---

Christine rose up from her scandalous position and replied to Rurik with a blush. "Oh, right, we're supposed to go look for the missing people, aren't we? I totally forgot about that."

"Alright then, let's go search for them instead!" she said as she took Rurik's hand and dragged him along. She often did this when she was feeling really excited about something as she thought Rurik was being too slow as usual.

"Hey, Rurik, are we allowed to just shout for them? Like 'heeeey if you're a missing person, then come out!'. But that could alert the St. Laurel people, could it? I don't think Clara would want for us to attract their attention right away. Hmm... what to do... if only I had some sort of scouting power... like creating snow dolls that can move on their own and they share their vision with me... but I don't think I can do that kind of thing..."

@KillamriX88

@Letter Bee@RoflsMazoy

"Make it float?" Michael asked in incredulity, turning to Ascot and Vernon. Looking back at the rubble, Michael gave it a hard examination. "Hmmm..." He had considered making Trap Arts that made their victims float in mid-air; it did seem far more difficult to escape a trap with nothing to push or pull on, and it was certainly worth experimentation. However, what Vernon was suggesting was not something Michael had considered his Trap Arts to perform. It was one thing to get a rock or two that landed inside the Trap Art to float, but it was another to move a large amount of rubble that was already in the way.

"Give me a bit of time, I might be able to work something out," Michael said, already drawing up some strength-enhancement Body Art on his arms. With his brush in hand, he got to work setting up the circle. The necessary symbols were quickly put into place, and any pieces of rubble in the way were moved aside. Within a couple minutes, the Trap Art was complete. Giving it one final look-over, Michael nodded and said to Vernon and Ascot, "Right, stand back now." With a mental command, Michael activated the Trap Art. The effect was immediate. The rubble began to float in mid-air, then was blown out via a strong wind. Much of the rubble was soon cleared away, and the few pieces that remained were well out of the way and barely even an inconvenience. "I think that'll do," Michael said, examining his handiwork once the deed was done.

((Collab between Rofls and Letter Bee; Vernon is used with permission from his player.))

Vernon smiled at Ascot. "Always clever, William. But I think I and Michael should stay outside; someone needs to watch the surroundings."

Ascot nodded, and entered the basment of the residence; he was prepared for yet another Spirit Interrogation...

Amongst the charred ruins of the basement there were the charred remains of a few tables and chairs. In the center of it all, the spirit appeared. A man with brown hair and glasses, with a long lab coat currently on fire in various places. The man seemed tired.

The spirit of the secret lab facility hadn't provided a description of the head researcher Andre Braumann, but perhaps this was him.

"What do you want to know?" It asked simply.

Ascot frowned. "What deeds did Andre Braumann do, and did he speak about them in this building? For that matter, did he know anything about one named 'Mephisto'?"

"...How strange it is... This feeling." The spirit muttered. "Andre Braumann... His identity has been placed over mine. How strange it is, to hear his name and find it odd, when it should not be odd at all."

The spirit suddenly seemed to recoil from something, and the lit flames on his lab coat seemed to intensify for a second.

"...No matter. The man known as Andre Braumann, what acts could he have done that the spirit of the Facility could not tell you? He kept his personal life separated from his work, as he should have done." The spirit said, flames flickering as he seemed to recall events from the past. "But he knew nothing. For all he had done, for how cautious he had been, he had only ever been dancing on the palm of Mephisto.

"He knew naught of Mephisto. He was a man of science. He would not let ethics stand in the way of progress, or so he told himself. But make no mistake, his only delusion was that of making progress. He knew the morality of his actions and was prepared to spit in the faces of the Gods if he had to.

"But what a fool he was, he thought himself safe. He thought himself above it all, he thought he'd found favor in the eyes of Mephisto. Mephisto had only found the end of his usefulness.

"The result of his hubris... You can see it here, can't you? I think I should be glad you have stayed far from his path."

The spirit's lips stretched into a grin. Not a very pleasant one, either.

A deeper frown. "Mephisto killed Andre. How was he killed, as in, what power did Mephisto use to dispose of him? And for that matter...what Gods did Andre want to defy most?"

"His power would be the same one he used to loose the beasts in the Facility." The spirit said, becoming more sombre. "Baumann had studied it extensively before his death, and I was able to bear witness to it afterwards. However, there were many differences, of course.

"Mephisto has never been in this place. He has never even approached this place, and yet, the Red Lightning was there. A strange phenomena, more akin to a curse than anything else. Baumann never noticed it, as he died too shortly after it had begun. But it was almost as if there was a consciousness following behind him, trying to bring about his death.

"A curse, perhaps, or maybe a remotely controlled ability. Baumann was not able to find a solution, and neither have I for that matter."

The spirit paused for a second, as if trying to remember any more details, but it would seem none came to mind.

"As for which God... None of them. Or any of them, I should say. Had they come down to smite him, he would have spit in their eyes, oblivious to the fact that it would mean nothing at all to them. It was nothing more than dreams of grandeur, only the last remnants of humanity a man like him coud have." It finished.

Ascot clenched his right fist in abbhorence, then a thought came to him. "Does a man like him even have a family?"

"He never spoke of one in this household," The spirit said, pausing. Then the smile returned to his lips. "But he has a daughter. One who knows nothing of all this... For a very good reason. You'll find her in the hospital not far from here..."

A nod from the boy, before he said, "Has Andre Braumann ever spoken about St. Laurel's or St. Laurel?"

"No, science has long been the only thing he had lived for," The spirit replied. "Until his daughter, that is. She was not known to Mephisto, and not even to me until she passed this house by chance.

"It would be best to find her sooner rather than later, however. Not all secrets can be kept forever."

Ascot gave a slight bow, and said when he got up, "Then I will find her. But before heading to her rescue, I will ask one last thing. What summary of Baumann's studies of the Red Lightning can you give me?"

"His notes are ash, but I can dictate them to you if you wish." The spirit replied.

The boy said resolutely, "Do so."

Once the spirit was done, he would go back to Michael and Vernon, and say with certainty: "The chase continues. But it seems that Mephisto has the power to curse people, and this curse manifests as red lightning that causes cages to open and flip stoves on to set houses on fire. Like a 'programmable' form of telekinesis. But what's more important is that Andre Baumann has a daughter in a nearby hospital, and she needs our help."

@Scarifar@CavnderOHeart

Bak left Gilliam alone to deal with the threat in that room and continued on down the hallway alone, sweeping her eyes around the doorways to catch any hint of presence. It was lucky the most of the doors on this floor were intact. She could see them, cold little clumps huddling in some of the rooms doing god knows what. Whatever it is imps did with their free time. There was no way they didn't hear her, feel the tremors of her footfalls, but they were cowardly. Clearly whatever was out beyond the boundary of their chosen rooms was bigger than them, and vicious as they were they had a primal sort of intelligence that told them to wait for easier prey.

The ghosts were a different story altogether. She could see them too, sort of. They devoured all the heat around them, turning them into indistinct blue clouds to her eyes. Occasionally one would glide wistfully through the walls n a path from from one room to another. She would wait if she saw a cold spot coming, hold her breath, and stand stock still so that they wouldn't notice her in the dark. She would look at them though. She'd turn off her thermal vision to catch the transparent specters. They looked like emaciated corpses, their faces sunken and skin either leathery or pale and bloated to a disgusting degree. Some of them had visible wounds, a stabbing here, a blown out stomach there, one drifted by with an ice-pick jammed halfway into her head. None of them seemed to notice her, but that was because she kept her distance. If one managed to surprise her...she had to be careful.

She continued on to the end of the hallway, her vision still not piking up the tell-tale red of a living human body. What she did find, however, was a door set into the end of the hallway. A stairwell, from the half-broken sigh that hung above it. She pushed it open. There were plenty of people searching the second floor, it was better for everyone if she continued up to the third. There was no telling how soon the Laurels would make their way up here.

She walked into a dimly lit concrete stariwell, the steps spiraling around the wall going up and up into the darkness. "Hello, nemesis." She whispered, squaring her big clompy metal legs with the bottom step like a gunfighter at high noon. "We meet again." Bak had a bad history with steps. Her lower legs had long ago grown over with almost 100% machinery in order to better support her weight. Her feet in particular were clumps of steels fashioned into something that resembled chicken feet, something that the adults of her village took as one of the many signs that she was a demon witch from the bowls of the underworld and the other children took as inspiration for their taunts. One of the common chants was simply "BAK BAK BAK" repeated ad nauseam until she either went away or started shooting. Their wide frame and long toes were really good for keeping her balanced on solid ground, but climbing stairs was a different story when half the thing was hanging off the back of the step. Combined with the backpack throwing off her center of balance and making it so standing on one leg for any period of time was a risky proposition and stairs became a dangerous balancing act. You just had to get a rhythm to it, that's all. You had to move quickly and carefully and try to keep leaned forward at all times. Not too forward though, because that would send you slamming face first into the stairs. She had gotten the hang of it at this point, but her first seven months at St. Lucifer's had been a nightmare for this.

She was most of the way up the first flight when the ghost fell, screaming like a banshee and scaring her half to death. She only caught a glimpse of its plummeting form as it flew past down shaft of the stairwell, but that and the sudden noise was enough to make her scream out loud and instinctively swivel her guns in its direction. This caused her foot to slip right off the step, and gravity took over from there as she tumbled with all the grace of an out of control landslide back to the start.

She was just starting again when it dropped through the middle of the stairwell again. This time Bak swiveled around and rushed to look over the banister to see the ghost plummet into the concrete floor below and vanish in a puff of ethereal dust. She waited this time. A few minutes later the ghost plummeted again. And again. And again. Every few minutes the ghost, a women with long black and a grossly bruised and swollen neck, dropped down the stairwell to endlessly repeat what had to be her own death. Bak shook her head. What in the world had happened to this apartment? What had made it such a focal point of pure misery, and what had a bunch of goodie two-shoes St. Laural's kids been up to when they went missing in such a place?

By the dozenth time Bak saw the women go past she was over it, and calmly trudging her way up to the third floor. "Shut up!" She said as the woman went screaming past once again.

---

Rurik let out a small sigh, resigning to being dragged along by his overexcited girlfriend. It seemed she was prepared to drag him through every room on the floor. That said, in the distance he could hear the tell-tale sounds of Bak's clomping, metal feet. She was moving on it seemed. If neither her nor Gilliam thought this floor was the right one, there probably wasn't a reason for them to stick around. They'd just end up alone, surrounded by demon-spawn.

"This splitting up thing isn't doing us much good, we should-" He began to speak, suggesting they find a stairwell to the next floor. There was probably at least two sets of stairs, so even if they didn't go the exact same way, they'd at least end up on the same floor and thus not totally separated in case of emergency. Thing was, he didn't get to finish speaking.

As he urged Christine to drag him toward the stairs, rather than the next room, a door burst open as they were passing it. A small-ish, red creature with claws flew from the room, and Rurik had to dig his heels in to bring both of them to a halt. The good news was after a year of trying not to get blown to kingdom come by Bak, he had pretty decent reflexes. He tugged Christine back and threw up his hand, projecting his shield.

The imp, mid-leap, face-planted against it. The only thing missing was the stereotypical squeegee noise as it slowly slid down before plopping onto the ground, stunned. He saw the glowing eyes of another imp, but put his shield away and blasted it flying with a bolt of kinetic energy. With silence momentarily restored, he could hear something else. Bak's steps had gotten louder and more... echoey? It seemed she'd found the stairs.

"We should-" Follow the sound and go up those stairs, but it seemed he wasn't allowed to get a word in edgewise at the moment. Another door farther down burst open and a whole team of five or so imps scurried out. Rurik began wracking his brain, trying to remember what he knew about imps, but suddenly the hallway lit up. The group of imps had banded together, and suddenly he remembered what he'd been taught. 'Fairly harmless to a power-wielding individual, but dangerous in groups.' They were all channeling their fireballs at once, creating one, much bigger, scarier fireball.

Rurik just blinked, "Oh no. Whatever shall I do," he spoke robotically. They launched the blast and he just lifted his hand again, projecting another shield. The fireball bounced back and, with screeches of alarm, the imps scattered like roaches after someone hit the light switch, their fireball scorching naught but the patch of floor they'd fled from.

By then the first imp was back on its feet and leapt again. Rurik caught it, his hand wrapping around its face. However, rather than try to claw its way free or bite, its body began to twitch and spasm, "Hm, yeah, you don't count do you?" Rurik smirked, a slightly darker side of him coming out. Imps didn't count as living people, at least not as far as his powers were concerned. The other imps were regrouping, but that was their mistake. Rurik let go of the imp in his hand, launching it like a living projectile at the small group.

The imp then exploded, splattering across the hall and blasting the other imps against the walls to crumple to the ground and lay still, their small bodies shattered.

"Imps can go boom, good to know." Rurik shrugged. BANG! CRASH! BOOM! DING! BANG! CLATTER-CLATTER! It suddenly sounded like someone had dropped a whole kitchen's worth of pots and pans. Rurik raised an eyebrow, but soon remembered something, quickly identifying what had happened.

Bak sucked at stairs.

But there was another problem. He soon heard dozens of claws scrabbling across the wooden floors. He realized that the imps hadn't necessarily been attacking them, so much as running from Bak. And now it probably sounded like she was coming back for them, and quickly. Door after door began to fly open down the hall and the cacophony of claws and screeches began to grow louder... and closer.

His head whipped around to Christine, eyes wide with panic, "Ice wall, ICE WALL, ICE WALL!" He hoped she could make one big enough... and more importantly fast enough.

((Collab between Scarifar, Letter Bee, CavnderOHeart, and RoflsMazoy.))

Ascot, Vernon, and hopefully Michael would get down from the bus; Ascot then bought some iced coffee for the group from the vending machine in order to keep them from being tired. Then, the young man would go towards the hospital, activating Narrative Role of Familiarity as he did so. He would then say, "Michael, Vernon, remember that you two are not directly protected by my power, so don't stray too far from me. Also, instead of going towards the basement or highest floor, we're going directly to the girl."

He would then head towards the receptionist, trying to pass himself and his friends off as a friend of Andre's daugther; Narrative Role of Familiarity ought to shape her memories to that effect.

"Andre Baumann...?" The receptionist said. "He doesn't have a daughter checked in here. He did check in a girl a while ago, however."

The receptionist went to get a list of patients.

"She was sent in for treatment, but even though Andre Baumann is deceased he paid for it ahead of time. Here is her room number," The receptionist conitnued.

Michael wanted to reject the coffee, not really having a taste for it, but he decided not to be rude and took it anyway. It was as bitter as he expected. He then threw it away in the nearest trash can when he figured Ascot wasn't looking and proceeded to follow them into the hospital. After giving the receptionist a quick "Thank you," Michael proceeded to follow the group as they went off towards the room. "Any ideas of what we should expect from this girl?" Michael asked once they were some distance away from the front desk.

Ascot looked at Michael as he continued on, "I am expecting that someone that can melt the heart of a blashphemer like Baumann has a remarkable quality about her; either a heart-melting innocence or a uniquely precocious personality. That or she has a unique power. But my heart says that we will have to protect her somehow; dark forces may come after her for some reason."

Vernon pursed his lips. "You are always the chivalrous knight, William. But be careful that you do not make your own boyfriend jealous."

A smile from Ascot at that, as they got to her room number. "My brother already made me acquainted with the concept of 'jealousy'; depending on the outcome of the meeting, we'll have to call him."

Vernon frowned a little afterwards, then Ascot opened the door and entered the girl's room.

The room was one of the normal ones on the second floor. One that would normally contain many patients, but there was only one here. Surprisingly she looked very similar to the spirit of the Facility, a young girl about 8 years old. The only thing missing were the bandages and scars. She looked up as the boys approached.

Ascot waved his hand, before deciding to turn off Narrative Role of Familiarity and the field it projected; he had a feeling he either didn't need it as the girl was isolated from the world, or that dishonesty would be counter productive. He would then say, "Umm...hello. My name is William Ascot; I'm a student of St. Laurel's. Your father sent me; or rather, the spirit of his house did. It's hard to explain."

Vernon was dumfounded at Ascot's sudden scruples, looking at the other boy in shock. He would then cautiously wave a hand and say, "Hi."

He then began humming a small tune with lyrics related to ice just in case he needed to stop the girl from screaming...

Michael said nothing, only giving a small wave and a smile when their eyes met. The others were already doing enough work; no need to add to the confusion they were producing.

"My father...?" She said, distractedly. It would seem there was more to the situation than met the eye. "You mean Dr. Baumann?"

Ascot nodded. "Yes; he is dead, has been for a while, but he was able to send a message saying to find you and that it was urgent."

((Part 2 of the Collab between Scarifar, Letter Bee, CavnderOHeart, and RoflsMazoy.))

+++

Vernon exhaled. "It wasn't natural, chances are it was his murder." Vernon told her, not taking into regard the emotional stakes. He took out this phone, which had an active redlight where the camera should be. "I was recording our... adventure prior to this. Not for the faint hearted, few." He pressed on the upper volume button and it started to play. Vernon quietly thought to himself, and said. "Excuse me I need to go outside." Vernon had handed Michael the phone and walked outdoors.

In the cold he began to sing his own song. This time focusing on others in Rhea, he wanted to draw out the attention of the Gods that had given them all their powers. He was planning this attack for a full month, and had fought in his dreams; only to remember in real life. Vernon began to use blizzard here and hurled a snowball at someone across the street. His sheer energy and emotions from singing reached people the joined him.

Vernon finished his song with clean\singing vocals. "Dear, God. Dear God. I will find out who uou are! Dear God! Let's see what your purpose with us, mortals lie. Dear God. Let's see! What we're all made of." He sent his everything to the sky, to the places he believed the God's reside. Vernon, tired now, sat down, and waited for Ascot and Michael. His phone was blinking green, which meant as they-ascot and others-a few months learned Vernon and Mafia recruits were in need of help. As vernVe was a son, mafia Recruiter, and a boyfriend .he wants to become a leader; a Deityologist a few months ago ernon had proved to others that these God's and Goddesses even Evil's exist. All Vernon was have Willy reveal them with his AOF, as he used Scream For My, which as a emotional and trapping weapon accentuated Willy's summoning Ability as Vernon called it.

+++

Michael stared at Vernon as he left, briefly wondering where he was going before returning his attention to the girl. There was a lot of uncertain information he had just learned from this exchange alone, and undoubtedly there was much more to learn. Meanwhile the phone continued to play the video, with Michael still holding it up for the girl to see.

"..." The girl said nothing as she watched. "I don't understand... What have I got to do with all of this?"

Ascot looked sad, "Because you are the only person Baumann holds dear; or at the very least, he values you. What we want to know is...why? That and his killer might go after you."

The girl paused for a few seconds.

"...I was created." She said, quietly. "In the facility, one of their projects... That's what he said. I don't have a gift... A name... He never told me why he took me here either."

It seemed like she was having some trouble coming to terms with the situation. Currently she had nothing to her name, and once discharged she'd be homeless. She didn't understand why she'd be worth something, especially to the one who had left her here.

Perhaps it was out of only love that Dr. Baumann had put her there, but would that really be the case? If there was some other reason then it was lost with his death. The spirit of his house couldn't read his mind in life. And the girl most certainly didn't know.

Ascot closed his eyes and furrowed his brow, as if seeking something inside himself. Once he opened them again, he would smile, and say to the girl, "Then I'll give you a name. A name and a family." His shoulders relaxed, "How do you like the name 'Christine Ascot'?"

The boy was already making arrangements in his mind...

Michael was already putting away Vernon's phone and taking out his own to jot down new notes when the girl began to speak. This was quite the find when it came to information. Sure, it wasn't much but a bunch of loose ends, but perhaps something may come of them. Finishing up, Michael finally looked up from his phone and looked towards Ascot. "You know, you guys are just dropping bombshell after bombshell here."

Turning to the girl, Michael said, "We're very sorry about this; this is rather sudden. We promise to explain everything later and answer all your questions. Right now, though, we need to get you someplace safe, and a hospital is definitely not a safe place."

"..." The girl seemed to be considering her choices.

"...I'll come then," She said with a sigh. She still didn't understand why anyone would be after her, but she didn't feel like staying here much longer. "If you're going to give me a name then I want my father's last name at least."

A nod from Ascot. "I can give that. Christine Baumann." He then took out his phone to call Alexander, only to be met with a series of yells.

"Little Bro!" the older man's voice was saying, "Your boyfriend is causing a large crowd to do nothing but sing! What's happening here?!"

A brief explanation from Ascot later, Alexander would say: "Oh, so you know nothing of what Vernie is doing. And now you want me to adopt someone with connections to a clandestine facility operated by an unscrupulous scientist." A pause. "You are lucky I am such a softie. I'm coming right now; in the magic-resistant armored car."

((Part 3 of the Collab between Scarifar, Letter Bee, CavnderOHeart, and RoflsMazoy.))

Now that Michael thought about it, things were progressing well. Maybe even a little too well. Perhaps it was just paranoia, but he couldn't really shake off the feeling. More than a few concerns were coming to mind, and Michael used this opportunity to speak to Ascot, "Hey, Ascot, don't you think giving her that doctor's last name makes her a little too easy to find? Correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't it relatively easy to look up a family registry or something to find people with the last name Baumann?"

Ascot nodded. "Yes, but my brother is in law enforcement, which in turn is because he is strong. Very strong. If anyone can protect her, he can."

Michael was still unconvinced that that would be enough, but figured that this wouldn't get them anywhere and decided to set it aside for now. Sighing, he said, "Alright then. When do we get going?"

"When Alex arrives, which should be soon," Ascot said.

Vernon was dwindling a cigarette in his hands. No smoking, just dwindling. His father was the smoker and he was the drinker. Vernon had unmasked a victrous smile, this was more people than the first time. The Gods which have prepared Humanity to fight against the Great Ancient Evil will doubtlessly pay more attention to their Humans with careful eyes. '' just what I needed' He sung again his emotions had become charged by how inebriated this event had turned out. He knew that they would walk the land someday, Vernon would be pleased even if many God's and Goddesses intentions of giving these Cores were wicked. He alike many others wanted answers, wanted to know what they did to their once peaceful/boring/perfect/sane lives.

He just talked this time while standing. "I thank you all. Our answers will be given, and our lives under our control once more. And if these Gods, Goddesses, and more have intented to Obliterate us, then my father's...Witch Family will give them their own medicines, medicines tampered with by new age science. If, they however. Intended to help us, then truly they will understand. how just how they have changed our lives. We will run into each other again." He said fighting the tired voice within...Just before he walked inside he placed the cherry flavoured cigarette on the ground.

Now back with his boyfriend and Friend Vernon, gave gestures of his exhaustion. Sore eyes, redness of the throat, still arms, and pusling legs. "I...Need a long, minute."

Most in the crowd didn't believe what he said, but there were a few who were utterly enraptured by Vernon's passion and drive. The devoted few would be worth more than an unfaithful mob, but there would be more work to be done.

But as for the Gods which Vernon had saught to draw out, who could truly say they would have taken notice? Perhaps they did, but perhaps a greater number turned their heads. It would not be the first time a person had preached such a thing, and it would not be the last by a long shot.

++++

Alexander would arrive in the hospital room, his face stormy as he looked at Ascot, Michael, and Vernon. He would then say to Ascot: "All right, give me a full explanation of your investigation. Now."

One explanation later, and Alexander was un-appeased. Instead, he would say, "So, you're investigating Mephisto. And it turns out that he's worse than people already think he is." A sudden turn-and-glare towards Vernon. "As for you, if you wanted to find out more about the Gods, I have my Grimorie; it's blessed by as many of them as possible and you can cross-reference your powers to the list of the Gods and Goddesses who granted the blessing. In fact, once I make the arrangements to get custody of Christine, I can drive all of you to the most ancient temple of Rhea itself; my Family's secret temple to the God of Stories."

+
Vernon's eyes looked lifeless he had slowly darted them over to Alexander Ascot, his brother- law-to-be. He wiggled his drying lips and slumped unevenly, and arching his fingers Vernon had tiny stamina and couldn't properly process what Alley had been saying, he tried to repeat the words in his head, and came out with some speech that was nearly gibberish. His response was his nonchalant cold, crass remarks. "But you Gods could be lying, and Goddesses could hide their intentions in their Powers. To summon them on familiar ground, under familiar....circumstance? Surroundings! Will keep them on guard. Shock Value. Alley. Shock Value..." He moved over to Willy just like a zombie and grabbed him weakly, with two uncovered yawns he asked them all. "Awed yet?" To follow up his remark with his verbalized intention.

+++++++

Ascot would hug Vernon, and then say to Alexander: "Well, let's take Christine and go, then?"

((Part 4 of the Collab between Scarifar, Letter Bee, CavnderOHeart, and RoflsMazoy.))

Timeskip

The Secret Temple of the God of Stories was maintained just underneath a Gunsmith's Workshop ran by Arthuria and Shiro Ascot, whom Alexander and William had greeted warmly before revealing the purpose of the summoning. And so the group now found themselves inside a hollow cavern where runes and script from the great epics of old were engraved on the walls. There was an altar at the end of the crude hall, a small altar that can be used to call forth the God of Stories, if needed. The summoning would be done by reading from the Grimorie of Correspondence, a book that was physically chained to the altar. And so, Ascot went to said Altar and read from the Grimorie, before loudly proclaiming his questions as per the ritual:

"God of Stories, we ask you these three questions: One, which God or Goddess was the most likely to have given Vernon Gire Jester his powers? Two, how many blessings did Humanity's presumed betrayer, Mephisto, have as his gifts? And three; we wish to know; who can be so powerful as to need the help of multiple Gods, Goddesses, and Champions to strike them down and only temporarily?" The boy paused, knowing that he was about to speak blashphemy, not quite against the Gods, but rather to his peers and friends.

"I know of only one such person, the most powerful and well-known Gifted ever to exist. But how can he have betrayed us? Or is there someone more powerful than St. Laurel?" Ascot instinctively shuddered as his secret suspicions were finally voiced.

The God of Stories manifested within the temple from behind a pillar. One would think the entrance of a God would be more glorious, especially the God of Stories. At once it had been so, during humanity's fight against the ancient evil. There were more stories of heroism in those days than any other, and the God of Stories had been like a shining beacon of glory.

But now, the God of Stories represented the nature of history as it currently was. Long gone were the days of the Ancient Evil, and now the stories of true heroism were outweighed by the billions of stories of mundane life that humans lived. As the Gods withdrew influence from human life, the God of Stories' form changed to reflect his changing role. No longer a writer of history, but now a watcher.

He took the form of an hooded figure. Unassuming at a glance, his grey cloak blending right into the stone of the temple.

"The Blessing bestowed upon Vernon Gyre Jester is a blessing from the Goddess of Winter. It is not just a blessing of snow and ice, as you may have noticed. His soul is like winter itself, and he was given the ability to spread his influence to others in such a manner." The God said. "It is a very interesting blessing to be sure, but your next question is quite the interesting one itself, William."

([@CavnedrOHeart], last word's on you for your power thing by the way, tell me if you don't agree with it)

The God of Stories sat down on the temple's altar. It looked as if the next answer would be a long one.

"I know you speak of the being known as Mephisto. He struck down the one who had bestowed his blessing and everyone who had known him, before vanishing into the dimension the Ancient Evil resides in." The God of Stories explained. "He, and Laurel of Victory, were two different people. He enacted his betrayal some time after Laurel had vanished, but before that point he was just another human.

"To understand him, you must understand why we banded together against the Ancient Evil. The Ancient Evil are beings not from our dimension. They have the ability to enter into our dimension by anchoring themselves to it. Their full power is not unequal to us, but we would not truly lose if we Gods were to battle them.

"However, they do not belong here. To scrub their anchors from this dimension's soil, to cleanse their presence from the world entirely, the gods banded together to protect their creations.

"The man known as Mephisto from antiquity was blessed no more than any other human. He wanted more, and so gave up the blessings of the Gods in return for powers from the Ancient Evil.

"He betrayed his Demon Lords to retain his power, and then betrayed humanity and left to enter the other Dimension. Your investigation is concerned with whether the man named Mephisto now is that same man, and the answer is; perhaps.

"This man Mephisto has not received our blessings. However, from birth until now we have seen him, and he is after all a man. We have seen his mind and actions, there was no sudden or drastic change. No interference from the other Dimension. He was named Mephisto at birth, and he has walked with his own two feet to become the man he is now.

"But you must still remain cautious. The eyes of the Gods are not omnipotent, and though we drove the Evil from our plane, and they fought with all they had, we do not know the extent of their powers. Just as our ways are beyond them, their ways are beyond us in equal measure."

((Part 5 of the Collab between Scarifar, Letter Bee, CavnderOHeart, and RoflsMazoy.))

Alexander walked towards Ascot and pinched his left ear, saying, "This is why getting all the details right is important, especially historical details! Jumping to conclusions will just destroy the story, little bro!" A frown. "But aside from that, you actually did well; more than I expected. I'm...actually proud of you, Little Bro."

Ascot nodded, before he frowned once more. "I am going to need to apologize to St. Laurel if he is alive. More importantly, it seems the Ancient Evil is the true threat, and its potential anchor in the form of Mephisto; as our God said, there are things beyond deities."

He thought of Vittorio, the potential pawn of Mephisto, who served the Ancient Evil who had killed his friends in the first place. He then looked at the God of Stories once more, and asked: "I am physically tired, I am physically weary, and Samoth cannot keep the students of St. Laurel's delayed for too long. But I must continue." A pause for breath. "What God governs the province of Ressurection? What are the circumstances where the dead can be brought back to life?"

"None," The God of Stories said. "The God of Death makes sure of death's finality in this dimension, but for the Ancient Evil the energy of the dead often remains, albeit without an ego. However, it would've been a trifling matter for the demon Mephisto to obtain immortality in their dimension, why he would not do so... Well, I suppose there would be reasons."

Ascot saw a potential possibility. "Then Mephisto could have committed some shenanigans with his energy, impreganting a woman with said energy, or otherwise reincarnating. But I speak not just of him alone; I speak of four people killed by the Ancient Evil. Are those killed by Demons bound by the rules of the dimension they died in, this one? Or are they bound by the dimension of their killers?"

More words, "As for the God of Death, I find it strange that he would bless Clara Deimos Edrigan and validate her contracts; this despite the fact that she is Mephisto's adoptive daugther."

"The souls of demonkind and the souls of humankind are bound to their dimension intrinsically. The souls of humankind cannot be taken by Demonkind, however if they are killed on the other side their soul will linger until brought here." The God of Stories said. "As for The God of Death's blessing, it was with her before she was Mephisto's daughter. We gods do not rescind our blessings. The God of Death especially, who treats all life equally, even for Demons. He was one of the few who were indifferent to the war. Thus, if you were to confirm that Mephisto is the very same person as in legend, he would not stop the other gods from coming to strike him down."

As the God of Stories spoke, Michael never stopped typing on his cell phone. There was much to be learned here. Yet even with all this information to be gathered, there was still something missing. A purpose. Michael interjected, "Ascot. All this information is nice, but... what's the end goal here? What, exactly, are we going to accomplish by gathering all this info? I can't see all that much practical use for what this God of Stories has given us."

Ascot looked at Michael, and said, looking down at the ground, "My goal was originally to get Alto and Clara together, then it was to find out who Mephisto is, then it was to try and see if Vittorio can be redeemed from his path of vengance and cast aside all hate for Alto. Then after that, it was to find out who Mephisto was again and how to defeat him. But I am tired, Michael, I am tired of following empty lead after empty lead, all the while as the conflict between St. Laurel's and Mephisto's continues. Which is probably the real answer to the questions; I want to end this war or at least the most tragic aspects of it."

"If you are tired, then go to sleep, William. There are others who could take your tasks, others who could bear your responsibilities." The God of Stories said, getting up from the altar. "This is something you have only taken upon yourself. It will end with or without you."

"This is no foggy road you walk on, this is only a forked path. If you do not think yourself strong enough to cut through the thorns, then do as your duty would have you do and watch. But do not presume that to write history is an easy task. It is one of the hardest of all."

"This is something many of your ancestors learned the hard way. Some have even called my blessings cursed, to have so much power and yet to be unable to see the road to its end. But like you, they only brought it upon themselves.

"If you cannot bear the burden of your own creation, then let it fall."

"Perhaps," spoke Ascot. "Perhaps I should. But today...I do what I can." A smile. "Thank you anyway."

Sensing that things were beginning to end, Michael put away his phone, then bowed his head towards the God of Stories in reverence. Looking back at Ascot, Michael allowed himself an amused smirk and asked, "Getting Alto and Clara together? That was your initial goal?"

A yawn from Ascot. "Yes. It seemed like a good story, and I was genuinely 'shipping' the two; they look cute."

He then stepped forward, but was now swaying from exhaustion. He and Vernon will have to go to their homes soon.

"I suppose we have been out for a while now," Michael said, noting Ascot's fatigue. "We should be getting back home. I can probably just call a cab or something. Maybe your brother could even drop me off."

"If all is said and done, I will take my leave," The God of Stories said. He walked behind another pillar, too thin to hide his form, and vanished.

"Farewell," said Ascot as Alexander, Christine accompanying him, prepared to leave...

In his dreams Vernon had been setting traps for the Deity that gave him his power and others who have only heard of their Gods. From the God of Life to the Goddess of Music. He had awoken by some supernatural voice whih prevented him from finishing and also; leaving notes for the members of his Secret Society. He had opened his eyes with a grunt and a curse word. To vulgar for the Goddess of Innocence's beloveds. He let go of Ascot with a blush clearly not having enough sleep.

And not technically sleeping, but meditating to get the attention of the Gods and Goddesses was the only way he could hear the others talking, which is also why he's grades were admirably high. He had sighed and leaned over looking like a flamingo with his headed downturned he wasn't going to speak just yet, the information was still processing in his brain. Vernon had looked around took mental notes, then had drugged his feet over to the enterence.

"I just need dollars to summon Her and the others. They haven't thought how out of had slash deceptive other humans can be, the fact that greed exsist here is obviously foretelling. William I've said all this to reassure you and your pain be, careful. My own beloved. Do not trust everything you are told unless truth is inside the certainty you give them." Vernon then, lowered himself to the floor.

"I honestly haven't slept. Thanks for everything Micheal, we can't bring Alto and Carla together as it's obvious. We can take a different route with what we have gathered. William...Allexy. I can't make it home. I need to sleep, excruciatingly bad." He explained as he closed his eyes, his Final conscious words were. "I need to drink something, my throat's aches." Vernon closed his mouth and didn't move, movements would just inspire him to talk, to move, to ignore his own pains. He had William Ascot to thank for easing his pain.

---

After turning invisible, Cyan jumped to the side of the room opposite of most of the group, both to avoid the tiger charge and so he woulnd't be in the way of people fighting. However, the jet of water shot by Andriem increases the force at which he leaps, and he slamed against the wall. It took a couple seconds for him to recover from the shock of the impact, as well as the confusion of being suddenly soaked. The water also caused his invisibility to be slightly less helpful, as one would notice water droplets appearing and falling to the ground wherever he stood if they were to pay attention.

Once he steadied himself and cleared his head, he flipped his coin with the terms of Heads: the tiger becomes very sleepy, Tails: he becomes very sleepy. While it wouln't necessarily mean either would fall asleep, it would definitely impact their ability to fight.

Unfortunately, the result of the coin flip was tails. Cyan found himself beginning to feel very drowsy, as if it were what should've been the end of a very long and abnormally eventful day. As his muscles forced themselves into relaxation so did his sense of urgency to some extent. Despite the tiger being a mere few yards away, he no longer felt as threatened by it as he had before. He was invisible, and he knew the other students could handle it completely fine on their own. He wasn't nearly stupid enough to consider himself out of danger, however.

Because of his now sluggish movements and thoughts, the boy decided it best to get further out of the way and allow the rest of the group full rein of the battlefield. After moving slowly along the wall, Cyan made a short dash to underneath the staircase and ducked down, then peeked back around to watch the fight. Even if he was in no shape to be involved directly, he didn't want to not do anything. He could at least watch and use his coin in case of an emergency and one of them got hurt.

---

Kath dashed away, just in time to avoid the water stream shot by Andreim towards the tiger. She peeked back, furious that he would endanger her in combat. She saw Cyan leap away and into a wall as a result of this brash decision, but she had to admit that it somehow worked. The tiger was slowed down, and now they had the perfect chance to act. Kath caught Andreim's eyes, and she saw the boy was looking at her. Did he expect her to use her powers? She shook her head, not sure what to do. If she used her powers, then she'd be liable to do something stupid. She isn't in full control of her powers yet. But if she didn't transform, she'd be partly useless.

She grit her teeth together and made up her mind. She'd enable her fire to consume her mortal vessel, and then hope to quickly move on after that. She closed her eyes, and felt a soothing warmth engulf her body. When Kath opened her eyes again, her body began to glow in a yellow hue, exponentially getting brighter and brighter by the second. Her skin lost its tone completely, replaced by a strong yellow light, and her facial features started to be overtaken by the glow of her skin. Still, her mind was calm. She hadn't much time however before she'd begin to be more and more enthralled by the consuming fire inside and the heat of the battle.

In an otherworldly quickness, fueled by her ability, she placed her hands together, and released a ray of concentrated heat through the water and at the Tiger. Kath felt the heat part from her body through her palms, and as the ray passed through the water it quickly turned it into scorching hot steam that was now propelled into the face of the tiger.

---

Samoth witnessed the Tiger charge at his friends. He wasn't quite close enough to pose a physical threat, but he couldn't stand by and watch. But his fellow students knew their way in a engagement, luckily. He heard Liselotte call two of her shadow servants into existence, putting some defense between herself and the tiger.

He saw Andreim summon a stream of water, launching is across the Tiger's path and, in the meanwhile, throwing Cyan against a wall; away from the rest of the group and, more importantly, the beast. Even though the boy was invisible, Samoth's observant gaze saw the water dripping from his small form. It helped that he could sense the fox-boy's mind as well.

Katherine thought quickly, summoning her inner flame and releasing a powerful beam of heat at the demonic beast. Samoth could feel the heat from where he was standing, mostly further away than the group. 'Landing as many attacks as possible would be vital to a quick defeat of this beast,' he thought.

He focused his consciousness on the Tiger. In his mind he could feel a telekinetic mass build up around the creature, forming a cage. One side, from which his peer's attacks where coming from, was left open.

This would leave the beast wide open to an attack, and prevent any movement besides into the attack.

As he did so he closed some of the distance between himself and the beast, coming to the frontline of the group.

---

The tiger ran forward, claws tearing at the floor, demonic teeth glistening with hunger. It's only though was the rush forward, dive into the middle of this lot and kill, kill, kill. The water was in the way, but that was no matter to it. It readied its powerful legs to leap above such a paltry obstacle and crash down among the huddled mob of its prey.

It wasn't expecting the boiling hot steam that caught it full in the face, blistering its eyeballs on impact and causing it to let out an agony filled roar that shook the light fixtures of the room. It pulled off its charge, running to the side, but found itself slamming into something solid. He ran the other way and slammed itself again. It roared and thrashed inside its psychic cage, desperately lashing out with claws and bursts of electricity as steam continued filling it.

---

Lise studied the actions of her teammates, looking for an opening. She hadn't really watched them fight ever, so this was definitely new. If anything, she was surprised everyone managed to spring into action so quickly.

That being said, the current steam blast didn't seem to give much of an opening for her servants to attack. However, she knew that attacking from unexpected angles may be the best way to subdue the giant hellcat. With a silent command, she waved her servants into action. The shadow butlers' almost hazy forms jumped upward, defying gravity by landing on the ceiling and readying to slam down onto the cat once the brunt of the steam attack had finished. She intended for them to hold down the cat for a lethal strike, if their initial attack wasn't enough.

---

Cassius found it difficult to utilize his powers with the nature of the fight. A small corridor staircase with a tiger doesn't bode well with his AOE centric powers, also the fact that explosions have to originate from himself meant he had to stay closer to avoid hitting his fellow students.

His hair stood on edge at the distance he stood close to the tiger, he made a mental note that being in melee range of it was likely not a good idea due to the electrical aura it exuded. He found a small angle that allowed him to attack without affecting his teammates. He stood close enough to not let the line of explosions stretch long enough, he also tried to limit the explosion range to hit just the monster. If necessary he could slam down from the roof and use a melee attack.

---

Even thought hot jets of water and steam were hitting the beast, it seemed to have no intention on stopping its assault. Kath wondered where some beast like this could come from, and thought she didn't know the answer, she guessed that whoever was behind the disappearances was also behind this beast. She saw Samoth run up and use his powers, just in time as she felt her body cooling down. She closed her palms, the beam of heat dissipated, and she readied herself into a fighting stance.

She took a few steps to the side, and glanced over to Andreim. "Hey aquaman, can you close the hydrant for a sec?" Though the water was helpful for defending, she had only barely accumulated heat when she began using her powers and she felt sluggish enough to know that she wasn't going to be useful for such an attack. If she wanted to get things done, she'd have to get up-close and personal with that tiger. She felt waves of heat emanate from her body as she regained her power. It seemed much harder to wait with every passing moment, her sight focusing on the beast, and her fist clasping even harder to prepare for the whopping she was about to give when she gets close.

---

Seeing that his team was seemingly well prepared for the engagement, Samoth ceased his focus on the cage. Cyan was seemingly out of harms reach, as the psychic could feel his mind some yards off from the area in which they were engaging. Samoth was quite attuned to the presence of the fox boy's consciousness, as he was one of the few people he would actually prefer to talk to, so sensing him through all the muddle was easy. Liselotte had her shadows set up in a fashion that could defend both her and Andreim, as well as Katherine if she chose to back up if things got too hot. Choosing a new target for his focus, Samoth sent a bolt of pyschic energy at the beast's back legs as he himself moved forward. As he approached, he produced a psychic glaive, with which he lunged at the Tiger's front set of legs. Immobilizing this beast seemed like a smart option. Something that that couldn't move, couldn't attack. Usually.

---

The assault of steam and heat ceased, giving the tiger a chance to catch its breath. It was blind, yes, but its other senses were keen. It knew now that it was dangerous to break through the stream of water it could still hear flowing to its side. It could feel that whatever cage had contained it had dissipated. It could smell everyone in the room. Three in front of it, past the accursed water. Two to the right. One, enticing smell off to its left. That one. It should kill that one. It had been horribly scalded and the situation was terrible. At any time it could just be caged again. It could not see. But if it could get one, if it could get just one for its master, it would be content.

The tiger turned its face toward Cassius and started its charge. It was the last mistake the creature would make.

It had barely started running when it heard Samoth dash up behind it while its back was turned. It tried to lash out with its back legs, anticipating some attack, but instead felt shocking pain shoot up its nerves. For a brief moment it had a premonition that its legs had been cut off. It didn't have time to correct that thinking as it felt a pair of impacts from above, two things slamming into it like meteorites. It hadn't been able to scene them, of course. Liselotte's butlers were shadows. They had no small, they made no sound, and they carried out their duties with elegant precision. The steam had stopped and so they attacked from their ceiling perch, just as their lady had commanded.

It's back legs paralyzed, its front held in place by Liselotte's servants, it could do nothing but thrash weakly in their grip.

---

Cassius' eyes squinted at the tiger's movement, it was slowing down and weakening from the repeated barrage of the school's strongest. Each movement became more sluggish and predictable compared to when it started. It was to be expected, even if it did take longer than predicted. He normally didn't like taking centerstage like this, but he was certain this beast wasn't native to this house, and it reminded him of a certain individual from another school, as such they had to be done with this soon to have any hopes of catching up.

Bracing his legs he jumped high right above the tiger, and with a deft turning of his hips his legs planted firmly on the roof of the floor with such speed that he hung there for a few seconds. With another burst of explosives at his feet, he reared his right leg in a downwards ax kick towards the towering hellbeast. A large explosion came erased the tiger and him from the view of the others, the very force of the kick gave life to the creaky, decrepit building.

Out of the explosion's gray smoke came an ashen Cassius whom coughed once and patting his now tattered school pants,
"Well, shall we?

---

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=236UImGx1q0

Andreim

Andreim took a moment to make sure the area was clear before speaking. "Well done everyone. I take it everyone is unharmed? Katherine? Tails?" He took a brief moment looking Cassius over and then looking to Lise.

"Yes, we should Cassius. Are you ready to continue onwards, Lady Valois-Saint-Remy?"

The sooner they dealt with the issue here, the sooner Lise would be safe. Well, or at least safer. If anyone on the team fell ill or got badly wounded it would make their situation worse and could possibly endanger not only them but Lise too.

This I will -not- allow. He pondered for a moment on what the best approach would be for guiding Lise forth and was just about to offer her his arm, he hesitated for a moment. Realizing he did have a jacket and shirt meaning at least his arm was safe to touch for now.

Taking a deep breath he held out his arm like someone would, while escorting a bride to the altar. Yes, it was just like the thing. And she was going to someday hopefully be his bride. No. His empress. His co-ruler for the world that would come. It was all laid out before him. He would rise in the tournament ranks and gather allies where possible and then someday when his powers would be grand enough he would form a group powerful enough to take over the world from the evil.

Not to enslave it like some people seems overly keen to do. But to safeguard it from evil. That's what the world needed. A just and all powerful ruler. Pair of rulers. Who could guide the world forwards to how it should be.

A godly pantheon in the making. His eyes glimmered for a moment.

"I shall focus on providing defense for now. I will leave the offense to you, Cassius, Katherine and Samoth. Don't run too far off, Cassius."

He threw a glance to the side. "Hm.. and try to not get in the way, Tails." He said in a somewhat displeased tone to Cyan, with a stare which was all but friendly.

Follow me into the utopia that is to come, my companions from my past-to-be or you shall vanish with the old world! He thought to himself.

A ruler must be determined but also stern. Any obstacle must be stepped over. For the sake of the perfect Dream!

Lise crossed her arms. "I'm ready. Though... I wasn't sure what I expected to run into out here. Giant cats? What kind of apartment is this?"

The threat was dealt with fairly quickly. Lise knew that as a group they would be able to handle single targets well, but she didn't consider the interactions of the different powers, which made the fight more complex than she would have imagined at first. She had to admit that she didn't consider having to maneuver her shadows amongst friendlies until recently.

This most recent fight wasn't her first, but she had to admit she was fairly inexperienced. She wasn't the type to normally spend time worrying about her place, considering she was always at the top, but perhaps she will have to practice more with a group to fully understand fighting. Lost in her own thoughts, she absentmindedly pondered the power dynamics of her team. She didn't even notice Andreim's subtle offer of his arm to her.

What exactly gave ghosts form? Ghosts were the energy remnants of Demons trapped in this plane. Without a gateway to the Otherworld, their energy was trapped here without an ego. Yet despite their origins, they took the form of humans a lot of the time. Perhaps they just changed to reflect what the normal things were around here, but who knew?

The page of contract with the demon tiger she'd sent downstairs vanished. It hadn't lasted awfully long, but it served its purpose. She continued to walk towards the third floor. Elsewhere it seemed like her Committee was having a hard time, they'd probably want to hurry a little bit. They might have an altercation pretty soon if they stayed, but if that happened she'd have ways of keeping them out of trouble.

St. Laurel's wasn't here in an official capacity, if they fought her Student Committee, the most they could do was capture them and leave them tied up somewhere. If that happened, it'd be relatively easy to make them vanish. Even if they were arrested they could always 'disappear' en route to the station.

She turned her mind from such matters to the situation at hand. Their numbers were somewhat limited, but they would be enough as long as their numbers remained an unknown to the St. Laurel's students. Climbing the stairs to the third floor, the screaming ghost fell past her.

As she continued to climb, it kept falling, and falling, and falling...

"Silence." She muttered, a black aura emerging from her open Grimoire.

Black worm-like creatures began to stream out from the page. They made a bee-line for the ghost and began to eat away, the specter shrieking all the while.

"Stay and attack," She ordered. The black worms skittered and went to hide in the shadows.

Whoever came up the stairs was in for a surprise, but the only thing special about the worms was their reproductive ability and their ability to consume incorporeal objects. They were mostly there for telling her when someone would be coming up the stairs.

Their mother would react when one of them was killed. She wanted her primed for if she would ever need to summon her...

---

TAGS: @6slyboy6@Crowvette@Bartimaeus@Inertia@Dezuel

---

After the smoke from Cassius's explosion cleared, all that remained was a thick black fog that remained only a little while longer before it, too, dispersed. It was over quickly, but it had been enough to get Cyan's adrenaline going. Now that the chance came for him to calm down, he finally noticed how uncomfortable being completely drenched was. The air within this abandoned building had already felt unnaturally cool, but that and the water together was enough to cause the boy to shiver.

"... Katherine? Tails?"

Cyan had been temporarily distracted by his own predicament, being barely conscious from self-imposed fatigue wasn't helping much either, so he hadn't remembered to return to visibility after the battle. Nor had he been paying attention to what others were saying until Andreim spoke his name, or rather his unfortunate nickname, and brought him somewhat back to focus.

After walking out from his hiding place, a dripping wet and dust-covered foxboy reappeared in front of the stairs.
"I'm here," he said, raising his hand slightly. He tried hiding his weariness, as people would often make fun of him whenever he failed a coin-flip. However, his drooping tail that dragged along the floor kind of gave everything away. As usual.

In all honesty, Cyan kind of wanted to go back. He was cold, wet, and tired, and it's not like he was helping much anyway. Alto made a mistake choosing him to go on this mission. The others were perfectly capable of finding the missing students on their own. Andriem only spoke aloud what the boy was thinking when he said, "Hm... and try to not get in the way, Tails."

That didn't make it feel any better to hear, though, and Cyan reacted.
"Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence. Guess I'd better leave, then," he said sarcastically, tossing a dark gray coin towards the ceiling. 'Heads, I'm back at Mrs. Winter's, tails, I'm somewhere else in Rhea,' he thought, before catching the coin out of the air and vanishing.

---

Even he had to admit it was rather immature of him. Cyan would almost definitely regret it later, having to deal with fixing broken trust and listening to whatever scolding they'd put him through. However, he was pretty far past too tired to care. He just wanted to find someplace warm and take a nap. He'd deal with everything else later.

---

As Brutus waited, it seemed that only one other would arrive. Brutus knew he'd seen the man around before in the Vigilantes, but the name escaped him for the moment. However, that didn't stop the other from greeting him. "Hello, Brutus!" came the greeting, after the display of his power.

For his part, Brutus grunted in greeting, more focused on the building. It was likely that whatever opposition was inside were likely on either the first or second floor. After glancing around, the electric user saw an opportunity. A fire escape that could get them past the first two levels. He pointed it out to the other Vigilante. "I'm pretty sure that there are others that have beat us here. It'd be best if we went up this way."

With those words, he quickly approached the fire escape, being sure to duck underneath the windows to avoid being seen. When he was at a good vantage point, his legs began to visibly spark with electricity. With a mighty leap, he managed to grab onto the fire escape. From there, it was easy to make his way to a room on the third floor. Fortunately for him, the window had been completely shattered, granting him easy passage. Once inside, Brutus had to quickly tag two imps that had sensed his intrusion. After rolling out of the way, Brutus activated his Flashfield, frying the poor lesser demons. They fell on the ground, twitching. After glancing around, Brutus saw no more imps, and headed out. Just outside, Brutus checked his surroundings. Looks like this building followed a numbering system for each room, which made sense. Apparently, he'd entered into Room 305.

@Bartimaeus

Aram arrived at Brutus' side as the other student acknowledged his presence. He seemed to be focused on the task at hand, as usual. Hmm..I should probably ask to take the "Bing Bong" sword off his hands if he doesn't know how to use it.
He began to open his mouth to state his observation when Brutus asserted his own, turning after the words and approaching a nearby fire escape. The other boy lept up to the hanging structure, and pulled himself up, soon entering the building through a shattered window of the third floor.

His power has magnificent potential, he thought. I respect him for being able to control such a violent element with only his body. He himself approached the area under the fire escape, and after clasping his hands together, the circle on his left palm began to glow black. He placed his hands on the ground, and the earth under him began to rise as it pushed itself to elevate him to the desired 3rd floor level.
Aram stepped off of the earthen pillar, allowing it to fall back to its original resting place.

He stepped through the window after Brutus, I think i'll let him lead this, he thought.

Entering the room, he saw two small, charred bodies, and looked away from the gruesome scene. Never was much for gorr. he thought. He tried to ignore them, and walked towards the hall where he saw Brutus standing.

"Hey Brutus, if you like I can take that sword off ya. I'm pretty well versed in the applications of such weaponry." He took a step into the hall with him, examining his surroundings. This place really is old, he thought. Even older than what it looks from the outside. He studied the integrity of the building. There were aged, rotting objects scattered across all parts of the structure. Paintings, tables, chairs, walls themselves.. all decrepit and weary. While he could put some of the objects in this house to great use with his Alchemy, using the building itself was out of the question. He didn't want to risk collapsing the building in on itself, so messing with its integrity is a big nono.

Nasaraph found a special beauty in the dead building. It was falling apart in places, its multitude of soulless eyes had been shattered, fissures scarred its outside, and a piece of Nasaraph could appreciate its unwillingness to crumble. His voice, with its whimsical timbre, echoed throughout the halls of the third floor. "Shall I dance with those still asleep?" he pondered, his hands grasping one another behind his back as he sauntered through the dingy corridor of rooms.

He paused when a spark of exhilaration ran up his spine. A blue flash, a sizzling crackle, a quiet, purposeful silence in Room 305. It spoke of effort. Something he had very rarely exerted. He turned back around to see two familiar faces from the Church of Candles further down the hall.

"Guys, guys! what are you two doing here?" asked Nasaraph even while a visible excitement had begun to widen his cherubic smile.

"I'm checking out the eeevils of the Lower Level -- not that impressive by the way -- All I have to do is Absorb and these invisible people go with it ... Wonder why that is? I'm not usually able to do things like that. Cool weapon by the way. Oh well, I'm heading down to the lower floors, this one's boring. Haven't explored it all but I can tell nothing exciting is going to happen. Wanna come along?"