---

---

The slime had reached the subnatural students’ chosen launch point by the time they had set up, the gelatinous mass creeping pulsing tendrils up the building slowly while the bulk of its body flooded the edifice carefully. In its growing mass of slime were remnants of the city and its citizens, breaking down slowly. Its rising body reached the third floor and no higher, much of its mass spread out like a sea of clear agar. Veins and capillaries led back to the massive circulation system and nervous system nestled deep inside its amorphous form, the heart easily ten times the size of an average person and the brain even larger still, at roughly triple the heart’s size. Everything beat to the rhythm of the red organ and as its center passed the building where an ambush awaited, the crucial targets passed directly beneath the window where the students were setting up, heart suspended neatly beside the brain.

Meanwhile, lines of gray crinkled the air at random, targeting the tallest buildings first with a certain petty vengeance. The spread was haphazard, but eventually formed a rough ring that indicated the attacking mage’s radius of effect—and the center—some seven hundred or so meters around the convention center that the slime was deliberately flowing around without touching.

At the evacuation point, news had yet to reach the soldiers there of the recent massacre. But by then someone else had their full attention regardless.

Director Zhang stood behind a ring of guards, a hint of glossy skin around her throat the only indicator that she was wearing wishalloy in the event things went wrong. Pantyhose and gloves hid the rest of the evidence that she had anything supernatural on her body, save for the large semi-automatic in her hand. Her presence, however, was enough to divert any attention from the screams and chaos transmitted over the cuffs, if anyone could even discern beyond the screams and chaos in the vicinity.

Injured and frightened civilians huddled in large groups as large, military vans took them away to a nearby city for recovery. Injured soldiers who had been recovered were the first to be shuttled off, quickly followed by injured citizens. The dead were set aside for the moment to ensure every van could hold the maximum number of living occupants.

The Director stood far in the back, having arrived shortly after Sander had charged off towards the ice giant. The appearance of Cat’s Cradle hadn’t seemed to faze her, though her grip on the magical gun tightened marginally. When she received the all-clear, she turned her attention back to the arriving students, waiting for them to turn the corner and drive into view. According to her map, they wouldn’t be long. She knew several of the soldiers with keener ears had caught the transmissions from the cuffs of the offending subnaturals. She also knew her window to stave off the retribution would be small, even for the Director of USARILN East. The public would demand some sort of recompense, and they would expect the modern equivalent of a public stoning for the students involved once news of what sounded almost certainly like civilians being attacked hit the media outlets.

It was a mess, and one she could potentially deal with if she could keep them out of harm’s way first. It was a matter of waiting for an investigation to finish while placating the worst of the affected. And in the ensuring chaos of the ongoing disaster, stalling for time would be simple while the capital of the government recovered. A three-pronged attack was unprecedented and she could manipulate the information to her tastes once they had a better handle on the situation. Easy enough to claim something or other in that midst had manipulation abilities. Had already taken over the humans involved. Too late for them. Politics, after all, was simply how well one could sell a lie. Following through on one’s word was optional and her influence and reputation afforded her an easy podium from which to sell almost any lie she wanted.

As Kadabra returned from his unsuccessful attempt to annihilate Cat’s Cradle, a spray of gray lines tried to catch him in a rough space of 20 meters wide, the timing meant to crush. Kadabra simply avoided it, moving easily out of the way and raising himself higher to survey the situation. And it became clear at once from a bird’s eye view: there was a building left completely untouched in the surging slime and a field of destruction that centered around the carefully preserved location. To test, Kadabra threw a broken roof at it. Gray lines timed their appearance and crushed the approaching projectile with ease. He threw several buildings at it. Three sets of lines appeared to intercept.

It was enough for him to know that the user wasn’t restricted to a single target.

He lifted the building itself. Lines blanketed the air around him and the two of them shot upward, Kadabra on his platform and the crusher inside the lifted convention center. Before he could rise any further, a stark naked figure jumped out of the building window, landing squarely in the slime that saved and enveloped the person, dampening the impact and absorbing the shock. Unlike the rest of the material inside the ooze, the man remained intact, buoyed upward until his head was above the surface of the slime.

Kadabra eyed the spreading ooze, mentally wrestling with the sentient control for a brief second and deciding not to waste his time fighting the being for manipulation of its body. He could win out, perhaps, but there was no time to hover there and engage in a battle of wills, especially not with a monster. They had nothing but conviction at that point. Instead he lifted the ground below the slime, sending entire chunks firing upwards like a gargantuan landmine had detonated below the creature, smaller pieces tearing apart arteries and slime segments alike despite several of the larger fragments unable to push through the viscous mass. Several of the shards skimmed the building from which the spotters planned to attack, scattering concrete in a brief hail on anyone near the windows. Before Kadabra could rain the shards of concrete, steel, and asphalt down for another makeshift shrapnel shot, a wall of gray lines scattered around the floating pieces and pulverized them, the resulting fine dust too small for Kadabra to pick up at that distance. Not that he would have wasted the time trying in the first place.

To the Precursor’s surprise, the creature’s innards repositioned itself rapidly, sliding left and right at ridiculous speeds to avoid the worst of the projectiles and taking only glancing damage from the pieces that managed to pierce properly. In response to the sudden barrage, the monster reconsolidated its defenses, piling its body back together into a larger, denser mass and threatening to envelope the spotters’ building entirely. Another wave of gray lines within its body cleared out much of the larger rubble, leaving behind a vacuous space only briefly before the slime closed its gaps.

An Animus who was almost a direct counter to Kadabra’s ability and smart enough to remove his clothes to prevent the Precursor from lifting him directly. It was enough to clue Kadabra in that the slime was also a subnatural. Completely lacking in human form, but certainly a subnatural. And they were working in tandem. For the moment he lifted himself out of the range, keeping the crusher’s attention with a steady fire of traffic light poles, broken building segments, and miscellaneous broken objects, forcing the Animus to repeatedly manifest wall after wall of shattering lines to prevent severe damage to both himself and the slime.

---

Christopher Francis

---

---

The journey towards the slime monster was a whole new experience he'd remember to dread. Each step wallowed him with pain and his broken body made him feel he was carrying some great burden of weight; A feeling he tried to relate to his expression of 'carrying crosses.' Seeing the edge of the slime brought him both satisfaction that he able to make the journey, but also a wave of dread as he now had to figure out what he could do in his current condition.

Even as he had mere moments to consider his next plan of action upon the creeping ooze, his body was giving out. The whole treck he traveled was pathed in his own toxic blood, red streaks dripping through his veil of fire that still burned over his fire; showing that his blood didn't even boil from the flames just like his flesh. That sense of despair, or idea of loss against these vile creatures only gave him more motivation, more reason to keep going. No matter how exhausted he grew, how much pain he'd go through, he would not let his body yield. Though at that point he was well aware that there was only so much raw will power can do in his current state. Determination could only push his body forward, not ignore his injuries.

There was no proper strategy, innovation, or idea he could come up with. What followed then was more along the lines of a desperate animal that was out of logical options; there was no thought of his own safety or proper plan, to him this felt more along the lines of an innate instinct. Chris, despite every fiber of his sore maw wished he hadn't, released the loudest rage-filled cry of a monster he could muster; a fierce toned roar that lingered in length and pitch from pain and weakness, a sound that only reflected more so of a desperate animal in a blind fighting instinct instead of some kind of plea for help.

Chris picked up one nearby car with his maw and flung it towards the slime, followed by two more cars which he flung over with his tail. With three tossed cars aligned in a row in the ooze, Chris unleashed a jet of flames underneath them to ignite and burst their fuel tanks. With what strength he could muster, the dragon-arbiter then limped over and leaped through the wall of flames he created into the ooze, and proceeded to trudge through the slime in hopes that the fire around him would aid in damaging the monster. Or at the very least, help him in move through it with his failing strength.

The Aberration leaned against the roof's barrier, sighing in frustration as he surveyed the city. Almost a whole hour had passed since the evacuation order but still the crowd showed no sign of easing up. If anything it looked like even more of a pain to wade through. Ignoring the Regulars, his gaze moved vertically, binoculars trained on the rubble shooting up in the distance. The slime and grey lines were still present. Man, shouldn't the Precursors' top dog have the situation handled by now? Kadabra was really taking his sweet time.

And Brent's team was right in the midst of it all.

There was no time to uselessly stress though. A distant figure traversing the rooftops caught his eye and Ernie's hand moved back to the communicator.

"Sander? What are you doing?"

Sander's only response was an annoyed grunt as he flung himself onto a vertical wall and began climbing.

A pang of annoyance rung in the buzzcut boy's voice. "C'mon man, talk to me. It's the least you can do after ditching me on the other end of the fucking city. What's your plan here?"

Sander's hand snagged on a jagged piece of glass, and the entire shattered window fell on him. He recovered his footing easily enough, taking his time shaking glass and dust out of his hair as he clung to the wall.

Ernie's voice chose that exact moment to blare through the cuff, and Sander's frown only deepened.

"I'm fighting." -He almost growled -"You stay put."

"I'm not gonna sit around while my friends are making dumbass decisions and putting themselves in unnecessary danger," Ernie spat back, summoning his rope to hop off the building safely. There were no civilians in the area to witness it, thanks to the ice giant, "If you seriously feel the need to babysit me even during the end of D.C. then just ask for my location and I'll give it to you. It's not like you can stop me right now, the way you're heading. Are you going after the crusher or the slime?"

"The what?"

Jesus, was this guy for real? Ernie jogged down the road, his head trying to juggle the conversation and his current task. The area by the arboretum was mostly residential, which meant that there'd be family homes. Which meant children. Which meant scooters and bikes.

"The air crusher who's summoning grey lines and turning buildings into literal dust. Entire guard towers and jet planes. It's calculated. This guy knows what he's doing so don't just charge in with zero plan."

"Oh." -Sander mumbled, heaved himself onto another rooftop. From there, he finally got clear view of the chaos bellow. In the distance, the slime monster kept moving, but he did notice the human silhouette floating in its mass.

"I see him." - Red eyes zeroed in on his target, and Sander couldn't help but sniff the air -"Brandy." -He whispered, almost as an afterthought. The last comment went unheard.

"Alright, what's he got surrounding him? Maybe you can knock a tower down and charge during the distraction or something."

"He's in slime." -Sander stated the obvious, fingers curled then uncurled as he fought the urge to charge.

"Fuck, really?" Ernie groaned as he sifted through an unlocked house, looking for the entrance to the garage. A check of the communicator confirmed Sander's location. Not far from Brent, which meant not far from the slime. Crap. "Whatever you do, don't touch that slime. Is Kadabra there too? Do you see what he's doing?"

"He's throwing stuffs."

Made sense. Ernie didn't know why he asked the obvious. "Use him as a distraction then. Remember, don't touch the slime."

Wait. There was something else about this. The guard towers had been systematically disabled. Strategic. This wasn't a random rogue. This was someone with a plan, with the aim to cripple the nation by striking at its heart. Ernie only knew of one organisation with the balls to do something so catastrophically large-scale.

"One more thing, Sander," the Aberration's tone was more serious than anything previous. More calculating. Entire corpses were always somewhat unnerving, like they could spring back to life when you had your back turned. But less than an entire corpse... "If you manage to beat this guy, see if you can bring his head back in one piece. The USARILN guys might be able to find something important."

The morbid request did make Sander quirk an eyebrow, but he simply nodded with a quick "Okay".

Ernie was pleasantly surprised by the lack of follow-up questions. Of course Sander of all people was alright with this sort of stuff. "Cool. Good luck then."

With that, the line cut. A scarf and pair of gardener gloves were procured to hide his glow. Armed with his soldier's uniform, a whistle and a Razor scooter, Ernie began making his way through the panicked throng.

As Ernie’s voice quieted, a lot seemed to be happening in the streets bellow. Yet, Sander chose not to observe, instead focusing his attention of the oozing slime and its human-shaped accomplice. Turning around, Sander dug his fingers into the concrete and ripped out a small section of the floor. With all his might, he launched it toward the human mage, already readying another follow-up attack.

A crushing field timed to eliminate Kadabra's projectiles took care of the new intrusion as well, though a sudden spray of lines around Sander's approximate position was enough clue that the mage had caught on to someone aiding the Precursor. The crisscross hatching of gray lines folded into and out of themselves for a brief second before piling inward towards a designated center point, one that Sander was dangerously near.

Ignoring the obvious telegraph around him, Sander merely reached for another slab of concrete.

The building around the Aberration vanished into a thin powder of wood and concrete dust, the inward implosion beyond anything a man-made object could withstand. With the disappearance of half a building, anyone within viewing distance would have seen the appalled look on the attacking mage's face when he saw a body falling to the ground below, unmarked by his devastating power. Fear and shock all rolled into a large, multilayered barricade of timed implosions, clearing out another wave of Kadabra's projectiles and much of the ground around them, forming a shallow moat that the slime oozed over easily.

More lines timed their detonations down the trajectory of Sander's fall, but every section of building turned to particulate matter still left an ominously glowing Aberration in its wake, entirely unfazed by the damage.

Sander hit the ground hard, cracks spreading like spiderwebs beneath him. Yet, he was unscathed, the force of the blows only fueled his fury. Seconds after his fall, and the blood mage was already back on his feet, scaling another building to get the height advantage on the slime creature.

Ernie's words still echoed in his head. Don't touch the slime. But how else would he get to the human mage?

Frustration gnawed as him, so he gave up and dove straight for the crusher, heedless of Ernie's sensible advice.

The slime swallowed him in a thick liquid that cut off air and hindered movement. Without any traction to push off of and only uncooperative slime to struggle against, Sander's movements bore little fruit. Meanwhile, the living ooze shifted further into itself, condensing carefully and keeping its empowered ally above the suffocating mass. At the same time, it pulled Sander deeper into its body, intending to confine his movements there.

With his air supply cut off and his strength neutralized, there was little Sander could do. He struggled in vain, feral growls bubbled from his throat, just as his lungs began to burn for oxygen. He fought uselessly, the slime contouring and deafening any shows of force deep within its body. While Sander was immune to the digestive effects, he wouldn't be able to withstand the lack of air for long.

The truck moved onwards, travelling steadily and pushing past stilled cars with ease. Though the presence of subnaturals was made evident by the golden chains attached to the plow at the front, the citizens were hesitant to engage. Some stood by and made room while others fled. Apart from the occasional rock smacking the side of the vehicle, there were no further attacks made on the truck itself. Engaging a vehicle moving at that speed was universally acknowledged to be a rather foolhardy plan.

Up the road, a significant roadblock could be sighted. Several buildings had been collapsed by the tremors of the ice giant's fall, crushing the cars underneath and creating a mound that reached across the evacuation route. The rubble itself was nothing the truck's thick tires couldn't handle though that wasn't the only point of interest. Citizens that were moving on foot merely climbed over the mound, eager to escape the city, much to the chagrin of the less mobile. A handful of bloodied regulars remained by the former apartments, attempting to dig through the debris or just watching on worriedly. Cries for help sounded from the bystanders and from within the broken condo. Nearby, seven soldiers were arranged on the street, too busy with the evacuation process to properly lend their assistance to those trapped underneath.

The awkward silence that had passed during the steady crawl of the truck was not unnoticed by Marcus. Normally, he would have been the one to step up and break the tense atmosphere, but this time he didn't. He just didn't have the energy. Everything that had happened back there had been playing in his mind on a loop since he climbed back into the cab, and the sheer mental fortitude he was expending to not just break down and panic was physically exhausting him.

He was tired. That much was obvious, and it probably showed.

Combined with the fact that there was likely nothing he could say that wouldn't make the situation worse, kept his mouth shut. For he feared that if he opened it, he'd lash out at someone - hurt somebody else, even if unintentionally. A small part of him chuckled at the thought: his mother's child, for sure.

Quiet. It was not the unnatural type of silence that Siena was accustomed to--the sound of the road passing beneath them, the sound of the distant mayhem...it was still there. Muffled and oddly sliding over her as though she wasn't quite there. She imagined the others were thinking of the prior events--no, it was more of a faded hope. At least if she imagined that they were doing something that human, the illusion could still pass. Siena felt her grip tighten marginally around her phone, hazy screams filling the back of her head like a nest of angry hornets.

So many dead.

A disappointed voice sounded like an echo. Over and over again. Didn't she learn better? She flinched, let go of the cars. Her fault. She didn't fight back the way she should have, had to be saved when she could have--a shudder passed down her spine. Almost. Only a few breaths away from taking a name that she knew should not be taken. Not when it fit so easily, and not when she was so comfortable without control.

The only time you feel like yourself, abomination.

Her eyes returned to the streets.

"Ah, shit."

The semi slowly stopped in front of what appeared to be an insurmountable obstacle in their path; an entire block was currently sprawled out over the road, with civilians scurrying about it as if from a disturbed ant mound. Even after everything that had happened - he wasn't willing to just drive over the people running for their lives.

"Welp. Look's like we're walking." he said, very matter-of-factly.

Some of the others in the back would certainly disagree, he knew that much when he stopped the truck. They'd say he should just plow through them and not think twice.

Fortunately, they weren't the ones with the keys.

As the truck came to a stop Kusari exited it and walked to the front. Their path was blocked as Marcus said, they would have to walk. She glanced around seeing people in various states of disarray. The thought didn't even cross her mind to help them, not after what just happened. She quietly walked forward, tuning out the chaos around her.

Angélique was of no exception for contributing to the uncomfortable silence in the truck. Her moody but talkative attitude was replaced by a brooding silence as she kept to herself, her mind plagued by the guilt of the situation she had caused and the ungrateful behavior of the Regulars she wanted to save. When the truck came to a stop, Angel thought they had finally arrived to destination, but wanted to stay put until told to get out. Watching Kusari leave and the landscape view offered from the entrance to the van, it seemed to point otherwise. Curious, the raven-haired Subnatural slowly crawled towards the exit of the truck's cargo holder, sitting at the edge of the doors' frame. The road was a mess, the surroundings showed signs of clear devastation. And yet, despite the wails and cries for help, Angel felt unmoved by this catastrophe. Sure, part of herself felt for the refugees and their pleas for rescue, but the fallen idol was so weary and tired of this ordeal, and was still mad over what happened earlier. She was in no state of mind to suggest anything or take decisions, and she realized it by now. Instead, she simply stood still, waiting for whomever else to take charge and direct the group into their next course of action. It wasn't like she was going anywhere by herself with her current state of health anyway.

Lily wordlessly and absentmindedly followed after both Kusari and Angelique and got out of the truck. With her mind blank, she looked at her surroundings and began walking.

Siena's feet hit the ground with a faint crunch of misplaced rocks grinding under her feet, the discomfort little more than a distraction from what assaulted her senses. Again, there were people that needed help. A sense of apprehension rose like the tide, creeping from her stomach, up to her torso, until it threatened to drown her in its presence. Again. Her grip tightened again around her phone.

Why didn't they move to help?

Because they weren't stupid, a bitter voice spat with such venom that Siena felt an odd desire to flinch. They had every right not to be willing to help, and the Arbiter knew it. It was a perfectly human reaction. Her mind continued to rationalize it as her eyes remained glued on the disaster, a storm of conflicting emotions trying to win out again. Guilt, remorse, anger, bitterness, hate, hurt, guilt, guilt, guilt.

She did not walk forward like the others.

"We're leaving them...?" It wasn't really a question, Siena realized. Just an attempt to seek confirmation.

The other were silent. Emma was silent too, but her face held none of the emotion that the other’s had. She didn’t look tired, or sullen, or angry, or sad, or guilty, instead she just looked… she looked like her mom always had, she realized. Her face said nothing, her mouth was drawn into a line, her eyes were just… they were just there. There, like she was, at this moment doing nothing else either than existing.

Aside from her bruised face she looked so normal that it was unsettling even for her. But she didn’t feel normal, did she?

Wordlessly she followed the others out of the truck, climbing out to drink in the destruction around her. There were people, trapped, her friends, such as they were, not moving to help them. She couldn’t blame them… could she? It was Siena that asked. Emma didn’t say anything, not at first. First Determination appeared. By some miracle he was still here for her and maybe that meant something.

Probably not, she decided.

”Help them get out of the rubble.” Emma said evenly, gesturing off handedly towards the trapped civilians. He started on his task after a moment of contemplation, and she walked beside him, starting to help dig herself as effectively as she could.

As the incapacitated USARILN guards filed out behind Kusari and Angel, murmurs surrounding Determination's approach started filling the air. The atmosphere still reeked of desperation from the citizens clambering over the mound but there was much less animosity. It mostly likely had something to do with the heavily armed guards glowering at the scene, or the blood splattering many of the teenagers' clothing.

A young man in a dust-coated sweater kept his distance from the subnaturals, glaring at the X-girl from TV.

"Hey, stay awa--" he started before getting harshly cut-off by an older woman.

"Let them help."

"But they fucking started--"

"How else are we going to find Leah?" the woman's voice broke with the name. A glare full of contempt was levelled at the subnaturals and she nodded to the apartment building. "I don't know how many are still in there. Just fix it. It's the least you can do after all this."

Emma didn’t look up at them. ”Sorry.” She muttered under her breath, continuing to dig, straining herself to dig.

After what had happened so soon ago Kusari thought that she had run out of desire to be angry, but thinking about it she never said a word to the people attacking her and her allies. As far as she was concerned they were just targets that she was defending herself from. However she wasn't in combat right now, and the words of this ignorant regular crawled under her skin like centipedes.

Kusari swiftly walked over to Determination and nonchalantly stabbed it in the back of it's head with her claw. She affixed a glare as sharp as a surgeon's knife to the woman that had slighted them. "You heard the woman Emma. We caused this whole mess, right?" She spread her arms with open hands and let out a sardonic chuckle. "Wouldn't make much sense for us to care about saving anyone, right? In fact how fucking DARE we even think of helping these pure innocent humans? They don't need help from a bunch of monsters." Kusari had a trembling smile on her face, as if she didn't know what expression to convey other than mockery and defiance.

"As a matter of fact." Kusari looked to Emma. "I think they would much rather die than live with the shame of being saved by a sub."

Emma didn’t move from her task. She didn’t look up either. Instead, she said a single word.

”Stop.”

It wasn’t much of a response but Emma said it very seriously. Determination appeared again. ”Keep digging.”

Kusari's uneasy smile had settled into a firm grimace. "Oh? I should stop? That's funny, I didn't hear you say that when those regulars were trying to do a public execution."

From a few feet away, Lily watched and listened silently at how Kusari lashed out a Regular. The small blonde Aberration merely stared, neither registering the hatred she heard in the pale Arbiter's voice nor the determination Emma showed in helping out.

Only one real denial came to Siena's inquiry, one quickly met with an equally real confirmation. The rational part of her mind...no, the idealistic part of her mind told her that they both had their reasons. Good reasons, bad reasons, it didn't matter. The brunette knew that Kusari's reaction was probably the more natural. They had been attacked for announcing their presence, for trying to help, and that had been before the bloodshed. A bitter voice hissed in agitation through the din of Siena's thoughts. Why keep trying to find excuses?

Her grip tightened on her phone marginally.

"So you're saying we should condemn all of them?" The words escaped before the usual filter could clamp down. Well, too late to stop. "If you don't want to help, at least don't interfere with the ones that do want to." Because she didn't have the strength to keep up the facade. Looking over the building, Siena took a wary step toward the building, her gaze falling to the screen of her phone, a purple light dimly coming to life.

Just fix it.

Kusari wasn't expecting Siena to speak up, she hadn't spoken to her since the flag game but she'd always seemed like the type to keep down when possible. She knew what she was doing was ridiculous, she was trying to convince them to let people die after all. She was just beyond caring at this point.

"If they didn't need us right now they would be fine with all of us dropping dead on the spot, I hope you understand that." She didn't destroy Emma's creature again, but she didn't continue walking either. Regardless of what they wanted to do she wasn't going to leave without them.

Movement inside the truck caught Angel’s attention, looking back the guards began leaving the truck one by one, until Lawrence showed up last. It looks like he finally woke up. After making sure he was alright from the fall he took earlier, both Mages agreed to help each other out from the vehicle, joining the others as they realized the reason they stopped. A roadblock created by a collapsed building. Well, that was quite the hurdle. They would need to go back to the evacuation point with their own legs, leaving them exposed to the mad crowd of panicked citizens.

Moving further forward to join the others, the two oldest Mages from Unit B reached them while they were quarrelling about helping the Regulars. Again, the dilemma was still going strong in Angélique’s mind, her idealistic and hopeful self was agreeing with Siena. But after going through so much shit earlier, she was mostly inclined to agree with Kusari. They tried helping earlier and they got stoned for it. Why would it be different this time? First chance they would get, the Regular would stab them in the back.

So she simply stood there, requesting Lawrence to leave her be if he wanted to contribute to the unearthing effort. Meanwhile, Angel was simply sitting on a toppled piece of building, her tired gaze looking over her classmates. There wasn’t much she could do to help even if she wanted to, and she sure as hell didn’t want using her voice to call out for survivors. Not this time.

Emma didn’t say anything. She didn’t look up, she didn’t stop, her expression didn’t change. She just kept digging. Kusari’s words weren’t news to her- in fact, it was something that she knew very well. But she couldn’t find fault with their position. She couldn’t fault Regulars for wanting them dead.

So she kept digging.

Grey eyes did not lift from the phone screen as she listened to Kusari. Well, that had always been the case, hadn't it? Hadn't that been abundantly clear the first time that they were thrown haphazardly into combat? Unwelcome thoughts of Padma's death tried to encroach, but were quickly pushed aside. It wasn't the time for that. A name settled over her, and she braced herself for the storm that would brew. Siena had never quite settled in line with any version of Shadowcat before--not the same way she did with other names.

"Then we should make ourselves needed."

Unease gripped the civilians as the heated disagreement went on. Despite the albino's hostility, her words held a dirty truth to them. Had the places been switched, there would have been zero chance of anyone at the scene coming to the subnaturals' aid. Getting saved by these inhumans might be considered degrading by some, but it seemed that the regulars were all too desperate despite that.

The man that had dismissed them earlier remained silent, instead moving beside Emma to assist and direct her efforts.

"Can't you get more of your guys to help?" he muttered after a while, gesturing to Determination. He'd obviously taken note of the description of her power from her interview.

The woman was not quite as graceless as her counterpart, turning to Siena with a reluctant but appreciative nod. "This was a ten-storey condo. All those apartments on a midday Sunday... I can't even guess how many could be trapped down there."

”Right.” Emma wasn’t sure why herself why she didn’t summon more tulpas. Well, that wasn’t true, she knew why, but wasn’t willing to admit to herself that she wasn’t thinking straight. Charity and Devotion came. Love might’ve been helpful but…

”Search for survivors and dig them out.” Emma commanded simply.

Lily's golden eyes remained on Emma and her mind was jolted back alive. She had been like that before, always wanting to help. But did it matter now when she killed people she was supposed to have saved? And to make matters worse, they had already been incapacitated by Angelique. No matter how much she denied it, no matter how much she blamed her stigma, the act of killing made her feel both sane and insane at the same time. The feeling was...euphoric. But it only lasted a fraction of a second before she felt horrible. Nothing will change the fact that she was a monster. And a monster should be put down. And if these people would put her down, she'd let them. She tuned out the injuries she could sense. There was no point trying to be a healer when she was just really a murderer. With a sigh, she let her mind shut down again as her legs carried her over to where Emma and the man were digging. Silently, she began helping out even though she could still feel the exhaustion, her small hands doing the best they could.

At the acknowledgement that the remains before them had once been a condo, Siena couldn't help but feel her expression try to twist into a grimace. Part of the expression seeped through against her best attempts, the wince at the potential number of injured and dead. How many had even survived when the building crashed into its current position...? Taking a deep breath, the brunette gave a nod.

"I'll bring as many to safety as I can," Siena started while her mind ran through a series of situations. She could take a second name, but based on experience, it would dampen her ability to quickly move through the building for a first sweep...worse yet, it might entirely prevent her from taking anyone that could escape with her. Besides which, there were too many variables in trying to take a name that could scan for people that she didn't know. "If I find any medical supplies, I'll bring those out too."

Taking a deep breath, the brunette moved toward the rubble. Another deep breath that she didn't release, and she plunged through it.

Marcus had said nothing during the argument between Kusari and Emma, but had taken a quick step forward when the clawed girl slashed through the tulpa's head. Not helping was one thing, but actively preventing someone from helping was another thing altogether. Even so, he couldn't bring himself to intervene, and let out a soft sigh when the situation appeared defused.

He listened to the other conversations: the man directing Emma and the woman talking about the building. Condos weren't usually built to last, but in the capital, Marcus guessed that every building had some safe room for when things went poorly. Plus, if they had survived their fall, other rooms could have been equally protected.

He wandered around the rubble a bit, looking for something that would allow him into the building. Some partially destroyed doorway, or semi collapsed hall. Easy enough to find - there was enough fallen walls to allow him easy access to the interior.

Even from the outside, Marcus could tell that the building was not stable. Dust shook from the ceiling, the echoing sound of some rocks finally giving way and clattering to the ground, all drowned beneath the cries for help from the survivors. It was probably too dangerous for more than one person to sneak around without triggering another collapse.

Perhaps that's why he didn't tell anyone as he silently slipped in.

Help save the kinds of people who had wanted them dead earlier, or keep going and leave those in need behind so they could save themselves. From what Sophia could see, the majority opinion had won out and they were helping. There was that shadowy creature moving rubble, and Siena had just... disappeared. Would Siena be okay?

Sophia stood near the back of the truck, leaning against the side of the truck with one arm hooked around the door to steady herself as she looked at the rubble ahead of them. She still wasn't feeling back to normal and would probably have to sit back down in the truck soon, but had wanted to see what was going on when the truck had stopped and her classmates had begun to get out. Well, now she knew.

All that death... She should help somehow, but how? Emma had her creatures, Siena had used some power to disappear into that rubble, Kusari... well, she wasn't really doing anything, Marcus was out of sight but probably helping too... Sophia could use her power, but was she strong enough? Last time she had tried she hadn't been able to see through much, and here were layers upon layers of rubble. If she couldn't see through enough of the rubble, there was no point in turning her power on when it would only make seeing the living harder. She let out a shaky breath, and feeling that she had stood for long enough, went back into the truck to sit at the edge. What should I do?

A light shower of rubble brushed Marcus' shoulder as he entered the dark and ruined hall. Only half of the ground floor seemed intact enough to navigate, the division between the untouched rooms and crushed areas being difficult to ascertain. A distant wailing could be heard down the corridor. A sole civilian who still had the strength to cry out an hour after the initial tremors. The Arbiter's footsteps were met with a subtle crackling from the ceiling, but it seemed safe enough to enter for now.

Meanwhile, with its superior strength, Determination unearthed a middle-aged couple, bystanders quickly rushing in to help them out while the tulpa continued its task. Closer to Siena, a pair of small figures lay together in the dark, the boy gasping softly as the white-marked girl reached their cramped chamber.

---

---

---

---

Sitting on a mound of debris, Angélique glanced all around her at the scene of desolation. She felt uneasy being out there, the Regulars’ gaze and the guards’ eyes watching her as if she was a rabid monster ready to attack. She felt so vulnerable sitting here. Eventually, her eyes would settle over the raging battle taking place just about close to where Unit B previously took residence temporarily. The battle was raging over there, buildings being tossed at the slime, only to be crushed as an eerie force was at work over there. Her thoughts then drifted to her remaining classmates. How were they doing? Were they still alive? What the hell was happening over there?

For a brief moment, Allison came into her mind. They haven’t spoken to each other ever since that night the brunette revealed her feelings to the fallen rockstar. Recalling her earlier transmission about following through a plan that might kill them, Angel’s mind suddenly grew restless. Again, Angel felt conflicted about her feelings towards the girl, but she was certain of one thing: she wished to see her back and alive after this ordeal. Angélique considered the idea of calling Brent to inform her of the situation, but if the building flinger and whatever was crushing those pieces were looking for their group, Angel didn’t want risking their position by making an untimely call, like how Ernie contributed to the hate towards the evacuation effort by telling everyone to not bother with the civilians.

Thinking about Evac Team and its members, Angel spotted Sophia moving around. The girl had been badly injured during their fall, Angel probably to be blamed partly for crushing her into her arms when she attempted to shield her. She was too young to witness such things already. But she was a Subnatural. The moment her white-mark appeared, she was fated to suffer from injustice and cruelty. Thinking about the young brunette Arbiter, Angélique wondered what her power was. She was probably the only classmate she actually had no idea of their power. She had been assigned to be part of Evac Team before. Surely she had a power useful for such?

“Sophia.” The black-haired Aberration called out softly to the girl using her magic to project her voice next to the Arbiter, gesturing Sophia to join her.

This time Sophia jumped a bit at Angélique's voice, but she wasted no time thinking about the Aberration's power, glancing around until she spotted the girl gesturing to her. At least going over there would give her something to do. Getting down from the truck once more, she kept a hand on the side of the truck as she moved towards Angélique. Ignoring the lightheaded feeling that made her instincts tell her to lie down instead of move around, once she could no longer use the truck to steady herself she took those steps unsupported till she reached the rubble. The mound earned itself a cautious look, before she sat down hurriedly. Near to Angélique, but still with at least a good two to three feet between them. "Uh, yeah?"

Seeing Sophia walking with such difficulty, Angel questionned herself about calling the young girl to her, instead of moving herself to meet her. The Arbiter youth really did look even worse than the older Aberration.

"I'm sorry to have you come up all the way here. How are you holding up?"

Obviously she wasn't well, Angélique figured, but she wanted to know how she was mentally. Hopefully she wasn't too shaken up by what happened back there.

For a few seconds, all Angélique got from Sophia was a blank stare. How... was she holding up? Perfect time to have a nice and friendly chat. Just sit on a pile of rubble and chat about feelings. "Oh... I'm fine." Her hands tensed, not entirely so they made a fist, but enough so that she was making claws with her fingers. She meant to stop there, but found herself continuing, louder than her usual whispery words.

"Of course I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be? I mean, we're only sitting here, in the middle of an attack, to have a nice conversation. That's wonderful." She swept an arm around gesturing at their surroundings. "Only... I don't know, only a few people have died, right? And I can't do anything, you're not doing anything, and I can't..." She trailed off, turning away from Angélique as she tugged at the ends of her hair.

Angel was taken aback by the sudden burst of sarcasm that came out from the little one's mouth. She really didn't expect the quiet child to have this kind of attitude firsthand; or rather she really never knew anything about her to expect anything of Sophia's personality.

The sound Mage's brows creased into a more pronounced frown. Calling Sophia out here really wasn't the best idea, had she known the kid to be this way. Her reasons were justified though. Everyone probably had a bone to pick against the raven-haired singer after what she did.

"Look, I'm sorry things didn't turn out to be as perfect as we wished they would be. Shit happens, I fucked up, we made bad decisions. But those things will keep happening, because that's going to be what the remaining of our lives will be, as combat slaves. I wouldn't be moping around here doing nothing if it wasn't for the fact that we fell down a fucking twenty story-high tower and a bookcase that crushed my insides. I don't have the physical power right now to help, and my powers can't help here either, because we now know just how fucking useful it was back there."

Angel's words were harsh, but that was a reality that had started to rapidly sink into the young woman's head. She had no mind right now to carefully pick her words, on top of generally being bad with kids. She was too tired of all this shit and just wanted it to end as quickly as possible.

In the end, Angélique sighed, unable to bear herself being this antagonizing on someone who needed to be reassured rather than berated. "Listen, I know you are in a worse shape than I am, I can't blame you for being unable to help. You were part of the evacuation team, back in Wisford, so I assume you have some powers that would help with that, right? Are you limited by your injuries, or is it something else?"

Angel had no idea how to approach that situation. She wanted to know what Sophia could do, see if there was anything to make out of her. Her stinging words about not doing anything had the fallen idol more frustrated about standing around here being useless while most to the others were actively helping. At most, it was Angel's own ego to prove her younger classmate that she wasn't so fine sitting uselessly like that, even if it was partly because she didn't want to have anything with Regulars right now.

Sophia hadn't exactly been meaning to blame Angélique for not doing anything, more upset at how the Aberration wanted to "chat" like nothing dire was going on around them. Perhaps after another minute or two Sophia would have calmed down the panic that she was now beginning to feel as she did nothing, but Angélique's words didn't help. She's sorry that things didn't turn out to be perfect? Shit happens?

Hello? She wasn't stupid, she didn't have ideals where everyone got along with each other fine and dandy, where no one would ever die. She didn't need Angélique telling her that her life was not going to be some happy story on TV like she was some child. "Oh wow, really? I thought that any moment now a helicopter would come and take me back home. Some knight in shining armor should be here in a minute. You mean my life is actually going to be made up of bad stuff?" But even as spoke, Sophia could feel her eyes beginning to sting. She knew that, she knew that, she knew that. She knew that her life would never be as it once had been again, that "shit" was going to happen. She didn't need a reminder.

"My powers that help with evacuation?" She was silent for a few seconds thinking about how useless her power was here, how it wasn't strong enough. "It's not any use." Not with her. Last time she had seen... what? Seen two children, but they probably would have been spotted anyway. She hadn't been able to give any helpful information about that dog. "I see through stuff, okay? That's all. But I can't see enough, so it's useless." A pause as she clenched and unclenched her jaw. "Not being able to do anything doesn't mean that you should sit around and try to chat. Or lecture people."

Another bout of sarcasm, another frown. This discussion was going south rapidly, and the last statement really irked Angel more than it should have. The Aberration jerked up swiftly, almost loosing footing and dropping to one knee, but managed to steady herself by leaning on the large chunk of debris.

"I'd rather be talking and knowing more about my classmates than brooding and being sassy about all of this." Angélique sharply replied to the young Arbiter, growing the more tired about her sarcastic remarks. But now that she knew about her powers, there was some sort of renewed vigor to keep pressing forward.

A Sight Mage and a Voice Mage. Two seemingly powerless entities, yet a combination that could prove very useful in this situation, if someone was ever willing to pair these two powers and have them work together. Someone with good resource management.

"So what, you have partial X-ray vision? How is that not useful here? Did you try seeing through the rubble? Even if you would see the faintest sign of life, or anything that would help locating someone, that's more than enough, for me at least."

Sophia ignored what was said about brooding or being sassy. She wasn't brooding. She might be using some sarcasm, but that wasn't out of place. Getting to know each other, yeah. This was a perfect way for the two of them to get to know each other. She opened her mouth to say so, but bit back the retort as Angélique continued to talk.

...what was the point of trying to see through rubble if you already knew that you couldn't see enough? She couldn't see the living anyway. Fitting, for someone who avoids humans at all cost. I've always avoided people, so now... I guess that's fitting.

But I can see clothes. Still, it wasn't any use if she couldn't even see far enough to catch sight of any clothes. She hadn't tried, no, but why should she just because that Aberration scolded her about it?

But some part of her, perhaps triggered by what Angélique had said, thought that she should try. She hadn't wanted to because she knew she wasn't strong enough, but perhaps that would appease her. Make Angélique leave her alone. "Fine."

"But it's not going to work." She switched on her power, and looked around.

Finally, Angel managed to coax her into using her power. She wasn't pleased by the Arbiter's apparent defeated attitude about her powers, but the raven-haired Aberration wanted to see what she was capable of. Sophia's lack of belief in her own abilities made Angelique wonder if the girl wasn't just too quick to give up or if her powers really weren't that useful. But to hear about it, and giving the circumstances, Angel blamed Sophia's lack of faith.

"It won't if you keep up with this attitude. Stop berating yourself and just make it work." the sonic Aberration commented at first, walking slowly towards Sophia. "If range is the issue, then you just got to move. If details are what you don't see, then focus on something else. If something is beyond your abilities, then use the others to compensate for your fallacies. That's how people with supportive abilities like us work together."

While Angel was still mad at the brunette Arbiter for the discussion they were having, there was still this part of the young woman that was looking out for her classmates. She wanted to help her friends, make them understand themselves better just as she herself tried to understand her powers. If she could manage to work together with Sophia in finding survivors, then that would be the best thing to have happened today. Deep within, she hoped Sophia would put as much effort into this as Angel was trying to cooperate despite their dispute.

"If there's anything I can do to make you see better or make this easier for you, please say so." Angel offered as she stopped just a foot away from her class' youngest Mage.

What Sophia had been expecting hadn't been what she saw now. As the world faded into shades of gray, she had expected to see through maybe one thin layer of rubble to see more rubble lying beneath. Or she had expected to see even less than that. Angélique's words were only partially paid attention to as Sophia turned her head slowly, scanning her surroundings. Oh yes... she was making it work. But instead of the elation that should have come at realizing that she could perhaps be of some use, an expression akin to horror or shock could be seen clearly on her face.

Apart from broken pieces of furniture, around her she could see so many people, their clothes showing Sophia that many were in awkward positions. And some looked flattened... which could only mean one thing.

Crushed. Twisted. Motionless. "Their clothes," she whispered to herself, hands clutching at the rubble she sat on. Once she completed the scan of all the rubble around her, she turned her strange unfocused gaze back to Angélique. Searching for where the Aberration's head should be, she shook her head slowly from side to side. Not thinking about how bad it could seem to admit that she could see plenty after insisting so much that she couldn't, Sophia spoke to Angélique in her usual quiet voice. "There're so many..."

Angel watched Sophia with keen curiosity as she witnessed Sophia’s eyes becoming unfocused, emanating a soft dim glow blending mostly to daylight. She wondered what it was like, to see through objects. It must be quite the strange experience, she figured. However, Angélique’s hardened traits slowly softened and revealed a worried expression as the raven-haired Aberration saw the face of her classmate change into one of horror.

They may have been talking sarcastically about death and desolation all around them, but Sophia was probably witnessing now the true face of death, Angel figured. That much was evident as any hint of Sophia’s previous tone faded into a quieter voice. And it was at that time that Angel realized that she may have pushed the young girl into doing something that was probably far too much for the Arbiter to see.

Meeting her unfocused stare, Angélique’s hand reached out for Sophia’s shoulder, forgetting about their argument for a moment as tried to place a comforting hand up on her shoulder. She probably shouldn’t be asking such things of a child, but right now, Sophia’s ability was the only thing that would allow them to rescue anyone caught in the rubble and quickly save them before it’s too late.

There were Zhang’s words that briefly came back to mind, reminding her that a child meant nothing at USARILN. Then there were Zoe’s on that first night, telling Green Team about growing up and becoming stronger to look for themselves.

Trying to remain resolute, Angélique’s harsh tone faded to something softer, but still focused on the task at hand. “I’m sorry if I’m asking this much out of you. But do you know if there’s anybody alive out there? Could you point them to me? I’ll try to direct the others into unearthing the survivors.”

Sophia flinched at the touch, but nodded. Anyone... was there anyone alive out there? It made it so much harder that she couldn't see their faces, or if their hands were moving. Still, if they were moving enough she might be able to tell. She started scanning the rubble once more, trying not to let the sight of so many motionless bodies get to her. Nothing, nothing, not- there. Had the leg of a pair of pants moved? Leaning forward slightly, Sophia squinted as a reflex to try and see better, though it didn't help. She was about to give up and keep looking by the time the leg moved again, though the motion was small and weak.

Lucky for the person, the rubble had fallen around them in a way that left a little breathing space around parts of their head and neck, as well as some room around one of the legs, though from what Sophia was seeing it seemed that the person probably was being crushed heavily around the middle... and in a bunch of other places. Like Angélique and I being crushed by the bookcase... except worse.

"I think... I think there's something?" Sophia looked towards Angélique, then gestured vaugely to a point around thirty feet away. "Not too far down," she muttered next, mostly to herself. "I-I'm really not sure though?" She made to get up from where she sat, keeping an eye on the person once more. "...get closer."

Angélique slightly beamed as Sophia indicated the location of a potential survivor. So she was able to make it work indeed. Things seemed to look for the better now that Sophia was actively able to find living people buried underneath. Noting the vague emplacement of the trapped survivor, Angel turned to look at the others, hoping to find someone who could help them.

“Good job. I knew you could d—“

But just as though she thought everything was starting to go well for their evacuation effort, Angel witnessed things that she feared earlier. A Regular was assaulting Emma, again. Just what was the deal with her? She clearly had the power to fight back and protect herself. Why isn’t she doing so? Why is it always her being targeted? Was her interview really beckoning Regulars to inflict pain on a now-popular X-Mark? Angel had half a mind to jump in there and scream the guy off her Aberration classmate, but her attention was soon redirected to a portion of the building collapsing on itself as a group of civilians managed to escape in-extremis.

With her mind now scattered everywhere at once, the raven-haired Mage was trying to figure out what to do now. The attack on Emma, the survivor she just found with Sophia, the collapsed part of the condo, and Marcus and Siena nowhere to be found. With a clarity of mind that Angélique haven’t had for a while ever since her Stigma was no longer addling her thoughts, Angel focused intensely on the priorities to be set, and that would require everyone’s effort.

“Kusari, Grant…” Angel called out with a magical whisper to the two Arbiters’ ear only, “…make sure no one gets attacked again. If this persists, we’re leaving.” The magical vocalist breathed, refocusing on her query, “Grant, there’s a buried-alive survivor Sophia managed to find. Pay attention for a shout coming a few dozen feet away from my location.”

A moment later, after Angélique aligned her thoughts with the position Sophia believed the trapped person was, a distressed shout could be heard from the rubble “Help! I’m trapped! Please help me!”

Hopefully that would draw the attention of anyone helping unburying survivors to care for that person. Then for her remaining queries, Angélique’s focus intensified to reach out to her last two remaining classmates.

“Siena…” a voice came to the brunette Arbiter.

“…Marcus…” the same voice manifested itself to the other Arbiter.

“…where are you guys? Are you alright?” Angel's voice reached out to both of them.

All the while Angélique was speaking, her lips moved but no voice ever came out from her speaking mouth. As she just finished with Marcus and Siena, fatigue hit the sound Mage hard, her dizziness coming back full-force and sending her stumbling backwards onto the large chunk of debris as her mind faded to black for only a second and her legs flinched. She had never felt this mentally-depleted before. Was it because she was overexcerting herself by using magic? It was strange, for her powers usually fatigued her vocal chords way before she felt this tired. Maybe it was because of the focus she had to put into the newest aspect of her power?

Nevertheless, the situation seemed to go downhill quickly, to Angélique's perspective. All she hoped was for her classmates to remain safe, and hoped her words would reach her friends.

The entire time, Grant had been on standby since the act of keeping the plow up and running apparently took a tow on him. While everyone else was doing what they could to help, he has been resting up. It wasn't until he heard Angel's disembodied voice beside him when his attention snapped to his surroundings to listen in on what she was saying. Looking around, he spotted her, giving a nod. Not long after he resigned himself once more to his recharge, another message came. He looked ahead, focusing on trying to hear the shout that Angel mentioned.

When he heard the panicked voice, his head raised and he set out toward its direction, getting his chains ready. He was still slightly fatigued, but it couldn't take up that much energy, could it? Connecting his chains to the debris, he began to crumble it down to nothing.

---

---

“They’re taking too long,” Director Zhang muttered to herself, eyes narrowing at the stalled dots on her phone’s display. And with every passing minute that she couldn’t get a handle on the situation was the lowering probability that she would be able to fix it, period. There was no time to wait on them.

She cast her gaze around the chaos ringing her where soldiers barked orders and confirmations over their phones and civilians huddled and cried for help, demanding special attention to their loved ones. It was an exodus not unlike the aftermath of China’s devastation, where survivors on the fringe of the destruction had flooded the western European borders searching desperately for refuge and rescue. Lina Zhang had been younger and kinder then, unmarked by the scars of simply living in the hostile new age. An ambassador’s intern at the time in a chancery bordering the Tibetan Highlands of southwestern China, Lina had been solely focused on the task of funneling Western aid towards future development of the region. It was a small role in a nondescript location, but she had harbored plans of taking control once the locale had settled. She had not been—and would not have ever been—ready for the razing that shook the land and grayed out the sky with smoke and ashes. Evacuation was impossible. Flights had either flown or could no longer fly in the darkness. Pandemonium stretched even as far as the fringes of the barren highlands and what had been paperwork, numbers, and endless contracts became a daily struggle to provide the basic necessities for desperate refugees who had gone as far as their legs or gas tanks would allow. Anything to escape what they thought was the world’s end.

The memory aligned perfectly with the scene in front of her eyes, but the Director watched impassively now, concerned only with her goal and little else. People watched her warily, but remained quiet, unwilling to face the ring of soldiers around her to ask for help.

At least for the first few minutes of her presence there.

A man approached tentatively, hope on his sun-tanned face as he addressed the renowned director.

“M-my wife was shopping for groceries and I couldn’t—”

“Not now,” the Director responded, not bothering to even listen. On cue, a soldier raised a hand at the man, in a gesture to step back.

“But you have to help!” The ravenous need to be allotted special consideration lined the man’s words until they thickened with emotion and instead of stepping back he stepped forward. “She’s pregnant! You can’t just leave her—”

Before even the soldiers could point their guns at him, the Director already had.

“Not now,” she repeated, voice gentler. Her finger curved onto the trigger of the Hephaestus weapon.

She watched his pockmarked face break and could almost hear the hopes crashing around him. He stepped back, fighting the tremors of stress and panic across his body and the newly arrived tears welling up in his eyes.

A separate set of soldiers nudged him back towards his group of evacuees, checking over every person for any injuries that weren’t immediately apparent. In the back and separated from the groups of recovering citizens was the unconscious healer, already hooked up to several transfusion bags while paramedics injected his converted blood into the worst of the injured citizens, marveling briefly at every blossom of white, glassy mist that sheathed an affected target’s torso. More trucks commandeered from nearby towns were already on the way to help evacuate citizens, but the wait allowed most of them the time to recover with the magic they scorned so much.

“Send a squad towards their location. Bring them here,” she nodded at one of the soldiers making up her protective ring. He saluted and relayed the order through his phone, selecting a group already close to the subnatural team’s location.

“What about the civilians, ma’am?” he said, turning towards the Director again.

“Pick up convenient ones. Leave the rest.”

“…Yes, ma’am.”

---

The fury of a dragon, even an injured one, was nothing to trifle with and despite retreating quickly into itself to thicken its density, the slime closest to Chris’s fiery explosion and burning fuel still boiled and bubbled as the dragon raked claws through the material. Unwilling to let the damage spread further, the main body sectioned itself off, withdrawing veins and arteries and leaving behind a semicircular lump of clear ooze. The amount was still nearly five times the size of the attacking dragon, but it cleared the damage away. Nearby, tendrils and growth began devouring the nearby buildings, slowly replenishing the lost and damaged material.

All in vain, and the woman the slime once was realized this too late. Common parlance dubbed the experience “life flashing before one’s eyes,” but to her it was nothing short of hellfire racing across the lines of her nerves.

Gregory’s projectile made contact. Allison’s blade connected. Brent’s gun was faster—so much faster—than the crusher’s reactions.

The bolt of light vaporized the crusher’s head, searing through slime and concrete with equal ease. The weapon dissolved away in Brent's hands, scorching his skin but not long enough to cause permanent damage. Meanwhile, Sander’s wild, unstoppable motions were jolted forward by the sudden surge of free, open air over his upper body as the area of slime surrounding him and the headless crusher retreated, the injury from the heavy damage triggering a reflexive recoil. Human, after all.

Cauterized veins and arteries that had been unable to withdraw in time spasmed where healthy tissue met damaged sectors and the slime began digesting the body of its dead ally, desperately attempting to replenish its form.

All in vain. All in vain.

Allison’s blade made the barest of contact with the slime’s surface, but it was enough. The mass shuddered, the trembling vibration coursing through the ground and into the surrounding buildings. Large segments of its body sloughed off even as Zoe’s rot spread like wildfire along the lines of its organic nervous system leaving behind nothing but putrefying liquid that spread into dollops of black inside the dense liquid. The heart and brain slid quickly away from the encroaching damage, moving well out of range as the slime closest to Zoe lost its steady control and began sliding down.

At the edges of the necrotizing Aberration’s power, the rot stopped, but the damage had been done. The Animus spasmed again, trying to gather back the scattered remnants of its slime flesh, each piece an amorphous, unresponsive blob of clear muck the size of large tractors. The process was slow, Allison’s power severance having reset the process of its growth back to the initial levels and preventing it from controlling the bulk of its body, though the girl’s ability fought a losing battle against the sheer might of what she was truly cutting.

But without the crusher to help ward off Kadabra’s attacks, the decaying, weakened slime had no method of stopping the Precursor.

So Kadabra tried again, wrestling mentally with the recovering Animus for control of its inorganic body. Still in contact with Allison’s blade, the creature lost the fight this time just as the young woman collapsed unconscious, her power flickering away as her body gave in to the strain of what she had just attempted to cut—and not even cleanly. Regardless, she had done her job.

It ended as quickly as it began.

The moment Kadabra felt his magic encompass the creature, he pushed the mass inward, crushing towards an arbitrary center and ignoring the organs’ attempts to rocket around the body. It didn’t matter where they went. All paths led to death. Slime surged again, rippling under the weight of the Precursor’s will, but Allison’s attack had reduced its control to almost nothing and the pain of Zoe’s rot had already scattered its focus to the winds.

The sound was muffled under the slime, like a footstep into thick mud. A bloody paste remained where the heart and brain had been. The body collapsed, tearing down several buildings as the liquid surged outward, engulfing Sander once again and pushing him with its motion, but this time without mind and purpose.

Not ungrateful for the subnaturals that had helped, Kadabra lifted their building away from the flood of muck, bringing it closer to his lofted perch as he scanned the area for any more potential disasters lurking. Their immediate location had been cleared of bystanders. The bodies that remained were only good for funerals.

He shifted the building, dipping it lower until the students’ floor was on the same elevation as his floating platform, still broadly displaying the red lettering of some restaurant’s “Grand Opening!” Dust and debris caked the Precursor’s clothes and in the afternoon light he looked as weary as the students, eyes strained and face drawn from the repeated stress of battle after battle. He watched them in silence for a moment, scattered across the floor of the room from the sudden lift of the building. One was out cold, but that would have to be dealt with later. He was no doctor.

“…Good work. I understand you have never fought Dreamcatcher’s real monsters before, so congratulations. This is what victory looks like.”

The words were clean, washed of emotion as Kadabra turned and looked upon the broken fragments of buildings and people coated in a sheen of now-dead slime. Livelihoods and lives. After the appearance of the ice maiden and Firestarter’s light that had annihilated the frost monster, the skies had slowly cleared and now unfitting sunlight clarified the fine details of slaughter and senseless destruction.

It was different from seeing a desolate wasteland or a small village obliterated. This was a city where bright lights and loud, angry cars had rumbled and honked their ways through the streets crawling with people of all shapes and sizes. It was safety disrupted. An oasis set aflame. Crumbling buildings and geysers of water bursting from broken fire hydrants dotted the ruined cityscape and Kadabra realized only as he began that he was heaving a long, heavy sigh.

“I’ll move you to the evacuation point,” he addressed the students inside the building, making sure to keep the broken edifice level so they could stand easily. A phone slid out from the front pocket of his brown sweatshirt, positioning itself next to his ear and dialing on its own. When he reached the other end, the message was short and sweet: “Targets eliminated. Retrieving USARILN East students. Send coordinates for any more in the area.”

A moment of silence passed in pale imitation of a mourner’s respect and the phone shifted to hover in front of the Precursor’s face. He briefly glanced at the naked, pseudo-vampire and the dragon far below them, but the information the Director had provided gave him a reason to not worry about one of the two. That one, at least, would be fine on his own—-would likely be faster on his own as well, assuming nothing else cropped up. He picked up the bleeding, burning dragon on a large section of concrete instead, shearing away a spacious chunk right below Chris's clawed feet and lifting the injured Arbiter with them.

Without another word Kadabra moved the platforms and the floating building, the motion slow and steady now that there was time to breathe after the storm had passed. Below them, the passing lines of asphalt and intersections broke at random where collapsed buildings, dented cars, and broken people had become morbid decor in the devastation.

These were the victories they had to settle for.

---

Bzzt.

Bzzt.

Bzzt.

She'd heard the buzzing. Many times, in fact, since she had gotten up from the floor of the collapsed penthouse. Up until now she'd been tuning it out- there were bigger fish to fry, but now there was a moment of relative calm and Emma let herself focus on her vibrating pocket. Emma already knew who it was- the only person it could be, the only person that she wanted to keep in touch with that also cared enough to keep in touch with her. A bitter thought- not the contact she wanted, but the only one she could get.

Emma reluctantly stopped digging. The tulpas were probably doing a much better job of it anyways. She reached into her back pocket, hands closing around her phone, pulling it out in front of her... the screen was shattered, but the phone still worked. A small stroke of luck on a distinctly unlucky day, a day that she just wanted to end.

If she really wanted it to be over she could just leave, couldn't she?

But no, that wasn't an option. She flicked her phone, unlocking it, eyes going up and down her phone screen.


Emma sighed, silencing her phone, returning it to its spot in her pocket. Back to digging it was.

Christopher Francis

---

---

As soon as the slime had been destroyed, Chris's driving will and anger ceased altogether. With nothing left to force his body forward the dragon-arbiter merely collapsed over the leftover slime before being carried off by Kadabra. His barely conscience state gleamed over the destruction of the city, for a moment he thought that he was in ground zero, but that delusion wasn't believable enough to console him.

Chris had failed.

He had failed to help his teammates, he had failed to save any civilians, and he had failed to kill any of these damned monsters. He had let everyone down with his cascade of poor decisions today, and it was this very self-loathing that made contemplate if he would even be upset if he was being dragged to some kind of firing squad or prison for his poor performance. Any sense of pride he once had was now shattered and broken.

While he was being carried off, he didn't revert his form yet. Perhaps it because he still wanted to feel that unbearable, now almost-numb pain to fixate some form of reality; Perhaps he wanted to avoid walking among his peers and superiors in a naked form, defeated by today's battle; Or perhaps it was merely some hidden caution of reverting his transformation while being moved in the air.

He wasn't able to pay attention to other students chatting away while being carried, though he didn't want to. The shame he felt made him grow distant from the others, their voices and the whole. Perhaps the only things he cared about now was of the lack of fellow casualities, he hoped to god that Angelique, or god forbid, Siena wasn't dead or worse. Hell he even hoped that Brent and Marcus weren't too messed up either despite his animosity towards them. Feelings like these are best kept inside, anyhow.

There was a beam of light that darted through some of the side rooms, shining through the dust and glittering off each individual piece as it floated in the air. The offender was none other than Marcus, who was currently looking for some secondary way out of the ruins. The sound of rumbling accompanied the shuffling of his footsteps as he gingerly wandered the length of the hallway he'd found himself in, unwilling to investigate any further lest he trigger another collapse - one that wouldn't be so kind to him.

"...Marcus...where are you guys? Are you alright?

He jumped at the sound of someone right beside him, nearly dropping his phone in his shock. The owner of the voice didn't even occur to him until he'd made a panicked scan of the hallway, eyes darting to and fro suspiciously.

"...Angel?" He said meekly, still looking around. There was no possible way she'd followed him down, was there? Last time he'd seen her, she'd barely been able to walk by herself.

He found Angel's name on his communicator, raising it to his mouth. There was no reason to panic everybody in their class by using the cuffs. Or, more importantly, let everybody know how bad his decision making was. "Hey Angel; Marcus here. I'm fine...tentatively. It's entirely possible I'm currently inside that mound of rubble we're currently parked on." he said, almost sheepishly.

On the other side of the ruined condo, Angélique was starting to struggle on her own with the effects of the growing exhaustion she was feeling from her previous injuries and her overuse of her voice-projecting ability. While everyone was divided about helping in this scenario, the raven-haired Aberration had started to work as a teammate into this evacuation effort, even though her motives were different from the others. Still, she wanted to help, for her classmates' sake, just as intensely as she could.

The sky beginning to clear only added another layer to the young woman's hardships. Still with no sunglasses to shield her sensitive eyes to the bright rays of the sun, her vision began to blur as a sign of an overload. Soon enough, she started closing her eyes and putting her hands in front to shield them from the brightness, as her heard started to ache.

Getting an answer from Marcus over her cuff, she was shocked to know that he was inside the collapsing condo. Why was he in there? Was he also looking for survivors? But his powers were of no immediate use to rescue them. What was he thinking? Growing irritated, Angélique reached out to him once more with her powers.

"What are you doing? The whole place is just about to collapse. Get out of there before everything comes down on your head." Angel's tired voice returned to Marcus' side, her irritation hinting at her growing exhaustion.

"Well...you're certainly spot on in your assement." Marcus said, his tone making it very hard to tell he was currently moments away from being crushed to death. "It's already collapsed a little bit...which may have trapped me down here. A little."

"WHAT!?" Angel's voice raised considerably, taken by surprise from the considerable dire news that Marcus seemed to be taking so lightly. A moment of silence to recollect her focus. "Alright alright, calm down. Siena is already using her powers to save trapped people, so she can surely get you out no problem if she can know your location."

An inaudible sigh came from Angel's own mouth this time, both clearly anxious and annoyed by what Marcus just told her. "Why the hell didn't you say so in the first place? Just... don't move, alright? I mean, unless you got a rock going to fall on your face. I'm going to get someone get you out of there."

"Alright, I'll just...hang out here then." Marcus said, looking around the ruined hallway. Wasn't exactly like he had any other plans.

Knowing Marcus was now in danger from getting crushed by the unstable mound of ruins, Angélique lost no time in reaching out her Arbiter friend. Siena had just came out of nowhere from the rubbles, bringing children back with her. The message broadcasted from the cuffs earlier did not go unheard. She could sympathize with the possibly dead child, but for now they had to focus on getting one of their own from meeting the same fate. She reached out for the brunette girl with her magical voice, a faint but audible whisper coming to Siena's ears.

"Siena, it's Angélique. Marcus is trapped somewhere in the ruins. Could you get to him before anything bad happens to him?"

---

---

Eventually, things would seem to have settled down for the evacuation effort, or at least the whole ordeal seemed to have winded down to something more tolerable. Siena returned to the semi after managing to calm down, despite still being troubled by the whole situation. Marcus was quick to join her as he returned to his driver's seat, waiting for the others to be done with their tasks to drive them back to the evacuation point. Kusari brought Lilianna back to the truck's cargo hold and stood there in watch to prevent Regulars from entering the truck and grab at the Healer again, while Emma followed and stood there in case Lily needed to transfer injuries to Determination.

Meanwhile, the tired excavating trio of Angélique, Sophia and Grant kept going on their side of the devastated site. For as long as they could, the small team continued working the system they have made: Sophia would spot the survivors, Angel would guide Grant to the location of the trapped people, then Grant would use his chains to dig out the survivors,

It was evident, after a while, that exhaustion hung heavily in the air, both for the Regulars who kept on fighting against this monster that was the ruined condo to dig out their beloved ones and the Subnaturals who went through a stressful ordeal and used their power probably as much as never before.

After a while, the loud rumbling of a USARILN-marked vehicle heralded the arrival of a large squad. Rifles were pointed and orders were barked at the desperate civilians who were still swarming around the semi, asking incessantly about their healing needs now that they need there was a healer being held away from them. Again, the fear of actual firearms pointed in their face seemed to be far more effective than a handful of teenagers with white marks and X’s as the Regulars backed away from the truck, quickly following the soldiers’ directives.

The Subnaturals who were visibly able to walk were quickly brought back to the military vehicles at gunpoint, letting none of the kids have any leeway after hearing what had happened not too far away from this position. For those unable to walk, stretchers were prepared ahead of time as two guards were swiftly dispatched for each incapacitated guard and Subnatural, bringing them along their peers to the trucks.

Once everyone was inside the USARILN convoy, it quickly left the scene and headed to the evacuation point, much to the laments of the Regulars who were left to themselves with a promise of the military’s immediate action to their pleas.

Overhead, floating debris carrying Kadabra and the rest of the students that remained behind to fight were just about to reach the evacuation point. Everyone will soon be reunited after this disastrous attack.

---

---

Most of the students were already back at the temporary camp; Kadabra dropped some of them off earlier to the gasps and relief of the normal survivors as a building lowered itself gently to the ground nearby and several more shaken civilians stumbled out. The APC brought the rest just a few minutes prior, and the unconscious blood mage was carried in last after soldiers found him collapsed en route to the evacuation point, a trail of demolished buildings and shredded concrete behind him. As soon as the students were collected, their injuries were also healed with syringes of magical blood. For those who were there before, namely Callan and Hazel, their wounds had already been treated with Christmas’ blood. Both were currently resting in one of the tents nearby. The healer in question was in another tent, still hooked up to IV drips and blood bags, his power put to good use.

However, the students had only minutes to recover. Soon enough, they were given orders to move and guards were herding them onto an APC, not unlike their first day at USARLN East. The unconscious ones were simply strapped to their seats, and any attempt at asking for clarification was met with silent glares and grunts. The urgency of their situation was palpable, but went unsaid. Christmas, however, remained behind. His power was simply too integral to salvaging the bloody aftermath of DC.

Director Zhang watched passively as the last of the soldiers left in the second APC, escorting Unit B to one of her personal safehouses in the southeastern seaboard of North Carolina. Now that the students had done their part, she needed to be able to do hers. And that meant keeping them out of sight and out of mind. Surely, once the survivors regrouped and the situation in DC was stabilized, rumors, testimonies and survivors’ stories would definitely begin to circulate. Then the media would dive for them like hungry hawks. She was confident that she could handle all this. But she needed an early head start, and what was better than coordinating the relief efforts here, with a powerful healer at her disposal. Then she would work on their publicity. Opinions of the masses were easy enough to sway, with just the release of selected footage. Claims of injuries and violence would be harder to verify, especially when the wounds were healed by magical means. As for those who were more persistent with their accusations, she could just blame it on the desire for compensation.

It might seem cruel, to twist their words and minds in such a way, but every miracle required sacrifices. And looking around, this world could really use a miracle or two.

The Director retreated from the forefront of attention once the students had been taken away, letting the chaos of the aftermath swallow up everyone else’s attention completely. She pulled out a separate, secured phone not connected to military systems and scrolled through the list of contacts, each name encrypted into gibberish and memorized long ago.

Not all sacrifices were bloodless, and there was only a small window for the actions she wanted to pursue. Her finger paused, the nonsense list of names barely visible on the screen in the bright day. A hand covered her eyes as if shielding them from the light. She stood still a second longer then lowered her hand, tapping swiftly a contact from the list.

The phone rang only once before Morph picked up.

“Director.” The girl’s soft voice betrayed no surprise, though there was the sound like a utensil clinking against a bowl or dish on the other end.

“How are you?”

“Available.” A light rustling followed the sound of a chair being pushed back.

“That’s good. There’s an emergency in Washington. I assume you’re nearby.”

“I’ll be there within two hours.”

“Details when you arrive. Remember to bring your phone.”

“…I understand.”

---

---

The trucks drove for over seven hours with minimal rest, stopping only briefly at gas stations for quick refuels and a large helping of the snacks in the store, moving them southward along the I-95 S. Cities and towns gave way to large, open stretches of lonely road punctuated by the occasional town and smaller city that passed them by outside the windows. Everywhere they went, there were soldiers and militia roaming and several times a smaller town would have the nerve to stop the procession of trucks for questions before the matter was quickly cleared up by the sight of the cuffed students.

As they continued further south, their route moved into lusher farmlands heavily fortified with fencing, light walls, and soldiers on the perimeter. Signs of battles and losses against Dreamcatcher’s monsters lined the gouges and decimated earth along several miles of fortifications. The soldiers were tense, moving through territory that had seen its fair share of battles, but there was no hesitation—they had jobs to do, even if the world wanted to fall apart around them. Most were there to keep subnaturals in check through the Institutes’ employ, but several knew there was little else they could do to make a difference. Time had proven, more than anything else, that magic was an absolute necessity now to fight back.

By the time they reached the southern end of North Carolina, the soldiers were just as eager to rest, though they didn’t reveal it as easily. The tiny town held little by way of interest for most people, and many of its residents had relocated to safer locales in the last several years, leaving behind unclaimed homes and businesses that had fallen into disrepair. Those who stayed were the old and the uncertain and the paltry militia had neither the means nor the training to fend off any serious attacks. But for all that seemed impractical about the location, there was a elegance to the area—sweeping rows of farmland, some overgrown where the owners had left and others still well-maintained despite the lack of protection, a clear, glistening river mere miles from the main town of Southport, and a soft, balmy temperature that was cooling down significantly as the seasons shifted slowly towards the end of autumn. Dogwood trees were bare of their characteristic spring blooms, but the warm shades of autumn lingered in the browns, reds, and oranges of the fallen leaves. Across the river lay a thick forest that had once been a carefully observed national reserve, but had by now been abandoned for more pressing matters. There, too, the vegetation was aging with fall and a stubbornly functioning lighthouse illuminated the night with flashes of brown and old green.

The students were shoved onto a short ferry ride towards Bald Head Island, with unconscious students or heavy sleepers carried on stretchers onto a ferry that, despite the look of the worn down town, was still crisply maintained, its red paint and polish recently buffed to a bright sheen. Water and the smell of the ocean buffeted the boat for some time, but around an hour later they had arrived at the island, stepping off the pier and onto the smooth sand of the beach. Instead of the usual pier the ferry docked at for the journey, this pier was an unmarked location several miles north of the main village on the island and well into the territory of the island’s previous natural reserve left unchecked and untouched since the Slumber.

South of their location, at the usual ferry route, lay a small village of little more than 80 or so residents, the broken down housing either patched up by obviously amateur work or in complete dilapidation. But electricity flowed there, as did running water, and the people lived as comfortably as they could manage. Supplies seemed low, since the remaining convenience store in town had shelves half empty or half spoiled, but people came and went all the same, the only notable oddity being that they brought in items and came out with entirely different items.

Further down the short road was a gas station that pumped no gas, but still refilled cars just as well. A mystery, really, and for some strange reason the majority of people felt a natural aversion to the location, as if they simply didn’t want to go there. It suited the purposes of the inhabitants just fine and instead of living in designated homes, most people preferred to stay in the large motel at the village center, living apparently for free while those who preferred their own forms of privacy took up abandoned houses around town. A single tavern—it would be a stretch to call it a proper bar—was the sole source of guilty pleasure entertainment around the place, since the movie theater was entirely nonfunctional and no one had found the motivation to repair the projector in every theater room.

It would take someone braver than usual to figure out that the town’s inhabitants were all subnaturals.

The commanding officer of their group checked his phone once more, then led them past the lapping waves and into the underbrush, every soldier flicking their mounted flashlights on immediately as the darkness of the forest swallowed the group.

There was an animal trail to follow, and the sounds of rustling terrestrial creatures and disturbed birds permeated the crunching of leaves and twigs beneath their feet. The trek, luckily, did not last too long. Just thirty minutes later moonlight broke through the leaves as they entered a vast clearing of land that looked to be an old estate. In the distance, a large three-story house built in the old colonial style with creaking wooden porches and ornate columns sat alone among the swaying grass and meadow saffrons that dotted the field, lights bright inside its many windows and carefully carved doorways.

A cobblestone path led the way to the front steps of the porch and several maids and butlers stepped out from behind the grand double oak doors, bowing politely to the students. The maids all sported the same outfit of ruffled white lace over a black, knee-length dress and each had their hair neatly tied into a doughnut bun. The men wore a similar uniform in tailored, double-breasted suits and slicked hair swept back over their heads.

The soldiers seemed uneasy on approach and once closer there was an obvious reason why: every staff member of the house was a subnatural—all were white marks and hardly older than the students save for a much older, unmarked man who appeared to be in his late forties with a trim, graying beard and a sharp glare to his natural countenance. He approached the group, nodding once to the commanding officer before regarding the sorry states of the students.

“The Director will house everyone in her private estate for now,” he announced, voice deep and clear despite the signs of his age. “My staff will show you to your rooms. Anyone incapable of moving will be brought to the infirmary in the back of the mansion.” He turned to the soldiers then, regarding them coolly. ”There are also quarters to accommodate your men, Officer. I imagine you’ll be stationed on the island perimeter at this rate?”

“Affirmative. We’ll leave them with you,” the soldier replied, glancing once more at the students before signaling his men to stand down. Weapons and shoulders relaxed and a maid gestured for the military units to follow her while others rushed to take the stretchers from several soldiers.

”Follow the maids to your rooms, please,” the older man spoke again, looking towards the students. As he talked, the maids were already surrounding the students, herding the uninjured into the building’s vestibule and down the west wing of the mansion towards a set of stairs that led to the second floor hallway and a series of similar rooms, ten on each side, with a plaque boldly announcing the intended occupant’s name on every door. The only exception to the group was, once again, Hazel who remained surrounded by four guards on each end of her stretcher. Two carried her into her designated room and remained on alert in case she attempted any sudden moves upon waking, weapons at the ready. Two more stood guard outside the door.

Each room contained sets of nondescript, white pajamas for the students in their size and a small armoire of clothes that had apparently come from their dorm rooms at the Institute. A folded set of swimwear lay in the back of the bottom drawer and gentle lighting from the rectangular wall scones revealed that there was electricity in the place despite its remote location. The walls were decorated in striped pastels of cream and white while a mahogany, canopied bed accented the cozy room with a matching sofa and coffee table against the far wall. There was a pastoral charm to the gold ivy and vine filigree that trimmed the edges of the bed and nightstand, and the old-fashioned style of adding entablatures and pediments to the tops of doorways was displayed in its finest here as every entrance looked hand-carved in uniform floral designs. A silver chain hung beside each bed, within reaching distance—a bell mechanism that would ring for a maid at the occupant’s convenience.

”For any inconvenience, please summon a staff member with the silver chain beside your beds. You are free to select your own rooms, but bear in mind we added your clothes according to the name plaques on the doors.”

With another bow, the brown-haired girl left, followed by the majority of the maid. An older-looking blonde remained and gave them several more reminders.

”The baths are in the east wing, accessible from the hallway at the far end. Food has been prepared in the dining hall on the first floor. From the foyer, please head straight towards the double doors in the back to find the dining area. You’re free to move about as you like while here, including forays to the beach, but please do not leave the island or move beyond the perimeter. Guards will open fire without question if you choose to and we will also be obligated to stop you if we believe you are attempting to escape.”

With a kind smile, she curtsied and left as well.

The estate's distant location from proper centers of civilization meant there was little by way of cell signal. Calls in the area often dropped or refused to patch through. As if to ease the burden of communication, internet was available in the estate and there were studies bordering a library on the third floor with computers for open use. A small gallery nested in a corner on the third floor, connected to the library by a short hallway. Various paintings by foreign artists were compiled in the private collection and covered a range of styles from classical to abstract to contemporary.

A large billiard room sat on the second floor, east wing, containing a TV, several sofas, the customary billiard table, several small two-seater tables, and a wine rack on the wall. Connected to the billiard room by another set of doors was a small gym with basic exercise equipment. These particular rooms laid along the same hallway as the bathrooms containing both a large bathtub and a separate shower stall. Along the walls of the bathroom were long, wooden shelves filled with folded, soft towels and expensive soaps and shampoos, freshly purchased for the recent occupants.

On the first floor, to either side of the main foyer (before arriving at the back doors that entered the dining hall) were two sitting rooms with recliners and massage tables. Here, too, were silver chains to be pulled for summoning staff. A small music room beside the west sitting room on the first floor housed a piano, two cellos, a violin, and several stands with flutes and clarinets. Behind the main dining room were the kitchens, which also bordered the infirmary even further behind that, positioning the food preparation place in between the two rooms that would need it most. Private chambers for the servants were attached to the side of the mansion and a particular private chamber took up the entire attic space.

Below the mansion laid a wine cellar, a larder, a pantry, and various storage rooms filled with crates of miscellaneous tools, decor items, and nonperishable foods. Towards the back of the underground hallways were cleaning rooms equipped with various detergents, softeners, and dry-cleaning chemicals for laundry purposes. An easy stairwell allowed access to the open grounds above the laundry rooms via a trapdoor where certain larger items such as delicate down comforters and long tablecloths hung on a clothesline, fluttering gently in the night air.

Outside, a large garage connected loosely to the back of the mansion and contained several white bicycles of varying heights and two gleaming cars, the models several years old by now, but still very clearly black Dodge Charger Hellcats, a model known for its unnecessary acceleration and horsepower.

Behind the mansion was an outdoor pool with floor lighting accompanied by a pool house and a large greenhouse where various vegetation were grown for both visual enjoyment and for practical, kitchen purposes. A short distance away, asphalt had been laid down for a tennis court and a basketball court, the required supplies for each sport resting in sheds nearby. A quarter of a mile from the mansion's backend accommodations was a shooting range and another shed filled with various hunting equipment from crossbows to rifles to skinning knives, all impeccably maintained and cleaned alongside a large table, though the cloying, gamey smell in the air revealed the shed had seen plenty of use recently.

Further away were the stables, home to three horses (a black Thoroughbred, a white Andalusian, and a brown-white tobiano-patterned Pintabian), the entire structure completed with a large tack room filled with saddles, bridles, and grooming equipment, along with the feed.

The entirety of the estate, despite the rustic appeal of its decor, revealed a careful attention to maintenance and cleaning, marrying the old-fashioned style with a modern cleanliness that made banister railings and mirrors sparkle immaculately.

In the midst of it all, the various questions surrounding the location and its staff were easy to forget--for the moment.

---

As the class undertook their quiet retreat the world kept moving, processing the annihilation of the United States’ most secure citadel. Yet in the midst of this widespread apprehension, USARILN East’s unnamed unit of subnatural teens took the spotlight once more, acquiring a cult following that only blew to immeasurable proportions as the days passed. Public debate ignited with a previously unseen fervor, heated discussion covering the question of whether or not these recent public appearances would put these subnaturals in a whole new light. The media was lit ablaze.

The catalyst was a series of videos of unknown origin. “Leaked” footage from the perspectives of the teenagers that had so bravely battled the odds to be the heroes the city needed.

The voice of Proteus sharply giving orders to his squad, culminating in the defeat of the crusher and the slime creature in an impressive collaboration with Kadabra. A girl with an ethereal sword. A long-haired boy flinging re-purposed pipes at the slime. A brown-haired girl in chainmail crushing the ice giant to pieces with monstrous, astral limbs. The girl previously identified as “Siena Santana” diving through solid concrete in her rescue efforts. Time Scar receiving tearful thanks from a dust-covered civilian. Emma from the news getting thrown to her side, only to continue digging with a grim resolution moments later. Angelique Lachance and a small girl with shining eyes working together to locate trapped victims, with ethereal chains moving to the sites as they were pointed out. A recording of the underbelly of a colossal reptilian beast as it tore through cars and charged towards the slime monster. A blonde girl with a pregnant woman, healing individuals in a crowd with a black thread. A censored shot of a pale, lanky boy with wisps of red smoke rising from his naked body leaning down to pick up an aquamarine-haired girl while holding another bleeding girl over one shoulder. A short segment of footage from a third-person perspective, filmed with a steady hand, showcased an unconscious subnatural boy attached to multiple bags of blood along one arm while paramedics withdrew blood from both his other arm and a leg, injecting the healing liquid rapidly into the nearby gurneys of severely injured people.

It didn’t take the netizens much critical thinking to deduce the nature of the shaky footage. Skewed, low angle shots and nondescript watermarks such as the “B-15 42782 Roless, B.” in the footage featuring Proteus’ team were consistent features throughout all the videos. Someone had obviously broken into USARILN’s impenetrable database and released recordings of the battle from the students’ ankle cuffs. But if slander had been their intention then the leaker had fallen short. From the selective clips released online, it was incredibly difficult finding anything malicious around the courage and goodwill displayed by the teenagers. If more footage could be found then perhaps a more critical view could be taken towards the subnaturals but alas, there was nothing.

Strangely enough, out of all the leaks only the footage from a “B-02 15263 Bloodworth, K.” had been missing its audio. The issue was passed over easily though. Never in this decade of terror had there been such a treasure trove of raw, in-depth subnatural footage available to the public aside from the carefully curated footage of the Precursors’ battle with Garrote that had been heavily edited for public disclosure and the usually unclear news broadcasts of random subnatural attacks. Not many people bothered to look a gift horse in the mouth. Rumors of a murderous riot in the middle of the disaster had been similarly passed over, or erased before anyone could check back on them.

Of course with the public knowledge of these new subnaturals and their abilities, the online forums went hard to work, compiling background research and theories to cover these new figures. Emma Halwell had already been christened with “Pandora”, a tongue-in-cheek reference to the saccharine image she had displayed in her talk with Darren Lingard. The juxtaposition of the sweet girl and the dark, shadowy figures she unleashed with their myriad talents were enough for several astute viewers to coin her the name of the Greek myth Pandora—the “all-gifting,” the woman who released evil into the world, but held hope close to her bosom, sealed tight within the jar. It was as close as the public would come for now to admitting that they needed subnaturals—that the monstrous plague upon the world could be solved by the very same powers that brought them to being guided by the subnaturals that people had yet to accept.

The unhinged redhead from the WJLA interview hadn’t gone without her own brand of bad publicity either, proving herself as the prime evidence that the world’s governments were more than correct in their legislations against the magical youths. Czernobog was the name given to Zoe. “Black God”, the Slavic personification of evil and bad luck. Even in the dim night light, the black mist and tattoos brought forth by the X-mark’s power had been visible and described in close detail in the testimonial Barbra Tyson had delivered after the interview. It was more than enough to condemn almost all the Washington subnaturals.

And yet Barbra’s smear campaign had been easily overshadowed by the tragedy that had befallen the capital.

The internet was abuzz instead with the fervor of naming their new subnaturals that had been revealed to the public. Whether they would see more of them in the future didn’t worry most people and arguments over names set the web on fire. But the majority always seemed to win out in the end and Siena was named Sylph for the way she seemed to move like air through the material of the building. Hazel’s name flipped between Marionette and Puppeteer for several hours, but by the end of the various discussions on Reddit’s r/subnaturals “Marionette” had finally won out as the popular choice. The dragon that had attempted to take on the slime was given a large pool of names to draw from, but the final call was Kilgharrah after the Arthurian dragon of the same name who, in some renditions, allied with Merlin and—by internet logic—humans. Sophia took Seer by a landslide, with some wondering if she might have a similar power to Foresight, but relegated to viewing only the present time. Black threads that seemed to move wounds from one source to another gave Lily the name of Norn, the name for beings that controlled man’s fate and often visually depicted with threads. Angel’s display of power netted her the name of Siren, though with less reference to the mythological temptresses and more to the effects of a police or ambulance siren; something that draws the ear. Large amounts of interest cropped up for Grant, whose matter manipulation and control gave way to much speculation about his capabilities. One of the end results was his nickname—Gleipnir—the impossible chain that could bind a monster.

The most impressive of the clips, however, was the girl whose immaterial sword seemed to destroy the slime on contact as she reached out towards a raging surge of the dense liquid mass. A sword to fight the monsters. Multiple jokes about the “Infinity +1” sword were thrown around, but the end name for her was Excalibur, drawing again from famous Arthurian legends that, if the theory of Dreamcatcher’s existence was to be believed, might not have been legends at all.

Meanwhile the long-haired mage firing projectiles at the slime near Excalibur’s position was, for most people, somewhat unimpressive given the scale of what Kadabra could do, but people were fascinated all the same, wondering how the details of the power worked and noting the drawn line. Gregory was named Ballista, though Rifle was also a close contender. Once laughter and derision over the naked student had died down, his speed and red smoke earned him the name Ifrit, though the nickname was less of a focus while people tried and failed to uncensor the footage just to appease the question of whether this particularly tall guy had genitals to match.

As talk surged about a new team of superheroes to replace the Precursors (with equal amounts of scoffing and scorn on the opposition), the Director remained in the thick of it, manipulating information through rumors and hearsay and spreading the leaked clips on various accounts bounced through proxies and foreign locations, looking as if there had been a data breach. A particular rumor that she did not spread, however, was that a mage whose power involved technology and networking had been at the root of the data breach. It seemed silly and far too convenient for her to spread the thought, but the minds of the internet had come up with a story for her, so she pretended to field the DOD’s questions with the answer that she was currently investigating the leak, but of course all checks came up clean and the world held too many possibilities for even the craftiest to consider everything. It occurred to very few (and even they dismissed the thought) that the Director could be lying. She seemed too austere to be the sort. Too severe. Too heartless to help the subnaturals that way.

Her private estate, however, told a different story.

---

Emma let herself be taken by the soldiers.

She let herself be taken into the APC.

She let them drive her back to USARILN.

That’s what she wanted more than anything. To go back. To be done. It was too dangerous for them out here, they’d barely survived Wisford and they’d barely survived DC. Well, some of them did. She didn’t feel like she did. But at least they’d get to go back, back to the relative safety of the school. At least, that’s what she thought until it became evident that they weren’t. Her heart sank, the sense of impending doom within her growing. What could possibly happen next? The ever-present question still rested on her mind: Who was going to die? Marcus? Callan? Hazel? Herself?

She knew who she’d pick.

Emma filled up the journey with a combination of sulking and texting back and forth with Riley. Riley, after all this time it was still Riley. It hurt to think about- the promises they made, how things ended, and the fact that they still couldn’t let each other go. As for the others, well, Emma proved aloof during the ride over. She maintained her usual politeness, talked if they wanted to talk, but it was clear she’d rather be left alone for the moment.

When they arrived at the mansion Emma had little reaction to their surroundings. It seemed like another place for them to die in. She was ready to sleep, if sleep would come for her, although she doubted it would. After half listening to the butler’s spiel she readily followed the maids, heading to her room as soon as they were done talking, favoring the rest of the group with a weary nod.

She was quick the lock the door behind her. Finally, she was alone. She thought that she wanted to cry, but now the feeling wouldn’t come. Instead, she just stood there for a long moment. Maybe she was trying to cry. She found that it helped, but it wouldn’t now.

Instead she just waited for something to happen, but of course nothing did.

The form of Determination grew before her.

”You’re still here, huh?”

She started at him. But of course, the creature gave no reaction. She reached out tentatively, softly laying her hand on the creature’s chest. It was cold and smooth, distinctly unhuman.

”We’re so weak, aren’t we? Well, I guess that’s my fault.”

She felt a little silly talking to something that she knew wouldn’t talk back.

”Can… can you…”

Emma hesitated. How sad was this?

”Can you hold me?”

The creature extended its arms, wrapping them around her. She felt the tears rolling down her cheeks, or maybe it was a tear, she wasn’t quite sure. Determination’s embrace felt wrong, lifeless. She wanted warmth. But… this was all she had, wasn’t it? Or maybe it wasn’t. She didn’t fucking know.

Another long moment passed.

And then, suddenly, she was back on the cliff. The water stretched before her, waves crashing against the rock wall far below, suddenly morphing into the field of stars. It was the same vision as before this time, with the same drip of power.

And suddenly she was back just as quickly as it begun. She pulled away from Determination, looking the creature up and down. ”What's changed now…?” she said idly to herself.

It started before she realized what was happening. For a moment the creature shuttered, before doubling over as if it was in great pain. It took her a second, but she realized that Determination was doing something she’d never seen it do before. A split was appearing in its previously blank face, as if it was always there and now struggling to be opened. It was right… right where a mouth would be.

Suddenly she became very aware of what was happening and it terrified her.

The words came through the creature's stuck together mouth. ”I…” Determination’s voice was heavy, guttural, rough. It sounded like a monster, and it also sounded like it was in pain. ”I don’t…” Emma backed away, tripping over her own feet and landing ass-first on the floor. He wasn’t moving towards, but she was still scared. This was too much.

”I don’t… don’t want… don’t want to die…”

And then he was very suddenly gone. Emma didn’t move.

”F-fuck.” Emma stammered out between hurried breaths. "Fuck, fuck, fuck." came out in quick succession. She looked at the spot where he was standing before. He was still there, she could feel, ready to be called on. But... what did he mean?

What had she done? Of course, Emma didn't end up sleeping that night.

Hazel Baker

---

A field of grass extends for miles around, with only a few boulders here and there on the gentle hills around.

A dirt path cuts it way through, a path seldom used from the weeds starting to grow in it. A brown haired girl runs around the weaving path, humming as she did so, wearing a bright white sundress and a straw hat. There was none but the sound of the girl humming as well as the gentle breeze moving the grass.

So why was it that she felt heavy and lethargic?

She moved towards the girl, trying to follow in her path, but the grass seemed to grow faster behind that girl, covering the path in grass as thick as the rest of the sward. It stuck to her, impeding her every step, leaving her further and further behind.

"Hey, _________?"

That girl turned back, peering over her direction.

Without thinking, she extended her hand, realizing too late the black chitinous material covering it. The girl crumbled to dust before her, as did a vast swathe of grass in front of her.

***

Hazel woke up with a jolt, staring at an unfamiliar ceiling. Her first instinct was to drop the two guards there, seeing as they were too close to react quickly if she just moved now. Having recognized their uniform, she simply leaned back in her bed.

She was alive.

That was surprising; she had not a single doubt she would have died once she took off that collar and set out to fight that giant. Her blood had been boiling then, she was certain that even if she took down that giant, she would start destroying everything until she destroyed herself.

Whatever happened there, she did not remember, but it lead to her being alive. Emma would be alive too, since she was going to run. Would her collar still be in her hands? It wasn't bad for now, but she would definitely need the collar and her drugs if she wanted to keep everything away.

Her train of thought was suddenly derailed, her attention captured by a long chain by her bed. It wasn't attached to anything interesting, but the way it hung and where it was placed just begged for her to pull it. Stretching out her hand, she grabbed it firmly, and gave it a firm pull. Tilting her head slightly, she started yanking on the chain rapidly.

---

After everything that had been done, they were being shoved into a crowded APC yet again. After the luxurious trip in the limo had spoiled his taste for transportation, Marcus was starting to get sick and tired of APCs. Perhaps he was just associating them with everything that had gone wrong so far; Wisford, their very first battle – hell, an APC was how this little chapter of his life had kicked off, or at least wasn’t very far into the prologue of this one-of-a-kind story. A story that defied genre, but was quickly becoming his own personal horror novel.

The slideshow of sights and quick stops helped to emphasize the length of the journey. The dull purring of the engine threatened to carry him off to another world of nightmares; a trip that he adamantly refused to allow happen. His eyes didn’t dare to shut, nor did he dare to make any lasting eye-contact with any of his classmates, limiting himself to quick glances over their weary and fallen faces.

Yet as Marcus sat there, staring out the window, it seemed like there was one brief moment when fatigue took a hold of him. A brief second as the world funneled from view and he felt his mind drifting off into…


…sleep.

He jerked upright suddenly, as confusion cemented itself in his brain. Had he fallen asleep? What time was it? The seemingly endless journey of their transport had already done a fine job of keeping him disconnected with time and location. The setting sun was the only indication of how long he’d been asleep…but had it been setting before he drifted off? His brain was confused and cloudy – desperately trying to piece together information he hadn’t been paying attention to.

He shifted nervously in his seat, trying to alleviate the slight numbness in his legs. For a subnatural whose powers revolved around time, he wasn’t doing a very good job of tracking it.

Something flickered in his mind; like someone saying something he already knew. Something obvious. Something that wasn't worth mentioning.

---

The smell of saltwater comforted him as he stood on the porch of the estate. This smell was exclusively from better days – the days when Max and him would pack up all their shit and drive for hours just to spend a day at Wallis. Sure, it had been a fair distance away, but they’d just sit and talk, and it seemed like time passed by so quickly when they could just relax and chat. Plus, it beat going to Long Island, where everyone and their grandmother would flock to. Trying to get past an old woman drowning in 6 inches of ocean water quickly grated on the nerves.

He found himself sadly reminiscing those days as the moon faintly illuminated the trees, and the comforting smell of the ocean was muted beneath the chemical taint of the chlorinated pool nearby. Did Wallis even exist anymore? Did the brothers still give lessons from their little beach shack up the road?

When he retired to his room for the night, he simply lay in his bed. He didn’t change, and he only had the presence of mind to remove his shoes after a fair amount of time had passed. The back of his arm, unprotected by a sleeve, sent a slight shiver down his body as it met with the cold blanket. It all seemed too cold; unwelcoming even. Lavish places like this had led to nothing but strife in D.C, and he couldn’t help but wonder if there would be a pattern to the madness.

This wasn’t home. Home was a small cul-de-sac on the outskirts of the larger town. It wasn’t a huge estate attended by butlers and maids, all of whom put Marcus’s senses on some kind of unease. Butlers and maids the Marcus had deliberately tried to avoid on his trip to the welcome solace of his assigned room. He had eyed them as he passed, keeping them in his frame of vision until he was at his determined approximate safe distance.

Despite his pleas against it, he couldn’t help it when exhaustion finally set in, sometime far too early in the morning for the normal populace. When his blurry eyes finally failed him and his wandering mind clouded with darkness.

He expected the nightmares to come. The reminders of his sins and failures. The crimes he’d committed back in D.C. He expected to see that unnamed man’s face, open and bloody, the gunshot in his face a mirror image of Emma’s as they both lurched towards him.

But the nightmares never came. Marcus slept soundly that night, with nothing polluting his dreams. Nothing came to him, no manifestation of guilt, no damned illusion of remorse come to terrorize him. He didn't wake up until late in the morning, far more hours of sleep than he'd grown accustomed to receiving.

That frightened him more than the nightmares.

Finally… darkness…

Shortly after the ‘USARILN Special Evacuation Unit’ was brought away inside the trucks, Angélique faded into unconsciousness, her body and mind no longer able to repel the insidious call to sleep. Now that she was no longer needed, or rather felt the need to make herself useful and redeem herself from her mistakes, she submitted herself to this loss. Her body and soul would be able to recover now that stopped overexerting herself.

Despite being administered Christmas’ blood and healed from her blood loss, it still didn’t cure the raven-haired Aberration from the magical exhaustion she had been pushing herself throughout the afternoon. She simply laid there, unresponsive, although jerking around and muttering apologetic words in her sleep a few times, as she was gripped by the usual nightmares that haunted her slumber. For the entire trip, she was oblivious to the road that led them to the Zhang’s personal estate.

When she woke up, Angélique was in an infirmary of sorts. God, this scenery became the more frequent, and this downright displeased the fallen idol. When she tried to grogilly stand up, a nurse nearby attended to her waking. What first struck Angel was the tone of the maid’s voice. It wasn’t dripping with hate, like what she had been used to in her previous hospital visits. Then, what surprised her the most was the mark on the young woman’s face, barely as old as Angel was.

An Arbiter?

The maid was courteous enough to lead the Aberration back to her assigned room after making sure she was good enough to stand on her own. Again, the young raven-haired woman was stricken by surprise to see her name so neatly engraved into a plaque, indicating what would be her room. Who had put effort into doing so much for Unit B? When she entered the room, it’s a if she had entered a traditional version of her room. As a matter of fact, the architecture looked a lot like the ones she used to see in the more sophisticated parts of a rural district.

As a matter of fact, it looks a lot like Grandma’s home

Angel took some time to familiarize with her surroundings. The maid instructed her the same directives that were given to the others earlier today, before leaving the Aberration to her things.

It was surprising to see almost all of her stuff in this room. Clothes from Washington and the Institute, it’s as if it was already predetermined they were going to live here. Curiosity had stricken Angel, and she had the whole night to figure it out.

She spent the whole night browsing on her phone. She looked at maps, locating where exactly they were. She took in what was going on in Washington, which eventually led her to link and notifications from her phone about the recent updates about USARILN’s new prodigies. And she was at the middle of this storm, along the others. There was some strange sense of relief to no longer be referred to ‘Banshee’, but there was some sort of irritation to be called ‘Siren’, not for the mythic creature’s enticing songs, but for the loud blaring sound police sirens made. IT was sort of humiliating to be compared to such, really.

But what Angel found the most terrifying were the footages. It all displayed her classmates, herself included, in acts of selfless heroism. There wasn’t a single trace of the tragedy that costed more than a few dozens life, orchestrated by the evacuation unit. This whole thing looked like an advertisement campaign to benefit the new USARIL kids. Whoever leaked these videos clearly wanted to show the world that these new emerging Subnaturals were heroes.

And that’s what made Angélique falter. She had resolved herself so much to be seen as a new monster, the ‘Banshee’ that everyone would be so afraid of. A monster that would outright terrify anyone sane enough to steer clear of her and her teammates if situation where fear would be the most efficient tool to get people moving, like in Washington.

But everything was for naught with these footages. People all over the internet now at mitigated opinions about her. Of course, there were the usual comments that she was a Subnatural and thus unworthy of trust, but there also the mentions of her that had killed people in the past and now some people even saying that she was redeeming herself by saving who she could.

So in reality, her reputation only grew for the better thanks to all that was leaked. She wasn’t regarded as solely a murderer now, she was starting to be perceived as a redeeming criminal. What does it all meant? Did mean that she was given a second chance, as undeserving as she was? Was it a door that would allow her to clear some of that mud over her name?

Angel was at a loss of what to do. She wanted to be strong, to stand up for her friends, to take the blame and do things that they couldn’t do, couldn’t afford to soil their reputation with. She needed to become the monster so that her other teammates would shine brighter. But on the opposite spectrum, she was given a second chance to make things right, even after what she did. Should she grab onto that buoy and try to wrench herself out from the abyss that was trying to claim her.

Doubts plagued the fallen Banshee-turning Siren. Her mind kept asking these questions as she navigated through the web and found more footage of her team, more gossips, more rumors.

Spending the entire night awake getting herself familiarized with her new surroundings and getting herself acquainted with the news about everything that happened while she was unconscious, sleep eventually tried to claim her once more.

But the insistent ringing of notifications coupled with the buzzing vibrations of her phone against the night table kept her awake as a tired Angel went to look at who could’ve texted her at five in the morning.

'Shh...quiet...'

The drive was hell. Siena had tried her best to isolate herself, kept quiet and curled in with body language that screamed "stay away" in the hopes that it would work. Everyone was tired, so nobody would bother her...or so she had to hope. Still clutching to her phone as though it was a lifeline despite its uselessness, still wishing that the screen would somehow light up without power, that she could do something about the storm. She tried desperately to quell it with willpower, but it only grew stronger, roared in her ears when she pleaded for silence. Emotions took turns pummeling her when she begged for mercy.

Guilt, fear, remorse, betrayal, an endless cycle of ruthless batterings that left her fluttering helplessly in their wake like a dead leaf hung by its last fiber to the branch.

She wished for the comfort of beings far from human. Thought of August and wondered if she would have found comfort--

beat break ruin flesh blood bone beat break ruin flesh blood bone

--in the feeling of wanting to be more, and failing. That she was not alone, even if the distance between herself and the name was enormous despite how close it was to her. Silent. She had to stay quiet because she didn't think she could handle it if her voice were to break through. Had to keep everything out of sight.

beatbreakruinfleshbloodbone

And the hours passed, the cacophany in her head growing with each moment she chose to close herself in. Cracks on the inside, not on the out. She tried again to keep herself together, seal the cracks with something that could keep things together. Keep her together. No one to come and pull her heart away from its place and bring her closer to what she really was.

beatbreakguiltpainregretfleshbloodbone



guiltblameregrethurtbloodbone

Siena curled closer in on herself and wished to be something further from human.

---

She felt oddly--no, it wasn't odd at all, was it?--at home in the vastness of the estate they were staying at. No, "at home" was more comfortable than she felt. There was a better word. Familiar. This was the type of home that she was used to--hired help, people around. Absent authorities.

After they'd been given some direction to the house, after they'd been left to their own devices, Siena had broken off. She found herself blindly walking despite knowing, to some extent, where she would be the safest. Locked in her room. Away from everyone. Away from subnaturals she wished were people, and away from the cold, sharp feeling that cut into her every time her fingers slid over a smooth protrusion. Was it hurt? Betrayal? Or maybe it was some evolved version of guilt and shame.

Her feet had eventually taken her to the baths, a familiar sense of isolation. Cold tile beneath her feet, empty space that echoed any sound back to her without mercy. All too familiar, she thought to herself. Still, Siena felt her hand set her phone on the side of the faucet, still absentmindedly stepped into the shower stall and turned the water on. It struck her like an icy blast, her ruined clothing quickly soaking in the chilled water, clinging to her skin with the added weight.

All that red, and none of it sin.

beatbreakruinfleshbloodbone.

Siena felt glass against her back, a flimsy support that didn't keep her legs from finally giving out. Back into a curled position, knees pulled close to her chest as heated water spilled over her. The warmth masked the searing heat that had risen, clogged her throat and nose, but did nothing to remove it. It continued to burn as she wished that she could be August, Ilsa, Victor, Celia, Mugino, Kanon, anyone but Siena.

The first night after Padma had died, she'd done the same thing.

guiltblameregrethurtbreakcry

Allison Revel hadn't talk to anyone since DC. Hours spent in silent contemplation, considering the horrors of reality. Was everyone around Allison really as bad as they seemed? At first, they had all looked like good people in a bad situation, but the longer things went on, the more heartless they showed themselves to be. Wolves in sheep's clothing, monsters pretending to be people. It was funny, civilians would always be quick to call subnaturals monsters, and in the end they got what they asked for. A bunch of monsters.

Of course, Allison Revel was no different. She was guided by self-preservation and her disgusting stigma, just like every other Aberration. Though, Allison Revel hadn't killed any innocent civilians. Allison Revel hadn't even considered the option. Though, she did lust for them in some perverse part of her brain controlled by that damned stigma. Every tainted thought designed to drive her mad and force her to commit the same violence as the rest of her ilk. It was a brutal torture, all because of a single choice. And she didn't even have it the worst. Sure, Allison Revel wanted to fuck corpses, but she didn't have the urge to rip the life out of those around her. Her stigma only nudged her towards that ledge. Zoe's, and possibly Angel's pushed them off it without hesitation.

After they arrived, Allison found herself hiding out in her designated room. She had tried to rest, but sleep seemed to evade her. Instead, she found herself pacing around the room, unable to stand still and unwilling to leave the room. Outside the uncomfortably nice room were the monsters that Allison had fought beside, along with more unfamiliar subnatural faces filling out the staff. It was an odd detail, the staff, but not one that Allison wanted to dwell on.

Allison's mind floated back to Angelique Lachance. Allison had forgiven Ernie, and had tried to help Zoe. Still, they weren't exactly wonderful people. Zoe still gave into her stigma from time to time, and Ernie just didn't seem like someone to trust. Why did Allison think that Angel would be any different? She was never going to be some pure maiden, not in this world. Was Angel redeemable? Allison didn't know. There was only one way to find out.

Allison's thoughts were suddenly interrupted as the room around her seemed to fall away.

---

Allison's legs instantly returned to their pacing, solidifying the last few moments as nothing more than a dream. But why? Allison stumbled onto the bed, laying on her back and staring up into the darkness. She hadn't experienced something like that in weeks, and the last one was back during that horrifying first battle. Was this the same sort of dream?

Allison didn't give it much thought. Her eyes were finally feeling heavy. She could finally escape from the day's horrible events, if only for a few hours.

It was quiet now.

No, it had been quiet the entire time. No one was interested in talking during that entire ride, most people sleeping or on their phones or simply refusing to look at anyone else. This was the true USARILN truck experience, wasn’t it? No one chirpy enough to talk to anyone else. Not even Marcus, who had been able to keep a positive attitude for the longest of times. Just a looming sense of dread and exhaustion that accompanied the knowledge that they weren’t heading back to the institution after all. What had the Director wanted them for in Washington anyways?

Surely, they weren’t there just to thwart off a monster attack that none of them were equipped to handle, were they?

Alone in the library, Brent stared aimlessly at the blue screen of the monitor. The lights were dimmed within the study, a blue pallor cast over him. The art gallery may have interested him before. A massage chair sounded great, considering how he never had a chance to do any stretching after all that running. He’d have loved to chow down as well, sample the culinary skill of Zhang’s subnatural maids. A nighttime walk down the beach would have done miracles for organizing his jumbled up thoughts as well. But he was here instead, in a small library, surrounded by the technology that his magic wanted to devour so badly, no eyes here to observe what monster machines he cooked up.

But he wasn’t here to indulge in his curiosity either.

More than a dozen tabs to different news sites, both national and local, as well as various social media outlets. Youtube as well, and a couple constantly refreshed Google queries. But there was nothing ‘fresh’. Nothing on social media provided a harrowing first person account, and even news reports seemed to only be handling general, broad information. Tragedies turned into statistics. Wide pans of rows of evacuees, instead of personal accounts. And, above all…a wealth of shots from the cameras that they had been cuffed with, ‘leaked’ to show the DC incident from the position of the subnaturals of Unit B. And none of them, from what he saw, showed what had occurred during the evacuation team’s encounter with the regular mob.

As a matter of fact, all those released clips served to make them look…heroic.

Not a single smear. Not a single stain. Not a single sin. For a city that hated subnaturals, for a city that had been attacked by subnaturals, the media was reporting on the incident with as much tact and as little prejudice as possible. There was that one video of Christmas, healing injured masses like some sort of Jesus figure. There was himself, giving out orders like some sort of superpowered GI. There was Angelic, aiding with the rescue as if she hadn’t just screamed a bunch of civilians to death. And there were reddit threads. Oh, so many reddit threads, people just playing with what to name the new heroes of DC, the new team that will replace the Precursors.

Before his amethyst eyes, more of those vapid, shameless comments scrolled by, not a single one pointing him towards what had caused everyone to turn away from each other, to enforce a steely, tense silence.

Nothing.

Nothing but lies.

But crimes didn’t disappear just because people looked away.

He dove deeper.