---

Chad was quite certain he wouldn't be meeting his head removal quota regardless of how the fight played out, unless they managed to hide a veritable army inside the execution room somehow. Funny how the girl was suddenly less keen on rushing in when there was a very real danger of her being fried. Ah well, he couldn't disagree with her assessment, even if charging right into the path of a fire or lightning mage was hardly his idea of a good time.

He drew his sword from its scabbard at last - the blade was far too clean for his liking - and brandished it lazily at his side. His limbs tingled as sluggish blood began to circulate in his veins at last, crawling faster and faster as the vitae within seeped into his muscles. The room wasn't so big that he believed he'd have a problem, and flames could be outrun, but every millisecond counted when lightning came into play. Red-tinged eyes passed over the group in a languid assessment. Not the finest group of warriors he'd seen, but they'd surely have the numerical advantage. Worst case scenario, he and the Eve could probably mop the whole room up alone like Dionne had insisted.

Suitably prepared, the vampire moved to the doorway and raised a hand, five fingers outstretched. "On my mark," he whispered, no longer bothering to pay attention to them. Just in case the mages needed time to compose themselves, he took his time counting down, holding his hand up for a beat before he lowered a finger. Then another. Two. One.

As his last finger lowered, Chad burst through the doors as a blur of steel and bestial hunger. He focused first on the guard caught in the middle of the room - the closest, though also the first to spot them. He would've been an excellent choice of prey, if not for the flash of white and gold beyond him that looked far more tantalizing. Seemed Caeli's intel wasn't all it was cracked up to be; the inquisitor was still here. That complicated matters, but also made them more fun. Besides, the ozone scent in the air left little question as to the inquisitor's affinity, which meant closing the distance was more pressing than dispatching some worthless underling. The vampire shifted mid-dash to veer away from a direct collision course with the guard, instead throwing out a wayward backfist as he passed in hopes to catch the man on the head without sacrificing too much momentum.

Pressing on past the first guard, Chadwick descended upon the inquisitor in a fury. Ideally, he'd have gone for the most expedient manner of execution while he still had the initiative, but he'd probably end up skewering the hostage too, and then he'd have to deal with the pestering of bleeding heart idiots all day long. Instead, he aimed his initial slash to the mage's upper torso rather than the more easily-breached guts, light on his feet in preparation to switch gears to evasion should the sparks start to fly.

---

---

Secure hostages, switch to reinforcements if necessary. Got it. Easy, simple, within his capabilities. Well, theoretically, anyway. Quinn inadvertently held his breath as he recognized Count Astorio's gesture not as a motion for them to wait, but a countdown. He wasn't sure how long they'd have until the spells started flying, but it should be just like practice. Besides, he was pretty far back; he shouldn't be the primary target. Just watch for stray bolts or something.

While his initial idea had been to rush in with the rest, the door suddenly looked like ideal cover to hide behind, and as the vampire barged into the room, Quinn barely took a few paces forward, only enough to assess their opposition clearly. Three enemies, several prisoners - wait, which ones were still alive? The one screaming, obviously, but the - the inquisitor was still here?! No, that wasn't his job; the executioner was too connected to the screaming prisoner anyway, he'd likely kill him in midair if Quinn tried to wrest him from the man's grasp. The one on the wall seemed free of any entanglements though, but still close enough to the action that he might end up hurt on accident.

He thrust a hand out toward the blue-haired prisoner, and suddenly the room shifted around him. The wall at Roan's back became the floor, which swiftly tilted into a steep incline that left him little choice but to tumble upward toward the ceiling. Only his restraints kept him from completely falling as he now dangled upward at an impossible angle. Quinn frowned at the display briefly - he stupidly hadn't considered that they'd be actually attached to the floor - but he had a solution regardless. His other hand flayed out at his side and a shimmer in the air manifested over his shoulder with a muttered incantation, elongating into a softly luminous spear that built up momentum in a drill-like spin. It hurtled across the room like a falling star toward the extended chains below - or above, from Roan's point of view - his target, shattering them and dropping Roan into an upward freefall.

As the ceiling's not-so-gentle embrace rushed closer, Quinn yanked his hand back and the room spun again, with Roan now falling back toward Quinn for a moment before sudden weightlessness overcame him, with only inertia propelling him back to the safety of his rescuers rather than the full weight of gravity.

"I got him! Grab the other one," Quinn offered, mostly toward Caspian. An aqueous cushion to catch falling prisoners would've been ideal, but he doubted the blond could muster that much water on such short notice, and he certainly didn't want a miscalculation to end with a hostage splattered on the wall.

---

@Obscene Symphony

Paying no mind to the elevator was the expected choice. Donovan would think that one of them should have held back as it was likely those same complainers would likely show up once the rescue mission would spring in earnest. Were he a betting man he would think they would be wise not to descend at the sound of the alarm, but between fleeing a fight and having to explain yourself to the Empire on why your prisoners escaped, Donovan assumed the latter was much more frightening. The key to resolving such a predicament would be to avoid getting into it in the first place but that privilege was for the intelligent. The little Dionne opted to charge forward, an admirable decision based wholly on his words. He had known the answer and it didn't surprise him that she put more weight on the lives of others than violence, even if it would cover their tracks.

The plan was straightforward and simplistic, not unlike the person giving it. It would do for the moment. Donovan gave himself precisely three seconds to consider his own arsenal and weighed which knives were most likely to do the most damage. Chadwick would lead the charge and clear the path which left Donovan as the one to clean up the mess. Every sense he possessed was honed as he made his decision and procured half a dozen knives from his pockets. The likeliness of pivoting for a metal mage was slim but he was always prepared for the worst.

At Chadwick's mark, Donovan was hot on his heels. While the guard had been spared Chadwick's fury he was not as lucky to avoid Donovan. The last thing the mage would see was the black-haired vampire flicking his wrist towards him: the pair of knives moved at an impeccable speed aimed to blind. The rest of his knives were aimed at the other guard until Roan began to move. The temptation to test his accuracy strained his muscles but he gave Contarini three seconds to remedy the situation. Said mage at the very least resolved the hiccup and Donovan unleashed the rest of his knives at the other guard. He withdrew his dagger from its sheathe and assessed the room; surely, that much noise was enough to get the attention of the facility.

Roan shrunk from the Inquisitor’s hand like a frightened animal, any fight long tormented out of him. Instead of struggling, he searched Dylan for signs of life, the Inquisitor’s voice fading behind the rushing of his own blood in his ears as he observed with great horror how much Dylan’s empty gaze resembled Marie’s, who was still staring up blindly from the floor.

But the jolt to Dylan made Roan jump with a yelp, and the Inquisitor’s words came rushing back to him as if delayed: it took a few tries for his drug-addled brain to turn the information over, but Roan eventually realized with horror that Hasgad would torture Dylan before his very eyes, and the torment would end only when Roan begged for his friend to be killed. A wave of horrible nausea washed over Roan as the Inquisitor zapped Dylan again, the room filling with screaming until Dylan was left silent but for the heaving of his breath.

“Should I kill him yet, traitor?”

Roan had no words; his breathing came out in pitiful sobs, the once-proud rebel looking like a lost child as his eyes darted between the Inquisitor, the guards, and his broken friend, burning through the very last of his hope as he searched for a way out of this horrible reality and found none. Sun and stars, he was horrified enough by what he thought was going to happen! He thought - well, feared, actually - that Hasgad brought them down here for a fight to the death where Roan would stand no chance against the much burlier Dylan, even in this sorry state, and would thus bear no guilt when he embraced his only true escape from this cesspit. But this… what kind of fucked up trolley problem was this? Did Hasgad pull this out of a shitty Stephen King novel or something?!

Evidently his hesitation displeased the Inquisitor, because before Roan knew it, the room lit up with the sinister crackling of electricity once again. Dylan was quieter this time; he didn’t scream so much as he groaned and gurgled, even though by the end of this round, the top of his head was beginning to blacken from the heat. Soon his brain would fry from sheer temperature, if the electricity didn’t stop his heart first. But no, oh no, Hasgad was too clever for that; Roan knew his ways better than he ever wanted to. The Inquisitor ran a tight ship, and nobody died without his permission.

“Please…” Roan croaked out, barely above a murmur as the Inquisitor gave Dylan another shock, his friend even quieter than before. Did he even feel the pain? His body twitched and spasmed, but his face was so empty… not dead, but not really there. Roan hoped so, anyway. Would he even notice if Roan called for his end? Maybe he’d call it a mercy. Surely by now the man was beyond help, even if he was swept from Hasgad’s clutches right this second--

BANG!

All of a sudden, the door - those massive iron doors Roan thought were immovable - burst inwards, and the room exploded with action. Noise, light, flurries of movement - figures flooding in the door and the guards and Inquisitor whirling around to meet them. Was he hallucinating?

There wasn’t much time to think - the room was falling over.

Roan yelped as he felt his balance suddenly shift, and for a moment, he thought he must have passed out. But the movement didn’t stop there; the room tilted further backwards, and soon he was sliding up the wall, his arms wrenched painfully behind his back as he eventually dangled from his shackles toward - the ceiling??

Everything moved too fast for Roan’s sluggish brain to keep up, but the panic rising in his chest kept track of it all for him; suddenly, he was falling, and someone was screaming, and though he tried to reach out and grab something to break his fall, his shackles still held his wrists together behind his back…

---

Caspian watched as Quinn floated down gi gingerly with his powers. He'd wanted to do as much himself, but didn't wish to ask so much of Quinn. He knew it must've taken an immense amount of control just to get himself down, let alone a whole group of people safely. Caspian typically had a way to break his own gall, should he ever need to jump off a far height, but it was noisy and large and not fit for either the space they were confined to nor the mission they had at hand. A part of him felt a tinge of jealousy towards Quinn's powers. Something so subtle yet versatile. He would've answered the gravity mages question, but it appeared he'd done so himself. The muffled screams from behind the iron doors aiding to the conclusion. There was no time to delay, they needed to act fast and as one unit.

Lyra joined them, giving out as full of a plan as was possible given the circumstances. The screams from the poor victim likely hid any whispers they were currently spewing out before to help maintain their element. However, the more she spoke the more it was made clear she had no grasp of his capabilities. Tasked with doing three things at once, Caspian decided he'd need to prioritize them in his mind and work at one at a time as he made his way through whatever lay beyond the doors. For his sake, he hoped it wasn't lightning. He nodded in agreeance with her plan, hesitant at the roles he had to play, but understanding of what it was she was asking. Once the Astorio came down and claimed the role of leader, marking down when they'd all go charging in, Caspian got himself into position to move as quickly as possible.

He placed one hand on his scabbard, the only firmly on the hilt, as he adjusted his body to be low in a sprinting position. The stairwell was humid, with constant disgusting reminders of the water that plagued this location and the damage it has caused. He concentrated on that, pooling as much of it as he could towards the heels of his feet. Once Astorio bashed the door open, the pools erupted into jets, propelling Caspian into the room before clearing the rest to get towards the prisoners. One of them began to float into the air, a clear mark of Quinn as Caspiam adjusted and went for the next target. The Inquisitor was still present, and standing near his target. The water mage grit his teeth, using the moment to slide off to the side of the mage as his hands quickly followed a pattern before gripping the metallic restraints and oxidizing them to rust.

With the metal weakened, Caspian took a quick slash towards the chains, cutting them off before placing himself in front of the prisoner. He wasn't planning to pick a fight with an inquisitor, but if he had to to give Quinn a chance to yank this guy to safety as well then he would. He held his sword before him, the scent of ozone giving away the Inquisitors magic. If he tried to use it against him, perhaps he could attempt to use his sword as a lighting rod to block any incoming attacks before parrying with some of his own.

The first guard never stood a chance. A sharp crack accompanied the first hit, jaw broken where Chadwick punched him and a knife in the throat and another in the chest sealed his fate. He hit the ground before anyone in the room even had the chance to register the intrusion, unconscious before the dull thud of his skull disappeared in the noise of the rebel attack.

The other guard moved with practiced grace and snatched the only one she couldn't side step out of the air before it could reach her. "Intruders in the Execution room!" She shouted through an earpiece. Her sword rang as she drew it and sent Donovan's knife hurtling towards Quinn, a gust of wind sent after it. The translucent glimmer of an evocation spell shimmered above her as she incanted.

A deranged grin overtook Hasgad's face after he recovered from the momentary surprise when the doors burst open. A dangerous, violent glint entered his eyes and he welcomed Chadwick's blade with open arms, barely registering that his captives were being snatched from under his nose. Static built around the Inquisitor as Chadwick's blade descended.

For a moment, it seemed like Chadwick had been quick enough. Cloth frayed under his blade, a faint tinge of red welling up from split skin - but Hasgad was quicker. The spell he'd been charging released on contact, sending a violent shock down the blade before he vanished in a crackle of electricity, running along the metal strip in ground towards the otherwise of the room. He laughed, tapping his fingers to his chest and watching with wonder as little prickles of red stained the tips.

"Well, well, well! Looks like I lost twenty bucks! I didn't think you'd have the balls to come find them when I leaked that info." Hasgad chuckled as he took in the scene. True, he was outnumbered but the whole room was built for him, by him, so he figured it was only fair they got that advantage. Two vampires, three mage…

Lyra fucking Luscin.

"You idiots walked the daughter of Lilie Luscin into my detention facility? Oh, you shouldn't have!" Hasgad cooed, hands outstretched as lightning poured from them into the metal strip on the floor. The metal sang with energy, Hasgad's power lightning up the entire room as massive bolts leapt around seemingly at random. Connected to the grid as they were, the iron doors also hummed with energy and the open one had a constant wave of lightning connecting each half. "How about this? I'll trade you two… eh, one and a half cause one of them is nearly brain dead, rebels for Luscin right now. In terms of bodies, you're definitely getting the better deal!" With the flick of his wrist, Hasgad sent massive bolts of lightning flying at Caspian, Quinn, and Chadwick, all while looking like a child at his birthday party.

---

With the prisoner handled, Quinn had leave to tend to more important matters, namely the knife flying right at him. Just like practice. Probably. He stepped back and gripped one of the open doors, slamming it shut in front of him to intercept the knife. The breeze that flowed around his makeshift barrier gave him a decent idea of the guard's affinity, which unfortunately meant he couldn't toss her around the room at his leisure as he would've wanted.

Before he could put any alternative ideas into play, the room came alive with the inquisitor's magic. The lavender-haired mage had barely a second of warning to wrest his hands from the metal door as all his hair spontaneously stood on end. Lightning arced across the doorway, effectively locking Quinn out; he could open the doors without touching them, but it wouldn't do any good if he couldn't cross their threshold anyway. Not that relocating himself back inside the room would do him much good, the place had become a veritable death trap and the odds of managing to levitate the other prisoner out without him falling into a stray coruscation were slim to none. A shame too, the inquisitor had apparently chosen a new obsession, willing as he was to trade his prisoners for Lyra. Quinn wasn't quite sure if the other prisoner was even worth the effort to save after that brain-dead comment, the lapse in the inquisitor's interest would've been his best opportunity to try regardless.

Despite his recognition of Lyra, the inquisitor hadn't neglected the rest of his attackers, and he promptly took aim at the others with massive surges of- oh, that one was coming at him!

"Oppolik," Quinn squeaked, and a disk of energy sprung up in the bolt's path. The barrier instantly became a spider web of cracks upon impact with the lightning, shattering as easily as a dinner plate struck with a hammer. Still, it hindered the incoming attack just enough to buy a few precious instants for evasion. The mage leaned to the side at an impossible angle to allow the lightning bolt to pass overhead. It took a moment for the oppressive heat of the charged air above to fade before gravity tilted back to normal and he pushed off the ground to right his stance again.

Unwilling to risk the inquisitor's full attentions with reinforcements likely on their way and himself as their first obstacle, Quinn instead shifted his target to the remaining guard. After his rescue of the blue-haired mage, she'd definitely be waiting for any gravity shifts he could conjure, and anyone deft enough to dodge knives like that wouldn't have any issues with a terebrien either. Instead, he took a more subtle approach as he peered beyond the electric wall that barred his entry; the mage thrusted a hand forward and tilted his wrist as if turning a doorknob. Gravity warped around the other guard's head to trick her vestibular sense into believing gravity had shifted back toward the wall behind her while a separate gravity well tugged her along a completely different vector and right into an electrified strip. With luck, she'd overcompensate in the wrong direction and end up launching herself right into danger instead.

---

The world was a blur as Roan hurtled through the air, but he finally caught his bearings when something else - no, someone else - caught him. Although “caught” was a strong word; rather, he bowled someone over, knees and elbows colliding unceremoniously on the threshold of the execution chamber. Roan’s first instinct was to flee, but whatever spell had sent him hurtling toward the ceiling and out the door had yet to release its hold, and he floated at a weird and nauseating angle just above the floor, unable to find purchase. Not that it would have mattered - he could get a fair distance with his arms behind his back, but his ankles were still shackled tight.

A hand gripped his shirt, stopping any further effort to escape, and for a moment panic shot through Roan again, thinking for sure it was a guard here to drag him back inside to his agonizing death. But when he finally got enough sense about him to see the person in front of him, she was missing the gaudy regalia of his usual tormentors. In fact, with the fighting inside and the patchwork assembly of strangers on the attack, it almost looked like a rescue party.

“Calm down and stay still.” A shield popped up in a cube around them as the girl pulled herself out from under Roan, and the noise outside grew muffled, making Roan once again mourn the loss of his magic. He couldn’t do much to fight, but he kept his guard squarely up nonetheless; it wouldn’t be the first time that his captors staged a rescue, getting their hopes up only to thrust them into a nightmare and make them regret ever begging for help.

He squirmed nervously as the girl maneuvered him around, focusing on the shackles around his ankles. Until then, a combination of hunger, exhaustion, confusion, and leftover drugs kept him too confused to form any proper words, but the girl’s stern warning - and the fire that came to life in her hands - was finally enough to help Roan break his silence.

“Oh, no no no--” he groaned weakly like a frightened child, shaking his head fervently but too scared to move anything else. He was reminded of his tormentors, who would only get more insistent the more he struggled, training their prisoners to accept and endure whatever torment awaited them. And, much like with them, his pleadings fell on deaf ears; his legs trembled in his shackles as the girl burned through the chain between them, heat radiating dangerously close to his skin. But while Roan fully expected her to lop off his feet along with the shackles, to his surprise, his legs were intact by the time the metal gave way. Roan didn’t notice until she was done that she seemed to have put some sort of shield around his legs. Was she really here to help him?

The girl wasted no time, whirling Roan around with disorienting ease, aided both by his continuing weightlessness and his awestruck stillness. No, he refused to believe it; nobody was coming for him, nobody even knew he was alive! And there was no way the lunatic that ran this asylum was letting any intruder into his compound - his fragile ego could never take it. It was a trick, a dirty trick played by dirty Sinnenodels who got tired of breaking his body and went for his spirit instead.

Roan squeezed his eyes shut, any fight long gone from him as he curled in on himself and waited for whatever horrific final blow would herald the end of this cruel illusion. His tormentors were smart, they knew this would spell the end for him. After however long he’d been down there, living in filth and hunger and pain and long having abandoned any dream of getting out alive, he couldn’t handle having his last tiny, resurrected spark of hope crushed again. As he drew what he was sure would be his final breath, he wondered if the world - even the small, miserable world his captors occupied - would be any different for his absence.

And then his hands came free, and the girl spoke.

“Okay, done. Careful, metal could still be hot.”

Roan’s eyes snapped open, his dumb, foolish heart leaping like an idiot at the concept that what he was experiencing might not actually be an illusion. Drawing his hands in front of him, he stared at them in mute disbelief, having fully expected to see a set of blackened stumps as punishment for his foolish hope. Briefly ignorant to his surroundings, he swung his arms at his sides, reveling in the sore, fantastic feeling of moving freely for the first time since… well, he couldn’t even remember.

But his celebration was short; the shield encapsulating them fell shortly after, and with it came rushing back the litany of chaos from inside the execution chamber.

Roan gasped, the reality of the situation finally dawning on him. This was real - this was a rescue! A party sent from Dawn Rising, right? Hadn’t someone just mentioned Lilie Luscin? A sharp contrast to his former despair, hope - real, genuine hope - sparked up in Roan for the first time in ages. He made a gamble: If this was still an illusion, it was too complex for him to crack, and if it was real, he’d be an idiot not to cooperate.

“Sun and stars, sun and stars,” he muttered dumbly, his brain moving slow as he tried to revive his long-rusted reconnaissance habits and actually assess the situation. Okay, execution chamber, two guards down, one fighting, the Inquisitor - two vampires and two-- three mages? Was that everyone? He couldn’t trust his senses, dulled as they were, and least of all his hearing, but there was no time to seek confirmation.

“Are there more of you?!” he asked urgently, grabbing the girl’s shoulder to steady himself as his weightlessness and sudden enthusiasm pitched him forward. “Quick, let me down!”

---

The vampire gritted his teeth as his sword arm spasmed under the current, fingers too tense to drop the blade and ego too prideful to allow himself to be disarmed besides. Nevertheless, Chad took a step back defensively. Not the worst outcome; he'd scored a hit, even if minor, and the shock was negligible, all things considered. It wasn't like he had a heart in danger of stopping, in any case. Of course, the inquisitor surely knew that and would definitely raise the voltage of his next attack accordingly.

Despite the inquisitor's momentary lapse in judgement, it seemed he was quite prepared for a fight, as the room became an extension of his magic in the most textbook Alderman tactic that Chadwick had ever been given the displeasure of witnessing firsthand. They'd walked right into a trap. He should've taken the killing blow when it had been presented to him; the prisoner was functionally dead and his act of restraint was for naught. The exits were blocked, so it wasn't like they could lure Hasgud out of his element or even run away like cowards, and he wasn't likely to drop the barriers for his reinforcements either. They'd likely just take magical pot shots at the rebels from behind the barriers after they finished off the purple kid.

The vampire watched his footwork carefully, ever wary of stepping on anything metallic. The crackle of superheated air tipped him off just enough to evade any stray arcs from the room, but it demanded quite a bit of concentration and didn't leave much room for offense. Ugh, he needed mage support, how tiresome. He wasn't certain whether Dionne's daughter dearest had the aptitude to curve her spells around a rampaging vampire or if he'd be risking a burn every time he advanced, but Casper was a transmuter, if he recalled correctly. That'd have to do.

A sudden surge of lightning forced the vampire to shift out of its path as a blur. This fight was definitely going to burn a lot of blood. Where was the cannon fodder when he needed them?

He held his commentary until after the thunderous crack that accompanied the bolt had passed, then flicked his eyes briefly to the blond with his sword still at the ready. "Casper, disrupt his circuit where you can, we need room to maneuver." Poor idiot would definitely get himself fried if he went in swinging right now. As would Chad, probably, but someone had to be the vanguard around here.

The vampire stepped forward assertively at last, not even bothering to put up a guard with his sword - it wouldn't do a thing to the lightning regardless - though he kept his steps cautious and measure despite this seeming recklessness. Rather than keep to elegant swordplay, his approach more resembled a boxer hounding his opponent with jabs, throwing repeated thrusts with his weapon at the man's vitals, only daring to follow up with a more decisive swing once he'd made contact and found a proper opening for a combo. Accuracy was the utmost importance at this stage; a glancing blow would only open him up to another zap. At the very least, he'd keep the inquisitor's concentration on himself and not allow him free reign to manage the room against them.

---

The symphony of a fight was akin to listening to a familiar song on the radio: it was better heard on record but was still pleasant to listen to even if it had the occasional hiccup. Donovan had a preference for hiding in the shadows as he felt there was more satisfaction in the split second of doom in his target's eyes before life left them. Yet the resistance battled out in the open with few expert in the ways of assassination. Or rather, their attempts at stealth ended in similar situations to the one they were in at the moment. For once he would not lay the blame at anyone's feet as the appearance of the inquisitor was a surprise even to him. The survival of more than one of the imprisoned was the more pressing issue but he assumed that by the end of the night there would only be one rescued.

He gave the inquistor half an ear as he studied the surviving mage. Air was a tricky element to contend with and his throwing knives were better served as distractions. The scream from Contarini and the sound of the doors slamming shut did curve his lips into something resembling a smile, but the sudden electricity in the air was far more pressing. The vampire took care to stay away from the sudden currents but clicked his tongue. He always minded his steps but the electricity combined with the air mage could potentially spill some of their own blood. As the thought crossed his mind, he decided that he would have to force the mage's hand. Astorio could occupy the Inquisitor until the mage was dealt with, and then the pair would be able to overpower the mage together.

Donovan watched the electricity crackle and moved quickly. He doubted he could beat lightning but he had perfect control over himself, eyes honed in on his path. Bum rushing was tactless and for the fools, but he wanted the air mage's attention to be fully on him. He held his dagger tightly, footsteps heavy as he outright lunged at her with every intention of slicing her throat.

---

Any hopes of Quinn stealing the prisoners to safety went out the window the second the Inquisitor became aware of them. He watched as the lightning came alive, dancing around the room with a low hum now surrounding them. One of the prisoners was freed, the other was supposedly brain dead, and the last was already killed. Caspian couldn't help but think of every moment they'd wasted up until now, the arguing and bickering could've saved at least one more life. No. He couldn't think in would haves, what's happened happened and he needed to focus on the here and now. Beyond the hum there came a quick crackling sound as the Inquisitor made a rapid movement with his wrist, sending out bolts of lightning towards each of them.

He didn't have time to avoid the blast and take the prisoner with him. He needed to find a way to redirect the lightning from where he stood. He swiped his sword in a downwards motion, a stream of water condensing before him in a downwards arc that connected to the stone floor to his right. As the bolt crashed into the new watery circuit, it flowed down and away from Caspian as he let out a sigh of relief. It was a close shave and they needed to find a way out and fast. Transmuting a tunnel would take too long and leave him open, but taking down the Inquisitor would likely leave them with three dead prisoners and one less mage. Astorio seemed to have the same idea that Caspian had, though it appeared that even though they came from the same place he still had no grasp on how a mage's power worked.

Oh sure I'll just disrupt the current. No problem Caspian thought to himself as he glanced around the room. There wasn't a single piece of this massive circuit that wasn't already pumped with electricity. If he was to transmute any of it he'd end up frying himself in the process. There had to be a way for this all to work out. He doubted Lyra superheating the metal would do them any good, and both the vamps were keeping the fucker busy for now. He looked towards Quinn to see if the electric field had dropped yet when suddenly it clicked. He'd never had a Quinn before, but it opened up new avenues he'd never even considered before. "Quinn. I need a small lift! Just enough to make me float, can you handle that?"

Over the crackling of electricity, shouting echoed down the hallways and the elevator whirred to life. Reinforcements were on their way - with Quinn isolated.

The air mage swore as the room shifted and someone else wisped the magic of her spell away, the damned gravity mage clearly intent on making her life hell. She was less concerned about the advancing vampire, planning to slip away from him once she was airborne, but she hadn’t anticipated the trick. What should have sent her breezing past Donivan just out of reach, instead sent her face first into an electrified field. She spasmed and the skin on her face blackened, adding to the smell of burnt flesh, and she rolled over onto the floor, barely alive and unconscious.

Meanwhile, Hasgad’s crazed grin didn’t leave his face even as the first blow struck, slightly too slow to avoid the hit. However, Maxwell Alderman didn’t tolerate fools. For all his insanity, Hasgad had clocked the threat, thanks to a certain brutal Grand Inquisitor sharing an affinity with the gravity mage killing his soldiers. The metal calmed as all the lightning in the room coalesced into a crackling ball in front of the Inquisitor that he let out in a wave powerful enough to stun the brutish vampire bothering Hasgad, but instead of exploiting the opening, he vanished in a bolt of lightning that raced out the open door.

Hasgad reappeared behind Quinn, hand wrapped neatly around Quinns throat.
“Now, now, now. That was a creative little trick you pulled there. But you won’t do that anymore or you’ll die, and your little friends won’t do anything anymore either or you’ll die!” Hasgad cooed, lightning already arcing in his other hand. “Now, I thought I was quite civil. The least you could do is offer me a response. Your call here, little Lyra. Either they all live and you stay, or I kill him now, kill everyone else, and then capture you. What do you think?”

---

Chad grew practically giddy as his strike connected and smoothly transitioned into a follow-up attack, even as the mage coalesced his final, desperate spell. Unfortunately, he was off by mere milliseconds; the drawn electricity from the room exploded before the vampire could deliver his coup de grace, and he was sent staggering backward in barely-contained spasms. The vampire flailed an uncoordinated arm forward in hopes he'd connect with something, but caught only air - the inquisitor had fled.

It wasn't a surprise, in retrospect. Mages were such fragile things, and his best efforts would only damn him to a death by a thousand cuts at this rate, even if he avoided every decisive blow Chad threw at him. But it was annoying, and the Astorio had received his fill of annoyances for the day. The speech was simply the icing on the pie - or whatever mortals put icing on - did he honestly expect a mage of all things to be an ideal hostage? Quentin Santorini was as irrelevant as they came, even in this ragtag band of nobodies, and Chad had already written him off the moment he found himself trapped outside anyway. Daughter Dearest's death would earn the vampire an earful, the prisoner was quite literally the entire reason they came, and he found Casper marginally useful, but the little purple boy? Eh.

"Kill the little bastard, see if I care. I don't even know his name," Chadwick called nonchalantly, "But I know a cornered rat when I see one and you only have until his body hits the ground to run away from me."

Ah, that must've been it. The inquisitor was stalling for his reinforcements so he could make a run for it while they chopped down his underlings. He hoped Dionne's brat didn't have a martyr complex in her, because this idiot really had no leverage. If they weren't already outnumbered - or at least they would be as soon as the elevator opened - he'd have speared through the both of them like he should've done with the other prisoner.

"You have until I lose my patience to rescue the other mage," Chad grumbled under his breath, mostly to Caspian since Donovan likely cared as much as he did and the other mages probably lacked the hearing necessary to make out his words at a distance anyway. In the meantime, he counted his paces. Each stride was mentally measured to account for where his feet would have to contact with the floor once he decided to cross the room and rip out the inquisitor's throat. After all, corpses fell quite fast and Chadwick had given himself a deadline; it wouldn't do to step on a metal strip and lose precious seconds should the inquisitor bring his magic to bear again.

---

---

The barest hint of a morbid smile graced Quinn's lips as his plan worked to perfection and the woman found herself inadvertently demoted in the inquisitor's graces from lackey to victim. He didn't dwell on the implications of her death, just that he'd succeeded. Measured breaths. One step at a time. Light work.

Caspian's request was likewise simple. It hardly seemed the time to be floating around with all the electricity arcing about, especially given how hesitantly he'd reacted to Quinn's earlier weight-lessening spell, but he'd have to trust that the other mage wouldn't immediately dive into a lightning bolt. The boy gave an upward flick of his fingers and rejected the planet's claim on Caspian completely. He'd intended to keep an eye on the blond to catch him should he immediately blunder into harm's way, but a ding from behind him demanded his attention more promptly.

His cue came sooner than he would've liked, but he expected it nevertheless, as the elevator began its descent. If Quinn couldn't lift the entire car - definitely the simplest solution but not one he wanted to gamble on, especially if he had to hold Caspian up while doing so - he'd have to strike as soon as the doors opened to catch them by surprise. A position on the ceiling would afford him both an ideal line of sight and an additional safeguard against the elevator's occupants spotting him too early, but before he could launch himself up to his perch, the sizzle of the room behind him died down and was replaced with a pressure on his neck and the hiss of a readied spell in his ear.

Somehow, he wasn't dead. That was good. The inquisitor's rambling went mostly unprocessed, as a million other things bounced around in Quinn's brain overtop of the words. It would be simple to kill the inquisitor from this position, but doing so without also dying in the process was far less feasible, if not impossible. A suicide for the greater good was certainly romantic, but Quinn felt it should be left as just that - an act of fictional romance.

Apparently he'd been left alive strategically, as the inquisitor's closing remarks reached his ear. Hostage trade. But he wasn't a good hostage. They'd used him as they needed to levitate the prisoner out and they could dispose of him with his purpose fulfilled. He was new, forgettable- wait, no, they'd staged this rescue over unimportant prisoners, surely they wouldn't throw him to the adders so quickly.

"Kill the little bastard, see if I care."

Astorio. Right.

He was going to die.

Well, two could play at that game; Quinn had no loyalty to the rebellion either. He drew his spell back from Caspian immediately, lest he goad the man into thinking he'd attempted some kind of escape. It was already all he could do not to squirm in place; thankfully the overwhelming amount of tension in his frame kept all his muscles locked firmly in place. The man was obviously waiting for him to try and fling himself or his captor away, and as fast as he could be, he didn't think he could outrun a lightning bolt.

"So if I pull her over here, I get to walk?" He finally asked coldly. The man's word meant nothing, but he could at least indulge the game enough to buy time for a more thought out escape.

---

Before Roan had the chance to fully regain his bearings - and if it took this long for him to realize he was still inside the execution room then it wasn’t looking good - the chaos surrounding them suddenly came to a standstill. He only noticed the oppressive crackling of electricity when it stopped, ears ringing in its absence, and it took him a moment to follow the gazes of all present to the source of the disruption: Inquisitor Hasgad had captured one of their number, and was holding him hostage in exchange for “Lyra.”

A quick glance around revealed that the only woman in the room was the girl who’d freed him from his shackles, and it took a brief moment for Roan to piece together that that was the “daughter” Hasgad was talking about. Wait, no, that couldn’t be right. Lilie-damn-Luscin, the leader of Dawn Rising itself, did not send her only remaining child on a rescue mission for him. That would be monumentally stupid. No, Hasgad had finally zapped his last brain cell, and he was mistaking the girl for someone else.

It seemed this group was well-practiced, though, because they all played along seamlessly. One of the vampires derided the hostage, and the hostage himself offered a trade. Oh yes, clever! The gravity kid could pull the girl in, and then once she was close, she could reduce the crazy fucker to ash - or at the very least, distract him with some fire while the two vampires came in for the kill. It was a good plan, even more impressive to come up with on the fly, but it didn’t account for the reinforcements Roan could (barely) hear tramping through the facility.

Damn, what else, what else! Roan didn’t move a muscle for fear of triggering Hasgad and messing up the plan, but he looked around desperately, searching for any other opportunity to escape or fight back and coming up empty. Dammit, if only he had his magic! He was probably rusty after so long, but he could make some kind of noise or shockwave, maybe stun the Inquisitor long enough to escape - or, no, that would stun everyone else too, and even if he tried to make a concentrated origin point near Hasgad he’d end up catching the gravity kid in the blast. Well, maybe stunning everyone else would be fine since the vampires would recover the fastest, but-- Dumbass! You don’t have magic!

Wait! The girl used shields! That was protection magic, right? That could probably dispel his wards! He had no idea if that was true or if it would be possible in the time they had, but it was worth a try. While the Inquisitor was distracted with the posturing vampire and negotiating mage, Roan shot the girl a pleading look, flicking his eyes down and crossing his wrists in the hope that she would get the hint that despite her freeing him from his shackles, he was still bound.

Donovan had underestimated Contarini's commitment to murdering a fellow mage. The crackling electricity met with its target and engulfed the mage as it filled the air with the delightful scent of burnt flesh. While he was not the vampire to lose his composure it did surprise him just how pungent it could be up close. His own assassination methods were typically quieter and quicker. In that way by the time the body was discovered he was already gone. This experience was a helpful reminder to not rely too much on his snap judgements; especially if Contarini was the vengeful type. Donovan would have to watch the boy and his development going forward if only out of curiosity.

The scene had changed by the time Donovan changed his attention to the Inquisitor. The idea of one taking a hostage wasn't completely foreign but it wasn't necessarily a concern. Contarini was of no use to him and his attention had been on the little Dionne, who was predictably less than pleased. He could tell the gears in her head were turning as she was presented with few options. Chadwick had the right of it but Donovan caught wind of his barely audible words. He wasn't sure about trusting Fontaine with such a task. The mage was a little too charitable and a little too nonchalant about the wrong things. However, he would not interfere. So long as Miss Dionne and the rescue were secured, the rest didn't matter.

Speaking of the Dionne, she decided taunting the enemy was a response. Donovan ensured he was not simply standing around as he used every bit of patience to cautiously move himself into a better position. In this case, the only one who was in danger of a thrown knife would be Contarini if he decided to move in the wrong direction. Seeing how cold the mage became was vaguely amusing and Donovan was interested to see how this would play out. Once he reached his desired position, he remained perfectly still with his dagger in one hand and a knife in the other wearing a pleasant smile of amusement.

---

Caspian felt as the world's gravity began to lessen around him. The sudden feeling of weightlessness made him momentarily feel as though he was freefalling even when he hadn’t moved an inch. He choked back any food that wanted to disagree with him right now and tried to focus on the task at hand. All he needed to do was get his hand on the metal strip before him and change its properties to something less conductive. He’d already decided on which metal to shift it to, Bismuth, something that didn’t wouldn’t require a massive shift in the source material and would melt instantly when struck by electricity. There was a shit eating grin on Caspian’s face as he was about to ruin the Inquisitor's delicately designed metal cage. All of that changed as the hum of the room fell silent, coalescing into one central point before vanishing all together. Fuck. Well that just made this easier right? Now he didn’t have to worry about his heart stopping or brain frying as he touched the metal's surface, it did however, mean that Quinn’s aid was no longer needed.

Caspian was just about to land his spell when he’d realized why the room fell so silent. Quinn had been taken hostage, and the Inquisitor was asking for Lyra’s life in exchange for Quinn’s. He didn’t dare make his move, he knew he couldn’t get to him fast enough, and anything else could be seen as a threat towards the Inquisitor. He tried to think of how best to approach this when the Astorio gave the go ahead to kill Quinn. He had to be bluffing right? It was just an attempt to get the Inquisitor to pause and rethink his plan in who he should take hostage right? Caspian clenched his jaw, irritation running through him as the situation unfolded before him. Astorio wanted him to somehow save the mage. Great, which one? He assumed he meant the newly acquired prisoner, but that left Quinn dead in the water. What's more the only way out was through the Inquisitor and Quinn himself. Caspian was beginning to wish that the damned brute was more instructive with what he wanted rather than constantly tossing out vague notions of his expectations for him.

He began to study the room, searching for alternatives he could use when he felt a sudden tug within. The strange feeling of weightlessness left him as he came crashing back down towards the ground, landing ass first onto the solid floor. Caspian let out a grunt of pain followed by a groan as he began to stand up, rubbing the sore spot. Somehow in such a short amount of time they had gone from beating this Inquisitor at his own game to having two teammates willing trade lives just to stay alive. He had to believe there was some grander plan at play here, something involving Lyra coming in hot with Quinn’s ploy only to give the Inquisitor the hardest right hook he’d ever had the displeasure of feeling. If Caspian could somehow manage to make contact with Quinn he’d have been able to bolster him so that hopefully the lighting strike didn't deal as much damage. Better yet, if he could land one hit on the Inquisitor Caspian could attempt to sap him of his strength and leave him an exhausted mess. Unfortunately he was nowhere near the pair and something told him that the Astorios patience was faster than a t timer from Taboo. As Lyra began to taunt the Inquisitor, Caspian decided on how best to proceed. If all else failed and lightning began to fly, he’d have to attempt to cause an eruption of water between the two so that Quinn would go flying out of harm's way and the Inquisitor would hopefully bash his head into a nearby wall.

“Oh dear, oh my. I’m trembling in my boots, little vampire. Of course you don’t give a damn about the mage. That's why I didn’t address you. Just behave like a good little minion and shut up.” Hasgad stuck out his tongue at Chadwick, before returning his attention back to Quinn. “Well, theoretically, if I trusted you at all. But the fact of the matter is I don’t and I have no issue turning you into a mindless blood bag, so I recommend you don’t!”

Hasgad scowled at Lyra after she insulted him. Him, an Inquisitor, a coward? She had to be joking. “The Grand inquisitor doesn’t tolerate fools either and charging into your little fold would make me just that. I just need to even the playing field a little and then we can resume our death match, if you prefer the difficult route.” His eyes darted to each of the rebels and back to Lyra. “You can taunt me all you’d like, but you and I both know you don’t have the stomach to go through him to get to me. You’re going to try and bait me, try to outmaneuver me, or whatever silly thing has the gears in your head whirring.”

Further into the room, there was a muffled click as the locking mechanism disengaged on the door opposite of them in the execution chamber. It cracked barely, and a curl of fresh air found its way through the room.

Meanwhile, the elevator whirred to life and it’s groan of descent echoed down the hallway, where heavy and hurried footsteps pounded down the passageway.