---

“Don’t worry, kid. Sully’s—”

Sully breached the gap between the cars where Clancy had fallen, the Chalice in his hand already brimming, his forearms scuffed by sand, cigarette butts, and what he really hoped was just spilled beer. He found that the kid had gunned down so savagely that he’d been knocked out of his shoes. In fact it was like the kid had been gatted out of existence, the bullet impacts that were beginning to fill with sand the only proof of the atrocity. Sully had seen more blood than he ever wanted to see during his short stint with the Coven, but never before had he become disconcerted by the lack of blood. It didn’t make sense. He was pretty sure he hadn’t imbibed in the Chalice since he’d taken a little bit of its encouragement to actually go to the meeting, and even then it had just been some booze. He wasn’t seeing things. So where did the kid go?

It’s magic, Ashley would say with a shrug whenever Sully began asking questions that she couldn’t answer. I don’t gotta explain…

“—shit. C’mon, man,” groaned Sully as a large, muscular member of the Wolfpack stepped out of the shadows in front of him and pointed yet another gun at Sully’s face. What was it about his mug that made all the bikers want to hold him hostage? Was it his bright baby blues that widened in recognition at Tayla’s name and immediately betrayed any chance Sully had of pretending that he’d never heard the name? He was cut off from the rest of the Coven and there was a lot of noise coming from the otherside of the cars. Maybe he could buy some time and jerk the guy around, but Sully doubted that the biker’s word about seeing the sun was worth its salt. Hopefully someone would intervene and come to his rescue.

“Oh wow, Tayla? Did you say Tayla? W-wow, that’s crazy,” stammered Sully. “Small world, huh? I brought some of my friends here because I know this is where we can score some shit, and the one of the guys I’m looking to talk to just happens to be looking for a buddy of mine. Now what do you say we just stand up, call off all the shooting and fighting, go inside with everybody, have some beers, lick our wounds, play a little pool or at the very least pocket a couple of 8-balls, and you and I figure which Tayla Choi you’re looking for, because I know several girls and one drag queen that goes by that name. Sounds like a plan, buddy?”

Dean’s answer was cut off by a wet, heavy thunk followed by a sickening crunch of bones as a pile of blood, leather, and meat plopped between Sully and Dean. Beyond the cars, he heard a child scream and a car alarm go off, but perhaps that was just the panic switch in his brain going off. Sully felt his stomach twist as the man’s torn jaw flapped loosely from the impact like putty, the soaked goatee stretching and shrinking like an accordion. In his life there had been times, moments of weakness really, when Sully thought about making a massive mistake, trimming down his beard, and doing the goatee look. Closing the door on that reality was one of the only good things to come from having the image of Goatee’s broken body forever burned into his mind. The other good thing was that it had given Sully an opportunity to act.

Veiled briefly by the thin cloud of dust that had been kicked up by the impact of the mushed husk, Sully pushed off the ground and heaved himself forward as he rose upwards and towards Dean, getting up to one knee as he drove the Chalice forward like a sword. He wasn’t aiming for Dean so much as he was the gun, attempting to catch the weapon in the bowl of the Chalice. If it didn’t work he’d probably be shot dead. However, if he was successful then the Chalice would fill with lava that was hot enough to immediately melt Dean’s gun. If Dean wasn’t smart enough to drop the weapon his hand would suffer some nasty burns shortly after, not to mention anything else that would get hit for being in the splash zone. The Chalice stayed ice cold, but the heat radiating from the rim would still be enough to make Sully’s hand blister and crack. He stopped summoning lava as quickly as he started, dumping the Chalice on to the flesh mound below him that bubbled and crackled, a horrible odor of molten flesh burning his nose and watering his eyes.

All the while Sully would continue pushing himself to his feet. He would ungracefully step around the corpse and attempt to take Dean down to the ground in a tackle, maybe get in a couple of sloppy but nevertheless meaty punches with his uncooked southpaw if he could.

---

---

Sloane didn’t step back one single inch as Drake leveled an electric sword at her. She met his eye, and even though he was taller than her and she had to look up at him it was clear from her steely gaze that she was looking down. She didn’t have to speak a single word, the ’How dare you!’ etched all over the rigidness of her body. She felt the object in her inner coat pocket grow heavy. It was an antique Italian stiletto switchblade that she had taken to carrying around the time it became clear that the murder of former Coven members were not just unfortunate coincidences. Upon the handle of the blade was an intricate Hexmark, thinly drawn runes circling the entirety of the polished wooden handle. All she had to do was look down and she could Possess the knife, the blade removed from her jacket, flicked open, and buried into Drake’s shoulder blade with nothing more than the twitch of her eye. A reminder of the pecking order disguised as an act of self-defense.

She kept staring at Drake instead, her eyes unblinking. She was waiting.

Sloane didn’t look away when Jack, rightfully, called Drake out on his bullshit, only breaking away to roll her eyes at Jack as he turned the heat towards her. A sneer flickered on her lips. Only a stupid person would believe that she ever asked a stupid question. Her question wasn’t entirely based in simmering resentment and cruel severity. It was designed to illuminate why any of them should see their being any value of relying on Drake when it came to having people watch each other’s backs in regards to Father Wolf. He had failed to protect his own wife. Sloane needed a reason so she could believe that there existed a world where Drake could protect her, because right now their relationship was all give and her generosity, while grand, wasn’t pure charity: it was an investment, and she needed to know that she was going to get some return.

She tried to continue to hold her ground as Luca got in between her and Drake. She had already grown a bit heated under her collar before their standoff had begun, but the crawling sensation beneath her skin chipped away the stone on her exterior. Sloane still refused to withdraw, even as her eyes started to water and her breathing grew heavy. Her body started to hurt piece by painful piece, as if it was all draining away from her and leaving her unwhole. She had only felt something like this once before. It had been ten years ago, staring up at the sky, lying in a pool of her own blood, smiling as the Stygian Snake shrieked in agony and defeat, the world growing cold and black as she faced death with quiet dignity, Jade’s blurry face appearing from her just seconds before the curtain closed…

She turned to tell Luca how wrong he was again and caught a brief glimpse of the tarnish and rot that was typically impossible to see, but with the proper lighting of his cheer and optimism stripped away it revealed the damaged goods. Finally, she retreated back a step, the pain fading as she escaped Luca’s rotten aura. She looked down at the knife handle hidden inside the jacket and pulled the coat tightly closed around her with a shiver. Sloane didn’t look back up.

She felt a discomfort creep across her that wasn’t her rotted nerves knitting themselves back together. Part of her felt like crying. Part of her wanted to apologize to Kali and Simone for causing a scene. Part of her wanted to beg Drake to tell her what happened, to tell him that she would forgive him. Part of her wanted to thank Jack for staying focused, to tell him that he was right. Part of her wanted to just reach out and give Luca a hug, pain be damned. She unclenched her jaw, ready to acknowledge that she had committed a faux pas and promise to try to avoid overstepping boundaries, perhaps attempting to steer the conversation back towards something constructive like how to deal with the confrontation of Judas.

Instead, it hissed out on its own natural gas from a faulty pipe, adding to the miasma suffocating the Dairy Queen patio, “You’re a bastard.”

It was unclear who she was addressing: Jack, Luca, Drake. All three. None.

Herself, maybe.

She glanced at her watch.

---

---

---

---

Location: Veni Vedi Veni, Parking Lot
@Punished GN

---

It was agony.

The strain of the darkness against the overwhelming heat and desert. The sands to choke the soul.

Tears mixed with sweat, screaming gasps as the canopy slowly gave way, sand seeping in like an hour glass. The bottom filling up.

She hyperventilated, taking a few last gasps before she could feel her strength almost entirely leave her-

Until.

A boon. Strength imbuing her hands, steeling her soul. Alizée recognized it in the haze of her fighting, adrenaline-filled mind. Bianca. It was her magic. But… how?

With renewed energy, she grit her teeth, the phantom hands pushing back against the immeasurable weight.

Everything was muffled from under the mountain. But even Alizée heard a distinct yell. A growl, something about assholes.

It sounded like the kid… but that was impossible.

He was dead because of her, wasn't he…?

The dizziness reached a new peak, derailing any further thoughts as the depletion of oxygen made its statement.

She was going to die here, wasn't she?

No, please-

Outside of the mountain, Void was staring at the two bikers with utter disgust.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck! What the fuck is that?!"

“Your worst nightmare, bitch.” He growled, shaking the sedan off his claw.

His confident smirk disappeared at the approaching wall of sand.

Alizée teetered between wakefulness and unconsciousness, her breaths weak, rapid and shallow. Before the sand shifted, and receded.

Bianca's powers almost immediately left Alizée as she rolled on her side, the phantom hands vaporizing into thin air. She gagged on air she tried desperately to get into her lungs. Stars danced in front of the Voidly visions in her eyes.

The temperature increased. The air burned as she tried to get her breath back. It hurt. Her lungs hurt. Her hands and elbows on the sweltering pavement hurt. Her head from the lack of air throbbed.

Everything hurt.

Then, a new hurt. Alizée hissed in pain, hand clenching the fabric of her blouse over her heart. Her tether, her chain, her link to the Void Heart was twisted and stretched, straining.

That only meant one thing.

She strained on the pavement, dust scraping her arms as she twisted her neck up. Her jaw dropped. The sand- it was- Void was-

The screaming faces had given a way partially, revealing a mound of sand above her. She could see the spikey-haired woman crawling back, staring in horror at the mound. At Void deep within. At least, Alizée had to assume Void was stuck inside.

”No!” She cried out, her voice hoarse and weak.

She spoke without thinking. She was in danger, severe danger. She could see the shields Stormy had put up, but knew she didn't have the strength to hide behind one. She didn't have the strength to move.

Her next move was on desperate instinct. Two tiny, wispy Void hands appeared in front of the spiky-haired woman, one blindly groping for her collar. Once found, the other hand made a swing for the woman's face. The fist moved slowly, with less strength.

Desperate tears streamed from Alizée's face as she tried to drag herself up off the ground, glaring hard at the woman. She was half-blind, but nothing would stop her from doing anything to make her stop. Not even the demonic faces screaming at her.

“D-drop him!”

She was signing her death warrant again, bringing attention to herself. She gritted her teeth, keeping the fear and pain off her face.

She didn't have a choice.

Void struggled within the sand, phantom hands pushing back against the sand. He didn't need the oxygen, but the weight was immense, catching him off-guard. He tried to swim, but made the sand surround him more, and press in on the Voidly orb. He was, by all intents and purposes, trapped, and quite crushed.

The cars and other obstacles were spaced enough that the beast had little trouble weaving it's massive ligaments between them. Each step and kick was a dodge, each second a fading abstraction of consciousness as he fell further beneath the surface of his own flesh. Before Leon, there was a mirror. It spun a light show of a million colors across his body and face, and the golden hair that was not his own fell to the floor beneath him in a cascade of falling straw.
Slowly, surely, flame began to trickle from his eyes and scalp, raining down until it replaced what was lost. Blue turned deep into gold and white at the edges, and each second he stared at the reflection in the mirror, it burned his eyes more and more until they seeped from the sockets down his cheeks like molten platinum.

But he could see Her. The Lady, her bright sparkling gown the same fire falling down her body that fell from his, but her pure obsidian flesh contrasted wildly against it. Burning eyes stared back at him through all the color and the smoke, through the looking glass of the seals that held the ancient spirit at bay. She didn't leave any question of where they stood with one another, her clawed hands gripping at the glass from the other side.

"Come again and again! Each time you take from me and expect me to let you take more!?"
"Oh sweet Lelou! I will take, and take again and more! You are the source of Eden's Light, and by the grace of your power I will make you kneel in it!"
"You are a worthless wretch! I have been beneath the coil of my Master and once you've taken too much, your body will be a distant vessel! I will wear you like haberdashery and dance across the face of this scarred world beneath the shadow of my Master!"

Leon let his arms outstretch, and from the mirror he pulled the fire from her across his own body, each new lick of flame searing his flesh and boiling the fat beneath until charred scrap sloughed away. Flame took shape, replacing the musculature across his form with ethereal hellfire.
Far from his mind's eye, the body reacted purely on instinct. The creature's most basic memory was hung up on two things:
PROTECT, LEAVE, PROTECT, LEAVE, PROTECT
Searing pain engulfed it's hand from within, the Void pryed away Leon's clutch upon Alizée until it couldn't ignore the pain anymore. The beast dropped her, simultaneously missing a pace on its gangly limbs. Leon's limp wrist stuffed under the bumper of an SUV, wrenching him up into the air and slamming him on his back atop the roof of the same vehicle. The entire ordeal imploded, blowing every window and windshield clear out of the car as the weight of the massive creature caved in the crumple zone like any forty-five mile an hour vehicular impact.

There was screaming. Loud screaming. He wasn't sure if it was agony or fear, but his ears were so sensitive that the voices being so close drove him up a brick wall. Small rivulets of flame cautiously leaked from the beast's eyes, trailing down its body as an organized pattern began to form in the searing fur. The body pushed up, driving the broken bones back into shape with a yelp and simultaneously lifted the mostly flattened roofline of the vehicle. From the percarious impact, no glass remained in the fixtures of the windows as his enormous mutated claws pulled and yanked up until the screaming people in the car at least weren't trapped in a coffin.
In this state, while he wasn't fully in control, Leon had learned to exhert his willpower enough that short directory bursts could be made. He was like a rider of the thing, only so in control as the thing was trained. For now, it was all about redirecting the original thought, pulling on the reigns and driving the spurs toward the intended target. But the screaming, oh... How painful it was in his ears, he couldn't do anything here. The only answer was to run; to lose the target altogether and assume that there was only one place that she'd rather be.

The shouts and screams of the injured became more distant as the thing trolloped along at a brisk pace.
Minutes, Leon, not hours! Now!
It spun hard, long clawed fingers digging into the pavement and rotating the momentum as it tossed its own weight high into the air. Its springy rear legs made purchase in a window pane, pushing off the structure to carry it higher into the air until it crested the roof. From here, both eyes could see the strip club lights in the distance. A single massive hand planted down on a set of roof shingles, blowing them off the building as the creature redirected its momentum over the city block. It was getting hot. Not just because he was running out of time, but rather... He could smell the deep throng of magic essence as it built and built in the air like an ozone layer. The thing's tongue lolled from its mouth, tasting the entire ordeal like a buffet being readied just for it.

There was a very clear target: A similarly monstrous beast spewing way too much energy and malice. A lot of energy seemed to be focused on keeping it pinned, and though some would imagine it may be strategic for Leon to keep such a thing busy in order to free up others to help in the overall conflict, there was only one thing on the beast's mind.
CONSUME
Giant clawed hands hit one building, then another and another still with his springlike back legs pushing off everything they had the chance to. The beast soared through the air as it lept over the last building across the street from the club, and with it came a howl so loud that it shook the hot air around them.
Ninety seconds max...
He was not privey to the treatment of Bianca, and truthfully it'd have mixed results. The chances were just as high that it could boost Lelou and set her free as they were it would weaken him by diluting the mixture in his seals.

If it was going to be done, it had to be done on his terms.

The arc was clear and open: The tail of the Scorpion. Would it connect, the beast intended to get as close to the stinger as possible, sinking teeth into it and pulling down toward the pavement. At the same time, the great length of the beast allowed its forearm to reach the massive claws on its hand downward to fish for a limb with a claw, wrapping around and tugging it toward the same vector as the tail. Overall goal; to flip and pin the Scorpion on its back before going for a belly kill. And if he could eat any bit of it, he may wind up prolonging his control over the beast for just a while longer.

Veni Vedi Veni - Parking Lot

---

Clancy threw up both arms a second too second late; the blade of Victor's axe bedded half an inch into the boy's collar before his palms caught the handle with a strength that didn't match his frame and grappled with the larger man to keep it from being driven any further.

”Stay down.” His voice was a growl, a child's pitch with an unnatural resonance, and followed with a foot being swung out at Victor's knee, breaking his footing and knocking him over.

Victor hit the ground with a thud, then glanced upwards.

“... You are no kid,”

No fluid seeped from the wound the axe had formed, only a hollow black void where the head had parted skin. Similar punctures in his shirt, barely concealed by the unbuttoned hoodie, told a similar tale.

The Pagan pressed a palm into the ground to force himself to his feet, then swung the axe down - aiming to split Clancy in two.

This time, the boy dove into the side of an adjacent car, just in time to see the axe head tear a foot of asphalt and gravel from the ground. ”Know nothing,” he snorted, back pressed against the passenger door of the car ”Do you Nazi morons know when to stop?”

Victor didn’t even flinch, he raised the axe in the air again - not to bring it down on Clancy - but a bright flash of light appeared - blinding onlookers and causing the kid to crumple inwards with a silent grimace. Then in the makeshift flashbang he made he rushed Clancy with another swing of his axe.

There was no running, no token resistance; the axe sank deep into the boy's chest, crunching through metal and glass at the other side and pinning him to the passenger door of the car. No gasp, no final breath, the kid simply slumped forward, arms limply dangling to the floorm. Victor planted a boot against Clancy’s midsection to pry the axe free; once both blade and body were released from the car, he turned around, slung the axe over his shoulder, and prepared to rush in to help Valjean-

“... The hell?!”

Something grabbed the man's boot, clamped around the ankle, and yanked hard enough to pull him off his feet and drag him along the asphalt, back towards the parking space.

Victor screamed, but no more coherent words followed. The space fell silent in seconds, and a viscous pool of blood slowly began to trickle out from beneath the car's wheels shortly thereafter.

---

“Thanks,” Bianca nodded to Stormy, grateful for the shield he’d put near her even when he didn’t seem to quite recognise her yet. He was trying to figure that out, she could tell. Well, that was fine, as long as he didn't draw attention to her. She’d just have to appear as if she didn’t know him. Not acting too familiar, but not too distant either in a situation like this where his abstraction was protecting her. The shield meant she shouldn't have to move before help got here… which would be difficult with her wounded leg. "I'd worry more about yourself, he seems to be targeting threats. You’ve got some pretttyyy strong looking shields."

After all, he'd knocked out the girl who's used webbing both to save allies and hinder enemies, and a guy who could control lightning and fire. It was unlikely he could tell what people's abstractions were outside of what was visible. She was probably safe as she didn't look like a threat. All she'd done was take a beating and get shot.

Alizée got out of the sand prison, and Bianca immediately retracted her boosting. This increased the strength she was providing both Stormy and Kashmira, as it was now only split in half. She furrowed her brow, unable to properly pay attention to everything else going on with the throbbing pain in her leg and the amount of concentration used to keep up her boosting. Even that would be difficult to hold for much longer. She maybe had ten minutes at best. But that would be enough.

She glanced back at Stormy, lowering her voice slightly so hopefully only he could hear. "Don't worry, help will be here soon. Just try to keep everyone safe before then."

They would find out who she was with when Samson arrived, she was sure, but she still didn't want to draw attention to herself. Not before then. Stormy was right that they couldn't do this forever - so she was letting him know he didn't have to, before he or someone else did something stupid and got themselves killed.

She wasn't sure how much time had passed, slowly ticking by like the blood oozing from her wound, but she was sure Samson would be here soon. His abstraction was strong enough to keep things under control before everyone else arrived.

It would be needed if Judas turned up.

---

---

---

A sigh left Drake's lips.

Everything that everyone said made sense. Jack made sense. Luca made sense. Drake could honestly envision Victoria here telling him all the reasons why it'd be so stupid to fly off the handle now of all times, how they can work through this. How to see the bigger picture. It almost made Drake storm out of the place and forget everything. Sloane was miserable, self-righteous, and many other things and his energy was best saved for Jade's murderer. Whether it's Father Wolf or any of the bastards in here, he was Drake fucking Blackmore - regardless of what people thought, he would always find a way to succeed or die trying.

The lightning sword disappeared, and it seemed like everything was going well...

“... You’re a bastard.”

"Oh...?"

Drake raised an eyebrow... before he balled his fist up and screamed at the top of his lungs.

"... I'LL SHOW YOU A BASTARD!"

He pushed Lucas by his chest - feeling the skin around his hand decaying was irrelevant; after the contact was over, Drake activated his lightning aura. His fist was surrounded by a crackling wreath of electricity that would be invisible to people, unlike him. He let out a valiant yell as he charged Sloane, cocked his fist, then swung. He didn't think too hard about it; he just gave a haymaker that impacted Sloane square in the nose, and he felt her nose break. She fell and hit the ground with a thud, and the lightning aura faded as Drake stood over Sloane. Panting.

He looked to the left.

Then looked to the right.

He saw how horrified everyone was as they stared at Drake. He stared at his fist for a few moments as it shook uncontrollably.

---

---

---

“Your worst nightmare, bitch.”

"... Well, that's rude." Cyril chuckled as Elodie's sand buried the Apparition. All they had to do was...

Elodie shrieked as a hand grabbed her collar and then socked her across the face. It knocked her down, but it wasn't enough to kill her - which was required to make the sand disappear. Cyril just looked over his shoulder at Alizée's desperate cry and raised an eyebrow.

"... You should have run when you had the chance, kid."

He gave that cool one-liner as he aimed his pistol at Alizée and squeezed the trigger three times - only two shots came out before his Glock went dry. However, Alizée was on the brink of death as is...

---

---

---

Due to Samson's love of trashy strippers, he knew how to get to Veni Vedi Veni by heart.

Samson flew through the night sky in phoenix form; only those with magic could see him - and even then, if they told someone that they saw a phoenix flying at night, they'd probably get slapped across the face. Samson didn't take long to lose sight of the PRA truck, but they weren't too far behind. He made it to Veni Vedi Veni and circled a few times, hoping to catch Agent Manalo. Good God, it was a clusterfuck down there... however, with Samson's keen eye, he managed to spot Bianca next to some guy. He didn't look aggressive, but it was time for Agent Brown to make his grand entrance!

He shifted into a nose dive, spinning until he appeared less like a bird and more like a meteorite crashing down on the battlefield. He hit the ground some distance away from Bianca with a loud crash and sent fire and dust in all directions! When the dust settled, Samson stepped out of the mess, wearing a St. Portwell Police Officer uniform (as if anyone would believe that the PD had a Phoenix), and calmly jogged over to Bianca holding a First-Aid kit (brought just in case!) in his hands.

"Agent Man-" That was when Samson remembered that there was an unknown gentleman right next to her. "Bianca, are you... shit." He saw that a bullet had struck her, but she managed to use her shirt as a makeshift tourniquet. That wasn't going to work for long. Thankfully, this was why he grabbed a First-Aid kit; he held it up to her as he said, "... You know how to use this, right? Trevor and the others won't be here for a few minutes - wait, hold on."

Samson pressed his earpiece as he said,

"Phillips, I have made it to the scene, and Bianca has been shot, but she is in stable condition."

"We're not going to be there for another five minutes. Can you extract Agent Manalo?" Nakala answered.

Samson turned his head and saw the chaos.

"... I can try."

"You don't try Samson; you do it or you don't,"

"Heh... copy that,"

"What's the situation like?"

"It's crazy, abstractions everywhere!"

"Okay, hunker down, find somewhere safe with Agent Manalo, and if possible, try to pacify the situation."

"Heh, you said try,"

"Oh! You know what I mean! When we get there, we can handle it,"

"Copy,"

"Over and out!" Nakala finished, and Samson let go of his earpiece and turned towards Bianca.

"Phillips said to get you somewhere safe; they'll be here in a few minutes..." Samson turned his head briefly towards Stormy and asked Bianca, "And who's this dude? Your boyfriend?"

---

---

---

Valjean was missing a limb, but he could still fight himself to his feet. Greenwood had done a number on him, even in his Scorpion form, but he could still keep fighting. He didn't even need to look at where all the combatants were because they had little idea he had a secondary ability.

Seismic Sense.

He could exactly perceive who was where and who was doing what. He was tempted to return to the line where the other Wolfpack members were, but he noticed another beast entering the battlefield. It was that werewolf that ganked the girl from Victor! The Wolfman lunged for Valjean, aiming for his tail, and Valjean ran forward to intercept and block the Werewolf with his claws. He laughed...

... Before an aura activated, he felt a burning in his skin. Judging from the stomp, it was Stormy, who seemed to be hellbent on dying here! However, Valjean needed to get out of this aura because Valjean couldn't stand it. However, he had the perfect solution... with one hand, he managed to grab a limb from the Wolf-man, and a sinister laugh escaped Valjean in this form.

With a rotation of his body, he chucked Leon directly at Stormy... unfortunately, Stormy was behind a shield and would do little to kill Stormy.

---

---

---

Kashmira was on her hands and knees, feeling the impact of the bullet hit her, but thankfully it didn't penetrate. Unfortunately, she couldn't heal herself, but she felt an arm grab onto her, and she looked up to see James Carmicheal smiling at her.

"Don't worry, I got you!" He pulled Kashmira to her feet.

"Thank you!" She answered as she saw Dean aiming a gun at Sully! However, a body came out of nowhere and landed nearby them, and Kashmira held her mouth as she damn near screamed. The sight was less shocking to James, but he was more concerned with helping Sully. He ran over, confident as ever, raised his axe, and aimed it at Dean. He let off a quick blast of electricity that wouldn't do more than stun Dean for a few moments (unless he was unlucky enough to have it stop his heart), but James needed to make an opening for Sully. He also didn't want to shock Sully with a more potent blast.

However, Kashmira felt the power boost from Bianca...

"Ooooooooooh!" Kashmira felt powerful.

"You feel strong now?" Autumn said as her Apparition aimed its hand at Kashmira, and an orange beam came out of his hand and hit Kashmira, boosting her further. "How's that."

"I feel like I can heal... everyone..." Kashmira laughed as she noticed all the injuries and wounds around the parking lot. It was a risky move, as it would heal the scorpion as well, but there were far too many injured for her to be picky! Kashmira placed her hands together, closed her eyes, and sang a traditional Gujarati folk song. It would sound like gibberish to the average American! But it was a song that had a deep meaning to Kashmira, and as she sang... a green aura crept out in all directions until it created a dome around the battlefield. Everyone that was shot would find the bullets getting removed from their body and their wounds closed... and unfortunately, it began healing Valjean as he began to regrow his missing limbs.

---

---

---

... However, before Leon could impact the shield, a wreath of glowing webs appeared and caught him. Breaking the impact of the throw, the second his kinetic energy disappeared, the webs disappeared as Ruby, Jessica, Pearl, and Naomi walked up to Leon, flanking him from both sides. However, Naomi retreated the second she felt the Consecration and said,

"Aaaaaaaaah, what the fuck is that!?"

Ruby tapped her staff on the ground as she said,

"You're not going to be able to sneak up on him," Ruby started, "He can sense vibrations."

She turned her head to Valjean as she saw him quickly regrow his arm and negate the damage done to him by Greenwood in an instant. She would have been annoyed, but she knew she could kill him here and now. He pointed at claw at Ruby and said,

"I know you!" Valjean started, "You're the-"

"Fuckin' Spring Maiden!" Ruby hissed. "Too bad I'm going to tear your fucking spine out before you get a chance to tell your bitch-ass boss!"

"Tough words for..."

"... Chill of shadows, silent and deep, icebound secrets, my soul to keep!" Pearl shouted as the ground underneath Valjean's feet wasn't just surrounded by Stormy's spell, but now it was completely frozen.

"Take him down, Wolfman!" Jessica shouted as she stomped on the ground, creating more lava...

---

---

---

After the shock of getting shot wore off, Britney managed to fight herself to her feet. Thankfully, the webs stopped the bleeding, and Britney would thank the spider girl later. She was going to grab Sully, grab her car, and then get the hell out of there! Britney was no hero, but she turned her head towards Sully, and a man had put a gun to his head! Linqian wanted a barrier as cover, but Britney wasn't sure if she could create one fas-

A body fell in between, and Sully quickly turned the tides, but the Greenwood member shot lightning at him as Britney devised a different. More devious idea. She raised her hands, creating a wooden vine with peculiar leaves. The tip of the vine was razor-sharp, sharp enough to pierce through the cheap jeans Dean was wearing quickly. However, she wasn't trying to pierce the skin, oh no... you see, this wasn't any vine and leaves.

They were leaves and vines created from the manchineel tree.

The most toxic plant on the planet and mere contact would form painful blisters, and his skin would become red like an apple. That wasn't all; Britney attempted to worm the vine up his leg to his genitals... and she did everything in her power to get it everywhere. It would get on his penis, on his buttcheeks, and everywhere in his groin.

All because he made the mistake of threatening her friend.

---

---

---

---

Location: Veni Vedi Veni, Parking Lot
@Punished GN

---

"... You should have run when you had the chance, kid."

She stared down the barrel of his glock, her breath ragged. Her teeth gritted.

"Go to hell, as-"

Like the crack of a whip, the bullet left its chamber and found its mark. Alizée didn't feel a thing. One moment, she was up. The next, two gunshots peppered her head, and she collapsed on the ground. The dust scattered at the dull thud, marking the second victim taken by the Wolfpack.

From within the sand, there was a metallic howling. Uncertainty. Pain. Disbelief as the shackles tying the Void Heart to the Shimmer cracked and disintegrated. As his chain to his other half shattered, the sky opened up. A thin line wormed its way across, before stretching open like a mouth, hungry to reclaim a lost void soul, revealing the Void beyond. Hungry to reclaim a voidling that had no tie, no reason, and no place in this world anymore.

The crack in the sky drew a breath in, creating a howling wind. The sand holding Void broke apart, piece by piece, sucked into the void. Revealing Void, the orb, fighting against the storm. Revealing Void as his eyes lay upon the fallen form of a girl in a silk blouse, blood pooling at her head. Revealing voidly tears, pupils constricted in disbelief, then pure agony.

A wretched, metallic cry echoed over the parking lot.



The wind ripped and tore at Void, beckoning him to return. But his eyes were focused on the fallen form. On his toy. No- his beloved. His faithful. Now, gone. Her fragile form shattered in an instant.

His agonized eyes shakily shifted over to the gun still pointed at her head, glock still smoking. At the man who was responsible for the black deed. And, all the pain and torment Void felt in that moment condensed and focused as ethereal hands grew in a monstrous size in front of him.

The fingers reached out. As Void was slowly draw towards the crack in the sky, Cyril was caught in his hands, yanked roughly from the ground, the strangled mass falling with Void into the crack, the Nothingness Beyond.

"Death is too good for you, you bastard." Void growled, squeezing Cyril in his hands as they crossed into the Voidly threshold. The land of nightmares.

As the void in the sky closed, both the Void Heart and Cyril were gone. And, as Kashmira's powers crossed the battlefield, they would heal the wounds puncturing Alizée's head, bullets dropping to the pavement beside her.

But, Alizée was long gone, her eyes forever closed.

Mentions: @Atrophy@Punished GN

The man he held at gun point gave him a bullshit monologue about getting some beers and playing pool to chat about which Tayla he was asking about. Dean wasn't a dumbass. He knew this was all a distraction ploy and he was prepared for the talkative prick to tackle him. He wasn't prepared for a fucked up corpse to land between them. He shot off his gun the moment he was jumped, trying to get his gun in his abstraction. He was a second away from slipping back into the shadows when a Greenwood bitch hit him with lightning and another bitch wrapped him up in painful vines. He screamed bloody murder, the pain so intense he couldn't think. He felt the poison in his veins and it burned. It was all he could do not to pass out.

All of that lasted for several seconds, because there was no cohesion in attacking him with the girl singing in a foreign tongue. All his wounds and pains were healed instantly when her power washed over him. He turned into smoke, then turned into shadow and disappeared from his attacker's view. He was right pissed. With their attacks off of him and him feeling brand new, he went right for the jugular on his attackers.

He popped up right in front of the man that shocked him. He grabbed his axe and turned it into shadow making it disappear. "Maybe you'll get that back later," he said, punching him in the stomach, then right under his chin. He sank back into shadow and went after the girl with the vines. He punched that girl right in the face, he felt and heard her cheek bone crack, laying her out.

He'd been quick about it attacking them, keeping his time in the shadows under 20 seconds. He disappeared again and went back to the man he held at gun point before. He had lost his gun after shooting it. It disappeared into his cup, but he didn't need it. His fists worked out for him just fine. He grabbed the man's cup and turned it into smoke, before kicking him in the face with his boot. "Dumbfuck. All you had to do was answer a simple question. Best hope I don't catch up to one of your other little friends, because they won't see me coming when I do."

The girl with the song was still going. None of them would be down for long after he hit them, but other than the girl the other two didn't have their channelers or their agents, however their abstractions worked in relation to an object. He didn't know if they would get them back either. He's never made an object he didn't have on him or didn't intend to keep, completely disappear before. They'll be less of a threat. What they needed to do was the get the hell out of here. They were outnumbered and with someone that can heal everyone, they could be at this for another hour or so. He didn't plan on sticking around.

He kicked the man he questioned in the face one last time for good measure, before disappearing to Elodie. She was the least in a fucked up situation and like hell he was going anywhere near Valjean. "We need to go. We're outnumbered and with healing bitch over there nothing we do will stick. We know Greenwood and the Coven. We can get them back later. For now, we better go while we still have our lives." No sooner had he said that, he disappeared to his bike, prepared to ride off without them if Judas didn't show his face soon.

---

“Don’t worry, it’s not as bad as it looks,” Bianca smiled at Samson - or at least tried to, it looked more like a relieved grimace. It was difficult to smile when her leg hurt so fucking much. Still, she was incredibly relieved to see him. She gratefully took the First-Aid kit. “I do, paid attention to all those-“ Oh, Stormy was right there. “Classes.”

She opened up the kit while Samson talked to Nakala (though she listened in on what he was saying), pulling out a proper tourniquet. She could feel her makeshift one loosening, so the faster she got this on the better. Then she’d bandage the wound itself and-

Bianca felt the healing aura wash over her as she was in the process of replacing the tourniquet. The bullet lodged in her leg wormed its way out, popping out of the wound and onto the ground. The wound itself began to close, her skin stitching itself back together. She undid the ripped shirt tied around her leg, discarding it.

Good as new, if you ignored the bullet shaped hole and bloodstains on her pants.

By the time the wound was healed Samson had finished talking to their boss (for today). Yeah, getting to safety was the response she’d expected… Even if she was healed now, it was still the more sensible option. She wasn’t exactly geared up or anything. Though she hadn’t exactly chosen the sensible option so far. If she had, she’d still be in the club. Maybe it was the presence of former coven members that was bringing back out the reckless side she'd tried to mature from.

"Dude, I'm gay," she snorted, stretching out her previously injured leg. Once she was sure it was actually healed, she stood up and moved to be beside Samson. "He's the one that provided these." She pointed to the shield orbiting her. Cat was out the bag now anyway, since Stormy would undoubtedly put things together when Samson said her name. "Old friend, very unfun reunion."

She decided not to explicitly mention the coven. The PRA knew about them thanks to her and other ex-members, and they knew about the meetup today, so Samson could probably figure it out.

"I'm all good now," she kicked out her leg as if to prove it. “But Phillips will probably kick our asses if you don’t get me somewhere safe anyway, right?” Well, shoot them, more like. Heh. She then jerked her thumb towards the stripclub. “Insides probably our best bet, I’ll fill you in on-“

Another two gunshots rang through the air and Bianca snapped her head towards it in time to see Alizee crumple to the ground. Her stomach dropped. Alizee had caused a lot of problems, but she didn’t want to see her die. Part of why she’d called in support was to stop anyone from dying.

“Shit,” she pressed a hand against her forehead. “She was the one who started all of this… Ah fuck. She didn't deserve to die.” She couldn’t just stand by and watch. A few minutes was more than enough for that… And if she moved too far away she’d have to drop her boost on Kashmira and Stormy. She’d still move to safety if she had too… But she wasn’t bleeding out anymore. She pointed to Eve, and then the remaining Wolfpack members. Then she split her boost again, adding Samson to the people she was boosting. She'd take the blame if Nakala was really pissed... Or, you know, go somewhere safer if Samson forced her. He'd very much be able to. “They’re the threats.”

---

---

Drake didn’t push Luca hard. For most it would just shove them out of the way. Unfortunately, Luca wasn’t like most people. He was rotting from the inside out and a light push was enough to make him lose balance. He stumbled backwards, leg buckling underneath him and sending him falling towards the floor. He twisted to the side and threw out his arms, trying to catch himself.

CRACK-

His left hand slammed into the ground first, wrist snapping at an unnatural angle. His elbow thudded after it, then his side. Agonising pain tore through his wrist, shooting up through his bruised arm. It was a horrible pain he was all too familiar with. The pain wasn’t any easier to handle just because he felt it frequently.

"Fuck," Luca gritted his teeth, cradling his broken wrist against his chest. It wasn't that bad. It was just his wrist. It would've been worse if he'd landed on his back. Only his wrist was broken, not his whole arm. It really could’ve been much worse. He’d lucked out! He’d saved his ass, literally. He was used to this. His bones broke all the time. He blinked back tears. It was fine. It was just a bit more pain than normal. A lot more.

Using his good hand, Luca pushed himself onto his knees, then back onto his feet. He could feel the dampness of blood oozing along his left arm and hip that had hit the ground - hopefully just a graze, or a cut, yet more things he was used to. Easy to ignore, easy to fix himself. The wrist less so.

He’d seen Drake punch Sloane as he’d fallen, but it was only when he was standing up again that it fully registered with him. Sloane was on the floor - was her nose broken? Shit. His lips parted, and he shot Drake a look of horror. Even Luca couldn’t excuse this… he couldn’t think his way around it in some twisted positive way. Drake had just punched Sloane in the face. There’d been electricity around his fist! He’d punched and shocked her!

What she’d said hadn’t been nice, and she should’ve apologised, but this was too far.

”Sloane, are you alright?” He seemed more concerned for her than himself, letting his injured arm hang limply at his side. He took a step towards her, then stopped in his tracks. If he got any closer he'd just hurt her more. ”Where’s the nearest hospital? Should we call an ambulance- wait, no, we can probably just drive.”

But it was Drake’s car. Luca looked at Drake again, hiding his own intense pain under a mask of concern for Sloane and disappointment towards Drake.

”The least you could do is drive Sloane somewhere to get treated.”

---

“So, what brings you to these parts?”

Evelynn leaned on the window of the Uber. The question lingered in the air for a brief moment. Why did she bring herself back here? She pondered the question for a moment. Guilt, remorse, a deep sadness, and the death of members of her culty coven. Only one of those reasons was the true reason why she was back. If members of the coven were dropping like flies, and a call for help was sounded, she had to return to ensure that what they stopped never started again. Even if she was late to the party. The ones who could see the future were late because they lost track of time. It wasn’t her fault, her phone had slipped out of her hand and fallen between the grates on the road outside her house. It took her an hour to figure out what could work to get her phone out, and then realize what worked. That thought led her back to when she ordered the Uber, and the question it’s driver asked.

“Oh,” Evelynn paused as she pulled her head off of the window, “a decade ago a group of friends de-...decided that we would meet up back here at some point. Well, that point is now.” She knew that they were supposed to meet at the flower shop. Knowing the group, she knew they did not wait around there for long. She would run into them eventually, she could sense them around the town, she just wanted to get to a more central spot first before she ventured out to find them. “We all graduated together from here so..”

“Wait,” the driver said as he looked into his rearview mirror and squinted, “are you.. Eve?”

“Evelynn,” she corrected, “and who are you?”

“Jake Finch, we graduated together,” he shouted, “wow how have you been?”

“Jake! Oh wow, it's you,” she paused as she had no idea who this man was, “yeah I have been good, good, graduated from college, and have been working to pay off that student debt, you know? How about you? How’s the family?”

The two would talk for a minute. He brought up memories and Evelynn would respond with a “that was so crazy” whenever she did not remember. Eventually, she looked around and spotted a Dairy Queen, and spotted a commotion outside of it on its patio.

“Stop, stop right here,” she shouted and the driver obliged. The brakes on the car squealed in anger as the car slammed to a stop “Sorry Jim, I think I see some of them. Thank you,” she shouted as she opened the door and stepped outside onto the sidewalk.

There were a few people present and Evelynn felt like she recognized each one. Before she was able to guess who was who one man pushed another, before he swung on a smaller woman.

“Fuck,” she shouted before she turned away from the group. “I am too sober for this,” she whispered as she grabbed the flask from her pocket, twisted it open, and took a deep swig. She did not care for the time, whenever she saw someone hit another person with a power made it time to drink. “Fuck,” she whispered again as she pocketed the flask and turned around, the taste of the whisky held tightly to her throat. “Hey, can we not,” she shouted again.

Evelynn stopped moving as she channeled her power. She felt the temperature rising over the group, and she wanted to be prepared in case it got too explosive for her liking. Her eyes glazed over and began to dart around the area rapidly. The outside world faded away as she ran through the possible futures ahead of the group as a whole. Evelynn would see around five possible futures for the group as it stood. Many involved the fight continuing, all involved Luca and his aura of decay and an injured wrist, and none would be better if she didn't try and calm things down. She stayed in this trance-like state for a few seconds before she pulled herself back out of it.

“Hey, hey, hey let’s calm down, I am not sure what happened before I got here but I can assure you things may potentially get much worse from here.” She paused as she pointed to herself hoping that they remembered her accursed power, “Hi everyone, Evelynn, sorry I missed the meetup earlier. It seems I missed a lot.”

Her eyes fell to Sloane, pleading with her to listen. In the few possible futures she saw, and the past she remembered, Sloane was not the person to take a hit without getting one back in response. She shifted towards Luca, making sure to keep far enough away from the decay, and whispered ‘are you okay,’ as she pointed to his wrist.

---

Sloane looked up from her watch as Drake screamed at her and swung, his fist arcing with electricity after he pushed Luca to the ground. It was a sloppy and telegraphed punch, the kind that could be easily dodged with a bit of footwork and a slight twist. However, Sloane refused to flinch. She knew that Drake would never actually lay hands on her. He wasn’t as stupid or barbaric as other people made him out to be. She knew him. He’d pull his punch, cool his head, and eventually realize that answering her question was more valuable than protecting his feelings. Then she heard herself gasp and felt her face confront into a wild and painful expression as an electrical shock caused her muscles to spasm. At the same time, her nose erupted in an explosion of pain and her body smacked the ground as her senses spiraled and swirled, the sky above whirling like a dervish as she tasted iron on her tongue.

She laid there on the ground for a moment, her eyes blinking rapidly in a half-daze as images snapped before her like an old shutter camera: gum stuck to the bottom of the table, Drake staring at his shaking fist, a DQ cup rolling away leaving a trail of melting ice cream, Luca cradling his wrist, a burst of stars as she reached up and touched her broken nose, the blood staining her fingers. She stared in awe as the blood dripped back down onto her face, Luca’s words of concern sounding like fuzzy static. The tears she’d kept hidden behind lock and key saw their opportunity for a jailbreak and took it, escaping from the corner of her eyes and fleeing down her bloodied cheeks. She let out a singular, echoing, choking cry as her brain unscrambled and realized what had just happened. Drake had hit her.

Drake had betrayed her trust.

She muffled the follow-up sobs with her hand and closed her eyes hard enough that it hurt in a poor effort to push the tears back. She rolled onto her side and pushed herself up to a sitting position, her shoulders heaving lightly with each silenced sob. She felt a fire burning in her chest and recalled flashes of how her ancestors handled betrayers, horrific visions of disproportionate retribution and violence playing in her head like a graphic exploitation film from the Seventies. Sloane visibly shook, covering her face with her other hand as she silently swore that she wouldn’t stoop to their levels. She slowed her breathing and felt the fire burn down. She lowered her hands and wrapped them around her chest. These clothes were going to have to be properly dry cleaned after this anyway, assuming the stains wouldn’t ruin them immediately, so why should she give it shit if she got more blood on them?

There was something weirdly calming about thinking about something so mundane.

It almost drowned out the intrusive thought that had to remind her how Drake was really her only friend.

All her other friends were dead.

Sloane deflated and heard a new voice chime in, urging for the group to further calm down as Sloane attempted to breathe in air. She glanced up from the ground and then shook her head in frustration as she recognized Evelynn, catching the meaning behind the woman’s stare. Sloane looked away sharply, tears still stinging her eyes and the pain making her unable to mask her obvious annoyance. It had always bothered Sloane how Evelynn seemed to use her supposed curse to win brownie points while always leaning on vagueness as if to leave herself an out to avoid having to take any kind of responsibility. How convenient that Evelynn just happened to arrive moments after Sloane had been so savagely assaulted.

Evelynn’s arrival did have the unintended consequence of turning Sloane’s attention from her own busted nose over towards Luca who had also been injured by Drake’s idiocy. She looked at his wrist and the fresh blood dripping from the scrapes on his arm and leg when he’d been knocked down. Perhaps she could’ve someday forgiven Drake for attacking her, but there didn’t exist a single part of her that could forgive him for hurting Luca. The final spark of the fire burning in her chest was dangerously close to being reignited by a can of gasoline when it was suddenly doused by a wave of fresh tears. Sloane wasn’t an idiot—no, stop lying, she knew she was an idiot, but even an idiot could see that Luca had only been hurt because Sloane had started shit with Drake. That guilt was on her as much as it was on him.

A look of true misery crossed her face as she averted her gaze, covered her eyes, and began crying again. Heavier, harder to mask sobs, too, accompanied with the tiny pounding of her fist on her thigh. God, she must’ve looked like an asshole. She certainly felt like a fucking loser. She could’ve at least tried to get up and lock herself in the bathroom so she could cry in privacy like an actual adult would instead of drawing eyes to her as she blubbered in public like a stupid child, but her feet had failed her. She wished she’d kept Sully’s Chalice, not so she could use it to heal her nose or repair Luca’s wrist, but so she could choke down a fine shot of hemlock and save herself the lifelong humiliation she’d have to put up with knowing that she had been seen crying at a Dairy Queen.

She should’ve just gone to the strip club, even if it meant putting up with Britney. Nothing could have been worse than this. Sloane made a desperate attempt to dismiss the other people’s concern-slash-rubbernecking with a limp wave of her hand and a ragged sniffle.

---

Perhaps Jack implying Victoria was complicit in the murders was an overstep, Jack could admit that much. Perhaps Sloane asking why Drake couldn't save Jade was out of line. Hopefully Sloane could understand that. Jack had never known Drake to be a particularly violent individual. Sure, they all waged a war against a demigod as kids, but that was to save the world. He liked to believe that Drake was a reasonable person.

But he was clearly wrong.

Jack watched Drake shove Luca off to the side, causing the poor fellow to fall and break his wrist, and bleed. And then he watched Drake punch the living shit out of Sloane, who devolved to tears. At this point, Jack was fed up with Drake's shit. Once his fist disconnected from Sloane's face, Drake would feel his arms and legs being gripped by something. Any normal person would see absolutely nothing, it would simply be like Drake tensed up. But the people at this table would see that the darkness around them folded inwards into the shape of hands, latching onto his limbs like strands from a web. The shadows grabbed Drake and refused to let go. He was trapped, and Jack was on his feet before anyone could protest. On any other day, even a day when their lives were actively at risk, Jack's face betrayed absolutely nothing. He was typically cool as ice, not affected by whatever was happening around him; Always levelheaded, and ready to weather the storm. But right now, anger was etched on his expression. Now, he was pissed, and disappointed. Had time changed them all this much, that they would rather see one another brought low and bloody, than make amends like adults? Did Jade's passing weigh this heavily on him, that it clouded his judgement? If that was the case, then Drake was only a detriment to them all.

The shadowy hands kept their grips on Drake tight enough that they threatened to break his wrists if he didn't calm himself the fuck down, or put away that Abstraction of his. Jack took one step forward, entirely unaware of another familiar face rolling up as he stared Drake dead in the face.

"Who do you think you are, lashing out at her? We owe each other our lives, and this is how you treat your childhood friends? Getting angry with Sloane when she asks you about Jade is one thing, but you have no excuse for behaving like a child! This is why we all fell apart, because we couldn't settle things without fighting! Is that the same fate you want to doom us all to again, now that some of us have been murdered?!" He'd grill Drake like this all night if it weren't for him realizing Evelyn was present. He... Was surprised she even came, honestly. But it took his mind off of Drake right now, who he really wanted to punch with a fist that was magically hard as stone.

Instead, he turned and walked over to where Sloane had fell, and held out a hand for her to stand up. That punch must have been awful. "Try not to move quickly, that looked painful. I'll take both of you to a hospital. It'll be faster than driving there," He offered, to both Sloane and Luca. He noted that Sloane was a teary mess right now, but chose not to comment on it. Of course she would be.

---

---

The first thing that grabbed Stormy’s attention amidst everything was, unsurprisingly, the giant fucking ball of fire in the shape of a bird. Stormy watched as it crashed down near him and Bianca, and became… A person. A person dressed like a cop. Yeah… That totally checked out. This stranger immediately started talking through some sort of earpiece and talking to Bianca as if they knew each other. Stormy put two and two together quickly.

”Nah. I’m mostly sure we haven’t met. Mostly. So tell me something, stranger. What took the PRA so long to get here?” Stormy might’ve had a reputation as a member of Drake and Sully’s “jock squad” but he was far from an idiot. There was no way in hell someone like this guy- Who Stormy assumed was an aberration of some kind- Was just a regular cop. ”Not that I’m complaining, but-“

Bang

Stormy’s attention was grabbed by the sudden gunshots. Alizee fell over, dead before she hit the ground.

For a brief moment, Stormy was a kid again. He was there on the battlefield, raising mile-long barricades and holding up the sky with his magic. All of the original members of the coven were there beside him, fighting for their lives. Even still, he could never save everyone. Bodies hit the grass, and no amount of defense could make them stand up again. Magic reflected the soul like a mirror, and Stormy was a protector at heart. He liked to tell himself that he was unbreakable, and skill, others around him died.

The moment passed, and he was on his feet. Alizee had a problem, but her problem was their problem. Adrenaline surged through him, wrath lit his bones ablaze. Stormy felt Bianca’s boost multiple in him, and it emboldened him to summon two more shields, which tethered to his arms.

”I’ll kill them all…” He flung both of the shields towards Alizee’s killer- The fool who brought a gun out. He put every ounce of muscle he had into the throw, fully intent on shattering the bastard, even killing then outright if he was lucky.

The Wolfpack just dug their graves.

---

---

---

The consequences of Drake's actions set in as he realized that he had also injured Luca when the target of his rage was Sloane. He still held his head, staring at his fist while utterly ignoring what Luca had said and Evelynn's attempts to calm the situation down (If Drake was paying attention to her, he could only scoff at her comment, saying that it could get worse from here). Most of all, ignoring the sobbing mess he had turned Sloane into.

All he could think about was how Jade would feel about his actions.

Drake didn't even resist when Jack restrained him, even though any other time he would have activated his lightning aura and shoved his foot up Jack's scrawny ass (But he'd probably like that). However, Drake could only sigh, swallowing his pride as Jack of all people lectured him. When Jack finally finished, Drake could only sigh again.

"... Look, Jackaboy, just let go of me, and I'm going home. That's it," Which was what Drake should have done from the start. He was desperately regretting his decision to return to the Coven.

---

---

---

What Eve came across was not Victor, but what was left of the man. He was ripped to shreds, with blood, organs, and knarled bones everywhere... as if some monstrosity had torn him to pieces. His axe was missing... and Eve was just poking at what was left of him while screaming.

What a psychopath.

---

---

---

The bitch that started all of this is dead.

When the Apparition took Cyril, Élodie barely flinched and was more concerned that the Wolfpack had gone from six to three... in a battle where they were outnumbered. The green wave hit Élodie, and she grinned as the healing presence regenerated her broken hand. Fortunately, Cyril dropped his pistol, and she knelt, grabbed it, and loaded it with a fresh clip. However, Dean reappeared and suggested they run.

"Fuck that! The Wolfpack don't fucking run from anything! Not a bunch of fucking teenagers with superpowers!" Elodie shouted as she shoved the pistol into her waistband and quickly went over to her motorcycle and dug through it. Eventually, pulling out an M79 Grenade launcher, she grinned as she stepped towards the battlefield. However, she paused as she heard Dean's bike turn on and scoffed. "Why are you being such a bitch, Dean? What? Did that lil' junkie make you soft? St. Portwell's full of whores that'll fuck for their next hit, Dean! Stop being such a pussy!"

Stormy threw his shields at the Wolfpack, probably emotional about the whore's death, and Elodie summoned a wall of sand in front of her, and it caught the shield. She laughed as she was about to crush the bastard under all the sand as she did to Alizée...

Elodie started laughing...

Juuuuuuuuuuuudas was here.

---

---

---

It was initially lost in all of the chaos. A pack of three monstros beasts ran to the edge of the rooftops. They loudly barked and snarled at the group underneath, as each was the size and girth of a minivan. They were freakish, appearing as a mixture of animals such as sheep, dogs, goats, horses, etc - with fleshy, deformed legs... it raised the question of how a lowly biker gang got Abstractions and these beats.

The Greenwood Coven recognized them as the Curs.

A chain held them... and the man who held the leash quickly showed himself as a man many feared across St. Portwell. Judas Bennet, , was an average-height blonde-haired man who was somewhat chubby and had a permanent scowl. He held the chain for each of The Curs in one hand, a sawed-off shotgun in the other, as he stared down at the chaos underneath him. As if he was carefully examining it before making a move... Cyril was missing, and Victor was dead. He could see that much, which made him angry.

He raised his chains in the air and shouted,

This caused the chaos and fighting to pause, as Judas carried that much weight as he stared down at everyone in contempt. One thing he noticed was the girl with the staff and the boy with the axe...

"... Greenwood." He hissed, figuring the rest of these chumps were with them.

"Ooooooooooh, Judas!"

Élodie shouted, waving her free hand to get Judas' attention, then she pointed at Eve and shouted.

"This bitch said she killed Joe Skinner- and she just killed Victor!"

Élodie just realized that Victor was dead. Not that she cared.

"Is that so... ?" He quietly said at a volume no one else would hear. Judas turned his head to Eve and figured she had come out here to try and get rid of her debt. He raised his hand and snapped his finger, and three rebar tendrils ending in a sharp and jagged blade came out of the ground a short distance away from Eve. All three of them rushed Eve with the intent of impaling her to death. Then he said to himself,

"... There were easier ways to pay off your debt, Eve."

---

---

---

"PRA?"

Samson chuckled as he pointed to the ST. PORTWELL POLICE DEPARTMENT across his chest in white letters. The dude was Paranormal, but Samson wouldn't broadcast the PR to everyone - even if they knew about the PRA. "SPPD, you mean-"

Two gunshots rang through the air, and Samson's attention was drawn to the girl who, according to Agent Manalo, was the one who instigated this entire fight. Not that it mattered now because she was shot dead in the street. Cold-blooded bastards. He quickly pressed his earpiece as he said,

"We have a casualty,"

"We're almost there! Ensure that Agent Manalo is-"

It interrupted Samson, and he couldn't hear the last words that were stated. He looked up and saw Judas standing on the rooftop's edge with three abominable... he quickly took cover behind one of the shields so he couldn't be seen, as he reported.

"Four more Paranormals just entered the fray: Judas Bennet himself, and three what I believe are Abominable."

"Shit," Nakala responded, "Do you have an idea of their PTA?"

"No abstractions have bee-"

Then Samson saw the rebar tendrils flying toward Eve, and he quickly reported,

"Possible metal creation and manipulation abstraction,"

"Is Agent Manalo safe?"

"Yes,"

"... Engage," Nakala calmly instructed them. "We are almost there, and we know nothing can kill you, Samson."

"Copy that," Samson said as he turned towards Bianca and said, "I'm about to be the center of attention in a hot second; can I trust you to remain safe? Because we don't want Agent Liao going on another warpath..."

At least not after the last time.

There was a level of strength in the scorpion beast before him that Leon wished he could keep up with. A stable, cooperative transformation was something he just couldn't have. Whether regret or envy filled him at that moment, he couldn't tell; it was a pang that radiated back into his third eye, drawn into the seal in that mirror again. He stared at the thrashing beast before him as the fire slowly fell from his singed and burned body. It was his own stamina, his own ability to handle more. She just wanted out, wanted to burst from the corpse like a black hole from a collapsed star. She had plenty of heat left for him, but he couldn't give it a great deal longer.
He couldn't make purchase on the hot top, claws crumbling up the tar and opening furrows like plowed fields across the parking lot before Valjean used his own momentum to fling him back toward the disparate groups scattered before the Wolf Pack. It was only then that the eyes were drawn to the massive pile of sand. All the noise, all the magic in the air, it was overload on the beast's senses: But sight did not lie. As his eyes focused, the manifestation of the Void he'd come so used to seeing, so intuitively fearful of it's capacity, that he shuddered to think what had gotten it so riled up. Netting captured him, slowed him, brought him back down to the ground. But he couldn't release his eyes, his ears, his entire focus, it all fell upon the struggle.

The sand. The Void Light.

Fifteen seconds.

The skin of his willpower sloughed from the bones involved and dribbled down his body like molten lead leaving little mounds of itself beneath his feet. It burned so badly, but he pushed it to the last possible second. There was a flash of metal, a hand with a threat. The beastial senses could hear the microscopic noise of the trigger's metal grinding and grinding. Rather than re-engage the scorpion, every bit of the physical form drove itself toward the incoming shots, and the exertion instantly turned fifteen seconds into no time at all. He smelled the hazy stench of the Void Light, the sulfur in the gunpowder as the bullet made its rush out of the barrel of the gun.
Too little, too late. The last bullet chipped through his claw and upper index finger as his lanky hand attempted to scoop the supersonic pucks of metal from the sky. He couldn't. Not with all of the no strength he had left... It had been a mistake to try and get her out of the situation; immediately he knew that he should've remained there steadfast with Alizée and the Sycamores. The last bit of fire crept from his body, and in mid-air as he dove past Cyril's fate, he reached the impasse he always came to with Lelou. Everything that was left of him wasn't enough to maintain the transformation, not enough to hold onto the power of Lady Lelou in any meaningful way. It was now that he was weakest, and the only solution was to begin breaking the seals piece by piece. He'd let her out then, let her back into St. Portwell, back into the burgeoning garden he wished to tend.

The Void Light exploded in its fury, and as Leon collapsed upon the ground, the false structure began to burn away and curl up into the sky to roil about in the Void's darkness. By the time it was over, a near naked Leon laid in a rotten puddle of tar from which he weakly stood. The chaos hadn't stopped, but he... He couldn't compete here. Not now. In that moment he felt a wave of hatred curl over him, his head swiveling back to witness the continued madness when...
Green. A washing wave of invigoration that finally hit him at the very edge of its field. Cells devoid of nutrients and energy inflated thick with lifeblood, and all of Leon's senses drove his gaze to the source. For a moment, he was confused as he felt energy filling the blank pool of his Seals again. Eyes trailed back again, slowly passing the Void Light took its final wrenching climb into the darkness with Alizée's murderer in tow. He wanted to scream and rage, to beg forgiveness from an entity whom he had come to respect in a sick way. He knew that thing cared about its host, and that they were so much more in sync than he was with Lelou. Finally, his eyes turned back to look at Alizée again. Her beautiful pale face looked at peace, serine in her death as the bullets crept from healing flesh.

He knelt down seeing the process occur, waiting for her breath to begin again as his hand gripped into hers.
"A-ali? Mon compagnon... No, no... No, no, no..."
It wasn't coming back. It wasn't coming. Blood wasn't pumping, breath wasn't drawing, and the Void Light was gone. She was gone. For a second, Leon took a deep breath.

"You failed. Not enough people holding your fucking hand, and what? We lose it? The whole plan?"
He heard his mother's voice in his head loud as day. He'd managed to get rid of all her papers, yet there she was still stuffed into his ear. It wasn't real... It was-
"She'd say that. I'd say I'm disappointed we're not killing for her."
"If you'd cooperate-"
"It's done... For now."
This was new. There'd been no other time in which the two entities harbored within the single body were able to come to an agreement, but Lelou was not blind. She'd get something out of this, of course, but Leon would too. Some kind of revenge. Some release.

As the conflict drew to a head with the arrival of Judas and his beasts, as the battlefield came to a screeching hault, Leon knelt by his companion's side stiff as a statue, the energies inside him gathering and gathering.
"No, no... We can't..."
"What!? Explain yourself."
"It's not over. It won't be over. Lelou... I beg you here and now, save this. Please, save the rage and the pain. Keep it, brew with it, but right now we'll do more good completing the initial objective. I... I can't risk her getting hurt any further."
"She's DEAD Leon! Fool! Moron! You may as well eat her for the extra ener-"
Leon removed himself completely from his internal dialogue, closing every bar and gate he could possibly close to cut Lelou from furthering her interactions. Crossing that line, the line where union may be possible, was a dangerous path when the apparition was as cunning and evil as Lady Lelou. An impulse of pleasure could easily lead someone down the path of destruction, and he had a legacy to carry. Alizee or anyone else, none would keep him from destiny. He knew the right move had always been trying to remove her from this situation, and it was only his hunger for battle spurred by Lelou that kept him emotionally involved.

His arms scooped up under her, lifting her tiny frame up into the air. Her legs dangled limp at one side and he was careful to tuck her head into the crook of his arm to prevent it from the same dangling. His arms tightened, hugging around her one last time as tears began to fall silently from his eyes in long streams. He took a deep breath, gritted his teeth, and began to step forward into the fray. It may surprise, or it may make Leon an open target, but he walked between it all in an attempt to once more take his leave from the hellscape that he'd witnessed the birth of. He'd not wanted this to begin with, but here he was carrying a friend away.
Whether or not he'd be stopped by some force outside his control, he didn't know. But, looking up at Judas Bennet, he knew that negotiation was off the table. His gaze passed to the line of shields and his old comrades behind them, and he scowled. Disorganized rabble, just like the old days. People died because they were fools, or didn't care about what was right. Impulsive children crawling into battle on their bellies. But the girl was gone. His personal charge, his personal inclination. What kind of sword and shield was he? What could he ever be for them? He shook his head, continuing to walk as if there was nothing happening but always expecting an interruption that would probably be more than painful. They'd not have the satisfaction of his retaliation.

---

---

”I’m alright,” Luca replied quietly to Evelynn, offering her a slight smile. He sort of was. Numbness was beginning to set in, mostly, and he was used to it. Wait, maybe he should say he wasn’t alright. Was Sloane’s reaction the normal one to breaking a bone? Or was she crying over something more than that? Would they think he was weird if he didn’t start crying too?

”Shit, a broken nose must be really painful,” Luca commented without thinking about how Sloane probably didn’t want anyone commenting on her sobbing outside a Dairy Queen… Not that Luca was entirely aware of that. He was still thinking about whether he should be crying too.

Luca wasn’t sure if he even could cry anymore. Not, like, emotionally, but physically - his eyes had been getting drier and drier the more rotten his body was. He probably still could, but obviously not over this. But again, could he force himself, to look normal? No, no, it should be fine. There was too much going on for anyone to question how easily his wrist had broken! After all, only Drake knew how lightly he’d pushed Luca, and he wasn’t in a state to comment about anything at all!

At least Jack walked over and offered Sloane a helping hand, and both of them a trip to the hospital.

"I can't be treated at a hospital," Luca shook his head. If it had been anywhere else broken, perhaps... But a broken wrist was too much of a risk. Anyone trying to put a cast on it would have to touch his hands. Of course just being around him and touching any part of him was a risk, but the rotting was strongest from his hands. Blind's flesh would instantly decay. And he was in too much pain right now to concentrate on stopping it. "I just need a plastic wrist splint. Guess I'd need to get that from a hospital, but I can't get treated there. The whole rotting thing, y'know, too dangerous if they try out a cast on it."

He winced, stabbing pain shooting up his arm. At least he had plenty to treat his pain and other scrapes at home, but not so much his broken wrist. Last time it'd happened he'd managed to order a splint online... Sadly there wasn't much left of it after a few weeks of wear, aside from a slightly stiffer wrist than before. Now he'd broken the same wrist. Maybe that was lucky, so he had one still up to standard.

"Guess I can get one from the hospital, so long as it's quick and they don’t try to touch it, and then get the bus home. Unless you want to take me home too?" It was half a joke, but Drake had been his ride. He wasn't really willing to share a care with Drake right now after what he'd done to Sloane, and he highly doubted Drake would be fine with company anyway.

At least he seemed ashamed of what he’d done.

And Luca could just get the bus. It wasn’t like he was dying… Oh wait. Well, it wasn’t like his broken wrist was actively killing him.

---

---

Stormy showed zero signs of actually recognising her which, weird, but fine by her. Middle of a stressful situation, and all.

Of course he jumped right into action after Alizée got shot. Bianca couldn't blame him, really, but that wasn't what she was boosting him for. He was supposed to be a protector... Perhaps she'd misremembered how sensible he was.

Shit, Judas was here. Bianca knew that the Sycamore Tree members here couldn't take him on... But also that they'd try.

Bianca nodded in response to Samson. For all she'd be shot and beaten up already, that was partly down to bad luck and stupidity (on Everleigh's part). And perhaps a bit of recklessness on her own. But with Samson here there was no need for her to risk her own neck for former coven members' safety, because he'd have that cover. She'd concentrate on keeping up her boosts and keeping out of the firing line.

"Don't worry, I'll stay behind this," Bianca tapped the shield she'd moved back behind. "And move to safety if it drops. I really don't want that either, so let's keep me being shot out of the report..." She shook her head. Not the time to think about paperwork. "I'll boost you from over here... Should have enough range."

She crouched behind the shield, so that if it disappeared she'd still be hidden behind a car and have some time to get somewhere safer. With a soft murmur she removed her boost from Kashmira, since most with serious injuries were completely healed, and instead split it just in two again between Stormy and Samson.

Ideally, she'd just use it on Samson - but the shields were needed, and Stormy was now being crushed underneath a shit ton of sand. If he dropped the shields... Well, then she'd just boost Samson. She hadn't boosted Stormy so he could go on the offensive.

Bianca furrowed her brow, ignoring the beginning of a headache throbbing behind her eyes. She'd been boosting for a long time without a break, and boosting multiple people put more of a strain on her. She'd keep it up until Phillips and everyone else arrived... Then things would be more under control.

Though Samson could probably handle it without the boost, better to be safe.

---

“Where did you find this,” Lila asked as she examined the spent shell casing in her hand. She took a quick sniff of the casings. “I think I still smell the gunpowder, but how long does that linger,” she thought to herself. She rolled the casing in her hand and no further clues could be seen. “I wish it were like the movies so I can get some answers from this alone. I can’t tell if you are trying to tell me something happened or if you saw something somewhat shiny and wanted to bring it to me. Is the Coven in trouble?”

*caw* *caw* The crow that had dropped the spent casing into her hand had landed on a nearby branch. It’s head tilted. *caw* *caw* *caw*

“Don’t back-talk me,” Lila snapped. She did not understand what the crow was trying to say, that would be too easy. She felt like they were trying to communicate but they have never realized that she does not understand their caws. “I asked you to keep an eye on everyone, just because I decided to not return to the Coven does not mean I don’t care. And no, it’s not because my anxiety spiked at the thought of actually seeing everyone again….. Okay, maybe it had a part to play, but that does not mean I don’t care. Besides, with you all looking out for them what could go wrong?” Lila let the question hang in the air for a second before she sighed. The bigger reason they did not want to rejoin the coven today, after confirming she would, was the appearance of the mysterious voice that pestered her thoughts. The Maiden. "what a pretentious name," she thought. While she knew it felt different than the snake, this was still a voice in her head asking her to do things. “Probably a lot still because of who they are and.. The fact that you don’t do things for free.”

*caw* *caw* The Crow flapped its wings and took off back into the skies. That crow had delivered the spent casing a second ago, and it arrived at a quicker speed than it normally would. It was almost as if the Crow had a sense of urgency in its delivery. It rejoined the murder above her and the murder as a whole followed her as she walked on the sidewalk towards the nearest Dairy Queen. Her other hand held a wrapper, another crow had brought the torn wrapper of a burger and she took this as a more clear sign as to where the group was. She had no intention of joining up, at least yet, but something told her that she should at least check in and see what they were up to.

“The Crow told you more than you think,” The Maiden whispered to her.

“Jesus fuck,” Lila shouted as she jumped to the side.

“Don’t be afraid, I mean no harm,” The Maiden whispered again.

“Can you not right now,” Lila whispered as she looked around. Great, of all things to happen today she had to once again worry about sounding crazy out in public. Once she saw that no one was around, she turned her focus back to the whispering voice. “Today is already confusing enough as is. Can you leave me alone while I try and figure out what the crows mean by this," she flashed the Dairy Queen wrapper and the casings.

“You know the cost,” The Maiden responded.

Lila looked down at her right hand. Each finger, save for her thumb, had a ring of some sort on it. Some had jewels, but most did not. Each ring was not the most valuable one she owned, nor were they the most sentimental possession but each one was a gift from her grandmother. The one she had given earlier to keep tabs on the rest of the coven was the only one she had bought herself, and the thought of giving up something more prized was not a thought she wanted to dwell on. She could always give up food, yet she knew The Maiden liked things that were shiny and important, and she would not leave her alone with snacks alone.

“Fine, fine, you can stay in my mind for now. But please, be quiet,” Lila sighed as she continued walking. She had a deep mistrust of The Maiden. She figured it had something to do with the Crows, but no matter what she gifted them she was unable to get any answers. The only thing the crows wanted to do was lead her further into the forest to meet The Maiden, and The Maiden never answered any questions about who, or what, they were. Maybe Lila should have gone back to the coven, at least she might be able to get some answers from those who had monsters bound to their souls.

---

Evelynn took a step back from the group. No one, outside of Luca, said much at her arrival but she got the feeling from Sloane that she wasn’t the most welcome sight to this little merry band of misfits. This was not the most surprising thing, Sloane was Sloane after all yet Evelynn knew, deep down, that there were a lot of people in the Coven who did not.. Appreciate her curse. She spent as much time in possible futures as she did the present, trying to find the answers to many problems she and the Coven faced. With each guess that she got wrong, there grew a stronger and more vocal pushback against each and every prediction she tried to bring to the group. She felt like the Coven disbanded at the perfect time, and she knew that if they spent any more time together they would have kicked her out of the Coven.

Evelynn was pulled from her thoughts, however, when Jack was able to quickly subdue and shackle Drake. “I did not see that coming,” Evelynn whispered to herself. She remembered Jack was a powerful person but this was different than what she remembered. This felt much stronger. She looked around the small group and the thought that everyone got stronger entered her mind. Everyone except for her. She has only gotten better at reading the possible futures for clues and no matter how many times she tries, practices, or works at it the future is always unclear. This did not bother her so much, her curse was her curse and she was fortunate enough to have a leg up on the rest of her family with it. Yet the more the thought dwelled on it the more the realization began to gnaw at the corner of her mind. She needed to get her thoughts off it and now was not the time for another drink.. At least not yet.

Evelynn thought about what her next move was. This group had already imploded into infighting at record speed yet she knew this was not the only group from the Coven. Auri had told Evelynn that many from the Coven would attend, at least much more than those who stood in front of her. She wanted to ask yet a curious sight caught her attention.

A small murder of crow, from Evelynn’s count ten strong, had suddenly appeared on the top of the Dairy Queen and the other buildings around it. They all appeared to be looking at the group with a curious intensity. “There was one of us who had some connection with crows, right?” Evelynn asked the group. Not waiting for any answers, she channeled her power and slipped into the possible future. She stood still as her eyes darted for a brief moment before she returned to the present. “I think they go by Lila now,” Evelynn spoke as she turned down the road and spotted the rest of the murder being led to the Dairy Queen. “It seems like she has a few more crows with her than she did the last time I saw them. They’ll be here in a second I think.”

---

A moment later Lila walked up and met up with the group. “Hey everyone,” she flashed a quick wave. She looked around and noticed Sloane with what appeared to be a broken nose, Drake was tied up by Jack, Luca had a broken wrist, and Evelynn was just.. There. She shifted her eyes back to Sloane, resting there for a moment before they drifted to Drake. “What did these idiots do to each other,” she thought to herself. In her hand, she still had the spent shell casing and the Dairy Queen wrapper. If the Crows watched whatever went down here, and grabbed the wrapper to alert her, that would mean that the Crows watched something go down somewhere else, and grabbed the shell casing to do the same

“Alright,” Lila sighed, “so that explains why they grabbed this.” Lila flashed the wrapper. She groaned as she held up her other hand, and flashed the brass it carried. “I asked my crows to keep an eye on the coven, I did not plan to join up again, not after The Ma..” she paused as she caught her words. “The murder got bigger,” she lied through her teeth as she pointed to the nearly hundred crows that covered the roofs all around them that cawed relentlessly, “but I wanted to be sure that you all were safe, with everyone dropping dead and all.” She raised the Dairy Queen wrapper. “They gave me this, I come here and I see you two hurt,” she paused as she shook the shell casing, “so I think that means something is going down with the rest of the Coven.”

“Where are they?” She asked as she looked for the closest trash can.

“Very well observed,” The Maiden whispered. Lila shifted her gaze to her left ear, the direction the whisper came from. A shiver ran down her spine and Lila wished she had sent The Maiden away for the day. "Things would be easier if you just let me in more."

"Never," Lila whispered.

Location: Somewhere in the Void
@Punished GN

---

Weeping and wailing in the depths of the darkness. It was always like this in the depths on the void dimension. His home. But like any home, any place, any world - there were shallow waters and dark depths. He crossed the dark depths, dropping the man responsible for Alizée's death in the deeper waters of the void, where he knew monsters were waiting, hungry. He, however, moved on, and moved to the shallow waters of the void, to a nearby familiar dwelling.

Void hovered in the ruins of his home, stone and darkness shattered and broken from the passage of time. He hovered there for a long time, memories flooding his mind. He hadn't been here since he had become adjoined to Alizée.... To Alizée....

Fiery tears seeped from his eyes. He drew in a hissing breath, pain crushing him. He had been here only once before, weeping like this. The night they took his wife.

The void was a cruel place, even for its own denizens.

Now he was alone in the ruins of his crushed dreams once again. He could still see it plain as day behind his eyes. How Alizée fell. She really was such a frail thing, after all. He should have been there to catch her, so as to not let her precious head touch the ground.

Dark fists manifested at his sides, clenched. He got one of them. One of the Wolfpack. He could hear the man’s distant screams as entities and monsters played with their food. It would be slow… deliciously slow. He listened carefully, counting the seconds as the screams of agony slowly, slowly stopped.

But there was another who held the blame. Two others, actually. But he would focus on one for now. The woman with a venom tongue and spiky blonde hair. She brought his dear Alizée into such a sorry, helpless state. Suffocated and crushed as she was, she still fought… She still fought to protect him.

If anyone deserved to die, to suffer, it was the venomous one of the Wolfpack.

But in order to exact his vengeance, he needed to be tethered once again. He wasn’t strong enough to move across the line between dimensions freely. He needed a new host, a haunted, a toy. But… who?

Well, there was really only one option, wasn’t there? Only one other that reminded him of his wife. The masquerading princess, the one of sweet blood. Her angelic features and soft mannerisms to move even the hardest of hearts.

With a swipe of his hand, he tore through reality and entered the dreamland of his chosen one.

---

---

---

---

Location: Downtown
@Punished GN

---

All was quiet in the small apartment of the young girl. The lights were out, a small form curled under a moonlit window.

It was the picture of peace, except for a growing sense of trepidation. Tossing and turning. Murmured whimpers. Bite-riddled arms flailing, hands clenching. Like a violin growing in pitch and fervor, the girl continued to toss and turn, before her eyes shot open.

In front of her, breath heavy and harsh, was a ghostly orb, eyes shining in the gleam of the moon. His phantom hand was tightly woven around hers. In between them, rings of light - chains - emanating from the chest. The girl, almost in a trace, stared up at the orb, feeling a numbness take over her body at his debilitating touch.

"Sken, sken, sken..." The jagged jaws of the orb broke open, a low, metallic voice rumbling with power. The blinding chains surrounding them sped up, causing the girl's white hair to fly in the wind.

"Sil gro, sil gro, sil gro..."

The chains grew white hot, and the girl whimpered, feeling a weight burn at her heart.

"Erei oblaan!"

At once, the chains froze, then shattered into white sparks, fading into the darkness. Void let go of the girl, and she fell back into her bed, heaving dryly and shaking. Void stared for a moment. Her mannerisms at the tether, and being adjoined, were not unlike... Alizée.

Void's eyes tightened.

"It's been a while, hasn't it, Layla." A pause. "Your last name, what is it?"

Her brilliant blue eyes widened as he spoke directly at her, and her lips parted in surprise.

"...Hyacinthus."

"Right. I'm Void, in case you forgot."

She tried to crawl back, her shoulders running into the wall. "A-are... you going to eat me?"

Void smirked, his purple and red eyes glancing up and down at the bite marks on her arms. "Eat you? No."

He moved forward, tongue flicking out to lick his teeth. Phantom hands about human in size snaked around Layla's throat, squeezing.

"But you're going to help me." His voice was a tight growl.

Layla whimpered, struggling weakly, coughing at the choke hold. "L-let go..."

Void's eyes glinted maliciously, squeezing a little tighter. "You didn't go to the meeting. Foolish girl. But I have you here now, and you're going to do exactly what I say. Got it?"

She tried to nod, feeling dizzy, her lungs beginning to burn. Void stared at her hard for a long moment, before he sighed, and gruffly let her go.

"You're nothing like her. She had fire. Always mad. You? ...Such a push-over."

Layla rubbed her throat, coughing weakly. "Who?"

"Alizée."

Layla's lips pursed. "I... remember her. You're right... she is a hot head."

"Was. Was a hot head."

In that moment, everything clicked. Layla gasped. "So that's.. why you're here."

"Yes," Void clapped his dark hands together. "But that's enough. You need to get Auri on the horn. Now. I have a few choice words for her. There's... been an accident."

Layla was already grabbing her phone on the nightstand. She started typing before Void yanked it out of her hand and began furiously tapping at the screen. He sent it and tossed the phone back at Layla. She took one look and balked. "You said what?! That's rude."

"I don't care right now."

Layla's teeth clenched, before she added one more text, and sent it off.



"Now call her. And go get changed. We're going out."

Layla blinked a couple times, before she bit her lip, and did as she was told. Wherever Auri was, her phone began to ring after the texts pinged her. Layla didn't mean to skip the meeting and ghost Auri's invite. But it was getting to be about that time, when denizens would come and visit. She didn't want to put old friends at risk. Or maybe she had other priorities. She did have to deal with the entities now, after all.

Out of habit, she tried to make a rose to put in her hair. When it didn't come, Void simply looked at her.

"You're not an adept anymore, sweetheart. Don't worry, I'm not entirely cruel. I'll teach you about being adjoined. Now go get changed."

Layla swallowed, her mind racing, before she quietly got up, grabbed some clothes, and excused herself.

Void hovered around Layla's phone, listening to the dial tone, his eyes far away.

---

Sully’s ears rang as Dean’s gun fired and then itself was fired in the churning cauldron of the Chalice’s furnace, rendered useless. Temporarily deafened by the clap of the gun, Sully felt the flesh on his hand continue to bubble and crisp as Bianca’s boost and Stormy’s consecration played tug of war with the Chalice. Lava burst forth like a true volcano and then slowed to a disappointing dribble, guaranteeing that what life reminded in the bubbling pile of meat between Sully and Dean was now no more. At some point Sully had accidentally jerked the Chalice away so even if Dean had not vanished the lava would’ve only singed his hair.

His tackle only hit air and the Chalice dried itself. Sully realized his hand wasn’t the only part of his body that felt heat and dropped to the ground in a surge of pain as the adrenaline faded. The bullet had pierced Sully between his left shoulder and collarbone, and judging by the dampness of his shirt it had hit something important. He let out a pained chuckle of disbelief and went to take a drink from the Chalice, his eyes closed and his pursed lips tasting nothing but disappointment and tang of lava fried human. The ringing in his ears stopped just in time for him to hear the clanging of the Chalice on the asphalt, his body collapsing under his weight as it rolled out of reach.

And then he heard the singing and felt the wave of good greenlight wash over him. Dean’s bullet dislodged itself and Sully felt himself regain enough of his strength to lurch forward and snatch the Chalice up. He patted frantically at the gunshot, finding that it was gone. He threw his hands up and pumped them in a private celebration behind the wall of continually worse-for-wear cars. He’d survived getting sand in his shoes, he’d survived getting shot, and he’d managed to scare off a biker (largely thanks to James and Britney but, hey, same team right?).

“Ha ha! Yes! I knew you were money, Kash! Let’s go-OOF!”

Sully’s head snapped back as a boot kicked him in the face as Dean reappeared, ruining Sully’s celebration. He would’ve snatched Sully’s Chalice too if not for a bit of pure dumb luck, as Sully’s arm pumping lifted the Chalice up just enough to cause Dean’s hand to brush the fabric of his jacket instead of the silver of the stem. A follow up kick to the face sent Sully to the ground as the man vanished again, the big guy laying on his back and staring up at the waft of smoke. Not the worst hit he’s taken in his life, but he was pretty sure that the biker had broken his nose. He touched it. Yep, hurt like hell and it was way more crooked than it used to be. Sully sat up, shook his head, and took a swig from the Chalice, his nose and breathing back to normal as the elixir did its thing. He looked down at his bare arms and his bloodsoaked t-shirt.

“Seriously man?” groaned Sully, his brain still rattled enough even though his wounds were healed that he stood up, momentarily forgetting about the chaos happening around him. “Who steals a jack—”

Finally able to look over the wall of cars, the delayed signal sent from his eyes eventually reached his mind.

“—et. Oh shit.”

Sully craned his but couldn’t see the guy who had shouted or the big dogs that were barking, not realizing it was due to them being on the roof right above his head. He crouched back down nevertheless, peaking over the top of a car and watching as the woman whose gun he’d gotten to first base with called the man Judas and singled out Eve as the one responsible for the death of their packmate. Sully quietly cursed a string of profanities under his breath, sounding like a barnyard full of vulgar chickens.

Okay, here’s the plan: rush out there, grab Eve, and keep chugging the Chalice like he showed up late to a frat party and everybody else was way too drunk to casually hang with. Maybe take a couple of bullets, dip into an alleyway, have her hotwire a car—surely she knew how to hotwire a car—and take off, saving everyone else in the process as the Wolfpack is eventually lost after a wild chase. Simple. Sully took one step to rescuing Eve when movement out of the corner of his eye made him look back and he finally saw the Curs on the rooftop above him, their massive jaws drooling and snapping. Yeah, no. He wasn’t outrunning dogs.

New plan: Eve was bait, regroup with Greenwood. Look, Eve had already gotten her one heal for the night anyway. Shouldn’t have wasted it so soon. Surely Sully and Kash could put her back together afterwards. Sully hunkered back down behind the car and started doing a not-so-inconspicuous crouch run towards Amelia, looking to intercept Kashmira on the way.

---

---

When was the last time she’d cried? Sloane could vividly remember the last time she’d cried in public: summertime on the boardwalk, she a little girl with hair in ribbons as red as her cheeks, her mother hissing in Sloane’s ear to stop embarrassing her and pulling her by the wrist so hard that Sloane ended up needing a brace. Later that night her father, as Sloane lied in her large and sterile bedroom more fit for a spread in an home goods catalog than as a room for a little girl, quietly explained to her how it was unladylike to make scenes in public. For god’s sake, what if a future suitor’s family saw and she went down in value?

But the last time she’d cried, period? It was not when Jade died, not when her collection was stolen, nor when her mother reemerged from the shadows after a decade simply to have another opportunity to critique her daughter. It wasn’t after any of her relationships had failed, nor when she burned any bridges with former Coven colleagues. Never due to work or school, a messy surge of hormones or cramps, or a sad movie or moving piece of music. Not even when she was voted out of the Coven. The last time had really been that day on the boardwalk: an over twenty year streak, ruined.

Any other day and Sloane’s instinctual reaction would’ve been to slap Jack’s hand away as he offered to help her up, but with her body amounting to actually being nothing more than an oversized, leaking bottle she needed the help. She held on to his hand even after he pulled her up, her head hung, her crying quieter but still annoyingly present, a squeeze of his palm the best she could do in ways of saying thank you. There was more talk about going to the hospital. Luca mentioned the rot making hospitals essentially a no-go for him. Sloane filed it away for now, tucking it inside the folder next to the mental snapshot of all of Luca’s prescription bottles.

Normally, this would be the moment when Sloane would scoff, roll her eyes, and point out that dealing with overworked nurses, nightmarish health insurance forms, and astronomical medical bills was an idiotic choice when they knew a guy who passed out elixirs like it was a two-for-one ladies night promo. Instead, Sloane quite liked the idea of not being seen by the others. Not like it mattered, enough people had seen it happen. Even the crows were gawking. Word would spread through the former Coven no matter what now. She wondered what would end up being a bigger splash: Drake hitting her like a total asshole or her crying like a complete bitch?

Sloane sniffled. More crows were coming to stare. It wasn’t just feelings of being self-conscious, the birds were quite literally watching them. In the distance, a black mass of crows swirled ominously towards the Dairy Queen. As Evelynn connected the dots (said dots being in a straight, one-inch line inside the world’s most boring activity book for pre-k toddlers, with the first dot labeled “start” and the second one labeled “kid, you can’t read but come on, surely you got this”), Sloane managed to finally exchange her sniffles and sobs for her preferred sound: a sharp, annoyed sigh, its usual flat melody given a bit more vivaciousness due to her broken nose.

“It’s not a prediction if you are literally watching it happen,” muttered Sloane, low enough that only Jack would hear, but obvious enough that the others would feel that they had missed out on something. Moments later, Lila arrived just as Evelynn had incredibly foreseen. Normally someone would ask what had happened. Instead, they had the courtesy to cut to the chase, ignoring Sloane’s nose, Luca’s wrist, and all the angry, sad, and uncomfortable faces that were fairly normal to see on someone after they made the mistake of eating Dairy Queen. Of course something was going down with the rest of the Coven. They had all been reunited for a grand total of thirty minutes before a gun was pulled. Nevertheless, Sloane could at least return Lila’s courtesy with an answer.

“Lila, please,” said Sloane, her voice strange. It almost sounded like she was speaking with regret, a coincidence caused by the modulation to her voice due to her broken nose no doubt. She squeezed Jack’s hand as she glanced at Drake. “There is no Coven. Let’s go, Jack.”

@Punished GN@Estylwen@Atrophy@FernStone@LanaStorm
Veni Vedi Veni - Parking Lot

---

Momentarily, he felt nothing but a haze, and sensed everything peripherally. A gunshot rang out, followed by more noise, angry voices and the cries of the others, and some ephemeral song in a language he didn't understand. Something washed over him like a breeze, but he felt no warmth from it. A voice raged, set apart from the rest in its raw anguish.



His senses reclaimed him.

Clancy blinked, hunched beside a pickup truck where the engine still ran, one palm pressed against the door. When he pulled it away, he noted the deep gouges torn into the metal, like fingernails through paper, and chunks of wet, meaty viscera sloughing away from whatever or whoever had sat at the other side, and then he glanced down.

There were punctures and tears in his shirt and hoodie, barely concealing the pale unblemished skin beneath. There was no hiding that, nor the wet, crimson substance wh ich overlapped the layer of dried blood that had belonged to the other Nazi on his fingertips.

The French-speaking girl whom had tried to reach out to him - Alizée - was dead. The thing that sat inside her heart was notably absent, Clancy knew - he couldn't feel its presence anymore.

Had Alizée died because of him? There was no easy answer, none which sat right, even with him. He shrugged it off. More important things to focus on. It wasn't his fault those biker assholes were psychopathic junkies.

An axe lay at his feet, ornate decor wrought into the handle and head. Surprisingly, it remained untarnished despite the scene he'd extracted it from. Its previous owner had no further use nor any ability to wield it after they'd settled matters, though when he knelt to pick it up, he felt no different from before - not that he expected to. But it was sturdy, and sharp - the way it had cut through clothing, stone and metal in similar fashion had made that very clear. And given what he'd seen tonight, that might have been useful.

The weight of it seemed inconsequential compared to everything else. He was stronger than he looked

Where he stood, he was at the far side of the lot, away from the heart of the fighting now. The others were still arguing, still ready for a fight, he could hear them. There was a new arrival, someone who'd transitioned from a fiery eagle to man. He was talking with the asian girl, the one who'd offered him the business card for the fishery earlier.



A voice bellowed from a building overlooking the lot. Clancy squinted at the rotund figure stood atop the rooftop, clutching a trio of meaty creatures that seemed halfway between goat and wolf. Something about them struck him with a vague, dreadful sense of deja vu, a bad memory from a time when he'd been out by the Great Lakes on his own, when he'd first left home.

"Ooooooooooh, Judas! This bitch said she killed Joe Skinner- and she just killed Victor!"

Wrong on both accounts, he mused, but correcting them would've been a waste of time. The mouthy she-biker had already outed her boss for him, and the others - particularly the girl - had drawn their attention.

Judas. Poppa Wolf.

Doubt set in, however.

Did that make him Father Wolf?

That, Clancy didn't know. Only one way to find out. While the others were busy, he hunched low, axe clutched in both hands, and moved along the row of parked cars where the overhead lighting didn't offer much coverage, perhaps short enough that only the observant would've noticed him moving across. He hit the edge of the lot, eyeing the motorcycle that had belonged to Joe Skinner.

Tempting, but no. He wasn't done here, not yet. Across the street was an alleyway, filtering between a pair of building that neighboured the rooftop where Judas and his pets were waiting. Then, after a moment's thought, he darted across the street.