Noticing the brief silence, Rory looked up to see a few eyes gaze in his direction. He hadn’t spoken up yet, and was only now slightly embarrassed about the playbook. He quickly slammed it closed, his leg shaking nervously as he took a breath. He looked up towards Trevor for some semblance of reassurance, before speaking to the group at large. ”Banjo’s right. Not all of us can control what we do. They let us work on that here, safely.” He turned his gaze to Haleigh, trying to offer a bit of a soft smile. His mother had always mentioned how useful her time at P.R.C.U. was in controlling her powers. Maybe it would help Haleigh too.

Banjo made a double-take as the other of the football friends was backing him up on what he said. Something he really wasn't used to.

Most everywhere he'd been, pretty much any time he'd taken a stand, made a move or opened his trap he'd generally found himself on an island, having to go it alone against whatever force of nature of the day he was railing against. He wasn't used to having people support his comments, or in Calliope's case earlier, actually advocate for him. Let alone a person he hadn't said five words to previously. He didn't generally tend to make the best first impression, to leave people willing to go in to bat for him.

Maybe things could be different. Maybe things seemed to be coming together. Even if it was coming together over shared morbidity, he'd take it. He gave Calliope's shoulder a gentle, yet excited squeeze, hoping that she too had noticed the change in the atmosphere. He tried to sneak a subtle peek at her expression, but couldn't get the angle without being weird and sacrificing 'cool'.

Rory placed his hands on his knees, willing his leg to stop shaking for a moment. It wasn’t very cooperative, sort of vibrating slightly still despite Rory’s efforts. He looked over to Calliope for a moment, his gaze turning cold for a moment as he did, before looking towards the others and letting his smile return. ”My name is Rory Tyler… My parents went here years ago. I live… lived in Ottawa. I’ve got a brother and a sister, they’re both twins here in the Collegiate program. I guess my fun fact is that I was a pretty good wrestler in high school…” Rory felt a little nervous at this point. He knew he was stalling from having to explain what his power was. He just flashed a smile, trying to make a good impression for those that didn’t already think less of him.

By the time Banjo had turned back, Rory had already started to introduce himself. Banjo leaned back and started to listen in.

"Oh hey, he's got a brother and sister in the Collegiate group. Probably see them 'round the library." He thought to himself.

"He's a wrestler too. Football enthusiast. Probably an athlete in general, by the looks of him. Hockey would be probably be a fair bet as well, since he's Canadian. Kids up here are practically born with skates on... his poor mother." Banjo deadpanned internally, as he tried to 'round out what he could tell from this one.

Rory flipped open the playbook and turned it to the last page, which was just a cut-out note in his Aunt’s handwriting with the name of his power. He read the note, and nodded. ”My power is Power Mimicry. I can borrow a power from someone I’m near for a short time… it’s why I’ve been writing notes down in this.” Rory held up his wrist, showing off the wristband and pocket playbook. ”I… I don’t really use it, honestly. Any time I do, I get really sick after.” Rory kept his nervous smile up, looking around to the others. ”So yeah… that’s me. Who’s next?”

Banjo suddenly tensed as he remembered earlier in the day...

”Look man, we need to be trying to get along here. If you need to walk things off, walk it off… but you can’t be talking to people that way, Andy. We’re a team, like it or not… so let’s just try to get along.” Rory pushed to jog a little faster to finish closing the gap, and accentuated his point by reaching out to grab Banjo’s shoulder in an effort to stop him for a moment and come to a sense of understanding.

"Ohhhhhh shit." Banjo thought to himself. Time froze for Banjo as his mind spun trying to figure out how to handle this fresh clusterfuck.

"Let's not panic... he just said it himself. He doesn't use it. He's not going to fool around and do anything stupid anytime soon. This is easy. You find him later, away from anyone else. No need to cause anyone any kind of panic, and you explain to him the 'rules' you came up with. The 'rules' for using it safely and not endangering anyone or... the world. I mean he can follow a simple set of rules, right?"

Banjo offered Rory a simple thumbs up and a strained smile, in support of Rory's willingness to share with the group, as he sat in more abject terror than he'd been in for quite some time.

He was pretty sure abject terror was generally an absolute for most people, and not a sliding scale. But Banjo did not grow up as most people.

---

Calli supposed she should also share. It was only fair. "So I admittedly grew up in a very privileged home. My father is a senator in the United States. He worked hard to get there, especially since the country looks down on people of color, even if they were here legally. To that end, once he achieved it, everyone else was expected to fall in line. We had to look a certain way, act a certain way. We couldn't hang out with certain kids if it made us look bad. We were limited in how we interacted with the world. Every time we left the house we were expected to be perfect. Get perfect grades. One slip-up and we paid the price. It was almost like we had to be one unit rather than be individuals."

"Recently, like a few months ago, the pressure got too much. I was out with my parents, making the rounds and showing how great we were, when I just...lost it. I knew what my powers were. Had known for a long time. I think my mother knew, but not my father. But when I lost it, there was ice everywhere. It destroyed the town center's water fountain. The cross-section streets were destroyed. Hell, it looked like fucking Christmas in July. I made it snow! And everyone just...looked at me like I was a freak. A monster. I could handle the strangers looking at me like that. But it was my father's expression that destroyed me. It's funny, he thinks I'm here to learn to hide it better. Jokes on him, I guess."

Calli brought her knees up to her and wrapped her arms around them. She felt lighter, but she would not say she felt better.

Better took time.

Banjo enveloped her in his arms. It had taken a lot, the memories and the hurt still clearly fresh, but she'd finally laid out the full story from when he was setting up the tent.

He whispered something to her away from the prying eyes of others, as Luce - evidently the name of the blonde girl with the fresh change of vomit-free clothing - began her tale of woe.

^{"It's Okay. You can't choose your family, but you do get to pick your friends... You don't ever need to feel alone again."}
He offered a warm sincere smile, and squeezed her shoulders with his arms, as he settled in to hear the other girl's story.

"Hi everyone. Sorry about earlier. I'm Luce. It's really nice to meet you all. I'm from Canada - close by, relatively. Houston BC. Never knew my dad, but my mom worked really hard. Used to camp. I don't anymore. Lost my brothers in an accident. Don't like the trees anymore, or open spaces. But it's how I found out about my powers."

Luce delivered her story in clipped bites. Even by today's standards he got the sense that the trauma here was thick. She told of how she doesn't like open spaces - agorophobia. Which stood in stark contrast to his own troubles with claustrophobia, the unexplained nightmares... He rolled his own shoulders as he started to stiffen up at the thought, before writing it off as his muscles just atrophying as the time ticked further on from when he last 'juiced'.

"I don't know the rating, or category, or the official stuff. Whatever it is - I don't feel pain when I'm hurt. Hurt bad, I mean. It doesn't slow me down, doesn't stop me, I just keep going. It's like my body just...adapts. Whatever stops working, something else picks up the slack. And then when I'm out, when I'm safe...I heal up real good after. I'm um, I'm not sure I can actually be killed."

She took another deep breath, letting her top down and pulling from her water bottle. That was the most talking she'd done in a long time. "My mom sent me here for a fresh start. Small town stuff, you know. It's really nice to meet you all. Sorry for vomiting, Banjo. It wasn't you. I just panicked. I um...I panic a lot. I'm sorry."

Now this... this was a lot. There were 'near-death' experiences, but this-- this sounded a lot like Luce was covering a post-death experience. Banjo could eventually heal up deep scar tissue, the result of his body re-knitting tissue, after taking in enough new sunrises. But his powers did nothing for fresh wounds. He was, in fact, remarkably human in terms of his own durability - for all the advantages it gave him physically elsewhere. But he knew those scars he'd 'earned', every one of them still took a toll and left a mark. Even if they were no longer visible. What kind of mental scarring would there be for someone who came back from death?

Banjo wasn't completely lacking in self-awareness. He knew just not having parents had fucked him up somewhat. But this was a whole other thing. How much could someone really hope to get themselves back together, get their life back on track, when they'd lost their grip on the mortal coil... only to find themselves right back where they were. And here she was, right back here punching.

I mean, sure, she looked like she'd been through Hell and back. Quite frankly, she looked like shit warmed up. But going twelve rounds with death would probably do that to a person. Banjo had read about people coming back from wars with shell shock.

"It's fine." He said. "More than fine. I can bring panic out in a person." The smile drifted back into that joking smirk, before flashing back. "--And it sounds like you've been through a Hell of a lot."

Luce looked around the circle, smiling as warmly as she could muster and letting the nerves wash over her and depart again, allowing anxiety to come and go like commanding the tides. She noticed one missing among their number, and turned her head toward Iñigo, who was sat separately a little off from the circle, propped up against the trees. She shivered slightly to look at it, but raised her hand to wave.
"Iñigo, right?" She called out, putting on her best friendly voice. "Would you like to join us?"

Luce then started to bring Iñigo over. Banjo slowly started to unfurl himself from around Calliope.

He wasn't sure what was going on, but he knew there was a lot of powers around, and he didn't-- he WOULDN'T have Calli' taking any kind of stray shots from someone trying to take a poke at him, if that's what this was. He would separate himself, be his own target, and be ready.

But rather than introducing themselves right away, Iñigo turned their sights over to Banjo, ready to apologize for their behavior. "Before I introduce myself to everyone, I'd like to say something to Banjo about earlier. We can talk about it here or somewhere more private, whatever you want to do."

Banjo thought for a moment. He'd put space between himself and Calliope, but he wasn't sure how much was necessary. He still had no idea what he was dealing with here, in Iñigo. Sure, he backed himself - liked his chances. He generally always did. But how much space was 'safe' he had no idea. He opened his mouth to reply, and...

"Oh, don't worry Iñigo" She quickly spoke up, unprompted. "We're all opening up here, no more secrets. Share with the class." Her tone and smile were pure affability, internally she was desperate for something to end the circle of trauma dumping, and whatever petty drama had involved Calliope's new boy toy seemed a wonderful distraction.

Great. Just great...

"So have at it." Banjo said, looking up from where he sat. "Whaddaya want?"

Iñigo didn't appreciate being put in the spotlight by someone else, but it wasn't like they didn't anticipate it. So they sat down on a stone that served as a chair and spoke to Banjo while trying to ignore the curious onlookers around the campfire. "I just would like to apologize for my conduct towards you earlier. You were only introducing yourself with an act of kindness, and I spat on it for no reason. I don't have any excuses, nor will I make one. I am sorry."

"Oh... is that all? Pah! Don't worry about it. Mountains and molehills, and all of that junk. You said some things, I said... A lot of things. Water under the bridge. Yeah? Oh, hey, guys? This is Iñigo... Tell 'em about yourself... G'awn. Now's not a time for shyness." He made a handwaving gesture, to turn the conversation over to the newcomer, before turning back to resume his position around Calliope - comfortable and confident in the threat having been squashed.

And that was that, but... Iñigo didn't feel the sense of relief of being forgiven. Perhaps it was the way the subject was changed so fast. Or how they were expecting something different than a simple "all is well between us now" answer. Or maybe they were just overanalyzing the entire thing, making it a big deal for no reason. Yet, if they remained quiet on the issue, it would've driven them insane. Iñigo blurted out, still dumbfounded by the unusual response, "That... t-that... I just don't get it! How can you just accept my apology so... so casually? And then pretend like it was all a simple misunderstanding? You don't have to accept it out of formality, you know. Hell, you can go on ahead and be direct with me. I can take it, believe me."

Banjo cocked an eyebrow and turned back, ^{"Sorry, Calli'..."} He said softly as he turned back to face, the matter clearly only resolved on one side.

"I can accept it so casually, because I dealt with it at the time so casually. I was direct. I am still being direct. Trust me when I tell you... I will be direct. Difficulty with being direct is not an issue my people have, believe me. It's fine. Hell, out of the two of us, I'm working with English as my first language, and I suspect you're hardly the only person here who has wanted to cave my head in."

"I'm not about to go on some lifetime vendetta over a clumsy momentary lapse of politeness. If that were a reasonable response there'd be a neverending line of people beating down my door looking for blood. I'm not generally one for holding grudges."

"Never bloody stayed in one place long enough to ever need to hold a grudge..." He thought to himself, but that didn't need to be said.

"Okay then." Iñigo nodded out of an understanding with his words even though there were still doubts, which were buried deep in their mind—for the moment. Then, realizing the opportunity to introduce themselves had presented itself, they began with a correction towards Banjo in a light-hearted manner. "And for your information, English is my first language too. But my folks taught me their native tongue at a very young age. So I am bilingual in Spanish and English."

"Well... sorry, about that." He said, thinking that maybe if he apologised for something then it might break the chain and the other guy might stop. "Y'know. For the assumption. Accent's thick, but I'm not one to talk, I guess."

"Nah, no need to apologize."

Iñigo turned their attention to everyone else sitting around the campfire and started to talk. "So besides that tidbit about myself, my name is indeed Iñigo. Please at least make an effort to pronounce it correctly. Grew up on the outskirts of Las Vegas with my parents and little brother. My power was activated at some nightclub on the strip while I was celebrating spring break. Fun fact, I was in my third year of university when it happened—almost a year away from getting my bachelor's in history. After that..."

"Bueno, a ver cómo me va." Iñigo took a deep breath, prepared to divulge their big secret to strangers in the middle of the forest.

"...After that, Ispentfivemonthsinadetentioncenterandthenendedupherewiththerestofyouinthewoods. Now, does anyone want to see my power in action?" Iñigo awkwardly smiled, acting as if they were not nervous (and totally not sweating) in front of everyone.

"Fuck off!" Banjo barked, a big smirk on his face.

Everyone fell silent, as all eyes fell on him, wondering what horrible turn this conversation was about to take.

"¿Qué..?"

Banjo started up. "So you mean to tell me, that you somehow managed to survive... almost half a year... in prison... somehow dodgin' getting stabbed, shivved and otherwise brutalised on a daily basis... just to come here, and almost get your arse kicked by ME within five bloody minutes..?"

There was a few moments of uncomfortable silence before Banjo's cackle filled the campsite's air.

"You're bloody jokin' me!" Warmth and laughter once again filled the air, as people further introduced themselves to one another.

If daggers could manifest and volley from Trace’s eyes, they would have at Trevor’s joke. This moment had turned weirdly somber, and they didn’t really like the feel of it. Like their skin was wet and sticky in a way that wasn’t natural—almost as if they wanted to take it off to feel normal again. They narrowed their eyes and was about to say something when Haleigh spoke up. The wheel of depression kept turning like a watermill filled with children’s bones.

Maybe Trace was feeling a bit better about their situation considering what a lot of them said. No one got their powers and just—blossomed. Some traumatic shit got piled on top of it right afterward. Katja lost her parents, Haleigh couldn’t walk, Calliope became her father’s #1 enemy, Rory still lived in blissful ignorance, and Luce’s power seemed brutal in the real shit way. Trace wallowed on top of their campfire seat of one perfectly placed downed tree before they started to be more transparent about what had happened to them. Those horrible instances. Not once, but twice when they’d lost control of their powers. The first time had been purely accidental, but the second had been filled with something more—cruel. That was the time that Makenna opened her mouth spouting off how awesome she was, and that her life was a breeze. Trace glowered. Absolutely looked as if they’d been punched in the throat and asked to enjoy it. “Fuck this,” they grumbled under their breath and left the trauma-dump-circle-jerk.

They silently peeled away as Banjo and Inigo were chatting. They didn’t catch the end of that conversation, but it probably ended in more, “friendship is magic!” bullshit. Honestly, they were disappointed in themselves for feeling that vulnerable for even a second. They glanced back to catch Banjo loudly proclaiming something and warming up to Inigo and felt an odd pang in their heart. Maybe they shouldn’t have left just yet, or maybe they were disappointed in the fact he even dropped the loner act in lieu of making friends.

Trace turned back around and made their way to their stupidly extravagant tent. They sighed as they stared at it. Why did they feel the urge to be the loner? It’s not that other people didn’t get them. There seemed to be people from all walks of life there, and some of them were bleaker than them. At least Trace still had their dad and brothers, to a lesser extent, and a place to call home. Some people didn’t even have that. No, it wasn’t because they thought they were better than everyone else, or that their shit didn’t stink—quite the opposite, it was more like their shit was filled to the brim with razor blades, but there were people whose shit oozed cancerous acid. At the end of the day, Trace couldn’t say why that all annoyed them. Maybe they needed better meds. Or maybe they felt like even more of a joke after showing their powers off.

They pried their shoes off and placed them right outside of the tent opening as they crawled in. They flopped onto their sleeping apparatus with the indigency of a twelve-year-old told to go to bed. Maybe, they were upset that their story was not unique, their power was not stronger than anyone’s, their situation was neither the best nor the worst, and they didn’t even have the creepiest ability. They shuddered at remembering Trevor’s ground hand. In this pool of teenagers and young adults, they were mediocre. And maybe that is what hurt the most. The knowledge that they failed at even being the meanest person out there when Makenna opened her dumb, privileged mouth. They were… tepid biscuits and lukewarm tea. There was nothing amazing about Trace, and that hurt.

Coop was used to confident people. He’d grown up in his family, filled to the brim with members that didn’t know what the words “inside voice” meant. His mother introduced herself to everyone, and his father was always looking for future clients. Yet, he was thrown off when the girl—Sierra—leaned in close and took a bit of his pizza. She remarked on his eyes, and he almost reached up to touch them as if he could tell what they looked like with his fingers. He tried to back up, but the heel of his shoe tapped a risen root. So, he stayed in place.

He was used to girls hitting on him, but he wasn’t used to this level of bravery. She fired off some more questions before leaning against the pizza napkin tree and giving the smuggest look he’d seen outside of a courtroom. Man. His heart pounded in his chest, and maybe it hurt a little bit? Was he having a heart attack? That would honestly track. Instead, he was reminded of the wetness in his hand. That’s right she spit in it. Had he forgotten? Several things had compounded at once. His brain was quickly trying to find the right file for each of them to go in.

“I’m a content creator, and I got here by plane,” he said, swiftly. He then rammed the rest of his pizza in his mouth and quickly tried to chew through it. “Ouhr nurh, I need tou find soume naphkins. Need anythin’?” he asked, while his cheeks looked akin to a chipmunk. He didn’t really wait to listen if she responded. The question was to seem polite, but it was infinitely more rude that he beat it out of there right afterward.

Honestly, between the grease, leaves, and spit—he really needed a napkin. Unfortunately, he found one almost immediately. So, he shuffled towards the girl that was holding the world’s loudest Bluetooth speaker—somewhere—and placed the napkins down. He acted as if there was where he found them. A look of faux surprise on his face as he did. He then looked at Sierra and cupped his ear in his hand as if this was really the thing that was stopping him from returning to her. The girl who was holding her phone was a looker. The two next to her were less remarkable. But Coop wasn’t into men, and the other one looked as if she was trouble. As much trouble as Sierra? Probably not, but at this moment in time he just wanted not to be spit on. He managed to wrestle too much pizza down his throat and started coughing as his airway was bothered by this entire production. He coughed a few more times, holding his finger up as if anyone cared. He lifted himself up about that time, red-faced and eyes wet.

“I’m Coop!” he half-yelled as the music had dwindled down but not entirely disappeared. “I know you didn’t ask, but I figured as I am over here now—it’d be weird not to introduce myself.” He coughed.“Sorry, pizza down the wrong pipe.”

"You're Adrianna Dahl! I'm a huge fan of your work. It's incredibly upsetting what happened to you." She chattered energetically, "I'm Alyssa Townsend, it's such a pleasure to meet you, Adrianna Dahl!"

Adie cocked an eyebrow, at the way she'd been addressed and started checking around the immediate vicinity.

"Did I say something to upset you, Adrianna Dahl? My mouth tends to run off without my brain, it was not my intention to do so."

"Nothing... you just... keep saying the full name. Makes me think I'm being recorded, or like someone's about to serve me a subpoena..."

Confident that nobody was paying any particular attention - she wasn't exactly going incognito, but she hadn't announced a press release that she'd be attending the school either, she relaxed into an easier state to complete the introduction.

"Pleasure to meet you, Alyssa Townsend." She replied. "Call me Adie." She said, for what would be the first of many times.

Adie swept past towards the pizza station, and got to work covering her base, she worked with a heavy tomato base with a single swirl of white sauce, and started piling on all of the other assorted toppings, stopping only to add palmfull layers of cheese after every few toppings. The ingredients she disregarded more noteworthy than that which she selected.

The final layer, she hammered still more cheese on and started to carry it to the oven.

"It's a camp-pizza." She explained cheerily, as if she'd been asked to explain her monstrosity.

"It's supposed to be a bit of a Frankenstein's monster."

While waiting for the pizza to cook, she asked the all important, presently obvious questions.

"So, Alyssa... Got a roomie yet?" As well as... "And how'd another Cali girl like you wind up here?"

Katja’s smile, which had up to this point mostly been forced, turned more genuine at Banjo’s offer of his plate. With a grateful nod she took the plate from him and prepared to devour the first steak kebab she could get her hands on. As she was about to take her first bite though, Trace decided to open up about themself. Lowering the kebab back on the plate, she returned their courtesy and listened intently to their story. An appreciative grin formed on her face as they displayed their Hype ability. While the newly spawned arm might look like a grotesque display of body horror, it was also metal as fuck. And if there’s one thing Katja could appreciate…

Next up was Trevor, someone who Katja hadn’t really interacted with at all up to this point. He seemed like a nice kid and judging by his physique she figured he’d make for an excellent gym buddy. Not to be out done by Trace, Trevor decided to give his own display of the grotesque as he gave a little demonstration of his own power. If she hadn’t noticed the abject repugnance with which the rest of her team reacted to his powers she might have started applauding at the whole thing. Instead she took a big bite out of her kebab as she tried to hide her wide grin, being too distracted with that to catch Trevor’s pun.

Makenna took the opportunity to take the spotlight next. And that she most certainly did. She proudly started rattling off her accomplishments at one of those Ivy League schools. After which she quickly cited her ability before moving the conversation on to the next person. It was a short introduction which got through all the necessary points, but it left Katja wondering. Why, if you seemingly had your life so on track, would you come out here?

The next person to speak up was Haleigh. It surprised Katja how open she was about herself, given how their previous interaction had been a rather awkward and silent one back at the auditorium. Katja felt her blood boil as she spoke about her neighbors wanting lynch her because of her powers, as it brought back the memories of her parents’ gruesome end again. As Haleigh explained why she was bound to her wheelchair, her behavior in the auditorium finally made sense. Katja reached out to her when she noticed that it was getting harder for Haleigh to find her words. As Banjo and Rory gave some reassuring words of their own, Katja put her hand on the girl’s shoulder and smiled reassuringly at her. “Don’t worry sus, we’ve got your back!” Pausing for a moment, a smirk appeared on Katja’s lips. ”And while I’m sure you’ll learn to control your powers here, as our sunny Roo just said, know that when you get tired of that wheelchair, just give me a holler and I’ll carry you on my back!” Finishing that statement with a cheeky wink.

Rory was the next one to open up about themselves. He seemed slightly nervous talking to the group, a feeling that Katja could very much relate with. The thought of having family in PRCU, even if they were in the collegiate, seemed nice to her. And from the way he spoke of them, Rory seemed to draw some semblance of strength at the thought of them being close by. Him mentioning he was experienced in wrestling almost made her eyes spark with joy. Finally someone who also practiced a martial art… Even if it was a completely different discipline from her own. His power seemed interesting too, the possible applications of which seemed endless to Katja. Barely able to contain her excitement at having met a fellow martial arts practitioner though, she spoke up to him after taking one last bite from her kebab, her mouth half full. ”It’s awesome you’re into martial arts too! I’m very much into kickboxing but have been interested in getting into MMA. Maybe you can teach me some moves?”

Having finished the last of the kebabs generously provided by Banjo, Katja kept the last skewer in her hand, playfully flipping it in between her fingers as Calliope addressed the group again. Katja practically froze the moment Calliope mentioned that her father was a US senator. As she went on to talk about her -admittedly privileged- upbringing, Katja’s mind tried to figure out which US senator Calliope could be related to. The penny dropped as Calliope mentioned her father’s reaction to finding out his daughter was a Hype, which was emphasized by the cracking of the skewer as it broke in two between Katja’s fingers.

However, before she could ask Calliope for confirmation, Luce spoke up and shared her story and power. This involving the second camping/outdoors related incident would have given Katja some reservations about the way they were all spending the night under normal circumstances. But Katja was still internally fuming at Calli’s story to really take note of it. Luce showing the scars of what should have been lethal injuries snapped her out of those thoughts. It once again reminded Katja that there were many here who had as traumatic an experience, if not more so, as herself. She couldn’t imagine what it’d feel like to suffer such an injury, only to be brought back to the land of the living a few moments later. And honestly, she’d rather not think about that either.

Luce then called out to Iñigo, the late arrival to the team who had mostly kept themselves to the sidelines after their initial altercation with Banjo earlier. They obviously wanted to say something about that, but seemed to struggle with whether or not they should do so in public or private. Makenna, in what seemed to become typical Makenna fashion, tried to bluntly force Iñigo to get to the point. With the apparent approval of Banjo, Iñigo apologized to the Aussie for what had transpired earlier. He quickly accepted the apology, too quick for Iñigo’s tastes apparently. While they had a bit more back and forth, it didn’t really register with Katja. Something about Iñigo being an ex-convict got brought up, sparking laughter from Banjo.

Katja however, was more distracted by Trace leaving the group just before Iñigo joined in. They seemed to have been hurt, or at the very least greatly annoyed, by some of the things said earlier. But before Katja could go after them, Calliope had already made that move. With the group mostly focussing on Iñigo and Banjo, Katja excused herself, making it seem as if she was going to throw away her trash before going after Calli and Trace. Catching up just in time to hear Calliope call out to Trace, who had already vacated inside their tent. She sounded genuine with what she said to Trace, and Katja hoped it would help mellow them out a bit.

Katja walked back to her tent right as Calliope was on her way back to the campfire.Initially she wanted to call out to her, ask her about who specifically her father was to quell that curiosity. But as she got close, about to raise just that question, her pace faltered. Was it really worth possibly sparking another possible argument within the team? It also didn’t really seem like Calliope shared that senator’s ideas of Hypes. But it was too late to avoid Calliope now, as she was only a few paces away and she most certainly noticed Katja initially walking towards her. She waved at Calliope before softly speaking. "Hey euhm, thank you for checking up on Trace. I’ll euhm, see if I can get them in better spirits." Katja quickly flashed a smile at Calliope before moving on towards their tent.

Reaching the tent, Katja removed her shoes and placed them next to Trace’s. After taking a deep breath, she knocked on the fabric next to the entrance to get their attention before softly speaking up. “Heya Trace, you mind if I come in?”

---

As she finished speaking, Haleigh felt guilty. This was supposed to be an introduction, and yet it seemed more like an impromptu therapy session. Regardless, one by one, words of encouragement flowed in from her teammates. Banjo. Rory. Katja. They didn't mind that she had dropped a bombshell onto the group, nor so much the fact that she was a loaded gun with a faulty safety, one that required the utmost care and attention to avoid an accidental discharge.

Perhaps for the first time since Haleigh developed her powers, Haleigh didn't feel alone. She felt understood, that she wasn't the freak she thought she was. They were "normal", so far as normal could be considered given that they had become hyperhumans and held dangerous abilities within them.

Feeling renewed, Haleigh turned to the trio, nodding a thank you in their direction as Rory took the time to speak up next.

Rory himself was a man of few words. He was a fellow Canadian, and apparently he could "borrow" one's power. It must've been why he was so nervous, Haleigh noted. She had just admitted how destructive her own ability was, and the others spoke of varying risks and factors to their own as well. Depending on who he borrowed from, whatever happened next could be disastrous.

Hopefully he doesn't get any ideas. Haleigh dreaded the thought of Rory being foolish enough to "borrow" her own ability. Though, maybe I'm just worrying too much over things.

By then, the conversation had shifted back to Calliope once again, in part because of Rory's insistence that someone went next. This time around, she went more in depth into her own life, explaining to the group that she was the daughter of a senator, and had to live up to his endless expectations. Though such a life was foreign to Haleigh, she nonetheless felt apologetic, even more so as she watched Calliope retreat into her shell. It was a place Haleigh was all too familiar with, and a place she didn't want to see someone else fall into the same trap as she had done many times prior.

Before she could say anything, however, Banjo beat Haleigh to the punch, and embraced Calliope from behind. Maybe that was what she needed, Haleigh figured. A gentle push into a better path, not unlike the confidence boost Haleigh had received earlier from Banjo and others.

After that, it was Luce's turn. She was also Canadian, and coincidentally also from British Columbia and with a history of camping. Given the proximity of their hometowns, Haleigh wondered if they might've unknowingly crossed paths before. Houston was only half a day from Vancouver, but there were camp grounds all over the region. As Luce continued her introduction, however, Haleigh felt a influx of shock as realization suddenly hit her like a truck speeding down a highway.

Brothers. Accident. Trees. No. It couldn't be, right? She knew this person. She knew Luce, at least as much as the news told everyone. Surely, they had to be connected. It was too much of a coincidence to be anything else.

As the conversation fell onto Iñigo, who had been the last person left to introduce themselves, Haleigh moved closer to Luce.

"I know you, Luce." Haleigh whispered to Luce, hopefully loud enough to be heard over Iñigo and Banjo's laughter-banter. "From before. I don't believe we met, but you were everywhere a year ago. Christ, I even posted about it. Do... Do you want me to take it down? It's the least I can do right now."

Tista sat, or rather stooped in front of the makeshift pizza oven watching and waiting as her monstrous mix of tomato sauce, loads of mozzarella cheese peppered with bacon bits heated and and rose into the most perfectly baked pizza. ‘Ah! Glorious!’ she thought. It was round and could have four evenly slices cut out of it once ready. She was more than eager to dig right in once she was able to.

She watched and watched till it finally dinged, pulling down on the hand bar to get to the baked treat. She looked side to side making sure no one was paying her much attention, then she tentatively touched the crust lightly with the pad of her right index finger allowing for the pizza to float up and towards her person. Standing to her full height she grabs a plate placing it just below the floating pizza and with a thought or will, she hasn’t quite yet figured out how she stops things from floating other than –’Descend’ she commanded in thought only, and the pizza complied flopping down into the plate. Delighted, she grabbed a knife and sliced the pizza up and with a big bite stuffed into her mouth, she turned on her heel and decided to socialise.

Seeing the group somewhat gathered together not too far ahead. She put on a smile and began her trek over to them. Plate in one hand and a half eaten goopy pizza in the other she spoke up once she was just a couple ways from them.

“Hey you lot, we're doing introductions right?” she asked, pushing back whatever nerves she was bustling with, a grin still plastered on her face. Everyone could easily tell the smile was beginning to look like it ached stretching into one that has now reached beyond her eyes and just touched her brows. “My name’s Tista, hope we all can get along well in these coming years, you know with budding friendships and whatnots.” she concluded with a nervous bite to her pizza, she only hoped they didn’t think she was a weirdo.

The wind in the cliffs was still howling, and the benches kept playing it softer on repeat with the snap, crackle, pop of sparks in the background and people sitting on his shoulders alongside cold spells and winter rain. It was… The sort of soundtrack that spelled out horror in the background until a better rhythm picked up nearby falling tinny out of earbuds and then rising to a nice crescendo. Had him blinking out of smiling loose and grateful at the girl for making sure the plush was safely stowed in his pocket once more and glancing around again. With more people gathering around, the music playing, and nothing too much to add from their clothes, it felt a little less daunting being in the middle of a group feeling an itch under his skin that the oven’s heat only aggravated.

But, well. “Thank you. Thanks. It’s alright now.” Answering nobody in particular as he addressed his gratitude to two people at once and finally pulled his pizza out of the oven with a grimace, Lucas wasn’t really trying to keep track of who was saying what. It wouldn’t have been too hard if he’d put in the effort, but he was more used to just going with the flow, picking up the pieces down the way like he was standing in a river hauling in a net full of words and other peoples’ scraps. Nobody asked much of him then. Better than raising anyone’s expectations to disappointment the next time they met. This way, he could just smile and nod if his head was too loud and no one would bother him into pushing against the tide. Besides, he was working on putting all that earlier explanation together. Picking words out of the weave around him and feeling more than pleased with himself for trying, despite the fact there weren’t many other words to find. The bench made voices hollow. It was almost easy, separating Miranda’s voice from the older conversations.

Picking out names. Finding other voices to remember for later. Eating his pizza. Ariel. Efraim. Harlowe liked music. Dominik… No one looked upset about anything when he glanced around trying to figure out what the apology was for.

But that glance was all he needed to startle him out of his own head as he registered one girl slightly farther away who looked—he double checked—very similar to the one sitting next to him. And then another one even farther away. Sisters? Sierra. He heard that. Three times in a round when it echoed in his head. “Sierra?” All of them?

He adopted the same, though slightly more confused, hesitant stance when she offered her hand to shake as when he’d asked her to help him with the plush. She seemed to understand and he nodded absently. “Yeah, sticky.” Also greasy now, and kind of full of pizza. He’d have shaken her hand otherwise. He was also considering her question and wondering if it was a group talk with the other voices starting to chime in or if he was supposed to answer it when the wind flared up and his hands weren’t full anymore. He’d been holding everything too lightly, trying not to burn his fingers on the fresh from the oven dinner and now it was on the ground. Of course it landed cheese-side down.

He'd only had two bites…

Well, the crust might still be good.

Kneeling so he could right the plate and peel the crust up for an inspection to see if it really was salvageable or if the dirt had somehow managed to spread between the cheese and the sauce, he finally figured that it wasn’t group so much as grouped up discussion, even if they were all gathering around the pizza ovens. “Sorry, I, huh?”

New distraction. There were a few right now. But, uh… The pizza was floating. Lucas wasn’t sure if it was some new technique, and magic trick, or a display of something hyperhuman, but it definitely stalled him completely until the girl had set it down and joined them with a very big grin. Then, he tried, he really did, to go back to Sierra’s question while he still remembered and before she decided he wasn’t going to answer. He’d lost track of his place in his own clothes though and the itch was back. Tiny little claws pricking at his skin.

“Uh… Okay. There’s leaks in my head and things get in so it's itchy…” Already scratching at his arms to back up his words, he scowled at the people nearest him before landing on the one wearing long sleeves and sitting there too quiet for innocence. Didn’t know if they’d said their name yet, but since no one else was next to them, he didn’t need to specify more than his stare already was. “You have bugs? They’re crawling in my skin on your clothes.” He started out almost accusing but not quite sure. It felt like the little hooked feet of insects tucking around thread, but usually that came with old things, not new. Or panic. But… No one was flailing. So, he ended with a rather more plaintive than not, “Why?”

Banjo obviously didn't know the difference between a detention center and a prison. And he was plainly speaking in jest. So why, then, did Iñigo feel tense? Perhaps it had something to do with their assumption not only being correct but getting mistaken as an inmate rather quickly. It was somewhat fortunate that some of the teammates had left the campfire site earlier; otherwise, they would have had to deal with more people staring at them. Nevertheless, Iñigo felt the urge to correct Banjo while the opportunity was still there. But they didn't want to straight up revert back to being crude. So they decided not to let their emotions get the better of them. Iñigo cleared his throat and softly said, "I didn't spend time in prison."

"I spent time in a detention center because..." Iñigo sighed, kicking a rock into the fire, and then continued speaking. "... I am undocumented. And before anyone asks, I don't want to talk about it with a bunch of strangers. No offense, but my time there wasn't exactly a pleasant experience worth telling. So yeah... I just going to head for my tent now. See you guys tomorrow. Oh yeah, my power allows me to copy someone's appearance very well, I guess..."

"Or that's what a doctor told me once while getting my inhibitor fitted." Iñigo mumbled before leaving for their tent, suddenly too tired to bid goodnight to everyone. That memory of wearing an inhibitor for the first time was still too raw to relive. From the throbbing headache to the burning in the back of their throat after vomiting for the first time in a long while, those sensations still haunt Iñigo to this very day—even as they arrived at the tent and laid down on the sleeping pad. They pulled out a photo of their family from their pocket and stared at it to find some sort of comfort. But all that did was cause more pain within. Iñigo shoved the photo back into their pocket and closed their eyes shut, hoping to fall fast asleep and forget for a few measly hours in oblivion.

Trace had thought they’d escaped during the midst of a conversation with enough stealth that they wouldn’t be bothered by anyone. They didn’t want company. If that was the case, they would have made a scene. Instead, they thought they’d performed a somewhat low-stakes exit. Instead, the crunch of feet was audible in the ill-feeling silence of the forest. They turned their face towards the entrance. What mediocre light there was became shadowed by a figure. Trace narrowed their eyes. They had no idea who could have come to speak to them. Part of them half-expected it to be Banjo with chiding remarks, Rory with painful optimism, or Katja coming to bed herself. Instead, it was Calliope. She quickly stated how she felt before leaving, not allowing Trace to reciprocate.

“What the bloody, fuckin’ hell,” they remarked to themselves. They pulled themselves up and wrapped their arms around their knees and pulled their legs into them. They didn’t know what to make of that. Honestly, they’d only opened up because it would have been weird to just sit there in silence. Blackjack was their team, after all, and it only made sense to have some semblance of familiarity with one another. Even if by the end of it Trace was 100% sure they all needed therapy. Still, the sentiment wasn’t unappreciated, it was just unwanted. And Trace knew damn well that their power wasn’t cool. It was horrifying. But they figured it could be useful, and from the looks of it, they had better control of it than others did of theirs. It’d help that six arms weren’t going to destroy a 3-block radius.

Trace rolled back, still wrapping their arms around their legs. They looked like a beached turtle before extending their arms and legs out fully. It was about that time that another figure graced the doorway. “Seriously, you wankers, I didn’ stroll into my tent for a pity party. I came so I could fart in bloody peace. Let me fuckin’ do it.” It was then that Katja asked if she could enter.

“Oh sure, Kat.” They remarked. “I mean it’s your tent, too. And I was—uh—kiddin’ about the fartin’ bit. It’s just that Calliope came by here earlier and was like ‘oi, don’t pout you’re actually cool.’ Which is a lie if I evah heard one.” Trace stammered out those bits, realizing that they were probably talking over any point that Katja wanted to make. They didn’t like this. Too many people giving a shit about them feeling like shit.

“Cool, because I still need a tent buddy, and I’m thinking I better choose fast before I end up with bee girl. I’m not sure where I put my EPI pen. Which is on me—not her.” Coop always gave out too much information about himself. It was his modus operandi. Honestly, it was probably from his years of broadcasting his entire life on the internet. You get to a point where the only words you filter out are bad ones and ones that can date your content.

As Harlowe asked what they were all here for, Coop shrugged. Yuri seemed to have a rather positive idea. And, honestly, Coop didn’t want to harsh that vibe, but he had a bit of a more pessimistic view. Of course, with the wind rustling his hair and the mention that the other man had the power to control the weather and cause storms—he probably had a chiller experience before now. “Oh. This isn’t ‘Your parents are embarrassed by you, but they want to seem like they are caring about you by dumping you off at this place,’ boarding school? Wow. I got the wrong impression. Maybe I read a different pamphlet that you guys did.” He made a face. “Yikes.”

One could say that it hurt Coop to be negative when everyone else was seeming to have a more positive experience. Another girl announced herself to the group and seemed excited to share this entire excursion together. Right, maybe this was a better time for other people. For Coop, it was like flipping a pancake and it landing half on the skillet. The other side was perfect, but now this was a deformed mess. No matter how hard you try to scrape the pancake back onto the skillet it’s malformed. The pan’s burning. The spatula is disgusting. And your mother is yelling at you in Italian and asking you why you didn’t get the chef to cook for you. Eh. Maybe that experience was isolated to Coop. His lips twisted into a bemused frown.

Yuri announced their powers to the cheerful girl, Tista, and then turned his attention back to Coop with the subtly of a brick to the face. What was up with everyone here? Was one of the requirements that they be horney—constantly. Had that also been in this pamphlet he didn’t read?

“I’m flattered, really.” He placed a hand on his chest, as his caramel-hued hair rustled on his head before settling back down in a mussed-up wave. He looked more handsome if that was possible. “But I’m, unfortunately, straight. Who knows, maybe in the future I won’t be. Gender and sexuality are as fluid as—uh—water, and I’m totally an ally. But sadly, very straight.”

It was not the smoothest of segues, especially considering, but he turned to Harlowe. “Would you like to bunk up? You’re like the only person that I’ve met that hasn’t hit on me. Again—flattered—but not what I’m looking for if I’m to get a good night’s rest.” He awkwardly chuckled and ran a hand through his hair, raking it away from his sunkissed face and sparkling eyes. Yeah, yeah—Coop knew what he was doing, but it was hard to turn off. He was half expecting to turn around and see someone filming him. No such luck, though, this was just natural awkwardness—not manufactured by a script. He wished it was. So, he could leave.

Jim had sent them off to their tents with some folksy patter that rattled 'round heads and had the group dispersing.

Uncharacteristically, Banjo was all too willing to comply. He watched as Calliope made her way to their tent.

He stopped and looked up at the sky as if in thanks, a smile creasing wide across his face whilst he stood there shaking his head in a state of pleased disbelief, before continuing to follow her there himself.

She moved with a sort of effortless grace, which Banjo now realised probably came so effortlessly through years of practice. Holding form in the name of the father.

His own casual gait was anything but. She slipped within the tent. He fought off the urge to dance as he bounced onwards with a bop in his step.

Once inside the tent, Calli had a decision to make. How did she dress for sleep? Normally, she slept in her pajamas, but it wasn't like she was packed for this camping trip. And she didn't want to sleep in her athletic uniform. She took her shirt off and felt shame. It was instant. Her mind flashed back to middle school, the group of teenage boys who harassed her constantly, calling her a prude or calling her worse names because of how conservative she dressed. And that one boy who followed her into the bathroom.

She covered herself with her arms as Banjo walked in. Her back was to him. She instantly regretted this.

"Everything okay?" She heard a voice behind her. "Or did I get here too soon? Over-eager..?" He smiled warmly at her, in case she turned around.

"I mean, I get it. It's not like any of us had time to pack for this. We've all just got the clothes on our back."

He turned around to give her her modesty. "Hey, wanna know a secret? Maybe you'll get a kick... ^{_{kind of dumb though}}" his mind raced, trying to come up with something to ease the tension. "When faced with the age old question of boxers or briefs... I picked... dun-da-da-duuuuun Speedos." He adjusted his shorts to show off the P.R.C.U swim gear underneath.

"That's how little time we had to get ready. So you won't be getting any judgement out of me. Now can I turn around, or would you still rather I not..?"

Calli felt second-wave embarrassment over this now. Banjo was more open with his body whereas she was covering herself like a nun undressing. She turned around now, allowing herself to be open, wearing her shorts and bra. "Sorry, force of habit. Never undressed myself around a guy before. Let alone a guy in nothing but a speedo."

Calli had to admit, he had a nice body. She commented on it before with Cass and Axel. And now here he was, alone with her. She thought back to her previous intentions, how she just wanted to unleash and forget the hell she subscribed herself to. Instead, she wanted a moment of calm before the oncoming storm that were the Trials.

And what did Banjo want?

He turned slowly and took her all in, before fighting to meet her eye.

"No need to apologize." He smiled warmly. "Everyone trying to apologize to me today. Sometimes multiple times, for the same thing. It's throwing me. I should have known Canada would be like this." He joked.

"You're comfortable when you're comfortable. You grew up where you grew up, I grew up where I grew up. Lakes, the beach, swimming pools, sporting fields... private school boys clothes would just be strewn everywhere. The most useless room in most any of the schools I attended, I tell you. The changerooms. We drop trow' at the drop of a hat. Which is to be expected... I guess. Because otherwise you'd be wearing a hat but no pants... And I'm not wearing nothing but a speedo. But I can take a suggestion." He took his shirt off. "...To put us on a somewhat even footing."

He dropped it on the floor. "See, look at that. Our clothes just go everywhere."

Calli watched as Banjo stripped down to essentially nothing. She had to admire his sheer 'dont-give-a-fuck' attitude. She wished she could be so free. But even now, she worried about her reputation. Her father's reach should not be in Canada, but given how political figures in America could have huge influence elsewhere, she wouldn't be surprised if someone here knew her father and, unfortunately, agreed with him.

"Okay, fair enough. We should sleep. Got to get ready for those trials tomorrow."

Banjo stood there with a big dumb grin on his face. He didn't let it drop and tried hard not to look disappointed.

"Yeah... Okay. Yeah, you're right. Got a... big day tomorrow, huh?"

"Man, did I read that wrong. Or did I screw up, or... What the bloody Hell happened there?" He felt like he'd been through a tumble dryer.

She knew he was disappointed, she could hardly blame him. She had promised something and then did not deliver. "It's not that I don't want to. When I suggested it, my intention was not good. I wanted to use you to forget about my own problems. To forget I was somewhere else and forced into it due to my own actions. But you showed me genuine kindness. No one has ever done that without wanting something from me. So, not yet. Soon, perhaps. But I want to get to know the real Andrew before then."

"Oh. Ohhhhh... Oh thank God. I thought I'd gone and screwed up or said... one of about a hundred bloody different things wrong or something. So this is a... good thing then, on your end? Yeah, if you don't want to rush into anything that's great. No rush. As for you, I'm an open book. Anything you want to know that I can answer, I will. Hell, I'll even let the 'Andrew' slide." He finally exhaled, more for his own benefit and the stress it relieved from his own side of the situation than anything else. The actual 'act' itself, he was still more than a little nervous about with his own lack of experience.

He piled into bed.

"Still okay to talk, or too tired?"

She hoped he understood that as she climbed into her own bed. "What did you have in mind?"

"I mean... you seem pretty switched on. What do you make of that rabble out there tonight? Reckon we can hold this lot together?" He asked, looking up at the tent ceiling. "Personally, I feel a lot better about how it ended than how the day started."

"Hard to say. I think we ended things on a more positive note, but I still get the sense that we're not a collective unit yet. Like I am sure Trace hates me. Rory still doesn't forgive me, which is fair. Mackenna is....Mackenna. And you made strides with Inigo, but even doing that seemed to ruffle some other people's feathers. There's no balance yet. There might be one day. No one was significantly harmed, so that's the best I think we could have gotten today."

"I don't-- I don't think Trace hates you. Don't get me wrong, I think they have enough vitriol in there for everyone... But we have this weird dynamic going on. Like I'm the annoying kid brother. We go back and forth at each other a lot. I don't want you to take this the wrong way... but what they said? I'm pretty sure that was just you getting caught in the crossfire, and it was meant for me. I crossed a line there, too. So maybe-- maybe they think you're responsible for turning me into 100% of an arsehole, up from about two thirds of one..? But I don't think they have any specific animosity towards you, in particular. I've got to straighten it out though, I shouldn't have said what I said. Really stupid thing about it all... I don't even think what I said. They just dragged you into it, and I saw red, and said whatever I could to hurt 'em and... well, whilst I don't think it, I know that THEY think it, even if it's stupid and--"

She'd been quiet for some time, and he'd been mumbling away on this weird tangent.

"Yeah. I'll straighten it out tomorrow." He finished.

He lay there for a few moments, unsure if she'd gone to sleep. Then decided to say it, even if it was only for his own benefit.

^_"Calli'..?" He said softly. Not sure if he wanted her awake to hear it or not. ^{_{"I've never met anyone like you before, either."}}

Then he rolled over, and sleep fell upon him.



_{"^{Knock it off,} Banjo!"} Echoed around the tent. Banjo furrowed his brow and fought to ignore it. _{"^{I swear if this is some sort of prank.}"}

Time passed and a rustle, a scuffle could be heard outside. Then louder.

"Did you hear that..?"

"Yeeeeah..." Banjo sighed, in frustration. "I'm pretty sure I heard someone say my name out there as well."

"You did? Why didn't you say anything?"

He raised his eyebrows in surprise at the question. "Well, because the only person I was really interested in hearing call my name out right now was you..." As he began to re-dress.

Calli shook her head, part in disbelief and part because, honestly, it made her feel warm. "As sweet as that is, dummy, if you are hearing your name whispered in the middle of the night, I want to know about it."

Once again, Banjo found himself hating himself for his decision to check on others rather than staying by the tent with Calli' as he looked around the floor for his shirt... This better be good.

It was very much not.

"What the Hell are you doing, boy!"

"Pacific Royal was supposed to be safe."

Dr. Miranda Rivers uttered only that single sentence. It hung in the room far longer than anyone was comfortable with before Dr. Lehrer replied.

"This is an isol-"

"That’s not good enough. An isolated incident is still an incident, and calling it an incident is an insult to the life that was lost and those that are now changed forever."

"Dr. Morse, in my thirty-seven years, there had never before been an incident on the grounds of this school. Hyperhuman terrorists come and go, but this school will continue to endure."

"And yet, there was one.”

“Tad, I think it’s about time these young’uns got some shut eye. Douse that fire and the rest of you back to your tents.”

O’Neil ordered interrupting the admittedly tame conversation around the fire. There was still some lingering tension, and of course, the displays of affection between Olyphant and de Léon were going to make most of the others uncomfortable, but it looked like the team had made some headway towards working together.

Now to hope they didn’t try to kill each other in their sleep.

Jim wasn’t particularly fond of the look that Charon was giving Banjo, there must have been words spoken that the former had fixated on. Couple that with his still-standing tension with Bordeaux and that powder keg was likely to be the next one to blow.

With any luck, everyone would make it through the night and save whatever piss and vinegar they had for the trials in the morning.

Surveying the hedge, it was near completion. A marvel of Hyperhuman abilities, the hedge was a techno-organic structure capable of imitating the capabilities of the A.R.C. Once inside, the team would be put through a simulation that was capable of responding not only to their actions but also to their thoughts, fears and abilities. Controlled out here by a team of three Hyperhumans of various giftings and abilities, it was an astonishing accomplishment and a glimmer of hope towards a society where Hyperhumans would be allowed to use their abilities to create entire cities filled with similarly designed infrastructure.

Many of the world crises could be solved by the Hyperhumans who were able to convert their HZEs into matter. Entire economies, hunger, and even housing could be solved. They were able to reduce the carbon footprint, stabilize entire animal populations, and could do so if only mankind wasn’t always trying to repress and restrict them and their abilities.

“Alright, c’mon guys. It’s great to see you finally getting along but you have a long day tomorrow.”

Tad’s voice broke Jim out of his thoughts. Probably for the best, the last thing he needed was Miranda catching wind of his thoughts sounding like he was part of Hyperion’s delinquents. Though they weren’t without merit, it was their attitude toward non-Hyperhumans and the methods that Hyperion’s Children employed which meant Jim could never side with them. Their goals, outside of the superiority thing, but a world where Hyperhumans could live freely with their abilities, he understood.

Turning his attention to the sky, Jim could only furrow his brow in frustration as the storm seemed to be picking up. Lightning radiated to the west, striking the ocean and Zayas Island. He had warned Lehrer that this would happen. Still, he followed orders, even the ones he disagreed with. As the students all vanished into the tents for the night, he dismissed Tad with a final nod before standing in the middle of the campsite, palms extended towards the sky.

A pale blue shimmer momentarily illuminated in the darkness before stretching outward from Jim and wrapping around the campsite. As lightning illuminated the sky, the faintest trace of a hexagonal pattern could be seen, revealing the psionic shield wrapped around the campsite.

“Team 78!”

Miranda’s voice though projected was barely audible above the thunder overhead. The team was full and content but it was time for shelter as cold raindrops struck the tents and ground, causing smoke and steam to rise off of the fire and pizza oven.

“Head for your tents everyone!” Jess yelled, “Adie and Aly, you’re together there, Yuri and Jonna, you two take that one.” She shouted, “Tisha and Sierra, you guys are paired up, Lucas and Ariel, back to your tent.” That just left Harlowe, Coop, Efraim and Elodie,

“Coop and Efraim you’re together, Harlowe and Elle the last tent is yours.”

With everyone sorted, Jess returned to Miranda’s side.

“What are the others saying?”

“Jonas insisted we ride out the weather. Jim is going to try and extend his barrier our way, but otherwise, I want you to go into the truck and set up the emitter I borrowed from my old H.E.R.O. squad. Place it in the center of the campsite and be ready to activate it at a moment’s notice.” The telepathic team leader instructed.

The mention of H.E.R.O. caught Jessica off guard. She hadn’t realized that Miranda had previously served on one of the Bureau’s Hyperhuman Emergency Response Operations teams.

“Negotiations,” Miranda interjected, “And no, I didn’t need to read your mind.”

Taken aback, Jessica looked up at her mentor, searching her kind face. H.E.R.O. operatives weren’t exactly what you’d expect to find teaching at Pacific Royal and yet, here Miranda was. Prior to this conversation, Jess had thought Dr. Rivers’ highest achievements had been in her scientific fields; she never once considered that the doctor would lend her talents elsewhere.

“Why are you here?” Jess asked, pulling the hood of her jacket over her dark hair.

“I spent years of my life analyzing the worst parts of the criminal psyche. After chasing down spree killers, injustice collectors, family annihilators and all other serial killers, I thought it would be a better use of my talents to cultivate the best attributes in those who represent our future.”

It was a far more somber answer than Jessica had anticipated. Sobering even given every student she had just sent to bed was on an accelerated track to find work with the Bureau.

“Enough of that, the emitter please, Jess, and then I’d seek cover under something more than a school-issued windbreaker,” Miranda ordered gently.

“We’re in for a bumpy night.”

The voice invaded Tad's head, eroding at his will, pulling him out of his slumber and prompting the semi-conscious young man to sit up on his cot. Outside the thunder continued to boom, shaking the tent despite Jim's shield over the campsite.

“Knock it off, Banjo.” Tad snapped, half asleep. “I swear if this is some sort of prank-”

Thaddeus…

The voice came again, permeating his head. Tad went rigid, and then suddenly relaxed. For the briefest of seconds, Tad’s eyes illuminated a vibrant, violet hue before the glow dissipated.

Stand.

The word hissed into Tad’s left ear, crawling through his skull, through his neural cortex and corridors and out the right ear. He suddenly felt safe and did as he was commanded by the voice. Stepping out of the tent and under cover of Jim’s shield, Tad turned his gaze skyward, beyond the shimmering blue energy barrier. Rain pelted against the outside as the dead of night was illuminated by sheets of lightning.

You’re trapped, you need to cut yourself free.

As the voice whispered inside Tad’s skull, he saw the Southern Plateau disappear, no longer was there a shield above him. Instead, it had been replaced by a leafy canopy. Thick, venous vines surrounded Tad, suffocating him. He could feel them wrapped around his legs, arms and torsos.

Panic seized him slightly and his Hype-Gene reacted, his hands morphing as razor-sharp claws extended allowing him to cut himself free.

“_{What the hell are you doing, boy?}”

The voice sounded familiar, but it was so far away. Tad had to cut himself free. He needed to get out of these vines.

“_Tad! Stop! _Tad!”

The voice grew more persistent, louder and then quiet again.

Free yourself.

Striking, Tad cleaved clean through the thickest vine in front of him. His body was immediately coated in the warm splatter as the ichor inside sprayed across him. The green canopy above him fell away, the haze of the jungle dissipating to reveal the night sky above.

And then he felt the cold rain.

The Southern Plateau returned as Tad looked around.

Why wasn’t he in his bed? Where was he?

The rain caused the warm ichor to run down his face as Tad slowly raised a horrified hand to his cheek. His eyes came to rest on the severed arm lying several feet away from Jim, who was knelt on the ground, frantically trying to stop the bleeding from the stump where his arm used to be.

“No…” Tad began only to suddenly feel a sharp pain course through his body as a pair of prongs dug into his back between his shoulders.

“On your knees, now!” Miranda commanded from behind him, the former agent held her weapon expertly, ready to HZE Tad the second he moved to resist.

“Thaddeus Finch, I need you to surrender right now. There is someone else in your head.”

_Fight.

“No,” Tad pleaded, his eyes beginning to glow again.

Fight.

“No, no, no.”

“Knees now!” Miranda ordered again.

Fight.

Tad let out a primal roar as Miranda pulled the trigger, bombarding the student advisor with irradiated electrons to neutralize the threat. Stumbling, Tad dropped to one knee as Miranda pulled the trigger again.

Adapt.

Panting, Tad knelt there motionless as Miranda stepped forward, finger still hovering over the trigger. Suddenly Tad ripped the prongs from his back as he stood. Ejecting the HZE cartilage, Miranda quickly reloaded, shooting Tad in the chest before pulling the trigger again.

“Aaron!” Miranda roared, as both Aaron Matthews and Ryan Clark appeared followed by several onlookers from Team Eclipse.

“I could use a hand here.”

Pulling the weapon out of his chest, Tad tossed it aside before attacking Miranda and sending the woman stumbling backward. Aaron moved in to defend Miranda while Ryan and Jessica did their best to keep defer the prying eyes belonging to members of Blackjack, Eclipse and Firebird out of harm’s way and back to their tents.

Restraining Tad was no easy feat as the younger Hyperhuman kept adapting to Aaron’s strategies. If Aaron tried to wrap himself around Tad, Tad simply became stronger and hard to contain. If Aaron tried to suffocate Tad, Tad simply adapted to increase his lung capacity, if not breathe out of a different orifice.

The longer the fight went on, the more difficult Tad would become to subdue.

If the circumstances had been different, Matthews would have been impressed with just how much he underestimated the student advisor. He assumed the milquetoast-looking boy was just a pushover that O’Neil had taken on to boss around. Never once did it cross Aaron’s mind that Tad was actually someone worth having on your side.

After all, his name was Tad.

“What’s gotten into him?” Aaron yelled as Miranda rejoined the fight.

“Someone much more powerful,” Miranda replied. Unfortunately, the distraction cost her, she had missed Tad’s attack and braced for the worse. Making her peace, Miranda tried to focus her abilities to redirect Tad’s attack but he was too close, too fast and too strong. A claw-laden hand pushed through her telekinetic attacks, aimed directly at her abdomen.

Except the pain never came.

A shimmer of blue energy appeared in front of Miranda as Jim staggered to his feet, a makeshift tourniquet wrapped around the remainder of his left arm. His outstretched hand quivered before making a fist that staggered Tad backwards, landing the student advisor squarely between the three faculty members.

Above the gathered teams, the storm clouds above began to swirl as three branches of lightning suddenly came together before plummeting downwards. From inside the blast stepped forward two figures.

“Enough.”

The larger of the two figures spoke in a raspy voice. It was calm, cool and authoritative, leaving no room for argument. A mask covered their face, empty eye sockets staring out across the Southern Plateau. With a wave of their hand, Miranda, Jim and Aaron were lifted into the air, their bodies rigid before the masked figure flicked their fingers and tossed the three faculty members aside.

“Thaddeus, come along. We have plans for you.”

Complying in his still trance-like state, Tad walked towards the pair. From behind him, the sound of a gun being cocked echoed through the rainfall, behind the deafening roar of thunder.

“Nobody is taking him,” Miranda stated, taking a step forward towards Tad. Behind her, Aaron helped Jim back to his feet while the commotion had begun to gather an audience, one that Ryan and Jess could no longer keep at bay.

“You dare point that at me?” The hooded figure asked, before wrenching the weapon from Miranda’s grasp and pulling it through the air to themselves.

“A Hyperhuman using this weapon on another Hyperhuman.” The disgust was evident even behind the mask.

“I thought we were too evolved for this.”

“I wonder if the students know what kind of school this is?” The woman piped up. It was only upon hearing her voice that Miranda realized the hooded figure’s companion was none other than Autumn Miracle. Somehow, they had broken her out of the H.E.L.P. Black Site.

“This hypocrisy shall not stand,” The raspy voice rose in volume. “Let’s bring everyone out here, shall we!” With a subtle movement of their fingers, the masked figure tore the top off of each tent, exposing those who hadn’t already stirred and gathered to the cold night rain.

“Come children, gather around. See how your teachers employ the weapons of our enemies against us.” They continued, tossing the gun back towards the gathering group of students.

Surveying the students, Autumn crinkled her nose in disgust.

“Matching uniforms? How garish. In my day, we actually had style.”

“Are you actually bragging about 80’s fashion?” Jim grimaced as he interjected, “You’re sicker than they said.”

“Speaking of appearances, how about a little upgrade?” Autumn asked, “These fanatics took my best years from me, and if we’re going to be doing a big song and dance number for the kids, I ought to look the part.”

“Your vanity was never a desirable trait, Miss Miracle.” The cloaked figure lamented, before extending a hand. A verdant shimmer passed through the air, coating Autumn as her grey hair was replaced with raven locks, and wrinkles tightened as her skin became firm and smooth. The aged woman was completely replaced by one in her youthful prime, now appearing barely older than Tad or Jessica.

“Do you not see, this is how Hyperhumans should be treating one another. Together we are immortal, invincible, we could be gods to this world.” The hooded figure placed a hand on Tad’s shoulder, “I am Hyperion, and you are my children. Come to your sire’s side as your advisor has.”

Moving to pull her weapon back to her, Miranda found her abilities to be blocked or at the very least, severely weakened. Looking up to see Hyperion slowly wagging their index finger towards her, Miranda realized that even though they had numbers, Hyperion had them outgunned.

Suddenly the masked assailant multiplied, spreading out around the students and faculty alike, fencing them in. The original Hyperion made a subtle swipe through the air, pushing Jim, Aaron and Miranda aside again, their copies aiding in parting the crowd until the original was looking directly at Trace.

“You my dear, you represent the best of us, the purest of us. Your gifts have transformed you into a new standard of beauty, these students with their mundane appearance, barely distinguishable from humans, they should worship the very ground you grace.”

They paused to address the rest of the students.

“Did the Hindus not worship Shiva? Why should you settle for less?” Suddenly Hyperion turned their focus on Adam Prince of Team Eclipse.

“Did the Egyptians not worship Anubis and Horus? Why should you let ants belittle you into hiding your true nature?”

With another swipe of their hand and the crowd was tossed about again until it had parted and revealed Haleigh, still in her wheelchair.

“And you!” Hyperion’s rasp rose to a roar, an accusatory finger pointed towards the young girl.

“You let them bind you to a metal chair. Can you not hear the very soil beneath your feet crying for your touch, their mother Gaia, taken from them, forced to into that metal torture chair and that abomination of a device on your temple.”

Raising their hands toward the sky, Hyperion continued.

“Under my tutelage, you will walk, nay you will run atop of mountains and raise entire nations.”

With an open palm, Hyperion pulled Rory into the forefront.

“You have so much untapped potential, if you had the stomach for it, you could stand on my left, I could give you anything you desire, power, wealth, endless comfort?”

Dropping Rory, Hyperion telekinetically plucked Lucas out of the crowd, suspending the boy with one hand, and their plush dinosaur with another.

“Don’t you get tired of living in the past? Seeing echoes of things that already happened?” They hissed before pushing Lucas away again.

“If you come home, I will unfold your future. It doesn’t lie here, in this military academy. This is built to appease those who are beneath you. To restrain and limit you, I give you a world with no limitations, I will unfold your future.”

"Alright, settle down Squid Game. We've got enough bloody fun and games on the itinerary already... Red Light!"

Hyperion’s head seemed to swivel free of its neck as the cold empty eye sockets of their mask landed on Banjo. Something in their demeanour changed as they gleefully pushed students aside until Banjo was centred out by himself.

“Don’t you get tired of feeling alone, having to always wear that armour you lug around? You have so many looking for you,” Hyperion paused and even with the mask, Banjo could practically see the smug grin on their face.

“I’ve met them, your parents that is. Don’t you get tired of running? Have you ever wondered if he truly has your best interests at heart or if you’re just a burden of obligation? Stand with me instead, I assure you I want you by my side and there will be no more running.”

"Yeeeeeeah... the kind of dynamic I suspect you would want you and I to have..? I'm pretty bloody sure I'm gonna clash... sorry, correction, don't want to give you the wrong idea... I Would make it my business to ensure that I clash."

With a twist of his wrist, Hyperion lifted Banjo into the air. Holding Banjo briefly, the masked figure pulled the suspended teen closer, inspecting the boy.

“I’ll give you one more chance to answer.”

"Go fuck yourself." Banjo smirked.

“I’ll be back for you later.” They hissed directly into Banjo’s ear, out of earshot of the others before tossing Banjo into the air. The force of the momentum sent Banjo sailing much to the horrified gasps and screams of the gathered student body.

Watching the events unfold, something inside of Cassander snapped. Lightning illuminated the night sky, and the blinding light caused something in the grass to glisten as Cass’ eyes fell on Miranda’s firearm. Summoning what little of his powers were available, Cassander managed to toss a small flashbang into the air, before rolling forward and snatching up the weapon. Letting off a shot he watched as the prime Hyperion staggered momentarily before the pair of void-like eyes turned to him.

“Foolish child.”

Stepping between Hyperion and the students, Cassander raised the gun with one hand while preparing another blast in his other hand. He looked around frantically towards the numerous copies who, like their original, seemed unamused and bored by his little stand of resistance.

“You idiot, Charon.” Jim roared only for Autumn to fire an energy blast of her own. Managing a shield, it wasn’t enough to stop Jim from being knocked to the ground again.

“You’re of no use to me.” Hyperion hissed, "I thought the other boy’s insolence would have been enough of a lesson, it would appear some of you are slow learners.” The masked figure spat before raising a hand only for it to turn to a single point and impale Cassander through the chest.

Cassander’s mouth opened but no sound came from within. Looking down at his chest, Cass watched the blood drip from his lips onto Hyperion before the hooded figure withdrew his hand, letting Cass’ lifeless corpse slump to the ground.

“We’ve made our point here.” Mirthless laughter rang hollowly from behind the mask before Hyperion motioned to Autumn, “Bring Thaddeus along, we’re leaving.”

“Wait!”

Hyperion paused as Ryan pushed her way through the other students and ran toward them.

“Take me with you.” She pleaded, “I am done playing below my level.”

“Me too,” Came Adam’s voice as the beastly teen pushed their way forward. From Team Eclipse, five other students stepped forward, each following Ryan’s lead as they approached Hyperion.

“Come my children, your ascension begins now.”

"Pacific Royal was supposed to be safe."

Dr. Miranda Rivers uttered only that single sentence. It hung in the room far longer than anyone was comfortable with before Dr. Lehrer replied.

"This is an isol-"

"That’s not good enough. An isolated incident is still an incident, and calling it an incident is an insult to the life that was lost and those that are now changed forever."

"Dr. Morse, in my thirty-seven years, there had never before been an incident on the grounds of this school. Hyperhuman terrorists come and go, but this school will continue to endure."

"And yet, there was one.” Dr. Mercia interjected, “For all of the defenses that this place holds, for having essentially a private army next door, we were attacked and caught with our proverbial pants down."

“The trials have already been postponed, Cassander’s Charon next of kin have been notified and there will need to be a funeral to honour the boy.” Dr. Rivers added, eliciting several nods from both doctors Merica and Morse along with Aaron.

“These students don’t need to go through your hedge, they’ve already endured enough. What’s most important now is that we get their lives to return to some semblance of normalcy. Surely they’ve displayed enough in the face of adversity to be placed in some ceremonial bullshit houses.” Aaron spat, “If Jim was here you know he’d be tearing you a new one for even suggesting they go through the Trials after what happened.”

“You have twenty-nine students who are going to need counselling, more likely as they found out that the alleged safest place for Hyperhumans was just waltzed in by Hyperion like they own the damn place. Those aforementioned twenty-nine also just witnessed the death of a classmate and the near death of another, not to mention abduction and extortion. Jim, Miranda and Aaron are all lucky to be alive."

“I’ll talk all of that under counsel, Dr. Morse, however, normalcy is the Trials.”

“If you put them through that, I’ll walk.” Miranda countered.

“I will too,” Aaron added, standing up. “You can still offer them the team swap and we can place them in houses. I’m sure like myself, Miranda and Jim can speak to their personalities and where they’d best be suited. But no Trials, let them have time to heal.”

“They’re students, not soldiers, Jonas.”

Jonas looked around the room at the gathered faculty members. He was outnumbered and knew it. They were right, sighing he threw his hands up as he nodded his agreement. Taking a deep breath, he turned as they all began to leave his office before staring out the window and speaking to himself.

“But, whether they know it or not, I’m afraid they’re now caught in a war.”

When Alyssa had first seen the dress uniform, she had mixed feelings. On the one hand, it was a little bit extra for her taste. The cloak in particular was a lot. But nonetheless, she had envisioned herself in the uniform at a fancy dinner, ceremony, or dance, swept off her feet by a handsome, young, senior.

It had never once crossed her mind that the first time she'd don the uniform was for a funeral. Looking around the Northern Cove beach at the gathered attendees, Alyssa’s eyes were drawn back to the draped body sitting atop the funeral pyre in the small boat.

She hadn’t met Cassander Charon, she hadn’t known him in any capacity until he stepped between her and the hooded monster. Part of her wanted to chide him for such foolish bravado, and another part wanted to thank him for showing such a strong moral character in the face of overwhelming odds. Alyssa would have liked to have thought she would have enjoyed Cassander’s company had they had the chance to meet.

Seven days had passed since that night on the Southern Plateau. The school had gone into a lockdown state for the first twenty-four hours and once they were sure Hyperion and Autumn Miracle were long gone, they slowly began to open things back up. Those present that night all had scheduled counselling sessions with either Dr. Morse or Dr. Mercia. But the entire school was tense and Alyssa had wished they hadn’t suspended classes for the first week so she had something to distract herself with.

Cassander's foster parents and sister had made the flight from Maine to British Columbia in order to say some words and send the body off to sea. It was an honour normally reserved for Bureau agents, but Dr. Rivers had extended it to Cassander as a recognition of his bravery.

Even if it had been suicide.

Kind words were said about the boy. One of his teammates, Axel, spoke highly of Cassander, expressing some regret for the manner in which he had treated Cass that night. Others too shared their stories, those who had worked in the mess hall with Cassander had nothing but praise for his diligent nature.

Death was a funny thing. Alyssa had only ever seen it as just the next step towards moving into either Heaven or Hell. Often it was joyous in her family, after all when another believer died you believed they were leaving behind pain and suffering to be with their Creator. But looking at the tufts of blonde hair the wind had loosed from beneath the covering, all Alyssa saw was her brother, Oliver laying there.

And that filled her with dread.

Pacific Royal Collegiate and University was supposed to be the safest place for Hyperhumans. Within forty-eight hours of arriving, one of them had ended up dead, another abducted and a faculty member had lost an arm. That wasn't a great feeling. No one had died, or even been remotely injured during her time at the Alexandria Foundation.

Some people did disappear though...

Less than ideal time to focus on that nightmare fuel. Alyssa brought herself back to the present as those around her stood in a salute. Following suit, Alyssa watched as Jim O'Neil approached the body. He was joined by another teacher, the one from House Canis who posthumous bestowed the Canis Colours upon Cassander's body. Together they pushed the body out to sea, letting the tide take it out before the House Canis Representative, Aiden Roth, ignited the body with his heat vision in the style of a Norse funeral.

As the burning body drifted out further to sea and disappeared over the horizon, the funeral was brought to an end. The familiar drone of bagpipes playing Amazing Grace filled the air, and though it wasn't her favourite instrument, it was still enough to bring a few tears to Alyssa's eyes.

Filing out of the funeral back towards the Team Minotaurs, Alyssa was caught by Jessica.

"Hey, Aly, Miranda just informed me that we're going to do the Team Swap once you guys get changed out of your uniforms and at the same time they'll do the Colour Ceremony to put you into your houses. Apparently, due to the extenuating circumstances surrounding the past week, it's going to supersede the Trials."

Jessica's eyes were red, her cheeks puffy. While it might have been mistaken as grief for Cassander, most knew she was mourning Tad, even though they hadn't been a body yet.

"So yeah, if you could pass that along to anyone from our team, Blackjack or Eclipse that'd be most appreciated."

Alyssa blinked. She had mixed reactions to that statement. On one hand, it was considerate, on the other, it did feel like they just trivialized Cassander's death. No matter, she'd gladly pass the word along. Smiling brightly, Alyssa adjusted her boat cloak while nodding eagerly.

"I'll be sure to pass that along, Jessica Friend!" Alyssa smiled, pausing, "I like that your last name is Friend, friend." She giggled slightly before chasing after other familiar faces.

"Oh Trevor Musgrave!" The redheaded woman called out, "Can you let others know we're to go back and change into our regular uniforms for the Team Swap and Colour Ceremony?" Alyssa asked before replying without waiting for Trevor to speak, "Much appreciated! See you there!"

Moving towards the next familiar face, Alyssa called out Jessica's message, barely slowing down as she chased down student after student.

"Hey, Elodie Miller! Jessica wanted me to tell you that-"

It had been a week since Cassander's death. But to Haleigh, it felt like an eternity.

Since Hyperion's onslaught, she had become withdrawn, perhaps more than ever. Bitter, even. Her mind kept replaying the same events over and over. She couldn't sleep at night, and the nights Haleigh could she awoke with a different kind of nightmare from her regular night terrors. Cass, Hyperion—she couldn't shake it away, like it was permanently imprinted into her brain.

Although the school had forced them all into counselling, the faith Haleigh had in P.R.C.U.'s ability to help had all but evaporated. The only thing that would help, she believed, was to see Hyperion dead. To break every bone in their body, to see them wriggle under the might of the earth. They took Cass, so she was going to take them. An eye for an eye, even if it made the world go blind. After all, Cass deserved justice. Rather, he deserved to be here with them, joking around like they had been just a week ago. If P.R.C.U. couldn't protect them, then she was going to have to do it herself.

So focused on not hurting others, you turned a blind eye to it all.

Haleigh's gaze refused to leave Cass' Canis-draped body as Jim and Roth, House Canis' representative, pushed it out to sea. Her hands shook anxiously as she gripped the arm rests in hopes of controlling her nerves.

Never again.

As she watched the raft go up in flames, Haleigh bit her lip in a desperate fight against her own emotions. It wasn't much help, she found out. Tears fell regardless of the brave face Haleigh had been trying to put on. She wished Cass was still here, though everyone at the funeral probably thought that. She wished she talked more to him, rather than avoiding everyone out of fear and worry. He had been one of the first people she had met at P.R.C.U., mostly because they had both been assigned to the kitchen, and now he was gone.

It felt like a piece of her had been stripped away, and the only thing that could fill it was Hyperion's death.

"I'm going to kill them." Haleigh uttered to the Blackjack member that stood beside her. She wasn't sure who it had been exactly. "Cass. Banjo. Jim. Tad. They're going to pay for everything."

The steady rhythm of the patient monitor was occasionally drowned out by the tube that was keeping him breathing.

At first he was on the ventilator because of the collapsed lung, with the other fast on the way. Now it was necessary predominantly because of the induced coma to ease the head trauma, to keep him breathing.

Five broken ribs, a torn spleen, a collapsed lung which almost became two, a bruised kidney, some head trauma and a partridge in a pear tree...

But he'd live. Which not everyone who was there then could say.

"Mmm... Mmm-mi-mo-mmm!" He stirred and with an outburst tried to sit up. Searing white-hot pain seized him first from his core and radiated throughout, and then the darkness took him back.

Stupid...

^_"Doctor!

So bloody stupid...

^{_{"...Stabili--...--emove tube... --gained conscious--...notify..."}}

He was floating on a drugged out cloud of semi-awareness.

The next time he awoke, the tube was gone, but he found himself strapped down to the bed. Whaddid they think he was going to run..? The last time he tried to sit up too fast he blacked out. Seems a little unwarranted.

"G'day... ...Oi. Mornin' kiddo, I know you're awake."

The Butler. Figures. Next of kin, probably guardian was all they'd likely let see him.

^{_{"Throat hurts. Not gonna shut me up though..."}}

"What was that?"

^{_{"I said my throat hurts... but don't think for a minute it's gonna bloody shut me up though."}}

The Butler laughed hard in his chair. "Nah, mate. I wouldn't imagine it could. They had to tube ya. First when your lungs collapsed, and then to keep you going when they put you to sleep for a bit. That's why it hurts. You've uhh-- You've been out for the better part of a week."

<sup><sub>"I know why it hurts. I woke up with a bloody great tube down my gob."

"So whaddid I miss? Who took that colossal masked prick down in the end?"</sub></sup>

The Butler looked furtively. "Look. Ya did a Hell of a thing. Not too many people have stepped up to that guy and walked awa-- well, you haven't walked yet. But you will! You're a tough little nugget..."

Banjo glared at him.

"No one took him down. He waltzed out. With a few kids too. And... he killed one."

Banjo winced. And wincing made his... well, everything... hurt. Which made him want to wince again.

Then his mind kicked in to hyperdrive. Calli. Her father's a senator with an anti-Hyperhuman agenda. The potential statement--

"WHO?!" He growled gutterally, at the expense of his throat. More wincing, more pain.

"Easy mate... shit. Some kid called Cassander Charon. He was in your group. They're having a funeral for him tomorrow."

Banjo furrowed his brow. ^{_{"Our group? Which one was he?"}}

"He had this explosive kind of fireworks power. Had a not too dissimilar upbringing to you. You'd have probably got on."

^{_{"Fuck... That's what I saw when I took the bloody express elevator up--"}}

The Butler looked at his reaction with quizzical interest.

"There was--- ah-- some girl, who's been asking and trying to come in to see you. They keep sending her away. Family only. That's why you just asked, isn't it? Is that something I'm going to have to be concerned about..?

^{_{"Go fuck yourself."}}

The Butler grinned. "Whoa-ho, mate! Back on that wagon already, huh. And the doctor's tried to tell me it'd be a while til you're back to normal..."

Banjo chuckled, then winced, then more pain. "Ah shit... ^{_{Don't make me laugh, you arsehole.}}"

The Butler laughed himself, then shook his head in disbelief. "You really came face to face with one of the most powerful hyperhumans on earth... And told him... to his face. To go fuck himself. I mean, I always knew you had more sack than sense, but..."

^{_{"Well, how many other times would I get the chance?"}}

"HA! True! Catch ya tomorrow at visiting hours. Don't go running anywhere til then!"

Banjo hummed a barely audible respnse. It did hurt to talk. He figured it would to wave. It hurt to be, at the moment.

But he was alive. He was awake.

The Butler laughed himself, then shook his head in disbelief. "You really came face to face with one of the most powerful hyperhumans on earth... And told him... to his face. To go fuck himself. I mean, I always knew you had more sack than sense, but..."

^{_{"Well, how many other times would I get the chance?"}}

“I’ll be back for you later.” He hissed directly into Banjo’s ear, out of earshot of the others before tossing Banjo into the air.

Trace never really cried. It wasn’t that they were emotionally broken or anything, but they did a good job of compartmentalizing their feelings. Putting them into tight little boxes and putting those boxes on shelves. They’d open the boxes on occasion when they wanted to make sure there was still emotion there, but they didn’t wallow in it. They’d just close it back up and put it on the shelf. They made one box, then another, and another, but they couldn’t put all their feelings away about that night. They were all just too complicated.

So, they left one box open, and they poured it out at the funeral. The funeral they thought would have been Banjo’s, but he wasn’t dead. Though, he was dancing close to it. It was a funeral for Cass. Someone that Trace had agreed with more than once but had written off when he’d turned Katja down. They’d fully planned to go off on him for making her feel “less than.” They’d even sorted out the speech and everything. What had it said? They didn’t remember. Something something fuckboy, probably. They hadn’t said anything at the funeral. It was—impossible—to put in enough words that felt like they’d done any justice to Cass’s memory. His family was there, and Trace was just a background character in his story. A background character that still cried.

They slid their hand over their cheek to catch the tears, half expecting to rub the errant, clear liquid on their jacket. But their tears were black. Like a less-viscous ink that pooled in their hand and wormed its way into the wrinkles of their palm. Their blood was a corpse-blue and their tears were an ichor-black. It was sad. They’d bled before they’d cried. What else about them was alien?

Trace pulled the jacket tighter to their body. Amidst all the sadness, they couldn’t help but feel the chill of what had been said to them that night. One week had come and gone, and they still lay awake at night thinking about it. A part of them wondered if they, too, had volunteered to join Hyperion and “ascended,” what would have happened? Where would they be? How would they feel? Would it still all hurt? They’d been offered reverence. And they didn’t run towards it. They ran towards people they’d known, who had shared a story and meal with them. Maybe that meant they were good people. Maybe that meant they would always run towards what was comfortable instead of what was new. This stupid school, its stupid classes, its stupid houses, and its stupid hierarchal system all felt frivolous compared to what had happened.

It was then that they became aware of the red hibiscus in their coat pocket. They’d intended to put it on Cass’s corpse as an offering, but they kept it to themselves. As they walked back to the house after the funeral, their stark white hair tried to whip around their head but had been braided back with thick black silk. They'd painted their lips in black and given their eyelids and cheeks some pink. They held the flower in their hand. They rolled the thick, round stem between their two fingers. The once-crushed petals seemingly come back to life.

They hadn’t really been paying attention but noticed that Haleigh had come up beside them. Trace turned to her as she vowed vengeance. Their lips were a thin line. For once, they didn’t spurt out vitriol or cruelty. They were just closed. Honestly, they didn’t think that Haleigh chose them on purpose. Surely anyone with the Blackjack armband would feel that way.

Vengeance felt petty. It felt small compared to what they needed to do. Violence only begot more violence until the whole world was on fire. There was something deeper than the need for retaliation. It was understanding. Trace finally understood what hadn’t felt right about this situation. That there’d been a strong push that everything here was monochromatically normal. It wasn’t. Everyone had secrets, and no one was being transparent. Why were they all so bloody, fucking angry at each other? And why were the students here forced to be dragged into their petty little squabbles? Sure, Hyperion wanted hyper-human supremacy, and PRCU just wanted a safe place to train hyper-humans. On that fundamental level, they were not the same, but it seemed more personal—too personal.

“Innit what Hyperion would want? Get angry? So, he can spout more stupidity about bein’ superior while we flop around like fish? Nah, I’m good. I ain’ bathin’ in blood for Cass. You can, though. You got the power to.” They held the hibiscus out to Haleigh. “Aren’t you more interested to find out why us? Why Tad? How did they know we were goin’ to be out in the middle of nowhere? This place has its secrets, too, and I’m not happy playin’ that they’re innocent in this, either.”