As he barreled toward the demonic storks that stood between him and the grand courthouse doors, Barney found himself hoping that the shadow judge was right about one thing: that in life or death situations, even the most ordinary person could do amazing things. Although he couldn’t explain it, something had fired him up, reigniting that tiny bit of fight buried deep within him. Where just moments ago he stared death straight in the face, resigned to a messy end between the grisly canines of the Stygian monstrosity that Pondwater called Naberius, he now ran headlong into danger in the hopes of a new lease on life. Maybe it was the example of the courageous police girl, emerging suddenly from ominous, half-remembered dreams to confront the monstrosities with a wink and a smile. Maybe it was spite that fueled him, a semblance of the same anger that burned red-hot in the hearts of Nick and Jin against Pondwater’s callous philosophy. It might be adrenaline, or he really might be crazy. Barney couldn’t say. All he knew was that he was doing this. Dream or not, he was going to live.

The Shaxes both reacted once he got within range. Bright orange glyphs formed in the air around them, gathering some sort of power. Forced by the circumstances to just roll with it, Barney did not shy away until, one after another, both demons spread wide their wings to launch their offensives. Two blades of dark energy, awash in bubbling darkness, rose like shark fins from the ground and raced toward him. They ripped forward fast, but not so fast that Barney couldn’t realize that they traveled in perfectly straight lines. Rather than take his chances trying to withstand the accursed waves, the young man stepped off the line, allowing both to go right by. Without sacrificing any momentum he carried onward, barging right past the first Shax before it could strike back. It let out an horrid squawk of protest, but it was in the past, and Barney looked ahead to the doors. He tightened his arms around his head as he charged past the second shadow, dimly aware of movement in his peripherals. Nasty claws sliced into his tartan jacket and raked his sweater, but did not penetrate his thick clothing. A sudden pain lanced his upper forearm, right below the elbow, but nothing he couldn’t handle. The next moment Barney left the monster’s effective range, and another moment brought him right into the courthouse door with a slam.

As he began to push Barney realized an unexpected problem. It was heavy. “Aghhh, come on!” he growled through gritted teeth as he heaved his weight against it. He noticed nothing of the sort coming in, although considering the impact left in the concrete by the captain’s baton, the guards must have remarkable strength. Enough to make opening this door look easy. For Barney it proved difficult but, as the groan of the hinges announced, doable. Knowing the Shaxes could come at him any second, he shoved the grand door shoulder-first with all his strength. A crack of orange, dusky light appeared, and quickly the opening grew larger. With a grunt of triumphant exertion readied himself for a final push and to slip through.

At that moment, however, he heard yelling from behind him, and Barney couldn’t resist the impulse to look over his shoulder. What he saw took him by surprise, although in retrospect it shouldn’t have. The others had followed him. Even after Pondwater’s condemnation to all but certain death and being sandwiched between two groups of monsters, not a single one of them had slumped down, defeated. Instead, though battered and mentally taxed, they followed in Barney’s footsteps and made for the exit.

Though much smaller than Vincent, Dakota had risked his neck to help the older man out, the sight of which shot a pang of guilt through Barney for forgetting all about him in his rush to save his own skin, even though Vincent did get everyone else hurt. Together the pair hobbled straight for the storks that the bearded frontrunner left behind, with Vincent even mustering up a burst of energy to strike out at his attacker’s eye. With a screech the Shax flapped its wings, exposing its blood-red head and serpentine neck enough for the criminal to shove it away. Though it floated in the air under its own power the demon reeled, giving the duo an opportunity to get by. At the same time Mila clashed with the other one, whipping her leather jacket at the Shax while it lashed out with its rending beak and claws. Those same weapons snagged in the tough material, allowing Mila to stretch out its limbs as she swept by. With both shadows momentarily discombobulated Nick, Jin, and Caelum stormed through, avoiding direct confrontation. For a moment Barney feared that the schoolgirl, frozen by fear, would be lost, but Harriette risked her own life to take Alina by the hand and pull her along. She even bounced a couple shoes off the head of a Shax, delaying its recovery from Vincent’s push. No matter how they did it, in heeding the police girl’s words, the would-be defendants showed that they craved life just as much as Barney did.

In Barney’s moment of hesitation he noticed something else, as well. A growing pain in his arm drew his attention to the spot that the Shax pecked with its beak, prompting a double take. Thanks to his adrenaline it hurt a lot less than it looked like it ought to, but it turned out to be a pretty bad wound. Blood gushed from a stab wound at least an inch deep, and the sight of it shocked him. “Ahhh...ahhh!” He clapped a hand on top of it, squeezing down on his torn jacket to try and stop the flow, but his mind buzzed from more than pain. He’d already been hurt, but just now things were really starting to sink in. Dreams and nightmares could be vivid, but they were ultimately as ephemeral as the imagination that crafted them. Things were unclear, constantly shifting, and seldom held up under scrutiny. But Barney’s breathing was ragged. He could feel the warmth of his blood, taste the subtle smokiness of the air streaming in from outside, hear every panicked footfall as the others ran his way, and see the steely glimmer of the police girl’s needle as she struggled against the demons behind them. This was too real. Maybe it wasn’t reality, but despite all his self-assurances, and the fantastical spectacle around him, this couldn’t possibly be just a dream. Something in the very core of his being told him that lives were really on the line.

Barney glanced back at the others, hesitant, but only for a split second. He knew what he needed to do. Earlier he didn’t want to consider the possibility, but now he had no choice. It was past time he started actually doing the right thing. As Vincent and Dakota approached he redoubled his efforts, pushing the door not just wide enough for himself, but for the rest as well. Once he had it open he pitted his full weight against it to keep it that way, and with his hand waved the others through. “Come on, come on!” he urged them. Only once everyone made it did he let go, and as the door swung back he glanced one last time at the police girl. She stood alone, surrounded by monsters on every side, with the Pondwater’s shadow himself bearing down on her. A dark shape much larger than the judge himself loomed behind him, and though Barney could see little in the brief instant afforded to him, something about even that momentary glimpse made his skin crawl. Then the door slammed shut, sealing everyone else outside.

Once out in the open Barney quickly realized two things: that what seemed like an age had in reality been less than thirty seconds, and that everyone had a long, long way to go before they could even start considering themselves ‘safe’. The Penitentiary of Indictment stretched before the group in all its inhumane misery, crawling with awful activity, and this time Barney couldn’t keep it at a distance for long. He, and everyone else, would need to confront the Proving Grounds as they sought to take the police girl’s advice. Get your sorry butts outta here, she’d told them. But where to?

Not to the right. The massive ray from the colossal searchlight atop the courthouse had settled in that direction, and as Vincent’s ill-fated flight earlier revealed, there could be no escape once in its glaring glow. Barney half expected it to sweep right on top of him any second now, but for the moment there seemed to be something wrong. It twitched violently, flashing red in a manner that suggested some malfunction. From here Barney couldn’t see the beacon itself, but he remembered what the police girl said. “She took out his ‘Vision’...the light!” he realized. “He must not be able to track us. Not until he gets back up there, at least. We oughta get as far away from it as we can!”

Since the docks formed a dead end in front of them, going left seemed to be the only option. Barney jogged away from the courthouse doors, trying to find somewhere, anywhere that the group could go. He took in the row of buildings across the Proving Grounds, identifying a few odd buildings out scattered among the jailhouses. His eyes settled on the small cathedral that he spied earlier, before entering the courthouse, and it struck him once again how bizarre it was that a godforsaken place like this would have such a facility. Then again, if this place somehow symbolized the real world as he suspected, maybe it stood for the little chapel squared away in a corner of the Barclay campus? Either way, right now the escapees needed a safe place to hide away from the guards. How exactly they would actually leave this hellish plane and return to the real BWU was a bridge the group could cross when they came to it. Barney raised his voice to offer his suggestion only to get cut off.

“Freeze! Hold it right there!”

Speak of the devil! From the direction of the beacon’s flickering light, more bow-legged, hole-faced guards were running. Judging by their cattle prods, they’d been monitoring the prisoners before the alarm was raised. Luckily they didn’t seem too fast, but there was no more time for deliberation. “Crap!” Barney practically exploded. “Run for the hills!”

Though he hardly intended to be a leader, he led by example. Though his wounds made running hurt, Barney had stamina to spare after a day of mostly sitting around, and with surprising speed he took off toward the left. Maybe it was his bias showing, but he didn’t really have a lot of options, so he fixed his eyes on the cathedral. Something about it called to him, and given the circumstances trusting his instincts seemed as good a plan as any. After just a few seconds he left the pavilion and entered the Proving Grounds. All of a sudden he felt like he was in a corn field. The chain link fences, topped with barbed wire, rose higher than he did, and the moment he ran in between two pens the alerted guards were sure to lose sight of him.

Of course, that left the guards who roved between or kept watch over the inmates themselves. Though his nerves told him to run like the wind, Barney heard running footsteps ahead of him, slowed to a walk to avoid attracting too much attention. A line of chained inmates trundled along the same path directly to his left, so close he could touch them, but not one among their number acknowledged him in any way. They just marched onward, their helmets bowed, focused solely on the inmate directly ahead. As the footsteps grew louder, nearing an intersection between pens, Barney ducked into the prison line. He hid himself as best he could, with the fence on the left and two inmates on the right. Though terrified that his red tartan jacket would give him away, Barney watched two guards run right by him. Hopefully anyone behind him followed his example.

The prison line marched on. Through the fence to his left Barney could see the machines, rigorously pumping unknown, venomous-looking fluids into the ports on the prisoners’ helmets, whilst sucking money out through the front. It was revolting, and though the inmates suffered in silence, they did not do so without consequence. Here and there Barney spotted shriveled husks, human bodies somehow deflated in an almost cartoonish fashion, like balloons. Some had been thrown over strung ropes like towels, giving a whole new meaning to the phrase hung out to dry. So too were the racks of ownerless helmets. It occurred to Barney to grab one for a disguise, but there were none handy, and his prison line was just about to enter one of the pens under a watchful warden’s eye. He slipped out and made a run for it, keeping as low a profile as he could. He got into a cycle of waiting, watching, and dashing, able to distract himself from the wound on his arm for now. If he could keep this up without being spotted, he could reach the cathedral in just a couple minutes.

Dakota suddenly felt like the light little feather he was, eyes widening as Vincent pushed off of him and charged forward. Now, he could note all the bravery people had going forward, especially compared to him, but either from the simple fact they had been trying to run together or because he was a literal giant, Vincent's actions to help the group rooted in his mind at that moment. If Dakota had any doubts about helping him before, they were long gone as the boy felt like his judgement was correct. There was a hint of guilt he felt, from lacking in aggression himself in regards to pushing through, but in reality he knew he'd probably just get in the way.

So he took Vincent's words and bolted. Not that even such a thing as running was easy, Dakota's injures causing him to grit his teeth, but note he didn't get it as bad as Vincent had despite him still moving. The fear of what was behind him mixed with the anxiety of what the hell could possibly be ahead, and sheer panic fueled him to keep going despite his pain. He'd be paying for it later, if he even had time to later, but with death all around them he wasn't exactly sure how the hell they were supposed to escape.

<sub>I see it clearly~

You and me, eternity~</sub>

It was like a broadcast in his head. Dakota tried to ignore it, but it began to deafen his surroundings. The only thing repressing it being words from Barney that pierced through, causing him to look up and notice the open door. Not freedom, per se, but the first step towards it. Without hesitation he scrambled through, although he fell once on the other side and took a moment to pick himself up, dirtying his clothes in the process though such a thing was far beyond his concern at this point. He joined Barney's effort in holding the door open soon after, not wanting to leave him to it, considering his heroic action. "You're a lifesaver." He remarked between breaths, although there wasn't time to really converse.

As everyone went through, Dakota had appreciated the second to catch his breath, but quickly removed himself from the door to allow it to close. His eyes peered through as it did, noting that mysterious girl and her situation inside. Gritting his teeth, he wondered if what he just witnessed was a sacrifice on her behalf for their sake. Turning away with clenched fists, he had to try and make it all worth something. Not waste it. He felt an odd familiarity with her, but couldn't quite place it. But it had something to do with falling? Not the 'in love' kind of sense, something more literal.

While he momentarily pondered, Barney's words caught his attention again. With a confused "Eh?" He peered over at the spotlight, noting it was indeed freaking out. It seemed that girl was buying them more time than he originally thought, and he realized he needed to double down on his escape efforts. "Def' no point in standing around here. Might as well make use of the dark as best we can." As if he knew the first thing about escaping prisons, but it seemed obvious enough.

<sub>So open up and let me know~

Just how you feel~</sub>

At this rate, Dakota couldn't blame someone for thinking he was crazy as he went quiet and just peered off towards the left. It was farther up towards the walls of the prison, but the visage was clear: It looked like some sort of entertainment center, which wasn't particularly strange on it's own, but when paired with the prison around it made a lack of sense, especially compared to the cathedral distanced to the left. However, it brought him a realization that what he was hearing was, in fact, not actually in his head. But trailed off from there. Though it feel deafly silent on everyone else's ears, he thought a noise-filled place like that would be the last place the guards might look... Something kept feeding him reasons for why it was such a good idea to go. It was almost a compelled action, really, but he couldn't explain that well enough to the others.

All of this was cut off from the sound of the guards. "Man!" He just wanted a break, but that was clearly over. Barney didn't need to tell him to get running in the opposite direction, the boy's sore feet only being more notable after standing around for a minute. He didn't have the leisure to sit around and complain, though. Those prods looked dangerous and Dakota had zero intent in being on the receiving end of them.

Unfortunately, through intervention or otherwise, Dakota and Barney had darted to the left side of the prison, but their routes differed. Between his panic and the compelled feeling in his mind, the boy rushed towards the entertainment center. Thankfully, being a small individual had its advantages in this large terrain, where he felt even someone like Vincent could probably lose those guards despite his size. He never approved of his own wardrobe more than today, his dark colors on light clothing making it easy enough to stick in any shadowy corner he could find at the pens.

Unfortunately, the slower he went, the more the chasing guards could catch up. He thought for a moment, needing a plan of sorts. Not a survivalist by any means, he simply thought 'What kind of stupid mistake could an escapee make?' before being struck by a realization. Within seconds, his waistcoat was off. He snagged it on a corner of one of the pens, marking a corner he obviously tried to cut fast but got snagged on, revealing his direction. Quickly he hid on the other side as he heard the stomps approaching, his eyes not catching the sight but he could hear them stomping away towards the direction he laid out for them.

"Whew." He knew it wasn't over, but hell, that felt pretty good! There wasn't time to lose though, he had to go somewhere and that song was still reeling him in. As he slinked away into the dark towards the entertainment center, he complimented himself with a very quiet "Nice work, brain." before continuing his progress.

As their legs and lungs started to burn, Jin came to the discomfiting realization that they could not run forever. Not used to large amounts of running left their body aching for oxygen. Already they were flagging slightly. With the last big burst of strength they had, they darted a hard right, separating from the rest of the group. Jin doubted the rest of them would even notice. They were all strangers, after all – every man, woman, and otherwise, for themselves. That was the way of life.

So it was without guilt that Jin split from the rest, aiming for the dark corners of the prison. The strange storks continued after the bulk of the group, which made complete sense to Jin. However, one monster did break off from the flock to hurry after Jin. “Dammit…” They wasted precious oxygen expressing their disappointment.

More running, more chasing. Jin didn’t know how long it went for. The reprieve came without warning. A dark room with what looked like an open door, and the monster bird had not yet rounded the corner. Jin practically stumbled in, hurriedly diving into a patch of shadow that they just seemed to melt into. Thank goodness the maintenance jumpsuit was a dark gray-blue. It blended very nicely. Jin watched through tired eyes as the bird peered around, and…. Passed right by.

Jin didn’t dare do much more than exhale as softly as possible and slump to their knees. As their eyes began to adjust, they realized they may have made a major mistake. The dull, gray bars. No windows. This was a cell. Fuck, they had run all this way only to jail themselves? But it was far too late. Their legs had all but given out, and getting up again proved impossible. Jin was just too tired. So, this cell would have to do.

Vincent hung back for a moment, letting some of the rest of them dash past him to ensure their safety. Or at least give them a head start. Vincent was sure that out of all the others present he could take the most punishment, while a solitary strike with those batons would likely incapacitate most everyone else. He gave the staggered Shax a good hard kick right as it started to regain itself then hurried off after the others.

Hot on the heels of Dakota, Vincent followed his hesitant savior closely, acting as something of an usher to spur Dakota to keep running. He knew, he gets it. Running is hard when you're not built for it. Running when someone wants you dead adds a delightful touch of panic to it. Having someone there to push you, whether you're running for the exercise of because not doing so will get you killed, is a great motivator, especially when that someone is much taller and put between you and the thing you're running from.

Vincent had to stick his arm out every so often to push Dakota ahead, trying his best to avoid a collision and keeping their speed up. It seems this kid's instincts weren't so good at keeping his adrenaline up. But at least Dakota was making his way towards the extremely out-of-place club - lots of distractions, poor lighting, big crowd full of people they could blend in with. It would've been Vincent's first choice. He almost felt a little bit proud, despite the fact that the two still didn't know each other's names.

And then Dakota did the worst thing you could do while being chased: he stopped. Vincent barreled past him, a split second before he realized, long enough for Vincent to lose track of where he was going and ending up slamming into one of the pens. His forehead bounced off a solid bit of metal, making a low ring echo off between the rows. Grimacing, Vincent hurriedly ducked into the same corner as Dakota.

"Idiot..." he muttered, staring past Dakota at the 'distraction' that he set up. Movies and TV shows made it seem like being clever in a chase was the best option, diverting your pursuers to follow the wrong path, but more often than not they're as intent on catching you as you are in escaping. Taking even a second too long to set up a misdirection would be the end of it. It was better to just keep running and use the environment to your advantage, but it wasn't like Vincent had the time to lecture Dakota about it.

And there already was that whole spiel about it earlier.

Luckily, or perhaps through pure divine intervention, the guards fell for it, turning off towards the opposite way quick enough that they missed the pair. Letting out a breath he was holding, Vincent continued behind Dakota, keeping his shoulders stooped and neck low. "That could've gotten us killed," he whispered to Dakota, his voice finally settling into his naturally deep timbre.

^{? ? ? : ? ? hours}
It was probably the fastest Harriette had ever run in her life. Her fingers were clamped tightly around Alina's hand even after they both were out of immediate danger. She didn't look back, not sparing the insanity behind nor their oddly familiar looking savior any last glances. Harriette rushed through the door, focusing too much on escaping to even breathe a thank you to Barney for holding it. Only when she heard the door slam closed did she slow to a halt, pressing her free hand to her chest as she fought to catch her breath. Her hair and clothes were mussed, but at the moment she could care less.

They needed to get out of the prison's campus. Harriette's eyes flickered wildly around the area, noting the different buildings, the wall, the guard towers - trying to determine how they could get out. Heading back to the water was tantamount to giving themselves up she was sure. So where could they go? Scaling the wall was out of the question. Maybe there was some kind of hole in the perimeter they could find? Once Harriette's attention was brought to the spotlight she looked up at it. Indeed, it looked broken - or at the very least malfunctioning. That woman really bought them a lot of time that they couldn't afford to waste!

"This is our chance," Harriette said, a harsh whisper drawn from her throat as she nodded, agreeing with the two young men. "If we stick together, we... we can escape."

And she believed it too. Now they just had to avoid the guards closing in.

Everyone dashed off towards the left, save for one person. One of the people Harriette didn't recognize as a student. While the others went one way, they went the other - and the red head was consumed with a feeling of dread that if that person went off alone, they would be caught. Beaten like that giant was, or maybe even worse, now. There was strength in numbers, if any of them were cornered while on their own... She was frozen in place for a split second, and then her feet carried her in the direction Jin had run.

"Wait, we should all stay together!" She said, but Jin was farther ahead of her and so panicked that they couldn't hear her words. They slipped into a cell block, their clothes blending in with the dark shadows. Harriette lost sight of them, but they had to be close by. The sound of heavy footsteps reached her ears and Harriette ducked down, pressing herself against the cold concrete wall as a patrol passed by. This was dangerous. She wanted to find the runaway quickly, group up and decide how they could meet up with the others without being spotted and figure a way out of this hell.

The whole time, with her head buzzing with fear and adrenaline, Harriette hadn't noticed that she was still unwittingly dragging Alina around with her.

As the others charged on and made a hole, Nick gladly took advantage of their kindness and ran on ahead, confident that they were sufficiently shocked out of their temporary stupors. And if they weren't, he had chosen life after all. Say what you would about the morality of his actions, but at the end of the day the last thing Nick wanted was to die in this place, and he had a feeling he'd just get in the way if he did more than just try to help hold the door open.

Which, for what it was worth, he did from the outside. Dakota was there with him, and Nick gave the other boy a nod as they strained to ease Barney's burden. It was good that the larger boy had started this thing, after all, since Nick had no earthly idea how the hell he would've managed to get this damn door open with how heavy it was.

From his position, he had a good view of the others' escape. A slightly older-looking woman was practically dragging along the girl he'd encountered earlier during the cafeteria incident, so that was a bit of a load off his back. The other member of that incident came through as well, having spent a bit more time trying to avoid pain rather than barrel through like a mule. Which, given that his clothing was probably a lot less protective than Nick's or that other girl's jacket, made sense.

As the whole of the group managed to escape, Nick let the door slam shut once Barney let go. He noticed the moment's pause for their savior, but Nick was still too hopped up on adrenaline to properly mourn her. Or celebrate her upcoming victory, he wasn't sure which. She didn't seem to hold the illusion that she'd be doing more than buying them time, though whether that was until her death or her own escape Nick hadn't quite caught. He hoped it was the latter, but going back to help was impossible. As was staying and helping. They were too out of their depth here. Those stork-looking freaks had shot frickin' laser beams from their frickin' wings!

Taking a moment to breathe, Nick caught the conversation about the searchlight, and boy was he glad to confirm with his own eyes what had been said. That thing was completely out, spazzing around and blinking red now and then. They were safe from that fresh hell, at least, but this place was still crawling with guards. Whether they could transform into nightmare-beasts was a question Nick emphatically did not want answered, to be frank.

So, as the groups began splitting up, Nick decided to go with the injured but still kicking Vincent, and the empathetic and helpful Dakota. They had the power of Speed (in Nick), the power of Fuck You (in Vincent), and the power of Friendship(TM) (in Dakota). There was no way they'd lose!

Unfortunately, almost immediately after deciding to follow them, Nick made a wrong turn while they were being chased and had to duck around a pen and quickly double back through using his patented technique to compress his body to the width of a household sponge (not quite literally, but it was honestly disturbing how much he managed to flatten himself as a way of squeezing out of the pen while the guards searched), managing to lose his tail in the chaos.

Free of his chasers, Nick kept a low profile and jogged his tired ass over in the direction he'd seen Vincent and Dakota going, which seemed to be some kind of bar or rave club. Not his scene, frankly, but when in Mirror Dimension Rome, do as the Mirror Dimension Romans do.

The moments after she was picked up went by in somewhat of a daze. She was lifted, then dropped, then the guards transformed into monsters... she couldn't bring herself to move away, even as somebody came to strike them down, telling them to run. She was frozen in place, the wrenching feeling in her body leaving her incapable of rational thought. Was that fear? Or just her usual laziness? Was she really so pathetic that she'd rather just die?

That was answered the moment one of the other girls grabbed her hand and dragged her along, snapping her out of paralysis as she sprinted with her. Yes, this was fear, she was terrified. Was she screaming? She couldn't hear herself, or much of anything else, she just knew they were running after some of the others.

They made it into the courthouse. About then was when she got the chance to breathe properly, and perhaps process what had just happened. That woman... who was she? Why did the guards turn into monsters? The judge's vision, what... never mind, this was beyond comprehension to her. She was barely managing to cope with her grandparents becoming permanent fixtures in her life, let alone being arrested and assaulted. All of this, all the pain, the too-real agony of her ankle... and she still hadn't answered Mary's question earlier!

Then along came more guards. With that, everyone more or less ran as the guy they'd followed insisted, Alina following along with the woman whose hand still grasped her.

Except that that woman turned, dragging har back the way they'd come. No, why, what- ...oh, there was another person. Yeah. Sure, that looked reasonable too. She was... she... she was running out of energy. Her leg hurt. Her body ached from her sprint earlier. Her lungs were still struggling from the previous chase. The woman didn't even seem to notice, pulling her along like a doll as they followed the maintenance suit's progress - and the lone stork that followed her. Care was disregarded, apparently. Okay.

At last the chase ended as the chasee ducked into a cell, escaping the notice of her pursuer, whilst the woman pulling her took cover against a wall as a patrol of untransformed, faceless fabric guards passed by. Those were dangerous enough, anyway. Didn't need them to turn into freaks of nature, too. Oh God, they were gonna die here, shit shit shit. That was too close. Her ankle was starting to swell. Crap.

She waited a moment as the guards, the monsters, the... whatever they were left the area, until no clear threats presented themselves. They were too exposed, her and her new friend who was still clinging to her. Okay. Okay yeah, they should...

'We should get in the cell.'

Standing up, and pulling the person along as best she could if they would come, Alina limped to the cell door, stepping inside and to the side of the door proper, looking around until she spotted the person they'd been following in the first place.

'Hi.'

...that was all she had? Useless. Idiotic.

Unexpectedly, Caelum managed to run past the Shaxes and through the door unscathed. When he saw them injure the guy in front, then proceed to use magic, he’d thought they were all done for. But other people’s bravery got them handled, and Caelum merely weaved through easily – though not effortlessly. By the time he was out, he was shivering in fright of the near disaster he’d just managed to avoid. He stared wildly at the bleeding arm of one of the students, picturing how easily it could have been his neck spurting blood were he more unfortunate.

He didn’t even have to assist with the door, since three others kept it open just long enough for all of them to pass. When it once again shut behind them with a thud, Caelum exhaled a relieved, though lightly shuddery breath. However, he didn’t need explaining that things weren’t over yet. The fact they were still in the middle of the prison complex was telling enough. He’d caught a final glimpse of the police woman as she fought, but he wasn’t worried. She looked like she knew what she was doing, so she’d probably be fine.

As he surveyed the surroundings, thinking on how to escape and where to, Caelum noticed the dysfunctional search-light. As the student-in-lead had noted, this is what their rescuer must have meant when she said that Pondwater’s Vision was taken out. Unlike Barney, Caelum wasn’t so sure that Pondwater needed to go enable the search light himself, though. Couldn’t he just order a minion of his to do so? Regardless, it was worrying that they didn’t know how much time they had.

Caelum was still in the middle of formulating a sensible escape plan, when cattle prod bearing guard discovered them. He felt a chill go through him at the sight of the weapon. He froze for barely a moment, in which some of the others had already begun to scatter. Bracing himself with an inhale, he did the same, taking care not to go anywhere near that guard.

Without a firm idea of where to go, he found himself following Barney, though the other man was quite a bit ahead of him already. Though he went the same way, in between the pens and the fence, he didn’t manage to catch up immediately. Caelum pushed himself past the burn in his legs, but he’d had to hide behind one of the pens several times, but not ever in the same spot as Barney – which might have been for the better. Not that he knew much about it, but he thought two people next to each other might be easier to find.

As he ran and hid, he did his best to ignore the human corpses – empty shells empty of anything a genuine body should have. They were just…hung over ropes like laundry. Caelum didn’t know if they were dead, or not. Death might have been better compared to the possibility that they were tortured in that strange way while alive. Not that any of the victims gave away any inkling of being affected, so perhaps they weren’t capable of feeling anything anyhow. Small mercy, that.

He really didn’t have the freedom to spare these unknowns much thought. As far as he knew, they might not be human the way he and his companions were. If they had been at one point…it didn’t matter anymore. Caelum was certain that it was due to prioritizing his own safety and wellbeing that he’d done as well as he did so far. All that was left was to head to the goal – apparently, a cathedral.

He had no idea why the other man chose that building out of all the possibilities, but he wouldn’t question it. Barney had proven quite useful when it came to tackling the challenges of this place so far. Caelum rather thought he’d be as willing to charge through, bait, or otherwise distract any danger they might encounter. Perhaps he himself wouldn’t have to do anything at all…

Though fear and stress hounded Barney’s every step, almost as bad as the guards scuttling around this place like insects and threatening to expose him at every turn, the would-be engineer took things one step at a time. Since it worked for him before he hid himself among prison lines whenever he could, aided in his deception thanks to an empty, discarded iron mask he found in the central ditch of his path between pens. Once disguised with the same ghastly helmet as the inmates, he was elated to find that the guards barely seemed to register him, even as his prison line walked right past them. Those pit-like faces seemed to be so fixated on searching for the frantic movement of runaway fugitives that none stopped to pick out any finer details on the people right in front of them. Maybe cartoonishly incompetent security came along with the territory of a cartoonishly evil overlord? Feeling a little braver, Barney managed to make pretty good time through the Proving Grounds, even as the blood loss from the wound on his arm began to take its toll.

By the time he finally reached his destination he’d started to feel a little dizzy. A hand clapped over his injury did not a bandage make. Maybe, Barney realized, he should have ripped up his shirt or something to stem the flow early on, but the thought hadn’t crossed his mind. As he climbed the steps to the doors there came a blaring, almost bleating noise from the courthouse behind him, and a panicked look over his shoulder confirmed that the Pondwater’s ‘Vision’ was operational once more. The radiant yellow light swept across the judge’s domain with furious speed, hastening not just Barney but also the incoming Caelum and Mila on their way. Though it looked like the redhead had taken a baton swing to the forearm at some point, she and Caelum were still very much alive, and Barney was glad to see that they made it. Still, he couldn’t relax just yet, not while that awful searchlight could rove his way any moment. With the others behind him he hastened up the last few stairs and into the cathedral doors with a thud. It was too late to worry about the abnormality of such a place sticking straight out of a jailhouse, or it being a potential trap, or even the other escapees he’d now lost sight of. He, Caelum, and Mila needed somewhere to hide.

Unfortunately for them, the door wouldn’t budge. It only rattled as Barney pushed on it, kicking back before he gained so much as an inch of progress. “W-what the!?” For a panicked moment he thought he might have gotten too weak to repeat his feat of pushing open heavy doors, but just a second’s worth of critical thinking told him that the door must be barred from the inside. When he looked again, however, he spotted a recess in the door with a small panel on the other side, right at eye height. With the searchlight getting closer, Barney threw caution to the wind and pounded on the door repeatedly, calling, “Help, open up! We need refuge! Help, please, let us in!”

He didn’t expect it to work. Just a few moments into his ruckus he heard the sound of a latch, and a second later the panel slid open. Inside Barney saw a shadowed but undeniably human face, belonging to a man pretty much the same height as him. He wore what looked like a hood at first glance, but appeared to be more of a hat with a head covering that descended behind it, plus a gleaming silver crown. A pair of yellow eyes stared back at him. “I’m here, I’m here, not so loud!” came a deep, bassy voice, shrunken to an urgent whisper. “What do you require of me?”

Relieved to have found someone who wasn’t a monster, Barney just about pushed his face into the recess. “Just let us in, please! We need a safe place to hide!”

Furtive eyes darted across him, Caelum, and Mila, then on the courthouse beacon overseeing all, before a kindly, understanding sort of expression dawned on the priest. The panel slid closed, the noise of wood sliding across metal came from inside, and the door swung ajar. One after another the fugitives squeezed inside the grand, wax-white cathedral.

A moment later the door closed behind them, but even though it shut out the baleful glare of the judge’s Vision, Barney did not feel at ease. In fact, he felt like he’d just stepped into the courthouse again. Although this place had a very different style, it seemed every bit as ostentatious, making even a big guy feel small, dirty, and unwanted. When it came to aesthetics, at least, he could appreciate its ornate, intricate archways and patterns over the gaudy gold and velvet lavishness of the courthouse. Whereas that other place felt oppressive, meant perhaps to convey the strength and authority of the one in charge, this cathedral sought less mundane, less worldly glorification. An incredible array of statues, all of them stooped or kneeling in worship, stood over countless candles, braziers, and little shrines. A single towering statue of a bearded man with the world on his back stood before the stained glass window at the far wall. Piles and even a few wagons of offerings could be found here and there. Maybe the others wouldn’t see the distinction -he honestly didn’t know if he could describe the difference himself- but he didn’t feel too bad about it. Then again, maybe it was just the halo effect--elation that he’d found a safe place, away from the deadly searchlight.

Caught up in examining his surroundings, Barney almost forgot about his host until the priest approached the newcomers. “Welcome, my lost lambs, to the Church of the One Most Worthy.”

Barney’s attention returned to the man, using the candlelight to take in the man’s features. For a moment he could not respond, suppressed by an inexplicable confusion. Something about this guy, about the same height as Barney, this priest looked heavier, with a bigger and redder beard, was terribly familiar, giving off the impression that Barney saw him somewhere before. He didn’t recognize those weird yellow eyes though, rather like the judge’s, if not quite as intense. Or that strange resonance to his voice, making it sound a little off, and hard to identify. Now that Barney got a good look at him, however, he saw the myriad clasps and chains that bound him. “You’re a prisoner, too?” he asked, letting slip a spur-of-the-moment question.

Expression grave, the stranger bowed his head. “I am. In my infinite charity I have accepted all bondage so that others may be free.”

Not much less confused, Barney asked his real question. “Do I know you?”

The priest gave a curious nod. “Why yes, my child. Though you have often turned your eyes from me, I have always been by your side.”

Barney gulped. No way. It couldn’t be. “Wuh...what are you saying?”

“Hahaha!” the priest laughed. “That’s right. I am the worthy one. The holy one. The faultless one. He who shoulders the burdens of the helpless. He who suffers selflessly under their weight. The only one to whom the gratitude of the world itself is due...” Slowly, the priest extended his finger, pointing at Barney right in the heart. “...You.”

Barney blinked, taken utterly aback. “M-me?”

“Yes, you.” Spreading his arms wide, the stranger lifted up his arms, allowing his chains to glitter in the candlelight. “He whose very presence shines blessed light upon the woeful blight of the inferior. Saint Barney Rynsburger, at your service.” With a broad smile he clasped his hands, looking between the students. “You may now commence the thanks and praise.”

---

After narrowly avoiding the guards, Dakota and Vincent kept moving. For all of the veteran criminal’s experience against law-enforcement personnel of various stripes, the monstrous sentries of the Prison of Indictment somehow seemed to operate on movie logic after all. Though tireless as they were vicious, the guards lacked perception or large-scale coordination. Anyone with a few moments to think about the situation whilst hiding might note the lack of a general alarm, despite the presence of fugitives surely being common knowledge at this point. As odd as everything was, it afforded the escapees a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and they needed to make the most of it before the searchlights flared up once more.

Dakota could feel as much as hear the slight, ephemeral beat on the wind. It reached him again and again, faint but steady as a metronome. With Vincent beside him, Nick a ways behind, and the need for refuge growing every moment, he allowed it to guide him closer and closer to the entertainment center. A wary and a stop-and-go strategy kept them out of the way of the roaming guards until they finally reached the unusual structure. Jammed right in between two jailhouses and very different from them in construction, it seemed even weirder up close, but there was no time for second thoughts. They needed to get in.

The sheltering darkness within was a major relief. It promised to hide the fugitives from both the guards and the searchlights outside, giving them a chance to sink down for some long-overdue rest. From inside the venue, however, everyone could hear the music much louder and clearer than before. Following it even farther would lead to the music hall itself, a live performance in the dark awash with colorful spotlights. Nebulous, shadowy formers bounced in the audience before a stage with but one rockstar performer, playing as if there was no tomorrow.

---

Constantly harried and forced to scramble for any means of escape at every turn, Jin, Harriette, and Alina ended up ducking into one of the imposing jailhouses. After running past rows and rows of caged inmates, all either asleep in their beds or hard at work after their desks, they finally found a cranny to hide in. A single cell, larger than the rest and open, beckoned invitingly, like the mouth of a mysterious cave. One after another the three hurried inside. Pounding footsteps and angry shouts grew near, went by, and finally faded away. At long last, muscles burning from exertion and throats ragged from hyperventilation could rest, and all the pain accumulated since their arrival in this crazy, hellbent world could start to ease.

At least, that was the hope. The fugitives were not, sadly, that lucky. Once sure that their pursuers were long gone, they could turn on their phones’ flashlights to find that the cell was no longer open. Somehow, amidst all the commotion, metal bars had snaked across the door to form an impenetrable barrier. They were blocked in. Worse still, their lights told them they were not alone in here. Once directed downward their lights revealed human bodies scattered around the floor, contorted in horrific positions. Despite the initial shock, however, these ash-gray bodies featured no faces, and one touch was sufficient to reduce them to piles of dust. The real problem came after their lights flickered and died, in too quick a succession to possibly be coincidence. In the dark they could see two piercing red lights, side by side, casting them in a crimson glare--the eyes of some unknown horror.

^{? ? cell block : ? ? hours}
The seconds stretched on, long and tense, while the girls crouched and waited until the sounds of their pursuers died down. Harriette's eyes were wide open, trying to take in as much light as possible in the dim jail house. She could only hear the soft rattling of prisoners in their cells now, but were those monsters really gone? She kept her attention focused outward, looking for any little sign that they might still be being followed, but none came.

She was still for some time, until the girl she'd been dragging around stirred and bid them to enter one of the empty cells. It was a lot less open than their current hiding place. Alina stood, and ended up pulling Harriette with her. At that point the grip Harriette had not realized she'd still had on Alina shifted, and with their hands linked the two slipped into a large open cell.

"I'm sorry for dragging you around," she whispered to the other girl, finally releasing her. Then she fumbled in fishing her phone out while Alina greeted their runaway. At some point they should really all introduce themselves.

"Are you alright?" Harriette asked of Jin. She flicked the phone's flashlight on, sweeping it over to them, but the device clattered to the ground soon after Harriette's exclamation of "Oh my God!"

Were those bodies? Harriette backed up quickly, but her back hit the cell's bars. The door was closed! Fear was growing again in her chest. Harriette pressed herself against the unyielding iron, breathing deeply and trying to force herself to calm down. Her phone had fallen face down, so the flashlight was pointed straight up and casting a weak light over the area. She could see that these bodies weren't human, they looked more like the faceless guards outside. She just had to keep repeating that to herself, that these weren't dead people they were... were dead monsters, they must be. Long dead, by the way they crumbled to ash, Harriette reasoned. Nothing to be afraid of...

And then their were the eyes. When the light flickered and died, Harriette held her breath and waited for whatever fresh new Hell they would be subjected to. When the glowing red lights appeared, the only thing she could think was that it was another demon like the ones they'd seen in the courthouse. Even if this cell was larger than the others, they were still trapped in this confining area with a monster - they had no where to go, and Harriette didn't have any makeshift projectiles left. She raised her fists up against her chest as if they could shield her, staring at the ominous red. It was hard to see anything else, to know if it had wings or claws or anything else that could hurt them. She only had a vague sense of where Alina and Jin were as well. Harriette could only wait and see how the creature would move, try and defend herself if it went for her - and find a way to help the others if it went for them.

Though Dakota had felt like a clever weasel, it was more than obvious to the tall and menacing man that came along that the boy hadn't exactly had to go through something like this before. He'd maybe seen such a technique on T.V at some point in the past, though he wasn't about to respond with such a thing as the words he'd already received from Vincent were enough to set him into uncertainty. The deep-voiced man had been shady to begin with, given his talk of police before they all even ended up here. So with that in mind, maybe he knew what he was talking about. Not that he offered much that was constructive, rather just telling Dakota what he did wrong, but... Sometimes that was more than enough for a person.

Simply keeping slunk into the shadows for a moment, he looked down towards the ground with a small frown. "Felt like they might catch up to me," He admitted, eyeing the Entertainment Hall close by while taking a breath. "Guess if they would've done as much as decide to run this way they would've just snatched us though, you're right." There wasn't time to be wasting though, right? He noticed the group had gotten a bit more split than he thought, though the only real familiar face missing was Jin. All he could hope was that dude, along with the others missing, were safe somewhere.

That was enough thinking, though. They had to get somewhere safe, and that music must've been pretty loud for him to have been hearing it from where he'd been. Whatever was going on in there, they could hopefully lose whatever was left of Pondwater's grunts in there. He repeated as such to Vincent, but added a simple "Let's keep going." As standing around out here for much longer didn't sound like a good idea. His small form shuffled between pens and kept low, but was met with little resistance after his previous stunt. That didn't stop the whole prison from being loud about their escape, though. It was very clear someone would be coming their way eventually: So those on Dakota's route would need to make the quick decision to get to shelter.

---

As he made his approach, the venue definitely got louder. Though he wasn't aware of it, he definitely wasn't the only one hearing it anymore. The boy took a moment to squat down and relax once he found a dark enclosed spot, sighing as he noted "At least we don't have to worry about those spotlights now."

Taking in the location, it was pretty modernized. The floors were light-gray marble tiles, a slightly lighter gray marking the walls' color with an assortment of framed posters and instruments lining the walls. A few of the posters Dakota could identify having, though his eyes fell more with the ticket booths leading into gates. "Hell, I don't got ticket money. What if they just call security?" He questioned aloud, skeptical of the situation. Though a quick observation marked the booths as empty, and the gates had three glowing green lights each expressing a letter: V, I, and P.

Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, he decided to take the opportunity and stroll through. He hesitated ever so slightly as he passed, but it stayed green and seemed like it wouldn't give the others any issue. "I guess in all this crap we had to luck out somewhere," He remarked, managing a small smile. They could get lost in whatever event was going on, and maybe find a way to shuffle out the back later if things got too hectic. For now, Dakota simply decided to keep a somewhat brisk pace, following the sound. Colorful lights flashed down a hall, marking a few outlier seats as he walked in to see what kind of party was going on. The voice brought a smile to Dakota's face, making him comment "This guy must really be jammin' out, I gotta see this!"

The stage was surprisingly dark, aside from two green spotlights pointing directly down onto the stage, as a few others spun and flashed around the crowd. Which, if anyone observed, would provide the sight of black, formless blobs shifting, side to side, none of them in sync or perhaps even having the ability to synchronize, but the man on stage seemed to be getting a kick out of it if his enthusiasm was anything to go by. His clothes stood out immensely amongst the dark room, glowing in a way that even the spotlights seemed dim in comparison. His attire and those glasses were a bit too flashy for Dakota's taste, but he could still dig it.



"Oh hey, I know this song!" He exclaimed, seeming to take to the performance as a form of escapism. "This was a big hit back in 2009, especially overseas." Now was far from the time for music trivia, but really, it didn't seem like a fitting song to be singing in a prison-surrounded building like this. It was oddly convenient, too, as it'd been one of the first songs he'd ever done a cover for. There was some nostalgia there, but also a bit of pain. Thoughts of better days, ones he wasn't getting back. It left an odd conflict of emotions flowing through his mind, but it was still better than what he'd been going through outside or with Pondwater.

At least, that's how he felt before the lyrics suddenly stopped, the backing track still playing but now feeling incredibly empty without the voice going along with it. All that came through the mic was the shifting of chains as the figure seemingly scanned the crowd, the lights changing direction and shifting towards one general location. There wasn't time for Dakota to run before he was blinded by the multi-colored lights now revealing him, along with those close by, for the shadowy crowd and stage singer to see.

"A moment, before we return to our performance!" The singer called to the crowds, an audible booing being received, though if one listened close enough it was clear that the sound came not from the crowd itself, but rather speakers around the seating. Lifting the mic and the stand holding it off the stage, the singer did a mildly dramatic spin, the sound of moving chains being clearly audible again as he stopped facing in the group's direction to extent a hand out to point at the exposed individuals above. "Our esteemed V.I.P has arrived, and it seems he even used the guest passes! Why don't you bring your little friends down here, huh? It's a party!"

Dakota, stunned enough from the light, was taken aback by this sudden treatment. While enjoying the music was one thing, he didn't feel right with this development, and quickly began wanting an escape. "Uh..." He tried to think of something, quickly beginning to shake his head in refusal. "We're, uh, good! Really just enjoying the performance, so you, uh, keep doing your thing, dude!" Dakota tried to begin moving towards a row of seats, but the sound of a snap came through the singer's mic and brought the shadowy figures from the seating areas flowing towards the group's general location rapidly. They seemed to cobble together, streaking up both sides of the stairs, going behind them and sealing off the exit in a black, almost wet-looking wall of black. They left nothing but a hallway, straight down, for traversal.

"Please," The singer spoke up, gesturing with one hand for them to come down. "I insist."

Not left with much choice, Dakota began to step down towards the stage. The wall formed behind them slowly pushing forward as if to shove them down the steps if they didn't decide to move themselves. The lights followed them, not that it was difficult with a lack of places to flee, until they reached the bottom of the stairs. The barrier blocking off the seats from the stage lowered into the ground, allowing easy access to the steps that'd allow them to make a short ascent to the location of their 'generous' singer.

"Yes!" He seemed ecstatic, the audible chains now easily visible as being ones that kept the singer's arms somewhat bound. Didn't stop him from pumping his fist due to joy, however. "I knew you were close! I wasn't going to stop performing until you got here, even if it killed me!" One look at the figure now that they were close, it was easy to pick out some similar features to Dakota. The height, the hair, though those yellow piercing eyes were nothing close to the same. They made Dakota more uneasy, though, given Pondwater had the same look.

"You're a prisoner, too?" Dakota questioned, regarding his chains. While this situation was uneasy, that could perhaps be used to their advantage.

The singer nodded, brushing a hand through his hair. "Right. I'm more a prisoner of passion, you could say. Stuck in a entertainment hall and singing? Not the most painful existence. If you don't mind being enclosed and unable to appeal to an audience, that is." The enthusiasm began to disappear, the singer somewhat somberly looking towards the ground. "I'm used to being locked away, though. Restrained from being the best I can be."

Dakota felt an all-too real relation to this individual, frowning at such saddening words. "Why were you locked away, though? It seems to me you have plenty of talent." He pointed out factually, assuming he was judged in a somewhat similar manner to them.

"Some people can't appreciate talent," The singer stated in a more irritated tone. "I've been repressed, set aside and ignored because people are afraid of how much I'd overshadow them." He jabbed a finger Dakota's way, the boy backing away as a natural reaction. "Or because someone is too afraid to push forward, and would rather sulk and fade away into obscurity."

Dakota glared towards the singer, offended and feeling personally attacked. "What the hell are you going on about? Who even are you?"

"Someone who's been put on the backburner, deserted by those he thought he could trust. Damned by fate and left behind by others because they were afraid of how much they'd be outshined. One who deserves everything, but got robbed and left with nothing but sniveling cowardice." The singer's hand shifted, no longer pointing at Dakota, but rather holding a hand out towards him. "I'm everything you wish you could be, but refuse to become."

Dakota's glare shifted to a look of confusion, and perhaps even fear. "Excuse me?"

"A singer with a voice that'd win over fans worldwide. A face deserving to be in magazines, and beloved by all." The mic stand hit the stage with audible force. "Brave enough to push past his burdens to become the best he could be, and live life to the fullest! That's the Dakota Rhett the world should remember, don't you think? Rather than what we are like now? A worthless college student who's more known for sleeping through his classes than the actual talents he possesses."

Although the singer waited for a response, Dakota seemed to be incapable of giving one. He took another step back, silently staring at the figure in front of him. He could feel himself shaking, thrown off guard by this situation, especially by being struck with such sensitive topics. He wasn't sure how to respond, having tried to put things behind him with an acceptance it was just the hand he was dealt. But now he was being harassed by a flashy, arrogant individual using his own name against him.

Just what the hell was this place, and why, of all things, did this have to be happening?

---

Thankfully Mila and the brute's attacks had succeeded, as the majority made it past with no extra damage upon them. What on earth had that attack been on Barney. Mila's mind was muddled with even more confusion but it didn't seem as if they'd have time to think on it. The longer they dallied the more likely another one of those things would come, so she ran. Mila ran like her life depended on it. Because it did. Never before had she run so much but this situation was different from most.

The next few moments seemed to blur together as she felt her legs being to burn, and her lungs felt like they may burst. When the enemies back-up had appeared and everyone scattered, Mila had simply picked a figure to race behind. To concerned with getting away she hadn't really noticed how split up the group had become. When the figure she had been following came to a stop and hid, Mila quickly hid herself as well. She avoided placing herself somewhere similar as him. Stop and go became a pattern for this group of runners and during the stops, Mila took her time to look around as well. She noticed a bit further ahead was Barney. At least she and the other guy weren't completely alone but she found it disheartening to not see the others.

Mila hoped that everyone was safe, including that woman who'd given the opportunity. Part of Mila wanted to help these people, but were they even real? Judge Pondwater looked somewhat like the real deal, but the guards certainly couldn't be called normal beings. These thoughts would soon be pushed down as the other two began moving again. Eventually, this loop ended and the three broke away towards a grand cathedral. A brief chill went up her spine but this place couldn't be as bad as the courthouse. Right?

Those answers would have to come later as behind them the loud sound signaled the searchlight's reawakening. Mila picked up the pace to join the other two when Barney began banging on the door. Worriedly looking from the beacon to Barney, Mila felt the need to continue running again only for the sound of the latch to freeze her in place. Mila quickly followed the other two inside, and despite still being stuck in this strange dreamlike world, she felt a little more at ease at least. With that came the drop in adrenaline flow and the reemergence of both old and new pain. Her legs which had been protesting the flight finally gave way forcing Mila to lean against a wall to avoid falling over.

She then clutched her arm as it felt like her forearm was on fire. There was a massive red welt on her arm and she quickly remembered the moments before the run had started. Mila was the slowest to start the getaway and her prize for the slow start was a strike from one of the wardens. The aforementioned adrenaline merely hid the pain, but now it was at the forefront of her attention. The young woman didn't even bother to look at their new surroundings but when the three were approached by the 'priest' Mila did her best to focus. If he ended up being just as dangerous as Judgewater then they'd have to be ready to run again.

Then came the mic drop. Two things that stunned Mila severely. There were two Barney's? How does that even make sense? Yes, twins are a thing, but judging from the look of the non saintly one, that's not what was happening here. The guy also had those similar yellow eyes along with freakishly cartoonish attire. The other thing that stunned her was what he said. All bondage? One look outside this door was enough to prove that a lie. Then, in his oh so selfless way, Saint Barney basically told them to heap praise and thanks on him. If he was truly selfless he wouldn't even want praise. Mila's head was spinning with questions and confusion looking between the two Barney's. She had no idea what any of this meant. Was he the same as this guy? Were Judgewater and the real Pondwater the same person? She doubted the real Pondwater sent actual people to kill his own students. But in all her confusion Mila knew one thing. They still weren't in the clear. Until they were out of this place, whatever it may be, they weren't going to find anywhere safe.

Who was she kidding though. Maybe the 'real' world wasn't safe either anymore. The lot of them had simply fallen to end up here. None of it made sense. But maybe it would if they could get out. "Yeah, sure, thanks for opening the door. It's not praiseworthy though. Maybe if you could help us get home, that'd be praiseworthy."

Jin shrunk further back into the dark of their cell as they heard footsteps. More guards or monsters? To their surprise, it was the older woman and the smallest girl, come rushing in. Initially, Jin felt a rush of panic. There was no way that the three of them could hide in here and not be seen! But it was too late for that.

Thankfully, they were not found. “Are you alright?” Asked one of them, shining a light that would probably alert someone. Then she panicked, her phone clattering to the ground. In the dim light, Jin could see the bodies too. They seemed to be made of dirt or ash, something that was quickly confirmed when one of them crumbled easily to dust at a touch. The posing was odd, yet strangely familiar to Jin. It was if they were all sleeping on the ground, curled as if to maintain what little warmth they had.

What the hell was this place, and how were they going to get out?

“Ah.”

A voice sounded out in the darkness. Jin felt a coldness growing in their stomach. Mostly because it was coming from the direction of a pair of blood-red eyes that were the only other light in this place. Somewhat by instinct, Jin stood between the two girls and the voice.

“What do we have here? Fresh meat?” The voice said, the eyes approaching. That voice was rough and hoarse, grating to the ears. “What are you doing in my territory?” Then, the figure became clearer as it got closer. At first glance, it was a person of roughly 5 feet, dressed in rags, with a hood. No shoes to be seen, and… was that blood?

Yes, the figure seemed to have been used as some sort of chew toy, as they were covered from hooded head to bare toe in bite marks. Some of them looked fresh, oozing blood in an unnerving way.

“P-please go away.” Jin managed to eke out. The rest of the words came tumbling after. “I know we’re probably trespassing or whatever but please don’t hurt us. We don’t belong here.”

“I’ll say you don’t.” said the shadowed figure. It lifted a hand and pointed. “You!” It pointed at Harriette. “You with your pretty face and your fancy clothes, you had everything you were supposed to and you just squandered it away! And you!”

The next rude point seemed to be directed at Alina. “You have a family that gives a damn about you, and you can't run away fast enough! What a fucking waste you are!”

“And you-” The final finger was pointed in Jin’s direction. “You had a good paying job but you just can’t keep outta the damn gutter, can you?!”

All the while it ranted, it grew closer. There was a disturbing smile appearing on the figure’s face. “None of you belong in the territory of the Fallen! But since you’re here, you’re mine. President Bilgewater says I keep whatever falls through the cracks. None of you look properly chewed up though. So I’ll just have to fix that.” The smile grew wider, too wide, too white, too sharp teeth started to gleam in the dark. To their further horror, Jin saw the gray ash-figures rise up, like zombies with a fresh scent.

“This is the part where you run.”

Jin’s eyes widened and they shook their head. “No more running, please...” But their legs, trembling and sore as they were, seemed to obey Jin’s fear on a primal level. Already they were backpedaling.

“Run! Go, go!” Jin gestured sharply for the two women to move.

“Aw. Cute. Let’s see how long this little alliance lasts.” The shadow figure mocked, and pointed forward as the ash creatures leapt into action.

Once they all did get moving, they would notice that the cell seemed far longer and wider than it was when they first stepped in it.

The scenery became even more bizarre as they traveled. Somehow, the cell had stairs, but they seemed to lead upward and downward at the same time. Sideways doors led to rooms, but when they opened and closed a door, it would lead to a completely different area. All the while, there was a strange pressure in the air, like a cloud that would infect their minds and thoughts. Already Jin was feeling it.

Why did they have to take care of these two women? They were nothing but strangers, after all. This world wasn’t meant for the weak. If Jin left them to themselves, it would probably make their escape easier…

'...it's... fine.'

She was used to being dragged around, even if she was exhausted and hurt. Trapped in a prison cell with far too many bodies, not so much... something in her chilled even as the others panicked out loud, until she realised along with the others that the corpses, if they even were, were practically falling apart. Hardly qualified as corpses at all.

The eyes, on the other hand... they came closer. They became the driving focus of the room, they and the body they were attached to - hooded rags, shadows hiding its face, and ultimately a figure soaked red with blood. Nightmarish in an utterly distinct way from the principal-judge, physically horrific rather than an authority who demanded no less than obedience. And... calling them out for their flaws. The one dragging her losing what she was supposed to have, Alina running from her family, and the darker-skinned girl losing her job. She... she hadn't run away... right?

And then came the attack. At the Fallen's word, the ashen corpses rose, then charged at them; and at Jin's word, they each began to flee once more, back down the... cell? Which twisted and stretched even as they approached. Her ankle was actually going to snap in half if she kept this up, she imagined, and her lungs really couldn't handle another bout of fleeing... whatever this place was, she felt it might crush her if she didn't stop, just for a moment... she ought to, she was a waste of energy anyway. Maybe, if she stayed behind, she could stop slowing down the others... give them a chance to survive. At least then she'd be useful.

It was lucky that it took until Nick was nearly at the nightclub for the searchlight to come back to life, searching across the prison yard for the escapees, heralded by a blaring alarm. Nick hurried up a little bit when it started up again, not willing to risk being caught so close to the group's goal. He continued his tactic of alternating between hiding when he thought he heard guards, and jogging when he thought he was clear.

Honestly, it was kind of a miracle that it worked, given the fact that he was pretty sure he had a bit of tunnel vision still and his heart was pounding like a drum, his legs were sore from the whole beating thing, and that there were actually quite a few guards around. Still, even with the odds seemingly against him, Nick made it to the rave and stumbled in, barely catching Vincent's back as he and Dakota carried onward.

Half-walking, half-jogging to catch up, Nick barely gave any notice to the empty ticket booths other than to note that it was kind of odd, but then again they were in a rave club in a prison inside a spooky mirror dimension, so odd was relative.

The sheer level of activity was making his hairs stand up on end, but Nick carried on through, not wanting to be left too far behind. Catching up to the other just before the singer's performance ended, Nick took a moment to breathe and greeted them. "Hey. Fuck. Thank god I caught up. Wanted to...stick together. Everybody kinda just ran off in different directions, figured you guys seemed cool." His breathing didn't take long to level out, and in a moment the music was interrupted by the announcement of their VIP.

And apparently the main act wanted them all to join him on the stage? Nick looked behind them, following Dakota's lead in not trusting anybody here, but the sight of a wall of people blocking him off forced him to turn his head back to the stage, as if unwilling to register their existence. Shaking off the dread that was building, Nick stuck by Dakota but kept ahead, trying to make sure the crowd didn't make contact with him and physically force him forward.

As they made it to the bottom, the singer and Dakota started talking. How he was a prisoner of passion, trapped here and forced to perform endlessly to a crowd that couldn't truly appreciate his talent.

Oh no. A pretentious douche. Nick thought, uncharitably. Huffing his own farts, head up his own ass, thought his shit didn't stink pretention. Held back by jealous people afraid to be overshadowed by his gloriousness.

He'd heard it all before. At least, he thought he had, until the singer called out Dakota as holding back out of fear, then....

Oh. OH. Oh no. Oh that was not good.

They found Mirror Dimension Dakota. Which was apparently this guy's name. Huh, good to know. Looking between the two, it was easy to see the resemblance, even if the exact details were off, and it wasn't difficult to see that Dakota wasn't handling it well. Truth be told, getting exposed like that by your mirror world doppelganger probably wouldn't have gone well for him, so Nick decided to try and repay Dakota's kindness from earlier by giving him a quick but firm hand on the shoulder. "Hey, hey man. Dakota, right? I, uh, can imagine this is pretty fucked up for you right now. But you had my back before, I got yours now."

Turning to the Shadow Dakota, Nick narrowed his eyes and scrutinized the man, thinking on what he said. Locked away, held back and backstabbed by others for fear they'd outshine them, unrealized potential in somebody who would rather fade into obscurity? Was this some kind of subconscious therapy session? Nick had a retort on the tip of his tongue, but held back for a moment, not sure if he wanted to risk offending Dakota.

In the end, he just gave a simple reply. "Not everybody can match the pace you want when it comes to overcoming trauma. It's a lot more complex than just 'pushing past boundaries' dude, it's re-wiring your entire way of thinking. It takes time, and training, and a lot of dedication." It was a bit of a guess, but the parts about being turned on and robbed, then allowing yourself to fade into obscurity? It sounded like Dakota was kind of like him, in some twisted, fucked-up way.

They'd made it to the cathedral’s doorway. However, in the middle of ascending the staircase, Pondwater’s searchlight began moving once again, its function restored. Caelum froze on the spot, panicking, then rushed straight to the door. Though Barney was already pounding upon the heavy wood, Caelum joined, thudding his fists, and even aiming a kick or two at the doors in frustration.

Thankfully, someone heard, and was reasonable enough to open up and let them in. Caelum sighed, relieved, and wiped sweat off his brow. The insides were as opulent as the courthouse’s – a disquieting comparison. As exhausted, beaten up, and downright filthy as he was due to all the recent ordeals he’d faced, he didn’t feel as if he belonged in here.

Uneasily, he recalled Pondwater’s critique, especially the part about pretending. He’d never thought he had, but to be as easily reduced to this? An unbecoming state to be sure, and not just physically speaking. He was so helpless here, having to rely on others, slinking in the shadows as they did the work for him…merely brushing by others' greatness, perhaps?

With a growl of denial, Caelum shook his head. He couldn’t let some monstrous dream-double get to him. His mood was surely just a case of frayed nerves, which was understandable. Even the sprouts of paranoia that they weren’t yet safe was sensible – how could they possibly be while stuck in whatever this place was?

The priest’s approach drew Caelum’s attention. He raised a brow at the church’s name – it was both vague and unusual. He listened warily to his speech. “All bondage?” he asked dubiously? Certainly, the man was clad in numerous chains, but of course, it couldn’t be all of it. If nothing else, the prisoners toiling outside attested to that.

“Saint,” he muttered under his breath in disbelief. To Barney – the actual one, rather than his double, he hissed, “He’s like Pondwater.”

The yellow eyes, the self-aggrandizing speech, even the place of his residence were too similar to be a coincidence. That did not bode well. Yet, there was no feasible route of escape that he knew of. Once again, they were trapped with another of these not-people. Subtly, Caelum shifted a step or two back. He truly had no wish to be right where the priest could shift his – likely violent, given Pondwater’s actions – attention upon him.

At this point, all the horrifying, supernatural, and downright weird stuff that Barney had witnessed over the course of the last half hour or so was beginning to dull the shock value of each new revelation. He’d been appalled, terrified, and startled by the near-constant barrage of impossibility--one man could only be stunned into silence so many times. Even so, he could not help but be unnerved by the silver-crowned lunatic in front of him. Alarm bells were going off in his head, his brain a live wire constantly buzzing with twinges of pain and, in all probability, delirium.

Just what was this? For a moment there Barney really thought this was headed in another direction, but the oily, pompous, oh-so-human hubris of the priest’s pronouncement brought the expectations of the student who shared his face right back down. This crown-wearing cleric, Barney realized, was not someone worthy of his respect.

While Barney got his thoughts together, Mila spoke first. She thanked the priest for letting the three of them inside at least, and though her gratitude was not quite emphatic enough for her savior’s taste, he accepted it with a smile and a bowed head nonetheless. When she launched right into something he could have done better, however, the grace washed right off his face. His expression turned to one of disdain, and his chains rattled as he crossed an arm and put the other hand against his chin, like a scholar deep in thought.

“Hmm,” he mused. “Are you not home? Of course, not in here specifically, for filth has no place in my immaculate cathedral. But rather in this dark, dingy realm. After all, how could you be here, if you really had a place among humanity? Just like all the rest. Unwanted, unloved, lost and adrift, defeated and doomed to fade away into obscurity with not a soul to mourn your passing. From dust you came, and from dust you return, eh? No wonder you showed up on my doorstep!” The priest clasped his hands together, closing his eyes with a soft, understanding smile. “But fear not. No matter how low one has sunk, I will show you love and mercy. I am, after all, the saint upon whom the wretched rely, he of whom is demanded so much without anything in return.”

During the course of the speech Barney’s scowl had grown more and more intense, leaving distaste behind and diving deep into the realm of repulsion. The smug pretension packed into every word leaving this guy’s mouth rubbed him the wrong way. Just like when some butthurt acquaintance felt like playing armchair psychologist, making insulting stretches and assumptions in an audacious attempt to get to the ‘root cause’ of why nobody else seemed to like him. It stank of unchecked egotism, but that in and of itself wasn’t what was distressing Barney so much. If it were anyone else he could maybe accept it as just another absurd element of this nightmare realm, but the fact that the priest said that he was him threw Barney off. That made him think twice about all the perceived nonsense the priest spouted off, and it filled him with unease. What is this?!

Caelum had the answer. When the other guy hissed at him, Barney took a moment to internalize not just what Caelum said, but what he meant. It started to sink in. Of course. That masked judge in the courthouse looked like President Myron Pondwater, but it wasn’t him.He’d been some sort of evil doppelganger, here for the express purpose of tormenting the people who’d fallen into this place, and it was the same with this prideful priest. He didn’t have any guards or monsters around, though, and Barney was sick of being the victim. Whether because of indignant anger or some sort of primordial aversion to his ostentatious doppelganger, Barney wasn’t going to stay quiet any longer.

As Caelum stepped back, wary of the shadow’s wrath, Barney stepped forward. He put an arm out in front of him and Mila, shielding them in a more symbolic than practical sense, but it succeeded in getting the priest’s attention on him. “Hey, shut up,” he heard himself say. For all the conflict and trepidation swirling inside, he managed to put out a decently deep voice and imposing figure when he tried. That was the side he wanted the others to see, and the idea of standing stall against this persecutor emboldened him. “All that crap about inferior, filthy people? You can shove it. Everyone runs into trouble and needs a little help now and again. It doesn’t make them worse, or the people who help them better. Especially people who just do it to shore up their own egos!”

“Oh?” With tented fingers and a tilted head, the priest smirked out his reply. “Is that what you really think? Or is it what you want people to think? Well, answer me this. Why do you help people?”

Barney bristled. “Because it’s the right thing to do,” he said, firmly as he could.

The priest shot him with double finger guns. “Exactly! Because it’s right. You and I always do the right thing. That’s what makes us righteous, compared to the wrongdoers. A cut above. Cut from a different cloth. Wouldn’t you say? That’s why we’re the exception to your little rule. Your line about everyone needing help. Not us. Because we are strong and righteous, we need help from nobody. That is why we can bear the burdens of all others!”

“You’re full of it,” Barney insisted, his rejection guttural. “Stop lumping me in with you!” He looked back at Mila and Caelum, trying to garner their support despite not knowing either of them. His insecurity, however, came through his voice. “Look, this crazy guy’s gaslighting me. I’m not some holier-than-thou egomaniac. I’m no different from anyone else.”

“You and I both know you don’t believe that.” The priest frowned, crossing his arms. “But since you insist, I have another question. Are you okay?”

Barney gulped, turning back. “W-what?”

“Are you okay?” The priest repeated. “You’re here, where people fall after being driven to the brink and over the edge. In the midst of a living nightmare, attacked by monsters and trapped in a prison of human sacrifice, can you look at the people around you and ask them for help?”

After flashing another glance back at Mila and Caelum, Barney thought of Felipe and Maria, of his mother and father, of his sister. He considered the homeless and starving, veterans tortured by their pasts, and victims of heinous crimes. Their pain was more real than any of this cartoon nonsense. He had no right to complain.

“Look, I’m fine,” he said. “I don’t know what this is but it isn’t real life. There are so many people out there, in the actual world, who have it so much worse than me. It’d be selfish to try and get other people to worry about me. And it’s not like they’d help me, anyway.”

He spoke from the heart with a full understanding of the bigger picture, sure that the truth would make this charlatan understand, but to his dismay he found the priest grinning ear to ear. “Finally, some honesty! You’re absolutely right. We’re fine. We’re totally okay. We don’t need anyone’s help. Because we’re stronger, more compassionate, more generous than anyone else! There’s not a soul out there who’d reach out to us in kindness, but that’s alright, because we don’t need it! So it falls to us to demonstrate to the worthless peons what being a good person really is! Come, let us rejoice in our suffering!”

“SHUT UP!” Barney bellowed, his voice echoing through the cathedral. He had a hand on his head, his fingers in his hair, and his other arm was raised with a balled fist. “That’s not what I meant! Stop twisting my words, and stop saying we’re the same! There’s no ‘we’. There’s no ‘us’. You’re. Not. Me!”

The words seemed to spark something in the priest. His expression grave, he tilted his head again, cupping a hand to his ear. “Sorry, what was that?

Barney fumed. “You heard me. I’m not what you say I am. And you! You’re just a fraud, and this is...is...a hoax! A setup...!”

“The only deluded one is you,” The priest told him. “But very well.” Seemingly giving up, he kneeled with his face on the ground, allowing his klobuk and robe to cover him. “If you will not come to your senses, it’s no use. I will grant you mercy.”

Breathing heavily, Barney allowed his arms to fall to his sides. “Finally, jeez.”

The priest continued. “...I will put an end to your misery, and take your place!” Alarmed, Barney tensed up again, but before he could do anything the shape beneath the robe convulsed. A murky red spray blasted out from beneath it in every direction, provoking an instinctive step back. Flummoxed once again, Barney could barely wrap his head around what happened. He...exploded!? A second look, however, suggested that wasn’t the case. Much of the visceral slime appeared to be in motion. Bending. Squirming. Wriggling. It wasn’t just fluid. It was legs. Insect legs.

Beneath the robe, the body of the priest bubbled, twisted, and rose. It lifted upward on a forest of flesh-colored, arthropodal limbs, spread like the roots of the mangrove tree. As the sickening thing continued to swell upward the robe stretched and receded, growing ever thinner, wetter, and more translucent. Scythelike arms pushed out from beneath what now looked hideously akin to a caul, and a whiplike tail extended from a bulky abdomen profuse with pulsating blood vessels in strange patterns. The abhorrent thing reared back, easily twice as tall as Barney himself, revealing a beard of twitching legs but nothing one could call a face. In a strained, barely discernible squeaking reverberation only loosely describable as a voice, the verminous shadow pronounced, "Only self-destruction awaits those who reject salvation and foolishly elevate themselves. Therefore the worthy one must cast them down!”

Barney turned to run, but like a mantis the vermin lashed out with a forearm and struck him. He soared through the air and smashed into one of the offering wagons, plowing straight through its shoddy construction. In the pile of wood splinters and produce he languished, fresh bruises aching, but he could not divert his eyes from the horror before him.

There wasn't any reason to assume this music venue would be normal. The place it was in wasn't normal, the place that place was in also wasn't normal, and the fact that there was a music venue in a prison at all was... well, you get the idea.

But as the motley crew of now 3 men strong made their way towards it, Vincent's common sense lapsed for a moment. It was a scary circumstance, and the appearance of something seemingly mundane, something familiar, in all this craziness, it was like a beacon of hope. A loud, bright, and probably smelly beacon of hope.

He's hidden out in worse places.

Slipping into the helpfully labeled VIP booth, Vincent scanned the crowd. Even in the dark of the club all the clubgoers looked like big, shadowy blobs, and it sat uncomfortably in his stomach. It didn't look much different from what they had just escaped, really, if you ignored the aesthetic - one person, above the rest, surrounded by bizarre and dark not-quite humans. "I think we should leave," Vincent hissed to Dakota and Nick. Not quick enough, though, as the rocker's attention suddenly turned to them.

Unlike before, Vincent didn't think he could make an opening. The crowd was too dense, and if every indistinct blob within it could turn into one of those animalistic monsters from the courthouse, then their chances to escape dropped even further. Wordlessly - not that it was too unusual for him - Vincent followed, trying to keep an eye on everything at once.

Once they were in front of the stage, looking up at the singer, he realized that it looked... familiar. Sure, the figure was dressed up like a parody of a rockstar and had big glowing yellow eyes, much like the judge, but unless Vincent was being blinded by the harsh lights, he could swear that the singer looked like Dakota. Just what was happening in this place?

"Who does this guy think he is..." Vincent muttered, mostly to himself but loud enough for everyone to hear, as the Shadow droned on and on in a very pointed way at Dakota, as if he and Nick weren't there at all. While Nick handled the emotional side of things, Vincent did what he'd become so accustomed to. In two big strides, Vincent lifted himself up onto the stage with the singer, fists clenched. If nothing else, beating up this guy would hopefully get them a way out, too.

Dakota quickly turned his head upon feeling a hand grip his shoulder: He didn't even know the guy's name, just remembering him as the individual he tried to comfort back at the docks. He let out a sigh, perhaps not of relief, but he was definitely glad to have people at his side while this was going on. It didn't feel real, having someone that seemed to be another him throwing insults at insecurities, and emotions the boy preferred to keep to himself. He fell quiet, allowing for Nick to take the stage, though the results seemed less than efficient.

And this was proven by a scoff in response to Nick's words, this 'Mirror' Dakota seeming to have no regard for Nick's self-help booklet advice. "What the hell would you know about us? You can try and fix things with words all you like, but our troubles are a bit more physical than that--"

If Nick had succeeded at anything, it was taking attention off of Vincent's large lingering form. Seeming to not expect such a retort, even, perhaps as a perception of what he considered to be his 'weaker self' being reflected on the two men who joined him here. Vincent got a hit in; Smashing a fist right into the 'Mirror' Dakota's pretty boy face. The pain caused an audible reaction, and he reeled backwards, glasses falling off as he almost tripped over his own feet. "You--" The mic stand fell to the ground, mic smacking against the stage and causing a terrible sound as he gripped his own face, shaking as blood leaked in-between his fingers.

Dakota, agitated from what his other self had been trying to say, was spurred to take an offense. He forced himself forward, his small legs carrying him as fast as they could to pick up that fallen mic stand. He picked it up in both hands, and while his other self was still reeling from what had happened, he took a two-handed swing to try and add to Vincent's damage: To shut this imposter up, keep him from saying anything else!

This sudden outburst of violence wouldn't end well.

The stand stopped, a single hand catching it without much issue. Dakota's own eyes widened, attempting to force it down with no success. Over and over, it was clear he physically tried his hardest, but his other self wasn't having it.

"Got to admit," 'Mirror' Dakota growled through the palm still covering his face, yellow eyes visible in-between his fingers. "I didn't expect to see a walking self-help book and some big ass brute take action like that. You really got them wrapped around your little finger, don't you?"

Dakota's heart pounded with fear, and confusion. "Wh-What--"

Without a chance to respond further, 'Mirror' Dakota's second hand left his face, large gashes visible in his features, and to Dakota, momentarily they were unexplainable. But as he felt something much more forceful than he thought a human hand could be gripped around his throat a split second after hearing the sound of chains snapping, a panicked look down yielded him view of black feathers rather than flesh, and the hand supposedly around his throat was a four-pronged yellow foot, similar to that of an eagle's, with dangerously sharp talons close to digging into his skin.

"--The fuck?!"" Dakota managed to finish, but soon he was at the point of begging for air. Dropping the mic stand and flailing as he was lifted up seemingly with ease.

"Like I was trying to say!" 'Mirror' Dakota spoke, the partial-monstrosity looking over at Vincent and Nick with a glare, no blood seeming to leak from the gashes his talons left on his own face. "You don't know anything about us! Or why I hate this pathetic little shit!" He gripped Dakota tighter, but relented after a moment to at least let him breathe enough to keep conscious. "We were a singer! A damn good one, getting popular! Then our lung decided to give out on us!" He swung Dakota slightly as he continued, gestures becoming much more violent with a ragdoll in his hand. "Doc said we'd never hit those notes again, if we wanted to live long! Band abandoned us, couldn't keep our online fanbase either, because HE was too afraid of gettin' hurt!"

Another squeeze yielded a scream, or what Dakota could manage with the air he was provided.

"We were stars, how such a thing even happened wasn't understandable. We kept ourselves in good health, it was a damning by fate to take our dream away!" His free hand scratched at his face, skin parting more to reveal nothing other than a blackness beneath. Almost as if the blood from before was an act, something to play along with Vincent's heroics. "He's just the sniveling part of us! Too cowardly to push himself to live in the moment, instead prolonging his life and sitting around! We accomplish nothing, and have the drive to accomplish nothing! So why bother? Who cares if we die, just to raise a few more high and influential notes? It's all we have!"

He pulled Dakota closer, clearly talking to him directly. "Instead, you just put on a nice face. You 'help' people. hoping they'll consider you worthwhile enough to keep around! Unlike those 'friends' of ours that ran as soon as we appeared useless!" Gritted teeth, each seeming ready to shatter from the force as he glared at what he considered to be his 'lesser self'. "You hate the people that abandoned us. You just want to gather people around you for your own personal use, to make yourself feel relevant since you lock our final moments of stardom away! These two are just pieces of your shitty little game, just like that worker in the cafeteria! Just trying to get on good sides, despite not having an actual redeeming quality to save your damn life!"

The rant left him breathing heavily, though not expecting much out of the lesser self he was ready to croak. However, his expression shifted lightly from anger to surprise as Dakota tried to kick his foot forward, tip of his shoe barely connecting with his other self's chest.

"Shut..." He paused, trying to draw in more air. "Up."

The grip slightly loosened, Dakota seeming to be toyed with to give his chance at saying something. Feeling degraded, terrified, and hurt in a literal sense, he wasn't sure of exactly what he could do except deny. "I'm not like that. Yeah, my chance at being a famous singer like I wanted washed down the drain, but I'm just trying to live. These people, I'm not trying to use them!"

"Bullshit!" His 'Mirror' self objected. "Only reason you helped that brick shithouse over there was because you figured his muscle would perhaps save your life at some point, or his injured ass would make good bait to keep running."

He was met with a more forceful kick, causing him anger more than anything else.

"Everyone deserves a chance." Dakota reasoned, feeling the talons digging into his skin again already. "You're something beyond a nightmare. Whatever this hell is, it's just designed to try and torture us! You think we're the same?!" He spat at his supposed 'other self', refusing to hear anymore. "You aren't me! You're just some freakish monster, throwing a tantrum using my face!"

Those words were enough for Dakota to be thrown, hitting the stage hard and rolling back towards Vincent's feet. He gasped for air, taking in the freedom despite the minor cuts along his neck, with some included bruising starting to become apparent. His supposed other self simply began to laugh, seeming to be about as happy as he'd been when they first arrived. One beastial arm was raised along with his human one, cackling with satisfaction for a moment, before halting with a slight huff.

"You're right! I'm not you!"

The skin on his other self bubbled, groans of pain loud and disturbing as he fell down onto all-fours. Eagle-foot cracking the stage, as he cried out a final, long-lasting note as the humanoid portions began to tear apart. Before the eyes of the three men, his other frontal limb was clearly transforming to be similar to the first, while his legs took a turn into becoming more fur-covered, hairy. Lion legs, if one cared to actually identify them. The lights of the stage began to brighten, as his head twisted, starting to foam as the vocal note carried on, only to become an ear-piercing screech as what remained of his human head split apart, the light momentarily blinding everyone involved.

By the time it dimmed, what stood before them was a beast. It easily toppled two Vincent's stacked atop each-other when it came to height, any taller and it might've given three a run for their money. Aside from it's black-haired hindlegs, the rest of it's body, including tail, consisted of feathers. Black in color as well, aside from the head, being a pure white, only dirtied by blood below its own eyes, which were wrapped and seemingly blinded the creature. The shackles that it broke before were still around it's front legs, chains dragging against the stage now, though still broken.

Dakota slowly pulled himself to a sitting position, eyes widening at the sight in front of him. A beast more terrifying than the birds they'd seen back with Pondwater, for sure. And Dakota wasn't sure what the hell they'd do now.

"I'm superior in every way! A king! An icon! A pathetic piece of trash like you has no need to be on my stage any longer. And I'll remove you personally!"

It let out another screech, wings spreading and lashing out a powerful gust that'd push against those before it, though they could keep their footing. Dakota, feeling hopeless but not wanting to surrender after what he'd just went through, noticed that during it's growth, that it'd knocked that mic stand close to him again. He wasn't sure what he could do with it... But he grabbed it regardless, and pulled himself to his feet. A stomp from the beast nearly made him fall back down, but an observant eye could've seen the lights above shake violently after the move. The area was quite enclosed, and with it's size the beast could not move very easily, especially as it liked to flap those large wings to try and knock them down.

"You see those lights shaking...?" He muttered to the two people that stuck up for him, that tried to defend him. "They're pretty big. IIf we tick him off, he might knock those down." A look towards the exits, would show those shadowy walls still blocking the way, but they seemed to recoil to just the exits. Meaning one could run out into the seats if they wished to do so. Anyone that cared to jump off the stage and look behind it could find instruments, an assortment that had been playing during the performance. Potential weapons, depending on how an individual wished to use them. But with the sheer size of the monster, one could be concerned for it tearing into the back of the stage with it's talons to rip an individual to shreds.

With seemingly no way out, and the idea of striking the beast directly feeling like suicide considering it's mixture of powerful beasts, making it a victim of it's own anger seemed like the best bet. But how they'd go about it, Dakota wasn't sure. All he knew was that he wouldn't back down: Not with Nick and Vincent at risk. Deep inside, maybe some of what this monster said was right. But he didn't... just use people to make himself feel better, or look better. He wanted the best for them, and this being of anger didn't see that.

One way or another, Dakota was determined to provide some enlightenment to this beast.

Vincent didn't think much of this so-called 'Mirror' Dakota. Honestly, because Dakota wasn't so impressive himself, his rockstar doppelganger looked downright ridiculous to him, like a kid dressing up for Halloween. Not to toot Vincent's own horn, but he could beat down a kid, easy. Vincent reared back a fist for another punch, one that'd send this punk right onto the floor, only for Dakota to spring up and get in on the action. Vincent stopped short of decking the real Dakota in the back of the head. Despite the tense circumstances Vincent couldn't help but sneer. Who would get in the way of a guy throwing punches? Something clicked in his head right then, in the split-second before things went south. It was a simple kneejerk reaction to stupidity - who hasn't had one of those before?

Vincent.

Vincent hasn't.

For years now, he'd been on some kind of autopilot, existing in life through an ever present malaise of violence and subservience. This wasn't news to him, he's never tried to convince himself otherwise. But in this moment, an emotion, an actual genuine thought broke through amidst all the chaos and insanity the day's shown them all. The realization made Vincent hesitate, the shift in tension and appearance from their Dakota-y foe hardly registering as self-awareness came crashing down around him. The hairs on the back of his neck stood straight, goosebumps following suit, though it wasn't a chill that Vincent felt. It was more like a deep warmth, like a patch of sunburn across the nape.

Reality came back to Vincent once Dakota tumbled onto the floor, making the stoic brute nearly jump out of his shoes in a much un-brutish way. He stooped down and helped Dakota back onto his feet, eyes turning to the "other" Dakota just as it finished its own monstrous transformation. A lump formed in Vincent's throat. While the cracks in his repressed state of being were a good thing as anyone would agree, self-awareness also came with the newfound ability to be scared again, and just in time to face off against a gigantic, demonic hybrid of a creature.

"For fuck's..." Vincent didn't need to finish the sentence.

Standing just behind Dakota, Vincent watched the monster carefully, eyes darting to the exit in case it was miraculously open to them. Too much luck needed for that. At least the Dakota Monster didn't seem to be making the first move, or it was waiting to strike. Whatever the reason, standing around wasn't going to help anyone. "Well, looks like it's pissed at you," Vincent helpfully noted. "You keep its attention and I'll see if I can help those lights down." Taking a tentative step back, then another, Vincent darted sideways once he was sure he had a clearing, passing between the curtain to the backstage area. Rather than grabbing a blunt object or heavy instrument to use, Vincent rooted around some of the equipment stashed back there. The rest of this place seemed like a normal venue, so there should be...

There! Vincent dug his hand into a cardboard box, pulling out a spare microphone, this one connected to a long audio cord. It'd have to do for now. Taking the mic in one hand and the bundled cord in the other, Vincent legged it back out onto the stage, hoping that Dakota would keep the thing busy for a little while, at least, and not get killed in the process.