The alarms pierced Cynthia's skull, shaking her out of the first peaceful night of sleep she'd had in weeks. Void 2 had finally ended the life of the latest captive in its Pit: a young, chocolate skinned doctor by the name of Julian Smith. She had grown close to Cynthia, and in the end, it had been her downfall. During an experiment involving Void 2, she had been captured, and dragged to the Pit, where her torture was the focus of Cynthia's nightmares. Though it was only Void 2’s second victim -and the incident occurred weeks ago, the entire staff was on high alert when around her, and a lethal collar was affixed around her thin neck.

Cynthia sighed deeply through her nose, gripping the sheets and pulling herself up. She rubbed her temple, her head swiveling around her living area. Her room was usually pitch black at night, and illuminated with soft red heating lamps during the day. Now, the LED display of her bulletin board was lit up, casting grotesque shadows across the space. The bulletin board read:

---

<sub>//:DEAR RECIPIENT

YOU HAVE BEEN REQUESTED TO ATTEND THE AUDITORIUM AT PRECISELY 6:00AM THIS MORNING. AS THIS IS AN HOUR BEFORE CURFEW RELEASE, AN INSTITUTE EMPLOYEE WILL ATTEND AND MANUALLY RELEASE YOUR DOOR. FROM THERE, YOU WILL HEAD DIRECTLY TO THE AUDITORIUM AND BE SEATED.

NON-COMPLIANCE IS NOT AN OPTION. ::</sub>

---

Cynthia groaned, dragging herself out from beneath her sheets. She hurried towards her closet, covering every inch of her skin in her standard outfit. She checked to make sure nothing was peeking through her clothing, and slid on her leather gloves at last. She stared down at the embroidered stars and whorls on the fabric, thumbing it gently. They were her prized possessions, hand stitched by one of the kinder scientists. She sat on the edge of her bed, admiring the light blue stars, until a firm knock came to her door.

“Number 15, on the ground!” A rough voice urged, and Cynthia complied, sliding off the bed and onto her knees. She chewed on her bottom lip, watching as the door burst open. Two beams of intense light swept across her, and she hissed, closing her eyes and attempting to cover her face. Her entire body felt withered, and she struggled to remain upright.

“Hands at your sides!” Commanded the guard, a beefy man in protective leathers. None of his skin was bare, but he stepped towards Cynthia with utmost precaution. Cynthia pinned her hands to her sides, her eyelids slammed shut. Deep inside, both Voids cried in outrage, grumbling in gnarled voices as their host was bathed in intense light.

The guard neared, and Cynthia laid down completely, her face pressed against the cool flooring. The guard inspected her, and cuffed her, before guiding her up by the crook of the elbow. She stood, dwarfed by her escort. “I thought we were past this, it's been so long. Void is sorry, I’m sorry.” A half truth. She was more than sorry, for what she had done to Dr. Smith. She had watched the poor woman suffer, and failed to do anything. Void 2, however, was anything but sorry. It had relished in the prolonged death of the doctor, and every victim before her. It craved the disgust and shame Cynthia felt when she watched it, the bitter sadness. It would never stop, and Cynthia would never stop apologizing. The guard tensed for a moment, considered her words, then carried on, dragging her out of her room and into the hall.

The walk to the auditorium felt longer than usual, perhaps it was the awkward silence weighing Cynthia down, or the way the guard kept peering at her out of the corner of his eye. Either way, when they finally arrived in the auditorium, Cynthia sagged with relief. She took in her siblings, her heart swelling with affection. The guard uncuffed her, and hurried away, taking up post in a corner of the room. Cynthia massaged her wrists, and walked around the room, enjoying the open space.

Gladys swayed groggily as she stumbled out of bed, glaring daggers at the billboard out of hald-closed eyes. The billboard stared back insolently, as though failing to appreciate the magnitude of its crimes. Urrrrrrgh. They couldn't even wait an hour? They want us out before curfew break? She felt tired, sore and utterly uncouth. If the Institute wanted to steal her precious sleep, she could at least feel civilized before they dragged her off to war.

After several minutes of struggling with her nightdress, which seemed hell-bent on strangling her, Gladys staggered across the room to her bath. It was closer to a hot tub than anything else, with enough space to stretch out fully and simply float in the water. The staff had originally replaced the shower unit to coax her back into the accursed vault, with the mild consolation of long soak each night. They'd been on the right tracks, but they had to unclog and bleach all of the pipes after the first night, as well as dramatically the drain outlet. That had been a royal mess.

Gladys inhaled a breath of hot steam, and sighed contently as the flesh peeled off her bones. Her skin dissolved into so much red sludge, carrying all of her filth and some of her stress along with it. Waist-long mats of knotted hair turned to sludge, to be replaced with freshly-grown locks. A few years ago - once she'd begun openly chafing at her not-so-gilded cage - the Institute had sent interns to distract her with their toys. Little slivers of personal freedom, as though that made up for being muzzled like dogs. One of the poor darlings had taught her about beauty regimes, of all things.

She never had found a use for that exfoliating cream.

That intern had run out screaming the next morning, gibbering something about houses and wax. But as utterly banal as the poor dear had been, she'd been incredibly useful, on multiple levels. Seeing her almighty captors unravel like that was cathartic, in a petty way. If she could put one more staff member in their own padded cell, surrounded by armed guards, then maybe the Institute would appreciate her position more. It hadn't been easy, once they'd caught on and started rotating her guards. But that just made the game challenging.

Once morning fatigue gave way to frustration, Gladys gave up and permitted her skin to start regenerating. The bastards couldn't even wait an hour, until she could walk out of her cell without an armed guard to frog-march her. Woken up at an unfathomable hour, dragged out of bed for their wars, and they couldn't even afford her the dignity of leaving her cell like a free woman before they muzzled her. If they wanted a pack of well-behaved dogs, then they ought to show some basic courtesy in return. Waiting in her bath for the guard to walk in would be fun, with her nervous system draped over out like hand-towels and the bathroom reeking like a charnel house, but not at all worth it. The brutes would have already been warned, and that ominous 'non-compliance' warning sounded like to much pain for too little catharsis.

There'll be a better chance in the future.

Drying herself briskly, she glanced across the room at the unrepentant billboard, which glared back as boldly as ever. Still plenty of time to dress, thanks to that unholy alarm, but hardly enough time to savour it. The Institute had thrown her a bone with her wardrobe, once she'd learned to play the game on their terms. They had plenty of silky clothes and fancy toys to spare. They even had a few staff members that tried to be affectionate, although who knows where they found them. It just wasn't a replacement for basic human dignity.

By ten to six, Gladys was inspecting herself critically in the mirror. Now here was some room for choice. The dress was as elegantly bland as ever, and her skin was as smooth and unblemished as a newborn. There was dignity there, but not enough Gladys. And the shock collar made the whole ensemble into a prison garb. But after a few months without incident, the guards had reluctantly authorised her to accessorize, as long as the accessory didn’t include claws or teeth.

Her left eyeball dissolved and ran down her cheek, leaving an empty socket that clashed with the ballroom dress ever so well. The liquid flesh grew rapidly, proliferating and assembling into a four-foot long segmented thing - somewhere between a centipede, a Hydra and a boa constrictor. Its chitin gleamed in a lustrous rainbow, like a tropical beetle, and its legs clattered cheerfully as it scampered down her neck. The darling wrapped itself around the shock collar like a neckscarf, then settled its head on her shoulder and snoozed.

There’s a good girl.

Before she could appreciate the moment, Gladys heard the rude clatter of shutters behind her, as a guard opened the door. She sighed.

“Make lively, Number 18,” the guard rumbled boorishly. Impertinent. He couldn’t even use her proper name.

She glanced imperiously over her left shoulder, flashing the guard a profile of her missing eye socket. “It’s rude to barge in on a lady,” she huffed.

The guard started visibly, and she felt a flash of vindication. That passed almost instantly as pain seared through her twice-over, as the guard’s hand twitched and her collar sparked. The pain stabbed in her neck and her eye socket at once, as her Grandchild ate half of the discharge as well. It let out something between a hiss and a mewl.

The spasm rippled through both her bodies, and the guard growled in frustration. “No games.” He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder with one hand, still brandishing the remote to her shock collar with the other. “Move along, now.”

Touchy, she fumed. They always acted so tough once they’d seen her in pain. Gladys pivoted around with an insulted sniff. The guard could put on all of the stoic bravado he liked, but she could smell the pungent trace of fear running off him. Her Grandchild’s forked tongue was hissing out, and she could taste his panicked sweat through her eye socket. Disconcerting, certainly. But still a consolation.

Without further resistance - it would just lead to diminishing returns - Gladys left her cell. In the atrium, she could see a few guards shifting uneasily as they caught her eye (or lack thereof), but there weren’t any reactions as satisfying as that of her escort. Most of them had seen worse before, and she was hardly the most intimidating family member they’d chained up in the vaults. It was hard to scare them, but simple enough to disturb them. She looked human enough for her non-human features to feel wrong, and those features always changed from day to day.

It’s the least they deserve for how they treat my family.

The auditorium had started to fill by the time she arrived, and Gladys a pleasant warmth well up in her chest at the sight of her siblings. They can’t keep us apart. Even if they wanted to, they need us all together. Dostya’s massive frame stood out amongst her traditionally-proportioned siblings, and her cheerful antics were so very welcome after a room full of dour guards. Splitting off from her escort, Gladys beelined over to the floor besides Dostya, sitting down with folded legs near Daniel and Alma. Her Grandchild chittered happily as it settled down, migrating into her lap and curling up into a comfortable ball. Nobody had told them to use the accursed folding chairs - such uncomfortable things - and it wasn’t as though she posed a security risk.

It’s the little things that get you through the day.

---

---

//:DEAR RECIPIENT

YOU HAVE BEEN REQUESTED TO ATTEND THE AUDITORIUM AT PRECISELY 6:00AM THIS MORNING. AS THIS IS AN HOUR BEFORE CURFEW RELEASE, AN INSTITUTE EMPLOYEE WILL ATTEND AND MANUALLY RELEASE YOUR DOOR. FROM THERE, YOU WILL HEAD DIRECTLY TO THE AUDITORIUM AND BE SEATED.

NON-COMPLIANCE IS NOT AN OPTION.

::

---

Ansel yawned as the green words blipped across the wall from an overhead projector, causing a loud pop to echo within the room. As it did every five minutes, a myriad of needles and artificial arms perforated and massaged his skin. The doctors said that the acupuncture would promote his regenerative abilities; Ansel surmised that they were sadists desperate on exacting revenge for their prior mistakes.

Mistakes, judging by the drying blood on the walls, that had yet to be rectified to any meaningful extent.

With an orchestra of mechanical whines, the hundreds of little appendages dotted every inch of his skin until his nerves began to express no longer pain, but heat. Blood trickled from every pore before drying against the miraculously cool and crisp air, and Ansel exhaled as his nerves spasmed wildly. They worked overtime trying to register the cold and the blood and the wet and dry and everything in between but the needles finally stopped, if only to allow him a few seconds' grace.

His bonds pulled away from each other and stretched his body taut like string. As they did usually, little pops from his joints rang out first. Then came the slight burning sensation as the fibers of his muscles wore out, and following soon after would come the sensation of a hot, searing flash licking across his body. And that was what made all the difference. Back then, his once-built and impressively chiseled body in his first few months could throw a man across the room and could even crack the glass that teased the outside world. Had he preserved and built up his strength, he might have been able to stockpile his combat experience to a proficiency where he could manage a single-digit like #9 bare-handed, but such wasn't meant to be. A weapon like the Gestalt could not be self-sufficient, lest it break its allegiance to humanity. The doctors were obligated to make sure that could never happen

So why could he still smell his guards' fear when they filed into the room? The slight tinge of deodorant, sweat, and urine filled the air as Ansel knew one of the men (or women; there were at least two in the 8 that rotated) had just pissed themselves slightly. Antique shotguns loaded with rubber slugs had their snouts pointed at him as soon as their owners could get a whiff of the blood, and by the time Ansel's little massage was over, 4 guards filed into a firing line as the restraints were released via remote.

Ansel hit the floor in a moist, bloody heap. One of the guards, a smaller man nicknamed 'Uther', snorted and commented on something about a handball on wet concrete before being given glares.

"So the short guy gets the short straw..." Uther muttered as he inched closer. "Up, #10."

But the concrete floor was so nice and cool, and Ansel hadn't slept in days.

"#10, would you like to have Moses come here again? I'll gladly snap your fucking arms if complying's an issue."

"I recall eating yours last time you tried. How are the new ones? Soft as a babe's?"

Uther started, stopped, then let out a quiet huff as he tugged Ansel upright by the back of the Child's collar. The barrel of his shotgun was pointed right behind Ansel's knees.

"About as soft as this part, #10. I'm working on a new set of calluses."

"Back off, Uther," one of the other guards warned. The bite-sized sentry pulled away, but not before gripping the cold, smoothbore barrel with both hands. A quick swing to Ansel's gut put the Child to his knees, and not long after the wretched man (if one could even call him that) retched and released a yellow, bitter bile onto the floor. But the guards were unfazed and uncaring; they made no movement to help him up.

A little abuse wouldn't kill something like him, after all.

---

Ansel could just barely see the small of his favorite sister's back as she slipped out of the atrium and into the auditorium. The holding block usually was a quiet place, even with dozens of children of varying dispositions out and about. Couple that silence with the reinforced walls and windows, and you'd have Ansel's view of the world beyond : a cyclical silent film, all with the same actors and actresses scurrying to and fro to the same places.

Even so, getting out into the atrium failed to yield anything more than a better view of the rust's progress on the support beams. If he got out by force, Children by the flocks and droves would hide themselves from him, and the entire facility would be blanketed in an incessant red. But there would still be that unbearable silence; it seemed as though Ansel would never hear the clamor of his more docile siblings anytime soon.

Today, however, was a tad bit different. A murmur bounced off of the rails and glass panes, a murmur that tugged at Ansel's eardrum for attention. The Child yielded, and pivoted his head to look at a guard, foaming at the mouth. His hair was falling off, and his eyes were clouded with cataracts. Odd, considering that he smelled like 30 years of age.

A cursory glance at the adjacent door took all the curiosity from Ansel : Number 14 was being an arrogant little misfit again.

"Ah, shit...was that Anderson?" Uther called out to a threesome of medics. A quick nod prompted Ansel to get shoved forward by his pint-sized guard, and off they went to the wonderful myriad of aromas. He could smell so many different different, wonderful flavors : the charred, the fleshy, the sweet, the flowery, the fruity, the sweaty, the sour, the mellows.

Most importantly though : Alma, Kassandri, Eli, Daniel, Lilith, Marshall, Kacey, Trevor...

They were all to be present at the auditorium as well, just sitting there like a buffet for a bodybuilder. He could already imagine the chewy tendons and tentacles, the soft melt-in-your-mouth fat around the thighs and derrière, the rich and meaty livers and hearts with all their own little queer variances to suit their unique biology. Ansel would be in a paradise all of his fucking own if he could just turn those seats red.

A silver thread of drool slid off the tip of his lip at the thought, so Uther smacked the stock of his gun hard against the back of Ansel's head. The loud crack that followed brought a brief silence over the atrium as the last few kids, guards, and medics glanced for a moment before returning to their normal business. It was Ansel as usual; he was easily one of the most dangerous and useless of the children, they might assume. Too unwieldy to work with, yet too valuable to kill off or recondition. He was best kept locked off in his room to starve and rot. He was by no means battle ready.

The auditorium, undoubtedly, was a choir of whispers between all the Children, Children that spoke of rumors and ideas as to what might this conference be about. It was getting late enough to expect the Head of Security or some other higher-up to make their way to the stage at a fashionably late time. That's how these things were supposed to go.

(Collab between @Lasrever and Ruby.)

Nothing much had happened for Alex since reaching the auditorium. She'd noticed the child - Eve, as she vaguely remembered it - staring at her briefly, but decided not to look into it any further. 'Let them do the approaching' was her attitude towards most people, especially when it came to the more unusual members of their group.

Raising her head to look around once more, she paused. There wasn't much mistaking the woman who stood before her, was there? As Alpha spoke, a quick glance around confirmed that either she wasn't appearing to everyone or they were all deciding to ignore their most powerful member. Which begged the question of why Alex was the one being singled out, of all people. She'd have expected it to be one of the single-digits, really.

Once Alex got over her initial shock, Alpha would hear a voice in her ears - as though it were coming from somewhere that couldn't quite be seen. "Wouldn't have minded a little extra sleep, but I guess it could be worse." There was the slightest hint of confusion as Alex smiled softly, glancing down at the notebook before closing it over and turning to properly look at Alpha. "So... how are you doing? We don't see you much."

"Our illustrious Director and his Chief of Security consider me too powerful to have the same freedoms as the everyone else, so they have designated me 'Hostile.' It's lonely, but as you can see, it limits me as much as I allow it to."

She spoke to Alex, but she kept facing the rest of the group, watching and listening for a good extra minute before she finally turned back to Alex, catching that smile and the fact that Alex had given her full attention. Frost's head felt...lighter, as if the gravity in the room pulled a trick on her for a heartbeat, or two.

"For now, to avoid conflict, I have decided to appear to you and only you. I would explain why, but I'm not sure I even fully understand it myself." A lightning bolt of concern, or discomfort, flashed across Frost's features before passing, back to a more neutral state as her mind moved away from why Alex and not someone else. "I am lonely, but busy. I maintain a constant observation of EVE. I've been exploring the Institute, even the non-EVE Project sections. It's larger than most of us seem to think. I haven't tried to meet anyone yet...but soon, as I believe I found someone very interesting that's not attached to our project. Someone that would enjoy interacting with me, but time will tell."

That was a lie. Time had told, at least, time had told her once before and it would again. It was hard to conceive, non-linear time, but to Frost it was as comfortable as linear time Maybe even more so. "I've been looking into the Hydra, as well. I feel...that they are more than simply monsters, I just cannot say with any certainty now. More study is required. More experience with them, dangerous as that can potentially be. Even for me."

That part was no lie. The danger to Frost may not be the same, yet just the same there was some primal instinct in her that knew it could be dangerous...even if the Hydra themselves did not feel so dangerous to her. Something about it, however, gave her a decidedly lack of comfort.

But Frost was staring, a fact that she was aware of, yet somehow not able to stop. "How are you? I've missed you. I haven't spoken to you in a long time, not since the dream where I took you for a chat under the Northern Lights. I'm always looking out for you, but for the same reason I chose to appear to you, I sometimes find it difficult to openly speak to you.....just please don't conceive of that as abandonment, or disinterest It's just more complicated than I want it to be...the human part of me is always the most confusing part for me."

With that, a heavy sigh ushered Frost back to silence, and her gaze to sweep across the large room once more.

Difficult? That wasn't what Alex had expected, anyway. As though there was anything for Alpha - Frost, even - to worry about when it came to her.

"You've... missed me? Won't say I'm not surprised, but there's no need to explain if it makes you uncomfortable. I appreciate being looked out for. Besides..." Alex shrugged, glancing around the room before continuing, "I don't mind the company right now. I think I'm a little too quiet for most of these guys." She raised her head, tapping a finger to her throat with laughter in her eyes.

Something to do with Alex specifically, though, that was... unexpected. And it wasn't hard to notice that Frost had been staring - the woman's gaze was always fairly striking. Even with that, though, Alex dismissed the first possibility that sprung to mind. Frost probably just wasn't sure how to act while talking with her - she'd said as much.

"As for me, I've been pretty good. Not too busy, so that's a bonus - plus, I got a bunch of new comics in this week. I'll finish them pretty soon once we're all back from whatever this is, though, and then I'll probably have nothing to do." It wasn't like she could go anywhere or do anything too interesting, so...

"Talking to me's fine if you are lonely, you know. Even if you find it hard at first, everything gets easier with practice." And it'd be reassuring to count Alpha as a friend. After a moment, Frost would see the air above her shimmering with light. "There - Northern Lights, see? Don't know if that helps or not." Alex figured it might make Frost more comfortable somehow. Worth a shot.

"Not everything gets easier with practice."

Her words sounded farther away than a distant star, her eyes glazed, the starlight flecked in her eyes brightening, reacting to something unseen to the Child of EVE who sat beside her in the oversized room. With an audible, sharp, intake of breath the fixation upon the unseen was broken, and Frost's head turned back to Alex. The starlight dimmed almost past the point of visibility.

She shrugged, a startlingly casual act from the figure best known simply as Alpha. "To be human is to be uncomfortable, I'm slowly finding out. My discomfort and strain will only allow me to better educate EVE on the nature of humanity, to make an impression on a scale they would never normally conceive, let alone embrace. Still, if I have to go through one more outburst of my imagination showing you and I lip-locked, I might just run from humanity faster than a shooting star. To want and not know why, to desire and be left empty-handed and wanting...I don't understand it. Why would humans do that to themselves? Is it possible humanity's conciousness was a cosmic miscalculation? For I can't understand the logic anymore than I can understand why I love orange juice so much."

...but I do enjoy the sharp, sweet, citrus taste of orange juice. Maybe a kiss would be similar?

It made her chuckle, finally, though it was likely clear to Alex that Frost was mentally, as she was physically, multi-tasked. Another quick sip from her bottle developing the teardrops of condensation, and Frost felt herself refocus. It may appear as if she missed what was said before, not responding or commenting, only to respond to it later. As if it were still fresh to her.

Linear time was a funny thing.

"We will speak more. Prehaps you can even show me these comic books? One of the scientists calls me 'Supergirl'--I've been told this is a comic book reference. An alien girl stranded on this planet, a refugee out of time and space, doing all she can to help the planet acting as her temporary shelter..."

Frost nodded, slowly. "It would be nice to see these comic books first hand. I could do it myself, instantly, now...but it would not be a shared experience. And I would like to share that experience with y....."

Frost was snapped into silence when the illusion struck her. The shimmering ribbons of light dimming, then glowing, then dimming again in a multitude of greens and blues and whites...a smile spread across Frost's lips, her eyes gently closing. "Would that I could show you the infinite expanse of the universe. Even a small taste like the Northern Lights...."

When her eyes opened, there was something new there: the glassy reflection of eyes touched to near tears. "Thank you, Alex."

Frost was aware of the projection Alex gave her, just as she was aware of it's appearance to every single other soul in the Auditorium in that moment: Frost so touched, so emotional on it, the illusion became visible to everyone in that moment, even if Frost was not.

But her presence became so charged, so strong, that even the humans in the room would have a hard time not noticing it.

"No need to thank me." Alex seemed briefly distracted, mentally going over everything that Frost had had to say. Most of it did seem fairly expected - not that surprising to learn the most powerful of them had trouble getting in touch with her humanity. It was probably strange to think about being-- wait.

'Lip-locked'? Oh. Alex's eyes widened, her cheeks burning a little - and she was all too aware that her face was going red. Could only wonder what it looked like to the others in the room, since she was pretty sure they still wouldn't see Frost. Oh. Looked like her initial suspicions had been right on the money after all. That... really was human. But how did you deal with finding out the resident godlike super-being was crushing on you?

"Um. Yeah, sounds--" Alex paused, noticing the lights that she could above her. Oops. She hadn't meant to do that, but a moment's focus confirmed that she wasn't in control of the increased effect. Looking at Frost's eyes, it was obvious that something about Alex's words or actions had really touched the Alpha, so it wasn't hard to put two and two together. Anyway, uh, where was she? Something about comics? "Great. Sounds good. Talking more. Yeah."

The illusionist didn't think anyone could blame her for being a little bit flustered. Okay, she just had to stop. Take a breather, and say something coherent. Or at least finish a sentence. "I mean... that'd be nice. I'm sure I've got a few Supergirl comics somewhere. Not really as exciting as 'the infinite expanse of the universe', but it'd be cool to show you if you're interested. And, uh, Frost?"

Annoyingly, the blush on her cheeks, although fainter, didn't quite seem to be going away. It was kind of difficult to get her head around all of this. "You don't need to run from your humanity. There's nothing wrong with... with thinking like that about anyone. Don't know if I'm up for any lip-locking right now, though." The last part was delivered with a few short breaths from the mute, like she would have chuckled if she could.

If Frost seemed to notice the red of Alex's cheeks, she didn't show it. Instead her head tilted to the floor, her eyes dropping from the display light in glimmering, ever shifting, ribbons across a section of air above them no fewer than three feet across. Slowly, almost carefully, the Alpha of Eve's Children nodded in basic understanding.

"I can no more run from my humanity than I can disconnect from the universe, or remove EVE from my subconcious...I am inseparably connected to everything else that there is, or has ever been. A function within greater functions, interconnected." Her head rose to find the image of Alex, and for half a heartbeat, a smile dared to find her pale lips once more. "Survive, Alex. Come back from the fighting, and we will see about that comic book, and our lips. If you will excuse me...I should go whisper in the ears of a few of other siblings before the Director begins to tell us all about the dangers he is to send all of you into."

A final, long, look framed in a softer expression than any before...and Frost slipped from Alex's sensory reach even as she began to walk towards the others in Alex's final glimpse of her physical image.

Half finished orange juice in hand.

Kyo was leaning back in his chair, head bobbing to the music in his head. He had stopped whistling after a bit, unable to breathe in quickly enough to keep up with the rock song playing in his head. He had just started whisper singing when he opened his eyes, feeling... something. He looked to his left, then his right. Nothing. On a whim he looked up, his large eyes widening even more.

A rainbow of lights danced above his head in long, thick ribbons. They were mostly blues, greens, purples; cool colors. Though he had never seen them with his own eyes, he immediately associated them with the phenomonon known as Aurora Borealis. At the same time, he could feel a kind of... coldness. It was familiar, like something he had dreamed. But, like a dream, the more he probed his own mind for answers, the farther away they slipped. He eventually gave up trying to remember where he had felt it, instead trying to figure out where it was coming from. He allowed his head to swivel wherever it chose, eventually settling in the general direction of Alex, the cute, quiet, comic book girl.

He got up from his seat and started making his way over to her. He sat down, leaving a seat between them for posterity's sake. "Hey. You seeing this?" He asked, pointing up at the lights above his head. He figured he'd try to keep his end of the conversation to simple yes or no questions, since she didn't or couldn't talk.

And then #10 walked in. Kyo referred to all of his Siblings by name, or at the very least, code name. But that guy? Fuck him. He saw his Siblings as meals on legs, he didn't deserve a name. He probably didn't care, either. "Jesus fuck!" Kyo whispered, nearly tipping his chair. What in seven rotting, bloody hells is HE doing out?

@Ruby@Verdaux

@Dragonsinc



Cynthia had been stretching her legs for minutes on end, walking in haphazard loops throughout the auditorium. Her doctors gave her a good amount of exercise, but there was nothing more peaceful than moving in small strides between the rows and rows of chairs. She felt the intrusive stares of guards on her back, and ignored them wholly. At times, she would find herself choosing between maneuvering past her siblings, and talking to them. At each opportunity, she chose to ignore them. She simply had nothing to talk about, and the thought of them hating her- for what Void 2 had done to Dr. Smith...she couldn't bear it.

Just as Cynthia began to grow weary of her walking, a...presence, rippled through her. It spoke of clear power, and deep within her soul Void 2 perked up. It found interest in hardly anything, so this made Cynthia straighten, on high alert. Her eyes flickered between the children, just as another wave of power lit up her nerves. Void 2 was prowling within, curious. Cynthia fought to keep it at bay, and she threw her head back, exhaling. Her sigh turned into a sharp intake of breath, as she marveled at the colors before her. A myriad of purples, pinks, blues and greens fluttered through the air, undulating to their own beat. Cynthia's heart pounded at the wondrous sight, recognizing it as the Aurora Borealis. The tension in Cynthia's shoulders eased, until she lost herself in the colors of the rippling ribbons.

Void 2 took this opportunity to pick at the bonds that held it captive in Cynthia's soul. It caressed them like a lover, far too wise to perform the task any other way. Cynthia tightened as her stomach rolled, and the ribbons of color in the sky became r-ribbons...of-

-flesh. The thick strands and gangly strips were linked on the floor in a grotesque conglomeration of destroyed features and gore. The once beautiful, ebony skinned doctor was little more than a sad carcass, but the way she twitched and groaned -causing fresh blood to seep out of her unprotected veins- told Cynthia that she was, in fact, still alive.

Cynthia moaned as she bent at the waist, dry heaving. Her form danced in the light, her entire body shrouded in thick puffs of shadow. Instantly, she was alerted by the heavy footfall of a guard. She held up a hand in a silent plea, slumping into the nearest chair. The guard stood at the ready, and they stared each other down until he slowly eased back into his position along the wall. Inside its bonds, Void 2 was roaring with laughter, his grizzly voice amplified ten fold. Cynthia sat curled up in her chair for a long while, fighting to regain a hold of her being.

After a while, she had calmed herself down enough to realize how embarrassing her bout was. She glanced around, wondering who had noticed, her eyes glazed with tears. Sitting a few chairs down from her was her brother, Eli. He wasn't a bad brother, but he was quite closed off. She realized, in that moment, how close they were in that regard. Carefully, she slid over to him, her movements graceful and quiet.

“Hi, Eli.” She attempted meekly, her voice soft and somewhat husky. She kept a safe distance, leaving a yawning gap between them. She knew he was more comfortable being alone, but she found the space quite cozy, since she usually wasn't allowed to be too close to others. She thumbed the whorls on her gloves, unsure of what to say. “It's been awhile, since we last talked. Anything new going on?” She cringed at her choice of words, and debated on whether or not she should slink away. In the end, she stayed around, fidgeting with her gloves, and waiting on his response.

Eli remained in his still position, his fingers tightly wound through his hair, pulling at it slightly. The pain created by this action was small, but assisted in him centering himself back in the present. The flashbacks from a simple touch was painful, and he could feel his enotions reeling. It was hard for him to pull himself back, but he had found, albeit unhealthy, ways of doing so. He was never seen in short sleeves for a reason, he did not wish to discuss his scars.

He started at the feeling of power that filled him, his eyes snapping open and he looked around the room, before focusing on the view of the northern lights. The vibrant colors danced against each other, a natural light show, one he had read about and wished to see in person. He wished to travel the world, to view all the wonders. But alas, here he was, trapped in the institute with others of insane powers and sent to fight monsters. He shook his head, lowering his gaze back to the ground. The wonders of the world did nothing to help him, only wish for what cannot be.

His eyes closed again as the muscles in his back and arms rippled, once again reflecting on how severely the touch of the guard effects him. At least he is able to bring himself back under control in those immediate moments of flashbacks. He drew in a shaky breath, withdrawing himself once again from the world around him. He began slowly capartmentalizing his thoughts, shoving most deep down within his mind to try to avoid thinking about them. However, they always lingered, always in the back of his mind of how he could simply end his suffering.

A frown was pulling at his lips when he was greated by Cynthia, the frown disappearing from his lips and replaced with a neutral look, he opened his eyes. He sat back in the chair, his hands lowering from the hair at the back of his head. He looked at her, a very small, yet slightly genuine smile pulling at his lips. He and Cynthia had an odd relationship. They understood one another, to an extent. He found it easier to speak to her, the times that he felt willing to do so. He cleared his throat slightly," Hi."

His fingers played with the cut of his sleeve, pondering her question briefly before answering, his voice nearly uncannily even, attempting to not reveal much of his emotion about his topic. "Nothing new... per say. I've been doing slightly better, they still don't trust me anywhere without some sort of supervision," His fingers drifted down his sleeve, brushing over his skin as his voice dropped lower," I assume they dislike when we purposely do things to hurt ourselves..." But it's fine if they hurt us... His thoughts interjected his speech, a mildly sour look crossing his face before fading as he continued to speak," how about you? How have you been?"

#32 - Puppeteer

Alex was more than a little shell-shocked, her blush and flustered expression remaining firmly in place. Okay, she'd definitely agreed to something. And while she knew what Frost was feeling was, that didn't mean she knew how to deal with this situation. It only seemed fair to try and help her learn how to deal with it, maybe figure out her humanity a little, but the idea of, uh... well, she just didn't know. Considering Frost could definitely disintegrate her on a moment's notice, it occurred to Alex that she was playing a dangerous game. But you had to, didn't you? When you didn't have so much strength, you needed to use your wits instead.

And on that front, this really couldn't be better.

Nothing better than a powerful ally.

Okay, so it was a tiny bit manipulative, but hey - Puppeteer's name suited her for more reasons than one. And when somebody that powerful gave you a string to pull on, you'd have to be a real idiot not to use it. She did care about Frost's feelings, and wanted to help her through them, of course; it wasn't as if Alex was a complete sociopath at the end of the day. That didn't mean there wasn't one hell of an ulterior motive to do so. The girl didn't think she could be blamed for wanting to ensure her own survival.

She nearly jumped out of her skin when Kyo spoke to her, lost in thought as she had been. Glancing up at the lights, she nodded, shrugging, but didn't offer any further explanation. Of course she could, but that was one card she'd prefer to keep close to her chest. Besides, unlike with Alpha, if she talked to her long-haired sibling and he replied, everyone else would be able to tell she was doing it. The 'mute' card was too useful to throw it away without much benefit.

Her gaze followed his as Ansel walked in, and seeing Kyo's panic, she flipped open her notebook to a page somewhere in the middle, scribbling something quickly before closing it again and moving over to the seat next to him. Tapping the guy on his shoulder, she gave him a concerned look and placed her finger to her lips in a 'shh' gesture. If #10 freaked him out that much, it wouldn't do to attract his attention. Besides, even knowing the creepy cannibal-dude was unlikely to target her, she didn't much want him coming over here either.

After making her point clear, Alex gave Kyo a friendly nod before sitting back in her new chair - though she didn't resume her sketching, knowing he was right next to her. It wouldn't do to let anyone see what she'd been writing, after all.

_{@AllHollowsEve}

#11: Kyo "Sixclaw"

Alex answered his question with a nod and a shrug. He couldn't really ask much more of her, seeing as she couldn't talk, but the shrug did answer the next question he had planned to ask, 'Know anything about it?'. She moved to the seat next to him, giving the international 'sssh' sign. He figured she probably didn't want to attract #10's attention. "Yeah, no kidding." He muttered, looking anywhere but at him. Well, she's sitting next to me though, so at least we're making a little progress aaaaand she's gone. He thought as she moved back to her seat.

Still... Kyo thought to himself. I know the source of the aura boring-alice came from over here. I felt it. If she's not the one making it, she's gotta know something about it... right? Kyo wanted to be suspicious of Alex, but he was wrong just as often as he was right, so it was hard for him to be confident in his mental accusations. Still, he didn't know anyone who could make lights appear, and he didn't know what her power was. Is she even mute, or does she just not talk? He found himself wondering.

None of these thoughts were getting him anywhere, so he tried to rekindle his dying conversation. "So, I couldn't help but notice you keep a notebook on you. Do you write or draw? Or both?" He asked her, silently cursing himself for making it a multiple choice answer. Still, she seemed smart. Smart enough, at least. He was sure she could find a way to answer him if she wanted.

@Lasrever

Moses' entry was as subtle as himself as he entered through the rear door of the auditorium, passing through the sloping rows of seats and obtaining a gradual view of his diverse, beautiful siblings. His face was painted with his trademark barely-there smile, and the blue flesh of his arms swam with stars and lights, each revealed beneath the crisp white of his rolled up shirt sleeves. He might have passed as a doctor, had it not been for the peculiarity of his limbs and the invasive presence of an Institute collar. To most, his collar was nought more than a joke; for what had ever possessed the superiors to equip Moses with an electrode collar? Protocol, as always.

The first and foremost of his siblings to be met, oddly enough, was an unaccompanied Ansel sitting by his lonesome. Quiet as Moses might be, his scent alone was enough to pique the young man's interest...even if it would be in a primarily gustatory manner. A deep breath went up Ansel's nostrils, and a satisfied, dreamy smile came over his face.

"They like to sit up front, our brothers and sisters," Ansel comments as his eyes peel away to savor Alma's bare back. "I think you'd find them better company. Go on, now."

Moses' steps stilled, just for a moment, as his eyes rose to meet Ansel's expression. From what he had heard, Ansel had become known as one to fear, yet Moses felt nothing of the sort as he stood in such close proximity. This was nothing abnormal however, as Moses' concept of social standings and emotions left a few things to be desired. He sat himself down quietly, settling into the inner seat a few rows down from the Tenth.

"The speaker system is quite unpleasant if you sit too close to the front." His voice was soft, yet frank, and his tone presented an easy-to-read personality with little capability for lying or manipulation. He glanced backwards for a moment, following Ansel's eyes which fell upon the small of Number Two's back. "I sometimes wonder about the strain placed on Alma's back, too. Though I don't think she feels too positive about people looking at it for too long."

"From where she's seeing, all eyes will have to look upon her every once in a while. It's a burden she has chosen to bare... if you could even call it that."

He could mean a few things, but Ansel wasn't much of one to divulge in his own thoughts towards others. The opposite, in fact, might be true; he had been growing increasingly curious of his 'lesser' siblings as of late, often watching of their routines and taking note of their personalities and abilities. Some would guess that he would feed again to satisfy his more carnal cravings, but the more astute of his brood might see a mad brilliance in those eyes.

Figuring out what exactly Ansel was, however, would be difficult. Especially when his temperament required a lethal collar to merely incapacitate him.

---

---

The empty space of the auditorium was filled with a sudden whistle, emanating from the speaker system as the microphone calibrated behind the glass pane. The Director himself seemed unfazed, pushing files aside and taking steps toward -- ah. He tugged his ankle gently, glancing down at the rearrangement of his laces. His eyes flickered upwards - just for a moment - to meet the gaze of Anat. His eyes showed no humour nor malice, and his default frown remained stoic on his expression. From the dark hues of crow-footed eyes to the silver roots of his black hair, Jespar Roman carried an image which seemed to show that he was a man who had seen it all. He knelt down, becoming obscured from the Children's vision by the desk counters, and rectified the situation.

"Briggs." His voice was a breath, laced with unlove. "Have Number 74 sanctioned following the day's trials."

And then, after a moment, the monochromatic voice of The Director echoed against the walls of the auditorium.

"Good morning, to each and every one of you summoned here today. It goes without saying that it is a strange day when so many of you are pulled into the same space at once, so I will address the reason with little digression.

Number Two, would you stand, please?"

The creature who had perched herself on the floor twitched a little, her eyes prying open at a familiar, overbearing voice. Had she drifted off? Of course she had. She exchanged her gaze with Roman for a few seconds, before curling her legs beneath her as to stand. There was little point in arguing. He needed her awake and listening, and having her stand was perhaps the best method of ensuring her attention. The narcoleptic nature of the second-born and second-ranked was perhaps undesirable, but her prowess was gargantuan and unfathomable to the those who had not witnessed her on the field. Indeed, Alma's thoughts often drifted into knowing how easy it would be to slaughter a room such as this, and how their bones would sound if she...

No. The girl shook her head as she stood silently, pulling away from those terrible dreams.

"The Institute has recorded six separate instances of impending Hydra. Two of which are already at or near our doorstep. You have been summoned in such numbers today as six instances of Hydra is severely abnormal under any circumstance.

As such, you will be divided here into groups are varying sizes. Due to the frequency of pockets opening, you will likely be working alongside siblings who you may have never met before. I expect you treat each other with patience and kindness; failure is not an option.

The instances of Hydra are as follows:"

A holographic screen flickers into view, covering the glass wall of the speaker's podium and switching on queue with The Director's words.

---

"All Children are to report to their allocated Gates in a prompt and civilised fashion. Non-compliance is not an option."

The automated message repeated itself on a painful, paced loop. On the outer wing of The Institute, a row of Gates each led to a small hangar of various aircraft, each suited for the transportation of Children. Gate 6 was an exception to this pattern, instead leading downwards to a narrow subway system which granted access to the sewer systems along the line. Guards lingered at each point, ready to register and check each approaching Child.

---

---

---

---

---

---

The three of them - 67, 68, and 70 - sat side by side as they took in what the director presented to all of them. 69 remained at the back, but without the guards. He stayed behind and observed his other siblings.

Asmodeus took note of the siblings whom had entered after him, shooting them a nod should they look hi way. His wary eyes landed on #10, taking a moment to observe him before looking away. His nose scrunched up, noticing a change the atmosphere of the room, Was that one?, he thought, eyeing the weird light show in Puppeteer's direction. It was interesting to say the least.

After his eyes swam through his siblings for a few more moments, he finally snapped his gaze towards the director, whom had just crouched down. Either he picked up paper, or he untied his shoes. A smirk drifted onto his face as the director became visible again with no paper on hand. Classic Ghost.



Asmodeus' face flashed alongside other's, being assigned to the 'highest priority' mission, 465:A with NUMBER 6, NUMBER 13, NUMBER 16, and NUMBER 114. "Psyker, Eli, Weaver, and Pinpoint, huh?", he muttered to no one in particular. Soon they were dismissed and sent to gather their belongings. He waved tepidly at his seatmate... floormate? Alma, silently wishing her luck in her mission before bouncing off to the weaponry to collect his daggers and other necessities. As always it was carefully handed to him by a fearful guard, he thought that he would be used to it by now. He sheath the weapon on his sides as per norm.

Aside from that he thought to pace himself slightly by 'jogging' to the terminal he was assigned at, gate 4. Bouncing up and down two times his feet sprang into action after landing on the second hop. A blur of speed ran through the institute, guards on standby felt a strong gust of wind unbalance their normally steady posture. Asmodeus miiiight have ran too fast, needing to use the wall to safely stop his 'light jog'.

The guard at the point glared at Asmodeus, warning him to kill the use of his powers in the Institute. He just placed both hands behind his head, not acknowledging the guard's threat and whistling, Well, seems like I'm the first one here.

My lungs clawed desperately for the cold, conditioned air. Sweat finely coated my entire body despite the duvet cover being several feet from the bed, at least. Beating irregularly - and far too fast - my heart hammered deafeningly in the otherwise silent room. Closing my eyes, I took several breaths to calm and steady myself. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Repeating the action over and over again slowly quelled the noise, banishing the fear which had become a staple of my sleep cycle over the past few weeks.

Scanning the room, it was filled with awkward shapes and shadows, cast by the shafts of light filtering in through the shutter on the door. Crumpled into a heap - and strewn across the coffee table - was the duvet, as predicted. A faint trickle of liquid swelled against the oppressive silence, the more I looked around. Gathering my bedclothes, it wasn’t even nearly time to get up, but my power had kicked in. Since it required my subconscious concentration to work, that sound meant only one thing.

I wasn’t getting back to sleep.

Wonderful.

Sitting upright, my eyes stung as they frantically protested being open. To stop them from complaining, I clapped my hands together and turned on the lights. Clinical, white light flooded the room and glinted off the bare floor.

“Ow,” I mumbled, groggily. Standing up, the icy metal beneath my feet was cold enough to burn - but it was something you grew used to when living in a glorified hamster cage. Flicking a semi-hidden lever with my foot, the bed converted into a sofa just within reach of the table. Slamming myself down with a whump, I just stared at the ceiling and gathered my thoughts.

Chronic nightmares had been a problem of mine for as long as I could remember. Lately, though, they’d been getting more intense and a lot more frequent. Every night without fail, I’d be treated to my own private horror show. The subject of the dreams didn’t even make any sense to me. One option was talking to the shrinks, but I’d be damned if anyone from the IOS was getting in my head any more than they already had.

They were about worms. Or, more specifically, small, worm-like creatures. According to my nightmares, these little parasites infested my entire bloodstream. That simply wasn’t the case. If there were even a few of those things in there, I’d have found the buggers by now. No matter how much rationalisation I tried, they kept repeating. Intertwine that with apparent memories of vats and endless tests…

Whether these nightmares actually meant something deeper or were just a reflection of how mentally screwed I was would become clear. Or it wouldn’t. Maybe it’d go on forever with no explanation.

After a few months, I might request a lobotomy.

It was only now that the lack of trickling became apparent. I looked at the billboard above the coffee table to see the blood on the screen there had stopped. The picture was now of those little creatures in my dreams. Scowling, I clicked my fingers. Blood sprayed across the room as the painting exploded into droplets. Left alone, it would dry in - and the guards wouldn’t be happy if they saw it all over the place. Reluctantly, my hand raised, drawing the blood out and back to its rightful place on the wall.

‘Rightful’ being an interesting term to use.

Rather than just sitting and feeling sorry for myself, I replaced the energy lost by the early awakening with snacks and caffeine kept on hand to stave off low blood sugar. Grabbing a book off the shelf, I settled down on the couch under a mound of duvet and hid from the cold. At any other time, the divine mix of hot tea, a good book and the soft trickles of my own blood would have been enough to lull me to sleep. I’d already seen what awaited me tonight, though, and had no intention of going back.

---

An alarm shattered the enjoyable peace and quiet, continuing on for far longer than was wanted or needed. Underneath my constantly-shifting blood feature, a message was displayed in large lettering.

---

//:DEAR RECIPIENT

YOU HAVE BEEN REQUESTED TO ATTEND THE AUDITORIUM AT PRECISELY 6:00AM THIS MORNING. AS THIS IS AN HOUR BEFORE CURFEW RELEASE, AN INSTITUTE EMPLOYEE WILL ATTEND AND MANUALLY RELEASE YOUR DOOR. FROM THERE, YOU WILL HEAD DIRECTLY TO THE AUDITORIUM AND BE SEATED.

NON-COMPLIANCE IS NOT AN OPTION. ::

---

The sudden display took me by surprise. I’d never been called up quite like this - certainly never before curfew. Was the guard really necessary? Being marched along never sat well with me, and today was going to be especially bad after my lack of sleep. Shuffling out from underneath my quilted heaven, I turned on the shower and set the temperature gauge down as far as it would go.

Stalking around the room - desperately trying to put off stepping under the water - I tided away my clutter and stuffed the duvet into the back of the couch. Stripping off and taking a final deep breath, the baltic water hit my exposed skin and chilled me to the bone. The assault on my senses snapped my brain into gear and caused the blood to run and drip down the wall.

Satisfied that I was both completely awake and not reeking of fear, my concentration returned enough to clean up the mess on the floor for the second time this morning. At least the shock collars were built well enough to not trigger when hit with water. Getting electrocuted would really put the tin lid on my morning thus far.

Taking my sweet time to get ready, the ensemble for today was my usual combat gear. Given the short notice of the summons and the nature of the message, I assumed I would need it. After lacing up the boots and fastening my belt, I draped the heavy, leather jacket over my shoulders before checking my reflection in the reflective metal panels on the floor. My complexion actually looked the brightest it had in awhile. Usually, I was pale as a ghost, but my face held some colour.

So, naturally, I hid it behind my mask.

Seconds after pulling up my hood, the shutters beyond my door opened with a sharp series of clunks. Followed by the double-glass-and-steel-bar door. Never underestimate a human’s ability to use several of something when only one is needed. As the door opened, an extremely clean smell overwhelmed the room. Disinfectant, I figured. Guess the cleaners had just scarpered.

In the opening, an armed guard stood with a shotgun in one hand and a remote control in the other. “The auditorium, #64. Get moving,” he barked with a sneer. As I walked back over to the small wardrobe, he punctuated his point by waving the remote menacingly. Unfortunately for him, the shock collar wouldn’t kill me no matter how many times he pressed. So I one-upped him.

Taking a several-inch knife out, I waved it in his direction instead.

Flicking it around my fingers, it slid perfectly into the sheath behind my back. “Certainly, sir,” I cooed like saccharine. “Lead the way.”

“Not a chance, you first.” Gesturing with the gun, he seemed the type to follow his orders to the letter, bless him. Taking a few steps out the room, I clapped to turn the lights off, and the guard shut the door behind me.

Since he’d insisted I take the lead, I decided to have a little fun with him. For the first corridor, my feet kept a regular pace. After that, I hummed some music to myself and slowly altered my step speed to match the tune. Almost crashing into the back of me several times - and wanting to keep his distance as though his life depended on it - my escort growled. Two floors from the bottom, he finally snapped and cracked me over the back of the head with the butt of his gun.

Grabbing the rail to stop my forward momentum, I couldn’t help a light chuckle. “Not a fan of jazz?” Raising the remote, his face reflected a deep need to press that damn button. “Since neither of us want to be here, why don’t you go head back early? I’ll find my own way to the auditorium,” I said. “It was a pleasure.”

And with that, I jumped the rail.

The fall was short and exhilarating, since it was only a few metres high. Landing a little away from the wall, by the time I looked up, several more armed guards had surrounded me. “Move another muscle without permission, #64, and missing the meeting will be the least of your concerns. Move.”

Unable to help a sigh, I followed the front two guards while trying to keep tabs on the ones behind me. Thankfully, we were almost there. After entering, though, my stomach dropped. The sheer number of Children here was staggering - more than I had ever seen in one place for a mission. Unless the literal apocalypse was riding up, this seemed excessive.

My armed escort turned on their heels and began to leave the room. “Hey!” I called out after them. “You’re supposed to ruffle my hair and provide a handmade lunch before you go. Basic parenting.”

They didn’t even look back.

I hated when people did that.

Putting on my best scowl - purely for my own benefit, of course - I scanned the room looking for the emptiest section. The entire room was pretty busy overall, so hanging out in the wings suited me more. A short distance away, a girl and a boy seemed engaged in a stilted conversation neither really knew how to approach.

Which made sense, when I realised who they were.

Eli and Cynthia had been the talk of many reports on psychological health in this hole - but hers had been a fair bit more detailed. Many people were worried about even being near her. Not me. I was covered from head-to-toe and didn’t have any excess skin for her power to… work on.

My arrival had been just in time for the speech. Hydra were encroaching on six separate fronts in what could only be an organised attack. That explained the sheer level of Children. My assignment was heading out to face a colossi. Making up the team were a bunch of people I'd only vaguely heard of.

Except fucking Cipher.

That little shit was irritating. Power blocking throws my entire thoughts into chaos when I can’t hold my weapons together. If he gets me killed, I am so coming back to haunt his ass.

After scanning the room and coming up trumps, I gave the two Children a sharp nod. “Hey, I'll take this time to wish you both luck out there, since you are within earshot,” I said before turning to Cynthia. “It's nice to finally meet you, too. I’ve… Well, it’s nice.”

Actually strike up a conversation was strange, being so used to simply avoiding my 'siblings'. These two were different - the very definition of what is wrong with this place.‘Void’ after all... She’s got it worst than most in here. Whether it was pity, or guilt or something completely unrelated, she reinforced the one thing I knew for certain.

In the heart of the Institute, there were fates worse than death.

Dostya spent most of the time waiting for the others to come in basking in the serene silence that Cipher’s nullification field offered, putting a gag on her muse for even a few minutes was a simply sublime respite from its eternal enthusiastic suggestions. She was almost sad that they were going out again, but the chance to test her latest tweaks in a combat situation was at least a partial concession, something to look forward to. The group she was going to be with where going to be a little difficult to deal with: The child higher in rank than her didn’t want to be there and she was pretty sure that Pinpoint didn’t like her. Dostya always had the impression that the woman was looking at her with distaste whenever the two crossed paths. At least she would have Blink, she did like to see him and her own machines working together and he was rather amicable once you got past his blunt exterior and barbed tongue. Fortunately for her, she had thick skin. She’d grafted it on herself. Echidna was in her experience nice to be around, even if her perception of reality was a little of center.

After unfurling herself from the floor and joining the procession of Children preparing for departure Dostya made a brief detour to what could be considered the children’s an armory. While keeping the weapons of the children locked up might seem rather pointless when some of their natural abilities were equivalent to WMDs it was nonetheless sensible to not leave munitions and firearms lying about their living area

After some consideration of their mission, sneaky wolf monsters, and team, that already included a sharpshooter, she decided to go with the GAU-8 Avenger. This 30 mm hydraulically driven seven-barrel Gatling-type autocannon was something that she had brought home from one mission that had been near a historical war exhibit, where she had ripped it out of the warthog aircraft that it was built around the enormous weapon. Despite its antiquated design it was hard to argue against the effectiveness of something that could spray a target with 65 spearhead sized hunks of metal, all flying a velocity of a thousand m/s, in a single second. While nowhere near the devastating potential of their telekinetic, it was considerably more reliable. A perforated sidewalk was preferable to the possibility of severe structural collapse of any nearby buildings.

Hefting the 3M long gun, mounting it’s ammo feeder atop her abdomen, she made her way to gate 4, smiling as she saw Blink already there. She trotted over to join him and the silent gate guard.

Hyllis watched the abundance of his siblings file in after him, Which took quite a while, but finally it seemed as if everyone had gotten there. There was that awkwardness of having so many people in the same room all waiting on that one person to start talking. Hyllis however wasn't quite in tune with the awkwardness, he was rather thinking about plenty of other things while he waited for the director to start talking, mostly how he has seen basic similarities in lots of the swarm and loner hydra, same weaknesses for instance, weak spots in the defensive structures of most of them. All of his thinking was a waste however because every instance was different and he had to pick a new weak spot on just about every hydra. Luckily for him he was good at finding them.

Finally the director was at the stand and began his speech, the speakers sending out a terrible screeching noise that pained his ears. He was assigned to the colossi mission. Hyllis' eyes lit up and he was instantly invigorated.

"No way, A Colossi? This is going to be such a fun test. I cant wait~ Wait what gate did he say? Ah gate 8. I will surely be the first one there."

He thought as he located his escort, He bounded over to him. Hyllis ordered the guard to hastily take him so his cell so that he could get ready. As soon as the guard started towards the door Hyllis took off and was in his room within a minute. He grabbed all his gear and tucked them into their appropriate pouches and sleeves, making note to grab his double sickle Kusarigama and kunai knives for climbing purposes and making sure to grab his hybrid bow (Mix between longbow and compound bow) that he just finished tuning. Finally attaching his quiver of arrows around his waste he headed back out running straight into his guard who was wheezing from running back to the cell.

"Don't worry, I'm not running away, I'm actually excited for this mission."

And with that he left his guard in the dust yet again and rushed to Gate 8 which led to the hangar with their aircraft in it.

---

Only after he got there (First as he expected) he realized he didnt pay attention to who else was going to be on the mission with him. It was a stupid mistake he knew he would never make again, however it left him terrible curious about who else was coming with him. So he stood at attention waiting for the rest of his siblings to fall in and take their place on the mission.

All throughout the briefing a sense of dread had come over him. "Impending doom" were the perfect words if you were to describe it. This feeling inside his very being that screamed danger within him. He caught something in the left corner of his eyes. A shadow? He didn't get a good look at it, it could've been anything. Well some children had illusion powers, they were probably playing a prank on him or on one of the guards. Nothing out of the ordinary. That would be if he wasn't nullifying every ability. Could it be Alpha? Maybe he caught a glimpse of her po..there, again. Now on the right side. Just as he goes to focus on it, it disappears. He was beginning to sweat, his heart rate having increased from the usual 60 to 100. What was this thing...

Now he felt a sudden presence behind him. Something was pacing back and forth out of his vision. He could feel it going left and right, walking slowly in a static loop until it stopped right behind him. More panic. His eyes were starting to tear. Was this...fear? He didn't want to look behind, he didn't want to see what it was, or worse, if there was nothing to be seen. Slowly turning his head, the thing always on the edge of his vision until he took a sharp turn only to find guards. A row of guards stretched behind him, weapons on hand and standing on attention. Seeing Cipher look back, one of the guards gave him a condescending look before looking forward once more. Cipher did the same. He didn't feel it when he looked back, but now it was like a looming dark shadow ready to engulf him at a moment's notice. Closer and closer until he felt a tingle in his neck which sent all his hair on end.

"All Children are to report to their allocated Gates in a prompt and civilized fashion. Non-compliance is not an option."
"Non-compliance is not an option."
"..not an option."
"..not an option."
The message repeated itself multiple times until one of the guards warned him to get up from his chair or be forced up. He suddenly woke up from his dazed state, wiping the tears and sweat from his face he looked around once more, nothing. No more presence, no more fear, no more panic, only calm. Nothing to worry about after all. Silently he took the equipment he was provided, wore the light body uniform, took his hand gun, his com link and other accessories and headed to the designated gate.

Mission, they were given a mission and he didn't hear about it. He didn't even know who was in team with him. Well he would know soon when everyone was gathered and ready to depart.

#32 - Puppeteer

Stopping halfway through a hand gesture that would have answered Kyo's question, Alex stopped as soon as the briefing started. To be honest, she was slightly relieved to be interrupted before any real questions came up, sitting in characteristic silence as their missions were explained. A swarm suited her fine - the more enemies there were, the easier it would be to turn them against each other. At the very least, she'd be useful when it came to getting the civilians out of there without too much trouble.

As for her teammates, she'd just have to see how it went. She had a pretty good idea of their powers, although she didn't really know them too well. Then again, she didn't really know anyone too well, so that was nothing new. Not personally anyway, though she'd bet she knew more about them than they did her. Even if they all turned out awful, she'd cope. It was the same as every other mission, there was no choice but to just go out and try to not die.

Oh, and completing their goals would help too, but it wasn't as though she'd risk her neck too much in order to do it. Though she hoped the actual heavy hitters would take better care of that. If any of the swarm came for her, she was confident she'd be able to take care of it. It wasn't as though they were the most intelligent creatures in the world, so it was easy enough to deceive them into targeting something - or, if necessary, someone - else.

If it came to it, and her teammates were too volatile, it wasn't as if they'd be difficult to handle, but she preferred when it didn't come to that. Bodies and wounds could be easily healed after infighting, for the most part. Her methods could cause a little more difficulty, especially for those who weren't too stable in the first place. There was a reason the seemingly-innocent girl's number was as high as it was, despite her seeming lack of offensive potential.

Wounds can be healed. Minds, not so much.

But that train of thought was getting awfully morbid, and it wouldn't be ideal for anyone to catch on to it. So she smiled instead as she got up and left the room, the picture of a young woman who was determined to do her job, but ever-so-slightly clueless about the danger they faced.

Having decided not to stop and make conversation, Alex decided she didn't have much to sort out on her way. Gate 1, right? From what she could tell, she was the first one to get there, and that was okay. Slightly annoying in that it didn't let her gauge the whole situation, but it was what it was. Nodding to the guard with a small smile once she reached her destination, she figured there wasn't much to do except wait for the others to arrive. With a yawn, she turned to face the direction she'd come from, waiting for somebody else to arrive.