One could almost claim that there was a sense of comfort in the darkness, the void which had claimed Nico as its very own. The boy could not feel his body, his limbs appearing weightless and without autonomy. His senses were dulled, to the point where even the sound of gunshots and panicked screams passed him by without notice. However, despite the overwhelming sensation of fatigue washing over him, there was one notion which proceeded to repeat itself within his mind. Time and time again, a subconscious force from deep inside reminded him, would he ever come to forget. This was his fault. Every single life which had been snuffed out, every drop of blood coating green, summer grass in a color of sanguine was yet another sin placed on his shoulders. Amavell was his mistake, his ghost, and it had come back to haunt him without pause. 

With a surrounding world slowly managing its way back to the boy's ears, a soft groan escaped his lips. Through the effort of will, those large, black eyes opened to meet a mass of chaos and smoke, the scent of gunpowder lingering in the air. As Nico attempted the slightest form of movement, pain echoed throughout his body, the boy's teeth clenching. Forcing himself through the pain, Nico could scarcely ignore the wound leaking blood which had been granted as a gift by Amavell. However, with that in mind, the boy struggled to his knees, eventually managing to rise and stumbled to his feet.

"Amavell..," Nico spoke in a raspy tone, turning his attention toward the stage. Though she had been present, this was no longer the case. Shifting his attention to the chaos, there was no way for Nico to spot the woman, as she had disappeared amidst the conflict. However, he could clearly see mutants and MSU agents fighting back against the terrorists. Soon, Azure Park would have many of its previous occupants replaced by MSU agents in riot gear, and Nico would be forced to deal with their procedures. Answering questions, being sent to the hospital, making statements. It was a hassle, an inconvenience he felt no need to participate in, mainly because Nico knew full well why this was happening. It was because of him.

Never before had Nico been faced with a revelation such as this. It was becoming abundantly clear that walking away from the life which had brought him purpose was not merely a state of vacancy. It had come back, with a vengeance. Maintaining his presence on both sides of the line between that of a civilian and an avenger was a foolish endeavor. One mistake, one slip up which lead to his identity being revealed would all accumulate it what was unfolding around him.

Feeling his body tensing, Nico could not ignore the countless bodies riddling Azure Park. A mass grave in his honor. Shutting his eyes, the boy was unable to stifle a coat of tears, salty droplets forcing their way through. "Hah, it's fucking Nico!" Came a man's voice, pulling Nico from his slew of deprivation. "It's fucking Nico Devina!" The voice continued, shifting the boy's attention to a black dressed individual armed with a rifle. His face was covered, though his build and voice made the presence clear. "Do we get bonus points for offing celebrities?"

Heavy boots brought another man to the scene, his face exposed to reveal chiseled features complimented by the cigar in his mouth. "He'd fetch a nice price," came a gruff voice as the man blew smoke. "Stop fucking around," he continued, motioning to the boy, "just nab him."

"Right," the younger male returned, clearly beneath his older counterpart in rank and standing.

Narrowing his expression into a frown, Nico was about to act, about to use his abilities despite ruining his cover. However, the boy soon found himself saved by the very people he wished to avoid. The MSU.

More gunshots echoed through the air, the two men plummeting to the ground. Considering the ever continued chaos, this gave Nico the opportunity to slip away, where he proceeded to make his way out of the park with as much haste as he could muster. MSU agents and the police were too preoccupied with the war zone.



Panic on the streets, the MSU was dividing its forces between Azure Park and the surrounding area. Though the boiling pot was clear, some terrorists were making an escape. One would be quite foolish to deny the development. "In position, Sir." A young, quite innocent voice trickled through a most professional suit with the MSU crest visible on a slender arm. Though robotic in its nature due to the tactical mask covering the agent's face, one could clearly make out that this curious individual was far younger than what would otherwise have been acceptable for an MSU combatant. The challenge would boil to the surface, however, when assessing this creature's gender.

The agent's flat chest hinted at a most obvious conclusion, as opposed to the lithe frame noting a distinct lack of visible masculinity. Those who knew him, however, were fully aware of Project M110, and his biological structure.

Christined Milo by the woman who had created him, the boy was an artifical construct of sorts. The perfect clone, some may call it. Taking into consideration his most recurring missions, Milo was not surprised to be placed in a hunter's shoes, where he was tasked to prowl the streets with other agents, seeking escaped terrorists. He was one of the more nimble agents, for sure, grace running through him. However, one of his biggest advantages was his appearance. Foes would consistently underestimate Milo, which worked in his favor.

"Replicant, take the alleyways, we've got the main street." A unit commander instructed, motioning towards the smaller space between large, impressive buildings.

"Wilco," Milo, or Replicant as was his official codename, answered. A short, more effective way of speaking the words 'will comply'. It was ironic, in a way, how fitting Milo's codename was. It hinted at his nature as a clone, as well as his mutant abilities.

The boy's nature as a clone, one might expect, had left many question marks for him. Trying to understand humanity was not always a successful endeavor, despite best efforts. It had accumulated in quite the awkward boy, but one who at the very least followed orders.

With a pistol in hand, Milo slipped through the alleyways like a wisp, scanning the area with haste before moving on. If he was to find an escaped terrorist, it could very well be here.

Current Equipment

Maks didn't go far after he ran from the festival, simply because there were parts of Azure City that he stuck to, for he knew them pretty well in terms of the alleyways, the people, the opportunities. There were just certain parts of Azure City he knew not to go near, for he didn't feel like getting mugged or killed anytime soon.

So needless to say when the chaos ensued at the Festival, Maks heard the explosions, the gunfire, the screams. He could even smell the slight hint of blood in the air, and the gunpowder that followed. The boy had watched from the rooftops for awhile, staying low so as not to be spotted, but really, who was going to be looking for him after everything that was happening at the festival. He didn't stay on the rooftops for long though, he needed to find his next meal. After his previous catch had been squandered by a passerby, no doubt just trying to do good, Maks didn't have time to sit around. It had been a few days since his last meal and the boy could feel his body weakening.
He climbed down from the rooftops, using an old access ladder that hadn't been serviced in awhile, thus no one had come to replace the broken lock, hence, the opened access door.

The boy figured he'd have to wait until at least the next morning to find a good opportunity to snatch a meal. With everything that was going on at the festival, he knew there weren't going to be many people out and about.
The boy stopped walking for a few moments, using one side of an alleyway as he slid down to the ground. He rested on his knees and held his stomach as it growled, causing Maks to feel some pain in his abdomen due to his empty stomach. Taking a moment to breathe, his focus was completely taken as he tried to calm his empty stomach.

Three months, it was how long Milo had worked for the MSU. It was also the full extent of his life. When asked, Milo had explained that, for him, the world was reminiscent a television. He knew what a cake was, he knew that people tended to enjoy its sweet, sugary taste, but he had never been in the presence of pastries. The boy understood romance, but could not wrap his head around the myriad of emotions trickling down a person's spine when love struck. The creature described experiences downloaded into his brain as having seen them, but never experienced even the most mundane scenario.

Combat, it was what had been taught. Information was streamed into his brain and interlaced with his body when physical practice bridged the two worlds. Denying curiosity would be a lie. Claiming that the taste of a cupcake, a tender moment shared between friends or running his fingers through the warm fur of a cat was uninteresting would paint the boy a teller of lies. However, maintaining thoughts of these experiences, otherwise most natural, was sure to distract Milo from the mission at hand.

He proceeded to move through the alleyways, pistol drawn and at the ready as Replicant featured a vigilant state of mind. Weightless feet brought the boy forward, sounds of chaos echoing in the distance. What could have brought a calamity like this godly punishment to Azure City? Though Milo could not quite empathize on the same level as others, considering his lack of experience, he did consider the consequences of what was transpiring. Orphans, widows and widowers, all of them ready to stand in a line outside the MSU, demanding to know who had killed their loved ones, and why. This chaos, gunpowder and grenade smoke, was merely the start.

Halting in his step, Milo raised his pistol, aiming it straight ahead. The agent had found something. "Halt! MS-..," feeling a chill clawing it's way down Milo's spine, the boy's eyes widened at the sight before him.

In another life, perhaps, an onlooker would be able to point at two boys in an alleyway and claim them friends. In a world much more forgiving. Unable to tear his gaze from the ragged, street worn boy hoping for a haven within the alley, Milo's pistol maintained a steady line of fire, the muzzle expertly aimed at the target.

Blue, enchanting eyes were immediately caught as the main point of interest, Milo's attention shackled to their melancholy gaze. A boy, a teenager or rather, a mere child. Milo had never encountered another who shared his own apparent age, and feeling his heart beating against the boy's slender ribs caused him to clench his teeth.

He felt himself paralyzed, as if shot by his very own bullets, as obligation and emotional turmoil fought within the boy's mind. This felt wrong. It was as if Milo was staring into a mirror, as if his innermost fears and lost nature had been given flesh.

Pausing, attempting to make sense of the situation, the agent was unable to do more than lower the gun, letting it fall haplessly to his side while lightly held between his fingers.

It was his assignment to bring in POIs spotted in a close proximity to Azure Park, but the weight which had laid itself upon his shoulders appeared unbearable. That fear which was staring back at him, and most of all the solitude drenched in an endless void appeared far too familiar.

Current Equipment

Maksim had been living on the streets of Azure City for nearly two years. He had his run-ins with the local police, simply because he was a thief. They didn't seem to understand or care about why he was stealing. Usually, if Maks was lucky, he'd be able to maintain control and lose the cops before his powers kicked in and forced him to fight.
Despite losing control and attacking the cops, he was usually gone before they drew their weapons on him.

So standing in the alleyway, face to face with a stranger in his mask, and more importantly his pistol, made the young boy freeze in place. The usual look of determination and stubbornness that the boy held on his face, the look that he kept in an attempt to keep people away, was replaced with that of pure fear. Maksim, with one hand on the wall next to him as a balance, could not get his body to move a muscle. His eyes blazed a vibrant blue as his mutant powers threatened to take over.

The figure eventually lowered its gun, but Maks didn't move.He couldn't tell its motive,but Maksim had no plans of moving, not that his body would let him. Fear of the pistol kept his limbs still, but stronger fear of the stranger kept Maks' mind and mutant powers on the edge.

Neutralize the enemy, provide covering fire, infiltrate a complex, but what, exactly, was this? When faced by this terrified boy, Milo could do little more than delve into the confused state of his mind. He was obligated to ask the POI to accompany him back to base where they would be interviewed, or interrogated, depending on the threshold of morality. If they refused, he was further obligated to convince them, or restrain them with cuffs as necessary. Milo knew the protocol, he knew what needed to be done.

This boy wasn't fighting back, and as was dictated, the young, newly created agent attempted to speak. "I..," Milo tried, his hand still on the pistol which maintained a lowered, disengaged state. "You're going to need to..," the boy tried, yet again. On the best of days, Milo was quite horrendous at speaking with others, unlike the original mutant who he had been cloned from. Quite ironic how opposite they were. "To..," Milo repeated, seeing that terrified expression on the child's face. Indeed, a child, and no older. 

Was Replicant going to apprehend a boy, clearly homeless judging from the state of his being to the behavioral pattern of social reclusiveness? For a brief moment, he felt his hand shaking, those slender fingers kept around the handle of his gun. One had to take into consideration the fact that Milo had never interacted with another teenager, before. As ludicrous as the notion appeared, the boy was three months old. Throughout his life, he had been met by doctors, scientists, and other agents, but never a teenager. Equally so, he had never seen an expression like this, complete and utter fear. He was the cause of this fear. 

Gulping, Replicant was placed in a position he wasn't prepared for. Nothing was written in the manuals, about this. None of the information downloaded into his brain displayed a handy solution. For an artificial creation, despite being entirely biological, a moral dilemma would naturally halt their progress. Milo was fully aware of feeling emotional bonds, and he could draw the same conclusion as any human. However, the difference was that he wasn't supposed to. For the first time, Milo did not want to follow the procedure. For the first time, he did not want to obey orders. Stiffening at the very notion of this, Replicant placed a hand on his ear, hearing a voice speaking through the comm's device only moments later. "Sir, note my location, the alleys around Burdon Street." HQ was updated on where Milo was, at all times, due to the tracking in his suit.

"Location noted, report." A voice returned, before Replicant paused, his eyes remaining fixed on the boy in front of him. 

"I..," the boy spoke, stumbling on the word as he attempted the feat, once more. "N-nothing to report, Sir. The alleys are empty."

"Noted, keep looking." The operator finished, letting Milo release a sigh of relief. If he had spoken to anyone more intimately knowledgable on him, they would have noted an immediate change in his approach. The more Replicant considered this situation, the deeper he was digging his hole. He had not even considered who could have been on the other line. If he was caught lying to the MSU, the consequences could be dire. He would have been deemed defective. 

Letting his hand fall to his side, Milo holstered the gun, still trying to wrap his head around what he had accomplished, just now. Or rather, the crime he had just committed. He lied to the MSU, to the people who quite frankly owned him. For the first time since his creation, Milo was faced with a moral dilemma, and he made a decision swayed entirely by an emotional response. This was not going to be acceptable.

Current Equipment

He wanted to run, to forget this strange figure and his gun. Everytime the strange figure spoke, Maks wanted to run. But something about the person behind the mask made Maksim pause.
Why was this person hesitating? He had every chance to grab the boy, Maks couldn't get himself to move. In fact, what was making them both hesitate?

Maksim moved to take a step back, keeping on hand on the bricks beside him, when his stomach growled. With the growl came immense stomach pains that made ththe boy fall to his knees, one arm wrapped around his abdomen while the other stayed on the wall. The boy winced, resting on the ground for a moment before attempting to stand again.

His blue eyes focused back on the stranger before him, watching the person closely. Maksim didn't think he was going to try anything, but then again since when has any good come from trusting a stranger.

Ancient city blazing
Shadows keep attacking
Little children crying
Confusion, hopeless anger

A song from the late nineties played softly over ear buds, providing a backdrop to the task at hand. The bitter irony of the song playing as the world outside went to shit. Fingers moved deftly, two hands working in time, spinning and shifting faster. Tongue darted out, running pink flesh along reddish lips, green eyes focused intently on the task at hand. A rubix cube. She was almost there...another few turns, and she'd be...

KABOOM

The sound, of an explosion, shook her. Making her pause, stopping the world record attempt. She'd been so close. Her gaze, wide eyed, darted around, the darkened space that held only enough light for her and her work now lighting up, as the cause of the sound became clear. A television screen, in front of her, displaying the news. A crane like structure moved from the remaining darkness, carrying a spherical object on the end, which opened up, to display a dark blue "eye" that soon looked at Serene, while the arm holding it pivoted to allow this. Serene's breathing was fast, as she listened to what was going on, the earbuds she wore tied into the news now, rather than any music station.

"Drake, what the fuck." For a few moments after the loud words were let out, there wasn't a response, then the orb beside her flashed once, before a soft, female voice came from it. "Azure Park was attacked as of five minutes ago by a presently unknown terrorist group. I am currently scanning all parts of the local and national news for any information as to the overall picture, and the identity of the attackers. Casualties are currently estimated to be in the tens, if not hundreds, and perhaps thousands by the end of the day." Serene's gaze narrowed, confused by such numbers. Yes, it was all bad but...her eyes went wide, even as she surged upright from her chair, vertigo kicking her a tad as she did so, before she quickly whirled around to face her AI companion, and only friend. "Oh god, the Nico concert was today...Drake, please tell me someone's doing something."

"Affirmative, I have detected via sensors spread throughout the city that MSU personal, alongside local law enforcement and mutants are currently attempting to engage the attackers. I have yet to determine if this is a singular attack, or a larger scale operation across the country. I took the liberty of notifying all Rocktech employees to avoid the crossfire, and to remain indoors. On site staff are currently in lockdown. Does this please you?" Drake's arm shifted, even as Serene gazed around the otherwise featureless room, her "quiet place" where she could go to lock out all stimulation, except that which she had to focus on. It helped whenever she had headaches and the like.

It took her a moment, then she nodded wordlessly, staring at the news feed before her, the earbuds being pulled out one at a time, and set back down into the form fitting chair. A hand was lifted, fingers flexing outward, triggering the "off" part of the TV, the console shutting off, before it then flipped around in mid air, pulling itself back into the wall, revealing that the white tiling once more. She sighed, reaching up a hand, to brush a strand of hair away from her eyes. "Good work Drake, keep me posted of the ongoing situation, status report on the MKI Security Drones?"

"If you are asking if they are ready for immediate deployment, we lack the raw numbers and field experience needed to determine if they would be effective. While they were designed for urban pacification primarily, they are still being worked on. However, I can check with research and development, see how quickly one can be deployed, and if it could then assist MSU operatives?" Serene didn't respond as Drake spoke, the young CEO cleaning up her room, checking a monitor to one side, sighing. If she'd kept going, she would have been done and have beaten the world record. Oh well. She barely noticed the faint sounds from outside. Even through the padding and other materials designed to limit as much as possible of outside sensory factors, in these circumstances, she could...feel it all. She sighed, adjusting her tie, and her outfit, trying to compose herself. "How do I look, Drake?"

"Presentable. Unlocking airlock in three..." Serene moved, stepping towards the door, even as the chair began to fold down into the ground, with other parts collapsing as it prepared for self storage. "...two..." She stood before it, taking in a breath, before then slowly letting it out. "...One." Pressure seals hissed as air was vented into place, unlocking the first door. She grabbed it, pulling it open, stepping into the clean room. Aware of the scientists on both ends, running a quick check on her bio signs to make sure that say, no one had messed with her somehow, before then confirming she was fine. The door behind her sealed, and the next one hissed, as she stepped forward, pushing it open...stepping out into the hallway outside. It's...

Showtime.

//Part 1 of ?

Location: Festival Grounds (Near Western Entrance)
Interactions: @Moyai, @FlappyTheSpybot
Note: Done with Moyai on discord chat. Collab post.

As the battle raged, K Nine and Setsuka did their part with holding the line on the western side of the festival. Then, they heard a new and very familiar voice over the intercom.

Setsuka was the first to answer as she and K Nine returned to cover behind the table.

"Lightning. This is Setsuka. Myself and K Nine are at the western side. We're deadlocked with the terrorists here but at the same time, we've prevented them from advancing. Focus on the east side since it was the first place they attacked from. Then move north when reinforcements show up. Lieutenant! Sit Rep!"

"Not good! There's a mutant terrorist here and it's a big one! Looks like a "muscle-head" type! Good news though. Got two people here who are trained for this! A vigilante from what I remember and that plant lady mutant! Plus, this one appears to be the only terrorist up north! The other's appear to be retreating or regrouping!", came the response.

"Roger. Lightning. Stay in touch and let us know about enemy movements if at all possible. We'll hold the line here!", K Nine then said.

Then, his eyes still yellow, K Nine heard movement. Still in cover, he pointed his Glock 22 when he heard what sounded like a girl call out their agency initials.

That's when what looked like your average japanese-looking teen hide behind their stall with the two. They quickly listened to her ramble off her own mutant serial number despite how they're usually very complex to remember along with enforcing her right to assist in a crisis.

Setsuka, though, was shocked when she heard the girls same.

"...Asuka? You mean that child actor from japan?", Setsuka said.

"...wait...Cute Combat? That girl?", K Nine then asked.

But they were immediately interrupted by gunfire raking the tops of their hiding spot.

K Nine quickly popped up again, fired a shot then ducked behind cover again.

Setsuka then spoke while K Nine was firing his shot off.

"...Asuka...this isn't like your television show. Don't get me wrong. Your strong but not trained for...the horror of all this....but I see your handiwork back there with that opening leading out to the park", Setsuka said, pointing behind Asuka.

The woman nodded slowly, Setsuka's words echoing on her mind, taking her out of berzerk-like focus. She gulped and trembled a bit. "I... noticed." she answered in a nervous tone. Yet the MSU agent's next words took Asuka out of the downward spiral, she looked up. "Yes... There was a group and they were under fire and I guided them out..."

Setsuka nodded.

"That was smart of you. So much so that, if you still wish to help, find innocent people or even mutant who wish to leave the park and guide them here. As far as we know, East, North and even here in the West side have baddies. Lead them to the opening and protect them when you have to. But don't be afraid to leave either if you feel you can't handle it. I'd say just leave but...it's your decision."

The mutant nodded. The MSU agent's plan made more sense than anything in her mind. "I will do that, ma'am! There are so many people in here... I will help as many as I can..." she looked towards the bridge path she took and closed her eyes. "Reinforcement will be here soon, correct?" she asked.

"Yes they will...I'm just sorry we couldn't stop this before it even started...", Setsuka admitted to her.

Then more gunfire as K Nine was now using his MP5 for suppression fire.

"...my code name is K Nine Asuka. Nice to meet you in person...just wish you didn't have to see the ugly side of M.S.U. right now", K Nine said as he returned to cover.

"And my code name is Setsuka. Whatever you decide, we'll respect it. It was nice meeting you too...just don't like these circumstances."

Moving next to K Nine, Setsuka nodded to him as they both rose and fired. Hopefully, Asuka would catch enough of a clue to start moving away from them while they both were firing to cover her possible escape from their hiding place.

Compassion, the word which dug itself to the surface once Milo clawed at the recess of his mind. It was a notion he had witnessed through downloaded knowledge, but rarely in the MSU. Compassion, empathy and understanding, all concepts the young creature was growing towards on a more intimate basis. However, when gazing upon this homeless child, he delved into a blank slate of experience to seek knowledge from.

Though the specific strife of hunger never struck at Milo, he understood enough to identify the issue before him. Either this boy was lacking in nourishment, or he had eaten something he shouldn't have. Much like animals, humans sought their next meal with zealous intent, and Milo himself was no different. He required nourishment, like any other biological creature.

Without uttering a word, the agent lowered himself to a knee, decreasing the threat level of his presence in motion with the movement. Whatever was queued to transpire, Milo could not spend too much time in the same location or he would immidatly be found out by the MSU.

Reaching for the ration bar in his pocket, Milo had neglected eating it earlier. The boy had a tendency of spacing out, as one would say, when focused on his most cherished pastime. Drawing.

Gently placing it on the ground, the agent ascended to his feet and took a step back. This scenario had rattled him greatly, but he could not linger or there would be consequences.

Though the desire to remain was abundantly clear, the boy was not in a position to further his act of defiance. His continued curiosity for this entirely new carousel of emotion would sadly go unsated, unless he intended to warrant later consequences.

Moving his head in a somewhat disappointed manner, the agent turned on his heel and made a hasty escape. This would remain on his mind for quite some time. A consistant distraction.

​​Current Equipment

There was a point two years ago in which Maksim wouldn't have waited for a stranger to leave before running up and taking any food they offered. A lot can happen in two years, a lot that would teach a boy not to rush an opportunity for food, for if you rushed you would soon regret trusting anyone. For Maks, nothing good ever came out of trusting someone.

So for a young homeless boy with the experience Maksim had, he stood his ground when Milo kneeled down and placed a ration bar on the ground.
He stood still, watching the stranger closely, eyes still blazing a vibrant blue. He paid attention to every movement, every little thing that the strange figure did, Maks noted it.

He had probably waited a full sixty seconds to move after Milo had left. Listening, waiting for someone to spring out at him. When Maks finally didmove, he did so, slowly. The young boy picked up the ration bar, looked it over a few times, then stuck it on one of his worn pockets and retreated deeper into the alleyways of Azure City, intending to eat his gifted meal somewhere he knew was safe.

Interaction with: @Lotrix Molick
Mentioned: @FlappyTheSpybot, @Moyai, and @DarkRecon.

---

Melee Mutant, as Sheffield quickly designated the fighter that trashed the muscled mutant from earlier, thrust their gloved hands forward, palms showing. They would have made a crash course just a few feet away from where Sheffield and Nari when they seemed to stay in the air.

Then there was a rush of air. The sky above seemed to distort for a moment when Sheffield saw a burst of wind fan out from the mutant's palms. It was rocketing straight at them.

"Move!" Sheffield shouted, shoving Nari back as the ground exploded.

The blast of wind was enough to blow the former fighter back, sending him into the air for a moment before falling down. Clumps of earth flew and blocked his sight before they finally returned to the ground.

His back felt sore from landing. But he saw the ground in front of him form a crater the size of a bus tire, the earth around it forced back in a circle like a volcano as pebbles rolled into it.

The destruction of that blast was comparable to a grenade. It was common for mutants with destructive powers, but accuracy like this suggested training.

Sheffield was about to shout for Nari--who he saw just getting up on the other side of the crater--when he heard dirt shuffling behind him.

Instantly he rolled out of the way. More dirt flew, spattering his back.

Melee Mutant came after him, a punch already chambered. Their black, plastic-looking mask showed nothing of their expression, but Sheffield could feel the bloodlust.

Whoever this mutant was, they weren't bad, and reminded him intensely of someone. He ducked a punch, an elbow from top, a kick from the left, and an overhead for his temple; all of them produced wind that knocked over something as they missed. The young man hardly had a second to go for a counterattack. It was all familiar, but relentless.

Kiting was only going to stall this person. Sheffield had to do something, assuming this mutant had backup. Already he heard more gunshots close to them, possibly meant for Nari.

Sheffield let out an involuntary yelp when a chop grazed his shoulder, but his hand found a grip that one black shooter had dropped. He loosed a spray from the submachine gun, in one deadly arc that was bound to land across the mutant's left knee.

Then the mutant clapped their hands together.

Sheffield went flying again. As the shockwave blew aside the bullets, and the young man landed on his back, Melee Mutant dashed over to him.

Then they watched a grey tube-like thing leave Sheffield's hand and explode up close. Light and noise dominated the scene for a moment.

Sheffield withdrew his covering arm from his face. Whatever that mask was, apparently it had no protection against flashes if Melee Mutant staggering backwards meant anything. But here was a chance.

The black fabric that had covered his secret weapon had come off some time during the fight, one that he always held on to no matter what happened. Bare, anyone would see Sheffield holding something like a curved, smooth stick of asphalt. But as the young man slid his thumb down one end, a triangular symbol flashed red from where his thumb left, and the unheld part thinned out into a shinier, sharper blade.

Sheffield quickly whipped out his taser and struck the blade. Blue currents ran down it now like waves on steel. Azure sparks flitted from the taser's prongs as it fell to the ground.

Dusty Edge, now in 'dangerously' non-lethal mode in Sheffield's hand, whipped through the air and aimed for an arm. It sheared through padding and metal as it left a cut and a surge of electricity.

Melee Mutant hopped back, awkwardly, as they recovered from the flashbang. This impromptu blade setting was still new, but Sheffield knew most mutants, especially the 'tank' types, can survive such wounds. He held it like a torch against a wolf.

"Back off," he said, voice dry. "The MSU are going to swarm this place at any moment."

Beneath that mask, Sheffield hoped, was a reasonable person. But this person stepped back, shuddering uncontrollably, fists balled up--

Whack!

It was ringing in the back of his head as he fell to his knees. He got careless. Someone, behind him, was saying something as he scrambled back up.

“Sheffield, use it. I will hold them as long as I can, but we need to get them disabled. Civilians are dying, and MSU is coming in hot!"

Something familiarly wooden crawled into his hand. And yet it felt smooth and light at the same time. Nari’s frantic voice came to him, unprocessed in his mind, but then he heard a more closer, gruff voice.

"Whoa, now that's high-tech-looking stuff. That plant woman though, we got her covered. You don't mind if I take this kill, Strider--?"

Through his daze, Sheffield saw black whirl above him. It connected with a larger black shape that flew.

When his vision fully came back, he pieced the unmoving body on a tree branch to the legs in front of him, tensed and bent, just like a judo kick. Or some martial art that had kicks.

Why was he rescued? Sheffield looked up and saw lifeless grey holes returning the look. Melee Mutant's--Strider's--hand reached down for Dusty Edge.

Just as the human lifted his new leafy blade, gunshots rang out from behind him. But there were shouts too.

"This is the police, surrender now!"

"MSU, securing the area!"

"Stop that mutant!"

The hand that went down transitioned into a palm strike, right for his stomach.

"OOF!" Sheffield felt another pain, rolling over to his side.

By the time he got back up, Strider, clad in black, bounded across the park, covering distances that put most athletes to shame, and flew over a building in the distance.

For a moment Sheffield relaxed. An attack on Azure Park. Dead and wounded all around him. His sudden re-use of skills. An enemy that saved him, but was familiar.

Sheffield looked everywhere around him. Their fight had taken them through the park, leaving behind new tiny hills of dirt and craters in between. A man in orange was curled up inside a crater. The Park probably looked more of a war zone now.

What was going on?

Then time moved forwards. Gunshots were still ringing around him. People were screaming, running for their lives.

"Oh, crabapples..." he muttered.

Yes, evil takes no holidays. Sheffield still had people to save. Dusty Edge had lost its charge, but he was used to having a blunt Edge. The new sword, vines wrapped tightly around his left hand, probably Nari’s, was sharp-looking but ultimately blunt. It will do. He will have to thank the woman later. And maybe go back for his groceries.

Feeling his heart beating fast, Sheffield charged and rammed both swords into a terrorist’s throat.

---

(Raiders Scouting Notes)
Sheffield Dusk to the West, near MSU mutants and Asuka Ehime. Nari Sol in the North. MSU primarily around the West, but now swarming the ground alongside law enforcement units. Mutant known, callsign 'Lightning', approaching from the East. Terrorists are swarming and escaping through the city. Strider returning, having completed Objective One, and failed Objective Two.

Nari, following being shoved away by Sheffield, saw him struggling. Ringing in her ears and a bit of disorientation kept her from entering the fray right away. When Sheffield became heavily endangered, she tried to prevent his weapon from being stolen. With a strong bit of focus, she summoned vines to attempt to restrain the combatants trying for Sheffield while growing a similar blade by Sheffield's hand out of plants. "Sheffield, use it. I will hold them as long as I can, but we need to get them disabled. Civilians are dying, and MSU is coming in hot!"

She looked around, trying to gauge how much longer they had before MSU showed up. She hated dealing with them when she defended herself. They tried to treat her like the aggressor usually. She found it distasteful that they treated mutants like some sort of barely held back group of criminals still. Most were just workers.

He had disobeyed a direct order, to bring in and apprehend any POI in the area. The mere notion of this failure brought a stinging sensation to Replicant's stomach, his actions going against orders brought forth by the those who owned him. Those who had created him.

Yet, he could not deny the warm satisfaction trickling through the boy's chest. He had helped someone, where he had been placed in a position of blind obedience or doing what felt right. Yes, Milo could see the cracks in such reasoning. Anything could feel right, this, inherently, did not make it right. However, what could a homeless child possibly add the investigation at hand? Some assignments were drawn to the point of fanaticism, and as far as Milo had been taught, the MSU was tasked to stop people exercising that very ideology.

Halting, Milo noted an incoming call, through the communications device, neatly built into the agent's mask. "Agent M Eleven Zero," came a voice Milo, or in this case M110, knew all too well. It was a commander within the MSU, a less than pleasant woman who dedicated herself to the cause with utmost zeal. Considering the woman's choice of words, she did not consider Milo a being beyond that of which he had been designed for. A resource, and little else. "Hostile located, agent killed. You are the closest available asset. Intercept the target and await backup."

Replicant could clearly see a small map of the area displayed on the screen of his visor. It was a HUD afforded the most expensive MSU equipment, linked to his health and the integrity of his weapons. With a blinking red dot appearing further away, Milo began running in the specified direction, the small blue arrow indicating his own location. They called it Tactical Utility Equipment, or TUE. "Affirmative, Sir." The boy responded, moving like a graceful wind down the street, avoiding obstacles along the way.

Seeing the blood splattered remains of a fellow agent anchored Milo to the spot. The MSU soldier on the ground had been torn to shreds, their limbs severed and tossed aside. Amidst the gruesome scene, Replicant noted a figure dressed in black, their coat obfuscating what laid beneath. "Hm?" A female voice trickled through slender lips, before the woman in black turned her attention to Milo. "You agents keep getting smaller," a faint smirk made its way to her face as she stepped over the corpse so viciously displayed on the ground.

Without giving her the decency of a response, Replicant raised his gun and fired three consecutive shots. However, the woman immediately erupted a chaotic mist from her body, before vanishing. Though unable to tell, Milo would have drawn the conclusion that his attack was nullified by the strange gas-like mist bursting from the woman's form.

Reaching for his remaining pistol, Replicant drew it from the holster, taking a careful step back before a sound slipped through the mist, and into his ears. The echoing noise came from something large, inhuman. It emanated a monstrous cackle, accompanied by raspy, gargled breathing. In fact, if Milo was to compare it, the sound reminded him of an insect.

This was only confirmed, when the boy noted a massive, scything appendage slicing through the mist, nearly decapitating him. Leaning towards his martial training, Replicant quickly rolled aside, dodging the attack before unleashing several, steady shots in the direction of hostility. "Sir," the agent called in, "the enemy is a shape-shifter," he explained, moments before seeing the beast jump out of the mist with a devastating attack.

Had Milo not kept his focus steeled, the thunderous impact would surely have split him in half. Rather, the agent managed a graceful backflip, before the massive, claw-like appendage landed an eventual strike to the boy. It threw him out of the mist, sending him to the concrete before Milo gracefully rolled back to his feet.

"Condition, damaged. Area of impact, chest." A robotic voice explained as Replicant clenched his teeth. That strike had done a number on him, surely. "Recommended procedure, first aid." Though medical assistance was a welcomed addition, Milo needed to maintain his vigilance.

Reloading his pistols, he saw how the creature he had been fighting charged out of the obfuscation and revealed itself fully. "That's a big bug..," Milo breathed, frowning.

Current Equipment

In his three months of activity, Milo had yet to add an experience to the face of monsters. He had fought Mutants, several of them, since his inception, but this beast walking towards him with no intention of halting its stride was what one would consider an abomination. Indeed, shape shifters were not a rare breed among mutant kind but this was brought to a new level.

A thick carapace layed its shell of protection upon the creature's flesh, Stun Bullets dissipating upon hitting its surface, with no effect. They did not echo a chaotic result of lethal ammunition, but rather, they would dissipate upon impact, and expel an energy burst which dulled, stunned and paralyzed the affected area.

A nonlethal option, offering the same outcome no matter the distance, which nullified a greater threat range from closer encounters. As would be expected, these bullets had no effect on armor, rendering them a dissatisfactional option against plated opponents.

Milo was a hunter. His job was to neutralize a target and signal extraction. What happened following this scenario usually involved less moral decisions on behalf of the MSU. Milo had no part in that, however, and could not answer questions concerning the treatment of prisoners.

Aiming both guns, Milo pressed his fingers against the triggers, feeling a light recoil slinking through his arm in response. The small, blue bursts lighting up on impact managed nothing, which warranted a new tactical approach.

Distancing himself with another step, Milo made his way over an adjacent car and slid past the front, only moments before a massive pincer tore through metal and glass. He noted the mass of people running from the scene, while others were filming it with phones. The notion of maintaining one's presence in a situation like this was beyond the boy. People were reckless, but were at the very least intelligent enough to retain a distance from the battle.

Amidst disaster, Milo holstered one of his guns. This battle did not require increased firepower, it demanded precision. Replicant placed both hands on the handle of his gun, taking a moment to aim before releasing a shot. Though the car lived through a mere few strikes from this beast, it was enough for Milo to note the creature's joints. There was no armor covering them.

Milo was not a boy of many talents. However, what fell into his repertoire of experience maintained a polished nature. With the Stun Bullet making impact, Replicant heard a screech, pained and infuriated. It had worked.

Another furious strike traced its path towards Milo, the monstrous beast jumping onto what remained of the car. A limb was raised for a renewed attempt at an attack, offering Milo sight of an exposed joint. He fired his gun twice in quick succession, both bullets dulling the creature's body as sluggish movements took hold.

Moments passed, before Replicant heard the sound of a gunshot, a projectile conjuring forth far nosier bursts than Milo's own. The impact tore a minuscule piece of the beast's armor from place, revealing the meat beneath its forehead. Promised assistance had arrived, and it was clear that they had orders. The MSU wanted this monster alive, and with a final shot from his gun, Milo aimed at the section graciously presented by his ally. The Stun Bullet connected with its mark, a final, heavy thud marking the end of the fight as the beast slipped and fell from the car, unconscious. "Target..," he began, feeling pain now seeping into his ribs as adrenaline vacated, "neutralized."

Despite the passing of two days, one would forgive the inhabitants of Azure City for maintaining a paranoid state of mind, and being quick to act. Any suspicious activity was immediately reported to the MSU, FBI or ACPD, the Azure City Police Department. Among the agents investigating recent atrocities was Milo, now dressed in little more than an unzipped sweater, along with a tank top and cargo pants. Far from what an agent would wear, truly. Like a kitten, considering this boy a threat was laughable, at best, his scrawny nature more prevalent than ever within baggy and loose fabric.

However, it was a foolish endeavor to attempt stealth in the urban jungle when dressing like MSU's finest. With his hands in his pockets, the boy made his way towards a recent call, where he had been dispatched. No matter the desperate chase at hand, one could not rush this procedure. It was delicate, to say the least, and no one was knowledgeable of who had initiated the attack on Azure Park. Another scenario which was worthy of note, would turn one's attention towards the Bio-Organic Institute. Several of their resources had been stolen, and considering the explosive chaos which had left everyone on edge, this went unnoticed. 

Stepping into an alley, Milo's dark eyes traced a path along its shape, seeing how there were two individuals present. Thugs, as others would label them, Replicant could clearly establish that these downtrodden men couldn't possibly be behind what had come to pass. 
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Two days since the chaos at the Festival, yet Maksim's life hadn't really changed. He spent those last two days searching for a meal, as usual, after his gifted ration bar had been consumed quickly. There wasn't much different in the city, aside from the police department and MSU having a bigger presence than before. Because of this, the young boy had to be more careful when attempting to nab another meal, he didn't want to draw any further attention to himself than was caused.

Maks could sense the uneasiness that filled Azure City. Everyone was on edge, and because of this he had to pick and choose which people he tried to steal from. This also proved difficult, as it seemed the streets were less crowded, it seemed as though more people were staying home because of the threat at the park.

So after most of the morning had passed and Maks was empty-handed, he fell back into the alleyways closer to the main streets, deciding to wait a little while before going back out again.
After wandering those alleyways for awhile, the boy found himself attempting to stalk a couple thugs her were loitering around. He didn't usually steal from other people living on the streets. For one, they were in the same position as he was, so it didn't make sense to the boy to steal from someone who also needed help. But Maks also understood that not all people living on the streets were of the pleasant sort, and he needed to be careful. These thugs definitely didn't seem to be the kind to mess with, but Maks figured if he could get in and get out quickly, without being caught, he could easily lose their trail.

So the young boy was opposite Milo in the alleyway, using old, rusty trash cans and thrown out furniture as cover as he attempted to get closer to the thugs. Being so focused on his thieving attempt, he failed to even notice Milo.
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Closing the distance between himself and the alley dwellers, Milo's fingers were gently wrapped around the grip of his pistol, which in turn remained positioned within his hoodie pocket. Hopefully, this did not require violence. Milo merely wanted to ask a few questions. "Excuse me," came the boy's voice, soft and innocent in its nature. Merely a moment passed before two sets of eyes were turned to him, attention fixed on the artificial creature.

"Mutant, huh?" A dweller returned, raising his brow. Indeed, it was clear from Milo's porcelain skin and unnatural presence that humanity would not consider him one of theirs. "Whaddya' want?" The man, large and imposing, continued.

"Would it be a bother to answer a few questions? Milo tried. His social prowess was nothing notable, other than, perhaps, in a negative light. 

"Y'know..," the remaining man spoke, sighing as he turned from his friend, his attention now entirely stolen by Milo's entrance. "That's gonna' cost you, right?"

"I do not have any money," Replicant offered, shrugging his shoulders before hearing the two men laughing at his response. 

"You're kinda' dumb, aintcha'?" The dweller who had first spoken entered the conversation once more. "Round' here, you want something, you gotta' have something to give." He scratched his chin, for a moment. Desperation, it brought people into a corner they would rather not visit if fate were more merciful. "You would fetch a nice price, though. Bet lotsa' fine folk want to dress that doll-face up." 

Tightening his grip around the pistol obfuscated by his shirt pocket, Milo narrowed his eyes, as the two men began approaching him.
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________

As Maks got closer to the thugs, he heard a voice speak from the opposite end of the alleyway. Something about it seemed vaguely familiar, but he couldn't quite see past the thugs to get a look at the strange figure. He stood quietly, huddled behind a soggy pile of cardboard boxes as he listened to the thugs and the figure speak. Who would want to openly approach these thugs like that figure was? Didn't he know how dangerous they could be?
Maks frowned a little, watching the thugs walk away from a few items they had placed on an an old tv-tray in the alleyway.

From what the boy could see, it was a take-out box of what smelled like Chinese food, and a couple cans of soda! Jackpot!
While the thugs approached the figure, Maks walked up as quietly as he could, grabbing one of the cans that was unopened, and then carefully grabbing the styrofoam take-out box, trying his best not to let the material squeak as the box moved with the weight of the food.
If he could get away with this jackpot, Maks could assure himself he wouldn't go to sleep hungry tonight, as had been the case for the last week or so. The boy wasn't sure how much longer he could go without a substantial meal to keep his strength up.
_________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Reaching for a knife in his pocket, the alley dweller gently tapped it against his opposite palm, in a most threatening manner, indeed. "Don't wanna' ruin that pretty face of yours, ya'? Would fuck up the price tag, for sure." He explained, "but, y'know, damaged goods is better than no goods at all." 

"Continued hostility will force retaliation," Replicant returned, taking a step back from the approaching men. 

"Th'fuck does he talk like that, for?" Came a question, followed by a roll of the thug's eyes, "whatever, just nab him." The time for talk was, unfortunately, over. Additionally, Milo had noted a presence behind the two, granted his line of sight. Was it yet another thug? No, it was a shade sneaking onto the scene, someone who desired to remain hidden. 

"Forceful approach, authorized," Replicant frowned, drawing his gun with impressive speed, before firing a shot into the mass of a target's torso. Though the otherwise loud warcry of a gun was minuscule, considering the technological advances of MSU's equipment, the outcome surely wasn't. As the sleek, black pistol made itself visible in the boy's unnaturally dainty hands, it left one of the thugs stunned, paralyzed as he hit the hard, concrete ground beneath. Shifting his aim towards the remaining man who wasted no time in charging the boy, Milo quickly maneuvered to the side, before firing two subsequent bullets. 

The first connected with the alley dweller's leg, sending him to a knee as the appendage was rendered paralyzed. The remaining projectile dissipated as it made impact with his temple, ending the threat. "You will be able to move again, in five hours. Take this time to consider your actions. Despite a most adrenaline inducing moment passing him by, Milo appeared unphased by the circumstance, his usual and most certainly apathetic approach remaining clear. 

As he slipped the pistol into a shoulder holster hidden beneath his unzipped sweater, Milo's eyes widened as he looked towards the newly arrived visitor. "It's.., you..," he tried, inhaling a sharp breath.
_________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The sound of a gun was not something Maks was expecting, nor was the scramble of the thugs and their ultimate collapse on the floor of the alley. The sudden commotion caused Maks to falter. He dropped the box of take-out food, hitting the edge of the tv-tray and causing that to tumble as well. The opened can of soda spilled, spreading out into the cracks of the stone that made up the floor of the alley, while the other landed next to Maksim, still sealed.

When everything had settled, the young boy was looking into the eyes of, what felt like, someone very familiar. Maks was frozen as he watched the figure slip the pistol back into his sweater, the sight of the weapon drawing out the boy's fear and making him unable to move.

Maks breathing was quick as, after a few quick moments, the young boy regained himself. Maks stood quickly, but didn't run. No, something about this figure was different. The young boy could make out the obvious differences from a normal human being, the pale skin, his eyes. Something else made Maks pause, something about the figure's demeanor towards his young self. It wasn't the usual human, feeling either sorry for Maks, or disgusted by his appearance.
So Maks stayed, holding his ground where he stood and watching the strange figure, somewhat curious as to what he had to say, and tempted to ask something in return.
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Unsure of how to proceed, Milo was certain that this boy was the exact same individual he had seen two days prior. The same person who had prompted the young, artificial agent to disobey direct orders. On the ground, two people who Milo had grown used to, and jaded towards, laid motionless. However, in front of him stood a boy, someone who possessed an age similar to Replicant's own. "I..," Milo tried, with futile results. One could consider the scene endearing, in a way, but for the two involved, there was an undeniable conflict presented. They did not know how to approach the situation. "I was..," Milo attempted for a second time, "I was under the impression that.., children lived with parents." An incredibly inept sentence to utter, for anyone with social knowledge. "I mean..," Replicant caught the notion, and tried again. "Are you alone?" A better question, if nothing else. 

Lowering his eyes to the food and soda now spilled on the floor, Milo managed a soft frown. If the artificial creature possessed food of his own, he would have offered it, like last time. Alas, everything the boy owned, was located in the MSU headquarters. 
_________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Maks remained silent as the other boy attempted to speak. Watching the figure closely, Maksim backed up a few steps, just to put some distance in between him and the stranger.
It took a few moments, but the figure finally asked something Maks was interested in, if he was alone.
The young boy didn't respond for a few moments, before finally nodding slowly, his eyes still trained on Milo. He didn't know what to say besides nodding, but Maks knew he wanted to say something.

"Are you?"

The young boy thought on his words for a few moments, hoping they made sense since he didn't really speak much aside from chatting with himself. He took a deep breath. For the last two years Maks had kept interactions with people to a minimum, on purpose. It was clear that the boy trusted no one, and wanted no help from anyone who approached him. Yet something swayed his opinions on this figure. Something about how the figure acted towards him, his demeanor and how he seemed to be having as much trouble speaking to Maks, as Maks would to him.

The young boy took another deep breath, "Do you-,"

His attempt at speaking was cut short however, as for a brief moment, Maks stopped, listening to the world around him. Not another second went by as the boy suddenly felt a stinging sensation in his neck, his body suddenly failing him as he collapsed on the floor of the alleyway.

Another second would go by and Milo would feel the same sensation, before his muscles would fail and the world in his eyes, would go black.

The swift intervention of the MSU and local police had prevented a much greater tragedy from unfolding, and while information was still sparse, it pointed towards one specific terror group being behind the attack, but who was still unknown. Thankfully, it seemed that it was only the one attack at the site, as sad as the tragedy was, to have more elsewhere, well, one couldn't be blamed for a sigh of relief. Emergency services had arrived as soon as it was confirmed to be secure, and relief services had stepped in, along with disaster clean up, in the form of Rocktech providing their services to tend to the wounded, and construction crews to remove debris. But in the eyes of the CEO, it wasn't enough, and tendrils of discussion had been pushed out towards the MSU and Azure City authorities discussing the possibility of coordinating efforts in the future, with the offer of new equipment, or even the deployment of the still in development Urban Pacification Units(aka those drones I spoke of in her profile). The only thing asked for in return would be information or access to files for future research, such as data on the mutants involved in the attack, or future matters. While an outsider might find it odd, she wanted the information accessible so Drake could datamine it and hopefully detect information traffic that could spot and predict attacks before they happened, and hopefully, with enough advance notice, stop future plots. What Drake thought of Serene's plan was a mystery...

Regardless of how upcoming talks went, from the comfort of her control room overlooking the entire complex, Serene mulled, having ordered efforts on the new drones and her personal power suit to be accelerated. On the one hand, she wanted her robots ready to assist in defending, even if they weren't the strongest, to be better prepared, on the other hand...her desire to help others drove wanting to have the suit ready. And if it helped her get closer to other mutants or people, that would be good. She wanted to fit in...even if she was probably that one type of Mutant everyone was afraid of due to her powers. Oh well. Fingers tapped against the arm rest of her control room chair, her colorfulness at stark contrast to the gunmetal grayness of the room, mimicking a certain villain's own command center. She was waiting, but for what, couldn't be said. She was a genius sure, but sometimes, all you can do is...play the waiting game.

The past two days had left her a lot to think about, that was for sure. Drake was busy allocating more resources to the drone and armor programs, mostly assigning more scientists who specialized in the right fields. Sure it meant pulling them away from other projects, but the latest smartphone could wait, it wasn't like kids would need it. Same for other programs. One step at a time, towards the future. Whatever that future held...

Mentioned: @Lotrix Molick and @soph.



A motorcycle, mostly black with red streaks throughout its sleek frame, rushed down the roads of Azure City, narrowly breaking the city’s laws on speed limits. Its rider was a person of a noticeably small stature, wearing a black field jacket with brown stripes, dark brown gloves that made next to no wrinkles gripping the handles, grey sweatpants and sneakers staying one with the frame. Their uniform black helmet kept their face hidden.

The motorcycle zipped through cars over cars stuck in today’s rush hour, now that one road was being cleaned up from yesterday’s gunfight just an hour ago. It was totally unrelated to the Azure Park incident; just some heavily armed bank robbers tried to escape and ran into several vigilant policemen. The immediate aftermath of the incident had created a couple of opportunities for crimes to take place, but quickly died down within a span of a day.

This race through the streets was about one of those crimes. They quickly made a turn around a corner and into a dank alleyway, startling a cat and some beggars. But amongst the localized mess of mystery puddles and abandoned boxes was the runner, a man wearing a red balaclava with a duffel bag in one arm, looking over his shoulder.

The man doubled his speed. The chase was still on, but not through this alleyway. The rider turned left and steered their way through another one of the city’s darker paths. It was a classic escape through a confusing maze, but it was pointless when the rider could cut off its frightened rat by the exit.

This was how they caught the runner: by driving towards the predicted exit, one that led to a little dock next to a bridge hanging over a small, slightly gooey river, only to ram into them.

As the runner went down rolling into a garbage bin, the rider quickly nudged the sidestand down with one leg, ensuring their vehicle would not tip over. Then they took off their helmet, letting brown locks that faded to a burning red sway.

“What a drive...” Sheffield muttered. It had been a while since his last chase, but it was not like the runner even had a power to outdistance him.

The biker jogged over to the runner, looking dazed but otherwise fine. The bag itself, reported to be full of dough, was scuffed up against a brick wall of the building next to the young man. Without further ado, Sheffield slipped an arm around the man’s neck and squeezed. The runner was frantically flailing around for air before going limp.

“...the package is secure,” Sheffield was reporting with his flip phone. “I’ll return it after I complete a few more requests. Sure... okay, I’ll wait.”

He looked away from his phone and up into the sky as the mission handler he was reporting to cut off the line. The bag full of dough was at his feet, but he was told it was ‘special’ dough for some reason. How do you make valuable paper special?

Sheffield took out a notebook, small, red and compact. He flipped to a page, containing information based on his research, now with government-issued pages on notable people. Right now he looked at a girl who looked like... a certain kid-like vampire.

Mutants tended to look like someone out of somewhere totally fantastical. Aeira Ketsueki, The Scarlet Devil that wrecked havoc among bad guys at night, although apparently runaway child too. She was far from high on the MSU’s list of person of interests, but this girl was seen at the festival, hopping from head to head of people and causing mass headaches. Sheffield was to look for her and ascertain whether she was involved in the massacre.

In truth, this search was more of a middle priority given the loads of things Azure City has to do, which boasted around nine thousand mutant souls and was rampant with shady underworld dealings. This mission is related to the attack, a high-priority investigation, but apparently there were other leads.

Sheffield shook his head. Governmental bodies preferred to trust themselves. When was the last time they found a shapeshifter within their ranks or became a target of villains all around? And the maybe-vigilante had better things to do: see if Nari was alright, check on Mr. Tusk who was hospitalized, look up on Wyldsine’s requests... Well, not as important on a city-wide level, but they were important enough for his future in the city.

He sat on the runner’s back, whose face stayed flat on the floor, and aimlessly whisper-sang. He felt silly for swaying like one of those wind chimes on a breezy day too, but he was bored.

---

The last two days were... interesting. If the festival was an example of how carefree and relaxed everyone could be, the last two days were an example of how tense everyone could be. For Aeira, it didn’t matter. She was more annoyed than scared by the attack. She barelu got to have fun that day. If it wasn’t angry people in the festival, it was angry people from outside shooting wverybody. She wondered if everyone in the mob was dead. Probably.

As much as the attack didn’t faze her, other things did. She hadn’t slept at all in the past two days, and she wasn’t planning to. Just getting in her bed made her feel incredibly unsafe. It was a feeling of impending doom, and one that only went away when she occupied herself with other things, as unhealthy as they were for her. She hadn’t gone outside the house either. She had no energy. Maybe it had to do with the fact that she didn’t sleep at all?

‘Whatever,’ she thought. She opened the door to her room as quietly as she could. Walking through the kitchen, she tried not to make a sound, but the creaking floorboards had other plans.

“Going somewhere?” A voice with a hint of surprise asked. Aeira turned around towards the source, facing her mother. Rui tilted her head. “Are those... my clothes?” She asked, even more surprised than before.

"Uh..." Aeira looked down at her clothes, "The jeans are mine?" She replied sheepishly. She couldn’t lie about the sweater she was wearing. It was black (Rui’s favorite color) and it was too big for her. Her shoes fit her, but again they were a color she normally wouldn’t wear.

“Nevermind,” Rui laughed, “Where are you headed, then?”

Aeira was visibly caught off guard by the question. Following a series of incoherent babbling and stuttering, she found an answer. "I’m meeting up, with... a friend." Rui raised an eyebrow.

“Really?”

‘No,’ she thought. "Yeah!" She said.

“No contacts?”

"Nope!"

“Self-defense?”

Aeira checked her pockets. The right held her knife rather than it being in her hair, while the left had her phone. "Yup!"

“Hm.” Rui began thinking. Aeira started becoming worried. She looked around the room nervously, waiting for a response. Realistically, Rui wouldn’t care what she did, but she would likely be more opposed to the idea of Aeira leaving the house now. Her own fear of Aeira getting hurt trumped Aeira’s confidence in not getting hurt. Fatally. She started leaning towards the door, waiting for her opportunity to bolt out.

“Okay.” Rui decided, walking away to her room. “Don’t die.”

"I won’t!"

---

Aeira would be lying if she wasn’t surprised by what Rui said. Maybe she was confident in the fact that Aeira wouldn’t get hurt after all? It would make sense. She was a trouble magnet, and no matter what injuries she got she would always recover and go back for more. It was an unhealthy trait of hers, she knew. But it hadn’t come back to bite her in the ass, so it can’t hurt to keep it.

She was moving from rooftop to rooftop, dropping down to a windowsill to climb onto the next roof when she needed. This reminded her of when she did this everyday, hunting for her targets. She loved that feeling, especially when she fought them. ‘Maybe I’ll ask Rui if I could start again today,’ she thought.

Before she had time to think about how that conversation would go, she heard something. Or someone. She turned around to see a woman. A black dress that barred her shoulders, red gloves with a skull woven into them, and red tattoos on her shoulders were the first things Aeira noticed about her. The second was the umbrella, but she couldn’t see enough of it to truly describe it. She was smiling.



"...Hi?" Aeira said, hoping to prompt a response out of the mysterious woman in front of her. When the woman's face did not change, Aeira began walking towards the end of the rooftop. She didn’t want people to see two randoms on their roof. However, she was stopped by a small knife whizzing right past her ear. She saw it fly onto the next roof. At first, she didn't move. She slowly began to turn around, a look of extreme annoyance on her face. "What?"

The woman only smiled again.

Walking up to her, Aeira began to notice the clear height difference between the two. Despite Aeira barely being 5’6”, the black-haired woman’s head seemed to only come up to her chest. It was a rare occurrence for her to need to look down on someone, and even rarer for the person shorter than her to appear like a fully grown woman. Despite Aeira’s slow walk towards her, the other still had the same carefree grin on her face.

Aeira noticed the distance between the two and stopped. She began to run, but then opted to do a sideways kick, aiming for the woman in black’s head. The woman in black turned the canopy of her umbrella towards Aeira’s foot, using it as a shield. Aeira hesitated from the unexpected pain of her foot clashing against the umbrella. Noticing the opportunity, the woman in black spun her body around and swept Aeira’s other leg from beneath her. Aeira kept herself from falling on her back by turning and landing on her hand instead, using them to flip herself onto her feet. The woman had a puzzled look on her face, one that screamed ‘I know you can do better.’

It was a bad kick, one that was advertised and had no acrobatics implemented into it, unlike her usual attacks. Her ‘let me see if you’re actually good’ kick resulted in her being put into a situation where the woman in black could’ve easily taken the advantage further and potentially kill her. Aeira knew this. She also knew that the knife from before could’ve killed her. She was walking in a straight line, no efforts to make anything harder for someone to hit on her. It was meant to get her attention. Uncharacteristically, Aeira decided to not pull out her knife on the other. But a question was raised in her mind. If the woman in black wasn’t there to kill her, then what else was she here for?

The two stared at eachother. The woman in black ran forward to attack, but was interrupted by Aeira striking first. A jumping spin kick was blocked by the woman’s umbrella, yet she didn’t forsee Aeira’s speed. The block didn’t stop her momentum, and she quickly landed and sweeped at the woman’s legs. The woman jumped back, performing a flip. Aeira turned into another kick, but the woman’s flip dodged it perfectly. She followed the woman’s landing. Aeira ran up as she did for the side kick earlier. This time, she jumped instead of the kick. The woman, expecting the same attack, stuck out her umbrella to block it again. Aeira used the umbrella as a surface to hop off of. The woman turned around and repositioned her umbrella to go under Aeira’s foot. She used the umbrella to jump off it again, this time backflipping off it. The woman jumped away and disengaged, buying time for her to prepare herself for Aeira's next attack. A smile still remained on her face.

“Do I know you from somewhere?” Aeira asked. The woman looked up as if she was thinking, then shook her head. “Do you know me from somewhere?” Aeira rephrased her question. The woman nodded immediately. Aeira’s mind went back to the fight.

Aeira knew she didn’t have the opportunity to start being defensive. The woman had a shield, Aeira did not. She was also shown to have knives to throw. Who is to say she doesn’t have a gun? With this in mind, Aeira charged at the woman again. She feinted a kick towards the head. The woman pointed the canopy up to the right, allowing Aeira to go in for a punch. The woman sidestepped her punch and moved towards Aeira’s side. Aeira threw another punch as she wasn’t in kicking range. The woman backstepped and redirected it. Aeira took the momentum and spun around into a spinning backfist, making sure to be closer. The woman in black redirected her attack yet again. Aeira decided to use the momentum yet again, this time going for another leg sweep. The woman gracefully stepped outside of the sweep’s range. She then stepped back in, using her free hand to deliver a punch straight to Aeira’s cheek. A laugh could be heard from the woman, but she stopped it immediately as if it was on accident.

The blue-haired girl looked around. Nope, no people.

Aeira was put on her stomach. She rolled to the side, evading any other hits the woman would throw at her. Once on her back, she got herself up. She didn’t have time to wear the woman out, and she didn’t want to, either. She needed to end this, as quickly as possible. People had to have been coming soon, right?

The woman was able to either evade or block every attack, yet those were all with the intent of wearing her out. Aeira needed to disarm her. The center of the canopy was a darker color than the rest. It was also where the woman was aiming when blocking and redirecting attacks. Logically, it’d be the only part of any actual use in defense.

‘Aim for the outside.’ Aeira moved in, drop-stepping into a jab. The woman redirected it easily. ‘Too close,’ she thought. She moved in again. She jumped, spinning and kicking as she had done before. The woman redirected it, but the distance between her and Aeira made her require more precision than before. The redirection made Aeira spin several times mid-air, but she landed on her feet. She was getting closer to her ideal range. The woman then closed her umbrella, charging at Aeira. She started using it as a rapier, thrusting at Aeira’s head. Aeira sidestepped it. The woman thrusted again, several times, ending in a slash. Aeira continued to sidestep them, keeping her eyes on the woman’s hands. She ducked the slash and looked up. The woman had to have known that Aeira would dodge all of it; her moves were telegraphed. It felt like she was being played with.

They heard the sounds of a motorcycle, both of them looking away to see where it came from.

They had to move quick. Aeira presumed that the woman would have less time to think now. Aeira’s own gameplan didn’t change. She started a series of several kicks. The woman blocked the first and dodged the second, spinning into blocking the resulting barrage with her umbrella. She then threw the umbrella into the air. Aeira kicked before she could catch it. The woman slipped under it, catching her umbrella and charging towards Aeira with it. Aeira, caught off guard, put her right foot onto it. She spun into an axe kick. The woman stepped back and attempted to block it. She had miscalculated, however, and it resulted in the umbrella being knocked to the ground. In the moments before it landed, Aeira couldn’t see the woman. The canopy covered her face. With the element of surprise on her side, the woman punched Aeira in the gut. Aeira stepped back, disoriented from the force of the blow. The woman took the opportunity to run up and drop kick Aeira. The kick sent Aeira off the roof and down towards an alleyway. She managed to reorient herself, grabbing onto a staircase railing on the side of a building. She dropped down and landed, knowing the drop wasn’t too far to hurt her.

Curiously, the woman didn’t follow. She instead picked up her umbrella and fled, dropping a small piece of paper. She hit deceptively hard for someone of her size, stronger than Aeira ever had. A super strength mutant? Possibly. But if she had held back so many times in their short encounter, then surely the woman wouldn’t bring out her power then? What was her name?

So many questions, and none of them were answered when Aeira grabbed the paper out of the air. Before reading it, she took out her phone, texting the ‘cool girl’ contact ‘you wanna do that meet up thing?’ Looking back down to the piece of paper, she read:



‘What the fuck.’

She also looked to see a man sitting on another man's back.

'What the fuck?'

"Why?" She asked, tilting her head.

The whole debacle left a bad taste in Nari's mouth. She hated seeing innocents, especially powerless innocents, be attacked by those with powers. But, she also got another taste of fighting, and she couldn't deny the love of feeling her adrenaline flowing and the sight of her enemies falling before her. It was...exhilarating. The MSU quickly mopped up the area and arrested the mutants she and Sheffield had dispatched. After a long bout of questions, ID and license checks, and general annoying pseudo-accusations, Nari was let go to return to her stand. She sighed in both annoyance and exasperation at the notion of dealing with the restrictive amount of red tape and prejudice as well as losing out on gaining new customers.

The stand, compared to others nearby, came down swiftly as she used the plants comprising it to carry her goods back to her company van. She, with the help of various vine creatures, packed everything into the vehicle and strapped it down. Nari grabbed a fresh green apple from her product and sat on the bumper of her van, taking a bite out of the apple as she thought. The sourness of the apple matched her sour expression at the failure of the day. Deep down, she wondered if she needed to return to the streets at night again, but she couldn't make a decision like that without knowing if villains were once again out of control. She absolutely wanted to get into more fights, but she couldn't risk her life without good reason anymore.

​
Cold stone coated an old, forgotten foundation. The sound of dripping water droplets making their way to the now moist, black carpet of rock was one of the few reminders that beyond the cracked ceiling, there was a still inhabited world. Darkness was expelled by the illumination of dim lights, some of which were flickering in the blackness of seemingly endless corridors. An aching pain remained persistent within the poor, artificially created mutant as he woke, restrained to the surface of a cold, unforgiving steel table. Slowly, a pair large, black eyes began to scan the room with fatigued attempts, a blurry sight meeting them. What had struck, that stinging sensation in his neck, it had been a tranquilization dart. Once the situation began to settle, Milo managed a soft, tired breath. He had been captured. "There we are," came a female voice, prompting the restrained boy to shift his attention towards the sound. "Apologies for the rough treatment," she continued. Milo was able to note the scrambling of equipment, as the woman was rowing them onto a metal cart. "The soldiers aren't very civil, I admit." A thick, German accent brought many scenes of countless movies to the forefront, allowing Milo to recall a most stereotypical disposition of crazed scientists. As sight slowly returned, he could make out the blonde haired woman dressed in a white coat, her hands covered in blue latex. Indeed, she checked all the boxes, as one might say. "But sometimes, a rough approach is demanded, I fear." Milo felt cold hands tracing their latex-covered surface across his exposed torso. "You are quite the remarkable specimen. No bellybutton. The MSU has managed something amazing, truly."
​
"I am just a resource," Milo finally offered a response of his own, prompting the woman to raise a brow.
​
"Aren't we all?" She asked, injecting a needle into the boy's vain as he clenched his teeth from the pain. Within moments, a white fluid filled the syringe, "your blood is astounding..," she stated, appearing amazed by the boy's oddly colored sanguine liquid. "You are more than one would be willing to give you credit for, no? Organic, yes, but..," she filled a tube with the boy's blood and corked it. "A doll, filled with stuffing, all the same. It will be fascinating to see what's beneath the skin, don't you agree?"
​
Clenching his teeth, Milo gulped down the fear now climbing his spine. This woman was going to vivisect him.
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​
An immense pounding in his head prompted Maksim to wake. The young boy groaned as one eye opened first, the blurry picture of a cold, hard floor of stone greeting his sight as the other eye opened. Maks sat silently for a few long moments, listening to his surroundings. He could hear himself breathing rather heavy, but besides that all he could make out was the sound of the occasional drop of water hitting a cold stone floor. The young boy didn't realize his hands were tied behind his back until he attempted to sit up.
The young boy felt his shoulder pop, promting him to clench his teeth at the sudden pain. He positioned his legs in front of him, pushing off the ground with his forehead and using his knees to push his body off the ground. The young boy sat up, using a wall directly behind him to lean against as he looked around.
Three sides of him bore rusty, metal bars, and behind him was a cold cobble wall. Looking down at his body, Maks realized all he was wearing were his torn pants and a wet, baggy t-shirt. His jacket and shoes were both gone causing the boy to frown as a shiver ran up his spine.
​
"Hello?" he called out, hearing a slight echo, but no immediate response.
​
Maks clenched his teeth as his head began to pound again. Reality started to set in, and Maks couldn't help the tears that began to run down his cheeks. Where was he? Why was he here? And where was the other boy?
He coudn't fight back the tears that kept coming, so he closed his eyes. Maksim was terrified, and he could feel his powers threatening to take over. Something he was also terrified to let happen.
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Feeling a sharp pain in his side, Milo gasped, inhaling a sharp breath, followed by a groan of pain. The doctor had made an insicion. "Remarkable," she mumbled for herself, gazing upon the boy as if he was a spectacle to behold. "Amazing, your body is a gold mine of information..," she placed the scalpel on the metal cart, its razor blade coated in white blood. Needless to say, the torture forced the boy to cry out more than once, his aggressor's curiosity putting him under the mercy of a deranged doctor's knife.
​
Through the pain, Milo considered the countless possible outcomes which could come to pass. Where was the boy he had spoken to before he was brought here. Was he in this forgotten corner of lunacy, as well? Was he being greeted in a similiar manner, where steel connected with flesh? Once the doctor was finished, she slipped out of her blue, rubber gloves, and started towards the door. "I will return, shortly," she explained, leaving her test subject restrained to the surgical table, wounds now crossing his frame with white blood coating pale skin.
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​
Maks sat against the cold stone wall, knees pulled up to his chest and his head resting on those knees, arms still bound behind his back. Should one be close, they would be able to hear the quiet sobs as the boy sat there, lost and desperate for answers.
The near silence of Maks' prison was broken when the sound of a cry echoed through the corridors. As it reached Maksim's ears, the boy's head shot up. Eyes open and filled with tears, he looked around. He took a few stuttered breaths as he stood slowly stood, careful not to lose his balance as he walked up to a door he could make out in the bars. It was locked, as the boy already knew, but he leaned against it, listening again for the cries. Not a few moments went by as he heard more, his ears picking up something familiar about them. It was the other boy. What was happening to him?
​
Maks tried pulling on the bindings around his wrists which kept his arms behind his back, then he tried ramming against the door. After a few tries with Maks right shoulder, it began to ache and the boy knew he wasn't going to get anywhere.
Stepping back, Maks took a deep breath, closing his eyes. He could feel his powers on edge, he could feel the need to lose control. But where would he get if he couldn't control himself?
More tears ran down the boys cheeks as he attempted to tap into that power, He hadn't the slightest clue what he was doing, but Maks had to try.
After a short minute had passed, Maks felt a surge of... something. It ran up his spine and through his bones. Was this it? Or was he just feeling nonsense? Even if it wasn't his powers, he had to try.
​
The young boy pulled on his arms, eyes closed and face showing obvious discomfort as he forced himself past the pain he felt. Suddenly he heard something snap and felt his wrists pull apart from each other. Maks opened his vibrant blue eyes to see his wrists free of the bindings. He smiled a little, wiping the tears from his eyes as he backed up to the stone wall. Suddenly the boy pushed off of it, running as fast as he could and using his left shoulder as he ran into the door. The lock on the rusty door broke and Maks fell to the ground on the other side, catching himself by surprise as after a few moments, he stood up. He wasted no time however, and hurried towards the cries which he could still hear echoing through the corridors.
​
Soon Maksim found himself hiding around a corner, watching as a lady in a long white labcoat entered the hallway. The boy was quick but silent, hurrying over to the door and catching it before it shut. He watched the lady as she strode away, making sure he wasn't caught as he entered the room, allowing the door to close behind him.
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​
Feeling consciousness fading, Milo found himself slipping in and out of the realm he so desperately clung to. Who was going to save him, in here? He had no idea where he was, how long he had been gone and if the MSU knew of his absence. When that doctor returned, she would continue to cut into the boy, exposing what was hidden beneath his skin, her true masterpiece awaiting fruition. As of yet, she had left several incisions on Milo’s body, a small taste of what was to come. If he could, in fact, fade into a world of dreams, the proposition sounded tempting, to say the least.
​
It was ironic, in a way. He was born in a laboratory, and now, he would die in one. Closing his eyes, Milo took a deep breath, the pain from his wounds blending into a haze he could scarcely feel. Rather, he had been robbed of energy, leaving the artificial creation craving an escape in the way of vacancy of consciousness. However, as Milo was willing to let this play out, the blurry image afforded him revealed someone by the doorway, someone small. It was not the doctor, that much was certain, indeed. Without uttering a word, Milo let his head fall back to the metal table, his breathing slow and quiet.
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​
Had Maksim grown through the normal life of a young child, sheltered from the horrors of conflict and the reality of death, seeing the other boy on the table might've caused him to freeze in horror. As it was, Maks hadn't grown up that way. He had seen his fair share of blood, violence, and even gore on the streets of Azure City.
​
He couldn't, however, hold back his feelings of worry for the boy on the table. Maks looked back at the door as he approached the other boy, wary of both the lady should she come back, but also thinking about how he would get out. Maks pulled a short stool from the corner of the room, dragging it over to the table and stepping up on it. He looked over the poor boy strapped to the table, his attention momentarily taken by incisions and the lack of red blood over what seemed to be white blood. This confused Maksim for a moment, but he didn't let it distract him.
Vibrant blue eyes looked to the bindings which held the boy on the table in place. Taking the scalpel from the nearby cart, Maks began to cut the bindings which held Milo's arms and legs.
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​
Feeling the restraints giving way for freedom, Milo opened his eyes, if slowly and tiredly. There he was, the boy from before. The boy from the alley. Attempting to speak, Milo stopped himself, before a cough escaped his lungs. "You are..," the artificial mutant tried, slowly moving aside before small, bare feet met the cold floor beneath. "Thank you..," Milo shifted his focus from who this boy was, his saviour, to what he had done. It did not matter who this child was. No, nothing mattered, at this moment, other than escaping. Stumbling forward, Milo nearly fell over, had he not used the opposite counter as an aid. "She’ll be back, soon..," Replicant forced himself to speak further, despite the very notion bringing pain to his tired, sore body.
​
Wrapping slender fingers around a scalpel, the agent was aware that lethal force was an option he had always forsaken in lieu of better outcomes. However, he had no weapons, and stood in no more than a pair of boxer briefs to cover his privates. Never before had the boy been this exposed to strife. "We need to go..," Milo finished, taking another step before falling his knee, one hand placed on the metal table.
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​
Maks couldn't help but feel nervous as he watched the other boy struggle to stand, or even move. At first, he didn't know what to do to help. This other boy could hardly move, he seemed to be in a lot of pain, but they both needed to get out, quickly.
Taking a lesson from watching the police and other bystanders in Azure City, Maksim cautiously took one of Milo's arms and carefully put it around his neck, using his left shoulder to hold most of the other boy's weight, as his right one was a little tender. Maks then grabbed the boys left hand with his right, noticing that it didn't help as much as intended since Milo was slightly taller than him. Still, Maks needed to help him or else they wouldn't be getting anywhere fast.
​
He wasted no time in leading Milo to the door, blue eyes still blazing as he did his best to prop it open and peek out into the corridor.
​
"I don't know which way...," Maks whispered, trying to indicate he didn't know which way would be the quickest, and which would offer an escape out of their stone prison.
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​
How ironic it was, the consciousness Milo had been granted through the pursuit of scientific discovery. The boy who appeared so scared, so persistent in hiding from all of which brought him into the light, was now helping Replicant through the darkness of a nightmare. The world was, as some would say, a very small locale, where what went around, came around. "You’re doing great..," the agent encouraged, managing a soft smile as he turned to the smaller mutant. It was a genuine expression, indeed, the feeling of comfort washing over him, for but a brief moment, knowing that he was not alone. "We are left guessing." There was no way for either of them to know the layout of their prison.
​
Moving further, the two boys slowly proceeded through the endless darkness lit up by little more than the dim touch of miniscule light bulbs. They would soon come to note the sound of heavy footsteps, as opposed the padding of their own, silent feet. They proceeded to hide wherever they could. If there was an obstacle present, it would act as their defender, obfuscating their slight frames from the sight of patrolling guards. If nothing but endless space appeared before them, the boys would move as quickly as their legs allowed, slipping into rooms where they could hide behind walls. This process eventually landed them in what appeared to be an office, documents strewn across a desk, with several bookshelves rowing the walls.
​
Eyes widened as Milo saw the stamp on a document. Quadcell. This was starting to make sense, now. Reaching for the door, Milo closed it with haste, and stumbled toward the desk. He wasted no time in scrambling for its contents, looking through the slew of papers and notebooks. Amidst the paperwork, in a drawer, the boy noted a Colt M1911 handgun. A convenient development, truly, but considering the nature of this office, Milo had expected there to be a weapon for self defense tucked away.
​
Releasing the magazine from the handle, a dim, blue hue washed over its shape, before Milo slid it back. "My absence will have been noticed. We need to make haste."
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​
As the two boys made their way through the stone prison, Maks had to constantly reassure himself that all was well, when it obviously wasn't. He had made it this far, but every moment that went by he could feel the need to lose control att he back of his mind. Losing control was the only thing that the boy feared outside of their current situation. If he let his powers overtake him, would he end up hurting the boy next to him? Would he even be able to escape this prison without the ability to remind himself of the situation?
So as the two boys made it to the office, Maks let go of Milo and watched as he rummaged through the desk. The young Lycanthrope took this time to calm himself, taking deep breaths and thinking about the things he loved most. The sound the pistol made as Milo slid its magazine back into place brought Maks back into reality. He looked at the weapon, uncertainty written all over his face.
​
As if his mind remembered their situation and the need to keep control knocked the forefront of that, Maks looked away from the weapon and took a few steps to get closer to Milo, offering assistance to get around if the other boy still wished it.
Once that was decided, Maks went back to the office door, reaching up and turning the rusty handle before cautiously looking back out into the corridor.
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