Olivia Cahill hurried herself down the hallway, her footsteps hasty yet controlled. Purposeful. A good time was never promised when guests at the estate rang the bell with such fervor. Good time for the guest maybe, but Olivia doubted that the same could be said for the house staff. Still, impeccable service was what the subnaturals of the estate prided themselves on the most. And she wasn't going to be the one tarnishing that record.

The guard detail and plaque displaying "Hazel Baker" was noted with muted dismay. The girl they had a special briefing on. Hopefully by now she was calmed enough for Olivia to do her job properly. She stood patiently as the guards discussed their orders, straightening her blouse and not once missing the glances they took at her white streak. Those glances that were returned with a warm, professional smile. Once she was finally let in, Olivia took a breath and presented herself.

"Good evening, Miss Baker. I understand that you require some service?"

Hazel stared at the maid, taking in her admittedly odd appearance. It was a while since she had felt anything as strong as this, but she wanted, somehow, to gain those clothings herself. But more importantly, services? Was that why the chain was there? What sort of machine did they make to generate humans for the service of one pulling the chain. It was scary to think about what they could have made that she did not know about.

Glancing at the guards, she turned to maid before speaking. "Take me around this place."

Hazel had no desire to lounge about in one, admittedly rather amazing looking room, being confined to one place like that one drab hospital room with only the wilting flowers to accompany her. No, there must be something amazing like that piano in that place before.

Rather vague. But nothing the maid couldn't handle. She nodded before glancing at the guards for their input, "At once."

The Regulars returned the unpoken question by departing their station to accompany the subnaturals. No sign was made to unlock those extra cuffs on the girl or to let them out of sight. Just as mentioned in the briefing. She walked with a measured pace now, following the route she had practiced as she pointed out rooms they passed.

"The estate boasts a wide array of facilities to make your stay with us as hospitable as possible. The east wing we are currently moving towards houses the billiards room, gym, and baths which are accessible by the hallway. Across the main foyer is the music room and kitchens. You are free to prepare your own food but otherwise most of what we have to offer can be found in the dining hall on the first floor. You can also ask the kitchen staff for any special orders if you have a diet or allergy concerns. Do you have any questions so far?"

Hazel was only half listening to Olivia speaking, most of her attention locked onto the maid's outfit. There was a certain charm to it, a certain pull that drew her hands slowly towards her skirt.

"What is the billards room?" she asked, absentmindly.

Slowly her hands reached out, and pulled on the maid's skirt, lifting it in the process.

The maid's hands shot to her bottom, pushing the lifted fabric down with great force. What the actual fuck was she--

"The billiards room has the manor's billiard table," Olivia replied coolly, trying not to give the guards reason to further tighten their grips on their firearms, "though there are also sofas, a television and a wine rack if you merely wish to relax and enjoy some fine drinks."

Hazel still had no idea what a billiard was, just that it has a table for it. But this tour certainly wasn't what she wanted. Perhaps she needed to specify what she wanted?

"Take me to interesting places?" she asked.

Interesting places, with interesting things. Hazel had half a mind to try and grab the maid's clothings again, but decided to see if there was another thing that might take her attention first.

That was certainly an intriguing gauntlet the girl had thrown down. Olivia thought for a moment before replying, "You might find the greenhouse to be an educational experience, though the gallery has its fair share of interesting exhibits too. Which one shall I lead you to first?"

Both did not truly appeal to Hazel. A green house and a gallery of exhibits? She wasn't sure if a house that's green would warrant such descriptions as an experience, and she was an exhibit before, so she had an idea of what there would be in that gallery. Already her hands were drifting slowly towards the maid's skirt, filled with an indescribable desire to see the maid jump when she pulls her skirt again.

"Greenhouse first, please."

The greenhouse was a place Olivia visited regularly now that the weather was starting to chill. Whether it was the ambient warmth or her fellow staff picking newly ripened pumpkins and herbs, something about the place always seemed to mellow her spirits. As they walked through the vegetable section towards the dahlias, she elaborated on the goings-on of the greenhouse.

"Linda--she's in charge of gardening and maintenance--has been maintaining the patch for a few years now. We cultivate as much of our own produce as the season allows due to the isolated nature of the island. Closer to the entrance is the botanical area. It was one of the maids' hobby before it grew to its own section. My personal favourite are the camellias here."

It was certainly more than Hazel had ever imagined a green house would be. So the outside wasn't that green at all, but the inside was full of greens, and yellows and reds. Perhaps it should be named the green, red and yellow house instead? Hazel's hand once again grabbed the maid's skirt, not so much pulling as allowing it to guide her as she walked, gawking at all the unfamiliar plants around her. Somehow it felt different from simply seeing plants outside; perhaps it was the charm of having them inside a house?

Her free hand grabbed a red — and slightly green in places — bulb off a vine, charmed by its brilliant red coloring. It didn't exactly taste the way she thought it would once she bit into it however, being slightly sour with a crisp exterior and mushy insides. She took a few more bites before throwing it away.

"Camellias? Are they tasty?"

Olivia stared in silence as Hazel bit into the rose bulb. She had no idea what this girl's deal was but at least she wasn't attempting to upskirt her again.

"I've never tried them myself," she stated cautiously, "Though if it's...flowers that you want to eat, we have some cilantro and pansies in the corner over here. They make for lively plating and I'm fairly sure they taste...better than that rose bulb."

"I see. I remember now. These are flowers." Hazel recalled what Emma said. "These makes rooms look nice."

Colorful, enough to entice her to put another one in her mouth, if not for her remembering these didn't usually taste nice. But, her interest was ebbing now that she recalled what they were, and her attention was turning once again to the maid. Perhaps if she voiced her interest, she would be given them?

"I am interested in you."

She looked at the maid for quite a bit, before realizing that may be too vague.

"May I have clothes, like yours?" Hazel paused again before adding "Please?"

Olivia had to bite back a scalding 'yeah, no shit' at the sudden declaration of interest but blinked in confusion at Hazel's request. So she wasn't a pervert. She was just a strange gal. Geez, the kids from the years before never acted like this.

Outwardly, however, the maid betrayed nothing.

"May I ask why you want them, Miss Baker?" she prodded gently.

Hazel tilted her head slightly at that. Why did she want them? Was she attracted to their outfit? In all respects, it did not have any tactical advantages she could see. In fact, it was similar to what she was wearing, in function if not in design. Could the lack of a collar or pills addling her mind without all the extraneus thoughts suppressed? Was it the stress of holding back her stigma, which admittedly wasn't coming on strong at the moment?

"I do not know." She admitted, a puzzled look apparent on her face. "I find it rather alluring."

The maid considered the request. It was her job to make sure that the manor's guests were pleased. There were plenty of spare uniforms in the staff's quarters. No one was going to mistake her as an actual maid with that X mark. And hopefully the guards would keep the girl away from any trouble she could create because of the outfit, not that they had done a very good job during the tour.

It was a rather lovely ensemble. She couldn't blame the girl for wanting to procure one.

"I suppose," Olivia sighed in subtle dismay, "I don't see any reasons why you can't have a uniform. Follow me, please."

The party was led to the servants' wing, where they were then asked to wait patiently. After a few minutes, she returned with a neatly pressed black dress adorned with ruffled lace. The outfit was offered to Hazel with both hands.

Hazel reached out towards the outfit, hesitating for a moment, before accepting it. There was an odd warm feeling welling up within her bosom, unfamiliar enough to make herself worry about sickness, but that worry was pushed away by the thought that she had actually procured something she took a fancy to.

"Thank you, for the clothing." She gave a small bow before continuing. "Then, I will be sure to try them on immediately."

With practiced precision, her skirt fell to the ground with a simple pull of the zip. Unbuttoning the top buttons on her blouse, she started to wriggle out of it as well.

Olivia spun immediately, eyes widened in disbelief as she faced the opposite end of the hall. What the...why...WHY?

A pair of butlers were chatting and walking down the hallway, though their steps slowed as the unfamiliar guards and even more unfamiliar nudist blocked the path. Olivia mouthed a frantic 'go around' and motioned them away. They didn't hesitate to oblige.

The guards merely pointed their gaze to above the Aberration's head. After D.C., they had learned to expect this.

Struggling out of her clothes, and into the black dress, she gazed upon herself with awe, admiring the dress upon her body. With a slight spin, she sent the skirt flaring, feeling a little satisfied at the way the skirt swished around. Though, she can't help but still be interested in the maid; the maid was wearing the same outfit after all.

Once again, her hands reached out and grabbed the maid's skirt, pulling it up before Hazel even realized what she was doing.

And once again, Olivia's own hands shot down to flatten her dress, though a horrified screech managed to escape her lips this time. She whirled back around, exclaiming a furious, "WHY?!"

The corners of Hazel's mouth twitched slightly. She didn't know why, but this was definitely interesting in its own right. But, she had gotten what she wanted, and learned about about the place she was in to boot. Perhaps she could call on the maid later if she needed anything else. That chain was still there after all.

"Thank you for helping me."

With that, she gave a small bow towards the maid. There was no answer for Olivia's question because there was no reason, just an odd impulse to do it. Her expression seemed more relaxed, her usual stoic countenance seemingly softer, as she turned to take her leave.

The maid stared after her, dumbfounded.

"The...pleasure is mine," she muttered. It was more out of reflex than honesty at this point.

Emma’s chest felt tight as she approached Marcus’s door. It was the nerves, she decided. She knew that she couldn’t keep pretending that he wasn’t there. She had to say something sooner or later. Sooner was better, she decided. After all, he killed someone for her. It couldn’t be easy, she knew. Not to mention he was her… boyfriend? After a couple of weeks?

You’ve always been so goddamn needy, Em.

The words still hurt, but that was because they were true. But she pushed the memory away, raising her hand to knock. After a moment of hesitation, she did.

Hey Max, just letting you know that I made it out of DC in once piece, although you probably already knew that. There were a lot of fighters that went down over the city, so just let me know that you guys are okay!

Marcus stared at that message on the screen of his phone, heart clenching in fear. It had taken him so many tries to get that message to send, that when it finally had it felt like a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders. Now, that weight was back on - it had been hours, and he'd heard no response.

Of course it was crazy to think that there was any reason to it other than the problems he'd just had. Signal here was terrible - that must've been the reason he wasn't getting anything back from her. Or maybe the squad was out doing training after the threat of a full-scale attack. Or maybe they were on cleanup duty. Or maybe...

The thoughts raced around in his brain, like frightened cats. The knock on his door nearly spooked him out of his worrying, and he sat up in bed, simply looking at the door for a moment. He hadn't rung for any staff - which meant that whoever was out there was waiting specifically for him. He didn't want to answer, and he contemplated just lying in the bed until whoever it was gave up and went away.

It didn't take long for that thought to become another endless train of beating himself up for cowardice, and he rose to feet - if only to prove to himself that he would. And when he opened the door, he saw a face that threw all his emotions into disarray, simply because he wasn't sure how to feel about her seeking him out.

"O-oh! Hey Emma. What's up?" he said, as nonchalantly as he could force.

”Hey.” Emma said, weariness clear in her voice. It’d been too long since she had gotten anything resembling a good night’s sleep. ”Can we… uhhh, can I come in? I want to…” Emma picked her words carefully, ”I think we should talk.”

"Oh. Uh...yeah. Sure; come on in." Marcus said, Emma's words tightening the knot that was already in his chest. 'We need to talk.' was up there on everyone's list of phrases they never wanted to hear, because nothing good ever came from talking. Chatting, conversing, even discussing were all good, or at the very least, productive things. Talking was bad. He didn't care for talking.

He opened the door the whole way, stepping aside to allow Emma entrance into his temporary quarters.

Emma gave a small nod, stepping inside. She was well aware how this must look to Marcus, how she must’ve looked. She was conscious of the dark bags sagging underneath her eyes, but they seemed to be a more and more common occurrence since she’d come to USARILN. Emma was about to take a seat on the bed, but instead hovered awkwardly, instead picking a spot to stand. ”So… from a penthouse to a mansion, huh?” she said with a clearly nervous laugh. Maybe forced small talk would make this easier.

"Hells yeah!" Marcus said with labored enthusiasm, crossing his arms and taking up a leaning position where he was by the door. "At this rate, I expect our personal cruise liner to be coming within the month!" He was doing a similar thing as Emma, albeit without knowing. If a conversation started off so casually, it couldn't possibly get worse, right?

”Yeah…” Emma let out a small sigh. Talking about nothing, pretending nothing had happened… it was an oddly familiar situation. It looked like Marcus was just as good at faking it as she was. She couldn’t let it keep going. ”I… I’m sorry. I never thanked you for... well, y’know. All that stuff in DC. It couldn’t have been easy…” Emma left the words hanging, the implied meaning was enough.

Right to the punch. Of course they couldn't sit here in a mindless chatter loop forever - eventually they had to get down to the heart of it. And what was he supposed to say to a statement like that? It had been very easy for him to do, especially in the moment. It had been easy, and apparently he had a clear conscious about it! He'd killed a man, and justifying his actions had never been easier.

'No worries Emma! Apparently I'm a ruthless murdering psychopath! It was easy as pie!'

"Yeah...well...there's no reason to thank me. I was just.." Marcus's thought stopped abruptly there, an unfinished sentence.

'Doing my job? Helping my team? Doing what I thought was right at the expense of a human being's life?'

”Yeah… but…”

But what?

”He might’ve killed me. So… thanks.” Emma let out a small huff, wringing her hands together. ”But that’s… not it. I also… I want you to know that I don’t want you to be putting yourself at risk for me… alright?” she said hesitantly, a weak smile on her face.

He would have killed you. Definitely.

The ugly thought coursed through his mind as soon as Emma spoke, only registering as a faint flicker of the eyes. Some imperceptible emotion, like the barely contained traces of anger that had flickered long after the deed was done. There was an awkward confusion in his mind as some measure of irritation found root in Emma...but why? She hadn't done anything.

In fact...it didn't seem like she ever did anything.

As quickly as that thought came, Marcus forcibly pushed it out. His inner self was critical of nearly everything, but he absolutely hated the loathing and absolute dickery that seemed to spout from that part of him.

None of those thoughts made purchase in his outward appearance, however. He could handle conversation as long as he wasn't actively shooting flame at the people around him.

"Hey. Like I said; there's no reason to thank me. Our entire lives revolve around putting ourselves at risk now. It's way easier to do it for someone I care about rather than some random regular."

”I…”

That’s not what I meant.

A soft gulp. Emma’s hands dropped to her side, clenching and unclenching together. ”I mean it. I…”

How the hell am I supposed to just say what I’m thinking?

”I’m sorry, Marcus. I think…” Emma’s face scrunched up, a sign of discomfort or perhaps disgust, ”I’m not sure if I can keep this up. I think I’m starting to go crazy. Like, really. I’m not sure that… I’m not sure that I’m worth saving. I’m either going to die or I’m going to break. Soon. Really soon. I’m not worth any of the effort you’re putting into me.” the words were whisper quiet, a subtle shake setting into Emma’s voice. She wished that he didn’t have to hear it. How weak she was, how close she was to just giving up. But… she couldn’t hold it back. Not anymore. And he was the only one there that she could give it to.

She felt bad for Marcus. He deserved better than having to listen to this.

Reassuring arms, though spindly and cushioned by hoodie sleeves, wrapped around Emma. Marcus; attempting to give as many good vibes as he could at one moment. Though she probably couldn't see it, his eyes were lost in the distance as he hugged her, as if he were in his own little world and not giving his full attention to her. His own voice spoke with equal volume.

"Don't. I don't know what brought you this low, but do not." It was a command, rather than the soft statement that was probably expected.

"I think you're worth the effort. Which, frankly, is the only thing required for you to be saved."

”It’s not that easy. You should… I don’t deserve to be comforted by you. I don’t…”

I don’t want you to like me.

”I’m such a piece of shit. I… I’m so unlike the person I act like I am. I’m so useless. I couldn’t do anything at CC1, I almost got Callan killed, I failed to do anything at Wisford, Savannah died because I couldn’t act, I wasn’t able to save anyone at DC. Not Lily, not the regulars, I fucking shut down in the middle of a disaster. I just let the guy beat the shit out of me, and you had to…”

She realized, in that moment, that she was trying to give him every reason he could to hate her. But just how far would she go?

"Emma. Listen. Unless you can dissolve hands, I doubt you almost got Callan killed. I..." Marcus paused here for a moment, unsure of the words he wanted to use. "Savannah wasn't your fault. DC was just a mess all around."

Although he tried to sound convincing, it was clear that Marcus was struggling to justify everything. Emma was basically repeating the same thought he'd just had, so how could he sit here and deny it when they were literally thinking the same thing? It sounded mean, and it was, and he was trying to fix it. But it was hard to change someone's mind, and harder to change his own.

Emma pulled away. ”Fault doesn’t matter, what matters is that if I had acted differently Savannah would still be alive. But fuck it, that’s not the worst of it… no, not by a long shot. I’ve… I’ve done so much, how the fuck can I just stand here and act like I’m a nice person? I put all the blame for her death on Ernie. I told him that he should’ve died. Who the fuck does that? I’m so shitty, and… and I feel so bad, I feel sick inside because no one can see it. Because you can’t see it. A-and, I just use the fucking stigma as a shitty excuse for the way I act, but… but that’s not it…” she didn’t realize it, but she was getting louder and louder.

Marcus took a step back as Emma pulled away and let out a soft sigh, looking down in contemplation as Emma's voice rose in volume. Maybe she wasn't a good person. Maybe she was just another bully - the kind of person that Marcus used to be unable to stand. Maybe...he had no justification for her. If she was so determined to prove that she was a bad person, why was he so equally determined to prove that she wasn't?

"It was a high pressure situation - I don't know if you were just stressed and lashing out or not, I wasn't there. Even if you weren't, so what? You do shitty things. You've also done a lot of non-shitty things. Just because you have moments where you..." Another pause. Another hesitation as he tried to find words.

"I've learned to look past a lot of shit recently...and I'm not going to let you go just because you think all that makes you irredeemable."

”Why?”

Emma wasn’t even sure what she was doing anymore. Was it her talking? Was the stigma talking for her? She wasn’t sure, but she couldn’t stop now, she’d gone too far, it was all just tumbling out now. ”Why would you try for someone you barely know? Why can’t you just let me go? I… I’ve let myself go. Plenty of other people have. Hell, my own parents have! W-why can’t you just give up on me, just like everyone else!” she sounded mad. Was she? She wasn’t sure. Most of all she was embarrassed, disgusted with herself. Everything was unzipping, and for once it seemed like she couldn’t stop herself.

Marcus looked to the ground for a moment. He knew the words he wanted to say, he just...didn't want to say them. Saying these kind of things meant remembering things he'd rather forget - things he'd desperately tried to forget, but never could.

"Because..." he paused, the words difficult to force out. "Because I have lost too much. I have lost too many of the things I took for granted; the little things I always assumed would be there no matter what happened."

He looked up from the ground, his eyes showing a mixture of pain and resolute determination. "Because I absolutely will not lose anything I have any possibility of keeping in my life."

There it was. The root of the problem, the ugly rotting core of the issue. All she could do was whine and cry and hurt the people around her. She didn’t deserve to be happy, she was well aware, no one should have to listen to her ‘problems’. She’d gone too far, said too much, why the hell did she get anywhere near Marcus?

All she could do was hurt him.

”Sorry.” Emma muttered.

”I’m sorry.” she said again, barely louder than the first time.

”You shouldn’t get too invested in the people here… when they die it’s going to destroy you.” she had still hung onto Lawrence’s words after all. She had hated him for it when he said it, but now here she was passing on the same bitter advice he did.

"That's fine." Marcus said, the tone of his voice matching the cool tenacity that shown through his eyes.

"If it hurts like hell, I know I'm still alive."

He sighed again, daring to give a small grin at the floor. "There's no reason to apologize for it, either. But, I guess I'll take a free one."

Emma forced half a smile. She almost wanted to keep going, but she finally managed to stop.

”I was half hoping I’d scare you off by now.” she said lightly. A joke with a hint of truth.

"Marcus Howell. Fearless protector of all things good and cherishable." he said, the humor slightly bogged down by the exhaustion and uncertainly that lay over top of it.

"You gonna be alright, Em?"

She couldn’t find it in her to lie. Not now. ”No.” she let out a small sigh, ”But I’m not… I’m not going to do anything crazy, if that’s what you’re asking. I’m… used to this.”

That's a real shitty thing to have to get used to.

"Well hey...just remember that you don't have to try and get through it all yourself. Friendly face and a listening ear go a long way when you're dealing with that kind of stuff."

”Yeah.” Emma said, a muted agreement with both statements. ”There is… one thing. Yesterday Determination… when I summoned him, he spoke.” now Emma’s tone shifted to one of worry, but more normal than before.

There was a stunned silence as Marcus processed what Emma had just said.

"He...talked? Like a person?"

”Well, not exactly like a person, but yeah… he…” Emma looked down at the ground, feet tapping rhythmically, ”He said that he ‘didn’t want to die’.”

"That's...horrible." Marcus said, his face unable to contain the unease that the whole situation brought to the forefront of his mind. "I...I assume he didn't exactly elaborate on that, did he?"

There was a sort of morbid curiosity to the question, and that was indeed growing in Marcus's head. If the tulpas could talk, or at least Determination could...that would make them one of the first ever DC creations to ever communicate, even if it was through the proxy of a subnatural.

”No. I… unsummoned him and haven’t brought him back since.”

"Thaaaat's probably for the best."

”I mean, I’m going to have to do it eventually. He’s, like, 70% of my power.”

"True." There was a moment of pondering in Marcus's head, a question that seemed to float in the air like a fog. He wasn't fond of the tulpas, he'd made that much very clear before. There was something about them that just put him on edge immediately, and he could never place it. But if the situation made Emma uncomfortable...and he was there to at least help put her at ease even the slightest...

He had just said that some problems were better with another person around.

"Do...do you want to summon him now? See if the both of us can figure out this little...thing?"

”Well… I mean, if you’re up for it, we can try.” Emma sighed. ”Although… no, I shouldn’t try to talk myself out of it. If you’re ready, I guess I am.” Emma didn’t wait for confirmation, instead summoning him quickly. Like ripping off a band-aid.

Determination rose before the pair. His mouth was now fully formed, no longer appearing as if it was bound together. While before he seemed to be an unmoving statue until given orders, now he was looking around. Finally, his gaze settled on…

”Emma.” he said the words slowly, sounding them out for the first time like a child still learning how to speak. ”Don’t send me back. P…please.”

Emma offered no response, face instead filled with questions, looking towards Marcus for answers.

Oh sweet Jesus. He was talking.

Marcus looked back towards Emma, his face indicating that he had literally zero answers, before looking back to the horrifying abomination that had spawned before them. He talked. A DC proxy was talking to him. There would be scientists that would kill people to experience something like this, and Marcus was just stood speechless - unsure of how to proceed.

"A-are...are you okay?" he finally decided on. A good catch-all question for a terrifying experience such as this.

”Yes. No… I do not know,” with everyone word it seemed that Determination was speaking faster, more like a normal person, ”As long as you don’t send me back.” he said, eying Emma. She was quick to ask for clarification, ”What do you mean? Back where?”

”Whenever… whenever I’m not here, I’m nowhere. I do not exist. It is… not good…” it seemed like he struggled to find the words to explain.

"But...if you're nowhere...if you don't exist...you shouldn't feel anything, right? It should just be like sleeping, shouldn't it?" Marcus followed, his mind struggling to come to terms with what the creature was saying. Was it even just a 'creature' at this point? It could think. It could articulate those thoughts...it was disturbingly close to human, and Marcus wasn't sure how to feel about it.

”No… that’s… not right…” Determination, if you can apply emotion to him, looked like he was concentrating, trying to figure out what to say. ”I can’t explain it.” Emma, for her part, looked befuddled. ”I’m… sorry.”

”Just don’t make me go back. Don’t let me die. Please.”

"I mean...she can't just...keep you summoned forever?" Marcus said, the statement more like a question as he turned his head to look at her and hiss "...can you?"

”I…” Emma sighed, ”Yes and no. There’s no hard limit, but there are… factors.” If Determination had eyes, they’d be pleading, ”Please. As much as you can.”

Honestly, this was kind of sad as much as it was frightening to experience. Like a small child being told the realities of death at too young an age, but with the added benefit of the child being a monstrous shadow beast birthed from the mind of a creature who 'accidentally' genocided a fair amount of the earth.

"How much do you...feel? When you're...'here'? And how much do you remember about your previous incarnations?" Marcus asked hesitantly. The plan that was slowly forming in his mind was not a good one, but it was the only one he was coming up with right now besides 'Forever Roommate'.

”I remember it all. I felt it all.”

A look of horror filled Emma’s face. ”I’m… I’m so sorry.” Determination shook his head. ”I understand why you… why you did what you did. I’ll keep fighting for you, because if you died I would to, but…” Determination looked towards the ground.

Emma was starting to understand the absurdity of their situation. But she nodded, ”I understand.” she said, throwing a questioning glance towards Marcus.

Marcus had no answers. Literally none. His face showed as much when she looked over towards him. Perhaps one more question. One more to help him put together some sort of cohesive plan.

"Do you...feel emotions? Like, if Emma told you to hang out in the corner, would you get lonely?" he asked, his voice growing more and more unsure with every inquiry he posed.

”I don’t know. I think I do.”

This was a sticky situation. Literally the worst thing he'd yet to encounter in this hellhole, and it left him completely dumbfounded as to what to try and do about it.

"I...I dunno Em." Marcus whispered, his eyes not leaving the spots where Determination's would be. "This is your call..."

”I’ll…” Emma thought for a moment before deciding, ”I’ll do it. If it hurts that much, I’ll try to keep you from… going back there.” Emma glanced towards Marcus, ”I… can’t promise you won’t, but I’ll try.” Determination nodded. ”Okay.”

At 5:00am, on the dot, a quickfire series of texts lit up Angelique's phone.

5am

Dont see you at the gym

Where are you

Angélique had been up all night, thanks to having slept throughout the whole trip to North Carolina and a bit more to compensate for her lack of sleep. She had considered joining Brent and Ernest at their usual training session, but she had ultimately decided to not come, thinking it was too soon to interact with her classmates. After what happened in Washington, she needed time to think upon everything that she had done, look toward the kind of future she really wanted to have.

And so, when she saw her phone lighting up to life from receiving new messages from Ernie, she looked at them but did not answer back.

Hey

Are

You

Still

Asleep

Or

Some

Thing

Again, a barrage of rapid-fire notifications rang loudly from Angel’s phone. No doubt, it was Ernie again for sure. She really didn’t want to go to the gym right now, not with the mindset of hers. Not with her inability to look at any of her classmates into the eyes without feeling guilt.

Determined to skip today’s training session, the Voice Mage pressed the power button on her phone, prompting it to shut down. Setting her phone aside on a night table, Angel let herself fall into the bed, staring at the ceiling.

Approximately five minutes later, a crack rang from the suite's door, followed by another one. Then it seemed Ernie gave up on throwing things at the entrance and decided wisely to pound loudly on the doorframe instead.

"Angelique's room, right?" his voice shouted, muffled slightly by the separation.

The tired Aberration rose up from her bed, sighing as she heard Ernest’ voice calling out from the other side of the door. God, he was persistent as hell, wasn’t he? There was no way she could slip away from this morning’s training session now that he was standing there. The creaking wood signaled her slow footsteps heading towards the door’s room, opening slowly as her half-naked form draped in bed sheets popped partially out from the door’s frame and naked forest-green eyes shot down towards Ernie.

“Just… hang on. I’ll go change myself…”

Her voice was surprisingly unconvincing, but she eventually came out of her room in workout attire, which was simply made of a cropped tank top, leggings and her hair tied in a tail.

The boy was barely affected by Angelique's initial lack of clothing, his narrowed eyes looking as if they were searching for something in her head rather than on her body. His stiffened posture and hand tightly clenched around the phone he'd thrown repeatedly at her door made it clear that something was different. But he obviously wasn't going to say what.

"Cool. Let's go," he turned, not bothering to check if Angelique was following.

There was something that made Angel immediately regret her decision. Was it actually from Ernest's passive aggressiveness, or because she was second-doubting her ability to talk to the others right now? Something seemed different in her friend. Did he got up from the wrong foot this morning, or was it because he was unpleased to have to come and get her? Either way, Angélique hoped Brent would simply keep himself occupied with Ernie by giving him more workout tips and training while Angel was doing her things from her own side of the gym.

---

The facilities available were decent enough, Brent supposed. Benches, dumbbell sets, bike machines, and treadmills consumed most of the space, while black exercise mats were laid side by side in one corner, a ‘how-to’ poster detailing various stretching techniques. Compared to the almost excessive amount of high-tech machines within USARILN East and the Hyatt Regency, it was lacking, but on the other hand, Brent had made do with nothing at all within La Plata.

It was a balance, really, something that was massively lacking from anything else in the last couple of days. Neither excessively good nor horrendously bad.

Really, he was sick of that bipolar bullshit. The arbiter bench pressed his own weight again, grunting as the metal bar laid centimeters over his chest before he pushed it back up slowly, relishing the tremors of his limbs. Consistency, that’s what he wanted.

Chaos, that’s what he got. Every. Single. Time.

A long breath heaved out as the barbell clanked against the restraints, before he rose up, rolling his shoulders. Amethyst eyes catching new arrivals within, the arbiter reflexively smiled at the familiar faces. "Morning," he said, "there's coffee in the corner, Ernie."

"Gross," Ernie replied though the boy moved to the corner anyway, mixing an alarming amount of cream and sugar into his caffeine.

Without saying a word, Angélique nodded to Brent before making her way to the dumbbells that were sitting in the corner of a room. She lost no time starting on her muscle training. Despite lacking enthusiasm, she wasn't here for half-assing her training though. She'd just do the exercises Brent had showed her back in Washington and La Plata on her own, hoping Ernie would be coached closely by Brent enough to leave her alone in her corner.

"You're both late today," the arbiter remarked, stretching his shoulder blades, "No sleep?"

"Yeah... slept enough on the way here yesterday. Was actually trying to just now." the raven-haired Aberration answered in-between two sets.

"Forgetting your workout pals so easily? That's rude," Ernie called from his corner, not even turning to face her, "I slept on the truck yesterday too. Kinda surprised you could, Banshee, after all the nonsense at D.C."

Angélique stopped suddenly, her eyes widening at the mention of Banshee. What the fuck? Did her voice really reach that far away? She wasn’t aware her power could extend to such distance, unless…

The cuffs. Someone had left their channel open, and it broadcasted to everyone else. Who could it have been? Emma? She was the only one she actually heard her voice coming from the cuffs back there from her team. Did she purposefully let her communication channel open, or was it only an accident?

Holy shit, just how much did everyone hear from this whole disaster? Worse, what did everyone actually think of her now that she said all these things? Now that explains why the atmosphere is so tense this morning, and Ernest’s behavior.

Angélique now felt cornered. Could it be that they wanted her out here to explain herself? “I… fainted from exhaustion. Apparently not even Christmas managed to heal that…”

It was a pitiful explanation. One that she didn’t wish elaborating on.

"Mmm, must be tiring," Brent said, pulling a few dumbbells from the rack, "Lots of screams needed for evacuation, eh?"

Shadow-boxing now, with weights attached. It was hard to get into kickboxing without a punching bag.

"That tiring? Are we sure about that?"

Ernie spoke nonchalantly, sitting on the machines but not quite starting his reps yet.

"Back at Wisford, I watched Christmas mist-heal a whole mob of people dying of broken bones and blood loss. I wouldn't expect his power to suddenly fall short when it came to his own classmates."

It suddenly felt overwhelming. From being cornered to assaulted on two sides by people she thought were her friends, she couldn’t bear it. Flashes inside her mind of that moment she was physically cornered by a few fans. Never again. If defiance was the way to protect oneself from danger, then she’d gladly seize them by the throats if it meant stop pushing her around.

“That’s enough!”

The bells dropped heavily on the ground as Angélique turned around to face her duo of aggressors, her tired expression quickly turning into one of anger. Her dull green eyes quickly flared to their bright emerald green hue, reflecting the growing inferno in her mind.

“You got something to say to me? Then fucking say it directly to my face instead of playing passive aggressive like fucking middle-school gossip girls!”

"Direct?" Ernie was grinning ear-to-ear now. The same smile from the alley with Christmas. The same from the house with David and Zoe. "You want 'direct'? Alright! Did you enjoy yourself at least, pounding all those Regs into the ground with your magic? How many did you kill before you even considered that it was a bad idea?"

As Ernie smiled, Brent's own disappeared, the intensity of his eyes burning a hole in the ground now that there was no buffer, no filter to interpret it from. "I," he began continuing on with his own reps, "didn't see what was going on at all. Hell, the news is somehow making you out as a big hero and all. But Angelic..."

There was a sudden urge to toss the barbell into a window, but such a violent, irrational outburst was easily restrained.

"...thought you didn't want to be a Banshee. Was I wrong?"

Was she that weak?

"Are you taking the path of least resistance after all?"

“What the fuck? I didn’t ki-“

Everything suddenly made sense. Ernest was sufficiently close to hear what she screamed, but probably haven’t seen the whole thing happening until after they were gone. Angélique could imagine someone arriving at the scene would’ve thought these people died of shattered eardrums from her own sonic screams. So that meant she was still seen as a monster after all, if only by her own teammates instead of the Regulars.

Their expression made her sick. The usual calm but smiling Brent now frowning at her, and then Ernie’s twisted grin at this whole scene. They truly sickened her. Even if she didn’t kill anyone directly, it was her responsibility to take from having provoked these people, the results ending up in a carnage in conjunction with her other teammates.

But if that was the way those two would treat the others should she slip and mention the others were as responsible as her, then she would rather take all the blame and save the others from this scene. All that remained was to sacrifice her friendship with those she thought were her closest friends…

Angélique’s burning wrath seemed to die down, replaced by a grim sense of cold determination. Her piercing eyes glared in Ernie’s direction. “After Marcus nearly got his face shattered by a brick, I decided I would rather sacrifice the insignificant lives of a few dozen Regulars if it means protecting what few prodigies we have in our classes. I’d rather see the whole fucking world die before someone from our class dies in front of me again.”

Then Angel shifted her gaze to Brent. “If becoming a monster is what it takes to make sure my classmates survive, then I’m willing to walk that path. If nobody wants to protect themselves from the fucking injustice this world put us through, then I’ll take the fall and be the one to pull that fucking trigger.”

Protecting them? He couldn't fucking take this.

Ernie shot up form his machine. One rough hand grabbed her shoulder while she was looking at Brent while the other threw a punch towards her jaw with all of the boy's might.

Danger… assaulted…again…

As soon as Ernie’s hand made contact with Angel’s shoulder, she jerked around quickly enough to see that fist being raised towards her face. With the reflexes of only someone that had been trained to protect herself, Angélique threw her arm up to catch Ernest’s, placing one of her leg directly behind him with the intent to sweep his leg and use the counterbalance to throw him down to the ground.

The rope was summoned instantly. The impact of the floor did nothing and Ernie followed his fall with a kick aimed at her knee. Meanwhile, his hand grasped around for the dumbbell Angel had dropped.

Being this close to Ernie didn't leave Angel the freedom of movement to effectively see nor dodge that kick. When it connected to her knee, Angel could feel herself buck down on the other knee. But her combat reflexes and her unwillingness to actually use violence against a classmate made her jerk back away from him. When she saw him reaching for the weight, she thought he had lost it in the wake of his Stigma.

"What the fuck is wrong with you, Ernest? Snap out of it!" her voice boomed all around Ernest's ears.

Before he could actually get back up, Angel scurried to the other end of the room, far away from both Ernie and Brent. Was it their plan for this morning all along? Assaulting a fellow classmate? Images of the past flooded her brain, invading her senses. She was going to get molested again, wasn't she? Not this time. She'll die before they even touch a single fucking strand of her jet-black hair.

Hazel eyes mocked the girl as Ernie stood to his full height. That was rather reckless. But he couldn't say he felt sorry for letting it out. The smile only taunted further before he sighed and willed his hand to drop the dumbbell back on its rack. If Brent wasn't still here would he have gone further?

"There's nothing to snap out of, Banshee. It's fine. Nice moves though, how come you didn't use those instead of bursting dozens of Reg eardrums?"

"Do you even fucking listen when we talk to you? Do you even expect someone to protect themselves with martial arts when you have at least fifty fucking individuals throwing bricks and stones at you?" Angel snapped back, slowly rising to her feet, the dull pain in her knee slowly subsiding.

" 'Protecting' again! They're Regulars, Angel, what the fuck did you need protection from? Did Marcus' rewinds not work? Did Determination just trounce off somewhere? Grant's chains couldn't toss up another wall? This team took on rogue mages and a robot beast invasion. Do you seriously expect me to believe that a couple of pebbles was what finally snapped an entire team of subs?"

He refused it. The chance that the evac team didn't just slaughter dozens not just because they were monsters, but because they were weak.

" 'Sacrifice insignificant lives'. 'Prodigies', my FUCKING ASS. Don't bullshit me like that. It's a fucking wonder Zhang hasn't heard how stupid this all is and sent a firing squad for it."

I would rather sacrifice the insignificant lives of a few dozen Regulars if it means protecting what few prodigies we have in our classes.

I’d rather see the whole fucking world die before someone from our class dies in front of me again.

If becoming a monster is what it takes to make sure my classmates survive, then I’m willing to walk that path.

Oh god. Oh god oh god oh god oh god.

Blood rushed through his veins, heart pounding a war beat as his thoughts discarded themselves, twisting and degenerating into a messy ball of emotions that he could hardly process, hardly digest. It was sickening, more so than Emma's madness, more so than Callan's mistakes, more so than his own ineptitudes. Even as Ernie and Angelic began brawling, their respective abilities absolutely worthless when pit against one another, Brent remained still, sheer force of will keeping him from acting before he did anything rash, anything uncalled for.

Zoe made sense. She struggled with her stigma constantly, the implications of her rotting power both great and horrible. She would be willing to fight the world to keep those close to her safe, but she would also be willing to fight herself to do so. And even then, she never fully drowned in the depths of her violent instincts. Never indulged.

But what was Angelic then? What was the person who a week ago cried over her status of the 'Banshee' of Montreal', and, a day ago, fully embraced such an identity? What was this person, who hadn't even held her power for a whole season, and yet no longer saw herself as 'human'?

Was it that hard, to retain one's humanity?

"Ernie, Angelic," Brent said, looking at both and neither. "Stop. Sit"

He envisioned it. Steel bars twisting around Angelic's throat until her head popped. A ton of weights welded together, crushing Ernie into the ground until his magic disappeared and everything broke. He envisioned it, and let it go.

"No theatrics. No exaggerations. No emotion. Angelic, I did not see what happened. I only heard. Lead me through the events that carried evac team from being attacked by a mob of regulars to evacuating them."

He had already read those first-person reports that the 'people in charge' had dismissed as 'lies and slander'.

"No bullshit. Please."

”Fuck you, Ernest” was the only thing Angélique answered back to Ernie, her voice half-convincing. He didn’t believed her words. Neither did she. The raven-haired Aberration was nearing the end of her rope. She didn’t know what else to say to convince those two that she was the sole culprit in this tragedy. She was accepting their hate, just as she had started accepting hers. But the more this dragged on, her act was starting to waver.

Then Brent’s calm demeanor struck hard. The silence he commanded through rational mind and unwavering will, it made Angel grew silent, taking deep breaths as he asked for her version of what had happened. Angélique didn’t know if Brent had heard the story from another member of the evacuation team, but if he didn’t then that gave her the edge of explaining the story and hopefully he will be satisfied enough to not poke around the others.

Sighing, Angélique sat against the wall at the far side of the gym, easing the pain in her knee. Her voice grew low, and being that far away, Angélique used her projection ability to make her voice reach out for Brent and Ernest.

“It started shortly after we separated from the hotel. At first, we insisted Sander to leave Christmas to us so he could return to the battle and help the others already there. As always, he was being a butthead and took off with the commanding officer and Christmas towards the evacuation point.” Angel recalled the initial events that led the team to be split up.

“After a while, I figured that we had a hard time moving among all the fleeing Regulars, being bumped and forced aside while we were all carrying wounded and incapacitated people. So I ordered everyone to get into an empty semi that was left abandoned. Obviously, the roads were blocked due to traffic, so I’ve had Grant use his chains and Emma use Determination to push aside cars while Siena was lifting cars away.”

The raven-haired Aberration paused, looking a bit thoughtful. “We had a nice thing going. I figured that now that we had this massive empty truck rolling down the streets, we might as well help the wounded citizens escape by helping them inside the truck, so we could move them to the evacuation point. I tried using my new power, the one I’m using now, to reach for everyone in the vicinity and tell them we were helping evacuation the young, the elderly and the wounded.”

Then, Angel’s face soured as she recalled what happened next. “Obviously, no one is going to trust a Sub in DC. The hate is just so strong for our kin in that city. But we kept trying. And no one wanted of our help. Then everything went to shit when Cat's Cradle appeared. People panicked, while others just looked at us as if we were to blame for everything that happened. People just hated us more, and started throwing insults at us. Then there was someone who shouted in our cuffs to “Leave the civilians to fend for themselves.” Let me tell you that this really didn't help on top of everything that was happening.”

“One brick flew into the windshield and hit Marcus straight on the shoulder. It was then I realized that if Marcus had been hit by a brick, something that someone should’ve been done purposefully at the height and angle the cabin was, that the others outside were in danger. People then started pelting us with a rain of debris, from huge rocks to bricks. I was thinking we were fine, in the safety of the truck, but the others were exposed to the storm. If they stopped using their powers of moving cars aside to protect themselves, then we’d just be stuck in there, until they run out of debris and come personally to attack us. But none of us stopped despite the hail, so I took matters into my own hands before anyone got their head split open by an ill-aimed brick.”

Angel’s act faltered for an instant, just about thinking of saying that she didn’t expected the others to drop what they were doing and join her on the beatdown, killing those she had already put out of commission.

“The rest of the story, you saw what went down.”

Ernie listened, fury silently broiling in him.

"Don't tell me you're actually trying to pin some of that shit on me. I transmitted you to 'get away from them'. There's a huge fucking difference and I did that for your safety. It's not my fault that you all threw yourselves into the crowds, that you did the exact opposite of what I advised, that you used your power to tell every sub-hater in the goddamn city what your fucking location was. It's honestly pathetic that you're trying to shift the blame. You were the one that consciously did all this."

Too many details lining up. A chill ran down his spine as the cars were mentioned.

"Matters into your own hands, huh? Siena was the one lifting the cars. So she dropped them and crushed a bunch of people too, right? Did you tell her to do that so your precious prodigies could be protected?"

“Do you have to fucking twist everything I’m trying to say? I just told that it wasn’t helping. I’m not saying this entire thing was your fault. I’m responsible for this fucking mess, so stop bitching about me trying to shift blame on others.” Angel spat, her irritation growing every time she was hearing Ernie talking. Who knew that one of her close friend, a previous fan, was so hateful. Was it the kind of people who actually idolized her in the past? She thought she made herself a better example than encouraging this sort of behavior.

“Hating us or not, I always said that those with power should endeavor to help the others in need. We had the opportunity, I wanted to seize it and make some more good in this world, on top of Marcus and Emma’s claim during their interview. I thought I made that pretty clear back then when I was leading my band.”

“It’s pitifully hypocritical, huh? To claim such things, then end up killing people in a fit of zeal.” The fallen singer added, her face showing just how much she had fallen from the grace she had built before.

"There's a difference between wanting to help and being a fucking glory-hound," Ernie scoffed back, assuming the worst of everything she was saying, "Yeah. You're a disgrace, Angel. An embarrassment to everything people like Marcus have been working towards, though I guess even that isn't much considering he fucking lost it out there too. A whole city of panicking tourists and new refugees, and you thought it was actually worth anyone's time to get a handful of people shoved into your truck and past the other thousands of tourists and refugees needing transport?"

"Don't cry to me about how pitiful it is. I saw it myself. I'm hearing it right now. And you never answered my question. Tell me about the dropped cars."

”You expect me to give you answers after being this massive of an asshole? Do you even fucking hear yourself talk, Ernest? Go fuck yourself, I’m done with you. I can’t believe I’ve considered a fucking dickhead as one of my friends. You know what, Ernest? It’s people like you that makes it easier to reject that I was previously a famous rockstar. If all I’ve ever managed to inspire in my life are selfish douchebags that bully people around and stab helpless people in the eyes like you, then I’m fine burning it all down and start anew from those ashes.

"Who are you defending, Angel?" he grew more agitated and ignored her insults, "Tell me about those cars."

They were going at it like rabid animals again, so intent on tearing out each other's throats while he was trying to figure out what the hell had even went down. Just so much goddamn hatred spewing everywhere, huh? Though the situation did indeed sound like everything spiraled out of control, the racist climate of Washington driven to the brink by the appearance Cat's Cradle before being redirected onto subnaturals that looked as if they were just escaping, it still...

It still didn't have to boil down into rampant violence did it?

"Ernie, please, just..." A tremor caused the weights to rattle, before Brent doubled his pace, burning away emotion, attachment. "Shut up."

Grant. Siena. Marcus. Even Emma, perhaps. What were they all...no, there were reports weren't there? Reports that lined up too well with what he heard from the cuffs. Time Scar opening fire on a regular. Killing them because they were attacking 'Pandora'. So, just Grant and Siena then.

"Angelic, I already told you that all I could do was hear. Please, continue on," Brent said, composed, "What did you do and why did you do it? What did everyone else do in response? And...what is Ernie on about, in regards to the cars? Stop taking the bait and avoiding the question."

Angélique ignored Ernest. She didn't want to give him the satisfaction of hearing what he wanted to hear. She would not accuse the others so as he could just walk up to them and start accusing them vehemently just like he was doing right now.

Brent, however, was a whole another matter. Angel hated him for just being there and quietly observing the events without flinching. That cold attitude was just unsettling, even if she should be welcoming the calm demeanor.

"I already told you what I did and why I did it, Brent. I screamed them to stop, twice. They didn't listen. So I just started using my other power, the Banshee's, to put them down. It was us, or them. I chose us. I told you the others were moving the cars and didn't stop despite the thrown debris. I used that opportunity to push our aggressors onto their working area. People were bound to be crushed underneath the moved vehicles. The others couldn't know. They didn't expect that. They had no time to react. By the time they realized, it was too late..."

"Is that your final answer, Angelic?"

The young woman remained silent, a half-convincing answer to Brent's question. Feeling overwhelmed and tense from this atmosphere and the threatening aura the two young men were exuding, Angel slowly got on her feet. The pain in her knee from Ernie's earlier kick had mostly subsided, making her leg serviceable once more.

There really was no point to staying here anymore, now that she answered their interrogations with a bold lie of self-destruction. She felt like a captive from those who were supposed to be her friends. She didn't want to be part of it anymore. So Angélique walked silently towards the gym's entrance.

Funny. So instead of crying, now the terrible Banshee of Montreal was running. Maybe there was a better way to do this. A way that would have gotten more answers, more truths rather than this rubbish that treated the two of them as if they were half-deaf idiots. Warranted a smirk, at least, a humorless one.

Her choice in the end. It had always been his policy to push or pull, not to direct.

But still, as Angelic retreated, there was one last question.

"Is that going to be your choice from now on? Destroy the world to protect your friends?"

Angel stopped by the door's frame, the words from Brent's mouth were oddly familiar to the whole debate she had that time with her inner self.

"I chose the Destroyer's path ever since the Dream. It's about time I accept everything that it implies."

"There are more than enough destroyers in this world, human and monster," Brent said. "Knowing that, you will still choose that path?"

"There's still not enough, if the world is still plagued with these... monsters. It takes more of those willing to go down the abyss to fight them."

"And are you willing to? Or is it just easier for you to?"

Angélique fell silent. It was a question that she was still wondering herself. A question that she had kept asking herself all night long, but found no answer. She didn't have the answer to that question. Reflecting that lack of response, Angel's hand loosened on the door's frame, her feet bringing her past the doorframe.

Ernie glared as she moved. Funny of her to talk of monsters and the abyss. Neither of them knew a goddamn thing.

His rope hand twitched. She still hadn't answered his question. He could make her stay, make her talk. But he didn't. There were other ways to get what he wanted.

"You sound so grand, talking about paths and destroyers. But I'm gonna tell you now. This X-mark isn't a path. It's a mistake, something you seem to be constantly making. You're not some kinda goddess of chaos, Angel. You're a scared little girl that can't even have the decency to lose sleep over the lives she takes. Destroying the world to protect your friends?"

This was a bad idea.

"If they can't even fend for themselves against a handful of Regulars without fucking it up so spectacularly then maybe they don't deserve protection. I suggest getting your priorities straight."

Angel thought that she should’ve just left the provoking Aberration alone with his insults, clearly assuming wrong about her. She should’ve been gone by now, but she was stupid. Blinded by anger, her body turned to face the two boys in the room, clearly pissed again.

“What do you even know about my sleeping habits? Nothing, if that’s the kind of bullshit you concluded.” Angel scoffed at his last statement. She could’ve told him about that time he failed to protect Christmas, but Angel wasn’t one to put blame on others unless it was rightfully deserved. Hazel had just been stronger than him, that was all.

But it still nonetheless didn’t excuse him for talking shit about the others. They didn’t deserve to be taking this sort of crap behind their backs. “You talk big, for someone who stands behind and do nothing. I didn’t hear you doing jackshit back in Wisford. And I didn’t saw you anywhere in DC. Tell me, Ernest, would you have preferred I ‘set my priorities straight’ back in Wisford and let Hazel slaughter you like a useless piece of garbage?”

"If you had set your priorities straight, you would have been helping against those rogue mages like Emma and Siena instead of... huh, what were you doing again? Whatever. I might do 'nothing' as you say, but I'd rather do that than slaughter a bunch of Regs, thanks."

"I was helping civilians out of those Collectors with Grant and a fucking bloodied face! Would I even know that eight of us wouldn't be able to take care of four Rogues? Fucking hell, Zoe was the one who took care of basically everything. Why did it took half of our class to kill four Rogues when it only took a third of us to take down those two gigantic monsters. Why? Because nobody had the guts to kill humans. Nobody wanted to pull the trigger."

"You're wrong. It's not guts you need to take someone's life. Anyone with a gun or an X-mark can do that. Anyone suffering a moment of weakness or rash anger can do something they can't take back. I wasn't there but I doubt you can compare yourself to Zoe's conviction."

An accusing finger pointed at Angelique.

"The moment you ruptured all those eardrums and laid waste to a bunch of innocents wasn't strength. It was misjudgment, so don't try to spin it as anything but that. But I'm sure I'm just wasting my words on you, if you're so caught up in this idea of necessary destruction. So I'll put it in your words. Obviously our classmates aren't as lacking in 'guts' as you think, since they were involved in this too. That was a trigger you were all itching to pull and I'm real disappointed."

Ernest was right, Angel wasn’t anything like Zoe. Zoe was strong, she accepted boldly the things she had done and didn’t bitch and moan about it. She kept her sins for herself and was willing to drown with them as they kept burying her. Angel wasn’t like that, as much as she tried to.

There was nothing she could say to reply to Ernie’s words. He was piercing through her veil of lies, but she didn’t want it to crumble like that.

Just as Brent said earlier, she’ll take the easy way out of this confrontation. There was nothing else for her to object.

“I really have nothing to care for your disappointment.” Was all she said before leaving.

"Well," Brent lifted an eyebrow, "Guess that's that."

He glanced over towards Ernie, that eerie sneer still stuck on the aberration's face.

"You enjoyed that?"

Ernie blinked and peered at Brent strangely. "I don't like...what do you mean?"

"Ah," the arbiter nodded, "You were just smiling the whole time. Still, guess this means training with Angelic's finished."

Smiling? Ah fuck.

Ernie's expression settled into one of worry. He didn't want Brent to know this part of him more than he already did. The action was more difficult than he wanted it to be.

"She never answered my question. Would've liked that before our training finished."'

He noted that change. Kept it in the back of the mind for the future.

"Cars, huh?" Brent said, heading to the treadmill. "You saw what happened, right, Ernie? How much of what she said was bullshit?"

"She left a lot of stuff out. Like Marcus and his gun. The battered bodies that weren't screamed to death. Siena..."

His voice took on a mournful note.

"She didn't tell us much about what the others were doing during the attack. A half-truth then. Fits with what I saw."

"Mom of Unit B, huh?" Brent laughed, adjusting the speed of the treadmill until it audibly whirred. "Wanted to take all the blame so we didn't ask anyone else about what happened."

But it was easy enough, seeing how quiet everyone was during the truck ride. How no one looked at anyone else. A shared sense of guilt and shame.

"You still like her though? Or not?"

She wanted to take all the blame. So she was like Zoe in that regard. He was wrong about that.

Was he mistaken about everything else?

Brent's question irked him. It had been so easy to sever that bond. Something he was eager for, even. Ernie wondered if the past few weeks had meant nothing to him, whether she was ever truly a friend instead of a rockstar he threw himself at.

Too easy, it had been too easy. The time the spent together was completely nullified by his desire to make her suffer for what she'd done. If he could go on without Angelique's companionship then what did it say about his other friends? He stared at Brent for a second. Now that he thought about it, he didn't really know much about him either.

Thoughts for another time.

"She can go stuff herself," Ernie decided, hopping back onto the machine. He hesitated before asking, "What about you? You and Siena are close, aren't you?"

"Siena's an arb."

Not that it meant anything. He should know that, considering his own self.

"I'd like to hear what happened in her own words, at least. It's not a bad test, you know?" That reflexive smile reared its head. "See who's honest and who's not."

"There were only two X's on that truck. And look what still happened."

He was being too harsh, right? Showing too much of his thoughts. Ernie sighed.

"Yeah, you should talk to her. Don't let...what happened here happen between you two too."

He still believed it was the right choice. Like cutting away a tumor.

"Tell me when you've done it, yeah? Tell me if there's still a reason to trust them."

Brent nodded.

Strange, how so many life-and-death situations have passed, and yet, trust was still something that was uncertain amongst Unit B. Did Unit A have the same problems? Did it more than blood, guts, and tragedy for Shane to get his own team together?

What were they missing? Why were they so prone to breaking?

"Still down for making ice cream and donuts?"

The Aberration blinked in surprise, before breaking out into a grin. A nicer one this time.

What he and Brent had was shallow at best. But it was better than nothing.

"Always, dude."

It felt wrong.

Angélique had been alone at the gym tonight, training all by herself. Muscle exercises like Brent used to show the girl, shadow fighting using her own martial arts style, some more cardio. While her body was exerting itself physically, Angel's brain felt hollow. The enthusiasm of training with someone else was gone, replaced by sour loneliness as the people she used to call partners were now nemesis. She couldn't trust them anymore to have her back, to have her well-being at heart. It hurt, but this was how things were going to be now. She could lament all she wanted, but that won't bring back the trust that was lost, or the feeling of camaraderie that had settled before.

She stood alone... her circle of friends rapidly diminishing as time went by.

It was a bit past midnight when the training young woman came out of the gym. She was exhausted from today. The morning fiasco with Brent and Ernest just pushed Angel to segregate herself from the rest of the class. She had gone for a lengthy jogging all around the mansion's premises for most of the morning, then took a car to get further away from the estate to only come back during evening. She hadn't slept for a while now, but she wasn't looking forward to meeting her nightmares.

"Angel," A cold, quiet voice sounded from beside the Gym's door. Allison stood there, leaning against the wall, staring at the ground. It hadn't been hard for Allison to figure out where Angel would be, but actually going inside proved to be impossible. Waiting outside was easier anyway. Allison almost seemed to be shaking, nervously gripping her left arm with her right. She didn't exactly look well, her hair in knots, and her skin pale. She had thought it was bad before, listening to Angel commit murder, but facing her felt even worse. She needed to confront her, to ask why, to find if there was any hope left, if it was all a lie. Still, Allison found herself trembling, barely able to speak out of a confounding mix of rage and heartbreaking sadness. It likely didn't help that Allison hadn't talked to anyone since DC, only leaving her room to shower and eat once in the last day. "Why?" She suddenly found the word falling out of her mouth.

If Angel could jump out of her skin literally, she probably would have as she heard the cold voice calling out to her just when she left the gym’s door frame. While it was entirely possible for someone to be awake at the time of the night, she never expected someone to be near enough the gym this late, let alone actually waiting for her.

Placing a hand on her chest and sighing heavily, Angélique turned to gaze at the waiting silhouette. Upon meeting Allison's gaze, the Voice Mage's morose face quickly turned into a mix of emotions that could only be described as shocked.

Angélique hadn't spoken to Allison ever since that night her most precious friend had confessed her love for the fallen idol. Ever since they left Washington behind, Angélique was dying inside, thinking of walking to Allison and tell her she was happy that they both came out alive from this ordeal. Hug her tightly. Seek comfort in her arms. Bask in the warmth of her loving embrace. Tell her that she was ready to accept her feelings.

But she ran away from it, took the easier path, as Brent called it. The coward’s path. When Angel learned from Ernest what she had been screaming and speaking throughout the whole catastrophe had been broadcasted to everyone, the young woman was overwhelmed by dread and shame. This had changed everyone’s perspective; Allison’s as well, judging from how she looked at Angel right now.

The full-fledged woman was at a loss, frightened. She was not prepared for this so soon. She knew she eventually had to explain herself to the girl who loved her, it was inevitable. And yet, Angélique had been running away, to buy herself time for as long as she could or simply because she was too scared to face a confrontation from Allison.

Ernest was right. She was only a scared little girl.

“A-Alice… I…”

The words came out choked. She could barely think of what to tell her. Explain things just the way she told Ernest and Brent? To take all the blame onto herself for the others’ sake? But then, Angélique started to be frightened by her own resolve to protect the others. Just by looking at what happened earlier today, she was losing more of her precious friends by the moment. Was it worth it, to lose everyone around her to benefit all the others?

Angel was terrified. Terrified that Allison turned out to be just like Ernest. Was her love just as fake as Ernest’s friendship? Angel was scared of losing the only person that mattered the most, the only thing Angel had left in this miserable existence. Was she willing to throw it away for the resolve of becoming a monster?

“I-I didn’t mean to… I… wanted to protect the others… b-but I loss control… and…”

Before she even started explaining herself properly, Angel’s naked eyes started to wet themselves, and Angel brought both hands to her face, hiding in shame as emotions overloaded her brain and took a toll on her exhausted body. Angel’s legs bucked, unable to support the emotional baggage, sending her on her knees. And she only remained there, sobbing, her mind unable to untangle itself from all the knots the confused Aberration made on herself.

"Get up, Angel." Allison's voice was cold and empty, uncharacteristically somber. "This was supposed to be easy for me. I was supposed to ask why you did it, you would give me some bullshit answer, and I would walk away and give up on you, realizing that you're just the same as every other fucked up person I've met." Allison's eyes stayed firmly planted at the ground, rather than at the weeping Angel. "I want to be wrong. I still love you," the words sounded eerily empty despite the sentiment, "but I can't trust you. I thought I had found another person who wasn't going to let themselves resort to murder. I thought I had the found an incredibly rare thing in this place, someone who I could actually trust without getting backstabbed and having my life ruined. But, of course...

"In the end you do the same as everyone else. You do something terrible, act like it wasn't your fault, blame it on something else." Allison paused for a second, collecting her thoughts. "Saying you didn't mean to do it isn't going to fix things. It won't bring people back. It won't heal the wounds, physical or otherwise. The only option is to face what you did and understand the consequences of your actions. Of course, the public won't know what you did. The people whose lives you destroyed will know somewhat, but they will be kept quiet. The only people who know what happened are you, me, and the rest of our merry band of monsters," Allison paused again. "Of course, being a bunch of monsters, the consequences aren't that dire, are they? In fact, I bet a few people would tell you that there was no other option, that what you did was fine, or that it really wasn't your fault. The other parties don't exactly get to tell you what they think, do they? I thought, maybe I should give you an example of what happens when you do something like this, when you kill," Allison's voice seemed to waver slightly. "When people are killed, two kinds of corpses are left behind. The first is self-explanatory, but the second doesn't get much attention. It's probably because they still walk, talk, and function on a basic level. Other than basic functions, though, they're the same as a corpse. They're dead emotionally.

"No one remembers the people left behind when someone dies. The people who have to pick up the fucking pieces and move on. The funny thing is, the pain left after someone dies isn't even interesting. It's just a dull nothingness where anything else should be. Imagine feeling that day in and day out. Imagine trying to mourn, and just feeling fucking nothing. At some point it just becomes background noise, death doesn't faze you anymore. That's the hard part of this for me. It's not trying to find the words to say to you after this, it's trying to feel fucking anything. Though... maybe I should be more detailed, shouldn't I?" Allison now dared to gaze at her weeping friend, her stare as dead as her words. "Well, let's start with the first death, it's simple. My father got cancer. My mother decided that was a great time to reveal she was cheating on him and left him. She never spoke to either of us ever again. My father died a few months later.

"I can't talk about the second death. The next few, though, I can easily discuss. About two years ago now, I escaped an orphanage with the only 4 friends I had and a woman who called herself Tommy. I think I told you a bit about her? I'll be glossing over her for now. About a year, maybe a year and a half after we started living out of a van and driving around the country, we met a strange man. He had piercing, red eyes. I fell in love with him at first sight. He later killed all my friends, buried them behind an old cabin, and didn't tell me until I figured it all out a few months ago. Not long after that I ended up at USARILN. I think we both remember what happened to Alexis and Savannah.

"What all that death left me with was a bunch of holes. I can't fill those back up. The people that were there are gone. My mother, the red eyed man, and USARILN took those people away. To the victims of what you did, you are the exact same sort of awful. 'I didn't mean to do it' doesn't matter. You made your bed, Angélique Lachance. Lie in it. You only have one option. Realize what you've done, come to terms with it, and, listen, this is the most important part: Never. Do. It. Again."

Angel simply stood there, paralyzed, as her sobbing had stopped to listen to her friend. She was shocked to hear all that had happened to her, explaining more than a few things about why Allison was the person she was.

Each word felt like a stab to her heart. She didn't mean to kill these people. Hell, she didn't even kill them herself. But it was her fault nonetheless. She had lost control, and in a fit of zeal to protect her friends, has unleashed a barrage that would only enrage the innocents and eventually exposed those people to the calamities that her teammates brought.

She couldn't summon the courage to say these words to Allison, not after hearing those words. Quite the opposite, she had accepted them. She was at fault. None of this would have happened if she had been in control. No, her Stigma wasn't to be considered. It was just an excuse. An excuse that Allison didn't want to accept, just as Kusari didn't accept Lilianna's when it came down to explain why she amplified injuries until everyone died.

Slowly, Angel did as Allison commanded. She got up on her feet, albeit shakenly, but her eyes never left the ground. She couldn't bear to look into the eyes of the girl she had wronged so painfully. And as such, she did the only thing that she was trying to be good at.

Sacrifice.

"A-Allison... I..."

The words were still stuck into her throat. She wanted to scream her pain, but she couldn't. Allison didn't deserve this pitiful piece of garbage that tried to act as a remorseful monster. She didn't deserve to be put through so much pain because of her.

"I'm sorry... to have betrayed you. Please..."

Tears started to fall again.

"Give up on me... I'm not worth it."

With that Angel quickly turned away and wanted to run, but her weakened legs could only manage a quick walking pace.

A hand reached out to stop Angel, and with some stumbling, it managed to find a hold on Angel's shoulder.

"Idiot. I'm not the one you betrayed. Sure, I feel betrayed, but you didn't spite me. It wasn't intentional. Besides, you should fucking know that's not how love works. I can't just give up on you. I wouldn't have said any of this shit if I didn't still love you." Allison still stared at the floor.

Angel stopped, the hand on her shoulder sort of froze her into place. No, she wasn't only betraying Allison, she was betraying herself, her own feeling. She wanted just as much as Allison to feel loved and to return that love, but she didn't want to hurt her any more than she already did. It drove her mad really, to continue trying to reject it all.

Slowly and eerily, Angélique turned to face Allison, her tired eyes set upon the brunette's face. She'll know, once and for all, if it was meant to be, or if it was all a lie.

"Allison..." her voice beckoned "Can you look at me in the eyes and still find the will to say that despite knowing what I did?"

"Yea, I think I can manage that. Actually..." Allison found herself moving around Angel to face her, placing her hands on the metalhead's shoulders. She stared into those tear-soaked eyes for a few moments. "Angélique Lachance. I love you." Allison moved faster than her own mind could process, and pulled the taller girl in for a kiss.

There was no resistance. In fact, as Angel's eyes met Allison's and heard her name accompanied with those simple three words, she felt a desire like none she ever felt before. Wrapping her arms around her lover's waist, the dark-haired fallen rockstar embraced Allison tightly as she accepted her wholly, her lips meeting with the brunette’s own into a passionate kiss.

Allison melted into the kiss, surprised that the depressed Angel would even be willing to reciprocate. It was a wonderful feeling, one that Allison wanted to last forever. It was an odd sort of irony, then, that Allison was the one to break the kiss, if only for a moment.

"Holy shit."

It was a first time experience for the rockstar to have shared something so intimate with someone else. The act of kissing wasn't what had drawn the previously cold girl, it was that feeling of sharing something such intimacy with someone she could only really describe as 'her love'.

Angélique's heart fluttered, again an emotion she felt like she never experienced before, which made it seem like every worry in the world had just disappeared. When Allison broke up the kiss, there was a certain longing in Angel's eyes, feeling like it had been too short, too soon to break.

But she giggled heartily when she heard Allison's breathy swear. "Alice... ever since we came back, I had realized it. When you ran off after Zoe, and when you mentioned you were about to make a do-or-die plan, my mind was only thinking about you. I feared of losing you. I wanted to be there with you, but Grant told me it would do me no good, I'd only get in the way. Each passing moment, i was praying for your safety. For you to come back alive."

Angel paused, thinking back to what happened in the meantime, then when they left DC, coming here and being confronted by Brent and Ernest. "I couldn't tell you. I was scared. Scared of you rejecting me, like Ernest rejected me so easily. I was afraid of being hurt, of being alone, of losing what was the most precious person to me left in my wreck of a life. You."

Another pause, more tears to shed. It was hard at this point to say if she was happy to have been freed of this torment, or if she was hurt deep inside. "So let me say it, please."

"Allison, I love you, from the bottom of my heart."

Allison couldn't even speak, only finding the tears that had evaded her through the last several minutes crawling down her cheeks. She threw herself further into the embrace, reuniting her lips with Angel's. It was the only response Allison found herself capable of giving, and it seemed to be the correct one. They held like that for what felt like an eternity, sharing something that seemed too intimate for the pair of dysfunctional youths. Eventually, Allison found herself leading Angel back to her room, where she promptly locked the door.

Coming back from her daily routine shower after working a running sweat ever since she woke up, Angélique walked to the mansion’s garage, again. Much like the other days before, the fallen rockstar didn’t feel like staying locked up inside the estate. She’d much rather enjoy the feeling of freedom driving a car around the island gave her. It gave her time to think about what she did, about what happened, about the others.

Siren had no intended destination. She just wanted to get away from it all as much as she wanted to explore. For that reason, Angel had swung at the black sportscar’s backseats a few bags of her own personal belongings: spare clothes, swimsuit, phone, only to name a few. She never knew if she would actually return to the mansion for the night.

Especially not today of all days. Every year, Angel made it a challenge on herself to throw something special for her birthday. She figured that if today was a special day, she would as well celebrate it with others and let them in onto this happy day. She could remember last year’s birthday, having thrown a party at the Bell Center with hundreds of her fans. She sang, she played, she drank, she had fun.

But this year, it was entirely different. She had no fans to celebrate with. No friends. No family. Only people that she shared a battlefield with, and hateful thoughts to remind her how pathetic she was. Truly, today wasn’t a day worth celebrating at all. If anything else, it was a day to curse what she had become.

Solemnly, Angélique took the driver’s seat inside the Dodge Charger, taking time to readjust her seat and her mirrors.

Zoe hadn't been awake for too long when she decided to take a walk around the estate. For all its extravagance, the place wasn't bad to look at, and it beat sitting around watching TV or whatever.

The whole thing took an interesting turn, of course, when she caught sight of a certain singer wandering around on her own. Not a couple of weeks ago, Zoe would have ignored her classmate - actively avoided, even. But she'd changed, or at least she was starting to try. Not without her fair share of... relapses, so to speak, but trying.

To tell the truth, Zoe didn't care whether she herself lived or died. For now, though, she was alive, and realizing that it wasn't worth running anymore. Ernie, for all his faults, had been right in DC; she did care about the others, like it or not. Even after what Angel had done in DC. It wasn't as though Zoe didn't have blood on her hands, and as much as anything else, she had questions to ask. Had to know what path her friend planned on walking, had to try and help her however she could.

And watching Angel get into the car, it seemed to Zoe like the other young woman was pretty miserable about something or other. So she jogged over before her classmate drove off, tapping on the driver's side window with a friendly smile. "Room for one more?"

It would be a lie to say Angel had been expecting anyone. Lost in thought, she jumped in her seat, startled by the sudden knocking on the window. She did not know whether Zoe wanted to have a talk or simply wanted Angélique to drive Zoe somewhere on her way to wherever she was going. After what happened in Washington, she would have thought no one would actively seek her out. But she was proven wrong, as Brent, Ernest and even Allison had quickly sought her out for answers about what she did in DC. Knowing Zoe, she might have come to her for answers as well.

Whether it was because Angel felt lonelier than ever before on this day that was supposed to be special, needed to talk or simply wanted someone to yell at her for what she did, Angel mustered every bit of self-assurance to smile back and nodded, pressing the doors unlocking button.

“Sure, hop in. Got some place you wanted to go to?”

At Angel's agreement, Zoe grinned and walked around the car, hopping into the seat beside her. Part of her wanted to push all the buttons, but a bigger part of her figured that'd be a bad idea. She really had no idea how to drive, and this thing was way fancier than any car she'd ever been in. At Angel's question, she shrugged, sitting back in the seat.

"Nowhere in particular." She glanced at the other girl, before shrugging. No point hiding her ulterior motives here. "Wanted to talk to you anyway, and besides, you looked like you were in a bad mood. Even worse than usual." Lighthearted teasing aside, it was clear that Zoe at least wasn't just here to interrogate Angelique.

"Figured you might feel better if you've got a friend around."

It somewhat came to no surprise to Angel hearing what Zoe had to say, although she did got surprised by her last statement. If her face was a window to her soul, then that window sure was thoroughly cleaned.

“I’m that easy to figure out, huh? Yeah… today’s not a good day for me…” Angel let out a sad smile, her gaze returning to the windshield. Zoe did just say “a friend”, right? Was she really okay still hanging around, despite what she did? Deep inside, something sparked, albeit faintly, mostly choked by pessimism and expectations being easily misjudged. “Thanks... I appreciate it.”

Making sure her seatbelt was buckled up and everything was in order, Angélique started the car’s engine and drove the beast away from the mansion. Already, as their temporary home disappeared behind, relief was soon showing up on her face as she lowered the door’s window, letting a fresh breeze enter the car and sending her obsidian hair flutter in the wind. For the semblance of freedom it brought her, she welcomed it with open arms.

Zoe smiled slightly as Angelique appeared to relax. Her own window was open as well, though the wind didn't have nearly as dramatic an effect on Zoe's appearance. Chuckling slightly, she leaned forward to mess with the radio as she spoke. "You know, I'm not sure how you deal with having that much hair. I mean mine's enough of a pain to deal with. After the first fight, I seriously considered cutting it all off."

Realizing she wasn't completely sure how to actually work the radio, Zoe sat back as soon as she reached a station that didn't seem to be the news, paying almost no attention to the music that was playing. Whatever it was, it would be better than sitting there listening to regulars discuss them all for the hundredth time.

Angélique chuckled slightly at Zoe’s remark, her mood slightly shifting for the better at these attempts of small talk. Something that she was looking forward more than the impending discussion about the whole DC incident.“I hear you. Drying and combing that mass after a bath is a pain but…” Angel paused, looking a bit thoughtful, “I love the style. It’s like when people ask me about how inconvenient my clothing is. But really, I’ve just grown used to it. Needed to have the looks that went with my job. Eventually, I just grew fond of looking extravagant.”

There was a hint of bitterness as she remembered about her previous life. It probably would’ve been easier if she just decided to change her looks to help her transition to her new Mage life. But deep inside, is changing appearance going to make it any better? Had she really given up on who she was before becoming a Subnatural.

This scene felt oddly nostalgic to Angélique. The sound of pop music playing in the background while she was having small talk with her passenger, it was a scene that she was very familiar with, from her time spent of the road. It was easy to guess Angel was no stranger to being behind the steering wheel, just by how smooth her driving was.

“I think it’d be a shame if you were to cut it off. The fiery badass look really suits you, honestly. If it still annoys you, there is always a way to make it more manageable. I tend to tie my hair into a tail or a bun if I fear it would catch into something.”

"Nah, I think it'll be fine like this. I dealt with the stomach acid - it won't get much worse than that, hopefully. Besides, it's short enough. Nice to hear it suits me, though." Zoe smiled at the compliment, before shrugging. "Whatever works, right? Don't always have to be preparing for battle or we'd never enjoy anything." Smiling, she looked at Angelique, lost in thought. A realization she'd only come to recently, but that didn't make it wrong. Just different. Although saying that, there was something to be said for efficiency as well.

Blinking, Zoe realized that she'd spaced out a little.

"Sorry. Just kinda tired." And her training routine had perhaps been a little too rigorous since getting here. You couldn't keep reopening old wounds without a little fatigue setting in, but she didn't really seem to make the connection. Almost unconsciously, she picked at the bandages that were wrapped around her hands as she glanced away from the black-haired woman with a hint of slightly embarrassed laughter.

"For what it's worth, I can't really imagine you changing your style that much. It's kinda your look at this point. Figured I may as well ask, though."

“It’s alright. To be honest, I did thought to change style when I went shopping a few times at Crimen. But then again, I couldn’t decide what I could possibly wear. Like you said, it sort of became how I look.”

Angélique grew silent, her eyes drifting away from the empty road for only a second, curious as to what Zoe was fidgeting with. “I hope those aren’t the signs of someone who been too brutally beaten up.” She joked lightly, tinged with a slightness of worry. She didn’t know if Zoe had been injured back in Washington, or if it was something that happened here. Hopefully it was nothing too serious. Angel hadn't been around the mansion enough to actually know everything that was happening with the others while she was gone.

Zoe's eyes widened with surprise as she stopped fidgeting. Okay, she probably should've paid more attention to what she was actually doing there. Still, she raised an eyebrow at Angel's statement, glancing down at herself and then to the singer. "Come on, you think anyone around here would be able to beat me up?" Yeah, probably, but that didn't stop her bravado.

Her smile faded slightly as she experimentally opened and closed a fist, wincing at the slight pain that came with the motion. Problem with having cuts on somewhere that moved so much, she supposed. "It's a training thing. No need to worry about me, I've done it plenty of times before. You get used to it." Her scars said as much.

She wasn't sure why it felt like she was admitting to doing something wrong. "Think we should stop soon? Don't wanna go too far in case the security get pissed." Hoping that her answer would have satisfied her teammate's curiosity, she looked back out of the window.

“I meant the poor bastards on the receiving end of those fists.” Angel replied with a chuckle. She found it quite silly for her red-haired friend to continue putting up this tough-girl attitude. Still, she could somewhat understand where she was coming from. However, Zoe’s answer only made the raven-haired young woman’s brows furrow in response. She heard about bruises and small injuries that came with training, but the bandages around Zoe’s hands suggested she really did a number onto her fist. “Yeah sure we practice different fighting methods, but I don’t think training to the point of getting injuries like that is quite healthy.”

But it was quite apparent Zoe had her mind set upon the whole deal. If that was her way of doing things, Angel doubted trying to talk about healthy training habits would be acknowledged. Instead, she dropped the matter, her focus returning to the road before Zoe brought up a point.

“Don’t worry, I’ve been asking around about my itineraries. Was told as long as I don’t leave the island, I’d be fine. Not that we can cross the ocean with this thing anyway. What, got ants crawling up your legs already?”

Angel was probably right about her training methods, but 'healthy' wasn't Zoe's priority. The more likely it was to break her down, the better. As for the travel, she knew they hadn't been going for that long, but... "I don't really sit around that much. My mind wanders. So to speak." And the murder fantasies weren't good. Well, they were. But she didn't want them to be. It didn't help that she considered Angel a friend.

Despite wishing otherwise, a hint of something hungry seemed to cross Zoe's expression, blue eyes fixing on Angelique. Only for a second, though, as her eyes widened and she spoke apologetically. "You don't have to worry. It's not gonna be an issue today, I just--" She sighed. "Told you before, right? Gets worse around people I like. Can't really help it."

There was that, and the fact that she didn't want to ask any painful questions while Angel was driving. "If you wanna keep going for a while, I think I'm gonna take a nap. So long's that's okay with you." Assuming Angel wouldn't protest, Zoe sat back in her chair and closed her eyes. It didn't take long for her to nod off, her expression relaxing - more peaceful than any she'd wear when awake.

Angélique only nodded to Zoe’s reminder. But with everything that was happening, the newly appointed Siren could not tell if she was desperate enough for a talk to dismiss the looming danger Zoe represented, or if it was genuine suicidal thoughts. For now, the possibility of vanishing from the Black God’s touch didn’t faze the raven-haired Aberration.

Nodding slowly to a sleepy Zoe, Angélique turned the volume of the radio slightly down, as to make some peace and quiet for the red-haired Mage to relax and take a nap undisturbed. While the pale Aberration driver felt for Zoe’s more physically-active self, Angel felt like driving a bit longer, going further away from the mansion. She wanted to feel that sense of freedom a bit more.

Eventually, the car reached the northern end of the island, sitting high atop the cliffs that overlooked the ocean from above. The sun was high in the sky, suggesting it was a bit later after noon. Having reached her destination, Angélique however did not wake Zoe immediately after shutting the car’s engine. Instead, she gazed upon the redhead’s resting face. She looked so serene, so peaceful right now. Watching this softened expression that Angel never seemed to have seen in Zoe’s traits, a longing smile crept on the singer’s lips.

Deciding that Zoe might need the rest after all that happened, the Voice Mage reached for the rear seats, grabbing a cooler she had taken from the mansion just before leaving. Inside, she retrieved what seemed to be ingredients for making sandwiches.

If Angelique was listening, she'd hear Zoe beginning to mutter something. It wasn't the clearest thing in the world, but it would be easy enough for the musician to hear - the redhead was quite obviously talking in her sleep.

Whatever dream the girl was having, it was vivid. And not exactly pleasant. Not every word was said clearly enough to be audible, but it was probably enough for Angelique to get the idea. "...n't want... alone. I know... Should've been me... stronger. I'm sorry, just..." There was a hint of desperation, her brow furrowed in distress. Fear, perhaps, that she refused to let show when she was awake. "Don't leave again."

It was also quickly becoming apparent that Zoe likely had no idea she did this - there was no way the girl would've fallen asleep near anyone, friend or not, if she knew how much vulnerability was showing right now.

As Angélique finished preparing her meal, she quickly turned to the mutterings of her sleeping friend. Paying no heed to her food, the raven-haired musician listened intently to the dreaming Aberration, her every words, her every expressions. It was tough to watch, mainly because everything that Angel was struggling within herself, it sort of reflected itself into the red-haired girl’s sleeping form.

It was said that, when sleeping, one’s subconscious was free to express itself. If that was the case, then Angélique figured that the muttering Zoe in front of her was probably the real Zoe, deep down inside, hidden under a layer of hardened and cold façade. This sudden revelation gripped Angel’s heart. Just how hard was Zoe on herself? How heavy were her burdens?

Angélique was so used to seeing a strong-willed and harsh Zoe, it came as a shock to witness that side of her. And yet, there was some strange sense to relief, happiness crawling through this scene. It showed that Zoe, despite her claims, cared just about as much as anyone, but wasn’t willing to show it. Finally, it confirmed Zoe wasn’t a complete monster.

After a while, the jet-black-haired Aberration couldn’t bear seeing her friend in that state. But she didn’t want to shake the girl off from her sleep just like that, fearing it might do more harm than good. Instead, Angel thought of something that eased her mind when she was young and distressed. Like a mother to her child, Angélique’s golden voice began filling the air. Loud enough to be heard, yet peaceful notes that would soothe tumultuous minds. Not exactly a lullaby, more drifting towards a ballade.

The melody seemed to at least calm Zoe slightly, a little of the previous tranquility returning to her expression, though her murmurs didn't quite cease. Her frown and fearful expression were at least less severe, eventually fading to a small, relaxed smile.

After a few minutes more peaceful slumber, however, she finally began to stir, sitting up and blinking sleep out of her eyes. Looking around with more than a little confusion, her eyes rested on Angelique. Her expression was slightly less guarded than usual, but certainly not to the level it had been while she was unconscious. Trying to shake off the last of the dreams that had distressed her. Though it wasn't as bad as usual.

"Angel?" She was curious as to why the other girl would be singing, shooting her an amused grin. Blissfully unaware of what she'd just been doing, that much was obvious. Opening the door, she stepped out of the car to join Angelique, giving her a small if somewhat confused, smile. "You're... singing." It sounded as though Zoe wanted to ask why, but wasn't sure if it was worth it. Maybe it was just a musician thing. She figured she'd seen a whole lot stranger.

”Well, you knew I was a singer before, right? Even if there is no crowd, that doesn’t stop me from singing to myself from time to time.”

Angel mustered a half-assed smile while her eyes lowered to the lunch she was preparing. It was simply too embarrassing to tell Zoe that this corny singing was to help her waking up from her bad dreaming, even though Zoe had already figured Angel was a bleeding-heart type. Too embarrassing, and she didn’t know how well Zoe would take that.

Instead, Angélique kept her innocent smile and turned to Zoe, offering her the sandwich she was working on. “Are you hungry? I’ve made a lunch for the both of us. You’ve been napping for a few hours now.”

"Uh, kind of. Thanks. Didn't realize I'd be out so long." Accepting the sandwich, Zoe appeared to take Angel's explanation at face value. Yeah, must've been a musician thing. Looking around them, Zoe sighed. The view was pretty spectacular, and although being surrounded by ocean wasn't her favorite thing, being so far up made it far more bearable. Overall, it wasn't bad.

"Here I thought I was the one looking out for you by coming along, and I've just been sleeping the whole time. Sorry about that. Guess you've had better company, huh?" She chuckled, looking around the landscape. "If we're gonna wait around here for a while, may as well go find somewhere to sit. Or, I dunno, walk or something."

And as much as she wanted to just enjoy the moment, Zoe knew she'd have to speak to Angel properly soon.

“Oh, don’t worry about that. You know, my grandfather used to tell me that if someone is sleeping in your car while you drive, then that means they trust you enough to entrust their safety to you.” Angélique giggled playfully, trying to tease some sort of softness out of Zoe with that reminder. But in reality, she was thankful for Zoe’s words. It felt good to know that, despite what happened and the incoming talk they will be having, that Zoe was out here to look out after her. Perhaps that was the one thing that made this day bearable.

With a nod, Angel closed the sportscar’ trunk after grabbing two more sandwiches. There were plenty of rocks to sit onto, but ultimately Angel decided for the both of them to go walking. Zoe did mention earlier that she wasn’t good at sitting for too long. Might as well do things her way after Zoe gracefully indulged Angel’s driving fantasy.

“But really, thank you for being here today. I… don’t know what I would be doing right now if you didn’t ask to join me earlier.”

"You don't need to thank me for it." Zoe wasn't sure what else to say to that. There were a few seconds of silence before she slowly shook her head. It wasn't any trouble for her to come along. And the statement on trust was... odd. Possibly because it felt true, even when many people would have had their trust broken by the singer's previous actions. But on some level, it made sense.

"You've given me plenty of second chances yourself. Least I can do is try and return the favour. Besides, we are friends, aren't we? Can't just have you sitting around miserable." Just enough to make it clear Zoe wasn't unaware of what had happened in DC. But that didn't change that Angel had been at least partly responsible for getting her to stop driving the others away. "This morning - you said it wasn't a good day. There any reason for that, or is it just... what happened before?"

Testing the waters, though it appeared that Zoe was coming from a place of concern rather than anger. She knew as well as anyone what it was like to hate yourself for the things you'd done.

Even though Angélique knew exactly what was wrong with her today, and knew eventually that question would come around, Angel still wasn’t prepared to actually answer this question. The silence somewhat explained a lot about how she felt, but it was only half of it. Did she really need to reveal to Zoe about the meaning of today? She didn’t want to bother the girl with something like that.

And yet, Zoe’s words struck true again at the mention of them being actual friends. Being a classmate was one thing, but hearing out the word ‘friend’ was a whole another matter. Probably something she heard a few people actually say. That in itself incited Angel to open her heart to Zoe.

“It’s… complicated." Angel finally managed to say, breaking her silence. She took a deep breath, obviously trying to gather all the courage in her heart to reveal the darkness that was plaguing her. “Truth is, yes. I still feel like I did a mistake back in Washington, no matter how hard I try to convince myself and the others what I did was for their own good.”

Another dead silence, her mouth quivering, her voice growing shaky “A-and today… it’s… it’s my birthday."

She felt like she could cry, but instead she tried to remain firm, strong, like Zoe had always showed her whenever she spoke. “I’ve never felt this lonely ever before.”

Zoe was surprised to see how shaken Angel was by all of this. Even more surprised to hear that it was her birthday. But as she saw how close the singer was to crying, what she felt was something familiar. Protectiveness, almost, a certainty that she didn't want to watch this girl destroy herself. Fuck, it was so familiar. So, perhaps unexpectedly considering her usual aversion to physical contact, she drew Angel into a hug.

"Hey. You don't have to be strong right now." Speaking softly, Zoe couldn't help but see herself in the older girl. Loneliness, fearfulness, a terrible blood-soaked mistake. They really were similar, weren't they? Similar, but not quite the same. Angelique hadn't crossed that line, not yet. The pain wasn't a part of her. "I promise you I have an idea of what you're going through. I know what it's like to think that everyone hates you. You're not a monster. You don't have to be, unless you choose to."

"Angel, I don't want to watch you turn into me. And I'm not gonna stand by and let that happen." She smiled, loosening her grip and taking a step back to try and meet the singer's eyes. There was fire in her gaze, a simple, steadfast determination. Her tone was firm, but remained gentle as she continued. "But you need to choose which path you're taking, 'cause I don't want to watch you tear yourself apart."

The sudden hug and soft tone in Zoe’s voice was all it took for Angel to lower her already-weakened guard. As she returned the barely taller girl’s embrace, her face buried itself on her shoulder, wet droplets of tears starting to wet her eyes. It was clear she tried holding herself back from sobbing her heart out, but she couldn’t hide the emotional liquid from reaching her cheeks.

“I… need to be strong. I have to be strong.” Angel muttered as Zoe pulled her out from their hug, wiping her tears away from her face. “I don’t know what I want, Zoe.”

Angélique paused, unsure how to exactly explain what was going on in her mind. “Back in Washington, all I wanted was to stop the Regulars from stoning us. I knew I had the powers to disable these people without killing them. Even if the world would come to hate me for attacking them, I wanted to protect the others.”

“I was ready to shoulder that responsibility… even if I knew that would definitively fuel that reputation of a murderer I got from Montréal. I felt like if I had to become the monster they would fear, then the Regulars would not get in our way the next time we try to save people. But then… the leaked videos came in… and I was portrayed as a hero, instead of showing the disaster that made me a monster only a moment earlier. It… crushed my resolve. How can I live with what we’ve done back there while we are applauded as heroes? How can I be the person to pull the trigger when I’m supposed to be seen as someone good? I don’t want to hurt anyone… but I have to if I want to protect the others from the cruel injustice we are facing every day.”

"Take it from the person that got the bad publicity, being condemned by the world doesn't help anyone. You think any regulars'll chill out when I'm around?" Zoe sighed, struggling to find the words she needed. Angel wasn't the only one who'd screwed up before, she knew that all too well. "In Wisford. I just wanted to end the fight, just didn't want anyone else to get hurt. But I fucked up, hard. No-one died, but I caused more hurt than I had to. You did too. It wasn't necessary, not really."

"I could lie to you and say it'll all be okay. But it won't. People have long memories, and some of them won't understand what you did. There was probably a better way. I get it, pulling the trigger, taking responsibility. This one's on you. But you've got a second chance, and that's a pretty rare thing. If you really want to pull the trigger... that's your choice. If you feel like have to do it for the others, then screw your reputation." But for what it was worth, she was putting her faith in Angelique. "What you're supposed to be doesn't mean shit compared to keeping the others alive."

"For now, if the world won't hold you responsible, then do it yourself. If you want someone to remind you what you've done, then remind yourself. You want a reason to fight, then you make one for yourself." A pessimistic view of the world, but at the end of the day, you were the only person that would always be around. "I've got your back, for as long as you're here. And if the chance is there, I'll happily pull the trigger in your place."

After all, Zoe knew she was already seen by the world as a monster.

Angel remained silent as Zoe explained the path that was lying ahead of what Angélique was considering to take. A thankless existence, full of self-imposed burdens and hardships. Was that what Zoe had been carrying with her ever since she came into USARILN, perhaps before then even? Angel was a soul that was ready to accept sacrifice as a part of her life, if it came to protect her loved ones, but was she really ready to dismiss her humanity and be left to herself until she died, with only Zoe as her partner in crime and fellow monster?

Was there any other way to be both?

A sentence the Aberration kept repeating in her head. She wanted to be there for the others, pull the triggers when others wouldn’t in order to make sure everyone stayed alive. But she yearned to be seen as someone reliable, someone heroic, someone that could change the world for a better one. She wanted Czernobog’s determination, Proteus’ strength, Gleipnir’s sound judgement, Time Scar’s optimism, and the people’s good grace. She wanted to rise as an Archangel and right her wrongs.

“Isn’t there any other way to be both?” Angel found herself wishfully repeating that aloud, even if she knew it probably wasn’t possible, as her eyes met Zoe’s. "I wish we wouldn't hurt ourselves like this, that you wouldn't torment yourself until driven mad by the burdens. I... don't want to see us wallowing in despair and end up..."

"Don't worry about me. I don't know if there's a way to be both, but..." Zoe smiled sympathetically, but she didn't know how to walk that line. After a long moment of silence, she spoke again, quietly at first. "Just try not to be a monster, alright? I don't want that for you. Being like that, all you get is fear. Anger. Disgust." A small, bitter smile.

"That's what people feel once they know what you really are." This wasn't really advice; if anything it sounded far closer to a warning. "You'll never get a happy ending. Never be able to hope for redemption. Anyone that doesn't leave gets dragged down with you, and soon enough you'll find refuge in the pain. The smell of blood, the sound of screaming: They're sweet perfume and beautiful music." And that was monstrous, no matter how you looked at it.

"Because the battlefield is the only place that people like you are any good to have around, and you'll never have a place in peace. Not when the only thing you can do is hurt. People you care about as well as ones you don't." At some point this had stopped being hypothetical, and she'd started describing herself. Calmly, as though it didn't bother her to think about what she was, who she'd become. As she spoke, she unwrapped the bandages from one hand, revealing her sliced-open knuckles.

"Even then it still won't be good enough to save everyone. Throwing away everything you are, everything you have the potential to be, won't mean you can always be there. So just-- think it through, Angel. That's all I'm asking." There was pain in the look Zoe directed at Angel, both pain at voicing what she was and genuine hurt at the idea of being followed down that path. "If there is a way to do both, then I'll do my best to help you find it. You don't deserve to end up alone."

Not like me. But the last part went unspoken beyond a flicker of loneliness in her expression.

It was hard to listen to what Angel could only assume as Zoe describing her inner turmoil. While those were burdens she had started to fear carrying around, seeing the other Aberration's pain was exactly what had set the Voice Mage onto this path. She couldn't bear watching someone close to her fall down deeper into this abyss.

Zoe was strong, to still be standing in front of Angel and counsel her despite all she was putting herself through. She had the opportunity of not being alone into this, but yet tried so hard to convince her friend to not go through with this plan. Angelique had realized that, despite all the bad things Zoe did, she could only sympathize for the redhead, even start to admire her. But it was clear that Zoe didn't want this for her, and Angel didn't know if she wanted to hurt her friend by going against her wishes.

"I... I promise I will. I just wish... that I could find my resolve back as easily as yours, and still find a way to become a better person."

Angel fell silent her eyes drifting between Zoe and the ocean. She had felt alone, but it had now dissipated when Zoe made it clear that she was there for Angel. But hearing her talk, the red-haired Aberration made it sound as if she had nobody to rely on herself. Angel wished to be at least that one person Zoe could find the comfort of not being alone.

"Zoe... I don't want you to be alone as well. I know that you already chose what you'd become and that you deserve it, but please, you don't have to be lonely. If you don't want me to follow you, then at least let me stand by you and watch your back. I want you to know that I'd be there if no one would."

Akin to Zoe before, Angel reached for the younger red-haired young woman and wrapped her arms around her for a warm hug. Thinking back to the words Zoe muttered in her sleep, Angelique found in herself some resolve to provide her friend a small shelter against the consuming darkness, or at least try to assuage it.

"If I can ease your fears and your pain, or at least just brush off this loneliness, I'll be there for you, just like how you are here for me. It's the least you deserve. It's the least I can do to prevent you from completely falling."

"...Thank you."

Zoe had instinctively tensed up a little at being hugged without warning, listening to Angelique's words with a hint of doubt. To keep her from falling? I think it might be too late for that. Nonetheless, after a moment's thought, she relaxed and returned the hug. There couldn't be too much harm in letting someone care for now. Maybe it would be fine to have someone that knew a little what she was actually dealing with. Even if it was only what Zoe had just old her. That, and she wasn't sure how many people would have Angel's back right now either.

And at least Angel hadn't tried to pretend Zoe was wrong. Knew that she'd made her choices, that she'd resolved herself to them, that she wasn't undeserving of the burdens she carried. It was hard to believe that the other aberration had offered to help anyway, that she wouldn't turn her back. And maybe, deep down, Zoe had needed to know someone would be there when they saw what she really was.

"Second chances, right?" For both of them. A small smile, feeling closer to losing her composure than she had been in a long while. It was hard to remember the last time someone had offered to look out for her, not without trying to change who she was. And Zoe knew, deep down, that Angel's task would be just as - if not more painful than hers. But in that moment, Zoe felt like they might be okay, if only for a little while. There were a lot of things she could have said. But it wasn't the time for them anymore.

After a moment, she chuckled affectionately. "Happy birthday, rockstar."

As if it had been a scheduled thing, one of the two black Dodge Charger Hellcats that was so often found missing in the garage from a few hours before noon to almost exactly 6 PM arrived at the mansion. Behind the steering wheel was Angélique Lachance, that same person who regularly took the vehicle for an eight hours road trip every day. Arriving at the garage she looked a bit morose, but it definitively was an improvement from the depressed state of mind she had been having throughout the week, before she spoke with Zoe on the day before today. It had done her good, although what they had discussed only gave Angel more food for thought.

Instead of sitting there depressed and lamenting herself over everything she had done and how her friends were abandoning her one by one, she had found herself to be pondering about what she should become. More precisely, the way she should achieve it. Zoe clearly didn’t want Angel to become the monster she was, but she was ready for that possibility and offered her support for whatever she decided to do. Eventually, what appealed to Angélique was a mix of both. She wanted to protect her friends by any means necessary, without however failing them as an ally, a fellow Mage, a Human. What kept Angel awake at night was not solely the thought of having made herself into a monster, but also the resolve of how to proceed between the fringes of the abyss and the ocean.

The raven-haired Aberration snapped out of her thought as soon as she saw Brent inside the garage, looking like he was waiting for someone. Immediately in her mind, there was a sense of urgency, wanting to drive backwards and return later. But it was too late to back down now, she had already turned off the engine.

Her hands tightened on the wheel. Memories of what had happened at the gym Monday were still vivid in her mind. Had he really been waiting for her to come back, so he could interrogate her some more? Sure, he wasn’t Ernest, but his silent judgement and quietly watching what had happened between Ernest and her without moving an inch had enervated the singing Aberration. She found his presence unsettling.

Angel’s face soured in anxiety, but she tried her best to not let it overtake her. Slowly but eventually, seeing he was not leaving, she opened the door and exited the car.

"Good evening," Brent said, pushing off from the wall as Angelic exited the car. A part of him had anticipated that she'd reverse and drive off again, but there was comfort to be had, at least, in the fact that she hadn't run off immediately. Better than before, perhaps. "Got sick of the island's scenery yet, Angelic?"

He smiled, turning his palms so that they faced her. Unarmed. Unclenched. He wasn't here for a fight. Just answers, as always.

Brent really did read Angel like an open book, didn’t he? Then again, if there was one thing she had learned from all her peers, it was that she was quite easy to read through. As a matter of fact, she was surprised Brent and Ernest had actually believed in her “I am a monster” fake resolve Monday at the gym.

While her face turned to Brent, her eyes behind the sunglasses looked elsewhere, at the door, at the floor, anywhere really. Anywhere but at Brent’s face.

“Y-yeah… can’t hog the car all day long. And I still need to eat.” Angel excused herself as she quickly walked to the trunk to retrieve her bags of personal belongings, her guitar and the cooler she had brought with her for lunch.

And while Angel was thinking of avoiding Brent, it was clear that he had been waiting for her to come back. Figuring she couldn’t evade him forever, she had no other choice but to be blunt with him.

“What do you want, Brent? Didn’t you have enough last time?” She asked, defiantly. Her encounter at the gym with Ernest had ruined her mentally for the next days, until she found a semblance of resolve back yesterday.

"A day trip every day?" he remarked as she unloaded a trunk full of personal belongings. No swimsuit though. Probably cause you can't swim with shades on. The small smile on his face faded quickly enough though, as Angelic's tone shifted. A little sharper. A little harsher. More to the point.

Was she getting somewhere.

"Did you choose this? Or is it just easier for you to? Looked like it was a hard question, so I was willing to give you a few days to think about it."

He let that statement hang in the air, before turning to door.

"Haven't eaten yet, right? For better or worse, your routine's clockwork, so food should be done now."

So he wanted to continue last time’s discussion? Angélique wasn’t sure she was so willing to come back to that whole deal. Her mind was clearer now though, thanks to her talk with Zoe, and Brent didn’t seem like he was aggressive about it. Not that he was ever aggressive, Angel noted, but that was something that had scared her at the gym.

“Can we… discuss about it somewhere more in private? I’d rather not keep standing here with my arms full for a hour.”

The mention of ‘clockwork’ brought back unpleasant memories, going from Wisford to Aaron, but it was in the past now. She still hadn’t made progress concerning his whereabouts, if she had even bothered making any. The more time passed, the more distant she felt to friends that had disappeared. Aaron, Savannah, Alexis. It was selfish, really…

“Yeah… I’ll be grabbing a bite. Maybe after, alright?”

She definitively was faring better than previously this week, from her tone of voice to her posture, even if she there were still cracks showing within her.

Hesitating. Still a few fractures. But there was no overpowering defensiveness this time. Whatever she did on her road trips looked like it helped out, at least. Holding the door open, Brent motioned her through.

"Standing there with your arms full for an hour sounds like good exercise, but yeah, go get some grub. Got a new line of gourmet corndogs lined up just for you."

He wouldn't give her assistance with the load. The arbiter hadn't pushed her through early morning training just so she could shirk from using her strength later on.

"Can’t have me start slacking off, huh?"

Angel wondered if Brent was aware of her daily late night gym visits? Not that she ever noticed him if he ever did, but he seemed to be pretty inquisitive when it came to her case. Or anyone’s, for that matter. Felt like he was the kind of guy who’d observe just about anyone. Him noticing her daily escapade routine kind of confirmed that.

Taking her time bringing everything back to its respective place, the Aberration singer then left her room to go to the kitchen. Much to her surprise, Brent wasn’t lying when he said there were corndogs just for her. With a note even. Shit, did he cook that just for her or was it actually leftovers dedicated for her? She couldn’t tell, but the plate on the table suggested Brent actually knew she was coming back from her trip.

Sitting down, the Voice Mage looked at the corndogs for a moment, scrutinized them. She looked hesitant. It was fishy. Not only the clearly homemade meal, but the whole setting. Why was he going that far for her, after she clearly kept disappointing him in every way possible? He didn’t put any weird shit into her food, would he?

“You better hope it isn’t poisoned or full of laxatives…” Angel remarked as she gave Brent a suspicious glance.

Biting into the corndog, it was clear that whatever he put in there, it wasn’t the usual fast food junk meal that she would buy at the supermarket or in any quick-serve restaurant. There was a melty filling in there. Cheese? It made the whole thing so creamy, so easy to chew and swallow. And the meat inside, it was no ordinary sausage. It wasn't processed, definitively nor pork. It had a back taste of… caribou? No, caribou was tastier than that. Deer? That felt like it. But who the hell would be putting thick slices of deer meat with melted cheese deep fried in batter? Oh, and the batter. It was so buttery, with the perfect mix of salt and spices, making the whole crunchy envellope so pleasing to the taste buds. The whole ingredients combined together into this delicacy was heavenly. Suspiciously divine.

What the hell was that recipe?

Why did it tasted so freaking good?

Before she knew it, she quickly devoured her plate. She wasn’t quite the slow eater, even less so when it was about eating good food. A bad habit she developed for working on her next set of songs without wasting much time on small commodities that was eating.

Angel feared for a moment that it was a cruel scheme or joke from Brent. To make such divine food, only to mix something inside that would make he rregret having tasted something so good. But she had to give credits where due, Brent was quite the inventive cook. It was to be praised really, from a modest cook like Angel was herself.

"I... didn't expect this when you said 'corndogs'. You should open an exotic restaurant, you'd make a fortune."

A brief compliment. Not overwhelmingly showing she loved the meal, but not cold enough to sound unnapreciative.

So this was the chef's pleasure, huh? Seeing a customer wolf down a plate within minutes. To witness a few hours work gone in the amount of time it took for instant noodles to cook. Though Angelic didn't ask for seconds, which may have been the ultimate compliment, Brent nodded regardless.

"Thanks," the arbiter said, "But I'm not that good yet. Basically cheated using my power anyways, so it's not like it took me decades of hard work to create this. Still, glad you enjoyed it."

It was designed to prove that corndogs could be gourmet, even if one was a rich girl that never even tried out McDonalds' before, but if it could appeal to the masses too...well, that's just great then! Still, the slight elation that came from Angelic not choking violently on the creamy white filling didn't distract him from the main mission: that of tying up loose ends.

"So, wanna head up to the roof or something?"

Angélique quirked up an eyebrow at the mention of the roof? Was it really a convenient place to talk? It sure was dramatic in the movies and comics, and certainly private enough because no one would think of a rooftop to look someone for. She didn’t figure Brent for such though.

Still, a first time for everything, she guessed. As long as it didn’t involve something bad happening to them while climbing the roof.

“As long as you aren't going to push me off, okay.”

Angel got up from her seat, bringing the plate into the kitchen’s sink then stopped a few feet away from Brent, waiting for him to take the lead.

"No promises," he replied, grinning.

---

Unlike the hospital, there was no need to bust open a door, but unlike the hospital, the roof of the estate wasn't exactly flat. And thus, without a ladder or anything else, Brent and Angelic had to settle for the third floor patio instead, affording them a decent, if not amazing, view of the estate's ground and the stars above. Naturally drawn by starlight and the veil of darkness that they were embedded in, Brent's gaze shifted upwards, catching familiar cosmic entities.

Arcturus, Polaris, the Scales, the Crux, the Dipper. One by one, his eyes flicked to yet another formation. Despite light pollution, even the mist of the galaxy was faintly visible, an astral beauty only seen by those that looked for it.

"Well? Whenever you're ready."

It had been a while since the last time Angel actually had time to sit down and stargaze. Her life was constantly requiring her to be either shut inside a room all day long to work on a new song, or prepare for upcoming events. Really, the only time she remembered looking at the sky was back when she was just a kid, living a carefree life, in a small house in the middle of corn fields somewhere lost in some distant rural area in Canada.

This scenery evoked a time of peace, which was weird considering the current state of things. She had all the reasons to be worried and anxious, but the settling darkness and the stars above just made her feel relaxed.

Obviously, it took some time for Angel to answer Brent's question, lost in thought and clearly hesitant to reply. But her mind drifted to what Zoe told her, and the promise they made to each other. And Brent's patience allowed the young woman to ease her stressed mind and collect her broken pieces. In the end, his patience would be rewarded with answers.

"I still can't exactly answer you on that. Truth is, Brent, I was never truly convinced about it all. I'm willing to sacrifice my reputation, my dignity even, to the world if it means saving even a single one of you. But..."

A pause, a sign of doubts. The cracks revealing themselves on the façade she had created for Brent and Ernie's assault. "I'm still not sure if I want to end up alone. I don't know if someone like me can carry all those burdens without giving up. I'm not strong. I'm not Zoe. I'm emotionally weak. You of all people should know just how lacking my resolve is."

Angel's face lowered, biting down her lower lip. "I still need time to find myself. Ernest may be right about us X’s having made a mistake, but it still remains a choice we made. You remember when you told me "it's no use thinking of what would have been"? I've... been trying to forge myself a path into the choice I made, but I keep failing even at that. I just don't have you guy's strength of will. Hell, I can't control these destructive impulses without them driving me crazy after a while."

"I keep trying to find a bridge in-between, but I haven't found anything yet. I... still don't know what to do."

Surprisingly, compared to her past interactions with Brent, there were no tears, no trembling voice, no rage, no anger. Only a confused girl opening her heart and soul, plagued with uncertainty and doubts.

Half-hearted. Lukewarm. Neither wanting to strike it out on her own nor wanting to simply be loved and ignore the few sacrifices she'll be making for that affection. Was Angelic just like this? Someone who couldn't figure out what she wanted, even after sampling both sides? Someone so mired by her weakness that she could only fumble around, her morals, her ethics, her ideals shifting the way her stigma blows. She hadn't found an anchor yet. Still hadn't found herself a guidepost.

Amorphous, undisciplined. A black jellyfish floating in an aquarium.

He closed his eyes, internalizing that image. How did you stop a jellyfish from moving from one spectrum to another? Remove it from its tank? Spear it in place? Or...put it into a smaller tank?

"A question, Angelic," the arbiter said, leaning against the railing, "Between Allison and the world, what would you choose?"

Angel remained muted for a moment, wondering how Brent knew about her relationship with Allison. But asking that question wasn't what mattered right now, it was answering what Brent asked of her.

The world that so cruelly rejected her, but needed to be protected, or Allison who loved her even knowing what she did. A hollow love, still plagued by mistrust, but something that the two girls strived for, yearned even.

"I..." the question surprisingly was harder to answer than it should've been. What would Angel be without the world? What would she be without Allison? "I... can't choose both, can I?"

"This is a simplified version of the truck incident. Between Allison and innocent, but violent regulars, what would your choice be?"

Again, a lengthy pause. Words from different classmates this week replayed in her head. Ernest's hatred, Allison's distrust, Brent's disappointment, Zoe's warning. She kept repeating the key interactions in her mind, and eventually she had realized it. No one wanted her to be this way. They all, whether by expectations or either from a pure moral pont-ov-view, didn't want to see the fallen idol fall further into the abyss and become the monster her X mark represented.

"I'd do anything for Allison..."

A selfish reason, really. But that's what humans are made of, selfishness. The girl was one of Angel's only valid reasson to live now. She didn't know what she would do without her love. "That's why... I'd choose the world."

Because it broke her heart to see Allison saying that she didn't trust her anymore. "Because that's what she would want me to do. What you guys expect ourselves to be. What I should be doing."

"Then that," Brent said, "That's your anchor. If you don't know what to do, if you're been torn apart between yourself and your stigma, that's your guidepost."

A part of him disliked Angelic for choosing others over her loved ones. Another part of him recognized that her choice was different from Chris's.

"Until you know who you are, live for her. See what that path is like. Follow it consistently. No swerves, no doubts."

A smile broke out then, the same as always.

"It's not the healthiest thing to do, but it's something, right?"

“I… guess. Yes.” Angélique only managed to answer. “I… can’t make promises. They just seem too easy to break these days. But… I’ll try my best. No, I’ll do it.”

Until the end, one way or the others.

"See how it goes and all, eh?"

Brent paused, thinking.

"Oh yeah, you planning on going for a midnight rendezvous with her tonight?"

Angel felt her cheeks becoming red, obviously aware that either she had been going to visit Allison late at night in her room or vice versa to keep each other's company and have a good time together, and sometimes even stayed together for the whole night.

"Brent, gee, why do you need to ask me that?"

"Yes or no, Angelic? Let's keep this simple."

"Y-yes... I'll surely see her."

"Aight, I'll keep it low then."

And with that, Brent clenched his fist and gut-jabbed Angelic.

It was too dark to see what Brent was about to do, and she had lowered her guard enough around him to see that punch coming. It caught her square in the stomach, and in her surprise gave out a yelp of surprise as pain rushed to her midsection.

"God I... fucking hate... you." Angel staggered as she bent and clutched her affected area, choking the words out.

"Hey now," Brent grinned, patting Angelic on the back, "I warned you that it wasn't going to be a slap."

She probably deserved it, but given the situation they were in this week, and the fact that Ernie had already tried assaulting Angel while Brent only watched, she didn't so much feel it at 'no hard-feelings'. She would have rather taken that punch to the shoulder like boys usually do between themselves, or see it coming instead of a sneaky jab in the dark.

"You're an asshole." was the only thing that Angélique said as she recovered, replacing her shades over her scowl.

"Yeah, basically. Now go get her, rocker girl," Brent waved, staying in the patio. "The night's young and life's short, after all."

Letting out a displeased "hmph", the raven-haired Aberration stormed out of the balcony, returning inside the mansion. Definitively pissed, but with yet another burden taken off her shoulders in the end.

While Angélique had been gone from the mansion for most of the days everyday, it seemed like she could never get really used to staying inside. It had not even been two hours that she had returned from her road trip, she already felt the urge to be leaving the premises. The dark and brooding atmosphere that permeated the walls of the estate because of what happened Monday was making the Mage-turned rockstar feel uneasy around the others. If possible, she would have preferred to be left alone, but with a class of nearly twenty dysfunctional students, it was a hard thing to achieve, as the past few days proved to her.

Still, while she yearned to move away from here, she used the Hellcat enough for today. Instead, the raven-haired Aberration thought of taking a stroll in the forest, for once. Follow the trail and admire the scenery while she was lost in thoughts.

As strange of a coincidence as it would be, her path would eventually cross Sophia’s. A strange coincidence indeed, for Angel had rarely seen Sophia at the mansion. Being away from the estate much of the day, on top of Sophia not exactly seen much at all in general, the younger girl was a rare sight to the oldest member of Unit B.

While Angélique felt like being alone, there was something inside her that felt agitated upon seeing Sophia. She couldn’t run away from the others. She had already spoken with a few others despite her initial wishes and inner turmoil. And then there was the pang of guilt that grew as the young woman remembered about Washington, how much of an asshole she had been towards her youngest peer.

“Hey, Sophia. How… are you?”

Shit, those words and that faint hesitation really sounded awkward, especially when it was almost those same words that had triggered Sophia’s harsh words back in DC. Who knew that Angel would one day feel so tense for such a simple everyday greeting?

Five full days since their arrival at the estate. Today was the sixth. What had she done? What was she doing? Today was definitely a down day, but then, hadn't all the other days been too? By now the bit of excitement that she had felt upon getting Heidi back had all worn away, for though she loved Heidi, the cat couldn't solve everything for her. After spending the day cooped up inside with no motivation to do anything, not even to read, she needed to get out. Take a walk and try not to feel so trapped.

Evenings were her decided favorite time of day, that time when everything began to get dark but not dark enough for it to be too scary. When everything began to wind down. Previously much more tense, Sophia was beginning to relax into the cool air when words interrupted her thoughts.

She knew that voice. Well enough to be able to name the owner of that voice without even needing to look. And that was a bad thing. Sophia slowed to a stop, already tense inside although she made an effort to keep from tensing on the outside. Thoughts of what had happened last time came flooding in.

Shut the door.

Walk away.

Escape.

To put it lightly, Sophia was not pleased to see the girl. What did Angélique think of her now? She couldn't face the Aberration. She couldn't face anyone right now. Couldn't face anyone ever. But still, Sophia forced herself to look at Angélique, though she didn't so far as to attempt a smile. Instead, she gazed at her with a blank neutral expression, though her eyes seemed tired and... unusually dark against her skin. Trick of the light, perhaps.

She struggled to come up with a suitable answer. She wanted to ask Angélique why she cared like she had once asked Brent, but that hadn't gone well. She could retort, but she had no energy or fire for that today. Give her what she wants. Her mind flew back to go over all she had seen and heard of Angélique, trying to analyze her behaviour to come up with something suitable. She didn't know the Aberration well, but... at last her mind latched onto something that might work.

Struggling as usual to force out the words, she spoke quietly. "Hi, Angélique. I--it's been a lot, but... after sorting through everything... I think I'll be... okay." The last word came out as a sigh. Was that good enough? Enough uncertainty to show that she wasn't lying, but enough to reassure the girl that she was recovering from the battle? Not going to work.

It was obvious to Angel that Sophia wasn’t comfortable around her. She couldn’t blame her, really, after the animosity that sparked between the two of them at DC. They had both been under a lot of stress, and in their moment of panic they both exchanged harsh words to each other. Angélique had taken time to reflect upon that these last few days, and realized just how immature she had been towards the younger girl. She was the oldest of their class, she should’ve been the one to set an example. Instead, she did quite the opposite. Fredric was right about her, after the Flag Football match. She was an immature and pampered celebrity.

It was time to step up, stop being such an ass. That much she realized in the course of this week, after speaking with the others. Things have changed, mostly for the worse, but some people enlightened Angel about what she had become, what she was about to become, and what she is now. In the end, it was up to her to muster the will to make things better for herself, instead of blaming it all on what was happening and her Stigma.

“I’m… glad to know that.”

Another awkward silence. Truly, those two were poor at talking to each other.

“Listen, Sophia. I… I’m not good beating around the bush. I’m sorry if I’m too direct but…”

A pause, breathing in, trying to come up with the best way to settle things with Sophia without hurting her, or herself for all that mattered. It was already tough having lost Ernest and Brent’s friendship (and possibly Allison’s love?), she didn’t want to add someone else to her black list.

“I’m sorry for being such an assho- a jerk to you back there. Those were stuff that I shouldn’t have said, given the circumstances. I was being immature and clearly not a good teammate. I should've been more considerate. You went through the same pain as I did. I had no right to criticize you after what happened.”

A slight, almost inperceptable narrowing of her eyes was Sophia's reponse as she noticed how Angélique cut off a swear word to replace it with something milder. But she didn't remark on it despite how she disliked that kind of... condescending behavior, because Angélique was apologizing. Apologizing. Oh, how she hated apologies. Didn't like giving them, and most of the time didn't like recieving them.

Besides, after thinking about the incident during the past days, Sophia wasn't sure how much the Aberration had to apologize for. Angélique had only tried to make sure she was okay, and had even ended up getting her to help. It would have been more appropiate to save the "how are you" conversation till after the battle, but she could have just given a one word answer and moved on. Wasn't Angélique's fault that Sophia didn't like being asked those sort of questions. It had been herself who had flared up over so little, becoming that sarcastic person that no one liked.

Sophia's jaw clenched, portraying a hint of anger at herself.

But how was she supposed to convey all those thoughts to Angélique when she couldn't communicate properly? Her hand moved behind her back and clenched as an output for her frustration and anxiety, where the Aberration couldn't quite see what Sophia was doing. "It's fine." Those words came out curt. Too forced as she tried to get herself to talk. "Y-- It's over."

Angélique wasn’t good at seeing faces, given her natural eyesight problem, adding how obscured it was as well now given she was wearing sunglasses even as the sun had just begun settling in the horizon. However, her hearing was perfectly conditioned, trained even, for her years spent as a professional in the music. Not only was the answer weird, it seemed forced, even. Angel could not help but wonder if there was still bitterness inside Sophia’s voice, or if it was just a product of her imagination.

But whether it was because the fallen idol was now weary of being deceived by people who pretended they were fine with her and revealed themselves later to be people who actually hated her, or if it was because Angel was naturally straightforward, she couldn’t bear knowing Sophia had a grudge against her without knowing the reasons why. Ernest told her the truth harshly, Emma was tired of her shit, and Brent’s expectations had been constantly crushed by her ever-changing resolve. What was the reason Sophia hated her for? She wanted to know. Settle it once and for all and see whether she should leave the girl alone from now on or try to repair the broken pieces.

“Sophia… please, tell me what’s wrong. If there’s something I did that’s piss- angering you, I want to know. I… prefer to know if you hate me or not.”

Compared to DC, Angel’s voice sported no ill will nor frustration. It was calm, sorrowful even, a hint of disappointment when she was referring to herself. The ex-rockstar's face also showed just as much expression as her voice, although her hidden eyes could not reveal that she was looking away in shame.

No. No no no. Not like that. It wasn't like that. Sophia didn't hate Angélique. Apart from the argument they had had during the attack on DC, Angélique had done nothing wrong. And that was over. Though she would have thought it impossible, Sophia's current feelings plummeted further. She wanted to walk away so she wouldn't have to deal with this. But this Aberration here thought that she was hated, and Sophia had to change that. It wouldn't do to leave Angélique here like this. How, though? It shouldn't be too hard to think up the words that she could say... she hadn't been nicknamed EQ along with other things by her older sister for nothing. But that was when she was talking to her sister, the person closest to her. Not someone she barely knew.

Still, she had to try.

As Sophia internally ran sentences over in her head, cutting and pasting as if in a Word document, she was too aware of how, at the same time, her hands and face were heating up as her heatbeat quickened. Too aware of how the sudden increase in pressure on her resulted in shaky hands and a light head. So nervous. The hand behind her back loosened as her index finger moved rapidly by her side, subconsiously tracing letters and words.

She couldn't get it right.

Only think about how to show her her thoughts are wrong. Don't think about what she will think about you in the days afterwards. Think only about now. Now. If you don't do something now, it will be worse later. Better now than walk away without saying anything. She was taking too long. Just use what you have.

Sophia closed her eyes as she spoke. "I don't... hate you. And I don't want you thinking that. All... all you were t-trying to do was make sure I was okay." Here her voice dropped so low it was nothing more than a whisper. "And that's admirable." Something she wanted to do. Help. Reassure. Her eyelids flew open, showing dark eyes that were suddenly filled with conviction. "I don't hate you." The moment Sophia finished speaking though, she took a step backward. And another two more before she stopped. The girl was now obviously shaken up, though why would probably a mystery to any onlooker. I failed.

Shut the door.

Walk away.

Escape.

Angel was taken aback by the sudden show of nervousness. When Sophia’s words came, some deeper part of herself was relieved to know that, but her curiosity only grew as the questions only grew.

When the black-haired singer rose a hand as if to catch up to the girl that seemed like she would start running away from a monster, Angel stopped dead in her tracks, her arm frozen. At that moment, she realized it, or thought of it that way. Angélique was intimidating Sophia. Whether it was because of her age, her look, her height, her voice or her straightforwardness, the much younger girl seemed as if she was terrorized by the raven-haired grown woman. Even if it wasn’t probably what was going on in Sophia’s mind, Angélique believed she was the source of that anxiety.

Sighing, the Aberration’s arm dropped back to her side. She probably had done enough for today. Sophia clearly wasn’t feeling well talking to Angel right now. As much as she wanted to press forward, she should know better. Forcing friendship on people did the opposite actually. Angélique now knew Sophia didn’t hate her, which probably should be enough for now.

“I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to be so brash about it. I’m glad that you think that way.” Angel finally spoke with a grateful tone. “I probably doesn’t deserve your kindness, bit still… if we ever come to an understanding one day, that will make me only happier.”

Angel’s head lowered, looking back as if she was about to leave herself. She was considering it, if her presence was making the young Arbiter uncomfortable, then she should just disappear from her sight. But if she was to leave like that, she wanted to convey her thoughts to Sophia, should they never get the opportunity or the will to speak to each other.

“Truth is, I wanted to tell you that the one who’s most admirable here is you. You’re young, a few years separating from most of us, but you’ve handled yourself well out there, better than most of us actually even. Sure we could do without the sarcasm, but…” Angélique let out a heartfelt chuckle, remembering her first actual talk with Sophia in DC “I wasn’t being better myself, if only trying to give you a push to trust in your powers. In reality, you remind me of myself, if only quieter, but still with the same attitude.”

A sigh, quickly followed by a warming smile “You’re way younger than me, but I still make the mistake to treat you like a child. Zhang told us on our first night at USARILN, remember? ‘A child means nothing here.’ I think I’ve always tried to reject that, and being the oldest in our class was driving me to be a responsible adult and look after everyone. But look at what I did. I’ve failed to meet my own expectations, and maybe the others’ as well…”

Her warming smile turned a bit sour, realizing her failing may have had way more impact on others than she thought. “Point is, Point is, I’m glad that I had someone with her head on her shoulders for a teammate. I just wanted to let you know that, and I’ll be looking forward to work with you again in the future.”

Realizing her speech took longer than she expected, Angel scratched the back of her head, an embarrassed smile etched onto her lips “I’m sorry if I’m being an emotional creep on you. I should go before my weirdness makes you run away.”

Another heartily chuckle, however faintly touched with sadness as the Voice Mage turned and began walking.

Failed, failed, failed. The words were wrong, weren't they? Too quiet, too forced, which made it sound too faked. Sophia didn't fake herself. At least... very rarely. Only when it was necessary if she was to reassure or comfort someone properly. Like now? No. She meant it. Meant every word. Angélique killed all those people. But she had done it to keep off the regulars. It was far from the best solution, but surely Angélique knew that. Did the Aberration regret it? At least Angélique had done something. Unlike someone.

Thinking too much about the attack on DC, Sophia almost missed what Angélique was starting to say. Almost. Managing to pull herself back to pay attention to the girl in front of her once she began talking, Sophia heard everything. And it wasn't right.

Angélique was putting herself down, wasn't she? Trying to raise someone else up while critizing herself heavily. Too heavily. She didn't need to praise. Didn't deserve it. All that Angélique was praising her for wasn't true. She didn't have a level head, she just did nothing. To quote Matilda: she was hopeless when it came to a lot of things. Everything? Sophia suddenly wondered if there was a word that the Aberration constantly referred to herself with on the inside. Hopeless? Faliure? Weak?

It couldn't do, it wouldn't do. Just now Sophia had been unwilling to let Angélique walk away thinking that she was hated; now Sophia was unwilling to let the Aberration leave in such a mindset. You're not an emotional creep, Angélique. You have no idea. An inner wry smile. There wasn't enough time to think it through properly, she had to say something now. The words burst out of Sophia's mouth abruptly, calling after the Aberration. "You're not hopeless, Angélique." Bad idea. Good idea? Half of her regretted not letting Angélique just walk away, while the other half wanted the girl to turn around.

The older Aberration stopped after hearing her name being called out from Sophia. She felt strange inside, hearing these words coming out from the silent Arbiter. Had she misjudged her classmates, again? So many were so willing to give her a second chance, even if they knew what she did. What drove them to do such a thing? Was is pity, or compassion?

"Maybe..." Angel only replied, turning slowly to Sophia. "I've been hearing that a lot lately. But Sophia, do I really deserve this second chance, even though the world only knows the better half of our story?"

Second chance. Better half of the story. The evacuation slaughter. Of course that would be the topic of the week. Of the month. The Aberration had been given a second chance, by Sophia along with whichever others were being referred to. So Angélique should take it. Keep trying to improve. Even if she hadn't been given a second chance, she could work hard to earn one. If she was determined enough. That wasn't the point, though.

There were so many sentences Sophia could conjour up, ones that she thought could be uplifting, pessimistic, sarcastic, motivating.

'You might never be able to undo what you did there. But that's no reason to stop thinking that you can't improve. That you can't get better at prevention and protection combined.' Or: 'Well, then. If you think you don't deserve this chance, then that's it. I'm not going to stop you, go on and mope about how awful you are.'

She had continued this conversation when it could have ended, so it was her job to answer properly. But she couldn't. Couldn't. Just now she had somehow been able to speak, to start the conversation that was supposed to end with Angélique walking away feeling more confident. But for some reason, now she found she couldn't speak. Sophia's lips parted slightly, but nothing would come out. She was straining visibly, still flushed and shaky and taking breaths that were a little too quick to be normal. Straining against those inner gates that wouldn't let her out. She said nothing.

Had Angélique seen the signs, she would have probably inquired about Sophia, or tried to find a way to ease her. Or perhaps she wouldn’t have tried. She already did enough that would cause anyone unacquainted to her feel uncomfortable. God knew just how many people Angel’s straightforward attitude cause much unease.

The fallen idol wasn’t sure whether Sophia’s silence meant another awkward discomfort she had caused in the Arbiter, or if it was because the younger girl didn’t believe in second chances. Sophia had been trying to be kind on Angélique so far up until now, so it was more likely she had been making the girl uneasy with her self-questioning behavior.

Realizing it was probably time she let go of the girl and stop being such a bother to her, Angélique held up her hand, offering Sophia a waving gesture of goodbye. “Well then, I should get going. If you want to have a talk one day, my name’s on the door.” Angel offered the girl a smile. “Take care, Sophia. Have a good night.” she said before walking away.

Sophia wondered what Angélique took the silence to mean. Nothing good, probably. As the girl turned to walk away, she made no move to stop her this time. It was over. Angélique was officially now someone that Sophia had failed with. She couldn't blame her for leaving. What fun was it to stand there and watch a timid girl struggle to find words? Answer: it wasn't fun. What other choice had Sophia left the Aberration? Answer: none. No other choice.

She could have stayed and waited. The thought whispered through her head, even as she berated herself for even considering that possibility again. Stay? Hah. Of course not. No one waited. It was a waste of time, when the end result would probably still contain no words.

There was no response to Angélique's goodbye, only a silent mouthing of a word as Sophia put her will into standing still and quiet until the girl finally rounded a corner and disappeared out of sight. Then it was to the nearest tree, clutching at the bark and pressing against the rough surface as her chest shuddered with each shaky breath and sob.

Freedom.

As much freedom as she could have anyways, with the guards standing a distance away, hands on their weapons. There was no maid around this time, perhaps unable to accompany her after telling her about this place due to work or the like. Even the grim faced men did nothing to curb her excitement however; the ocean wasn't something she saw everyday.

The feeling of sand on her bare feet, the salty air, and even the constant strong breeze around her. It matters not that it was relatively dark out, illuminated only by the moon and stars; all that matters was this new sensation. It was enough to make her forget about the chasing dream, the stigma that always threathened to overwhelm her.

Stepping closer towards the gentle waves, she felt an odd sense of accomplishment as the water ran around her ankles, darkening the hem of her skirt as the water splashed upon it. Feeling a little bit braver, she waded in deeper, before promptly being swept off her feet by a particularly strong wave. Panicking in the shallow water, she discovered another new thing about the sea.

Sea water in eyes stings.

Wailing pitifully, she started struggling harder to escape this oddly devious trap that lured her in with promises of new experiences.

Marcus had managed to find his way down to the beach finally, and while the dim illumination hampered how much of the ocean he could actually see, it was there. It was right in front of him - the smell of the salt, the soft sound of the waves lapping against the sand. He could have stayed here forever if he really let himself go. Just hang out on the beach, lost in memories; memories of happier days and better times.

He chuckled to himself, remembering some of those days. The first time Max and him had dared eachother to take surfing lessons. The amount of times Max went head-over-pinfeathers into the ocean when a wave caught her directly. The several times when he did the exact same thing because he was too busy laughing at Max. How pissed those instructors got because it didn't seem like the siblings were actually trying to learn anything.

It was a good time.

His reminiscing was cut slightly short, however. Somewhere, there was a sound slightly higher than the constant rolling of the waves. Was it an animal? Out here on the beach?

Marcus strained his ears, walking cautiously towards the sound as best he could trace it, eventually coming over a small dune and locating the source. A girl? Drowning in the shallow water?

Had it been a little lighter, he might have noticed the guards standing nearby, or the ankle braclet that would give him a clue as to this woman's identity. As it were, he simply approached the struggling figure, offering a hesitant question:

"Miss? Are you okay?"

A voice called out to Hazel, one that was very close to her.

Waving her hands around, she grasped his legs, pushing against the sand as she pulled herself to him, to safety. Unfortunately the sheer panicked force she did it with toppled them both over to the sands. Coughing out the sand and sea water from her mouth, she sat up on Marcus, her eyes visible underneath her bangs, locking onto his with a serious gaze.

"D-do not enter the water. Its poisoned."

There was a flurry of emotions floating through Marcus right now; and only a few of which he wanted to acknowlege. First and foremost was the big question:

"P-poisoned!?" Marcus stammered, shifting his body slightly to at least angle himself away from the apparent danger of the approaching waves. How could that even happen? Was this another one of DC's tricks? Poison the entire ocean and leave the human population surrounded by giant pools of death?

"What do you mean, 'poisoned'?" he finally said, looking up to the girl's eyes where they hid underneath her bangs. He shifted uncomfortably underneath her, disregarding her position on top of him for the more important issue of poisoned oceans.

Something about this one seemed familiar...he was sure he'd seen her before somewhere. She wasn't on their team, was sh-

Oh.

Oh no.

"It stings." She spoke, rubbing her eyes for a moment. "The water stings in my eyes."

No, that would not be enough to convince anyone. Even she, with her limited knowledge of things would not believe herself with just that. How would the water kill anyone if it just stings the eyes? No, there was another part to the trap, the lure itself.

"It pulled me. It moves and swept my feet from under me." Hazel spoke confidently.

"What."

It was not so much a question, as a statement. The water stung her eyes. The ocean swept her feet out from under her. The salt water ocean stung in her eyes, and the quickly moving waves knocked her off balance.

Had Marcus not known what this girl was capable of, he might have been angry at the expense of air he was about to use explaining.

"Miss. It's saltwater. It's not meant to go in your eyes, and it's perfectly normal for it to burn when it does. Also, the thing that swept you off your feet is called a 'wave'. It's when the water moves quickly and splashes onto the beach - it can definitely throw you off balance if you're not expecting it, but it is also perfectly natural."

Giving another uncomfortable, and this time slightly worried squirm, Marcus added: "Also, could you please get off of me?"

Nodding, Hazel stood up, gathering up her skirt as she stepped off him. Oblivious to what she was displaying, she started squeezing the water off her skirt, a slight contemplative look on her face as she did so.

"I see. So it was not a devious trap to lure me in, grab my feet and poison my eyes."

Flapping her skirt for good measure, she turned to the boy again.

"Are you here for the water too?"

Marcus brought his hand to his eyes as the skirt came up, starting to remember some of the traits this girl displayed, namely a utter lack of concern with explosing herself. Plus, if this was the same girl from the flag-game, she really wasn't worried about exposing other people either. A point that he made very prevolent in his mind.

"N-no. It was none of those things. It was nature, taking you by surprise apparently." Marcus said in a tone almost like disbelief, as he slowly stood up and became very interested in trying the wipe the sand off himself, rather than look at the flasher.

The sound of a question being directed towards him forced him to look up and acknowlege the girl. There was a pause as he contemplated even answering, rather that running as fast as he could, before he went with the more civil of the options.

"Yeah...it's...relaxing. At least to me it is; the methodic crash of the waves, smell of the salty breeze. When the sun is up, the sand gets warm beneath your feet, but when it's down the ocean brings a slight chill with it, just to remind you it's still there." He nearly sighed wistfully, almost losing himself in memories again, completely unaware to the fact that the poetics would probably be lost on her.

The sands... the sands were still warm beneath her bare feet, and the ocean had been there since at least yesterday. What an odd thing to worry about. Hazel stood there on the beach, far enough that the water only rushed around her toes. Still feeling that rush, that feeling of excitement, she stretched out a hand towards Marcus.

"Its still there. The ocean. Feel it for yourself."

There was a long moment of pause as Marcus eyed the hand. He looked from the hand, to the bangs that now hid the girl's eyes, and back to the hand. Like a stray dog trying to decide if the person offering it food was legit or not. After that moment had passed though...he gave in. He shouldn't have, but he did. He knew what this girl did, the things she was capable of and indeed apparently ready to do at a moment's notice.

Right now, she seemed like an avereage girl. Somewhat literal and a little lacking in world-view, but 'average' was a term that piqued his interest enough these days to look past it.

His hand grasped hers, the waves crashing around his feet, not quite reaching the bottom of his rolled-up pantlegs. "I know it's..." Marcus started in defense, before cutting himself off. Waste of speech that was.

"Yeah. It's still out there."

She puffed up slightly with pride over that, wriggling her toes as the next wave came in.

Now that Hazel wasn't running around in the water excitedly, she could see what Marcus was talking about. The sound, the wind, the mere sight of the sea and its smell. Not that she liked the fact it hurt her eyes, but if its not poison then she could definitely find a way around that. The sounds of the waves was certainly hypnotic, in a good way she feels. It reminded her of... of... .

What did it remind her of?

Marcus reliquished his grasp of the girl's hand after what seemed like an appropriate, yet slightly awkward amount of time. Still, it was humourous to watch her slowly fall into sync with everything he had just been talking about. The look of someone who was also lost in their thoughts. He smirked a little, looking at what little moon he could see.

"Really takes you away, doesn't it...? Marcus said, growing confused as he tried to put a name to a face. "...actually. I don't think we've met?"

"We did." She answered promptly.

Hazel could remember a lot of times theyve met, first at that meeting in that room with long tables, there was that exercise, and she was very sure he was also in that very fancy tower room they were in before it collapsed. Without hesitation, she listed off all the locations they have ever been grouped together.

Those she could remember anyways.

"I am still here. The water did not take me away."

Marcus sighed, giving himself a moment to run his hand across his forehead. A mental flag somewhere in his head changed 'somewhat literal' into 'very literal'.

"I don't think I know your name. And I also don't think I've ever told you mine. Hi, I'm Marcus." he said, in the tone of someone who was very bluntly putting their cards on the table.

"And that's n-" he started, sighing again. "That's good to hear. Wouldn't want you getting swept out to sea or something."

"You did not, and I do not recall giving you my name." Bowing slightly at the introduction, she gave an automatic reply. "Nice to meet you, Marcus."

Seeing as Marcus had let go of her hand, she waded in deeper, gathering up her skirt lest it got wet from the water rushing about her knees. Not that it would do any good; that horse had long bolted from its stall after all, considering how wet she was from that last tumble. Unable to really enjoy herself while holding up her skirt, she instead stripped off her skirt, throwing it back onto the dry sand. There again was that feeling, the same one that made her feel as if she could dance around in the water. It wasn't a bad feeling at all, though she was wary of jumping around when the water could sweep her off her feet.

"Hazel. I am Hazel Baker."

Hazel's sudden lack of clothing caused Marcus to bring his hands up to his eyes again, and illicited an embarassed "GEH!" from him as he did so. Right. The excercise. She had been the one who stripped there, too. He'd seen it on the television screen.

"Careful out there!" Marcus warned, keeping his hand covering his eyes as he felt his face cool down slightly. "The waves are stronger the further out you go, and you don't want to get knocked over again!"

"I see."

She remembered. Hazel did not want to be knocked down again. But if there was a risk that she might fall over again, she might as well keep her clothes dry. Or relatively dry. Taking off her blouse, she bundled it up and threw it neatly beside her skirt. Now she was free to face the water head on, with the only way it could harm her being her eyes. Having conquered the water, she turned to Marcus, still staying where he was. Was he afraid of the water? Wary of its grabbiness? Fear borne of experience, perhaps?

"Are you not going in the water?" There was a tinge of confidence as she continued, as if to allay his fears. "I have beaten the water."

There was another soft 'flump' as something landed on Hazel's skirt, and a quick glance at the matching blouse told Marcus basically everything he needed to know about what was happening right now. There was a naked woman dancing around in the ocean right now, without a care in the world, and she was inviting him in with her.

What would Emma have to say about this?

"N-no. I'm good! I just wanted to come enjoy the beach, not necessarily the ocean." Marcus said, still shielding his eyes from the nude form of Hazel. He certainly wasn't planning on parading into the middle of the water even before she'd gone out there - all he'd wanted was a peaceful walk along the sand.

"I see." Hazel turned back towards the ocean, stretching out a hand towards the light of the moon. "You hate me, fear me like everyone does."

It wasn't something she was unused to, nor was it remotely anything new in her life. Fear and hate was something even she could recognize quickly. After all, he wasn't brave enough to even look at her, cowering behind his hands. But why then was he able to approach her before? If he truly was afraid of her or hated her, wouldn't he be not even dare to hold her hands?

Contemplating on the issue more, moving her hand slowly to grasp the moon's image, she decided perhaps it was only outright fear and hate she could recognize.

"Or perhaps... do you hate my appearance?"

"What?" Marcus said in surprise, peeking indignantly from behind his hand, immediately growing flustered and hiding back behind it. "N-no. No. It's none of those!" he added, taking an extreme interest in the moon overhead.

"It's just that...most people don't just fling their clothes off and go skinny-dipping with other folk nearby. I'm...not quite sure how to react when someone just parades around me as naked as the day they were born..." he explained, eyes daring to drop to her eye level for a moment at least.

Was it rude to not at least wade out a little further? Especially when he was now being actively challenged on it, and everything was becoming a huge misunderstanding? Surely if she could just hang out in the nude without caring, he shouldn't care about it either, right? Was that how this worked?

Regardless, he hiked his jeans up a little further, wading into where the water came up to calf-level, the waves gently lapping around his legs. He still tried to avert his gaze though, daring not to look Hazel directly in the...nakedness.

"And I might be a little intimidated by you. I'll admit that much." he added quietly. "But that's just me knowing literally nothing about you besides your name and your actions."

The moon reflected in the water again, shimmering slightly. Hazel had reached for it, as if trying to pluck it from the sky and save it.

"What's it remind you of?" he asked, trying ever-so-subtly to change the subject.

"I understand. Everyone fears me, hates me for what I can do. It does not matter to me." She turned to look at him. "I'm just a weapon, made to destroy and be destroyed."

There was a moment of silence as she contemplated his words, with only the rhymic sounds of the waves crashing upon the beach accompanying them. Finally, she answered, though there was a tinge of uncertainty in her voice.

"I do not know." Hazel blinked. "Her laugh. I said the moon was cheese..."

Almost instantly, she clapped her hands over her ears, crouching down in the water, enough so the water rushed around her body. Voices, memories and images started to press in on her, rushing through her mind as she started reciting random strings of words and numbers to herself in a low voice to allay them. Judging from the intensity, it would not be long before she needed an outlet.

"Nono. You're not-" Marcus started, sighing angrily. It seemed like he was having this discussion a lot recently, about how they weren't just toys to be thrown at a problem until either it or they were dead. They were human beings, goddammit. Why was he the only one who was still willing to accept that? That they deserved to live and die as more than tools?

"You're not just made to be destroyed. We're all here to live our lives, no matter what we are." he said, a slightly pleading tone hiding underneath his exasperated one.

His frustration ebbed a bit when Hazel mentioned laughter. That was something that he could use a little more of nowa-

She dropped.

Well, Hazel didn't actually drop, but witht the scene presented before Marcus, she might as well have. Something was hurting her, or at least it seemed that way, there wasn't anything that Marcus could see as he splashed hurridly over to her assistance.

"Hazel! Hazel, are you alright?" he asked nervously, kneeling next to her. She was muttering something to herself, some sort of gibberish that Marcus couldn't understand, in what seemed to him to be distress. "I'm right here, Hazel. Are you alright?" he repeated, trying to get some sort of answer out of the girl.

She stood up abruptly, seemingly back to normal, though oblivious to the tears streaming down her cheeks.

"I need to go."

Slowly, she waded back towards the shore, gathering her clothes. Her movements seemed oddly tense and jerky as she flapped off the sand of her clothings, her breathing rough and ragged, as if she was holding back something. As if Hazel just thought of it, she turned towards Marcus and nodded.

"Thank you. For your concern."

"Are you sure you're alright?" Marcus asked, still standing where Hazel had been curled up, confusion in his face as he stared at her.

Nodding, she grabbed her clothes and ran away.

"Wait! I'm sorry.....that I was afraid of you." Marcus shouted, trailing off as he watched her form disappear into the night. She didn't seem at all like she had during the Flag game, and it was hard to believe that a frolicking naked girl could warrent enough damage to authorize a 'shoot immediately' warning.

They were an odd bunch, and it seemed like he was learning new things about them every day.

There was probably some life-lesson here, but as Marcus waded out of the water, looking up at the moon, he was damned if he could think of anything inspiring.

It was nice to be down on the beach during the day, and especially when he could actually enjoy it without the threats of Hazel absolutely destroying him.

The warm sand shifted appealingly underneath Marcus's bare feet as he walked along the shore, occasionally picking up a flat rock or a nice seashell and trying to skip it across the waves. He'd always been told that a flat surface worked better for rock skipping, but the ocean was rarely ever flat, which made the whole concept slightly more difficult for him. He'd seen Max get some decent skips out of a few rocks before, but she'd neglected to share her secret in favor of being the 'Howell Rock Skipping Champion'.

God, she was such a pain in his backside.

He chuckled slightly to himself as he threw another rock, frowning slightly as it disappeared directly into the white peak of a poorly timed wave.

Chris had been walking over the sand of the beach and had been wearing swim trunks for the occasion. He stopped dead in his tracks when he spotted that class clown throwing rocks into the water. There was a pause of thought as Chris wondered if he should give that kid what he deserves. He wasn't really looking for trouble, but even still, it was difficult not to suppress the urge to at least give him a punch or something. The dragon-arbiter walked slowly towards Marcus from behind; hands in the pockets of his swim shorts, and feet moving in hushed footsteps across the soft sand.

Once he was close enough, Chris lifted his leg and pressed it onto his back. Since he knew he could just rewind the injury he didn't bother to hold back on force either, but had more intent to use that force to shove him into the wet sand and water rather then focus on bruises.

Marcus was too busy looking around on the ground for another rock to notice the approach of Chris. As he bent over to pick up what he thought was a perfect skipping stone (but was in reality just a sand dollar), something pushed into him from behind, easily toppling him face-first into the sand. As if to make matters worse, a small wave splashed over his face as soon as he fell, soaking over his head and causing him to come up spluttering.

He took a moment to wipe the saltwater and sand from his eyes, still sitting in the surf as it soaked him. Of course, what he saw didn't exactly please him...but perhaps it wasn't the worst thing at the moment. He could use an outlet.

He scoffed once, standing to his feet and brushing sand off himself, his hair still dripping. "Coming up behind me on sneaky little komodo feet, huh Scales?" he started, making a grand show of wiping the sand off his pants. "If we're going by last meetings formula, I think that means..."

He didn't finish his sentence. From where Chris was standing, Marcus was still bent over brushing himself off, the sound of static fading into existence. From Marcus's perspective however, he utilized his surprise factor to his full extent. One fast-forward, and a sucker punch straight across the jaw, before he stopped in the same spot he'd started, arms crossed.

"...I would get the first punch this time."

He had his arms crossed as he wasn't expecting him for such a fast jab. Frankly Chris made the mistake in thinking that Marcus was all dodge no punch, but sure enough his unexpected blow to face caused him to step back and nearly lose his footing. Blood was drawn, dripping from some part of his lip as he drew a finger to inspect the stingly numb bruise.

Well since he was going to use his abilities, it would only be fair Chris returned the favor. Draconic scales grew over his arms and parts of his face and torso; He immediately went to deliver the same back-handed blow reinforced by the iron-like scales with his left arm. Once again attempted to predict his rewind, His right hand readied into a fist as he imagined through his head the first blow would phase through him or something like that, and assuming Marcus would stay in relatively the same spot after avoiding or undoing the injury he would be prepared to punch his gut. A strategy devised of a still poor understand of how exactly Marcus's time manipulation worked.

The scales again. This was a little show Marcus had seen once before; apparently this kid was a one trick pony. If their last meeting was any indication, he was about to get bitch-slapped right across the face.

Fortunately enough for Marcus, he learned from his mistakes. He employed the simple strategy referred to as 'ducking', narrowly avoiding the dragon-scale backhand as it breezed over his head.

"That one agai-?" Marcus started, only barely getting his hands in front of Chris's follow-up before it socked him directly in the stomach. The impact stung Marcus's hands a fair amount as it impacted, and forced him to take a step backwards. It did not however, stop him from opening his stupid mouth.

"That's not how this script goes at all. I should be getting pissy and trying to feed you promise-daises now, shouldn't I? Or am I remembering incorrectly?"

He shook his hand a little bit as he spoke, as if he was trying shake off the stinging pain that was slowly fading.

Chris was a bit surprised that Marcus resorted to ducking instead of warping or whatever it was Marcus was able to do. Even more so when he tried to block his ambush. He stepped back at the same time his fellow arbiter did, his face far more serious and...observational. He was trying to observe that shitstain's expression. Was he holding back on him? Had Chris gone in a bit too far?

That concern was washed away with his remarks however. Chris spat blood to his left before replying. "Do you ever shut up?" There was a small desire to breathe flames upon the bastard, but Chris didn't want to kill him. He had no intentions of murder, despite how annoying Marcus was, he was still a teammate. To him this was just to vent his frustration and to assert dominance in a way, a feeling of foolish pride that clouded his judgement. Was it the dragon guiding him to such stubborn and foolish choices or was it the inner demons that still haunt him in the corners of his conscience?

He didn't know, or rather, he didn't care. All he was interested in right now was fulfilling his primal desire of punching Marcus square in the face. Chris kicked sand up into the air and, hopefully, into Marcus's field of vision; With his attempt to blind his opponent he immediately dove to kick him without bothering to even checked if his initial tactic had worked.

"No. I don't. Clown and all. Honk honk, Geico." Marcus said, watching for any sort of incoming attack. What he got was...sand? The kid was kicking sand at him? It was mildly effective; Marcus focused himself on the few grains that landed on his face and around his eyes, wiping those off almost reflexively.

Something hard impacted his chest. Almost in slow-motion, Marcus identified it as the two feet of Chris, who had just planted a dropkick firmly in his center mass. All of his breath left his body, and he went sprawling across the beach, struggling to refill his empty lungs. Static again, but a rewind this time.

When he found himself back on his feet, Marcus had to take a second to locate his foe, who was now behind him.

The moment Chris landed he moved to get back into a stance. For a second he was confused that Marcus wasn't in front of him, but a quick deduction made it evident that he must be behind him due to his powers. He wasn't sure if he should keep pummeling him, so the scaled arbiter turned back around to face him and leaped a bit back to get some distance, once again trying to study his opponent.

"Had enough yet you piece of shit?" He spat another few drops of blood before wiping his bleeding mouth with his wrist.

"I'd say 'I'm just getting started', but let's be honest here; that's a little bit cliche, don't you think?" Marcus said, watching as Chris backed off a fair amount.

"Picking flowers and throwing sand? You really are a child, aren't you? Is that what this is? A temper-tantrum? Mommy Siena didn't put you down for your nap?" he taunted, watching for a reaction from the kid.

Each remark Marcus made only reminded Chris of how much he wanted to pummel that brat. There was no direct response, no choice of words. Just silent anger evident by clenched fists and a burning glare. Anger, no, rage pumped through his blood. He thought he had felt his own draconic shadow encourage further violence. His hatred towards the time-manipulating arbiter was not like his anguished rage to the monsters he wanted to exterminate, but rather of something more like an animal frustrated with a rival male.

A primordial, territorial instinct. Marcus was like him, a subnatural forced to be on the same grounds, yet his demeanor was an assault on Chris's pride. He felt that he needed, or rather, was justified in teaching Marcus a lesson; Even though that if he was distant to this conflict he'd see himself as the antagonist.

Bring out your true form and show him terror. His own voice encouraged in his head, as if he had forgotten in that moment that he was even human. People like him only hurt the unity of a team, no one will miss him.

He was still far from actually falling down that path, but Marcus's taunt worked, Chris was infuriated. He lunged forward with arms fists ready to jab at his torso, but as he lunged flames started to trickle out of his lips as he seemed to be holding his breathe.

Perfect. As intended. Marcus stood at the ready, watching his opponent get closer, and closer, and just ready to punch him when he struck. He'd noticed the flames seemingly dripping from Chris's mouth. He didn't like fire - his arm seemed to twinge as he contemplated that fact. If Chris were willing to use something like that on him - well, he'd just have to see what kind of damage he could force Chris to do to himself.

Another fast forward, this time placing himself as far behind Chris as he could in eight seconds, but with the added benefit of another sucker-punch. This one he aimed directly for the center of his mouth, just to see if he could force the dragon-mage to swallow his little fireball.

The countdown in his head ticked slowly. Thirty seconds. Thirty seconds to distract him until he could get a few more shots in.

There was another unexpected blow as Chris was punched straight in his mouth. However instead of having it retreat back into his gut he opened his bruised lips to let out the trail of flames. The punch had made him miss is initial mark but he kept the breathe going as he turned his head to travel a bit, the flames ended just as they grazed his leg.

The gout of flames surprised Marcus. They surprised Marcus even more as they traced a long semi-circle around the beach, finally ending at-

Burning, searing pain, and then nothing. An awful scream that pierced the calm sound of waves as they crashed along the shore. The meaty smell of charred skin as his leg no longer supported his weight below him and he fell. His body was cold, despite the fire. He knew this sensation.

He was trapped. His own roof burying him alive. He'd decided to leave seconds too late. He'd realized that there was nobody was coming to save him - if he were going to survive this, it'd be by his own actions. The same actions which had him frantically clawing at shattered wood as the splinters tore his fingers apart. The wooden timbers were growing hot. Too hot. His arm. He could feel the skin sizzle and pop, and then nothing. There should have been pain, but there was none. Why didn't it hurt? Something smelled like roasting meat. How much time did he have left by the time he crawled out? How close was he to...

Even though he told himself not to, he looked down. There was no pant leg. A large section of his skin was charred. He could see the burned pink of muscle beneath the oozing crimson that was rapidly staining the sand. His body was shaking. He was going into shock. His last rewind. He grasped for it as his mind started to dull. Static. He begged a deity he didn't believe in for the sweet sound of static, as the warmth of tears started to drip down his face.

He was behind Chris again. He'd managed to rewind before he'd punched him the second time, and more importantly, before he'd been cooked like a damn marshmallow. His hands still shook despite the lack of pain he felt, and there was an odd feeling of emptiness now that the adrenaline had forcibly been removed from his system.

Still. He was sane enough to make a decision. And that decision was to beat Chris's ass. He aimed a sharp kick directly at the back of his knee, aiming to grab the back of Chris's head and force his face into the sand if he went down even slightly.

For a second there was a bit of a moment of realization that Chris himself had actually nearly fried one of his teammates. How far was this going to drag on? Did he really get so angry that he nearly killed his fellow peer who's only crime is being an annoying bitch? There was some sense of trauma, his focus left Marcus and to his hands as if he couldn't believe he had just done that.

you monster

Fortunately for the both of them Marcus had rewound to undo that grave injury, and delivered a sharp blow to his knee, causing him to fall. His fall was cut even shorter when the back of his head was gripped onto as he sent Chris's face into the sandy earth by the time arbiter, who was now practically as enraged as Chris was.

There was a moment of stillness. Mostly because Chris was still in shock about the whole fire incident. He didn't bother to retaliate at that moment, he allowed Marcus to beat him down due to his sense of justice.

"WHAT. THE FUCK. IS YOUR PROBLEM?" Marcus yelled, punctuating each portion of his sentence by yanking Chris's head up by the hair, just enough to force it back into the sand. The soft, cushiony surface of the beach made the whole ordeal very unsatisfying, but Marcus wasn't exactly focused on that much right now.

Several times he remained still to allow Marcus the satisfaction of beating his head against the soft earth. His bruised mouth was now full of sand and most of the ringing pain in his head felt numb. Once he decided that enough was enough, Chris suddenly lunged up with energy and gripped Marcus's wrist firmly. The fight could have continued, but at this point things would only get worse if they did. Chris couldn't come out of this fight as a victor, even though his pride demanded otherwise, he was about to continue a fight he already lost; A fight not by strength but by virtue. Even against a fellow arbiter Chris's anger led to another stupid and primal decision.

"No more, if we keep going like this at least one of us will be dead." As much as he wanted to punch him across the mouth, Chris's anger was held back, constricted, in his own sense of order.

"I wasn't aiming for 'death', but 'unconscious ' wouldn't be such a bad thing!" Marcus muttered, attempting to jump up and headbutt Chris in the face. A clumsy maneuver, given the slight height difference, but he was trying anyway.

Chris struggled a bit with his attempt to pursue an attack. Still, he managed to hold him back enough to push back, despite him wanting to shove him into the sand himself. "There is no need for that, you already won."

"Clearly I haven't, because you're still bitching at me." Marcus said, struggling to escape from Chris's firm grasp on his wrists, this time bringing his leg up to try and give Chris a swift kick to the stomach.

Having been on the defensive, Chris caught his foot. And his hands not been partially armored they'd probably would have been bruised from the blow. "No, I lost already. I made a stupid decision out of anger, I lost control, you didn't." He dropped his foot. Chris defensive stance slowly lowers, arms fell to his sides. "I apologize for getting carried away, I don't expect forgiveness, but I'm not going to pursue this fight anymore. As the victor you are free to seek justice upon me, I won't fault you for lack of mercy."

Marcus looked Chris dead in the eye as he dropped his hands, trying to find the intent behind all of this. He was seriously giving up out of some sense of 'justice'? He'd lost because Marcus hadn't reacted hastily? What kind of white-knight bullshit was this?

Marcus socked him once in the stomach, as hard as he could, giving an angry half-shout as he did. He threw his arms in the air immediately afterwards, angrily grumbling. "Goddammit. You know how to ruin a perfectly deserved beating, you know that? You think beating the shit out of you is going to make me feel better just because of your wounded sense of 'juuuuustice'?" Marcus said, emphasizing the derision in his voice.

He didn't wait for an answer, kicking a clump of sand towards Chris's face and storming off past him. There was no point. There was no goddamned point if it was for his own 'sense of righteousness'.

Chris felt the final punch, which caused him to grip his chest. However he didn't fall, he wouldn't allow himself to have the comfort of sand. As Marcus left, Chris didn't move. He stood there, staring towards the water and sky. He contemplated the foolishness of his actions. Perhaps if he stood there in his lonesome, he can see past the void, see the dragon within him and understand it more.

Perhaps if Chris weren't so lost in thought, he might have heard the soft running of Marcus coming up behind him. A combination of him trying to go as fast has he could as silently as he could, right until he got in the perfect range to...

"PSYCHE!" Marcus yelled, planting his feet directly in the center of Chris's back for his own dropkick. A dropkick with the express goal of seeing exactly how far into the water Marcus could surf Chris's body. If he were lucky, maybe the kid would fall unconscious and drown.

He didn't bother to move or get up. Once he hit the ground, Chris just remained there. He didn't move, nor complain, let alone offer any resistance. He deserved no less.

He was wrong, maybe there was a point to needless violence after all; because this did make him feel better.

Marcus huffed once, looking down at the pathetically crumpled form of Chris. He wasn't a bad person for doing that just now, was he? Chris had tried to slow roast him...or rather, had succeeded in slow roasting him before he rewound. He'd stopped fighting because of that, but it certainly didn't make it not happen. Here he was taking petty revenge on someone who had already given up...

...and he felt great.

He pondered this slightly, watching the fallen form of Scales for a second, to make sure the kid was still breathing at least. A shame, but Zhang would probably have his head for executing one her tools. Satisfied that he hadn't killed him, and just feeling generally satisfied overall, Marcus walked back off the way he came. Maybe he wasn't a bad person - maybe he just did bad things to people who deserved it.

He'd be alright with that, if it were the case.

They have been there for 3 full days. It had been two days since his talk with the guards.

Still, no sight of Christmas. Sander was getting restless, pacing the meagre space of his room instead of sleeping. Darker thoughts were beginning to plague his mind, whispering what ifs and what could have beens. There were dangers on the road after all. And before that, dangers at DC. What if something happened? Was this his fault? He could have stayed, had he been conscious. But he just had to overstep and overuse his power, didn’t he?

This was why he couldn’t have good things. Because he was a fool who never learnt.

Frustration mounted, and it took conscious effort not to throw the glass of water in his hand against the wall. Still he placed it down, just to be safe, blue eyes glancing outside the window, gauging his options. It was late. It was cold. No one was going out. Besides, if he went deeper into the woods, no one would be there. Hasty decision made, Sander grabbed the few blood bags the maids left in his cooler before heading out. He didn’t stop to put on his coat.

Almost half an hour later, he found himself standing among a thick patch of trees, cranking his neck to witness their height. The fire of his power thrummed through him, quiet now, when he was suppressing it.

Hazel had been trying to sit down in a corner, trying to ignore the stigma until it passed, but it would seem it had gone too long without being fed. She retained just enough sense of mind to ask someone where to go, resulting in her going to the woods where there were no one around. Certainly there wouldn't be someone strolling in the woods in this ungodly hour, or at least that was her thought.

Sprinting as fast as she could towards the deepest parts of the woods, she bumped into — of all people — Sander.

Having been impatient enough to just run out towards the woods after asking for permission, Hazel has simply a long blouse over herself and barely anything else. While she herself had no recollection of what had happened before, she can't help but feel extremely vulnerable. Even though she was still able to think, there was this irrational anger and resentment rising at the mere sight of him. Or perhaps it was because she was still lucid that she felt such things towards him.

Sander blinked, noticing Hazel’s distinctive scent just now. With his power active, it took conscious effort to tell her scent from the animals around, which was why he overlooked it in the first place.

“What are you doing here?” -Titling his head, he watched the girl curiously. Then a thought sparked. Maybe she was here the same reason he was –“Are you…Do you want me to…leave?”

"Y-you...." need to get out We should just kill him

Why was he even here? Hazel was told there wouldn't be anyone up in the woods at this time.

"I-I cannot.."suppress this for long. It hurts.

Her hand crept onto her face as she doubled over as if in pain. Anger, fear, resentment, melancholy, sadness pain, and a myriad of other emotions swirled around her head as her vision seemed to fill over with a white hot haze. Phantom noises and images filled her senses, pressing in onto her mind, seemingly trying to explode her head with their sheer volume. Without warning, an enourmous purple limb tore through the air beside Sander, crashing through trees and bushes alike. With her hand on her face holding up her hair, it was easy enough to see her eyes full of hatred and venom, the sides of her mouth twitching erratically.

"It really really hurt." Please go away

Sander should have run. But the moment a purple limb flew through the air next to him, he knew it was already too late. The fire in him flared, engulfing him. He lowered his stance, red eyes furious.

“Stop this!” -He warned, one last time.

The only answer he got from Hazel was another sweeping attack, crashing through trees and bushes as it swung towards him.

Sander leapt backward out of range, snarling as the purple hand swept in a wide arc. He waited for the split second where the arm passed him before charging right at Hazel.

He was fast, but not fast enough to escape her eyes. While he was certainly strong enough to tear her apart with his bare hands, she has one overwhelming advantage even she — halfway through the throes of madness — could leverage.

Sheer range.

Before, overwhelmed by sheer excitement and the white hot veil blinding her, all she could do was rampage mindlessly. Now she had only one person in her vision, one who made her abdomen ache, one who somehow attracted her with all his raw power. Without warning a smaller arm, almost near her size, projected in front of him, sweeping quickly towards his neck as he charged towards her.

Sander did see the smaller attack coming, but judging from its size, he did not dodge.

While he was invulnerable to attacks at the moment, he wasn't unmovable. From the speed of his charge, and where the arm hit him and halted his motion, he simply flipped over and fell on his back, as his lower half continued moving as his upper stopped completely. Sensing her chance, Hazel thrust down an enourmous palm down on Sander, now prone on the ground.

Sander tried to get back on his feet, but the palm was also closing fast, and he wouldn't have had time. So he clenched his fist and threw a punch toward the coming palm, didn't even bother putting up his arms to block. Strong as he was, his arm simply punched though the projected limb, leaving a small hole in Hazel's hand. That did not stop the hand from slamming onto him however, before exploding a moment later, once the hand disintergrated what clothes he had and the dirt around him.

The small wound on her hand was surprising enough that she pulled back in reflex, surprised that anything could even hurt her projection, much less hurt her from her projection.

The brief lapse was enough for Sander to spring back onto his feet. But as much as the blood high in him raged, he reigned it in, refusing to engaging in combat with Hazel any longer. Anymore, and he knew he wouldn't be able to hold back. He turned and dashed off, counting on his inhuman speed to put distance between them. Whatever happened next, should Hazel go on a rampage, he trusted the guards would be enough to stop her.

The cuffs were there for a reason.

Unable to pursue, and unable to find another target that attracted her attention, she simply started destroying anything she found instead, leaving a mass of destroyed trees, bushes and other debris in her wake for quite a while.

It was Sunday… yet another boring Sunday. Strange, how the last day of the weekend seemed to always be the most calm for the students of Unit B. Then again, with all the action happening around here and them, the students deserved peace and quiet for at least one day, Angélique figured.

This Sunday felt however like any other day of the week ever since Angel had arrived on this island. In the morning, she woke up and grabbed a very quick breakfast before heading outside the estate for a lengthy morning jog. By now, she had grown accustomed to the path she was taking for her two hours of jogging exercises. She usually circled around the mansion for a lap or two before taking the path towards the beach, jogging along the way until she would decide to take the main road and go for a few miles before eventually returning to her lodging. She’d take a quick shower, change into more comfortable clothing (or at least what she considered confortable); a cropped shoulderless shirt with leather pants, all black in color, adorned with belts, chains, rings and bracelets, without forgetting about her precious shades and leather choker, one hiding her eyes to the harmful rays of the sun while the other concealed her X mark away from the prying eyes of the public, even from her own classmates’. There was always a certain reluctancy of wearing this collar anymore, feeling that its use had no longer any purpose now that she was known to be an Aberration. But deep inside, something kept compelling her to wear it. Maybe the pressure on her neck was a better reminder that she was shackled, both to the government, and to the mark of her throat.

For the past week, Angélique had always tried to dodge human interactions, leaving the mansion for morning joggings and taking the car to get further away as well. But no matter what, she always seemed to have been finding herself talking to one person or the others. Maybe she wasn’t so alone as she thought she was, even if that still didn’t forgive her from the sins she committed herself to by losing control back in Washington. However, those short discussions with the others had done great benefit to Angel for the most part. She didn’t need to forgive herself for what she did, nor the others had any reason to, but she needed to learn from this mistake and make sure it didn’t happen again. For the others’ sake, for Allison’s. Having realized it, Angel slowly began to break free from the cocoon she had spun around herself. She was more willing to speak to others now, interact with them, help if she could even.

Today, however, Angélique felt like taking a step back and look at the overview of her situation. She wanted to think about what the others had told her, summarize what she could muster for her own and strengthen her will out of what had been discussed, out of the second chances she had been given by the others. And there was also the fact that the raven-haired Siren would like to know about this whole place. It had been told this was Zhang’s estate, but why was it only maintained by Subnaturals, namely Arbiters, isolated from the world’s prying eyes and far away from USARILN? Angel didn’t feel like asking the main folk concerned yet, she wanted to know about the general layout of the area before doing so, as to trying to figure out what she should be expecting if she were to ever try and talk to one of the Arbiters serving the estate.

As such, Angélique decided to go to town to find out more about this peculiar island. Maybe people over there knew a bit of what happened around here. There was a pang of anxiety, to actually go out and seek Regulars to talk to. She hadn’t had been trying to talk to anyone outside the Institute and her classmates ever since she came to USARILN. Ironic, for a girl whose previous life was to sing and talk to the people.

Packing her usual gear for going on a trip - bikini, cooler with sandwich ingredients inside, spare clothes, guitar, notebook and minor accessories – Angélique went to the garage and took one of the two cars for a spin, as per usual. This time, however, her destination wasn’t some unknown place for sightseeing on the island. She would go to town, a few miles away from the estate.

---

It didn’t take long for the raven-haired driver to reach the small village. Figuring out a place to safely park the Dodge Charger at, Angel would make sure the car was locked and placed the keys inside the pocket of her pants before heading into the village. Her heart began racing at the thought she was just willingly walking into a public space and looking for strangers to speak with while she was exploring the desolate-looking town.

She had parked in a public lot beside a run-down gas station, the paint and plaster chipped and peeling so badly the station's original name had long been lost to the ages. Her entrance in the classy, distinctive car had spooked the nearby townspeople and the immediate area was entirely deserted. Had a tumbleweed blown by, she could almost be in a movie set. The road beside the station was cracked and uneven, years of zero maintenance showing it was hardly safe to drive on. The street ran down into a deserted distance, the small houses and tiny shops along the sidewalk looking just as uncared for. Street lights sported cracks and old street signs dangled precariously beside several traffic lights, ready to drop at any second. Some buildings had been dusted over with disuse, the interior completely caked in a thick layer of debris. Others looked slightly better, with some makeshift repairs on several windows and a teal door outside a small barbershop that was a little too small for the frame, but had been grafted onto the building anyway.

A chill ran down Angélique’s spine. Shit, this felt like a real ghost town. She was sure she had seen people earlier when she entered the town. It couldn’t have been her imagination, wasn’t it? The people at the estate had mentioned something about an inhabited town a few miles away from where they were staying. Plus, surely the staff personnel had to get supplies from somewhere? Furthermore, there were signs of people having slightly renovated some parts of this town. What exactly happened here?

Taking further steps into the town, Angélique explored the area, finding herself standing in front of a barber shop with a strange teal-painted door. This kind of place was usually a village’s meeting point, where the locals would meet and gossip about anything happening. Perhaps this place was still open? She could go in and pretend to want a haircut. Her hair had grown considerably longer after a whole month, she could use a few inches off her hair.

“Hello? Anybody here?” The young woman asked as she pushed onto the door.

The interior of the shop looked very clearly lived in, with fresh potted plants decorating the main--but empty--counter and several sheets of paper with grocery lists and appointment notes jotted down in neat handwriting. Only three of the four chairs in the small place were serviceable, the fourth leaning heavily to one side where the pneumatics in the main stand had failed and the inner pole itself had bent. Hair clippings and barbicide rested on one of the tables in front of the chairs, but there was a distinct lack of personnel around. Yet there had to be people, because despite the mess around one chair the rest of the barbershop was clean and attempts to liven up the place shone through in cracked, framed paintings of hair models and hairstyles, the pictures torn from magazines and posters. The mirrors as well shone clean and clear despite several cracks in the corners. Whoever was here, they did care about the place.

Angel noted everything that pointed to the presence of someone living in the area, but failed to see if people were actively in hiding or if they somehow were away. The whole setting intrigued the young Aberration woman. There had to be someone around these parts who could tell her the story of this island. She would not give up, she’ll wait if need be to see if anyone would return and move about in town.

The groceries lists made it clear that despite looking abandoned, this village should have a place that supplied food to whoever lived here. Taking this into consideration, Angélique left the barber shop, for the moment. Instead, she would turn her attention to the shops or any building that would be big enough to suggest a food-storing unit.

Down the street, at the far end, was a slightly taller building than the rest and just as Angel walked out, the door to it closed quickly, like someone had been peeking out. If there was anyone hiding in there, it was hard to tell beyond the sudden movement of the door, though the storefront revealed the location to be the closest thing to a grocery store the island had. Most of the shelves were empty and the refrigeration units held a paltry supply of vegetables, fruits, and dairy products, but it was clearly still functioning. Attempts at wall decor to cover the flaking wallpaper had resulted in a sort of messy mosaic of Sharpie and markers, but the span of it across the walls hinted at months of continuous work, turning the store into something of an experiment in amatuer interior design as well.

Creepy. Terribly so. Angel felt like she was being watched as she made her way to the building. Unseen people clearly knew she was here, but were quick to disappear as she came into sight. Was is that obvious she was a stranger here? If so, did they knew about her? It was uncomfortable to think she was inquiring about the area if people already associated with the murderer she was perceived as from her last concert’s incident.

It was clear to her now that people were using this place as a grocery store, seeing how fresh the products seemed despite how rundown the area was, without mentioning all the makeshifts decorations. Taking an apple from one of the refrigerators offering an assortment of fruits and vegetables, she made her way to what could’ve have been a cashier counter, waiting for someone to show up and charge her for the apple.

A clattering of boxes from behind her announced where the store's keeper had been hiding as he fell over onto all fours, tucked as he had been behind the maybe empty cardboard containers that had delivered their supplies. He looked young, no later than his mid-twenties, with a scattering of freckles across his pale shoulders and arms, a white sweater with the sleeves rolled up and some marker stains on its front revealing what he had been doing before the sudden need to hide. His brown hair was a mess and his glasses had been duct-taped in more than one location, desperately in need of repairs. He looked at Angel in a panic, large green eyes wide open as he scrabbled backwards, fixating on the collar that hid her mark.

"Who are you?" he shouted, grabbing a bag of oven-baked chips nearby like he was going to throw it at her.

Angel took a step forward in surprised as she heard boxed falling behind her, slightly startled that someone had been hiding so close to without her noticing. Yeah, people clearly had been avoiding her, now she could see it. But while she sported a faint annoyed expression, she sighed softly, maintaining her bearing.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude. I’m one of the students that arrived on this island a week ago, residing at the estate.” Angélique explained, trying to be as polite and courteous as she could.

"At the estate?!" he shouted, scooting back further. "So you--you're one of the Director's cronies!" He did end up throwing the bag of sea salt and vinegar chips at Angel, standing up and holding his hands out like he was ready to lunge at her. "We told you already we don't want none of your help! Even this--" he jerked his head at the shelves "--is just temporary! Stop asking us if we want more! We can do just fine without you!"

Seeing, the bag of chips coming her way, Angélique reflexively held a hand up and grabbed the snacks before it reached her face. Damn, no matter where she went, people were really being jackasses to her. But she remembered the promise she made to the others. No lashing out at them. Those people didn’t deserve it. They were simply scared, and she needed to dispel that feeling.

“Help? I… I don’t know what you are talking about. We’ve just arrived, nobody told us anything about this island. Hell, I don’t even know what we are doing here instead of returning at the institute.” Angélique explained her situation, calmly setting the bag of bitter-flavored chips onto the counter. Couldn’t he have tossed her a BBQ one instead? She hated salt and vinegar…

“Zhang… wants to help you? THE director Zhang? Are we speaking of the same person here?” Angel inquired, suddenly feeling curious about the whole situation with that recent development.

The young man seemed taken aback by her confusion as well and he lowered his hands, watching her cautiously. "You don't know nothing? Really?"

The fallen rockstar shook her head “No. I mean, I was told there was a town here, so I thought I’d come to visit this place. I… didn’t expect any of this. In fact, I came here to know more about the island. I wanted to know what people knew of the estate.”

Angel leaned her back against the counter, trying to look as relaxed as possible. If she could ease up the tension with the young man, perhaps he would be more open to talk about what was happening around here. “Look, whatever you think I came here for, I assure you that I have no clue to what’s happening around here. Can… we sit and talk? I’m curious as to what’s happening here.”

"Not interested. If you don't know, then you ain't meant to know, simple as that. If she didn't send you here, then go back. Or hang around if you want, but I doubt people'll talk to you. Cuffed sorts don't really get how things work. They just think breaking free will fix everything and end up making our lives harder. Go on, get out of here." He crossed his arms, glaring at her relaxed look against his counter.

Well, this was frustrating. Again met with the cold steely glares. No matter where they went, Subnaturals weren’t quite welcomed, wasn’t it? But Angel tried not hold it against the man. He was right at some point, they did make their lives harder, but he wasn’t completely in the right either. There was a reason Subnaturals were difficult to deal with.

“Whatever you mean, you’re probably right. Subnaturals do make life a difficulty to deal with, especially us,” Angel straightened her back, no longer leaning against the counter as she pointed her mark hidden underneath her collar “but it is partly because of those words that we are being a problem. We never asked for these marks. They just… happened on us. How can you expect all these kids to not be troubled when they all get rejected by their family and friends? And then hounded by the government, tracked until they are imprisoned and turned into combat slaves as if they were criminals. Those kids didn’t inherently changed, the world’s view did.”

Angel walked up to the man, remaining a bit farther than at two arms’ reach. She lifted her arm, handing the apple she was thinking of buying to the shop owner. “Things are never going to change for the better if people keep hating only for the reason of hating. Help isn’t something that is handed out so easily in this world nowadays. Consider it before rejecting it. You never know, you might just contribute to making this world a better place.”

"Nice speech. Now get out of here," a voice from behind one of the refrigeration units was followed by a young woman, her age roughly the same as the man, though her blonde hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail and her clean, pressed dress shirt and pleated skirt along with a bit of light makeup gave her a more refined air. What differed most, however, was the white Arbiter mark under her right eye, the characteristic streak marking her as a subnatural on full display. She leveled gray eyes at Angel, a cold look on her face.

The black-haired Aberration was surprised as she caught sight of the Arbiter that had come out of hiding as well, looking however more refined. So even Subnaturals were hating on each other now? This was something entirely new to Angel. It begged the question if it was really because of who she was that people in this town actively avoided her. Not her reputation, but her mark, since the man asked her who she was earlier.

“Fine… I thought you of all people would understand.” Angel replied as she turned to the counter, setting the apple on it before leaving the shop, not wanting to antagonize on the people inside by making herself imposing. God knows she wouldn’t be getting anywhere being so insistent.

The streets were just as deserted when she exited the grocery store, the isolation intended from the inhabitants. Whatever else she was, at the very least one thing was clear: talking would not get through to them, not when a cuff remained on her ankle and the collar hid what was obviously on her neck. X-marks were dangerous--that much was no secret, but here in this town it was almost entirely rejected by both humans and subnaturals alike. There was no use for dogs of war there.

Not longer feeling welcomed around here, Angélique walked back to the car waiting for her in the abandoned parking lot she had left the vehicle in. She had no longer any purpose in here, but she felt like exploring a bit more. It was the point to her road trips, after all. Explore, see new things, get inspired, distract her mind from the hungering stigma, sate it somewhere remote if need be.

Grabbing her guitar case and a notebook from the trunk of the car, Angélique swung the strap over her shoulder as she returned inside the village, no longer minding the inhabitants avoiding her, but taking in the surroundings instead; The general state of things, how rundown everything had been, see if some buildings were beyond repair, what establishments could have been used for. If one place looked abandoned, she would take a peek inside. All of her findings would be noted inside her book.

Most of the buildings had lost enough of their original equipment to make discerning the past employment there impossible, and several others had been converted to a storage shed for miscellaneous supplies, planks and timbers loaded into one empty building while unused furniture filled up another. The town spread out sparsely around the motel in the center, with most of the buildings left to decay on their own. The nearby pier was free of any docked boats and the lighthouse a ways outside of town seemed to remain persistently on, even when there was no need. More rubble and half-ransacked locations peppered the broken asphalt and uneven sidewalks around the town and towards the outskirts less stable buildings had simply collapsed into a mound of broken walls and rooftops. The only multi-story edifice throughout the entire location, barring the towering lighthouse, was the two-story building that took up a large portion of the town's center, doubling as both a motel above and shops on the ground floor. It was a newer site from the construction detail, with more modern architecture and conveniences.

Eventually getting around town and finishing exploring anything noteworthy around the area, Angélique figured it was time to settle down for a little bit and try to ease her mind. This whole trip in town had done no good on her spirits. While it was interesting to visit new places, meeting different people with yet the same old mentality was not doing so good on her morale.

The Aberration young woman had told Allison, Brent and Zoe that she would do everything to protect everyone, be them Regulars or Subnaturals. But it was hard to keep that resolve, after continuously meeting people that didn’t care for her nor her classmates. Truly, this duty she tried to force upon herself was an ingrate task.

Unworthy. Useless. Trash…

Feeling a bit down and prone to emotions, Angélique left town and headed next to the lighthouse, sitting next to the ocean. Thinking it was a bit more secluded over there, the USARILN student took her guitar out of its case and began playing, her voice joining along into what would be ballads fit for soft rock and country music. But as time went by, her mind was filled with negativity as the voices in her head only sang along twisted lyrics of her songs, which eventually led to Angel’s voice starting to increase in volume, the tempo accelerating into something more frenetic, until it reached a dark and moody melody only fit on the recent death metal album she was supposed to be releasing a month back, at the same date she had given her last concert in Montréal.

THIS WORLD DOESN’T DESERVE MERCY!

In what would be the climax of her song, Angélique screamed, releasing a powerful wave of forceful sonic energy onto the water’s surface, effectively splitting the watery surface in two as the sound wave forced liquid aside in a forty-meters cone.

Several seconds after the screech, dead fish floated to the water's surface, most of them stunned and then slaughtered by the Aberration's power. Dozens bobbed up and down around her, their scales glimmering in the light.

Angel’s hands immediately were brought up to her mouth after realizing what she had done.

W-What did I just do?

It was not a question of how her power managed to do that. She knew full well the deathly effects her ability wrought. It was more of realizing she had lost control, or at least thought it was safe to just scream like that at bodies of water. What if someone was actually swimming in there?

Dread gripped Angélique as she turned her head away from the scene, gathering up all of her stuff and leaving the lighthouse’s side. No matter where she went, death followed in the wake of her screams. And what was the most twisted thing about it?

She felt relieved, sated even, after snuffing out those small insignificant lives.

Throwing her stuff at the backseat of the car, Angel slammed the door shut beside her and ignited the engine, driving off away quickly, as if she tried to lose an invisible manifestation of Death.

As she drove off in her hurry, the girl didn't notice the few Arbiters who came out of the lighthouse soon afterwards, scooping up the fish in an old, worn-down net and staring after her car.

---

It took a while for Angélique to return to the mansion. For all that her Stigma was sated, she felt horrible again. Would it be so easy to uphold her will to help people if she kept accidentally killing whatever was caught in her path of destruction?

The Aberration took a few hours to return, secluding herself somewhere on the island and making sure she’d come back more stable before facing the others. This day wasn’t meant to be this emotionally charged. Why did it had to be this way? What was her problem exactly?

Rejection. For all of her life, she was used to being loved and surrounded by people, even if their admiration was only superficial. After losing it all, it just felt more difficult to be rejected by all those new people she was trying to create bonds with. Maybe she didn’t know it, but it was more probable that she didn’t want to acknowledge the fact that she was indeed yearning for attention. For people to be kind and compliment her.

She felt sick, just thinking about it, but it was a reality that she had yet to accept.

Finally returning at the mansion, Angel quickly parked the car inside the garage and returned to her room with all of her stuff, shutting herself in. Back inside her lodgings, she sat down and thought about what she had found out today about her trip to town. The X-marked didn’t quite feel like it, but she needed to know what was going on in there. And so, even if she disliked the idea, Angel pulled on the silver chain, calling for a maid.

One of the butlers came in instead, black hair slicked back against his head and brown eyes kind despite the stern angles of his face. He looked in his early twenties--most of the staff on the estate did--and he bowed as he entered.

"At your service, ma'am."

“Oh, hello.”

There was quite an impersonnal tension Angélique felt on herself as she looked at the butler. Just a bit older than she was, being a Subnatural himself without however bearing the same mark. Was it because he was serving under infamous Director Zhang’s extravagant name? Shackled by a cuff or not, Angel felt like their situations may not so much differ, but there was something unnerving behind their uptight manners.

“Please, Angel will do just fine.” The younger Aberration tried to relax, obviously uncomfortable around the presence of a butler. “I went to town earlier, and I spoke only for a few minutes to some of them. Could you… tell me the story about this place? Or is there someone else who would be more knowledgeable about this subject?”

"The story?" he looked surprised at the question, like the answer was obvious, before regaining his composure. "There's not much to say. We volunteered to stay here, but between the ones in this household and the ones in town...well, there are some differences in philosophy, so to speak. They aren't fond of us, but we do what we can to help. It's not right to just let them starve when supplies are low."

"I see… that’s why they thought I was there for. They thought I was sent to offer help on Zhang’s behalf.” Angel half-explained, more like musing to herself. There was definitively some good philosophy going behind that explanation, but it didn’t explain exactly the distrust between those two groups, or the origin of why those people were here instead of at the Institute instead.

“But aren’t you all Mages on this island? What did create this division? This philosophy you have been talking about? Can you tell me more about your difference in opinions?” Angélique let loose a wave of questions, one answer that managed to only create more questions.

The butler seemed taken aback by the sudden barrage of questions, raising an eyebrow at the concern. "Apologies if I seem...uncouth, ma'am, but this isn't a...sort of amusing story for general curiosity. Why are you interested, might I ask?"

There was clearly a hint of disappointment on Angel’s face as the butler dodged her question and instead inquired why she wanted to know. There was some sort of clear hesitation whether she should push the subject if it wasn’t something that was easy to tell, but it was a story she wanted to know nonetheless. Not out of amusement, but simply because it would just feel right to learn about this world she was introduced violently in.

“It’s just… I want to understand this world I’m living in. There are just so much things I don’t know about our situation. The Rogues, the Institute, this island. We’re all in the same boat, and yet we are just so… divided? It feels like the pieces are scattered everywhere. I can’t grasp any of it.” Angel fell silent for a pause.

“I… I know we are supposed to be some sort of combat slaves, but why all of this extravagant treatment? Who are you guys? You live secluded from USARILN on this island, yet known to Zhang? It just doesn’t make sense to me. At least… I’m ignorant to it all, and that’s what scares me. To not know anything. How can I help people if I have no idea of the bigger picture? As it stands, I’m just a pawn playing soldier on a game of war against monsters. This… isn’t what I want. I just want to help everyone.”

“Please, can you help me understand?!

The butler sighed, but remained resolute. He knew this narrow-minded type--he had been this type some years ago.

"As much as I appreciate the idealism, ma'am...I think you're a bit misguided. Not everyone needs your help, so pardon me once more, but that's...quite arrogant of you. If that's all you'd like of me, I'll politely decline this line of questioning. Is there anything else I can help with, ma'am?"

Perhaps not everyone, but if she wasn’t willing to help, should she just leave it to the others? What if the others weren’t willing either? If everyone, the whole world, were thinking that way, then where was the good in the world? Maybe that’s the answer she was looking for all along. This world was doing bad, not only because of the monsters, but because only a handful of souls were willing to help. What would have happened if every single Mages; Precursors, Animi, Ardor, Arbiters and Aberrations banded together to repel the monsters? Would they see an end to this plague one day? It was wishful thinking, but at this point, this really was the only solution Angel could believe in right now.

“Will the world even recover if we're just not willing to help? It’s dreams and ideals that keep hope alive, even as deluded it is.” Angel replied, clearly unhappy at the butler that refused to indulge in her understanding. “No, you can leave. I’m just being foolish, apparently. Have a good day.”

"You as well, ma'am." He left with another bow, leaving as quietly as he had arrived.

Shortly after the butler left her room, a pillow came flying straight at the door, making a thumping noise as it hit the wooden frame hard. Angélique only felt frustration rising. Why was everyone refusing to understanding her feelings? Was the world just dead cynic, or was she the one who was stupidly blind to it all?

She didn’t want to believe that her role in this world was to be a combat slave for the rest of her life until death came knocing at her door. There are to be something else she could do, right? She was given these powers that she did not want. She was part of a minority of Mages that would be considered special, as Ernest once remarked. She was part of a group that was claimed to be the next Precursors. Surely fate, or Dreamcatcher even, had destined her classmates and herself a different path in life.

If only she could be strong than an Animus. Than a Precursor. Than anything in the world.

Scream and shatter this world.

Another day was nearing the end. After spending yet another day on the road and getting herself something to eat after her trip, Angélique went to finish what little scraps of her meal was remaining into the music room. She had heard the mention of this part of the estate a while ago, but with everything that happened last week, the controverted rockstar never had the opportunity to visit the room, whether it was because she lacked the will to play music, meeting with other classmates or simply because she wanted to avoid everyone.

However, this week, Angel felt her spirits regaining its composure. While there had been a lot of moments of weakness in the past week, she also had meaningful discussions, some of which that actually helped in finding back a bit of her resolve and will. Today, the raven-haired singer felt somewhat good considering what happened, a rare occurrence ever since a month ago. While she was feeling this high-spirited, Angel took this opportunity to finally see what this music room was like.

It was far from what she had seen in Washington’s penthouse. Much less luxurious, but that trait only appealed the young musician more. While the whole estate setting was a bit too extravagant to her taste, the size of the room seemed just perfect to be left alone and play peacefully. Finishing her plate of food, Angel inspected the place, finding it a bit disconcerting to see pretty much the same fancy items, with none of the instruments she was so used to playing. Of course rich people didn’t care for such rustic sounds. Rock, country and metal were considered mostly barbaric styles by the high society. IT was unlikely to see instruments that could produce such music in such ludicrous homes.

And yet, her expectations were not completely true as, behind a bookshelf, there laid the silhouette of a black solid case shaped appropriately for a guitar. It was dusty, ancient even, suggesting it hadn’t been used, if not forgotten, for quite some time. Pulling the case out of its hiding place, the music adept blew over the dusty thing, sending a cloud of dirt floating in the air and emancipating a few sneezes and coughs from the curious Aberration.

Opening the case, Angel found quite the treasure. It was quite an old model of acoustic guitar, yet the brand that Angel recognized immediately suggested that the instrument was of superior quality, in fact quite valued despite its aged and even prized by collectors. Truly, Zhang was keeping quite the treasures into her manor, wasn’t she? It was a shame to not have this thing on display, instead of letting it decrepify behind some musical books.

Strumming the strings, Angel confirmed that the guitar hadn’t been used in quite some time, as the thing sounded quite wrong. It required some time to fine tune, playing with the strings and using her sharp musical ear to bring a correct harmonic back to the instrument.

After a while, Angélique was done tuning the strings, giving the guitar a test run as she strummed the strings into a melody. And as she kept playing and found herself satisfied with the sound of the wooden instrument, the singer added her golden voice to the smooth rhythm of the guitar.

“Ti~me, is the reason why we fight to stay ali~ve…”

Music.

Music that caught Hazel's ears. This time with a sweet voice that drew her in. Were she a bit more well read, a siren's call would be what she would describe it as. As it was, it was nothing but that sounds that grabbed her by her ears, a music with hands that pulled her towards that room. It was, unsurprisingly Angel. Smoothing down the black maid's outfit she had grabbed, she sat down and listened, observing the way Angel's fingers seemingly glide across the guitar, producing sweet melody.

Angel seemed to have lost herself into her music, as she paid no attention to the figure that had entered the room and sat beside her, or rather didn't see her coming in. As she finished, her sense of awareness seemed to have return as she caught the shadow of a silhouette in the corner of her sight, jumping in surprise as she realized a maid had been sitting next to her.

"Oh, sorry, was I being too loud?" came the question without much thought behind it, more like a discussion sparker.

But the maid wasn't any kind of maid. At least, for as far as the maids of the estate were concern.

"H-Hazel? What are you doing in that outfit?"

"I am sitting down, listening to you." Came the prompt answer.

Seeing as Angel had stopped singing, Hazel stood up and started examining the other instruments. There was one that was a smaller version of the instrument Angel was holding, but with an odd sweeping design on its thinner part and a stick with a string on it. Grabbing it by the thin part, where she assumed the handle was, and ran the stick across the length of the strings. It produced the most peculiar sounds she had ever heard, like a gutted cat wailling and screeching its last.

"I-I meant why are you wearing that."

Angel looked at the girl that had gone up to inspect the other instruments. She took questions quite literally, Angelique figured. She was soon cut out from her thoughts as the screeching made the actual musician in the room jump out of her skin, her ears not taking kindly to the abuse that they were going through. God, that sound only belonged to the deepest parts of hell.

"Hazel, wait!" Angel called out with a hand reaching for the bow. "That's not how you are supposed to play a violin. Want me to show it to you?"

Hazel nodded, before thinking back to Angel's previous question.

Why was she wearing these clothes? Was there something wrong with them? Did she have something else for Hazel, or did she just not like the outfit itself?

"I see. Is my outfit not to your liking? Then..."

She left no mistake as to what she was going to do, as she started to unbutton her top.

Oh god... was she going to start stripping just like that in front of Angel? In front of grown soldier dudes that kept following her around all-day long? Angelique hurried onto Hazel's robes, fastening the buttons back.

"Nononono, I didn't mean that either. I just thought it was weird on you, since you're not a servant in here and all." The raven-haired singer paused, glancing over the general appearance of her exhibitionist classmate. Frankly enough, the maid's outfit looked surprisingly good on her. Then again, the brown-haired girl always wore robes, which at this point made her sort of like the class' reference for this kind of clothing. Seeing something similar to her style yet different from her usual brown garments was refreshing, to say the least.

"Actually, quite the opposite. It looks good on you." Angelique sighed, glancing back at the girl's face and trying to make out the eyes in hiding behind those bangs. "You shouldn't remove your clothes as soon as somebody tells you they don't like it though. At least, return to your room to change clothes if it happens, alright? Not that you should care anyway. If you like what you wear, screw the others' opinion. Just wear what you feel you want to wear."

"I see." Hazel paused for a moment, pondering what she said. "Then, please continue to play the biolin."

Opinions... For a moment there, there was a small spark of surprise and warmth, when Angel complimented her. What it was, and why that was was far beyond her understanding for a moment. All she knew was that it felt good.

She picked up a second violin, though she still held it in a vice grip along with the bow.

"Violin, with a 'Vee'" Angelique corrected her fellow Aberration. "Alright, for starters, you have to know how to hold the instrument. Here, let me show you."

Having watched Lilianna playing in Washington, and experimented a few times in the music room with the various high-class instruments back there, Angel assumed the appropriate stance to play the violin; back straightened, the handle gripped lightly from underneath, cello brought to her neck and bow elegantly brought to the strings of the wooden instrument. The musician Mage kept that stance, waiting for Hazel to imitate her as she gave her a glance.

Wordlessly Hazel took up the same pose as well, though her grip on the instruments remained tight. She looked expectantly back at Angel. Was this some sort of procedure for making the same music that drew her in to this room? Already she was impatient to continue, her fingers twitching in anticipation of sawing vigorously across the strings.

"Relax..." Angel sighed, taking notice of Hazel's crisped figure. "Slide the bow along the strings. It doesn't need to be done so forcefully. Only a slight touch can make a good enough note, like this."

Angel's hand moved the bow across the strings of the violin, emancipating a low-pitched but precise note. "The slower you draw the bow on the string, the longer your keep the note. Change the position of the bow to touch different strings to make different notes. Same for your fingers holding the violin's head." The young virtuoso put emphasis on the holding part, leaning towards Hazel to show her fingers had been holding down a few strings. To show what she meant, Angel played haphazardly a few notes, of different pitch and different lengths. The music came out as a random mess, as Angel never truly played a violin all that much, but the notes were somewhat precise.

Following Angel's lead, she started sawing on the violin, first a long note, and then several halting ones. Trying to figure out what sort of noises she could make, Hazel methodically started to explore different strokes on different spots. Amidst the cacophony of noises, she turned halfway to Angel.

"Are you afraid of me?"

There was nothing else, but her gaze at Angel's face, even as she continued to saw at the violin.

Angel clearly didn’t expect this sort of question as her violin squeaked a wrong note, sounding very much like what Hazel had been playing.

“I… don’t know. Perhaps ‘afraid’ isn’t the right word. ‘Cautious’ or ‘wary’ might describe it better.”Angélique replied, looking thoughtful as she stopped playing.

“I mean, The ‘you’ right now is alright. Sure, you are a bit awkward, but really is it any worse than what I am?” Angélique tried to force a chuckle at her self-derision, aware that she was good at fucking up so perfectly when talking to others. “It’s more that I fear the other ‘you’. The one in battle. The one that slapped Emma across the floor as if she was a mere doll, during the game we had a few weeks back at the Institute. The you who attacked and tried to kill Christmas, Ernest and I at Wisford.”

Angel paused, looking at Hazel. “I’m sorry. It’s not that I want to sound mean. It’s just… I can’t figure you out. I don’t know what to expect the next time we’ll be together on the battlefield.”

"I see." Arranging the notes she found, Hazel started playing them from lowest to highest, over and over again. "Marcus is afraid of me as well."

Concentrating, she started drawing out each note as she went over them. Slower and slower, there was an oddly melancholic quality to it, even if it was just a bunch of note arranged from low to high.

"There is just one of me. And I do not remember attacking Christmas, Ernest or you." Hazel stopped playing. "I see. So that was why I was in that hospital bed."

Listening to Hazel playing, there was something in there. Whether Hazel knew it or not, she had an ease of understanding music like few ever had at their beginning. “You’re quite a natural at this.” Angel commented at her classmate’s playing.

So she wasn’t the only one who had been discussing with her. It came as no surprise, considering his nature. Knowing him, he had probably been telling her pretty much the same thing as she was saying right now.

“Perhaps, but I think there’s more to ourselves than we think. Something we still don’t know about our Stigma. How else could we explain your bout of rage that you can’t remember? Why does Zoe feel this irresistible urge to kill anyone close to her? Why do I feel this uncontrollable anger that makes me want to tear the world? There’s something… inside of us that wasn’t there before. Something that wants us to destroy without even caring about it. I can’t fathom why we are taking pleasure in doing this…”

Angel paused, remorseful for the things she had done, but also feeling for those who lost their battle to their destructive impulses. Truly, what an unsightly thing that was their mark.

“I’m sorry for yelling at you in Wisford. I shouldn’t have said these things to you. Emma told me that you pushed us to protect us from the incoming danger. I was just so… angered that I lost the use of half my gear and having my private parts exposed, it felt sort of humiliating. I let wrath cloud my judgement and I didn’t understand what you were trying to do.” Angélique chuckled bitterly at the memories, still remembering how the cold breeze felt as it brushed on her ass cheek and inner thigh.

Hazel just remained silent as Angel contemplated their existence. It was far beyond her understanding; she had come to accept it as part of herself, after all — it felt good — it wasn't something she can just cut out and throw away.

"Do not worry. I am used to such things." The memories of that plain white room came to her, odd materials she could not destroy, music playing at designated times of the day, even the experiments she ran through and the exercises they ran her through. And sometimes what would happen if she didn't meet their expectations. "... even beatings if it makes you feel better."

She spoke the last sentence under her breath, with a faraway look. Putting the violin down, she stood up and picked up the guitar, before handing it to Angel.

"Play this?"

“God, Hazel no! Beating someone just doesn’t solve anything, as enticing as it can be.” Angel replied to the brunette’s last comment.

Really, just what kind of upbringing did this girl come up from? Was she the kind of girl to be disciplined with a rough beating whenever she was displeasing her parents? It sort of infuriated the raven-haired metalhead to think that such people exist, even if she should have known better, considering what was happening everywhere across the world, especially the violence aimed at Subnaturals.

Surprised, Angélique picked up the guitar Hazel brought to her. Did she prefer the way guitar sounded? Well, considering the young musician knew about next to nothing about violins, it was natural the guitar sounded way better when it was one of the instruments she had mastered the most.

Angel took the piano’s bench and set it between herself and Hazel, taking one half for sitting on. “Still, I’m sorry for what happened. You’re just going to have to accept my words as a proper apology.” Angel grinned, tuning the guitar once more before strumming the chords for a test play.

“Do you have a song in mind? I know a lot, given I used to do requests before.”

"No." Came the prompt reply. "I do not know any music."

Still, Hazel sat beside Angel, waiting patiently for her to play the guitar again, and perhaps even sing. Her eyes, once again, was locked onto her hands, the way she gripped the guitar, and how it would move across the strings.

Following after the melancholic style Hazel seemed to have been so naturally proficient at playing, Angel’s fingers moved across the strings of the guitar slowly, sometimes frantic, a mix of the acoustic versions of some rock songs she had taken a liking to play. And as Hazel expected, the singer eventually added her voice the song, making it feel like both went hand in hand and contributed to making the song whole.

Eventually, after a while and her song ended, Angel turned to Hazel, looking pensive.

“Say, Hazel. Is there… anything we can do to help you if you ever lose control again? I mean, you’re our classmates, I don’t want any of us having to resort to injure you to stop you, or have them shoot you. Surely there’s something that could be done?”

"Help me?" Hazel tilted her head slightly.

It was quite an odd turn after such a song. How her voice sounded, how she moved, the way she seemed to shine as she sang. A question like this after a show like that caught her off guard, enough that her mind went blank for a moment. The words of one of the employers at the Plant echoed in her minds.

"She's a clockwork toy, wind her up enough and she takes action with explosive force. But once she winds down, she stops and drops."

"I'm an explosive clock, explode and I stop," came her answer. She paused for an uncomfortably long moment before continuing. "The collar will automatically shut me down after a time as well."

A ticking time bomb…

“I… see….” Angel replied to Hazel’s analogy.

So there was nothing to do for her? Just wait until she explodes? How many lives could she reap before her collar could zap her out? They had been lucky no civilian stood next to Hazel when she lost it. But then again…

Maybe you should be the one who needs to be collared…

Angélique’s green eyes lowered to Hazel’s collar, her look growing dark as she heard one of its purposes. Was it the fate awaiting all those Aberrations who were considered that unstable? Collared and put down to sleep whenever they lost control? It was hard to tell if it was any better than the actual suppressing cuff around their ankle.

The raven-haired Aberration brought a hand to her neck, suddenly feeling the presence of her leather collar around her throat. “Doesn’t it bother you? To be living with that… thing around your neck?”

"It does not. Just as it does not bother me to wear these cuffs." Tilting her head questioningly, Hazel asked in return. "Do you not wear the same thing?"

“N-no. It’s just…”

For fashion? To hide something?

“a plain leather one.”

"Then, does it bother you to wear it?" Hazel moved in closer to Angel, staring directly at her, as if watching for her reaction.

Angel’s eyes evaded Hazel’s, which seemed to try and stare through her smoked shades. She never wore a collar before. This habit only had begun two months ago, when her mark appeared, to hide it to the public. Even though she was revealed as an Aberration, why was it so hard for her to take it off?

“I… I don’t know anymore… “

"I see." Her hands stretched out towards the collar. "Then, you won't mind if I take this off?"

Angélique offered no response, her face frozen in uncertainty as her hand absent-mindedly touched the leathery material of her own shackle.

Hazel's hand felt around the collar, searching for the unlocking mechanism. For a moment, she drew in close, holding both hands behind Angel's neck, trying to work the clasp. With a barely audible click, the leather strap fell onto her hand as she held it up in front of her.

"See?"

No more suffocating pressure…

A weight seemed to be lifted off Angel’s neck as the warmth of the collar left her. She could feel a fresh breeze wash over her throat, the warm touch of her skin on her fingertips as her hand reached out for the now exposed mark.

The black-haired Aberration’s gaze fell onto the collar in Hazel’s hands, then trailed up to Hazel’s face. So innocent, just like a child, like Emma said before. The girl probably didn’t realize the burden she had just removed from Angélique.

As if to express her earnest feeling of gratefulness, the emotional Aberration approached Hazel and wrapped her arms around the younger woman for a warm hug.

Angel could feel some tears of relief welling up into her eyes as she whispered a faint “Thank you.” Into the girl’s ear.

"Eh?" Hazel had no idea what to do as Angel enveloped her in a hug. It wasn't a grapple — so she probably shouldn't flip her over — but a simple hug. Slowly she wrapped her arms around Angel, following her example.

"Y..you're welcome," was all she could say.

Another day of blazing the roads that started to become very familiar to the Aberration driver. While the road started to grow ever the more monotonous, there was always room to reflect on her past actions and every new discussion she was having with others. Just like how recently Angélique started to enjoy the cool breeze brushing on her naked neck, now that Hazel had removed the leather collar that used to serve as both a mental shackle and a mean to hide in vain what she was.

After reaching the manor quite late today, the raven-haired driver went to cook dinner and eat by herself before heading out to wander in the manor. She had grown fairly accustomed to the layout of the estate, but there were places she hadn’t been using at all so far. One such place was the lounge that served as the billiard room. It had been a while since the last time the ex-rockstar touched a billiard table. She remembered often going to the bar to play a few games with the guys of her band after a good day of work at the recording studios.

Angel didn’t suspect however that there was already someone inside the room as she opened the door to the lounge.

Chris had been in the lounge playing billiards in his spare time. He had made the first shot to break open the formation when Angelique had arrived. "Oh..Hey whats up?". He did is best to sound 'normal', but there was a hint of emptiness in his voice. The incident with Marcus the other day still had him shaken up, and he had been hoping that his time of lonesome self-pity wouldn't be interupted. Now that Angelique was here, he did his best to hide his guilt and shame, perhaps he could get her to leave soon enough.

"What brings you here?"

"Oh, hello Christopher. Didn't think there was someone here." Angel replied, closing the door behind her and visibly surprised to see the Dragon Mage already in the room. But maybe it wasn't so bad. They both haven't talked to each other for a while now. Tonight could be a good opportunity to get some news from him.

"Nothing much. I was bored, and I haven't checked up this place yet." The obsidian-haired young woman added as she walked further inside the room, admiring the furniture and especially the billiard table.

"How about you?"

There was a pause before his next shot. Should he tell her. He needed to let someone know at least, the potential danger he could be. "Oi, can you promise me something?" He said with a voice that suddenly turned gravely serious.

Angel leaned against the table, observing Chris' next shot that never came as he took this most serious voice with a foreboding question. This promised to be an eventful evening indeed.

"Sorry Chris, but I can't do promises anymore. A lot of those seem to keep being broken recently. But whatever it is, I will try to uphold to it, depending on what you are asking." The Aberration replied firmly in kind, replacing the shades onto her eyes.

There was a sigh as he debated upon if he should tell her. "I just want to know that....If I were to lose control in battle or whatever, you wouldn't hesitate to kill me, right?" And then, a shot with the cue ball sent two striped balls into the pockets of the table; As if the idea of his own death didn't bother him.

Angélique frowned as she heard this. Losing control? What the hell? Why did even the Arbiters of her class always keep talking about losing control? Weren't they the ones who were supposed to not be fucked up by a Stigma and be more stable? Was there something White Streaks had that nobody else saw before?

Sighing, Angel already didn’t like how this discussion was going. Silently, she took a cue from the racks and stepped at the opposite end of the table. "Now that's clearly something I won't promise. Whatever you are speaking of, I won't kill anyone in my class. I can try to disable, but not kill. There are other ways to deal with loss of control."

Angel's face was resolute. She had kept talking to everyone about how she was willing to do everything for her friends, even if it she wasn't will to kill any more people deep inside of herself. Killing a classmate was by far something she ever considered.

"What the hell are you saying that for anyway? Aren't you supposed to be one of those in control?" Angelique asked, her finger pointing to where the Arbiter's mark could've been on her face if she had one.

She didn't really know the urges he used to have had in his dragon form, primeval instincts that have since been dampened but are still faintly present within him. Moreover she had yet to learn of the incident the other day involving him and Marcus it seemed. "I don't just take the appearance of a monster, Angel.." He paused, as if the very thought of it sent shivers down his spine. "There's something...more...about it...Its like I.." Another pause, the more he spoke the more he started to remember the worst of the instincts he felt. "One of those monsters at D.C. Spoke to me."

Angélique immediately recognized the words, the speech, the way he was voicing those. A monster masquerading as an Arbiter.

"The instincts to destroy, right? That urge to kill, to maim, to bring the world on its knees?" It was less like a question and more like confirmation, a reflection of what she was living with every day. "What did it say?"

He took his shot to knock out another ball, his momentary silence seemed to confirm the first question, even though he didn't audibly admit it. After that pause, he responded. "It just said...'Why'...Like...it was confused…or something...Maybe confused isn't the right word...That’s all I heard before I was rendered into an ice sculpture and nearly fell to my death." He had wanted to forget he had even heard that voice speak to him, he didn't want to tell anyone, not even Siena, of it. The very thought of the possibility that those...things...were sapient only felled him with more terror and uncertainty.

Angel was confused by story. It didn't say much about the whole thing. Hell, she wasn't even there to know what was going on. "Are you sure it wasn't a Rogue? Remember how monstrous Factory was, and he was a Mage. Maybe that creature was the same."

He shook his head. "I want to believe that, but...The way it sounded…something just....just felt off.." He shook his head. "Maybe I imagined it...I don't…I don't want to think about that anymore...That’s not the worst of what had happened anyway...The other day I got into a fight with Marcus...At one point I got so angry that I literally roasted his leg...It wasn't as if I planned for him to rewind the wound either, I just...The anger wanted blood."

"You fucking what?" Again, less like a question, but more like an angered confirmation. "What the fuck is wrong with you people? We just came out of this fucking hell, are given time to relax and think about ourselves and what we did. And this is all that you idiots find worthy of doing in the meantime? Punching each other in the face and in the guts on top of roasting body parts?"

If Angel had no restraint herself and haven't vowed to not harm her classmates, she would have taken the cue and rammed it onto Christopher's chest. But instead she stood there, wrath seething. "We're a team and all that keeps happening is everyone fucking backstabbing each other or one-upping them in the face. Why? Why can't we all cooperate? There is so much to try and keep ourselves alive from. We don't need to fucking start worrying about killing each other on top of that."

He shook his head. "I know, it’s easier said and done though with all the bullshit. Believe me when I say the last thing I want to do is kill a fellow student, that’s why I wanted to know if I could rely on you if I fall down that path." He wasn't fazed by her anger; frankly he was expecting it, given the weight of his actions.

"No, you won't fall down that path. This is not your path. Learn to calm yourself down, or find alternatives. I'm the worst when it comes to speak about that, because I have trouble dealing with this," Angelique pointed to the mark on her neck, now bare to see in plain view now that her choker was no more "but if I started to look for alternatives to deal with it, then you should damn well be able to find something for you as well. Fuck, if you need support, I'll be more than happy to give you some. But don't go around asking people to kill you, because I won't accept it. Face it, Chris. No matter what you think, we need you, just as much as you need us."

There was a pause, perhaps some relief, that he felt needed. It was a feeling foreign to him thus far, so he had trouble hiding a faint smile for the brief moment. "...Thanks...Well…I'll try. No, I'll succeed in taming those instincts...Thanks for the advice..." The cue ball hit ricocheted off of one ball to the next. "I can't use that as an excuse though." He adjusted another shot, which missed its mark. "What I did to Marcus is inexcusable. I don't mind if he hates me forever and can't find to accept my apology, he has his full right to do so...but…I need some time alone, maybe I can try to tame my power better in solitude for now."

“You fucked up, true, but at least you know you did wrong, and that’s what separates you from a monster. Monsters don’t have regrets when it comes to eating and killing people.” Angel tried to put some light into the situation, even as angered as she was about the whole situation. “We fucked up, but we shouldn’t seek forgiveness. We have to remember our mistakes, so we can work hard to never repeat those again.”

“If that’s how you feel is best, it’s up to you. Personally, I prefer working with someone when it comes to using my power. Finding a way to make things work together for the future, you know.” She gave the boy a glance with a mischievous smirk “Plus, I can’t be called an Angel if I can’t conquer my fear of literal heights.”

He scoffed a bit at her last remark. "And what is a dragon without its pride?" There was a sense of humor in his voice; the whole conversation had de-escalated his anxieties already. "I'll ask for help when I need it, don't you worry."

“And Angels are supposed to be pure, but then look just how far I let myself fall from grace…” Angélique’s statement however was bitter and sorrowful. “Fine. Just... don’t let that ‘pride’ of yours get in the way to your friends. Trust me. I know what it is, and where it leads.”

He gave a solemn nod at her remark and advice. "No one's perfect, anyway." He didn't bother to finish the game as he hung up his cue stick instead, and walked over to the couch to lie down on.

"Being flawed doesn’t excuse me of murdering innocent..." the Aberration replied, muttering these words to herself as she watched as Christopher just left his cue behind and went to lie down on one of the couches.

Was he for real?

"Hey, Kilgharrah, get back here! I was waiting after you to play a few matches against you. Are you going to forfeit your chance of showing me up?”

Kilgarrah? Ah right, that was his 'media' nickname apparently. "Fine fine your 'holiness', I'll play you a few matches."

"Can't leave a woman hanging, young man." Angélique chuckled as she prepared the table for a game. "Speaking of girl, how is it going with Siena? Asked her out yet?"

"Well I confessed my feelings." He went for another strike, but missed and shot the eight ball into a pocket. "Damnit." He muttered. "She wasn't...direct. But I can tell at least that her response wasn't a yes. I haven't entirely given up on her, but I'm not going to force something like that into our friendship, things got a bit awkward there already." There was a bit of silence as he prepared to set up the next game, organizing the balls and straightening them with a triangle. "I just wish someone could make her happy at least....I can tell she has a lot of scars, from what exactly I couldn't tell you, but with the past events that happened this week and before it certainly hasn't helped her."

"Hmm..."

Honestly, Angélique would have been disappointed by the outcome of their story, but after what Chris had revealed her, she wasn't sure if Siena needed to deal with the dramatheurge that was Christopher as a lover. But then again, Allison had been willing to give her a second chance and reciprocate her love, so why Chris wouldn’t be given one too?

"Strange, isn't it? The world, hell even the Mages believe we Aberrations have it hard, constantly dealing with our shit. But the more I look at things, the more I see you Arbiters too are dealing with some crap. Yes... I've noticed Siena's behavior. And what happened in her room a tonight kind of gave it away for everyone there."

Angel took place next to the table, aligniging her cue to the white ball and smashed it with precision and swiftness, bringing the balls all around the table and pocketing the solid green one. "I can't know for sure either... but yeah, I wish she'd find someone to be comfortable with."

He nodded once. "Were all cursed, really. I don't believe any one has it worse per say, as we all have our own crosses to bear. I'm obviously not too fond of…well…Brent and Marcus, but at the end of the day they are still in my team, they are a part of me. I just have to force myself to get along with them in more casual settings...Like a sibling you don't like, I suppose...I just hope they have the same philosophy."

"They need to. We all need to. Otherwise, we won't last for long in this world. We need to be united to survive." Angel agreed as she shot the white ball on a stripped one, nearly pocketing another of her balls with a ricochet. "Damn... I got rusty."

Chris knocked a single one of his colors out on his turn, but missed the next shot. Knowing my twisted luck, I'll be forced to live while everyone else gets killed off in front of me again." Chris muttered, mostly to himself, and was barely audible. Despite the low voice, there was a sense of humor to it, as if he was mocking himself out of pity. Between what had happened in D.C., his talk with Siena, and Now Angelique, his inner demons were starting to show again.

"I suppose I can't get you to tell me, Chris?" Angel asked as she took the shot she missed earlier, managing to pocket her ball but also one of Chris'.

There was just pure silence as Chris went for his shot. As if the room had gotten cold, his hands were shaking and trembling despite what he tried to keep as a calm and 'default' expression of his trademark scowl. He completely missed the shot. Damn He didn't mean to let that out. "Tell you what, now?" He asked as he stood up straight, trying to play the ignorant card to avoid the question as he awaited for her next play.

Angel was no oblivious to the half-assed shot that seemed to be out of place for a player of his caliber. Walking over to the white ball, she gave the Dragon Mage a look as she placed herself on a good angel. "Nevermind. If you don't want to talk about it yet, it's okay. Like you said, we all got our inner demons to deal with. Sooner or later, maybe you'll find yourself comfortable enough around someone to share your story."

Opposite to Chris, her shot was straight, unforgiving, violently pocketing one of her own ball.

Chris shook off his anguish with Angelique's comfort, but he still felt a bit uneasy. "Everyone that had their rooms assigned with mine is dead, you know that right?" He finally choked up. It was just the tip of his turmoil, but he never expected to let anyone know of it. A sign of weakness he wasn't entirely sure he wanted to confess, but perhaps such a conversation could save him from the void a little longer.

"Y-yeah, I'm sorry about that..." Angélique's next shot wavered, her ball bouncing against the edge of the table as expected but never hitting its intended mark. How strange, to have tried to make her resolve stronger with their deaths, but she had started forgetting them so easily. Even Aaron, who had disappeared but was never confirmed dead.

"..." He went for another ball down the whole as everything that had been piled up for a decade now started to poor out like a broken damn. "And that’s just when I got here. Before that? I lost my first and only friends up until now when I was little in the woods, almost shat myself from being nearly eaten myself, got this DAMNED mark on my face." Anger, as he thrusted the cue on the cue ball hard enough to cause its shaft to shatter. "I lived in isolation for a while, My family knew but tried to hide it. My neighbors, other close ones, I think they knew too, but kept it...ya know…hushed..." There was a period of him slowing down as his hands trembled. "And then they all died too...every single one of them. I was the only survivor of my town thanks to this...Damned Curse, and the military 'took me in'." Exhausted, he nearly collapsed as he leaned onto the wall.

"Woah, easy!" Angel rushed to Chris' side as he looked like he would fall to the ground. Swinging his arm over her shoulder, she led him to the couch he was supposed to be laying on earlier. "I... I'm sorry, I didn't know..."

His experience a real personal tragedy. Not that Angélique didn't know what it felt like to be in the eye of the storm, but her loved ones never died because of her. If they did, the fallen idol didn't know what she would have done with her life. Now this all explained why Chris was so moody all the time and rejected everyone else.

"Hey, you alright? what happened to you?"

"No one was supposed to know...I didn't want to tell.." A sigh. "No...its fine...I'm fine...Just a bit...all those years of keeping that to myself..." He gripped her shoulder as he stood upright again, having regained some exposure. "Don't tell anyone about that, alright?"

"Don't worry, I'll kept that only for myself, until the day you decide you are ready to share it with others. She reassured the young man with an apologetic look, taking his hand and placing it down on his lap. "Just... rest. We'll get to have more matches sometime else."

Chris nodded. "I just want to be clear, the last thing I need is pity. Don't treat me any differently because you're aware of that."

Chris... it's not pity that I feel. It's understanding." Angel corrected him with a look meant to defy his harshness.

"I don't want you thinking I'm telling you all this so that I compare myself to you, but..." the raven-haired Aberration swallowed hard. "I know what it's like to live a tragedy up close. I... accidentally killed my very own fans during a concert. I wasn't aware of the strength of my powers... and people paid for it with their lives..."

It was something hard for Angel to tell, her voice sometimes coming out choked as she tried to untangle the knot in her throat.

He shook his head. "Like I said, no one has had it worse than the other, I consider are burdens equals. We live cursed lives Angelique, and you clearly went through the same hardships I have even if different in scale. I'm sure everyone has had that same...anguish...I appreciate that you opened up to me too with that, though. "

"I thought I'd share. It wouldn't be fair of me to know your burdens without letting you know about mine."

Angel took a seat onto a nearby recliner, relaxing into the comfort of the char. She felt like her body was getting heavier as well, but her mind actually felt lighter as well. Did it really felt that good, to open up her mind to those she could trust? But then again, what if Christopher turned out to be like Ernest and Brent?

We've come a long way, huh? Who'd know we'd be sitting in an estate in the middle of the wood and talking about our problems, when only a month ago we'd barely be able to look at each other in the eye while having dinner."

The black-haired singer let out a half-hearted chuckle. There was something nostalgic and sorrowful in her tone as she recalled Green Team's dinner. Aaron and Savannah...

"Guess that’s just what war does to ya." Chris sighed with a smirk himself.

Before long, Angel fell silent in the recliner, and quickly enough returned to her own little personal land of nightmares, tired of all the weeks' events happening, and her own lack of proper sleeping working itself into her body. Too bad that, even in her relaxed state of mind, she will never find peace in her slumber.

It felt different this time, just like back in Washington. However, she wasn’t standing in a corridor, talking with her previous manager about success and profits. She was standing high atop a mountain, at the edge of a gloomy city of ruined manmade spires and cold concrete structures. There was no monsters to haunt her, no overwhelming battles to conquer. Nothing but large groups of individuals banding together at the feet of the mountain.

It was faint, but she could hear shouts. The more intently she listened, the angrier were the voices. She could barely make out what they were saying, but she could somehow understand them all.

“…murderer… betrayer… sinner… bitch… insecure… scared… die…”

As much as she hated them all, she couldn’t bring herself to scream at them. She had already caused to much suffering, she had enough. She just wished to be left alone in peace. She vowed to no longer user her voice to maim the innocents, however judgmental and wrong they were.

But when they saw she wasn’t moving from her mountainous pedestal and their words could barely reach her, they turned away, facing another group of people. Even from her viewpoint, she would recognize that second group of people; her friends, her rivals, her nemesis, her classmates. They shone ever so brightly, like a beacon of hope in this bleak world, but darkness was closing in on them. The insurgents that were assaulting her mountain in vain earlier turned their anger towards her friends, assaulting them with those same words as if they were rocks meant to stoning the death-sentenced. For a reason, those unjust words was hurting more than when they were thrown at her earlier.

With each passing word, the serene look on the girl’s face grew distorted into a darker expression, until hell had no fury like this woman’s scorn. She couldn’t stand hearing those words being uttered to her friends. As to bring order back, she shouted from high above on her mountain. But doing so had doomed them all. The insurgents were swept back from their feet and vanished into thin air, as well as her friends.

She only screamed more as she realizd what she had done. She had lost them, forever.

Looking down in shame, her eyes grew wide in horror. The mountain she was standing on, so tall and full of pride, was entirely made of bloodied and battered corpses. And on top of this macabre mound of bodies, the well-known silhouettes of her friends. With utmost horror, she realized that this entire time, she had been stepping directly onto the corpse of a brown-haired girl; her first love. Kneeling, she took the dead girl into her arms and desperately tried to shake her into life.

She screamed again. The world shattered all-around her.

The feathery wings on her back were stained in so much crimson that they seemed to have turned jet-black.

---

Angélique screamed herself awake. She was back, lying down underneath a tree, not too far from where she had parked the car and went to relax while watching the scenery. Her napping spot seemed to have grown so much brighter than when she had lied down earlier. Looking up, she now knew why.

Half of the tree’s branches and every single leaves on the tree had snapped from the great oak, draped all around the sleepy Aberration.

---

Whether she liked it or not, Sophia needed to eat. She needed to get out of her room, to stop thinking about all that death and about those "good" videos of her and her teammates. This estate seemed like a place that she would have liked to stay in under different circumstances, but now she didn't feel like even exploring. She made her way straight to the dining room without really seeing what was around her, and got her food.

She stood there at the edge of the room for a good minute, spacing out before she mentally shook herself. Pay attention to what you're doing. Go sit down. Yes, sit down. Blinking a few times, she scanned the room for a place. A empty table at the side would be good... Sophia spotted a vacant table without issue, but as she did she also caught sight of a head of blonde hair. Lily. Lily was there. Should she... should she go over? She wasn't sure if she really wanted to be with people right now, but surely Lily was different? Anyway, she should see how Lily was doing after all that had happened in D.C.

Walking over to the table that Lily was at, she hovered a few feet away. "Hi, Lily. Mind if I...?"

Lily was staring into space and surprisingly being successful in keeping her mind blank and free from what had happened and what she did just a few days ago. No voices seemed to bother her carefully empty thoughts, a feat she would definitely marvel at on a later time despite the nightmares she had the night before about people screaming and clawing for her. Seeming on autopilot, her hand slowly kept on spooning porridge into her mouth. If anyone would look closely, her food had no flavor in it whatsoever. It just seemed like she was eating for the sake of eating. When Sophia came up to her, dull golden eyes looked up. She made an effort to give her friend a small smile before she nodded and muttered a soft "Sure."

Her friend didn't seem so good. Understandably. Sophia surveyed the dull eyes, the smile that wasn't very wide, and listened to how Lily's voice was more muted than it usually was. Lily was a cheerful, supportive girl, not this. But after yesterday, she would be surprised if any of their team was happy. That slaughter. Both Lily and herself had watched Kusari kill as she tried to defend them. Been there as Angélique and who knew who else shed blood while fighting their way through the mass of panicked people.

Lily had also taken on injuries. Had taken on her own injuries, as well as those of countless people. And then been surrounded by many regulars who had been demanding to be healed. Sophia had had her own share of issues yesterday, but now she needed to stop being tired and horrified and be a friend. She started slowly. "Did you... sleep much last night?"

Another spoonful of tasteless porridge and a slow shake of Lily's head. "I don't sleep much on any night," she said in the same soft voice. "I hope you did though," she added after a few seconds of pause.

"Oh." What was she supposed to say to that? But then, what had she expected? "I think that-- that it'll be a bit until we-- I am going to be able to sleep well," she answered truthfully. Her dreams, when she had been able to sleep, had not been happy ones. In addition to Savannah, more dead people now plauged them. Faceless ones.

"Well, uh..." Sophia cleared her throat before continuing louder. "Thanks for fixing me... and the rest up... back there." She shouldn't have had to.

Sophia's gratitude brought back a little light into Lily's eyes. "It was a good thing I can help out even a little." Another small smile. "I heard you helped out with the trapped people," she deliberately steered the conversation away from herself.

"More than a little," Sophia whispered, before looking down at her hands at Lily's comment. "I... I tried." But only because Angélique had pushed her to do so. And still, it had not been enough. She didn't want to think about it, but that was all that came to mind. I didn't have the initiative to at least try, like you seem to, she wanted to say. She wanted to admit how the person who deserved the credit was Angélique, but it wouldn't come out. "I... it wasn't enough, was it? All those people..."

She regretted the words once she said them. Sophia was supposed to be making Lily feel better, not heap her troubles upon the small girl's shoulders. "B-but nevermind," she added hurriedly, "I'm glad you're alright." At least on the outside. "Will be alright."

But even when Sophia hurriedly steered the topic from herself, Lily still focused on her friend. "I'm sure you did the best you could do. In situations like the one we were in, you can't really expect to save everyone..." her voice trailed off as her mind screeched to a stop, refusing to think of the reason why some people who shouldn't have died did.

Can't really expect to save everyone... Of course Lily was right, but that wasn't really how people's minds worked, was it? At least not hers. I hope Lily listens to her own advice. If Sophia would have started earlier, not waited to be pushed... more people would have been unearthed before the soldiers had come. All that death and injury... "I got stronger, but only after it mattered most." Too busy with her thoughts, Sophia didn't even realize she had said those words aloud.

Lily's spoon paused half way to her mouth. "Do you think they... USARILN East... puts us in these life or death situation to push us to grow stronger? I mean... I'm not any stronger than I was before but like you said... you got stronger."

Huh? Sophia was confused when Lily began to speak about just what she had been thinking about, before then realizing what she had done. Did Lily really know what Sophia had been saying out loud, or did Lily think that Sophia meant it in the more literal way? Like, getting more experienced and knowing how to respond better? She looked at the Aberration curiously. "I don't... know?" She huffed out a sigh, rubbing a hand over the side of her face. "Do you know what I mean... by uh, strong? Like..."

"I'm talking about strong like our powers growing... and at the same time, I think I mean being able to handle situations like the one they threw us in..." Lily answered. "Not like I handled myself well..." she mumbled as an after thought.

So Lily did understand, it had happened to her too. That made Sophia want to discuss it immediately, to talk to someone who she could actually sort of communicate with, and someone who would listen. It was something else to discuss that didn't entirely bring them back to blood and death. But Sophia caught Lily's mumble, and changed focus. Sophia hadn't been with Lily all the time, but from an outsider's point of view, she thought that the blonde haired girl had done okay. Considering the circumstances. "No... I thought you did fine?"

"No, I didn't," Lily answered. The refusal to remember the catastrophic events was stronger than ever. Sophia will hate me if she finds out... but... I owe it to her to let her know what a monster I am... so that she can keep herself safe from me... She tried to pull herself together, to try to come to terms to what she was and what she needed to do--to say. But it was difficult. She wanted to belong and to be needed. And telling her now would no doubt destroy the friendship they had. She finished her tasteless porridge, using that time to prepare herself to talk. "I'm... I shouldn't be..." she sighed and then gave up. "Tell me about you first," she said instead.

Sophia opened her mouth to budge in and insist that Lily had done alright, but in the end she closed it, seeing as Lily looked like she had more to say. Except she didn't way anything, and only continued eating. Still, Sophia waited for a while. She was not unfamiliar with the feeling of wanting to say something but being unable to, and a worried look crossed over her face when Lily seemed to struggle with words. Shouldn't be what? And now her friend was changing the subject, something that Sophia reluctantly let her do.

She didn't like talking about herself much. Sophia considered herself a very... private person. Even Lily didn't really know much about her, did she? Stalling a bit, she asked, "What-- what exactly do you want to know?"

"Nothing you don't want to share. I was just wondering how you're doing after all that's... happened," Lily said as she finally put her spoon down.

After all that had happened. Right. Sophia wasn't sure how to start, wasn't sure how much she wanted to share. "I'm... okay. I'll be okay." The conversation that she and Lily had had back after Wisford came to mind. "It's... I think all these changes are going to take a while to-- to get used to, knowing what is now expected... but..." Sophia trailed off and shrugged, "I don't know." She couldn't say anymore. Didn't want to go too closely to what had happened at the truck. Around the truck.

Lily nodded, understanding Sophia despite a lack of content to her statement. The golden haired Aberration's mind turned back to the matter at hand. Telling her friend--no, warning her friend of the danger she brings with her power. "I...need to tell you something... that... that would possibly make you hate me," she started.

That... that seemed familiar. Something about Lily insisting that Sophia would hate her. Because of her powers. Thinking back to that day when Lily had come to her room, she pressed her lips together for a moment. What was it now? Inside, worry flooded Sophia's thoughts... and apprehension. She hadn't forgotten that Lily was an Aberration, despite the girl's cheerful demeanor, Sophia still found herself thinking about it sometimes.

Hadn't they already sorted out the hating part back then? Was there something new? What had happened during the D.C attack that Sophia had not seen? Did she wanted to know?

But yes, she wanted to know. She should listen, because if she could lend some support to a friend, she should do so. Especially since Lily had also helped Sophia in the past. Making sure to look her friend in the eye, she said, "It's okay. Go ahead."

Looking into her friend's eyes, Lily finally remembered that it wasn't really Ernie who she first confided in but it was, in fact, Sophia. The horrible things she did to the fake people in Ground Zero, the awful feeling that came after, the panic, the desperation. Hope bloomed in her chest that Sophia wouldn't hate her after all but it was dashed away by the knowledge that this time, she had used her powers on real people. But the dark haired Arbiter was giving her her full attention now, she was willing to listen. There was no turning back.

Lowering her voice, she spilled everything in a statement that said it all. Short, straightforward and harsh. "I killed people in D.C," she said, bracing herself for the hatred and the repulsion she expected.

Oh shit. Some of those people that had been lying on the ground when the truck had pulled away from the place where the people had panicked and attacked... that had been Lily's work? The blood, the death. Lily. Sophia's face portrayed shock, something she couldn't hide as her mind whirled. Last time Lily had done it, the victims had been those in Ground Zero. Not real people. But now...

It was only now that Sophia really realized to what extent being an Aberration meant. Not being able to control that to such an extent... The blood, the death. Lily couldn't have really wanted to do such things, that was why she was so worked up, right? Sophia could see that her... her friend didn't bask in what she had done. A thought occured to her. In USARILN there was Ground Zero. But once we left the school, did she have anywhere to channel whatever forces her to do such things? There was La Plata, then D.C, and we were there for... how long? Her mind clung onto that thought, now having somewhere else to channel those swirling feelings. At the people who were herding them around. USARILN. Zhang.

It wasn't Lily's fault. It wasn't her friend's fault. It was the fault of those people who knew that Aberrations needed a Ground Zero, but had not made any effort to provide a place for them. Sophia suddenly looked angry. Not the exploding angry, but the quiet, cold kind of anger. Her dark eyes, which had dropped from Lily's once the girl had admitted what she had done, looked to her again. "It's not your fault." Conviction. Determination. Lily was not going to walk away thinking that all the fault was hers. "They-- they knew what could happen if the Aberrations in our group didn't have a Ground Zero. But they didn't do anything to help. They just brought us here and there, not bothering to say for how long or where or why."

"It's not your fault."

Lily really didn't expect Sophia to insist the it wasn't her fault. Because it really was hers. Not because she couldn't control her stigma, not because she couldn't find anything to channel it to but because she chose to be an Aberration. Mages were supposed to have dreams where they choose to be Arbiters or Aberrations. She couldn't remember hers. She coudn't remember why she chose the path she was walking now. But no matter how much she couldn't remember, the fact remained that she chose this path. She took a deep breath. "It is my fault, Sophia. No matter how much I want to blame someone else, I can't. At the end of the day, it just boils down to what I am and what powers I have and how I lose control," she explained. It was strange to be fearing to be rejected and hated one moment and then end up trying to convince her friend that she's a monster.

Sophia shook her head. It wasn't Lily's fault. Yes, Lily had... had done it, but that was only because measures hadn't been taken to prevent it. She wouldn't let herself think it was her friend's fault. But what was she to say to continue trying to convince Lily, when Lily had already rejected her previous words? "You are a cheerful, supportive friend. You have the power to heal people. You might have 'lost control' in your view, but that wasn't you. That was..." Whatever it was that pushed Lily. "It wasn't your fault, you didn't want to. And you're trying your best to keep it from happening. You're going to get better. Right?" Was it a rhetorical question, or was Sophia really asking for confirmation?

Lily stared at Sophia for a long moment, marveling at how good her friend think she was. It didn't feel right to tell her that she was mistaken, to disappoint her and tell her that she was rotten to the core. Her words, so full of hope, made the small Aberration feel like she needed to get better, needed to control herself more, needed to make sure that she no longer hurt people just because her stigma urged her to. Slowly, she nodded her head, realizing that she was with one of the best people she could ever wish to meet. "I will. Thank you."

A soft sigh of relief. Mission: accomplished. It wasn't Lily's fault. "You don't need to... thank me," Sophia mumbled, "It's nothing."

The blonde mage reached out and squeezed Sophia's hand. "No, I have a lot to thank you for. Just for believing in me. That's already too much," she smiled. "I thought that people would hate me for being this way... I was scared of telling you. I forgot that I already did and even now when I've done something beyond horrible, you still think I'm good. It's amazing. Thank you."

It wasn't too much. That was what Sophia was supposed to do, what she wanted to do for Lily. But she didn't protest. She let herself, for a bit, belive that she could be helpful. I... I helped. Lily confides in me now. I might need her sometimes, but she needs me too. And there it was. She smiled. "You're welcome."

---

Lily's talk the day before with Sophia had lifted her mood quite a bit but not entirely. With her constant nightmares plaguing her sleep and waking her up several times during the night, she sluggishly got out of the bed feeling exhausted. Rubbing her eyes, the first thing they fell on was the phone that was laying silently on the table, drained of all its battery. She wondered if she should talk to the person that kept calling. Maybe actually hearing him out would give her a clue to figuring out who really owned the phone.

But I'd need to charge it first. she thought as she pulled out the single drawer on the table. I don't think they'd have--- her thoughts came to a complete stop.

"Oh," the small teenager stared in amazement at what appeared to be a brand new charger tucked neatly beside some blank papers and pens, its cord secured by a twist tie. She reached for it, released the cord and examined the tip. "It'd be so strange if this thing's actually compatible with the phone I have..." she connected the charger to the phone, fully expecting it not to fit. "Oh," she said again when she found that it was actually perfect fit. She furrowed her brows and looked around. "What a strange place..." she murmured as she plugged the charger into the wall socket. The phone's LCD instantaneously lit up and an image of a battery filling up flashed across it. She stared at it for a moment before wandering back to the bed and laying atop the rumpled bedsheet.

With her mind idle, horrified faces invaded her thoughts and her mood plummeted back down. Why this power? What made her choose to have a twisted version of what's supposed to be purely good? Why did she choose to have this incessant need to hurt plague her every single moment? Did she know and willingly chose it? Was she a violent person before she lost her memories? Was that why she had that gash on her head that should have claimed her life? Why did she survive it? Was it because she was meant to do good? But what does doing good mean if she'll eventually bring death and destruction?

Too many questions.

Sighing, she decided to get up and go out. Maybe some fresh air would do her good... Her stomach grumbled and she realized she hadn't eaten anything yet for the day. Maybe something to eat would be good too. Trying to keep her mind blank just like she did the day before, she crossed the small distance from the bed to the door and opened it.

She would have tripped on them if she hadn't been looking down.

Outside her door were three boxes and a medium sized tub. "Hmmm?" Her nose immediately picked up what was inside the boxes when she leaned down to pick them up. Donuts. A delighted grin lifted the edges of her lips up.

She brought the boxes into the room and returned for the tub. Her smile widened when she felt the cold and realized that it was ice cream. She peered up and down the hallway, wondering who could have left the goodies at her door. When she didn't see anyone, she shrugged and went back into her room. Kicking the door closed behind her, she brought the cold tub to the table and laid it down beside the boxes. The ice cream tub even came with a spoon. Thoughtful. She stared at them for a few minutes, again marveling at how the place seemed to know just what she wanted and needed.

As soon as she got over her initial surprise, she peeked into the boxes, not really noticing the taped note on top. It fell off the box and landed onto the table--meant to be discovered at a later time. Her eyes zoned in on the chocolate glazed pastry ring in one of the boxes and immediately picked it up. Chocolate was always the way to go. Without hesitation she bit on it, giggling as she did. When she was half way done, she turned her attention to the ice cream. Placing the half eaten donut between her teeth, she pried the tub lid off.

"Chocolate!" she exclaimed, almost dropping the donut in between her teeth and laughing at herself for it.

Everything wasn't as bad as it seem after all.

---

The talk with Sophia, the donuts and the ice cream... although they were all good at pulling the small girl's mood up, it still managed to sink low. She ended up wandering around early in the morning, taking in the sight and surrounding without really enjoying it. She saw some of her classmates but she didn't really bother saying hi and made it a point to avoid them. Sophia might think that she was good but none of the others probably think the same way. Why would they when she herself didn't think she was in any way good?

Lunch time found the X-marked blonde seemingly on autopilot again, feeding herself two pieces of toast without anything on it. As soon as she was done, she cleaned after herself and escaped back into her own world, wandering the grounds and even falling asleep under a tree.

But as always, Lily's sleep was short lived and she woke up both tired and disoriented.

When she managed to drag her depressed and tired self back to her room, the LCD of her phone lit exactly when she stepped through the door.

10 missed calls and 15 messages. All from Sebastian.

Depressive thoughts and anxiety pushed aside, curiosity won over and Lily pored over the messages sent to the phone everyone in USARILN claimed to be hers. She scrolled over several messages that kept repeating the same name Hailey.

Come on, Hailey. Just pick up please.

Who is Hailey? Was she someone in USARILN with them? An older student? A deceased one maybe?

I know you're angry at me. But please. At least let me know that you're okay.

Why would Hailey be angry at him? Did he do something?

I keep hearing things reported in the radio about students from USARILN. Where are you?

So Hailey is part of USARILN too.

Please. Just pick up the phone. I just need to hear that you're alive and well. If you don't wanna talk to me... it's okay. Just... talk to me once... please.

I should really tell him that I got Hailey's phone... but it'll be so sad to tell him that the Hailey might actually be dead...

Hail...

You're the only family I have left.

That last message made Lily pause and stare at the LCD. The only family he had left... that made everything worse. How do you tell someone that the only family they have left might actually be already dead? Was she ready to deliver that message to this unknown person? She stared at the words until they blurred and then hurriedly put the phone aside.

---

Angélique looked quite lonesome as she sat at the table in the dining hall in front of a good homemade meal. She had come back early from her road trip with Zoe, given her red-haired friend wasn’t comfortable sitting for long. As such, Angel had time to cook something for herself for dinner. Even though she had a good talk with her fellow Aberration, the less reputable singer still felt somewhat down. Her first birthday dinner without anyone around to celebrate it. No cakes, no presents, no wishes, no one to have fun with…

Her thoughts drifted to the people she had spoken with recently. Most thought of her as a horrible human being for having done what she did in Washington, while some were willing to give her second chances, prove that she wasn’t a monster, but someone who did a mistake. It was hard, deciding what she was, who she should be.

Beside Siena, Angélique hadn’t spoken to anyone from her evacuation group. She had tried to avoid them so far this week. It was an unhealthy thing to do, letting this hate and animosity fester, but Angel had not found her resolve to face the others and admit that she had lost control. Because, in the end, as much as she may tell the others and even try to believe herself in saying that she did it to protect the others, it remained that she had lost control over herself and let loose her Stigma. If she had been more in control, it would’ve been likely that no one would’ve died by the hands of her group that day.

She might not want to admit her loss of control, but there was something Angel shortly realized. She owed apologies, much like she had already apologized to Siena for having involved her in this mess, and apologized to Allison for having betrayed her trust and her love.

And it just so happened that, on her way to her room, Angélique found herself stopping short from bumping into a small Lilianna, whose presence seemed to have gone almost unnoticed not only from her size but from how quiet she was. It was unusual for the usually spirited blonde Aberration to look so down, at least according to the few moments the ex-rockstar had spent with the younger girl.

”Oh! I’m sorry Lily, I didn’t see you there. My mind was… elsewhere.”

Lily was wandering around aimlessly when Angel bumped into her. While she had been successful in keeping her mind quiet and blank the first few days since they arrived, now her mind was cluttered with the events that had happened in Washington. The horrified looks on people's faces, how they crumpled to the gound clutching at their bleeding ears, how they had screamed in pain before collapsing... There was no excuse to what she had done. And walking around freely like what she was doing was unfair. She should be locked up and tied down like Hazel.

I'm not a healer. I'm a murderer. I shouldn't stay here. I'll just endanger people's lives... The words in her head kept repeating in a loop, punctuated by the voices of her stigma agreeing to every word.

Sluggishly, she looked up when Angel spoke up. "It's okay," she replied and automatically stepping aside to create space. "I hope I wasn't much of a bother," she added in a soft, dejected voice.

Lily probably had all the reasons to feel depressed, Angélique figured as her friend’s state of mind leaked profusely from her voice alone. Shit, she must’ve spent the last few days locked up on herself to look like that.

She deserved an apology, and like Angel herself had found an ear to speak her mind to in Zoe, the black-haired Aberration felt like she should be there for Lily too. It wasn’t her fault, partly. It was this goddamn X on her neck.

“What, no! No you’re not. I just spaced out. It’s my fault really.” Angélique quickly replied to Lilianna’s statement, feeling as if she had just insulted the depressed small Aberration.

I took some time for Angel to muster the courage to speak, but she managed to open her mouth, tentative words finally breaking the silence “Lily… do you… want to have a talk?”

Tired looking golden eyes continued staring at Angel. What was there to talk about? Did her friend wanted to know just how much of a monster she was? Lily sighed. She was just about to say no when a realization occurred to her. Oh...maybe she has problems of her own that she wants to vent out.

"Okay... Do you... uh... wanna go back to my room? Someone left donuts in my doorstep the other day. Maybe you'd want some?" she offered.

“O-oh! I mean, if you don’t mind, sure? It’s been a while. Kinda miss those actually, now that you bring it up?” Angel tried to gather her spirits up, but only managed to come up with half-a-smile. “Someone just... left them there? Have any idea who it is?"

Lily shrugged. "I have no idea. There wasn't any note attached to it. I guess the person who left it there didn't want me to know who he or she is. It was a nice gesture though. I'll rememer to thank the person if I ever find out," she said as an amused look came over her face. "So many donuts... it was sorta fun looking at them," she gave out a small half hearted chuckled as she led the way to her room.

“Sounds like whoever gave them to you knew you loved them.” Angélique replied with a faint giggle of her own.

And ignored the fact she is a mass murderer just like you…

Falling back behind Lily, the raven-haired Siren followed Lilianna to her room, her heart starting to beat faster as she was trying to come up with words of apologies to Lily. It wasn’t something she felt comfortable with right now, but it had to be done. And if it could help Lily empty her mind, then she would’ve at least done something good today as well.

"I suppose almost everyone knows that I love them since I used to walk around USARILN East's campus eating them," Lily said as she walked into her room. Once inside, she grabbed one of the boxes of donuts and laid in onto the table. "Here, help yourself," she said and stood there staring thoughtfully at her fellow Aberration.

Her curious perceptiveness kicked in. "You want to talk about what happened," was her straightforward statement.

Settling next to the table, Angel reached for one of the pastries inside a box. They looked handmade, that was for sure. Whoever did it used the equipment here to do them. However, she did not get to fully taste the bit she took as Lilianna shot the question at Angel in the most straightforward manner that could have been told.

Nearly choking in surprise, the now-turned two decades old young woman swallowed her bite hard, looking at the blonde Aberration at the other end of the table. “Y-yeah. Actually.”

Too quick, not enough time.

“I wanted to apologize… for what I did. None of this would have happened if I haven’t started screaming at those people. You surely wouldn’t have been tempted if I didn’t cause ear injuries to these people. I thought I would’ve protected you guys… but I fucked up big time. “

It was clear that Angel was remorseful about what she did, and felt overly responsible for what happened. The day had been loaded in emotions for the older Aberration, and words sometimes stuck in her throat as she spoke. “I.. I’m sorry for everything.”

Lily shook her head despite the barrage of angry images in her head. "No, there's nothing to be sorry about. You and me both know how difficult it is to control it up here," she placed a finger on her temple. "I've been...trying so hard to control mine but..." her voice trailed off.

Trying to confide in another murderer?

Her face fell as Kusari's words echoed in her head after the voice of her stigma. "I'm not pretending to be good but...but... I'm really not good...at all," she sighed, sank down onto a chair and hung her head. "I cause more harm than good."

Angel watched as Lily fell deeper into darkness, speechless. No… this wasn’t what she had been coming for. She wanted to make Lily feel better, not the other way around.

“Lily… please, don’t say that.” The older Aberration approached Lily hesitantly, sitting right next to her. “You are right, it is difficult to deal with. But I don’t think you are inherently a bad person. If you were, you wouldn’t be so down about it all. You wouldn’t dive into that mass of injured people and bleed yourself to unconsciousness if you were such a bad person. I think… as long as you can feel regret or sympathy, that makes you just as human as any one of us, or them.”

Angélique fell silent, trying to come up with something more encouraging. “Even if we lose it, then that means we’ve just got to find alternatives. Find some means to prevent us from harming others until the day we can manage to contain it.”

Lily blinked at Angel's words. What makes me human... She didn't expect kind words or reassuring ones. She expected disgust and mistrust. She expected anger and hate. Just like what Ernie said before. If the others find out what she could do, then they'd stop trusting her. "Aren't you going to yell at me? Tell me I shouldn't be coming near you or anybody else?" she asked, paused and then plunged forward. "I killed all those people and while I feel horrible about it now... when I was doing it, it felt like it was the most wonderful thing to do," she finished. It was really the first time she admitted it out loud. What was the use in keeping it a secret now that she showcased how horrific her powers were for the world to see. That and she wanted to see if Angel would turn and leave her like she expected her to.

The raven-haired Aberration quietly listened to her friend’s lament, finding her words oh so familiar. They really were the same, deep down. Two good-natured musicans having made the wrong choice and now paying for it in mistakes and lamentations. Just how cruel it was to have taken the path of an X-marked.

“It’s sick, isn’t it? Maybe it’s something that has always been there, or maybe it’s something that was forced on us. But trust me, Lily, you are not alone in this. Zoe feels the same way when she rots people from the inside out. I feel ecstatic when my screams pierces the air and make all those people drop. I feel… superior to others, when I just see them kneeling in pain and I stand above them. The worst part in this? I love it, just like Zoe loves spreading death and you love making people suffer.”

Angel felt disgusted by this admittance, her face clearly showing is. “And I hate it all. It’s disgusting. It’s revolting. I cannot accept it.” She spat these venomous words in such hatred that it was unsightly.

“But what can I do about it? I could yell at you for taking the injuries I caused and turning them into mortal wounds. I could scream at you that everyone believes I killed these people. I cried over my lost friends and the betrayal they felt. I could tell you about all the deaths we caused, about all the families we’ve ruined, about all the people we’ve let down. About how undeserving we are to be seen as heroes and how much of monsters we are.”

Just as if Angel seemed she would burst from anger, she stopped, her wrath slowly fading away in sorrow. “But even if I would yell at you for having done that, that won’t bring those people back. We regret it now, but it’s in the past now. Personally, I sure as hell won’t accept what I did back there, and that’s exactly why I’m going to right my wrongs. I’m fucked up, I admit it. But I’ll cling to whatever good I have left and make sure I never forget what I did, even if the world doesn’t know and gave us a second chance.”

“I won’t abandon you, Lily. Allison still loves me despite what I did. Zoe knows of my struggle and wants to support me through my choices, just like I want to be there when she has no one to talk to. So even if I know what you are going through, I want to help you, because you are a classmate, my friend, and you are not alone on this fucked up boat. I don't want you to become the monsters we see in the news or on TV. We’ll help each other out through this, alright?”

"Oh," was all Lily could say. She stared at Angel for the longest moment, a little unbelieving that someone would actually stick with her despite knowing what she can do and how she can lose control. "Thank you, Angel," the blonde Aberration's voice was both thankful and amazed. And then finally, her lips curved up into a genuine smile. She might not have broken through her depressed mood yet but she was really grateful. "I didn't think anyone would welcome me after all I did... E-- err... Someone said I should keep it a secret cause if people found out then I'd lose all the trust given to me..." she admitted, carefully omitting Ernie's name.

“What?”

Angélique was dumbfounded to have heard that. Who the hell suggested Lilianna such a stupid idea? It was irresponsible, if not downright counterproductive. Had people known about this, it would’ve made the girl the best combat medic there was on their team, ten times that considering she was able to turn simple wounds into life-threatening injuries. Not only that, but had she known before hand…

“Lily, who the fuck told you that? It’s the goddamn opposite! If you tell people about your power, then we can come up with plans to find you a better role. If we had known before, we could’ve probably taken our precautions even. We wouldn’t cast you aside for that. For fuck’s sake, it’s your power, you can’t do anything about this. It’s how you use it that makes you trustworthy or not.”

That made sense. But... During that time Lily was speaking with Ernie, it made sense too. Maybe because she thought she was safe staring into his eyes? Or maybe because it looked like he honestly cared for her well being. "I guess it's my fault not thinking about it before I decided to take the advice. And I was... scared that nobody would want to be friends with me anymore," she reached out for a chocolate glazed donut and bit on it worriedly.

Angel’s face softened as Lily seemed to be taking it personally. “It’s okay Lily, I can understand that but…”

She couldn’t be blamed. The fallen idol herself desperately tried to mend the broken pieces of her friendships and tried so hard to keep or making new friendships. Loneliness is a suffering that no one should experience, especially in these dark times. Especially for Mages.

“I need to know who goes around telling people those kinds of things. Whoever it is, they make it sound like we should be ashamed of our powers and hide them. It just creates more discord among us. I need to set things straight. Nothing good can come out of this if that kind of advice is given to everyone in our class.”

Lily frowned. She really didn't want to get Ernie into trouble. But admittedly, his advice did do more harm than good. What Angel made sense. Had she been open about what she can do, then maybe she would have had help dealing with her demons. "I-I'm sure Ernie didn't mean to cause harm..." her brows furrowed as she said the name out loud.

"Ernie!? That motherf-… "

Angel cut herself short from swearing in Lily’s presence. This asshole was the one who told her that? Not surprising, being the sniveling coward he was. Was he really Lilianna’s friend? Or was she being used by him, just like Ernest pretended to be Angel’s friend only to get close to an idol?

“Sorry… I… had a fall out with Ernest when we came here. He… just wasn’t the person I thought he was. Feels like… I’ve been deceived by how he usually acted around me.”

The young woman in her twenties fell silent, looking bitter as she remember her would-be ‘friends’ tag-teaming up on her for insulting her. “Just… mind yourself around him, alright? I don’t like gossiping and certainly don’t want to be telling you who to be friends with, but be careful. Some things are not what they seem to be. I think we both know that better, huh?”

Angel finished by eating into a donut, finally allowing her to taste how fresh and delicious these homemade donuts were.

"Not the person you thought he was..." Lily took another bite on her donut and looked thoughtful. And you fell into his trap. The voice in Lily's head cackled.

"But he's..." she started. What did she want to say? That he was nice? That she thought she was safe with him? And that she thought his advices made sense? But in reality, she didn't really know him. Maybe she was just glad that he was willing enough to hear her out and give her advice like a friend would. Now that she was talking with Angel, everything seemed to make more sense and doubts about Ernie began creeping in. You just want it to be him when there's so much more better people to turn to, the voice in her head voiced out.

Seeing Lily being so hesitant about Ernest, Angélique figured they might have had a good relationship going. But then again, just how true it all was? And how would he react if he actually discovered the little blonde Arbiter had been the one doing the killing?

"It's your choice, Lily. Personally, I don't like him, but you make your own friends and try to keep them, right?" Angel added, feeling a bit frustrated Lily was so attached to that asshole.

Reaching up for a vanilla-iced donut, Angel took a most serious face "I know I'm going to sound hypocrite from what I told you earlier. But please, don't EVER tell anyone about what happened back there. If you have to, especially to Ernest, make sure to have someone around. Anyone but Brent. Those two... have a hard time accepting what happened."

Lily still looked thoughtful but it was obvious that she was listening to each word Angel was saying. "I'll...keep that in mind. And..." she tilted her head, her golden eyes wide and curious as she looked at the dark haired singer. "I'm really glad that you're here and that you didn't turn me away like I thought everyone would. I'm also... sorry that I gave in to the voices in my head. I think maybe the deaths I caused are adding more to your guilt. I'll be better." She crammed the rest of the donut into her mouth.

"I-It's okay. I'll be there for you. I know what it is like to have voices whispering in your head all day long. It's not easy." Angel replied, not cramming her donut like her friend did, but she was eating it quite fast.

The forest green-eyed Aberration paused. She made Lily feel better about herself. At least she succeeded in making something good today. But this talk really was depressive, so...

"Had any progress on this memory loss of yours?"

Lily felt her mood lighten up a bit and she nodded. It was nice to have someone who understood and cared. "No, no big progress yet... but I was thinking that maybe I should talk to that Sebastian guy who keeps calling the cellphone that I have. Maybe he's the Sebastian you helped me remember," she said.

"That would make sense. I mean, you remembered this name specifically, he is in your phone contacts and he keeps calling you. Chances are it really is your brother trying to reach you."

Angel leaned on the table to grab another donut, honey-glazed this time. "I think you might want to talk to him. He could help you a lot to remember."

"If you want to remember, that is."

"I really should, shouldn't I?" Lily asked, nodding her head slowly. "I mean if it ends up to be someone else, then no harm done, right?" she added, sounding as though she was convincing herself.

"You've got nothing to lose from trying, girl." Angel confirmed as she finished another donut, her hand tentatively reaching for another one, but decided not to. "Damn, I should stop myself, but they are so good. I'm going to end up fat, and you won't have any left by the time I leave." Angelique chuckled lightly.

Lily shook her head. "Oh, you can have more if you want. My benefactor left three boxes full of donuts," she giggled. "And I've just eaten two since it was left outside my door. There was also ice cream... but I kinda finished that already," she admitted a little sheepishly. "Besides, today is a good day to share donuts with a good friend so have as much as you want," the golden haired girl smiled.

"Awww you're so sweet! How can I resist if you say it like that?" The Voice Mage stood a bit away from her chair and reached Lilianna for a hug. "You have to tell me how you remain so lithe after eating like that." She added with a way more light-hearted laugh.

Lily hugged the singer back gladly. She liked hugs and realized that it's been a while since she was last given one. "Genetics maybe? No matter what I eat, I still stay small," she chuckled.

"Some people are just born that lucky."

Ironic, given their current circumstances. Angel had her fair share of good genetics as well, having the body of a lascivious model and a golden voice despite her very poor eyesight.

Accepting Lily's offer, Angel reached her hand out for a plain donut, her mood having considerably going up for the better as she smiled to the blonde Mage "Yeah, eating donuts with a good friend does make it a better birthday now."

"Oh!" Lily's eyes grew wide. She reached out and took the plain donut out of Angel's hand and replaced it with a darker pastry. "This isn't much of a gift but this is my most favorite flavor. You can have it. It's dark chocolate. Happy Birthday!"

"O-oh, Lily. That's..."

Hearing that, Angel felt herself consumed by happiness. Really, this probably had been way more than what she asked of today. An emotional tear ran up in her eye as her face let a nostalgic smile drawing on her lips. Without hesitation, she shot up from her chair and threw herself onto Lilianna into a warm hug. One that she wanted to last as long as it could. One that felt like warming her soul.

"Thank you."

Lily grinned and returned the hug, for a moment forgetting all her worries and snapping out of her depressed mood. There were no monsters, no dead people, no Regulars clammoring for their heads. It was just a normal day spent with a good friend on her special day. "Oh, no need to thank me. That's what friends are for, right?"

"Yeah!"

Angel took the impromptu cake donut and split it in half, handing one half to her blonde Aberration friend. "Cheers then, for having a good friend on this 20th year."

The grin on Lily's face widened more as she took half of the donut. "Cheers!" she giggled. Just a normal teenager having fun.

---

Chances are it really is your brother trying to reach you... Angel's words echoed in Lily's head as she stared at the newest message Sebastian sent.

Were you in D.C? Norn? Is that what you're called now?

Norn. The name people were calling her... Why would this unknown person single out that name. Was he really the brother she can barely remember? Her finger trembled as it poised over the call button. It was easy to just press that button, ask and finally find out. But why was she hesitating?

Fear maybe? Fear of being rejected or disappointment? Somewhere inside her, she had started to hope that he was her brother, that he was the inkling to her lost past. Ever since Angel brought it up, the idea never really left her mind.

Just an inch more. Just a quick swipe to call...

Guitar chords blared from the phone and the healing mage jumped, almost dropping the phone in surprise. Gripping it tighter, she looked at the screen and saw that Sebastian was actually calling again.

Hesitation.

And then that sudden burst of courage.

"Hello?"

There was a sigh of relief on the other line, followed by a male baritone. "Hailey, thank God!"

"I-I'm not Hailey. My name is Lilianna Brandt," Lily felt that tug of uncertainty.

There was a pause. "What? Lilianna. Why do you have Hailey's phone? Where is she?"

The creases on Lily's forehead deepened. "I'm sorry. I don't know where she is. They... the people in school gave me this phone and told me that it belonged to me... that it was in my pocket when they found me."

There was a sharp intake of breath. "You... Were you found outside USARILN East with a head wound? Do you have healing powers? Black threads that appears on your wrist every time you take on other people's injuries?"

How did he--- "Y-yes."

Another sigh of relief. "Hailey! It's me. It's Sebastian. Don't you know who I am? Don't you recognize my voice?"

"N-no..."

"Y-you... lost your memory?"

"I don't remember anything. But... I dream of people... people I don't know. A blonde boy with the name of Sebastian. I-is that you?" Lily asked.

"Yes! I'm that Sebastian. I'm your brother. Look at the photos in your phone."

The blonde mage remembered trying to look through the contents of the phone. The contacts were full of names she didn't really recognize. The inbox was full of messages from only one person...Sebastian. And the photos. She couldn't access it because it was protected by a pass code.

"Of course you won't be able to open it. The night before we got separated you set a pass code so that no one else would be able to access the photos there. I don't know why you did that but the pass code is 8-1-2-2. It's your initials. H. A. V. Hailey Anne Villes. Look through the photos, Hail. And then call me after."

"Hailey Anne Villes..." Lily said slowly as she removed the phone from against her ear. She accessed the photos and keyed in the numbers Sebastian told her, half her mind convinced that it wouldn't unlock anything but half hoping that it would. Unlocking what she was supposed to have set was proof enough that the boy on the other end of the line was indeed her brother.

"Oh,"

There were so many pictures saved. Pictures of herself, pictures of a blonde boy she assumed to be Sebastian, pictures of them together, a single photo of a dark haired boy with sad looking eyes and a picture of her with people she didn't recognize. The teenager took a deep breath and dialed her brother's number.

"Why did you leave me here?" she asked as soon as he picked up.

"I had to. They were looking for us. They wanted us dead. I had to lead them away and I knew the people in USARILN would find you and take care of you." A straightforward explanation. But an explanation that made Lily lapse into silence. "I'm sorry I had to," Sebastian continued.

It was Lily's turn to sigh. "Where are you? Are you okay?" she finally asked.

Sebastian chuckled. "You always were a worrywart. I'm okay. I'm in Maryland now. What about you? Are you okay? Where are you?"

"Oh, I'm okay... I don't know exactly where I am but I'm okay..."

"It's good to hear your voice again. I miss you."

Lily paused. How do you tell your brother that you've forgotten all about him? "I... think I miss you too... but I can't really remember anything." The straightforward answer was always the best choice.

Sebastian chuckled. "Don't worry. I'll help you remember."

---

Lily was in a better mood while she ate late lunch. It had helped being able to talk with Sophia and Angel. And finding out that the cellphone was really hers and that the guy on the other end of the line--Sebastian--was really her brother was what pulled her out of her slump. As soon as she shoveled the last of the food into her mouth, she stood up, grabbed her empty plate and glass and headed towards the kitchen. "Hailey. What a strange name. I think I like Lily better..." she mumbled to herself as she headed in. She heard the alert tone and felt the phone vibrate in her pocket. Must be Sebastian again. Ever since they had talked last week, he had been sending her messages asking her to tell him about what she's up to each day. But she was still holding her used plate and glass. He'll have to wait. "Maybe I should ask him to just call me Lily. I wonder if that will bother him...?" she mused out aloud and then stopped when she saw a familiar boy washing the dishes. Despite knowing that he gave her a not so good advice, memory of his brown eyes flashed through her mind and a small smile played on her lips.

Without wanting to bother him, the small blonde teenager placed her dirty dishes on the kitchen counter and waited patiently for her turn in the sink.

Another day in the kitchen. Routine was good. Gave him something to hold onto. Clear goals put in place, skills he wanted to perfect. Dishes were only a small part of that process. A shorter presence shuffled up beside him, one he greeted with a polite smile before he registered who it was.

She was there.

Careful now.

"Afternoon, Lil. Do you need me to do those for you?"

Lily pulled out the phone from her pocket and grinned when she saw messages from her older brother. It was really nice having someone looking out for her even though he was far away. Washing the dishes in a few minutes. What are you doing? she typed into her phone. She pressed the send button just in time for Ernie to say something.

"Oh, no, it's okay. I'll just wait my turn," she said. "Thank you for the treats you and Brent left for me, by the way. Took me a while to realize who left them cause I...sorta overlooked that small note," she admitted sheepishly.

"Hey, it's no trouble if you feel like avoiding some housework. Trust me I'm a pro at this stuff," he smiled proudly, putting on a bit of a show for his own sake, "Heh, maybe I should spell out names out in jam or something next time. It'd be harder to miss then."

He… just wasn’t the person I thought he was. Feels like… I’ve been deceived by how he usually acted around me.” Angel's words echoed in Lily's head. The small teenager pushed the thought aside for the moment, tucked her phone back into her pocket and gave the boy in front of her a small smile. "Okay then," she took up her used dishes, stepped forward and placed them beside the sink. "I don't really mind washing them but thanks. And...yeah, your names in strawberry jam would definitely be hard to miss," she chuckled. "But I was just in a gloomy mood then so that's probably the reason I missed it," she explained. Strange that she could still talk comfortably with him despite the doubts that were in her head now. Was his smile genuine or just a facade? What did he really think of her and of her terrible power?

Ernie accepted the dishes with a nod. "Hm? Did something upset you? Our donuts weren't that bad, were they?"

The X maked blonde shook her head. "Nah, they were really good. Can't find any fault in them whatsoever," she grinned and then raised an eyebrow. "Wait, did you make them?"

"It was a team effort," he admitted, depositing a fresh rack into the dish machine, "We worked together for the dough. I did the jam while Brent did the frying. Then we both did the ice cream." Hazel eyes shone with excitement at the memory. "He used his Overclock for the ice cream machine. How cool is that?"

Lily's eyes grew wide with both excitement and wonder. "Wow. It must have been so cool. I hope I can come and watch you guys make stuff next time," she said. "I finished the ice cream without sharing with anyone," she giggled. "I shared the donuts with Angel though..." her voice trailed off as she remembered their conversation. But again, she pushed the memories aside and focused on the person she was warned to watch herself with. "What else can you guys make?"

The boy's expression took an immediate turn for the worse at the mention of the singer's name. An ugly amalgamation of fury and suspicion. "...Angel?"

But the moment passed quickly. No reason to dwell on it. His easy-going smile returned as he began loading another rack. "Hey, more hands in the kitchen just means more fun. We'll make double the ice cream next time since you like it so much. Besides, I think that between me and Brent, the better question would be what can't we make?"

"Wow, that's so cool! I wonder if I can make stuff too. I'll have to ask my brother. He should know about stuff I can't remember," the girl replied. Maybe she could make pastries and ice cream too. It would be nice if she could. Then maybe when she joins the boys, she can be of some help to them. She watched Ernie continue working on the dishes. "You...like washing the dishes huh?" She remembered that bloody mess with Zoe. "And cleaning..." she voiced out her thoughts.

"That's the best thing about cooking, right? Even if you haven't done it before, it's super easy to pick up," he encouraged, "And yeah, I clean. A lot."

It was something he had to elaborate for a lot of people. It didn't annoy him like it used to but...man, couldn't a guy just put everything in its place in peace? Ah well, it wasn't gonna stop any time soon.

"You didn't tell me you had a brother. Are your memories getting better?"

"I think you're probably the neatest person I know...which is a good thing. I'm not neat at all," Lily commented. At the mention of her brother, she perked up. "Oh, I didn't know too. But they gave me this phone back in USARILN East. They said it was mine and then someone kept on calling it. Someone named Sebastian. At first I thought they mixed up phones in school but Angel helped me remember my brother's name and I thought maybe it's the same person calling. Turns out it was him," she beamed happily. "Found out my real name too," she added.

"Hah, thanks! If you ever need me to clean your room, I can do that too," he grinned, taking out a rack from the machine to replace on the dish shelf. He ignored the second mention of Angel for now, "Your real name? Should I stop calling you 'Lily'?"

Lily sat on a stool and wrinkled her nose. "No, no, I like Lily better than Hailey actually," she said, wresting her chin on her arms. "I'll have to convince Sebastian to start calling me Lily but it's still nice to know my real name and that I have family."

Family, huh? Ernie covered the tug in his heart with a vigorous scrub of another dish.

"Yeah, I'm real happy for you. Maybe you can FaceTime him sometime and introduce him to me."

But back to the more serious matter.

"So, uh, you hang out with Angel a lot?"

Lily dangled her feet happily, completely unaware of any discomfort she might be causing the hazel eyed boy. "Sure. It'd be nice to introduce a friend to him. I'm sure he'd appreciate meeting people I hang out with," She was about to say that she'd want to introduce other friends like Angel too when the singer's words echoed in her head again. “Sorry… I… had a fall out with Ernest when we came here.

Chastising herself for not being sensitive enough, she still answered his question. "Once in a while. She helped me remember stuff and we play music together," was her simple reply but it was obvious that she was fond of the dark haired Aberration.

"I mean, you shared donuts with her," Ernie prodded a bit harder, slightly miffed by the image of the punk whore pigging into his hard work. Lily could share her gift with people, just not...her. "So you must have talked recently, right?"

At his prodding, Lily wondered exactly what happened between the two of them. While Ernie kept up a pleasant face, her perceptiveness told her that he was in no way fond of the singer. But as always, she didn't ask but answered the question directed at her. "Yeah, we did," she didn't want to elaborate more. Suddenly she felt trapped between two warring countries. She can still remember the look on Angel's face when she told her about Ernie.

"Did she know that it was me and Brent that made the donuts?"

Lily laughed at the question. "No, she doesn't. I actually just found out they were from you two when she left," she admitted, feeling silly.

"Hah! Yeah," Ernie barked out a sharp laugh, "I bet she would've spat them out if she knew we two made those. Probably wouldn't have even appreciated it."

"Oh," Lily said, not really expecting that kind of reaction from Ernie. Golden eyes narrowed. The girl was more curious now than ever. Too much curiosity usually made her ask. And when she wants to know something, she asks straightforwardly. "Do you hate her?"

He hesitated, his expression shifting through waves of hurt, confusion and anger.

"I...think I do," he started unsuredly but grew in resolve as he went on, "Nah, yeah. Sometimes I wish I didn't, that we could go back to being friends but like..."

His brow furrowed. No. She had made it very clear how she felt about her actions.

"She made her choice. Brent and I made ours. What she did--what she believes--it's not something I can just overlook. So yeah, I hate her. Because she was wrong and she refuses to even acknowledge it. But it's fine. She hates me too."

Yet he stayed friends with Marcus. Yet he tutored Siena in her driving skills. Someone had to take the fall for the others in his life, huh? A sacrifice for his greater good. Angel was just at the wrong place at the wrong time. Easier to just shift all the hatred to one target, blame her for a group's misgivings.

He fell silent, wiping at the dishes more sullenly now.

Lily listened silently. To her it seemed like the friendship between her two friends can still be saved. Especially when one actually wishes for them to go back to being in good terms with each other. But of course, she could still be wrong and voicing out her thoughts might not be a good idea. "Why not try to patch things up with her?" she asked anyway.

Ernie considered it for only a brief second. "Because I don't want to."

"Oh." Lily stopped dangling her legs. There really was nothing more to say to that. "I hope you won't hate me like that," she mumbled, not really realizing that she said it out loud.

She was there.

The notion looped in Ernie's head as he stared at the sink. Of course. There were still people who were on the truck he hadn't interrogated yet.

"Why...would I hate you?" he asked, his voice taking on a peculiar tone as he tried to sound clueless about her comment.

There were so many reasons. Because I'm a monster and I kill. Because I think maybe you're just pretending to be nice to me when you probably hate my guts already. Because Aberrations like me should be locked up so that I don't hurt anyone again. Because I told Angel that it was you who gave me that advice. Because I'm doubting you despite wanting to like you... Lily's mood plummeted a little. "Because..." She sat up straight and pointed to the X mark at the base of her throat.

Was that it? Ernie chuckled in relief.

"I'm not gonna hate you because you have a Stigma. You...seem like a good person to me, someone who's trying their best." Unlike some people who could name. "You've been working on it, right? I saw you with Emma's tulpa in D.C."

But he saw nothing that came after. He tried to hold out some hope for her, for now at least.

Lily wanted to tell him what happened and what she did. But Angel's words kept on repeating over and over in her head. And she was sure that he'd hate her when he finds out. Wasn't he the one who said that people would lose trust in her if they found out? Did what he said apply to him? "I'm...gonna do better," she said, opting not to say anything else. She really didn't want to see hate in those brown eyes.

"Heh, better than me at least," Ernie shrugged cluelessly, wrapping up his dishcleaning efforts by washing his hands, "It's good to see you aiming high. Makes me want to work hard too."

"Let's do our best, then," Lily said in a small voice, feeling guilt tug at her for not being honest.

After all the dishes were done, the pair departed the kitchen with more light conversation. But there was still something troubling Ernie.

She was there.

He needed to know. He couldn't let her go until he did.

As the kitchen doors closed behind them, Ernie turned to Lily, stopping in his tracks.

"I have one more thing to ask you."

No going back.

"In D.C., back on the evac team, did Angel...really murder those people?"

While she thought she could keep it among herself and the people who actually witnessed it, he just had to ask. Again she felt that two opposing forces pull at her. One urged her to come clean with the guy who knew exactly what she was capable of doing and the other pushing her to keep her mouth close the way Angel told her to. The answer to his question was really simple. It was already in her mind, just waiting for her to say it out loud. No, she didn't. I did. But can she really trust him? Did she know him enough to say that he'd still remain her friend even when he knew the terrible thing she did? Golden eyes met hazel brown ones and she felt that familar comforting feeling. Strange. What was it about his eyes?

"No, she didn't," she said.

Ernie's heart plummeted. No...

"What," he said lowly, "do you mean?"

Lily held Ernie's gaze and she wondered if he could read the truth in her eyes. She wanted to admit it but at the same time she didn't. She didn't want to say it out loud. She didn't need to remember how much of a monster she is after her mood had significantly lightened up from her earlier conversations with Sophia, Angel, Sebastian and Lawrence. And then there's that persistent doubt that Angel had successfully seeded in her mind. "It means she didn't kill those people."

But he saw the bleeding ears, the bodies so callously tossed aside by a forceful shout. The cause of death was the kind of head trauma that only Angel's powers could provoke.

"If she didn't do it," his voice was trembling. He already knew the answer, "then who did?"

He knew. Lily could see it in his eyes. She didn't want him to hate her or see fear or mistrust in his eyes so she remained silent and just as silently turned and walked away.

"No," he grasped her shoulder firmly, talking to her back, "You don't get to walk away. I ruined everything because of this."

Lily would have shrugged his hand off her shoulder but his words made her stop. Reluctantly, she stayed but kept her back to Ernie. She didn't wanna see his eyes. She didn't say anything but waited for him to explain what he just said.

"She lied to us!" he snarled, "For you, for everyone on that fucking truck, and you don't even have the decency to own up to it properly?!"

His words were confusing to the blonde Mage and despite not wanting to face the boy, Lily turned around, her eyes flashing with exasperation mixed with confusion and weariness. "What are you talking about? Do you want me to just go around announcing to people that I killed people just because I thought it was the right thing to do?" she demanded in a voice that matched his.

"You could have been honest with me at least. What do you mean 'the right thing to do'? Don't tell me you're just like her, with your 'it was the only option, I needed to protect my friends' bullshit."

The small girl fought to keep her temper in check. She might shift from being manic to depressed easily but she didn't lose her temper much. But with how the current conversation--or fight--was going, the frustration was tipping the scale dangerously. Her hands balled into a fist in an effort not to shout. She took a deep breath and when she began speaking again, her voice was calm and cold. "I'm not making excuses for what I did. I didn't do it to protect anyone. I might have thought I did but I did it because I wanted to." There really was no sense in hiding it. That was exactly what being an X meant. No matter how hard she tried to justify her actions, at the end of the road, it really was just that need to kill. "How can I be honest with you when you were the one who told me that people would lose their trust in me if they knew what I can do. Tell me now, do you still trust me? Did you ever trust me?" she challenged.

Ernie grit his teeth. More and more lying, murderous bastards in this class. He'd never see the end of it.

"I didn't. And I don't. The only difference between then and now is that now, I've finally got good reason for it."

His hands started to ball into fists. Of course he knew how the fucking Stigma worked but he still just couldn't believe it.

"How could you have possibly thought that it was the right thing to do?"

Angel was right all along. Ernest really wasn't the person he appears to be. How could she have taken advice from a person who didn't trust her in the first place? All traces of anger or emotion left Lily's face as she looked into the boy's eyes. "I don't have to explain myself to someone who doesn't trust me, now do I?" she said before turning and walking away. There was no need to stay this time.

Well. He had all the answers. What the fuck was he meant to do now?

Are you satisfied?

His eyes narrowed. There were still pieces missing, information that he would've obtained if he'd just swung his trap the way he always did. Of course he didn't trust her! He acted based on the evidence he'd seen. It was different from him and Brent. The Arbiter had bared everything to him. It was only fair to trust him back in the same way. But this? This blindness that he needed to throw himself into to repair these relationships? The insane leap of faith required to salvage what he still had with the people he hoped he still cared about? That basic human empathy needed to move on and forgive someone?

Ernie had never been so incapable, so lacking of anything in his life.

Well, he supposed it was only fair. Trust was a two-way street. If he couldn't extend the effort then why should she?

"I suppose you don't," he chuckled bitterly and walked off himself.

---

Lily made her way to the music room, not really paying attention to where she was goinf because her nose was buried in her cellphone. Having a brother to communicate with was a welcome change, one that she made sure to do every day.

Hey Seb. What's for lunch?

Morning little sis. Potato and some sort of soup. Yours? What are you up to today?

Nothing. Not hungry. I wanna play music.

Frustrated? What's wrong?

Friends and not friends. How do you know I'm frustrated?

You used to play music when you're frustrated, angry or happy. I just guessed which.

Oh. I don't even know what to play.

Violin. Start with C# minor and take it from there. It'll come to you.

Lily stared at her phone for a few minutes, texted an okay to Sebastian and then pocketed her phone. Once inside the music room (which was thankfully empty), she made a beeline for the violin and wasted no time placing it against her chin. "C# minor..." she muttered and began playing Nocturne, the melody bouncing on the walls of the small room.

One day truly never goes the same as the others before…

After Angélique has messed around long enough with Marcus and Kusari on the shooting range, her shoulder felt sore from the repeated backlash of the rifle against her naked shoulder bone. She really ought to buy a pad or wear thicker clothing when she goes for a shooting session.

Wandering the halls after a well-deserved and simply lunch, Angel found herself drawn to something that was faintly coming out from one of the rooms. Music from… a violin? Was it who she was thinking it was?

Hurried steps brought the raven-haired musician to the estate’s music room. And, as she expected, she found the small form of a blonde Aberration playing the violin. The scene was breathtaking, just as the music that came out from the instrument.

Unwilling to disturb Lilianna in her play, Angel stood at the door’s frame, leaning on it with crossed arms as she listened to the song and waited for Lily to be done with her piece.

Lily willed her mind to go blank as she closed her eyes. There was no Lily, no USARILN East, no monsters, no Subnaturals, no Regulars, no deaths, no brown eyed boys who spoke of trust when he himself couldn't trust. There was only music and the music both relaxed and brought her peace. She had no idea how she was playing it without any memory of a piece but the movements of her hands translated to music on the instrument. When she was done, she stood there with her eyes still closed and her back turned from Angel. "C# minor..." she muttered again, wondering if what she had played was something she was fond of playing before. She had no idea that she had an audience.

When Lilianna was done playing, Angel pushed herself away from the door frame. It was enthralling, and especially enjoying to see she wasn’t the only musician in her class. Really, such an oddly grouping of gifted individuals everyone had been.

“Mind if I join in?” Angélique asked as she walked into the room, going for the guitar she had left on display after finding one behind a bookshelf on the day before, when she was playing with Hazel. “It was… beautiful. Really, you must’ve been a professional back then.”

Compared to last week, on her birthday, when Angel had spoken with Lily, it was noticeable how the raven-haired singer was in higher spirits these days. From her bearings to her voice, it was clear time had started to heal a few wounds. Or at least she managed to cope with her feelings a bit better.

Lily turned around and smiled when she saw Angel walking in. "Oh, I didn't know you were there, Angel. Feel free to join in," She made a welcoming gesture with her bow. "No, Seb said I was just really fond of playing music. Last week I tried playing the flute. That turned out really well. Seb also said that I've dabbled with playing the piano before too," she said as she watched her tall friend go for a guitar. "Looks like you're in a good mood today," she observed.

Angel nodded quite enthusiastically as she opened the guitar case and took the acoustic instrument from it, setting it up on her knees as she took a nearby seat and looked up to Lily with a smile. “Yes. I’ve… tried to settle some things down with some of the others. It mostly went well and…” the young woman paused, reflecting on her eight-hour trips she was making every day. “I’ve had a lot of time to think on the road. Sate my Stigma, think of the second chances we’ve been give and especially getting to drive such a fantastic car all day long.” Angélique mentioned the last part with a wide grin.

Strumming the chords of the guitar a few times to verify it was still tuned up like yesterday, the sunglasses-wearing Aberration rewinded their discussion a bit back.

“So you’ve been talking to your brother? Everything went well, I hope?”

Sebastian will always be a favorite topic now that she had found him again. Lily nodded. "It's nice to finally put a voice and face to a name. And he's been helping me remember some stuff. My name for example. It's actually Hailey... though I like Lily better,"she narrated. "Also nice to have someone to complain to when I get frustrated," she frowned a bit.

While Lilianna was narrating her happening with her brother, Angel was mindlessly striking the strings of her instrument in a just low enough melody to be able to hear the blonde Mage as she spoke. It was good to see her friend uncovering fragments of her past and being joyful about it. There was still hope for Lily yet.

“Hailey, huh? That’s… quite different from Lilianna. Do you want me to start calling you by your previous name? Whichever you feel more comfortable with, I guess.”

While Angel would usually laugh at complaining to a sibling about anything, Angel’s expression slightly took on a more concerned note. Lily was frowning. Did something happened that made her bitter?

“Is there something bothering you, Hail-… Lily?” Angélique inquired softly, unsure which name she should use for her friend now.

"Lily is fine," The X marked girl watched Angel's fingers on the string of the guitar, contemplating on why she was frustrated in the first place.

I didn't. And I don't. The only difference between then and now is that now, I've finally got good reason for it.

Yes. That was it exactly. It was infuriating that the one person who she thought had her back was just pretending. Exactly as Angel said. It was also annoying that she can't seem to figure out why his eyes mattered to her. It's not as if he's the only one with brown eyes in the group. "You were right about Ernie. I shouldn't have put my trust in him," she said before raising her bow and playing a quick random riff to puntuate her irritation.

Angel's eyes widened at "Ernie" being mentionned. Oh no... what had she done?

"Lily... what... happened?"

Lily blew her breath out and frowned. She didn't really wanna recount the whole story and decided to just give a short summarized version of it. "He asked about the people that died in D.C. He asked if you killed them. I told him no. He figured out it was me and then he had this..." she paused and then exaggerrated the next description. "...big angry meltdown about me not being honest with him." the small teenager shook her head and sighed again. "Oh, and he said he didn't trust me then, he doesn't trust me now." She paused again and stared at the bow in her hand as though it was suddenly offending her. 'Wow," she finished sarcastically.

Fucking bastard. He did it again

Angel grew the angrier about the Aberration that deceived both of the girls in this room. Truly a despicable guy. Why were people drawn to such a person? Was it because his web of lies made it so easy to manipulate everyone in liking him? Really, what an asshole. Then again, Angélique was a lying bitch too, but it pained her to do so, and she did it mostly to protect the others. At least that's what she was believing.

"I'm sorry it happened, Lilianna. That's... why I didn't want you to tell him. Perhaps it was for the best that you came out honest, but still..." she worked so hard to keep that façade of a murdere in front of Brent and Ernest so that they won't go around and harass everyone about what happened. It felt so hollow now, to see it ended up being only the more painful to everyone in the end.

"He... didn't do anything to you, right?

"No, he didn't," Lily answered with another shake of her head. "I can do a lot more damage to him than he can do to me, you know," she punctuated the statement with a sarcastic chuckle. She began soflty playing the violin again, matching its tune to the melody Angel was playing on the guitar. The creases on her forehead smoothened down. "He was nice to me though so I probably won't stay angry at him for long. I'll probably stay away from him though," she watched Angel's fingers and changed tempo in time with her.

"You're soft, Lily..." Angélique commented as she heard her resolve about not completely hating Ernest after what he told her.

"I don't know how you do it... but I suppose we need more people like you, thinking that way."

Perhaps this world would be a better place if people stopped being so vindicative towards each other. Maybe they wouldn't be stuck living like hated prisonners destined for the death penalty if this circle of hatred would be broken.

Hearing the blonde Aberration's will, Angel unconsciously began to change tempo, playing something that was a little more upbeat, more hopeful.

Lily grinned when she heard Angel crank up her tempo and wondered what it would be to play with her own brother. She made a mental note to ask the higher ups about it. "No use in holding grudges on people you're gonna be spending a lot of time with, right? And who knows? Maybe I can even change his opinion of me in time...no matter how bad he probably thinks I am now," she shrugged. The small movement of her shoulders made her go off tune for a bit, making her giggle at her mistake. "If he doesn't then oh well. It's not as if I don't have other friends. I'd be perfectly happy having you and Sophia to hang out with."

The Voice Mage only smiled as Lily joined her in on the music, feeling nostalgic to be playing with someone else again. Brought her back to the days when she was had a band, not so long ago. Who knew a guitar and a violen could accompagny each other so well? Maybe it was the magic only two musical souls in perfect synchronisation could come up with.

"That's... a very optimisitc way of seeing things for what they are. I can respect that." it however felt a bit beyond Angélique for the moment, to actually forgive Ernest for what he said to her, for the punch and the kick he tried to inflict on her. The subject of Sophia was, however, something that got Angel very intrigued.

"I've tried speaking with Sophia, but I'm not sure if I'm intimidating her, scaring her or if she just doesn't like me. She seems like a nice girl, if you try getting under her layer of sarcasm and stubborness, but she doesn't seem to want to talk to me all that much. I... just hope I haven't offended her back in Washington when I tried to push her into using her powers, or when I discussed with her last week. I think I was actually creeping her out by revealing how I felt about her."

It was beautiful how two different sounds blended together in harmony. Lily closed her eyes and swayed slightly to the music but at the same time still listened to what her friend was saying. "Oh, I think she just have some trouble expressing herself. I think she's the sort of person that would appreciate just hanging out without really talking. That's what I see, at least. I don't know her all that much yet but it's nice hanging out with her. It's... relaxing. Kinda like hanging out with you."

"I see..." Angélique pondered, feeling that explication coincided well with how Sophia had been around her for the few times they spoke. Except that first time she was being a bit too mouthy. Sort of like Angélique herself, to be honest.

The fallen idol smiled warmly at the violonist's comment "I like hanging out with you too. You are actually the only person, beside Hazel, who would play music with me." Angélique chuckled slightly at the mention of the clueless and yet so feared Aberration, who had a natural talent for music but needed guidance, else the sounds produced by the mysterious young woman seemed as if hell had befallen on earth.

"You know if Sophia loves music? Maybe we could have her hang out with us, or even have her play with us? Who knows, she might open up more if she got used to being with more people? I don't see her talking often to the others, but even then, I'm not around enough all day to see what everyone are up to."

"Oh, Hazel plays music too? I've always been curious about her... but never got to talk to her yet... I should try to. It'll be nice to have more friends." Lily bobbed her head slightly at the thought. "And that's a good suggestion. Maybe I should try bringing her here! I wonder if she plays any instrument?"

"Well, she is still learning, but she seems to be deeply interested in playing, and I noticed she seems to have a natural talent for it too. Maybe we could get a quatuor going if we get that many people involved." Angélique suggested with a sheming grin.

"But yeah... Hazel is one of those who easily lose control in battle. She's quite odd outside of the battlefield though, and I think she's a genuinely good person. It's just... she is an entirely different person when she fights." the guitarist looked toughtful as she spoke, reminiscing of the past events. "I just wish I could find a way to safely stop her when she goes berserk, before anything tragic happens. To her, or to us."

"That'sa good idea. Sometime soon maybe," Lily ended the riff they were playing with an upbeat allegretto and a giggle. Playing music does lift her spirits a lot. "Hazel is an interesting person. I haven't tried talking to her yet. I wonder if she'd like me," she wondered out aloud in response to Angel's comment about the destructive mage.

Angel paused, thinking what else they could play as she heard Lily's musings. "She... is complex, but simple at the same time? I don't know if that makes sense, but I get the feeling that she's the kind of girl to like you if you show her even just a bit of kindness."

Lily nodded, making another mental note to at least say hello to the girl they were talking about. Might do her good to have more friends within the group too. "I'll make sure to say hi," she said. "It'd be nice if we can become friends. I think I'd like that."

"Yeah... it would be nice if everyone would be friends..." there was a small hint of melancholy on Angélique's face as she spoke, finding an upbeat rhythm akin to what could be played for country music. "Well, if you want a makesure way to befriend her, just invite her to listen to you playing. She likes that. Maybe even teach her how to play? I tried showing her how to play the violin, since she was trying to, but I only ever know how to position myself and play a few notes."

"Everyone being friends..." Lily echoed, her thoughts going back to Ernie and how he said that he hated Angel. He probably hated her now too. Now that the music has melted the frustration aways, she couldn't decide whether to be sad or angry about it. Sophia said it wasn't her fault. Angel said it was okay. Ernie said he didn't trust her. "I'll try to teach her to play then... if I can even teach what I don't really remember..." she said a little distractedly.

"I wouldn't worry about that. You're a natural, even without your memories. I'm sure it will come to you without even thinking about it." Angélique reassure her blonde fellow Aberration with a smile.

Angel's reassurance appeared unheard as Lily focused on something she had wanted to ask about. It probably won't be a topic Angel would be happy to talk about but she wanted to ask anyway. And what she wanted to know about, she asked straightforwardly. "Why does Ernie hate you?"

The raven-haired musician made a wrong note that clearly shown on the masterfully crafted jam that she was playing. This question... should she be answering it without reserves? She didn't want to sound so spiteful in front of her fellow musician. She didn't deserve to be caught in her war with Ernest, even if she had already been involved the moment she stood as a shared friend of both Angel and Ernest's.

"There's... plenty of reasons." Angélique decided to answer vaguely, the rhythm of her guitar steadily dropping to something quieter.

"He must have been really...unpleasant to you," Lily said slowly, her eyes studying her friend's fingers as they moved across the strings of the guitar. A question that wasn't willingly answered should just be left alone. She lifted her bow again and began playing an accomplaniment tune.

Angel only nodded in reply. His punch aimed at her jaw; that kick to her leg; all these insults being thrown. She probably deserved a lot of them, but it still hurt nonetheless.. Her hands continued working their magic on the stringed instrument, providing more melody for the both of them to play solemnly.

However, that sad turn in their conversation emancipated no song to be sung from the former Aberration singer.

She hadn't slept. It wasn't a new scenario, but the girl was acutely aware of the fact without the comfort of her phone at her side. She'd taken little comfort in the presence of hired help, and even less in the fact that she was in an estate that reminded her more of charity events and stiff dresses than it did of gruff words and gentle reminders. By sunrise, she'd wondered how long she could keep herself holed up in her room, by morning, she had ascertained that it was probably a bad idea. Noon had come and gone, and she told herself that she would have to work up the nerve to leave the safety of isolation. Eventually, she told herself, she would have to leave, especially if she wanted to avoid using the maids.

They're all subnaturals.

It was a thought that had been stirring like white noise. Why would Zhang hire subnaturals? Because they were easy to access? Curiosity burned faintly, a drive that made her want to know, but memories went back to the first night. Of gunfire, and how easy she had made it seem. How easy it was for her to send subnaturals into battle. How easy it was for her to rid the world of any trace of the ones that hadn't survived. It probably wouldn't be a good idea to pry, especially if the cuffs were able to subdue them with the push of a button.

'Focus, Siena. You want to find the study. Or a library or something.' For a source, first off and foremost, and for information...or, that was her intention. She had thought, perhaps, that she could figure out the estate with hazy memories of walking through the halls the night before, but she remembered only the vaguest details of the layout, and the uniform appearance of the building, though charming, had done nothing to help the girl's recollection. Instead, she walked past what she assumed to be the same hallway for what must have been the fifth time, and gave a soft groan. Maybe she should have asked a maid for help, regardless of the discomfort.

"Well, at least I know how to get here..." Siena muttered softly to herself. At least she hadn't run into anyone yet...which might have been a bad thing at that point. "Wherever this is."

Turns out that tracking people down was pretty easy once you got over the fact that it was hella stalker-ish. With the cuffs' tracking capabilities and the phone from Washington that had helped out so well with keeping track of where everyone else was, finding Siena had generally been a breeze...even if it looked as if she was just continuously lapping the interior of the estate for some indiscernable reason. Sun too bright and there was no sunscreen available? Didn't know where the gym was, but still wanted light exercise? Pacing around because she was deep in thought?

Regardless the reason, Brent walked up two flights of stairs to find the newly christened Slyph continuing her laps around the third floor, a small smile on his face. How would he approach this? With a battering ram? Or a lockpick?

"Heyo, 'ena," he said, a few feet behind her, "Getting in some post-lunch speedwalking?"

Even without the added benefit--a mental, wry smile formed at the idea--of sleep deprived paranoia, Siena would have jumped at the sound of a familiar voice from too close. The mage felt her heart race, her body jerk, felt herself spin on her heel to face Brent while being pulled from her initial thoughts of how utterly hopeless her endeavor to find a damn library was. First, there was a sense of relief, a brief thought that maybe Brent could show her how to get to the study, or anywhere with additional sources, then a faint feeling of panic at being caught without a source on hand. Without a name to hide behind if things went south. Following that, a volatile mixture of emotions that she struggled to identify.

guiltblameregrethurtbreakcry

"O-Oh, um..." She caught herself, reached to twist her hair between her fingers to try and put her mind on the present. "I uh...may be lost." The sheepish admission was accompanied by a faint grimace as she processed the inquiry in its entirety. Lunch. Right. She hadn't actually eaten since...she couldn't remember. A day ago? Two? She should have been hungry. It occurred to her that she'd been so focused on one goal that she hadn't even acknowledged trying to map out the rest of the estate in her head. Another mistake on her end. "I think pr--post-lunch speedwalking sounds less embarrassing though."

Instinct told him to take a step back as Siena whipped around, movements much too erratic and nervous to simply be someone 'turning around to face a friend'. There was a thinness to her gray eyes, the smallest of bags hanging underneath then. Almost looked like a mirror. In terms of exhaustion, at least. But it was understandable. He didn't get much sleep last night either, and if sleep meant dreams, it was her choice if she wanted to plunge into that fun little realm of storing short-term memories into long-term databanks.

So he ignored that instinct and took a step forward instead.

"Eh? Figured you'd be right at home navigating such a large mansion," Brent remarked, pocketing the evidence of his stalking, "But hey, whatcha looking for? Library? Art gallery? Music room?"

Lockpick for now. He still remembered how quickly things fell out of hand with Angelic.

Siena was aware she shouldn't have been on edge. Knew it wasn't Brent that had managed to strip her defenses and leave her terrified, but she still felt an almost overwhelming urge to step back to match his step forward. Instead, she allowed herself to shift her weight, slip a fraction of a centimeter in the desired direction as though it would be enough. She twisted the hair until she felt a few strands spring apart with an inaudible snap, felt a distant echo of both longing and discomfort at Brent's words. He wasn't wrong.

"I keep thinking it has the same layout as home, I...I guess." Which wasn't entirely true, but less revealing than explaining that she'd walked around blindly the night before and hadn't thought of anything but get away, and she was walking now with no more direction than get safety. Another hair snapped, came loose in her grip. "But the library. I um..." Don't like being here without a source. Don't want to deal with anyone else yet. Don't feel safe unless I can be someone else. "Thought it would be good to leave my room for a little."

It was only a distance of a few feet, but it was also an...improper one. They had been walking closer before. Talking closer before. But now, there was a rigidity in her stance, a propensity towards twisting her hair. Flirting? Unlikely. Nervous then. Did she read his mind? Know that he was here to talk about what had happened in DC? What she had done with the cars?

Does he drop the battering ram here?

"Gonna pull out all your hair like that," the arbiter chided, "But it's good that you're going out. Can't be a bedbug like Grant, after all." He laughed a little at that, before walking forwards once more, taking care to give her distance even as he stood right beside her. "Figured it'd be the library though. Checked it out myself last night, but it doesn't look like they have a YA section. Lotsa nature books though, if you're into that."

"A-ah..." As though simply mentioning the motion was enough to set her hair alight, Siena wrenched her fingers away from her hair. Bad habits died hard--or was that old habits? For an instant, the mage didn't know what caused that reaction. She didn't...care, did she? No...no time to linger. The girl pushed the thoughts aside for later. Nature wasn't exactly her forte, wasn't filled with any names that she could take, but having something in her hands was better than nothing. "Sort of. I used to read a lot of them."

Not a lie. She did. Not after she'd gained her abilities, but...

"Explore places you can't be at and such."

"Eh? Didn't go abroad during summer vacation and all?"

Siena paused at the inquiry, had to process what summer vacation was supposed to be. Some distant memory came to life, and Siena shook her head. Right, school terms. She'd have to get familiar with them again.

"No, but I made do with travel guides."

"Must be the type to read strategy guides instead of play video games, huh?" Brent remarked, smiling. Sheltered then, to the extent that it didn't even sound like she did rich people stuff. "Were you homeschooled?"

Wait, what?

"Um...home everything, I guess." Siena murmured with an uncomfortable tint, a small motion of her hand to accentuate the next two words. "Protective--" It was hard to place the correct descriptor. "--parents."

He hadn't expected her to actually answer, considering how he hadn't even expected himself to ask such a question. Blinking twice, Brent nodded slowly. "No wonder you didn't know about fast food," he said, shifting things to a lighter topic, "Bet you'd be queen bee in a public high school."

"I think I would prefer being the quiet bookworm." Though she doubted that would have been acceptable for Maya. Still, Siena was grateful to be away from trying to separate one home from another. "I guess I'm kind of predictable...?"

"Princess of the Library Club then?" the arbiter teased, as he turned the corner. "And really, after all the twists and turns of our current lives, predictability is pretty pleasant."

Compared to the madness of their everyday lives, compared to the bipolarity of Angelic's resolve, the fact that Siena liked books alot was turning out to be a pleasant anchor, all things considered. With a few more steps, the duo arrived at the library, Brent opening the door and bowing flamboyantly to let Siena in.

"Your throne awaits, Your Highness."

Was...was that a real thing? A flicker of curiosity that Siena snuffed out as best she could. Not the time. Instead, she tried, and failed, to give a half-embarrassed smile, shrinking a little at the display. Still too hard to put on the right masks, harder still with someone that had seen anything real.

"Th-thanks." She tried again, succeeded this time to make the smile stick. Stepping into what should have been a sanctuary, the girl turned to face her companion. "Does this make you a library knight, then?"

"Naw, just the servant," he chimed, closing the door behind him, "Someone's gotta do all the background work and all. Books don't dust themselves, after all."

"Can't a princess promote you or something?" Siena questioned while glancing around the library. "Besides, a little dust gives them that nice old page smell."

"True, but the king would have my head if his daughter were to get the sniffles from the dust," Brent replied. "And wouldn't it be terrible, if a loyal servant, promoted to knighthood, were to find himself in the front lines of a massive battle?"

Something about that hit closer to home than she wanted it to. Didn't that sound a little too familiar? Everything faltered a moment, fell out of line for an instant. Too close to home.

"Well, I don't see a king around here," Siena claimed. "But you have a point. I guess a servant gets all the benefits of royalty too--just with more chores and less...politics." She accented the final word with a mock grimace, as though the word itself was a bitter medicine.

"Mhmm, but without a king here, we don't have to think about politics either, eh? Sounds like you get all the benefits of royalty without the chores, 'ena!" Brent paused then, mid-drama, before breaking out into a grin. "Seriously though, we gonna continue with this royal court ro- drama, or are you gonna go find enough books to make a fortress?"
Returning Brent's smile with one of her own, Siena gave a soft laugh. "I think I'll start with a small fortress." For a moment, Siena almost let herself feel safe, but she quieted that emotion just like she quieted the others. Still, she softened her expression, eased her smile into something less staged. Thanks.

Ah, there it was. All the recompense he really needed in return for support.

"Tell me if you need help finding stuff, yeah? Basically camped out here myself last night."

---

A stack of books in arm was a wonderful feeling. It was true that for most cases, Siena preferred to have a digital version of her sources, but there was something about the smell of aged paper and the feel of the spine of a finely bound book that e-ink words couldn't compare to. It had taken longer than expected for Siena to manage to get the gist of the organization, but with Brent's help, she hadn't spent too long standing confused about the general areas of genres or authors. She'd even managed to locate, much to her surprise, a handful of foreign books that she hadn't expected to see. Setting the last of her finds onto a desk, Siena gave a grateful look to Brent.

"Thanks again for all the help." Already, there was a little more safety despite the texts lacking her usual securities. It took a moment for the girl to realize that when she said 'a small fortress', it might have been literal. Far more than she'd actually meant to take an interest in. "I said I'd control myself, but it doesn't look like I did a very good job, does it?"

Well, he knew that Siena was a reader, but watching her list off genre after genre after author after title, the sheer range and depth of the literature she consumed made Brent's own reading list look like a elementary school assignment. Foreign books? Enough subjects to make one a goddamn paragon? The arbiter whistled at the collection that she had amassed, enough to fill up a small shelf all by itself.

"No probs," he said, tilting his head to check out some of the titles that had been amassed, "Didn't realize you read this many though. Like, damn, ancient Sumerian? Pretty amazing stuff."

"I got a little excited..." Siena admitted while looking down at the top of the stack she'd just set down. More security, more safety. More knowledge that she'd never set her hands on before. There were a lot of reasons that books were the easiest thing to find sanctuary in, but Siena didn't like putting that into words. Instead, she gave a sheepish smile. "Well, I um...I remember reading that there were ancient Sumerian epics about Gilgamesh and Lugalbanda. I didn't think I'd find someone that had them though. I'm...a bit curious about the first written language too."

Well, curious about the language, curious if her ability would be able to make heads or tails of the script. She'd tried with a number of languages, but finding one made entirely of cuneiform script wasn't exactly easy.

"Heh, interested in channeling the king of kings?" he probed, taking a seat. "Well, tell me if it's a good read or if I should just read the wiki-summary once you're done, yeah? Think you can carry this back yourself?"

"Bit of a jump from library court to king of kings, isn't it?" She resisted the urge to tug at her hair as she spoke. "He's not even a very good hero." A pause. "Actually, he's kind of a jerk." Which was true. Most oh-so-memorable heroes of mythology were far from infallible, and though it might have been a little discouraging, Siena couldn't help but feel a muted sense of relief at the thought. Even heroes made mistakes.

That doesn't mean you get to forgive yourself.

"But I'll let you know if he's less of one in ancient Sumerian." Doubtful. Stories tended to exaggerate good and bad traits each time they were rewritten, and...well, he was still the king of kings, wasn't he? "I think I'll stay and read a few of these before I try and get back to my room." Too much chance of running into anyone else if she walked back, too much chance that someone might try to drop in on her, and far too much chance of having to face anyone she wasn't ready to face. "I don't think too many of our peers will need to take over the library anytime soon."

"Alright," Brent waved, "Dont get-"

He was shirking, wasn't he? Just letting himself get drawn into an easy, nonsensical conversation and grabbing a few laughs. Not bothering to pull the trigger, to address the elephant, to do what he had planned to do. Oh boy, what happened to that insensitive, hyper-focused individual he had been just a few weeks ago, the one that pushed Emma six floors underground into hell?

"-lost on your way back."

Partially opening the door, he closed it once more, an audible click ringing through the silent library.

"Right, before I forget..."

Where was he again, the one that was willing to burn bridges and sever bonds, for a moment's illumination?

"...what happened with the cars, Siena?"

There you are.

He knows?

Of course anyone would have known. To think otherwise would have been stupid, and Siena knew it. She felt her breath catch in her throat, her eyes shifting away from Brent, the damn hissing getting louder in her head. Monsters born from monstrous acts.

guiltblameregrethurtbreakcrybeatruinfleshbloodbone

"I--" The word came out wrong. Like someone had wrapped their fingers around her throat and squeezed when she tried to speak. Broken, garbled, and only a single word in. She shut her mouth, took a breath to regain herself. Sources all around her, but none of her usual securities. No name she could hide behind.

She could lie. She could become exactly what she saw herself as. Could make it easier for her to betray and harder to be the one betrayed, but she didn't know if that act could be bought. If having two sides that did meet was more believable than explaining that she had countless sides that did not. The subnatural wanted, more than anything, for that cool, rational method of thinking to blanket her again, but it didn't come. Couldn't come when she was still trying her hardest to pick apart Dekka and Siena. Which parts belonged and which parts deserved to be put aside.

"I wasn't supposed to drop them. I didn't...I didn't mean to." She heard her voice before she could register that she was speaking, and Siena felt fear rile up, tried to break through and burst. There were no sources. She was supposed to be in control, so why was she speaking before she could filter out the thoughts? Before she could make a decision on what she was supposed to do? Was it Siena? Or maybe it was Dekka. Or perhaps it was someone whose name she'd taken, sealed up for so long that she had forgotten to close them away while trying to wrestle with the new onslaught...but it was too late to step back. Too late. "It doesn't change that I did."

beatbreakruinfleshbloodbone

"You don't have to believe me." Because she wouldn't have believed anyone in her position, not when so many subnaturals were monsters that looked human. Siena didn't raise her eyes, couldn't raise them to look at Brent. "We were supposed to help them." And she'd made to many mistakes to count.

That was enough. A mistake then. One mistake that collided with another mistake and produced a tragedy no one wanted. Was evacuation team trying to help them? Or was that just Siena who wanted to? Or did 'suppose' have a different meaning, one that implied the difference between duty and desire? He was unfair. He was picking at scabs that had only just formed, cracking open eggs that were still a jumbled mess. It was enough to know that this was a mistake.

But it wasn't enough for Brent.

It would have been too easy to leave, to keep quiet, to accept this without returning anything. Emma. Callan. Marcus. Angelic. So many divides. He had to stop losing, to bridge the gap before it became that same uncomfortable divide formed between so many others. He hardly talked to Emma now, even though he praised and mocked her behind her back. Callan avoided him, consigning herself to voluntary solitary confinement. And the words that remained unspoken between Marcus and himself was a blight upon their brotherhood.

So he pushed himself a bit. One step. Another. A third. Until he could seat himself opposite of Siena, giving her the distance of a table's width.

"It's..." No, that was wrong. "You're going to have to carry that burden."

There you aren't.

"I'm not in a place to offer forgiveness," he said, eyes locked onto her downturned gaze, "And I can't share your burden either. But..."

This isn't a time for smiles.

"Why were they raised, Siena?"

This was a time for answers.

"What were you trying to do?"

Don't...don't what? Siena tried to piece together her thoughts. Don't look in the eye? Don't touch? Don't get closer? What exactly was that thought supposed to finish into? She shifted her eyes briefly, an instinctive need hide the color. We can't hide what color they become. But she didn't retreat further than that, didn't think that anything she did would change that these were questions she would have had to answer. If not Brent, then Zhang--no, she was too far up the ladder. Some other face that was there to punish, to break someone down until answers could be extracted.

"Clearing the road. They were all abandoned by the time we got there. Even if we weren't driving a truck, we--" No, maybe not all of them. "I would have tried to clear the block anyways. Nobody could continue down that path to the evacuation point in that condition." And nobody would have been able to come in if Unit B had failed and it turned out that the military would have needed that wide, empty road. She kept that to herself. "I thought it would be faster to reduce gravity and push them. Less time per car we moved."

But then people had panicked. An obvious display of powers in a place where she had already known that subnaturals weren't welcome. Even if Cat's Cradle hadn't appeared, shouldn't she have expected the reaction?

"And...reducing gravity instead of negating it meant I could keep them from going out of sight while we moved everything out of the way. In...in case they weren't all abandoned."

Crisp, clean answers, even if marred by some hesitation, flowed out easily. Why was it so easy to see this as the truth? Because Siena was an honest individual? Unlikely. The two of them were similar in a way. Because there was no reason to lie about this? Doubtful. One could always lie, even without reason. Because he came into this already wanting to trust her? Typical. Confirmation bias.

He remained quiet as she spoke. It was easy enough to imagine what happened when things went out of hand. Perhaps her concentration was broken when the bricks fell. Perhaps it was Angelic's scream that did the trick instead. Grant was strong, but catching all those cars wouldn't have been easy. And no one else could have helped.

"I see," Brent said, at the end.

He envisioned himself leaving. Walking away now. Giving her some breathing space. Avoiding any deeper involvement. But his hand extended over the table instead. Reaching the halfway point. There was still that particular bond though. That codependency, formed between two people who couldn't help themselves.

"I believe you." Not accept. Not tolerate. Believe. "What would you like me to do?"

What did she want to do?

I don't know how to fix this. That was the first thought that came in response to the question. A quick and neat little thought that didn't do justice to what had come to life in response to the question. There were countless things that she could have said, words that could fill the space, do something so she could at least pretend that she knew how to keep herself together.

"I...I don't know." It was barely a whisper, and it was the truth. She didn't know, and there was no one around to help guide her through. No Gerwulf with his callused hands to direct her own, no Maya to whisper tips and tricks into her ears, only Siena, who only knew how to do what others told her she had to do. She took a moment to think, kept thinking, kept trying to come up with an answer, and when she couldn't, felt an overwhelming sense of being lost...and she couldn't stop it from showing. "And I hate not knowing."

The shadow of another's influence still lingered, didn't it? Living your life for someone else, until you couldn't be certain what you wanted. Some people embraced it. Others tolerated it. But when that crutch was removed...

He could understand that loss, that crumbling sensation as you looked inside and realized that you just had a ridiculously thick exterior. He could understand it, but he couldn't do anything about it. Didn't know a way to lead her elsewhere. After all, he was the sort of parasite that clung to anything in order to give meaning to himself. How on earth could he...

This far in, and he planned to fold?

...he'll figure out a way.

"Yeah, I can see that," Brent said, softly, "I don't know what you've been through, and you don't have to share that if you don't want to, but...hey. I'll be here. If you find something, I'll help you get a hold of it. Doesn't have to be big, doesn't have to be world-changing. Can't share your burden, cause I'm a pretty terrible mule, but when you find a path, I'll give you all the support you need."

Gah, this was coming out all wrong. How absolutely rancid.

"Take your time. I can wait."

A cautious, half-hearted smile formed at the words--it was...nice not to have someone immediately default to telling her what to do. A strange relief mingled with anxiety at the thought of not knowing what to do. At the fact that there was no end goal laid out for her, and no names lingering in the back of her head, in the depths of her heart, to try and whisper what she should do. A long pause as she went over everything in her head. What she wanted to do, instinctively, was fix something. To do something to help someone else, but that was just distracting her from the problem, wasn't it? Another long moment of thought.

"I don't know exactly what I want to do," she started. Her eyes trailed from her books, to the hand on the table, and slowly, settled on Brent. Didn't keep eye contact--still no good at it--but let their gaze meet for a moment before she directed her attention slightly down. "But for right now, I...I just want to be honest with someone." Another pause as she ran through the events of what had happened during the slaughter. She hadn't seen everything, but there were things she'd heard. "Or at least, I'd like for someone to be honest with me."

Honesty? Hah. He came here just to come that, in a way. Though whether this result was to be expected? No, he definitely didn't expect it. A smile creeped up on his face, genuine and reflexive, as Siena raised her own. Baby steps, but she was making progress.

"Wanna try it?" Brent asked. "Just for a question or two?"

Just a question or two. That didn't sound too difficult, but a quiet voice in the back of Siena's head told her that not hiding anything wouldn't be easy. Not if the right questions were asked, and not...not when it was anyone that she knew didn't have a real baseline. Still...this was what s he wanted, right? Because if she was honest to one person, maybe eventually, she'd stop having to use names to lie to everyone, to herself. A flicker of hesitation flashed across her face, but...

"A-alright..." Though apprehension fluttered just beneath the surface. "I think I can do that..."

"'kay."

This was a good chance. He could ask for all the spicy details of evacuation team's massive failures. Good chance to ask about her past, get an idea of what made her the way she is. Good chance to get specifics about her power. Good chance to even ask about nonsensical stuff, like what her favorite food was. Even ask about what she thought about literally anyone else. But that wasn't what he asked without hesitation.

"What do you think about me? All your thoughts. Good, bad, ugly."

Who would have known that all he wanted was to get roasted?

Out of the countless questions that couls have been asked, that...was not exactly what Siena had been expecting. She blinked once in surprise, a quick flutter of the eyelids as though uncertain that she'd heard correctly. Most people didn't want to hear every thought about a them, Siena had never actually given every thought she'd ever had to someone. Ever.

Straight into the fire, was it?

"Oh, um..." The brunette took a moment to gather her thoughts. Every one? No, that was probably just a quicker way to say the important ones. To give every single thought would have taken too long--she was aware that there were too many thoughts. Too many stray emotions to entirely filter out the thoughts that came to mind. "Starting with an essay question, huh?"

"Feel free to toss that question back at me when it's my turn," Brent replied, a smile surfacing, "You wanted honesty the other way around too, yeah?"

"Fair enough." She supposed, at least. With a breath, Siena tried to form a response that didn't hide the things she observed to take an advantage, the things she thought to herself because that was the only way she really knew how to deal with people. Just talk. Pretend he's August.

"You...remind me of home a little." Siena stopped, frowned faintly, and corrected herself. "S-sorry. More than a little, I guess." Right, that was step one, at least. "Like...you watch people, and you notice things about them that most others wouldn't, and it's...a little intimidating for me." Because she didn't like having things noticed about her, but that wasn't about him, right? "But you strike me as someone that doesn't...hm...I suppose hold back is a good way to phrase it? Not in the 'no filter' way, the other way." Someone that did things, and didn't hesitate to put their all into something because failing was hard.

Another pause. That was familiar.

"...actually, more than home, you remind me of someone that...um..." She paused, uncertain which way things were in that particular case. "...someone that I knew." Not a lie--at least, not as much of one when compared to how uncertain she was in what she originally wanted to say. "And that makes me a little wary of you. He wasn't a bad person, but he wasn't afraid to cross lines that I wished he wouldn't."

"Above and beyond," Brent recalled, speaking more to himself than Siena.

She nodded briefly. Above and beyond, and that was why he was always gone.

Not important.

"I guess I don't see you as someone that would ignore anything that you can help with either, and I--" A cold realization settled over the girl. Something she hadn't really wanted to acknowledge or admit. She offered a weak smile. A co-dependent type of relationship, but..."I honestly don't think you need my help at all."

He took in a breath. Opened his mouth. The answer was already in his mind, pregnant thoughts giving birth to a messy reassurance. But Brent stopped. Reconsidered. And nodded once at her answer.

"Your turn, 'ena," the amethyst eyed youth said, turning his palms over, "Ask me anything."

"Alright." Anything. That was a lot of questions that could have come to mind, a lot of answers to sate her curiosity that might keep the usual desire to know everything at bay when she was around the boy. Still, there was only one real question that she knew she wanted to ask. Things were supposed to go both ways, right?

"What do you think of yourself? It doesn't have to be everything, but...some things."

Well...he had lead her into this after all, huh? Even if the turnaround would be her asking him what he thought of her. And ultimately, it's not like he hadn't shared parts of himself before. It wasn't fully intentional, what with it just being part of the torrent of self-loathing that slipped out, but still...he didn't know what Siena shared often, but this shouldn't be difficult. Brent had his own skeletons, of course, but he's lived with them long enough, fought with them long enough, that he was numb to it.

What he thought about himself? It was definitely less of what he didn't want to share and more of what Siena didn't need to hear, right?

"Going for the jugular with this, eh?" he grinned, leaning back on his seat, amethyst eyes no longer so focused on Siena's own. "Well, where to begin..."

False hesitation and unnecessary contemplation. The truth wasn't that complicated, shouldn't take that much time to consider.

"If everyone else is a statue, I'm a mold. Does that make sense? I think it does. If you imagine that mold as possessing an unreasonably tough exterior, you know?” Brent laughed, but he looked upwards instead, leaning back on the seat. “Did enough thinking in the past about this to know that I basically have no passions, only an arbitrary collection of likes and dislikes. Optimistically, that’s what drives me to try so hard at everything, why I dabble in everything. If I do find something one day, I don’t want to waste time building up my foundation. I think I’d like to just rush for it, headlong.”

He wasn’t forcing himself. His smiles were the same as always.

“Pessimistically, that means I’m empty and needy, a leech with no plans for the far future. That’s why I do this, you know? That’s why I care so much about what other people do, pushing them forwards once they have a goal, even if that means pushing them off a ledge.” Like Emma, who wasn’t ready yet to face the horrors of their current lives. Like Callan, who couldn’t deal with the implications that her superhuman body didn’t make her superhuman. Like Angelic, who he had inspired to continually rewrite herself, when her own will wasn’t nearly as broken as his own. “I have nothing, so all I want is to support others, who do have things they love and things they hate. I want to see them at their end goals, and if possible, to bask in that sense of achievement a bit.”

His smiles were the same as always, but there was a darkness there, swirling in his eyes as he rambled on towards the ceiling, knowing that something was going to break, that something was going to give.

“That’s why I go out of my way so much to help you, Siena. You have something I lack as well, something unique, and all I’m good for is helping you along there. It’s like…you know? ‘A tool’s only useful if it’s used’.” A quick breath. A transient eternity. “What else can I do?”

It was swirling in his eyes too much now, so he closed them.

“Sorry, I’m rambling and I haven’t even answered your question directly. What I think of myself?”

He envisioned sitting inside one of the Charger Hellcats, the heat on, every window closed, the muffler plugged, until the carbon monoxide dulled his thoughts and killed him.

“I think I’d rather be anyone else.”

Too far. That was another bridge burned. Should have thought more about it after all. Honesty was honestly horrible.

Siena listened, certainly, but her eyes peered for more than simple words. Searched for traces of emotions that she might be able to identify--was she really so useless without knowing how to manipulate?--and utilize at first, but as Brent spoke, the girl found herself less intent on her search, found that the words were familiar. So she peered at Brent with a quiet, stoic mask. Better not to see what the words did, better not to let on how far back she had to push everything so she could just listen. That was what she was better at, wasn't it?

And when he had finished, the mask slipped away, and she was left a child that was too young and listening to too much again. A child sitting prim and proper on a seat while Maya carefully did her hair, explained in quiet whispers what Siena had seen. What she had understood correctly and what she had misunderstood.

"Don't call yourself that." And something did break. A quiet, hurt tone that she couldn't hide. She didn't want to remember, those moments were too real. She couldn't do anything but accept that they had happened. They were real.

Once, she had looked him in the eye and forced him to tell the truth. Not Siena then, she had told herself, but since when had she drawn such stark distinctions between Ilsa and herself?

She took a deep breath, felt it shudder despite her best efforts to hold it steady. She held back the childish tantrum that wanted to shatter what remained of the dam that held everything in. No, she was better than that now. Siena knew that, but that didn't stop her from wanting to do it. How would it feel? If she shouted until someone listened to her? If she could do exactly what she had done then? No...she had to take a step back. It hadn't worked last time, it wouldn't work this time.

"Christ, you really are just like him." Calm yourself. "You haven't found a passion, so you reach the conclusion that you're empty?"

"Coward! You can't find something you care about, so you decide you're not worth anything? What the hell kind of reasoning is that?" She had shouted, her hands slamming hard against the solid oak of the table as her temper flared, heat rising, searing everything else inside until it backed away. "That's bullshit! You just don't want to risk not liking what you see if you decide there is something in there."

"It's not...it's not that simple."

"Yeah," Brent replied, opening his eyes once more, "Sorry to disappoint, but you have every right to be wary about me."

Nothing lingered in his eyes anymore, and he shifted forwards once more, elbows resting on the table. Strange, how even now, after peeling back the exterior to reveal the apathetic mind that rested within, the arbiter couldn't find himself capable of really...caring. No, that wasn't right. Her disbelief, her rejection, it all stung. But that was it. Just pinpricks.

She hadn't gone for the throat, hadn't tried to tear out his heart.

"Do you say that, though, because you've been there before?" A pause. No pause. "Or are you saying what you wanted to say in the past, to that other person?"

His eyes were clear. An empty, lifeless lake.

"If it's not that simple, what is it?"

Siena didn't hesitate when she saw the empty gaze.

He'd looked back at her with that same look when she'd dragged the truth from his mouth. Had been in a daze when her voice demanded what his own had not wanted to give.

"Both." The word was clear, and the brunette didn't know whether it was anger, concern, or legitimate bravery that kept it as so. She didn't tear her gaze away. She had said what she wanted to in the past, had burned one bridge while forming another, but that hadn't changed anything. It didn't mean a damn thing when it had come from her then, someone whose emptiness had been forged because she had tried too hard to please. Would he have been proud?

"So you don't have a passion yet, maybe you don't want to acknowledge that there is one. I can't speak for you." She didn't let herself flinch. Made herself keep pushing forward because this was why she was there, wasn't it? She could see the familiar look of apathy, and felt an uncomfortable apprehension creep up her spine. Familiar in more ways than one. You couldn't help him, you can't help this one either. Shut. Up. "But if you were empty, you wouldn't still be here. You, no, Brent is still the one sitting here." She felt a flash of anger, repressed it. An instinctive, frustrated desire to lash out at someone that couldn't find the value in what they had, what they were. The brunette knew better than to give in to the desire to do so.

Brent's still the one sitting here? The meaningless, perfect smile persisted.

Hah, there was a fire there after, huh? Through the fractures of the mask she wore, he could see it boiling, a maelstrom of emotions, a past that mattered. He was flattered, even, that she'd go out of her way to convince him otherwise, to get so worked up when his past experiences with her had been so controlled. Siena was revealing something he didn't have, a geniune...something. He couldn't, shouldn't identify it. Didn't have the right to. He'd never have the right, not if he still felt nothing when she spoke such words.

Not when all it did was chip away a little at his exterior.

"I'm not completely empty then," Brent replied, "Let's say I messed up with defining that. Let's say I do, indeed, have some degree of identity. But that's all. It's still not enough. A few droplets in a cup doesn't mean it's full, doesn't mean it's worth anything. It doesn't even matter if I have everything else, a fully formed list of likes and dislikes, a whole array of catchphrases and quotes, a whole battalion of friends and enemies."

Even now he could hear those words. Doesn't matter.

"As long as there's a gaping hole in which nothing fits, it doesn't matter. No amount of rhetoric can fix that."

And then, it slipped out. Involuntarily. Darkly.

"If you want me to act as a replacement for that other person though, I'd be fine with it."

Calm down. Calm down. CALM DOWN.

She could no more calm herself than she could put out a forest fire with a spray bottle of ethanol. Each attempt seemed to stoke the flames, had the inferno devour everything in its path until it was the only emotion that remained. White hot, a blinding sense of outrage that she wasn't unfamiliar with. It's been a long time, hm? Long enough that she'd forgotten what it was like, at least, for that unpleasant side to burn. Calm down. Calm down.

'Such a temper. Who did you pick that up from?'

"No." The word itself was calm, steady, it betrayed nothing of the hellstorm that brewed just beneath the surface, waiting for its chance to boil over. Calm down.

She had observed and imitated what she could, pulled on the back of his shirt and displayed it proudly, only to get a pitying expression followed by one of muted horror, and she could read it on his face. What had he done?

"You can't replace him." A vicious, brutal part of her wanted to scream, to turn his words back on him. How could someone that called themselves empty replace anyone? She swallowed the words, but they were like fire all the way down, scalded and seared everything. Burn it away until nothing will grow. Calm down. She tried, to no avail, to do as she commanded. A gaping hole where nothing fit. "Nothing fits? Have you even tried?" This wasn't calm, and though Siena tried to back away from the boiling tide, she couldn't escape it. Couldn't pretend that it wasn't as much a part of her as the white mark on her face. "You can't fill a void by pretending to be someone else. It doesn't work like that."

The sea continued to boil, threatening to overflow. Please, calm down.

"All those things that you've tried to find passion in, did you do any of them for yourself?"

Had he even tried? Did Siena spend so much time with her eyes glued to the screen of her Kindle that she didn't notice all the things he learned and continued to learn? A bitterness surfaced on the roof of his mouth, a sensation he hadn't tasted in a while. More cracks, more fractures, and still, the stimuli was lacking. He knew that it would be better to defuse the situation, to admit, perhaps falsely, that no, he didn't really try, and no, he didn't do it for himself.

But that was also wrong.

And she had ignored the other possibility. Didn't consider the other option. That he hadn't given up yet, that he still saw this only as a temporary status. That he killed his present self every morning in hopes that his reincarnation was something more. Did she have an answer past that point? Did she have an answer to the Brent that continued to amass skills for his own benefit, that supported others only to take a little bit of their strength for himself?

There was a storm brewing there, a storm reflected in that amethyst gaze that remained resolutely, stubbornly empty regardless of what meaning she tried to burn into it.

"Of course I did." A hard edge. "I've done everything for myself. I've learned to aim and shoot handguns, I've learned to climb, I've learned to cook, I've learned to drink, I've learned to fold origami, I've learned to kickbox, I've learned how to play DDR, I've learned how to do that shuffle-dance you see in night clubs, I've learned how to drive a cart, I've learned how to kill. And I've still planning on learning new things. I'm going to learn how to make pastries, I'm going to learn how to play musical instruments properly, I'm going to learn how to paint, I'm going to learn how to fish, I'm going to learn how to hunt, I'm going to learn how to use a knife properly in close quarters."

A breath. Deep and relaxed. "And that only encompasses the things I've learned since coming to USARILN. I've spent twelve years picking up a whole menagerie of things. I stargaze, I hike, I karaoke, I kayak, I waterski, I bike, I watch documentaries, I play Ultimate, I work out, I edit videos, I meme, I dispense love advice, I organize events, I act, I rollerblade, I pray, I review restaurants, I babysit, I teach elementary school kids, I track budgets, I make props, I boulder, I do all that and more."

Don't compare me to some sheltered bitch drunk on delusions.

"Do you think I'd let any of these skills, any of these experiences rot just because I don't feel anything for it? Do you think it detracts for the value of these skills just because I use them to help others? Do you think I've given up, Siena? Do you think I want to stay empty?" Bones were popping. The blood was quickening.

"Let me ask you again. This gaping, empty hole that remains unplugged. Do you have it still? Have you lived with it your entire life? Have you managed to fill it yet? Have you spent your waking hours trying to fill it all up?"

He had stopped smiling. It was twisting again. For an arbiter, he really was shitty, huh?

"Help me, Siena. And if you don't want to do that, bury me."

Did he think she would back down?

"Don't fuck with me." Words that belonged to her, words that weren't hers--the line was blurred a long time ago. Empty, meaningless tasks, and he still thought they were for him. She didn't flinch, felt the rest of that prim and proper bitch try to rise up and take control.

'No.'

"Do you honestly think any of those things were done for you and not whatever the fuck this is trying to pretend it's you?" The words were harder than she was used to hearing from her own mouth. A lifetime to sand off the hard edges that she couldn't remember being born with, and it was all coming apart. "You want me to be honest? Yeah, that hole, as you keep calling it? I still have it. I tried doing what you're doing now, and it didn't help. I tried to fill it by being more names than I can remember, and it made it worse. Do you really think who you're talking to now is the person I was before? Stupid little Siena Harker, who never got to exist?"

STEP BACK, LITTLE HARKER.

'No.'

"I did everything I could to fill it, I still do. When we're out fighting, when we're here, when I'm alone and trying to remember who the fuck I am, I can't afford to stop trying because almost everything that I was, everything that I ever will be has been ripped away by people that don't even exist." She'd torn her heart out and left it to die. How many times had she done it? Once? Twice? A hundred times? "But someone is still here, and I can work with that if I don't let myself look away from what I don't want to see."

The fire grew. Whose fire was it? Hers? Her mother's? Gerwulf's? Or maybe it was any of the names she'd stolen once before. Ilsa, Katherine, Kel, Holland, Victor.

"So tell me, Brent, all those skills and experiences, when you stop gaining them, what then? What do you do when you run out of things to do? Will you stop skimming everything then, or will you find another excuse to say that nothing fits so you can keep looking for something to distract you?" The torrent was rising, crashing against a feeble dam that couldn't hold when it was being assaulted by so much. The Santana in her said to quiet down, to apologize and be proper, but the Harker refused to listen. "Tell me, because I want to help."

She didn't falter. Didn't stop.

Are you satisfied now, little Harker?

"Tell me, because I won't let you get closer to becoming me."

It struck him harder than a slap in the face, when Siena finally tore off her mask to spit pure venom, laying bare her own thoughts, own traumas, own life. Struck him so hard because it was so clear now. Oh god. It was too late. They really were too close already. Birds of a feather flock together. Likes repel. Harker. Roless. Holy shit.

It was surfacing now, and he couldn't stop it, peals of hyena-like laughter rushing out of him as his smile finally turned into that predatorial, fanged sneer he held when he was alone in Wisford.

This was too much. This was too hilarious. This was too, much too excruciating.

"You don't see it, Harker? You don't feel it already?" The arbiter, no, the boy, stood up from his seat, the silver blood with him boiling in ecstasy and agony. "You don't know yet, do you? Superficial the differences that remain are? Come on, you read, don't you? Say it out loud, Harker! What does 'Roless' sound like? We both don't exist, huh? We're just two unwanted phantoms, bearing names too heavy for our small, pitiful, bullshit selves to carry!"

"You find solace in names, in powers, in the people who you take from the books. I find solace in skills, in objects, in things without a thought and a voice of their own! And we both have such mind-blowing, incomprehensible versatility because we don't have ourselves!" His voice boomed, jubilant, mad, hands stretched out to the side. Embracing this revulsion that stained his tongue with poison. "I don't think about 'what then'! I think about 'what's next'! The summit I've chosen is ridiculously high, and subnatural I am now isn't going to survive that climb. Why else would I plunge headlong into danger, while everyone else wants to run?!"

Rein himself in? He didn't need that now. A flick of the wrist and he felt the heat rush up his brain, felt the poison making his heart beat.

"I improve myself, kill myself every day. If one day it doesn't make me better, it'll kill me. And I'm fine with that."

A last plea? A last wish? A last miracle? No, it was nothing pretty or pitiful like that.

"I can't stop myself, and I can't help myself, cause I don't think I'm worth all that effort."

Just a final truth, by a boy without a family.

"If you're going to help me, you're gonna have to force me."

And that predatorial smirk became too painful to hold any longer.

"So come on, Harker. Show me your fangs."



"We're both hella messed up, huh?"

If she could have been more graceful than all but collapsing into the chair, she would have, but that was too much to ask when everything hurt and all the kindling she had to offer burned itself out. If Siena could have laughed, she might have. The best she could manage was a few breaths that might have passed. Fuck, that hurt.

"I think that might be an understatement." A grimace as she breathed too deep and the fresh bruises screamed in protest. Shouldn't have taken so many hits, but the girl managed a restrained fascimile of a laugh on her second attempt. "A'least we've--ow--got each other."

"Hah," Brent wheezed, a lopsided grin forming, "An aficionado of buddy films too?"

"Ugh..." The laugh still hurt, the returned smile despite the words easier to manage. "I should punch you again for that."

"And break your hand against my jaw?"

"Ouch, consider my pride wounded," Siena claimed while pushing her bangs out of her face, fingers catching in newly formed tangles as she did so. Her pride and about every other part of her, really. The girl pushed herself upright, the throbbing reminding her with more vigor than before. Real. Something else stirred, uncomfortable and familiar, but there was no Santana to trample it underfoot. No Harker to vehemently deny it, just Siena left behind, unable to justify it. You're not supposed to care. She grinned, mischief lightly coating the action like a fine powder. "I think I can break my hand on something a little better than that."

"Don't worry," Brent laughed, reaching for a drink that wasn't there, "Pretty sure you can take down any other guy with those moves. That reversal was sorta mindblowing."

He coughed a couple more times, smacking a hand against his chest to get that lump out. A 'harrumph' cleared his throat handily, right in time for him to sputter again at Siena's...joke? What? Temporarily bamboozled at how terrible of a 'joke' that was, Brent arced an eyebrow, replying, "What would that be? A block of gold? I'll have you know my jaw's pretty high value."

"High value?" The brunette gave a cheeky grin before struggling to her feet. Just about every part of her found a reason to hate the action. Everything tastes like ouch. Could be worse. "You appraise that yourself or something?"

"Naturally," he stated, "But if you doubt my appraisal, go ahead."

"Inviting a rich girl for appraisal...awfully confident." Still, it wasn't as if there wasn't something to be gained from it. Carefully, with the same delicacy she would have approached a book on the verge of crumbling to dust, the girl reached toward his right side, where she'd initially struck. A cautious, featherlight touch where she remembered knuckles meeting flesh, eyes trained more for signs that it would bruise than any actual judgement.

'Well, it's sturdy.' Even if her punch had landed just a bit wide of real impact, it didn't seem like it had taken any exceptional damage. Surprising.

Not exactly the most striking feature there though, right? Hard to compare something as mundane as a jawline to a striking eye color--or maybe it was the look? She didn't quite know. Only knew that she hid her own because she didn't like when others could see that her eyes weren't the ones watching.

"Well, I guess a bruise is supposed to be manly."

Wait, was she actu-

"Doesn't that mean you're manlier than me now?" he teased, burying surprise and embarrassment with wit, "Bet there's gonna be a whole tapestry in the morning. Still..."

His gaze left hers, sweeping across the library that had been trashed during their little tussle.

"...how's that honesty thing feel?"

Satisfied with what little evaluation she could make on the most visible injury, Siena withdrew her hand as her attention followed where Brent's had gone. It was quite a mess to clean up.

"Like getting punched. A lot." A little more literal than most answers, but it certainly wasn't wrong. "Surprisingly, not that bad."

A pause as she lightly scratched her cheek with one hand, taking in the overturned furniture and scattered books.

"It does cause a bit of a mess though..."

"Might be an understatement here," he chuckled, "But sounds about right."

A pause. A recollection. What was he here for again? Right, confirmation.

"Can I trust you, 'ena?"

Trusting her. It sounded so foreign to her ears, sounded strange to even consider. Santana, Harker, whatever remnant they left behind when both were burned away.

But it had remained, a fearless confirmation beyond the doubts she'd carried. What good is that if I can't help you? It had remained after everything else had been reduced to ash.

She turned her gaze back to Brent, grey eyes settling on the boy. Grey eyes. Her eyes.

"Yeah, you can."

Call me. Now.

Siena had debated on the message for hours after replacing the battery in her phone, her mind a tempest that threatened to drown her. The words didn't bring comfort, nor did they really elicit a reaction that Siena knew how to categorize. She knew better than to ignore the message though, knew better than to let it sit for as long as it already had. Knew better than to keep the sender waiting. The girl brushed her hair out of her eyes, stared at her phone for a moment longer. She had to call him, said the part of her that knew she'd delayed for long enough. It had been days since the message was sent, and who knew how many hours since she'd seen it. Settling at the entrance of her room, Siena wondered briefly if she should find somewhere more isolated, but she sincerely doubted that anywhere was going to be much safer.

At least with the door open just a crack, there would be a quick way out to find somewhere, anywhere, to get away if she had to.

Her fingers tapped the call icon and listened to the rings, each one making a vice grow tighter around her chest until she felt like she might suffocate from the pressure. She wanted to cancel the call, to hang up before anyone could answer, but she waited, as though frozen in place. She felt her breath come short, and she held it when one ring was finally cut short. Please.

The plea was not answered.

"Siena."

"You...you asked me to call...?"

"I see you've made some appearances on the news." The deep voice was cool and calm. Something familiar and altogether unsettling fell over her shoulders like a heavy drape. This wasn't the voice she knew. This wasn't what she was used to hearing. Siena felt her breath catch in her throat for an instant as she took a soft breath, hopefully quiet enough so that it wouldn't be noticed. "Quite the show, diving through a building. What was it they called you? Sylph?"

"I...yes, sir." She still didn't know how to react.

"Don't do anything that pathetic again. Subnatural or not, you're a Santana." Siena flinched at the words. Subnatural and Santana. Not Siena. "But I suppose I have to applaud you for finding a use for yourself."

Something was wrong here. The image that settled in her head and the voice that was speaking in her ear didn't coincide despite coming from the same person. Siena furrowed her brow, felt heat rising through her chest, up to her throat until she didn't trust herself to speak. Something didn't match up, and she wasn't sure which memory was wrong. Siena didn't know if she wanted to know, but something scalded her like heated metal up against her neck when she considered trying to find out. There was one she wanted to be right, and if it was wrong...

"A use...?" Barely audible, but Siena didn't have herself falter. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"You're a subnatural. A leg in the door, so to speak." As though he could sense the impending question, the man continued speaking, allowing no time for Siena to recover from the statement. A leg in the door? "Prove yourself useful on the field. If you can make a name for yourself, we'll benefit from it too."

It stung deep, but she knew the answer.

"I understand." A pause as she hesitated. "Papa...?"

"Siena." Unforgiving. She was wrong.

"...father. Forgive me." With a single word, the memories fell back into place, the hazy ones of a father that cared slipping through her fingers, no longer a reality that she clung to, but a memory that was wrong again. Like Emily--was that even the name that the sister had taken? Or was it Elizabeth? Emma? Elaine?--was just an event to fit the emotions she could no longer discern. Hers? A mark's? Did she really think it mattered? "You were hoping to have a subnatural in your family?"

"Not exactly, but having a monster in the bloodline will do wonders for the Santanas."

"I-I...I see. It would...be a strong move. You don't need to publically accept a subnatural, but you can still demonstrate control over it." The rationality was blindingly obvious. It hurt her less than it should have. "If you can control a monstrosity that looks human, then people will flock to your company in droves."

That was the line that caused Marcus to stop in his tracks. There were a few things nowadays that immediately caught his attention when they were said, if only for his own self-preservation. The words 'subnatural' and 'control' utilized in the same sentance was one of those triggers, irregardless of the speaker. It was a sad truth, but after everything that had happened in D.C, Marcus was running a little low on trust...for anybody.

The plaque that shown on the door was a name he wished had been any other; Siena. The girl who he'd betrayed back in the ruins, sending her into a full-fledged meltdown because it had been what he thought was right. He felt guilt, and he felt remorse, but none of that had changed his justification - a theme that hung over the incident as a whole.

He didn't know her resources. He didn't know her background. Only that she was rich and not super willing to talk about it. He certainly didn't know how much he could trust her, or how much she trusted him.

And, as he waited outside the door listening intently, he learned that she probably trusted him too much.

"Good," said the head of the Santana family. Siena could practically see the sickly sweet smile spread over his face, though the features were starkly out of place on the image she created in her head. Features she didn't quite know how to age, or maybe it was the rest that she hadn't aged properly. "So Maya did manage to teach you something."

"But I belong to USARILN now. I--"

"Surrendered yourself, correct? I heard from Maya. Needless to say, if the public asks, we will tell them it was at our command." Another spire in her chest. She couldn't breathe. It was not merely a statement, it was a demand. One that Siena couldn't bring herself to turn down despite everything saying that she should. "Do good work out there, Siena. There may be a use for you yet."

"Yes, father."

Marcus's heart twisted in his stomach. The forceful tone and wording, as if someone was talking to a pet. That much made him angry enough to want to kick the door down, and tell the man on the other end exactly where he could shove his commands. Even if they weren't on speaking (or even trusting) terms, he still cared about his classmates. If there was one thing he'd proven in D.C, it was that he wasn't afraid to defend them.

Siena's reply twisted his emotions completely. Rage simmered down to cloying pity so fast, it nearly left Marcus in a state of perplexed confusion. 'Father'. Someone who was supposed to be a role model - a hero. To be such a...scummy prick. He was physically sad for the poor girl.

"Oh, and...do try to be a little more dignified if you're going to be caught on camera. Your mother was sorely disappointed in your appearance." Siena flinched at the mention of her mother. Were those more memories that didn't align properly? She remembered two versions of her mother. One that was warm, like the image she'd created of her father, and one that was...cold. Relentless. Part of the mage wondered if they were simply the same person with different masks on, but everything was unstable. She was too afraid to push further, too afraid to lose what little footing she could still muster.

"Father...?" A silence that begged the completion of the sentence. She wasn't worth the words. "How did you get my contact information?"

"Simple." She could imagine that predatory smile again, like a cat toying with its prey. "I only had to ask that cur you call a butler for it."

No. No, that was a lie. Siena felt her heart sieze, as though it had forgotten how to beat. Gerwulf? An icy feeling pierced through her, a thousand needles that made her nerves sing with devastation. A sharp, cutting agony that she couldn't recognize as anything but betrayal. She'd felt it plenty of times in the past few days...and her father, someone whose mastery of people ran well beyond what Maya was capable of, knew in an instant.

"Don't forget, he was there because I had him placed there." Right...it was so easy to forget when both Maya and Gerwulf had been constant presences in her life. The only ones she could really speak of. "And he knows that while you may not be expendable yet, he certainly is." A pause to let everything sink in, to permeate Siena's mind with doubts. "Good night, Siena."

"Good night, fa--!"

He didn't wait for a response before he hung up, and Siena slowly brought the phone away from her face, staring at a message screen devoid of anything but a single order and a call notification. Her fingers hovered over the buttons that would take her from that conversation to another. One where she could get answers and...

...she needed air.

Quietly, Siena dragged herself from her position, the shift not significant given her decision to linger near the door. A few strides, a quick motion to open the door, and--

'Wh-What?'

Someone was at her door, someone was at her door! Alarms raised as Siena took an attempt at a half step back, her vision seeking anything recognizeable. It took a moment for the features to match to a face. "Marcus?!" That was certainly him looking equally startled, like he might bolt at any second. How long had he been standing there? Grey eyes narrowed, darted from her phone and back to the boy. "What are you...?"

"Si-Siena!" Marcus stammered with surprised, one million volts of panic having immediately surged to his heart when the door swung open. "I-I-I was just...exploring the place! Big place! Lots of things around!"

Marcus was a very bad liar when he was startled.

"And...I...wanted to come check up on you! See how you were settling in right now! Because, hey; this must be like home to you!"

Oh no. Oh shit. Bad topic. Literally anything but that.

WHY ARE YOU SO DUUUUUMMMB!?.

About nine different red flags rose while twelve different alarms started going off in Siena's head. Marcus was lying--why? And he'd been outside her door, and why was he so startled about--

Like home...?

Siena couldn't hold back the flinch, recoiling faintly away from Marcus, her feet taking her a few inches back. Home. It was to some extent, but it wasn't the home that she wanted to remember. It was filled with servants, filled with people, and run by an absent authority. Like the home that she was reminded of. The brunette found herself at a loss for words briefly.

"S-sort of..." Her voice came out weak, barely above a whisper, and Siena could hardly believe it was coming from her mouth. She tried to correct it with the next phrase, then cursed herself when the words trembled, as though on the brink of breaking. "It's familiar."

"Shit- no...Siena..." Marcus said, his body forcing him a half step closer to her as she recoiled. "I...I-" he searched for the words, but there was nothing to find. Nothing in his repitoire to help this situation. His role as Morale Guardian had been completely blown out the water around the time he'd gotten Savannah killed, and now there was nothing to take it's place.

"I-I'm sorry..." he said faintly.

Why was he apologizing? The question was rhetorical because she knew. He'd heard something, maybe everything. She didn't know. Her eyes shot up at the close proximity, memories of having her phone in hand one moment and the screen going dark the next bearing down like a landslide. Despite her best efforts, the brunette felt herself instinctively trying to step back. She didn't manage to stop herself before the first inch, her position steadying itself after a moment.

"How....how much did you hear?" The mask didn't even have a chance to form, grey eyes only meeting her roommate's gaze for an instant before immediately darting away for anythig else to focus on.

"I-I didn't hear anything. I only just got to your door." Marcus stammered after a slight pause.

"You're really not a very good liar, Marcus." Words that lacked any real intonation. As if she as stating a fact , reciting it from a book of observations. She didn't make a move to look the boy in the eye. "So please don't lie about this."

Marcus sighed. He knew that. Yet, he still attempted to do it as if he'd eventually find someone dumb enough to take everything he said at face value.

"Something about controlling a subnatural. But I didn't even know it was you and I was just worried that Zhang or someone was plotting behind closed doors..."

"Oh." Somehow, the word felt hollow. "It's..." Siena hesitated. The brunette felt her hand going to her arm, nails digging into the skin, scarlet marks blooming underneath. "It's not like that." That was a total lie, and even she couldn't deny the words that had come out of her mouth. "...complicated." She didn't know if she could set the mask this time, so Siena didn't bother. Only kept her eyes turned down, away. Did he know who she was talking to? Of course he did, that was what caused the reaction to begin with.

"Or maybe it's not. I don't know."

"I gathered..." Marcus said bluntly, sheepishly rubbing the back of his head. He desperately wanted to just leave, and his eyes dared to glance up at Siena for a brief second. A quick scan to see if there was anything in her face that said he could make his excuses and run off now, rather than sitting here like an animal caught in a trap.

The glance, Siena didn't notice for a moment. Not until she adjusted her gaze, to see what there was to read, only to see he was doing the same thing. A defensive instinct reared its head, and Siena immediately tore her eyes away, set her features into a neutral expression to hide what she wanted read despite knowing it was probably too late. It would have been easier to let him go. Let him pretend that nothing was wrong, that he hadn't heard anything.

But again the cold, sharp edge of betrayal bit into her flesh, this time eliciting a thorny self-defense mechanism.

"Don't...don't tell anyone." Just enough pain in her voice to elicit the image of a vulnerable girl. "About this. About what happened back at DC."

'What happened back at DC'. There were plenty of things that had happened back at DC, most of which he desperately hoped he never have to tell anybody. If he was telling people about some of the things that happened it wouldn't be a story; it'd be a confession. Of course, he knew exactly what it was she was referring to: the breakdown. Her apparent weakness being loss of material.

As much as he wanted to say that she needed to talk to somebody about that, he knew it was only hypocracy. Why should he pressure other people to fix their flaws and staunchly refuse to fix his own? Flaws and fears that had done more than leave him hyperventilating on the ground.

His eyes dared to search her face one more time, to judge how much damage he'd done. "Of course."

Eyes up, Siena.

She did so, caught the observant gaze, made sure that Marcus caught the motion, and quickly constructed the layers necessary. First, a flash of hurt--not pain. Hurt. Hurt was harder to justify. Hurt was harder to shrug off. Hurt meant that there was someone to blame. It didn't smooth out like she usually forced it to, instead leaving its mark behind on the next mask, the one that she made obvious was exactly that. A mask. A moment where she hesitated, made sure that said hesitation was broadcast.

But maybe her observations were wrong.

No. She doubted it.

One hand on the door, a quiet gaze sent to her phone. A perfectly painted look of conflict, as though contemplating on whether she'd made the right choice. Whether she should close the door--a faint motion, as though she was going to. A pause as she stopped. Another flash of uncertainty. The message Siena created should have been clear:

I don't know who to talk to.

Except she did, and she knew where this road would lead, but the hurt and betrayals had cut too deep, and all she wanted was for someone to get it, for someone to feel the same way she did, even if it was for just a second...or maybe it was just some petty feeling of wanting to lash out. To hurt someone because she had been hurt.

Just like a damn animal.

"Um...th...anks..."

A lot. A lot of damage had been done. As many times as he played the scene over in his head, he always came back to the same statement: he sent Siena - the one person on this whole team who seemed like had some semblance of 'having it together', into a full-blown panic attack. He'd used his power on someone he cared about for offensive purposes, even if he was trying to keep them from hurting themselves.

He didn't know Siena at all. He didn't know her thought process or her ideas, or anything she had ever been through - and he made a decision based on what he thought he knew.

And here she was, in the aftermath of it all. Hurt. Betrayed. Probably even more after the discussion with her father. And he'd done nothing to make it better. If anything he'd made it worse.

The least he could do was offer a listening ear and a shoulder to cry on.

"Siena...do you want to talk? Maybe clear your head a little?" he asked, prefacing the sentance with an inward sigh.

So she wasn't wrong. Something between shame and satisfaction rose, but Siena smothered it behind a seamless act. Be vulnerable, be timid, be exactly what he expected to see. This isn't fair to him. The thought was formed with absolute clarity, and Siena didn't deny it. This wasn't fair.

"I..." Show the perfect amount of hesitation. The perfect amount of uncertainty. She could practically hear Maya's voice murmuring in her ear, the woman's hands gently prodding her along the path. "...don't know." Breathe, hold the breath. Look away. He'd heard something from her father, so this would be easier to sell. You sound like Maya. A twinge of guilt that she genuinely felt, but didn't let show. "I never really...um..." Let him finish the thought, chided the soft voice in her head. So she did. Glanced away like she was lost.

"Never really talked about this kind of stuff?" Marcus said, filling in what he believed was the hanging end to Siena's statement. "That's fine - say as much or as little as you need to. Just to get it off your chest."

Careful how you step now, Siena. The voice was little more than a whisper, but it was enough. The brunette bit her lip for a moment, as though trying to figure out exactly how to start. A cruel, bitter part of her wondered exactly how much truth she could give before one or the other would break. It was a mild, warm curiosity that only helped to bolster her resolve. Such a temper. You really should work on that. A careful, deep breath that she restrained only to make it seem as though she was trying to hide it prefaced the next words.

"It's not...I don't..." She paired the words with an expression that wasn't entirely fabricated, lost and confused. She bit her lip again, furrowed her brow as though trying with more effort than it should have taken to word the next claims. The words came slowly, deliberately, as though she had to carefully select them from a mass of other ones. "I wouldn't know where to start."

"Just start from the beginning of whichever part is on your mind. Or start from the part you're the most comfortable talking about." Marcus said, trying to make his voice sound as reassuring as possible, despite the slight shake that plagued his words.

She should have felt worse.

"...a-alright..." Siena hesitated, her eyes still turned to the floor. A moment of silence before the mage took a breath, as though to steel herself. It was necessary, she knew. Not only to sell the part, but also to tell the truth. She felt another throb of guilt, but convinced herself it was just a means to an end. "Um...I guess you'd probably find out eventually from Emma anyways." Words that marked she was stalling. Words that she didn't believe because she didn't doubt that Emma would have made some excuse unless--well...perhaps she wouldn't have bothered at that point. "I um...back at the--I mean..."

Another deep breath, another look of uncertainty, and then words spoken quietly with an averted gaze.

"I guess it's easier to start by explaining wh-what--" She corrected herself. Quieted her voice more. "Sorry. Why."

Marcus stood silently, awaiting the rest of Siena's speech. The back of his mind noted the mention of Emma, and how she'd apparently known...something? Did she know about Siena's panic attacks too? Why wouldn't she have mentioned something as mission critical as that if she did know abou-

Well, the answer was obvious. She made the same promise he did.

He was listening. Good.

Isn't this a bit cruel?

"...um..." Another breath, this one followed by a soft curse as though she didn't know exactly what she was going to say. "When I...um..." The realization settled in too late. She didn't really know how to explain. To Emma, it had been easy. Why she didn't want to be around others after the fact, but that wasn't the same thing. "Actually, that's not a good way to start."

A pause as she regathered her thoughts.

"Right, so um...I guess just...for a second, just try and remember the most extreme emotions you've ever felt. A few of them. Doesn't matter which ones." Her fingers tightened around her phone for an instant, as though it was a security blanket--Siena didn't entirely notice the action. "What caused them, what they did to your perception, anything and everything you can about them."

Marcus shifted uncomfortably, the feeling of an old wound seemingly throbbing, just to remind him it was there as Siena spoke. He was familiar with extreme emotions, and as much as she was trying to get him to think about them, he had always been trying to repress them. He remembered, he would always remember, but it wasn't any easier when they were brought up.

That was the lesson, then, wasn't it?

"A-alright." he said, hesitiation in his voice.

Cruel. Siena couldn't deny that what she was doing was anything but cruel, but there was a small, bitter part of her that didn't seem to care. Worse, it pushed her forward, whispered that it was necessary if she wanted to protect herself. That if she didn't want a repeat of the situation, then she had to make them understand, or at least make them hurt.

But it was still cruel.

"Now imagine feeling most of them at the same time. For all those reasons." The Arbiter lowered her voice, as though it was the easiest way to keep it steady enough to be heard. She waited for a moment, to let Marcus attempt--or maybe he wouldn't, it didn't entirely matter--to do as she had asked. Waited a moment longer after, as though to convince herself that she could spit the rest of the words out. "I feel like that every time I use my power." Not entirely true. She'd discovered already that she could cut the time in return for stability, but when in the heat of the moment, when losing a name a fraction of a second too early could mean certain doom, Siena hadn't been able to justify it.

There was a moment of pause, clearly meant for him to try imagining the hellscape she'd laid before him. He wasn't going to do it, obviously - he'd already done it more times than he was comfortable with. Still, he sat there, following along intently as she spoke. A look of mild horror and slight concern crossed his face as she described the harsh price of her power, followed quickly by a slight hint of confusion.

"Wait...aren't you..." he said, his voice soft and cut off abruptly.

An arbiter?

That would have been the ending to that sentance if he'd let it finish. They were arbiters, they didn't have a price to pay for their powers; not as far as he was aware at least. Apparently, he wasn't aware of a whole lot.

"I'm...I'm sorry Siena. That's awful"

A parade of emotions flickered across Marcus's face, and Siena felt a small whisper of satisfaction spark to life then dim out in the sea. She could tell without having to dig what the rest of the question would have been. An Arbiter. A white mark. A subnatural that didn't pay to have an ability. He was right on two counts, at least. She glanced away.

"When I focus on something else, it's not." There was no real accusation, nothing that was meant to put up a guard, but she kept her gaze elsewhere. "But that only lasts as long as there's something for me to focus on."

"Ah." A sound of understanding. That was the part where he had goofed. "Your phone."

"Sort of. It...helps." Not just the phone. Doing things was what kept her moving forward, and she couldn't do much without her phone. Not the point, Siena. She refocused herself, stared at her phone. "Anything with words helps."

"And you didn't exactly have anything else in that barren wasteland of rubble, did you?" he added, putting together the pieces. "So that's what triggered..." He stopped himself for a second, trying to find a more...delicate way of phrasing things.

"So that's why you were upset when I took the battery. I get it."

Hesitation, then a quiet, hurt look. Siena took a quiet breath. She'd said it back at the building. It was exactly the last kick she needed.

"Part of it." Grey eyes lingered for a moment longer on the phone before finally turning to Marcus, this time settling instead of turning away. "I said it back at the building, and I..." Hesitation. She visibly braced herself, made herself seem like she was steeling herself before releasing a quiet sigh. "Not having a source when I'm out there, out anywhere, is like sending someone into a busy street with a blindfold."

A pause. Don't look away.

"So, no, I don't think you really get it."

The sudden shift in tone nearly made the hairs on the back of Marcus's neck stand up, and his body tensed slightly at the open hostility. Or at least, a statement Marcus interpreted as open hostility. Not to say he didn't deserve it after all - he had earned everything that was coming his way, and probably a fair bit more.

"Okay. So maybe I don't get it, exactly. But I'm sorry. I didn't realize that it would have that kind of effect, and...I was just worried you were going to hurt yourself. I made a bad call, and I apologize."

You chose to do this. You knew where it would lead.

She knew.

"You know, honestly, that probably won't be the last time that happens. I'll get better from a panic attack. I'll probably feel worse ones just using my power." Her gaze didn't falter, but didn't rise to look Marcus in the eye. Still couldn't help but want to keep her own eyes hidden because she couldn't fake the color. "But we had a job to do. You know what I'm capable of, you knew. Anything, as long as I had a source, and you really think you were worried I was going to hurt myself?" Whoa there, Harker. Down...dial it back a notch. "I didn't warn you about my issues, that's on me, but I..."

Frustrated, tired, still hurt.

"I figured you, of everyone there, would have known that I spent my entire life not being trusted to do anything on my own. I told you I had a plan, and you didn't trust that I did." She kept her gaze, couldn't let herself falter. Siena didn't have to say out loud how deep it cut, how much more than a simple betrayal it was if he had heard more than he claimed. "I could have helped someone else. That was what we were supposed to do." Too much emotion in the word, Siena scolded herself. That was too personal for her own shortcomings. Pull back. Taking a breath to calm herself, Siena allowed herself, at long last, to tear her gaze away before giving a resigned sigh.

"But you know what? Maybe you were right. I guess I can't be trusted." One more push. "Haven't made myself useful enough to be yet."

Marcus winced slightly, as if the words had lashed themselves across his back as they came out of Siena's mouth. It wasn't that he didn't trust her...it was that...well, maybe it was that he didn't trust her. He didn't trust her to not get herself killed by accident, or even on purpose. That was the whole crux of the issue.

"Siena..." Marcus started, his voice almost pleading as he tried to worm out an explanation. "...you had said it yourself, you were fine with hurting yourself, you lost the teleporter faster than you thought you would, it's just one more subnatural that happened to die in the process. Nobody would care.'"

He tried to give her a stern look in his counter-argument, but he caught her eyes and immediately dropped his own.

You knew where it would lead.

guiltblameregrethurtbreakcry

"None of those statements were wrong." And they were true, unlike most of what Siena presented, but she kept that silent. "I'm not afraid of getting hurt, I'm fine with hurting myself." Beause pain grounded her when it was physical. Took her away from the blended mess of everyone and everything else. She didn't let those words come. They weren't necessary. "And I would have been just one more subnatural. Nobody would miss me, nobody would care. That's just what happens when you're a subnatural."

Well, someone might have cared enough to celebrate, but that was beside the point.

"If I make a bad call and get myself hurt, then it's just me. A subnatural that happens to be cuffed and at work, nothing out of the usual." A pause. "But when you make a bad call, Marcus, when you end up hurting your teammates, or when you get regulars hurt or killed, that's a different story. You don't get to stand for just yourself anymore, you lost that privilege when you became Time Scar." When you became our face. Again, she told herself to step back from the mounting emotions. Calm down, little Harker. "And it sucks, but unless someone else can step in and fill that spot, you're the one that has to know who's a better sacrifice: a subnatural that can and has hurt people, or a family of four in a crumbling building."

A pause as she glanced away, the fire in her chest dimming, a light of remorse and guilt cutting through her moment of bravery.

"Even if that means you don't get to feel human anymore."

He stayed silent. Let the words crash over him like waves of boiling water. Already his mind was whirring in defense, trying to think of something to aid him in this battle of wits.

He might have chuckled there, at that thought. Arguing with Siena certainly felt like a battle. A battle that he was losing, if the way he felt was any indication. Still, he opened his mouth again to defend himself, despite the tidal wave of backlash and remorse he knew that would bring crashing down on his head.

"First of all..." he started quietly, clearing his throat and starting again, a little more forceful this time. "First of all, none of us are just subnaturals. We're classmates. Teammates. Most of us are friends." those words came out of his mouth like a jagged edge. He wasn't sure where he sat on Siena's friendship scale anymore, but he tried to think the best.

"And yes. I'm Time Scar. The face of the operation. Apparently. I have to keep everyone's best interests at heart. And I know who the better sacrifice is, between a subnatural or a random family of four regulars."

His voice was slightly more firm now. Not shouting, but resolute in his speech.

"And yes, that makes me feel like less of a human."

He paused again, swallowing his fervor and returning to his calmer voice.

"I made a bad call. I never said I made the wrong call."

'There, that's what you needed. That's enough,' thought the voice that knew it was for the better. It was the one that drove her forward--plenty of monsters can play at being human--when she knew how the road would end. But Siena knew better than to let show that she'd gotten what she wanted from the exchange.

Wouldn't father be proud? How easily she could turn someone in her hands?

Classmates. Teammates. Friends. Somehow she didn't feel like the words sank in like they were supposed to.

That is what he would have been proud of.

She steeled herself internally, knew where this road would lead. Knew that she probably wouldn't be able to regain what she was sacrificing, but that was...that was fine.

"You're free to hold that belief." Her voice was quiet. Too quiet. Where are you now? "And maybe you're right. We are classmates, we are teammates, but we are still subnaturals." Would she regret it? Undoubtedly. "So you can tell yourself that we aren't just subnaturals. That's fine. You can believe whatever call you want as the right one. I can't stop you from thinking that. Hell, I would love to believe that too."

Stronger. You can't back down right now.

"But the next time you have to choose between me and a regular, you choose the regular." It wasn't a request. She willed herself to make it more than that. "At least then, it's a choice between a monster and a person." It hurt to say out loud, but Siena covered the pain. She'd have plenty of time to regret it later, when it was too late to change anything. A pause.

"Right now, you're just an operation face, but if what we've been doing becomes what we will be doing, you..." Hesitation. A soft breath, a quiet, resigned sigh. "You won't be Marcus, the subnatural or Time Scar, the poster child. You'll be a movement more than a man, and what choices you make won't just be for a team." A fate worse than that of a monster's, but Siena didn't voice that opinion. "So if a sacrifice needs to be made, at least you can pick the one that won't fit with the rest of that movement."

Siena...I..."

Another long pause. He knew what he wanted to say, but he had no way of saying that would paint him as the good person in this situation. Why was he even hesitating? He'd shown that he was more than willing to be the bad guy, especially when it had proven to be more effective than asking nicely. Where kind words and relief efforts had failed, a gunshot and an armored semi-truck had prevailed. Those had been his choices.

"Do you wonder why Zhang keeps people like Sander around?" he finally asked, not waiting for a reply. "If you're asking me to make choices with zero emotional attachments, to destroy a monster in favor of a person...a monster who is trying their damnedest to help. I'm still going to choose the monster."

"DC has taught us that monsters are stronger than men. USARILN has taught us that when a piece doesn't fit, you use it in a different puzzle. So no; I can't make that promise."

"Then you are severely underestimating the type of monster I can be." A hollow feeling that wrenched at her, tore at something she thought she could remove more easily. "And for what little it's worth, I am grateful that you are still human enough to hold those beliefs." At least close enough to human. Plenty of humans are monstrous. "But I'm not looking for a promise. I'm not making a request." She watched him now, tired, but still standing. "I am telling you to make that sacrifice if the need comes, because if you won't, then I assure you, I will make sure that someone else will, and I'm certain that the world won't think twice about accepting it as a small price to pay."

Silence again. A weary resignation that seemed to cross Marcus's face, and then transform into some other amalgamation of emotions. Anger? Sadness? Displeasure? They all seemed to cycle at least once, before Marcus finally spoke.

"Let's hope that the need never presents itself then, shall we?"

You knew where this would lead.

But it was so hard to make a friend, Siena couldn't help but feel pain for forcing herself to lose one.

"...hopefully we do enough good that this conversation will have been pointless." And for a moment, Siena felt how tired she really was. Felt it press down on her shoulders, cut across her features. This was the choice she made...wasn't it? A sacrifice that she had decided to make, and not some desperate child trying to live up to being a Santana.

...wasn't it?