He knew a petty squabble when he saw one. He'd been involved in plenty himself. Even so, he wasn't going to get wrapped up in a dumb fight, not when Brent and Siena were possibly dead because of him.

A scowl broke out across his face.

Because of him, huh? Zoe had made a fair point. Even if he couldn't melt them he should have done more. Hurting something for their own good. How inhuman. How disgusting.

He hated how much sense it made to him.

So he'd kept his mouth shut. Letting Marcus take the blame for what had essentially been Ernie's lie had been a dick move in more ways than one but the Aberration just couldn't bring himself to step in. Both sides had spouted only the truth, as pointless as the whole ordeal was. Besides, he there were bigger fish to fry.

[DISCONNECTED]

A word that stole his breath as much as it injected dread into his very veins. Why remove the cuff when it would have been so much easier to put a bullet through her skull? Best case scenario, just a fortuitous attack. Angel fought bravely and they disabled her before delivering the final blow. Worst case...

The buzzcut boy cast his gaze over the group, eyes briefly narrowing at Sander's armored hand. A new trick.

Worst case scenario, the Amigos did what mercenaries did best and carried out a job for a chance at a client's hefty moneybags. It always came down to motive. This wasn't Fracture. There was an objective here. So why remove the cuff? They didn't want to be tracked. Why would they be tracked? They were taking Angelique with them, dead or alive. Why Angelique? If she really was decuffed and stolen, he doubted that it was just another case of rabid rock fans. There had to be something that made her valuable, something that a client had taken enough interest in to buy the Amigos' services.

That's where his train of thought came to a breakneck stop. Unfortunately, he couldn't conjure any reason anyone would want that psychotic two-time mass murderer. Infiltrating USARILN property for some fallen rockstar whose powers didn't compare to even the weakest Amigo agents made no sense. None of it did, so he needed to stop wasting brainpower on it.

He'd defused whatever the fuck Zoe's problem was with the phone's information. Marcus and Emma had left for intel. The others were preparing for battle. Everyone but Christmas and Sander who were snuggling in the corner or some shit. At least they finished while he was talking to Zoe.

Nodding to the brunet's plate-covered hand, Ernie spoke out. "New trick, huh?"

"I suppose." -The blood mage simply shrugged, dull red eyes watching the darkness outside -"What do you want?"

A bit testy today? Not that Ernie could blame him.

"Zoe's headed out, getting ready to fight. I guess Hazel is too. Are you not going with them?"

"Aren't we leaving?" -Sander quirked an eyebrow, a look of confusion on his features -"Why would they stay?"

"We need to assume that they could attack us while we're taking the ferry," Ernie scratched his head, clearly not fond of the circumstances, "Sink our battleship then finish us off in the water. If they're really as close as you claimed then we might have a fight on our hands before we can get everyone on the boat."

Sander breathed out, his shoulders sank slightly. Another fight. Of course. The fire in his chest crackled as the prospect -"Who are these people? Rogues?"

"Mercenaries. Rogues don't even compare to these guys. I'm sure they've slaughtered people ten times stronger than our team combined."

“So…very strong rogues.” -Sander kept his voice light, but the faint glow of his eyes seemingly brightened. He fell silent for a few minutes, contemplating, before he finally asked –“Between a DC monster and these guys, who would win?”

The spectrum of both categories was kind of ridiculous but Ernie didn't see any reason to not answer. "Amigos probably have team strategies and combos figured out. Fight smarter rather than harder. If they're attacking USARILN property then they're probably a really elite squad. So, uh, I guess these guys then?"

Was this going anywhere?

"Are you scared or something?"

"Are you?"

The buzzcut boy was startled by the sudden return but ultimately chuckled. "I'm terrified, yeah. Knew some guys that ran into them. You haven't answered my question though."

"I am. But not for long."

"Huh. What's changing it?"

"Blood." -Sander looked around the group, face carefully blank -"Enough, and everything will go away."

Right, his power. Ernie had never really delved into the details. He'd hoped that what he'd seen with the guards in D.C. would be enough. Wary of the way Sander was looking over the class, Ernie frowned.

"You drank beforehand?"

"A little bit." -Sander gave the blond boy sitting in the corner a meaningful gaze -"But I can't drink more."

"You...need to drink from someone else," Ernie uttered something between a question and a statement in his grim realisation.

"Yes." -Sander admitted easily -"Maybe...more than one? I need quite a bit."

Suddenly all too aware of what the implications of his questioning were leading to, Ernie mentally speedran through a class roster. He didn't know how fast Kusari's regen worked. Sophia and Lawrence still needed to be fit enough to make a run for the boat. Christmas shouldn't have been considered in the first place. All the B-lister powers and personalities had run out, leaving only...

Oh, come on.

It all came down to how mobile they could be in the end. Ernie cringed as he looked down to his right hand, where his rope usually manifested. He didn't need his body to move anymore. At least, he hoped he didn't. Still, Zoe had tasked him with guarding the trapdoor, which meant standing in one place so...

Ernie blinked furiously.

Fuck, he was actually considering it. Somewhere deep down, he knew it was petty. Getting worked up over ickiness and minor pain in the face of death. If it was anyone but him at this blood drive Ernie would have made that incision in their place.

It was a simple calculation. The weakest had to support the strong. The difference between Sander and his combat results spoke for themselves.

Lives were on the line here. This wasn't the time for being a little bitch.

With a gulp, Ernie said, "I...I can lend you some. Some blood. But I need to ask you a favour in return."

Sander blinked then, a bit of surprise crept into his features. He knew Ernie didn’t like him. They might keep it cordial, but Sander had to admit he still had doubts for Ernie, and if those doubts were ever justified, he knew he would not hesitate to act. Yet, he was also willing to get blood from Ernie. Preferred Ernie, in fact, because Sander was selfish. Between Christmas and literally everyone else, he knew what he would choose. So he chose.

“I can't return it, but...alright. What is it?”

Ernie shifted uncomfortably. "Zoe's going to be sneaking around, trying to catch those Amigos off-guard. When you're out there, I need you to do your best to keep all their attention and attacks on you. On anyone but Zoe. Be the biggest distraction you can be. Can you do that?"

“Sure.” -The offer was far too simple, so Sander just nodded without really giving it much thought –“But…if it’s really bad, you should go when you can. Leave me, if you must. I’ll be fine.”

"Why do you people keep talking like that?" Ernie muttered but was ultimately relieved at Sander's easy response. Now for the messy part, "So how's this gonna work? I cut my arm somewhere and you put your face on it?"

"If that's what you want." -Sander smiled at that, slightly amused -"Or...you can just nick your finger."

Just his finger? Area-wise, Ernie supposed that was better. As long as no one was watching. He took a quick look around the lighthouse, finding no private room to his dismay. His finger was going to be in someone's mouth. A dude's mouth. There was something definitely wrong about that.

Just his finger. Nothing weird about--yeah, he couldn't finish that sentence.

At least it wasn't his foot or anything.

He set the dog down in a rune, ignoring the subtle whine. Nodding once to confirm, Ernie unzipped the first aid kit he'd brought along with a grimace. He'd thankfully restocked in the manor's infirmary during the stay, as well as obtained some new tools.

With a wince and a cut from a freshly unwrapped scalpel, the buzzcut Aberration offered the pinky finger of his left hand to the vampire.

"Make it fast."

Sander took Ernie's hand in his, as if giving the other Aberration a firm hand shake. Red glow enveloped both of them, and not a drop of blood dripped from their joined hand. For the most parts, the blood mage was silent. Focused. His gaze was red and hungry, but his breathing remained calm and controlled. Eventually though, he spoke, looking up from where he had been staring at the red glow on his hand.

"You're not fighting outside, yeah?"

Though he was relieved that the process didn't involve any mouth spaces, Ernie had underestimated the effects blood loss would have on him. His breaths hastened and there was a gradual fatigue he tried to fight off with rapid blinking.

This was fine. This was needed.

"Yeah. I need to watch the trapdoor," Ernie answered straightforwardly, trying to control his breathing.

"I know you might hate me for this, but..." -Sander suddenly lowered his voice, leaning in -"Keep Christmas with you."

"And stay with him." -He did not add a 'please'.

Ernie fought a yawn as his free hand reached around for a wall to lean on.

Just like Wisford. He knew what the consequences would be. Knew they would be bad. But it wasn't like he could just turn Sander down, not while they were in this position.

Ernie's hand clenched involuntarily.

"A favour for a favour?" he attempted a weak smile, "He'll stay with me. 'S fine, all fine."

Brent and Siena were taking an awfully long time to get back. The blond might be in the right place after all. Still, there were present concerns to consider.

"How much more blood'd'you need anyway? It's, uh, not feelin' good right now."

“I’m asking you…to put him first. Make sure he’ll be fine, Ernie.” -Yet, Sander did not let go, red eyes gleaming –“Do everything you can.”

Not nice. Ernie could feel a darker intent building, cold fear rising to replace whatever facade of nicety they'd maintained before. Guess free cocktails didn't reserve a place in Sander's good books.

"They won't find him," he replied, though his voice was lower now, almost quivering, "We'll run away through the tunnels if we have to. I'll get him off this island myself if everyone else dies trying to get to the boat. Let go of me."

"You promise?" -The grip only tightened.

"I promise," Ernie had to refrain from spitting the statement. His fingers slackened noticeably, "I can't protect him if I'm too weak to move. Let go, now."

Sander finally let go then, the last droplets of blood disappeared quickly into the palm of his hand. Thick strands of red smoke were once again rising from his body, and he let the armor on his hand crumbled away. He had no need for it anymore.

"I...never forget a scent, Ernie." -He was no longer looking at Ernie -"I'll find you, after."

"Don't break your promise." -With that said, he began to walk toward the entrance, looking out into the darkness.

As soon as the grip released Ernie reeled back, his shoulder bashing clumsily into the wall behind him. Nothing had changed after all. Still the same red eyes. Still those hands that had gripped his own with as much intent as when they'd squeezed his neck that day. Ernie's breaths began to shudder and he knew full well that it wasn't because of the blood loss.

With one final grit of his teeth, he muttered to the exiting figure. "Save the threats for the real enemies, Sander."

Red eyes glanced over the blood mage's shoulder, and something that looked like sadness pulled on Sander's features. He met Ernie's gaze in a brief moment, before turning right back. He knew it was terrible. But between Christmas and everyone else? The choice was clear.

@VampireOracle Allison has left Pavrotti and Angel's guitar with Sophia without giving her the chance to say no.

A week deadline. As usual, for any questions refer to the GMs.

Angel is now further away with Thi, Nathaniel, Orla, tree mage, and heater mage on the other side of the wall. Rhohan (shadow monster) is about to get up in your faces with a tree army and sandstorm. Remember there is wind and rain now buffeting you.

Angel is now barely conscious. I'll allow some blurred, pained observations and dramatic wheezing noises, but after what just happened to her, you can also leave her unconscious.

Chris can finish his transformation by now and in this round can charge into battle in dragon form if he wants. Collab with GMs for everything here.

The trio’s ascent was halted when they came upon a door, the blood trail they had been following continuing underneath it. Determination glanced back at the two expectantly, stopping in place, ”What do you want me to do if there’s someone on the other side?” he asked quietly, voice hushed in case there was indeed someone there. Emma gave the same glance to Marcus, unsure of the answer herself.

"Assuming that he doesn't instantly attempt to murder you?" Marcus said to the big shadow creature, "Hear him out. It could be a friendly just as likely as it could be hostile."

He brought his makeshift club a little bit closer to him. A brawl at the top of a lighthouse was not exactly something he wanted to participate in; although he had a few contingencies for getting punted off large objects, he didn't have many.

"Just...try and seem friendly, alright big fella?" he added, giving a reassuring pat on the back. He was a little surprised by how cold the figure was, though he supposed it made sense. Or, at least, as much sense as anything else did.

”That sounds like as good a plan as any.” Emma agreed, giving Determination a small nod. ”Okay.” was the only response he had as he moved towards the door, placing his hand on the knob and cautiously opening it.

”Not the Amigos, then,” a young man’s voice responded on the other side, just as the door opened far enough to see him in the dim morning light.

"No...we're not." Marcus said slowly, narrowing his eyes as the figure peeked through the door. His eyes glanced over the white streak below the man's eye, a visible level of tension leaving his stance. "Experimental Group B; we're heading for the ferry." he said, in a psuedo-introduction. "I was hoping to get up to the top here and see if anybody beat us to it."

Emma gave a cautious glance towards Marcus before taking a half step forwards, glancing through the door at the man and squinting at him, ”And you are?”

”Someone who survived by the skin of their teeth. Ferry’s right there. If you’re leaving you better hurry up.” He eyed Emma and Marcus, something like skepticism on his face. ”Not sure if you should be pussyfooting around up here if the Amigos are on the island.”

"One of ours mentioned that there were people around." Marcus said, explaining the situation as best he could. "Running for the ferry isn't such a great plan if we get shredded three steps out the doorway. I was hoping we'd at least be able to see what's going on out there, relay the information."

His tone was very business-like, similar to his interview with Marianne, save for a few hints of irritation that trickled through. There wasn't the time to be trying to politely ask his way through, not when his teammate's lives were on the line. "So, is there any chance we can sneak past you, DoorMan?"

"I'm not here to guard the door, 'cept maybe against the Amigos." He nodded at the set of stairs across the circular room, the steps winding their way up to the lighthouse beam. "Be my guest."

Emma exhaled her held breath, letting the wooden club fall to her side. She wasn’t entirely off her guard yet, but at the very least the man seemed friendly enough. She gave Determination a slight nudge on the back to indicate that was his cue to go inside. He gave a wary glance back before moving forward, Emma not far behind. ”And you’re… from the town?” Emma asked, a hint of caution still in her voice.

"Yeah," he answered, leaning back against the wall. Further explanation didn't seem to be forthcoming.

"You're free to come with us; DC knows we're going to need the helping hands if the Amigos are out there, and there's no point in you staying if everyone else is evacuating." Marcus said, giving the man one last look before starting to follow Determination. He wasn't going to force the man to not get himself killed, but the guy was an ally. At least, from what he'd seen.

”You’re injured, right? We have healers too.” Emma added. ”Speaking of, anything you can tell us about the Amigos? Their powers?” Emma said, hoping that he would prove cooperative.

”You have healers?” He seemed to perk up slightly at the information, though the relatively light injuries on his body didn't worry him. "Then you should really get off the island as soon as possible. Anyone who can cure injuries in this day and age is worth more than their weight in gold." He looked upwards, trying to recall anything of note other than the obvious about the Amigos' powers. "And, honestly, I was a bit too busy running for my life to really get a sense of what they could and couldn't do--and who was doing what. All I know is, they have a guy who can zoom them around and a big black monster thing that's their main forward guard, I guess. And lasers. Lucky they weren't gunning to kill me, but still."

"They weren't gunning to kill you?" Marcus said, stopping suddenly to look at the man. If the Amigos were taking people in alive...then there was still a little hope. Not only for them, but for their missing students. Or, student, depending on how Brent and Siena's rescue mission had gone.

Brent had seemed calm enough over the cuff, and for them to have come back that quickly...maybe he needed to give Siena some credit. Maybe he needed to stop trying to prevent her from actually using her power to help, just because he was worried that she'd accidentally (or otherwise) hurt herself.

"Well, maybe we're in luck then. Maybe we're all gonna have a great time sailing away, and they just wanted the vacation real-estate." Marcus muttered to himself, walking out onto the landing.

His heart dropped. He didn't think such fear could wash over him so quickly, but it did. There wasn't just one person out there; there was a whole goddamned siege. Despite the water that poured from his hair and obscured his vision, he could still tell that something was going wrong. There were tree-monsters, a giant steaming wall that only seemed to repair itself as a giant mace swung through it, what appeared to be a sandstorm in addition to the regular storm, and something big and black tearing through their offense.

"Guys...we've got problems down there." Marcus said, shimmying over to allow extra people to look down if they desired.

This was bad. This was very bad.

Emma stepped out, following Marcus, while Determination stayed where he was, keeping a wary eye on the stranger. Emma drunk in the scene below, chewing her lip as she watched. They were totally, completely, honestly, fucked. At least that was what Emma’s first instinct told her. Of course, there was the question that hung at the back of her mind every time they faced danger, the somewhat sickening urge to try to puzzle out who would die this time.

If it was herself, at least, she could take it.

”We… need to get down there and help.” Emma turned back, glancing at the injured Arbiter, ”You’re a Sub. Can you do anything that’ll help us?”

"I didn't spend all that effort running from them just to tell them where I am now. ...Not unless you've got some kind of plan." The Arbiter stood up, pained to be moving again, but he limped to the doorway, remaining just shy of the downpour to wait on a course of action that wasn't just "do something."

"Give me a minute, I'll think of something..." Marcus said, the panic in his voice. There was nothing they could do from here, save throwing shit at the tiny targets down below. He seriously doubted any of them could hit with any accuracy, especially with the wind and the downpour.

He held his hand up to shield his eyes as the light rotated past again, briefly reflecting off all the raindrops in the air. Like a flash of lightning, only a slow and gradual dim rather than the sudden light show. Nevertheless, it was still blinding. For that brief second, his entire world was bathed in white.

Something in his mind clicked. It wasn't a good plan, but it might have been something. It all depended on...

"What's your power, anyway?" Marcus asked the man hiding in the doorway.

”And your name.” Emma added, irritation edging into her voice.

The mage hesitated, unsure if he wanted to tell them something he had been told to keep mum about precisely because of situations like these. There were very few powers more valued than healing. But if the cat was out of the bag and the Amigos had somehow found out, he supposed it wasn't too great an idea to keep hiding a known secret. "I make energy. Like in small amounts, but I can store it places. Like the lighthouse. Side effect of this little trick, I guess, and I can convert some stuff around." He extended a hand into the rain and caught solidified droplets instead, tilting them to scatter onto the metal walkway. When he put his hand down, he looked significantly more uncomfortable, like what he was going to say next was the hardest part. "And my name's..." he let out a sigh, grimacing, "Aubrey."

Marcus hummed thoughtfully as the solidified raindrops clinked against the metal of the walkway. Storing energy and converting matter were somewhat useful, but not for what he was thinking of. They didn't have much time to discuss the could's and could-not's, so he was just making plans up on the fly. Better to shout them out than die horribly thinking of logistics.

"Okay. I might have a plan. It's not a good plan, but it's a plan." Marcus said, turning to look at the lighthouse's lens as it made another pass. "Is there any possible way for us to turn this lighthouse into a movable spotlight? Point the whole thing down at them and blind the baddies long enough for our guys to seal the deal, even if it's just yanking the whole thing out and having Determination aim it?" he said hopefully. It would turn them into a massive target, and their escape would have to be nearly immediate, but it might help, and it certainly had less friendly fire potential than his other ideas.

"I don't think the trees care. Or the sand guy."

"No, but the giant murdering demon man might."

"I saw the demon take a grenade to the face. Think he's still fine."

"Plan B, Marc?"

"Dammit." That was one plan out the window. Which led to the next couple, all of them seeming to play along the same theme of hurling a giant light as hard as possible, with varying effects. "Well...if you pumped energy into this giant light, what would happen when it shattered?" Marcus asked, reeling for another plan.

"We die from the explosion. Next plan, please." Below them the battle raged on, and the shadow creature seemed to steadily take the upper hand, though it contested with Hazel's projections constantly so far.

"God. I don't..." Marcus said, throwing his hands wildly. The water was continuing to pour down his face, and as he peered over the edge of the lighthouse again, it became clear that they wouldn't have much more time to talk before people started dying. He brought his hands up to shield his eyes from the sudden burst of light in the sky; a bight crimson flame falling upon the trees. Likely Chris. Despite his attack, however, the flickering and burning forms of the trees continued to lumber forward, before the rain and fire added more steam to the already obscuring mist. They needed to work fast; plans be damned.

"Fine. No plans. This is what is going to happen. Det, pull as much of that light out as you can; break it if you have to, and throw what you have at that wall; preferably between the hole and the ferry-side. With any luck, it'll break through and hit someone. Aubrey; if you can turn the wall into liquid from here, do that. Otherwise, either come down and help us fight if needed, or stay up here and wait for the rest of the Amigos to find you. I'm running back down; I might be able to stasis the Demon - which should give everyone a chance to run."

Marcus was already moving towards the door at this point, only hesitating to hear confirmation from everyone.

A sharp exhale came from Emma. She gave a small nod towards Determination, who returned one in kind, ”Very well.” he said, heading up the final set of stairs towards the light. He arrived on the final floor to find a large hardened glass lens, nearly his size, projecting a rotating lamp. He gave the device a once over, unsure if his strength would be sufficient to do as he was asked. All the same he set himself against it, wrapping his arms around it and attempting to separate it from its enclosure. After a couple of seconds of effort, he found unexpected success, hefting the hardened glass lens up and over his head, slowly moving it out towards the balcony as the light sputtered, then died.

Meanwhile, Emma found herself moving quickly after Marcus, ”If you’re heading out I am too.” she stated matter-of-factly.

Blanching at the sight of the shadowy figure lifting effectively the entire top of the lighthouse, Aubrey ducked back inside, ignoring Marcus's suggestion in favor of limping down to the lower floor, where the roof wasn't in danger of caving in.

Up above, Determination was making good on Marcus's orders. He reached the balcony, glancing over the scene of chaos below. The wall- Marcus had said to aim it between the already existing hole in the wall and the ferry, with the goal of trying to take out one of the enemy mages. Determination would do just that. He handled the large lamp with no small degree of awkwardness, but his strength was indeed sufficient to throw it, so he did. His aim was true- his eyes, or lack thereof, tracked the device, barely able to make out it crashing through the wall far below through the rain and steam.

With his goal done, he hurried down to catch up with Emma and Marcus.

The cart continued to squeak and creak as its momentum built up, Brent's arms pumping up and down. It had been hard work at first, but once they reached a fair speed, the arbiter allowed himself to relax, maintaining rather than accelerating. They had been going forward for too long, and there had been no response to his own message. With both hands occupied, he couldn't check the phone either to confirm the location of his classmates, nor did he feel particularly inclined to. They should be fine. If it was just a matter of speed, Hazel, Callan and Sander were wonderful transporters, and Emma's shadow-creatures could deal with whatever they couldn't carry, not to mention the creative application of Grant's own power.

No need to confirm. No need to pursue. Pedalling the combined weight of the cart, himself, and Siena without being able to leverage his bodyweight was enough work, and he had enough to think about. So Brent continued, burying his thoughts and his scorn with the push and the pull, the rise and the fall, until a ladder revealed itself in the distance, marking an end to the tunnel. Releasing his grip on the bars, the cart shifted back to its stone form, warm but not fractured. Uneven wheels caused the two subnaturals to bounce about, and the slightly misaligned direction caused the cart to bump, and then scrape against the wall of the emergency escape route, but it decelerated, stopping a couple feet away from the ladder.

Back to the grind, huh?

"Let's go, 'ena."

It was hard to resist the urge to take names when they weren't needed. As they progressed, Siena had considered too many. A scanner to ensure that there was nobody following, a barrier user that could keep them safe, a name that might conceal them, a name that might speed things up--the options were countless, but the girl knew taking the names, though less taxing than utilizing the abilities, would only serve to wear her down. It would be too late to use them if something came barreling down the tunnels, but if she ran out of energy before they arrived at the end...Thoughts of arriving in the middle of a battle with nothing to defend herself with crept to mind, and Siena couldn't help but tighten her grip on the machete, joints turning white with the sudden pressure. With one arm out of commission and one ankle refusing to support her weight, the Arbiter was aware that without her abilities, nothing would prevent an untimely and grisly demise if they were confronted with hostiles.

Perhaps that was why she'd felt a minor sense of panic rush to greet her when the cart suddenly seemed to shift. The movements suddenly became jagged and harsh, enough to jerk Siena out of her momentary stupor, teeth clenching and body twisting to try and get a visual on what had caused it--well, that was the plan, at least.

What actually happened was her turn being interrupted by the cart hitting the wall, the impact not severe, but enough to knock Siena's already precarious position just far enough. The machete clattered against the stone surface of the cart as her good arm moved out to try and stabilize her, failed, and then the bad arm went out, a grinding, bitter pain shooting through the nerves. Thousands and thousands of individual spires that coalesced into a single, bone-white lance through her vision. Another three when she regained her balance at the cost of twisting just a little further. Vision white. Mind just as blank.

Holymotherfuckingshitwhydidshe--

"Fuck!"

The curse tore through, loud enough that Siena could hear it over the cacophany of demands to keep it back, to suck it up and deal with the pain because it should have been nothing. Righting herself immediately, Siena resisted the urge to try and soothe the injury by haphazardly applying pressure, instead turning her focus on reclaiming the machete from its place before the din in her head quieted itself enough to register the words and the situation at hand.

"R-right." It took more effort than it should have to steady the words, and though she'd given an affirmative, the brunette couldn't help but feel they weren't suited for the task in their current conditions. Two limbs down each...not exactly comforting. "...any bright ideas?"

He heard Siena's cry of pain, a question about to escape his mouth before Brent shut it, quickly. Of course she wasn't fine. Wasted breath and wasted time. Instead, the arbiter climbed out of the stone cart, doing his best not to land face-first and yet landing in a heap regardless, tumbling down unceremoniously. More bruises and soft pains to think about tomorrow. For now though, Brent was just happy that his face was still intact.

"Elevator," the amethyst-eyed youth grunted, crawling the last few feet towards the ladder. It didn't go up nearly as high as he though, but at the same time, they didn't have as much space as he'd like. It'll do though. They were always going to have to make do, when Siena's energy reserves were too precious to waste and his own power was too limited to complain about. Bringing a hand on the side of the ladder, he opened the dam once more, silver circuitry bursting into the ladder. Suffused in white light, the ladder disassembled and reassembled, turning into what almost looked to be a conveyor belt, rungs attached to the belt while a steel frame kept it upright. Similar to the stone cart, it had gears and pedals that Brent grabbed, before he motioned towards Siena.

"Grab on," the arbiter said flatly, giving the contraption an experimental turn, "Between air, water, and corndogs, where are you right now?"

Grin and bear it.

Clambering out of the cart, Siena was careful not to agitate the injured ankle more than necessary. Her movements were uneven despite her best efforts to ignore the limp, but it was enough to reach the newly constructed ladder, a flicker of concern over the energy it must have taken to enhance two relatively large pieces of equipment. The cart, the goggles, and now the ladder--was it wise? Again, the voice mocked her. She should have stopped it before it got that far--didn't she know that it was a suicide mission? It took more effort than it should have to push the thoughts away, even as she set her phone in one pocket, machete shifted to the injured arm if only to leave the good one open to grip the rungs of the ladder.

"Ask'n a girl her weight, geeze." Where are you right now? Somewhere, out in the countless worlds she might have escaped to, the answer was home. Home with no mark and no need to regret decisions she didn't make. 'Do you really have time to play that game?'' No. So instead, she gave a half-hearted attempt at a weary smile, reflex instead of any real show of emotion as she adjusted her position faintly, using the ladder to support more of her weight, mind buzzing with acknowledgement of the fact that one arm might not be enough to support her. "Let's hope air."

"Was hoping for water," Brent replied tersely, talking to get his mind off other thoughts while he transitioned between actions. The only strain was in his muscles, but that burning sensation was welcome as it scorched away more complex ideas. Up and down. Push and pull. Rise and fall. His magical reserves weren't shot yet. They never were, really. Unlike the others, he had yet to see the bottom of the well. Chains and gears creaked as he cranked, the vertical conveyor belt sending Siena up and up, stopping only when the lid was half a foot away from her head.

"Need a second for stability?"

'Could use a little more than that.' Siena didn't voice the thought, gave the best attempt at a strained smile that she could, and readjusted her grip on the rungs. With her feet in place, it was easier to keep balance, but the brunette was aware that there wasn't a pleasant way through their situation.

"I'm fine." No, she wasn't, but that wasn't something she was going to admit. At the least, their exit was in sight. Sucking in a breath to brace herself, Siena forced her arm to raise, grimaced when the resistance was pain, and managed, with significant effort, to reach the trapdoor. Pain shot down through her, made her grip tighten until her knuckles turned white as her vision started to pulse, but pain could be worse.

beatbreakruinfleshbloodbone

Blindly pushing forward against the trapdoor, the brunette hissed, swallowed her voice, and kept pushing until she felt a chill, a few droplets, and her mind acknowledged that the air that rushed over her was from outside. Hesitation gripped her then--outside. Where a hostile might be waiting, where she might manage to peek out with only enough time to realize that she'd doomed herself. Should have scanned, should have tried to find a radar, should have... "Door's not blocked."

It certainly wasn't. A few seconds after Siena's initial push the door was hastily swung open, revealing a glowing Ernie with a scalpel in his tight fist. Relief seemed to ease the expression on his tense face but he still looked conflicted.

"You're late," he said and offered his free hand towards Siena.

'Holy shit!' Siena gasped as the door as opened to the storm above her, flinching at the sudden motion, good arm gripping tighter when she almost lost her grip on the ladder, bad arm jerking to grip the rung as her bad foot slid slightly. White overtook her vision again, blurring the figure, only giving her a glimpse of the scalpel before her vision snapped in and out of focus for a moment. It took a moment for the Arbiter to fully register the owner of the voice.

"Sorry." Readjusting her position on the rungs, Siena blinked away the spots in her eyes, gave a weak shake of the head to the offered hand, a strained fascimile of a smile--it lacked any semblance of joy. Only a reflex when there was nothing else to put forth. "I'm fine, but Brent will need some help up."

Understatement of the century, the thought came, while the brunette struggled to make her way up and out of the path.

"We messed up."

Something resembling pity crossed his face as he took in the words, the sight of her mangled shoulder. But he didn't respond to the statement. He merely nodded and moved out of her way, flinching sharply as a cuff alarm started screeching behind him. Unbridled fury flared in his eyes before he took a deep breath.

"I can help with Brent," Ernie demonstrated with his rope as the end of it slithered down the hatch, "How'd you get hurt?"

A screech sounded, and Siena grimaced at the ringing in her ears. If her attention had been more focused, she might have caught the flash of emotion, but between the haze of pain and the chaos, it was too hard to catch what she normally would have. Adjusting her position, the brunette watched the rope move--would she be able to help there?

"Hostiles were already at the estate." A pulse of discomfort fired through her arm and ankle, drawing a faint grimace followed by a wry expression. "Something took the roof out from under us before the jump finished." She should have stopped it before it got that far. She kept the thought quiet, and instead glanced at the rope. "...can I help with that?"

"it's fine, 'ena," Brent called from below, oddly happy to see that Ernie hadn't met some grisly demise as well. Or, well, maybe he was just happy that it wasn't Zoe waiting for the two of them there. "My arms are still working. What's the situation up top?"

It was clearly nothing good, judging by all the sounds that were now flowing into the tunnel, from heavy impacts to roars to the screeching of more alarms, but for the time being, Brent grasped onto the rope, pulling himself up one hand at a time. Whether or not they were better off up on the surface or inside the tunnel was a subject to be discussed later.

Ernie hesitated as Siena recounted their failure, cut off her offer with a sharp "It's fine." Stupid of him. They were hurt, he wasn't supposed to be pissed off at them. But there was an unmistakable harshness in his frown now, an irritation he couldn't control because what the actual fuck was going through their heads?

"They're being held off. We're okay for now. What do you mean your arms still work?" The rope coiled itself around Brent's wrist, levitating him up to the lighthouse in a second and sitting him against the wall.

"Arms still work," Brent repeated, "Legs don't."

Unmistakable, but understandable--that was the only way that Siena could label Ernie's reaction to her own words, but the response to the situation at hand... Siena released a breath. Hostile on this side too. With Brent out of commission, it was doubtful that he'd do anything reckless like charge in, but there were so few by the trap door, and the sounds of impending--no...already ongoing? It was hard to focus on her hearing when the other senses demanded attention--combat already starting to tune themselves into a steady, white noise.

"Everyone else is engaging?" That didn't sound like the wisest idea, nor did it sound like one that the more reasonable members of their team would have gone along with had there been a choice in the matter. "...do we even know how many there are?"

A spine injury and dislocated shoulder on the two most versatile teammates. How much worse could things get?

"It's...hard to tell. Things look under control here, at least."

A slight cringe as more searing flames and white light flashed against the window. The enraged roars and ever-screeching alarm didn't exactly help get his clumsy reassurance across either.

"We need to get you two patched up first. Neither of you can move properly with those injuries."

Under control? Pushing himself sideways with a grunt, Brent peered out the lighthouse, overclocked goggles relaying to him the horrific details of the fight in stark daylight. Chris, setting an entire forest of monstrous plant creatures aflame, unable to decisively destroy them. Callan and Sander, tangoing with a shadow-creature that actually managed to hold its ground against their combined assault. A great wall that only grew taller as time passed, no doubt shielding the rest of their foes so they could continue to safely cast their magic. Hazel, critically injured and held in Lawrence's arms. It was like Wisford again. No weapons, no chances. Only words.

"Hazel first. She'll actually die soon," Brent said, knowing full well that he wasn't doing this out of concern for the unhinged aberration's health, "Where's the healers? Might be best to have them take shelter in the tunnel. If that shadow creature's knocking around Callan and Sander, a lighthouse would be just as easy to topple."

"Hazel will--" The rest of the sentence finished in Siena's head somewhere between incredulous and agitated. So...no, not really under control. Thoughts of Wisford came to mind, of Hazel's ability then to handle a combat situation. The difference was almost unreal, such a wide gap between a hopeful situation and reality that Siena had to take a moment to replay the information in her head. If Hazel was critically injured, then it was safe to assume that it wasn't a situation they wanted their actual healers at.

...well, she supposed it was a good thing she wasn't a healer then.

'In this condition? You'll probably just get in the way.' But Siena batted the doubts aside with the acknowledgement that she could provide options. If not a quick transport, if she was willing to burn a little more, then a way to stabilize her injured peer, even if it was only a temporary solution.

"How far is she?" Siena questioned, readjusting her position, shoulder still out of place and pulsing with every slight motion. She should have reduced it earlier, but everything else had seemed more important. Get to safety. Get to the others. Keep doing things to ignore the fact that it was starting to ache with more severity the longer she ignored it. Now didn't that seem familiar? "If it's just a matter of transportation..."

Transportation was out of the question. As Siena reached for a source the rope snapped to attention once again, floating freely of its own, or rather Ernie's, accord. A new trick. Harder to fiddle with than his previous ones. By his hip, his wrist jerked up, emulating the motion he wanted the rope to complete. Break down the movement, follow it with his gaze. Grab, then pull. One end yanked the girl's roaming wrist above her head while the other searched for her phone in her pocket, ultimately depositing it in Ernie's open hand.

"What are you doing?" his voice was cold.

'Wh-what the fuck?' Was about the only appropriate thought that came to mind when Siena felt her wrist jerked away from her phone, held above her head by prehensile magic rope. Even without the very real consequence of a peer's death, it was not a situation that Siena had been prepared to acknowledge the possibility of, much less react to.

It wasn't until too late that she realized what else the restraint was doing.

'No, nononono!' Panic seared the surface of her conscious thoughts, burning away logic and reasonable action in a flash fire. Her shoulder sent another lance of agony through Siena's senses as the girl tried, to no avail, to move the arm enough to stop the inevitable. The phone was neatly placed in Ernie's waiting hand, and icy dread twisted her stomach into a knot before pinning it in place with a well placed spear. Defenseless again. Fear set off too many alarms, opened too many floodgates, and though the reaction wasn't as severe as in D.C., the Arbiter couldn't deny that it was there.

'Give it back!'

"I--we can't just..." A shuddering breath that she couldn't restrain as she pushed her panic down as best she could. No sources. No guides. No safety. "I can get her back here if..." Between the surges of fear, a cold thought came to mind. Could she? Hadn't she said the same thing about Gregory? Even if she hadn't believed it then, she'd been confident that she could get herself and Brent to safety without injury. The words stopped there, further ones failing to come to replace them.

Ernie didn't move. Didn't react. "Get her back...like you did with Gregory. Is that it?"

Even through every panic-painted thought, Siena couldn't prevent the barest showing of a flinch. Eyes down for an instant, a tensing of the body to seem just a fraction smaller that lasted for less than an instant. You didn't even go to help him. But there had still been that faint, optimistic desire to, hadn't there? "I..." Couldn't think. Couldn't come up with the right end to that sentence, not with Brent there, not with her source away, not with everything happening around them. "It's n--I didn't..."

Didn't have a damn way to argue against that, but she had to do something.

"It's not a blind run this time. If we know where she is, I can reach her."

And with that, the buzzcut Aberration stopped bothering.

They were going to die here. He'd come to terms with that as soon as he witnessed Sander getting thrown around like a ragdoll. Zoe thought she could do something. Callan and Hazel were putting up a good fight. But none of them knew like he did. This class was full of suicidal idiots. It just wasn't fair. He didn't give a shit about most of them but when he did he was forced to treat them like this. Restraining them and chastising them like a stupid child. Letting cruelty bleed freely into his words.

Because the truth of it was that even with their impending deaths roaring and steaming and flaming mere yards from this temporary shelter, they did have some agency in this situation. There were smart and stupid ways to die. He just wanted to give his friends the dignity of the former, even if it meant being the poisonous shithead he always was.

"No," he scoffed at her desperation, "No, actually, you can't reach her. I've taken your phone. And if you try reaching for any spares, I'm going to take those too."

Brent glanced back and forth, recognizing both of the emotions that flared between his two...friends. Siena's panic, bubbling up behind the mask, the same sort of nervous energy that he had seen when he first caught her walking in circles around Zhang's estate. Ernie's exasperation and bluntness, a reflection of his own, when things had to be done and feelings couldn't be tread around delicately. The abberation's rope manipulation was a distant fourth in his list of priorities at the moment. He should have been more precise. Should have mentioned a more important fact that would stifle Siena's reason for jumping into the thick of it again whilst missing half her limbs.

"Lawrence is there already," Brent continued to relay, "Not carrying her back though, probably due to the intensity of the injury. Transportation isn't going to work out, Siena. It's going to have to be..."

He narrowed his eyes beneath the pulsating visor. Its time was going to be up soon, but for now, he could still see everything in gruesome, bloody detail. Sander impaled while Kusari rushed towards the quickly-sealing hole in the wall. This was a hell of a mess.

"Lily for ranged healing. Christmas to ensure she doesn't die from the wounds that she incurs...where the hell is literally everyone else?"

A frown twisted his expressions, before Brent reminded himself again. Reel it back in. Narrow it further. Use all the pieces. Stop acting. Just think.

"Siena, save your strength for something no one else can do."

The words were different from what she was used to hearing from Ernie. No, not the words, the tone? The...something. Far beyond the reaches of the gradual ebbing of the initial rush of panic and adrenaline, a calm, collected voice recited observations back. Not quite unexpected, right? There'd been something in the back of her head, constantly, warning her about most of her classmates after seeing firsthand what they were willing to do to each other for a training exercise. It was only a blithe eagerness that had let Siena turn a blind eye for as long as she had. Why she had managed to function as though largely unphased despite what she'd written on the evaluation documents.

It was hard to connect the boy that had taught her getaway driving and the one before her.

Harder still to listen to the blunt acceptance on Brent's end. Reason told her that they were probably right, and even if they weren't, with her arm held in place, she didn't have much choice but to accept that they were. Reason told her that no matter how quickly she managed to move Hazel out of danger, that didn't make healing her any easier to do without Lily or Christmas. Reason told her that the only reason she wanted to rush in at all was because it was something else to focus on. Something to pull her attention away from the dark feeling in the pit of her stomach, the cold one that gripped at her with such ferocity that it was only with growing difficulty that Siena was able to continue to push it aside into its proper place.

"You mean sit here until there's no choice but to do something." The words came out blunt, harder than she meant for them to, but it was so hard to keep herself grounded. Too hard to keep herself level when security was out of her hands and when her heart was pounding heavy against her ribs. A steady pace. Do good. Do more. Do more. It took almost all her self control to push a sudden swell of heat back down. Shit. It was the same feeling from Wisford...no, not entirely. It was climbing, not falling, reaching up, breaking through, and louder than it had been then. Louder because the only names she'd taken hadn't done enough to drive a division between what Siena wanted to become and what she was then.

Who deserves to pay?

The fact that it had managed to punch through the fear was more terrifying than the lack of security.

"...fine. At least let me reduce my shoulder."

Despite the clear suspicion he held for her words, Ernie flinched, distracted from Brent's plan for the moment. "You're gonna put your own shoulder into place?"

"That or break the entire arm. It's not like I do this frequently." A pause as Siena realized that wasn't the best way to make an argument. "I know how to reduce it, at least."

Frequently? More confusion from the boy before he regained his composure. "I know too. Maybe I should..."

Don't touch.

"...as long as it doesn't make it worse."

"Heh. No pressure or anything, right?"

Ernie moved forward to grip the wrist of her bad arm, dropping the phone a safe distance away on the ground. Truth was, he'd only done this...maybe twice? He hadn't taken a formal class on it, that's for sure. After recalling the rotations that needed to be done, he took a deep breath and just went for it.

Motherfuckingshitfuckohgoditwasgoingtobreakoffif--

Siena should have expected it. Well, no, she had expected it, but that didn't stop the feeling of her arm being pushed back into place any more pleasant. Colors in her vision, good arm tensing in response to the pain, fingers curling into a tight fist until the knuckles turned white. Had the arm not been held in place, the brunette was almost certain that it would have lashed out in an attempt at stopping the entire process. Her breath came short for a moment, tearing away the ability to tell Ernie to stop, that it wasn't going to work, but all at once things seemed to pop into place. Literally.

The sound was loud, obvious, and anything but pleasant, but immediately the pain seemed to relieve itself, no longer sending new waves like electric currents through mineral water, only letting the ripples of torment ride out their journey. As her vision cleared, the brunette released her breath, felt another spike of heat try to drive through her, and barely managed to hold it back.

"Doesn't seem to be broken." The words were strained, and Siena couldn't identify if it was from the receding pain or the rising need for release. She didn't unclench either fist. "Thanks."

An easy smile graced his face. "It's no problem."

At least they could all die with their arms intact now. A glance out the window sent shockwaves through Ernie as brutal claws skewered through Sander. Fuck, they were gonna get taken out one by one. And yet, he remained standing. Hard to frighten what was already petrified. Grief had long made its way into acceptance. The smile turned mournful and Ernie regarded Siena once more.

"Can I let you go now? You won't do anything stupid?" he asked, the phone in his hand making its way to his back pocket.

"She'll probably punch you in the face," Brent remarked drily, eyes focused outside, where the battle continued to rage. The shadow-creature didn't appear to be regenerating from the heavy wounds it received from Callan, but that didn't matter when three of Unit B's powerhouses had gotten themselves shredded dealing with just that one bastard. From some miracle, Lawrence hadn't gotten himself caught in the crossfire yet, but the steadily increasing wall still worried him. What exactly was it for? Were they going to raise it up and then flatten it? Were they stalling for time while one of their more fragile mages worked on a nuke? Were they really so cautious of this group of semi-powerful fuck ups that they played defensively even while their shadow-boy held down two of the more famous members of Unit B? He still recalled the flaming whips and the scorching beams, killing soldiers by the dozens. Why did this feel so much....less?

No, if the Amigos were holding back, this was a boon. Reel it back. Focus. Get to work. Angelic was already dead. Gregory was most likely dead. But Hazel...

"Hazel still needs healing," Brent repeated, emphasized, "Where are Lily and Christmas, Ernie?"

A hollow gaze. It always came down to this, didn't it? How selfish or smart his actions were.

"The moment we reveal that we have a healer is the moment all their priorities change," Ernie spoke bluntly, "The lighthouse comes crashing down and one or both of them get kidnapped while the rest of us get crushed to pieces."

"Lily's got a ranged heal, and Hazel's wound is hidden by Lawrence's first aid," Brent replied, "If she hides that black string underground, and Lawrence covers the rest with his body, we can mask that."

A flash of inspiration, quickly squashed to itty-bitty pieces by the fact that their communicator, Angelic, wasn't there. Pissed him off, when every piece couldn't fit the puzzle. When all the versatility in the world didn't allow him to work around something as simple as this.

"Callan's a bloody mess too, and Sander..." Why the fuck wasn't Sander invincible? "You know them, Ernie. Are the Amigos going to not kill us all if we don't reveal our healers?"

They killed anyone who got in their way. As long as he--shit--they were out of sight, there was still that chance to keep the shadow demon from doing a full sweep of the class. Why couldn't Brent see that?

Ernie had to admit that the underground string was a good idea, though it didn't completely sway his stance. A clench of the jaw as he scanned the combat phone. Emma would be here soon.

"We're not going to use Christmas," the Aberration remained steadfast, "Wait for Emma to show up with her tulpas."

Poor Determination. A grim smile creased Brent's features.

"I can squeeze out an x-ray effect on these," the arbiter tapped his visor, "Slap 'em on Lily, and she can do her work from the tunnels. Gonna need your pain negation though, 'ena."

"Pain negate won't fix blood loss."

"It'll keep Lily from passing out during the transfer."

A reluctant nod. Personally, Ernie wouldn't have cared about momentary pain on Lily's part. But she needed to stay awake so... "Fair."

His gaze returned to the phone as he barked into Emma's channel. "Hurry down faster. We need tulpas for healing."

A week deadline. As usual, for any questions refer to the GMs.

Sandstorm is raging at almost max power so visibility is going to be at an all time low. It also smarts. A lot.

Tree army is barely held at bay by Zoe and Kusari’s combined efforts but it is clear that the lighthouse will be overrun soon.

I was initially planning to post this after the healing/tunnel collab, but I'm posting it early since the chances of me getting on Sunday to post are low. The Ernie bit is the only part that really relates to the collab, so I guess the post still makes sense.