---

From the safety of her riptide, Six watched as the boy noticed her. Well, her presence, to be exact. The same way that she could ascertain the boy a threat, he could understand that whatever was under the ground was just as dangerous. She watched as he ran and left no respite for Six. Had he stopped to sate his curious desire, he could have faced the barrel of a pistol. It wasn't a good thing for Six that he listened to the danger.

But being in the riptide was like cheating. It was hard to see, but one could see until the complexity took over. In such a simple landscape—snow, open air, and trees—one could easily see the dangerous boy running back to the big snow vehicle. If the boy could sense danger like that, then she would need an actual distraction. Either someone who could avoid that ability of his or enough cannon fodder to preoccupy him. At least, she hoped. If his ability let him crush multiple heads at once, then she'd probably need to rethink her game plan.

By blessing, a new ally (or so she prayed) flew onto the scene in a car. The occupants were too difficult to discern. Someone moving at that speed in a vehicle was practically invisible. The car slammed on the breaks and the driver got out. They shot at her enemy, luckily. Then a familiar figure hopped out the back. A terrifying man as always; fat, horrible, but he moved like an angel of death. But the question was, did she ask for help? Could she handle it on her own?

Fat bastard or crushed skull?

...

...

Fat bastard it was.

Quickly swimming to the car, she swam into the back seat and hopped back into the real world. Soaked in water, she emerged to the frost instantly collecting on her clothes, shivering as she rolled onto the hidden safety of the back seat's floor. The wetsuit she always wore wouldn't be able to keep her warm forever. She was used to cold, though. As long as this wrapped up quickly, she could warm up later. Frostbite was a bitch, but so was headcrush. Out of the two of them, you were considerably more likely to survive the former.

"Fucking kid crushes heads!" She choked out at the fat bastard. These were practically her first words she spoke to him by her own volition. "He's hiding behind the big vehicle thing!" She vaguely pointed to its direction from inside the car. Would the handler able to deal with it on his own? Honestly, maybe. Anything to increase her chance of living through the sudden firefight.

---

^{｢ Geneva, Switzerland | January, 23 | Midnight ｣}
The familiar warmth of Emm's presence brought a much-needed solace to Seven's despairing, at least for a second. Upon finally setting her eyes on him—something that, before today, was a cure-all for her—the momentary respite would be replaced with a sinking feeling at the pit of her stomach. That mask, that smile; it was all she could see when she closed her eyes and the grisly fate that befell her brother played over and over in her head. Why was he wearing it? Did he know what happened to her brother? Did he let this happen?

There were so many things she wanted to do and all at once: tear that mask off Emm so she could look at his face, yell, hug Emm and make him tell her everything will be okay, cry, find out how to make Ten better, kill everyone responsible for this, eat, talk to Ten, kill them all, find her brothers and sister. But in the end, she had been drained of all energy to do anything more than wallow and continue cradling Ten's lifeless, headless body. Even Emm's unusually gentle gesture, one she would have leapt over the moon to receive, didn't get the proper consideration.

His words did, though. Said with his face under the mask that haunted her, Emm's threats hit harder than usual. Her light abruptly dimmed and wavered, not completely turned off but no longer out of her control.

Seven hugged Ten closer to her when the top-hatted man appeared. He was mocking, infuriating, cruel. The man gave Ten no more than a passing glance, with the same nonchalance in his recounting of Ten's friend's death, and he left as quickly as he'd arrived, his hysterical laughter echoing harshly in her ears.

The sudden loss of Emm's touch affected her more than she realized, but he had given her another gift in its stead.

With a nod, Seven accepted what Emm offered. After setting Ten gently against a wall, she tuned her light so that it would draw the crowd in, closer and closer until they all swarmed around her. The effects of her light differed from person to person, in intensity and sensation, but eventually everyone would be spurred into a euphoric state unlike anything they would have ever experienced. Better than any drug or vice they might have indulged in. Seven let the crowd get immersed in this bliss, waited until each and everyone of their eyes turn glassy and unfocused, until their smiles reach ear to ear.

Then she took it all away.

One by one, Seven stole unadulterated jubilation and replaced it with the all-encompassing dread and sorrow she felt now. She relished the manifest loss of hope in their eyes, and the slow understanding of their impending demise. Seven was never usually cruel like this. When she feasted, she did it with friends, did it so they would always be together. This time was different, however. These people were not friends, but enemies who have played a part in her brother's death.

She ripped their heads clean off their body, one person after another, and devoured them. Within minutes, a dozen or so headless bodies littered the front of the building, their fine clothing soaked through with the crimson of their blood.

When she finished the last of the crowd, Seven tried to wipe her face clean with her sleeves, but it was just as covered in blood and only smeared streaks across her cheeks. She knelt down to where she had left Ten and carried his body again, whispering an apology to him even though there was nothing to whisper to.

"Can we go home now?" she asked Emm, more to have something to say rather than actually meaning it. All she wanted was to get away from this terrible place. Take Ten home and maybe bury him somewhere. What should she tell her brothers and sisters?

Emm probably just has another order for her, though.

---

The lack of chance to consume her kills grated on Fourteen as she walked side by side with her Handler. Regardless of their mission, objective, or whatever else he wanted to call it, he had been right in consideration of her attitude to those she killed - she hated being wasteful. Not because she wished to prolong her losing control - although she enjoyed the chance to extend it to four weeks as opposed to two, it was something she could cope with. It was because Fourteen didn't like killing in the first place. But on top of that, deaths in vain were the worst imaginable. If she had to kill, eating would always be her port of call.

Social anxiety, therefore, was a misrepresentation on his part of her personality. It wasn't that she was bashful. Fourteen simply attempted to distance herself from the act of killing as best she could, retreating into herself whenever possible on their outings. Despite the frustration that had begun to build, at her her Handler for forcing her to kill those people in vain, she took some comfort in his voice, and his presence, always at her side. The dissonance wasn't as lonely with him around, and in some capacity she was grateful, all the walk to the docks.

"That would be nice," Fourteen replied, as she cleared and reloaded one of the handguns looted from the bodies previous. She eyed the veritable compound, counting the different men and women she saw by the nuances in their attire, weapons, and other subtle, yet distinguishing features. If there were any killings missions that she could abide by, without emotionally removing herself from the scene, it was those like these. Assassination jobs or there-about's, executing those that weighed upon the scales of evil, and perpetrated sin across their lands. Even if Fourteen wasn't allowed to consume them, their deaths would not be in vain, "If you take point I'll make them all look at me. And if he runs, I'll find him."

But why him, Father?" she asked, hanging back for a second before beginning her assault, "He causes trouble, which makes England weaker, right..? More men like him makes it easier for The Church to do things here, so why do they want him dead when he helps, even if he isn't meaning to? Just because he's bad? I want to kill him because he's bad, but I'm confused..."

The precipitous and splitting agony ensnared every inch of Five’s skin, of which he had plenty. All rational thought blocked by the persistent and withering pain. The only other thing that he could think of; the screams of the populace. He was vaguely aware that the national police were beginning to arrive on the scene, their vehicles making slow progress through the crowd - but they were always nearby. He didn’t know what to do about it and he certainly couldn’t focus on anything long enough to try to think of a solution. Instinctually, Five’s long dark legs dragged his misshapen form to the water. Japan was a small island country and water was always close-by, especially after the sea levels rose.

Countless people had been torn apart in the seconds since the monster had appeared. Human lives, snuffed out in an instant. Children were in the majority; the day session of school had just got out. Their corpses littered the path which had been haphazardly carved out. Many were inexplicably in half or were missing arms or legs, the severed segments were nowhere to be found. Not that anyone was trying very hard.

The dead continued to pile as Five’s destructive path remained unfettered. But then… there was a voice. It sliced through the tumultuous uproar. It soothed Five’s nerves. The splitting pain remained but his mind was his for the moment and plenty of thoughts rushed in all at once. He was ashamed that father would be upset with him, perhaps even furious. He also considered what must have happened to him. With the pain… but he wasn’t able to decide what it must’ve been. He knew that he probably didn't have time to bother with it.

Before Five's next step touched the ground he shifted almost all of his mass to the shape of one of the people he'd just crushed. Five still loomed over the crowd, but they couldn't tell that most of the shadowy amorphous creature had nearly no mass. Then abruptly, the creature vanished. Five had moved the remaining mass to himself and the rest of the form didn't have enough matter to maintain opacity.

Afterward, he remained on the ground screaming. His voice couldn't be heard over the crowd and they wouldn't have heard him anyway, the corpse his face was nestled in absorbed the sound waves sufficiently. Those around him and first responders would probably think the woman he'd turned into had just lost a loved one. Not an uncommon sight just then.

N o t A S i n g l e S t a r
_________________________________
@Zoey White
"Copy" Antoine quietly muttered as he quietly crept out from the tub and slid the tacky shower curtains out of his way. The master bedroom had obviously been occupied by the person of interest that had been targeted, though even if Antoine could quietly silence the man- the whole point was to deploy the device in Akasha's possession.

"Easy in, easy out it seems. This sucks, I always get the boring missions. Thank you for the assistance Poison Ivy, I'll take it from here." Akasha hissed out in anger, quietly she opened the door of the laundry room entering the kitchen. She would then quietly kneel down unto the hardwood floor and unslung the pack from her back setting it down and unzipping it. The moment of truth, what exactly was the point of this whole mission? Akasha unveiled a metal device littered with wires, small flashing lights, and three glass phials of thick viscous red fluid.

The device hummed to life and begun to spin and whir as Akasha completely activated it. The fluid would begin to distribute trace amounts of red vapor into the air. Akasha held her breath as the substance began to slowly fill the room, her hand would flatten and beckon 2 to come closer, perhaps asking for assistance? "Push the red button once the room fills up." She quickly spat out, raising back to her feet and crawling back out of the window falling into the thorny bush thoughtlessly before beginning to cough hoarsely. She pulled the mask above her mouth and breathed in the fresh air as the smoky-unnatural flavors would be purified with that earthy Texas air.

Meanwhile, 2 would not be effected by the substance. Actually, the strong smell would be alluring to her- leaving a strange sensation throughout her entire body. Antoine would stand quietly and wait for the red vapor to make it's way through the house and finally into that bedroom in particular. "And that's my queue. Sweet dreams, princess." The tan gentleman spoke quietly to himself, these poor folks, just what exactly did they do to the church to deserve this? "Hit the button thirty seconds." He spoke into his communicator and quietly stepped back towards the bathroom, creeping behind the curtains and making his way to the window he entered from.

---

@OwO
"Oh my sweet 6. Everything is fine, completely and utterly fine. I called for that train after-all remember?" The chubby little blonde spectacled man spoke, the expression of nonchalance plastered up his face.

Within a few moments more reinforcements would begin to pull in from the south, likely having followed the car on it's way to the border. About fifty or so armed men unpacked themselves from the five utility vehicles that dregged through the snow, it was enough to even out the forces sent by whoever this attacking agency was. They coagulated themselves into formations and forced themselves forward pressing the majority of the enemy forces behind the snow train. That damn thing was a tank, refusing to even take a dent from the barrage of bullets that poured down onto it's left-facing side. The fat bastard gave 6 a quaint pat on the head, running his fingers through her hair for a few moments before returning it to his side and beginning to walk towards the large vehicular shield. Bullets would take aim at our fat bastard a few times, though he would gracefully manage to avoid them each time. Eventually he would reach the side opposing the mass of enemy soldiers at this snow-tank, the chubby little man would place his black boot square onto the long square step that ran along this side. And then, he would pull at the large metallic door opening the-

And then, something in the handler's mind told him to slam that door shut. He quickly jumped down before remembering what 6 said about the assailaint she had faced. "It couldn't be." He snarled, flashing his teeth, the look of unyielding anger and a psyche struggling to maintain it's composure would be plainly visible for all to see. But then, just as quickly as that look appeared- he wiped some drips of drool from his lower lip and flattened his back to the door before screaming out to the promised child. "Inside the train!" Hearing the man scream, the psychic boy glared down in anger- another opportunity had now passed and he would need to think quickly or this opportunity would pass once again. He stared down, and struggled to speak- as he so rarely could. "Sister."

---

@ERode
The pilot gasped as this whole interaction between himself, the child, and the gunsteel amalgamation went down. But still, even the PTSD would have to wait as the radio began to speak in German, though he was not fluent in such a language. "Fuck it, let's head towards that gunshot." He pointed, a look of stress upon his face. These guys weren't anything that the Saint couldn't handle but, the fact that they had gotten the intel to attack her of all people was unnerving to the man.

On her front, the Saint had been making a slow predatory advance towards the sniper. He was camouflaged beneath a white ghillie suit and a blanket of snow, but this woman wasn't your run-of-the-mill mercenary. To be endowed with the title of "Saint" you must first die, this is symbolized by the church erasing all prior history of the person- sometimes they would even kill all members of their family even bleeding into the extended. Then the person must become a servant of god, simply working for the church doesn't really classify for this, you need to assist the church greatly to be considered such a thing and as such it takes a few years of hard service to accomplish. The third step is to perform a miracle, while there are thousands of rumors about this- nobody really knows what this entails but there are only a handful of saints so something near impossible being enacted would make sense. And then canonisation, which results in the being renamed to that of Saint ______. Saints are the closest thing people could relate to a promised child, they have been witnessed taking on entire battalions of people on their own. And our lovely Saint Augustine was enacting this right now, though she was definitely not suited for long range. She quickly darted behind tree after tree to avoid the sniper rounds, the cold was painful, but the adrenaline throughout her body pushed her forward for survival. Eventually she would catch a glimpse of the flash of gunfire and the woman's feet would dig deep into the ground and her eyes would momentarily glow golden. As she kicked the earth out from beneath her feet the earth would lightly for a moment, snow, roots, and rubble all flying away in her accelerated movement. To any who would see, it would seem as though she was flying- cuts forming along her face and shoulders as she swept through branches and shrubbery until eventually reaching the estimated location of the sniper. This person quickly rose to their feet, but it was too late as the Saint came down with a clenched fist to the earth below.

B o o m!

---

@Rune_Alchemist@Kazemitsu
3's stronger explosion would actually result in greater damage than the spectator would expect, the warping the frame of the Gardna and knocking the magnetized plating clean off. However, their one-on-one strength was quite definitely not their purpose. They were a formated based attack unit, and upon seeing one of their fellow men be wounded so greatly, four of the Gardna engaged upon the shadow-wielding assassin ferociously. Their weapons were less uniform, did these machines actually have some form of sentience? Nonetheless, they slashed out with their spears in different intervals. The frontmost would follow 3's movements even noticing his use of shadows and began to reactively stab and lunge into the patches of darkness preemptively. The second would be in constant movement, patrolling the location faster than all of the other guards in exchange for the lack of any form of guard. The third held broke his spear in hald, using one half of the weapon's pole to jab into itself prying open it's core to give the light within it's body more exposure creating a sort of "body flashlight" following the first's attacking Gardna and seemingly attempting to extinguish the shadows that he attacked upon. The last one moved up to defend the wounded Gardna, was the only of the ones with personality to maintain some defensive stance and stood resillient in an attempt to stave off any incoming attacks.

Meanwhile, our acid-spewing child up top would be successful in causing her opponents to fall down a level and disintegrating many of the wiring that ran through that level of ceiling which resulting in the lights on the second-floor to completely go out. What an opportune accident! This second group of Gardna would regroup as they made contact with ground once again, they formed a circle with their spears extended out defensively.

BEEEEEEEEEEP!

An ear piercing screech would be emitted at every corner of the building's speaker system, it would disorient the promised children and likely cause them a noticeable amount of pain. And then smoke, thick black clouds would roll out from every vent overpowering the poisonous vapor that flowed before. It was difficult to breath in even for these promised children, humans would likely die of asphyxiation quite quickly- how would they handle it? Probably better than your average human but it would still be rough to inhale.

---

@Melkor
5's keeper reached through the crowd and outstretched a hand to grasp his masquerade that was created by the wrist. She tugged at it and with her shredded lady strength would be most likely be able to lift the figure up and would begin to pull her out from the crowd. People within the crowd looked at Henrietta strangely as 5's manifestation would begin to be dragged upon the concrete away from the situation. But this whole endeavor would be cut short as the police and military began to arrive. There wasn't a lot, two HUMV's holding six agents within each. They streamed out and quickly forced their way through the crowd of now confused people.

"Where is this monster?" Asked one green-capped man in Japanese fatigues.
"IT JUST RANDOMLY DISAPPEARED! IT KILLED A BUNCH OF PEOPLE!" Screamed a distressed citizen, tears wellen in their red eyes.

There was indeed an entire scene of visceral, horrible, carnage stretched across the area. The soldiers grimaced and one of them with a black medical mask began to take samples of the gore placing them into small clear vials. Were they actually trying to protect the citizens or were they just conducting research? Henrietta took a few deep breaths before kneeling down and helping 5 up. She made eye contact with the disguised figure and looked at him with a stern, serious expression. "You've devoured more than most of your brothers and sisters. If you don't stop, I'm going to have to end the mission and send you back to get repurposed. You probably don't remember what that means, but, I can assure you that you won't like it. So calm your god damned appetite, you fucking demon."

---

@Eleven
"Nope. We would've if your brother's Keeper didn't make a whole stink out of things. But now we're actually going to be heading to the battlefield, not like you care, but I actually enjoyed the laidback job we had here. We're heading north to join the effort against Russia. Gabriel said that your voracity is better suited killing heretics, so that's where we will be heading. For now, we wait for our ride- they'll take us to whatever transportation they wanna offer us."

Emm was clearly angered by this whole interaction, though it was obvious that anger was not entirely aimed at the promised child but instead at the scenario. Though his indifference towards her did always seem to anger her, though, he wholeheartedly did not care about how she reacted to his personality as it was his job to watch her and maintain her safety, not make sure she's a happy camper. He mindlessly watched the massacre of the people who wandered out of the ballroom, plucking a cigarette from out of his pocket and plopping the thing in his mouth before taking a long drag of that wispy grey smoke. His eyes rolled, and then fixated on the parking lot as a smaller black car made it's way by and stopped directly before him. The man in the passenger seat quickly got out and opened the rear door facing Emmanuel and bowing to him, and then Emm quietly got into the back seat and called out. "Let's go. You may actually be able to speak to one of your brothers or sisters on this mission. We'll see how my mood is."

---

@Vocab
"Because god wills it, sweet child. And as the hands of our beloved father of all, we must perform these actions without needless though. Smite down those who oppose us, burn their corpses, eat their ashes, and move on to the next."

He then calmly took the fourteen's order, taking point, and he was very extra about it. He seemed to slip out of a psychological presence in reality, turning this into some sort of video games as he formed his hands into a finger gun and quietly crept towards the entrance of the docks. His stomach rumbled, he was hungry, would that be heard by these patrolling enemies? Nope definitely not, many of them were off their guard- talking amongst eachother, smoking joints, drinking. Most of the cover on their way to this location was in the form of towering stacks of aluminum and wooden crated. They worked nicely as the priest went James Bond popping behind each of the towers for cover, he would wave his hands out towards fourteen to come match his movements as he lead the charge. He would then look at her, and silently count with his lips 1.. 2.. 3... "Hello! Heathens of this dying country, God has come to save your sorry souls and take you to the golden gates of heaven. Now, join me in this accelerated salvation!" He flashed his teeth, shut his eyes and then aimed his finger gun at two of the mercenaries. Strangely, the people he aimed at just fell over unconscious, or perhaps they actually died? This priest was such an enigma.

Upon his little act, several groups of these armed individuals began to fire towards him as he ducked back behind the nearest tower of shipping crates. Ten or so others ran towards the eastern building which had already been pretty tightly guarded, the detail had roughly doubled in size. And now it was up to fourteen to take care of the rest, his old tricks would only work the first time with this many people.

---

@Savo
"Takeout is fine, just make sure she doesn't leave the location. She'll have eyes on her for the next couple months, this is our only chance. So don't fuck this up. Drag it out if you need to." The ginger-haired handler's voice was a start contrast from 9's.

Meanwhile, the grand and powerful Ms. Ridenour had just been leaving the embassy with several security details in tow. Waiting outside for them all was the French Ambassador, two other cronies, and a female mercenary hired for the ambassador's own security- poor woman. As the large group of government officials moved to their bulletproof vans, cars, truck, it was actually a pretty diverse convoy of vehicles- the chancellor would look back to an older bald man at her left before entering the large silver van that was her ride. "Make sure that the shipment paperwork gets done by the end of the month. Less than a week Theodore, that's all you have, and if you don't get it done- your weapons will be dispersed among the people of Germany and that is all." She spat angrily, her eyebrows crossing as she domineered in height over the man.

"Y-yes ma'am. Though, I am confused why the Americans wish for this technology anyways- I understand they plan to begin assisting the Russians soon, but don't they have their own weapons they are hoarding for themselves?" He was shrewd, or just outright terrified of the six-foot something raven-haired woman. She was quite imposing.

"You know how Americans are. They'll steal ideas from whoever they can." She snickered briefly before entering her vehicle and shutting the door. And upon this notion, the convoy was off, and the chancellors vehicle held three other people. The French Ambassador whom was believed to be an informant for them, leaking intel on the church to them- which he actually was, killing two birds with one stone here. Her driver was a trusted hitman and long-time friend of the chancellor a Polish man who simply went by 'Glove', and in the passenger seat next to glove was his apprentice in the making, a young girl with a shaved head- couldn't have even been in her twenties.

"Fifteen more minutes, 9, do your thing.." 9's handler tapped his watch.

"It's not poison ivy, it's shrub rose," Number Two corrected Akasha. Why everyone thought everything was poison ivy- 2 had no idea. It seemed the basic concept of "leaves of three, let it be" was beyond most people. It didn't matter, she wasn't trying to be friends with either of these two...except Antoine. Somehow. Maybe. She didn't like to think about Antoine.

Leaning to the left, Number Two got a better view of the mysterious device. Red liquid? Some kind of gas bomb? What the hell was in that thing? Could be anything. From mustard gas to dyed humidifier. But 2's gut told her it something far more sinister. Approaching once beckoned, she observed the red button. Once the room fills, (with gas?) she is to press. Suddenly, it began to emerge. Akasha was reacting quite strongly against the substance, and 2 felt she would have too aswell.
"Uh, okay." She said, looking and feeling concerned. But when the gas wafted against her nose, she found the smell...quite pleasant. It smelt really good. Watching Akasha leave, she turned back to the device and shuddered involuntarily. Tingles. What was in this thing? What was going to happen?

Antoine told her to wait thirty seconds, so she obliged. "Got it, Antoine." She responded eagerly. The thing continued to deliver it's unknowable gas. Thirty seconds would pass. Crimson vapor began to fill her vision. Squinting against the wisps, she waited a beat more and pressed the button.

"Here goes nothing. Am I going to be okay?" She asked into the ear piece.

St. Peterburgh, Russia
Midnight // JANUARY, 23

Julius watched how they reacted to that larger explosion, and how much damage it caused. [color=red]"Interesting, a hive mind of anger...and utterly useless against me."[color=red] He said as each robot did something different. "It's amusing that they adapt so well, but I'm not a normal opponent. Since you have information on us you must know that all of this is futile. He taunted, his Miracle was based off shadows and his imagination. There really was no hope for these robots and the person controlling them. It looked like they could adapt to everything and think of something for a singular uncreative opponent, but really it was just a slight obstacle.

The latest slash towards a shadow was sent skyward by a strangely shaped piece of darkness. The light of the core didn't dim it or get rid of it. Julius emerged in a...well flash wouldn't suit him. He popped out of the shadow faster than most people could react. He was covered in shadows at this point and the eyes of it were a solid white. The Promised Children were all quite strong, but his Miracle amplified his strength several times over. He honestly hadn't tested its limit, a bout of laziness on that.

Still he grabbed a hold of the robot that had been attacking shadows and lifted it up like it was a trashcan and launched it into the robot with the exposed core. Considering they didn't crack the tiles underfoot they most likely didn't weigh beyond six hundred pounds.

But now smoke was billowing from the vents and a loud beep rung out from the speakers. Which earned the spectator a laugh. "Smokescreen and trying to deafen? That's truly amusing." He called out, doubting he could be heard. His imagination was his limitation and he had his full coverage dampen louder sounds. He never needed earplugs. The smoke did affect him though, making it difficult to breathe, but it also cut out a good portion of the light. Thanks for making the shadows stronger... He thought idly as a spike of it erupted from the darkened ground up towards the 'wounded' robots core. The other had revealed exactly where they were when it pried its own chest open.

---

So they fell, and Eleven took the opportunity to follow them to the second floor. She landed on top of one of their heads, once again using her blade to pierce the space between its neck and body. Latching onto its head with her claw from behind, she pulled. With super human strength and using her blade as leverage, she attempted to rip off the things head before they realized what was happening...but that damn little rat had a few more tricks up his sleeve.

"The fu-gah-" Before she could get a decent grip on it, the deafening noise caused Eleven to flinch yanking hard on the things head. Defensively, she pushed off its body, landing a few feet away as she grimaced. "Geh...this guy...is really...going to have to join me for dinner when I find him, keh-heh..." Eleven chuckled darkly as she coughed twice more, standing up and positioning herself in front of them.

This smoke was making it hard to breathe, even for her. Her lungs could handle, indeed, she could even breath her own acid without a problem, but whatever this was, it was almost suffocating. Didn't help that the lights were out, down here, either. Still, his little trick worked. She lost her chance at an ambush, and this smoke was effectively nullifying her acid. Seemed once again, all she could do was run here.

She needed to keep calm, inhale as little of this as possible and either find Three, or where this little rat was hiding - so she made her way to the first floor.

“Roger dodger,” #13 went, before accelerating further. The thundering steps of the Sarcophagus boomed above the winter winds now, the military-grade monstrosity picking up more and more speed. Echoes of the Saint’s conflict reached visual range at this point, the detonation of dirt showing up clearly from the distance. Cool, she was fine!

Well, not as if she wasn’t ever going to be not fine.

Reaching out with his power, #13 let it all flow out again, extending towards the location of the blast before grasping over the rifle and any sidearms that the sniper held, ripping it out of the man’s clutches. It flew back with ferocious speed, before snapping into an empty part of the mismatched armor. Unarmed, the dude was probably definitely dead now, if he wasn’t before. Didn’t seem, at least, that intervention was necessary, and now #13 felt a bit bad for not trusting Saint Augustine’s abilities and staying place, but, well…

It worked out! It was fineeeee.

Slowing down to a walk and letting the (weirdly terrified) pilot off, the Frankenstein-esque mecha waved cheerfully at a distance with one hand, while the other hand twisted and unfolded to reveal the pilfered winter clothes #13 had appropriated from those Red Army fellows. He’d have to give his keeper the radio after she got properly dressed, huh? Maybe she could make sense of German.

---

Sister, the voice called out. Ah. That's right. Six wasn't alone. There were more like her. The voice of a boy so familiar... She almost looked out the window to reveal herself. She didn't, though. This wasn't an act of intelligence, strategy, or anything inbetween, however. No. She carried out some of the water held within the riptide in her clothes. The heat that once had been kept in that car had since poured out. Replacing it was the biting chill of snow. Frost had already began to form on her clothes. Fuck, it was cold. Six didn't look out the window simply because she was huddled onto herself trying to keep whatever body heat she could.

In fact, when the fat bastard ran his fingers through her wet hair, she didn't even react. That's how cold it was. Too cold to think about spewing the blood she had lapped up earlier. Then her handler called out again. Inside the train, he said. Was that her target? Well, she would make it fast. She didn't want to make it this far then die from the cold.

She began to take deep breaths. It wasn't a long distance, but it wasn't short, either. She placed the gun in her waistband after flicking the safety on. Didn't want to shoot herself in the hip, after all. Deep breath in. Deep breath out. Deep breath in. Then she kicked off, her body vanishing as it clipped through the seat of the car.

As fast as she could without drowning herself, she swam to the snow train. She barely had enough breath left in her. This was what her handler meant, didn't it? She entered the cab, the entirety of her body remaining in the riptide. Quickly, she pulled a knife out of her bag, placing it into her mouth. If the boy used his vision to kill, she would simply need to take away his vision. Quickly, she thrust her arms through where the boy's head would be. Where the boy's eyes met air, her arms erupted out. The boy would be unable to see, as no light was able to pass through skin, flesh, and bone. Then, her head erupted from his back. Swiftly, she moved the knife towards the boy's neck. She stopped suddenly before she could pierce.

His voice rang out in her head. Sister.

Her jaw became slack, knife falling onto the floor of the cab. She panted heavily, barely catching her breath.

"Open the door! He's blind now!" She yelled. It was a gamble. She didn't know what the boy was capable of. If she was wrong and the boy could kill merely by sensing that one was there then...

Man, Romania really sucked. She'd keep her fingers crossed that she'd go to somewhere nice next time. Bulgaria, for instance.

---

^{｢ Geneva, Switzerland | January, 23 | Midnight ｣}

Laidback job, Emm had said, and Seven looked down at her brother's body in her arms in confusion. Would all this have been avoided had Ten's friend not caused such a fuss about them? Was it something as simple as that? Seven glossed over what Emm mentioned about heading to the battlefield, having no strength left in her to protest as she normally would. Battlefields didn't suit her, but perhaps she'll feel differently about them today. Getting rid of those involved in her brother's death had been only mildly satisfying, and seemed to had the adverse effect of whetting her appetite.

Seven wondered if it would take more people to slake this hunger or the right one. The mere mention of his name had filled her with fury unlike she'd ever felt. She wanted to ask Emm so many things. Why must they follow the man who would kill her siblings for such minor infractions? Weren't they supposed to be special? Weren't they key to changing the world? Were they really so disposable?

But Emm's own anger pricked at her senses then, and almost instinctively, Seven was compelled to appease him. "That's not true. I care about you," she told him, almost defensively. "I want to do whatever makes you happy."

They waited for their ride in silence, with Emm smoking and Seven somberly cradling Ten's body. She would hold onto him for as long as she could, and despite everything, she held out hope that she could bury him, with all her siblings with her. How far she can take him, she'd just have to see. The black car that arrived shortly after was not as extravagant as the one prior, and the meek man that came out to greet them looked instantly repulsed at the sight of her. Soaked head-to-toe in blood and carrying a corpse, she supposed she shouldn't have been surprised. Still he ushered her in, and managed to keep from wretching all throughout.

Seven got in the car and sat opposite Emmanuel, carefully adjusting Ten on her lap so that he wouldn't be touching Emm at all. She had to be careful as always to not anger him any further, needed to dance around his ire and placate him with obedience. It was the only way to earn his love, and such a hard task that was.

After he'd mentioned the possibility of seeing—and getting to speak with!—more of her siblings, Seven regained some of the cheer she had lost. See, this was why she loved him. Her Emm knew exactly what she wanted.

She didn’t understand. This handler of Five’s simply couldn’t understand. She was human. A well built and really rather strong human, but a human nonetheless. She craved normal things, exercise, familial connection, entertainment, money. Five desired none of these things. From Five’s perspective, he was cursed to chase an ever-fleeting pleasure. He had the constant urge to feed. The pleasure diminished each time he fed. By now, as he ate he used the derived pleasure to draw foggy memories of the first time he fed.

He could hardly see it now, he vaguely remembered the pleasure he experienced as the irony blood rushed over his tongue and fed his pleasure centers. Now it was a slow creep by comparison as the pleasure coalesced. It was evanescent at best but it filled Five in an otherwise empty and hollow existence.

More than my siblings? Five couldn’t help but think that the others weren’t living up to their potential. He had grown to despise certain humans. He wasn’t sure if Father had built this hunger into him but it was the one thing he detested in an otherwise perfect man. If his father had made him to desire human flesh but had put him in a world where these humans, these cattle, had such a visceral reaction to him feeding, then that was cruel.

After some fifty metres or so, Five had began to properly use his feet again. The pain had dissipated to a dull and barely noticeable throb in the back of his head. Manageable. The had pushed through the growing crowd. The density increased as people realized that whatever the threat was, it was gone. Eyelids parted in the back of Five’s neck and a small eye took rapid glances around. Spotting carnage and tens of dead, if not more. More and more police arrived and seemed to be shifting into a rescue operation. Some military types were getting into their vehicles and were on their way out, letting the police do their thing.

“The monster that appeared suddenly plowed its way through the evening crowd with three hundred and seven confirmed dead.” The woman on the side of a building was saying to the crowd, describing the disaster they had all just experienced. As she spoke her image was moved to a corner and shrunk as a playback of the event was shown.

The clip began showing the large evening crowd. Hundreds, if not thousands, of people were eagerly making their way home or to work. All bumping into each other, the classic Japanese politeness had died when the cities became so ridiculously overcrowded that it was simply impractical. Then, a small gap formed somewhere in the center of the crowd and in seconds the gap was filled with this shadowy mass of unmatter. It rapidly grew into an amorphous blob with several legs holding it up and it began running through the crowd, large tendrils lashing out and tearing into the crowd as they tried to run away.

The clip went on for another few minutes and Five couldn't help but wonder what had happened. His mind had gone blank and his body experienced so much sudden pain in every receptor that he shut down for several minutes. Now seeing the result, Five couldn’t help but feel fear. Father would be furious. If it hadn’t been for the handler, he might have been captured. Five would need to control himself in the future. Perhaps the handler was right.

His view of the video was cut off as they passed into an alley and Five was sat against a wall. He wasn’t sure what their next move would be but he knew that he wasn’t going like his immediate future. He had lost contact with the handler and he had just killed hundreds, not counting the tens of people he’d eaten in the last few days. Humans were so irrational when it came to other members of their species.

---

Fourteen struggled to restrain a small, blossoming smile at her Handler's over-dramatised actions. Even amid a mission, surrounded by hostile forces and moments away from entering into potentially deadly combat, the semblance of jovial attitude in his movements and approach established a well appreciated reprieve. Unable to choose the missions she was sent on, and chained to the mantle of assassin regardless of her own wishes, it was a relished paradigm shift. If not for the dozens of armed men and women about the compound, she may have even laughed. Though difficult, the smile was all she could allow.

For a ways she followed along his path as he motioned her to follow, but towards the end of their journey, she began to hang back. As he counted down, she opted for the high ground; the stacks of crates and aluminium had served as substantial cover, but their verticality was another strength. Two of Fourteen's greatest assets were her genetically enhanced agility, and lithe form - despite the precarious nature of the tower, and the potential sound hazards it posed, she made short work of the climb, and finished perched over behind a ledge someways over three quarters up, keeping the structure between herself and the enemies visual range, in time for her Father to begin his impromptu sermon. She heard their bodies hit the ground, and prepared her own assault.

At the start of the gunfire, Fourteen began to shift her weight, forcing the precarious stack of cargo to readjust to its new load. Then she pulled herself up into a jump, leaping to another ledge a couple feet above, further weakening its stability, until she began to feel the shift. Stacking crate upon crate of illegal goods into multiple metre tall towards was unbearably unsafe. And something Fourteen fully intended to take advantage of, as the pillar split partway up its length, and began to fall, in the general direction of the mercenaries firing upon her Father.

The element of surprise on her side, and her body mostly obscured from enemy view as the tower collapsed, she reached into the waistline of her shorts, and withdrew the pistol she had recovered from earlier. Outgunned or otherwise, Fourteen had the upper-hand - compared to her, these people were just civilians armed with guns, about to be crushed by a monolith of munitions and drugs; easy pickings for her handgun and training, as her ride careened into the ground, scattering the contents and splintered wood across the floor of the compound. On instinct she entered into a roll, sweeping to the side of the impact to avoid the worst of it, and onto the body of a felled mercenary. With a deft movement, Fourteen scooped up the soldier's discarded automatic weapon, and settled it into a usable grip before ducking behind cover once more. Pistol on the floor at her side, she took to opening fire upon the other groups, hoping at least for some modicum of backup before making a proper push on the objective.

N o t A S i n g l e S t a r
_________________________________
@Zoey White
As the vapor slowly began to fill the house, rolling like red tide across the brown carpet upstairs and eventually making its way into the master bedroom - along with the children's room across the hall. As the substance crept underneath the door and circulated into the room it would eventually be inhaled by the officer and his wife, it would quickly wake the two awaken in a stupor and fit of coughing. But more curiously was their eyes becoming blood red, they gripped at their chests in pain as it welled up in their gullets. The captain began to react strangely once these symptoms had fully set in, instead of attempting to flee the room - he turned on his wife placing two hands upon her throat and began to strangle her. She was however reacting as well, snarling and spitting out in a fit of survival, flailing her arms out and scratching at her husband.

"Seems like whatever that mist was supposed to do has worked. Operation Ground-Zero is over, we need to get the hell outta here." Antonio quickly muttered into his comm and making his way back towards the road.

Akasha was still getting a grip on herself, ingesting a small amount of the substance after it's activation - she slowly made her way to follow after the handler at a weakened pace. "2, evacuate and head towards the road - the authorities will be here soon, probably." She wheezed out into her own comm, breathing out the pain in her words.

---

@OwO
"G o o d G i r l" The chubby little man slowly drawled out, his eyes squinting it slits as he quickly darted back through the door and plucking from his belt an especially red throwing knife and with a quick and nearly irresponsible finesse flung it straight at the young psychic boy. In a flash it planted itself straight through the boy's stomach, which in itself wouldn't be lethal outright to most - but he was a promised child - and these blades of crimson were specifically made for them.

The boy's mouth opened wide as he gasped for air, something within him screamed out as it was extinguished from existence. He wold struggle now, uncaring of the blade at his jugular and even pressing his neck against it while enacting this fit of survival. Just what exactly was this weapon? Well, the red would soon begin to darken to a gradual black until the entire blade was this inky color. That sense of danger that once welled up in each of the three, had been gone, now this promised child would only give off an aura of pity - and helplessness.

---

@ERode
The impending doom that was the gunmetal goliath was heard by our lovely Augustine, a confident smirk planted happily on her face as she stood atop the hillside with a boot heel planted upon the sniper's defeated face. Chumps is all these guys were - the damned Russians always put up better fights than the rest of those who challenged the church. Though she was just happy that her little boy was alright - no specialized weapons had been acquired for this little ambush, probably because it was for her.

"I probably should've gotten a radio before we left. I put too much faith in the idiots that make decisions." She grumbled quietly to herself, chapped lips tightening as she awaited her golden boy to finally meet with her.

Though their imminent danger was not quite completely dispersed. While the ground squad that had been sent after them was easily handled, several more would quickly be moving in on both of the party's positions. Augustine was quite durable and well enough on her own, but the pilot would probably need to continue being protected from this point forward as tens of armed men continued to scurry into the forest. And although the promised child's ability was incomprehensible to them, a stray sniper round that wasn't accounted for could still be the end of him.

"We probably should have salvaged more off of those guys. We still have to situate the matter of how we're going to get to a base without making a scene - because that uh - Golem, that's going to cause a scene." Breathed heavily, the cold gradually causing him to weaken more and more over time it seemed.

---

@Rune_Alchemist@Kazemitsu
3's opponents would not relent despite his extinguishing of one of their brethren. Their sights could easily deduce the shadow-wielder throughout the smoke and maneuvered through the weaving of his spike seemingly out of nothingness. The remaining Gardna of the group were on a full-on offensive now, and while a typical human would have difficulty against a promised child, these were specifically made for this situation.

One of the gardna which was identifiable by a red stripe across the shoulderguard in particular led the charge. This slightly larger unit seemed to electrify it's spear and aimed it's bladed end out in the general direction of the promised child whom had just executed one of it's own and from the spear an bright-hot beam would quickly fire out in 2's direction cutting through concrete and iron in the path of ruin. All the while, three others would constantly be making advanced towards the shadowbender. One continued to jab at every interval of delay in his motion, another would constantly be trying to flank him.

As for our little venomancer, she would have a mere few moments of safety as the remaining combatants that followed on her tail without any hesitation. She would need to be on her toes as her miracle was "Specifically" not very well-suited for this type of opponent. She would need to utilize every detail of her environment to lose them, challenge them, or survive - or just meet back up with 2 and tag-team the down.

---

@Melkor
"The subject couldn't have gone far. Call for Public Safety and more investigators, we need to tear this whole district apart till we find it." One of the research team members spat out to the others, they seemed to understand and obey without any hesitation.

It was a manhunt now, or a creature hunt, whatever you wish to call it. 5 and its handler had no time to reconcile or discuss the situation, not that he would listen anyway. Their safety would take precedence over the mission at this point, so the next route of options - would be fleeing the country, posthaste. They had no contacts in Japan, and while this handler's wallet was filled with the country's currency if they were on the run it wouldn't have too much use. Unless.

"We need to find someone that can get us North." Henrietta sighed out, an exhausted look on her face. Henrietta really didn’t want to have 5 take any responsibility upon itself. So this was all on her at this point.

---

@Eleven
The car ride wasn't an enjoyable one, unfortunately so. Rather than giving 7 any acknowledgement to her kind words, he tapped his knee and set his eyes outside of the tinted window as he watched small townhouses and streetlights pass by.

Their destination was a nearby airport, the trip wasn't a very long one - maybe an hour or two, but it was quite scenic. These areas as affected by the hardships of the world, though they did become a lot more rainy. The driver would constantly peer back at 7 through the rear view mirror, eyes widened with a bit of concern.

"So, um - Are you guys heading back to Italy?"

"No, keep your eyes on the road and mind your own damned business." Emm continues to idly tap in anxiousness on the drive. He'd never been to the front line to be honest, never was a fighter, more of a big-brain manipulator. Would he die out there? He'd heard rumors that some failed promised children had been taken and recreated by the Russians and -that- was the real threat. So many thoughts rushed through the handlers mind, it was visible on his face.

---

@Vocab
The surviving groups of mercenaries quickly move in on the position of the two. Two units of five pushed forward and holed themselves into an abandoned sailboat raised up unto the dock, posting along the raised edges along the boat to aim out towards the promised child and fire in uniform bursts while attempting to remain in cover. As for those who were not so lucky to reach this bastion of cover? The fire of the promised child’s machine gun fire.

Those closer to the building that they needed to get to seemed to be equipped with better weaponry. Laser sights on long-range rifles, all the identifiable as four long red traces through the night air. It wouldn’t be too much of a big deal for her if not for the numbers, but it would make movement difficult for her if she were not to be cautious. She could still die from bullet fire after all.

---

@Savo
"Dispose of them discretely and then we're leaving." The handler spoke as he quickly began to pack materials within the room.

There wasn't much, just a small generator, a few laptops, bedding, suitcases with weapons, but still all the same the ginger haired man frantically placing stuff that wouldn't fit in briefcases into garbage bags. They were on a tight schedule to get out of the country now that the leader of it was now executed, the chaos that ensued afterward would probably be a danger to everyone regardless of who they were.

"Get us a ride to the border once you're done. Discretion. Discretion. Discretion. We just killed the leader of this country and we need to just disappear in a puff of smoke." Tossing the garbage backs towards the wall he huffed out to the promised child.

They had to get there without a scene? Well, that was certainly troublesome. 13 could imagine, of course, a whole little sequence where he used his Sarcophagus as bait while everyone stealthed away, but there seemed to be a whole lot of distance between them and civilization, and it ultimately…seemed like a pain in the ass. Speed was of the essence here, wasn’t it? And for 13, specializing in wide-area suppression, who benefitted the most out of any of his kindred when he was faced with technology-enhanced enemies, there really was only one way to do this.

“Mm, Miss Augustine,” the gunmetal monstrosity said, tilting its garish head towards the Saint’s direction, “What if I just, like, killed them all? If you could take care of the pilot over there, I think I can just blanket the area with ordnance until they’re all dead? That’s probably better than leading them to our base or a town or anything like that…”

Inside his armor, 13 furrowed his brows, trying to figure out how long it’d take to wipe them all out. Within a certain area, his Miracle could help him detect his enemies, and he could also sound them out by being obnoxiously loud with the radios he pilfered, but…oh, right, radio.

“Ah, and here’s like, lotsa clothing and radio stuff, if you want it. Dunno if it’ll help or not but like, it exists.”

Emily scratched idly at her balaclava as the pleasant red mist filled the room. Maybe there was someone in the house that was getting shit murdered out of them right now- but she couldn't tell if there was. All she did was press the button. At least if she killed someone with her hands there was a bit of closure. This was just...annoying! What was this thing for? Hopefully Antoine would give her the answers she wanted later. Even though she had disappointed him earlier. Which was- why- who cares what he thinks? Whatever! It didn't matter.

Watching Akira stumble out of the room, Emily couldn't help but smirk a bit. There was always something satisfying about someone getting a taste of their own medicine. Something inherently karmic about it. Antoine's voice crackled inside her communications device. "Alrighty, Antoine." She responded dutifully, making her way much more gracefully than the smaller girl out of the house. For a moment she cast a backwards glance at the gas spewing device. Well, it's not like Emily's fingerprints were in any databases. But the machinations of her handler's handlers were obsfucated and impossible to understand for someone like Emily. Emily only ever got pieces of pieces of the full picture. Only the littlest glimpse at the truth of whatever their grander goal was. So something like this was simply out of her grasp to be able to understand. A gas device in a quiet house in a military base in north Texas. Why? Who? The promised child would never know. Blinking these frustrating thoughts away, the shrub roses gratiously parted while Emily closed the window behind herself. Jogging over to the road to meet Akira and Antoine, she tried to push whoever was inside that house of her mind.

"Why didn't you just ask me to press the button if you were going to get sick from that stuff?" The tattooed creature jibed the smaller girl.

"I mean, I've known some repulsively strong perfumes in my time, but personally that stuff wasn't so bad. But if your tastes disagreed with it so much, she could'a just asked me. Personally, I thought it was nice." She continued, smiling ever so slightly. Nervously she made her way over to the car, not sure if she should take off her ski mask or not. So she just lowered her head and turned away from the rest of the base, trying to act casual. This was nuts. They were one of the worst possible places to commit an assassination- or whatever the hell that was back there.

---

^{｢ Geneva, Switzerland | January, 23 | Midnight ｣}
The prospect of seeing another one of her siblings was a band-aid to the broken heart she was currently nursing. It didn't erase the hurt or sorrow, only kept her together enough to function. Seven didn't realize how absolutely drained she was until she felt her control slipping once more, although not of her light this time. Being confined in such a small space already made it harder not to eavesdrop, or whatever you would call tuning into others' emotions, and her exhaustion exacerbated things. The driver, for instance, radiated apprehension and discomfort. It felt like an annoying itch she couldn't scratch that, as they drove through a slew of picturesque townhomes, became unbearable.

Seven gritted her teeth through it, but ultimately couldn't help herself. With nothing more than a simple flutter of her eyelashes as a sign, she eased his concerns and gave him a dose of glee. It was a discreet change in his mood—he was humming quietly now, instead of fidgeting nonstop in his seat—but Emm probably noticed.

Speaking of her beloved… it wasn't just the driver's anxiousness that gnawed on her. Emm wasn't faring any better and she wished she could help him now. Should she ask him if he needed help? Of course not, he'd only refuse. What if she didn't tell him and just did it? Seven knew that Emm had seemed singularly immune to her light, but she didn't know how strongly he could resist her emotion control. The only time she had ever tried it on him was the first night he was assigned to her, and that resulted in days of isolation and a lesson learned.

Seven stared at him for a long moment before simply reaching out a hand to place on top of his, half-prepared to recoil if he got mad. In the distance, she could make out the telltale structure of the airport slowly coming into view.

"Don't worry, I'll protect you."

---

The death throes of the young boy froze Six. He was family. His struggle to live had rekindled something that Six forgot she had: empathy. Killing humans was easy. She never thought about it as killing another thinking being. To her, it always felt more like crushing ant underfoot or chopping the head off of a chicken. It might have been messy, but unavoidable. Something that didn't phase her. But the boy was different. She had lost a brother. Even if they weren't close, she could feel her heart pound. Her vision became narrow. Was this really the right path?

She was a tool. That's all she was. If she did what was asked of her, she could live without trouble.

But she was a person. No matter how many orders she followed or people she killed, she could never gain control.

Six shifted her body enough to finally crawl out of the young boy's back. Her arms retracted back through the boy's skull. Were it not for the dagger in the boy's gut, the boy would have been unaffected by the action. She emerged, water dripping from her clothes. All Six did was curl into a ball next to the boy. The cold air from outside bit into her clothes. Frost formed along the edges as she struggled to keep any warmth close to her.

She was miserable.