-eyed and mouth slightly ajar. The surprise lasted for a good second before his face broke into a wide smile. Vestiges of amazement still lingered in the look of delight, but he quickly copied the action, tying the new blue ribbon back into his hair without taking his eyes off the ruby satin in Sander’s. Several moments passed before he remembered that he been too elated to share that commonality. A quick cough and rub of his nose followed, but his eyes remained fixed on the red ribbon mirror in front of him.

”It…it looks…g-great.”

“Is it really?” -Sander laughed a bit, his roommate’s shock expression was giving him doubts.

”Y-yeah. M-maybe with…with longer hair you could…t-tie it up?” He still stared at the ribbon, voicing whatever came to mind without thinking. It was easier around Sander. And infinitely more so now that he believed—erroneously or not—that they shared something as silly as accessory preferences. There was more to it than trust, but he was content with things as they were. This was fine, wasn’t it?

“Huh? That’s a good idea.” -Sander ran a hand through his hair, which had grown much longer since his days in the Institute. Yet, not long enough -”I’ll grow it out.”

Christmas’s eyes lit up at the implied agreement and he pulled up the bag of ribbons to make his point. ”Always…um…always have more if you lose it.”

“I’ll try not to. Don’t worry.” -Sander promised, as he slipped the ribbon out of his hair and tied it back on his wrist with the knot that Christmas taught him -”Thanks. For everything.”

There was a brief split-second of disappointment when Sander removed the ribbon, but it quickly smoothed over when he tied it to his own wrist again. With a quiet laugh that sounded closer to a whisper, Christmas caught the decorated wrist with his hands, holding it carefully.

”Thank—thank you…and I…didn’t do anything but…but it feels…o-okay when you say it.”

With an embarrassed duck of his head, Christmas busied himself adjusting the ribbon, pulling on the bow until it puffed out symmetrically.

Sander only smiled then, leaning back against his chair and simply enjoying the presence of his roommate. The Stigma buzzed unpleasantly in the back of his mind, but it felt little more like a whisper, so he figured he could just ignore for now.

He had got better, hadn’t he? He would be fine.

So Sander was content to spend a little more time in the lobby with Christmas, before they decided to return to their suite.

𝔽𝕣𝕚𝕕𝕒𝕪: 𝕊𝕖𝕡𝕥. 𝟙𝟠, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘 / / 𝕎𝕒𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕥𝕠𝕟, 𝔻.ℂ. / / 𝔸𝕣𝕔𝕒𝕕𝕖 / / ~~𝟚𝟙𝟘𝟘

The edge-lit wall panel and its electronic display had mentioned an arcade room in the first basement floor among the long list of amenities and suggested locations and events, so Christmas had prodded and stared at the display for some time before peering cautiously out the door, like he was afraid at any moment a guard would come barreling in telling them to leave.

But minutes passed and nothing happened, so he stepped out into the hallway, peeking back into the room before closing the door to check if Sander was still napping, worried the sound of the lock opening might have woken up his roommate.

The lock clicking open had, indeed, woken the roommate in question.

Sander stirred beneath his blanket, sitting up slowly. He noticed the half-opened door immediately, and his eyes fell on Christmas.

“Where are you going?” -Sander yawned, voice still thick with sleep.

”S-sorry for waking you. I, um, I j-just wanted to look at the arcade.”

"Arcade? Where?"

”The—the basement.” An obvious idea came to mind late, as they so often did for Christmas. ”D-do you want to come w-with me?”

How long had it been since he had been comfortable enough around someone to ask them like that? Thinking about it tugged on memories that came back staggered and unwieldy. He summed it all up as “too long” and blinked the thoughts away.

"Sure." -Sander agreed easily, running fingers through his hair to smooth down stray strands that were sticking out-"Just give me a minute."

As promised, the blood mage was ready a few moments later, looking fresh and tidy even in his secondhand clothes.

The arcade was a series of almost overwhelming flashing colors and most of the kids there were entranced by the games in front of them, paying no heed to the subnaturals just entering. The ones who did notice just screamed and beelined for the elevator, though even that was lost to the sounds blaring from all the screens. A pudgy boy sucked in his stomach as he edged around them, eyes like saucers while his mouth hung open in a soundless scream. He was gone up the stairs the second he realized the elevator hadn’t come down yet.

Christmas skirted the more popular games, edging towards less occupied areas and wishing he had his Vita with him. There was a sort of nightclub lounge and seating in the quiet corner of the extravagant arcade ringed with flashing lights and intentionally kitschy, almost Vegas-casino decor. A large snack bar and server stood in the back of the area, waiting for any orders.

Several guests in deceptively casual (but absurdly expensive) street clothes paled at the sight of them, and Christmas quickly shuffled into a far corner booth of the lounge, leaving them well enough alone. They left anyway and the server nearby dipped out of sight.

Once more they had disturbed the regular residents, and once more, Sander felt a pang of guilt in his chest.

He pulled on the collar of his shirt, as if hiding the mark on his throat would mean anything.

As if the cuff on his ankle wasn't telling enough.

It all came down to his bad choices, in the end. This, all his fault.

Sander frowned, chasing the gloomy thoughts into the back of his mind. Christmas came here to enjoy himself. And he will make sure his roommate would.

"So where do we start?"

But Christmas was watching the lanky boy’s worried countenance, the concern reflected on his face, too.

”We—we can go back…?” he offered, staring at Sander’s ribboned wrist now.

“I’ll be fine.” -Sander forced a smile to assure his roommate, before walking toward a random row of machines.

Christmas tottered after him, tipping out of the chair in a hurry to catch up with Sander’s long strides. He blinked up at his roommate, looking between Sander and the fighting game that was now in front of them.

”You—you like this one?”

Sander blinked for a few moments at the screen, searching his memory about it, but nothing came up. He assumed the controls would be similar to the ones he knew, though.

“Uh yeah. You want to go first?”

”I-I’m really bad at…um…most games.”

“Doesn’t mean you don’t get to play.”

”Um…b-but…isn’t it boring to watch…?”

"It's you. Not boring." -Sander answered simply.

The small encouragement was just enough and Christmas tucked a smile behind an itchy nose again before tentatively clutching the left joystick, eyes focused on deciphering the colors of the eight buttons nearby according to the brief on-screen instructions. Low attack, mid, high, combos, blocks, retreats—it all went over his head. But he still felt excited knowing Sander was playing right beside him.

Sander didn't begin to play right away though, despite the fact that there were more than enough spots for the both of them. He just hovered at Christmas' shoulder first, watching the boy play.

It was easy to lose himself in the game once the colorful effects and exciting sounds finally caught his attention, but even with the AI on easy, Christmas struggled. Half-circles and quarter circles soon turned into almost random spinning, his attempts at combos forgotten while he mashed the buttons that seemed to produce the flashiest effects. “Game Over” greeted him soon enough, but it had been years since he had touched any sort of action-oriented game. It was thrilling, and the unfamiliar emotion combined with the comfort of Sander’s steady presence stilled his hands until he marveling at where he had ended up, flashing letters and lights nearly forgotten.

"Wanna go again?"

”Um…d-do you want to play, too?”

Sander just gave the bright screen a long, thoughtful look, before reaching over to press the 'Restart' button.

"I'll play later. Let's try again, yeah?"

”I want—I want to see you play, too.” What a demand. He flinched backwards slightly as he said it, afraid it was too much. ”S-sorry.”

Sander turned to look at the screen once more, though Christmas’ request made everything easier. He wasn’t lying when he said he would do anything.

“Okay.” -He nodded, sitting down in front of the machine and began fiddling with the control panel. It wasn’t long before he found out about the functions of most buttons, but the combos took a while to get used to. During the first few seconds of his game, Sander ended up spamming the block button while trying to figure the best combos. Eventually, though, he got it and managed to defeat his opponent.

It was on the easiest difficulty, but a victory was a victory. That brought a bright smile on Sander’s face.

Christmas was also looking delighted, watching his roommate enjoy something when he couldn’t recall the last time Sander had seemed so relaxed. They hadn’t known each other long, but he supposed the ordeals they had been through—and he swallowed the shameful lump in his throat as he hesitantly included himself in that group—were more than what most people experienced.

Standing behind Sander, he scratched his nose anyway, afraid of being happy because it felt wrong to enjoy something when he never seemed to do anything worthwhile. He had overheard soldiers talking about the casualties in the previous fight and his own power’s worth felt like a crushing weight when their talk veered into those who had died. Heavy thoughts threatened to tear him apart from the inside. He found himself reaching for Sander’s wrist, the excuse ready on his tongue that the ribbon needed adjusting.

He never voiced it, though, even when his fingers found purchase around the wrapped ribbon.

“Hmm?” -Sander looked up then -”You want to try again?”

”W-with you…? Can—can I?”

“Sure” -Sander stood up, leaving the seat in front of the screen for Christmas. Once the boy had settled down on it, Sander hovered at his shoulder once more, though this time, he reached over for the controls.

“Here.” -Sander took Christmas’ hand in his and helped the blond boy position his fingers -”I’ll show you.”

He had meant to play the game together with Sander, but the explanation withered on his lips when Sander leaned over and grasped his hand. Heat crept onto his shoulders and neck, copying the spreading warmth around his hand.

”O-okay,” he mumbled absentmindedly, focused on the warm torso pressed against his back.

Oblivious to his roommate’s embarrassment, Sander leaned closer, until he was basically leaning his chin on Christmas’ shoulder.

“Here. This is for blocking. Jumping is this one. You just move the joystick wherever you want to jump to.” -Sander said, quickly demonstrated the combos to Christmas. After a few moments, he reached for the ‘Restart’ button again -”Ready?”

Christmas barely listened to the explanations, nerves on edge from Sander’s voice talking right beside his ear and Sander’s arms nearly wrapped around him in what he imagined to be a hug. It wasn’t, but Christmas didn’t mind pretending it was.

The second round fared better than the first, but only because he had selected what seemed to be a very beginner-friendly character against an AI still on easy mode. It didn’t matter, really, and he leaned his head without thinking slightly towards the right. Towards Sander. When contact sparked realization, he straightened with a panicked ”S-sorry.”

“What did I tell you?” -Sander only laughed.

”O-oh.” Christmas kept his head straight regardless. ”Thank you for—for hanging out with me.” He knew it was mostly his fault that he couldn’t interact with the rest of the class, and he was almost too comfortable only having Sander for company, but it was okay. Something small and insignificant believed the rest would come in time as long as Sander remained.

“Don’t worry about it.” -Sander brushed it off as he straightened himself up and began to look around the arcade -”Maybe…we should try something else?”

And they did, trying out different games in the arcade. The employees and other regulars gave them both a wide berth, though Sander hardly noticed as he was too caught up in the games. They reminded him of a simpler time, and he was more than willing to indulge himself. Between the two of them, the atmosphere had grown so comfortable even Christmas looked at ease—a rather noticeable change from his usual skittish behavior. If he had possessed enough self-awareness to notice, the difference would have shocked him.

Once it was late enough, Sander and Christmas finally decided to head back to their suite. However, as his hand hovered on the keypad of the elevator, a thought formed, reminding him of another indulgence he craved.

“Hey Christmas, wanna go to the bar?” -He asked suddenly, hesitant fingers moving idly across the numbered buttons.

”The bar…?” Christmas repeated, looking at him curiously.

“They have one here. Wanna come? Good drinks.”

”Don’t—don’t really know how to drink…um…a-are there—” he felt silly asking it, but with Sander his fears were slowly melting away ”—sweet drinks?”

“I prefer sweet drinks anyway.” -Sander smiled, before reaching over to take Christmas’ hand into his own. Bold, but he had grown braver these days. All thanks to the gifts from the water -”Cmon.” -He gave the blond boy a tug.

With his hand held by Sander there were very few things Christmas would have protested. He followed along easily after a soft ”O-okay.”

The elevator deposited them on the 10th floor, where white-laced buffet tables and embroidered seating spanned the entire room. Most of the guests squawked horrified noises upon seeing the two subnatural boys and there was a small stampede to vacate the floor. Sander and Christmas were left alone as nearly everyone rushed out alternate entrances, most dropping cups and plates of food in the mild panic. The unfortunate servers scurried to clean the messes, but where Sander and Christmas walked they paused and stepped away, fear and loathing thinly veiled on their faces. The braver patrons who remained were on nearly the opposite side of the floor, gathered into a small group around a glass dining table and looking ready to bolt at the first sign of danger.

One man, however, sat almost serenely in the midst of it all, eyes never leaving the tablet in his hand, though he noted with a flick of his glance the two arrivals as well. Black hair slicked back over his head contrasted with olive skin and a dark gray double-breasted suit carefully cut to fit his trim form revealed the backing of wealth. Statuesque height, a graceful jawline, and arching cheekbones denoted the favor of genetics. If he was born into prosperity and comfort, it didn’t show in any sort of presumptuous air. Instead his amber eyes watched the subnaturals after they passed by with a placid, pensive look, as if he was regarding a fine painting.

Sander didn’t really pay much attention to his surroundings as he grabbed a seat at the bar. A childish giddiness bloomed in his chest every time he saw rows upon rows of liquor bottles had never disappeared for him, despite the gaping distance time had created between him and his past. He supposed he could still have that.

“A mudslide, please. Extra vodka in that.” -Sander said to the antsy bartender who looked like he clearly did not want to be there, before turning to Christmas -”You want one? It’s sweet.”

The sudden evacuation on their arrival had shaken the boy and Christmas clutched at the hem of his shirt, watching the bartender and Sander in terror.

Sander blinked in surprise at the blond boy’s apprehensive expression, before taking a good look of his surroundings. He sighed then, running a hand through his hair.

“Guess it can’t be helped.” -He smiled apologetically at the bartender, then turned back to Christmas -”I won’t hurt anyone. Promise.”

”But…what if…” he didn’t finish the sentence, leaving the question obvious when he glanced at the way the bartender seemed to step away from them ever so slightly. There was nothing he could do about it, so Christmas picked up Sander’s hand from where it rested on the counter, holding it to calm down.

He counted maybe 30 seconds before his heart stopped threatening to jump out of his chest.

”…Is—is it sweet?” he finally asked, unsure of what he had heard just moments ago.

“It is.”

”Th-then…one f-for me, too…?” he half-addressed the question (that was supposed to be a drink order) to the bartender, who didn’t show any sign that he had heard it, but when two tall glasses filled to the brim and topped with whipped cream eventually slid in front of them, Christmas was at least grateful for the man’s sense of professionalism.

Sander wasted no time, immediately gulping down one third of the drink. Their trip around the arcade had left him a bit thirsty, and this cold drink just hit the spot. And true to its gaudy appearance, the place really did its cocktails right.

“Try it. It’s good.” -Sander turned to his roommate then, grinning.

Christmas had never tried alcohol before—not even stolen sips at family parties because those didn’t happen often growing up and even when they did his mother had always kept her hand on his shoulder.

The drink was sweet, as promised, but he coughed at the burst of alcohol behind the initial flavor of creamy chocolate. He didn’t dislike it, despite the minor surprise. More carefully now, he sipped at it again, mouth nibbling against the rim of the glass. His eyes were awestruck, and were it not for the alcohol he could have sworn he was drinking a frosted cake. He poked at the whipped cream with his fingers, licking off the sweet icing in wonder.

“How is it?”

Christmas scooped more of the whipped cream onto his fingers, forgetting all his table manners in the face of the sublime quality of every ingredient in the drink. That it was his first time drinking (and with Sander of all people) only made everything seem incredibly novel to him. He licked another mound of cream from his fingers before finally responding with ”Really good”, his voice muffled as he moved the glass for another sip, hand smearing the topping across the glass.

Sander caught Christmas’ hand in his, before gently bringing the fingers to his mouth and licking the cream off while the blond boy stared wide-eyed -” It’ll get sticky later.” -He explained, then turned over to the bartender to ask for some napkins and a spoon.

The nervous man brought what he asked soon enough, and Sander plucked the spoon into Christmas’ glass -”Use this.”

Cradling the left hand that Sander licked, Christmas blinked dumbly at the spoon, not noticing much besides the embarrassment coloring his neck and shoulders a soft shade of red. A pleasant sort of embarrassment, he would admit, but certainly not to Sander. It was like his roommate didn’t even remember that he had a preference for guys and he bit down on the thought before it could progress, because Sander had no intentions behind it. A genuinely good (perhaps overzealously so) person who was as oblivious as a rock.

It shouldn’t have been the alcohol, since he had only sipped a tenth of the glass, but Christmas thought that dense sort of behavior was a little too endearing, even if—and his fingers still felt the heat and moisture of Sander’s tongue—it was vaguely maddening at the same time.

He wiped his hand on the fresh napkin and fumbled with the spoon, an uncertain expression on his face that eventually curled at the tips of his mouth into a faint smile.

”Thank you,” he said, left hand tightening imperceptibly on the glass.

"You look red." -Sander commented, bringing a finger to his roommate's flushed cheek.

Christmas only nodded to the comment, an agreement all he dared at the moment. He brought the glass to his mouth again, taking a larger sip this time for something to distract him from Sander, though he already knew it was a futile effort.

"I don't really get drunk. Part of my power. Do you?"

Christmas swallowed the mouthful of alcohol slowly, wondering if that applied to him, too. But something didn’t think so and he wasn’t sure it was him.

”I don’t—don’t know. I think I…I do?” Fuzzy understanding, and he didn’t know where the intuition came from, but it was there. Muted by a pleasant warmth lightly spreading through his body, but still there.

"Did…the ocean give you anything? This time?" -Sander took another long swig from his drink, licking traces of cream on his lips.

The healer shook his head, imitating the action for another gulp of rich chocolate. ”But I…didn’t deserve it anyway,” he found himself muttering and the surprise quickly shelved itself away in favor of yet another tilt of the glass.

"I don't think it cares. -Sander shrugged -"I hardly deserve…this."

"Or you."

The statement seemed strange, so he questioned it, words weaseling their way out of his mouth the more he drank.

”Me?”

"You." -The confirmation was firm.

”But I don’t…do anything.” Another hit of chocolate.

"Don't have to do much. Just stay."

”Want to do more for you…really…” The glass was slowly emptying and the cream was slowly melting and he thought it would be a waste to drink it after it had warmed up. More large gulps now that the sting of alcohol had been soothed by a pleasant buzz, though Christmas hadn’t yet realized he was in the first stages of tipsy.

“I don’t really mind. But…sure.” -Sander finished off the rest of his drink, then pushed the empty glass forward for the bartender to collect -”What do you want to do?”

Worried Sander would leave him behind if he took too long, Christmas downed the rest of his glass, too, coughing at the very end on a few unfortunate drops. It left him with hiccups and he looked at his knees in confusion, as if he couldn’t understand how he could have possibly fumbled so hard that his throat was now practicing contractions.

Hic.

He peered up at Sander, face shaded rosy and eyes slightly unfocused.

Hic.

”D-dunno,” was the brilliant response. ”S-something.”

Before they asked for more, the bartender had already supplied the same drinks again in two new glasses, the man doing his best to minimize interactions and hoping the hotel’s special guests would leave once they had their fill of the bar.

At the sound of the drinks sliding towards them again, Christmas turned, obediently reaching out for the nearest glass. That sweet, entrancing liquor was much tastier than he had initially thought. It seemed to just get sweeter the more he drank.

Hic.

A bit of foam and alcohol sloshed over the lip of the glass and dribbled down his chin to splatter small droplets down his shirt. He hardly noticed as he took another sip.

Had Sander been more susceptible to the effects of alcohol, he would have warned his roommate about them. But he wasn’t, and so he didn’t. As Christmas drank more, Sander only watched, sipping on his own drink. Eventually, he noticed the stains on the front of the blond boy’s light blue shirt, so he grabbed a handful of paper napkins and dabbed at them.

”Th-thank you,” Christmas replied, another hiccup splashing more of his drink onto him. He decided to drain the cup a bit more to stop the problem and another hiccup lost him almost half of the swallow to his chin and the front of his shirt. ”S-sorry,” he apologized to nobody in particular.

Sander only laughed a bit, before asking the bartender for more napkins and some water. There wasn’t much he could do about the stains, so Sander switched his attention to the blond boy’s chin and neck, wiping at them with a bundle of napkins.

Hic. More splashing and the cup was a quarter empty now, most of the high quality drink soaking into the shirt Sander had bought for Christmas in La Plata.

”T-tickles,” the healer said, giggling slightly before another hiccup cut off the quiet laughter.

“I think you are drunk.” -Sander responded with a grin of his own as he kept wiping at the damp skin.

”H-huh?” Was this what being drunk felt like? He didn’t think he was. But maybe he was. Maybe…maybe he should stop drinking? But it didn’t seem so bad when it was just the hiccups making him spill everywhere. ”I—I am?”

“Yeah. I think.” -The coffee scent that was unique to Christmas also changed as well. It felt stronger. Thicker, somehow.

”Wh-what do I do?”

“I…don’t know. Just drink some water, I guess.” -Sander offered his roommate the glass of water, watching the blond boy carefully.

”…But water’s not sweet.”

“It isn’t. But you will feel better.” -Sander did remember how his mother used to keep a jug of water by her bedside, and asked him to fill it every time she had too much to drink during a party at work.

The memory made something inside him ache, so he crumpled up the soiled napkins and put them back on the counter, before taking a long swig from his drink.

”But…I don’t feel bad…?” Christmas watched Sander drink so he followed suit, narrowly avoiding another hiccup and spill. ”It’s good,” he repeated, staring at the drink. ”Y-you’re good, too. But not like, um, like chocolate.”

“You’ll feel bad later. Or so I’m told.”

”Oh…okay.” He took the glass of water and watched it suspiciously for a moment, but drank it as he was told. A fifth of it was gone before he put it on the counter. ”Not sweet.” His hands were already lifting the cocktail again, ready to resume imbibing.

Sander caught Christmas’ hand in his, skin still sticky from the vestiges of his last cocktail.

“Maybe you shouldn’t drink too much.”

”I’d have to agree. You don’t look like a heavy drinker,” a smooth voice spoke from nearby. The well-dressed man from earlier had approached them during the confusion and now took a seat by Christmas. The chandelier light reflected softly off smooth skin that had been maintained to perfection, casting him almost in bronze. ”And you’d be remiss to drink too much here.”

”S-sorry,” Christmas shifted away from the stranger, the apology automatic at what he took to be admonishment, no matter how light.

Sander fell silent as soon as he noticed the presence of a stranger nearby. No mark on him. A regular. So Sander just looked, unsure of what to say.

“Hello?” -A simple greeting finally petered out.

”Good evening,” the man replied, not missing a beat. He followed the greeting with a smile and slid the glass of alcohol away from Christmas. The blond boy didn’t protest, instead trying to fumble some thoughts together about why someone who looked so entirely above them had deigned to speak to them. ”Just thought I’d offer a little warmth in this city. Washington isn’t known for its subnatural hospitality. Will you be staying here long?”

“Uh. I don’t know.” -Sander blinked, then narrowed his eyes -”Are you a reporter?”

”I’m afraid I lack the brazen aplomb required to invade other people’s privacy and bombard them with questions,” the man replied, a slight tilt of his head and a quick smile lightening the scathing joke. ”I’m just another faceless among the rich, enjoying some time at this resort. Imagine my surprise when they escorted so many USARILN East students through the lobby.”

Sander wasn’t sure how to respond to the man’s flowery manner of speech, so he just stared instead, nodding.

“Y-Yeah.”

The stranger laughed in response, the sound of it clear and friendly—without derision.

”Those are very artfully chosen ribbons,” he noted, changing the topic at Sander’s unspoken request. ”A pair?”

“I guess?”

”Ah, it’s complicated, then,” the man nodded, as if understanding. ”It’s a nice aesthetic. Not very many wear them like that. Seems you two are close if you’re sharing the accessory style.” Flashing another smile at Sander, he directed more of the talk to Christmas instead, deciding the taller of the two had nothing useful to say. ”How about you? You’ve been quiet so far. What do you think? Would you two make an iconic couple, trussed up in ribbons?” he asked, laughing lightly at the joke.

Christmas blinked at him, scared of conversing with someone so strange and so friendly. He had grown accustomed to hateful disdain or curious condescension, as much as he hadn’t realized it.

”S-sorry,” he mumbled instead, looking down.

”No need to be,” the man replied. ”I was just making small talk. I admit it’s quite rare to personally speak with a USARILN student outside of Crimen Culpaes. You’ll have to forgive me for jumping on the opportunity.” He leaned forward a bit, hands on his knees and excitement on his face. ”I know you must get this question a million times, but I’m dying to know what sorts of powers you have. That’s everyone’s curiosity, really.”

Christmas shifted even further back in the face of amicable curiosity.

“No. You’re a…regular. We’re not supposed to tell you that.” -Sander interjected then, frowning -”Are you sure…you are not a reporter?”

”100%,” the man replied, watching their reactions and sitting back. ”I was simply wondering. Most people don’t get to hear of powers until someone’s so popular the schools can’t hide very much. I’m sorry if I scared you.” He addressed the last sentence to Christmas, who nodded in response.

”I hear they’ve put you all in the same suite, even if it’s the royal penthouse suite. That must a bit troublesome if you simply want to walk out and watch TV, or anything that you can’t do inside your individual rooms.”

“It’s alright. I don’t watch TV much.”

”That’s a shame. Quite a lot of good shows these days, surprisingly. The entertainment industry always blooms its best during times of strife. Perhaps because there’s so much inspiration to be found. How about you, Christmas, do you like watching TV?”

The healer stared—or tried to. He still felt fuzzy on the edges, so he leaned against the counter instead.

”S-sometimes…” he murmured.

”My suite’s much closer than the penthouse if you need to lie down somewhere.”

The linger doubt that the man was somehow a reporter never did quite leave Sander, so he shook his head at the stranger’s offer.

“He’s my roommate. I’ll take him back.”

”I can help with that.” The man moved to grab Christmas’s arm and sling it over his shoulder.

“I can do this alone.”

”There’s no harm letting someone help your friend up. You’ve had a bit of a drink, too, after all.” As he spoke, he lifted Christmas from the bar stool, propping the unsteady boy up by the elbow and keeping him upright. ”You can head back first if you’d like. I’ll make sure he’s not sick and then bring him up there.”

“It’s not…safe. You might be a reporter. I can’t leave you alone with him.” -Sander protested, reached out to grab Christmas’ arm and gave it a gentle tug -”I’m not drunk.”

Christmas stumbled towards Sander automatically, nearly falling into him. He was a little unsteady on his feet, but with the addition of the stranger and his newfound appreciation for alcohol, everything was getting a bit much to handle.

”I assure you I’m not a reporter, but so be it. Make sure you don’t trip anywhere and injure yourselves. That would be a shame.”

He gave them both another smile and turned back to the bartender, ordering a drink and effectively letting them go. No need to agitate them just yet.

𝔽𝕣𝕚𝕕𝕒𝕪: 𝕊𝕖𝕡𝕥. 𝟙𝟠, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘 / / 𝕎𝕒𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕥𝕠𝕟, 𝔻.ℂ. / / ℝ𝕠𝕪𝕒𝕝 ℙ𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕦𝕤𝕖 𝕊𝕦𝕚𝕥𝕖 / / ~~𝟚𝟛𝟜𝟘

Sander threw an arm around Christmas, and together, they made their way back to the penthouse. Sander wasn’t lying to the stranger when he said he wasn’t drunk. He really wasn’t. Soberness helped, and eventually, they stumbled into their room, the door quietly clicked shut behind them as Sander lowered his unsteady roommate onto the couch.

“You’re still with me?” -Leaning down until they were eye to eye, Sander looked at his roommate’s flushed face, tone laced with concern.

Christmas nodded, leaning forward as well. He stared at Sander’s shoulder, then tapped it with a finger, like he was testing the temperature.

”Want to hug you.”

Sander was slightly surprised at the request, but he obliged, leaning toward and wrapping Christmas in his arms. The scent of coffee was suddenly too strong, so he focused on his breathing instead, and not the heartbeats against his chest. Christmas remained quiet for a while, nestled in Sander’s arms. A real hug. He had forgotten how they felt. How warm it was.

His arms circled around Sander’s torso, returning the affection.

”I like you,” he said again, echoing sentiments that hadn’t wavered.

“You already told me.”

”I like you a lot.”

“I wonder why.”

”Just because. I’m stupid and—and I don’t know how to explain but I just…like you a lot…I’m sorry.”

“Hey now, what did I tell you?” -Sander just smiled, his hand ran soothing circles on Christmas’ back.

Christmas’s arms held on tighter in response.

”But I…I feel bad because I…want to…to…”

He didn’t finish, burying his face in Sander’s chest instead.

“Want to?”

”You don’t like it,” Christmas mumbled instead, trying to disentangle himself now, though his efforts were half-hearted.

“I…don’t get it? What don’t I like?”

”You don’t like it,” Christmas repeated, words vaguely slurring together. ”Just so nice…shouldn’t…shouldn’t do this to you.”

He tried to move out of the hug, but his resolve failed after all and he held on tighter.

“I’m really sorry.”

“Don’t have to.” -Sander simply indulged his roommate, relaxing into the hug. Eventually though, the dampness against the front of his shirt began to make him uncomfortable -”It’s…getting sticky.” -He mumbled, tapping lightly on Christmas’ shoulder.

Nodding absentmindedly, Christmas pulled back, eyes fixed on the floor.

“You need a shower. Wouldn’t want that to dry.” -Another light tap to make sure his roommate hadn’t fallen asleep.

”Okay,” Christmas agreed, stumbling towards the bathroom. Sander followed closely behind, an arm around his roommate’s shoulders once again, seeing how unsteady the boy was.

Once they were inside, Sander took just a few moments to appreciate the spacious bathroom, before reaching for the faucet and letting warm water fill up the tub. It looked more like a small pool than a tub, to be honest. Then again, it would only make everything more convenient. Sander let Christmas lean against the edge of the tub as he quickly undid the buttons on the boy’s stained shirt. It was soon discarded at their feet, and the pair of jeans soon joined it. Once that was done, Sander reached for the boxer brief Christmas was wearing while the smaller boy seemed hypnotized by the various settings available on the waterproofed screen attached to the showerhead pedestal mount.

Christmas turned back with a confused “Huh?” as Sander pulled his underwear down as well. He blinked and sat down on the inside seating ridge of the circular tub, instinctively trying to cover up with his arms and knees as his mind failed to process that he was entirely naked in front of Sander.

When his roommate had settled down in the tub, Sander began to undress as well, gathering up all the dirty clothes and putting them into a nearby metallic bin. The various settings on the screen confused him, so Sander spent a few minutes flicking through all of them, reading the description and trying it out, since he had only taken showers here and had yet to try the bath. Eventually scented water rushed out from the slits near the bottom of the tub, fizzing into a lavender bubble bath around them. Sander blinked as the new scent filled the bathroom, narrowing his eyes slightly when he identified it as lavender.

But it was just a harmless scent. So he picked out a few bottles of shampoo from the nearby shelf and joined Christmas in the bubble bath. The tub was more than enough to fit the both of them, and the temperature was just right, so Sander let him relax for a few moments, just closing his eyes and leaning back.

Christmas patted the forming bubbles in amazement, watching the foam disperse around his fingers. With the water covering him up, he relaxed and peeked at Sander who was leaning back with his eyes closed.

His gaze looked rueful, but he couldn’t help himself; Sander was naked in front of him.

“You need help with your hair?” -Sander asked after a while, though he still kept his eyes closed. Falling asleep here wouldn’t be too bad, really.

”It’s okay.” Christmas’s voice sounded close to his face. Before Sander could open his eyes, Christmas had pressed a small kiss onto his roommate’s cheek. ”I’m sorry,” he whispered, sitting back again.

“Hmm?” -Sander opened his eyes to the warm pressure against his cheek, but Christmas was already pulling back when he did. He titled his head slightly, confused -”So…you want me to wash your hair? I don’t mind. -As if to emphasis his point, he reached to the bottle of shampoo and waded through the water to get closer to Christmas.

”Huh?” Christmas only stared up at Sander, face flushed with the alcohol and the water’s heat. He was supposed to bear with this oblivious behavior, he knew that, but with Sander so close and so forgiving and his willpower slowly waning, Christmas couldn’t help but reach out with both arms, wrapping them around his roommate’s neck and pulling Sander into another hug.

”S-sorry,” he whispered into Sander’s neck, still holding on for dear life.

As usual, Sander simply indulged his roommate, remaining still in the blond boy’s heated embrace. When Christmas finally let go, he didn’t look up. Instead he sat back down and held Sander’s hand with both of his, caressing the fingers and knuckles meticulously. He couldn’t say anything to explain himself and before another “Sorry” emerged, Christmas brought the back of Sander’s hand to his lips, placing another kiss there. He stared at the hand afterwards, still running his fingers over the pale skin.

With one hand occupied by Christmas, Sander still wasn’t able to carry on with what he wanted to do, so he just obliged the blond boy. Christmas’ strange fascination with his hand made him curious though, so he leaned down to look at his roommate’s face, noting anything out of the ordinary.

Christmas returned the stare when Sander’s face neared and for a moment he looked like he would cry. But the flash of expression passed and he abandoned the hand, reaching for Sander’s face instead.

”I’m sorry,” he said again. Before Sander could respond, Christmas kissed him.

Sander blinked, surprise lined his feature just as Christmas’ lips pressed against his.

Too close. He could almost taste the burning blood on the tip of his tongue. Was it the reason why his heart suddenly went into overdrive?

Far too unsure of himself to actually do anything, Sander just went very still, letting his roommate do whatever he wished.

Even tipsy, Christmas knew enough to realize he had crossed a line. Sander freezing up was almost the confirmation of it. He drew back and let his fingers linger on Sander’s jaw, before raising himself up out of the bath.

”…I’m r-really sorry,” he said, teetering as he tried to move his body through the water.

“W-Wait.” -A hand snaked around Christmas’ waist held him back, and Sander’s blue eyes looked up at him, still slightly widened in surprise -”Your hair?”

”H-huh?” He’d completely forgotten about it.

“I can help you wash it.”

”Y-you’re not…angry?”

“Not for…that.” -Sander offered Christmas a smile that he hoped to be reassuring, while actively tried not to think too much about what just happened.

It was just like his mom used to say. People did silly things when they were drunk.

It was probably nothing. It couldn’t be anything, because Sander didn’t know what to do if it were.

Deciding it was better to just treat it as nothing serious if Sander wasn’t worried about it, Christmas nodded, resigned to the small relief that Sander wasn’t revolted, at least.

The rest of the evening passed uneventfully enough. Sander went through the familiar motions quickly and soon they were both ready for bed. Christmas had begun nodding off by the time he rinsed the blond locks for the last time, so Sander let him doze. Later attempts at waking his roommate failed, so Sander dried him off and carried the boy over to the bed, tucking him in naked. However, even after his roommate was deep asleep, Sander stayed up a little bit more, reading some random magazines he found in the desk drawer.

It was probably nothing. Really. Just drunken antics.

Man, it was about time he got some decent grub. Fast food was nice and all, but probably a nightmare on his sodium levels. Ernie relaxed in solitude as the elevator glided silently up the East Tower's floors, relishing the memory of gourmet tastes and the full-but-not-too-full feeling in his stomach. He could get used to living like this.

A ding chimed through the chamber as the doors opened to transport another guest and Ernie mentally prepared himself with a small grimace. His X-mark was on full display, hopefully whoever it was would just turn and run when they saw it.

Polished, golden bars caging a neat stack of luggage greeted Ernie as the elevator opened and he was suddenly taken back. A fond memory of a morning children's sitcom set in a hotel. Michievous adventures as two brothers sped through a lobby on a golden cart. And though the bellhop noticed the Aberration and fearfully wheeled the luggage trolley to another elevator in a hurry, the idea had taken hold of the boy hard and fast. Ernie furiously slammed the Close Door button in his fervor, unable to stifle the giddy grin on his face until he reached the Penthouse. There was someone he needed.

"Brent. Brent! Are you here? I need you for something!"

Ah, it was nice to finally have some clothes that weren't full of holes. Though Brent had more or less managed in Wisford due to the fact that he didn't bother all that much with going outside, now that he was in the capital, in a ritzy hotel that he didn't even know existed, the arbiter definitely felt the pressure to make himself presentable.

Or, at least, not look like he just walked out of a warzone.

Dressed in a white, collared shirt and denim jeans, Brent headed out just as Ernie called out for him from the hallway. Blinking in mild surprise at how excited the x-marked youth looked even when surrounded by anti-subnatural activists, the arbiter waved, quirking an eyebrow. "Yo, what's up?"

Ernie's chest heaved with childlike excitement. "Did you ever watch Suite Life? That show about the hotel?"

"A rerun or two, why?"

"This place has luggage trolleys. Big ones. Come ride with me, I wanna see what your powers can do with it! Maybe it'll get like jet engines or something!"

A part of him wanted to point out the fact that putting jet engines onto a trolley with no brakes would just end up smashing multiple holes into the hotel wall, but that part of him was a bore. Tossing Boring!Brent into the wastebin, Brent grinned, raising a fist.

"Dude, I'm hella down. Where we gonna get these things?"

Really, what were the hotel staff expecting, putting almost 20 subnaturals into the penthouse floor? A tranquil, civilized stay?

Ernie tapped his fist against Brent's, barely keeping himself from jumping with glee.

"In the lobby, by the driveway. Aw man, this is gonna be awesome!"

The boys made their way down to the ground floor, locating the aforementioned driveway after a quick search. A crowd of reporters had begun accumulating outside the hotel's grand entrance, though so far all of them were held at bay by multiple soldiers. The loop of Marcus' interview ran uninterrupted in the lobby's lounge area. But Ernie couldn't care less about these details. With a trolley and a fellow troublemaker at his side, he was living the dream.

"You wanna find a hallway somewhere or do you want those cameras getting another peek at your skills, Proteus?" Ernie smirked, using the new moniker. It was a joke but he still thought the name was pretty badass.

"Naw man," Brent waved off that suggestion, "Greek gods like myself don't show off just for the sake of cameras. I'd rather keep the speculation going for a while, you know? Makes for good laughs."

Still, it was a small blessing that he didn't get stuck with the Gearhead name, if nothing else. Sucked to be Marcus, really, living more or less forever with Time Scar now. Grabbing a trolley as well, just in case the first one suffered an unfortunate accident, Brent led Ernie back to the glass elevator. "Think we have plenty of space in the Penthouse myself. It'd be pretty bad if we ran over some oil baron from a foreign country, after all."

Of course, going up there meant running over his fellow classmates, but at least his classmates wouldn't nuke the entire Unit due to that, right?

The elevator slowed to a stop at the 11th floor, a soft ping announcing the imminent arrival of a new passenger on the elevator. When the doors slid open, there stood Marcus, suddenly pausing at the sight of Ernie and Brent.

He'd been on the floor to explore the computer lounge, see if there was anything interesting about the facility, but the sight that greeted him upon the elevator's stop was one that caused him a slight bit of concern. Ernie and Brent, each with a luggage cart. It was almost enough concern for him to let the elevator keep going and get the next one. Almost.

"What the hell are you two doing?" he asked, stepping aboard.

Ernie's grin hadn't shrunk since he had greeted Brent in the Penthouse. In fact, it only grew wider as Marcus stepped on. Aw yeah, another comrade!

"Marc, you gotta ride with us! We're living the Suite Life!"

Brent smiled at Marcus, shrugging as Ernie rambled on excitedly. "Who knows, maybe we'll need an escape plan that involves trolleys in the near future. All training."

Marcus's hesitant look didn't stop, it only grew more hesitant as he started to piece together the plan they had.

"Are you telling me that you just stole two luggage carts from a poor hotel worker, and are about to ride around on them like they were golf carts?" Marcus asked, his voice almost motherly.

He looked back and forth between the two other subnaturals, before his slightly stern look melted into one of bountiful excitement.

"That's awesome. Count me in!"

"Aw yeah! Team Sesame Street, back in action!" Ernie whooped.

As soon as the doors opened to the Penthouse, he kicked off the back wall of the elevator, sliding himself out and almost colliding with the couch in the lounge.

Brent followed much more thoughtfully, trying to envision what exactly he needed to do first. He had three overclocks, but only two of them were going to really be of use, unless he wanted to piss off whoever managed this posh little palace. Too much speed with too little weight was dangerous, but he also needed to take into consideration the handling of this 'vehicle', not to mention the fact that trolleys, while meant to carry luggage, weren't designed to carry three youths.

"Dude, don't ruin them so fast. We need to keep one in top-top shape as a spare," Brent said before placing both hands on the back end of it, "Now get your asses on. We're going drifting."

"You know, I think we should really rethink that team name when this is all said and done. We can probably think of something way cooler. Like Team 'Splattered Across the Penthouse' or something." Marcus said, chuckling as he climbed aboard the trolley into a kneeling position.

"What exactly is the plan here, anyway?"

Ernie obliged obediently, pushing his trolley aside for now and hopping on behind Marcus.

"That's a bit of a wordy name but I got nothin' better," he laughed, "The plan? I got nothing there either. Something fast and something furious, hopefully."

"I mean, if we abbreviated Splattered Across the Penthouse, we'd be Team SAP, which..." Brent flailed his hands in the air in search for an answer, "Isn't that terrible?"

A pause that heralded a shit-eating grin.

"Compared to Time Scar, at least. If you were such a charming fellow with reporters, you shoulda taken the bullet instead, Marcus."

With that, silver circuitry exploded from his arms, flooding the gold-painted material with power before the trolley essentially exploded underneath Marcus and Ernie. For a moment, it was almost as if they were floating in mid-air, before the trolley reconstructed itself, turning into a much hardier, if not still lightweight, material. Railings also emerged, boxing them in, as Brent prepared the next dose.

This time, the black exterior creaked, desert winds blasting them as the wheels underneath improved, the handling and balance of this 'vehicle' improving dramatically, every part of the trolley now lit up with a light blue aura. It was too small to fit in three, but with these changes, it would be safe enough for him to hang on from the back end. Which meant...

"Alright, I'd tell you to buckle up, but safety comes second here," Brent said, before taking in a deep breath, "THERE'S NO BRAKES ON THIS TRAIN, SUCKAS! ARE! YOU! READY?!?!?!"

"Good glad to see we're all on the same page then. No plan, no rules, just hop straight in and see what happens." Marcus said, visibly rolling his eyes, the last put of his sentance dropping into a low mutter, mostly to himself.

Any and all questions he had disappeared when the trolley turned silver, sending him and Ernie into an almost weightless state as the faux-vehicle was rebuilt underneath him. He'd seen Brent's power on the screens back at USARILN, but it was far more impressive up close.

He flinched as Brent yelled, turning around to give him a hesitant thumbs up. "Ready as I'll ever be, Cap'n!"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, let's go!" the Aberration cheered.

His shoulders rolled, and he exhaled deeply. The path before them was clear, and, outside of a glare from one of the soldiers stationed with these massively idiotic teenagers, no one was going to bear witness to whatever else was about to happen.

Like a sprinter, Brent lowered his body, legs coiled, before kicking off. One step. Another. And then he was jogging, momentum building more and more as the trolley accelerated. Soon, he was breaking off into a full on dash, and moments after, the arbiter leapt upwards, feet pressed against the railing as the overclocked trolley sped on.

"FIRST CORNER!" He called. "LEANNNN!!!!"

"AYE CAP'N!" Marcus said, giving a small salute as he threw his wieght to one side, feeling the momentum of the makeshift buggy as they gained speed.

Ernie held to the top of the cart with one arm, resembling a pirate overlooking the sea from the top of his ship's mast. He leaned to the side with his torso hanging over the railing, laughing and saluting along with Marcus.

For two precious seconds, the trolley lifted up on two of its wheels, overclocked handling not being enough to handle three young men riding it. Brent grit his teeth as the wheels squeaked, a black mark left on polished marble as it slid horizontally, but their machine held strong and he dropped off onto ground again, making up for lost speed with extra muscle power.

"We still in it, boys!"

Ernie let out a sharp breath as the cart lurched. Holy shit, that was close! The adrenalin coursed through his body as they rounded the corner, the thrill of the ride starting to cramp his cheeks as his overjoyed face remained completely static. Another corner was soon approaching as they sped straight towards a sofa looking out towards the wall-to-ceiling windows. A support column heralded the approach and Ernie suddenly got an idea.

"Ooh, lemme try something!"

Planting his feet firmly onto the floor of the cart, a golden rope shot out from his hand. It wrapped around the column, the intent to conserve speed holding fast as they rounded the second corner.

"OhshitohshitohSHIT!"

Brent laughed as the trolley screamed, no longer even rolling on its wheels as Ernie's rope trick forced it on predetermined rails utilizing centrifugal force. Knuckles bone-white it slid in a wide arc, the arbiter had to let go of one hand as the cart got dangerously close to the opposing wall, almost grinding against the wallpaper before zig-zagging dangerously. He kicked off constantly, trying to correct the direction of the cart, but it couldn't align properly, not at these speeds.

Was this what racecar driving felt like? Probably not, but this was hella cooler.

"Yo, Marcus!" Brent called as the ride stabilized, "Show us something fancy!"

Marcus struggled to keep himself from slamming into the side of the trolley as they rounded the corner, grabbing onto the opposing railing and physically pulling himself towards it. He let out a small sound of displeasure as the g-forces threatened to force his lunch out, but everything settled once they got out of the turn.

"Something fancy?" Marcus said, turning his head slightly to look at Brent. "I can rewind and I can stop; what exactly do you want from me?" he said, a half chuckle lost in the sound of screeching wheels.

"Show, don't tell!" was Brent's response as they neared another corner, a plush sofa at the end of the intersection.

Marcus continued giving Brent a skeptical look, even as they rapidly approached the corner. Finally, he shrugged and deployed the fanciest thing he could do, shouting the name of his move, movie-style:

"JAZZ HANDS!"

And that's exactly what he did. He knelt there on the trolley as they flew across the floor, slightly shaking his hands for style points.

...This was gonna end badly.

Ernie, momentarily perplexed and amused by Marcus' display, forgot the impending collision. The sofa loomed closer and closer like some kinda cushy iceberg. ...That's how the Titanic went down, right? No leaning or rope swinging would save them now. Only one thing left to do.

"ABANDON SHIP!" Ernie screeched and swung himself off the side, rope still in hand.

Brent cackled at Marcus's impromptu pose. "Geez," he said, "What th- OH SHIT!"

Instead of jumping ship and saving himself, Brent forced another jolt of silver blood into the speeding vehicle, hoping that the braking function that came from it would be enough. The frame creaked, shook, and...

SCREEEEE!

The front wheels halted, momentum flipping the speeding trolley over, as well as its remaining occupants.

Marcus, upon seeing Ernie abandon ship and the imminent collision with the sofa, decided it best to follow suit. The sound of static growing softer behind them was his escape route, and he only stammered out a quick "WOOP" before he disappeared from the trolley.

When he reappeared, it was like something out of a cartoon. He reappeared, hovering in the air still in a kneeling position, gracefully sailing across the floor at the same speed the trolley had just been going.

It was only when reality ensued and he hit the ground that he figured out what had happened. His graceful descent turned into a clumsy roll as he toppled over himself across the smooth marble floor, coming to a stop only a little bit behind the still-spinning wheels of the trolley.

"Owwww...."

"Heheh," Ernie chuckled, pulling himself up from his own clumsy escape, "Almost had that three-point hero landing. Brent, are you okay?"

Pulling himself out from the sofa that he had Supermanned into, Brent shook his head, trying to make sense of the stars around him, before his hands reached out and smoothed the hair out of his eyes, revealing glittering gems filled with excitement.

"Holy SHIT!" he exclaimed, ignoring the fact that the trolley now had more than just a few scratches on it. "We seriously need to do that again! Like, yo, Ernie, you missed out! That crash was great!"

He stood up, still disorientated, and fell on his ass again.

"Nope. That's fine. Marcus is okay! Nobody worry." Marcus said, slowly sitting up and shaking his head to clear the disorientation.

"I think I skinned my knee..." he softly pouted, looking himself over for any injuries. That was at least a lesson learned on his part: momentum and stuff carried over when he rewound. Useful information for the future, perhaps.

"Hah, I think I'm good here, buddy!" Ernie waved to the mildly concussed boy and looked over to Marcus, "You want to rewind and save me a bandaid or should I go get my kit?"

"Nope. I think I'm good. I'm pretty sure rewinding is what caused that actually. Convservation of movement or some Newtonian garbage." he said, standing to his feet.

"You gonna survive Brent? Feel tired at all? Everything spinning? Feel like you're gonna fall over and die?"

Brent finally fell backwards, eyes glazing over, death coming for him. Clutching at a hand that only he could see, the arbiter choked out with his final breath, "I-I leave the rest to you."

And with that, he slumped, amethyst eyes losing their shine for a brief moment, before he leapt back onto his feet.

"Naw, I'm pretty fine. But seriously, we should like, do some sort of launching thing, you know? Actually flight hijinks and all."

"Ah shit, there he goes," Ernie threw his hand up in a melancholy salute before returning to his usual manic smile, "Oh, you think we should go for another ride? I think the indoor pool here has a slide we could use."

"Yep. Super dead. Toss him over the edge, let the city scavengers pick his bones clean." Marcus said, crossing his arms and shaking his head.

"If you guys are going to try that on a pool slide, I'll stand by and try to be ready with medical attention; I have a feeling you're going to need it."

"Can't exactly overclock a pool slide though," Brent said, dusting off his back, "And I think the guards are going to be liable to blow our brains out if we bring a trolley over to the same pool that houses oil barons and weapons tech magnates."

He scratched the back of his head, contemplative once more. The adrenaline was wearing off now, and there was a distinct pain from his neck whenever he turned it slightly.

"What about...oh man, do you think the emergency stairwell will have anyone walking up and down in there?

"Only hotel staff and vomiting drunks, probably. But it's nowhere near Happy Hour yet so the coast should be clear for that last one," Ernie hopped eagerly.

"Let me just throw in my two cents here, fellas..." Marcus said, putting his hands up as if trying to calm down the situation. "...you'll die. You'll quite literally die. You will kill yourselves flying down a hotel staircase, and we'll all call you 'The idiot pair who died falling down a flight of stairs'."

"Just so we're all on the same page, here."

"Not the idiot trio? So cold, Marcus, so cold."

Ernie pouted. He could probably deal with a stairfall, though he couldn't say the same for Brent without investing in bike helmets. Another day, another time, perhaps.

"Mmhmm, guess we should avoid giving Time Scar another time scar," he nodded seriously, dealing with the decision in his own way.

"Oh no, by all means, go ahead. I'll be the first one to laugh at you two. Don't let me ruin all your fun!" he said, giving Ernie a light glare and sticking his tongue out at him.

"Mm, wanna head down and check out the arcade instead them?" Brent suggested. "We can probably screw around there, unless there's some snotty rich bitch camping out down there."

"Eh, nothing the three of us can't shoo away. Arcade sounds good," Ernie agreed, flashing a wicked grin at Marcus' glare, "Let's Zip Zip down for a short bit."

"You're gonna be surprised when I shove you down the stairs, aren't you?" Marcus said, getting unsettling close to Ernie as they walked.

"I-I'm more of an elevator guy, myself," the Aberration laughed nervously.

"Just jump down the elevator shaft?" Brent added, having a little fun at Ernie's expense.

"I could probably take that. Three storeys is the most I've done so far. Not sure how I'd go with the suppression on though," Ernie replied, shuddering, "At least with a shaft everything would get cracked open in one go and not painfully and gradually."

"If you're unlucky, you might survive and slowly get crushed by the elevator!" Marcus said, his tone unusual chipper despite the subject matter. All for the sake of making Ernie regret bringing up Zip Zip Boi again, obviously.

Almost immediately, the doors slid open to reveal the wonder of the arcade. Just as fancy and over the top as the rest of the hotel, the soft silence of the elevator music was quickly drowned out by the ruckus of the floor.

Flashing lights, and a hundred machines all spouting off various noises and themes seemed to give the floor an almost war-zone like appearance, as if they'd never stepped off the battlefield in Wisford, and also the robots were trying to ear their dollars instead of their faces.

There was the occasional glance from the few people around the room, presumably businessmen trying to find a way to relax, or kids whos daddies owned too much money and were too busy to give them actual attention.

"You know, I think I could get used to this place!"

"Oh totally!" Ernie whistled as he took it all in. Though everything was incredibly eye-catching and bright, he supposed the polite thing to do was to ask which machine his friends prefered. It wasn't like he would mind too much, "Which one should we go to first?"

Wow, this was nostalgic. Letting out a low whistle that was totally drowned out by all the explosions and hyperactive electronic music and faux-announcers, Brent stepped into a psychdelic arcade room filled with vibrant colors. From rows of machines that featured the latest arcade fighters to classic pinball machines trying to ride on a franchise from 30 years ago, it just so...

"Shit," Brent breathed, "Just...wow..."

Almost too many choices to pick from, really, but what sort of man would he be if he spent all his time dawdling about, trying to figure out what exactly to do? In lieu of a coin to flip or a dice to roll, the arbiter instead pointed out one of those Asian rhythm games, complete with a dance pad that had eight different positions for your feet to step on.

"Yo, Marcus, this should be your specialty, right?"

"Oh man, I haven't seen one of these things in a while!" Marcus said, immediately following Brent's pointing to the game. He walked up to it, inspecting it the same way a mechanic would inspect a car.

"Max used to play these kind of games with me. Of course, it was no fun once she got mad that I started to beat her all the time!" he sighed gently, waves of nostalgia starting to pour over him.

"Either of you two want to have a dance off?"

Ernie watched in awe at two other teens tapping away. He had to give it a go, how could he refuse?

"Man, I hope all those musical movies paid off," the Aberration grinned as he stepped onto the second pad, "Brent, wanna choose the song and difficulty?"

"Oho, so our first round is Ernie versus Marcus, eh?" Brent mused, before approaching the machine. There was no real way for him to overclock such a large object, so instead, he just brought out his hotel keycard, tapping it against it once, before a ding could be heard.

"Well, in honor of Marcus becoming a celebrity overnight, let's bring this baby up to highest difficulty, with..."

Scrolling down through a list of songs, a burst of high pitched sounds caught Brent's attention, before he cackled cruelly. "Have fun with this cancer, guys!"

A few moments later, a rapid-pace song sung by a voice synthesizer with a face blared out obnoxiously. It was moments like these that the arbiter wished he had a camera.

"Oh god, highest difficulty? Not even any time to stretch? Any time to to warm up?" he said, a humorous panic rising in his voice as the the screen burst into color.

He missed the first step, not quite ready for the high octane level of directions this thing was throwing at him. He didn't know this song; he'd never listened to this type of music. But even so, things started to fall into a rhythm - the familiar tunnel vision as the arrows forced his feet into moving instinctually.

Oh yeah, he remembered this.

Ernie, on the other hand, took a while to acclimate himself to the machine. The relative spacing between the arrow pads, the amount of pressure needed to register a hit...

And that godawful, overdriving, robotic toned song. People actually listened to this?!

Still, Ernie was a boy raised by the infectious rhythms of Gene Kelly movies. Once he got a sense of the song's beat, it was only a matter of whether or not his agility and reflexes would keep his feet moving. And they did. Pretty soon, both players' screens were lighting up with 'GREAT's and 'PERFECT's. And though the match went to Marcus, it was a far closer margin than Ernie had ever expected.

"Good...game..." Ernie leaned on the back bar and heaved, trying to catch his breath. Despite the exhaustion, his grin remained the same as it had when they were riding the trolley upstairs.

"How're your legs feeling?" Brent laughed, thoroughly amazed at how both of them managed to get such a high score. "Didn't think Team SAP was a dance group!"

"God, I forgot how much cardio these damn things are." Marcus said, leaning back and wiping the sweat off his brow. He'd never done a song that labor-intensive back when he and Max had played, only because it seemed like a nightmare to play.

His ears still ringing with the high pitched shrills of a song he hadn't even heard, he grinned at Brent. "Dance group? Don't tell me you can play this stupid game too?"

"Let's just hope he's not planning on having us start a boy band with this sick dance skills. A name like 'Team SAP' probably won't get us many fans," Ernie laughed tiredly, hopping off for Brent to have a turn, "Show us your moves, B."

"Who knows? With a weird abbreviation like SAP, we can keep our hordes of fangirls speculating on what exactly it means!" The arbiter commented lightly, before walking up onto the stage. Ernie looked like he had natural skill, and Marcus had a ton of experience, but if nothing else...

Brent had raw stats.

"Give me something to cry about, guys."

"You want to do the honor, Erns?" Marcus said, taking the opportunity to catch his breath a little bit longer.

"Fine by me," the Aberration replied, taking a second to absorb the songlist. He didn't recognise a single one so he simply chose a fast-sounding title and hoped for the best.

"Max difficulty, of course. Only the finest for the muscle of our crew," Ernie snickered and started the song with a flourish of the hand.

"You piece of shit," Brent laughed, before all that amusement vaporized as the music started, a flurry of directions appearing almost immediately. Stabilizing himself against the back bar, the intensity of his gaze was fully revealed as his eyes danced across the screen, trying to capture each individual key while also reading the entire pattern laid out.

There was no finesse nor technique, and even as the song reached a comfortable beat, he still couldn't fully hear it, the blood rushing to his head instead. His feet hammered like a sewing needle against the eight different keys, Brent brute forcing his way through the encounter. A few symbols were mysteries that took a few MISSes to figure out, while the irregular movement of the keys themselves cost him another few points, but there was no point where the tryhard arbiter lost an extended string of points.

There was also no point where he actually looked like he had fun. Instead, the expression he wore was almost angry, concentrating so hard that his eyes were still looking for more direction keys when the song ended.

A deep breath, as the results screen loaded up, before his own score popped up.

One fist raised towards the ceiling as Brent finally allowed himself to relax, smiling again. Sweat dripped from his forehead as he said, still catching his breath, "Damn, really do need to get my vengeance after this cancer. How do you even do those crossover techs, Marcus?"

"The trick is to just not think about it too hard, Breakfast Club." Marcus said, referencing an old movie he'd once seen and giving Brent a small round of applause.

"Although, you know most people do this kind of thing for enjoyment, right? A fun little hobby?"

Ernie had watched intently, mesmerised and slightly concerned by the look on the Arbiter's face.

"Thinking seemed to work," he took in the impressive score, "Marc's right. Getting a high score feels nice but having fun is pretty...fun too."

The guy was taking it awfully seriously. Had he always been like that?

"Hm, I see...more muscle memory than thought," Brent said, before tilting his head to the side at Ernie's words. Slightly confused, he said, "That was fun? Something I'm missing here?"

Oh, that's what he looked like when he was having fun? The trolley ride seemed to suggest otherwise but Ernie was just going to have to get used to it.

"Nah, I think I was just missing something," he smiled and clapped Brent's shoulder, "Those were some impressive moves. Looks like you keep your place in the boy band after all."

"Oh, my dream's finally come true!" Brent said, eyes glittering joyously, "Let's make it to the top of the chart by next week, guys! Take the music world by storm!"

"Aw yeah! I can finally put those harmonica lessons to good use!" Marcus said, laughing.

Another day gone by.

Ernie entered the buffet, face content and muscles relaxed after what was definitely the best bath of his entire life. This change of scenery was almost worth the mental and physical nightmare that had been the Factory mission.

Almost.

It would probably be too much to ask to get baths like these installed at East, huh? Ernie amused himself with thoughts of ritzy facilities as he stacked his plate with his usual buffet thoroughfare: little bit of everything, emphasis on the 'little'. His eating habits always made his dinners resemble Costco sampling trays more than they did an actual meal.

If food was free, and food was good, and food was diverse, there was no way in hell Brent was going to waste this oppurtunity. The Officer, after all, didn't say a thing about when exactly they were leaving, and if it turned out that they were leaving the next morning, he'd never forgive himself for not stockpiling on good food before then.

Ah, if only he had a phone to snap pictures of all this food he'd never eat again. Ignoring the looks he got from others within the buffet room, Brent continued to pile up his own plate, humming a happy little tune.

Partway through the Asian Cuisine section, his eyes lit up at the sight of his trolley-riding buddy.

"Yo, Ernie, haven't found stuff you liked yet?"

"Huh? Oh, hey man!" the Aberration greeted his pal with a nod, "Just wanted to get a bit of everything. Haven't sat down and tried any of it yet."

His dish held bite-sized splotches of colour from the different sections, like a painter's palette, though none of them seemed susbtantial enough for a growing teen.

"Geez, looks so empty though," Brent remarked, "We're in a buffet, man! If you can still see the top of your plate after going for a walk, you're doing it wrong!"

Getting into the spirit of things, the arbiter said, "For real though, got any particular type of food you like? Seafood? Fried? Chinese? Italian?"

"I...haven't actually heard that one before. Huh."

He wondered if his stomach could even handle a plate ladelling the volume that Brent's was. It had always been quicker to just ignore the familiar hunger and wait for the next meal. There was none of this indulgence before West, none that he felt that he wanted to do on a regular basis, anyway.

"Italian is good. The sauces are damn satisfying to eat when you cook them right. Making pasta is pretty fun too. Always so filling though."

"Italian it is then," Brent replied, motioning with his head for Ernie to follow, "Grabbed a few slices of their baked spaghetti with bacon and chicken. Super tasty. And they had these giant, spicy meatballs as well!"

"Seriously, dude, Wisford was crap. Let's fill up on richboi food before the field trip ends randomly, eh?"

Ernie looked hesitantly at Brent's plate. The guy had a point. Still, there was a line between filling up and eating so much that he spent the rest of the night with stomach pains or on the can. The boy nodded and got some food from the Italian section, filling his plate to about a quarter of Brent's size. Hopefully that would be enough?

"Man, you're missing out on the rabbit cacciatore," Brent said, shovelling the herb-infused meat onto his friend's plate, "And don't forget to try out the fried eggplant too! Oh, have some tortellini. And the marinated eel. Can't forget that ridiculous luxury!"

Filling Ernie's plate up to match his own, Brent patted him in the back, a reliable smile on his face. "Been thinking about it for some time, but you really should be chowing down more, Ernie. Just cause you can laugh off a grenade with your power doesn't mean you can just let yourself go skeletal, you know?"

The buzzcut boy's eyes widened with every spoonful of food his friend heaped onto his dish. That plate's worth was probably more than he had eaten over the entirety of of the last two days. He thought of protesting but quickly filed his doubts away. It wasn't like he could just dump it back into their respective troughs. And he hated wasting food or seeing a half-eaten plate. Those were always the worst to clean. Plus, he'd probably look bad in front of Brent if he couldn't finish all of it. So the only option he really had was to... damn it.

He was going to regret this later.

"Heh, I don't know about the grenade stuff. Probably shouldn't test it without a healer on call."

Hm, testing out his durability, huh? The thought of intentionally hurting himself was...not ideal but the information that would come out of such an exercise would probably be very useful. But D.C. wasn't a good place to sudden whip out guns and heavy artillery

They found a table a distance from the other Regulars, not that it was particularly difficult considering the lengths that the hotel's other occupants were willing to go to avoid the two subnaturals. Ernie liked it better this way anyhow. Digging into one of the meatballs, he nodded to Brent's plate.

"Do you eat that much everyday?"

"Wish I could," Brent replied, "But I must say that I got a hell lot because well, you know, gotta try lots of everything. Not every day you get to eat like this."

His hands clenched over his fork, the arbiter feeling the strength that remained. "And I've been pushing myself a bit harder in the mornings as well. Turns out having a partner really does make you do better than normal. So gotta fuel up and all."

A voracious decimation of a slice of lasagna later, and he let out a satisfied sigh.

"And seriously, this food! I could eat it forever! Do you usually just grab scraps of food in USARILN or something?"

"Ah, that's fair. Need nutrients for that muscle mass and stuff."

So Brent worked out in the mornings. Sounded like something the reliable Arbiter would do. Ernie couldn't help but recall a joke he'd made with Angel a few days earlier. But it was just a joke... right?

Still, he couldn't help but take some quick glances at his muscled friend's physique. Must've taken a lot of hard work to get to that point. Would it be possible for him to-- no, wait, was he seriously thinking about this? Brent probably had better things to do than to babysit a guy that looked like he could get toppled if the wind blew hard enough. Best to just leave it behind him.

"I only really eat what I need, which, as you can probably tell, isn't much. Never had reason to go for more."

Meals were meant to be only a quick rest stop, otherwise Liam would snap at him for slacking off. His time and energy were better devoted to the kitchen or the janitor's cart.

The mention of a partner gave Ernie pause. Brent didn't mind working out with others? More importantly...

"Uh yeah, who's this new partner you got?" he asked nonchalantly. Or tried to, anyway.

"Eh, only eating what you need?" Brent tilted his head to the side, before spearing three slices of steak and jamming it all in. "Do you not like...enjoy eating? There's only three meals a day, so it's always my philosophy to make those meals count."

He wrapped some fried chicken in fresh lettuce, preparing for that extra crunch.

"And it's Angelic. Used to teach me kickboxing, so I thought I'd help her out with getting strong as well."

It wasn't the greatest of explanations, but the whole story didn't need to be shared.

"Oh. Angelique. Wow. That's, uh, yeah, cool that you're getting strong. Together."

Geez, what was with that reaction? He wasn't jealous, was he? Urgh, that was such an ugly feeling. Ernie gulped down a pensive mouthful of spaghetti. Yeah, he didn't think he was jealous. Maybe he was just really eager to hang out with the two of them after everything, and he was missing out on...something. That last part about getting strong only made Ernie want to pose that question more.

"Enjoying... I mean, I guess I always thought of mealtime as another chore. Had a lotta other stuff I wanted to do besides sit at a table and chew," Had. Had to do, not wanted. "Plus there was no real shortcut to it, short of blending and chugging it."

A pause.

"That doesn't work. Doesn't work at all."

Halfway through a bundle of spaghetti, Brent chortled in surprise at the deadpan joke, before the food went down the wrong chute and he coughed violently, still laughing at something that probably wasn't even that funny. It took him a bit to recover from that, but eventually, he wiped the tears out of his eyes, and let out a long sigh.

"Man, wow, don't tell me you seriously tried something like blending solid meat with rice and potatoes," he finally sputtered out, wondering if it was still too dangerous for him to chug down a glass of milk.

"But yeah, Ernie, totally get you there. Still, with food like this, you should try to enjoy it, you know? Eat until you're stuffed and go into a food coma! Then realize that you're gonna turn into a tub of lard and try extra hard in the gym to convert those calories into muscles!"

Despite his cringing at the memory of his poorly-informed younger self, Ernie cracked up at Brent's sudden spaz.

"N-not exactly that," he giggled, "I like that point though. Got plenty of time to savor the good stuff here. I should be making the most of it, huh."

His thoughts just kept returning to the subject of exercise though. Ernie suddenly felt the full weight of what he had eaten settle in his stomach. Oh dear. He was only two-thirds of the way through.

"Hm. Do you think I should get muscles? Angelique said the same thing and..."

Wait, why was he talking about her?

"...and, well, I was thinking it too. Didn't make a really stellar performance at Wisford so I thought that it would help, even a little."

He remembered the weight of Christmas' limp body in his arms. He remembered the roaring strain in his legs as he pathetically tried to outrun a Collector. He didn't like it. Ernie's hand tightened around the fork unconsciously.

Angelic?

Oho...

"Well, I do reckon that Angelic prefers more substance and all," he began, nodding, "And everything we've done in combat training so far WAS to improve our physical condition."

Another nod. Emma's own inability came into mind.

"And really, if there's ever a point where your powers can't solve anything, having a fit body definitely helps."

A third nod.

"And hey, you're working your way pretty well through this plate, so I bet you'll be able to make some good gains afterwards. You an early riser, Ernie?"

More like a lousy sleeper.

"Yeah, I'm good at waking on command," he gulped another mouthful. Almost done. A small tinge of excitement coloured his words, "What are you thinking?"

"Angelic and I wake up at 5AM and do intense exercise till 7AM," he explained, "If you want to join, well, the more the merrier, eh? Don't worry about keeping up with us. I'll be sure to teach you how to use some of the machines as well, yeah?"

He tilted his head, before saying, "Are you training for endurance? Or bursts of strength?"

"What, for real? Thanks man, I won't let you down," Ernie's eyes shone with gratitude. He mulled the questions over briefly. He needed arm power to use his rope effectively, "Strength, ideally. But endurance would be really handy too."

"It's not me you should be worried about letting down," Brent replied, "It's yourself."

Did that sound cool? Yeah, damn, he was cool.

"We'll work on...arm strength then? Stock up on chicken whenever you can then. We can start with curls and just try to build up that. Oh, yeah, don't forget to bring a bottle of water. Time spent at the fountain is time wasted. And, hm...did you ever experiment with how your enhanced durability affected muscle damage, Ernie? Like, have you ever recalled pulling a muscle while your power was active?"

"Yeah, letting myself down is something I'd like to avoid," Ernie nodded. There were plenty of things he wanted to avoid, but this was definitely near the top of the list, "Uh, nah, my muscles don't really hurt in Rope Mode. Ever, really. It doesn't last that long though, so I hope you're not planning anything major."

"Naw, it was more of a curiosity thing than anything else. Not like I'm going to start throwing 'nades at you for practice."

"That's...good to hear...?" Ernie narrowed his eyes skeptically.

It was finally happening, huh? The Aberration couldn't help but smile in relief. His muscles would be burning for a few days but hopefully he would be fine after a routine was established. This would be the first step towards change. Towards becoming better even if it was just a little bit. If he couldn't be strong mentally, emotionally or power-wise, he wanted, no, needed this at least. Ernie's smile faded as he remembered something.

"I'm gonna owe you bigtime, man. What can I do in exchange? Laundry? Desserts? Just say the word."

"Dude, seriously, stop," Brent laughed, "We already went over this in Wisford. Just be a food tester for me or something, cause once we get back to USARILN, I'm going to be busting my ass over turning junk food into gourmet food."

A knowing smile emerged. "And it'll be a good chance for you to test out Angelic's cooking as well, Ernie."

A chance to taste Angelique's cooking? He'd read about her legendary culinary skills in interviews. Ernie's grin went giddy at the thought.

"You want me to be the judge for a cook-off? Sounds good but I'll warn ya, I'm a man of practiced taste."

A sly smirk replaced the innocent grin. Ah, home cooks. How adorable.

"If it is a cook-off, it's a good thing I'm just a judge. I'd blow you both out of the water otherwise."

"Oh, wait, you can cook! Yo, you definitely can help out then!" Brent exclaimed. "I'll just grab someone else as a taste tester then. Really, it's more...recipe creation than anything else. As I said, junk food into gourmet food. I want to turn corndogs into some real fancy."

"For real though, didn't know you could cook, Ernie. What were you, a butler for the Queen?"

Recipe creation? Man, that was some daring stuff. As expected of a guy like Brent.

"Gourmet corndogs, huh? That's a noble cause, soldier," Ernie said with a mock salute, though he cringed slightly at the last part. Not a Queen, a Senator. Many of them, "Nah, just worked in a kitchen for a while. I bet butlering the Queen would be a badass job, though. The suit is a nice perk, that's for sure."

"Yeah, don't forget the monocle as well, or just that smooth, sexy British accent," Brent said. "Though I guess if you fuck up, it's gonna be off with your head."

The Aberration laughed heartily. Getting trained by this guy was gonna be fun as hell. He couldn't wait. His stomach probably could, though. Man, looked like he was gonna spend a lot of time on that fancy toilet after this.

"Guess I should stick to janitor-ing then."

Ow. Ow...ow.

Ernie groaned as he made his way to the breakfast buffet, arms hanging limply despite the screaming in the muscles beneath. The brief rest he'd gotten in the after-training shower helped slightly but man, Brent was a serious slavedriver. Ernie was gonna get those thick biceps in no time, most likely whether he liked it or not.

The line of haggard morning feasters dispersed as soon as the X-mark joined, much to his relief. Ernie scanned the displays for the keywords Brent had provided. Carbs, eggs, mangos, salmon and white meats. Hopefully not all at once. The Arbiter had said something about counting calories too but, fuck, Ernie was no mathematician. He began piling fruits and meats onto his plate, aiming for twice the height of his usual meal.

A yawning Lily walked into the breakfast buffet wearing a V necked t-shirt that showcased the X mark at the base of her throat. Those that noticed frowned and looked as though the teenager offended them just by being there. Those that she passed by moved away as fast as they could. The golden haired Aberration didn't mind. It wasn't exactly new to her. She merely began humming a soft tune as she grabbed a plate and looked delightedly at the spread in front of her. She was trying to decide whether to go for a plain croissant or a honey glazed donut as she walked and surveyed the rest of the food that she didn't notice the fellow mage filling his own plate.

It was a good thing she noticed him at the last minute that she only bumped gently into his back. It was also a good thing that her plate was still empty. "Oh, sorry," she readily apologized.

"Hm? Oh... it's no prob," Ernie turned, his eyes widening slightly at the sight of the girl Aberration. The healer from that messy night. The strange one with no hesitation, "Uh, Lily, is it?"

At the sound of her name, Lily looked up and raised an eyebrow. Golden eyes met brown ones and she immediately recognized them. Oh, hazel eyes... that boy from that night. Outwardly, she gave him a small smile, trying to recall if she knew his name. "Yup. Uhm... I'm not sure if I know your name and just forgot... Sorry." she apologized quickly.

"Don't worry, I don't think we've talked before. Ernest, but everyone calls me Ernie. Nice to meet you, Lily," he introduced himself with a little nod, "Are you eating with anyone?"

A relieved smile settled onto Lily's lips. "Oh, good. Nice to meet you too, Ernie. I was afraid I might have forgotten. Sometimes my memory isn't so good," she said and then at his question, she looked around. The buffet line was almost empty save for a few people who were obviously staying at a safe distance from them. "Nope. I don't think anyone would want to eat with me," she said, finally deciding that she wanted the croissant today. She reached out and placed one on her plate.

"Well, I'm free. Can I join you then?"

Lily didn't expect that Ernie would want to join her and had started humming again as she began putting different kinds of cheese and fruits on her plate. When he asked, she looked at him, surprise evident on her face. Classmates were actually asking to hang out with her. Sophia, Emma, Angelique... and now this hazel eyed boy. It was a pleasant feeling.

He just doesn't have anyone to eat with and is settling with you. Who would want to spend time with you anyway?

Of course the voice in her head would want to dampen her mood. She ignored it and nodded at Ernie. "Sure," she agreed.

With a quick "cool", Ernie led the two to a table far from the throng of Regulars. His gaze scanned the girl as he munched on dragonfruit, analysing the girl carefully. What was it that drove her to hurt herself so easily?

He nodded at her, "Are your hands okay? They looked pretty rough the other night."

Meanwhile, Lily wondered why she thought staring into his eyes would have helped her control the demands of her stigma. She figured she'd have to look into them again and figure out what was in them. Or was she just trying to grab onto the first person she looked at at that time? She placed her plate onto the table and sat right across from him. But at the mention of the injuries she had took on, her gaze darkened slightly. "They're fine. I don't..." she paused, trying to find the right words. ...keep anything once I've transferred them." To prove her words, she lifted both perfectly healthy hands and showed them to the boy. "As good as new," she added in a low voice.

He grasped one of Lily's with his own, checking both sides and confirming her words. Fascinating. This team had some impressive healers. He leaned back and released the hand, content to just eat for the while.

"Wow, I'm glad you're okay. There's no way I could have done it if I had your powers. Doesn't it scare you when you take injuries like that?"

Lily dropped her hand when Ernie released it and popped a slice of cheese into her mouth. "Hmmm.." What a strange question. No one asked her a question like that before. Everyone just told her to heal, to take injuries. And she had always automatically just done it. "No... I don't think so. I suppose it just comes naturally? It's what I should do and I do it," she explained.

"What you should do?"

Damn, was she really that mentally strong? Ernie couldn't believe it. He refused to, his mind finding all sorts of other excuses in an attempt to justify his own misgivings.

"You're not one of those people who get turned--" Wait. Not a good way to phrase that for a girl of her age, if she was as young as was what he was assuming, "--who really like pain, are you?"

Lily wrinkled her nose. His questions were strange. Who in the world liked pain? You don't like pain, you like hurting people, came that voice again.

While the blonde Aberration knew that to be true, she couldn't possibly tell Ernie that. "No, of course not. But everyone's trying their best to fight. I suppose taking away pain is the only way for me to help out,"

LIES. You take away pain to make someone suffer.

"Helping others at your own cost..." Ernie murmured in unseen dismay, "Guess you must be pretty brave then."

Brave? No, definitely not.

"No, I'm not brave. I'm just..."

There was a roar of laughter in her head. Still trying to pretend to be a good person when you're really a monster. Tell him. Tell him so that he'll stay away and leave you just like the people in your past did.

"...trying to protect the only family I know."

It was true, wasn't it? She had no one else, no family to turn to, no memories to even go back to. Once again, her golden eyes searched out his brown ones. His eyes were really pretty.

"Ah."

Another tragic Aberration. There were too many these days. Some who deserved their sadness, but most who didn't.

More interestingly, her bravery wasn't all internal strength as he had naively thought. It was because she had nothing else to lose. For some selfish reason, the realisation made Ernie feel better about himself. Dismissing the rude thought, Ernie replied sympathetically.

"Your family is...gone?"

Lily shook her head, for a moment forgetting the food on her plate. "I... don't have any memories of them. I don't know where I came from or what happened to me. A week before you guys came to USARILN, the doctors said they found me just outside the school, almost dead with a horrible head wound," Somehow, recounting what had happened made her automatically touch the area where the wound had been.

"Damn..." Ernie mulled the information over, "That sucks. Sorry to hear that, Lily."

There wasn't much he could help with here, huh? He coughed.

"Well, like you said, this is your family now. I'm glad you want to protect us. Thanks, Lily, for everything," he chuckled, scratching his head sheepishly, "Though we should probably protect ourselves better so you don't have to keep hurting your hands like that."

Hurting my hands like that... Lily looked at the boy in front of her. If they protected themselves better then that would mean that there'd be less people to take injuries from. But then at the same time, she won't be needed anymore... Not that I'm really needed. Christmas is more than enough for everyone... She popped a grape into her mouth and absentmindedly chewed on it. Will I be kicked out in the streets when I'm no longer needed? she asked herself.

And after a few seconds, she decided that she really didn't want to think about it. And so she turned her attention to the possibly new friend that sat in front of her. "What about your powers? I don't think I ever saw what you can do..."

Perhaps it was better to describe it verbally instead of making a show out of it. But he wasn't at risk of capture or death here, unlike Reno. And he really couldn't give a shit what those Regulars thought.

The golden rope was summoned and held aloft for Lily to clearly see, though as predicted, a subtle gasp rang through the hall as his magic was unveiled. Phone cameras were taken out too, much to his chagrin. Fucking Regulars needed to mind their own business. It looked like he'd have to do this quickly before trouble came. As long as the Aberrations stayed in their spot and looked unthreatening, they should be undisturbed.

"I summon this rope here, that I can--" he tossed one end to automatically wrap around the leg of an empty chair to his left, "--catch on something if it's in range. Oh, and there's also this."

Grabbing a clean knife from the table, Ernie swiftly stabbed it into his eye and felt his toughened skin deflect the utensil to the side. There was no damage, no mark to indicate harm. The rope dissipated with a shrug from its user and he put down the knife to continue eating.

"I get a lot of durability from it. That's why I was asking for half the injuries the other night. Thought I could take it, but if I'm being honest here..."

It was a close call. Some sappy emotion had made him stupid and hasty and he almost lost a hand because of it. He needed to watch himself. There was a fine line between cowardice and sensibility and he was sure this scenario fell on the side of the latter. Mostly sure.

"I'm kinda glad you didn't. Looked like it hurt for the immortal girl, but she seemed fine with it after, I guess. I also have a magic trap thing, but I don't use that much."

Lily paid rapt attention to Ernie as he demonstrated what he can do, completely ignoring the gasps from the Regulars that were in the room with them. She always found it fascinating to watch her fellow mages show off their powers. Her eyes were as big as saucers as she looked at the shimmering rope and watched what it can do. She cringed when he grabbed a knife and stabbed his eye, her whole body tensing up as her mind anticipated the gore that never really came.

She blinked and then relaxed when the boy explained his durability but frowned when he mentioned Kusari. It brought back all the memories of what she did, how she wanted to hurt her classmate and how she felt both calmer and horrified after it. "I can amplify the injuries I give out..." she murmured, unaware that she had really spoken her mind out.

Another roar of laughter in her head. And now he'll know what kind of monster you are!

Did I really...tell him? Her eyes widened and she immediately looked down and stared at her mostly untouched food. "I-I... didn't mean to... I didn't want to cut off her hand... no, no, I..." she tried to explain, a confusing mixure of guilt and pride running through her. What should she say? That the voices in her head urged her to? That if she didn't do it, she'd go crazy?

I am a monster.

The looks of horror and pain on the faces of the people in Ground Zero flashed through her mind. Blood, gore, death.

"I..." she started again but couldn't really find anything else to say. Those hazel eyes will look at her differently now. He'd regret thanking her now.

Ernie's expression hardened as he put the pieces together. Of course an X-marked healer would have some destructive aspect to her power. It hadn't been Zoe's rot that had made the transfer so severe. And the short girl didn't 'want' to do it. Something to do with her Stigma? A cold logic ran through his mind, an unjustified anger trailing after it.

Too close. Far too close that night.

Ernie stood, his breakfast finished. He paid no mind to Lily's still-full plate. "Let's not talk about this here. Come back with me to the Penthouse."

Lily sighed as she nodded. Way to go making friends, Lily. Meekly, she stood up, grabbed the croissant from her plate and began nibbling on it. Better to keep her mouth busy than to have it blurting out things she hadn't even thought through. "Mmmkay" she mumbled as she stood up and followed after Ernie.

The pair took the elevator back up but remained in the hall leading to the suite to talk. Ernie didn't look any less severe than he had at the buffet.

"So Kusari's hand fell off because you amplified the injury?" he asked, crossing his arms.

Ugh. Here it goes. There was really no use denying it. What was it about this boy? First she thought his eyes could somehow enable her to control her stigma. And now she blurted out something about herself that she was never really willing to tell anyone. It would have made sense if his power was some sort of mind control but it wasn't even close to that. Keeping her head bowed as if a child getting scolded, Lily wordlessly nodded her head in answer to his question.

At the sight of a resigned Lily, Ernie frowned further. Was he of all people really about to scold a stranger about their Stigma? Him, the guy who fed someone garbage because he lost control? But this was more than just a bullying incident. People could get--had already gotten--hurt because of this girl.

"Am I the only person who knows about this?"

Lily shook her head. "I'm sure that the people in USARILN knows. But in our group... I guess you're the only one who knows," she admitted. Again, there was no sense denying it. Had she told Sophia, Angelique or Emma, she was sure they'd react the same way.

So it really was his responsibility. He was the only one that could have this conversation with her. Ernie took a breath. This was a big job he had now. If he didn't make things right then it might not be Kusari next time. Angelique, Cal, Brent...hell, even the classmates he didn't particularly like.

A petty, wicked part of him whispered that it would be fine to let Sander or Hazel take it but he forced it down. Tried to, anyway.

He had a clear objective here. He couldn't let his hatred endanger the whole class even if he wanted to hurt those fuckers so damn much. Those two were powerful. They were needed. He was needed too, at least for this moment.

If he wasn't useful on the battlefield then at least let him be useful here.

"Was it your Stigma? Did you lose control and use more magic than you should have?"

The reaction Lily was expecting didn't come. She blinked and looked up. Was he not gonna yell at her? Tell her she was horrible or call her a monster? It was strange that his voice and tone were even. "I've been trying not to let it control me. That was why I was trying to get away from everyone. But...but..." She sighed again. "I suppose now it makes sense why I was put in the same team as Kusari. She can...take what I give out..." she trailed off, her mind wondering how much her immortal classmate can take and to what extent. "It's not right to just give them all to her but... there's no one else... Unless I keep them all... or..." The next part she was going to say have been on her mind for a while now. But it really wasn't up to her. "...they put me in the frontlines where I can cause the most damage." She wasn't as strong as Cal or Sander but she was destruction. Where else would she fit in?

"The frontlines are made up of mages who can take a beating and live. Even with your power you're still just a girl, Lily."

A moment of silence as Ernie processed it all.

"I...know how you feel. I've lost control plenty of times myself. I know the others in our class have too. But someone once told me that handling your Stigma means two things: endurance and direction," Ernie recited as if reading from a manual. Old advice that had never really worked well for him. But he prayed that Lily would be able to get something out of it, "Most of the time, you just need to hold it in. But when it becomes too much to bear..."

He explodes. He couldn't let Lily do the same. Friendly fire was bad enough with Zoe and Hazel on their team. One of the only two healers turning on them was not good. Not good at all.

"You need to point it at the right places. Release it healthily. I know you don't want to hurt Kusari but honestly..." Ernie recalled the white-haired girl from that night. No hesitation, like Lily. Hell, she might have even more guts than the healer here. He'd have to talk with her afterwards, "I think she's okay with taking injuries for you. You can't hold them all by yourself. okay? You healed a severed arm, Lily, I can't thank you enough for saving my friend. But if you held that for too long, you'd definitely bleed out."

Another deep breath. His true ruthlessness was starting to leak out now. It was needed though. He was needed.

"You're lucky that it's just me who knows this. You're lucky that Kusari was there for you to transfer your wounds. But I'm telling you this now. There's no going around it. You can't die. You can't let yourself get too injured to heal others. But you can't hurt someone who can't take it either. If a time comes when you can't control your Stigma, when there are no monsters or enemy mages nearby, you need to use Kusari. Your power is more important than your feelings."

"Healers as strong as you and Christmas are rarer than you know. But Christmas is a useless baby. He can't move around well or heal effectively on the battlefield. I was there with him the entire time at Wisford, I saw. But you can do it. You need to stay alive, even if it means hurting Kusari. Because if we lose you, and if we lose your power, then the whole team is doomed, present and future. Do you understand me?"

It was cruel, loading all of this onto a stranger, two if he included Kusari. But it needed to be done.

Lilly expected to be scolded and to be looked down upon. She definitely didn't expect to be told that she was important and needed. "Endurance and direction," she repeated, listening intently to what was being said. Releasing her stigma healthily and pointing it at the right direction. Did that include wreaking havoc in Ground Zero? Was the right direction Kusari? But what if the immortal wasn't around? What then?

But even if her mind was so full of questions, she nodded.

You need to stay alive, even if it means hurting Kusari. Because if we lose you, and if we lose your power, then the whole team is doomed, present and future. Ernie's words echoed in her head. Strange that the voices were quiet.

Ernie looked at the girl for a moment more, making sure that she really was absorbing everything he was saying. Satisfied, he made his last point.

"One more thing. It'd probably be better if you kept your amping a secret between us. If the others find out that you've been losing control of your Stigma and hurting someone more than necessary, they might lose trust in their healer. And that can't happen. Okay?"

Projecting his own Stigma insecurities onto this girl. Pathetic. But Ernie remained steadfast in his words.

He was right. What would happen if the others lose their trust in her? No one would want to be around her. No one would need her. But... "What about you? Would you still trust me even though you know what I can do?" she asked. It was a challenge in a way. If he were to keep her secret, then he should at least trust her, right?

Ernie blinked. He hadn't been expecting a question to be thrown back at him, especially one as...confronting as this. But his composure returned as swiftly as it had been lost. The Aberration placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder and mustered the brightest smile he could. Bright and dazzling and so horribly fake. No one but he would know.

It was simple. He had to trust her. That's why... "I do. So don't worry about me, yeah? Just remember what I told you. Use it and we'll all be fine. Trust me."

The small blonde teenager stared at Ernie, trying to see if she should trust his words. She should, right? He didn't seem disgusted by her when she told him what she had done and what she was capable of doing. He didn't push her away like she was certain he would. And he was giving her advice. What reason was there not to trust him? After a long pause, she finally nodded. "Okay."

Green light. Safe. She hadn't suspected a thing.

It had taken everything in his power to keep his hand from clenching on her shoulder in that pause. The hand dropped from the girl's side as soon as the confirmation reached his ears but the smile remained eerily still. Overcompensation.

"Cool. Thanks for telling me this. And sorry for making you listen through a lecture from someone like me. Must've been a total yawnfest."

A smile made its way back on to Lily's lips. This meant that she just gained another friend right? And not just a friend but a friend who actually knows what she is and doesn't mind. "No, it wasn't. Thank you. It's nice that I finally got to tell someone. I was afraid you'd end up being afraid of me," she said, taking a happy bite out of the half croissant still in her hand.

The boy nodded, shuffling back slightly to avoid the pastry crumbs fluttering to the ground. He'd have to sweep that up afterwards.

"No, I don't think I'm afraid."

Not while he had this emotional hold over her. She trusted him. He was safe now.

"This feels familiar, doesn't it? You slimy, manipulative fuck."

Ernie rolled his shoulders, still feeling the soreness from his morning training.

"I'll let you finish your breakfast. Thanks for giving me your time. I'll see you around, then?"

Lily nodded, mood up but stomach complaining about her interrupted breakfast. "I'll see you around," she parroted before turning back towards the elevator, fully intent on going back to the breakfast buffet. She wondered if they had cleared her plate already.

Ernie waved the girl off before settling his troubled gaze back onto the area of floor dusted by croissant crumbs.

How did he keep doing it? Making people unravel for his own gain? It was an uncanny strength of his, one of the very few he still had. And he just kept refusing to use it for the right reasons.

The boy frowned as he strode back to the Penthouse, trying to remember where the brush and pan was kept, if this ritzy place even had one.

He was needed? He was needed? How fucking delusional was he, that he had just forced his insecurities into a little girl's head? Into Lily's head, an integral part of their class unit. Unlike him.

Because that was what it had all been about wasn't it. He wanted to feel important, like he held some power over others, for that brief moment. And it worked. He felt smart, like he helped people. There was something dependant on his actions and he succeeded in making it better, even if it meant lecturing a stranger on something he had no right to brag about. But now he wasn't even sure if he had fixed anything.

Secrecy was a double-edged sword. People could die because of misplaced words. He was supposed to know that better than anyone. Then why did he believe that his actions were so right? Like he'd actually protected the class from something?

Once again, it was simple. He had to. That's why he did.

In a way, it was the same as Lily's 'nothing else to lose' mentality. But he had a choice today. He just had to pray that it was the right one he took.

He needed to find the other person he'd implicated in his mess today. Find her before the consequences became too big for him to shove under the rug. Ernie wandered around the Penthouse, hoping to catch sight of a gangly albino girl. If he recalled correctly, she was probably the only person left in the class that he hadn't interacted with to some extent.

Ernie cringed. Asking so much from a stranger was going to be a bad idea. But he needed to try at least. So he continued searching.

She didn't know why she was doing this to herself, but Kusari was currently watching the news while eating a bag of chips. Hearing them speak about subnaturals as if they were less than human only fed into her bias against regulars. Once the same stories began repeating she changed the channel to a cooking network, they were cooking steaks, she could go for a steak right about now. She looked at the phone sitting on a table, she could just order something. As she got up to walk to the phone she nearly bumped into Ernie.

"Ernest? What's up? You look like you're looking for something."

"Oh, you know my name," he replied, genuinely surprised. Oh fuck, did she know what he wanted?

A different person, a smarter one, probably would have answered with the truth. Ernie was not that person. He glanced at the TV, seeking an excuse to join her.

"Eh, not exactly," he nodded to the screen, "Are you a Guy Fieri fan too?"

Kusari glanced back at the TV. "...Not really, his hair pisses me off for some reason." walked past Ernie and picked up the phone. She called in an order of steak and fries. "And make sure it's medium rare." She said before hanging up. She let out a sigh and sat back in front of the TV. "This place is so fancy it hurts to look at, but it's better than that motel I guess..."

"Haha, at least the hot water works here," he chuckled, not bothering to ask for permission to join her on the sofa.

"Kusari, right?" he asked, knowing full well that he got it.

"Yeah, Kusari Bloodworth." She said, not looking back at him as she continued to munch on old bay flavored chips.

"Ernest Mars," he continued with the full name thing, "But everyone calls me Ernie. Nice meeting you."

Now that the pleasantries were out of the way...

"Um, how are your hands? It looked pretty rough for you on that night with Zoe..."

Kusari turned to Ernie, still chewing. She didn't know if this guy was just awkward or trying to say something. He couldn't be afraid of her could he? After all the horrors they'd seen so far that would be quite the insult. She narrowed her eyes when he mentioned Zoe, that was obviously a mood killing subject so she wondered where he was going with this. She wanted to pop more chips in her mouth, but she wasn't the type to talk while eating. She was getting a little impatient because of this.

I've been shot in the heart and constantly have my limbs cut off, yet I'm still around. Come on you know what my ability is by now."

"Good to know I had nothing to worry about," he laughed, trying to keep the tone light. Though he cringed at the mention of lost limbs, recalling the amount of mess it always made, he kept his focus on the objective, "Yeah, but that doesn't make the whole thing any less painful, does it? Or does your power give you some kind of numbing perk?"

Kusari's eyes drifted away from Ernie. This almost felt like talking to a regular that was trying hard not to piss her off. "I just have to get used to the pain, my power doesn't make it any worse." She said with a sigh. She looked at the inside of the bag of chips with a frown. Don't want to eat all of these yet, should be good with the steak... Well I could just get another bag, not like I need to watch my diet. She thought to herself, her attention going back to the TV.

"Hah, now that's a perk. I'd save them to eat with the steak if I were you. Sometimes fries just don't add that crunch factor properly. 'Course I could make the noble sacrifice of taking care of that bag for you, if you'd rather not have them after all."

"Huh? Oh, no that's fine man." She said, rolling the bag up and sitting it on the table in front of her. Was he being this dull on purpose? She wasn't really trying to add anything to the conversation either, but she wasn't the one that started it.

"Did you want something?" She bluntly asked, she wasn't a fan of being strung along.

"Besides the chips?" Ernie raised an eyebrow. Man, was he really so transparent?

Kusari just stared at Ernie. She was not doing this, he'd have to find someone else to mess with if that's what he wanted.

Oh, that was a bad sign. If he was going to ask a favor, he needed to do it now. The boy slouched further into the sofa, keeping his eyes on the TV to avoid looking at the immortal girl.

"Yeah, you're right. I wanted something. From you," he sighed. This was going to sound pretty fake after that nonsense earlier, wasn't it? "I'm worried about Lily."

"What's wrong with Lily?" Kusari stood from her seat, at the same time realizing that she might be overreacting. She was borderline paranoid at this point, between monsters, enemy subnaturals, and out of control Aberrations she was on edge. "Spit it out already."

"Whoa, chill!" Ernie leaned away, his hands raised in an attempt to calm the girl, "Nothing bad at this moment. It's just her behaviour is concerning."

He looked at her warily for a second. Was this why Lily didn't want to transfer to Kusari?

"You were on her team at Wisford, right? Was she trying to hold all the injuries on her own there too?"

Kusari let out a groan, and facepalmed. Lily wasn't exactly subtle in her desire to hold onto injuries. "Is she still going on about that? It's like she has a damn messiah complex, that or she thinks she deserves it." She lowered her hand and sat back down. The last thing she wanted was for Lily to end up dying due to some misguided morality or self imposed rules. "As long as I'm around she doesn't have to worry about that, I wish she'd get that through her thick skull already."

"That's what I keep saying!" Ernie bounced back up, agreeing vehemently, "Honestly, she's gonna kill herself if this keeps going. That's...actually why I came here to find you."

Gaze pointed towards the TV once more. He knew this was a big ask but he needed to try.

"Lily doesn't know that I'm talking with you about this. And I know I might be asking too much out of this. Hell, I'm practically asking you to commit self harm here. But I need you to...do whatever it takes to make sure that Lily transfers her injuries to you if she tries to hold them again. Even if it means threatening her, or something else. Is that okay?"

Kusari looked at Ernie as if he'd just stepped on her shoe. "Let me get this straight. You want me to threaten to hurt Lily if she refuses to transfer her wounds to me?" This guy is a fucking idiot. She thought, not hiding her disapproval at all. "That doesn't seem backwards to you at all?"

"Not hurt her, just do something that'd make sure she doesn't bleed out and die," he glared back, not liking the girl's tone, "As shitty as it sounds, it's better to have her scared and terrified than dead from blood loss."

"She needs to trust us, Ernest. I am not..." Kusari let out breath. She didn't want to be the monster people saw when they looked at her. She was better than that, she knew it.

"If I threaten her to do what I want then I'd be no better than Zhang." She said. Thinking back to the mission, she had lost her cool too many times, even physically forcing Lily to abandon regulars dying in front of her eyes. She had no problem making that decision, but how did Lily feel knowing that people may have died because she didn't help them?

"We need her to want to cooperate, otherwise we'll be going around in circles all day."

No better than Zhang. That really did it. Ernie reeled back as if Kusari's words had physically him. Fuck. The Aberration spoke through grit teeth.

"You're right. We need to trust our healer, and she needs to trust us. Sorry for putting this all on you."

Trust was a two-way street. Ernie considered telling Kusari about Lily's amplification. About how her Stigma had gone loose that night. Hell, he probably should have asked Kusari to talk to Lily herself, instead of being a go-between, hiding important details like a game of Chinese Whispers. But he didn't have that in him. He couldn't count on either of them to act the way that was needed. Not because either of them were lacking in ability. No, the problem lay with him and him only. He was just very bad at counting on people for issues of this magnitude.

The only thing he could do was hope that Lily took his words well to heart. He hated how weak that faith was. Ernie groaned.

"Man, I didn't think this through at all," he slouched further in shame, pulling his beanie down over his eyes, "Guess I was getting too worked up. Sorry for wasting your time, Kusari."

"It is something to get worked up about, you just need to think smart about it." Kusari turned back to face the TV when she heard the door buzzer. "I'll see you later." She said, getting up to go to the door.

"Room service. Your um-" A shaky young woman with a platter answered as the door opened.

"Yeah yeah just give me the food." Kusari took the platter and closed the door behind her with her foot. Sitting down at the table near the TV she took the lid off. The steak was still sizzling, and the fries looked crisp. She cut into the steak with a knife, checking to make sure it was cooked properly. She then poked the steak with a fork, making sure no one had put something like a needle inside of it. At least she didn't have to worry about it being poisoned.

So that was that, huh? Kusari had made it pretty clear that the conversation had finished. Ernie waved goodbye with a small "Mm, catch you later," as he took his leave towards the elevator.

He didn't feel any more certain of himself than he had before their talk. There was a good chance that he'd just made things worse too. The boy's eyes narrowed as he walked.

He wasn't sure he liked that Kusari girl either. So snippy, even before his stupid proposition. Not cooperative or easily swayed. Wasn't she the one who broke Marcus' arm and nose in Flag and Seek too? Ernie filed a mental note to keep an eye on her, preferably from a distance. But now it was time for lunch. At least the buffet had almost no chance of food getting tampered with to spite the Penthouse subnaturals.

"Enjoy your spit-steak, bitch," he thought as he approached the elevators.

Dumb eyes stared blankly at the elevator doors. That workout had taken a lot out of him, more than he was used to. That talk with Kusari hadn't gone so well too. Whatever, he just needed to make it through lunch and then he could take a nap. A long, long nap. Just had to...lunch...

Despair filled his expression as he recalled the amount of food he now had to eat, and a sad groan escaped his lips. The Aberration slumped visibly.

Fresh from taking a shower and changing clothes, Angel had slipped into more casual clothes than the training clothing she had before. While Brent had been more focused on Siena and Ernest this morning, as they were new additions to their morning training crew, the man of steel sure kept his eye on Angel and made sure he still gave her a run for her money.

Muscles still sore from the training, the elevator doors opened to reveal a stretching Angel inside, trying to shake off the sore feeling away from her arms.

"Hello there, Ernie. Ready to eat?" Angel called out to the slumped form of the buzzcut shaved Aberration standing in front of the doors.

"Angelique..." he whined sadly. Another member of their little workout group, another person who saw how miserably he'd performed, "How does he do it? My whole body is dead."

Angel chuckled at the question, rotating her aching shoulders. "Hey, don't ask me that. I'm still aching all over from what he called 'a light workout to start up on those muscles'."

"We all gotta start from somewhere though, hm? I bet he's just as exhausted as we are when he's done. But that's just because he likes overdoing it." The young woman added, laughing.

"Oh yeah. The 'light workout'," Ernie cringed at the memory, "Man, I just wish that 'somewhere' to start was some place not so painful. But I'll get over it soon. Hopefully."

Hopefully. God, he was really gonna feel this the next morning.

"Urgh, yeah, I'm ready to eat. Dying for some relief, right now."

"If you don't feel pain, then you haven't been working out enough." Angel chuckled as she gave Ernie a light slap on his back, who let out a small groan in response.

Nodding to her fellow classmate, Angel headed towards the buffet room. Ernie followed close behind. White meats and carbs, more than he was used to, were what he had been instructed to eat. Pasta and meat were spooned onto his plate.

"So what do you think of this whole place?" he asked, making light conversation, "Spent any rockstar nights in penthouses like this one?"

Adopting a similar eating habit, Angelique had chosen a few slices of meat accompanied with vegetables and rice.

"It's overkill. Makes us feel like living in a modern day castle or something like that. It's overwhelming, I'd admit. I'd prefer something simpler, but I suppose it makes good for a change compared to the piss poor motel we were staying at before." Angel commented on their current situation, before taking a large bite at her juicy steak.

"I'm a bit used to it though. When my band didn't want to stay in a rackety motel right after a show in a big city, they always nagged me about going to spend the night at the biggest hotel. Not as fancy as what we have now, but penthouses are things that I am used to."

Ernie whistled, impressed.

"Man, sounds like a dream," he remarked, before a mischievous smirk worked itself onto his face, "I trust you're doing your best to avoid another String Incident in this hotel though, right?"

Angel choked on her rice. Her face flushed red like it rarely had before. After her coughing fit, she didn't even dare look at Ernest in the eyes.

"N-no way! You saw that too? Oh my god..." the raven-haired groaned, suddenly feeling humiliated.

"Hrnk!"

It was the boy's turn to choke and blush furiously too. He pounded on his chest as some kind of self-Heimlich maneuver. Oh god, he'd totally forgotten that there were pictures of the incident. And that he may have taken a peek...not because he wanted to see a naked girl or anything! Ernie was sure that it was just misplaced curiosity at the time, and not...urghh, why did he bring that up? The image was seared into his brain now.

"I, uh, I-I...what? No, no way," he stammered, trying to force out something supportive or comforting, "N-nah. Nah, nah, I, um, read it in...in an interview! Yeah, in the--ah, what was it--the 'Metal Planet' one? I-I think it was tha--yeah, it was that one!"

Nice...save...? Ernie groaned into his hands, feeling the ambient heat from his cheeks. Naked stuff was not his strong point.

"That was my bad. Can we just pretend this never happened?"

Angelique frowned as Ernie stammered a defense, mentioning the interview. But hearing him out, and now noticing every bit of nervous movements the younger Aberration made thanks to her newly purchased shades shielding her eyes, she could tell he saw it too.

"Ernest... you damned liar!" She called him out, still red from embarrassment. "Yeah... let's move on from... that." The ex-rockstar nodded in agreement.

"Mmph."

There was an awkward silence at their table, before Angelique decided to shake off the unease of the situation.

"Say, we talk a lot about me every time we speak to each other. But it just occurred to me that I don't know as much about you as much as I'd like to. Care to tell me a bit more about yourself? Share a bit of your story? You told me you were a Mage for a long time. Ever since you were nine years old, right?"

Ernie chewed on his lunch, assessing how much he could reveal to the songstress. She already knew a lot so the only thing he needed to do was make sure he didn't mention the S-word when talking about his past.

"Yeah. Awakened when I was nine. Looted around the city on my own for a bit before getting picked up by a gang. Lived with them and learned how to clean and cook and fix doors. Then got captured and sent to West. Then got transferred here, to East."

Strange, how he left out the part about his parents when he had so readily told Cal. Maybe that was because he didn't want that pity from Angelique. In the aquamarine girl's case, it had been a secret for a secret. Plus Cal was...Cal. Revealing things like that to her wouldn't have much consequence.

"I see. So, what is it like being part of a gang? I never really understood the concept of living on the streets as part of something like that."

Well, maybe she knew. That feeling of freedom, surrounded by people that could understand her without being tied down by the responsibility of living with a family. But she wanted to know what was Ernest's point of view on that matter.

"Safety," Ernie answered immediately though he knew that wasn't completely true. He spoke more to rectify the situation, "Everyone's got each other's backs. Living with a bunch of X-marks is a total nightmare sometimes but..."

It was better than being sent out to die every week, in a war that wasn't your own. It was better than being a government slave, cruelly experimented and ordered at their tyrant's whims. That was what he wanted to say. But he hadn't been sure of that for a long time.

"...everyone's got each other's backs," he repeated, "It's just us against the Regulars so if we didn't have each other, we had nothing."

Not untrue, at least.

Angélique let out a soft “hmm…” as she listened to Ernie’s gang story. So he had been part of an Aberrations gang? Them against the world. It brought some names back in mind from what she had read over Death and Taxes’ old threads. There was something to be said about being against the ‘Regulars’ as Ernie said it so vehemently, but could she really blame him? Everyone was looking at them as if they were monsters in human disguise. Washington and La Plata were perfect examples of how unwelcomed the Subnaturals were.

“Do you think that’s the reason those groups… Cat’s Cradle, Garotte’s old gang and that famous group nearby… The Senators?... exist? Because they want to band up, look out for each other in a world unkind to who we are without being shackled by the Institute?”

Ernie's eyes widened at the mention of the Senators but he dug more intently into his lunch to cover the tic.

"Yeah, I've got no doubt," his tone more serious now, "I mean...look at the ages of people who get awakened. Look at Sav and Lily and Sophia and Christmas. They look like they're barely teenagers. But they're being sent out against fucking monsters like Factory?"

His voice was increasing in volume without him noticing.

"It's all just DC's big, fat joke. Giving powers, giving Stigmas to children who can barely handle it. Then the government decides to go along with it and declare us as less than human. We're not people to them, we're hunting dogs. That's why people are so afraid of getting caught. That's why we needed to stick together."

"I'm not saying that some of these people aren't terrible. Cat's Cradle are completely nuts. But even if I can't understand why they do all...that, I know why they travel in a group instead of something else. There's just some sort of mindset you get with others after you keep getting beaten down enough."

"I can't really argue with you there. That's more or less what Padma and I said when we first step foot in here, back when we were staring at the very monster that brought us all at the institute and her body of lapdogs pointing their toys at us." Angel replied bitterly, remembering that first night as if it was yesterday.

"But you know, a part of myself can't help to think that we went along with what the Regulars did to us. We've let them shame us, demonize us, and we just kind of... accepted it, gave in to how they look at us." the fallen singer added, musing to herself. "Perhaps it's just the idealistic side of me speaking, but if we could just manage to shift that way of thinking back into our favor. Prove we're better than this."

Ernie's frown deepened at her words. She was a friend so he had to respect her opinion. Even if it was dumb.

"You can't accept what they say. Subnaturals aren't just their powers. We're people just like everyone else. If it's one thing I'm absolutely sure of, it's that."

Right, Angel had always been the inspirational type. That's what made her such a grand rockstar after all. But Ernie wouldn't be shaken from his views.

"I can see your point. All the kids on DnT are talking about how Marcus' interview is gonna make big steps for subnatural rights and stuff. I'm hoping it changes something too but..."

Why the fuck would he start having faith in those powerless overlords now?

"Proving that we're 'better' always just means letting them step all over us. People aren't as noble as we wish they were, 'specially those Regulars. Again, the Marcus interview. He was as honest as he could get and there were still so many people bashing him online. Because the fact is, we already are better. Not all of us are monsters. But no one wants to acknowledge that."

Another memory clouding his thoughts. Seven years trapped in a Senators Den, living in fear. More years since the Slumber.

"Ten years of magical children getting slaughtered for others' gain. If anyone up top was gonna give a shit, you'd think they would have done it by now."

Angel fell silent to Ernest's words. She could hear it, feel it. The hatred. That same emotion that fueled her stigma. The very thing that she had always tried to avoid all of her life, but was now an integral part of her being. She wished she could do something to soothe it, but Angélique felt like she was in no position to be the one lecturing about hating.

Instead, she only nodded slowly, her fingers crossed over each other. This talk kind of brought a bitter taste to the food she was eating, and suddenly appetite was lost to the flow of the discussion.

"Again, I agree with you. But still, what can we do? Do you want to keep on fighting for those assholes like a good little soldier all your life until your use comes to an end? I sure won't. I'm fighting for myself and for the other folks here I care about. I can take orders, but if there's even the slightest opportunity to turn on the table, then you can be sure as hell I will be taking it. If Marcus' interview heralds something like a change, then I'm not just going to idly sit by and let this opportunity be wasted. I'll work my ass off to make, or at least help in the making of that spark turning into a raging inferno."

Ah, there was the rockstar attitude he was used to. Ernie smiled, another spark of admiration lighting up in him. Even if he couldn't put his heart into it, he was somewhat glad that there were people like Angel who could. Even if it would inevitably fail in the end.

"Pretty naive, right?"

Yes. But that didn't make her vigor any less impressive. To him, at least.

"I'm with you there. Gotta grab these things with both hands. Can't get anything from sitting still after all."

"Yeah." Angel affirmatively replied, glad she could get Ernie to see the brighter side of her ideals.

"I can't help but notice how relentless you are when it comes to janitorial knowledge and know-how. Did you learn all that back in West, Ernest?"

"From before West. Can't exactly call over the cleaners and plumbers and repairsmen when you're a bunch of Aberrations squatting in a lounge. Had to learn to do it all myself," he said, honestly this time, "I've got a question for you too. How come you keep calling me 'Ernest'? Everyone else is fine with 'Ernie'."

"O-Oh? I'm sorry, I didn't think it would bother you. I'm just used to calling people by their name. Like Christopher and Callan." Angel apologized, twisting a strand of hair around her index finger. "I can try and remember to call you Ernie if you insist about it. But I've got to ask, why does that seem to be bothering you?"

Because he needed to keep all of that behind him. Because he didn't deserve the name his parents had given him. Because it was mocking, the way Liam and Devon would order him around with it.

Because it was Owen who had given him his current name.

"Because it sounds so fancy, like that old-timey author or that play about rich people," he shrugged, leaning back, "I ain't smart enough for that nonsense. Plus Ernie was always my favorite Sesame Street character. More fun that way."

He felt a little guilty for making Angelique feel bad, but he knew that he would feel even worse if he kept hearing it.

Angélique chuckled slightly from hearing the second reason for his nickname. "Strange, people would instead rather not be associated with a character of that show. You know how kids are, making fun out of each other using shows meant for kiddos."

"Naw, people don't make fun of me. I'm great! It's only the first couple of jokes you have to sit through before they get used to it. Did you know that when I first met Brent he introduced himself as 'Bert'? Like Bert and Ernie?"

"Oooh, so that's the deal behind 'Bert'. Can't say he introduced himself that way to me when we first met, but I heard that nickname once or twice I believe." Angélique giggled as she had the mental image of the two of them replaced by Sesame Street puppets.

"You know, speaking of Brent and names, you noticed how he keeps calling me 'Angelic'? I have to admit, I kind of feel weird to have introduced myself that way to him. Because you know, 'Angélique' is a bit hard to pronounce for English folks, so I told him he could use the English variant of my name. And he just stuck to it ever since, instead of calling me 'Angel' like everybody does."

"Hahaha, yeah, he's pretty weird sometimes," Ernie chuckled, wondering how many times he himself had butchered the French pronunciation.

Conversation flowed easily, the rockstar and the gang member enjoying each other's company even after lunch had ended.

At least the TV wouldn't bum him out.

Ernie absently flicked through the channels on the monster screen, hanging upside down on the couch. News, informercial, lawn bowls, bleh. Time to exploit those prepaid movies. More scrolling through the catalogue as he tried to recall the list of movies everyone kept telling him to watch from the last decade or so. He'd missed out on a lot apparently. The boy corrected his seating, cringing slightly from sore muscles, as the opening credits to some Australian movie about creeks started blaring.

Man, at least when he was upside down he didn't have a view of the music room. His gaze constantly shot to the door of the insulated room, though he scolded himself numerous times for the act. He already knew he'd forgotten all his skills, why would he embarrass himself yet another time? This wasn't the music building at West where no one would find him. There were plenty of other, less disrupting ways to remind himself of what he'd lost.

The melancholy he'd felt the day before hit him hard and Ernie forced his attention onto the movie, which seemed to be severely lacking in both wolves and creeks.

So far, so good. After an early start and a comfortable relaxation period, Siena found herself growing closer to the state she would prefer to be in. Not distressed. Not alarmed. Not constantly thinking about what she could have done better.

Ah, damn...she was starting again.

But she didn't deserve to be so relaxed, did she? As she walked, Siena instinctively pulled at the ends of her hair, twisting a few strands over her tips, tightening until she felt it cut off circulation before letting it go. Maybe she could relax like the day before with the music room. If it wasn't occupied, then she could do something that was more structured than the frantic ad libbing that she'd practiced then.

Her feet took her down the path, only to see a familiar face, attention focused on the monstrosity of a screen.

...odd, had she never talked to Ernie without the presence of her roommates?

"Ernie?" Not really a reasonable question when she knew it was him, but it was...harder to recognize him with his new hairstyle, she supposed. Glancing from the screen to the direction of the music room, Siena gave a nervous smile. Was he watching out there because...? "Is the music room occupied?"

"Oh, hey Siena. Nah, I hav--ah, fuck!" Ernie jumped as a gunshot sounded from the TV, nailing the on-screen codger in the neck. He decided to mute it momentarily, "I haven't seen anyone walk in. It's probs free."

Flinching slightly at the sound of gunfire, Siena sent her gaze to the television, her heart racing to catch up with the sudden motion. "Ah, that's good news." A pause as she considered the events of the previous day. "Oh, um...do you mind if I use the piano in there a bit? I don't want to interrupt more than I have." Making a motion to the screen to indicate her subject, the brunette gave a weak smile. "I don't think Gersh--er, sorry, jazz, is entirely fitting."

Right. Not everyone was going to recognize artist names, especially not ones from years before their time. It was a wonder that Gerwulf had enough awareness of the genre to bring back the albums.

Right. Of course Siena was a virtuoso. She had played pretty damn well in that jam session he'd witnessed. And Ernie wouldn't be surprised if her family had a dozen or so grand pianos lying around the 'estate'. With a polite nod, he was about to return to his film before a half-word ripped his attention back.

"Wait, wait. What was that you were gonna say? Before the jazz?"

"Oh! U-Um..." Taken off guard by Ernie's sudden return to attention, Siena gave a cautious smile as she replied. "Gershwin?" The name rolled off the tongue in a familiar fashion, bringing back memories of sitting next to someone much larger than her. Someone whose fingers had been more agile than they appeared until they weren't. "Do you recognize them?

The boy's eyes lit up at the confirmation, even more at the mention of a 'them'. She knew both George and Ira's stuff then? A fellow fan?!

Something solemn, something guarded at the back of his mind, warned him to stop while he could but the excitement washed it out.

"Yeah, totally!" he hopped up, "American in Paris used to be the only thing I listened to for like a month!"

His mom started complaining after the third day. She'd listened enough of it with her lazy tenth grader class, why would her family make her go through it more? His dad had simply laughed and urged young Ernest to keep playing. Nicer memories.

Something about Ernie's sudden interest was infectious, and Siena couldn't help but light up in response. Was that really her own reaction? It didn't matter. There were better things to look forward to. Letting the smile bolster itself, the girl couldn't help but feel...relief. Someone that didn't look at her like she should have crawled under a rock and died--it wasn't a terrible feeling after trying to spend time in more public areas of the hotel.

"Oooh, I listened to it until I picked up most of the numbers by ear," Siena admitted with a laugh. Not a lie. Just a little omission. Thinking about the music room and how dreadful it would be to be locked in the room alone when there was company, potentially willing company, just beyond the door, the girl latched onto an idea. A faint flicker of hope to stave off her hatred of the loneliness. "I could play a few numbers for you, if you wanted."

By ear? Damn, she must've been super practiced to nail all those jaunty jazz chords. Those random mish-mashes of black and white keys that his mom's hands would always home onto while his dad laughed from the kitchen.

Oh. That was why he should have stopped, huh?

Despite the familiar sadness in his chest, the superficial eagerness pushed him on. He'd never really talked to Siena like this before, not without Cal or Marcus with them. It would be a good chance to get to know the last member of their lunch group, one he needed more than ever after that Emma mess. Plus, a live piano performance from someone with Siena's skills? The jealousy would be unavoidable but the experience would disappear as soon as they left the hotel. Back to dreary USARILN East without a live performance of anything. No thanks.

"Yeah, I'd love that! Lead the way, Siena!"

"Right this way, good sir." The words felt natural, even if they were oddly out of place. It had been a long time since she'd played for anyone, and longer still since she'd asked if someone had wanted to be her audience. Usually, the ones viewing her performance were people she didn't know, or worse...didn't want around.

As she settled herself on the piano bench, Siena felt as if she had too much space. It had become rare for her to have anyone playing with her, and rarer still to have a page turner when she had little more to do than practice songs until they became second nature to her, but something in her still longed for the familiar sensation when she was still learning. The mage tried not to think much on it as she let her fingers brush over the keys, her attention still on Ernie. "Do you have any requests? I think I still remember how to play most of them."

"Woah, most of them?" he repeated, visibly impressed, "Cool. Uh, how about 'I Got Rhythm'? That's a really fun one."

He pulled the chair from the harp's area to spectate without blocking her arm space.

Another distant memory of a voice more melodious than the owner suggested humming faintly through an open door with barely audible accompaniment. Siena couldn't identify whether the memory belonged.

"Yeah, that one is fun to play." Before she even finished the words, Siena's fingers found themselves positioned, a few jaunty chords escaping from the piano, her fingers lightly bouncing in imitation of the mood, the words weakly going along with the slightly faded muscle memory of where each chord belonged. Only a few weeks, and it wasn't quite as natural as second thought anymore...how soon would it be before she completely lost the ability to play?

Still, she hummed the tune softly to herself as her fingers began their lively dance across ebony and ivory planks. Down, up, bounce, skip! The smile was faded in the concentration, but not completely gone.

"I got rhythm! I got music!"

His voice, though slightly flat when carrying the melody, conveyed the nostalgic joy he was feeling as the boy tapped his feet.

"Ooh, have you seen the movie, Siena? There's a part in French that goes--" Hm, did he remember it? "La mem shows on fron-say! Jay duh rhythm-uh! Jay duh la music!~"

It seemed that he'd keep going until the song ended if no one stopped him.

Hearing the sound of singing floating through the air, Siena felt her courage swell, the liveliness seeping into her playing as she turned her attention momentarily to Ernie as he started with what she assumed was French--close enough. Better than she'd ever heard Gerwulf speak it, at least. Letting a grin cut across her face, Siena found it more endearing than expected.

"J'ei de la cherie! Who could ask for anything more?~" She chimed in to join her companion, voice held in check, her pronunciation somewhat off, but her intention clear as the notes continued.

Remember?

"You remember the words better than I do!"

"It's only, like, my favourite movie. Used to watch it with my parents all the time. Don't know how they never got sick of it," the Aberration giggled, apparently unaware of the information he just let out, "But your French sounds great! Did you actually learn the language?"

His parents...

The thought struck Siena harder than she wanted to admit. It was easy to forget in the midst of their battlefield hell that most of the students did have parents in their life. Most of them probably even had normal upbringings before they were chosen, and she was forgetting that.

She was the odd one out.

As she ad libbed a few bars to extend the section of the song, Siena put those thoughts aside to be catalogued later. Instead, she gave a sheepish smile at the compliment to her own French. She'd never actually received a compliment on it before. "O-Oh, not much. Just basics to deal with fancy rich people." Letting one hand off the keys briefly to give a lopsided shrug, Siena finished the thought with more warmth than she meant to let slip. "This is the first time someone's complimented it though."

"Really? You sound great to the guy who only knows English," Ernie raised an eyebrow at the improvised section, dazzled, "Learning a language sounds hard. My friends always just taught me swear words if I asked them to teach me stuff, heh. Do you know any others? Fancy rich people gotta come from all around the world, right?"

"Hehe, thanks," a few progressions and the song was back on track. "It's...definitely not easy. My caretakers spoke a ton of languages though, so I had good teachers." Good teachers with strict lesson plans. Only in the most proper of tones when she spoke words that were her own, and only words that--stop. "I can listen to German and French, but...not much else."

A pause as she considered telling more. About the added benefit of her DC-given ability. Not yet.

"You know, if you want, I could teach you what I know." Punctuating the statement with a faint laugh, Siena added to the thought. "But I think I'd be able to teach you more piano than I could teach you language."

"More...piano..." Ernie's good-natured smile faded as the suggestion reached his ears.

Did she make a mistake?

"I-I mean...if you wanted." It would be hard to pull it off back at USARILN East, as far as she knew. Well...she supposed she could put in a request for a keyboard...maybe it would be nice. A full sized keyboard with headphones...? They'd managed to give her something as whimsical as a Squishable, surely the powers that were could get her a keyboard. "After all, you'll...probably always be able to find me around."

"Oh. Oh, right," Ernie grimaced at his reaction. Stupid, letting it get to him in front of a sort-of friend. Of course he wanted to learn again. Piano was nice, a fun challenge. He had so many beautiful memories attached to it. It was neat little skill that brought him closer to his parents, the old-fashioned cinephile and the music teacher.

That was exactly why he had to avoid it, right?

Unsure of what to do but knowing it would be rude to flat out refuse, Ernie spoke again. "Oh, you're offering me actual lessons? Like, regular ones?"

"Well, as close to them as I could give you." Why was she offering? She wasn't the one that was supposed to teach. Perhaps it was because she was starting to feel that the bench was a bit too large for her again. Siena thought briefly about sitting next to someone that felt larger than life, his fingers playing deft notes and a brilliant melody as he laughed. A happy laugh that Siena rarely heard.

And then she thought of the same fingers slowly losing their nimble qualities, the notes becoming messier and messier until one day, they stopped entirely, and she was left alone on the bench.

"You don't have to answer right now, of course. It's not a limited-time offer or anything."

A silence as Ernie mulled it over. He missed it, really. He missed the delight he felt when he finished a whole song without mistakes, the payoff from hours of hard work. He missed the music itself, the stupid rhythms he'd play that made his mother's smile waver but his dad laugh like mad.

Ernie smiled sadly. So much emotional bullshit tied to a single object. He was starting to feel gross about it all.

The thought of questioning why Siena was offering in the first place hadn't crossed his mind but he felt like he wanted to clear some things up before he gave an answer. "Why'd you take up piano, Siena? Just really liked the sound of it or a family member suggested it?"

Despite her best efforts, Siena couldn't stop the hollow smile that formed on her face in response to Ernie's inquiry. Nobody had really asked her before--they said it suited her. Said that she had a pianist's fingers and that it was an elegant, charming instrument, then left it at that.

A surprisingly honest answer escaped from her before she could catch it.

"I thought it would make someone happy."

Someone? The barest hint of curiosity appeared but was smothered by the other shit rolling around in his brain.

"I can see how it would. You play really nice."

Fuck it. Just stop thinking and go for it already. A hand reached out to the keyboard, hesitantly. Fourth from C, watch out for the black key by B. The melody from that jaunty song chimed beside Siena's playing, the notes sharp and quick when the rhythm demanded it, held when syncopation was needed. Though it didn't sound nearly as grand as Siena's flourishing chords, and though he occasionally missed the right note in his simple melody, it felt...good. Ernie could feel a familiar smile growing on his face.

"Yeah, I getcha," he talked but it was somewhat hard to do while playing, "I used to play too, for the same reason. But I, uh, we had to move. Had to stop learning."

His hand fell back into his lap. He already got his answer, there was no need to embarrass himself on the keyboard like this any more. Ernie returned to his friendly demeanor but there seemed to be something more genuine this time.

"Do you think we could have a trial lesson? Like, right now?"

Before Siena was able to fully process that she'd been complimented, she was given a pleasant surprise as for the second time in as many days, she was playing with someone again. A flicker of surprise followed by a flash of delight and a shadow of pain were quickly drowned out by the sound of piano notes playing together. Not perfect, but a nice feeling all the same.

A warm, comfortable feeling that reminded her of days long past.

"You have good foundations," Siena found herself saying as the song began to end. She hadn't missed the slip, hadn't missed that moving probably wasn't the reason why he'd had to stop learning...but she let it lie. Instead, she scoot herself down the bench, patting the empty space beside her at the boy's inquiry. Giving Ernie a smile that might have passed as cheeky, she gave her response. "Well, I don't have anywhere to be if you don't."

With a hearty chuckle, Ernie sat himself next to Siena, acclimating himself to the height and feel of the bench. Shorter than the one in his house, or maybe he had just grown too much. But he didn't mind. It felt like old times. That was meant to be a good thing.

Another night spent front of the TV. Ernie slouched on the sofa, half his attention spent on the rerun of Kitchen Nightmares and the other focused on an article on his phone covering the arrival of the USARILN East subnaturals in the nation's capital. Complete lethargy. Now this was the way to spend a break.

The second day, and late enough to have little to no people where it was. Hazel had been eying the minibar since she found it during their first day here. Having already discarded her dirty clothings and the chainmail, she wore only one of the maroon silk robes she found in the closet. Silently she crept into the minibar, her lack of shoes, socks or any other footwear aiding her endeavour. Green eyes scanned the shelves, until they locked onto a bright blue bottle, of a cuboid shape tapered into a long neck, sealed with a cork, and with a label she did not bother to try reading.

She was usually weren't curious enough to simply drink liquids in odd containers, especially considering what those usually contained where she came from. But the combination of colourful bottles, the glass containers obviously used for drinking, and the fact that this was some place new and highly magical for her made Hazel curious enough to try.

Popping off the cork with her teeth, Hazel simply wrapped her mouth around the opening and started downing the contents of the bottle.

Though Gordon Ramsay's screams had drowned out what little noise the girl had made in her approach, Ernie caught sight of the berserker in the reflection of a decorative vase. Alarmed, his head whipped around, tracking the collared Aberration as she grabbed a bottle of Bombay Sapphire and...chugged it?

...

Why did this situation feel so eerily familiar?

Ernie watched on in a mixture of fear and concern but unlike his encounter with Sander at East's bar, he remained silent.

Hazel frowned slightly at the bottle, finding its content strangely biting and bitter. Not something she wanted. Thinking it would be rude to simply spit what was already in her mouth onto the floor, she simply spat it back out into the bottle, corked it, and grabbed a shinier bottle, sleek and with some sort of golden foil around the cork. Pulling that off, she took a swig at it, feeling highly satisfied no one spotted her yet. Until she turned around and noticed Ernie staring at her.

Surprised, she choked on the wine, spraying the contents of her mouth all over Ernie's direction.

Unsure of what to do, Hazel froze in place for a moment, before putting back the wine, and slowly sinking back into the cover of the minibar's counter.

Seeing the impending spray, Ernie had jumped in the opposite direction, trying and failing to dodge the girl's surprise. He felt the spray settle on his legs, much to his chagrin, as his face planted firmly into the far cushion of the sofa. Urgh, why did he choose to wear shorts today of all days?

Feeling something between mortification and fury, the X-mark got to his feet and stomped over. It was tempting to just vault over the bar and scream some profanities but that priceless bottle needed to be secured first. He grabbed the liquor and jammed a bottle stopper into it, but not before thoroughly cleaning the rim. If anyone felt like getting tipsy later, it would have to be their problem. As soon as he was done, Ernie turned his seething glare towards the girl.

"I can see you, y'know."

Hazel was sure he was lying.

After all, she was behind the counter, well hidden, and without any sort of observation device she could see around. Was the bar some sort of one way mirror? In any case, he didn't seem to be stopping her from doing anything. The drink just now tasted slightly better than the last one, but she didn't want to take it again considering he took it very aggressively and corked it back.

Popping her head out from behind the counter, she reached over, instead, towards a large cuboid container, clear as a crystal, with contents seemingly made of the same. Having no idea what the cyrillic on it meant, she popped that one open, and tried chugging that one.

Almost immediately she regretted her decision; the drink seemed to burn her throat as she dropped the bottle on the counter, its contents pouring out merrily all over it. As if to add insult to injury, the sash on her robe came undone again, plopping neatly into the steadily growing puddle.

"No! You can't drink it like--"

Not fast enough. The toppling of the crystal bottle and the unravelling of the robe seemed to progress in slow motion. Ernie could do nothing but watch with his mouth agape as another priceless substance spilled outwards and the girl's robe opened like a theatre curtain to reveal...oh god.

"Ah...uh..."

Ernie's shattered mind took a few moments to compute everything. Too many moments. The boy remained frozen, his gaze stubbornly fixed on a painting behind the girl as he struggled to conjure up a course of action. Inside his mind raged a war of attrition between two priorities: the expensive liquor and the importance of looking anywhere but there. Variables such as liquor cost, cleaning time, and the countdown until Hazel inevitably beat his head in for such a sight, rolled about but did nothing shake him from that unsteady trance. So he just stood there, horrified and frozen.

Still coughing from that last bottle of vodka, Hazel grabbed the still wet sash, and tied it haphazardly again on her waist, though it did little to her robe other than tightening it around her waist.

Emboldened by Ernie's lack of action, she reached behind the counter, towards a rather elaborate bottle on the top shelf. Jumping towards it, she inadvertantly toppled a roundish bottle full of deep amber liquid, sending the contents of that bottle spilling out as well. The bottle she grabbed had a glass top instead of a cork, heavy, with a very intriguing aroma coming from within. Intriguing? Odd? She felt a little lightheaded, but attributed it to the myriads of suppressors they attached on her.

Still, Ernie said it was not to be drunk like so. Then how was it supposed to be imbibed? Turning towards Ernie, she shoved the bottle towards him, waiting expectantly for him to do something.

The boy blinked, staring cross-eyed at the bottle presented to him. At least she was trying to cover up now? At least alcoholics had some kind of pattern. This girl was just...

Inconsiderate? Weird? Did she really not know what was in these containers? Swallowing hard, Ernie finally began to correct the spilled bottles.

"You, uh, don't like that one, Hazel?" he asked tentatively.

"How do I drink it?" she spoke, referring to his earlier outburst.

Hazel refused to believe people voluntarily drank something that bit them back, especially when they're all in these fancy containers. Perhaps if it tasted something like that mapo tofu, she could understand, but this sort of bite was ferocious and seemed to eat into her very throat. As if she was trying to drink liquid fire that burned only in her insides. Ernie seemed to know the secret, and she wasn't about to just let him go without telling her.

"In a cup...? Not straight from the bottle, that's for sure. It's better if you mix it with other stuff. Um, lemme..."

He reached out for the bottle, cringing as his hand passed over the puddles on the bench. Within minutes, he set up the bar, mixing bright but measured liquids from various other bottles into a shaker until it was finally strained into a cocktail glass. A fruity mix for the strange girl. Hopefully this wasn't going to result in his head getting smashed in.

"This will taste better," he said nervously as he pushed the glass towards Hazel. Man, what was it with the weirdo Aberrations in this class and alcohol?

Tentatively she took the glass, noting its odd construction.

She was, of course, skeptical about the taste. How would simple mixing of several bitter and biting liquids improve the taste? Nevertheless, she took the glass and gulped down the content in one go. It still burned slightly, but it did taste a whole lot better.

"I see. So simply mixing these liquids together create a vastly superior drink."

Hazel started reaching over for more of those colorful bottles, leaving one perched precariously near an edge, while another, more plain looking bottle, crashed onto the floor. Surely if it wasn't colorful or curiously shaped, it was not worth drinking.

She didn't know what alcohol was but she used words like 'vastly superior'?

Ernie didn't have much time to dwell on that little note before a violent crash of glass triggered a yelp from the boy. Farewell, poor Absolut. But there were still some he could save.

"No, Hazel, you can't take these either!" he shouted trying to nudge her hands away, "I'll show you how to drink all of them, just please stop spilling these!"

"Eh?" She turned, knocking one of the bottles on the top shelf over. Perhaps the knock loosened up the top, or perhaps the glass top wasn't properly fitted in the first place. But the end result remained the same; the bottle toppled over, popping out its glass top, before pouring all its content over Ernie.

"I understand. Then, I will take a seat in front of the counter."

Hazel walked around the counter, obvlivious to the fact her sash had caught on the corner, undoing the flimsy knot. Pulling up one of those rounded seats, she sat at the bar and waited patiently. The seat felt a bit cold against her rear, but at least it was comfortable.

Ernie took a deep breath and closed his eyes, feeling complete and hopeless resignation as the fluid seeped all over his head. This was a mental and emotional test to rival even the likes of Wisford. It was a good thing he was too horrified to be angry, otherwise he probably wouldn't even be alive enough to stand here under this alcoholic waterfall. Ernie coughed violently as some of it got into his nose when he reached up to correct the shelf. Urgh, he was gonna feel this later.

...Perhaps death wasn't such a bad idea after all. Bah, at least he didn't have to wash his hair this time.

Once the situation with the shelves was sorted, Ernie worked quickly, despite the stickiness coating his entire body. Soon, two glasses sat in front of Hazel: a large tumbler full of cold, plain tap water and the brightest, pinkest Sling Ernie could make at the moment.

"You need to have this in between drinks so your head doesn't feel like it's getting hammered tomorrow morning, so drink that one first. Slowly," he instructed carefully, pointing to the water, "After that, I'll let you have the pink one. But you need to drink that slowly too. Don't touch or spill anything else while I clean up, okay?"

His tone was serious but his eyes were diverted to the opposite wall in a feeble attempt to avoid the girl's Danger Zone. Ernie backed away slowly, patting at the benchtop behind him to find the handtowel. Once he did, he began wiping off his head, then away at the spills.

Hazel, of course, was not oblivious to Ernie diverting his eyes. But why he was doing that was beyond her understanding. But, she did understand that gave her an opening.

As soon as Ernie turned away, she discreetly poured away the water onto the floor, and started gulping down the pink drink. If anyone comes to hammer her head in the morning, she was sure she can beat them down, as long as she stayed alert. It was getting harder to think clearly now. Were they turning up the suppressor?

"Another one, please."

That was...fast. Suspiciously fast, but Ernie was in no position to speak up against the berserker. If there was anything he learnt at Reno, it was that refusing a drink to an angry Aberration generally resulted in bad news. At least the benchtop was wiped down. He could fix up the shelves now.

The water glass was filled again. He was mildly pleased that she had actually followed his instructions, though the speed that she had chugged down that Sling was concerning. A Blue Lagoon was offered to the girl now.

"Same instructions as before. Drink slowly."

Ernie tried to keep his eyes on her a bit longer but the need to wipe down more of the spills overtook him. He turned around once more, reaching for the shelves to empty and wipe them.

Once again, she waited until he turned his back, then doing the same once more. Hazel wanted to try all of the drinks; drinking them slowly might leave her with little time to try the rest, especially with all the bottles she could see lined up. Who knows when she will be able to try such a thing again?

She drank the blue liquid quickly, appreciating its flavour, and the bite that was becoming slightly more endearing now. Spilt water was puddling around her feet, but she was sure he wouldn't notice. Not if he wasn't looking her way.

"Another one... please." she repeated, with a noticeable drawl — small, but there — in her voice.

Okay, that was definitely not a healthy speed to drink a Lagoon at. Ernie narrowed his eyes at the bangs concealing the girl's gaze as if he could decipher the mystery that way.

"I need to clean the floor first. Here, have some orange juice while I get the brush and pan. Don't touch anything, remember."

Ernie moved out from behind the counter, glancing sideways at the girl. That was her bare ass was on that chair, wasn't it.

"Wear that robe properly too! I don't want to see any...nngh, uh... Just stop letting everything hang so loose, please?"

That was a lot of liquid on the ground for one bottle. He stared with suspicion once again before disappearing around a corner.

She had no idea what was hanging loose. Her robe? It was too much of a hassle to tie it back up, not when her knot keeps getting undone.

"I see."

In one smooth motion, she took off the robe and set it down on the counter. Hazel was feeling giddy from her smart idea. Actually she was just feeling giddy now, but she wasn't about to go off or give up, not when there was this sort of drink in front of her. Orange juice was familiar; it was one of those small rewards they gave her back in that facility whenever she did something especially good.

Frowning, she stared at the glass of orange juice. It seems oddly hard to hold, as if the glass was resisting her. She took another sip at it before it slipped out of her hand and crashed onto the floor.

She stared at it for a while before realizing Ernie probably wouldn't like the mess. Focusing on her ability, projecting only the smallest part of her finger, she tried to just disintergrate the mess away with a wide sweep. Inebriated as she was, it was no surprise her aim went wide, knocking off one of the supports on the shelves, the bottles placed there slowly sliding down the now askew shelf and crashing onto the floor one by one. A bit of liquid splashed onto her eyes, causing her to yelp and fall over the sofa, smashing her still active projection onto the TV.

Utterly defeated, she sighed and stayed where she was on the sofa.

Ernie had rushed back from his bathroom as soon as the crashing of glass resumed, the armful of towels he was holding almost dropping from his shock. It took him a long while to process everything that suddenly changed. The messiest, and easiest, game of Spot the Difference he'd ever played.

Hazel, completely naked now and upside down on the sofa. The beautiful 103-inch television, destroyed by a deep, vertical groove down the middle. The shelves, all askew and completely bare. Was this actually a test? Was he supposed to see if he could withhold his anger through all these trials? Because if it was, he was fucking acing it. There was no way to get pissed if he was so freaking amazed. As a soldier walked over to the phone to call room service and a repairsman, Ernie pieced together the sheer impossibility of the events that had occurred in that minute-long timeframe.

Yet another deep breath. As much as he wanted to clean that entire mess himself or mourn the loss of that gigantic TV, his presence was better used elsewhere. Numbly, he eased Hazel's legs off the end into a more comfortable position on the sofa, and threw a towel over her like a blanket.

"Hazel," his voice croaky and stiff as he failed to navigate that whirlpool of emotions, "Are you okay?"

"Yes. I am un...unharmed." Hazel turned towards the now bare shelf. "Thi... with the she.. shelves.. With no more bottles of those liquids, I am afraid you cannot make any more drinks."

There was a tinge of regret in her voice, as she wrapped the towel around her. It was getting oddly hazy, a lot more than usual. Perhaps it was the suppressors getting stronger again, but she just felt like crawling to bed now. She tried to stand up, walking a few steps before her legs collapsed, and she tumbled onto Ernie.

The girl was caught with both arms, held up in an awkward and clumsy embrace. Ernie frowned at her words, sensing no malice in them. Nothing that reminded him of the monster that had smashed open the Collector and attacked them. The girl was strange and most likely dangerous but after everything that had happened, he decided that she wasn't much like Sander at all. She was too damn stupid to be an asshole like him.

Adjusting their positions to get a better grip, Ernie asked. "Should I take you to your room so you can sleep now?"

"Ye-" Without warning, she upchucked the contents of her stomach onto his feet. "Yes, please..."

Ernie merely blinked in response, miraculously still holding in the horrified scream he'd been repressing the entire time.

The maids had done a pretty swanky job at erasing the aftermath of the night before. Ernie inspected the mini bar's shelves, impressed that they had managed to replace every single bottle of that expensive stuff Hazel had toppled. This really was a luxury hotel.

During their short stay in Washington Emma had been doing her utmost to avoid the outside world. Between the hostile regulars, the snooty rich people they shared the hotel with, and the ceaseless army of reporters she found that she had absolutely no interest in braving the grounds outside their penthouse. And so it was that today she found herself once again wandering aimlessly in the small space, searching for distraction, something to keep the incessant whispering of her stigma at bay.

Today, unfortunately, that distraction would be Ernie.

It was just her luck that she rounded a corner to find the newly balded Aberration carefully inspecting a shelf of liquor. For a moment she thought that if she kept walking she'd be able to get by without having to say 'hi', and she very nearly did that... if not for the fact that she squeaked out said "Hi." before she had time to finalize an escape plan. She slowed for a moment, mentally cursing years of trained politeness. Maybe he wouldn't want to talk? She hoped he wouldn't want to talk.

The boy froze and turned slowly. Was that really--oh. It was. It was a good thing that they were on speaking terms now, he supposed, though he wasn't sure what they would speak about. Hopefully something short and nice and didn't end up with a screaming match. Unlikely, but a guy could dream. His face produced a polite smile despite the cringing memory of resentment still lingering in his chest.

"Morning, Emma. Enjoying the Penthouse?"

Great. He was talking to her. She stopped abruptly, turning to him. ”Mornin’. It’s… pretty nice. A little too nice for us Subs, huh?” a small smile appeared on her face, her tone becoming joking. She wasn’t going to tip him off to the fact that he was the last person she wanted to talk to. After all, she had no doubt that if she made him made he would tell the others… well, everything.

'For us...' Something about that statement on what subnaturals deserved pissed him off a little. Maybe it was because of the talk he had with Angelique the day before. Or maybe it was because it was Emma who was saying it. Either way he had to remember that she'd only had her mark for a few weeks. Getting cranky would do him no good.

Ernie leaned on the counter, suddenly reminded of the Hazel Incident. Best to stay away from the contamination area. He walked out from the mini bar and took a seat beside it instead, making sure to avoid the chair Hazel had used. Again, contamination.

Wait, Emma was Hazel's roommate! Why didn't he think of this earlier?

"Yeah, it's real fancy stuff," he continued the thread of conversation in the friendliest way he could before launching into his own agenda, "Actually, I should ask you something. Could you hear me out for a bit?"

Emma gave a quizzical glance. This couldn’t be good. ”Uhhh… yeah, sure, shoot.” she said hesitantly.

It was important to watch his wording around Emma. He needed to concentrate, tread that thin ice so that-- "So what's wrong with Hazel?"

...Huh. Overthinking really had its consequences.

Emma pursed her lips. She wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that, so she didn’t, at least not yet, ”Why? Did she do something to you?” was all that Emma choose to say for the moment.

Ernie frowned in return. She hadn't heard about her roommate's rampage at Wisford? That was something he needed to prod about too but he wanted to get this out of the way first. Keep things simple.

"Last night she chugged about seven different spirits and threw up on my shoes. Pretty much naked the entire time. Destroyed the TV too," he recounted somewhat irritably, nodding towards the screen that had been replaced in the night. The deep indent in the marble beneath the television would confirm his story.

”Oh… oh no. Ernie, do me a favor and make sure she doesn’t get drunk again.” Emma didn’t want to imagine what a drunk Hazel was like, especially since she could guess with almost certainty that the girl hadn’t been drunk before.

Emma sighed. She wasn’t going to dodge the question again, ”Hazel’s… man, I don’t know. I think…” Emma glanced at her cuff, deciding that if Kardos was listening he probably wouldn’t care, ”I think they did something to her. I don’t know what, but… it’s like… I brought her flowers when she was hospital and she tried to eat them. It’s like… she’s a child.”

”Just… y’know, she’s a not a bad person, she just doesn’t know how to deal with people. Doesn’t know a lot about the world.”

A slight glance away as a tinge of guilt hit him. Ah, the cocktails were a bad idea after all. Probably better that Emma didn't know about that part of the night. There were other details to focus on anyway.

Like a 'child', one that didn't even know what flowers were? One who was attracted to colourful bottles of strange liquids and refused to follow instructions? That aligned with everything he'd seen of her the night before. Not so much the violent outbursts though. His frown only deepened at Emma's suspicions. Of course. He couldn't forget that monster attacks and trigger-happy guards weren't the only thing to fear at the Institutes.

"Did they, whoever they are... no, lemme say that again. Do you know where she came from? Have you ever asked?"

”Yeah, actually, I have asked. Or I tried to at least. The only answer I got was ‘I don’t know’” Emma sighed again, chewing on her lip slightly, ”I’m not if that’s entirely true but I doubt I’ll get a better answer from her. She doesn’t really talk about herself all that much, if that wasn’t apparent.”

"Right," Ernie nodded, unsure of what to make of that information. His voice suddenly darkened as he asked his next question, "And when she loses it and starts trying to kill her teammates? Do you know anything about that?"

Emma frowned. And there it was, exactly what she had been expecting, a truth she couldn’t ignore. Her friend was completely ready to kill her other friends. Or, at least, that’s what everyone had been telling her. ”I… I heard thing, but I never saw what happened. Care to fill me in?”

Ernie obliged, recounting the journey he and Christmas had been making to reach the offensive support team. The Collector, Hazel's screams, Angelique's heroic rescue. Everything, except for his own gunshots and panic.

"Christmas lost consciousness from that. Our healer could have died. This isn't the kind of thing I can wave off easily, even if she's just a child."

”Yeah. You’re right.”

A truth that wasn’t easily admitted. Something she’d rather dance around, not vocalize.

Just remember, you’re my friend, and for what it’s worth, I worry about you.

The memory was bitter. Emma wasn’t even sure if she meant what she said. How could she be friends with someone like that? A danger to the group, a danger to Marcus, Callan, Siena, a danger to everyone… this time it was Christmas, but would she be willing to handwave it as a rare outburst when it hurt someone close to her?

”We need to keep an eye on her, but we’re still on the same team… I… I don’t know, Ernie. I don’t know what we can do.”

A grimace as the boy recalled his conversation with Cal. Using the Stigma as an excuse to cover up something you'd rather not own up to. That was what bad people did. But Hazel, that girl too childish to do something like that, was she really...

"I...I don't think she's an irredeemable crapsack, at least. But I don't know what to do either. Just keep an eye on her like you said and--"

And what? Hope for the best, like he was doing with Lily? It was just so weak. Ernie scratched his head meekly, wanting to end this miserable topic already, before he remembered something else.

"Actually, do you have some time? I kinda need to ask you to do a favor for me."

”Well, uh, I guess I’m not doing a ton around here, but it depends on the favor.” Emma grimaced internally. Why was Ernie, of all people, asking her for a favor? The bad feeling she had earlier returned.

Urgh, let's see if he could phrase this properly. He cleared his throat before speaking, suddenly feeling very sheepish.

"I was hoping you could check up on your roommate for me, see if she's okay? She's gonna be really feeling it after everything that happened last night. I'd do it myself but, uh..." Here came the hard part, "I tried putting her back in one of the robes before I left but it hadn't really stayed on even before she got to the liquor so I'm not sure if it'd even be on when she woke up. I thought you'd be able to help since you're her roommate and you're probably used to that sorta thing with her anyway and..."

He trailed off, unable to hold in the awkwardness he was feeling. The heat he was unable to suppress flooded to his cheeks and he looked away in a poor attempt to conceal it.

Emma’s eyes narrowed. Ernie was acting weird. Weirder than usual. And then suddenly the words parsed in her head. He tried putting her back in a robe before he left? He’d mentioned before that she was naked, but it was only now that she thought about it. Emma’s mouth widened a little before her face turned to anger, ”Wait, what the fuck? You didn’t do anything weird with her, did you?”

The boy took a while to process Emma's words before his expression changed into one of indignant horror.

"What? No, I'm not into drunk girls like that!" Wait, that sounded wrong. "Or girls!" No, that would definitely give her the wrong impression. "Or guys!" ...Better?

No, there had to be a better way to explain his feelings when it came to this sort of naked stuff. He just needed some time to find it. His thinking face pointed to the wall behind Emma, as if it would suddenly print out the exact words he needed.

Emma’s eyes flashed with malice, ”Denying it like that just makes you sound suspicious! I swear to fucking god Ernie if I find out you did anything with that girl...” Emma exhaled sharply, frustration evident.

Ernie's heart pounded, but whether it was from fear or Emma's contagious fury, he wasn't sure.

"Hey, I don't even like that naked crap, it doesn't work for me! And it's not my fault that she can't wear a robe properly. I found her like that!"

Wait, that sounded wrong again.

"If anything, I was trying to put her clothes back on!"

Emma sighed, ”Okay, okay, whatever, I don’t need you to tell me all about your sex life… or lack thereof… I’ll just find out from Hazel. I’m watching you, Ernie.” she didn’t spend the brain power on trying to decipher what he meant by saying he wasn’t interested in that ‘naked crap’, as he so expertly put it.

"Lack! Big lack!"

Ernie led the suspicious girl to Hazel's room, recalling in despair the vomit-seeped footsteps the pair had taken last night to the door. Once they were there, Ernie knocked and inwardly prayed that Hazel would vouch for him.

"Hazel, are you in there? Or, like, awake? Emma's coming in to check on you."

A nod to Emma. "I'll wait outside."

Hazel's eyelids flickered open, the knocking at the door seemingly pounding on her head as well. She had felt bad ever since morning, enough to conclude the drinks last night was drugged or something similar. Was it one of those drug tests? They had that several times before they perfected the drugs she was taking daily now, though nothing that made her head hurt this much.

She tumbled out of bed, unwrapping herself from the blanket, though she did not feel well enough to make the rest of the way towards the door, or even to open it. Indeed, she had not even bothered to dress herself, affected as she was by that splitting headache.

"I am awake. Kindly do not knock so hard on the door."

"Sorry Hazel!" Ernie's voice called out from behind the wall.

Emma gave Ernie a glance. Maybe it was a glance of disapproval, or anger, or nervousness, but for now it was just a glance. Emma cautiously opened the door, to find… of course, Hazel was naked. Emma averted her eyes, taking care to close the door behind her.

”Hey, Hazel. How ya feelin’?” she said with a slight grimace.

"Motor functions, affected. Cognitive ability, affected. Overall functions, below standards for combat effectiveness." Hazel paused for a moment. "There is hammering in my head as well."

Emma nodded. This was the kind of response she was starting to expect from Hazel. ”Right, that makes sense. Sounds like you’re hungover.” Emma gave the girl a crooked smile, ”I’m sure this’ll make you think twice next time you find a bunch of mystery bottles, huh?” Emma said, half-serious half-joking. ”Do you, uh, need help getting dressed?” she asked, remembering Ernie’s earlier plight.

"Mystery... bottles..."

They were mystery bottles? Then why was it Ernie seemed familiar with them? Surely that meant the boy was some sort of keeper for those bottles. "They weren't a mystery. I am sure. He-" Hazel gestured towards the door, indicating the boy waiting outside, "made me a few drinks from those bottles. Therefore, he must have...ha..have knowledge of what was inside."

Even if her thoughts were a bit impaired under the effects of this odd sort of mind suppression, she was still slightly proud she could make such an astute observation. "I.. do not, for I am not hungover, as evidenced by my position on the floor, and the lack of any ropes."

Emma’s eyes narrowed. ”So, he was making you drinks, huh?” she whispered angrily, making sure that if Ernie was listening he couldn’t hear. ”Did he… did he do anything weird? Anything that made you uncomfortable? Like, did he touch you? Y’know, around...” Emma gestured vaguely around her own private parts, ”Around there?”

"I do not understand."

Grabbing the edge of her bed, Hazel dragged herself up onto it, resting her head on the cool cover. That helped slightly, but she still felt like triggering her own collar to sleep though this horrid experience.

"I.. I do remember him taking me to bed, even though I vomited once."

It wasn't something she was about to forget, for the alcohol hit her like a truck there. The drinks were oddly alluring, but there seemed to be something wrong with them if it hit her head like this afterwards.

”He… took you to bed? He didn’t, like, try getting into the bed with you, right?” Emma said, eyes narrowing further. She had next to no trust for Ernie, and her suspicions were only growing. ”He kept his clothes on, right?”

"I do not remember." Hazel turned towards Emma, noticing her change in expression. "Is there something wrong? I do not remember much of last night. I think it was the drinks he made."

”Nothing. Just… if you want we can go get breakfast, something to help with your head, or you can keep sleeping. Your choice. I’m going to go talk to Ernie, I’ll be right back.” Emma turned on her heel, heading for the door without another word. She took care to close it carefully behind her, repressing the urge to slam it for Hazel’s sake.

"Yes, let us go for breakfast." Hazel spoke, as the door closed behind Emma.

As soon as it shut Emma turned to face Ernie, anger growing in her eyes. Determination appeared beside her, staring him down in equal measure. Emma might not be able to physically intimidate Ernie, but maybe he would, ”So, Ernie, you neglected to tell me that you were the one making the drinks. What the hell is wrong with you? You should know better! And… and she says that she doesn’t remember what happened last night!? Explain.”

Ernie had been waiting with a hopeful smile to greet the two when they eventually left the room, though it immediately faded into a shocked glare when the accusations and summon were leveled at him.

"Don't do that with the fucking guard looking at us," he hissed lowly, trying to back away despite the complete lack of space between him and the wall now, "I don't want us getting shot over something so stupid."

A grimace broke out as Emma mentioned the drinks. Okay, it sounded really bad now but he swore that it made sense at the time...?

"She was chugging that shit straight out the bottle! I was trying to show her how to drink it re--" 'Responsibly' was definitely not the right word here, "--properly! A-And I don't like what you're implying there. Drinking makes you forget stuff all the time. I don't even know any dealers in D.C.!"

"Oh my god, what the fuck is wrong with you?! You don't know any dealers in D.C.? What the fuck, dude, you have a guy at CC if you want to give someone a roofie?" Emma glanced at the guard, "I don't give a shit who's watching, if you don't have an explanation for this shit I'm going to get Determination to shove his fist down your throat." Emma glared at him, eyes demanding an explanation, or perhaps daring him to try something.

"I don't talk to people in CC! Plus, roofies are the kind of shit I kick people out of parties for!" Ernie's voice rose furiously as his rope was summoned. No chances here.

"Fine, I'll tell you everything. I was watching TV when I caught Hazel chugging Bombay Sapphire at the bar. She started drinking straight out of another bottle before she saw me and fucking spilled it all on the counter, then tried to hide even though I could still see her for some reason. She got to few more bottles before I could stop her but then she asked me how to drink it. So I mixed her a few to keep her occupied while I cleaned the mess she made. There was a really big spill on the ground so I went back to my room to get some towels to temporarily soak it up. And when I got back..."

A sigh. This was going to sound really unbelievable.

"She'd smashed the entire liquor shelf so everything shattered on the ground. The TV was pretty much halved and she was completely naked and upside down on the sofa. I gave her one of the towels to cover up so I could help her get back to her room. That's when she fucking threw up on me, by the way, just one of the gazillion reasons I wouldn't do whatever weird shit you're thinking of to someone. I cleaned her arms and face with a wet towel so she wouldn't feel gross in the morning, used her bathroom to clean my feet, then got her into a robe and made sure she got into bed. I cleaned up her floor then went back to my room so I could shower off properly. Then I went outside and watched the maids the soldier had called to make sure they were cleaning all of it up right. That's all of it."

Emma's eyes tried their very best to see through him. How much if it was true? She had no idea. She knew Ernie was a liar. A good one at that. But at the same time she was unsure if he was a pervert.

No, she had to stop. She had to be sure. Determination disappeared. "If I found out a single bit of that isn't true I'll come looking for you, and Determination isn't just going to go away." Emma looked away, turning back to Hazel's door. She raised her hand to knock, but suddenly paused. "And Ernie, if that happens that rope isn't going to intimidate me." She said, knocking on the door as she finished speaking.

"The rope isn't for your sake, you bitch," Ernie glared but remained silent.

Mewling weakly, Hazel gathered up her strength and opened the door.

"Did you need something else?"

She looked over at Emma and Ernie, wondering what it was that made them look like that. There was a guard there too but he wasn't important; there were guards here and there after all. He certainly looked as if he didn't want any part of this.

Emma's face turned to shock.

Why was she always naked?

The girl averted her eyes. "Alright, get dressed, and then we can go to breakfast?"

Nodding, Hazel simply grabbed a one of those robes and threw it around herself.

"I am ready. Let us depart."

Moving down the corridor, she stopped by Ernie, and waited for Emma to come along.

"Oh, she's in the robe again."

Biting back the despair-filled remark, Ernie called out to the hungover girl. "Hazel, you don't have any clothes besides the robes?"

"I do." Hazel replied simply. "However, it has accumulated dirt and debris from the last fight, as did the chainmail accompanying it, and I have concluded wearing such dirty clothings would be a de... detru...not be beneficial to my health."

"Ah geez, if it's a laundry problem you got you could've come to me for help."

The boy thought to the stash in his room. How many changes of clothes did he still have?

"Could I lend you a shirt to wear under your robe? In case it slips again while you eat?"

"Why?" Hazel tilted her head inquisitively. "Is the robe not to your liking? Should I remove it?"

"NO!" Ernie yelled, preemptively shielding his face before realising that nothing had happened yet, "I mean...no, keep it on. Just...argh."

The Aberration sped to his room and returned with a large, plain green shirt.

"Just wear this for me, please? Then wear your robe over it so you can go to breakfast without causing an incident."

He looked away in anticipation of the girl's next actions, clearly not fond of them at all.

Hazel looked at Ernie for a moment, before shedding the robe and putting the shirt on. It was a bit snug around the chest, but otherwise it was comfortable enough. Donning the robe and tying the sash as best she could, once more she turned to the two, waiting for them to lead the way.

Emma watched the exchange with a suppressed groan.

At least she's clothed now.

Emma turned towards the exit, "Alright then, let's go."

"Mmhmm. Gotta give you lotsa orange juice to fix that head of yours," Ernie strolled slightly behind them.

Emma's walk faltered slightly as soon as she heard Ernie chirp in behind them. He was... following.

Oh no.

Emma turned her head around, continuing her pace but now looking at Ernie, ”Oh, where you headed to Ernie?” she said jovially, suppressing any hint of malice.

Ernie blinked, for once not oblivious to Emma's conniving nonsense. His intentions had been obvious, after all.

"Just heading to the breakfast buffet with Hazel," he returned in his own sickly sweet tone. He hated how he had to constantly monitor his reactions around her, "Gotta make sure she doesn't cause an incident and that she's okay and all. You know, the whole reason I asked you to talk to her for me in the first place?"

A crooked smile crossed Emma's face, ”Mmmmm, feel like tagging along? The more the merrier.” Emma said, not missing a beat, ”Let's just make sure we stay away from the mimosas, you wouldn't want to cause another incident.”

"I'd need something stronger than mimosas to deal with this bullshit," Ernie thought bitterly but remained jovial on the surface.

"I'm sure the bar section'll be too crowded for us to breach anyway. Regulars gotta have some kind of coping mechanism once they see you walking in, right?"

”Oh yeah, us Abes are pretty scary, aren't we? At least we've got a veteran like you escorting us! I'm sure you've got all kinds of tips on managing the Stigma... y'know, make we don't hurt anyone.”

A slight eye twitch. A chip in the boy's veneer.

"Oh, of course. Plenty of tips. For example, I know we had a bit of a harrowing incident in the Penthouse but the trick to deal with that kinda stress is to avoid singling out a target you know you dislike and screaming all of your rage and inner frustrations at them! Physical isn't the only type of hurting after all!"

Emma's smile only got bigger. ”Right!” Emma gave a slight laugh, ”That does seem a little fucked up. Maybe I should try emotionally abusing my friends and...”

And getting little girls killed.

Emma stopped talking.

Ernie glanced sideways to the girl. Had he crossed a line there? But he hadn't been wrong, right? Better to just stop now, preserve whatever weird truce they still had.

Even if he really wanted to rub it in that he'd won this time. Even if he really wanted to see her break again.

"Yeah..." he looked away and clenched his fist, talking more solemnly now, "Let's just...avoid doing stupid things. Don't want another incident."

Emma nodded, her smile diminishing a little, ”Yeah, Ernie, let's do that. Wouldn't want to ruin a nice brunch, right?”

"Right."

The trio finally reached the buffet, which was thankfully still set up for breakfast and brunch despite the hour. The usual reaction met them, though the sparseness of the dining crowd considerably lessened the hostility that Ernie was used to from his previous meals in this place.

"I'll get us a table," he said, departing with some fruit on his plate before asking a waiter for a pitcher of orange juice to be placed at the table he sat at.

For her own plate Emma began piling items on it- eggs, bacon, pancakes, the essentials. Emma spared Hazel a small glance, assuming she had no concept of a 'buffet', "Grab a plate and start throwing whatever looks good on there, Hazel. You should try to find something greasy. My sister always said greasy food was good for hangov- er, for your head."

Taking her words to heart, Hazel brought back a whole platter full of nothing but fried eggs, ham and bacon. A whole lot of bacon. In fact, the eggs and ham looked like they were drowning in the mountain of bacon.

"I have acquired the greasy food."

With her headache still there, but ignored for the sake of some odd food she had rarely ever eaten, she started to dig in into her food, tasting first the eggs and ham, but soon focusing only on the bacon. Seeing the pitcher of orange juice being placed upon the table, she started reaching out to it, obviously meaning to just drink it from the pitcher, but stopped when she remembered Ernie's word last night. Staring expectantly towards Emma, Hazel waited for her to drink first, in case there was some special way to drink it.

Emma returned Hazel's look. Was she unsure how to drink the orange juice? She was about to drink it right from the pitcher, wasn't she? Emma gave a small nod, grabbing two glasses and filling them both with orange juice. ”Here.” Emma said with a small smile, extending one of the glasses towards Hazel.

"Thank you."

Nodding, she continued on eating, stopping now and then to take a sip of the orange juice.

"Make sure you drink lots, yeah? It'll help with your head," Ernie advised like a knowing parent. He frowned as he remembered the night before, "Hazel, you spilled the water I gave you on the floor instead of drinking it like I told you to, right? The puddle on the ground was a lot bigger than it should've been."

Hazel choked on her drink at that. Coughing, she recovered quickly and gave an answer just as swiftly.

"It is possible that you have remembered wrong."

A technically true answer, but still she did not meet Ernie's eyes as she continued eating.

Ernie raised an eyebrow before chuckling. "Relax, I won't get mad. I'm only asking 'cos I know your head probably feels like a nightmare right now. The water was supposed to help with that so next time you go drinking again, remember to have a glass of juice or normal water between drinks, yeah?"

"Also try to stop after, like, four drinks." Emma threw in quickly, picking an arbitary number for Hazel's sake.

Nodding to their advice, Hazel continued on eating. Just four drinks? So all she needed to do was to limit herself to four bottles a day, and she will be fine. Surely this did not mean the orange juice in front of her? It had none of the bite, so she was sure she can drink it as much as she wants.

Still, it was kinda odd to have two people just sitting near her, giving her all these advice and guiding her. There was an unfamiliar feeling welling up from beneath the haze, but she paid it no mind as she tried to finish all these delicious bacon.

Emma took a delicate bite of her eggs, mulling over the mystery that was Hazel. Now might be a good time to take a whack at trying to get some answer from her, "Say, Hazel, where were you before you met us?" Emma asked plainly. Last time she'd tried that question she'd asked where she was from, but now she was hoping that the change in phrasing would get an actual answer.

"Before you came to USARILN East," Ernie added, hoping it would help.

Hazel closed her eyes for a moment, before opening them and straightening up in her chair as she stopped eating.

"Theta level access required. Password needed to access."

Without a doubt, it did not seem as if she would let anything out without a proper access code. Only those people back in those facilities, people with a lot of connection, and those with her full report and dossier had the knowledge of such a password, and even then, the password would be meaningless considering they would, by then, know more about the facility than she did.

Emma returned Hazel's answer with a wide eyed stare. After a moment of hesitation she slowly said, "Nope. Don't have that." instead she turned to Ernie- another mystery to be solved, "What about you? Before East?"

Ernie looked at Hazel, completely perplexed. It probably wouldn't be as easy as guessing 'password123', huh? A dead end for that conversation. He took a sip of his orange juice to buy time, trying not to glance at Emma as he did so. Was she trying to get some dirt on him? He wouldn't let that happen so easily.

"West," he answered curtly, "And before that, Reno. You?"

"New York. The city." Emma said with a small nod, taking a sip from her own drink, "Tribeca to be exact. Moved to the middle of nowhere and then got picked up by these guys."

"Oh. New York, like in all the movies. Have a lot of fun there?"

”It's a wonderful town.” Emma sang dryly. ”Yeah, I mean, there's a ton of stuff to do there. City that never sleeps. What about Reno? Into that underage gambling?”

Ernie blinked. Was she seriously trying to start this shit again? "I dabbled," he answered succinctly, "Reno's a shithole. Not all of us could grow up in Richville."

Emma's face dropped down to a food as her hand shot up to push a strand of loose hair out of her face, ”Sorry.” she muttered, ”I didn't mean it that way.”

Ernie didn't think he'd ever be able to understand this girl. "Nah, I thought you were trying to start shit or something. I'm sorry too."

Another awkward sip of orange juice before he started again.

"I dunno. Sometimes I feel like you say stuff just so you can have an excuse to get pissed at me, or so that I get pissed at you. Am I just being paranoid?"

Emma frowned.

”I don't know.”

That was as honest as she had been since she'd gotten to USARILN. ”I don't want to blame it all on the stigma, but...” she didn't want him to hear her voice shake a little, but she was sure he would.

He looked on passively, preparing his usual pile of napkins should she start crying again.

"Same," he murmured but tried to smile reassuringly. There was still too much he needed to become before he could forgive her, or even give her genuine advice. This wasn't like talking to Angelique or Lily, "I guess it'd be too much to ask you to stop? I don't think I'm gonna be able to just not be angry all the time. I've got Stigma problems here too."

”I wish I could stop.” Emma took a bite of her eggs. How long would it be until everyone realized how fucked up she was? ”I guess that's why being an Aberration sucks, huh?”

"Totally," he nodded. The pitcher was almost empty so he called the waiter over for a refill, "So does your Stigma make you accuse everyone of r...rape or am I just an unlucky, special case?"

Emma was in the middle of a sip of orange juice as he spoke, but as she processed the word she choked on it slightly, quickly putting the glass down. ”Okay, c'mon, even with the stigma you've got to admit that shit sounded pretty shady.”

She look down again.

”But still... I'm sorry. You didn't do anything wrong. You were trying to help. I... shouldn't have threatened you.” there was a genuine note of remission in her voice. Maybe, in a move that surprised even her, Emma wasn't lying to Ernie.

Another apology. She...meant it. Why did that unsettle him so much? The boy fiddled with the food on his plate. It would've so nice to slap that remorse back in her face, hold her vices against her. To stay angry. But he'd seen the same in her, called it out already. Staying angry was the easy way out here. He'd taken that road too many times. He wanted to believe that he was better than that, even for just one moment.

"Better than that? Or just better than her?" that voice sneered and Ernie's fist clenched around his fork. It didn't matter either way.

"Apology happily accepted," he nodded good-naturedly before something else occurred to him, "Wait, I sound shady?"

The boy seemed to be in genuine dismay over this.

Emma laughed a little, ”C'mon. The drinks, the nudity, I know now that wasn't your fault, but the whole story sounded a little suspicious. Also that whole, 'I don't know any dealers in D.C.' comment. But I don't need to know the story behind that. Not judging. As long as you're not out to score any Rohypnol or shit like that you can do what you will with your free time.” Emma gave a small shrug.

He's still your enemy. a voice in the back of her head reminded her.

Ernie chuckled a bit too. Of course he'd sound strange to a girl hailing from Richville. He didn't think it was worth clearing up that he wasn't an addict so he remained quiet.

"Alright, that's fair. Look, I'll stop being so shady and you'll stop jumping to conclusions and tossing that summon around to threaten people. That sound good?"

”Alright. Agreed.” Emma said enthusiastically with a slight smile planted on her face, taking another bite of egg.

Wait, this doesn't mean we're friends now, right?

”What's Reno like anyways? Besides 'shithole'.”

"Crap basket," Ernie replied before elaborating, "Uh, lemme think. The underage gambling wasn't a total lie but yeah, lotsa casinos. Lotsa dingy places. My suburb was pretty neat though, mostly cos we could afford it. Uh, nightlife there gets pretty rowdy if you stay out too late in the wrong places but that's probably for a lotta other cities too. Makes good business if you play it right. Have you seen Sister Act? The start sums it up pretty well."

”I have, actually.” Emma said, taking a sip from her drink, ”And then how did West get you? Do they go as hard as East? House raid? Crazed Aberration on the loose, lassoing up scared civilians?”

”Not a dig on the rope, just a joke.” Emma quickly added.

"Not the last one, unfortunately. Got my horse impounded before I could go full cowboy," he riffed back, glad that they could joke between each other now. Or at least try to. It wasn't very fun if they kept having to reassure each other that they weren't looking for an argument. His polite smile faded a notch as he recalled that night, "I was out with a...friend. Got into a stupid fight and got snagged by USARILN asshats waiting around the corner. West had been camping out the city for months so I can't even blame it on bad luck. They only ever go hard when Kleinfelder, our 'principal', wants to make himself look good. East is usually way nastier."

Accurate but vague enough. Except for the 'friend' part. But telling Emma that he was out with his 'boss' would just raise questions he really didn't want to answer.

"How about your capture? Do they have mark checks out east or something? I wouldn't put that below Zhang."

”It was...”

Emma sighed, recalling the night. She'd played it over in her head a lot- tried to remember the parts that were fuzzy, tried to justify what the fuck happened.

”It was shit. After I awakened my sister flew in... for emotional support, or whatever, my parents hated Subs and they were ready to give up on me. Abandon me. My sister wanted to take me with her, try to do the whole fugitive thing, but East was already onto me only a day after she got there. We ran. They caught us. Some jackass hit me over the head with the butt of his rifle and now I'm here. Never did find out what they did with Val.”

Emma gave a long sigh. It hadn't been something she'd talked about with anyone- why was it that Ernie knew more about her than Marcus?

”They also do random checks, you're right.”

Truthfully, that story didn't sound like it ended with Val's life being in safe hands. But Ernie kept quiet for Emma's sake.

"Yeah. It's shitty, hearing about parents turning on their own kids, like they're just strangers in their houses. You'd think years of seeing their kid grow up would beat some sense into them. Your sister sounds like a total badass though. Plane tickets aren't just handed out on the street these days. Having someone who's got your back like that sounds great."

A wistful smile placed itself on Emma's face, ”It really was. Val was the best sister I could of asked for. She was really the coolest person I've ever met. At least she was there for me...” Emma sighed, her face turning downcast, ”Shit sucked. My step-father's father was killed by a Sub and I guess that was enough of an excuse to toss me out the door. Some people are just so stubborn, y'know? I get why he didn't like Subs, but you'd think...”

Emma paused.

”Sorry, I guess I'm talking a little too much.” Emma said with a small laugh.

Ernie nodded. "Makes sense. We can't really hope that people can change their views so easily. D.C.'s the perfect example of that."

At the last comment, he shook his head. "Don't worry. Talking's a lot better than arguing. Even if it is bumming both of us out a little."

”Yeah...” Emma stared down at her plate, picking at a piece of sausage with her fork, ”What about you, Ernie? You haven't really mentioned your family.”

Oh. Ernie glanced around sheepishly. If he lied about it now, it would only kick him in the ass later. "They, uh, died before I awakened. Didn't have to deal with getting kicked out like you, I guess. No siblings like Val either."

Not cool. He needed to get the attention off himself.

"What about you, Hazel?"

"Egh av nho mengmories ofg ehm" She replied, with her mouth full.

Certainly the only memories Hazel could remember was being at the facility. One of the earliest she could recall was trying to read a piece of paper they left in her sterile white room.

A sad smile came onto Emma's face. ”Try not to speak with your mouth full, Hazel. It'll help people understand you.” it was her job to tell her these things, right? ”Sorry. About your guys' families. Guess my problems aren't so bad, huh?” Emma said mournfully.

Ernie looked between the two before leaning back and stretching. Not as bad, for sure. Didn't make it any less of a problem though, as he'd learnt at West. "Well, just cos your problems aren't 'big', doesn't mean it hurt any less for you. Sounds like it would've been emotionally rough, that ordeal with your parents and getting separated from your sis."

”Yeah...”

Emma sighed, food starting to deplete.

”I'm sure we've all got some shitty stories. There aren't a lot of happy lead ins to ending up in a place like this.”

"It is magic kiddie prison, as much as they try to disguise it as a fancy school. Shitty stories are the norm. Some people just feel like hiding it more than others."

He couldn't help but think bitterly to Cal at that last statement.

Emma shrugged, ”Some people don't like talking about it. Can't say I blame them, a lot of the time it's not an easy thing to say. For a lot of people saying stuff like that is wha makes it real to them. It's easier to pretend that stuff didn't happen.” Emma laughed at herself, ”Sorry, I sound like some kind of Freud wannabe.”

"Don't worry, I don't know what that is. But you're right. There are different ways of coping with the past. And I got no right judging if people's methods are right or wrong," he chuckled before his tone went solemn again, "Are you glad you told your story, though? Even if it was just to me and Hazel?"

Emma sighed. ”Yeah, I am. It's easier to talk about shit than hold it in.”

So why aren't you talking about what really matters?

Emma pushed around a bit of hash brown with her fork before scooping it up and eating it, ”Anyways, we're probably going to be here a long time. No point in holding onto secrets, it'll come up eventually.”

"Yeah..."

Ernie looked down at his empty plate in an attempt to hide the frown that was growing. He hated that Emma's words were right. It was only a matter of time before people found out about his life before West. But even so, he'd hold onto it as long as he could.

"Yeah, you're right."

Emma looked down at their plates. They were done, it looked like. Emma sat up from the table with a small huff before glancing at Hazel, ”Well, feel any better?”

"Yes."

Finishing the last bits of the orange juice, she sat up straight. Her headache was still there, but at least it wasn't as strong as it was before.

"Alright then. Mission accomplished."

Ernie admired the Penthouse's panoramic view as he waited for the elevator. Pretty stuff. Certainly beat the lunch menu he had to internally plan, now that he was supposed to be on Brent's workout diet. Certainly beat the screaming in his fucking arms. The Aberration sighed and adjusted his beanie, cringing as the arm motion sent another spasm of 'ouch' through itself. He'd get used to it soon. First few days were always the roughest.

Allison Revel made her way to the elevator. She was planning on going out, no particular destination, just outside the expensive aura of the hotel suite. Though, for someone hoping to escape the expensive aura, she had made the odd decision to wear clothing that Siena had picked out on Thursday. Allison didn't consider herself a big fan of skirts, but the mid-thigh length maroon skirt seemed comfortable enough, and the short, light jacket over a loose white shirt that was at least not too restrictive. Though the ensemble was impossibly expensive, at least to Allison's tiny budget, she wore it out of respect for her rich friend.

Allison approach was halted when she saw Ernest Mars, the boy who had stabbed her in the eye and somehow befriended her, waiting for the arrival of the elevator. She hadn't talk to him in a number of days. Since it seemed that both of them were heading out, maybe she could try and join him?

"Hey Ernie! Fancy meeting you here. What's up?"

At the sight of the girl, Ernie smiled. Now there was someone he needed to talk to more often. It wasn't every day he met someone who was cool with him even after such a vicious attack.

"Just heading down for lunch. Wanna hang?" he nodded to the elevator, taking in her appearance. Expensive stuff, he guessed, "Looks like D.C. shopping treated you well. You look nice."

"Oh thanks, Siena picked it out," Allison found herself blushing slightly, "and yea, sounds good."

"Haha, I should've guessed. Hope your account isn't too broken," he chuckled, referring to the Arbiter's expensive taste, "Cool, I'm heading to the buffet. Don't know if D.C. food is worth struggling through all those reporters."

The two Aberrations cut through the lunch rush like Allison's knife through concrete, the Regulars once again doing the evasive work for them. Ernie started packing pasta and chicken onto his plate.

"It's been a while since we talked, huh? Hope your sleep habits have improved by now."

Allison stifled a laugh, picking at her relatively barren plate of food, just a piece of chicken. She just didn't feel like eating much.

"Yea, yea. Sleeping so late isn't great, but sometimes something just keeps you awake, you know?" Of course, she was implying playing guitar with Angel, and to a lesser extent bad memories, but she couldn't help but realize what else she was accidentally implying. Allison felt her face getting warm, and stared down at the chicken with the hope that she wasn't blushing enough for Ernie to notice.

"Ah yeah. I'd get it if you weren't sleeping well after everything that's happened," he replied goodnaturedly, oblivious to Allison's implication, "The beds here are like sleeping in a cloud though. Best I've ever had. If it weren't for all the other crazy stuff in this place, I'd just sleep in the entire time! Ah, but I'd be setting a bad example after lecturing you so much, wouldn't I?"

"No, no, it's fine," Allison replied. "You are right, though. Those beds are great, and-" And what? Sharing a bed with Angel is heaven? That's not exactly the sort of thing you should bring up at lunch with a friend. "It all feels like too much, though. I hope we aren't here for too much longer, this isn't the kind of thing I could ever get used to." The richness of it all was overpowering. It felt unatural, too easy to get lulled in to the easy comforts. Some of them, such as the harp, even brought back painful memories.

"Not part of the 1% before USARILN?" he joked.

"Heh... I guess you could say that?" Allison pondered for a moment if she should say anything else. She'd mentioned Tommy in passing with Angel, but she hadn't really talked about that year or so of time much at all. Maybe it would be good to remember that time, at least for a bit? "Lived out of a van for about a year with some friends, we all ran from a shitty orphanage together. Couldn't really risk being seen, 5 subnaturals among us, so we slept in the van. Cramped necks like you wouldn't believe." Allison laughed awkwardly, running her fingers through her hair.

Ernie's eyes widened as the story went on. "Woah, that sounds wild as hell. A gigantic, state-spanning adventure. Was it fun, living on the road? Scary?"

"Bit of both, I guess? Mostly it was just silent driving. There were a few things that I could probably talk about, if you want real adventure stories, but not right now." Allison sighed, taking another bite of chicken. "To be honest, I kind of regret all of it."

A sympathetic nod, though his Stigma urged him to prod further. "Regret not giving yourself up sooner? Or regret getting caught?"

"Sorry... I think that's as much as I'm willing to talk about right now." Allison sipped at a glass of water. "So, how about you? What's your crazy story?"

Another day, then. Ernie swallowed some chicken, filing the information to the back of his mind for later reference.

"Was part of a big subnatural gang in Reno for ages. Got caught in February. Got transferred to East about a week ago," Ernie chewed thoughtfully, summing up the biggest points. Usually he'd give away more details about the Senators but considering some people in the class, considering all the dirty shit they already knew about him and considering the less-than-glamorous reputation the faction had, perhaps it was better to keep that name out of his mouth, "So I get what you mean about the fanciness. Y'know my first ever shower at West was half an hour long? There was no one there to stop me so I just kept going! And all that hot water...man, it was beautiful."

He laughed heartily at the memory.

"Seriously, it's nice to meet another sub who knows what it's like outside the system. Sometimes I feel like the others wouldn't understand if I talked about it too much."

"Yea... Wait, you said you were part of a gang, right? Ernie, do you by any chance remember a-" Allison stopped herself. Why was she asking this? Of course Ernest wouldn't know him, no one would know about him unless he wanted them to, and even then they wouldn't want to share that they knew him. It was a pointless question. Allison settled herself down. "Sorry, nevermind."

"Hm?" Ernie looked up from his plate. Almost done with the whole pile, nice. "I might know 'em. Or maybe not, if they were on the eastern side of the country. Give me a name anyway, or a power, and I'll see if I can recall."

Allison hesitated for a moment.

"A man with red eyes. If you know him, you'll know who I'm talking about."

"Ummm..." Ernie blinked, suddenly uncertain beneath her steadfast tone, "There were plenty of people whose eyes got changed by their powers. I can think of a few people with red eyes but it would, uh, help if I got a name?"

"He... doesn't have a name." Allison felt stupid saying it out loud, but it was pretty much the truth. "Not a real one that I know of, anyway."

"Uh huh..." Ernie raised an eyebrow, not sure how to respond, "Well, if you remember any details," Concrete details, please, "I'll do my best to remember."

"Sorry, it was a stupid question to ask. Shouldn't have brought it up." She picked at her food for a few moments before trying to change the subject. "So... transferred... from West, right? What was West like?"

He smiled, grateful for the subject change. It was starting to get weird before.

"Big and colourful. There are like a gazillion subnaturals there so it's basically a town rather than a school. Lotsa kids, lotsa parties."

A sudden melancholic shift in his gaze.

"West is where all the gimpy powers get thrown, right? So we didn't get sent out nearly as much as East. No Cat 3's, that's for sure."

Less deaths at West too. Far less. But his classmates didn't need to be reminded of what could have been.

"Then again, we never got to ride in a limo and stay in a luxury hotel either. So it's an interesting trade."

"Yea, I guess you could say that." Allison leaned back in her seat. "Not being sent out to fight every week sound good, to be honest."

"Yeah, gotta take that vacation time in-between."

The pair continued talking some more, focusing on less strenuous topics such as their lodgings and the city. Eventually, as the lunch rush wound down and they finished their plates, they made their way back up to the Penthouse, chatting contently all the while.

The short ride in the APC had served to somewhat put Marcus on edge again, almost as if he was waiting to see what would go wrong this time. However, it was the transfer over to a luxury style limousine that had completely shifted his mood. He'd quickly gone from 'slightly stressed' to 'giddy schoolgirl', nearly diving into the plush seats.

"Ah! A minifridge!" Marcus exclaimed, looking to the few guards that were helping students pile in. "See, this is how you do it! Take notes, boys!"

Emma, however, was ready to leave by the time the APC came. Their short stay in Wisford felt like it had gone on far too long: The townspeople hated them, the media hounded them, and she had managed to give off the impression that she was either psychotic or stupid to a number of their classmates… and honestly, if that’s what people thought of her she couldn’t exactly bring herself to disagree. She was stupid, completely unfit for battle… hell, even outside of battle she managed to fuck everything up. She was also crazy. At least, she felt like she was going crazy. The realities of the world around her were wearing her down and it wasn’t something that she could just stop… and that’s without taking the Stigma into account. It was quickly becoming too much…

But she couldn’t think about that, could she? No, she had decided, she needed to what she’d always done. Internalize. Compartmentalize. She couldn’t let her problems get to her. She needed a distraction and for now she accepted that it would come in the form of Marcus Howell; certainly not unpleasant as far as diversions go.

She followed him into the limousine with a cautious step; she was used to seeing them but had rarely actually being in one. It felt far too fancy for her, but she wasn’t going to tip him off to how uncomfortable she felt. ”Well, I guess now that we have a celebrity in the group they have to treat us a little better, eh Zip Zip Boi?” she said teasingly. Of course she’d heard the news; Marc, the new face of subnaturals, her boyfriend. She’d been joking about their potential status as a famous couple before, but now… well, she didn’t know how to feel about their group’s new-found fame, his in particular.

"I know, right? It feels nice to be recognied for on-" Marcus stopped short, giving Emma a look like a curious puppy. Who the hell was Zip Zip Boi? It was no matter, that was a thought for sometime when he didn't have things to look at and snacks to wolf down. The supply he'd bought from the store had worn down a day ago, and the hotel food was just terrible. It was nice to have something decent for once.

Ignoring the fancy drinks and wierd food he didn't recognize, Marcus went for the layman's chips and soda, cracking a smile as Siena pulled some of the finer stuff. It was odd; she seemed the most comfortable out of all of them - almost as if the setting fit her to a 'T'.

The thought was lost as Marcus scooted over, patting the seat next to him as an invitation for Emma.

Emma followed Marcus’s invitation, taking a seat next to him with a slight look of befuddlement. Clearly, she had said something weird… wait, did he not know?

Wait, he totally doesn’t know.

”Oh. My. God. You don’t know?” a smirk broke out as her face quaked with the threat of laughter. ‘Zip Zip Boi’ had sounded like something Marcus himself would’ve come up with. ”They’re calling you Zip Zip Boi all over the internet after that interview. Like, Boi. B. O. I. I mean, right now Time Scar is the more popular name, but I’m personally rooting for Zip Zip Boi.”

Marcus stared at Emma, his mouth full of chips, for a long moment. His eyes scanned her face, looking to see if she was kidding or not. How'd he get a nickname? Why was he all over the internet? He'd only done one interview in the middle of a motel alley - that wouldn't have been enough.

He swallowed, still staying silent for a few seconds before he hesitantly spoke. "You're messing with me. That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard."

The implied laughter turned into actual laughter. ”No way. You really didn’t hear? Zip Zip Boi is the talk of the town.” Emma paused, her face turning serious. ”I guess you didn’t hear the rest of it, huh? Marcus, millions have watched that interview. I mean, it’s the first time one of us has had an actual interview where they don’t make us out to be monsters… they’re… they’re calling you the ‘face of subnatural oppression’. You’re…” Emma paused, sighing.

”We’re like, a big deal now. It’s not just you…. Christmas, Brent, Siena, they’re talking about them too. And I’m sure they’ll focus on the rest of us soon enough.” Emma stretched back in her seat, trying to will herself into comfort.

"Wha-?" Marcus said, immediately dumbfounded by Emma's statement. Millions plural? He'd become the face of subnatural oppression?

He didn't exactly want that. Sure, he'd given the interview with the intention of trying to make people see that subnaturals weren't all bad people, but he hadn't expected it to take off and be seen by millions.

"You're kidding."

He was famous. He was legitimately famous. A kid from the middle of nowhere was famous across millions of people.

This was a lot to take in at one time, and he wasn't exactly sure how he felt about it.

Emma frowned a little, ”Sorry, I guess there’s a better way of putting that than just… throwing it all at you.” Emma’s hand found his, giving it a light squeeze, ”It’s true though. I’m sorry, I’m sure it’s… difficult.”

"It's...a little bit overwhelming, yeah." Marcus said, anxiety fluttering in his chest. It subsided a little bit with Emma's hand, and he squeezed it back, giving her a hesitant smile.

"Lucky us, huh?"

”If I were lucky I’d be back in New York fangirling over Time Scar, not going into battle with him.” Emma said offhandedly, a small tinge of guilt following the statement. ”But I guess we shouldn’t think about that. Out of all the people I could be stuck with you’re not so bad.” she joked, a crooked smile making its way onto her face.

"Hey, I'm right here; you can fangirl all you want!" Marcus said, giving Emma a light shove. "Better do it quick - I'm going to have a crowd of adoring fans at this rate!"

He paused for a moment, returning her crooked smile. "And thanks, you're not that awful, either."

”Right.” Emma chose simply to agree.

If only he knew.

The stigma, of course, was never far. Emma ignored it. ”Soooooo… how was Wisford for you? Besides, y’know, the whole interview thing.”

"Oh it was..." Marcus started, his mind immediately flashing back to the cold solidarity of the bathroom floor. "...fine." he said, rather unconvincingly.

"How about for you? Get into any trouble after I apparently terrorized that poor kid?"

Emma sighed.

”Hospital visits. That was… about it.”

Emma, at least, was a natural liar. She couldn’t say the same for Marcus, but if he didn’t want to talk about it she wouldn’t press. ”They sure did a number on Hazel, but I never found out exactly what happened with her.” she said, giving a small shrug.

"Well, with any luck, they weren't too mean to her. I'd hate to get on the wrong side of that one, that's for sure." Marcus leaned back in his seat, propping his leg up and enjoying the limo ride.

---

"You know, say what you want about the snotty rich people downstairs, but they sure do know how to accomodate! Look at this place!" Marcus exclaimed, throwing his arms wide and giving Emma a wide grin.

He'd been absolutely shocked to see the telltale white dome rising over the river, the clearest indication of where they had been transported to. They'd been trasped through the lobby, up the elevator, and into the penthouse, but Marcus had barely payed attention to any of it. Instead, he gazed wide eyed at the scenery, absolutely awestruck by the hotel. He could barely comprehend that people lived like this every once in a while, much less daily! It was certainly more luxorious than anything he'd ever been able to experience.

And he was going to see exactly how many things he could push and poke; just to get a better idea of how the other half lived, of course.

As much as she had hated to admit it Emma was looking forward to returning to the school. Ever since the revelation that their little trip would last a little longer she’d felt a distinct pang of disappointment. She couldn’t really feel at ease as long as they were away- she didn’t feel at ease at the school either, but it was better. There was also the matter of her and Vivaldi’s little experiment- it looked like that would have to wait too, at least for now.

But Marcus seemed happy with the arrangement, so she tried her best to match his enthusiasm. ”Right. I’m sure those very same snooty rich people are already looking for a new place to stay.” she stated dryly. Well, at least she was trying. ”You’re right though, this place is way too nice for us. I feel like we’ll get in trouble for breathing the same air as these people.” a slight smile lit up Emma’s face. She’d been to a lot of fancy places like this- it’s inevitable that she’d have a few rich friends considering where she grew up, but at the same time she felt just as uncomfortable as she had been in the limo.

She gave an offhand glance to the door of the rooms, counting them. She had instantly noticed the disparity between their numbers and the rooms, ”Only twelve rooms,” she commented plainly, ”Some of us will have to share.” she commented a little too plainly. Her eyes flickered towards Marcus, her expression remained unchanging, refusing to betray anything.

Marcus's excitied looking around the room stopped as Emma listed the room count, his eyes flicking over the numbers himself. It was true, too many students, not enough rooms for them. To be expected really, what hotel planned a penthouse suite for a whole battalion of children?

"Well...my roommates will probably be sharing a room between the two of them..." Marcus said, hesitantly starting his thought. They were dating. It wasn't a weird thing to ask - especially when it was required! Why was he so nervous about it?

He allowed his mind a pause to build some composure; a little bit of confidence at least, so his statement wouldn't sound like it was being spoken by a small child.

"You want to share a room with me?" he finally asked, looking at her almost curiously.

”Ummmmmmmmmmmm…”

This had been exactly what she was afraid of. She wasn’t quite sure how to respond- she wasn’t certain what Marcus expected in terms of… well, the obvious point of apprehension when two people of the opposite gender shared a room. A list of negatives built up in her head: she didn’t want the others to think she was slutty, they’d only just started dating, she wasn’t sure what she had wanted…

God, she had no idea what she wanted, she realized, let alone what Marcus did.

She quickly became aware of the fact that during the couple of seconds she spent internally debating the issue her cheeks had flushed completely red and she had started to move through her plethora of nervous tics- first a slight squirming in her leg began which quickly turned into a tapping foot, followed by her hand shooting up to scratch her nose and then moving to uncomfortably tug on her hair, before…

Before she realized she must’ve looked very stupid.

She internally begged herself to regain a bit of the composure that she had tried so hard to maintain. She took a breath before her hand moved once again to rub the back of her head, ”Well, uh, I mean, I guess if you, uh, want to it’s… not a big deal?” she said quickly, her forced answer followed shortly by a nervous laugh.

Oh no, he'd said the wrong thing. He could tell that the statement had been a bad idea, just from the long indecicive noise she made, much less all of the other little things that he noticed, his own nervousness starting to become evident. He'd rushed it, brought it up too early, and now everything was at risk of falling apart.

"I-I mean... Marcus said, moving quickly to diffuse the awkwardness. "...we don't have to if you don't want to! You could room with your one roommate! No worries!"

He said it without thinking; there'd probably not be anywhere for him to sleep without finding somebody to room with, and he didn't exactly have a lot of other options. Maybe Ernie if he needed. Or maybe he'd just get the couch.

”Oh, no no no! I mean, if you want to stay, in the, uh, same room, it’s fine. It’s not like we’re not already rooming with people of the same… uh, gender, right? So it’s not, like, a big deal or anything, right?” Emma’s face continued reddening steadily, ”I mean, just because we’re rooming together doesn’t mean we have to- or, I mean, we could… or…”

What the hell am I saying?

Her face quickly shot down to the ground, ”I should really stop talking.”

Didn't have to...? They could...?

Was she talking about what he thought she was talking about?

Marcus's face reddened also, nearly matching the same vibrancy as Emma's, as he nervously chuckled a little bit at the statements. He wasn't even going to look any more in depth at whatever it was she had just said, especially if asking to room together took them both down to quivering messes.

"Guess we have that one in common, huh?" he said, his face starting to cool slightly.

A forced laugh. ”Right. Yeah.” this situation only confirmed that she was a complete and total idiot. ”Sooooooooooooo…” she began slowly, ”I… guess… we’ll room together?” she said hesitantly, ”Unless you don’t want to, of course!” she quickly tacked on.

"I do. I mean, it's fine!" Marcus said, quickly trying to put Emma's fears to rest. He was still silently making fun of himself in his head; having been so flustered over a little thing like sharing a room. But Emma was flustered too, so how dumb was he for worrying that she'd get the wrong idea?

Still pretty dumb. Clearly.

"Welp. Glad we figured that one out." Marcus said, a slight chuckle escaping his lips.

”Yeah! Yeah…” Emma, for her part, was still flustered. So many things to worry about… would they sleep in the same bed, would she keep him up if they did, would they…

Oh, god, she was getting nervous again just thinking about it. It wasn’t like she hadn’t ever done it before, but in a place like this, in these circumstances, this quick?

Emma had to forcibly suppress a sigh. ”Well, I guess we should… go claim a room.” she glanced around at the other members of Experimental Group B. Would they notice? Would they care? How would this affect her reputation?

Yep, Emma realized, I still look like a total idiot.

"How exactly do you propose we 'claim a room'?" Marcus asked, slightly oblivious to whatever connotations such a statement might provide. "I didn't exactly bring any luggage with me - unless you want to have Determination carve our initials into the door or something"

Was it considered a save if you hadn't even realized you'd fumbled in the first place?

”Well, I was just thinking, like, uh, a sign or something... but hey, I haven’t really used these guys outside of punching stuff, so might as well get used to it…” and just like that Determination appeared beside the duo, ”Hey, can you go st-” Emma was caught a little off guard by Determination’s appearance. He looked… different. Was that a face? Where before was a blank visage now lay holes that mimicked the appearance of Human eyes and a slit in the shape of a slight smile. It creeped her out, a little, to be completely honest. She cleared her throat, brushing it off quickly, ”Can you go stand over there?” she said, vaguely gesturing towards one of the doors.

This way they wouldn’t actually have to actually go into the room… alone… together... at least, not yet.

After a moment of consideration Determination followed his orders, marching towards the door ceremonially. Emma gave a small shrug to Marcus, ”That works, right?” Emma paused for a moment, ”So, what now?”

Marcus was similarly caught off guard by Determination's appearance, dispite the fact he'd made the suggestion in the first place. There was something...creepier about his appearance - he thought the dude was a vague shadow before, and there was just something that was off.

Or maybe he'd just never gotten to see the guy up close.

"Nice! Tulpa bouncer!" Marcus said, holding his hand up to high-five the shadow creature as he walked by, becoming slightly disappointed when he was inevitably left hanging.

He tried to regain some of the dignity that was lot at that sight, looking around the penthouse. "Well, we're here in this fancy-schmancy penthouse for a few days, in the heart of the nation's capital! I'm sure there's some fun little thing we can do around here!" Marcus said, the excitement starting to creep into his voice.

”Probably is… although I doubt Washington cares all that much for us.” Emma shrugged, taking a glance at one of the penthouse’s many electronic screens, examining the list of amenities. ”Buffet, gym, computer lounge… oooh, an arcade. Says here there’s also an orchestra and a bunch of restaurants and stuff.” Emma gave Marcus a quizzical glance. She’d let him give his input, although she already knew where she wanted to go.

"Orchestra?" Marcus said, wandering up behind Emma to peek over her shoulder. There was a slight hint of curiosity in his voice; he'd never actually been to a live orchestra preformance before. That was something that only the rich and fancy people got to enjoy, but here it was, a possibility dangling before him like a carrot on a stick.

Emma turned around, giving Marcus a long glance. "Orchestra it is, than?" Emma wouldn't have pegged him as a classical music fan... she certainly wasn't, but if this was what he wanted, well, she'd go along with it.

Marcus caught her glance, quickly reverting back to deflection mode. "I mean, if you're cool with it, sure! I've never been to a big event like that, myself - more of a statement of curiosity!"

"There's always that gym date I owe you," he said, grinning slightly. "As long as you're not afraid to see how out of shape I actually am."

Emma narrowed her eyes. ”Hard no. Orchestra it is.” she said without a hint of hesitation. She still wanted to go to the arcade, but hey, she'd go along with him.

He was a little bit taken aback by the suddeness of her answer, but he tried not to let it show. Maybe she just didn't actually like excercise, and he'd missed the punchline.

"Well, it looks like the first show is tomorrow. You want to go then?" he asked, still reading some of the times over her shoulder.

”I don't know, I've got a pretty busy schedule.” Emma said, voice dripping with sarcasm, ”Y'know, meeting some guys now that we're out in the big wide world. But I'll see if I can pencil you in for old time's sake.” Emma said, turning back and giving Marcus a wink.

"Oh thank god," Marcus said, wiping his brow. "I was worried that I'd have to be up all night filling out the required forms and trying to bribe your secretary!" he added with a chuckle, giving her a playful nudge.

”Oooooh, sorry, did I give you the impression you wouldn't have to do that? I said I'll tryto pencil you in, but y'know, it's a lot more fun to make you work for it. Good luck though, I sure hope that you can get a spot.”

"Well then, I guess I'd better get started on those!"

---

Night fell, as it always does, and Marcus found himself wandering back towards his room as the darkness started to encroach. His talk with Max and Brent had put him a little bit on edge, and he was all too ready for the night to be over.

His and Emma's room, he was reminded. The dark guardian signaled that much at least. He stopped at the door, looking the figure up and down, waving his hand in front of the thing's face. Or at least, the part that looked the most like a face.

"God you're creepy..." Marcus muttered softly as he opened the door.

Emma had been sitting on the bed when Marcus walked in, staring at her phone. A look of surprise crossed her face when he walked in, but it quickly turned into an awkward smile- she almost didn't believe that they were really sharing a room, but she brushed that thought away.

”Hey, how's it goin'?” she said as normally as possible, locking her phone and returning it to her pocket.

"Oh, you know. Glamourous rockstar life!"

Boy was that a lie. Between the angry glares, getting punched in the face by Siena, and everything else that had been going on, his life felt like it was everything but glamourous or rockstar.

He sat down on the other side of the bed, flopping onto his back and looking at Emma, who was currently upside-down. He was trying not to think too hard about what they were looking at for tonight; they were dating, and sharing a bed together because they had to. There wasn't anything awkward about that. It's not like they were going to...

Right?

"How's it going in your neck of the woods?" Marcus asked, trying really hard to keep his face from flushing.

”Hmmmm... y'know, the usual. Party every day.” the phone in Emma's pocket buzzed, but she ignored it.

Now wasn't the time to worry about that.

”Tired?”

"A little bit, yeah. Been a long day!" he said, giving a wide stretch and accompanying yawn as he did so.

Accounting for the fact that he'd already not been sleeping so well, he was more than just a little tired. He was physically, mentally, and emotionally exhausted. Probably spiritually and financially exhausted too, if the day's shopping trip was any frame of reference.

"Are you not? Seems like all-day party would wear you out something fierce!" he asked, almost quizically.

I've hardly slept since we arrived.

That was what she should have admitted.

”No, I am.” she agreed instead, ”I guess... I'm ready to sleep whenever you are.” a half-truth; at the very least she had felt tired. No, she nigh-constantly felt tired. But she wouldn't sleep, she knew that much.

"I mean, it's not like we have to sleep together..."

Goddammit.

"I mean...You don't have to go to sleep as soon as I do!" Marcus stammered out quickly. "You can stay up as long as you want, it's not like you have to follow my granny-sleep schedule!"

He could already feel his face getting red. This was not going well.

Emma rubbed the back of her neck, ”Oh, uh, I mean...”

Did he not want to sleep with her? She didn't know what she had expected.

”Right. Uhhh... well, I dunno, I might putz around a bit before going to bed...”

Did she really just use the phrase 'putz' around?

Did Emma really just say 'putz around'?

That was a thought that was quickly shaken from his mind as he rubbed his hands across his face. Hopefully Emma would see it as tiredness instead of the actual thing he was trying to wipe off: exasperation.

It wasn't awkward. It shouldn't have been. So why was it?

He snaked his way up to the headboard of the bed, where the multitude of pillows impeded his progress.

"Well, I'll be here whenever you want to come join me!" he awkwardly stated, his sudden grin trying to hide the sudden burst of shame that richocheted throughout his body.

Why was he making this so much worse?

Oh go this was weird, wasn't it?

Oh god this was so weird.

”I've never slept in the same bed as a guy before.” she blurted out.

Wait, what did she just say? Her face reddened. ”I mean- just- oh, geez, sorry, I'm making this... really awkward. And... I just... don't want to seem like I'm being weird, or like I don't want to... sleep... with you...”

Oh thank god, she was freaking out about it as much as he was.

Marcus let out a small sigh of relief upon the revelation; it was nice to know he wasn't the only one making things worse than they actually were, and now that he knew where they were both sitting, it was a little bit easier to do damage control.

"Okay. I think I see the issue here." Marcus said, putting his hands out in the universal sign of 'calm down'. "We are both psyching ourselves out, here."

He sat up fully, scooting over to be a little bit closer to Emma.

"We're just sharing a bed for a couple nights. It doesn't have to be wierd or awkward or anything. You've never shared a bed with a guy, I've never shared a bed with a girl, it's fine."

”Right. You're right. It doesn't have to be weird...”

Emma turned to look at him. She felt a little bad, she wasn't exactly lying to him but what she said was misleading.

It didn't matter now.

”Alright... maybe... maybe we should just go to sleep than, huh?”

"That's my plan!" Marcus said, notably more enthusastic now that the air had been cleared somewhat.

"You however, can putz around as long as you'd like." he added, putting enough emphasis on the word to make his mockery clear.

Emma sighed, face full of exaggerated sadness. ”You're right to make fun of me, 'putz' is a dumb word.” With that she decided to lay back on the bed, ”No, I think I'm fine right here.”

Marcus laid back too, chuckling slightly at a thought he just had to make vocal.

"God. We fought monsters. Literal monsters. You'd think this normal shit would be easier."

”You'd think, huh?”

Emma had a smile on her face as she scooted over just a little closer to him.

Callan left her room again. She'd lost count really. It just seemed so unbearably weird to be rooming with Lawrence. Not that it had anything to do with him personally, but... there was only one bed. One. Pressing the palm of her hand to her forehead, Callan stared up at the celing for a moment, collecting her thoughts before throwing up her hood and making her way down the hall. She hadn't given herself much time to explore yet and, amidst all this ritz and glamour, she was sure she could find plenty of things to keep her mind occupied.

Emma had also been searching for something to distract her, although she wasn't sure if she was looking for respite from the stigma or Marcus. Of course she had nothing against Marcus himself, she still had qualms with the idea of rooming with someone else at all... especially with only one bed. Lying there pretending to sleep wasn't exactly fun. So she took off out the door searching for... something. She wasn't exactly sure what.

It was lucky that she spotted Callan. ”Hey! Cal!” she called out eagerly, jogging towards the girl.

Jumping slightly, Callan spun to face Emma with a poorly rehearsed smile. "Oh-- hey Emma," she grinned, reaching up to nervously tousle her hair, completely forgetting that she'd hidden it beneath her hood. Recalling their last conversation, Callan wondered if Emma was aware of who she'd ended up rooming with on accident. Well aware of who Emma was staying with, Callan hoped to avoid that topic altogether.

She tried to revive that comfort she'd felt around Emma back at the hospital, but it was taking a moment to kick back in. "Er-- what's up?"

Emma gave a wide smile, ”Just trying to get out, y'know... small room. Say, now that I mention it, we were supposed to hang out, right? Do... you want to do that?”

"Yeah, sure!" Callan mentally kicked herself. Small room? What did she mean by that?

"Alright, great." Emma paused for a moment, thinking, "But where to goooooo..." Emma already knew where wanted to go- where she had wanted to go with Marcus.

"There's an arcade down in the basement... how's that sound?"

"An arcade? Seriously?" She smiled, feeling more sincere as her interest was immediately piqued. Getting to know Emma was like a double edged sword of sorts. She liked Emma as a person... but she wished she didn't. And the more she seemed to learn about Emma, the more she seemed to like her. Aside from Callan's suspicion that she didn't like Ernie for whatever reason-- something she definitely hadn't forgotten from their last conversation.

"Alright," Callan consented, still smiling. Their friendship was probably inevitable at this point. All steps towards moving on, she supposed. "Let's go."

”Perfect. I wanted to check it out as soon as I saw it but Marcus wanted to go to the orchestra.” Emma's tone was joking, a slight laugh trailing her statement as she turned towards the door.

"Oh," Callan laughed along nervously, but didn't have much else she dared say about that. Maybe because an orchestra might be more romantic? In spite of her attempt to mentally defend her roommate's choice, she found herself more in agreeance with Emma. The arcade did sound like more fun.

"So you haven't seen it yet?" she asked as she followed.

”Nope.” Emma answered plainly, ”I sure hope it's a proper arcade and not like... a dark basement room with, uh, skee-ball and an air hockey table.”

"Ha," Callan shook her head, "After everything else I've seen, I gotta say. My expectations are pretty high. If they don't have an entire DDR lounge, I'm filing a complaint."

”I know, right? This place is fancy as hell, they better not be cutting corners where it counts.” a coy smile came to Emma's lips, ”By the way, I bet I could kick your ass at DDR.”

A competitive spark suddenly burned within as Callan narrowed her eyes back at Emma. "Oh really?" she grinned confidently, "I wouldn't be so sure."

”Oh man, it is so on.”

---

It was only a couple of minutes later that the duo arrived at the arcade, a mecca of flashing neon lights and sounds. A hodgepodge of machines stretched out before them, running the gamut from popular classic games to more recent innovations- and, of course, Dance Dance Revolution. There were also, unsurprisingly, the regulars to worry about- the reception was about as one would expect, a mixture of fearful glances and outright hostility, but Emma had resolved to ignore it. Instead she turned to Callan, ”I shouldn't be surprised, considering where we are, but this place is niiiice.”

"Whoa." Callan felt the dimmer lighting inside the arcade meant it was probably fine to lower her hood-- it was hot and uncomfortable anyway. An awed smile crept over her face as she took it all in. She noted the fleeing people, but tried to act is if it didn't bother her. Acting normal was probably the best thing she could do at this point. Not that it was incredibly difficult in the face of so much fun.

"You can say that again," she smirked, stepping forward eagerly. Spotting the DDR machines, she turned towards Emma with a wicked grin, "You ready to lose?"

Emma returned her grin in kind, ”In your dreams.” Emma sauntered over to one of the token dispensing machines, swiping her card and filling her hand with the arcade's faux-currency. As Emma got the tokens, Callan waited by the game.

Inspecting the buttons, she moved to step onto the platform, but paused for a moment.

Emma walked back to the machine, inserting tokens, ”You can pick the song, because I'm a generous god.” Emma said with a small wink.

"You don't think I'll break it, do you?" Callan asked.

Emma gave Callan a blank glance. ”Oh geez... uh... I don't know.” a malicious twinkle came to Emma's eyes, ”If you do who's going to stop a couple of Subs? Especially with a big scary Aberration by your side... and we can always get them to bill the Institute.” Emma said quietly.

Callan tested the platform with one foot, pressing lightly. "Oh, right," she smirked, shooting Emma a sideways glance, "You're terrifying." With a heavy sigh, she pulled a hairband from around her wrist and began tying up her hair. "Well, I'll have to be careful, then. No way am I letting you off that easy."

As Cal started moving through the song selection Emma did her very best to give her an intimidating gaze, ”Absolutely! I can be very scary when I want to be.” Emma said, voice full of mock indignation.

"I'll believe it when I see it," Callan replied, finally landing on one of the more intermediate songs. "Just in case you need to warm up," she jabbed as the intro music started to play.

”Oooo, Cal, if you're too scared to start somewhere harder you can just say so. Don't have to talk all tough in front of me.”

"Bitch, you wish I was just talk!"

Emma gave Callan a quick glance. Hoh boy. Emma wasn't going to comment on that aloud- the game was starting and she had to focus.

The first several arrows flew across the screen as the beat picked up. High pitched singing and an electric rhythm brought Callan's banter to an end as she focused on moving her feet (and not crushing the stage).

Emma did the same, attention on the beat and the multi-colored arrows both in front of her and beneath her feet- at least she didn't have to worry about breaking the stage beneath her.

Concentrating on the weight of each step, Cal feared it might have some ill effect on her score, but that didn't seem to be the case. A godsend considering how well Emma seemed to be keeping up. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed their scores were almost perfectly synced. Her mouth twitched into an amused smile as she squared her jaw and continued.

By the end of the song, Callan even found herself a little out of breath. The screen glowed with a 'tie' verdict. Pleasantly surprised, but also dissappointed by her own performance, Callan shook her head incredulously.

"Jesus, Emma. Okay-- best two out of three?"

Emma found herself out of breath as well- more so than Cal. But she managed to tie, at least. She gave the girl a cocky smile, ”Alright- just because you got lucky.”

The second round managed to end in the same fashion. Callan pushed a sweat drenched strand of aquamarine hair behind her ear and scoffed in frustration. "I can't fuckin' believe this," she chewed the inside of her cheek. Her mind was all DDR techniques and rhythms and she tried to think of how she might improve her score.

Emma wiped the sweat from her brow- okay, things were getting a little too serious. Cal was clearly getting frustrated and that gave Emma an idea.

She would throw the final game.

That was what a good friend would do, wasn't it? Winning wasn't as important to Emma and although she did enjoy egging her on it wasn't worth it if Cal was taking it to heart. ”Phew! You're sure making this tough for me- Round 3, than?” it wouldn't be hard to lose- a misplaced step was all it took since they were so evenly matched, it would be near impossible for Cal to notice, so that was the course of action Emma committed to.

Emma's remark immediately put Callan on the alert. She'd been in too many competitions not to notice the shift.

"I'm making it tough for you?" her lips curled into a smile that was anything but happy or convinced. She sighed heavily, shaking her head again.

"You know, when you say it like that, it sounds like you've been going easy on me," she smirked playfully, though one could sense the slightest bit of venom. She didn't like victories that were handed to her. Recalling her sparring match with Sander, she knew this wasn't anything quite that extreme, but something about it being Emma...

"Anyway, I think there's only one song that's gonna break this tie."

Spinning all the way to the bottom of song select, Callan landed on the song with the hardest difficulty. The demo on the side of the screen played a lightening fast tune as several overlaping arrows whizzed across the display. "I can't even do this one perfectly," Callan admitted, rolling her shoulders in anticipation.

”Wow, really going all out for this one, huh?” Emma wasn't ignorant to Cal's mood, now torn between whether or not to throw the match. If it was obvious it would make Cal angry, that much was clear. ”Maybe I have been holding back.” she said with a slight smirk.

That was a total lie.

”Ready when you are.” she said, deciding that she had to really try this round- Callan wouldn't go for it otherwise, she decided.

"Tch!" Callan gently shoved Emma's arm in response to her comment before pressing select. It was going to be an arduous round, but there was no way she was losing this one.

youtube.com/watch?v=A20CVS-lQ8s

The song started out slow, giving Callan a chance to collect her thoughts. Emma was joking, right? She wasn't seriously holding back this whole time? Callan couldn't help but feel that familiar and uncomfortable jealousy bubbling up again as the beat suddenly quickened.

Beads of sweat collected at her temple as she danced, refusing to look at Emma's score at all for fear of losing concentration. Unfortunately, Callan's newly reinforced motivation to win proved to be her downfall.

Her focus slipped, tipping the balance between accuracy and care as, with a loud crash and scream of surprise, her foot went straight through one of the buttons. The music played on, though the lights on Callan's side of the platform immediately went out and her space on the screen clearly started to glitch.

"Hey!" the man behind the prize counter shouted almost immediately.

"Uh oh," Callan pulled her foot out of the machine and scrambled to her feet.

Emma was in the zone- that was, she was in the zone until she head a loud crashing sounds and Callan's scream at her side. She turned, face instantly filling with surprise. ”Uh-oh.” she said under her breath.

Instantly she moved to help Cal up, giving the girl a small glance as she came to her feet, ”I think it's time for us to go!” Emma said with a slight giggle, pulling Cal behind her as she went for the arcade's exit.

Callan spared one last look at the screen before Emma grabbed her hand. She chuckled nervously through the rising sensation of guilt at having broken the machine. Though she knew she could run much faster, Callan allowed herself to be pulled along by Emma as they fled the arcade. Racing down the hall and into an open elevator, people moved out of the way quickly. She thought it curious that her heart was racing this much. Only a few days ago she'd been fighting monsters and enemy mages and here she was getting all flustered over some guy in a red vest guarding kazoos and giant inflatable orca whales?

The elevator doors closed as Callan slumped up against the back wall, more out of breath from the dancing and sudden rush of adrenaline than the running itself. To her chagrin, Callan suddenly couldn't keep herself from laughing. Holding her gut, Callan held her head in her hand and laughed until her eyes watered.

"O-oh my God," she finally managed to say as laughter subsided into breathless giggles.

Emma was in a similar state, experiencing a similar fit of giggles as soon as the door slid shut. ”Jesus, I can't believe that just happened.” she said, leaning against the elevator's polished metal wall. She wiped a bead of sweat from her forehead, struggling to catch her breath between the laughter and their sudden escape. ”Did you see the look on that guy's face? I can hardly believe that your foot went right through the thing, I have no idea what he must be thinking.”

"Oh, I feel so bad!" Callan groaned through more laughter.

”I wouldn't feel too bad- they're probably charging the Institute a fortune to keep us here, I'm sure that they'll be able to get a new one.” Emma said, the occasional fit of laughter still erupting from her. ”And anyways, they were throwing us hella dirty looks.”

"Haha, I guess you're right," Callan chuckled, "Definitely gonna have to request a super strong mat back at school if you want try challenging me again, though." Callan straightened herself up and crossed her arms. "Considering you just lost," she added with a sly grin.

Emma smiled, ”I guess I'll take that. I mean, you went so hard that you broke the game, you deserve it.” Emma wiped a tear from her eye, leftover from the laughter. ”This is kind of nostalgic- reminds me a lot of when me and my-” a moment of hesitation, ”Me and my best friend back home went to the arcade. Except instead of breaking the machine she'd just get chased out after trying to steal something...” Emma gave Callan a slight head shake, ”We weren't very good kids.”

Callan was just about argue that she really had won. By five points, according to what the screen had said before they ran. But as Emma mentioned her best friend, Callan curiously allowed the change of topic, noting the girl's brief hesitation as she spoke.

She thought for a moment about her friend Gaby back home, but she'd never really given much thought to whether or not she considered herself to be "best friends" with the spitfire latina. It was a little embarrasing to admit, but in more recent years, she really didn't leave herself much room for those sort of relationships. Not that anything besides basketball or schoolwork was usually encouarged.

"Do you miss her?" Callan found herself asking, immediately hoping she hadn't poked at a sensitive subject. So far she hadn't met many people at USARILN who liked talking about their past. By now she really should have developed a better filter for asking questions.

”I...”

Emma didn't really know the answer to the question, or at least didn't want to admit to herself that she did.

”I don't know. We left in kind of a weird place. I... I always thought we'd be together forever, I guess.” Emma gave a deep sigh, ”But I guess that's just wishful thinking. Especially when USARILN decides to scoop you up.” Emma glanced at Callan, ”You kind of remind me of her, actually. She had the same color hair as you.” Emma idily commented.

Unexpectedly, Callan felt her cheeks flush at Emma's comment. A reserved smile tugged at the corner of her mouth as an apology crept out.

"Sorry," she said, noting the sudden plunge in the mood.

”Don't worry about it. It's nice to talk about home... it's almost easy to forget that stuff with everything that's going on.” Emma rubbed the back of her neck, ”And anyways, I had a lot of fun, even if our game did get cut short.”

"Yeah," Callan agreed, though part of her wondered if forgetting her own home would be easier than not. She chuckled as she untied her hair, twisting the elastic between her fingers as she spoke, "Yeah, sorry about that, too." She paused for a moment before continuing, hating herself a little more with each spoken word, "I bet you could convince Marcus to go down there with you if you told him about the new broken DDR machine exhibit I just installed." She forced another small laugh, not quite meeting Emma's eyes as she made the suggestion.

”Yeah, I'm sure, although I don't think they'll be too welcoming. They barely tolerated us this time, I bet they'll remember how we broke the shit out of their expensive machine next time.” Emma gave a small laugh, ”It's not a big deal. There are plenty of arcades in the world. Rich people suck anyways.” Emma said the last part statistically, a small laugh following.

”Wouldn't be the first one I've been blacklisted from. Like I said, bad kids.”

"Hey, I dunno. At least you don't have crazy hair. I bet you could still sneak in. Use those stealth skills you picked from from your life of crime," she shrugged just as the elevator finally slid open.

”Oh, yeah totally. I've pulled off a few heists in my day.” Emma said, stepping out of the elevator. ”Well, this appears to be our stop.” Emma said hesitantly, a smile on her face.

"Oh boy-- you'll have to tell me all about it sometime," Callan grinned. That should have been her cue to leave, but instead she hesitated, staring off in the direction of her room with a small sigh.

"Well," she tousled her hair, "Guess I'll see you later, then."

Emma nodded. ”Right.”

She bit her lip.

”Or... well, things did get cut short down there. I could tell you about it now... if you're not busy.”

"Uh," she definitely wasn't going to mention her blond upperclass roommate as the reason why she was less than thrilled to head back. But at the same time...

"You sure? Marcus isn't waiting on you?" she asked with small, lopsided smile.

”Pfffft, Marcus can wait.” Emma joked, ”Really though, it's totally fine. He's not.” Emma said, taking a seat on a nearby couch, on of the many that filled the extravagant penthouse, ”I'm down for story time if you are.”

"If you say so," Callan shrugged, secretly grateful for the excuse to keep loitering around. She flopped into the opposite facing couch, placing her feet up on the coffee table with much more care. "Alright," she said, nestling into a more comfortable position, "Obviously you'll have to start with your craziest story. Did you guys ever get busted?"

Emma nodded, ”Of course we did. We were a bunch of dumb kids, not master criminals.” Emma stretched out on the couch, ”Unfortunately I never was cut out for our life of crime. Riley did the whole 'rebel teen fuck the system' thing and I just kind of followed along. I think I was better off as an honor student, but hey, we had fun.”

Emma sighed, considering, ”Where to start... hmmmm... oh, shit, I got it. When we'd have our shitty high school parties it was always up to me and Riley to score the liquor- she had a pretty good fake ID and we were also the only ones brave/stupid enough to steal it if that didn't work.”

Emma shifted in her seat again, suddenly sitting up, ”Now I should note here- and this is the really dumb part-we totally didn't have to this. I had a big sister who was always down to get us that stuff, but Riley wanted to get that dumb adrenaline rush she got from that shit.”

”So anyways, getting to the actual story. We were on one of these liquor runs and everything was going smoothly, we were at one of our usual spots and I think the guy always kind of knew we weren't of age but put up with it anyways. So, everything was fine, BUT Riley always did this thing where she'd try to have the longest, dumbest, most banal fucking conversation she could with the clerk... something I'm pretty sure she did solely because I told her not to and she knew I hated it.”

Emma leaned in a little, ”Here I am burying my head in my hands while she's telling the clerk all about her cat's vasectomy- about how it was more humane than castration, and the process, like I said, just the worst possible conversation she could think of and she just went on and on and on. We must have been there talking to the guy for, like, ten minutes... until, of course...”

A dramatic pause as Emma leaned a little closer.

”A pair of police officers walk in. I guess they were having a retirement party and needed to pick some stuff up, doesn't matter, point is I start visibly freaking out while Riley continues rattling off her story, not missing a beat. But they instantly notice us. So, of course, they come up to the counter and start listening to Riley... aaaand she just keeps going. Doesn't even care. Just keeps talking about her cat. But, of course, one of the police officers clears his throat and asks...”

Emma put on her very best gruff police officer voice, ”M'am, can I see your ID?”

”Well, I look at Riley and she looks at me and I look at her and then she just runs. Just, like, out of there with the bags, right for the emergency exit and before I know what's happening I'm running too. Now, we go out the door and are in an alley. Of course, one of the police officers is right behind us and the other ran out to grabs their police car and block off one end of the alley.”

”Basically, we're like, fugitives now.” Emma joked with a small laugh.

”Naturally we're flying down for the opposite end with the guy on foot right behind us, but he's like, not to be rude, kind of fat, so we were fiiiiine. Now, you think that New York's finest would have better things to do than be chasing down a couple of girls stealing liquor but these guys seem to really have it out for us- probably wasn't the first time they saw Riley, knowing her. So, the guy in the squad car is coming down the alley blaring his sirens while the other one is shouting for us to stop. Naturally we don't, but that's not all. No. What does this girl do? Of course, Riley, smart as she is, shouts out...”

”FUCK THE POLICE!”

”And I'm just like, 'dude, what the fuck?' Of course this pissed off the officers chasing us and in some burst of blind rage-fueled adrenaline the guy on foot charges forward and tackles Riley. I'd say it was the police officer being a dick, but she kind of asked for it. So, to make a long story short we ended up in lockup, charged for underage drinking, resisting arrest, and...”

Another dramatic pause.

”Assaulting an officer. Assholes managed to tack that one on, although I think it was just to scare us more than an actual charge. We were minors so we didn't face jail time, but our parents were not happy to be paying the mountain of fines that we managed to rack up. Plus we had to do a bunch of community service. It sucked.”

Emma gave a long sight.

”So, that's the time the master criminal got caught.”

By the end of Emma's story, Callan was literally seated on the edge of the couch cushion. "Jesus, you really were a criminal," Callan laughed, "My parents would have skinned me alive." She laughed again, realizing how her parents would probably be irate if they'd so much as caught her hanging out with anyone like Emma and her friend. She found more humor to the thought, spitefully resolving that if they weren't going to give a hoot about her, why should she care about their rules anymore?

"Oh, have no fear, there was plenty of skinning when I got home." Emma added quickly.

In any case, USARILN certainly didn't seem to care about underage drinking. What with all the drinks here and the bar back at the school. A tender mercy for the students, Callan supposed. Considering any day could be their last. Still, the thought of drinking made her feel like she'd be doing something wrong. Even after several parties with Gaby, that feeling hadn't gone away. Engrained by a strict moral code... or maybe just strict parents.

"So," on the topic of alcohol, Callan instinctivly spoke a smidge softer, "You haven't ever, like. Gotten super blackout drunk before, have you?" She smiled and sat up, suddenly a little embarrased for speaking like her parents or some adult might overhear as she adjusted her voice. "My folks were pretty anti-alcohol," she chuckled sheepishly, "Well-- pretty anti-a lot of things actually."

Emma's mouth turned into a line, an embarrassed smile creeping onto her face. ”Totally. I mean, like, we were pretty into that suff. It's a little stupid looking back at it- not a little stupid, really stupid. Riley may have been the teenage rebel but I was kinda the partier.” Emma gave a disgruntled groan, ”I was always kind of pissed when my mom told me off for hanging out with Riley, but she really was a bad influence. Always pushed me to do that stuff until it went too far.”

Emma's expression turned into one of subtle anger, ”Trust me when I say that your first experience with alcohol should not be eight shots of whiskey. Couldn't just do the cliché thing and raid mom's liquor cabinet, no, she had to pull me into that shit.”

Callan laughed, somewhat surprised by this different side of Emma-- one she hadn't really expected, either. "Hey, at least you've got lots of great stories to tell now," Callan reassured.

”Sure do.”

And so Emma told them.

There was the time that Riley stole her cousin's car, insisting that they both run away- which they did, for approximately three days they stayed in New Jersey until they decided it was shit, after which they promptly returned. Emma to this day swears up and down that if she knew the car was stolen she would've never gone.

And then there was the time where Val took them to Governors Ball- that was a fiasco and a half between the fact that they didn't exactly get permission and that they didn't strictly have tickets. After all, Emma justified, they were like 300 dollars and sold out super quick- for a group with a loose moral fiber it was an easy choice to sneak in. Of course the guards didn't take to kindly to that, and Val's attempts to convince them that she was in one of the bands playing did not end well. Emma maintains that if you look like you belong they'll usually let you pass- it was just bad luck. She had her guitar and everything, but instead they ended up going for ice cream.

But it wasn't all bad, Emma had to say- Riley and Val always had her back. One time there was a rumor floating around school that Emma had gotten drunk and done something very unsavory with one of the boys from the football team (Totally not true!) so they found the girl who started the rumor and shoved her in a loc-

”Wait, that still makes them sounds kind of shitty, huh?” Emma said with a sigh. ”It wasn't always teenage hijinks and shit. We had a lot of good times too- like, the normal kind of good time.”

Callan made for a rather engaged audience, enthralled by each new story and detail. She shook her head in disbelief, "I don't know. I don't think I can ever look at you the same way now, Emma," she sighed with a serious expression.The short facade was broken as she smiled mischeviously.

Emma leaned back, stretching. "Yeah. Now you know all about my sordid past." Emma sprawled out on the couch, lying down, "Talkng about all this makes me feel... not sad, but..." Emma frowned a little, suddenly changing her train of thought, "Cal, you think we'll eve-"

Emma's train of thought was broken again, eyes drifting towards the clock, "Geez, it's late. I've gotta get to bed." she said, abandoning whatever she was about to say.

Callan blinked back her, wondering about Emma's unfinished question for a moment before glancing at the clock herself. "Oh. Uh, yeah..." Truthfully, she could've fallen asleep on the couch right there, but any motivation to joke waned when she remembered who Emma was rooming with. She cleared her throat as she stood up, crossing her arms behind her head in a stretch of her own. "Alright, well... see you around," she said with an awkward laugh.

”Definitely.” Emma said, laughing with none of the awkwardness, ”This was a lotta fun.” a crooked smile dominated her face.

A beat as Emma hesitated.

”Well, goodnight.” Emma said, turning for her- her and Marcus's door.

Callan smiled in agreement. She watched Emma's retreating figure for a moment before heading back towards her own room. It had been a lot of fun. Something between a smile and grimace tugged at the corners of her mouth as she anxiously ran her fingers through her bangs and walked. Of course it was fun. Emma was fun. He wasn't dating her for no reason.

Still, through the jealousy and weird heartbroken heaviness in her chest, she kind of liked that someone like Emma liked her. Or thought she was fun at least. After hearing her stories, Callan couldn't help but think about how tragically boring her hobbies were in comparison.

Reaching her room, she noted that Lawrence was already asleep on the couch. A spot he'd volunteered to take. Quietly, she slipped off her jacket and climbed into bed. Several unwelcome thoughts laid waiting for her there-- quickly expelled as she stuck in her headphones and curled herself around the extra pillows with her phone. Scrolling through Netflix, she recalled her conversation with Emma back at the hospital with a small smile before banishing the thought completely.

The sun had disappeared from the sky by the time Emma left the Penthouse- she needed clothes, specifically a bikini, at least if she planned on getting any one on one time with that jacuzzi. It was too bad she didn't have her scarf, with it no one would even notice she was an Aberration. Her memories turned back to the first battle, where it had been used a makeshift bandage on Kusari- even though it had only been two weeks it already felt like ancient history.

Emma let out a sigh, her breath turning frosty on the night air. She couldn't afford to worry about the past, not now, not with so much happening. For now she'd need to rely on the cover of night and the ignorance of the locals. If only she at least had foundation- that was how Riley always did it, she remembered, before quickly pushing the thought away. She reminded herself to forget about the past. One day at a time was how she needed to take things now- if she could just keep going like that maybe everything would be okay.

And anyways, she had a bikini to get.

"H-Hey! Excuse me, miss! Dammit, Terry, stop slowing us down!"

A man wearing a thick coat over his suit raced up to Emma, his cameraman easily keeping up just behind him. His hair, which looked to have once been neat, was slightly ruffled from whatever exertion he'd just gone through to make it to the Aberration. The microphone in his hand indicated that he was a reporter, though the amount of time it took for him to catch his breath again showed that his network probably should have chosen someone else for the job. He stood in front of the girl for a second, hands resting on his knees as he wheezed out a "c-could we...whew...could we get an interview with you, miss?"

Emma turned in surprise. A slight smile came to her lips as she recognized who he was, but she quickly turned it into mock annoyance. With the state things were in she hated that she was a little eager to get interviewed- memories of the Precursors on TV came to her when she thought about it, but the rational side of her knew that this would be nothing like that. She have a small sigh, taking a glance at her watch. Her face turned to a grin as she rubbed the back of her head. It was all about persona with these things, wasn't it?

”Hmmmm... well, I guess I'm in no rush. Sure.”

"Really? That's great!" the man beamed and stuck his hand out, "Darren Lingard, WUSA News! Lovely to meet you! Can I get your name? How old are you? Do you want to move some place less crowded? You're not scared of crowds, are you?"

The cameraman--Terry, presumably--watched Darren as he rattled off questions like a machine gun, clearly not amused to be working with such an unprofessional.

"Don't scare her off," he spoke succinctly.

"Sorry!"

Emma's eyes widened a bit at the plethora of questions. ”Wellll...” Emma accepted Darren's handshake, giving a slight nod, ”Emma, seventeen, and this spot is fine if it's all the same to you, because I'm quite comfortable around crowds. I think I answered that in the right order.” Emma joked, giving a small laugh.

Darren, quite frankly, gave her the creeps, but she wasn't going to say that.

"You ever been interviewed before? Been on TV? You really have the face for it!" Darren continued yapping as Terry set up on the side of the path.

Emma gave a slight giggle, wide smile remaining firmly on her face.

God, she really didn't like this Darren guy.

”Can't say I have, Darren. Thank you, though.” she said enthusiastically. All about image, she reminded herself, after all, it wasn't just about her. It was only mostly about her, but if she could be a face for Aberrations like Marcus was for Subs- well, it was a good thing.

"Ah, a first-timer, huh? Same here!" he chirped, continuing the conversation until Terry finished his countdown with little audible warning. He turned to the camera, "Good evening, folks! Darren Lingard here with an exclusive interview with Emma, an X-marked subnatural from...uh..." he hesitated, realising that he had forgotten to ask the more important details during his chat earlier, "USARILN East, right? Part of the Wisford operation?"

Emma tried not to be discouraged by the 'first-timer' comment, but she was already getting sinking feeling her stomach. Despite that, as the sudden countdown began Emma's smile only grew. Emma didn't skip a beat despite being a little surprised at how uninformed Darren was, ”Correct.” she said with an enthusiastic nod.

"Cool and, uh, what was your role at Wisford?"

”I was part of the 'Offensive Support' team. We were... I guess we were kind of the frontlines, such as they were. We were meant to draw in the bulk of the enemy's forces while another team moved behind them to attack their leader.”

Darren's eyebrows shot up at the statement. Behind the camera and aware of the incoming flood, Terry groaned silently.

"So you were right in the thick of it, huh? How did you feel? Was it scary? Di--"

Terry made a cutting gesture across his throat and mouthed 'slow down'. Darren nodded sheepishly.

"Yes, can you tell us what it was like out there?"

Emma's mood still refused to dim, ”Yes, we were right in the thick of it. There were a lot of hostiles and things got pretty crazy- we weren't the first group sent out, in fact, the fight was going for some time before we arrived.”

Now, it was only now, that her smile began to fade, very intentionally.

”Of course hearing about it through the TV doesn't really give the right impression- it was scary. It was a real warzone. There were a lot of casualties- of course many of Wisford's citizens, but also Subnaturals from our teams. It was a great tragedy for everyone involved.” Emma said, trying her best to sound thoughtful.

"Ah yeah, we heard the reports. An incredible tragedy. But tell me, how many on your team got taken out? Were you there when it happened?"

Emma bit her lip. Now was the big moment, huh? ”Like I said there were multiple teams- from ours there was only one death, a small miracle considering how many of us there were, but it doesn't feel that way. I was there- it was awful.” her voice started to grow shaky.

Her eyes started to water as she brought up a hand to wipe away the budding tears, ”Sorry.” she said hoarsely, ”She was... just a child. Fourteen years old. It's... it's not the first time one of us has died, but... she's been the youngest, by far. No one should have to go the way she did, believe me. I'll... spare you the graphic details, but it wasn't something I'll forget easily.”

A sympathetic nod. "Of course. I'm sorry to bring up something so painful. Did you know her well?"

Emma pursed her lips. ”We've only recently been brought together, about a week and a half before Wisfrod, but I'd talked to her during that time. We'd trained together, of course, to prep for missions like these. She... she was a nice girl. Eager to help. I... I wish I couldn't known her better. Even if we weren't that close, we were still all in it together. A team. It wasn't our first battle, and it's always sad to see a teammate go down like that. In a situation like the one we're in it doesn't matter how well you know someone or if you get along with them, y'know? We want to make sure all of us come back safe.”

"Mm, it would be painful to lose anyone in that manner. Now, the subnatural race still has many mysteries that have yet to be uncovered. But one thing we know for sure is that X-marked subs like you seem to have a big affinity for violence. Did the death of your teammate affect your battle performance in any way?"

A hint of confusion came onto Emma's face, ”Well, that's a... complicated question. The X-mark doesn't affect us all in the same way. If the question you're asking is whether or not seeing her die had a mental toll, of course. It's hard to focus on fighting when you're trying to figure out what just happened to the person in front of you, if she's still alive, and if you're going to be next. Now if what you're asking- and forgive me if I'm misinterpreting your question- is if the sight of her death was somehow 'exciting' because of the X-mark the answer is certainly a 'no'. I highly doubt that any of the X's on our team were enthused by her death.” she said as diplomatically as possible.

"Oh, really?" Darren looked confused for a second before Terry hissed a loud sigh from behind his camera, "Oh! No, of course, I would never imply anything so--ahem. I was just following up on pre-confirmed information. But you mentioned that the X-marks affected subnaturals in different ways? Can you tell us more about that?"

”As you said, our race has many mysteries and neither we nor USARILN fully understand the relationship of X-marks and violence. It's a complicated issue and until every party knows more I'd recommend referring to the institutes official stance on X-marks, lest I speak out of turn.”

Damn I'm smooth.

"Alright, fair enough. I know you can't speak for all X-marks here, so I guess I'll narrow it down. How do you get affected by your mark? I'm assuming it doesn't have much to do with violence, judging by your earlier comments?"

Emma's smile was starting to come back. ”Sorry Darren, but this probably isn't nearly as intriguing as your viewers might hope. Perhaps I misspoke when I used the word 'affects'- it seems to me that there is some correlation between violence and the mark, and I've suspected that for some the X-mark does in some way change their behavior, but I'd regard that as an unsubstantiated rumor. For myself there is no 'affect'- after all, as you can probably tell, I have no such tendencies” it didn't matter what she said as long as she buried the lead on the stigma- she was eagerly hoping for a change in topic.

"I see," Darren said, looking childishly disappointed, "So you would say that you're one of the more reliable X-marks in your team? That the behaviour of some of your similarly marked teammates might be detrimental? There's got to be some who do get affected, right, unlike you?"

Emma shook her head, ”That's not what I'm saying at all. Ignoring the fact that it would be unfair to comment on the reliability of my friends, it's also worth mentioning that the X-marks I refer to don't seem to be prevalent among the USARILN population. When I speak of people who might be negatively affected by the mark I speak of extremists- Cat's Cradle, The Senators, etcetera. It's also worth noting that what I'm saying is entirely speculative- what I do know is that in my experience I would consider those I'm allied with to be extremely reliable, and I'd trust any of them with my life.” it was a total lie, but it would also likely be good PR if Experimental Unit B went public.

"It's good to hear that the USARILNs have their subnatural population on a tight leash, eh?" Darren joked before realising what he'd just said. He spoke quickly in hopes that it would be forgotten, "Uh, moving on. While we're on the topic of you, could you give us a brief rundown of your powers?"

Emma merely gave a curt nod at Darren's little joke before continuing, ”Gladly. It's not anything too complicated- I can summon these, er, shadow creatures is the best way to describe them. After that they'll follow out any order I give them. Some of them have additional powers like being able to force pull things or explode.” now Emma's smile turned into a coy grin, ”If you want you can meet one, Darren. Only if you're willing to, of course. You'll be in no danger, I promise.”

An excited puppy-like look crossed the reporter's face. "Oh, absolutely! A demonstration would be great!"

Emma nodded, ”Alright.” she raised her hand dramatically and snapped quickly. Instantly Determination appeared by her side, his newly formed hollow visage staring blankly ahead. ”They're not real lookers, but they get the job done.” she said with a small laugh.

Darren inspected the creature from all angles, awe radiating from the man. Terry tensed up as another slew of questions was launched. "Incredible! Do they have names? How many can you summon? You said they have different powers, what powers does this one have? What are the restrictions and stuff? Do they have a timer? Range limit?"

Emma took a breath before answering, ”Yes, they do have names- there are five of them: Determination, Charity, Love, Devotion, and Happiness. The names were their choice, not mine.” she said with a small laugh.

”I can summon three at any given time. As for this one's power, as you can see he looks a little bulky- he's armored, unlike the rest of them, meaning he can take more hits and also hit harder than the others. And for restrictions there's no timer or range limit- the only limiting factor is my ability to communicate with them, as they only function with orders.”

" 'Their choice'? Can they speak?"

”No,” Emma corrected quickly, ”It's intuitive. Like, I just have a sense that that's what they're called is the best way to explain it.”

"But this intuition sense doesn't help you with communication? You need to give your orders verbally?"

”Correct. As far as limitations go it's a fairly easy one to work around- we've experimented with controlling them remotely, for example with a phone, and that works without issue. It's proven to be one of the more versatile powers on our team, although don't mistake that as me saying it's better than others- there are a lot of very strong Subnaturals in our unit.”

"Oh yes, your unit, tell us more about them! You mentioned training earlier but are there other USARILN-mandated activities you do together? Do you get along better with your fellow X-marks than the white streaks?"

”I get along with everyone,” Emma said happily, ”I don't find that what mark we have comes into consideration when we're making friends- I get the feeling we're going to be working together for a long time, so I think all of us are making an effort to be friends.” the words came out easily, even if it wasn't exactly true. ”In terms of the exercises we do it's the obvious stuff- physical training, team building exercises, the obvious stuff.”

"Wow, you certainly do come off as the friendly sort! But a group made up of that many teenagers? I don't believe it's been that long since I was that young but if I recall my high school days correctly, surely there'd be some tensions in a group of youths as big as this unit? Not all of them can be like you after all."

”Well, of course, tensions always rise when a group works closely, especially in circumstances like ours. We all have our share of drama- but at the end of the day I think we all try our best to get along. You can't spend your time worrying about teenage drama when you're going off to fight monsters, right?”

"Haha, very true. Continuing on the topic of your unit, two boys from your team have been making quite the impression recently. One 'Brent Roless' and 'Marc'? Do you have any thoughts on them, particularly that special interview with the one making rounds on the internet as 'Time Scar'?"

”Well...” Emma started hesitantly, ”Brent's a nice guy. Friendly guy.”

He told me to kill myself.

”Marc is...”

Would he feel bad if she wasn't willing to say they were dating on TV? Would he feel bad if she did?

Fuck it.

”Well, he's my boyfriend.” Emma rubbed the back of her head sheepishly, still smiling- if anything smiling more, her cheeks flushing slightly.

Another raising of the eyebrows quelled by a harsh, preemptive glare by Terry. Darren nodded. Nothing too personal, got it.

"Well, I definitely can't say I was expecting that development. It's good to know that two fine young subs can still find happiness in the most troubling of times. I suppose that you would've related to your boyfriend's words to a great degree, then?"

”Certainly. If we have this power it's our responsibility to use it for good, for the betterment of the public- there's a lot of terrible stuff going on in the world right now, so it's a privilege to have the ability to do something about it.” it was an easy lie, one that made sense-if she could make the Aberrations look better she would.

"Fine words from a lovely girl," Darren grinned and turned back to face the camera, "Well, there you have it, folks! A refreshing take on the subnaturals of the infamous USARILN East. You've certainly shed a lot of light for us today so thank you, Emma, for your time, your demonstration, and for being an overall delight to interview. I'll let you get back to your shopping now."

Once the feed was cut, the reporter turned tto the girl and took her hand to shake it excitedly.

"Thank you so much! This was the best interview I've ever done! Aw man, the network's gonna love us."

Terry looked as if he wanted to point out that it was the only interview the younger man had ever done but chose to remain silent on the matter, offering a simple "good work, you two" instead.

”Right- it was nice talking to you too, Darren.” Emma gave a small wave to Terry as well, turning on her heel to finally go get her bikini, a satisfied smile on her face.

By the time Emma's date with Marcus rolled around she was ready. She'd dressed to the nines- the use of that phrase relative to the fact that she was a child soldier with limited access to dresses and other fancy clothing- by the time she went to go find Marcus.

In hand she had a makeup kit- figuring that whatever fancy D.C. orchestra had set up shop here wouldn't take kindly to subnatural guests she'd already covered up her own X-mark and was prepared to do the same for Marcus's streak.

It didn't take long to find the scarred boy in the relatively small penthouse. She approached him with an enthusiastic smile, ”Look at me,” she said, pointing to her own neck, ”Think I pass for a regular?”

Marcus meanwhile was only dressed to the eights - but it was still enough of an upscale from his usually disheveled appearance to be a refreshing change of pace. He'd managed to find a shirt with buttons (which he'd had to undo twice now because he'd buttoned it up unevenly), but one that didn't seem to require a tie. Regular blue jeans pulled over his ankle cuff and a pain belt though; and despite the fact that he'd accidentally rolled his cuffs up unevenly and hadn't been able to do a damn thing with his air, he thought he was rocking it.

He'd just finished redoing his shirt buttons for the third time when Emma walked in, immediately pointing to her neck to show off a very drastic change. It was makeup of course, but he hadn't realized what a defining feature the mark was until it wasn't there any more.

"Hey! Look at that!" he said, leaning in slightly for a better look. "I'd certainly say so; you'd hardly be able to tell unless you actually knew what you were looking for!"

Emma held up the makeup kit. ”And now it's your turn. Something gives me a feeling they won't be too happy to host a couple of ne'er-do-well subnaturals.” Emma gave him a wicked grin, ”Ever worn makeup, Marcus?”

"Not on purpose." Marcus joked, not allowing Emma the time to counter that statement, instead continuing right on without waiting for a reply.

"You gonna make me look all purtyful?" he asked, placing his hands to his chin and batting her eyelashes at her.

”Don't think the makeup will do enough to help you in that department.” she quipped, pulling the foundation from the bag and moving closer to him, ”I am going to need you to hold still though, think ya can manage that?”

"That's pretty harsh. Guy might get his feelings hurt with a comeback like that!" Marcus quipped, taking a seat in the chair nearby and sitting up straight.

"Let's find out together, why don't we?"

”That's encouraging.” she said, beginning the process of hiding the white splosh that seemed to dominate his face- well, would dominate his face if it wasn't for the scars. She bit her lip as she began. There was something she needed to clear up now, while she had the chance. ”I ran into a reporter earlier today.” she started, making it sounds like an absent minded comment.

"Oh?" Marcus said, trying to avoiding making to much movement, his eyebrows only rising slightly in piqued curiosity. "I imagine there are quite a few of those around here." he said almost absemindedly, the words soft due to his stiff position.

"You gonna be showing up on the big screen next?"

”Probably. And... he asked me about Time Scar. And I said we were dating.” Emma tried to sound as casual as possible, hoping that Marcus wouldn't care.

Marcus turned his head a little bit in surprise, if only by a miniscule amount - inevitably enough to mess up Emma a slight amount.

"Man, we really are gonna end up being the best thing since Sparrow and Kadabra, huh?" he said, giving a stifled chuckle and returning to his frozen pose.

That'd be probably be up everywhere shortly, which meant...

Oh no

Which meant Max and Sammie would shortly be screaming in his ear.

Something for him to look forward to.

An internal sigh of relief. He wasn't mad. Of course he wasn't, why would he be? ”Hell yeah. I think I did a pretty damn good job too, really captured that star quality. You should take a page from my book, learn how to do this celebrity stuff...” Emma gulped, ”Well, aside from the fact that I almost... probably did tell them way too much. I almost spilled the whole Arbiter/Aberration thing. Probably wouldn't make me look too good in front of our fellow mages.”

"What, spilling inter-personal classified secrets that our little friends on the messageboards desperately don't want us to talk about? You think that would make them a little bit huffy with you?" he asked, resisting the urge to give a dismissive wave.

"Naaaaahhhhh"

Emma gave a small huff, ”Oh yeah, I'm sure they'll be cool with me spilling the secrets of an entire race of people. Man, with as many Subs as there are you'd think someone would have already said something. How do the Regulars not already know this shit?”

An entire race of people. The message was clear enough for him to know Emma was talking about them as subnaturals, but...were they truley considered a different race althogether? Did they not deserve to be called humans also?

There was a moment Marcus silently contemplated this, before speaking up again. "I mean, we're not exactly forthcoming with these things to eachother, and most mages see the 'normal' people as enemies." he said, giving an air quoatation around the word 'normal'.

"Plus, I think we're the only group to really get any media attention outside the 'cursors and Cradle."

”You're not wrong.” Emma sighed, ”And why is that exactly? Shane's group must've done stuff like this before, why are we on the news and they aren't? I feel like the Institute is up to something. It's no mistake that we're being publicized- I dunno, am I just being paranoid?”

Marcus gave a slight shrug, realizing his mistake and going back to being still. "I've got no idea. Hell, I don't even know how much stuff that kid's group has done. Certainly never heard of them before meeting up with the guy."

"Em, I don't think there's such a thing as being too paranoid anymore. Especially when a dude with invisibilty powers or teleporting knives or god-knows-what other powers could come through the nearest wall at any point."

"Paranoia ended they day DC destroyed the world." Marcus muttered softly, a slight hint of bitterness in his voice.

”Right.” a slight frown came to Emma's face. She'd keep her own thoughts on DC to herself, ”These USARILN guys sure love their conspiracies. You should see the shit they have below the medical building, place is a freak show.” Emma gave a small huff, ”And that's where Savannah is going to end up.” she had her own hint of bitterness in her voice now.

"Mmhmm." Marcus hummed distantly, his mind already starting to wander a bit. Emma had told them all about what happened below the hospital - and they'd all promised to come back alive.

Which, in a fairness, they had. Everyone who had been there for that promise was milling about the penthouse or the city, all with their own agendas, but still alive. It was just the one who had not made it back: and for a reason that he knew all too well. He could feel Emma's gaze on him, just as he'd felt Brent's. Was this another attempt at inquisition? Had Brent set her up to this to try and figure out what had actually happened?

The thoughts raced through his mind, only noticable by the slight beading of sweat on his forehead, and the rapid speeding of his heart.

Emma wiped the sweat from his forehead.

If she hadn't been so close to his face she might not have noticed, but she did. ”It's the middle of fall. It's not hot in here. What's up?”

"W-well..." Marcus started to stammer, mind reeling to come up with some sort of explanation. "Trying not to fidget that much, is all!"

A sudden thought sparked into his mind, which quickly came out as a hurried addition: "Plus, there's a cute girl right in my face. How am I not supposed to get a little nervous?"

Perfect. Flattery. Always worked.

”I've been a lot closer to your face and you didn't seem so embarrassed last time it happened.” Emma said coyly.

”But fine, forget about it. Flattery always works. I'm almost done anyways.”

And it took not even a second longer for Emma to finish. ”There.” she said, pulling a hand mirror from the kit and holding it up for him to inspect, ”Feel normal for once?”

Marcus looked himself over in the mirror, the surprise on his face evident. Scars, but no white mark? That was a sight he'd only seen once or twice; there was something odd about it - a strange mixture of before and after that left him slightly off put by it. Still, Emma had done a good job in disguising his telltale marking.

He gave a low whistle, turning his head to look himself over from another angle. "Look at that! I look like a normal kid!"

Again.

"I'd say that's a mighty fine job!" he added, looking up to Emma.

”Of course it is.” Emma said with a satisfied smile, putting the mirror away.

Got plenty of practice.

She took a quick glance at her watch, ”We're gonna be late if we don't get a move on, so let's get going.”

Emma's gaze suddenly dropped to the cuff on her ankle. "Shit, that's a give away too. Looks like I better put on a longer dress."

---

The grand theater was a stately, polished wonder of modern architecture stacked to three stories with hints of art nouveau inspirations in the patterned arches of the windows and foliage-reminiscent embellishments winding their way across the colorful panes of stained glass. It was a more recent reconstruction after a passing rampage from a winged monster had leveled that sector of the city before the Precursors had neutralized the threat.

Either humanity was foolishly defiant or eternally optimistic--and perhaps those two aspects weren't necessarily mutually exclusive--but extravagant quantities of taxpayer dollars had pooled into that structure and the venue was now almost a sacred location for the performing arts.

Marcus and Emma waited patiently in line as the well-dressed guests ahead of them presented gold-rimmed tickets to the staff standing just inside the double glass doors of the entrance, Marcus playing up the 'gentleman' in the fancy atmosphere, arm crooked slightly to the side for his lovely date to hold on to. Even with the entrance growing nearer, he was amazed at the decor of the place - just when he thought the penthouse would be the fanciest thing he ever saw, this came along and blew it out of the water. He couldn't stop himself from letting a soft "Woooow..." escape his mouth.

It didn't take long for him to focus on something else entirely though, the small strip of gold passing between hands having caught his eye. A cold pit sunk in his heart, and he very slowly and softly leaned over to whisper to Emma.

"Hey, random question: you not able to conjure up a pair of tickets or anything, are you? Because we might have a slight problem."

Emma accepted Marcus's arm, soaking in the opulence of the concert hall. She wasn't quite as affected as Marcus was, there were certainly buildings of similar grandeur in the rich burgs of New York City, but still, the concert hall was damn impressive. She'd seen the destruction of the old one, the fight between Precursor and monster, on the news. No doubt the new building was a symbolic gesture by the government about the resilience of mankind or some shit, and a good one at that.

Emma gave a slight sigh at Marcus's question, filled with mock irritation, ”You're lucky you have me, y'know?” Emma said, producing a pair of tickets from her purse, ”Because my powers do, in fact, include the ability to produce magical tickets on demand.”

Emma's eyes narrowed, ”Or maybe you're just lucky to have someone that thinks ahead.” she said with a slight smile, handing the tickets to Marcus.

"I'd like to think I'm lucky for all of the above reasons." Marcus said, grinning at her and grabbing the tickets she offered him.

"And probably for a few other reasons." he said with a wink, turning to hand the gold rimmed papers to the doorman as they approached.

"Welcome to the Pinnacle Theater!" the man greeted as he handed back their ticket stubs. "Thank you for choosing us as your source of luxury entertainment for the day and we hope you enjoy the show! Your box seats come with personal service staff, so please don't hesitate to ring the small bell on the endtable for anything you need!"

On cue, two waiters approached them, towels slung over one arm while they escorted the two students up the stairs that wound around the outside of the main concert hall, leading them to a box positioned at the perfect intersection of sound and sight lines to view the entirety of the waiting orchestra. The waiters remained politely outside the box itself, tucked behind the nearby curtains.

Emma gave a coy smile to Marcus as they were escorted up. ”Sure, the box seats were a little expensive, but we're not the one's paying for it, right? We're celebrities now, gotta act the part.” Emma said, giving Marcus a slight nudge.

"Well you sure do know how to go all out, I'll give you that much!" Marcus said, taking a seat in one of the best spots in the building.

"But maybe don't say that last part too loudly. I'm not sure I want to be found out while surrounded by a thousand people, with no escape route." he whispered, nudging her back.

It began with a glance from one of the neighboring boxes. Then a whisper from a seat below. Soon, dozens of pairs of eyes had their attention ripped from the orchestra and were instead pointing up towards a box seating a teenage couple. The lights dimmed as the conductor started the overture but the commotion soon became far too disruptive for any sort of music to be appreciated. With a few quick flicks of the wrist, the orchestra went silent as the rather irritated conductor turned to the audience to find out what the commotion was. Their gazes led to a pair of subnaturals who had been making rounds on television. He was unsure of what to do here. The same could be said for the audience members. Everyone simply remained in their seats, unwilling to force the pair out but not bothering to hide their whispers either. A stalemate, for now.

"Like that. Basically exactly like that." Marcus muttered, sliding down into his seat.

Emma glanced at Marcus. And then she glanced at the crowd, the conductor, and Marcus. ”Woah, not my fault. They probably just remember us from the news.” she whispered harshly.

Shit, what now?

There was no doubt they realized who they were. There were likely some that weren't sure. But most had figured it out. That left two courses of action- leaving or waiting. Marcus slid further into his chair and Emma was about to do the same, but...

Maybe there was a third option.

It was a bit of a gamble- people would be pissed if they noticed the absence of the X-mark, but hopefully it was dark and they were far away enough that it went unnoticed. They were in private boxes, right? It couldn't have been too noticeable.

Emma backed away for a moment, feigning that she was checking her phone- she quickly wiped off the makeup in one motion, hoping that no one had noticed. She stepped back forward, ”Wipe off the makeup. Subtly.” Emma said to Marcus under her breath, giving the audience a small wave and a wide smile- hopefully the people were willing to put up with the two subnaturals.

The whispers only grew in volume as the interruption continued, even more so when Emma waved. Though Emma's wipe was unseen to most of the floor seats, a woman in the box beside them grimaced in disgust. Yet, she remained seated, opting instead to gossip heatedly with her husband seated next to her. No direct action to the teenagers had been taken yet. The conductor was now arguing with a stage manager. Outside the box's exit, the two waiters assigned to this particular box were audibly arguing, though they both clammed up as a pair of security officers arrived. However, they made no move either. The burly men simply waited by the doors, ready to take action should the commotion require it.

Marcus followed Emma's lead, seemingly coughing into his hand as he backed up a little bit, wiping the makeup off as he brought his arm up to his face. Still, he couldn't help but think that this wasn't the best of ideas - it had been made very clear that the people of the Capital weren't exactly the most friendly here, despite any attempts to make them seem more sympathetic.

The arrival of guards at the doors simply seemed to enforce this point, as Marcus was sure they were about to get forcibly ejected from the building. His eyes darted from them to Emma, waiting to see what her next move was.

Emma looked at him. ”If the guard's haven't kicked us out I'm going to guess they're for our benefit- I mean, if we just wait they have to stop eventually, right? Either that or they're getting ready to pull out their pitchforks.” she said quietly. ”Do you want to get out of here?”

"Well, as much as I'd like to not be intimidated and stay for your money's worth, I'm very intimidated right now." Marcus said, eyes flicking around to all the eyes staring back at him.

"But if you're willing to stand your ground, I'm certainly not going to leave you behind."

Emma shot him a quick glance, "I'm intimidated too, but hey, if they do decide to lynch us it's probably safer in the box. Behind the guards." she said, remaining unmoving.

Yet another minute of unsubtle bickering between the conductor and the stage manager. The orchestra remained at a standstill, the musicians' activities varying between whispering like the audience members and sneaking in some section practice during the break. One violinist even took his phone out to sneak a picture of the subnaturals but was quickly snapped at by the conductor. Eventually the leaders manage to come to an agreement and the conductor tapped on a microphone to request silence once more. The begrudging decrease in chatter followed and the focus was finally taken off the subnaturals. After another tuning session, the conductor restarted the overture, this time without any interruptions.

Emma looked at Marcus with a wry smile, "See look? I told you, we gooood."

"Yeah, I guess..." Marcus said, starting to sit back up in his chair as a slight wave of relief went over him. "Glad the conductor's apparently on our side!" he said, nervously chuckling.

The first half of the show passed in tense silence, but at intermission a large portion of the floor audience abandoned the concert, exiting quickly while shooting fearful, disgusted looks at the subnatural teenagers in the best box seat. There was a brazen nerve in how the two had remained after the opening fiasco and it struck a nerve with the citizens of Washington. More balked inwardly (and occasionally in loud whispers to their companions) that the local police force had let such a disaster pass in the first place. Others privately condemned the security guards, the concert hall staff, even the musicians for putting up with such a travesty. The mounting anger in the hallway even convinced several of the musicians to pack up and leave with the departing crowd, most notable the first violinist. Despite the offended commands of the conductor, the young woman shook her head and left, pointing upwards at the two subnaturals while arguing, her voice washed out by the murmurs of the crowd, but meaning clear enough.

When the din died down and the concert hall attendance resembled a box office flop, the conductor turned to look at the two USARILN students briefly, the expression on his aged, but dignified face inscrutable. With a sigh, he turned back to the remaining musicians, conversing briefly with the second violin.

The music resumed after the intermission, though none of the people who had left returned. Without their knowledge, Marcus's and Emma's waiters had also vanished.

Across from them, in a box on the opposite wall, a well-dressed man with olive skin and amber eyes watched the two calmly, a faint smile on his face as if the entire disaster had only been an amusing part of the show. He gestured to his own waiter, who leaned down carefully to take an order before disappearing into the back.

When a chilled flute of champagne returned, he raised a brief toast to the pair before settling back into his seat for the second half of the concert, sipping his drink with an elegance born from a lifetime of luxurious accommodations.

Emma had been watching the show with an obvious discomfort. Even under normal circumstances she would've been uncomfortable in the grandiose concert hall, the feeling was only amplified by the fact that everyone around hated them. The thinning audience didn't go unnoticed as well- she knew D.C. didn't like their kind, but she felt reviled here, like a villain.

Maybe that's what she was.

The man with the champagne didn't go unnoticed either- Emma returned his toast with a curt nod. ”At least we have one fan here.” Emma commented dryly, contempt clear in her voice. What an awkward fucking position this was. Of course, when Emma called for a drink of her own, no one came to serve her.

Being a Sub really sucked.

When it came time to leave Emma spared no time in getting up, quick to tug Marcus along with her.

”That went well.” she said, hurrying for the door.

"I'll say..." Marcus said, a little dejectedly. This was his first time being at some grandiose event like this, and while the scenery was nice, the actual performance and general ambiance left much to be desired. Not the best of first impressions - something that he probably should have expected, but still stung a little bit.

He gave one last look over to where the champagne man had been sitting, before snagging Emma's arm as she moved to leave. "Hang on a second. he said, walking past her and up to one of the security guards that was still hanging around.

"Pardon me, my good man; but is there a back exit or like...an employee exit we can sneak out of? Some way for us to get out without getting mobbed and making your lives difficult?" he asked, putting on his nicest 'child asking a parent for something' voice.

"Employee exits are for personnel only," the guard looked down at the subnatural with barely-hidden disdain. "The theatre doors are faster anyway."

A polite and succinct way of telling the kid to scram.

Emma was right behind Marcus. She just wanted to leave- quick. She'd had her fill of the orchestra, and was hoping against hope that this wouldn't end up on the news. She was pretty proud of her performance during the interview, and she didn't need something marring that so quickly.

”Alright, you heard the nice security officer, let's go.” she said lightly, hooking her arm around his and lightly tugging him towards the exit.

"Yep. That didn't work. Time to bail." Marcus said, slinking away from the guard, his metaphorical tail between his legs.

He quickly walked with Emma towards one of the nearest exits, trying desperately to keep his head down and not make any eye contact with anybody, hoping that they'd be able to get out reletively unmolested, and getting ready to run otherwise.

Emma also kept her head down. She wasn't ignorant to the hate-filled glares and loathsome whispers of the crowd around them. Emma and Marcus did nothing but try to enjoy a nice night out, but now... the girl felt nothing but contempt for the unmarked Regulars. She shot Marcus a quick glance as they exited the building. ”This is bullshit.” she muttered quickly under her breath.

---

Emma was glad to finally be back in the penthouse- among their own kind. She didn't want to hate the Regulars, but what the hell had they done besides hate her? Her parents, their guards, their fellow orchestra goers, even fucking Timothy, it was all starting to get to her. She came into the penthouse hurriedly, letting out a disgruntled huff as she shoved open the door.

”I can't fucking believe those people just...”

Emma couldn't find the end to her sentence, instead letting out a groan as she found a free couch to sit on.

"Yeah. I agree. That was a little bit..." Marcus said, plopping down next to her and staring at the ceiling. He didn't need to finish his sentance; the thought was enough.

"To be fair though, wiping off the makeup in full view of literally everybody...perhaps not your greatest plan of the night."

”And what's the alternative? They notice we don't have marks and lynch us? They didn't need them to recognize who we are.” Emma said, voice filled with exasperation.

"I mean, we could have just backed up a little bit, out of view of the balcony or something, and just stayed there. Instead of peeking back over and waving to everyone." he said, flopping his arms in equal exasperation.

Emma bit her lip, ”Yeah, that probably would've been a good idea, I wish I'd heard it, but someone was busy becoming one with his chair while I was trying to figure out what to do. I didn't exactly have a lot of time to decide, and it seemed like a lot better of an idea than sitting and waiting.” Emma said with a huff.

"My bad, I figured 'maybe try and not show off your mage-ness in the place we're hated the most was understood." Marcus muttered, the irritation clear in his voice.

He paused for a moment; there was no reason for him to be snapping at Emma - it certainly wasn't her fault that they'd been ostracized. He was just irritated in general; a little bit snippier than he needed to be.

”Oh come on, you know that they knew we were mages- did the fact that everyone was staring at us and whispering not make that obvious? You've been all over the news and you've got a pretty distinct face Marcus.”

"No, you're right." Marcus said, starting to cool down slightly - or at least starting to realize that he should direct his frustration somewhere else. "I guess it was a pretty stupid idea for two of the most well-known people in the country to go to one of the most crowded places in the country. Huh?"

Emma sighed.

”Yeah.” she agreed plainly.

I wanted to go to the arcade. she though bitterly, but didn't say.

”I just wish people didn't hate us so much.” she said, looking down at the ground. She didn't need to know the reason why there was so much contempt for subnaturals- she knew that, lived that.

"I hear ya..." Marcus said, running his hands down his face. "Here I thought that maybe I'd be able to make people like us a little bit more - show a friendly face and hope that people would be a little bit nicer...but it almost feels like it's gotten worse." he said despondantly.

"Maybe that's just the city though..."

Emma frowned. ”People are people.” she commented idly, ”I've seen people that've hated us all my life. They have their reasons, their convictions. We can't change their minds over night.” but she wished, more than anything, that they could.

There was a long moment where Marcus just sat, mulling over the thought in his head. She was right; he even had his own preconceptions that weren't going to be changed by simple words, so it wasn't like he had any room to judge other people for theirs.

"Next time, we need to bring masquerade masks." Marcus said, raising his arms up and stretching.

”Next time we're sticking to CC1.” Emma decided, letting out a slight yawn, ”They might be weird, but at least they don't do that.” Emma paused for a moment, ”I mean, really though, why are we in Washington? Think they're taking us to meet the big shots?”

"Yeah, as obnoxious as they can be, they at least seem to apprecitate us. Even if it's just because we're a relatively normal sight or something.

"As for Washington, who knows? Maybe we're all going to get medals or something. A big plaque built in our honor, right across from the Washington Monument." Marcus said, swiping hands as if displaying a landmark that didn't exist.

”Oh yeah, I'm sure the good people of D.C. will love that. American heroes Abraham Lincoln and Marcus Howell, that'll go over well with this crowd..”

A slight smirk came to Emma's face, ”I'd love to see the look on their faces.”

"I think I'd look pretty distinguished in a stovepipe hat!" Marcus said, giving Emma a regal pose and subsequent grin.

”Oh yeah, for sure.” Emma said, laughing.

Maybe this was why she liked him- she wasn't thinking about the concert hall anymore. It was easy to forget about that stuff with him. That was why she liked Riley too- everything felt a little more normal.

You don't deserve that.

Emma pushed the thoughts away. She'd thought far too much about her for today. ”Hey... even if our date did suck, I'm glad you're here.”

"I do what I can!" Marcus said, his regal pose only getting cockier before he let out small laugh and settled back down to his normal stature.

"Funny thing is, I was about to say the same thing."

”Oh yeah, sure, whatever you say.” Emma said, disbelief in her voice evident.

"No! It's true! Even if had to be publicly humilated in front of thousands of people to do it; I'm still glad we actually got to go out and do something together. I'm glad we got to do something together."

And any emotion and chance Marcus had at actually seeming sincere and romantic went right out the window when he added, "And it's not just because I recently learned you can conjure box seat tickets!"

Emma ran a hand through her hair, laughing a little. ”Right.” she agreed with a crooked smile on her face.

In that moment, she was happy.

Or, at least, that's what she told herself.