[color=darkgray][i]Banjo avoided looking down at his high-mast trouser legs, trying to play it off. Then he heard it. They all heard it. The twisting of metal coming from what gave the group shelter above. A blast of ice. It moved on leathery wings. It came for them. Paisley. Hyperion. This. As Banjo felt the accumulated warmth of the dance floor lift to the sky, diffusing to the cold air outside, he saw a rapidly closing window. Whatever came next he'd need to have his wits about him. Leg be damned. [color=darkgoldenrod]"Tell ya Mum I'm sorry, Zimmerman..."[/color] He stepped forward into the vacant space as the crowd rushed away in search of escape. [color=darkgoldenrod]"...I don't think ya suit's gonna make it."[/color] There was no sun. Only the warm atmosphere. But that wasn't insignificant. People had been leaving to get air all night. The A.R.C was generally designed for training on a smaller scale, and while it could be used for larger events, this was a party with the entire senior class, catered by juniors, chaperoned by staff. People were close quarters in the dance floor, and there were crowds of huddled masses in other pinch points like the bar. A lot of bodies, a lot of heat. The thing plummeted to the floor, it cracked a panel and was backlit by sparking circuitry from the damaged and glitching structural inner-working of the A.R.C. It seemed distracted, looking for someone. Paisley. Hyperion. This. He took two steps forward. He'd need space for what came next. [color=darkgoldenrod]"He--! [sub]mmm-mmm mmm?[/sub]"[/color] A hand slapped over his mouth from behind. [color=red][sub]"Shut. The Fuck. Up."[/sub][/color] He felt a weight dragging him back. Big Steve didn't have any hyperhuman strength, and quite clearly had never set foot in a gym, but he did still have height and weight on the smaller Australian who was also far from his physical peak. [color=red][sub]"I'm not dying because you draw its attention this way."[/sub][/color] Banjo held out a hand at the night's sky. He could almost see the accumlated warmth frittering away, and the best possible window for getting back to his full self drifting off into the open air. Big Steve pulled him back around a potted plant by the bathroom door. [color=darkgoldenrod]"You're lucky I didn't freeze your bloody arms off..."[/color] He growled. [color=red][sub]"Keep it down![/sub]"[/color] The larger man hissed. [color=red][sub]"And it's still less than [b]THAT[/b] thing would do."[/sub][/color] They watched as it froze students and blocked the exits with ice. [color=darkgoldenrod][sub]"True enough, I guess."[/sub][/color] [color=darkgoldenrod][sub]"So what... your plan is to just hide here? That's a terrible plan. Even if you don't care about anybody else, how long do you think it'll be until he thinks to look here?"[/sub][/color] Things like that. Monsters. Whether Paisley or... whatever the fuck this thing was... they're like a force of nature. The cyclone, the tornado, maybe it doesn't hit your house today... but that's just today, and by it's own 'grace'. Whatever 'grace' you can attribute to a monster. [color=red][sub]"It won't ever look this way if you Shut. The Fuck. Up."[/sub][/color] Big Steve seemed to huddle over focusing inwards. None of that rang true to Banjo. [color=darkgoldenrod][sub]"Who--? Who the fuck are you, anyway..?"[/sub][/color] The large one next to him just rolled his eyes. [color=red][sub]"You really do get dumber when you haven't powered up for a while."[/sub][/color] He seemed exasperated, but not just by his behaviour. Which was the general Banjo effect. But as if he'd explained this too many times already. [color=red][sub]"We've been through all of this before. For someone who's supposed to be smart, you [i]really[/i] seem to be willing to think you were put in our dorm by coincedence..."[/sub][/color] [/i] [/color] [hr] [color=darkgray][i] Banjo had returned to the dorm. It was only the second time he'd been here. The first occasion he'd simply dumped his stuff in his new room - which was Zimmerman's old room, before he so swiftly relocated him - and left. [color=darkgoldenrod]"But your name's not Steve..?"[/color] [color=red]"No."[/color] [color=darkgoldenrod]"Explain again."[/color] [color=red]"Well, there's another Steve in Civics class..."[/color] [color=darkgoldenrod]"You say 'Another Steve'. I notice you keep sayin' 'Another Steve', but your name isn't Steve. It's--"[/color] [color=dodgerblue]"--Marcus!"[/color] Alex called out from the bathroom, brushing his teeth. [color=darkgoldenrod]"Marcus. You keep sayin' 'Another Steve' but your name's Marcus."[/color] [color=red]"It's just easier."[/color] Banjo squinted up at the taller boy. An otherwise perplexed look on his face. [color=red]"The other Steve is smaller. So they call me 'Big Steve'."[/color] [color=darkgoldenrod]"But what-- possible connection do you have with this other kid called... 'Little Steve'?"[/color] [color=red]"No. They just call him 'Steve'. 'Steve' and 'Big Steve'.[/color] Banjo rubbed his brow, things weren't getting clearer. [color=darkgoldenrod]"But [b]YOU'RE[/b] not a bloody Steve. He's--"[/color] [color=red]"I like it."[/color] He said. [color=red]"Sounds good. It-- sticks with people."[/color] [color=darkgoldenrod]"BUT YOU AREN'T STEVE. YOUR NAME IS--"[/color] Shit... it was gone again. What was it again? He knew he was bad with names, but this was-- [color=dodgerblue]"--Marcus!"[/color] Alex happily repeated, before continuing to rinse his mouth out. [color=darkgoldenrod]"That! Your name is Marcus!"[/color] [color=red]"Don't you choose to go by 'Banjo'?"[/color] [color=darkgoldenrod]"..."[/color] [color=darkgoldenrod]"Fine. Whatever. You're Big Steve. Not--"[/color] He threw a hand up. [color=dodgerblue]"Marcus."[/color] [hr] [color=dodgerblue]"Come on... I told you mine."[/color] [color=darkgoldenrod]"Yeah. Y'did. More fool you."[/color] [color=dodgerblue]"Come ooooooon. I know it's something that makes you stronger. I heard."[/color] [color=darkgoldenrod]"That's a gross oversimplification."[/color] Alex sat there actively waiting for the expanded explanation. [color=darkgoldenrod]"No. That's part of it. Yours is straightforward. Electromagnetism. Zzzzzzzap. Mine's more complicated. It takes too long to explain and confuses people."[/color] He lied. Trevor got it in seconds, and he hadn't exactly inspired him with his sparkling intelligence otherwise over the course of their time. He just couldn't be bothered. All of this was too much effort for people. What's the point he was only-- --oh. Going to be stuck here for the next four or so years. [color=red]"I'm a blindspot."[/color] Spoke the other presence in the room, from the corner reading a comic book. [color=red]"Basically, I have a latent and active power that can eat away at people's memory of myself and has a... minor effect on telepaths on a psi-level."[/color] He turned the page. [color=red]"Not that powerful, though. If they're aware and focus, and have any kind of real power... well, I'm pretty weak with it."[/color] [color=red]"My parents had pictures up all around the house, I suspect, more to remind themselves that I existed and to keep checking on me, rather than for sentimental reasons. Both have my name tattooed on them as wells. There were more than a few calls from school to remind them to pick me up over the years as well."[/color] His voice was flat and his delivery dry and matter-of-fact, as so frequently was his way. [color=red]"Is it harder to explain than that?"[/color] [/i] [hr] [i]She looked nervous, waiting for him outside of the dorm bloc. It was cute and brought a smile to his face as pretty much everything about her did. [color=F796A9]"There you are! Umm... we need to talk."[/color] [color=darkgoldenrod]"Oh hu-llo. Don't know if I like the sound of that. An ambush?"[/color] He held his hands up in jest of surrender. [color=F796A9]"Please Banjo, this is serious."[/color] Not so serious that she'd use the other name yet, but he could still she was strained and getting that way in her plea. [color=darkgoldenrod]"Then we'll get through it. We always do. What's the problem?"[/color] [color=F796A9]"I know you've been treating the therapists you've had to see over the years as just-- well, you play your silly games..."[/color] He bristled slightly at the description, but it wasn't enough to argue about. [color=F796A9]"But as I've told you before a few time, I still feel that mine can do some good. So I'd like it if you could respect what I have to say next."[/color] [color=darkgoldenrod]"Yeah, hun."[/color] [color=F796A9]"Well, at our last session we've had some level of... new findings, which we identified. My therapist feels that if I'm to be honest with our relationship, I should let you know as well, now that it's become apparent to this point."[/color] [color=darkgoldenrod]"New findings. Like a breakthrough?"[/color] [color=F796A9]"I certainly wouldn't describe it that way, no. But I'm worried, Andrew. I don't want you to think less of me."[/color] He straightened up. [color=darkgoldenrod]"I told you. Anything it is, we'll get through it. That's what we do. I meant it."[/color] And with some trepidation she told him, and at the end he held her. Still not sure what to make of what he'd heard. Because what else could he do?[/i] [sup]________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________[/sup][/COLOR][center][img]https://i.imgur.com/fnUOHKB.jpeg[/img][/CENTER][indent][sub][COLOR=darkgoldenrod][B]Location:[/B][/COLOR] [I]The Beach, Dundas Islands, Pacific Ocean - Present[/I] [I][/I][/sub][sup][right][COLOR=darkgoldenrod][b]Human #5.010:[/b][/COLOR] [I][url=https://open.spotify.com/track/0eMcjg6Y5sVpoo1TbR6g42?si=yFvbw3BAQS2bPKG-g9AFtQ]Ship of Fools[/url][/I][/right][/sup][/indent][COLOR=darkgoldenrod][SUP][sub]____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________[/sub][/SUP][/COLOR][indent][sub][color=darkgoldenrod][B]Interaction(s):[/B][/COLOR] [I]NPCs and Beach Blackjack, Raindance and Eclipse Crew[/I][/sub][SUP][RIGHT][COLOR=darkgoldenrod][b]Previously:[/b][/COLOR] [color=white][I]High (trouserleg) Fashion[/I][/color][/right][/SUP][/indent] [color=darkgray] His options had dwindled. He'd just come from the Legal Wing after a conversation with Professor Onassis. Somehow his plans for earlier had leaked. He wound up in a 'spontaneous' conversation that happened to remind him that he was not in possession of a US work Visa, nor would he have an address that would fare him well for such an application to be made at this point. True enough. He could imagine an immediate rubber stamp denial for any documentation with a 'Dundas Island' residential/mailing address. And then was further reminded that even if he did get documentation approved, the United States might not be the safest place for him specifically if he were to travel there. The implication of him having a target on his back for anyone who may just want to get into the good graces of a certain US Senator, in a world where favours were currency. In addition to this, he was only in Canada on Student Visa, and it was difficult to imagine any other institution across the entire country who would consider a transfer from that University with the Dundas Island address. It was the first time he felt excluded because of what he was and a place he attended as opposed to the laundry list of things that he'd done or been suspected of doing. If her were unable to transfer, and the term on his student Visa expired, deportation awaited him. And he suspected that could well be a death sentence if there was any truth to what he'd been told. It would be a shame for him to not get his law degree at this point, he was told. And probably his best bet for finding a stable life later somewhere or other as well. Banjo could barely muster enough care to mumble in response throughout. His mind had already been made up regardless, and it had nothing to do with a piece of paper which told him he was capable of something he already knew he could do. Onassis imparted upon him that at times it had been one of his deepest dreads that Banjo might one day pass the BAR and fulfil his potential in advocacy. But that he must admit that whatever he thought of the youth he remained one of the most impressive natural legal minds he'd come across in his experience as an educator. Banjo, seeing there was nothing more of value coming but meaningless sentiment, merely grunted and left the room. [hr] [i]It spoke. Everyone was frozen now. Even those who weren't in blocks of ice. [color=white]"Hello, mothers."[/color] There was almost a cold bitterness to the word. Their delivery to the two Blackjack women left all paralysed in the moment. Banjo scratched and clawed through the fog to take what he could from the moment in his present state. Big. Flies. Mentos freshmaker breath. Strong. Claws. It had the augmented form of the one who'd been leading the construction on this year's Trials. Whatshisname. Not-my-supervisor. But with wings. Wings and very, very large claws. Katja. If he could run interference on the breath, she was their best bet. He couldn't see her in the crowd. And then it spoke again and the fog consumed his train of thought, leaving him to try and make what he could of the new information. [color=white]“I’m afraid, I need you both to come with me.”[/color] It's speech was clear, prim and proper. Far from what you'd expect from a mindless beast. [color=white]“The father is expecting you both,”[/color] The paternal name not seeming to hold the same level of disdain or resentment. [color=white]“I’d be happy to dispatch any interlopers who dare challenge the Chernobog.”[/color] Gil may well have been the actor, but Cassander Charon took it as a cue. He called out a quippy warcry and threw himself into a full frontal explosive attack. And when the flash cleared, and the fog rised, the beast had him by the throat. Big. Flies. Mentos Freshmaker Breath. Strong. Claws. Deceptively quick within it's range. Durable. Very durable. Out of my weight class even at my best. He went from "Maybe Katja" to "Only Katja" very quickly. His mind not considering beyond blunt force in its present state. Then Torres stepped forward, pleading to the man and not the beast. Her power loosening the grip on Cass' throat and dropping him to the floor. The beast said the man was all well and good but didn't have claws like these. And demonstrated his point. But her act opened up the opportunity of alternatives. Something other than brute force? [color=white]"Mothers, come."[/color] The cold delivery once again returned. [color=white]“Before I have to embarrass anymore of your… friends.”[/color] A mist of frigid air burst from its nostrils as it snorted in some kind of huff. [color=white]“I’m getting impatient.”[/color] Something was off. It seemed to identify Rory and openly challenge him. Rory seemed to try and form a plan, co-ordinate and communicate it directly in front of the beast. [i]Surely he's not going to...[/i] He openly tried to borrow Amma's power and tell Haven to run on his signal, and there's telegraphed playcalls and then there was this... [color=white]“There will be no running.”[/color] [color=white]“And there will be none of this.”[/color] [color=white]“If you run, I will break both your wings and your legs.”[/color] [color=white]“Like this.”[/color] It almost seemed to revel in what it new it would be able to do to them. Dismantling them. Anticipating and responding. And it was fast. For someone so big it seemed almost too fast. Faster than Katja, Banjo figured. Probably not faster than me if I was running at full steam... but I wouldn't want to coast or play with it. Brute force seemed like less of an option with every passing minute. [color=white]“You think her to be your ally?”[/color] The beast gestured to Amma with its horns. [color=white]“Perhaps the woman you knew here is, but Tiamat is not.”[/color] Its face slightly turned into a cruel smile. It was playfully cruel. In ways he never saw from the form before the trials. It assured them that man was dead. Banjo believed it. There was talk of names, which lost Banjo. He could barely keep his head around anyone's chosen name at the best of times. He spent the time spying his surroundings. [color=white]“Tiamat, you have a mission to resume.”[/color] [color=white]“And you’re coming with me, Dove.”[/color] And that struck home. That was after the Trials. He felt convinced there was no more point appealing to the man. He was gone by then. He couldn't have known. He wasn't the one 'behind the wheel'. This beast. This monster. This Chernobog. [/i] [hr] Banjo looked devastated. Quiet rage and vitriol pumped through his veins where warm-blooded humour once flowed. He stood in front of the house on the Alumni village. A few moving vans scattered along the noticeably quiet street, that was so often bubbling with life, energy and a sense of community. [color=white]"Oh! G'Day, kiddo!"[/color] The older man called from his house. [color=darkgoldenrod]"They run you out too?"[/color] [color=white]"I-- may have made a few trips to the mainland and came up with some money."[/color] The details of how exactly and why, left vague just as they had been back home when he'd disappear and did likewise. The exact marketable skill he possessed never spoken, but for whatever reason, whatever the amount, he seemed to be able to make it happen. [color=white]"It's too hot here now. I wouldn't be game to make anymore here as it is."[/color] He said more than he usually would, the leak perhaps coming because he viewed Banjo as old enough to have some sense of where it came from. [color=white]"That said, I went big enough and hard enough that I won't have to for a while..."[/color] [color=white]"Had to... since I can't exactly sell up, when I piss off. Trust me mate, you don't want to be known as one of the ones who stuck around from before, when the types who are looking to exploit a bargain get here."[/color] Banjo kicked at the dirt. Everyone running again. He'd done it all of his life but for some reason it seemed distasteful now. [color=white]"Sold the boat though. Well... upgraded."[/color] [color=darkgoldenrod]"Upgraded?"[/color] [color=white]"Yeah. Ripper boat but the [i]'Dawny Fraser'[/i] didn't seem fit for purpose so much anymore."[/color] He turned and looked back down at the pier. [color=white]"See that big bastard there?"[/color] [color=darkgoldenrod]"You mean behind that massive..."[/color] [color=white]"Nah mate, it is that massive one there. Say hello to the [i]'Thorpedo'[/i]."[/color] Gracefully sauntering out of the house in a wide brimmed sunhat stepped Margot, greeting him with pomp and ceremony. [color=mistyrose]"Why Hellooooooo, isn't it a delightful day for an outing? Will you be joining our boating party?"[/color] Banjo turned and glared at the older man. [color=darkgoldenrod]"Are you out of your--?"[/color] [color=white]"They were gonna put her in a home, mate... A lot of these people... Didn't have much better waitin' for them. So I managed to buy up an old smaller cruise vessel that's in decent nick. Or former cruise vessel. Regular humans aren't the only ones who can gouge a hype for a bargain from a forced Government sale..."[/color] He shook his head thinking of the logistics behind what he was doing, as well meaning as it was. [color=darkgoldenrod]"How many?"[/color] [color=white]"What?"[/color] [color=darkgoldenrod]"How many nutbags are joinin' you on this Ship of Fools for your three hour tour."[/color] [color=white]"A doz--"[/color] [color=darkgoldenrod]"Three hour tour."[/color] Banjo interrupted. [color=white]"Are you done..? About a dozen and a half."[/color] Banjo emitted a low long whistle. [color=darkgoldenrod]"Twenty people. Including sweet Lady Dementia over there. Scurvy, rickets or a storm..? What's gona claim you first?"[/color] [color=white]"Don't call her that... So am I saving you a seat?"[/color] For the first time in a while Banjo emitted a laugh. A growl of a cackle with almost no mirth, at the absurdity of the question. [color=darkgoldenrod]"Ha ha ha haaaa... No bloody way. I'd have a better chance stickin' around here and waitin' for the lynch mob to arrive, only I'm not doin' that either."[/color] [color=white]"So what are you doin'? Or did you just come up here to laugh at my well-meaning efforts, mate?"[/color] [color=darkgoldenrod]"Well, I know you said [b]WE[/b] don't have boat money, or buy a home on the alumni village money, but that [b]YOU[/b] have boat and alumni village money..."[/color] [color=white]"Aww here it comes..."[/color] The Butler straightened up, waiting for the younger man to cry poverty. [color=darkgoldenrod]"I haven't asked you for much of anythin'... in about two decades."[/color] Widening smirk crossed his long-suffering minder's face. [color=white]"Yeah, yeah... out with it. I think I see where this is goin'."[/color] [color=darkgoldenrod]"I need to you to buy me somethin' and I know you're not goin' to want to, or even understand why I'm askin'..."[/color] The Butler reached into his pocket. [color=white]"I think I'm way ahead of you on this one..."[/color] The older man held out a phone in his palm. Banjo looked surprised. [color=white]"The promise I made... was with the guy who used to run this place. To keep the kids who went here safe. Or... you know... the terrorist who was impersonating him. I guess I don't know exactly which one of them it was with in the end... Still my word's my word. But with the school gone belly up. I trust you at least know enough now to not get yourself into [b]TOO[/b] much trouble doing anything even stupider with that?"[/color] Banjo took the phone and weighed it in his hand. It felt lighter than he thought it ever would. [color=darkgoldenrod]"Y'know... if you don't make me promise not to do anythin' stupid, then we really don't ever have to pretend to ever be disappointed..."[/color] The older man side-eyed with a screwface. [color=darkgoldenrod]"But yeah... I know well enough to leave [b]THAT[/b] alone. Think I've got enough people out for my blood as it is without adding more to the party."[/color] [color=darkgoldenrod]"I mean... thanks and everythin'."[/color] He said, quickly pocketing the device before he changed his mind. [color=darkgoldenrod]"But that wasn't actually the request I had in mind..."[/color] [hr] [i][color=white]"Pity, I wish there were more of you."[/color] It dispatched the Gils in seconds. As they fell by the way side his mind steeled through the fog once more to divine strategy from the chaos. No blunt brute force. Another way... The cables sparking with electricity, the floor panel glitching with presumably exposed wiring beneath. Zimmerman. [i]You like heroes... Now's your chance.[/i] He thought to himself. Watching the beast's footwork and the glitching floor panel with a sharp focus. [color=red][sub]"Don't you dare. I know what you're thinking."[/sub][/color] [color=darkgoldenrod][sub]"I juice... maybe the leg has enough in it. I hit the opening. Slam through the panel. Draw its ire. Zimmerman steps in and fries that prick with every volt this place has from behind."[/sub][/color] The panel. It's feet. It turns to keep powered seniors in its sightlines. The larger man hissed back. [color=red][sub]"And you said my plan was terrible. You don't know how your leg is going to be. You don't know if you could be quick enough, and you certainly don't know if Alex won't freeze up in the moment. If it goes bad you'll kill all three of us."[/sub][/color] [color=darkgoldenrod][sub]"It's killing people now. He's out in the open."[/sub][/color] A heavy hand grabbed his shoulder. Banjo would have to freeze him to try, was the implication. [color=red][sub]"I won't let you. Anyway... look."[/sub][/color] Big Steve looked to distract him again. His focus was wondering and waning. He turned to keep up with events and got drawn back into watching. And then two stepped to the fore.[/i] [hr] [color=darkgoldenrod]"I'm in, but I've got a condition. Non-negotiable. You jokers are supposed to be all about respectin' personal flair, preference and caterin' to the individual. Time to put ya money where ya mouth is..."[/color] His hollow grin grew into a wide leer, as he spoke to the recruiter. [color=white]"Well, I've... certainly never heard a request like that before. And I-- well, I can't imagine it'd be very good--"[/color] [color=darkgoldenrod]"That's the condition. Run it up the flagpole. If ya can't do it, I'm not interested... But if you're claimin' that the Foundation caters to the individual, like you all always seem ever so proud to go sprukin'..."[/color] He jogged back down the corridor and out to the day. His leg was fine. The day after the incident at the dance he grew tired of waiting - tired of ruining his own life on a what if? - and juiced in the warmest part of the afternoon sun. Now it was fine, and he was left wondering how long he could have done that and been fine. How if his mind was running at full capacity, his body at its peak capability, would things have played out the same way they did. It was a fresh torture from the one he'd previously been experiencing after the trial, and one that thanks to his renewed focus, never gave him a moment's respite. He skirted around the A.R.C complete with its tape and new skylight feature, as he jogged off to the farm. He pushed on to the stable and pulled a handful of sugar cubes from his pocket. [color=darkgoldenrod]"I've got good news and bad news. Good news is, old mate bought ya for me. Much as someone can own another. So you're stuck with me now."[/color] The pony hoovered up the cubes, whilst Banjo rested his forehead on his namesake. [color=darkgoldenrod]"Where that's gonna be, I guess we'll see."[/color] [color=darkgoldenrod]"But I'm not leavin' you here in this foresaken place with these parasites of hyperhuman misery takin' over, that's for damn sure. I've seen how they treat places and things when their blood gets up, I'm not subjectin' you to that. No way, no how."[/color] [hr] [i]Alyssa and Luce stepped up to the moment. There was some sense of relief since he knew at least the pair of them likely had some kind of experience with something like what they were looking at. [color=darkgoldenrod][sub]"Yes! Get off of me, they're keeping it busy. There's a window!"[/sub][/color] The beast started to justify itself and spin. It had not chosen bloodshed it claimed, it defended itself when it was engaged in violence by others. ...clearly not addressing the hyperhuman popsicles in the room. It'd make a good lawyer with that attitude. [color=white]"I would dare say, this has been fun though."[/color] There was a playfulness to its cadence. Cassander Charon leaped back into the fray, as ever was his wont. An outburst from the Chernobog. Then Haven stepped forward to surrender herself, to end the violence. [color=#d2b48c]“Take me and end this.”[/color] She offered gently, a tear diluting the blood on her cheek. [color=#d2b48c]“Please, no more suffering.”[/color] Banjo ripped a shoulder through and broke free from Big Steve's grasp. Looking to make his move under the cover of the myriad distractions. He threw a hand up to signal to Zimmerman, but what came next glued his feet to the floor. [color=white]"Mother,"[/color] [indent][color=white]"“It’s too late for that now.”[/color][/indent] [center]A winged girl was strapped to a surgical table in the middle column of the top row. He recognised the sound of Haven’s own voice in her screams, and the sound of a bonesaw. The angles didn’t provide the best view of the winged girl, but just how many winged girls did he know? – and the screams certainly confirmed it.[/center] [indent][indent][indent][right]Banjo staggered, his chest churned and he felt he was about to vomit everywhere.[/right][/indent][/indent][/indent] [indent][indent][right][color=white]“Father only needs your blood.”[/color][/right][/indent][/indent] Another useless appeal to the man echoed from somewhere beyond Banjo's notice. He was lost within the moment. [color=white]“There is no Robert left,”[/color] A truth Banjo already knew. [color=white]“Only Chernobog. You couldn’t save Robert, anymore than you could save any of those who left. Those who never made it home.”[/color] A laugh followed the cruel statement. The cruel statement. The laugh. Playful cruelty. A darkness revelled in. [indent][right][color=white]“She cried for him, you know? Her lover, her last breath, barely a whimper by the end as Father took the last of her life,”[/color][/right][/indent] [right]A playful cruelty.[/right] [right][color=white]“‘Andrew!’ It was for ‘Andrew’, ‘Andrew, save me,’.”[/color][/right] His mouth fell open. The cadence. [color=F796A9]"Banjo, I... hear a voice..." "...hitting every insecurity I have." "The voice of my anxieties. A depressive manifestation. She says it sounds like it may be dissociative..." "The Trials." “I can’t believe I was ever that weak.” “Really? A panic attack right now? Couldn't handle not being the center of attention could you, Princess.” "It hates me. Hates my hapiness. Our happiness. It hates you, but still says that you'll find out horrible truths about me and that you'll leave. That I'll never be good enough." "I have an idea!" "Look, twinsies!"[/color] He turned the puzzle pieces in his head. [indent][right][color=F796A9]“She cried for him, you know? Her lover, her last breath, barely a whimper by the end as Father took the last of her life,”[/color][/right][/indent] [right][color=F796A9]“‘Andrew!’ It was for ‘Andrew’, ‘Andrew, save me,’.”[/color][/right] [color=darkgoldenrod][sub][sup]"--Calli..?"[/sup][/sub][/color] [color=#ff9f36]“Go to Sheol,”[/color] A stark voice penetrated what seemed to be a moment of absolute silence and snapped him from his paralysis. With a flick of her wrist, Alyssa hurled the disk like stone through the air, the object sticking the Chernobog, transferring the rune to the beast. Pushing herself, Alyssa scrambled to Haven’s fallen form, tackling the girl out of the way as the Chernobog began to glow. A sphere of energy burst forth from the rune before a vacuum began to consume the creature. [color=white]"NO!"[/color] A scream. A roar. The desperation palpable. It scratched and clawed against the inevitable. Clutching at an existence, for what to Banjo, must have been a second time, and watching it get torn from a grasp which even claws could not cling to. It snatched at half of it's mission and dragged her off to wherever this 'Sheol' was. The stark silence that followed was palpable. People were scared to break it. As a few tears penetrated in muffled moments it became clear that whatever that was, it was now over. Now they just had to live with it. Those lucky enough to still be able. [/i] [hr] His pony was tied to a post down the beach. He barely had the give-a-shit to hide it anymore, but then people had enough on their minds its presence never came up to require an explanation. Or rather there was pity over his loss. People seemed unwilling to broach, well, anything with him in the days since. He leaned on two cartons of beer for personal use that the Speakeasy was all too willing to offload to a regular from the island and university. In the coming days all remaining assets would be seized regardless, better to see it go to a person they knew rather than the scavengers from the mainland. He'd been chain-skulling beers throughout, and juicing periodically to keep the booze inside him with the rest of the poison. Painful silences and teammates he could barely face. He hadn't looked at Haven since. He visited her in the Hospital a few times before she regained consciousness, but all interest in doing that again dissipated the second he was informed that she had woken up. His leg was fine now. How long could that have been the case, if he'd bothered to try? Even if he went to early and always had a limp, he still would have been using his power often enough to have the wherewithal to see through such an obvious ruse. And it had been an obvious ruse, hadn't it? Calli had been all too eager to believe her family might actually come together over a shared tragedy, but if his mind anywhere near as well as it usually did, that pragmatic cynicism of his would have shone right through the paper thin trap they set to see the pit beneath it. His mind which wasn't working to capacity because he got lazy and stupid in the Trials. How many died? How many maimed, because he didn't see what was right in front of him? His short-handed team had joined numbers with another decimated team Eclipse. Brothers and sisters in Tragedy. [color=#d2b48c]"Katja's coming this way."[/color] A statement of the obvious, designed to breach the painful silence. But not as obvious in Banjo's case who hadn't noticed due to the fog he brought down over his own head under weight of beer. He never spoke to her about Gil, Amma and his actions. What could be said? She had kind of withdrawn herself since then anyway, not that he could blame her or anybody for that. It's not like the sentiment wouldn't be understandable. [color=#a24857]“I think… I think I miss my home.”[/color] Uttered one of Cleo's teammates. [i]Home.[/i] Home was dead. He didn't have a home. Even if this place wasn't getting shuttered he still wouldn't have had one. All he had was anger, guilt, and a laundry list of things to do and accounts to settle. He opened another beer. People looking to cling to people. It made sense. After all, if it didn't he wouldn't have asked for the pony down the shoreline. When tragedy strikes, people want to cling to the safety of the familiar and that which they still care about at all. He didn't know if he could say that about all of the present company, but enough of them he guessed. [color=#8a9a5b][i]“This was…is my home…”[/i][/color][color=#a9a9a9] Baxter spoke up. Some weird shit had since happened to her eyes, but she wasn't exactly one of those he cared enough about to find out how or why. [/color][color=#8a9a5b][i]“It’s the only one I’ve known since my parents died. And I... I don’t think I’m ready to let that go.”[/i][/color] Baxter couldn't take the silence. Predictable, he figured. Looked like this was going to be the 'So what's everybody doing now' talk, presumably. [color=#8a9a5b][i]“Maybe I don’t know where I’m going next, but whatever that looks like…I don’t want to do it alone. I don’t want to lose my home.”[/i][/color] He pounded another beer, and spat on the sand. He was going to have to juice again soon or things could get messy. He clung to the fog a while longer. Cleo picked up on the direction of the conversation as well. [color=#94b9ff]"I'm... going to join the Foundation,"[/color] Mentally he made a note of there being someone he would be familiar with. [color=#fe650d]“You’ll be safe there.”[/color] Lorcán replied with a saccharine lie. Addressing the emotions of the person making the statement rather than the facts of what was said. [color=#fe650d]“We’r-”[/color] He hesitated. [i]Cobbling together a thought, or questioning the truth of his first statement?[/i] Banjo thought. [color=#fe650d] “I’m,”[/color] He corrected before continuing to speak, [color=#fe650d]“I’m going to Crestwood Hollow tomorrow to stay with Cass and Ripley.”[/color] Referring to his family. [color=#fe650d]“My parents thought it best if I was aware from here while the dust settles and they get their affairs in order. They’re going to be trying to get jobs to keep the house in the village. If that doesn’t pan out,”[/color] Banjo thought back to what the Butler had said about 'don't want to be known as one of the ones who stuck around from before, when the types who are looking to exploit a bargain get here.' But decided to keep his mouth shut. [color=#fe650d]“I guess, we’ll all move to Crestwood Hollow and live with my Aunt and Uncle until something permanent works out.”[/color] [i]Family. Must be nice.[/i] [color=white]"We don't mean to disturb you,"[/color] Two people came over, seeking some kind of company, comraderie or likeminded sentiment. Banjo didn't have the stomach for it and peeled off. He wandered down to the shoreline to juice and piss into the sea. Not something he'd have done if Calliope were still in the picture, but that wasn't the case anymore. When he came back he saw the girl handing Gil something small and metallic, as he caught a glint of a reflection. Perhaps sensing his lack of desire to deal with them, they finished their conversation and bid them farewell. He felt directed silence. It seemed they took his departure as less apathetic and more an aggressively sought absence. Or at least that was how he took it. A request for his thoughts. Well, people didn't have to not-ask twice... [color=darkgoldenrod]"Daedalus..."[/color] He spoke the unspoken name of the last few days. [color=darkgoldenrod]"He's still out there, and there's only one lead left. The Foundation. He's known there. He's from there. We didn't even know about him until we had contact with there. The suffering he'd caused. And what little we've learned has mostly come from there."[/color] [color=darkgoldenrod]"I can't promise you safety. But then, I pretty much feel anyone who claims they can promise safety to any of us at this point, anywhere, is lying to you. But that's the only place that holds anything even vaguely recognisable as justice."[/color] He couldn't even bring himself to look in Haven and Rory's direction as he spoke. [color=darkgoldenrod]"I know I've never had much of a prosecutorial side to me... But I'm gonna go to the Foundation. I'm gonna drag him out of whatever hole he's hidin' in, and throw him in a deeper one, so dark that he forgets what the sun looks like."[/color] [color=darkgoldenrod]"And when that prick looks across the bench, after bein' told he doesn't get to breathe free for the rest of his natural life. He's gonna know it was [b]ME[/b]. And he's gonna know exactly how and where he fucked up."[/color] [/color]