[color=gray][center][img]https://i.imgur.com/pYnp1iu.jpeg[/img][/CENTER][indent][sub][COLOR=silver][B]Location:[/B][/COLOR] [i]The Foundation Institute - Atlantic Ocean[/i] [/sub][sup][right][COLOR=silver][b]Human #5.093:[/b][/COLOR] [I]eschata.[/I][/right][/sup][/indent][center][sup][color=#2e2c2c]_____[/color][color=#373534]_____[/color][color=#403d3c]_____[/color][color=#494644]_____[/color][color=#524f4c]_____[/color][color=#5b5754]_____[/color][color=#64605d]_____[/color][color=#6e6965]_____[/color][color=#77716d]_____[/color][color=#807a75]_____[/color][color=#89837d]_____[/color][color=#928b85]_____[/color][/sup][sup][color=#9b948d]_____[/color][/sup][sup][color=#928b85]_____[/color][color=#89837d]_____[/color][color=#807a75]_____[/color][color=#77716d]_____[/color][color=#6e6965]_____[/color][color=#64605d]_____[/color][color=#5b5754]_____[/color][color=#524f4c]_____[/color][color=#494644]_____[/color][color=#403d3c]_____[/color][color=#373534]_____[/color][color=#2e2c2c]_____[/color][/sup][/center][INDENT][sub][color=silver][B]Interaction(s):[/B][/COLOR] [I]elm. - [@CaliforniaState][/I][/sub][SUP][RIGHT][COLOR=silver][b]Previously:[/b][/COLOR] [I]and for no today. & no survivors.[/I][/right][/SUP] [INDENT] [i]Her body hurts. [/i] [i]Her head hurt.[/i] [i]Everything hurt.[/i] There’s a lingering, ominous tendril that has wormed itself behind her eyes, it has nestled betwixt her ears, submerged into soft tissue and matter, it pulsates as a reminder of her weakness as her skull threatens to split apart at its muddled seams. Every breath is shorn quick and hard as panting exertion that fumbles through her lips until she’s shown into a spartan, pristine room that lies as an orifice bridled in shadow and fear. That coiling antiseptic smell rammed into her sinuses, flooded through her lungs, and scorched her throat as she coughed, fumbling into the dark, slivers of moonlight her only means as a door was quickly and quietly sealed behind her, locking her in. Scylla gasps, the weight of her situation settled hard among her shoulders and plummeting into her belly that churns sour in regret and bubbles with the juice she had imbibed to snuff out the invasion of [i]someone[/i] in her head. Whoever, whatever, it was, still festered there as a reminder of her floundering abilities; the usual pink-hued walls of her mind were immediately sundered and shattered so easily and left in fragmented pieces of her will. P.R.C.U had taught her nothing, it only succeeded in fortifying her insecurities, bathing her as lesser and celebrating her for it, wearing her into a unit of others so securely that Scylla was absolutely nothing without them. Alone, she was weaker than she had ever felt, not even when the mortal coil had vacated her body and dubbed her[i] Hyperhuman[/i]. It was an unsettling feeling, further magnified by the sparse comforts of her newly bequeathed room: just a bed and a desk, shoved to opposite corners. The message was clear, as if written in crude ink on a freshly painted wall, she would not be here long enough to personalize it, she would not remain in her room long enough to consider if more than a means of rest. This was not her home, and she was not welcome here, marred by the shame of her powerless body and the tan fabric gone lopsided on her frame; ill-fitted, ill-wanted, and ill-worn. Scylla stumbled, felt for the edge of the bed, dug her nails into crisp sheets, and lowered herself to sit with a trembling arm that barely held her weight. And so she sat with knees drawn up to her chest, arms coiled around them as she buried her face against the dark discovered there. If she dug hard enough into her sockets, maybe the curious, undulating shapes and spindles of colors would render her blind or save her from the inevitability of their trials to be faced tomorrow, perhaps she could submit herself to the pressure and allow The Foundation to have her body. Because that was what they wanted, right? That’s what they did to [i]her[/i]. To others. The rumors had all been true, and they had all dismissed them as hearsay of an unhinged woman because she had simply been [i]different[/i]. Scylla pierced her nails into her arms, ignored the tingling pain, ignored the sting of her skin, and allowed the hours to muddle and pass into trickling despair. She thought she’d be able to make a difference, could be more, more than the emotional creature that surrendered to the limitations of her mind because it was just easier. Easier to allow Stephen to take the reins, to permit the others of Raindance to make the decisions whilst she lingered back, her powers didn’t work correctly without some blanket of security, they were supplementary at best. They were… [color=ffffff]“Scylla.”[/color] Her head snapped up, pieces of white-blonde hair plastered against the redness splotched over her features, hidden in shadow as her eyes slowly refocused, feathers of black blurring away into jagged edges, as Stephen stood in her doorway. There was a brightness to the amber shell of his stare, a vulnerability never known as he suddenly rushed her, folded her acutely, trembling frame in his grasp and held tight, as if she’d vanish. They breathed one another in, hands clasped securely over black and tan, and in the moonlight eclipse of the unknown, with fear beside and terror abound, Scylla allowed herself to weep. But it was not in lamenting sadness, or heartache, for this was anger churned wrought with fear. Fierce and piercing, it consumed her entirely in a vice as she shoved her palms against his shoulders and burrowed the severe emerald of her cutting gaze into the precious jewels of his own. [color=ffffff]“What the [i]fuck[/i] is happening?”[/color] He flinched, obviously stricken. [color=ffffff]“What-”[/color] [color=ffffff]“These people, this place.”[/color] She hissed and turned her head, using her sleeve to wipe away her tears, ashamed of her weakness, but unable to stop it. [color=ffffff]“We, [i]I[/i] came here to learn more, be able to do more. Be more. But, I couldn’t even pass their stupid little test. Why lock us into such small rooms? What’s the reason behind all of this?”[/color] Stephen shook his head, rising to his full height to pace through the shadows of her room, making notable observations of what little was afforded to them, the first few who failed to endure their solitude. Compared to his room, which was far more accommodating and adequately furnished with a personal washroom that he didn’t have to share, this was little more than a closet. Did they seek to incite resentment against the ‘Phi’ to nurture that divide between the students further? [color=ffffff]“Everything is a test, Scy. I’m just not sure what they’re looking for, or what we’re being graded against. If anything. Maybe this is just what they do. You said it yourself, she was always so cold and aloof and harsh. Perhaps this is how: strip everyone to expose the truth.”[/color] [color=ffffff]“What truth? ‘Find your own identity’,“[/color] she recited with a laugh, shoulders shaking. [color=ffffff]“Maybe you’re right, and that is how they do it. Pulled apart layer by layer. That feast was a joke and you know it.”[/color] Stephen hummed and avoided her green eyes. [color=ffffff]“I was… surprised when I saw you, after the, well, you know.”[/color] She flushed scarlet with shame, pulled her knees back against her chest and held them there, watching silently as he paced back and forth. [color=ffffff]“The meal, I get, while I feel bad for the whole horse thing-”[/color] [color=ffffff]“That was someone’s pet, Steph, we saw it on the beach, remember?”[/color] [color=ffffff]“I do, but-”[/color] [color=ffffff]“But what?”[/color] She hissed. Perhaps she was being unreasonable, cutting him off every chance she got, but as always, her emotions were unbridled and doubly felt, and with no outlet to be found, she did what she thought best to soothe her fears, and that was to lash out at the only person she had left now. Frustrated, Stephen simply sighed. [color=ffffff]“This isn’t why I came here.”[/color] With a mutter, he reached into one of the many pockets of his uniform and pulled out a delicate, silver chain, and dangling now in the moonlight, reflected the perfect rendition of a rain drop. [color=ffffff]“I found it with my stuff… I’m guessing they’re either holding some belongings until they’re thoroughly checked, or…”[/color] [color=ffffff]“Or we haven’t proven ourselves yet to have our things,”[/color] Scylla whispered while plucking the chain from his hand. Her fingers brushed over his as a mute apology. Carefully, she fitted the necklace against her throat and immediately felt grounded by the coolness of the metal that settled. [color=ffffff]“Thank you.”[/color] Stephen immediately knelt before her, his fingers warm and comforting as they enmeshed with her own, the chill coiling through her body bringing forth a shudder that worked through her bones. Their eyes met in a clash of green and amber as he swore: [color=ffffff]“I’ll find out the truth, Scy, I’ll find out why this is happening. I promise.”[/color] [color=ffffff]“I don’t want to be alone.”[/color] [color=ffffff]“I know,”[/color] he acknowledged in a whisper. [color=ffffff]“I know, I promised I wouldn’t let you come here alone, and I promise I won’t let you [i]be[/i] alone.”[/color] [color=ffffff]“Stay with me until I fall asleep?”[/color] Stephen glanced back at her door. Surely there wasn’t a curfew, right? Would they come checking their rooms, and if so, would they seek to punish the students for visiting each other in this dark hour? When he glanced back towards Scylla and noted the fresh well of tears in her eyes and the quiver of her lips that he couldn’t resist tasting, he decided then to take the risk. [color=ffffff]“Always,”[/color] he whispered into their kiss, allowing her to pull him into the bed with her. Later, under the disguise of midnight, he would leave her room. Later, he would walk down the halls, silent and creeping through the shadows. He could have stayed, he knew, but something told him they’d be punished for being found together, especially if they were so committed to separating them even during the welcoming dinner. And perhaps he should have, for when he turned the corner, his room only a few doors down, something sprang from the shadows and struck, piercing deep into flesh, a vial of something unknown being pumped into his veins before he fell, and did not get up. [center][sup][color=#2e2c2c]_____[/color][color=#373534]_____[/color][color=#403d3c]_____[/color][color=#494644]_____[/color][color=#524f4c]_____[/color][color=#5b5754]_____[/color][color=#64605d]_____[/color][color=#6e6965]_____[/color][color=#77716d]_____[/color][color=#807a75]_____[/color][color=#89837d]_____[/color][color=#928b85]_____[/color][/sup][sup][color=#9b948d]_____[/color][/sup][sup][color=#928b85]_____[/color][color=#89837d]_____[/color][color=#807a75]_____[/color][color=#77716d]_____[/color][color=#6e6965]_____[/color][color=#64605d]_____[/color][color=#5b5754]_____[/color][color=#524f4c]_____[/color][color=#494644]_____[/color][color=#403d3c]_____[/color][color=#373534]_____[/color][color=#2e2c2c]_____[/color][/sup][/center] Through all the interconnected pods that remained, there is one that displayed itself as one of The Foundation’s prized facilities; opened to the sky as if a metallic flower in bloom, yielding solar panels that twist and rotate, illuminating the space in a barrier of light that cocoons over the yawning pit below. Staggered arrangements of benches, seats, and walls of fortified steel loom above and ring the entire arena from one entrance to another. [i]A colosseum.[/i] There are reserved stations above, a boxed viewing seat walled off in reflective glass, and in the surrounding chasm lie curious, ebony-plated modules that periodically scan the dug-out stadium. Remnants of battles long past scour the ground in familiar gouges, pieces of the walls utterly decimated, left as reminders of what hell was unleashed here once before. The Foundation Force’s banners are put on display here too, for once upon a time they were thrown into this ditch just the same and puppeted to put their powers on display for the trials endured. For one never ceased proving their worth here, one never stopped to rest, even when risen to the highest echelon. Breakfast that morning had been quick and efficient, supplied with protein bars and quick-fix shakes, similarly branded as Hyper-Aid, but chalky and genetically modified with supplements. Either way, it curbed hunger for those garbed in tan whilst the dubbed ‘Phi’ were permitted a more fulfilling luxury of freshly cooked food. Scylla’s belly rumbled at the tantalizing aromas, but could not give way to the temptation of it; they couldn’t trust whatever nutrition they supplied, not really, and even the nutrition bar had given her pause before she chewed through compacted granola and fought to swallow it. They would need the energy for whatever awaited them as they were led in a procession into the stands, once more segregated from the students of The Foundation that clamored around them, a buzzing energy fled through every black donned body, some displaying armor and even weapons, preening themselves on full display. Something was off about it all: slightly askew in a place that appeared to embody perfection. A mishappen picture, perhaps framed crookedly and yet forced to remain aligned by the tilt of a head or the adjustments of a subject on the wall, pushed this way and that to appear normal. Scylla peered through the sea of black, looking for Stephen, wanting to confirm her suspicions by his observations, but through every pass she failed to spot familiar amber eyes and black hair. He’s not here. It was a thought of her conclusion, and yet not, with a voice quaking through her head as she kept searching. Again and again, she couldn’t find him, alarm quickly spearing through her bones and cutting deep in her heart, for just a few hours ago they’d been together… and in those precious moments he had sworn to her, as he had on the beach, to announce his promise anew that she would not be alone. Though she had awoken without him beside her, she had assumed he had left on the potential of discovery, and couldn’t fault him for it. Only to still be left alone as she was, surrounded by unfamiliar faces in an unfamiliar place, even the students of P.R.C.U were different here, assuaged by their hopeless fears and some that fell victim to the entitlement of their ebony dressings, forgetting their loyalties in exchange for the allure of power. A Force indeed. A sudden blare of music alerted the amassing student body, a trumpet fanfare that demanded attention towards the risen, northern juncture of the arena. A dias was now situated just below the boxed, viewing seat where steps led up to the ceremonial platform now occupied by Dr. William Montgomery, cane steadily in hand, dressed impeccably in tailored finery. Another stood with him dressed as flawlessly, and the hush that fell over immediately alerted Scylla to who they were. His name was uttered and whispered, some with awe and some with fear, but quieted just the same. [i]Nakamura Yoshi.[/i] [color=ffffff]“Good morning!”[/color] A microphone quickly picks up the doctor’s voice, now amplified through discreetly hidden speakers in every row as the students begin to settle. [color=ffffff]“We hope you slept well and have found your new accommodations satisfactory.”[/color] Someone behind her scoffed, shifting in their seat uncomfortably, and she seconded the sentiment. There was no comfort in such furnishings, the sheets had been just as itchy as the clothing. [color=ffffff]“Yesterday was our welcoming feast for our newly acquired friends from Pacific Royal, which we hoped you all enjoyed.”[/color] If there was mockery to be had, it fell prey to the silence of Nakamura’s presence, who shifted just so, the shuffle of his polished boots picked up in such detail that the scuff of leather and metal was nearly felt as if right beside each of them. [color=ffffff]“As more means of celebration for this union, we’ve sought to enact a long and well-loved tradition of holding a tournament, something we typically host at the beginning of the year to adjust the curriculum to the better and the lesser.”[/color] [color=ffffff]“To discover all possible strengths and weaknesses.”[/color] William stepped aside, making a broad gesture toward the founder of their institution. [color=ffffff]“Now, allow me to introduce the ‘Head’ of the Alexandria Foundation. Nakamura Yoshi.”[/color] [color=ffffff]“As already stated by Dr. Montgomery, we welcome those from Pacific Royal. This tournament is a tried and true means of discovering the uniqueness of every individual and the power they possess.”[/color] He glanced from each student, from P.R.C.U to those of the Foundation as he continued. [color=ffffff]“Whereas you were taught to work in teams,”[/color] at this, he focused his gaze onto those seen in a divide of black and tan. [color=ffffff]“Here we cater to the strength of the individual and work to help you discover the true potential within rather than confine you into working with others. While we sometimes practice in pairs, we are looking for those with the abilities of a true Force.”[/color] [color=ffffff]“In you, we endeavor to discover a new champion.”[/color] Though calmly stated, it incited a ripple of excitement through most, whilst some, like Scylla, remained quiet, hands clasped in her lap and arms rigid at the looming prospect of facing off against those apparent in their blood-thirst. Across the stadium, Foundation students began gesturing and calling out to the Pacific Royal students, laying claim to turns, all clamoring to go first. [color=ffffff]“As tradition,”[/color] William resumed with Nakamura discreetly stepping down from the dias, immediately disappearing into a darkened corridor opposite the main entrance they had walked through earlier. [color=ffffff]“There are no limitations or means of disqualification; you either win.”[/color] [color=ffffff]“Or you don’t.”[/color] Was it really that simple? Her breath quickened and relapsed, there had to be a catch somewhere. If there were no rules, how would one determine the winner? [color=ffffff]“Survive and fight. Fight and survive. Now let us begin with the first match.”[/color] He snapped his cane against the ground with a sharp, immediate sound that echoed through the arena like a gunshot. Reflected off the glass above, a series of names, barcodes, and numbers immediately flashed, randomly cycled and filed and rolling across the surface so fast that they couldn’t be pinpointed until it finally stopped. [color=ffffff]“Scylla Fluerane and Elmira Canovis.”[/color][/INDENT][/INDENT][/color]