The scene that greeted him above was one of devastation, the stench of the sea so much weaker than it was in the claustrophobic tunnels and the might of the Amigos so much clearer in the light of day. Seaweed clung to one side of the lighthouse, which had stood strong despite the spiderweb fractures that indicated something larger had been smashed against its sides. The forest had been all but demolished, flame, rot, and tidal waves clearing it all away.
It was just soil now, soaked with sea salt and brine, an unfortunate fish flapping about. Poor things, caught up in a conflict greater than what their piscine minds could comprehend. Brent wondered where those flippity floppity bastards were when he had gone fishing, but ultimately, he kicked the resilient bastard back into the waters. It survived whatever the hell the Amigos did, after all. Would be a shame to die of suffocation after that. Musing over pointless trash like that, the arbiter flicked out his phone and laughed at the results. Angelic, still DISCONNECTED on the other side of the island. Gregory, still DISCONNECTED only a short distance away from the estate. And everyone else moving on and on andβ¦
Christ, he didnβt give a fuck.
Once the adrenaline had faded, once the immediate threat of death had gone, once no one he knew was in the process of getting horribly mauled to death, once the storm had stopped hammering down on the world before, the only thing left was the lingering aftertaste of disappointment. He looked at his hands, closed it, and grasped nothing. He looked around him, blinked, and saw nothing. And with nothing to do, nothing to see, nothing he wanted to think, Brent naturally turned towards Siena.
His mouth opened and then closed.
And Brent smiled instead, turning and walking off into the devastated remains of the forest, towards the direction of the estate that had been such a waste of time those past weeks.
Upon catching sight of the motel lights, Zoe had quickened her pace slightly - glancing warily back at her teammates to check that they weren't taking the action as hostile. Figuring they probably had better things to do than worry about her deciding to speedwalk, she pressed on. Whoever was in there, they had a chance of being hostile, and like hell was she taking a chance on that. If opening the door meant some kind of energy blast to the face, she'd more than earned it by now.
Of course, there was some practical merit to the decision beyond her guilty conscience. Buildings meant close quarters, and she was more capable of handling herself in that situation than most, so having her take the lead made sense. Best case scenario, it wouldn't matter, and the building would provide some much needed shelter for the exhausted, injured, and outright traumatised. Whatever her reasoning, she'd managed to pull ahead of the others slightly, knocking firmly on the door.
"You from the town?" She was tense as she called out, as prepared to defend herself as she was to make conversation. "We're friendly."
"That's debatable."
Murmurs and shuffling could be heard behind the door before it swung open. Andrew raised an eyebrow at the soggy state of the student's clothes. Behind him, a small crowd of Arbiters stared out, suspicion and fear clear in their expressions. They looked disheveled, clearly just hurried out of bed by the news of invaders on the island. A quick glance back from the cafe owner hushed them.
Zoe didn't even have a snappy comeback for that one, considering her recent actions. Instead, she sighed, resignation clear on her face.
"...the others are better. Just need some shelter to figure stuff out - it's been one hell of a rough morning." It had surprised her slightly to see Andrew, even if it made sense for him to be taking shelter with everyone else; she'd almost completely forgotten about the guy. So she paused, glancing back towards her classmates, the gears turning in her head for a few moments. Information. He gathered information, saw things that were miles away. And considering the situation... appearing to come to some sort of decision, she nodded to herself.
"And I need to talk to you, alone." Realising she wasn't exactly trustworthy, she continued. "Without my classmates, at least. If you want someone to point a gun at me, I get it."
Andrew shared a puzzled look with the pony-tailed woman.
She shrugged, her fingers tapping restlessly on the pistol on her belt. "Stranger's out of my range. Should be somewhat safe now. Joey, stay put with the others."
The blue-eyed man nodded, watching with a grim frown as the town's co-leaders headed out. The location of choice was a half-floored hallway, drenched carpets leading to what was planned to be the kitchen area. Mary and Andrew kept their distance from Zoe.
"So," Andrew said, "What do you need?"
Looking at the pair, Zoe spoke casually.
"Couple of questions, that's all. Don't know how your power works, exactly, so you might not be able to answer them." She shrugged, fairly relaxed in the absence of any murderous urge - her Stigma more than sated after recent events. The need for privacy was less out of a desire to be vague or mysterious, and more that she'd rather think up a plan without fifteen people whining in her ear. Better to control the situation and make choices from there.
"First, I wanna know if there are any Amigos left on the island, and what they're doing. A bunch of 'em escaped, but I know there were some further inland. Killed one of us, and I don't know what happened after that." Her expression brightened ever-so-slightly at that, before she grimaced. "Don't think anyone else is coming for us, but I'm not happy leaving any of them wandering around town either."
A sideways glance at Mary and Andrew shook his head, though the motion didn't seem in response to Zoe's questions. "Here's how my power works, since you seem to be under some impression that I'm an all-knowing seer. I see and hear snippets, fragments--maybe entire little episodes if I'm lucky. And only of information that I'm not currently seeking. So the moment you ask me anything? It's off the table. If I were that useful you think Zhang would leave me here?"
"There was a stranger some moments before you arrived. Moved huge distances instantly. Out of my detection range now, but there's one you might want to keep an eye out for," Mary cut in, watching Zoe carefully. She was sure any mage under Zhang's careful eye was capable of immense powers. The woman rarely let the useless fester under her.
"Great." Zoe sighed. It made sense that he wasn't that powerful, but she'd hoped. "It was worth a try, at least, but scrap the next couple questions. Thanks anyway." She'd been ready to turn and leave, but Mary's addition gave her pause. She turned to the woman with a vicious-looking grin as a new idea sprung into her head. Looked like she might get some of her answers after all, one way or another.
"This stranger... were they alone?"
The prim woman narrowed her eyes at Zoe's look. She considered shooing the girl out, but decided it was better to let Zhang's rabid animals run wild at someone else, especially if they happened to be the Amigos.
"As alone as I could tell. My limit's roughly the town's edge."
Zoe nodded to herself. Perfect. "Town's edge. Got it." It'd be a pain to try and catch a teleporter, but all she needed to do was get close enough to start the effect and killing them would be simple. That wasn't what she cared about, though - that her opponent was alone, without backup, meant there would be one more possibility. One that brought a smile to her face and a spring to her step.
Because if they were alone, she could take them alive. Make them tell her what all this was about. And that brought with it so many possibilities. Trying, and failing, to ignore the slight anticipation that came with the idea, she gave the pair an appreciative look. Despite her behaviour being a little off, the relative lack of bloodlust meant she could be calm about this. The idea ultimately being a logical decision, if ruthless.
"Thanks for the help." With that, she took her cue to leave, beginning to make her way back outside before a thought struck her and she called out over her shoulder. "And do me a favour; don't tell the others any of that. I'd rather most of them stay out of my way."
A rough grunt answered her as Andrew blinked, eyes fading into that silhouette of his power again. β βItβs not physical. Something more,β β he repeated the words as if reciting lines. Another blink and he clicked his tongue. βI get curious and there it goes. Now Iβm watching a frog hop towardsββ
He closed his eyes, opening them back to normal.
βKid youβre looking for is hiding somewhere on the north end of town. Couldnβt catch the location details, but I know the general look of the place. And they got one of yours. Sheβs in pieces but sheβs alive.β
At Andrew's final statement, Zoe froze for a brief second. One of theirs, a she, and missing - there was only one person that description could possibly fit. In pieces, taken by the Amigos, but alive.
Angel was alive.
And suddenly, things seemed to make a little more sense. They'd killed Gregory - tried to kill everyone else, too, but taken her alive. So they'd come here for her, and they'd succeeded. A kidnapping. Suddenly, their failure to stop the Amigos' escape stung a whole lot worse. If she'd made another move, been a little smarter or faster, a little more in control...
"Guess that's my other question answered. I'll figure out the rest." A small nod, mostly to herself. On some level, she knew she couldn't tell the others any of this. At least not until there was something to do about it. Until she had some idea where the Amigos were going, what they wanted, it would only leave the others chasing a hopeless dream. Better to let them believe the singer was dead for now. Maybe that choice made her a cruel person, but it was for their own good.
They'd know when it mattered, when Zoe had figured out enough. And the first step in doing that was to head north and find the last one of the fuckers that did this. One way or another, she'd find out why they'd taken her, why all of this had happened - no matter what that ended up taking. There was no reason for her to waste time. With a last nod of acknowledgement to the pair, Zoe walked away, quiet fury burning in her gaze.
Whoever this teleporter turned out to be, she was going to make them wish they'd never been born.
There were a number of things that Siena expected as she moved after Brent to the outdoors. She expected things to be worse than they'd been before, knew that she had to expect a certain level of disaster from her own interference, but imagining it, expecting it, was a far cry from actually experiencing it. The Arbiter found her eyes trailing over...she couldn't call it ruins. She could barely call it shambles. It was...disaster. Destruction. Uninhibited, but not unstoppable. A hollow echo of something that might have been remorse? Despair? It was too muffled, too quiet a reaction for her to accurately identify, but Siena knew it was there. It required little acknowledgement in the face of the two thoughts that came to mind in response to sight of destruction.
You couldn't have stopped it.
You could have done worse.
No shudder passed through her, the lack of reaction causing the brunette to pause in her tracks, grey eyes turning to find something better to focus on. Something easier to make her priority, something that took her mind off of everything else. She'd have time to regret and grieve later, so she had to keep walking. Ignore the ache, ignore the exhaustion, ignore her own problems because she could do more. She could do more. The words repeated themselves in a rhythm to match each step, to overpower the feel of her heart beating against her ribs. It was easier that way.
Perhaps that was what made her so much more aware of the motions of the boy before her. The turn. The moment where she thought he might speak that lapsed into something that might have been a smile. The instant he started walking. It couldn't have been more than a few seconds, but it seemed to drag on, fill countless minutes as twenty thousand thoughts created a sandstorm that screeched and burned and tore at her, each one demanding something different, the same thing. She. Couldn't. Tell.
Her feet started moving before the rest of her caught up with the moment, words forming with surprising ease.
"You are aware that regrouping usually doesn't involve walking away from our teammates, right?"
He took too long to act on his impulse. Too much hesitation again. If he didn't turn, if he didn't think to and then suppress that urge to announce his plan of action, perhaps Siena wouldn't have pursued, wouldn't have asked. Maybe it'd be easy enough to lie about needing to piss in the trees. Or that he noticed something or the other. Or some equally weak attempt at deception.
But Brent remembered every little 'promise' he made, and even if he was prone to breaking some, the arbiter still bound himself to some others. Suicidal and idiotic and pitiful as he was, he could at least...
"Yup. Totally aware."
That was enough of a non-answer. He continued walking.
"Town's the opposite direction."
Ernie's voice called out, the boy having followed his two friends out. His face was a show of barely restrained irritation.
"Are you aware of that?"
Brent didn't even have to turn this time. Tone alone was enough to detect the boiling frustration and anger. Something was going to burn down, sooner or later.
"Yup." Solid, yielding. Quickly, like tearing off a bandaid. "Heading to the estate."
It didnβt take long for it to turn to bickering. It seemed to Emma it was inevitable. She trailed Ernie out of the lighthouse, Determination in turn following her. She gave Brent a look of incredulity, βAnd why, exactly, do you need to head back there? We should probably stick together with the Amigos lurking about.β she said, trying her best to sound non-confrontational, in hopes of maybe defusing the potential situation in front of her.
Again? Something close to fear rose in response to Brent's declaration. Back to the estate. By then, whatever distractions that had been afforded to their first venture were almost certain to be dealt with. Images of broken bodies, lifeless eyes, and--stop. Stop, stop, stop! The mental barrier rose suddenly, as though desperate to stop her from accessing something beyond whatever visions she could conjure. It was something different from the usual attempts to pull herself away before she dove too far, and...and what? But the divide did not fall, and Siena was left with only what was before her to deal with.
"They're right. We...we can't be certain that the hostiles haven't taken over the estate." Even if that meant accepting that everyone in the estate had perished in the onslaught. A flicker of hesitation--she could lie, but what good would that do when he'd started without saying a word? Would he have stopped even without a surefire escape plan?
...would she even have let him go alone? It was hard to determine with so much of her ripped away.
"You really intend to go back with that risk?"
"God, it's not even a risk!" Ernie complained, "It's plain suicide. Cal, Sander and Hazel almost died trying to take out just one guy. You don't even have anything to Overclock, not that it would make a difference."
"I've got to side with Ernie on this one..." Marcus said. He'd wandered over to the largest group that was gathering in an attempt to locate some of the people he knew. After all, sticking with his friends offered at least some level of stability at this point, and he was greedily accepting every ounce he could get.
Stick together with Amigos lurking about. Hah, what a fucking lemming. Sticking together had nothing to do with a location. He bit back his disgust, and prepared his own manicured answer, when Ernie's words hammered his ear drums.
'Plain suicide'. That gave Brent enough time to pause. He understood the odds of even surviving an encounter. Three of Unit B's powerhouses almost died, and those Mexican aberrations weren't even going for a direct encounter. Zoe, their organic decomposing specialist, couldn't chew through the amount of trees that was tossed in their direction, and Grant hadn't done a thing.
Lasers, both cutting and piercing. A form of evasion or defense that made them all but impervious to bullets. He rolled over that distorted memory clip again, wondering what the hell he was thinking. He wondered, realized that he didn't do this in order to 'think' to begin with, and nodded. "Fair point, Ernie," Brent said, steps stopping. "I won't argue with that. But..."
He had plenty of arguments. He could extol the importance of dispersing the 'unknown' that was the status of the estate. He could talk about how, even dead, the soldiers would at least have weaponry that could be looted. He could even say that the communication devices within the estate would be beneficial in getting the word out to Zhang and Kardos, because only the library had a non-shit connection.
"...the estate was attacked first. Anyone who's there is dead now. Doesn't that mean the town's the next target?"
Gods above, that's not the angle he was going for here.
"If the ones that broke off from their main...group are just here to kill everything, isn't it safer to move somewhere they thought they already cleaned out?"
That didn't explain anything.
"Why are we going to town to begin with?"
Don't answer a question with a question.
Ernie was caught off guard for sure. Not just by the logic behind Brent's point, but by how adamant he was in such a careless move. Was this really the Proteus that had led a team in D.C.?
"Th-the Amigos wouldn't crash USARILN turf--Zhang's turf-- for no reason. They're mercenaries, not aimless psychopaths. What if they're looking for something at the estate? Why else would they stay?"
"Town's got supplies. Clothes, maybe weapons, maybe people that can lend us a hand. Better than heading to the mansion and blindly hoping that they've left already."
"...not aimless psychopaths." Brent repeated, wondering about the laughter he had heard while his mind swam from that spinal injury. Aimless, no. Psychos, yes. And a stigma was a stigma, no matter how much of a mercenary they were.
"So...they attacked the estate, took what they needed, stole the ferry, and left." The arbiter blinked. "Is that about right?"
Ernie knew what this was. Brent was trying to lure him into sticking to a line of thinking that would easily be disproven.
Manipulative fucker. He'd seen Owen do the same thing.
"I'm not saying anything is right," Ernie crossed his arms and scowled, "I'm saying there's less risk if we go to town instead of going back to a place the Amigos have been confirmed to be at. Zoe and Cal and Sander are already moving there, safety in numbers, so I don't know why you're so bent on going back to the mansion!"
"Hang on. They've already hit the estate?" Marcus said, jerking slightly with surprise. It shouldn't have been as much as a shock as it was: the estate was one of the larger and most logical places to attack, especially if the Amigos knew what they were apparently looking for. Still, everyone there had been a subnatural; if they were dead...they were supposed to be the first line of defense.
He shook the thought out of his mind. Focus. "If the estate's already fallen, then there is absolutely zero reason to go back. We don't know if the Amigos are still there, and there's likely nothing of use left. Hell, it's probably been burned to the ground at this point."
"Right now, we need to find shelter. Somewhere safe. Somewhere that won't get you immediately murdered upon arrival." Marcus said, shooting a look to Brent with the last comment.
"...the town is made up of subnaturals too." Siena claimed, the words quiet, but not lost. Her mind still worked through the situation, a number of emotions failing to rise where she expected them to in response to grim visions. Supplies and potentials aside, there was something far more valuable if she thought about it. "There's one that can gather information. He knew the Amigos were making movements, he might be able to tell us more now."
She actually doubted the latter statement--something had blocked him from knowing more then. It would stand to reason that the same something would be still be blocking the cafe owner.
"Besides which, the estate makes a good stronghold for the Amigos if they intend to stay for any reason. Far better than the town." Efficient bullet points again, thoughts that she stripped of emotional value because she couldn't afford to give them any. Words that felt just as hollow even when she spoke them. "I imagine that they have killed most, if not all, of the soldiers stationed at the estate. If they are as skilled as I'm led to believe, they will make a quick exit after finding whatever it is they want." A pause as she considered something before she finished the thought. "I doubt their goal has been to neutralize everyone. Only the ones that stand in the way. There's no reason for them to escape before a dead check otherwise."
βStaying here and arguing isnβt going to help.β Emma finally got the nerve to cut-in, βNow isnβt the time to squabble about what to do next. The others are going to town, we should follow them. Thatβs it. This isnβt fucking Scooby-Doo; weβre not splitting up and searching for clues. Thatβs just going to get one of us killed. If weβre together when they attack weβll stand a chance, but alone? No way.β She eyed Brent, βIs that reasonable?β
Yeah, this wasn't getting anywhere.
He didn't have the resources to prevent them from stopping him, nor the false logic to convince them to let him go.
F for effort, F for results. He pulled something out within the roots of his mind, and let out a long sigh. His shoulders loosened, before Brent turned around, an easy smile on his face. He'll take the loss like he always did then. Should have stopped after the first failure, cause losses became streaks much too easily if he pushed it. Needed a hard reset. That was it.
"Yeah," Brent admitted with a half laugh, "My bad. You're all totally right and my...optimism is just getting the better of me today. Sorry about that. Let's catch up to the rest of them, eh?"
There was a brief moment where Marcus didn't seem convinced, scrutinizing Brent with unsure eyes. His gaze darted between everyone involved, attempting to gather their feelings about the situation. His stopped at Siena for the longest amount of time; she seemed colder than usual - as if all traces of the Siena from Suite 430 had been stripped away. It made him uneasy, but he couldn't blame her right now; if he could distance himself as much as she apparently could, he'd do the same.
Finally, he spoke. "Good. Good to hear we're all on the same page." There was a certain bitterness to his voice, one that he made no attempt to hide. "Shall we? Before our friends wander too far?"
Ernie glared at Brent a bit longer. 'Optimism' clearly wasn't the word for it but the Aberration had no other ideas for the moment. A silent nod was sent Marcus' way.
"I believe the town's too far for me to teleport all of us there safely," Siena started, her hand already digging her phone from its confines, fingers moving deftly from memory, a source lighting the screen. With the sun out and most of the forest decimated, it wasn't likely that they could really escape notice if they were to cross hostiles. A distant part of her felt dread at her next words, but didn't stop them from forming. "But I can provide some semblance of cover. In case the worst should occur."
βRightβ¦β Brent had agreed, but it didnβt quite sit right. It seemed that he had backpedaled too easily, said sorry too many times. It wasβ¦ odd. Different than the Brent sheβd journeyed into the tunnels beneath the school with. She also noted Sienaβs behavior- sheβd told her before about the βemotional bleedingβ that came with her power and for a moment Emma thought she might be witnessing it. It was like Siena also wasnβt herself, at least, she wasnβt the Siena sheβd had a handful of conversations with. A pang of guilt hit Emma. Hadnβt Siena confided in her with the hope that sheβd help? And here she was, clearly in need of that help.
Iβm just imagining it, right?
βWell, letβs get going than. Since weβre all in agreement.β Emma shot a long glance towards Determination, whoβd been characteristically quiet. For some reason that didnβt sit right with her either. Everything seemed wrong, but then again, she didnβt really have any idea how that couldnβt be. No doubt being involved with this βschoolβ changed people. It had changed her. So maybe, she thought as she turned in the direction of the town, it was just natural that everyone seemed soβ¦
Step. Step. Step. Kusari looked borderline shell shocked as she walked along, the only thing on her mind being the rhythmic patter of her feet on the ground. She didn't know what she was supposed to do, what any of them were meant to do. As she was zoned out she flinched as she heard Callan speak to her. She hadn't even noticed her walk up to her. She was carrying Allison in her arms, when did she pick her up? She really was out of it.
"Are you okay?" Callan asked, her tone seeming as if she wasn't sure now was the time to speak. At least that's what Kusari took from the hesitation in her voice.
"Ah..." Kusari opened her mouth but hadn't thought of anything to say back. There was a lot she wanted to convey, but she felt words wouldn't suffice. She slowly shook her head. Would anyone be okay after what had happened to her?
"Are... are you... Okay?" She asked, feeling as if the question was just as obvious. They both knew the answer, but it was the act of asking that mattered, at least she thought so.
Callan seemed caught off guard by the question at first. Up until she realized how tightly she was gripping Allison. Not enough to hurt her, but it was obvious she was still tense. "I'm fine," she said finally, a sharpness to her tone as she averted her eyes. She could hear Zoe walking a ways behind them. Even as she'd approached Kusari, she hadn't let herself lose track.
"I... I just want to know if you're okay," she said, her voice softening. Amethyst eyes looked her up and down. She winced. "It... it doesn't still hurt, does it?"
Kusari turned her head form Callan for a moment, a quivering hodgepodge of a smirk and a frown on her face. Callan was still Callan, it seemed like she'd maintained the charming empathy that made her so attractive to Kusari. "It um, it doesn't hurt anymore." She said, straightening her face back to neutral and facing Callan. It was technically true, but the pressure in her chest was still there, the type of wound that couldn't just be magically healed away. She wanted to mentioned what had happened to her, how she'd seen her own still corpse from above. Perhaps if she could be alone with her.
"Thanks, I'm... You know, glad you're here." She mumbled, not quite sure what implication she was going for, but she knew it was true.
"I'm glad you're here, too," Callan said, freely oblivious to any implications from either side, "For a second there, I seriously thought you might be... well... " She went quiet, turning her eyes forward again as they walked. Her expression was despondent. Kusari was glad she was here? She hadn't done anything. She wasn't able to stop Zoe before it happened. Didn't help any of the staff that had tried to protect them. Didn't save anyone in D.C. Definitely couldn't save Sav....
She pushed the thoughts aside. Now wasn't the time. Kusari had just gone through hell. She recalled again the last time they'd spoken. Back in La Plata. Her invitation to stay at her room. She glanced down at Allison, who still had yet to move. Remembering the awkward encounter, her face turned a shade pinker. "Anyway, it's a good thing you're both okay, right?" she smiled.
"Y- yeah..." Kusari let out a cough and averted her eyed from Callan's smile, instead glancing at Allison. Having her there made things a little awkward, but it wasn't as much of a bother as she thought it would be. She told herself she wouldn't regret that night, that hadn't changed. Besides, at this point she was sure her chances with Callan were firmly at zero.
"But what do we do now? Wherever we go I have a feeling things will turn into a disaster. I can't believe I'd miss the regimen at that farce of a school..."
Callan noted the lack of response. She still wasn't sure about what was going on between Allison and Kusari. And even less sure about why she was so curious to find out. Kusari's business was her own. Same for Allison. Besides, she had plenty of other things to worry about.
Callan shrugged, careful not to jostle Allison. "We just need more training," she offered, trying to be optimistic, "And less surprise attacks...." She muttered the last part as if the thought had just occured to her. "Can't help but wonder what the Director plans to do with us... I mean... I guess we weren't even supposed to even be in this fight, right? Or the one in D.C. But... I couldn't just leave."
Kusari clenched her teeth and balled her hands into tight fists. "That primped up bitch, she plans to keep using us until none of us are left, or until we end up like Unit A. I wouldn't be surprised if she already has backup plans for a Unit C." Kusari's breathing was becoming heavier, she was growing more upset by the second and she wasn't sure why. "Sending kids to their death and acting as if it's just fine as long as it's for the greater good. This is her fault, her and the bastards she answers to." She let out a frustrated groan. "Why should we have to take this?... I can't, I can't do this anymore Callan I..." She caught herself, realizing that she was a moment away from losing it. She relaxed her body and pointed her eyes at the ground.
Alarmed, Callan felt her own breath catch in her throat. "Wh-wha...? She's not sending us to our deaths," an uncomfortable smile formed on her lips, accompanied by a small. incredulous laugh, "W-we're... we're not..." She didn't know how to respond. She found herself hugging Allison a little closer to her chest. Like some sort of barrier between herself and what Kusari was trying to say.
The memory of an old conversation that had ended before it began.
"Were you in Unit A?" she asked suddenly. "Mr. Francisco said it... 'fell through'?"
"Shane's unit?" Callan could immediately recognized the shift in Lawrence's tone.
"That was reserved for the best of the best, and I wouldn't have been considered in a hundred years- I'm not even sure why I'm on this one. I knew someone who wanted to be on that team though, and threw their life away because of it. Let's drop the subject."
She stared up at the pale arbiter, eyes wide and searching.
Kusari let out a sigh, Callan's optimism could be a double-edged sword. "Think about it, what did we go through as soon as we got to the school? We were sent out against a horde of monsters with no proper training and little in the way of equipment. And has Zhang ever looked even a little remorseful to you? She doesn't care about us any more than you would a pawn in a game of chess."
Callan frowned. She certainly had thought about it. She thought about Padma's death often. And all the bodies in Wisford and D.C. Bodies of citizens and military workers. Mothers, fathers, friends, and children.... People without power.
"W-well we lasted a lot longer than those soldiers!" Callan argued. She could feel herself getting defensive. Frustrated. Reaching for what accomplishments she could-- the ones she tried to remember whenever she felt especially discouraged. " And what about all the people who died in Wisford? The whole town would've been dead without us! Besides-- what kind of hero just gives up and sits on the sidelines?"
She'd stopped walking, too invested in the debate. She had her share of complaints about their first day at USARILN. The kids who she saw die that day would haunt her memory forever. They never got a chance. But she still had hers. She wasn't in a position to control that, anyway. She had to follow orders for now. Director Zhang was in many ways cruel... but she did let all those staff members stay in her mansion. Tucked away from danger-- supposedly safe until today. Not at all like the life Callan wanted.
She had to save people. That was why she was here-- she was certain of it. No other reason made sense in her mind.
Kusari stopped walking along with Callan. Her words... stung a bit. It felt as if she were digging her finger into her. She wasn't always this easily rattled. Kusari avoided looking Callan in the eye, she gripped her arm close to herself. She didn't like seeing her like this, she understood why she wanted to believe Zhang and the government had their best interests at heart. The alternative was hard to accept after all.
"You're a good person Callan, but you're no-" Kusari shook her head, choosing to rephrase. "You didn't choose to do this, to be shackled and forced into battle. You're a tool. We've fought in multiple battles but not once have I felt I was where I belonged. Killing disgusting monsters didn't make me any better a person, being sent into Wisford under the threat of death or worse didn't make me any more noble. Heroes have a choice, and it's choosing to do the right thing when a way out is behind them that makes them special."
Kusari bit her lip as she remembered what happened in D.C. "Those people in D.C wanted us dead the moment things got bad, I had to... Had to kill people just to keep them away from Sophia. But that's just an excuse, a hero would have found another way. All this time we've been thrown into chaos and made to deal with it. We have wills of our own but in the end it doesn't matter. Weather you're drugged up like Hazel and just following orders, or playing along just to stay alive it's all the same in the end." Kusari looked at Callan, her crimson eyes not angry or upset, but sad and tired.
"Tell me Callan, do you feel like a hero?"
'A tool.' Callan flinched. 'Heroes have a choice.'
A choice... she had a choice. She'd made choices. She chose to turn herself in. She chose to stay and fight in D.C. They'd told her to stay, but she went. She chose to try and save those staff members. She'd tried. She chose. She failed. She failed over and over again, but she still chose to try. But nevertheless, there was some truth to Kusari's words; it was the inalienable fact that somewhere along the line, something chose her and no amount of kicking or screaming would have done any good.
Her train of thought came crashing to a halt. 'Had to kill people'...? The news hadn't said anything about that. If Kusari had killed people-- people who weren't monsters or mages-- it would have been on the news. What was she talking about? Her mind was whirling a million miles a minute, her expression complete and utter shock. Kusari wouldn't do that. She was an arbiter. She had no reason to.... She barely registered the question for a moment, staring at Kusari like she'd grown a second head. A very gross and evil second head.
She exhaled a shaky breath.
"No," she answered finally, a slight quiver to her voice, as she stepped forward, "But I'm gonna be."
She looked like she was about to cry. And she was. Her stomach felt sick and something inside her was beginning to panic. What the hell had happened in D.C.?
"Better than you've been anyway," she hissed before pushing back the tears and continuing on her way, content to leave Kusari behind for all she cared.
She should have kept her mouth shut, but that was basically the story of her life. Kusari felt her throat gulp as she watched Callan start to walk away. The way she looked at her, it was as if she were a monster. Not you please. Don't look at me like that. Not you. Kusari suddenly felt cold, as if she had been placed inside a dark freezing cave. She didn't want to lose Callan as a friend, she didn't have anyone else she could be comfortable with after all.
"Y-you're right!" She stammered out, a bit louder than intended. she caught up to Callan. "I'm not a hero, but watching you I felt like I could at least pretend to be. But after D.C I... I can't be that kind of person. But you can! Which is why it's so painful seeing you used like this. Sooner or later they're going to turn you into something that you don't want to be, and I don't want to see that." Kusari's voice was uncharacteristically pleading, maybe she felt desperate. "I'm. I'm sorry. Don't hate me, please."
The moment Kusari shouted, Callan slowed. She couldn't help it. She was frustrated-- disgusted even-- but... she was her teammate. They all were. Even Zoe, for all her imperfections. When Kusari crossed her path, Callan looked away, but listened. She sighed heavily. "I don't hate you," she grumbled, still feeling queasy.
Looking up into Kusari's eyes, her voice became more firm, "I won't pretend to understand why you killed those people. And I don't want to know the details.... But you've got to know-- I chose to be here. I'm sorry if that wasn't the case for you, but... I'm just making the most of what life's given me. What's the alternative? Life on the run? Joining people like the Amigos? Living on an island for the rest of my life?"
She shook her head, smiling sadly, "Heh, I can't do that, Kusari. I want to make a difference-- make things better. And if... if I gotta follow orders from someone like Director Zhang to do it, then that's what I'm gonna do. I don't know what you think I'm gonna become, but have a little faith in me." Her gaze fell from Kusari's eyes to her elbow.
Please." Even as she spoke, Callan was clearly more distant than before-- still recovering from Kusari's revelation and somewhat perturbed by the implications of everything else she'd said. Sander had mentioned she was dangerous... was he right? Or was she justified? She hadn't been there. She didn't know what happened. But at the same time, she didn't want to hear about it. Didn't want to even think about it. Chalk it up to a freak accident and move on. But it was hard.
"Let's just go," she said defeatedly.
"Yeah... I get it." Kusari said, following after Callan. If she really did want to make a difference, then turning herself in really did seem like the best of the worst options. She herself had been running before she was caught and lived in terrible conditions because of it. It wasn't fair, but what could they do?
"I'm going to consider that a promise then, that you won't let anything change you for the worse." She said. Maybe she wasn't giving Callan enough credit, just because she was a terrible person didn't mean Callan was. She didn't say anything else, it was obvious that Callan didn't think very much of her at the moment. If she said anything else she'd just make it worse.
She gave Kusari a hopeless look. "Sure," Callan said simply, "It's a promise then."
Callan continued the walk in silence. Somewhere along the line, she realized she'd lost track of Zoe, but she didn't care. Her stomach grumbled. She was hungry, but entirely without appetite. The exhaustion was catching up to her, too. She always felt this way after using her ability in excess, but their conversation seemed like it had added a good deal of extra weight. Even the sky seemed a little darker...
What else didn't she know?
But Callan didn't dare ask. She'd heard enough for now.
The unmistakeable sound of gunfire erupted from somewhere deep in the woods. I looked down at the young girl who sat on the bench next to me in the darkness, her coat a tattered, puke green thing that seemed so large as to swallow her whole. Her hair, a short, tangled mess of blonde strands caught with dirt and leaves, was, almost fittingly, the only proof of her existence outside of the coat in that moment.
A single nod from her was all I needed. It was too late. We had taken too long. They were here. I forced myself to stand, staring at the silent child who I may very well have just sentenced to death. Her eyes seemed hollow. Maybe that's just how I remember them. I doubt my expression was any better. Despite my worries, I grabbed her hand and ran into the woods.
I seemed to catch on every branch and trip over every root as I ran. My lungs burned with every strained breath, and my grip on the girl's hand was burdened by sweat. That only caused me to grip tighter, though, as if letting her go meant my own death. The forest around us was infested with lights that flooded in from every direction, as if the trees themselves were giving birth to more soldiers. We couldn't outrun them forever. You can't escape an uncountable number of armed men right on your heels. If they caught us, we were dead. Running was our only option, even as the trees parted into an open park, we kept running.
The flashlights poured from the woods behind us, threatening to surround us. They didn't shoot, not yet. Maybe it was because they knew they had us surrounded. We were stopped in our tracks. Cold metal pressed against the back of my skull. A loud voice told me to stop moving. The endless lights made the world vague and dreamlike. My hand itched. I could have done something. I didn't move.
Her arms were forced behind her back, but she kept struggling even with an endless number of guns trained on the both of us. I'm sure I heard a threat to shoot me if she didn't stop struggling from somewhere beyond the haze. She stopped moving and screamed a haunting, endless scream that refused to leave my mind.
A storm of small, furious bodies erupted from the treetops and fell upon the soldiers. Gunshots filled the air, sending birds falling to the ground, though some managed to peck at the faces of the men. It was useless. A soldier fired a single shot. The birds immediately fell to the ground, each creature feeling the girl's agony. The scream never ended, but it seemed empty of anything but pain. Not even desperation filled the air. Only suffering.
One of the writhing birds had picked itself from the ground. A single raven. In the blink of an eye, the bird shifted to the form of a young man, struggling to steal the gun from a soldier. A single shot was all it took to annihilate their struggle, leaving only endless screams. Those painful shrieks seemed to meld in the air into something much worse. A ring of soldiers and blinding light blocked their bodies from my view.
The gun at my head was taken away, and it's operator shifted around me and stared my face, blinding me with his light. His eyes shifted back and forth over me, sure that they were missing a mark. Of course, there was nothing to see.
"Leave. Now." The voice seemed indistinct. The words of a pawn. Just another goon.
My legs carried me faster than my body could take. My lungs burned, my mind reeled, and my limbs felt like lead. Still, they didn't stop till I found myself in a small clearing, where they dumped me onto a bench made of rotting wood. It had no reason to be in such a place. It was just something left there to rot, left behind and forgotten where no one could find it. Fitting.
I felt numb. My body refused to move, and I wasn't sure if I wanted it to. I'm still not sure...
Maggie and Jason Holmes, I may never speak your names again...
And with that realization, I screamed.
A scream erupted from the body in Callan's arm. It failed to make any movements other than forcing the shriek from it's vocal cords. The wail of pain and sorrow pulled Allison from darkness. She was being carried. She half remembered various portions of a conversation, as if she had heard part of it whilst floating in a terrible nightmare. Her own scream still buried itself in her ears, mingling with those long since ended.
Some part of her mind still lingered in the far past, another portion pulling apart the fragments of that conversation between Callan and... Kusari, it was probably Kusari. Allison didn't move her head to check. Though, as reality pushed itself back into her mind, her priority returned to her mind in full force.
...Then Allison realized she was still screaming. The noise came to an abrupt end, her hoarse voice forcing out an urgent question.
"Wh-where is Angel?" Her memory answered her own question. "We need to save Angel! Where are we going?" Her voice increased in volume, ripping at her throat. If she was in a reasonable state a mind, she might have felt bad for the girls who's ears she was likely destroying.
Callan jumped as Allison started to scream, heart pounding wildly when it didn't immediately end. Wh-what the hell was wrong with her? Didn't Christmas heal everybody? She grimaced at the noise, leaning her face away and wincing as through Allison had suddenly turned into a raging fireball in her arms. Geez, she really wasn't holding back, was she? Nightmare or night terrors?
"Allison!" she tried shouting over the noise, but one couldn't so easily compete with such a desperately loud sound.
Just when she was beginning to consider the idea of clapping a hand over the girl's mouth, it stopped.
Where was Angel? Probably dead.
"We still don't know," Callan replied, exasperated. She glanced around for any sign of movement. Her voice lowered as she continued, her tone a cocktail of concern and exhaustion, "There are still Amigos around though. So no more screaming, okay? We're regrouping in town. Can you walk?"
Kusari flinched as Allison screamed, she awkwardly reached out with her hands wondering what to do, eventually having to just wait for her to stop herself. A Nightmare? It had to be, she had every reason to be disturbed right now. Kusari hung her head as Allison as where Angel was. She was gone, it didn't matter if she had died earlier or if the Amigos had taken her. Either way she wasn't coming back. Callan answered her, Kusari didn't have anything to add. She could say she was sorry, but what good would that do? She kept quiet and continued walking.
Allison made some attempt to keep herself calm. Of course she needed to do something about Angel, but there wasn't much she could do right now. It wasn't likely that she'd get much help from everyone else, either. Still, she couldn't just let Angel die. She wasn't dead. She couldn't be. Allison would need to make a move as soon as she was capable of it.
"Probably. Put me down please," The aberration clearly strained to keep her tone reasonable, though her voice now seemed barely above a whisper. It felt as if she was only half registering the world around her, most of her mind still lost in a haze, screaming at nothing. Her limbs still felt like lead, though she was able to at least seem capable of walking when Callan put her down. Allison's walk was little more than the uncomfortable shuffle of a half-awake zombie, barely aware of those around her.
"Uh," Callan exchanged a look with Kusari, expecting her to do something. "Do you need help?" she asked, eyeing Allison warily with her hands tentaively outstrethced.
Kusari saw Callan look to her, as if she knew what to do right now. She just shook her head and looked away. "Our way off the island is gone, there's nothing we can do but try not to get killed."
Callan leered over Allison's head, back up at Kusari with a scolding expression. Allison was clearly upset and that news wasn't at all helpful. "Nah, don't worry. We'll be fine. I'm sure the worst of it's over," she offered reassuringly, doing her best to force the fatigue out of her voice.
"I'll be fine," Allison half-muttered. The lie was obvious, but it was better to stumble than burden Callan any more than she already had, though a reminder that things existed outside of the feezing dampness that pierced every fragment of her being might be nice. The exhausted girl ignored Kusari's remark, though she wasn't really wrong in what she said. She was less wrong than Callan, at least. The worst hadn't even begun yet.
Allison let silence hang for a few moments before conducting the excercise in futility that was filling empty air with empty words, speaking to no one in particular. "Sorry about the screaming. Did I interrupt a conversation?"
"No, you didn't." Kusari simply said, noticing that Callan wasn't speaking up. They were close to a motel now, one of the few buildings that seemed fit for refuge. "I just want to get some rest, you can do what you want." She said, speaking to the both of them. She felt entirely useless at the moment, she didn't get physically exhausted, but she wasn't exactly in the best shape mentally.
Callan was quiet, chewing the inside of her cheek uncomfortably until she realized they were nearing what looked like a good place to stop. Sander and Christmas were a ways ahead of them. And Zoe.... She looked every which way, eyes searching in alarm. She thought to say something, but ultimately decided against it, figuring she'd radio her after they found shelter.
"Let's try that motel," Callan suggested, again trying to mask her voice. She wasn't happy about she and Kusari's conversation. She didn't like her attitude, she didn't like hearing that she'd killed people without powers, and she didn't like the idea of Kusari going off to sleep when there was still work to be done. Hopeless as it seemed, she'd help Allison look for Angel if she wanted. It was worth a try. She might even still be on the island somewhere, right?
She sighed, wiping at some half-dried sand on her cheek. One thing at a time.
The storm had finally passed through the area and by then Zhangβs private military forces had long been dispatched, a special squadron kept under direct communication with Kardos and entirely separate from both the government forces assigned to USARILN East and the bolstering additions of hired PMCs. Three tandem-rotor helicopters received supplies, weapons, and a ten-man team before lifting off from their base in Nassau and flying along the coastline over the waters of the Bermuda.
Their arrival was, as expected, too late after the storm and the escaped Amigos had long vanished from sight, skirting the abandoned Fort Caswell nearby and untraceable in the Intracoastal Waterway that easily expedited their path to a safe house. Too many rivers and exit points branched from the Waterway to check and the soldiers had no interest in hunting the Amigos at the moment regardless. They were more interested in securing the island and the estate, in particular the students still alive.
In a half-destroyed house at the edge of the subnatural settlement, a flash of blue-streaked hair ended when the teenage boy collapsed into a chair, breaths coming in desperate and ragged. Of all people, he should have been able to escape first, but by now the other Amigos were either gone or dead, though the wall of water he had seen earlier was enough indication that Nathaniel at least was alive.
And he had seen Isabelle die with his own eyes. Few people liked herβand they were justified. Half-crazy and doped up on drugs nearly all the time, Isabelle wasnβt anyoneβs first choice for company. But she hadnβt minded when Chuck stayed in her hovel of a home, the tiny townhouse bare minimum lodgings provided by the Father when it became clear there was no point granting Isabelle luxuries. All she cared for was her drugs and the soothing high that accompanied them. At first it had been curiosityβone of their better subnaturals living like a dogβbut it became clear enough when Isabelle spent nearly all her free time wreaking havoc in her home or dazed on the sofa, lost in chemical dreams.
But she had her lucid moments, rare though they were between the rage of her crashes and the insanity of her highs.
βChuck, was it?β
He remembered bruised legs hanging off the bed while her arms drew nonsense in the air, the scatter of heroin injections like small patches of freckles on her pasty skin. He hadnβt answered, sitting at the unbalanced dining table nearby because Isabelle had sliced away one of the tableβs legs and Chuck had tried to duct tape it back together, only to have her kick at that same leg later.
βWhyβre you always around here, moleque? It smells here. βCuz I donβt wash anything. And itβs gross. βCuz I donβt clean anything.β
He remembered telling her he didnβt know and knowing it wasnβt true.
βMaybe I like the company, too,β she had answered, guessing the reason. βMaybe Iβll dye your boring hair sometime.β
He remembered thinking she was lucid when she told him to run.
The scent of blood still clung to him, lingering even though the splatters on his windbreaker had dried. He didnβt know if the person behind the drugs and the psychosis was worth it, but he missed her all the same.
They knew what their ends had to inevitably be, but Isabelle had been unpredictable to the last. The group looked down on her. Hated her, even, for various reasons, but none of them would have told him to run. In a sudden burst of fear and anxiety that he had been holding back since their first encounter with the soldiers, the teenager finally felt the shudders of dry sobs wracking his body. Alone, without even Isabelle, he was almost defenseless. That should have been the worst part. But against all logic his heaviest emotions sprang from the grief of her death.
He had asked her once why she used so many drugs.
βGod helps those who help themselves, Chuck. And amen.β
ββ¦Amen, Isabelle,β he whispered, sitting up and pressing fingers to his eyes. He didnβt know what she would say to him like thisβever impossible to guessβbut she wouldnβt be resting any more than absolutely necessary.
He needed to find transportation. Or at least a place to hide until he could figure out a way off the island. The collapsed caves they had chased the generator mage into came to mind and he decided to let his fatigue recover first before making the jumps there.
The sound of helicopters caught his attention first and he didnβt need to be Thi to put two and two together. He crouched low, watching the specks in the sky turn into his ticket off the island. His small pocket knife had been useless the entire time, but now he wondered if he could put it to good use. It was a reckless plan, but with the ferry gone he had no way of knowing when any future transportation would arrive, especially since the islandβs inhabitants never seemed to travel.
His palm ached with the pressure of the knifeβs handle.
Aldrich had finished checking the bodies of the dead subnaturals by the time Zhangβs reinforcements arrived proper, the helicopters touching down in the large clearing around the estate. A tall, brutish woman with short black hair swept back across her head stepped out in black body armor ahead of the other nine soldiers, pausing at the sight of Aldrich. She scowled, the piercing at the right corner of her lips accentuating her distaste. An angry scar marred the left side of her jaw, running ragged to her nose while an old, vicious burn across her left temple ruined the remaining skin on that half of her face.
βMargot,β the older man greeted, though his face remained carefully neutral.
βAnd here I thought Iβd finally find you in pieces,β she growled back, voice coarse from years of chain smoking.
βIf youβre looking for the students, theyβre in town. Safe, I assume. We lost one.β
βNot my business. Iβm just here to retrieve whatβs left.β She gestured to the other nine soldiers to remain at the estate, heading into town alone. A hand scratched at the mark on her neck, scraping the rough fabric of the uniformβs collar against her skin. It was just an old habit now. That infernal itch had long ago vanished.
A week deadline. As usual, for any questions refer to the GMs.
Zoe will be near Chuckβs location, having heard some noise.
Helicopters traveled in the direction of the mansion, landing around the clearing. Anyone returning to the estate will run into Margot.
Zoe was more than a little lost in thought as she made her way to the edge of the town. It would have been smarter to wait, to have some kind of backup in case this stranger was a threat, but she told herself there wasn't the time to wait. A pretty good excuse - almost good enough to pretend it wasn't ultimately selfish. Truth was, they'd just end up getting in her way. She didn't feel guilty about what she planned to do, just faintly resigned to her failure at being a better person.
In a way, she'd finally given up. So maybe she just didn't want to be saved anymore. Pretty reasonable. There wasn't much point in sticking around the others while she waited to lose her mind.
Still, that didn't mean she couldn't try to be useful in her insanity, and it didn't take too long for a sound to catch her attention. Pausing, she listened, black spiralling across her skin almost on instinct. Breathing, heavy and ragged. Someone who'd been running for quite a while, if she had to guess. It didn't stay that way, the sound quickly transforming into something closer to sobbing as she moved closer. It wasn't a sound she particularly enjoyed, but she was all out of pity. Far as she was concerned, he'd be crying a lot more before the day was out.
The sound was drowned out as helicopters began to arrive, but it had been long enough for Zoe to figure out where she was going. Making her way towards the dilapidated building, she thought she could see a figure. Blue-haired kid probably younger than her, didn't look like a seasoned veteran. That was good; maybe he'd be less able to stand up to questioning. Reaching out with her power, Zoe gave no warning as she charged in. No point in giving him any extra chance to run away, after all.
Chuck flashed away the moment he heard the sound of footsteps entering, the movement taking him to the other side of the small room, but not far enough away as Zoe ran in her power already searching for prey. It found his arm first, melting his fingers to liquid as he tried to jump past her. He almost made it to the door before the pain dropped him to his knees. And still he moved, another jump taking him a dozen meters from the open doorway and into the wet ground outside as his arm sloughed off, oozing out of his windbreaker's sleeve in a torrent of black liquid. He screamed and kept jumping, stopping only when his legs collapsed under him--reddened and itching, the distance far enough that Zoe would need to run almost a hundred meters to catch up to him. It sapped at the energy of her power, still coursing at its own pace now through his body, but the painful rot remained all the same and after a while the boy's screams turned into hoarse, dry wheezes.
"Shit!" Spinning to chase him, Zoe could feel her power still working - but that wasn't any good if he ended up dead. He didn't get to die yet, not until she got her answers. As she sprinted, the effort of maintaining her power along with the exhaustion of the day as a whole left her struggling far more than normal. As soon as he was at the edge of her range, she slowed down the effect, keeping it focused on his legs. Didn't look like she'd have time to stay here while she interrogated him, though; he'd bleed out.
"Run, and it'll start again. Unlimited range. You're coming with me, like it or not." She called out between ragged breaths, slowing to a jog. There was anger in Zoe's expression, no pity in her words as she approached. "I'd be lying if I said I didn't wanna hurt you, but answer my questions and I can get you out alive."
There was pain and there was the sensation of his nerves being torn apart. The ringing in his ears didn't let him hear the girl's words and he thought he might have wheezed out another half-scream. A feeble jump took him less than a meter away, but his strength was failing with his consciousness.
So much for that, huh? Figuring she didn't have much to worry about anymore, Zoe slowed her power to a standstill, walking over and picking up her unfortunate victim. After all, if he stayed here he'd definitely bleed out and die, and she figured she was strong enough to carry him. Losing an arm tended to make people a little less heavy, funnily enough. It hadn't been that long a walk to get here, so if she hurried back there was a chance he'd live long enough to be useful at least.
Ignoring the rotten stench and thoroughly unpleasant noises coming from her victim, she sighed. Part of her dreaded her classmates' reactions, but there was no reason to avoid help now that the fight (if you could even call it that) was finished. This guy wasn't gonna do anyone much damage. "Transmit. I'm gonna need a healer in town as soon as possible. Over."
With that done, she sighed. Part of her was horrified what she was capable of doing so easily - a horror that was all the more prominent with her Stigma sated. Almost a relief in comparison with the usual. But it was still there, the desire, always there, a buzz at the back of her head. It always showed, if just a little; she'd never been able to completely hide her emotions. The sick pleasure of hurting, the fantasies that so often took hold of her thoughts.
No doubt the others would be more upset about it than her. It wasn't exactly tough to figure out; Zoe knew she acted like a dumbass, but that didn't make her stupid. No, she knew they'd have questions, accusing and disgusted eyes turned on her handiwork. And she wasn't sure she had any answers that would satisfy them.
Trying to push those thoughts aside, she started back towards the motel, her burden weighing heavy on her shoulders.
Hazel Baker Lightless green eyes stared at the ceiling, unfocused and unseeing. Cold. It was cold, almost freezing, yet she felt not the slightest bit of discomfort. She felt like β claws crunching past bone, tearing apart flesh, biting through β weariness was setting in her very bones. The way her clothes clung to her bare skin, her wet hair clumping together; none of it seemed to bother her anymore.
"That was pathetic. You're useless. We must become stronger." "I understand."
"Its no use getting stronger. They never liked you, they fear you, they will kill you. We must escape." "I understand." "Things ain't looking up old gal. Ain't time to be sleeping around, what with a friend of ours being taken away." "I understand."
Words she had used over and over again, but what had she truly understood so far? Hazel tried to roll over to her side, to get up, and walk, but all she managed to achieve was somehow magnify that feeling of lethargy, that tiredness that pulls at her consciousness. Exhaling softly, she closed her eyes again, letting the tendrils of darkness pull her consciousness deep down into that empty void.
They weren't welcome here in this unsound motel. As if their words weren't enough, Kusari could see it in their faces. Everywhere they went they were a burden, people suffered as death followed them like a hungry predator. At first she thought the inhabitants of this island were similar to them, but the differences were clear. They were mages, but they weren't special, not enough anyway. She passed them by like strangers on the street and headed for a room. It was a pretty standard motel room, all she cared about was that there was a bed and that the water was running however. After checking the bathroom's sink and shower she came back to Allison and Callan. "This seems like a um, good place to stay for now, right?" She asked, fully aware that her voice still lacked her typical confidant cadence.
Callan, who up until then had been regarding the other mages cautiously, merely scoffed, shaking her head. "Stay there if you want," she shrugged, glancing at Allison for a moment before looking away, "I think we should ask around about Angel. Somebody might've seen her."
Allison slowly nodded in response. The atmosphere in the motel was oppressive. It was as if any attempt to speak would crush the air out of her lungs. Were it not for Angel's disappearance, Allison would be tempted to just hide herself away until they were taken to the next location that would inevitably be attacked by some force. Bothering those who clearly didn't want them there seemed like a deathwish, but it gave Allison a chance to find Angel. Nothing else mattered.
Allison's eyes glanced warily at the various strangers scattered around the area, pleading that somehow there'd be someone who'd look friendly enough to talk to. Every face seemed equally unwelcoming, just as unwilling to accept the presence of the trio. Allison found herself looking back at Callan, as if she'd have found the one person her own eyes missed.
Kusari let out a tired sigh as she stood between the two. She wanted to rest, but more than that the thought of being alone right now placed a vice grip on her heart. Callan was too righteous to sit by while she could be looking for an ally, and Allison had more reason than anyone to want to look for Angel. Kusari looked at her dirty arms, she felt filthy. Would they wait for her to take a shower? "While you ask around I think I'll... deal with this." She mumbled, dragging herself into the bathroom and closing the door behind her. Soon the sound of the shower running could be heard.
Callan tried not to let it bother her. The sound of the shower seemed so out of place given the current predicament. Most frustrating of all was probably the slightly jealous tickle in the back of her mind, which brought with it more guilt than she had time for at the moment. "C'mon," Callan motioned for Allison to follow, heading towards the closest unfamiliar face with the slightest grumpy stomp in her step.
"Hey, have you seen an aberration girl around here?" the intrusive bite in her tone, left over from her mood with Kusari, quickly died off and she immediately regretted it, "Er-- long black hair. About yay high with sunglasses?"
The white-marked brunette stepped back, taking in the mess that Callan's drenched outfit was bringing. Her mouth formed a thin line.
"We don't have X's here. Only person that's passed by is the redhead."
Redhead? Callan blinked in surprised, gears turning for a moment before she glanced around the hall "Zoe..." she muttered pensively, "Any idea where she went?"
The stranger shook her head.
"Last I saw, Andrew went out to-- hey, Andrew!"
Another white-marked citizen turned from his conversation with a drawled, "Yeah?"
Allison stood quietly by whilst Callan engaged the stranger. The woman's glare quickly reminded the aberration of her sorry state, soaked to the bone and coated with dirt. She only shrinked back more at the realization. Kusari clearly had some sense to clean herself off first. But with Angel still missing, time was of the essence. Allison could handle looking like a mess.
She felt guilty for having Callan do the talking, as this wasn't really her problem. The information gained from the stranger essentially proved what Allison had previously assumed, that Angel wasn't here. It wasn't proof that Angel had been captured and taken away, but it did at least narrow the options down slightly. Allison kept her silence as the conversation shifted to Zoe. Finding her was probably a good idea, at least to prevent another outburst. Allison didn't want to have to use the shard on her again.
Shifting her attention to 'Andrew', Callan self consciously pulled at one of her sleeves, feeling the uncomfortable bit of suction as the wet fabric parted from her skin. She mentally shook her head at herself. Now wasn't the time to worry about that sort of thing.
"Uh, did you happen to see where our friend went? She's an aberration with red hair."
At the very least, Zoe could help them look for Angel. Though Callan also found it unsettling to think she might have wandered off somewhere alone. Not that she couldn't handle herself, but... the memory of Kusari's empty husk of a head and torso came to mind and she repressed a shudder. Yes, it was best she find out where Zoe was first.
The man hesitated for a noticeable moment, like he was figuring out what exact words to use.
"You'd best wait here. Your USARILN buddies are getting picked up round about now."
Callan picked up on the hesitation immediately, but it took another moment of suspicious staring before she worked out what it meant. And she was in no mood for it.
"Do you know where she is or not?" she pressed defiantly, clearly irritated, "We've already got one missing teammate we need to find. We don't need two, so if you know where she went, I suggest you tell us."
"You 'suggest', huh?" he scowled at what he perceived as a threat, "I think you should take it from me--"
"Transmit. I'm gonna need a healer in town as soon as possible. Over."
"Oh, come on..." Andrew groaned under his breath.
Kusari didn't take long to get out of the shower, most of her time was usually spent washing her hair, she just needed to rinse the viscera and soil from her body. As much as she wanted to just sit and let the water fall upon her, Callan and Allison were waiting for her. It's not as if they were going to get any useful information from the people here. They would say they saw nothing, then they'd roam around pointlessly. Might as well get it over with.
She'd washed off her clothes as best she could, then wrung them out and attempted to dry them with towels. They were still a bit damp, but at least she wasn't soaking anymore. She looked down at her left ankle, which was now covered by her cuff once more. Through a process she wasn't interested in reliving she had managed to put it back. She felt like an idiot doing it, but it was better than dealing with whatever punishment Zhang would think up.
As she walked back to Callan and Allison a voice from the cuff made her jump. It was Zoe, whatever she had said Kusari hadn't paid enough attention to listen. She didn't want to deal with that girl, but they couldn't leave her alone.
"Are we leaving now?" Kusari said, walking up to her allies.
Allison turned to face Kusari, offering a quick nod in response to her question.
"We're going to look for Zoe right now, I guess," She said, her voice cautious and surprisngly hoarse. She was well aware of what Zoe had done to Kusari not long ago. c
"Uggh," Callan groaned upon hearing the transmission, pressing her forehead into the palm of her hand just as Kusari approached.
"No," she said firmly, "You guys stay and keep asking around. Somebody here's gotta know something."
Uneasy as Zoe made her, she'd rather it be her than them at this point. Making her way towards where she last saw Sander and Christmas, Callan was already busy talking to her cuff.
"Transmit. Zoe, where are you? Over."
Kusari relaxed her shoulders and watched Callan call Zoe. She was about to make things difficult again, at this point she felt as if she were watching her actions from in her mind as her body went on auto pilot. "I'm not leaving you alone with that psycho. I'm coming with you, even though looking for her is a waste of time anyway..."
"I'm not staying behind either. It's clear that no one here has seen Angel. No reason to bother them more." She refrained from adding that it was probably good to have the shard around Zoe. It would be too easy to argue that Allison would just make herself black out again.
Callan paused, turning only slightly to face the two.
She stared at Allison pointedly, clearly unhappy with the girl's sudden bout of pessimism. What happened to the girl who was ready to risk it all for a vague chance at saving Angelique? Suddenly she was concerned about bothering people? "You don't know that for sure," Callan narrowed her eyes, "You're the one that said she was alive, but If you wanna give up, go take a shower like Kusari. Then go to sleep. I'll look for her myself."
She scoffed incredulously. There she went again, trying to play leader. And already she was being rewarded with all the frustration that came along with it.
"Angel is alive," Allison snapped, "and I'm not giving up. There's just no use in chasing after redundant information. I could run around here and ask every single fucking person here if they've seen Angel, but what the fuck is that going to solve if they all give the same answer as the first? I already told all of you where I thought Angel was. If I'm right, she's as good as dead if we keep waiting around. Yea, maybe I want to be wrong, to find that Angel was actually hiding here all along and wasn't kidnapped, but that doesn't mean I'm going to delude myself in pretending that's still a possibility right now. We need to keep moving. If that means finding Zoe or whatever, so be it, but standing around asking pointless questions is just adding another body to the pile." Allison took a deep breath in an attempt to calm herself down. "Don't you dare suggest that I would give up on Angel." After a moment, Allison's anger appeared to pass, though the outburst had clearly taken a toll on her throat.
"Anyway, we should all go. Better to regroup than sit around here."
"Okay! You didn't give up! Jesus...," Callan threw her hands up in mock surrender. As much as she disagreed with Allison about the whole "redundant information" bit, she found herself feeling weirdly refreshed at the sight of her determination. Refreshed and a little... embarrassed. Why did she have such little patience for Allison anyway? Her eyes flickered to Kusari for a fraction of a second.
"But that still doesn't mean we need a whole militia to clean up Zoe's mess," she frowned. "She won't..." her voice trailed off for a moment. She suddenly realized just how much she trusted Zoe-- and the answer was...
A whole lot more than she thought she did. But why? She had every reason to agree that Zoe was an unstable psychopath that would kill everyone at any moment. Even with all the evidence aside, she certainly disliked her enough to think that... but she didn't.
Zoe hadn't tried anything even though Callan had lost her temper. She'd looked really out of sorts, in fact. Like she hadn't even realized what she'd done until Callan placed the blame. She'd been too furious to listen before, but... deep down she knew, even without Zoe saying it, that she didn't want to hurt anyone. That was why she'd asked her for such a big favor.
"Look, it doesn't matter. This is where we all agreed to regroup so unfortunately, that includes sitting around here for now. Sander, Christmas and I are gonna go. I won't be alone and we'll be right back to figure out the next move, alright? "
"I'm going, Callan, and I doubt Kusari's going to listen either. Sorry." Allison's throat screamed with every passing second, forcing her back into relative silence. As adamant as Callan was to get them to stay, Allison was too stubborn to listen. Besides, Callan wasn't the leader, she didn't have any control over their actions.
Ernie took in the sounds and sights of the aerial convoy with relief, hands fumbling for the communicator once more. He recognised the design of USARILN transport. About damn time.
"USARILN base," Ernie tried once again, praying that the helicopters would bring good news now, "Is anyone there? Requesting further instructions."
"Identify yourself," an unfamiliar voice answered him, the gravelly tones of a ruined voice almost disguising the definite resonance of a female speaker.
"Ernest Mars...sir," he responded, noting the definite un-Kardos-ness of the voice. Women could be called 'sir', right? "37488. Unit...uh, Experimental Unit B."
"One of the Abes, right?"
"Yes."
"What'd you see, boy? When it came for you?"
Ernie blinked. Surely this could wait until everyone was rounded up?
"Are you talking about the tidal wave, sir?"
"What'd it promise you? They keep telling me it's not a surefire way to check, but something about that seems like sacred territory. If you're real, you'd know."
A ruthless chill chose then to run down Ernie's drenched spine. Of course it was sacred territory. Territory that Regs and strange, chainsmoking soldiers should have no knowledge of. What kind of weirdos did Zhang keep on her payroll?
And why did she call him an 'Abe'?
Ernie shifted from the group, moving out of earshot as his hand unconsciously moved to his neck.
"I..." His voice took on a harsher tone. More defensive. "I'm definitely an Abe--X-mark. Shouldn't you have a record of that?"
"You could also be an Amigo. Killed all the kids. Know what to say on paper." The challenge came just as unyielding.
The boy clicked his tongue. Radio lady made a good point. Moving even further from the group, he spoke in a hushed voice.
"My home. I saw my family so I took what it showed me. Is that what you want to hear?"
A chuckle. "And what did it show you?"
Cold fingers clutched the communicator in a death grip. Unfair. This shouldn't have been brought up and by a USARILN soldier of all people. As much as he wished it would, time had never blurred the memory of that night. It had only given him more opportunity to reflect and regret. What did it show him, indeed. The chill of seawater seemed to get replaced by the residual heat of that vision. Yet, when he clutched at the fabric on his chest, all he could feel was the almost tangible weight of sadness forming a lump where his heart should have been.
A second passed before Ernie realised he had stopped walking. Stupid. Unfair. So long had passed. He should have moved on by now. He should have been angry but all he felt was an exhausted frustration, the morning having taken too much of a toll on him, physically and now emotionally, for the boy to indulge in the familiar rage. What right did this woman have to ask such a thing? It was some kind of taunt. A test. If they wanted to get off this stupid island, all he had to do was suck it up and give her what she wanted to hear. Crossing USARILN officers was more trouble than it was worth.
Moving on meant being able to say these things easily, didn't it? He'd gotten over it enough to tell his classmates about his parents. This was just another step. He wasn't so weak that he couldn't admit what that night meant to him.
He wasn't weak. He wasn't weak and he wasn't afraid.
And yet, Ernie gulped.
Ernie chose the less pathetic answer.
"A chance to go down with them...like I should have."
A peal of laughter erupted from the communicator, the person on the other end clearly amused by Ernie's despair.
"You know what, I believe you. Sounds pretty real, or you're a damn good actor and I'll find out either way." Crunching footsteps to his side and a six-foot woman who had definitely not been there a second ago stood before him, scars for a face and bulk enough to dwarf him entirely.
The embarrassment didn't have any time to take hold before the bulky mass suddenly appeared in front of him. Ernie leapt back with a resounding "fuck!", golden aura and rope lighting up as a reflex.
Dark coffee eyes followed Ernie when he moved away, but a resounding, calm logic told Siena that the boy wasn't going to do anything reckless. Not after the display at the lighthouse, and certainly not when he'd been arguing for safer courses of action. So long as she could still have a visual, then there wasn't much need to try and act as a sheep dog.
Well, there wouldn't have been, if he hadn't suddenly let an expletive cut directly into her thoughts.
Siena's attention snapped back to the boy, took in the sight of a golden aura and an unknown individual. A large, unknown individual that could very well be a hostile. Sucking in a quick breath, the brunette moved while her mind was still working through the situation. How had this person gotten so close without anyone else realizing? How long had they been around?
Can you stop them if they decide to attack? Memories of orange lasers and the sensation of falling came to mind, brought phantom pains and a small thrill that made her heart beat faster despite how muted the fear felt.
Muttering under her breath, a thin, blue wall sprang to life, formed by a translucent prism of ethereal construct between her comrade and the unknown. Not enough. Another two materialized soon after. Not enough. Another prism erupted from nothing, the fourth wall between Ernie and the stranger in the small span of time it took for the girl to travel from where she had been to a few paces from Ernie, eyes locked on the stranger, every muscle ready to spring into action at the slightest provocation.
Alarm was first, his hands reaching to his sides for weapons he never had when he really needed them. Then a flash of relief as Siena was fast to draw, her translucent barrier creating a moment of safety, no matter how useless it may be against someone who could teleport. And finally, sinking realization as his eyes caught the firearms the monolith carried. Didn't have to appear. If she was an enemy, she could have just mowed them down.
Not an immediate threat then. Or, if she was, she brought herself in range of Marcus's flash and stasis.
With nothing but his fists available, Brent settled for words instead, his voice flat and neutral. Too solid a poker face to hide the questions within, but everything had gone to shit anyways.
"You're with Director Zhang?"
The bear of a woman snorted, eyes narrowing at the Director's name. " 'With' is an interesting choice of words. But sure, I'm not your enemy at least." She leaned closer to peer at the layer of walls between her own self and Ernie's defensive posture. "And looks like that old bitch found herself a new set of guinea pigs while I wasn't paying attention."
" 'Old'?" Ernie muttered, his brow furrowed by confusion.
Heavy footsteps of a careless beast soon caught up with the group. Chris managed to catch up with the others, dragging with him his wingless, bleeding body as he has still yet to revert to human form. Both his wounds and the previous rampaged ended by Siena's power had left him exhausted, and this was made apparent by his low-arced neck and the lethargically slow movements in his leg. His slothful behaviour changed immediately when he noticed the stranger with them, and his body went tense in fear of it being another Amigo.
His pair of crocodilian eyes widened in alarm, as his muscle tensed and posture raised into an almost predatory stance. The very thought of this woman being in part of the group that killed Angelique had reawakened a spark of anger that had been previously drained out of him.
For her part Margot regarded the drooping dragon with the look of someone who'd seen far worse and found the injured creature pitiful at best. "All right, enough of the theatrics. I had my fun. Helicopters are waiting at the estate to take you lot back to that hellhole of a research institution. My team will clean up here and sweep the area for any--"
"Transmit. I'm gonna need a healer in town as soon as possible. Over."
"Speak of the devil."
The woman seemed to fizzle for a moment, her silhouette blurring and bleeding out for a fraction of a second, and then it was her voice again over the cuffs. "You've secured the kids?"
"Of course I have," the Margot in front of them answered, seemingly to herself.
"Then I'm heading into town. Talk to me, girl, what do you have? ...Zoe, was it?"
Zoe's reply was straightforward. "The Amigos left a straggler - some kind of teleporter. Found him on the north end of town, but he got out of my control range so he's lost a part or two."
"Good on you, catching a teleporter. That's no easy trick. Keep talking for me and I'll be there in a second."
"Yeah, well... hurting people's apparently my only skill set. At least I know I'm good at it." There was a pause after that exceptionally bitter reply, before she continued in a more measured tone. "Sorry. Just gotta keep talking, right? Well, he's lost an arm - I think, anyway, it was pouring outta his jacket. Can't walk either, so I'm carrying him. No idea how long it'll take him to bleed out, but I'm hoping we fix him up before that. Dead guy's not much use to anyone."
Before she could continue, Zoe cut herself off, borderline snarling at something or other. "You've got to be kidding--" After a moment's silence, the voice that came over the communicator was filled with irritation. "...seriously? Don't creep up on me, I'm not in the fucking mood."
βBack to the instituteβ¦β when Emma first arrived she never couldβve imagined that sheβd be glad to be going back there. But USARILN was a marked improvement over the road-trip-from-hell theyβd experienced over the past couple of weeks. In fact, she was so excited to return she could hardly find it in her to care about Margot or Zoeβs need for healers. She looked towards their ragtag group, βThatβs enough for me. We should go to the estate.β as Emma spoke she reached into her pocket without realizing it, finding the ruins of her scarf, gripping it tight in her hand.
With the larger group, their Margot checked her phone then nodded towards the estate. "You lot should head back. I'll collect your friend and take care of our guest, too."
The woman stepped back and with a sharp dilution of her body's colors, the fizzling returned once more, this time whisking her form away in a spray that faded quickly, as if she had never been there. Were it not for her footprints in the sand, she might not have been.
"She seemed nice." Marcus said fairly bluntly, filling the second of silence after she disappeared. He hadn't really done much to add to the conversation, besides bringing his chair leg to the ready when a random person materialized in front of them. At that moment, everything had been a tense calculation; was she close enough for him to get if he needed? Would he even be able to do anything if she went on the offensive first?
Fortunately, none of that was necessary.
Siena didn't allow the barriers to drop despite dividing her focus. Eyes on the stranger--not a hostile? Her outfit implied training, the gear a strikingly familiar sight--her ears honed in on the conversation. Zoe had found one of the Amigos. She went alone? Not important at the moment, the takeaway from that instant was that Zoe was safe. That and the fact that they had someone that could supply answers. Part of her wondered if Zoe had tried to extract answers using typical torment, a small pang of something that resembled both envy and satisfaction echoing across the chasm. Even if the redhead's method didn't work, then--
'Focus on that later.'
Only after the giant of a woman had vanished into the void did Siena relent, the appropriate incantation escaping with her breath. Ethereal barriers melted away into the air, but the brunette's attention was on the space the stranger had occupied. An illusion, perhaps? No, there were footprints still in the sand, that probably meant a physical copy of some sort. At the least, she'd been a subnatural.
"Interesting..." A single proclamation to herself moreso than anything else. It was to be expected at that point, but the mage let her attention linger for a moment longer, a soft murmur slipping from her. "I suppose father will be pleased at the possibility."
Tearing her attention away, the brunette glanced at her peers. "I'll maintain the barrier generator for the time being. I would hate to be shot by a jumpy soldier when we get there."
Back to the estate? Brent kept his expression neutral throughout, but there was still the slightest spark of amusement within. So no matter how stupidly powerful that whip girl was, her method of avoiding death wasn't through a bullet-repellant barrier, huh? And of course Zoe managed to rack up a final win at the end by capturing a straggler. Great work from the Czernobog that had been instrumental for every single one of their 'missions' thus far. Mental applause rang out as the arbiter nodded towards Siena, before he turned to Chris, who was still dragging his limp, broken body about, acidic blood burning the ground beneath him.
"Nothing but a target like this," Brent said, locking eyes with the dragon, "Better go back to human form before you bleed out."
It wasn't concern that served as the undercurrent for that 'suggestion'. It was 'wariness'.
"And yea, compared to Kardos, she's a real riot."
For that brief moment Chris's eyes never let left the stranger's, like a guard dog eager to pounce on an intruder his vigilance didn't soften until he realized she wasn't a criminal. His stance loosened and he finally shifted his attention towards the rest of the group. He tried to listened to their conversation to understand what the general plan was now.
He stirred once Brent addressed him, and in response to his suggestion Chris defiantly thwacked his tail upon the earth with a heavy thud; a light roar escaped his bloodied maw as he stared directly towards him. He wasn't about to revert now, despite how injured he was. He knew he could still fight, and aside from that he had lost his clothes. He didn't want to expose himself in the wilderness for who knows how long until he has access to some clothes or at the very least some form of cloth.
"That sounds like a 'no' to me." Marcus said, scoffing lightly. He crossed his arms and shrugged, looking to Brent. "I don't know for sure; I don't speak Geico. Could be 'Lovely weather today' for all I know."
"What I do know, however, is that I'm not helping anybody drag your scaley ass back to base." He added, addressing Chris directly. "Better damn well hope you're not going to bleed to death before we can get back to Zhang's mansion if you're that stubborn."
Emma shot an unmistakable look at Marcus. It was that look. The caustic combination of annoyance and frustration that no one wanted to see from their would-be βgirlfriendβ. Was now really the time to be picking petty arguments? She quickly vocalized the thought, βYou can get your jabs in later Marcus. Now isnβt the time.β she said flatly, turning towards the estate and walking.
"I'll ask that we refrain from standing here and arguing. My reserves aren't limitless." Even through the flat tone, Siena was certain that the others could hear the unamused note. Brown eyes focused in the direction of the estate briefly, her mind trying to calculate how much time she thought she had and the distance that they could cover. With how much she had left, and with the sheer size of their group, there was no chance of a faster transport method, and it was simply better logic that she remain at least somewhat centered in the group. The thin walls she'd produced earlier, though draining, were at least manageable without much strain.
Still...
"...I will admit that it would be wiser to revert if you can. Larger shields are certainly more tiring to maintain in a worst case situation."
"And with wounds like that, your scales aren't gonna be much use either," Brent added, sparing a smile at Marcus's little jab.
There was very clear anger in what could be seen of Chris's eyes, and an open saurian maw made the threat that he could have lashed out at Marcus had the focus not been taken away to the others. Their reasons didn't comply. It was true that he was wounded, but that cocky instinct of pride still held sway in his decision, and, once again; he was not willing to walk with them naked for an unspecified amount of time. He couldn't communicate this issue directly, as they either didn't care or didn't realize his main concern. With his inner rage having already been sparked back up recently, such anger only steadily increassed with each sentence his team added, Marcus especially with his jabs, and Brent for just being there.
Addressing his defiant rage, Chris stomped forward and stood on his hind legs once he was mere meters away from Brent. As he towered over him, his neck lowered so his maw was closer to his face, and with what strength he had Chris unleashed a long, deafening roar louder then a typical megaphone could produce. Despite how drained he felt and the pain stinging his body with every action he took, Chris leaped over him and began to walk steadily over to the estate.
"Jabs? I'm worried about the big fella here. He's oozing a little bit, and I-" Marcus started, feigning innocence. His sentence was interrupted, however, as Chris let out a large bellow directly into Brent's face.
There was a brief pause where Marcus just looked at the two, before continuing his thought, completely unfazed saved for the ringing in his ears. "- don't want him blocking the path."
Emma was already walking off, though. His explanation was just being yelled after her, and he suspected it had little to no effect. He rolled his eyes slightly; her and Siena did have a point at least, they probably hould have been going. He followed along, passing Brent as he did. "You got a little..." he said, extending a hand to wipe at Brent's shoulder, before continuing past.
Fuck, that was loud.
Despite the macho part of himself wanting to be all cool and impassable, Brent preferred having ears more than looking cool, clamping both hands over them as Chris reared his blooded reptile head in for a big ass roar. His eardrums still ringing, the arbiter grimaced at the tingly dragon-spit that was over his face, using his shirt to wipe it off.
"Thanks," he said to Marcus, "Whatcha think that was, a 'sorry, but I enjoy the pain'? Or just a generic 'don't worry about me, I'll go on ahead and make sure the path is clear'?"
"I think it was 'Thanks for always thinking about me Brent, I wish I could be as kind and compassionate as you.'"
"Thanks Chris!" Brent shouted after the retreating lizard, before removing his helmet and frowning at the results. Great, dragon blood too. Guess that was one positive of wearing a helmet: he didn't have to worry about getting dragon blood in his hair.
'I see refraining from standing here and arguing was an unreasonable request.' The thought was oddly clear as Siena recoiled at Chris's sudden show of aggression, hands covering her ears against the noise. Somewhere deep in the pit of her stomach, a spike of fire tried to rise, quashed by a combination of self-control and weariness before it could surface. With her ears still ringing, Siena lowered her hands, disoriented from the sudden increase in volume, but relieved that at least someone had started moving, even if Chris did decide to remain in dragon form.
Despite herself, Siena released a weary breath, the expression on her face matching the exhaustion that had seeped in long before they had started walking. Shaking her head to clear it of the residual tingling in her ears and haziness clouding her mind, the brunette started taking cautious steps forward, her pace starting slow to ensure that the roar hadn't managed to throw her off balance.
"As if human sized ones weren't hard enough..." The complaint was surprising to hear, even if it was her own. Faint discomfort squirmed in the girl's chest--it felt...odd, voicing that particular thought. Maybe the fatigue was worse than she'd initially thought. Out of habit, Siena tried to blink away the exhaustion and adopted a distant imitation of a smile to reassure herself. "Almost there though."
"...Almost there," Ernie agreed, breaking his odd silence.
He hadn't felt the need to join the joshing. On any other day, a group roast of Chris would have been the best part of his day. now it felt stupid and insignificant in the face of what they'd just survived. Many other factors dug at the back of his mind. In some uncanny repeat of Wisford, Zoe had found another victim to toy with, though she needed more help with putting the guy back together than last time. Ernie would have preferred it if he was there too. After all, he was the one who'd know what questions needed to be answered.
A sneeze momentarily shook him out of his thoughts. A warm manor would be really nice right now. He'd have to question her later.
Then there was that chainsmoker and her...questions. A scowl broke across his face. She'd be at the manor. There were things he wanted to say to her too.
With his aura still up, he walked a little faster too, almost matching Emma's speed.
She saw the anger first, because the fiery redhead in front of her was nothing but anger and resentment and it reminded her of different days. Margot ignored the temptation to reminisce, leaning down to look at the unconscious boy's body. She shifted her gun out of the way for a better crouch, eyebrows raised at the extent of the damage. The legs seemed warped, but salvageable. The missing arm and the sleeve trailing putrified blood and flesh were likely not.
"You always go all-out like this?" she asked, checking the body for a pulse to be safe.
After taking a few seconds to get over the shock of the woman's appearance - and the instinct that told her to react to the shock like she did everything else, and lash out - Zoe had unceremoniously dumped her captive on to the ground. Watching her examine him with a mixture of curiosity and wariness, Zoe's expression darkened upon hearing the question.
"Better than letting a threat run wild. I do what I have to." The reply was sharp, but it rang hollow. After all, she knew more than anyone there was so much of all this that she hadn't needed to do in the slightest. So many choices she could have turned away from. Still, while Zoe frowned at her words, she didn't back down from them - determined, at least, not to burden anyone else with those worries. "Like I said, he got out of my range. It works automatically once that happens. Stopped it as soon as I could."
"No no, it's a compliment. These are necessary actions. There comes a time when good will will get you killed. Or worse: you could watch your friends die first." The woman straightened with a deep breath, snorting briefly at the rot's scent before rolling the boy's body over with a sturdy boot. "Ones like us, too. We need to kill two birds with one stone whenever we get the chance. At least until freedom comes." She tapped at the base of her neck with a free hand.
"Right. When it is necessary, anyway. Seems like a lot of people can't tell the difference." Her included. Zoe appeared to relax slightly at the woman's seeming understanding, but remained tense. Letting her guard down, especially right after a fight, wasn't something she'd ever been accustomed to. Still, two birds with one stone... she appeared briefly confused by the statement, before bringing a hand up to her own neck. Pausing, she glanced towards Margot, appearing unsure.
To tell the truth, Zoe wasn't worried she'd fail to save the others from threats. For better or worse, she didn't think of herself as incompetent - the opposite, in fact, especially compared to the others. There was no doubt in her mind that she'd do what she had to in that kind of situation. It wasn't anyone else killing them that she was afraid of. Freedom was more than a little tempting in that way. To run off somewhere she could be a danger to no-one but herself, or at least take a bullet to the head while trying. "...does it ever get easier? Seems like it's only getting worse so far."
"It gets better. But you don't want to know how. Mine's gone. I bet you anything Cat's Cradle doesn't have theirs either." A shimmer of her form and in an instant another Margot had appeared, bending to throw the boy over one shoulder before walking away, heading back to the estate.
Cat's Cradle didn't have theirs - Zoe knew that much from Andrew. Margot's words told her it was possible, that they weren't an isolated case. Despite that, the reply annoyed Zoe and there was a cold edge to her voice as she spoke. "And what if I do want to know? At least then I can decide whether to give up on it." Of course, there was part of her knew the smartest decision would be to leave the subject alone. Margot certainly didn't seem like she wanted to talk about it. "I'm sick of getting vague bullshit from everyone. If it's really that bad, giving up might feel shitty, but it's a whole lot less shitty than hoping for something impossible."
"You ever wonder why, if a bunch of Abes are running around without their Stigmas, they don't tell anyone how to get rid of it? That's if they even stay sane." She rolled her shoulders, stretching lightly while the other version of her continued walking off. "Because there are some big, bad consequences if word ever got out. You think people hate us now? They'll tear us limb from limb if they knew. And now I'm just waiting for that one special nutcase to spill the beans to the wrong person and we're all well and truly fucked." She watched the tension ball up in Zoe's fists, and then the shoulders. "But you keep doing what you're doing, and I promise you it'll go away. It's just a matter of how much you can stand to lose."
How much she could lose... Zoe was silent for a long moment. That bad, huh? Watching the second Margot walk away, part of her was tempted to keep on that line of questioning, but she doubted she'd get anywhere. Even having seen the effects of her power, Margot had probably dealt with far worse than one angry subnatural - and once intimidation was out of the window, Zoe was hardly silver-tongued.
"Guess if you can't tell me, you can't tell me. At least that's something."
Something so terrible it couldn't be spoken about, and she was heading down the path that reached it. The idea probably should have been more shocking to her, but it made sense. Even her dream had said as much - she'd chosen death and power over promises of peace and sanctuary. So she didn't question Margot's statement, despite the temptation.
Instead, she gestured towards the Amigo being carried away. "So what's going to happen with him? 'Cause if you're gonna ask questions, I might be able to help with some of that."
"You know Freddy. He can more than help with that, don't worry. Once we've got a few of the cuffs on him, he won't be running anywhere." Margot looked at her other self, contemplating something in some unknown distance before turning back to Zoe. "Don't believe I've ever introduced myself. Margot. And I've been there, where you were. Trust me, I know the frustration. But if this got out the Holocaust would look like a tea party."
"Zoe. But you knew that already." Zoe shook her head, sighing. "Won't lie; it pisses me off that you're not gonna tell me, but I think I get it. I wouldn't risk something like that on trusting a stranger. Hell, I wouldn't trust most of the people I know to keep it under wraps." And that was it. Not quite acceptance, but at least a grudging sense of understanding towards the woman's position.
"As for the questioning, you're missing my point. I mean I can help 'cause I know why they came here." Zoe shrugged. "Haven't told the others because I don't want them doing anything dumb. And they would, some of them at least."
"What have you got?"
Zoe took a moment to consider whether she should even reveal the information, but Margot didn't seem the type to spill anything unnecessarily. "Angelique Lachance. They've got her 'in pieces, but alive', according to the townsfolk. The Amigos weren't shy about trying to kill us, so if they took her alive... makes sense they came here for her in the first place. Don't know why or where they're taking her, but that's part of why I went looking for him." She nodded towards the boy.
"As far as any of the others know, she's dead. And until there's more info, I'd rather keep it that way." Her expression was tired, the sentiment colder than she'd have liked. "They'd tear themselves apart thinking they could save her. If they think she's dead, they can let go; it'll hurt less in the long run."
"Good call. Now get back to the estate, hop on a heli, and get some rest. I'll let Zhang know and we'll get something done. You'll be the first to know if anything changes."
"Good enough for me." Zoe nodded, turning to head towards the estate. Figuring Margot had their prisoner more than handled, she found herself satisfied with her efforts on that front, at least. If it hadn't been for her earlier breakdown and the bleak confirmation that she'd never be anything but a danger, she might even have been content.
As things were, it seemed that she'd done much better when she was alone. As usual, really. Without anyone to hold her back, or stand in her way, it was so much easier to work efficiently. But that was something to think about when there was the time to do so, and her energy was best saved for dealing with the others. She'd have to keep from losing her composure, after all - though whether that meant throwing a punch or sobbing her eyes out, she wasn't sure. Either would be something she didn't want them to see.
Despite Margot's refusal to talk about getting rid of her Stigma, the conversation had been something Zoe didn't even realise she'd needed. Because on some level, the woman had understood the things she'd done. Understood that need to sate, the necessity of violence. The frustration of not knowing what to do about it. I wonder, if I explained to the others...
Explained what? That she imagined... hell, fantasised about tearing people limb from limb? That she got off on hurting people and being hurt? Remembered every single bit of death and destruction with a smile on her face? Best case scenario, they pulled the same thing as Kusari had and just pretended to give a shit - that is, until they'd satisfied their morbid curiosity and could write her off as a lost cause after half a conversation. And hell, even then Zoe hadn't told her the whole thing.
Lost in thought, she hadn't replied to anything else she heard over the cuffs; a pause and brief glance over her shoulder revealing that the other Margot had disappeared. That didn't worry her in the slightest; the woman seemed to more than know what she was doing, which struck one concern off of the list. Not that it made things much less overwhelming.
Trying to put it all out of her mind, she grimaced, turning back towards the estate. Knowing there'd be a long journey ahead, there wasn't much reason to hurry - her pace was slow as she finally resumed her walk.
The sound of helicopters cut into her thoughts, and her thoughts spiraled down that path instead until an exclamation from Ernie jolted her out to see... wait a moment. How had sheβwhat had sheβshe'd missed the arrival of someone like that? But with the sudden reactions of the others around her, it made her think that it was something... different. Sophia tried her best to listen through her exhaustion, catching what was said about them returning to the estate. We're going back there? It seems like it's been so long... A steady surrounding sounded welcoming, though. Not having to wonder when they would leave again or anything like that.
"Transmit. I'm gonna need a healer in town as soon as possible. Over."
Huh? That was, Zoe? She wasn't in the group... a glance around told Sophia that a few seemed to be missing too. Pay attention, pay attention, she scolded herself.
There was wariness but fascination as well in her eyes as she watched the woman flicker and speak. Definitely not a regular human. But the conversation that was being held... Amigos... straggler... hurting... lost an arm... bleed out...
Her heart rate sped up, and the next conversation after the woman had left didn't help. Chris and Brent and Marcus. This had happened before, right? There had been something during the beach party. Something tense. But why now? It made her so nervous, it just wasn't the time.
Sophia began to shake her head roughly, but stopped the moment she realized it jolted the cage a bit. What was wrong with her? She needed to be here, not stuck up in her head. Presence of mind. Something like that. Her jaw clenched and she started walking again. Step, step, an abrupt halt and an attempt to shield her ears with one arm as a dragon roared. A few blinks as her ears rang, the feeling too familiar.
There was a safehouse for the remaining Amigos in one of the many storage buildings of the Oak Island Fishing Charters, the location set up prior to their deployment. They abandoned the ferry near the waterway intersection at Pinner Point and walked from there, Nathaniel carrying the mutilated Angel in a large duffel bag they found on the ferry that had once carried various fishing tools and basic supplies. He was countering the otherwise unwieldy weight with his telekinesis, recovered just slightly from the effects of Teitelβs weapons. Once the power had finally released after the tidal wave, Nathaniel had dropped unconscious and at the mercy of his fellow gang members who, to his surprise, did not slit his throat then and there. Perhaps because they realized without him they had no real firepower.
He had awoken inside the ferryβs only cabin, beside the unconscious girlβs upper body. No words had been exchanged then, but he knew an owed favor when he saw one. Thi had worked her surgical magic once more and now he was running on an overdose of adrenaline and heightened senses. Just enough to reach the safe house awake and without needing support to walk.
It was unfortunate for the girl, who had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time while they had secondary orders as well. But fortunate for them. Whatever else they failed to do, this alternative mission required one of Zhangβs pets brought back alive, even if barely living was all they could manage.
And it had all worked out, more or less, and the slow crunching of gravel underneath his boots kept him focused and awake on the end fringes of his stamina, their chosen path hooking and weaving through many abandoned charter stations until they reached a large, wooden building, no different from the rest of the drab and dreary types lining the waterway. But it was the safehouse. A place to wait for a long-range teleporter to come get them. Or for more conventional methods of travel, if one couldnβt spare the time.
A different group had been there first to supply them with sleeping rolls and basic nonperishables hidden in cardboard boxes along the wall. Small flashlights and a first-aid kit lay under a ragged tarp in the corner, along with various sets of warm clothes that loosely fit them and would have been far too large for someone like Isabelle or Chuck. Moth-eaten sofas lay scattered around the room, their presence from decades past.
Nathanielβs thoughts refused to linger on the lost teammates, focusing instead on the partial human inside his bag.
βThi, fix herβjust enough.β He threw the bag near the womanβs feet, dropping into a nearby sofa that coughed up a plume of dust in response to his presence. He pushed the particles away in a spray of telekinetic irritation, laying down to gather as much rest as he could while Thi set to work revamping the functions of Angelβs organs and tapping into the bodyβs reserve storage of energy, stimulating usage of the girlβs fat during their wait period while numbing her nerves and sense of hunger. She triggered the bodyβs natural sedatives, too, finishing for the moment with a perfect, but ghastly suture across the vertical of the torso, the line nestled between the amputated breasts.
No teleporter came for them that time. Instead a lone van drove up several hours later and parked by the near roadside while the hooded men in nondescript clothing that all covered their necks stepped out and knocked carefully on the door of the storage house. Thi answered first, scalpels in hand and her frightening glove of needle-like feelers prepared to tear through the throats of any enemies. But the gesture of running a finger from the center of their forehead to the tip of their nose was enough to identify whose loyalties were present.
Ian stopped playing with the bits of sand and dirt in the room, the swirling miniature sandstorm falling away as he shook Nathaniel awake and picked up Angel by the handle that Thi had carved and attached onto the girlβs upper back from sections of hip bone.
Unaccustomed to Thiβs methods, their transport stared at the limbless girl until a weary and cranky Nathaniel shoved past them to the car. It was time to deliver at last and he was ready to be done with the half-botched mission.
The island suffered its share of harried activity in the aftermath with Margotβs various copies scouring every corner of the small landspace for more enemies and finding only a skulking Aubrey in his quite literal man cave within the underground tunnels of the island. Chuck, meanwhile, had been handily cuffed with enough suppressors to render him little more than a late teenage boy who had made some awful decisions. He was packed into a separate helicopter by three Margots while another attached a new cuff to Kusariβs neck, the silver band with its translucent coating sealing together seamlesslyβan upgraded version from their original cuffs.
βNot sure what happened, but Iβm gonna take a while guess and say youβre probably not looking to lose your head any time soon.β
True to her word, the mercenary had notified Zhang the moment she received Zoeβs information, one of her many selves relaying the news once a good connection was established. Silence had met her on the other end and then a termination of the message channel. It would have been easy chalking it all up to the woman being a royal bitch but Margot knew better. It more more likely that Zhang was in a panic and coping with it the only way the woman knew howβby tackling every task as efficiently and robotically as possible until she found a way to settle events within her reasonable control again.
While preparations and restoration went on, Margotβs personal squad took up defensive positions around the estate and her own replicas ushered the two groups of students onto one of the helicopters.
The flight was muffled within the helicopterβs cabin and the trip clocked in a little over three hours of flight with a brief refueling stop while clouds and open land slid past the view below them. Crimen Culpae 1 came into view as the helicopter neared its final destination. Dipping lower, signs of a battle on the schoolβs grounds became immediately apparent with central buildings still in the process of slow, magical reconstruction while outcroppings of shattered edifices relied on more mundane means of contractors and scaffolding. Large piles of debris had been carefully swept off the Institute grounds while a distant, gargantuan Miranda slowly prowled the city outskirts, movements so slow that continuous viewing could barely discern any progress.
The schoolβs central buildings remained intact and a worried Rosa stood near the helicopter landing pad situated on the roof of a research building, waiting to see the state of the students. Before they even landed, however, she was already leaving, a call on her phone sending her sprinting to the nearest elevator. She managed a quick wave at the approaching helicopter, but nothing more.
On landing the Instituteβs soldiers resumed their careful chaperoning, nudging the students into the main hallway and down a different elevator, before leading them out of the buildingβs lobby and setting them loose with a quick gesture to leave.
A researcher in a blue lab coat with her blonde hair twisted into a loose bun behind her head passed by the group on their way out and looked at them oddly, but resumed her business after a glare from one of the soldiers, hurrying into the building to get out of sight.
Aside from the small encounter and the remnants of devastation surrounding them, they were, apparently, home sweet home.
?????? / / ?????? / / ?????? / / ??????
ββ¦makes them special?β
ββ¦possible toβ¦and repurpose forβ¦β
ββnot sure this is related toββ
βWashingtonβs attack wasnβt Fractureβs plan eitherββ
βDo you think Dreamcatcherβ¦notice thatβ¦β
ββ¦is it awake?β
Snippets of conversation in unfamiliar voices faded in and out for Angel, lost in a haze of drugs and supernatural surgery, until she awoke limbless and artfully attached by metallic spokes to a freestanding cube frame of iron and steel isolated in a windowless cement room that, with all the protruding pipelines, looked like the basement of some commercial building. Four metal poles extended diagonally inward from the boxβs four edges, suspending the amputated torso in the center. At the junction of flesh and steel, the surgeon had grafted bone to metal, making the grotesque framework effectively a part of the girl now. She was naked, though there was little left to see. Breasts had been replaced with more metal girding holding her in place, smaller rungs of iron fastened tightly to her exposed ribcage, the skin and flesh above each incision removed in perfect circles.
What remained of her lower body had been entirely redefined, a large portion of her innards easily visible with metal waste tubes extending from her truncated intestines and draining into an accessible sewer line nearby, the end of the tube bolted into place against the larger pipe. A large container of clear liquid siphoned nutrients and hydration into the partial body, the thin, flexible lines of rubber inserted directly into her stomach and feeding her directly. Other hollow threads redirected excretions from the kidneys into the same waste tube and further threads kept the intestines neatly packed under her ribs.
The room was empty when she woke up. A single bulb of light on the ceiling provided sufficient illumination, but there was no mistaking what had become of her body. As if in cruel jest, a tall mirror had been placed on the wall across from her, the polished look of it out of place in the dismal room.
And if she screamed, she would hear no sound.
One IC week of interaction time. Have fun with that. IC time ends 14 October 2020 at 0500.
For an undetermined amount of timeβtime that the poor girl could not grasp in her hazy state of mindβthe raven-haired girl slowly started returning to her senses. There was no voice, at least none that she wasnβt familiar with beside the ones she constantly kept hearing in her head. She was all alone, with enough lighting to discern what was surrounding her.
At first, the waking young woman was confused. Eyes not yet open, she swore she couldnβt feel anything. The only thing she could feel was a slight itching in her throat. An itching she wanted to scratch badly. And yet, she couldnβt. Why couldnβt she relieve herself of this itching? Where was the feeling of her hands gone to?
Trying to bring her hands up to her neck, sinister memories slowly began creeping into her mind.
The searing bite of a sawβs teeth digging into flesh and bone.
It hurtsβ¦
A hand digging into her stomach to remove most of her organs.
No moreβ¦
A scalpel to slice away her fat, breasts and hair.
Please β¦ let me dieβ¦
Those memories, accompanied by the lack of sensation throughout her body, made Angelβs heartbeat steadily increase. Adrenaline began pumping through her as her mind was clearing, remembering every little detail of that sordid morning. The pain, it was unbearable. Even as numb as she was, the reminder of the pain she suffered not long ago was still fresh in her mind. Why wasnβt she dead yet?
Then, Angel slowly opened her eyes, afraid of what she will find out. At first, there was nothing but haze. She could do nothing but wait for it to subside as she couldnβt bring a hand to clear her eyes. But when her sight became clearer, she noticed she was standing upright, just as if she was standing. Standing without feeling anything of her body. Glancing around, what she saw only made her situation worse.
Rods of metal.
A metal frame surrounding her.
Tubes of all kinds inserted in her body.
The polished mirror in front of herβ¦
What the fuck is that β¦ no β¦ it canβt beβ¦
Angel closed her eyes reflexively. She suddenly felt sick. She thought sheβd throw up right at this moment, but nothing would come out of her mouth. Angel simply retched air out from her throat for a good moment. Even if it was but a hazy silhouette, she could recognize a dismembered corpse when she saw one. She saw enough of those back in Wisford and Washington.
Why was she here? What did they do to her? Whose corpse was this?
Angel could feel her heart beating at an inhuman pace. It slightly hurt even. Her mind was pacing back and forth to that morning and the moments she spent unconscious.
The mutilated torso of a human being, held up by rods of metal fused to its bone and flesh and attached to a large square metal frame. Lower body missing so much that the ribcage was exposed. Its innards were removed, replaced by a complex assembly of tubes that was pumping stuff inside and outside its body. Scars running across the torso, as if the body had been thoroughly opened then sewed back.
Angelβs heartbeat grew even quicker.
The black X mark on its neck, unaltered despite the stitches on the corpseβs neck.
Her breathing was accelerating to an alarming rate.
The cropped locks of sand and mud-stained black hair.
A plaintive shadow of a wail formed on her lips.
Those glassy emerald eyes and the tears that had started to trail down its cheeks.
Noβ¦
Her chest was hurting. She swore she could see the corpseβs heart beating so quickly, she could see it through the corpseβs inhumanely slim torso. She swore her heart was ready to explode from her chest cavity. It hurt so damn much.
This canβt beβ¦
As to match her heartβs erratic beats, her breathing also grew so quick and shallow, Angel thought for an instant every breath she took was not enough. She could feel herself choke from her own breathing, Angel was starting to suffocate, exhaling more oxygen than her intake.
Her lips formed a wide O. Air pushed from her lungs so violently that, despite her lack of vocal chords, the sound of a faint wheeze out from what should have been a scream of denial could be heard.
But as much as she tried to scream, no one would hear her. No one would come to her rescue.
If this was what hell looked like, then Angel sure was buckled alright for a maddening descent to the inferno.
It had been a long ride back to USARILN, and when she returned Emma had only one thing on her mind: Sleep. She headed directly to Suite 318, went right to bed, and crashed.
In a way it felt like she was home.
βDude, pass the butter. Gotta butter my shit up.β Val said, giving Emma a slight wink, evoking a small snicker came from the girl and a disapproving frown came from their mom.
βVery classy, Val. I'm sure that'll get you a husband in no time.β the mom swiped back after a mere moment.
Val looked down, βI...β the girl started angrily, but she shook her head, βButter, babe?β she said, instantly changing to a much kinder inflection.
βRight. Butter.β Emma said, grabbing the plate and passing it towards her sister.
βSo, how's school?β the older sister asked, leaning on her arm as she listlessly buttered up her roll. βStill kicking ass in trig?β
βYeah boy. Triangles can't keep me down.β
βBet. That's what I'm ta-β
And then it all stopped at once. It happened every time. Everything was cloudy, Emma realized, like the bottom of a pond. Something was wrong. What could be wrong? She was back home...
Back from where?
It happened before she realized. They were no longer at their apartment in Tribeca. She was in the car with Val. She was just a kid, but Val was much older. That... wasn't right, was it?
β-lking about. You can't trust those fuckers. They see you... see what you are, they won't like it. Listen, I hate to say it, but you can only trust me. Right?β
βRight. That's all I need. Val, I never sai-β
Her sentence was suddenly cut off by the sound of police sierns. It was in the distance, but enough to put the two of them on alert.
βNot for us. They're too far away, don't worry about it.β
βYeah. Not for us.β
A fairy flitted in front of the scene, hovering on the car's windshield and unseen by Val. It beckoned to Emma, forward, even though she was strapped in to the passenger seat. Forward.
βSo...β Val's words hunt in the air for a moment, βYou'll like California. You shoulda been a valley girl, y'know that?β
βOh, fuck off.β
βNo, for real.β
βLike, totally, no w-β Emma was trying her best valley girl accent, but she suddenly noticed the... fairy? No, no, no, this wasn't right. Where was she? Not in the car with Val... not really, right? She unbuckled the seat belt, leaning forward.
βEm, what're yo-β but suddenly Val stopped. Everything stopped, like time was frozen. And Emma reached out to the fairy. βI get it...β she was no longer a child- she was her regular self. βThis isn't real, right? Just a dream.β Emma stood up, and the car melted away, and now it was just a road with darkness on either side of them. The phantom form of Val still hung there, now floating where she once was.
The little figure of glowing white and fluttering wings nodded, zipping around Emma quickly. When it finished the beeline, the landscape had changed once more, now just a faded whiteness with a tinge of yellow like old paper. The fairy hovered in front of Emma's face and waved. Then spoke.
"Emma?"
βYou... know me?β Emma looked around, βThis isn't... this isn't a normal dream, is it?β Emma looked at her hands. It was too real. βAre you...β Emma thought for a moment, recalling. It'd been so long since she'd talked to her, or at least it felt like it, βVivaldi?β
The little fairy nodded again. "I can look however I like in dreams. And I saw the helicopters arriving recently, so I've been looking."
βYou can appear as anything?β Emma asked, looking at the fairy, βWell, what do you really look like than?β
"Nothing interesting, so here I try to be. And you said you wanted to meet me in the Death and Taxes chatroom, right?"
βI did say that. I was hoping... well, I was hoping for a favor, but a question first. How well does your power work, exactly? I'd be surprised if the answer was yes, but, could you view someone's Awakening? Theoretically?β
"I might have told you, because people ask me this a lot, but I can't. I can try but it's always like something is keeping me out."
βRight. We talked about this, I remember now, but basically to recap our group, uh, 'Experimental Unit B' have been having strange dreams. Or maybe visions, I'm not sure. Usually after a battle, or when something important happens... they seem to be connected to the our powers - whenever we have one, we become stronger. I'm not sure you'd be able to discern anything about them if you saw one, but if you could... I dunno, this is really a shot in the dark, but you seem to be the one that'd know the most about dreams around here. The only one with any way to 'look into' this. I'm just trying to find some meaning to what's happening to us.β
"I've never been lucky enough to catch anything like that, then. If they're related to your powers I think it'd feel the same as the Awakening dreams. Or maybe similar. But I've only found normal dreams...hmm. No. I might have seen something strange once, but it might not be what you're talking about."
The fairy turned to face forward, pointing into an indiscernible horizon that flickered in and of focus until an image formed. A distant boy floated in a sea of stars, and each twinkled to an unknown rhythm. One flashed and the picture crumbled away.
"I thought it was an Awakening dream at first. Because it pushed me out right then, too...but it didn't really feel like one, you know? I don't think anyone else could really understand it, but when you've experienced a sneak peek into the Awakening of others, it's like...something vast shoves you aside. And you can't fight against that current. And it was kind of like that here, but not really--"
βWell...β Emma wasn't learning as much as she hoped to, but she did say this was a shot in the dark, and it really was. It was something, at least, βI'm not really sure what it means, but I guess there's something greater at work. Dreamcatcher or some shit.β
"Well, of course Dreamcatcher's at work! But you should ask Clark. He's the one who had that weird dream I showed you. The one that was kind of like Awakening but not really? Is that what it feels like for you guys?"
βClark...?β so it goes all the way back to the gang beneath the medical building, huh? βIt's like... there's an ocean... an ocean of power, and it's right there, right in front of us, but... we can only take a drop of that power. But it's not just power, there's something else, something immense, and with that drop we take a little of that too. There's something dark to it, like... some kind of taint.β
Emma sighed.
βI dunno. That's what it's been like for me.β
"Huh. Weeeeeird," the fairy answered, pulling curiously at its own little skirt like it was examining itself. "Well I can't say I know how that feels, but if Clark doesn't know anything, then oh well. You can also try Hector, too, if you're brave."
Another glimmer through the dreamscape and the car was there again. Val still driving far and away. The fairy floated higher, looking upward at something in the blurry, unreal sky. "I wonder if that's--"
The words vanished along with the mental landscape, wiped clean and reshaping as Emma felt the now-familiar rush of a dream that was and wasn't. Voices overlapped in the distance, mumbling nonsense like they were simply testing the sounds of language.
βV-Vivaldi?β and all at once, everything changed. There was a flicker! In the distance she could feel him, feel Determination, and he was gone. Like rushing water, it came crashing down, like a tremor that shook her to her core. But... it wasn't something else, wasn't something alien, it was her. It was her own power, her force of will, ready to break beyond everything she knew and will ever know. She was so strong! Stronger than she could imagine, but there was something else, something in the distance... no, it was close, so close! Terrifyingly close and terrifyingly there. Undeniably there in a way that nothing else was, looming, looming over her, but it couldn't, it couldn't come in... she was too strong, far too strong, it couldn't just break through her will, but it wanted to, she could feel it.
It wanted to so bad. The storm was gone, rain washed away, it was the storm but the storm was no longer there because it didn't need to be, it was looking for her and it had found its prize. But it couldn't reach in, she could feel it. Madness. Death. It kept trying and trying and trying, the force pushing against her own. But it just couldn't! It was close, closer than ever, but it was denied! She stood against it's might, and all at once it was coming, bearing down on her, closer, closer, closer. And then it was there she could see it, she could see it but it was hazy, hazy, all around her the haze set in, and then suddenly it asked. Asked to be let in, but it wasn't, it wasn't what she thought, it wasn't madness, it wasn't death, it was warmth, it was love, it was...
Riley? βRiley!β
It was her, it was her, she'd been so far, but now so close, she couldn't... what was happening, where was she? New York, Tribeca, Lake Pleasant, USARLIN East, Wisford, Washington, the island, it all rushed before her, she was everywhere and nowhere but now Riley was there too! And she couldn't say no to that. She couldn't bring herself to.
So she let her in.
And the picture disappeared, burning and melting away until the crack in her safety turned into a fissure. Her shadow lengthened behind her, but it was a demon without form and it reached in, the gap closing too slowly, the other force shaken by the will of its user. A lance through her neck, but there was no blood and no pain, just a quiet peace while the endless monster ate. And what? And what? Voices screamed in her head, the Stigma fat and ready for slaughter. Eaten slowly, feeding a gluttonous force a power it should never have had in the first place.
Too slow. The gap was closing too slowly. Because she didn't want it to. Because Riley was there. And Riley was still there, eyes bright and mouth stretched in a grin so far it nearly split her face in two. Did it know the face of a human? Or was it all too aware?
Was she being eaten? Was she dying? Emma didn't know, couldn't know, but... it felt so right. The stigma roared, roared at her, and she couldn't quiet it, she didn't want to quiet it. Her punishment, her punishment for making the wrong choice, for being weak, for not having the courage to make the right choice.
She would give anything for it to stop but she didn't want it to. An oxymoron she couldn't solve. Her eyes were fixated on Riley, ready to give, ready to give whatever she wanted. In the palm of her hand all over again. She'd sworn off that, but she always knew this was how it was meant to end.
We were made for each other, you know that, right?
And they really were.
They really were.
What was there to fight if she let it in? The protection around her crumbled, falling away in pieces like a broken eggshell. It was around and over and held back the ocean, but what had slipped in was beyond its prevention. All it could do was break under the flow, but there was a light like stars and something felt safe beside her. Riley in front. Riley by her shoulder.
"Emma," a clearer voice sounded. Closer to her ear. Riley's voice and also not. Or was it her voice? The Stigma's? It touched the mark, hand like ice to soothe the burn that did not hurt. "Emma," it called again, and its mouth moved further like it wanted to say more, though no sound came out. If there was a concept of anger, she felt it, and the bright-eyed Riley screamed. βYou abandoned me! Left me, when I needed you most! I thought you loved me, thought that we meant something, but... fuck you Emma, fuck you! I hate you!β
"Emma." Again the voice calling her while her world fell apart around her. The antithesis to self-hate and anger and feelings she would rather leave behind. The mouth moved aimlessly, searching for words and sense and pulling through Emma's thoughts because it couldn't find its own. She could feel it searching like a sieve through her mind and it caught something at last while the worst version of her feelings screamed profanities at her, pulling more from the Stigma and threatening to consume her alive. "Emma. Fight." Words spoken like a learning toddler. It was familiar.
She could hear it all. She was...
Worthless.
Evil.
Two-faced.
Backstabbing.
Hated by everyone.
Boring. So boring. Her existence was so inconsequential, so pointless, devoid of meaning. She could die now and it wouldn't matter.
She could die now and it wouldn't matter.
Her belief system dictated that when she died there would be nowhere to go. Nothing waiting for her. No pearly gates, no Saint Peter, no gods or deities, there was only...
Eternal oblivion.
The only answer she could find. Was she okay with that? Could she live with that? She heard his voice. It was close, so close, so close, where was he, where the hell was he? She wanted to die, she was terrified of death, she couldn't die, she couldn't keep existing, she needed something, needed an anchor, needed...
Marcus. Callan. Determination. Val. Mom and Dad.
Riley.
Riley was here for her, wasn't she? There for her, after all this time. She pushed the voice away. Riley was here, that was all she needed. All she ever needed.
"Emma! Look!" And it was Determination, dashing towards the Riley that snarled like a predator hunting prey. He had vanished. And now he was here. Because she could call on him anywhere. And he could choose to be at will.
The form blasted apart as he neared, a step away from Riley. Again he appeared, running for the impersonator. Because he was her Determination. Undaunted. Unfazed. When it came down to it, he could choose to be.
Shatter. Once more. Torn apart. Once more. Ripped to shreds. Once more.
And he came back, again, but he was no longer the same. He was... he was small. At least, small by his standards, still tall, but not as tall... 6 feet, a little more. Thin, his figure... no, not his figure. Her figure. More human. Girlish, slim, she was... she was the shadow of the person she was fighting. She was the shadow of Riley.
"EMMA!" Determination called again, Riley's voice now. Riley's face. Riley's hair. Her clothes. Because that was what she had wanted. Another burst and Determination disappeared, coming again, every time reaching for the Riley that was eating Emma alive.
Riley, again, another Riley... no, it wasn't Riley. But it was. She knew, she knew who it really was, it was... Determination. But not.
She opened her eyes.
Where was she? What was she doing? She couldn't die, not here. She couldn't submit to the nothingness, could she? There was so much left for her, back home. Where was home? USARILN? Pleasant Lake? Their apartment in Tribeca? They were all home. She hated all of them. But that wasn't what mattered, what mattered was...
Val. Mom and Dad. Callan. Marcus. Riley.
Determination.
She couldn't leave them, she couldn't. This wasn't... this wasn't real, this wasn't Riley, she had to fight, had to fight, fight or die...
She realized that she couldn't die. She wasn't okay with that, not any longer.
So she struggled. She fought, pulling at the lance that pierced her throat.
"We were made for each other, you know that, right?" The Riley in front of her repeated, face curling into an ugly snarl. "Right? ISN'T THAT RIGHT, EMMA?!
βIt is...β
It was true. They were. She knew it, always had, an unshakeable truth.
βBut...β
She had come so far. Struggled so much. For what? To die in a nightmare, to have everything she was sucked from her? What would happen if she gave in? What would happen if she fought? It was so scary, caught by indecision, but...
If she failed here would she lose everything? Lose the people around her, the bonds she forged? Would it take her powers? Take her stigma?
βI'm... I'm so scared... what's going to happen to me?β
"Emma! I'm here! And only because you are!" For a moment it seemed like Determination almost touched the other Riley with the twisted face and the hand that was a lance--and had it always been? Had it always been her? Determination's fingers almost brushed that Riley's cheek and the figure recoiled like it had been burned. The screech was inhuman. Not Riley. Never had been.
A chorus and a cacophony of sound, but if they were her Stigma they didn't feel like it. Holding back the ocean and the crumbling had slowed. Determination was torn apart again and this time didn't charge forward when it reappeared.
"Are you here?" And the question didn't feel like it came from her Tulpa.
βI don't...β
Maybe death was the better option. Eternal oblivion wasn't so bad when you thought about it β there wasn't a you that was there to care about not existing. And...
βI don't want to fight anymore...β
It was so hard. To struggle. To live. Who cares if she existed anyways? There was a bitter taste in her mouth. Salt. She was crying, she realized. Who was it in front of her? Riley? No, not Riley. But did that matter? She felt like she was sinking. Like she was drowning.
βI'm not strong...β
The sound was breaking her. Determination was gone.
βI'm not a fighter...β
She couldn't feel it, couldn't find the will to fight back.
βI'm so weak.β
It was a dream in an instant. A vision in a flash, the culmination of a promise that was made to tempt. An army of Tulpas, a reigning queen whose subjects followed in complete obedience. Never alone. Fulfilled and happy. She didn't know what she looked like anymore, and everything looked so small, like ants. Something wanted to crush them and it wasn't her. She giggled like it was humorous. The way children didn't know the pain when they tore little bugs apart. A familiar voice below called her name. Scars on his face. She crushed him, too, limbs black and segmented. Jointed like a puppet, stepping on people in her way. Her army of Tulpas took people apart, tearing out ugly parts. Parts she didn't like. They kept only the people she wanted around her. So she would never be alone again, surrounded only by what she liked. A pretty girl with long brown hair ran in front of her, cold steel in her eyes. Colors around her. She was jealous. And the Tulpas took her apart, too.
It was eating. She could feel it. Taking and promising exactly what she wanted.
"Are you here?" the faintest voice asked again, barely a whisper now. The world threatened to crash down on her. The black sea above moved to take in full. It had promised.
No, no, no, no no no no no no.
It was happening again, all over again. Was the realization too late? This was it, this was the dream! The same choice all over again. She had to fight it, had to fight it, she realized. She could fix it. She could make the right choice.
βHere! I'm here!β she called, she struggled, finally fighting against the current, fighting against whatever was consuming her. βHelp! Help!β she called into the nothingness. βI can't... I can't die here...β
It flashed before her. The man in Washington D.C. that tried to kill her. She gave up then. She gave up now. But it wasn't too late to change, was it? It was true, she wasn't a fighter... but she couldn't let herself stop fighting. She couldn't submit to oblivion.
βI don't want this!β she called out at the vision before her. βI don't want to die!β
As if sensing the resistance, the pressure surged, pushing against her with its full force, ready to crush her entirely. The Stigma petered away, taken in. Feeding it. Siphoned from her because that was all it had ever needed her for.
The wave pushed up, an ocean below her. The weight above crushed down.
In a brief instant she saw flits and flickers of people who only vaguely resembled their counterparts. Padma, Savannah, Aaron...and others she didn't recognize. A white marked boy with brown, messy hair turned to look at her, his shape more solid than others, his face sharp, almost grumpy, like he had been having an unpleasant conversation until then. Unknown. Faces she had never seen before.
"Not yet. Not now. It's still got you." Threads. Blue and red and white now and she felt them pierce her in a million needles, pulling her away from the scene, away from the boy. Stitching her back in place. "Fuck off somewhere far," the boy shouted as she blinked and the world went white. Silent. Still.
Above it all. The safe haven repaired like she had never left it in the first place. The pressure was gone here, in the absolute silence, and she realized it was a moment to recover. Just a space to breathe that she couldn't stay in for long. She wasn't meant to be here.
"EMMA!" The lance was gone. Riley stood in front of her and the twisted girl shouting profanities had disappeared. Nothing but the screeching around her. It wasn't her own voice. It wasn't the Stigma. Other. More. Something else. And where Riley stood it couldn't approach. It screamed--harsh, grating sounds that would have deafened her in reality. Torn her eardrums to pieces. "What do you want me to do?"
βI...β
Emma didn't know how to answer. She was lost in her dreamscape, unsure of what choices were the right one. βI don't know. I just want to be safe... I want to do better... I want to make the right choices... but I just wish you were here. Really here... what should I do?β
"Wake up. Tell me you want to wake up."
βOkay... okay, I want to wake up.β
The spreading darkness shook. It trembled. Furious. Livid. The anger of a vast sentience.
It screamed again and the noise cut off. Determination gripped air. A blink. Gripping Riley, deformed. Vile. A facsimile of the person Emma loved. An insult. "This is your dream, Emma. Not hers."
The form twitched, striking at Determination and spasming on the contact. The Tulpa wound its occupied arm back, a baseball pitch Emma had never taught it. And threw.
The crack disappeared. The strange haven of safety that was for Emma alone healed. The presence faded almost entirely. A heartbeat passed.
Emma woke up.
She was in her bed. Everything was normal. Determination was nowhere to be seen. She shot up, instantly heading out of the room, hoping not to wake her roommates. Down the hall, down the stairs, and she was gone out the door. The cool night hair was refreshing β she was drenched in sweat. She pulled out her ph-
Emma?
The voice was... Riley?
Unless... she summoned Determination, who sure enough still held her ex's appearance βWhat... happened to me?β she said, clearly aware of her change in form.
βI... I don't know, I'm just glad we got out of there.β
βWhat? Out of where?β
Emma gave the Tulpa a inquisitive glance. βThe... the dream, and...β
The shadow of Riley was clearly confused. The tulpa's expressions were much easier to read now- it had a face, a real face. βAre you okay? What are you talking about?β
It was just a dream...? No, not just a dream, but the Tulpa clearly didn't remember it.
βNever mind.β Emma said, pulling out her phone. She doubted that Vivaldi would have many more answers than she did, but it was worth checking in. As Emma began typing on her phone Determination set about looking at her new body.
βDoes... this mean I'm a her now?β
βI... I guess? I mean... it's your thing to pick!β this was way too real of conversation for her to be having with her Tulpa.
βI... guess I am a 'her', now, in that case.β
Emma thought that was probably something you should be sure about, but didn't comment. Instead she picked a direction to wander, not content to return to sleep.
βHey, Emma, wait up!β
It was all very strange. Riley was back with her, but she wasn't. And... and there was something else... the voices in her head were quiet. So quiet. Where did they go?
10/8
God he was awkward.
Here he stood outside Suite 318, anxiously trying to decide between actually knocking on the door and just running away to hide in his room like a frightened schoolboy. He was wearing an unbuttoned shirt overtop a plain T-shirt, and if he had been dumb enough to actually try and go find more than dandelions, he probably would have brought flowers. This shouldn't have been so difficult for him to do; they'd been dating for nearly a month now. And yet, it still seemed like they were on rocky ground to him. Sure, they'd been on a few dates before Wisford, and had hung out in La Plata, but everything that had happened in DC had threatened to bring them back to square one in his mind...or worse.
You know what? He was worrying to much.
Taking a slight breath, he knocked on the door, desperately hoping it would be Emma that answered. He really didn't want to deal with asking for Emma like a small boy talking to someone's parents.
Marcus didn't have to wait long. Almost as soon as he knocked there was the sound of motion behind the door followed by a couple of hushed sentences between indiscriminate voices. And then after another moment the door opened, but instead of the expected Emma was a girl that Marcus didn't recognize. She was tall- taller than Marcus. A little above six foot if someone had to guess. Tall and narrow, with long blue hair swept over to one side of her head.
βUh, who're you?β
Marcus had anxiously been looking down the hallway when the door opened, and he turned quickly to greet whoever it was. Only, it wasn't someone he knew. This was a completely different person, a large woman that he didn't recognize, and that looked like he would be better off not bothering. The kind of face that clearly showed a no-nonsense attitude, and the colored hair to match. Marcus nearly recoiled in surprise at the sight of her opening the door; it was clear that he'd made a mistake somewhere.
"O-oh! I'm sorry...I think I must have the wrong room." Marcus said, looking over to the plate on the outside of the door. 318: this was the right room. But then...where was...?
"I apologize, you don't happen to know an Emma Halwell, do you?" he asked, confusion starting to settle over him.
βOh, yeah, sure thing dude. Come on in.β she said, holding the door open for him, βEmma! There's a boy here for you!β she called out. Emma came around the corner from the bedroom, βOh, hey Marc! How's it goin'?β she said, doing her best to sound chipper, wondering if she'd looked as bad as she'd felt. Sleep had been fleeting since Wisford, worse after Washington and the island, and nearly non-existent after the nightmare. Her hair was awry and her eyes were lined with heavy bags- it probably wasn't hard for Marc to tell.
"Thanks...?" Marcus said, eyes nervously darting up and down the new figure. They had never met, had they? As far as he knew, he'd never even seen this person before; there was no way she was in their class, was there? He stepped in, looking to Emma with a clear confusion in his eyes, as if pleading for help without saying anything. "I'd say I'm doing pretty well." He said, finally turning to give Emma his full attention. "I was just wondering...now that we're back and everything...did you want to head to CC and grab some drinks again?"
βYeah, we could do that.β the girl took a seat on the couch, flipping through channels, apparently no longer interested in their conversation, βYou mind if I get dressed first?β
"Not at all...I'll just...wait out here." Marcus said, sitting down on the nearest chair. His mind was still racing, trying to figure out who this person was. Emma was roommates with Lawrence (he had the dog)...and Hazel (she had given Emma the suit of armor). Maybe Hazel had been moved after she lost control in Wisford?
βRight. I'll be just a second.β Emma moved into the bedroom, spending a few moments picking up garments before deciding on an outfit. βDon't look, alright?β she said jokingly, disappearing into the bathroom, door cracked open behind her.
He grinned at her as she disappeared, eyes immediately averting and face reddening as he noticed the slight stream of light coming from the bathroom. That wasn't....an invitation, was it? The way she'd said it....the door being left open...was that on purpose!?
A hundred thoughts flew through his mind in the span of a few seconds, none of them thoughts that he would ever dare to voice out loud. In the midst of his own conflicted mind, and looking for something to distract him from his quickly reddening face. The new girl. He should at least try and be friendly, right? God, he never knew how to talk to complete strangers.
"So...you uhh...are you one of Emma's roommates?" he asked cautiously, looking curiously around the room.
βEh? Oh... OH! You probably don't recognize me, do you? I'm Determination.β the girl said, grinning, βSo I guess that'd make that a yes!β
"You what?" Marcus stammered, the words escaping from his mouth before he could dutifully process them.
βUh, yeah. I'm Determination.β Determination leaned a little towards Marcus, raising her eyebrows, βI look fiiiine now, huh?β she said quietly.
"Bwuh?" Another noise escaped Marcus's mouth. What was happening here? Who was this woman that was coming on to him? Was this a test?
He hopped his chair back once to try and put a small amount of distance between himself and the new girl. His face was quickly reddening even more, and he finally managed to put his thoughts together coherently. "Determination. Like...Emma's Determination. Real big? Looks like a shadow man? Tore the top of a lighthouse off? That Determination?"
βYep! One and the same. Freaky, huh?β
His eyes scanned her face, looking for some sort of evidence that would tell him that she was joking. There was none...but more importantly, she didn't have a mark on her face. That fact alone was almost as confusing as the rest of it; if she didn't have a mark, then that meant that either she was a Reg, or...
"Emma! Marcus called out to the bathroom, his tone slightly distressed.
βWhat?!β Emma called out, not moving to come out of the bathroom, βI'm still changing, just gimme a minute!β
"This person out here telling me she's actually Determination, the big, intimidating shadow dude, is she telling the truth?"
βOh... oh, shit! Yeah, sorry, I should've briefed you on that... uhhhh, yeah, yeah she is.β
"Oh...okay...cool." Marcus half shouted back, not relaxing at all. Why was he so freaked out...it wasn't like it was the weirdest thing he'd seen yet. Determination was just a person now. A large, attractive looking, female person.
Maybe it was the weirdest thing he'd seen so far.
"Uhh..." he started, eyes flicking over the woman in his effort to comprehend. "Well then...I guess it's nice to meet...er...re-meet you, Det!" he finished, nervously sticking a hand out to her.
The tulpa looked down for a moment. It muttered something under its breath, seemingly lost in thought, before suddenly looking up. βRight! Sorry! Nice to meet you, uhhhh...β she said, reaching out her hand and shaking his.
Determination didn't remember him? Was that something that happened during her...transformation? Did the tulpas remember anything between 'lives'? He made a mental note to ask Emma some of these questions later, when they were out of earshot.
"Marcus. Marcus Howell."
βOh right! Marcus, I remember now, with the...β Determination scanned Marcus's face, βUh, face.β she said, her smile turning into a 'whoops, sorry' kind of grimace.
"Yep. Guy with the face. Nailed it, buddy." Marcus said, giving a thumbs-up. It felt weird to address this new Determination so casually; he...she...was a completely different person now. "Emma's boyfriend? Makes all the funny jokes? Can flash forward and backward? Told you to throw a lighthouse at people?" Marcus said, trying to jog her memory.
βYeah, no, no, gotcha!β she said, smiling. It was a good thing he was oblivious enough that he didn't realize she was very impolitely alluding to his scars. βNice to re-meet you, Marcus!β
Thankfully Emma came out now, here to diffuse some of the awkwardness. Her hair was now in order, and even her eyes looked a little better β she was quietly thankful for the existence of make-up. She was a little more dressed too, now donning tight fitting jeans, a pastel blue shirt, and an olive drab cardigan. βReady to go?β
"Absolutely! Marcus said, a little bit too eager to get away from the encroaching weirdness that was Determination. "It looks good on you!" he commented, jutting his elbow out to escort Emma; as if they were two high-schoolers back at prom.
"So, what do you think about bubble tea?"
βHaven't really had it that much. Or... ever, I guess. I'm willing to give it a try.β Emma said, taking his arm and steering him towards the door. As she did Determination got up to come as well, much to her surprise.
βErrrr... you mind if I fly solo tonight?β
The Tulpa paused for a moment. It was clear that she wasn't happy to hear that. βRight. Okay! Drinks out on the town, have fun guys!" she said, forcing a grin and resuming her position on the couch before grabbing the remote and beginning to idly flip through channels.
"We'll bring you back something! Don't burn the place down while we're gone!" Marcus said, likely only making the situation more awkward.
"Looks like we're off!" he finished, grinning at Emma.
"So, if we're being completely honest, I didn't check to see if there was anywhere in CC that actually sold bubble tea." Marcus said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head with his free hand. They'd taken the bus into town, making small talk the whole way over, and a few minutes of walking the streets looking for somewhere to get the bubblefied beverage had turned up nothing so far. Another point for Marcus and his incredible planning capabilities.
βImpressive as always, Marc.β Emma said with a coy smile, βWell, I'm sure there's a place around here. They were all the rage way back when, right? Check your phone?β she suggested.
"I guess; we had a single one near where I lived, and everyone seemed obsessed with it. Seemed popular, at least." Marcus said, pulling his phone from his pocket. He swiped away the text message from 'Sam I Am' (Likely another tabloid about him that he didn't feel like asking the excitable girl about) and pulled up the maps.
"Looks like...there's one a block thataway." Marcus said, looking around and lining up his directions. "I think. Sounds like a trendy tea place." he said, looking through the description.
βSounds good. Let's go.β she said, steering them in the direction of the shop, βMy sister drank a lot of this stuff when she moved to California. Apparently it's on like, every block over there. So it can't be too bad, eh?β
"I guess?" Marcus shrugged. 'Everyone likes it therefore it can't be bad' wasn't exactly the best train of thought, but he supposed it was reasonable enough. "I've never had it myself, but my sister's...friend sings its praises." Marcus said, words catching for a moment as he tried to classify Sammie.
"First time for everything I suppose!"
βThat's the spirit.β Emma paused for a moment, before deciding to shift the subject, βSo, how're you holding up? Y'know, with everything that's going on.β
"Ehhh..." Marcus said, unwilling to elaborate much further than that. "Pretty much the same as after Wisford or D.C, do what you can, you know?" he said, a hurried shrug following his relatively sort answer.
"How about yourself? I could ask you the same question." Marcus continued, hopefully deflecting any further probing into the matter.
βEh.β Emma agreed, βI guess it's a silly question, current circumstances considered. Shit sucks here, I guess that's all there is to say about that.β Emma sighed, βStill, could be worse right? At least most of our 'teammates' here aren't... aren't completely shitty. For the most part.β
Yeah, they weren't all completely shitty: Ernie had threatened to kill him, Chris had lit him on fire, Siena had made that request of hers, He didn't even know what Brent was thinking, and Zoe was...Zoe. It certainly seemed to him like most of his 'friends' at USARILN had turned out to be ticking time bombs.
"Yeah, it's a shitty place and a shitty situation." Marcus agreed, sighing heavily. "But hey, at least some of the 'coworkers' are worth hanging out with." he said, lightly bumping his shoulder against hers with a mischievous grin.
βYeah, well...β Emma sighed again, βI'm sick of talking about this place. You mentioned your sister, tell me about her.β
"Biggest pain in the ass you've ever met." Marcus said, shaking his head and grinning. "Nah, I kid, she's pretty cool. Three years older than me, always had my back whenever shit went south. Flies jets for a living and gets to hang out in North Carolina where it's nice and sunny all the time. She's living the life, I'll tell you that much."
βDamn, I wouldn't mind flying jets. Shit's gotta be better than this, at least. But yeah, she sounds pretty cool.β Emma side-eyed Marcus, βSo you're telling me we're both from New York, have awesome older sisters, have almost the same last name, and we're out here fighting monsters conscripted by the government? Man, what're the odds of that?β
Marcus thought about the statement for a second, rolling all the information over in his head. "I didn't know your sister was older! Huh....that is weird..." Marcus said, his mind clearly having been blown by the comparison. "You don't think our friend in the cocoon has anything to do with that, do you? Maybe he's just got a 'type'? Short, New York, and susceptible to super-powers?" he said with a chuckle.
Emma shrugged, βI dunno man. Ask me, I don't think DC gives a shit about us. He strikes me more as the... Azatoth kinda guy. But like I said, I dunno, I'm not one to speculate on the nature of weird quasi-deities.β
"Aza-who?" Marcus said, cocking an eyebrow and looking at Emma.
βEver heard of H.P. Lovecraft? He was an author, me and a friend were super into him back in the day. Into all kinds of occult shit, I guess. Anyways, Lovecraft had this whole pantheon of gods in his stories. 'Outer Gods'... they're, like, really shitty gods and didn't really care. They think in like five dimensions and people really have no idea what their game is because it's way too complex for us. Anyways, Azatoth was the king of the Outer Gods, but he like... he created the universe, but it was an accident, and in Lovecraft's universe one day he'll destroy the universe and that'll be an accident too. He's just an incoherent mass of crazy power. The 'Blind Idiot God'. And I think that's kinda like DC... or maybe I want to think that.β Emma shrugged, βI'm just being stupid, don't worry about it. We were just kids into weird shit, y'know?β
"Oh. I...see..." Marcus said, a slight twinge of hesitation in his voice. He knew of Lovecraft, but his childhood hadn't exactly been full of the occult and praying to the outer gods. Still, it wasn't exactly his place to decide what kind of hobbies were 'appropriate'.
"You know what?" he said, trying to replace his hesitation with support. "I can appreciate a story where the god is just a big bumbling moron. Makes me feel better about myself at least." he added with a chuckle. "If the world ends, I guess I'd prefer it be because someone tripped over the universal power cable or something."
βYeah...β Emma shrugged, βY'know, either way I don't think DC's all he's cracked up to be. People worship him, but... well, what has he done for us, eh? Shit hit the fan and he decided to take a nap. If he's a god, he's not one I'm gonna worship.β Emma's face reddened, βSorry, religion is one of those things you're not supposed to bring up on a date, right? My b.β
"Nope, too late, everything's ruined." Marcus chuckled, tactfully avoiding giving his own opinions on the matter. "You want to ask me about my political standing too? While we're checking all those boxes, Ms. Blushie McRedFace?" he said, grinning down at her in an effort to see how crimson she could possibly get.
βOh yeah, totally. We can also talk about our exes well we're at it, eh?β
"You know, I was just thinking this date needed an awkward, screeching halt!" Marcus said. "I think that's our place up there." he added, nodding at the small sign. 'The Whistle Sip', if it was any indication.
β'The Whistle Sip'? Well... that's an interesting name.β Emma looked at it for a second before moving to head in, βAnd this place has bubble tea? Sounds more like an... English kinda place.β
"Store owner's got a hard-on for the English. We have bubble tea," a young man spoke from behind them. "Sorry, just arrived for my shift. Heard you talking."
βOh yeah, alright. Sounds good, thanks.β Emma wished she had her scarf right now. She had no doubt that if she turned around the conversation's tone would change very suddenly. She elbowed Marcus forward, βLet's go in.β
Unfortunately for them the employee was fast, used to servicing needy customers and always ready to help out. "I'll get the door for you," he answered, stepping past them to reveal a tall, curly-haired brunette with a smattering of freckles across his nose. "Welcome to--" he paused, eyes dashing from Emma's neck to Marcus's cheekbone and widening, "--the Whistle Sip...." There was a quiet beat of silence and he scratched his head and pulled open the door slowly. "There's...uh...a good corner table in the back if you want."
Marcus's hand almost met the employee's as he reached for the door handle, but he was just a touch too slow. He met the young man's eyes as they darted from mark to mark, giving an unsure smile that seemed to say 'whoops, you caught us'. It wasn't the capital, but Marcus had almost grown complacent when it came to people noticing the white streak across his face. An island exclusively full of subnaturals had left him a little less cautious than he probably needed to be.
"Thank you." Marcus said, trying to seem as friendly as possible to the employee. "You want to grab one of the incognito tables?" he asked Emma, stepping inside slightly so he wasn't blocking the door.
βYeah, sure.β Emma said quickly, heading through the door, muttering a βThanks.β as she passed the employee. She quickly shot to the corner, trying her best to not draw anyone's attention.
The same employee came up to them soon afterwards, now properly decked out in his server's apron and white button-up. It was a simple cafe, but the owner clearly had a demand for old world aesthetics with wrought iron decor and vintage floral arrangements. Guests, on the other hand, were dressed down and seemed entirely unaffected by the small place's attempt at opulence. Most of them hadn't paid much attention to Emma and Marcus as they entered and with their corner table safely tucked away from the majority of the patrons, they were left relatively alone.
"Hi! I'm Jonathan and I'll be your server today," he spoke, the words coming out a bit less cheery than expected while he placed two laminated menu sheets on their table. "We have drinks, snacks, and several entrees here, and we do have bubble tea, so take your time choosing and I'll be back in a bit to check up on you."
He darted away as quickly as he had come, returning to the long bar counter and exchanging hushed comments with the man standing behind it.
"Ooh, snacks! Marcus cooed, browsing over the menu for a moment. "Do you think if we ask nicely, we can get the owner to bring out some candlesticks? It's a very fancy place." he remarked, looking around the room and admiring the decor. He also took a quick glance at the bar, attempting to discern if they were about to get thrown out for no reason; head on a swivel and all that jazz.
βI wouldn't chance it... uh, Johnathan seems nice, though. As nice of a server as we can hope for, all thing considered.β she watched as he walked to the bar and talked to the guy behind it. βThat's making me nervous though.β Emma said quietly.
"And he hasn't thrown my ID in the ice cream yet!" Marcus joked, skimming over the menu some more. "By those standards, I'd say he's doing an excellent job."
His eyes flicked back to the bar and back to Emma for a moment, before he lowered his voice. "If you're feeling uncomfortable or want to leave, I'll be right behind you. Just let me know." he said reassuringly.
βLet's just wait it out. What's the worse that can happen? We've got superpowers, eh?β Emma said quietly, scanning the menu, βBesides, I want my tea.β
"That's the spirit! Marcus said excitedly. Pretty much the exact point he'd tried to make way back at La Plata (although he would admit that he may have been more confrontational than absolutely necessary); they were superheroes. Even if they did get tossed out, there wasn't really much that could be done - they'd just find somewhere else to go.
Jonathan returned, surprisingly, with a tray of cake samples, the tiny toothpicks wrapped with colorful plastic at their ends like little flags. There was a selection of strawberry cream cake, ganache cream, chocolate butter, tiramisu, and green tea chiffon all placed in a neat circle. "I've let the owner know so he's not going to find out by surprise and as long as there's no trouble, you're welcome to have some of our dessert samples. He would prefer you stay in this table, though, to not disturb the other guests."
Emma gazed at the cake platter, clearly pleased, letting out a slight 'Oooooo' as they were plached in front of them, βThank you, we understand.β Emma said with a smile. This was certainly going better than expected, at the very least.
Marcus made his own cooing noise as the desserts were set down, smiling at their server. "I'd say that's perfectly reasonable, thank you Johnathan!"
"Are you ready to order or do you need a few more minutes?"
"I think we're ready!" Marcus said, looking to Emma as he did. "Ladies first, of course."
βYeah, I'll get, uhh... the milk tea? With boba.β
"Two please!" Marcus interjected, jerking as he remembered something. "Three, actually. The third one in a to-go cup if it's possible."
"Sure thing. I'll have that right out." A quick moment of scribbling and the waiter was gone, disappearing into the back end for their orders.
βThanks!β she called after him as he left before turning to Marcus. βVery thoughtful. I'm sure she'll appreciate the to-go-cup. Man, it's... weird. She's acting so much like a real person now, it's a little off-putting. Like, her personality has uncanny valley. If that makes sense.β that wasn't the only reason Emma felt awkward about Determination, but she didn't really feel like elaborating.
"Oh trust me, I completely understand. You left me in a room alone with her, it's definitely a little bit awkward." Marcus said.
βY'know, I don't think that I mentioned, but part of my power is that we have, like, telepathy and she's talking to me right now. As we speak. It like... never stops.β
"Oh! That does sound weird." Marcus said, his curiosity starting to peak out. "Can you talk back to her? Wait, can she hear what we're saying!?"
βYes, I can talk back. No, she can't hear what we're saying. It's not like she knows what I'm doing or anything... just communication. Although if she really want to she could poof right next to us and join us, because apparently she can summon herself now. All this stuff is probably crazy useful when next time we have to fight something, but geez, is it annoying as hell.β
"She can summon herself? So...if you don't like her always being around, and just...poof her away, she can just pop right back up?"
βYep. Pretty much. But... y'know, I wouldn't get rid of her anyways.β Emma sighed, shifting in her seat, βI mean, it's weird and crazy to have her around, and sometimes aggravating but... you saw. The last thing she wants is to be 'poofed away'. And... hanging out with her all the time isn't that bad.β Emma said with a slight smile.
"It's like, a friend! That you always have around. All the time." Marcus said, his enthusiasm growing more unsure with every pause. "You see about getting her into some hobbies."
βShe never...β Emma cleared her throat, βShe doesn't seem the 'hobbies' type. Can't really picture her sitting down and knitting or some shit, she's much more interested in annoying me and watching TV.β
"God, you make her sound like an annoying younger sibling or something." Marcus said, chuckling slightly. There was a thought that crossed his mind, one that got caught up in the stream of curious questions coming out his mouth:
"So who is she anyway?" he asked, quickly moving to clarify. "Like, did Determination just see a magazine or a television show and decide 'I want to look and act like her now'? Or is she just some completely new person?"
βShe's...β oh boy, that sure was the question of the hour. Who was she? How much should Marcus know? Would he be jealous? Would she hurt his feelings? βAn old friend of mine.β it wasn't a lie, it just wasn't the complete truth. βA good friend. I guess... maybe I did without meaning to. Maybe she latched on to someone I wanted to see. I dunno.β
"Huh!" Marcus said, nodding in acknowledgement. "So the personality and everything comes directly from her? That...neat."
βYeah, it's... very accurate. What's weird is... it's like she's here, really here, but she's hundreds of miles away and isn't involved with any of this. And... I kind of like her being around, but in the back of my mind I know that she's not real.β maybe that was more than Emma intended to say, but it felt good confiding in Marcus. Even if that information would make the truth sting more she wanted to get it off her chest.
"God, can you imagine if they met eachother? That'd be pretty wild!"
βThat... doesn't strike me as a good idea. I don't think she'd be super into the idea that I accidentally created a clone of her, but...β Emma perched her head on her shoulder, looking down towards the table, βWait, she'd be totally into that. Still, I don't think Determination needs that kind of existential crisis.β
"Listen, if she's going to be an actual person, she needs to catch up on that train. Dude's got existentializing and over-thinking to catch up on if she's going to join the 'real boy' club!" Marcus said, chuckling.
βYeah, well... I'm sure that there are already enough philosophical dilemmas thrown into her existence before we hit that one. I feel kinda bad... like, I know she's working through a lot. She's been getting into it, reading all this shit by Sartre, Kierkegaard, Nietzsche, y'know... I didn't imagine she'd be so into philosophy, but I guess it makes sense. Finding reason and all that heavy shit.β
"Really? That's some heavy stuff, Doc." Marcus said, his voice trailing off a little bit. Determination had real life thoughts, feelings, and wanted a sense of purpose? That was more than a little weird to think about, considering he had barely been human shaped only a few months ago.
βI mean, really, who are we to say that she's not... a person? She might be... 'made up', but she's become pretty much indistinguishable from a human at this point. Like, if we didn't already know where she come from I sure as hell wouldn't be able to tell. I mean, how the fuck do we moralize this shit? Ugh... it's just... like, it feels weird, being her 'creator' and everything. I have no clue how I'm supposed to handle this shit.β
"Hey, maybe that's the best way to deal with it." Marcus said, snagging a cake sample. "Just be open and say like 'Listen, I have zero idea what's going on'. Honesty, you know?" he finished, punctuating his sentence by shoving the cake-pop in his mouth.
βYeah, maybe.β Emma looked down at the platter, βShit, I kinda forgot this was here. I'd much rather talk about cake than this.β Emma said, grabbing a fork and swiping a bite of the tiramisu. βDamn, that's pretty fucking good.β she said, speaking through a full mouth covered by her hand.
"I know, right?" Marcus said after swallowing his bite. "Remind me to give John an extra tip!"
"Can we tip with these cards?" Marcus added after a moment, suddenly lost in thought.
βUh, don't see why not? Probably just like a debit card, right? A debit card that they give superpowered teenagers, that is.β Emma said, spearing a piece of the chocolate butter cake. βYou think this place is expensive? This complementary cake platter seems pretty fancy.β
"I...hope not?" Marcus said, with sudden worrying uncertainty. It did all seem fairly fancy, he had no idea how much money was on his card, and he had no idea when they refilled. That was...probably something he should have been more aware of.
βI mean, Rosa did toss us a bunch of free, very expensive, swag just by request. I get the feeling that they don't really give a shit how much we spend.β
"True, but I did think they put a limit on it. It'd be a little embarrassing to run out here." Marcus said, a thought catching in the back of his mind as he turned accusingly at Emma.
"Did you just call it 'swag'?"
Emma shrugged, βWhat? It's a thing people say. Stuff we all get?β
"No, I understand what it means, I've just never heard it dropped into conversation like that." Marcus chuckled.
βPffft, not my fault you got no swag, Marc.β
Marcus sat silent for a moment. He wasn't stunned or hurt, he just wanted to savor the sentence as it hung in the air; see if Emma wanted to take it back at any moment. When it didn't come, Marcus just chuckled slightly to himself, enjoying another cake sample. Finally, when he'd finished his bite, he rolled his eyes at her.
"Guuurl, you cray; you know that?"
βOkay, we're done.β Emma broke out into laughter, βThat was too much. I'm tapping out. Hope single life treats you well.β
"Oh lawd, that's what does it. Two hearts torn apart not by betrayal or anger, but by saying dumb shit to eachother." Marcus said, attempting a Shakespearean tone as he clutched his chest.
βOoooh, and yet, he keeps going. I'd strongly recommend quitting while you're ahead.β Emma said, her smile turning into a subdued smirk.
"Alright, quitting." Marcus said, giving Emma a quick wiggle of the eyebrows as he grinned at her, finishing off the bit of cake sample he had left.
βGood choice, Howell.β she said, grinning back. βSo, now that that's done... with... that...β she said, swiping another bite of cake.
By the time the drinks came out, Marcus and Emma had been shooting back and forth like that for a while. The rest of the date went fairly smoothly, save for Marcus's realization that he wasn't actually the biggest fan of Boba. Something about a drink with little chewy solid bits in it really didn't tickle his fancy. But, it had never been the tea that he'd come for - it had been the opportunity to hang out again, as a couple. They left the tea shop quickly, attempting to sneak out before anybody realized they were subnaturals, and giving Johnathan a substantial tip - he'd been good to them, after all.
As they left a familiar form rounded the corner. βHeeeeeey! I got bored of hanging out.β Determination narrowed her eyes at the to-go cup in Marcus's hand, βOooo, gimme.β she said, swiping it from him greedily. βUh, thanks!β she said with a clearly forced smile. "Nice." Emma commented idly.
It took a few moments for Marcus to actually figure out who the person was, and the sudden swiping of the drink had left him flustered and clawing at the air where it had been taken away from him. He settled down once he realized it was Determination, but he wasn't super fond of the sudden intrusion.
"Hey, Det!" he said, not exactly with the most enthusiasm ever. "Figured you'd appreciate the drink. A toast to your new life, or something?"
βRiiiiiiight. Cool, cool.β Determination took a sip before shooting a clearly annoyed Emma a toothy grin, βOof. Don't want me interrupting your date? C'mon, my new pal Marcus doesn't mind, right?β
"I mean...I don't think..." Marcus stammered slightly, looking to Emma for assistance. "You should probably at least say something before you show up. That way I don't think I'm getting boba mugged."
βAw, c'mon man, the surprise is what makes it fun!β Determination said, halfheartedly throwing her arms in the air to accentuate her point. βBeeeeeesides, I wanted my drink.β she said, stealing another sip.
Emma did not look as enthused as she did.
"Hey now; patience is a virtue, you know!" Marcus scolded.
Uh-oh.
If there was one thing that Emma knew about Riley, it was that she did not respond well to scolding... or people telling her what to do in general.
βHey, jackass, you're not my mom, s-β
βOkay, okay, that's enough, cut it out, c'mon.β Emma interrupted, waving a hand in front of herself, βYou should head back to the dorm. Really.β
βHey, man, c'mon!β
βNo, you should go. It won't be that long until I'm back.β
βPffft. Fine, whatever, message received.β She said, muttering something under her breath, clearly disgruntled as she disappeared into thin air.
βWell... that was... bad.β
"She seems nice." Marcus said, slightly disgruntled. He hadn't meant to start an argument, but he couldn't exactly apologize for it either; it was like dealing with a child, almost. Only, one that was bigger than him and could probably break him in half like a chocolate bar.
"Remember when she'd just stand there in the corner looking creepy? Instead of all the sass?" he said, chuckling a little bit. It wasn't entirely a joke, but Emma didn't need to know that.
βYeah, well...β Emma sighed, βShe's exactly like her. My friend, the one she looks like? She's... rough around the edges, I know, but... she's not a bad person. Well, maybe she is, but... people are complicated and all that. Riley... she always wanted people to think of her a certain way, so she was loud and abrasive, but that's not all of who she is. Determination isn't really Riley, I know, but she's close. So... I dunno, don't think of her too harshly, please?β
Marcus grumbled slightly, rolling his eyes. After a moment, he shook his head, but couldn't help hold back the slight smile on his face. "Gawd. Fiiiine." he said, dramatically putting his hands on his hips. "But only because you asked so nicely. And I'm definitely not buying her boba next time!"
βRight. Thanks, Marc.β
She just had to hope that he never found out the truth. With all that she'd said today... that'd really suck. Probably more for him than her.
10/9
Moving to... Room 203. I wonder who was here before me?
Emma left Suite 318 with a handful of boxes and a creepily accurate facsimile of her ex-girlfriend in tow. She didn't have a lot to move, and she didn't really intend to leave, not originally, but it was just getting too... weird. She'd wanted to avoid the conversation with Lawrence about the regular that hung out in their room all the time (she didn't think Hazel would've even noticed), and even though she'd still have to explain it eventually she'd rather waylay the inevitable. And besides, it was unfair of the two to ask for them to put up with another almost-person. Two roommates was already too many for Lawrence anyways, he'd like the extra space. Still... she hoped Hazel wouldn't take it the wrong way.
"So, we tired of hanging out with the creepy bangs girl and Mr. 'Wow-look-at-me-I-sure-don't-give-a-fuck' all the time?" Determination asked. Yep, that was exactly how she didn't want her change in address to be taken. "Or do you just want me all to yourself?" she winked.
Wow, that's fucking creepy. It really was scary how much Determination acted like her now. In... a lot more ways than she would've wanted. "No and no. It's just... easier this way," Emma sighed, starting down the hallway, "And I'd prefer if you didn't say things like that. I've got a boyfriend, in case you're forgetting."
"Oh, yes, of course, wouldn't want to upset Marcus. Chivalrous, funny, cute Marcus. I-" Determination cleared her throat, shifting her weight uncomfortably. "Sorry. Don't know what's getting into me."
"Yeah, you and me both." Emma said, except she knew exactly what it was. She was acting more and more like Riley. "Whatever, let's just get going."
"Meow."
They had made it about halfway through the courtyard between Building and Building B before getting distracted
"Hey, Em, you hear that?"
"Huh? Hear what?"
"Meow!"
"Okay, c'mon, you can totally hear the cat, can't you?"
"What cat?"
It was at that moment Emma felt something rubbing against her legs. "Oh, that cat." Emma set the small stack of boxes down next to her, reaching down and petting the cat, more a kitten, really. It was a tabby - dirty with no collar. "Huh, no tags. A stray?"
"Looks like it. We should totally, like, take it!"
"We don't need a cat. It's not like we'd be around enough to take care of it, with all the adventures Zhang has us going out on."
"Ah, shit, you're right, but... cat! Dude, I know you want it."
"Ugh... that might be true, but what I said still stands. Let's keep going."
"Woooow, that's, like, totally no fun."
Emma picked up the boxes, continuing to walk, "Yeah, well. I'd rather not have a cat to neglect."
"Couldn't we like, just, have a tulpa around here on cat duty?"
"That's... an awful idea."
Determination gave up, crossing her arm and putting on an exaggerated pout, "Fine, whatever."
Room 203. "And here we are. Our new... 'home'." Emma sighed, grabbing the key she received in the mail. She opened the door and... well, it was small. A lot smaller than the suite, but that shouldn't have been a surprise.
"Not a lotta room." Determination commented, looking over Emma's shoulder.
"Yeah. Well, not too big of a deal. It's enough."
"Only one bed."
"You used to like taking the floor."
"I also was a shadow, not a teenage girl."
Emma made no further comment, walking inside and placing her boxes on the bed. "Well, guess I better start unpacking." she said with a small sigh. "Not like I have a lot to unpack, but..."
"Yeah... we're alsoooooo gonna need to make space for this guy..." Determination said, biting her lip and looking down, holding up the tabby cat they saw earlier.
"Oh, c'mon..."
"What? I love cats! And I know you do too. He was following us, and... oh, c'mon, I just want the cat dude!"
That was - wait, what? Emma never remembered mentioned to Determination that she liked cats. "Ugh... fine, but it's up to you. I'll give you my card, run into town and get, like, food and shit. A litter box. A place for it to sleep. Okay? And you're going to have to bathe it, it's filthy."
It was a chilly afternoon, and Emma was having a mild panic attack. She wasn't quite sure why β no, that was a lie, she knew exactly why. Today she had resolved to talk to Callan, and... well, she was worried. Worried that Callan would think she was a bad friend because she didn't try talking to her their entire week on the island. Maybe she was more worried that Callan wouldnβt care.
Was that stupid? Probably.
Determination, as she usually did, flanked Emma. βYou know it's not that big of a deal, right?β
What, now the Tulpa was reassuring her? To Determination's credit she was quick to forgive. After the incident on the island she'd expected the cold shoulder for a while, but it didn't seem that Determination was the type for pettiness.
βRight. Sure, you say that now, but you're not much of a people person, are you? People can be... difficult. Cal would be right to be angry; she was going through a lot and I just left her to stew in her room. I really should've... I guess that's not what I'm really concerned about, if I'm being honest.β
No more words came, and the Tulpa responded with a simple βHmmmmm.β clearly not understanding what she was talking about.
The rest of the walk to Suite 430 was in silence.
As Emma approached the door she paused for a moment. Determination gave her a quick glance before deciding to knock himself, giving her a quick glance as he did. She was a little surprised β as of late he'd been getting awfully independent. Was that something to be worried about? Not now, at least. She waited half-eagerly half-apprehensively for a response.
...
...
...
Emma looked at Determination. No answer. She gave a slight shrug and almost decided to walk away right there, but Determination once again knocked of his own volition. Emma gave her a glance, but she wasn't quite sure what the glance meant.
"Coming!" a distant voice, froggy and muffled, answered. A few seconds passed before the doorknob jolted-- the result of a failed attempt to grasp it. The door trembled once. Then twice, followed by an irritated groan before the lock on the door clicked off. Callan eased the door open, standing in a pair of striped pale violet shorts and a white tank top-- her pajamas, despite it being the early afternoon. Beyond that, it was clear the arbiter had just been roused from a very deep sleep judging by the state of her hair and the slumped posture. "Emma?" she croaked, "Marcus isn't--" Sleepy eyes took only a moment before noticing the stranger at Emma's side. She... didn't look too happy.
"Something wrong?" she asked, voice still gravely but clearly concerned.
βCallan...β Emma was a little taken back by her appearance, but quickly pushed past it, her surprise quickly turning into a smile. βNothing's wrong! And I'm not here to see Marcus... I was just... wondering if you wanted to hang out?β Emma rubbed the back of her head sheepishly. Callan was a total mess, that much was clear. And it was apparently a foregone conclusion that she was here for Marcus. Yeah, total bad-friend status. Or maybe total not-a-friend status.
'Hang out'? She didn't mean to let Emma's question hang there for quite so long, but the combination of drowsiness and the tall blue-haired stranger was enough to make her hesitate. Not to mention this was a huge interruption of the schedule she'd made up for herself. She hadn't thought it possible, but she was sore. Sore and tired. Last night had been her first time training with Misery and her sleep schedule was still a major work in progress.
But it was Emma.
And she wanted to hang out.
"Uh--" with a small shake of her head to try and clear out the fog, Callan opened the door further and stepped back to allow room, "Yeah, we can hang." She flashed an uncertain smile at the new girl before looking back at Emma. She wasn't sure why she wanted to hang out all of a sudden, but she'd be lying if she said she wasn't a little happy. Well... a lot happy. More than she ever thought she'd be considering who Emma was dating.
"Anyone want some instant coffee?" she asked, shuffling into the kitchen while she tried to smooth down the parts of her hair that had gotten particularly frizzy overnight. She stole a small glance at the clock on the microwave, but stopped herself before she could start tallying up how many hours of sleep she'd gotten since that morning.
Emma came through the door with a hint of hesitation. Callan was... well, Callan was not looking too well. Worse than her, something that she didn't think was possible. βYeah, sure. I can do coffee.β Emma usually made it a habit to steer clear of instant coffee, but she didn't want to be rude. βListen, if I'm bothering you feel free to tell me to buzz off.β she said, taking note of... well, everything. Had she just woken up? Emma shook the thought away.
"No!" Callan exclaimed, pulling three mugs down from the cupboard. "You're not bothering me," she insisted, "Besides-- it's been forever since we got a chance to hang out."
βYeah. Too long.β Emma readily agreed, a little more encouraged by Callan's enthusiasm. βAnyways, how are things?β as Emma asked Determination moved inside, looking for the couch.
"Oh, well, y'know. Pretty good all things considered, right? I mean--" I'm not dead. No, she didn't want to strike up another heavy conversation right now if she could avoid it. And it was definitely too soon to make light of it all. "You know," she repeated with a short shrug, "How about you?"
Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Emma's still-unintroduced friend finding a place to sit. Instead she looked back to the mugs, filling them with water and sticking the first one into the microwave.
βWell... y'know. Better now that we're back at USARILN, which was something I never thought I'd say,β Emma sighed, βBetter than bouncing around from place to place, at least.β
Emma shook her head, βBut we should probably talk about something other than that, right?β
"Fine with me," Callan smiled somberly, leaning up against the counter while the microwave hummed. "So... who's the uh...?" she whispered, nodding towards girl.
βOh, shit, I guess you haven't...β Emma rubbed the back of her head. How is she going to explain this? βWell, she, uh...β Determination turned around, realizing that the conversation was about her. "Oh, uh, I'm one of Emma's Tulpas! I can talk now, too!" she said enthusiasticly.
βRight. That.β
Her jaw dropped in surprise. "Whoa!" Callan leaned foward, bewildered and more than a little impressed. "That's... so cool!" For a moment, she forgot all about the coffee, practically materializing in front of the tulpa. She'd always felt like these things resembled Misery in a strange way. Now, however, it seemed like the differences between the two were growing-- and rapidly at that. Or maybe she could teach Misery to talk one day?
...Or not. Thinking about it again, she was pretty certain that would be one of the worst things that could happen.
Callan leaned sideways, as if trying to get a better view of 'her'. Emma's tulpas seemed far less unpleasant than her Misery, though. So maybe it wasn't so bad in this case. At least they looked human now.
"What's this o--" Callan caught herself. Should she not be asking Emma? It seemed like the thing had piped up on its own volition before. "What's your name again?"
βName's Determination!β she said, grinning at the girl.
βOr Det.β Emma added.
βRight, or that!β the Tulpa agreed.
βYeah it happened kind of suddenly... but, uh, now she's walking around with me most of the time. She doesn't like... not being here, y'know?β
'Determination'. Callan did her best to commit the name to memory.
"Not being here...?" Callan repeated the words outloud, though she knew what Emma meant. But as long as she was still drawing connections between Emma's tulpa and her own shadow summon, the implications were plenty concerning. "Why?"
Callan turned the question to Det, "What happens when you're not here?"
βI just... don't exist!,β it was the same answer that Emma had received, but she expected there must've been more to it than that. βShit sucks.β apparently she didn't want to elaborate anymore, because he turned away. βThat's not important. I'm here now, and that's juuuust fine!β
Callan blinked. Awfully casual about it, wasn't she? Callan frowned, glancing at Emma before looking back at Det. Her eyes searched the its face. She couldn't imagine she'd enjoy floating in an out of existence. Was that similar to how Misery felt...?
The idea was too scary for her to consider now. The microwave beeped and she took a step back. "You like instant coffee?" Callan asked tentatively, nodding towards the microwave.
βI haven't tried it! Emma thinks it-β Emma quickly put her arms in the air, cutting her off, βAh! She'll take a cup, right?β Determination looked down for a moment before deciding, βRight, I'll take a cup!β Determination said, giving Callan a grin.
"Alright," Callan winked and pointed. On her way back over to the kitchen, she beckoned Emma to walk with her, whispering as she switched mugs out of the microwave and filled a third. "How long has it been able to talk?" Callan frowned. If she seemed overly concerned with Det's well-being, it was because she was. But she was too tired and curious for tact. Maybe after coffee. Besides, Emma wasn't one of the few she was concerned about when it came to discovering her secret ability. Not unless Marcus had mentioned anything about the claw marks in the floor, which she got the distinct feeling he hadn't.
βShit, since, uh... since we got on the island. After D.C.β Emma whispered back. βIt's been a lot to get used to. She started looking like a person after we got back from the island, which has been... weird.β
"Wow... so... she goes with you everywhere?"
βNot everywhere, but almost. She's... y'know, kinda lost. Needs direction, considering she just suddenly... started existing. Figured she'd follow me around about, find out how things work.β Emma sighed. She'd been sighing a lot lately, she'd realized. She'd practically invented a new language using only frustrated exhalations of air. βIt's... well, it's not so bad, I guess.β
"Hmm," Callan responded, thinking it over as she started stirring in the first packet. It made sense that she'd stick with Emma, though she had to wonder if there wasn't a certain range limit. It'd be pretty devastating to have her tulpas walk out on her forever. "What about the other ones?" she asked, "Don't you have like four more of those things?"
βShe's the only one that can talk, and the only one that looks like a person, which is a massive problem in of itself. She's... protective of the others. You remember Lily? We figured out her powers work if we redirect her injuries to the Tulpas, but now that's a no-go, and... it's become difficult to manage when we're fighting.β
"Oh... I see," Callan had to resist the urge to glance back at Determination while Emma explained. Even with the faith she had in the microwave's ability to mask their conversation, however, she was starting to get a little paranoid. So she left it at that. The whole thing seemed rather ominous. Was Emma's tulpa really sentient or was it just an illusion?
"Well," Callan rose her voice back to normal volume, handing Emma her cup, "For what it's worth, I'm here if you need help, okay?"
βRight.β Emma rubbed the back of her head, grinning, βI'm sure super strength can help me out some day, huh?β Emma also discontinued the whisper, hoping that Determination wouldn't notice β he usually didn't, seeming more than a little oblivious most of the time. βFriends don't hurt either.β
Callan smiled, although the comment managed to kick up some mixed feelings. Keeping to herself had felt so much easier at her old school. The people she'd met here were different. If she was really being honest with herself, the last few weeks had made her feel excruciatingly lonely. It was selfish of her to think so much about herself for so long-- not bothering to know if anyone else was going through a hard time. More importantly, they seemed to actually want to spend time with her. At least, Emma and Marcus did.
Callan stared into her cup, swirling its contents once. Was fate always this mean?
"No, they sure don't," she chuckled, moving to bring Determination his mug.
Determination grabbed the mug, βThanks, Cal!β she said eagerly, staring into the mug for a moment. She took a deep sip, apparently unperturbed by the hotness. She looked at Callan, βIt's...β from behind Emma shot him a glance that could not be mistaken, βIt's good!β she lied, setting the mug on the coffee table. To the Tulpas credit it was a good lie... Riley had always been a good liar, and it looked like that still held true.
Equally unperturbed by the hotness, Callan took a few heavy gulps from her own mug. If Emma or Det didn't like it, she'd be hard pressed to notice-- far more intrigued by the fact that she could drink at all. She couldn't help but fixedly watch her consume the coffee as she took her seat on the couch.
"Hmm," Callan thought out loud, absentmindedly reaching for Determination's arm before suddenly recoiling. "May I?" she asked, looking between both she and Emma, unsure of whose permission she needed.
Emma took a sip of her own drink, turning towards Cal, βUhhh...β
She wasn't quite sure how to respond, so it was a good thing that Determination did. βYeah, go for it girl!β she decided, not quite sure what Callan was trying to do.
Callan eagerly placed her fingertips on Determination's forearm. Her eyes lit up with surprise. She ran her palm over the top of his arm once, noting how it felt.
"Whoa. Feels just like a real person," she asserted with a nervous chuckle, selfconsciously pulling her hand away. Immediately she realized how insensitive that may have sounded and scrambled to correct herself, "S-sorry! I just meant... er... not that you're not a real person-- I mean--" She looked to Emma for help.
Determination shrugged, "Hey, don't worry about it! It's trippy for me too, being real and all." Meanwhile Emma followed Callan to the couch, taking a seat next to her. She turned towards the girl, βHey, so, Cal... be honest with me for a sec. Coffee in the afternoon, tired... did you just wake up?β
"Uh," Callan tore her eyes away from Det, flashing Emma a sheepish smile. "Yeah. I did." There was really no point in hiding it. She was clearly still in her pajamas and her hair was in dire need of a good brushing-- something she might've even have excused herself to go do if she hadn't accidentally snapped her only good brush in half the day before. "I just had a late night is all."
βRight, well... make sure you're taking care of yourself, y'know?β Emma wasn't really one to be talking, but this seemed like a 'do as I say not as I do' situation. βIt's hard here, but... well, we've gotta try to keep ourselves together.β
Callan waved her hand dismissively, "I'm probably the last person you need to worry about, Emma. Trust me." She finished off the last of her coffee with a hearty gulp before setting it on the coffee table. Nestling herself deeper into the couch cushions, she stretched her legs out onto the table and yawned, "I am super sore though. Didn't think that could still happen to me."
βSore? What, been working hard?β
β'Working'.β Determination said with a wink, a giggle, and a suggestive wag of her eyebrow.
Shit, she wasn't supposed to-- Callan's face became visibly flustered, first by the realization of her slip up and second by Determination's comment. Her mouth got stuck on the first consonant of 'what', flashing Determination a short look of bewilderment. She didn't know what to make of it, coming from a tulpa. Coming from anyone else, she might've managed a nervous laugh, but instead she just tried to ignore it.
"Wh- what do you mean?" she smiled awkwardly, "We were just in a huge fight the other day, remember?"
βOh... well, fair enough. I just...β Emma laughed, βNever mind, yeah.β Emma glanced towards the door, βHey, since you're done with your coffee wanna go grab a drink? I get the feeling you could use some sunlight, and I might just have a little something stashed away in my dorm.β it was a sincere offer, but there was something else, something more in Emma's voice. Maybe a hint of desperation.
Callan hesitated. If disobeying her sleep schedule was going against her own rules, drinking (especially so early in the afternoon), was definitely a huge 'no no'. Assuming Emma's 'special something' wasn't anything but booze, that is. Even so, she couldn't help but catch the subtle meaning behind the words. And if there was one thing Callan could never no to, it was being needed. "Sure, why not?" she agreed with a shrug and a stretch, stifling one last yawn before standing up. "Just gotta go get some clothes on."
βYeah. Go for it, I'll hang. Hey, you mind if Determination hangs out here while we're out?β Determination glanced at her, but didn't say anything.
Callan paused again, half-way to her bed still riddled with clothes she'd never sorted. She looked at Emma in surprise. Didn't she just get through explaining that Det was lost without her? She glanced in the tulpa's direction, "Uh, yeah. That should be fine. Fine with me anyway. I don't think Marc or Siena will be home any time soon, so..."
Reaching her bed, Callan began searching through the bedsheets for a pair of pants and a shirt, feeling between her bed and the wall until she finally procured a spacious, dull blue hoodie. "She won't get bored, will she?" Callan asked, swapping her tank top with a long sleeved shirt.
βJust let her watch TV, she'll be fine.β Emma said, receiving a sharp glance from Determination, βYeah, yeah, talk about me like I'm not here, sure! I'll be fine, Cal, thanks for asking!β
"Ha!" Callan laughed, surprised to find it was genuine.
"I kinda like this new Determination. She seems fun," she smirked, switching pants next. "I don't suppose you know what you want to watch?" Callan challenged curiously.
βEh, I'll find something. I like flipping channels. See what...β Determination thought for a moment, trying to find her train of thought. What was she going to say? βSee what's on.β she decided on.
But that wasn't what she intended to say.
βYeah, fun is a word for it.β Emma said jokingly. At least, it sounded like she was joking.
"Huh, alright," Callan shrugged. She quickly finished getting ready, hastily finger combing her hair into a more presentable mess. She was still clearly exhausted, but left no room for commentary as she made her way to the door. "Oh-- almost forgot," Callan slipped into the kitchen, pulling a brand new remote from a grocery bag that seemed to be brimming with them.
"The last one broke," she explained before handing it over to Det.
βRight. Thanks.β Determination sounded almost bored as she grabbed the remote, flicking the TV on.
βAlright, well, don't make a mess, alright?β
Determination nodded, βYeah yeah. Gotchya.β
βOkay then,β Emma said heading for the door, βReady to go, Cal?β
"Lead the way," Callan nodded, sparing one last glance at Det.
As they headed out Emma almost seemed a little too eager to shut the door behind them. As soon as Determination was safely out of earshot Emma broke, letting out a, βDude, oh my fucking god, I'm freaking out. This whole Determination thing is... way, way, way too much!β
Her eyes widened in surprise. She knew she'd told Emma she would be there if she needed help, but... she hadn't expected to cash in on that so soon. Plus, Emma was basically doing a complete 180. She'd seemed fine just a second ago!
"Whoa, okay, well, uhm," Callan floundered for a response, "First of all, calm down. Yeah, I'll admit it's a little weird to me, too. But don't freak out. I'm sure it'll be fine.... Has she always been so... uh... aware?"
βDude, you don't, you don't get it...β Emma looked back at the suite, voice turning into a hushed shout, βThat's fucking... that's Riley! My friend, the one I told you about? It looks like her, talks like her, this is so fucking freaky man...β
"Riley?" It took a second to remember. "Wait, THAT'S Riley?" Callan repeated as the pieces finally clicked. "Are you sure you aren't like... subconsciously making Det look like that? Maybe you could make her look like someone else. I-if it's really bothering you, y'know?" Callan knew the moment she said it that it was a poor solution.
Determination wasn't suddenly just walking around like a regular person-- it was impersonating people Emma actually knew. Frankly, it was too creepy for Callan to know what to do with. But for Emma's sake, she'd try.
βDude, I can't... I dunno. I had one of those dreams, and it just... just happened. I think it's my fault, something I subconsciously wanted, but I don't know how to change it... I listen, you can't even grasp how...β Emma sighed. She could confide in Cal, right? She hesitated for a moment, biting her lip, βRiley's not just my friend, she's... she's my ex. So this is getting... weird, way too weird.β
Dreams? Callan opened her mouth to say something before Emma continued. She promptly shut her mouth and listened. Caught between two questions, she could only stare at first.
Riley was... what?
"Does Marcus know?" she finally asked. She probably shouldn't be prioritizing that sort of thing, but she could always ask about the dreams later. Plus, this was obviously really important to Emma. As it had every right to be. Meanwhile, Callan really wasn't sure how to sort out the feelings that were cropping up because of this new information. But they weren't exactly great.
βNo, Marcus doesn't know. I shouldn't tell him, should I? 'Hey, a perfect clone of my ex and I hang out 24/7, sleep in the same room, and I'm probably the one that made her look like that' doesn't sound very good, does it? Oh god this so shitty man, like... I still...β Emma cut herself off. Not that, βThis is just too weird.β
Callan frowned, crossing her arms uncomfortably, "N-no, I guess that wouldn't be a good idea, huh?"
Emma's unfinished statement lingered in the back of her head. She could easily guess the rest of that one. That ugly green monster that she thought might've been going away was resurfacing with quite a wrath. But she didn't want to see Marcus get hurt over this.
"Well... if you think you might've made her look like that..." Callan thought out loud, "Maybe there's still a chance you can change it. E-eventually... you know? Otherwise..."
Callan hesitated, clearly a little disturbed by her own thinking, "Have you thought about just not summoning her? I know you said she doesn't like it, but...."
βI can't do that, can I...? Like this raises a ton of moral implications! We've discovered like... new life! Is it right for me to just lock it away?β Emma sighed, crossing her arms, βAll this was a whole lot simpler when I could give them commands and they wouldn't say anything.β Emma started remembering the details of the dream, Determination's new powers, βShit, it doesn't matter anyways. She's got all kinds of new powers, and one of them is that she can summon herself.β
New life... summoning herself. A cold chill ran up Callan's spine. She thought of Misery. Furious, angry, violent Misery. Clawing itself out of her shadow every chance it got. Slicing through floorboards like butter. Moral implications be damned-- she could never let something like that get away with what Emma's tulpa was doing.
"Sh-she can summon herself?" Callan parroted in surprise, "What else can she do?"
βAll kinds of shit now... we can communicate, like, telepathically, she can command my other summons, not to mention she still has fucking super strength.β Emma sighed, βMan, why'd I have to get such a weird fucking power? Wanna trade, Cal?β she said, forcing a small laugh.
"Haha," Callan forced a short laugh and itched her cheek, way too uncomfortable with how much she suddenly wanted to be honest with Emma. At least she had control. Come to think of it, Emma had a lot of things Callan wish she had. Either way, she'd easily trade the ability to keep Misery locked up if it meant a chill carbon copy of someone she liked. Strange as it might be, at least she wouldn't have to worry about anyone dying.
"Your power's awesome, Em," she reassured, "You'd be really disappointed if we traded places-- trust me on that one."
βYeah, don't think you can convince me on that. I'll take super strength any day.β
Callan smirked. Still eager for a change of subject, however, she motioned for the elevator, "So where to?"
βWell shit, guess I gotta be honest now, I kinda lied about having something stashed away. I just... wanted to get away from Ri- I mean, Determination... and wake you up a little. But I'm not really sure where to go from here... well, me and Marcus hit up this pretty rad tea place the other day. They had like, cakes and all kinds of shit. Wanna hit that up?β
Callan nodded, feeling a small piece of herself die inside. "Yeah... sounds great," she grinned, doing her best to keep the stark lack of enthusiasm out of her voice. By the time they finally reached the tea place, however, Callan had an even harder time letting go of the idea of Marcus and Emma coming here by themselves. Giggling at a small table over some fruity iced tea while she was probably still thinking about that Riley girl.
Callan grimaced to herself as Emma took the lead. She wasn't in any place to judge. Emma thinking about her ex didn't have to mean anything anyway, did it?
But why wouldn't Determination turn into Marcus? she found herself wondering before finally pushing the thoughts out of her head. It was none of her business. None of her business!
"So what's good here?" Callan asked, skimming the menu above the counter.
βMe an Marcus got milk tea, and we got some cool cakes, but I've only been here once, so beats me.β Emma grabbed Callan, steering her into a seat in the back corner, βThey asked us to sit in the back, on account of... well, y'know. Subnaturals.β
"Well, that's super lame," Callan frowned, allowing herself to be led wherever Emma wanted.
She glanced over her shoulder at the person behind the counter, understanding quite quickly why Emma and Marcus probably decided to comply. Heroes or no, it wasn't worth starting trouble over, though Callan did find it rather disappointing. Even Marcus, who by now was well known for his rescue efforts in D.C. and the moving interview in La Plata, still couldn't land a decent seat at a simple tea place.
"Cake and milk tea sound fine," she shrugged, resigned to her fate. Same table. Same meal. Was there even a word for what she was experiencing right now? Was being a secondhand third wheel a thing?
"Lame, but a lot better than getting kicked out. They were actually pretty nice to us, I mean, I'm sure the incognito seating is better for both us and them." Emma tapped her finger on the table, "I mean, it could be better, but what can ya do?" Emma glanced at the man behind the counter, who walked over with a platter similar to the one that Emma and Marcus had yesterday, a sampler with small pieces of strawberry cream cake, ganache cream, chocolate butter, tiramisu, and green tea chiffon. He also dropped of a pair of menus with a selection of drinks, snacks, and entrees. He walked off after introducing himself, leaving the two alone. "See, look, pretty nice."
"Hmm," Callan couldn't remain very skeptical with a delicious strawberry cream cake in her mouth. "Okay," she said, finally, "I get it."
"I guess it would be kind of annoying if we sat in the front. Helps us avoid all the blatant staring..."
Emma snatched the piece of tiramisu, βYeah, exactly. And besides, cake.β she said, shoving the piece in her mouth to punctuate her point. βMrm, sro... hrow's... Sriena?β Emma spoke through a full mouth, quickly realizing and gulping down the piece of cake.
βEr, Siena. She was pretty shaken up at Wisford.β Emma wondered if Cal knew about the side effects of Siena's powers. Probably not, at least, it didn't sound like something Siena ran around telling pople. Then again, they were roommates... well, either way it wasn't her place to talk about Siena's secrets.
"Siena?" Callan hadn't been aware that there was anything wrong with her. Not especially wrong, anyway-- considering what everyone had been through the past month. Just another reason to feel guilty for locking herself away. "She's seemed fine to me, but... did something happen to her in Wisford?"
"She was just... freaked out, I guess. If she's normal now that's good, though. Probably just shaken up after fighting other Subs, and... y'know, everything that happened." Emma looked away, "Let's forget about that though. Change the subject?"
"Hm," pulled from her thoughts at the request of a subject change, Callan chose to leave that for another time. "Actually, there was something I wanted to ask you about," she said, "You mentioned something about dreams before... what did you mean by that exactly?"
βDreams...? Oh, right. You've been having them too, right? Everyone in our class has. You have a weird dream, your power gets upgraded. I'm not sure what exactly it means or where they come from, but... yeah. We're all having them, and I'm assuming you are too.β
Callan was surprised. It was written all over her face. The more Emma explained, the brighter her eyes seemed to light up. "So I was right!" she said finally, slapping one hand down onto the table. "It's-- it's an ocean, isn't it? Who else said they've been having them? I thought it might be just me!"
βExaaactly. The ocean. Surprised you haven't heard about it, like I said, all of us are getting them. Everyone in our class, and some other people... Clark and Hector, if you've met them, which I hope you haven't. I know they have them but not a whole lot else.β
"Clark and Hector?" Callan repeated, mind still going about how cool it was that they were all having the dreams. Maybe that was why she couldn't remember if she'd heard about them or not.
βYeah. Clark's a dude with a crocodile mouth for a face and Hector is some psychopath eight year old they've got locked up. Word on the street is he's an Animus, but that's just a rumor. What I do know is that the kid is crazy... but anyways, don't worry about them, the higher ups don't like us messing with them. The lead here is the dream, and the one I had that turned Determination into Riley was crazy. You've felt... in the dreams... there's like, this, presence, right?β
Callan tried to envision the odd pair Emma described, her train of thought again derailed when the aberration began talking about the dreams again.
"Yeah," Callan nodded, "Definitely felt that."
βYeah, well, I found out what the presence was, and... well it found me.β Emma leaned towards Callan, βHey, I'm going to swear you to secrecy on this one, alright?β
Callan's enthusiasm was nigh tangible. She leaned forward across the table just as Emma did. "Okay," she agreed, "I promise."
βWell, shit, here goes. So, after getting back from the island I pretty much went straight to my dorm and crashed. Oh, before I start explaining this, lemme give you some prelude. A couple weeks ago I started taking to another student on DnT. 'Vivaldi'... her power is that she can hop into people's dreams. And, uh, basically I was hoping that there would be some way she could use her powers to get into one of our superpower dreams and find out... I dunno, something we can't. So, I get on campus, I sleep, and I start just having, like, a normal dream. Goes for a bit and then she shows up and we pow-wow for about the dreams. Didn't really learn a lot except for a couple of things:
1. If she tries to view an awakening she gets booted out by some unknown power. The same things happens with our dreams. 2. We're not the only ones having these dreams β here's where I find out about Hector and Clark.β
Emma looked down, thinking for a moment, βSo, we're talking, and suddenly, bam! No more Vivaldi. I'm by myself, and there's like... I can feel all this power. But for once it isn't the presence, it's me. And there's like... this barrier around me. And the ocean is gone, and the storm that I dreamed about is gone, and I realize... the storm was looking for me. And it found me. And suddenly, just like that, there's this huuuuuge pressure bearing down on me. It's that presence, if you couldn't guess. But it couldn't get me because I was... too strong, I guess. That barrier was stopping it. So it gets closer, and closer, and closer, and it comes into view but it's...β
Emma leaned in a little closer, voice lowering, βIt was Riley. The thing was tricking me, asking to be let in, and... I don't know. I felt like saying yes, I wanted to say yes, so I let it in, and... that's where things start to get bad. The fake Riley started yelling at me, getting in my head, saying all this shit, and... it was also eating me, or eating my stigma, I don't know... it was consuming something. And I felt so small, so scared, my stigma started firing off and everything started falling apart. The thing had me, but... Determination was there. I thought I was dying, something was being drained from me, I had no will to fight. But he - still a he at this point, he kept fighting, trying to stop Riley or whatever that thing was. And then he wasn't Determination, he was Riley too. They were fighting while that thing drained me, but... and...β
Emma leaned in, yet again, βI saw another vision. Like the awakening, kind of. It was... there were Tulpas everywhere, and... I was like... their queen. And they killed Marcus, and... someone else, I can't remember. And that was the reality that... that thing promised. And I didn't want that, so I started fighting. And then... someone else was there. Something else, someone else saved me. Suddenly I was somewhere else and that thing was gone and Determination was too. And that place... I saw Padma, and Sav, and Aaron... and there were others. I remember... a guy I didn't recognize. He told me to leave, and I was gone. And I was back with Riley... or Determination. And she told me I just had to tell her I wanted to wake up, so I did. And... Determination was like she is now.β
Emma sat back, sighing, βThat's exactly what happened, and you're probably the only person I'm not going to lie about this shit to. Like, I just gave up... that's kind of fucking pathetic, isn't it?β
Callan, who had been listening very intently, immediately looked confused by Emma's question. She'd done her best to keep her expression even throughout the description of Emma's dream, struggling only a little when she mentioned Marcus.
"Wow," she breathed, leaning back in her seat a little. She pushed her bangs back against her head, "That sounds... pretty different from the dreams I've had. ... but why do you think you just gave up?" she frowned.
βI...β Unresolved suicidal tendencies? Depression? Being a general piece of shit? That was quite the question Cal. βBecause...β Emma looked down. She could be honest about this for once in her life, couldn't she?
βSometimes... sometimes, when we're out there fighting, I... I wonder if... I wonder if it would be easier to give up. And usually I push that feeling away, but sometimes it gets the best with me. And I guess with Riley there, and everything going on I just...β Emma's voice cracked. She let out a deep sigh. What was she doing? In her old life she'd always push this shit down, never tell anyone about it, not even Riley. βSorry... that's probably... a lot more than you wanted to know.β
Callan shook her head, "It's fine. You don't have to apologize. Just..." She left her sentence hanging there for a moment, giving herself more time to think. She still wasn't sure what Emma meant. "I don't... Sorry, I mean-- I don't think you have to feel bad for feeling that way," Callan smiled reassuringly, "What we've been doing here hasn't been easy, Em. Even I've thought about giving up sometimes, you know?"
βRight...β Emma forced a smile. She didn't think that Callan really got what she was saying, but that was fine. She shouldn't push her shitty feelings onto other people.βIf the great Callan Webb is feeling that too, I guess I don't have anything to worry about!β Emma said with a small laugh.
"Heh," Callan smiled sheepishly, color rushing to her cheeks. "Don't give me so much credit. I'm just sayin'... you're not alone, you know?"
"Yeah... I know. I don't think I would've made it out of there if I wasn't thinking about you guys. You, Marcus... my mom and dad, my sister, Riley... but, just, point is... you guys are important to me. Er, you're important to me... Cal. Sorry, is that too much?"
Callan paused, looking slightly baffled for a moment before she reached across the table, squeezing Emma's hand gently. "You know, Emma... I didn't think I was gonna make very many friends out here. Well... any friends," she smiled, briefly averting her eyes, "I wasn't very popular at my old school. I mean-- I was, but I wasn't... if that makes-- Anyway, I'm glad we're hanging out."
Callan laughed nervously, withdrawing her hand and scratching her cheek, "And, uh. As long as we're being honest here... you're important to me, too. Seriously." She rested her cheek in her hand, still laughing, "I think I'd be at least ten times more miserable without you."
Emma smiled. It was probably one of her realest smiles from the whole time she'd been here. βMe too, Cal. It's... it's nice to have a friend like you around here. And hey, who gives a shit about popularity? 98% of popular people are jackasses, and if those jackasses didn't want to hang out with you that pretty much confirms that they're jackasses, because you're pretty awesome.β]
"Haha," she blushed again and had to look down at the table, finally picking up the menu as an excuses to hide the flattered smile on her face, "Thanks... y-you too. So what's good here?"
"Oh yeah," Callan set the menu back on the table, "Sorry-- forgot." She rubbed her forehead. Man, she needed more sleep. And why was she getting so embarrassed all of a sudden? They placed their orders not long after that, idly talking about the different food places around Crimen Culpae. Unsurprisingly, Emma knew a lot more than Callan did, thanks to all her dates out with Marcus. It got her thinking. By the time they got their drinks, Callan finally decided she had to ask.
"So... sorry to bring it up again, but... I wanted to ask you more about Riley," Callan twisted the straw in her drink, trying to keep her tone casual in spite of the request. "How long were you guys together?"
Emma took a sip from her coffee.
βWell...β Emma was a little surprised that Callan had brought it up again, but she didn't see any reason to lie about, βI'd known her since I was, like... eight. Well, I guess I'd known her since pre-school, but we weren't really friends until eight. I was like... super shy and quiet. No friends and all that shit, until... well, one day she just decided to talk to me and then we were, like, BFFs. We didn't start, like... we weren't together until we were, probably, like... fourteen? So around two years with like a half a year of 'it's complicated'.β
That would mean... Callan tried to do the math, but almost immediately gave up. "So... did you two just separate because of the..." Her eyes flickered to Emma's mark. Oof, she didn't mean for the conversation to get so serious so fast. "Sorry," she grimaced, though she still waited for an answer.
βNo, it's fine. Don't worry about it. I moved, and she... well, she did some things. Tried to make me feel bad about my family moving away, and all this shit. It's... well, it's kind of stupid looking back, but it doesn't really matter anymore. Feels like a whole different lifetime now.β
"Oh..." that was something of a relief to hear, though clearly it wasn't true. It did matter because Riley mattered. Why else would Determination take on that form? "That sucks... How long ago was that?"
"We moved, like, probably a little less than a year ago. And then things got weird, and... well, I ended up here."
"Mm, I see," So not that long ago... but enough not to be too concerned, right? "I'm guessing you haven't dated anyone since then...."
"Besides Marcus? No, not really. I mean, nothing really committed, y'know."
"Oh," a sad smile flickered across her face and she took another quick sip of her drink, "Even though it's been a while, I can...er... definitely see where the whole Riley situation would be uncomfortable. Like you said."
"Yeah... yeah, it is uncomfortable. What about you, Cal? You never told me about your love life before... all this."
Callan flinched. "Haha," she chuckled nervously into her cup, "N-nonexistent." She thought about Amy. Just a flicker of a thought. A history doomed to repe-- no, no, no. She'd never admitted it to herself then and she wasn't about to start now. Amy had been her friend-- a friend too good to lose.
"Whaaaat? Y'know that you can totally snag one of the guys around here if you wanted, right? You're cute and fun, and... they'd be lucky if Callan Webb picked them." Emma hesitated for a moment, "Ooor a girl, whatever floats your boat." she said with a wink.
"Eh, that's alright. I've got... plenty of things to keep myself busy," she waved her hand, feigning disinterest. Between training and hanging out with Emma, she was already struggling to find a good balance. Relationships were time consuming. That's what she kept telling herself anyway. "Besides, with my luck, I'd probably end up dating the only person with sketchy hypnopowers on campus."
"Fair enough. If you ever change your mind, though, I'm a hell of a wingwomen." Emma grinned, shooting finger guns at Cal.
"I'm sure you are," she chuckled, taking another drink, "Yeah, I'll let you know if I ever need your services."
"Good. So, does that mean you're gonna give up on your super secret crush, Cal?" Emma said, her grin taking on a hint of mischief. "If you ask me I'd say you should totes go for it, but I'll respect your decisions."
A defeated smile was all she could muster. This topic would never die, would it?
"Thanks for the vote of confidence," she answered flatly.
βOof. Forget I mentioned it then. My b, friendo. Wanna change of subject?β
After Emma had drained her coffee and Callan finished her tea they stayed, chatting for a bit, not quite ready to head out yet. It was nice, something that reminded Emma of days that seemed long gone by now. Chatting with her BFF about stupid shit, not worrying about going out and dying the next day. It reminded her of hanging with Riley, in a way.
It was a bittersweet feeling, but Emma loved it.
The bus back was quiet. It was late and Callan, despite just waking up, was tired. Emma was worried about her, but... well, if Callan didn't want to tell her anything she wouldn't press. It wasn't like Emma could judge, she hadn't exactly been of sound mind lately.
It didn't take long for Callan to fall asleep. On Emma. Emma, truthfully, kind of liked it. Emma cuddled up against Callan, putting a cautious arm around her. It didn't take long for Emma to fall asleep too. She was pretty tired. Really tired, really.
It was one of the nicer sleeps she'd had in a while.
10/10
Emma arrived at the bus stop clutching a plastic bag, inside which were the remains of her scarf. It was the first gift that Val had ever given her β at least, in the sense that it was purchased with money Val got from her very first real gig, and it wasn't a gift that had been 'from' Val but was really purchased by their mom. Emma had felt a little more than shitty about it's sorry state, but she supposed that she could be forgiven. After all, it'd gone through more than a couple fights with horrendous monsters now.
Even so, Emma wasn't quite ready to let it go to ruin yet. Maybe she was grasping at straws- the garment was tattered and stained with blood, unlikely something she could fix with her remedial at best needle skills, but... well, she wanted to try. A stop at a craft store was in order first, and for that she had to head into Crimen Culpae, and for that she had to wait for a bus. She took a seat at the bench that marked the bus stop, pulling out her phone in hopes of occupying herself.
Ernie appeared not long after, in a coat that was far swishier and far more expensive than his usual fare. The standard concealer covered the mark on his neck, though the grimace that appeared on his face as he saw the girl remained unaffected.
Argh, not again.
How long would it be like this? Every time he saw her, the usual calculations began running in his mind, whether it'd be weird to say hi or weirder to pretend to not notice her. If it was worth hiding around the corner and waiting for the next bus in fifteen minutes and how much trouble it'd be to just get an Uber. Mature stuff, really. So far, the campus had been big enough for him to just take another route or sit on the other side of the building. But now...
The Aberration sighed. Rolled his eyes. It was only a fifteen minute wait. Maybe less. This probably wasn't worth the brainpower. With a misplaced determination in his step, Ernie marched to the bus stop and dropped himself on the far end of the bench.
"Hi," he said, as curtly and politely as he could, before pulling out his own phone. That was good enough, right?
Emma looked up from her phone.
βOh.β
A beat. What was she doing? She shouldn't be rude, as much as she might've wanted to.
βHi.β
She looked back down at her phone. βUhhh... nice coat.β she forced out.
"Yeah. Went shopping with Siena the other day."
A pause. Usually you're meant to compliment something back. Ernie glanced the girl over, noting the plastic bag but...not much else. He returned his attention to the phone with an absent nod.
βRight.β
God, this was so fucking awkward. She tried, for a moment, to get lost in the world of Pintrest garment repair tutorials, but failed. The situation was so palpably awkward that she couldn't focus, so instead she pretended to look at her phone as her eyes glazed over. Several minutes of that past before she got tired of it and shoved her phone back into her pocket, instead opting to stare aimlessly in every direction that wasn't Ernie's. That was, until finally, she cracked.
βSooo... uh, big plans today?β
Fuck.
"Been missing stuff since Wisford. Gotta restock in town." Ernie turned the phone facedown to wrench away the urge to check the time. He nodded to the bag. "How about you? Returning something?"
βNo, uh...β Emma opened the bag slightly so Ernie could see the contents, a purple scarf that was in tatters and covered in blood stains, βWas gonna try to stop by a craft store and get some shit to fix this, but, uh... I'm not optimistic.β
Immediately, the sight of blood stains turned Ernie's expression into that of an ugly grimace, one that would have been severe for any other person looking at the bag's contents. She was going to 'fix' that. What?
"That..." Belongs in an incinerator. "...Is that really fixable?"
βProbably not,β Emma answered frankly, βBut, uh, gift from my sister, sentimental value, all that. I feel obligated to try.β Emma shrugged, sighing.
A conversation hook. Thank fucking god.
"Ah, the cool one! How's she been?"
βUhhhh...β Emma sighed yet again, βWe haven't really talked since I got here. I don't really know what's going on but...β why was it Ernie she was telling this to? At least she was able to keep her composure, βI haven't been able to get a hold of my family at all.β Emma said, frowning.
Since she got here. Ernie knew that they'd arrived only a few days earlier than him. He'd arrived on the seventh so...
The date on his phone made his eyes widen. Fuck. Had he really been with these guys for more than a month?
"That's a long time," he said quietly.
βYeah, it is.β Emma agreed. And it really was. She'd been doing a good job of bottling up her feelings so far, so she hadn't really thought about it, but it had been a month and she still wasn't sure what the hell happened the night she was captured.
"Guess helping a Sub escape the law isn't something you get off with just a slap on the wrist. Go figure. I know things with your parents aren't great but have you tried asking them where she's at?"
βCan't get a hold of them either.β Emma shrugged, βThe only person I have been able to contact is an ex β uhhh, ex-friend. And she doesn't really know what's going on with my family.β
"Damn. Your situation reminds me of Cal's," he remarked casually before remembering that wasn't something he should bring up, "Well, I hope you hear something soon. It sucks when you've got no one on your side."
βYeah.β Emma agreed. It felt weird... she almost believed that Ernie was being completely genuine. She was used to him being an asshole, it didn't feel right that he was being so nice. She was also glad that he didn't latch onto her clumsily stated 'ex-friend', given his comments on Christmas and Sander. βWhat can ya do, eh? We're the people that society forgot, or some shit like that.β
" 'Forgot' is an interesting word to use there."
βProbably. Something like 'fucking despise' is more fitting, huh? I mean, they'd rather ignore the fact that we're human too despite all they do to reclassify us.β
Ernie laughed. "Yeah, that's more what I was thinking. They don't even make the effort to understand."
Something bitter twisted his smile.
"That guy Marcus saved you from. I bet he thought he was being a major hero."
βHm. I dunno.β Emma stated plainly.
"What do you mean?"
βI mean that I dunno. I have no idea what was going through that guy's head when he clocked me. Maybe he thought he was taking down the subnatural menace, maybe he was scared. Maybe he was just an ass.β Emma said, shrugging.
Ernie nodded. "Fair. 's not like we can ask him now."
Emma didn't have anything to say about that, apparently, instead choosing to remain quiet.
He knew it was a bad thing to bring up. He didn't care. But if he was going to avoid more initial awkwardness around Emma than he needed to at least attempt some tact.
"Not the best conversation topic, huh?"
βNo, not really.β Emma sighed, βIt's a little dumb, but it's nice to pretend to be a normal high schooler... at least for a bit.β
Another laugh. "I only started high school this year. And it was at West so I don't think 'normal' is a thing I can do well."
βWell...β did she feel bad for Ernie? Feel bad for his fucked-up upbringing? Shit, she really was getting soft. βWe're almost there. Just need more partying and less superpowers, racism, and military conflicts.β
"More partying would be real nice. This place feels like a ghost town sometimes."
A realisation hit him.
"Oh man, Halloween is coming soon! Do you think they'll let us do trick-or-treating here?"
βKnowing that the administration around here is no fun, probably not, but... well, I'm sure they won't have anything against a Unit B Halloween party, eh?β
Knowing how the beach party went? She still wanted to try that? Ernie was skeptical. Even the thought of hanging with the dorm Abes sounded better.
But still, his first Halloween since his capture. Costumes and scary movies and severely spiked punch with skull-shaped ice blocks. He couldn't help but smile.
"Party sounds great. I guess you'll be organising again?"
""Well, I could certainly try. Can't go much worse than the beach party, can it? Besides, Halloween parties are legit, it'd be nice for everyone to have something fun to do."
"For sure. I can't wait."
Ernie glanced around again.
"Determination's not much of a shopper?"
"Weeell, she certainly wanted to come, but... I dunno. I wanted a solo trip today, figured she'd be fine hanging out for a bit."
"Yeah, that's fair," he nodded, gesturing at the concealer on his neck. He thought to what Marcus said, "What's he doing now? Just standing and staring in the corner?"
βUh... well... she watches TV.β Emma let out a small giggle, βLike, she watches TV almost all day. Not really how I'd picture a Tulpa spending her time, but that's what she does.β
"Sh--" Ernie squinted in confusion for a second, putting the pieces together. Huh. Well, it wasn't the weirdest thing he'd ever heard. And it's not like the minion ever had a dick to lose in the first place. He could look over it. "You're kidding. What kind of shows does he--she like best, Dr. Phil or cartoons or something other?"
βShe just flips channels, settles on something, and watches it. I think she's trying to see as much as possible... figure out how the world works, or something like that.β
That was interesting.
"Wow. She might get smarter than us someday then, if she can watch TV and change gender at will," Ernie was only half joking, "Lead her friends in a Tulpa AI invasion."
βYeah... you're... closer than you think, man. Weird shit goin' on lately in the Tulpa department, although I think Skynet is still a few years off.β
"Weird shit, huh? Like that, uh, that one Lily used on the island. Did that cause some problems?"
βThat... he wasn't happy, but it didn't turn into a problem. It probably will if I do it again, but...β Emma sighed, βYou've had the dreams, right? The ones that make your power stronger? I'm pretty sure all of us are getting them.β
Immediately, Ernie's expression changed. There was something dangerous in his expression.
"Yeah, everyone in the class has been getting them, from what I heard. What about them?"
βWell... I had one but... it's hard to explain. It was weird.β Emma stretched out, looking towards the sky, βEver since it happened Determination has been... different. He can command the other Tulpas too, and there's other shit but... well, you'll have to see it to believe it.β
It took Ernie a few seconds to take that in.
"So he--she can override you now? Disobey?"
βI dunno how a conflict in command goes down, but I don't think that's a concern. It's just... like I said, I can't really just explain it. I guess you'll just have to wait and see."
He frowned. "That doesn't sound like it'll end well. I don't want to be fucked in the middle of a fight cos your minion doesn't like its friends getting hurt."
βWell... I dunno man. It's complicated. She's not just a minion anymore, I can't really deny that. Self-awareness, sentience, like... fuck, it'd be a lot easier if they were just minions.β
"Yeah." Damn right, it would. This class was already a giant mess without adding alien personalities to the mix. Ernie sighed. "Do you think you can figure this out before the next mission? Whenever that is."
βI don't know how exactly I can figure 'this' out. Determination is her own person now. The others might be too. That's reality, I guess, not really a way around it. Determination is willing to fight, and she's willing to let the others fight, she just doesn't want them to die needlessly. Can't really say no to her, since she's most of my firepower.β
"The fact that you can't say no is the problem," Ernie retorted.
βWell shit, fuck am I supposed to do? I have to live with her. I'd rather not make this an issue if it doesn't have to be. I'm not just going to kill them, I mean, Determination is as close to a person as anything I've ever seen.β
" 'Close to'-- What does it look like now, exactly?"
βLike a person. I mean, real, full blown person. Fleshy, warm, all that.β Emma decidedly left out its similarity to her ex-girlfriend, βLike, if you saw her on the street you wouldn't be able to tell. For real.β
"What kind of person?"
βUh, a girl. Tall. Slim. What exactly do you want to know?β
"I dunno. Does she look like Jennifer Lawrence or some actual person or is it just some random face? Did she come with clothes?"
βUhhh...β Emma nodded, βRegular person,β she lied, βAnd she came with clothes.β
Dreamcatcher's gifts were strangely convenient sometimes.
"That's good to hear. Would've been a bad time next time you guys were on TV."
βYeah, sure would have. Can't believe we're on TV now, with codenames and everything. Just like the Precursors. They didn't get you yet, did they?β
Emma let out a slight giggle.
βWell, except that thing with 'Time Scar'.β
"Someone had to take one for the team," Ernie chuckled along, "Yeah, I wonder what they'll call me. 'Cowboy' or 'Hangman' or some shit."
Something about her statement made him feel weird. It reminded him of Rosa's throwaway comment.
"You think we'll be like the Precursors?"
βNo.β Emma shook her head, βWe're subnaturals. They'll never give a shit about us, not unless...β Emma shrugged, βI dunno, I don't think we'll change their mind.β
He nodded. "X-marks too. People won't just ignore what we're capable of."
And maybe, just maybe, he didn't want them to.
"You said the dream changed you before, right? Did it..." his voice lowered, "did it change your Stigma too?"
βI...β she hesitated. How much should she say? βY'know what? I guess I should let you know, in case you get the dream too. My stigma is... well, it's still there, but barely. Almost gone. It was like... the normal dream, except something else was there. Some kind of presence. And it... wanted to consume me. Or my stigma. I'm not sure. But... I let it, at first, I gave in, but then I decided to fight back and... yeah, that's the cliffsnotes for it. I'm not sure what caused it to get better... if it was eating or it, or if fighting it off was good... I dunno.β
Emma's eyes widened, the details of the dream fluttering back. βThere were others there too. After I fought against it I went somewhere else, and... Savannah, Padma, Aaron, they were all there, and... someone else. Fuck, it was all so confusing. Just, if you have the dream... I think you've gotta fight it. There was someone else there, protecting me from it, and they seemed... I dunno, right.β Emma sighed, βSorry, that's a lot of info that doesn't really make sense, but... it really didn't make much sense.β
That didn't sound good. Ernie sat up straight, clearly alarmed by this information.
"On the island, my Stigma...I can barely feel it now. It's like I can breathe properly. But..."
What the hell was this?
"The dreams. I thought they were just supposed to be the ocean and the--that thing."
Wrong. Ernie breathed.
"Two things. Something that saves and...something that watches."
βI dunno. Just... if that thing finds you, don't let it get you. I was... able to fight it off at first, but... just be wary in those dreams. I don't know what would have happened if it finished doing whatever it was doing to me.β Emma frowned, βThe whole thing is freaky. How can something affect you like that in your dream? Like, it definitely did something, but... I dunno. The world's gotten really weird in the past month, and I don't like it.β
"Crazy weird," the boy nodded in agreement.
To think that it had been a whole month. Only a month. It was surreal for sure, this position they were suddenly in. Like they were meant for something. This month had only been the beginning, though whether it was something good or bad was something Ernie was unable to discern. With a shrug, he checked his phone again. Eyebrows were raised at what he saw.
"You know what else is weird?" He turned the home screen display towards her, time clearly showing. His surprise seemed genuine, "We just talked for like twenty minutes without threatening each other once."
As if on cue, the bus turned the corner.
βHey, I guess we can call that a record.β Emma said, smiling, with a genuine tinge of... something in her voice. Something positive, βHey, we're not so bad when we're not going crazy, huh?β Emma said, standing up for the bus.
"Yeah, the crazy is definitely something we cut back on this time," Ernie stood, "Guess terribad, mind-changing nightmares have their pros after all."
βYeah, I guess so.β Emma agreed, a hint of reluctance in her voice.
I decided to get a journal. Something to... put what I feel into. So, here's what I feel.
Live.
Die.
And then it starts all over again.
It happens the same way every time. No matter how many times I never get used to it β dying hurts like hell, to be completely honest. The realization that the world is bleeding out all around you, the pain, the struggle, and then it happens. You're dead. I always go to the same place. I get there and it feels like I'm drowning. I guess there's no Heaven or Hell for imaginary creatures. I'm sinking into a vast ocean. I can feel that presence all around me. Vast, choking, pressing us into ourselves. A pressure and a force of will. I can see the others, but they don't struggle like I do. Is it because they lack my awareness? Is it because they lack the faculties to convey their pain? I don't know, but I try not to think about it.
I am a reflection of the feelings of my creator. I wonder if this world is too?
I haven't told her. I don't know why. Maybe I'm worried about hurting her. I know... I know that she's doing the best she can. I can feel her, feel what she feels, and... it makes me so sad. I would do anything to protect her. Do anything to spare her feelings. What she feels terrifies me. I'm scared of what she might do, scared of all the pressure she feels. She's drowning too, but she doesn't want other people to know, or maybe she does but the words never come out right. She would rather they were happy and she wasn't, and... more than anything I wish she wasn't this way. I want her to be happy, more than anything.
Is that what people call love? I don't know if I have the ability to really feel such an emotion.
Maybe I only feel this way because she wants me to. After all, I'm a reflection of her desires. She made me into what I am, and when I realize that something twists inside me. Do I hate her for it? No, I can't. I can only see her as she wants to be seen... she's so perfect. Perfect in her imperfection. I've contemplated on this and decided that it's people like her that are the most beautiful. Have you ever heard of the Japanese art of Kintsugi? It's something I read about while trying to put what I feel into words. They repair broken pieces of pottery with a lacquer made from gold β in effect highlighting the breakage while repairing it. It's not just a way of repairing pottery, it's also a philosophy. The belief is that by calling attention to the imperfections it makes the object all the more beautiful.
I'm saying this because I think that's the reason I care for her so much.
There's something else that I've been thinking about a lot: Am I her Determination, or am I Riley? I feel like Riley. I want to call myself Riley, but I know Emma wouldn't like that. I'm a reminder of someone that she'd rather forget, but can't. Maybe I'm someone else entirely? I don't know. Sometimes I think about meeting her β the real Riley. Of course, I know that's impossible, but... I don't know. She made me this way, not intentionally, but deep down I am who she wanted most in this world. A thoughtform of someone important to her. Does it make me happy or sad that I'm made in the image of someone else? I do not know, all I know is that it make me Riley, and it also doesn't make me Riley.
Well, I guess that's the main thing that was on my mind. Maybe I'll try to work up the courage to talk to her about. Maybe not.
P.S. By the way, I've been wondering what people think: Can Tulpas have feelings, or are they made up? I guess, in a way, human feelings are made up too - chemical synapses firing off in their brain that they have no control over or comprehension of.
Does that make them any less important?
I sleep over the covers She sleeps under I don't get cold so it's not a big deal But I still don't like it Sometimes we stay up and talk I know she wishes that I was the person I look like Sometimes we're so close and I pretend that I am that person And I like it because there's a kind of calm in that Sometimes I wake up and she's staring at me Sometimes she wakes up and I'm staring at her One night I worked up the courage to scoot a little closer Our faces were almost touching Her breath was so warm And she didn't say anything It's too bad There are other people that she loves And close isn't close enough
"So, like, what was the point of the whole monologue? Roy could've just killed him, right? Like, dude was dead to rights."
"Well... my take is that Roy was already going to die. His friends were dead. He didn't have a reason to kill Deckard anymore - he was about to shut down. Instead of using his last act to kill Deckard he used his last moments to fuck with his whole reality."
"Wait, what? How?"
"Roy's monologue isn't something Deckard is going to forget. He was so... like, he was so human that Deckard's now gotta wonder what exactly makes the replicants any different from him. Roy also spared him, so like... that fucks with a guy. He was the good guy at the end and Deckard was the bad guy."
"Oh, so like... Roy didn't kill Deckard because it was like... his last chance to make someone believe that he was human?"
"Yeah, more or less."
"Huh, that's... kinda badass. Respect on Roy."
"Hell yeah. That monologue is also a huge tearjerker, right?"
"Pffft. No way, man, I don't cry."
"Bullshit! I totally saw a tear on your face."
"What? I don't even think that I can cry."
"Yeah, right... whatever. We'll watch Bambi next and find out."
"Hey, Emmma, I was just thinking about something..." Determination was flicking through a magazine, but looked up towards Emma.
"Oh yeah? What up?" Emma flicked the volume of the TV down.
"I, uh... I was wondering if we could go clothes shopping."
"Huh? Clothes shopping? Do you, uh... do you want more clothes?"
Determination... blushed? "Yeah, well, I just like..." she rubbed the back of her head, "It's not weird, is it? I just wanted to look good and all that shit." she flashed a weak grin.
"Well, if you want to, sure. We can go into town and hit up some stores."
"Ooooo, can we go to a restaurant too? I'm getting tired of all this ramen. I was reading about, uh..." Determination glanced back at the magazine, "Sushi. Raw fish, right? Sounds kind of gross, but people have to eat it for a reason, yeah?"
"You don't have to eat."
"Yeah, man, but I like to!"
"Y'know you can do this stuff on your own, right?"
"Yeah, but hanging out with you is way more fun. C'mon Em!"
The sound of the outside world passing by and of steady rhythm of the helicopter's blades were muffled from their place in the transport. Siena didn't bother trying to distract herself by listening more intently to the white noise when her head was already filled with too much of it. Distance, intensity, too much and too little, but everything circled back to regret. So much that it overflowed, filling narrow chasms, overwhelming everything once Siena had managed, to some degree, to pull herself apart from what Victor left behind--no, from what he took away.
Her eyes had been dutifully turned away from Emma, memories of their conversation before Wisford coming to surface. Siena wondered, briefly, why she had admit at all what it cost her to use the names most familiar to her then. Hope that someone would understand? No...she knew that was far from what she had wanted. The Arbiter stared at the thin crack on her phone's screen, amazed that through the hell it had gone through, the crack starting to split and spread was the worst that had happened.
'A phone is more durable than I am. How pathetic.'
But that too was a distraction, wasn't it?
Quietly, Siena raised her gaze, glanced at the girl beside her, and felt something that might have been a mixture of guilt and remorse start to build as two distinct mindsets waged war against each other. The first reasoned out that while it had been a failure, using Vale's ability had been a necessary attempt to keep Cal from charging in headfirst, the second shot back that even if it had been necessary, it was still...wrong? Not quite the word. Cruel. That was more appropriate. It didn't take long for a clear victor to be decided. Softly, Siena released a breath she failed to realize she'd been holding.
"Callan...?" The name came tentative, and it was all that Siena could do not to drown in the image of her roommate refusing to acknowledge her. Harder still to try and control herself at the idea of having trampled another relationship because it was the logical thing to do. A cold voice mocked her for the sentiment--still so attached. Stupid of her, really.
Too late. Callan sat back in her seat, looking outside the window with lips pressed against the back of her knuckles. Her brow furrowed but her eyes glazed over, lost in thought. Why did it always seem like there wasn't enough time? Her gaze went in and out of focus, every so often beginning to sweep over the damaged island landscape below, as if some miracle might draw her attention somewhere important. She couldn't save anyone. Again. They never got a chance to look for Angelique. That Gregory kid was dead. She couldn't even help those staff members who tried to protect them. They were right there. What... what was the problem? Why couldn't she do this?
A familiar voice saying her name quickly pulled her from directionless thoughts. Callan lowered her hand and turned to look at Siena, memories immediately resurfacing. He expression shifted into something more guarded, though she was somewhat surprised to find that she wasn't very upset at her. What was a weird tickle in the arm compared to melting teammates and murdering defenseless civilians anyway?
"Yeah?" she replied, keeping her tone casual while looking away.
Somewhere, Siena felt a twinge of relief. At least the worst of the scenarios hadn't become a reality. Grey eyes swept over Callan again before quickly averting their gaze to her hands. It took most of the brunette's efforts not to start pulling at her hair, her efforts instead focused on her fingers twisting and pinching the skin of her hands. Nervous energy, she'd once heard Maya call it, but Siena wasn't certain that was the best way to describe it. Pain was just...easier to understand than trying to push through a thousand thoughts of anxiety-generated images.
"...it's probably not worth much, but I'm...sorry. For earlier." Words that were at least moderately honest. She was sorry, but if the situation presented itself again, Siena had little to no doubt that she would have taken the same course of action. "There were probably more politic ways to handle the situation."
Callan immediately scoffed, "It's fine. Siena. I was just...." The frustration was so overwhelming. She of course didn't like it when her teammates used their abilities on each other, but-- Why couldn't she do this?
"Tell me Callan, do you feel like a hero?"
The corner of her mouth twitched for a moment, deciding between a frown and a smile while hidden behind her hand as she lightly scratched her cheek. Finally, she grinned, forcing half a laugh for good measure. "You were just trying to keep everybody safe," she said, her voice noticably more chipper. Things will get better. Just focus. Focus. "Didn't really matter in the end anyway," she chuckled, tone slightly faltering. It was impossible for the somber meaning behind the words to be entirely hidden within the open book that was Callan. But she tried anyway. Trying in vain. The theme of her existence, it seemed.
There was only a moment's pause before she added, "I'd rather we just forget about the whole thing."
For Siena, raised around people that were experts at hiding their intentions, it was harder to ignore the thinly veiled sentiments. Harder still when she was still feeling, still reeling from the events that had transpired, but she quieted the cold, rational voice that demanded more, choosing to heed the quiet whisper that told her accept it at face value, even if she knew it was a mistake.
It might have shown in the weak attempt of a smile that Siena returned to her roommate. Still hollow, still tired. A near flawless imitation of what she was trying for, if one didn't notice exactly how stilted it was. Trying to ease the action did nothing to make it feel more natural, and the faintest traces of fear fluttered into her stomach. Had she gone too far there too?
"If...if that's what you'd prefer, then I won't bring it up again." But she knew she wouldn't forget it. Siena held back the torrent, kept in check the fact that the night's events, the mistakes she made, the things she should have done wouldn't stop their infinite loop until something else forced it out. Pale digits twisted the skin on her hand until it flared red before letting go again, the sharp sting doing little to ground the bookworm in the moment. "But...for what it's worth I--" A thousand ways to finish the sentence came to mind, but Siena didn't have an answer to which one was the correct way. "--think you were trying to do the right thing. I admire that."
Because Siena knew she never would.
Siena's fidgeting didn't go unnoticed by Callan, recalling her roommate's nervous mannerisms from before. She'd almost forgotten, yet it was still familiar enough not to phase her. A look of surprise crossed Callan's face at Siena's final remark. A second passed before her expression began to form, muscles moving involuntarily. She smiled and it was nauseatingly genuine the way she felt her eyebrows knit together and the slightest trace of moisture made her amethyst eyes twinkle for just a moment before she ultimately laughed at herself. "Thanks," Callan looked back down at her soggy tennis shoes, trying to force the smile off her face before her cheeks inevitably cramped, "I really needed to hear that."
The smile that broke across Callan's face was...relieving, somehow. No, it wasn't a matter of somehow, Siena knew why it was. A dark, bitter part of the girl reminded her that this was all she was good for, but it didn't manage to surface for long. The Arbiter quickly pushed the ominous thought aside, allowing herself to widen her smile. Still felt hollow, but surely she could explain that as exhaustion. It was more important that she take in the moment. It was probably the first thing she'd done right since surrendering herself.
In the wake of everything that had happened, Siena felt almost selfish for taking some amount of pleasure from a genuine smile. Even if she couldn't return the breadth of the gesture, Siena did her best to provide one that didn't feel quite so worn.
Callan fell asleep the moment her head hit the pillow. Halfway off the bed, she hadn't even bothered with the blanket. Having almost nodded off in the shower beforehand, it was frankly a miracle she made it to the bed at all. Even with the dismal state of the school, few words had been exchanged between herself and her roommates after landing. She certainly didn't mind it, though. Exhaustion had a way of numbing most concerns. Her bed was still intact and that was all that mattered. Groggier than usual, it took a few minutes of staring at the ceiling the next morning to remember where she even was.
Still slightly damp, Callan's hair stood up in at least eight different strange angles once she finally managed to roll off the bed and slump into the bathroom. Siena and Marcus were nowhere to be seen. Breakfast, most likely. She couldn't blame them for not waking her, but there was a certainly a nostalgic pang at the memory of their little lunch crew. She wondered if they'd had many meals together during their stay at Zhang's estate. Not their fault, though. Marcus had tried to come see her. She had some regrets about missing out on so much, but.... that was what she had to look forward to. Her ability simply wasn't like theirs. Might as well get used to it. Getting dressed, Callan thought about her plans for the day, flipping on the news as she ran a brush through her hair-- a habit she'd acquired over the last month.
Marcus's face lit up the screen and she lowered her brush for a moment. She'd seen this clip before, but... she couldn't help but watch it again. Every time it came on, she watched it. Could probably recite it if she wanted to. As the interview went on, Callan slid over the back of the couch, making herself rather comfortable as she gripped the brush tightly to her chest.
"Yes. I'm not sure why I was chosen by DC, or if there even was a reason, but I know I was given the ability to help where I hadn't been able to before. If you had the chance to help even one person Mari, wouldn't you?"
The reporter laughed. "I think anyone would say 'yes' in this context, Marc. But it's good to know that for all that's happened, you'd still help those who can't help themselves. Do you think that philosophy will remain true in the days to come?"
"If it didn't, then I'd be very disappointed with myself."
With a belly full of pancakes, Marcus made his way back to the Suite. It had been nice to go back and get breakfast, despite the odd pile of rubble he had to navigate his way through. It wasn't home, that much was for sure, but it was at least comforting to return to familiar territory. Here he could settle into a rhythm, a schedule that he could at least adhere to - even if he didn't do the same thing every single day, he was at peace when he had some constants in his life. Constants and routine being some of the hardest things to find when USARILN was involved.
Already nearing the door, Marcus could hear the sound of a running television; Callan was probably awake by now. He'd done his best not to disturb her as he was making his breakfast exit, but with Siena already having been gone and Callan's ability to sleep through heavy construction, he had probably been worrying a little bit too much with his morning routine.
He'd managed to get all the way up to pressing his hand against the door before recognizing the voice on the television: his own. He knew exactly what segment it was, too; he'd only self-consciously watched nearly a hundred different versions of it...including a rather ambiguously worded link that Sammie had sent him. That had resulted in a hurriedly cleared history and an angry text.
He swung the door open unconsciously, saying nothing as he did. Instead, his eyes flicked immediately over to the television screen, confirming his evaluation. There he was displayed on the screen, heavily disheveled, while Mari shoved a microphone into his face.
Callan's eyes flickered from one Marcus to the other, immediately doing a double take before she gripped the brush in her hand so tightly it snapped, each half spinning off in two separate directions. "Marcus!" Callan's hands dove for the remote. She easily managed to also demolish that device-- though not before successfully turning off the television. A feat which had apparently required the use of both thumbs.
"Uh-- Oops. Sorry, I was just--" It suddenly occurred to her that this was the first time in three weeks since she'd spoken to him. What difference that made, she wasn't entirely sure, but she certainly felt it the longer she tried to think of what to say. "S-sup?" she stammered uncomfortably, tiny bits of plastic spilling out from between her fingers as she slowly lowered the evidence of her latest mistake onto the coffee table.
He flinched slightly at the sound of snapping plastic, eyes following the careening half of what appeared to be a brush as it sailed away. Aaaand the sound of more snapping plastic as his face disappeared from the television; the final hurrah of a poor, unfortunate television remote. A fate undeserved, for sure.
It was a comedy of errors that happened so quickly, leaving Marcus stood there in utter befuddlement for the briefest of moments. However, the confusion changed to a smirk and a rolling of the eyes, and Marcus could only let out a little chuckle. Pulling out his phone and pretending to type, Marcus spoke to himself, eyes glancing towards Callan every now-and-then. "Reminder to self. Requisition another remote. Consider getting extras."
With that out of the way, Marcus finished walkingw into the room and closed the door, shaking his head at Callan. "Sup, huh? That's what we're rolling with here? he joked. Sure, they hadn't talked in a while (he could theorize a few plausible reasons as to why he hadn't seen her at all during the Estate trip), but sometimes the best remedy was just moving on like nothing had happened. If they wanted to talk about it, they would, and sometimes forcing it would make things worse.
He knew that much firsthand.
"Alright, I'll roll with it. Not much, Cal! 'Sup with you?"
Callan's face burned with embarrassment as she leaned over to pick up one of the brush pieces. "Er-- not much," she mumbled, further flustered when her poor attempt at acting like nothing had happened was blatantly called out. She quickly realized that not only would that be a difficult thing to achieve, but she really didn't want it. She wanted to talk.
No use putting it off. And with Kusari's admission still fresh in her mind, she wanted answers now more than ever. She didn't want to be the only one here trying to do the right thing either. And she felt, more than anyone, Marcus seemed to get that. Or she imagined he did, at least.
His interview implied as much, didn't it?
She took a deep breath to try soothe the nerves. "You busy right now?" she asked, her mind drifting to Emma for a moment.
"I've always got a second for you, Cal; What's up?" Marcus said, strolling over to pick up the other half of the brush.
Agh, don't say stuff like that, she mentally scolded him. Then again, he was probably trying to be extra nice. Anyone would worry if their friend holed themselves up in a room for so long. Still didn't make the butterflies his comment triggered any less of a thing, though. She cleared her throat.
"Well," Callan waited until Marcus handed her the rest of her brush, "First off, I owe you an apology." She frowned, shaking her head at herself, "I shouldn't have ignored you like I did. I, uh. I guess you could say I've been having a hard time adjusting."
"Yeah, I think you could say that about all of us." Marcus said. Everyone had been dealing with things their own ways, and none of them seemed to be necessarily good. Still, it was nice to hear the genuine apology: between driving a fairly significant wedge between him and Siena, and Callan holing up her room, he was starting to get a little bit worried about the future of Suite 430.
"But hey, it's good to actually see you again instead of shoving pasta under your door!" Marcus said, grinning widely.
Callan laughed. "I still can't believe you did that." She sighed, relaxing a little more now that the initial shock of having Marcus walk in on her fawning over the TV had settled. "Didn't really feel like I deserved it though. After what happened in DC and all..."
None of them deserved anything more than a short trial after what happened in D.C.
It occurred to Marcus that he didn't actually know what had happened to Callan in DC. He'd assumed that she'd been off fighting the Ice Titan and the Slime, but he hadn't actually seen her during the event, and he was definitely doing his best to avoid footage from the scene. Supposedly there wasn't any video evidence as to what had happened during the evacuation, but he didn't want to chance it by looking.
"Listen, D.C was rough...you handled it the best you could," a widely encompassing answer for a scenario he didn't know. "We're friends, Cal. I'm not just going to turn my back on you. Who else would be there to provide witty commentary in your hour of need?"
"Ha, I guess you're right," she chuckled.
'Rough' was one word for it. Cat's Cradle being there probably hadn't made things any easier either. They were cold-blooded criminals. Simple as that.
"You can only do so much," she frowned, glancing at the TV. "They're the worst kind of people. Even worse than the jerks who attacked us back at the estate. Squishing people like they don't matter... abusing their powers just because they can...."
She paused to think for a moment before smirking, "But hey, as long there are heroes like us out there, things'll turn out for the better, right? Speaking of which-- I saw all the clips of you guys on the news..."
"Don't call me Zip Zip Boi I swear to God."
"Haha, Timescar's way cooler anyway," she shook her head, "But I was gonna say you guys were amazing. You saved all those people-- you know? I was really impressed. And I know it's petty, but I guess I was kind of jealous, too. All I did was snooze in a ditch somewhere."
"Yeah, because taking down that Ice Giant definitely didn't help anybody." Marcus said, rolling his eyes in Callan's direction. "We've been in three major missions, and you've taken down the biggest target every single time. I'd certainly say you've done your part in saving people. Probably more than I've saved, at least." His eyes darted to the side as he said that; how jealous would she be if she knew what he'd done?
Even though she felt the praise was misplaced, Callan couldn't help but smile sheepishly. "I think you mean I've tried to take down the biggest target every time. Siena took out that giant two headed thing in the first fight," she counted on her fingers, "Sander practically took down Factory single-handedly, and there's no way I would've been able to put a dent in that ice giant without Kadabra's help. Same story as yesterday-- if Sander hadn't been there, I probably would've been sliced to pieces."
As Callan continued, she held the two broken edges of her brush together, running her finger along the jagged crack. "I just feel like I should be doing so much more," Callan frowned. "I didn't know either of them very well, but it drives me crazy that Angel and Gregory didn't make it back. And those staff members who tried to protect us-- I couldn't get to them in time, either. It's like... I'm trying, but I'm moving in mud, y'know?"
"Trust me. I know the feeling." Marcus said, sighing exasperatedly and sitting down on the opposite end of the couch. "No matter how much you do...you always wish that you could do more."
Images of the old man from the APC, or the guard that had been speared through flashed through his mind. And lord only knew how many people he'd condemned to death preventing Siena from getting herself killed in D.C. Plus, losing Angle had been a little harder on him than he cared to admit. Less than a week ago, he'd been riding in the passenger seat of a car, talking with her about using her powers for practical jokes...and now she was dead. It was hard for him to think that those were some of the last words he said to her.
"But I can tell you...even the Precursors can't help everybody. It's war out there..."
"Yeah. You're right," Callan agreed, setting the brush halves on the coffee table next to the ruined remote. She went quiet again, chewing on the inside of her cheek as she became lost in thought.
She exhaled sharply, finally making up her mind to speak. "Can I tell you something?" Callan looked at Marcus seriously, sitting forward in her seat as her hands gripped the cushions for support.
A small portion of Marcus immediately tensed in response to Callan's request. Another one of the buzz-phrases that made him incredibly nervous. The silence that had preceded certainly hadn't done any favors to alleviate his worry.
"Sure Cal, whatever you want!" he said, attempting to maintain the guise of nonchalance.
She noticed the discomfort that followed and couldn't keep the subdued smirk off her face, thinking about all the things she could say after a question like that.
"It's dumb," she laughed disarmingly, "So don't tell anyone, but... I like to think I might be as strong as a Precursor one day. And maybe even... more than that? I dunno..." Hearing the words out loud, she suddenly realized how incredibly ridiculous it sounded. Not only that, but it made her sound really full of herself. Immediately regretting her decision, Callan folded one arm and ran her free hand through her bangs nervously, hiding half her face, which was becoming increasingly hot.
"What?" Marcus asked in confusion, quickly hurrying to continue his thought before Callan could get the wrong idea. "That's not dumb at all! In fact, we're probably the closest to actually achieving that; definitely way closer than all the regulars out there in the world."
His attitude quickly switched to mocking, as he rolled his eyes and looked at her while she tried to hide herself. "That's like a guy with three arms saying 'I like to think I could be really good at piano', or a master chef being like 'I like to think I might be able to make really decent pancakes'. The only dumb thing is you thinking that's dumb, dummy." he finished.
"Tch," Callan scoffed, lowering her hand and shaking her head in disbelief, "That's one way of putting it." She smiled, averting her eyes again. Why was she so happy all of a sudden?
"It's just like you said in that interview. We were given these abilities so we could help. I think it must be destiny-- or something like it-- because when I was a younger..." she stared at the television with a distant look in her eye, "I always thought it'd be so cool to be a Precursor. Even after the world came crashing down, I thought... 'Wouldn't it be nice to be able to do something about it?'"
"But I was just a kid and nothing bad ever happened in Atlanta. So it was kinda easy to just forget about all the bad stuff and move on. ...Keep thinking it'll never happen to you, so why bother daydreaming? ...Sometimes I still can't believe this is all real. Other times I sort of hate it. But mostly I..." she hesitated, blinking as if she suddenly remembered that she was talking to someone. "Well, nevermind. You get what I mean," she laughed nervously.
There was no denying it. Even with its frustrating quirk, Callan loved this power. She was damn proud of it. She loved the idea of vanquishing monsters left and right-- having the ability to do so without anything ever standing in her way. It was why she believed she was here. It gave her purpose.
But with the most recent events, she wasn't at all ready to try and explain why some others might not have been meant for such a life.
"I think we all grew up thinking it would be cool to be one of the Precursors. Everybody wants to have superheroes to believe in...feel like there's people out there protecting them. Before our time, they had comic books and stuff like that to pretend with. We were raised with living, breathing, superheroes. People who actually could do things about it. It was a nice thing to pretend, at least." Marcus said, a brief twinge of what seemed like disappointment in his voice, quickly covered up by his usual chipperness.
"But yeah, I get what you're saying; it's definitely got it's ups and downs, but we're the superheroes now! Destiny, fate, whatever it was that put us here; we've got to make the most of it, you know? "
"Exactly!" Callan seemed plenty fired up by this validation, scooting closer to the edge and center of the couch. Grinning from ear to ear, it was hard to imagine she was the same person who, up until yesterday night, had been hiding away in her room.
"I'm glad somebody gets it," Callan smirked, not-so-fondly recalling her conversation with Kusari back on the island. She'd chalked most of it up to Kusari having just experienced what's it's like to feel Zoe's full wrath, but still... it was refreshing to hear another contrary opinion.
Marcus grinned as well, it was good to see Callan actually excited about something, rather than the down-and-discouraged version he'd seen the last month or so. It was the same Callan from the first mission, from the Capture the Flag game. Pumped up and ready to kick ass. In a way, it encouraged him, too.
"I feel like we need to make some sort of dumb toast or something. 'To being heroes', you know what I mean?"
She snorted at the suggestion, stifling a small laugh. "With what?" Callan teased.
"I don't know? Our imaginations? I can pretend, I don't know about you!" Marcus said, shrugging wildly.
"Hmm," Callan hummed with a mockingly stern expression, narrowing her eyes at him. All at once, she smiled again and held out her hand, formed around an invisible glass of champagne.
Callan stood before the administrative building, slowly lowering her headphones as she took in the view before ascending the short set of steps leading up to the lobby. It felt strangely daunting. Far more so than the administrative office at her old high school. She hadn't felt the need to seek out Rosa or Freddie or anyone in charge since she arrived. Of course, she'd had plenty of questions and concerns, but up until now she'd resolved to simply go with the flow. No matter what Kusari said, Callan trusted them. Even if she was just a tool to them, she could at least reason out that the government value herself and everyone to some degree. Enough to keep them fed and wanting for virtually nothing.
Enough to make them Unit B.
And after seeing what Unit A could do, Callan was certain that was no petty title.
Even so, none of that stuff was the reason for Callan being here today. Pushing open the door slowly, she paused in the doorway, craning her neck for any idea of who to talk to.
Not that it made things any clearer. The lobby was a hub of bustling activity. Suited workers traveling to and fro from the elevators, carrying files and papers more often than not. Paces were brisk and conversations were usually little more than a passing nod of acknowledgment. Front desk clerks evaluated student queries with a frightening efficiency. There was an atmosphere of controlled urgency to it all. The number of guards posted on the four corners of the room did nothing to assuage that.
A ticket machine by the front door blinked, inviting Callan to register and join one of the numerous queues by the desks. In the far corner of the lobby, a particularly large throng of soldiers stood at attention, bulk and armor easily obscuring their assigned staff member as she spoke to one of the clerks. Only a tinge of tied-back brown hair could occasionally be seen.
Eyes fixing on the machine, Callan made her way over quickly, careful to avoid getting in anyone's way. She tapped the touch screen gingerly, inputting what information she could up until one of the 'next' buttons seemed to be taking an extra long amount of time to register her command. In that moment, she did exactly what any other normal, impatient human being might do. She tapped the screen twice as hard.
Crack!
Callan's hand recoiled and she gasped, gripping the offending appendage, still frozen in its pointed position.
"What the hell did you--"
An attendant gaped as he hurried to the ticket machine, tapping frantically in vain hope for a reaction. The screen glitched, unresponsive, the display artificing in a shattered display of color.
"Uh, I'm sorry!" Callan stammered, moving out of the way, "I-it was an accident!"
"Accident?! Do you know how many people use this thing?"
The staff member gripped his jaw. Must've been some kind of coping mechanism. One that wasn't working at all.
"Argh, it's gonna take days for the repairman to arrive. What am I supposed--"
"Woah, pump the brakes there, Henry!" a female voice cut him off.
The cadre of soldiers on the other side of the room had relocated to the commotion by the entrance, a familiar, diminutive figure leading the pack. Rosa ignored the hapless attendant for the moment.
"Supergirl! Ah, it's been too long," she chimed with a friendly grin.
"Uhhhh," Callan knew better than to say she could fix it. Though a small, darker version of herself couldn't help but think that if the machine hadn't been so buggy, she never would've pressed the screen too hard in the first place. Nonetheless, she did feel awful.
Rosa's sudden appearance was nothing short of a godsend. Callan smiled, somewhat uncomfortable with the sudden friendliness from someone she still considered to be a total stranger. The massive entourage of soldiers didn't help much, either.
"Hey, Rosa," Callan answered, "Yeah, haha. It's... good to be back."
"What's the haps around here?" the staff mage continued, catching sight of the broken screen, "Gee, I hope that's salvageable. You'll give poor Henry here another meltdown."
"It was one time," the attendant muttered quietly.
"Yeah, I really am sorry about that," Callan reiterated, looking between Rosa and the disgruntled man.
"See? She's super sorry," Rosa physically turned Henry to face the Arbiter, who he regarded with an annoyed pout. Seeing this, Rosa sighed. "I'll give the repair guy a call. See if he can fast track this job."
"The one with the sideburns," Henry insisted, "Everyone else leaves scuffs on the tiles."
"Right, right," Rosa glanced behind Callan, "We should probably head off now. You seem like a busy guy."
With that, Rosa beckoned the girl to walk with her, leaving a bewildered Henry behind to face a throng of students entering the lobby.
"So, how've you been? Helicopter flights are always a such a job on the ears."
Callan gave one last apologetic glance to both 'Henry' and the broken machine before hurriedly following. "Uh, I've been alright," she answered tentatively, "I think the helicopter rides are kinda fun."
Rosa whistled. "You should tell that to Greten. Guy has the worst motion sickness I've ever seen."
A wave and finger gun to one of the desk clerks before she continued.
"You've got something on your mind? Or are you just paying your supervisors a friendly visit?"
Callan forced a small laugh, still not quite sure what to make of her friendly neighborhood 'supervisor'.
"Actually, I wanted to make a special request," she took a deep breath, "It's about the curfew. I'd like special, exclusive permission to access Ground Zero at night. W-with extra soldiers along the outside to keep anyone from sneaking in while I'm in there." She did her best to keep her voice from shaking, but it was plenty obvious that how serious Callan was about this.
Rosa's smile only shrunk a fraction. Her tongue clicked as she thought it over.
"That's a big ask."
"I know," Callan squirmed, nervously running her thumb over her knuckles, "But a person almost died the last time I tried using my ability in there. My, uh... whole ability."
It was a weird thing to come to terms with-- knowing that Rosa and all the other supervisors had to know about what happened in Atlanta. Really made her think.
"To be honest, I'm not even sure why I wasn't put in my own room when I got here," she admitted.
"Yes, previous incidents are no secret among the staff. We don't have you wear those cuffs for no reason."
White lines suddenly flashed around the mage's eyes. She seemed sympathetic.
"Practice makes perfect. I get that. You've been getting closer to what you want but you want to speed up the process, right?"
Rosa gave the girl a once-over, raising her eyebrows at what she saw. It didn't seem like she would be making any comment at the moment. Her eyes drifted upward as she thought aloud.
"Your request though. There's the paperwork to go through, the Ground resets to work around. Plus Zhang's beefed security by like a thousand so I don't even know how long it'll take to acquire soldiers to block off that whole area..."
Callan followed Rosa's line of sight, warily shooting glances back at the ominous white lines around the woman's eyes. She frowned, disheartened, "So... there's no chance of me training there any time soon?"
"I'm thinking it over. Why does it have to be outside of curfew? Kids need eight hours of sleep a day, they keep saying that. Are you sure we can't just cordon off an area for you in the daytime?"
Callan shook her head stubbornly, "I can sleep during the day. Please-- I promise I'll take care of myself. Besides, I..."
Callan hesitated, knowing that the safety of her friends wasn't the only thing at play here. "I just don't want to risk it. Misery has a pretty far range, and I think it might be growing. It's already managed to grow wings!" Her tone was beginning to sound a bit pleading, though she did her best not come off as some whiny teenager.
"...You gave it a name? And you can fly now?"
"Uh," Callan twisted her fingers, "Yeah...? I named it Misery...." Never name something when you're in a bad mood. Of course, she knew she could change it whenever she wanted but... w-wasn't it kind of cool?
She cleared her throat, "And I can't fly. Only that thing can."
"Hm. Not the zinger I would've gone with," Rosa hummed thoughtfully. Her translucent pupils stared back at the girl, "You keep talking as if you and Misery are two completely separate things."
'Misery' was the perfect name for something that caused so damn much of it. But epithets aside, Rosa's second statement was far more concerningly contrary. Confused, the young arbiter cocked her head to one side. Her eyebrows knit together and an incredulous smile pulled at the corner of her mouth.
"What do you mean? I have barely any control over it. It's just like... super angry all the time! Attacking anything that moves like some sort of starved animal!" Callan explained, exasperated.
"Okay, okay," Rosa raised her hands in surrender, knowing she'd crossed some line, "Sorry. I was just telling it how I see it. Literally." She tapped her white-branded temple with two fingers. "I'll keep it to myself next time."
"Well--- no, wait. What do you mean 'how you see it'?" Callan asked. She wasn't used to talking about her ability in depth with other people. Much less people who could apparently tell her something about it. "I'm sorry, I just.. it's been really frustrating," she admitted.
The staff mage tried a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "I know. All this--your case, especially--must be a lot to take in. You've been working harder than most. That's why you're here, right?"
Her hand withdrew and she took a breath before launching in. The white lines thickened, almost forming a solid mask around her eyes. "Grumpy keeps me around because I don't just record powers. I identify the specifics too. As far as your Misery is concerned..."
A pause as Rosa took another good look.
"You already know that she's deeply connected to your emotional state. Mental too. But I'm not talking about heat-of-the-moment, temporary stress and stuff like that. She's connected to you. Something," her arms waved about in a vague gesture, "bigger than your current feelings. You."
Callan furrowed her brow and rubbed at one of her temples. "I don't suppose you could be a little more specific?" she chuckled hopefully.
Rosa's smile dropped an uncharacteristic amount, wavering for only a second. "Hmmmm," her gaze roamed Callan once again, settling on something, "sorry, can't say. My power's good but it's not that good. Here."
The staff mage beckoned to one of the soldiers behind her. Apparently he was the one in charge of holding her desk supplies when Rosa was on the move.
"Thanks Jer," she said, before handing Callan a sheet of paper. 'Callan Webb can go to GZ and sleep late' was hastily scrawled on the back of a repair bill. Hopefully that wasn't an important document. In the bottom corner was Rosa's signature and a strangely patterned stamp, a symmetrical series of branching lines, reminiscent of those currently flaring around her eyes.
"I'll put the word out. Official paperwork'll be done later but you should be able to go by tonight. Protocol says that GZ has to be cleared for the midnight reset by 11:45 but I'll make sure that you can enter afterwards. Use it wisely, 'kay?"
Her eyes were as wide as saucers as she watched Rosa write out the note and hand it to her. "Really?!" she beamed, momentarily forgetting all about the disappointment of not being able to gleen more information from the staff mage. "Thank you so much!" Callan exclaimed. Nigh unable to contain her excitement, she grasped the smaller woman's hand a little too tightly and gave it a rough shake before bolting towards the door.
"You won't regret it!" she called back, waving the permission slip over her head and flashing Rosa one last smile before disappearing out the door.
Rosa waved back happily, using the hand Callan hadn't shaken. As soon as the girl was gone, she turned to the soldier, indicating to the other hand. She hadn't dared move it.
"Jerry," she said, her grin looking strained, "tell Dr Patterson I'll be visiting shortly."
Enough was enough. Ernie didn't know that it'd be so tiring to be kept in the dark like this. But Zoe was right. Lives were starting to get lost. He needed answers, fast.
Even if he had to talk to a traitor to get them.
The Aberration walked with his eye on his phone's clock. Midday. If her appearance on his first day was anything to go by, Rosa would be making her way to the cafeteria around now. He'd cut her off from the administration building. So that was the plan. Slow paces kept him from idling too suspiciously outside of the building. His eyes were trained on his phone. Something started rumbling towards his direction. He glanced up.
Huh.
Was that a blue-ish green or a green-ish blue?
Ernie managed to get his rope up in the knick of time, right before he was cleanly knocked off his feet.
"AHH!" Callan had been looking down at her permission slip while running. A terribly awful decision in hindsight. At the very last second, her eyes met with Ernie's, desperate to try and communicate at least eight different things at once.
Get out of the way.
Sorry you had to die like this.
I'll be at the funeral.
She squeezed her eyes shut in an effort to at least avoid seeing the aftermath. Certainty she tried to stop, but ultimately ended up falling as well. Right on top of him with her arms outstretch and face buried in the front of Ernie's jacket. He was miraculously more sturdy than she thought he'd be. Opening her eyes a fraction of an inch, she noticed the tell-tale glow and released the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.
Ernie had a few principles to live by. One of them was to keep blackberries out of as many recipes he could. They stained his hands. Another was to avoid being horizontal outside of sleeping hours. There was very little reason to dirty his clothing. It was because of this principle that he was currently trapped a Matrix-esque backwards lunge, suspended by his golden rope but pinned by Cal's weight. Hopefully his jacket hadn't touched the ground.
"Do you, uh..." Ernie mumbled, noticing that the girl was very close all of a sudden, "could you..."
"Y-yeah s-sorry," she stammered again, face burning even hotter as, finally over the initial shock of almost killing someone, Callan found herself struggling to find any solid ground to push off of. Her arms flailed uselessly for a moment before she quickly noticed exactly how Ernie had managed to fall while partway suspended in air. Eventually she realized she'd have to place her hands on his torso in order to get off without sprawling onto the concrete. Muttering more apologies as she did so, Callan carefully pushed herself back up into a standing position.
"Are you okay?" she asked, pushing her hair out of her face as Ernie pulled himself up the rest of the way using his rope.
"I'm fine, just...surprised," he breathed, inspecting the bottom of his jacket, "It'll take a lot more than a football tackle to take me down."
He found an almost invisible line of dust near the bottom seams. Ah, crud. Another thing on the to-do list. Suppressing his frown, Ernie turned his attention back to Callan. His eyes widened marginally, guilt lining the back of his mind. Shit, when was the last time he'd even tried to talk to her? It felt like he rarely even caught a glimpse of her these days, unless she was unconscious or mortally injured.
"You're not in your room?"
"Oh," Callan had been so caught up with everything else, she almost forgot how long it'd been. "Yeah, I'm... trying to get out more," she chuckled nervously, still needlessly fixing her hair with one hand as she shoved the other into her pocket, tightly clutching the permission slip.
"I was goin' through a rough patch after DC... but I'm alright now," she tried to smile reassuringly.
"Yeah, after everything that happened there, I can't blame you. We all let each other down that day."
Over her shoulder, Ernie could see Rosa inside the building. She was...flopping one of her hands in a soldier's face for some reason? Either way it didn't seem like she was leaving at the moment.
"It's great to see that you're feeling better! I know I should've visited but..."
But there wasn't a reason. She just hadn't been a priority over this whirlwind of weeks. Ernie averted his gaze.
"Dude. Ernie, it's okay," she smiled again, waving her hand in front of her face, "I was bein' a real wuss so I wouldn't even have answered if you did. And I know it was tough for everyone involved, so... you know. Don't worry about it. ...okay?"
Ernie shook his head. No, he could totally understand why she'd want to shut them out. They were monsters. D.C. had made that clear for everyone to see. Hell, maybe it would have been better if he just shut himself away too. That Lily mess wouldn't have happened. And Angelique...
"You're not a wuss, man. I totally get it. I'm just glad you're back now." A bitter chuckle escaped his lips before he rolled his shoulders. "It's been ages, huh? Honestly, last time I saw you was when you were fighting that Amigo. And before that, you were being carried away from the Hazel thing in D.C."
"Ohh, yeah," Callan groaned, "That girl can sure land one heck of a punch... I'll give her that much." She squirmed uncomfortably. Callan didn't like the idea of being so vulnerable for so long and getting pounded repeatedly by a giant ethereal hand wasn't very far up on her list of things she liked to remember. She hadn't even woken up until she was in her room at Zhang's Estate.
"B-by the way...," she Callan began hesitatingly, "Any idea what happened to me after I got knocked out?"
Ernie grimaced at the memory. "Uhhh, Sander finished Hazel off. And then he carried you both away to the evac zone. I-if you saw that leaked footage, that would've been the clip that got him his nickname."
His eyes averted once more, but for a completely different reason now.
"I told him to find some clothing...if that helps."
The insinuations of Ernie's final sentence sank in slowly. Her expression shifted into one of sheer horror. Callan buried her mouth and nose in her hand, shoulders becoming stiff. She wished she could melt into the floor.
"Sh-she... she vaporized my clothes...?" Callan asked, closing her eyes, her voice shaking with hopeful desperation.
"Uhhhhhh," Fuck, he'd made a bad move. It wasn't like he had wanted to see--urgh. Naked stuff was the worst. "I..."
Behind Callan, it seemed that the squad of soldiers was starting to shift. No, no, he needed that information.
"Look, I--" he said more hurriedly than he liked, "Rosa is--I, uh, I need to go."
And go, he did.
"But I promise we'll hang out sometime," he shouted over his shoulder, disappearing into the building, "Text me when you're free!"
That would be a yes. Callan was suddenly so happy that she'd chosen to hole herself up in her room after DC. God, she wasn't sure if she'd ever felt this embarrassed in her entire life.
She didn't even get a chance to say goodbye before Ernie left, apparently late for an appointment with Rosa or something. Not that she minded. It took a few more seconds before she was even able find the nerve to walk, trying to think positive thoughts about the permission slip and her plans for that night.
Anything but the idea of her naked ass being hauled across Washington D.C. by Sander, who was probably just as naked if their past fights were anything to go by.
She found a nearby bench to collapse into, desperately in need of a mental recouping. Honestly, she wanted to go home and hide under her covers for a good several hours, but she had a full schedule today. Burying her face in her hands, Callan sat like that for a good 20 minutes.
He crushed that part of himself as he strode through the grounds of USARILN East, stowing away the combat phone that had been such an excellent way of finding people before. Brent supposed that he could just ask instead. Supposed that this was a bit stalker-ish, creating these chance encounters by using these trackers. But the arbiter didn't care. If he had all this information about her whereabouts, he was going to use it before he got cold feet, before he decided that it was better to leave her alone for a bit longer.
He couldn't do that anymore. Couldn't slow down and couldn't act as freely as he had. And, as that bobbing turquoise head appeared around the next bend on the road, Brent picked up his pace.
A part of himself wanted to slow down, prepare a bit more before saying 'hi' once more.
He crushed that part of himself, dug deep into the scabs of that particularly pathetic conversation, and prepared to break more than a few bones to fix that bridge once more.
"Hey Callan," he said, calling from a 'safe' distance.
If she ignored him, that was fine too.
Callan had never had much of a problem with napping-- even in the worst of circumstances. But today was different. She hadn't felt this excited for a long time. When sleep stubbornly continued to allude her, it seemed only natural that a walk around campus might tire her out. Every few minutes, she stopped to summon a weapon, feeling the effects of it drain her stamina at an alarming rate. She'd have to be careful pacing herself later tonight when she finally got a chance to let loose in Ground Zero.
In the middle of adjusting her headphones, Callan heard her name and stopped. She recognized the voice immediately-- Brent.
She hesitated for a moment before turning to face him, pulling her headphones down around her neck and switching the music off on her new phone. Phone number three, if she was remembering correctly.
And there he stood. The only person with the guts to recognize what she'd done and say it to her face. There were plenty of mixed feelings that rose to the surface. Shame, fear, disappointment, discomfort. He'd put on such a face before mentioning Sav, too. She'd never quite figured that out, but his words had still stuck with her. Another phrase in the choir of things that haunted her every time she dared remember.
"...you could have done better."
And she would.
"Hey, Brent," Callan answered with no small amount of uncertainty.
That was as far as he had planned. There were abstract stuff, of course, like getting her trust, mending that bridge, tearing off that scab, but the words themself...there had been nothing planned past the first exchange, the first greeting. The loss of Sav was still something that numbed him, but now...Gregory. Angelic. And a truckload of maids and butlers who had no right to get caught up in that storm of Mexican bullshit. How about a myriad of folks in DC that were crushed, assimilated, or frozen? How about...
No.
"Feeling better?" he asked, maintaining his distance even if her superpowered legs cared little for it. "Haven't seen you at all on the island."
"Uh,"" she wasn't sure what she had expected. Maybe he was going to let her have it for what happened back at the estate. Or maybe D.C. She could've been way 'better' in both cases, but... why now?
"Yeah, I'm fine. Had some things to sort out, that's all."" It took a moment before she finally felt confident enough to meet his eyes, but when she did, all her nervousness seemed to melt away. "What about you?"" she asked pointedly, "You alright?""
"Glad you worked things out. Marcus was worried."
There was a pause as he considered her own response, amethyst eyes locking onto her own, not budging an inch. They more or less broke over Sav, huh? But now Gregory and Angelic were gone too, and yet he felt...less and less about it. Was this something that he had adjusted to as well? When so many others said how it never got 'easier'? Thoughts to lock away.
"Could be better," Brent said, finally, "Could...definitely be better. Not sure if I should be happy about being alright though. How's your 'fine'?"
'Marcus was worried.' Her train of thought almost completely derailed at that and it showed. Just for a moment, though. Because there was that word again. 'Better.' Though this time it didn't seem to be directed at anyone in particular.
How was her 'fine'? She knew she messed up in Wisford, but did she really owe him that sort of answer? Opening up to her roommates was one thing, but getting that real with someone as suspiciously tactful as Brent was something else entirely. He stared back at her with just as, if not more serious resolve. Weird, considering what she remembered of his interview. A stark contrast to the one Marcus and Emma did.
"I mean, looks arenβt everything, yβknow? I donβt know how much youβve talked to him butβ¦ heβs kind ofβ¦ I donβt know how to put it, kind of off putting.β"
Callan frowned at the memory. The words that came out of her mouth surprised her, but she managed not to show it. "Why do you care?" she asked, her tone more curious than angry, though the irritation was definitely there. She almost immediately regretted it. Basing her opinion on someone else's was a dreadful habit, even if she did trust Emma.
"Because..."
Slight hesitation, before he pressed on, even though he had lost his original train of thought. Spontaneity, so unstable, so dangerous.
"I want to know where you are, after Washington, after Bald Head Island." A breath. A moment to gather his abstract thoughts, which provided him with no stimuli even when a close friend of his died. "How are you feeling?"
"I..."
She still didn't want to answer-- but that was unfair. They were teammates, after all. The well-being of one person could affect the whole team and Zoe and Hazel were perfect examples of that. She of course could understand that much.
And two more people were gone. People she'd hardly known. But if this scenario was anything like what happened with Savannah, then...
"I'm here," Callan replied, "Very much here."
She sighed, "Sorry if it didn't seem like it these past few weeks, but yeah. I'm feeling alright, all things considered. Washington was... it was kinda hard for me to deal with."
"I'm glad you're alright." A bit of tension left his shoulders. "It was hard on a lot of us. Still is."
Angelic, utterly destroyed by the ramifications of her actions. Siena, regressing into monstrosity in response. Zoe, falling further and further. Hazel, still in whatever nightmare state she currently was in. Ernie and Marcus, both wrestling with their own demons. And Kusari, a total, complete meltdown.
"For what it's worth," he said, "I'm sorry for running away."
Callan nodded in agreement, stopping short at Brent's apology. It made her so uncomfortable, she couldn't help but smile, finally dropping her gaze.
"You don't owe me an apology, Brent," she smirked at herself, shaking her head in disbelief, "I screwed up back there. I screwed up bad. I don't even blame you. I can't imagine how I'd feel if somebody got one of my friends killed because of a stupid miscalculation like that."
She swallowed hard, "I think about it every day."
He wasn't apologizing for what he had said.
But he bit down on his tongue and nodded, understanding the unending cycle that Callan was putting herself through. He didn't need to say it, that his real regret was running away before allowing herself a response. Didn't need to say it, that he was apologizing for abandoning the group in Bald Head Island, in Washington. That if he had stuck around, maybe things wouldn't have turned out as horribly as they did.
Ernie had been wrong about one thing.
The Proteus in Washington wasn't a pro strategist either. Not if he had allowed that hellhole of an evacuation attempt to occur.
"Don't let it break you," he said instead, "Because you did well. Both in Washington and in Bald Head Island."
While he had floundered, too slow to prevent Gregory's bisection.
'Well.' Callan couldn't say she agreed, but she wasn't one to ignore a compliment when she heard one. And as usual, it went straight to her head.
"Trust me, I'm far from broken," Callan smiled bitterly, "But I've still got plenty of work to do before our next fight."
"Get it done then," Brent managed. "I got your back, so just focus on what's ahead."
She nodded. "Same thing goes for you. Deal?"
Brent laughed, unexpectedly. "Guess that makes sense, with the round Earth and all."
His hand reached out.
"Deal."
Callan hesitated, staring at the Brent's outstretched hand for a moment before stepping forward. For all her indecision, the grip was firm-- her version of gentle, more or less. She confidently smirked, shaking his hand once before letting go.
Brent didn't seem so bad, did he? Maybe a little weird, but... there was something about him that Callan found... refreshing. It reminded her of the conversation she'd had with Marcus that morning. Maybe thinking poorly of him had just been an easy way to deal with it all. Having the chance to say sorry would'nt have done anything to help anyway. It was a selfish desire from the start. A meager hope for something that would make her feel less guilty. Well deserved and certainly nothing to get defensive about.
But he was right. It was time to focus on what was ahead.
"Alright, well. See you around, Brent," Callan waved, reaching for her headphones and turning to leave.
"Eyup, stay cool," the arbiter replied, leaving as well.
It was a good five minutes of awkward silence before the two actually parted ways though.
What exactly constituted stalking? Do you have to relentlessly follow someone for days? Surely only doing it once didn't count, right? Kusari was thinking of pointless things really, all she had done was search the campus all over for Callan. And here she found her in the same place she'd first spoke to her, sleeping outside by the track once again. Kusari didn't wake her up right away, instead just looking at the girl for a moment. This was definitely stalking now.
She needed a moment, or rather, she wasn't sure if she wanted to speak to Callan after all. But she needed to speak to someone, being alone with her thoughts wasn't helping. "Callan." Her voice was more tired than she thought it'd be. The girl likely didn't hear her anyhow with her headphones on. Kusari leaned down and lightly shook Callan's shoulder in an attempt to wake her.
Callan's headphones were definitely blaring too loudly for her to hear Kusari's first attempt to get her attention.
You're good at being bad You're bad at being good For heaven's sakes go to hell Knock knock on wood
The music was soft, but the lyrics were more or less clear. Callan had thought herself sneaky, laying down behind the first two sets of bleachers with her hood up and arms crossed. The small shake worked a little too well. Callan's eyes flew open and she began to lurch forward "M'up!" she exclaimed as if caught in the middle of sleeping when she shouldn't be.
She blinked up at Kusari, the sillouette of her head and shoulders illuminated by the buzzing track lights behind them. Callan pulled down her headphones and sat up a little more slowly, too disoriented to say anything right away.
"Ah, s-sorry." Kusari said. "Didn't mean to... whatever." She cleared her throat and sat down next to Callan with her legs crossed. "I uh, wasn't able to sleep yesterday." She stated, her voice sheepish. It was true, she hadn't gotten any sleep since they'd arrived back at the school. The bags under her eyes could have told Callan that on their own. "I thought I could just get over it but I can't. I actually... I really did die back then." She covered her face with her hands as a jolt of pain went through her chest. She leaned forward, taking a deep breath before straitening herself again and placing her hands on her legs. She'd suffered all sorts of pain recently, but this was more debilitating than any of it. She didn't feel like herself, the more time passed she felt ever more pathetic and weak.
"I saw my own body Callan. I was dead and I don't think all of me came back." She likely wasn't making much sense between her context devoid words and shivering tone, but she hardly knew what to say, she just needed someone to listen.
"It's fine," Callan muttered, glancing down at the time on her phone. She still wasn't too happy with Kusari, but... she wasn't about to just leave. Not until curfew, anyway. Besides, she really did feel bad about what happened to Kusari. It couldn't have been easy.
Callan pulled herself up towards the bench directly above where Kusari had decided to sit, pausing before she sat down. A look of alarm crossed her face as Kusari continued speaking, rousing her fully from the grogginess her unscheduled nap had resulted in. Was... was Kusari losing her mind? She'd tried to put what happened out of her mind as well, but... evidently with far more success.
"Kusari," Callan sat beside her instead, "Look... it... maybe you just..." Words were really failing her. She had no idea how to fix this sort of thing. To make matters worse, she was pretty sure she knew what Kusari wanted. She'd been exruciatingly honest about the way she felt. Meanwhile, Callan couldn't keep herself from uselessly pining over someone else.
She forced a small smile, hugging herself for support before finally deciding on what to say, "You know... I was really upset when I saw you like that. You really scared me back there." She hesitated for a moment before adding. "It would've really sucked if you died."
Kusari didn't say anything for a moment, creating an awkward silence. Of course Callan wouldn't believe her, let alone fully understand what she was talking about. Even still, it was true that Callan would have been upset had she stayed dead. But for how long? The world wasn't going to stop on her behalf, many of them had died already and all they could do was move on. She couldn't help but imagine what it would be like if she were gone. People talking about her in the past tense, gradually just... getting over it. She didn't want to become nothing but another bad memory.
"Thank you." Kusari looked Callan in the eyes as she put on a bittersweet smile. "You're a sweetheart, you know that? I can't think of many reasons to live, but you have to be pretty high on the list." She spoke without thinking again. She quickly realized what she'd said and turned her head. "Sorry, I uh, didn't mean it that way." She mumbled as she twirled her braid between her fingers.
Callan's face immediately felt warm and she laughed nervously. "Oh, haha. Well-- y'know," she leaned back on one arm and ruffled the back of her hair, "I, uh... I seriously just hate seeing you like this, so... i-if I can help, I'd like to... do that...." Her nervous smile softened as she uncertainly added each syllable, ameythst eyes flickering to Kusari's fingers as they twisted around the long white braid. She silently recalled the time when Kusari had accidently sliced the poor thing clean off, idly wishing Kusari herself could recover as easily as her hair seemed able to.
Kusari noticed how fidgety Callan was for a moment, and she believed she knew why. It wasn't as if she were that naive, from her point of view Callan was clearly trying to find the right balance of words between being a good friend and leading her on. That or the girl was more unaccustomed to someone being interested in her than she thought. Maybe her filter had truly broken down completely finally, or maybe she enjoyed feeling normal around Callan, but Kusari decided to tease her a bit.
"Is that so?" Kusari leaned back to be eye to eye with her. "What type of help did you have in mind?"
If her face had been warm before, it was absolutely flaming now. Callan froze like a deer caught in headlights, the meaning behind Kusari's suggestion sinking in at a rapid pace. Immediately, she felt goosebumps erupt across her skin. "Th-that's not what I meant!" she hastily clarified, sitting up.
This reaction was more than Kusari had expected, it was just too perfect. "Pff." She let out a puff of air as she turned her head, trying not to burst into laughter. The dam couldn't hold however, and she found herself holding her gut as she went into a giggling fit. "Oh man..." She wiped her watering eyes and took a breath to calm down. "I'm sorry, you're just really cute when you're flustered like that. I think you've been helping me already Callan, more than you know."
"Hmph!" Callan snorted derisevly, giving Kusari a gentle shove in the shoulder with her elbow. A shove which was probably a little more rough than intended.
"Yeah, right," Callan rolled her eyes-- suddenly a little suspiscious of whether or not Kusari had been lining her up for that joke all along. She held that embarrased scowl for a moment or two before shaking her head. "Well, I guess it's worth it if it makes you feel better," she reasoned out loud before swiveling around in her seat to face the track. She leaned back on the upper seat behind them, propping her elbows and feet up so that she comfortable sprawled across three seats.
"What are you doin' out here so late, anyway?"
Kusari nearly toppled over from Callan's shove, was she really not used to her strength yet? At any rate it seemed she was off the hook for now. Now Callan was asking her what she was doing out so late, the same could be asked back couldn't it? "I can't sleep, and I couldn't stand sitting in my room alone. So I came to find you... Not sure what to do now. Maybe train?"
Callan stiffened a little at the suggestion. "This late at night?" she rose an eyebrow, feeling the weight of the permission slip in her pocket all of a sudden, "Isn't it almost curfew?"
Kusari couldn't help but touch the cuff around her neck at the mention of a curfew. "What are they gonna do, shoot me?" She said with bitter derision. "It should be fine as long as I stay on campus, right? If not I guess I can work out in my room."
Callan eyed the collar quietly, recalling what they'd told her back on the island. She didn't like how much it reminded her of Hazel, but it wasn't her place to say it wasn't at all necessary.
She resolved not to say anything about Kusari coming to find her-- though it did make her remember the last time she'd discovered her sleeping on the bleachers. It seemed so ridiculously long ago....
"Absolutely not," Callan shook her head and stood up, slinging her bag over one shoulder and holding one hand out for Kusari. "You just said you didn't get any sleep the other night. The last thing you should be doing right now is training." Ulterior motives aside, Callan did feel that Kusari was in no shape to push herself. "I'll walk you home and we can hang out a bit if you think that'll help. Curfew's not until 11, so we got time."
She smirked, "Don't think I've forgotten about that list of shows I gave you." She mentally kicked herself for making such an offer, but she'd already made up her mind. She and Kusari were... very different. But she was willing to let it go for now. Just for now.
"Ah, Callamom has arrived." Kusari joked, taking Callan's hand and standing to her feet. She wasn't exactly dead set on working out so she had no reason to fight her on this. "That sounds nice actually." She said, not mentioning that Callan would be alone with her in her room. Perhaps at another time she would think something of it, but she'd given up on Callan already. At least that's what she kept telling herself.
"Oh, no. Terrible pick for team mom," she scoffed as they began walking, "If anything, that'd probably be...." Her mind drifted to Angelique for some bizarre reason. She hadn't spoken with her very much, but she'd always noticed how friendly and outgoing she was.
"I just wanted to know if you were alright."
She could so clearly remember Angelque's voice-- even with the number of times she'd ever heard it directed towards herself being so few.
"I'm glad you are okay." she'd said back at the hospital in La Plata, "If you need anything, or want to talk, my room's just across. Have a good night, Callan."
Callan almost didn't notice that she'd been quite for a second too long. "Well, anyone other than me, really," she finished with a short laugh.
Kusari didn't notice the lull in conversation, her mind was busy wondering if her room was clean or not. She could remember the path from the door to her bed, that was about it. That was probably a bad sign. Oh well. She decided to face whatever state her room would be in as her and Callan arrived. "Honestly, Zhang is team mom. If only Child Protective Services could help us... No more wire hangers mom, I swear."
Kusari was tired.
Arriving at her room, she opened the door with mild apprehension, only to let out a relieved sigh. How could her room be messy when she hardly owned anything in the first place? She walked over to her bed and flopped down onto her back. "Alright, so what are we watching?"
"Heh," Callan chuckled half-heartedly, still not quite used to Kusari's more morbid sense of humor. When nothing else came up after that, Callan let the conversation idle until they reached her dorm. Kusari's room was... depressingly empty. She eyed the two empty beds, remembering Sander and Christmas had moved out before they left for the Wisford mission. She opted not to comment on that... even if it would give Kusari a chance to explain herself.
"Aw, what?" Callan flipped the light on and inspected the TV in the living room. "You haven't upgraded your TV," she frowned, unsure of why she assumed that would be anyone's first priority. "I don't have my stuff so we can watch Netflix on here without a smart TV," she mused, "But, uh... that's alright. We can just use my tablet."
Would that be okay?
Callan pulled it from her her bag and hesitated, glancing between the couch and the bed that Kusari was lying on. "Uhm...." She tried not to overthink it. Probably unwise, all things considered. Callan made her way over to the bed, seating herself on the further edge as she began scrolling through the different shows.
Kusari sat up and looked at her television. Now that she thought about it she'd never even really used it. There was always something else distracting her. She looked over to Callan as she searched for something to watch. "I don't have eagle eyes you know." She said, noticing how far the girl was sitting on the bed.
A figurative red devil appeared on her left shoulder. This is your chance to get closer to her! The devil screamed into her head. Kusari let out a fake cough and shook her head. She couldn't risk her friendship with Callan like that, as far as she knew it would be impossible anyhow. But how should she play this?
A figurative angel clad in white floated down onto her right shoulder. Do it. Her conscious was completely compromised. Kusari bit her bottom lip as her face took on a menacing glare. Again, this was sadly her embarrassed face. Thankfully Callan's eyes were on her tablet, giving her enough time to calm down.
"Sorry, I was just, uh..." Callan hurried up her search, landing on a show that she thought Kusari might enjoy. She scooted a bit closer, obviously reluctant to get too comfortable. "Here," she leaned over, reaching across Kusari's legs to prop the tablet up against the bedframe before hitting play.
Kusari's right eye twitched as Callan reached across her legs. Had she always been this easy to rile up? Perhaps being tired did it, or the fact that they were so close together on her bed. Regardless, she felt good being with someone, away from her thoughts that crawled up in her solitude.
The first episode started up, but Callan remained where she sat for the first several minutes. Her attention quickly became glued to the screen after that, every so often noticing Kusari out of the corner of her eye. Though she was really just interested in knowing whether or not she liked it. A mostly chill action comedy with a good deal of the darker sort of humor Kusari seemed to enjoy. Eventually, she found herself more engrossed in the show than she thought she might be. It'd been a while since she seen it.
"Scooch over," Callan whispered, still watching the screen. It was clear she wanted to lay down.
"Huh? oh, sure." Kusari was thoroughly invested into the show Callan had picked, to the point that she almost forgot that she was right next to her. Almost anyway. "This is a pretty good show, I'm glad because I was prepared to rip it apart otherwise." Kusari said as she gave Callan room to lay down. As they continued to watch she suddenly found her eyes becoming glossy. She wished she could have met Callan in better circumstances. The looming threat of death would forever be above Callan and everyone else. It just wasn't fair.
She rubbed her eyes and focused back on the tablet. At least she could have moments like this.
"You? A harsh critic? No way!" Callan teased, settling into a more comfortable position. Once again, exhaustion prooved to be the best cure for expelling cares. Her nerves, which always seemed to be at least a little on edge around Kusari, managed to settle enough for her relax. Mostly.
It was a great way to kill the time and definitely took her mind off what she planned on doing later. Captivating as the show was, however, Callan couldn't help but start nodding off a few more minutes in. The room was dark, the bed was warm, and she'd done a right awful job of trying to physically prepare for her impending all-nighter. She put up a hell of a fight though. Eye lids drooping, her head bobbed precariously for a moment before she finally buried her face in her arms and fell asleep.
Kusari only noticed Callan had fallen asleep once an episode of the show ended and she turned to look at her. This wasn't okay for a number of reasons. Kusari picked up the tablet and after fumbling with it for a few moments was able to put it into sleep mode. She turned back to Callan and hesitated for a moment. Her hand was above the girl's head, she was tempted to do... something, but she knew better than that. She moved her hand to the girl's shoulder and lightly shook her. "You weren't planning on sleeping over I'm guessing."
"Wuh?" only half-roused from her sleep, Callan didn't even bother opening her eyes. "What time is it?" she asked, her voice muffled by the sleeve of her hoodie.
"Late." Kusari simply said. "You have somewhere you need to be? You aren't gonna come back covered in blood again are you?"
"No," Callan grumbled, sitting up just enough to reach for her phone, "Jus' gotta leave before the-- CURFEW!" Seeing the time on her phone, Callan sat up quickly, scrambling to get off the bed and gathering up her things.
"Oh, alright." Kusari grabbed Callan's tablet and handed it to her. "Thanks for... You know."
Callan took the tablet and slid it into her bag, pausing once she finally zipped it back up. She smiled sincerely, "You're welcome. Sorry for the uh... for falling asleep. But hopefully you can get some rest now, too."
Callan threw the bag over her shoulder and moved to leave. "You might be invincible, but you still need to take care of yourself, you know. Anyway, I'll see you around, Kusari."
Ground Zero at night was like something straight out of a movie Callan would never in a million years want to watch. And even if she did, she definitely wouldn't want to do it alone. She glanced at either of the soldiers by the gate, feeling a little guilty for asking that they double the guard. But this was a necessary precaution. Just like her agreement with Zoe-- unfortunately well worth the inconvenience in her opinion.
She could see the lone figure of the girl on top of her building. Template. Likely the most mysterious component of the fake city and its residents. Still standing at the gate, she felt oddly disoriented looking in. It took a moment before Callan noticed it wasn't just her eyes playing tricks. The buildings and people were becoming distorted. Small details flickered like changing channels on a television screen. The warping of a sign, the disappearance of a small piece of debris resting in the gutter... Every so often, she even noticed that a damaged building would return to pristine condition, only for some shop in the distance to take on a collapsed roof or shattered window.
One visage in particular made Callan's hair stand on end. A girl she thought looked an awful lot like Template. First here, then there. Flickering in and out of existence and just... standing there.
Did this happen every night? Overcome with creeped out curiosity, Callan almost couldn't resist asking one of the guards. Before she knew it, the flickering stopped and she was given the go ahead to enter.
She took a few shaky breaths to steel herself, rolling her shoulders and bouncing on her heels for a moment before she built up the courage to enter. The air was cold, easily adding to the eerie atmosphere in Callan's imagination. Even so, she kept going until she finally found the area where they'd played flag football. Evidently, there was no need to clear it of fake people so late at night. She was surprised she had managed to remember where it was, especially with all the changes those resets had probably caused. Her cuff beeped, signaling that her restraints had been lifted.
"Okay! Callan practically shouted, dropping her duffel on the ground beside her. Her voice didn't echo like she thought it might. Another shaky breath and she closed her eyes. "Come on out."
A rush of air rising from the ground in front of her violently rustled the fabric of her hoodie. Aquamarine curls whipped around her face and she squeezed her eyes tighter, waiting a moment after it stopped before she began searching the sky. "Ugh," she groaned.
"Get down here, stupid!" she shouted, reaching for the reigns. Misery was just barely visible against the night sky, stretching its wings across the moon in a way that... almost seemed like it was enjoying itself. Hands wrapping around the invisible bonds, Callan decided to wait. Ideally, Misery would listen to her commands by word alone-- but even though she could sense that something inside the creature did obey her, Callan had never been in a position to test it.
To her astonishment, Misery obeyed-- if a little reluctantly. Upon landing, however, the creature's ear flickered and its massive, shuddering head turned to snarl at a nearby diner. Teeming with Ground Zero citizens. Callan had to throw up her arms to shield her face from the sudden barrage of dirt that was kicked up as Misery began her mad dash.
"Pbbt," Callan spit dirt from her mouth, not managing to catch where Misery had headed until it was too late. Screams erupted from the building as Misery ripped the diner open like a lion with a freshly obtained carcass, slashing out the insides and discriminating against no one.
"God," Callan had to remind herself that they weren't real people, but even just the idea that they could have been made her heart pound in her chest.
"STOP!" she shouted. Misery didn't listen. Callan started running.
"I SAID STOP!" she tried shouting louder, but with the same results. Nearing the disaster zone, Callan felt the full force of one panicked customer shove into her shoulder, knocking her to the ground.
Misery's head whipped backward at an unnatural angle before two furious glowing orbs locked onto the offender. Her eyes quickly followed the beast's line of sight to a lady clutching what looked like a limp child to her chest. Blood-- too much blood escaped down the boy's pant leg and for a moment Callan counted herself lucky that the child's face was hidden against his mother's chest. What happened after that seemed reflexive for all parties involved.
Misery lunged at the woman, who promptly screamed and tripped, falling to the ground just before Callan managed to scrambled in between the two.
"STOP!" the arbiter screamed again. And Misery obeyed.
...or so she thought.
Behind her, the woman whimpered and cried, struggling to her feet with her baby still in tow.
"Just stay by me," Callan tried to caution, "I'll--" Too late. Everything seemed to move so slowly all at once. Misery blocked out the moon once more, stepping over her like an ant or spec of dust. One claw was all it took. With a wet crunch the woman was there and then she was gone, batted so far down the street that Callan might've thought she'd been obliterated were it not for the distant crash, followed by a car alarm.
Callan stood still, her breathing shallow. She felt sick. Misery carefully stepped back over its master and craned its neck towards the diner once more. Before it could make up its mind to move anywhere again, Callan gripped the reigns tightly.
"What the hell is wrong with you?!" she shouted, tone full of venom as she jerked the reigns sideways. Misery went crashing down into the dirt. Breathing erratically, Callan waited. Fresh blood ran down Misery's jawline as it opened its mouth. Blood that did not belong to Misery-- assuming the thing could even bleed at all. Repulsed by the sight, Callan thrust the reigns down again, waiting for the creature to stand before doing it again.
You're a good person Callan.
And again.
You didn't choose to do this, to be shackled and forced into battle. You're a tool.
And again.
Heroes have a choice, and it's choosing to do the right thing when a way out is behind them that makes them special.
And again.
It wasn't your fault.
You could have done better.
Do you even know where they're at?
I think you were trying to do the right thing.
Nobody did anything wrong
Was it really you causing the trouble though?
How many more people have to die before you figure out how the world works?
Those people in D.C wanted us dead the moment things got bad, I had to... Had to kill people--
"WE DON'T KILL PEOPLE!" Callan screamed before unsummoning Misery altogether.
She fell to her knees, already feeling the exhaustion of her ability. Almost as if she'd been the one to tear the diner apart as well take that beating....
"Dammit," Callan pounded her fists on the ground. She could still hear the screams. The car alarm kept wailing. A crackling fire was already beginning to engulf the building behind her. They're not real. Calm down... calm down...
It's definitely got its ups and downs, but we're the superheroes now! Destiny, fate, whatever it was that put us here; we've got to make the most of it, you know?
That's right. Marcus was right. She had to make the most of this. She was here to practice. Even if things felt helpless now, they would get better. She'd gain control.
Something bigger than my current feelings? Callan sniffled, bitterly remembering what Rosa had told her.
Like my inner desire for senseless killing? Yeah. Right.
She didn't get it. It didn't make sense.
A few minutes passed before sirens sounded in the distance. The screams died down, but she could still hear crying. It sounded so sad.... She wasn't sure how the fake cops in Ground Zero worked, but she wasn't eager to find out. Better look for a different spot.
Standing up quickly, Callan ran back to grab her bag and sprinted through the streets until she came to another open area. It wasn't quite as spacious as the one before, but it would have to do.
The best that we can be!
Callan looked over the surrounding buildings. Several windows were alight. A couple walked along the path behind her, arm in arm.
"Sorry," she whispered bitterly; her duffel bag hit the ground in a small puff of dirt.
It had been a slow day. A slow week, really. Emma had gotten out a little, but...
"Dude. Check this." Determination said, tossing Emma's own phone back at her. It was a video of a golden retriever trying to carry a stick that was way too big through a narrow hallway, and that pretty much summed up Emma's day besides her chat with Ernie, a small trip to Crimen Culpae, and fruitless attempts to fix her scarf. "Cute as hell, right? Why don't we get a dog too?"
A slow day.
She did, however, see something in Crimen Clulpae that piqued her interest: a mini golf course. It was the kind of stupid thing her and Riley used to do all the time... but it felt weird hanging out with the faux-Riley that always followed her around. Instead, she knew just the person to ask out.
"I'm gonna go out, kay?"
"Ooooo, can I come?"
"Not today. Give Spartacus a bath while I'm gone, that'll keep you busy."
"Ugh. Fiiiine. Seeya."
Emma nodded, waving as she left. She grabbed her phone, as she set off down the hallway opening up her messages and finding Callan.
Awake yet? I got a hot tip that there's a pretty good mini golf course in CC.
:0 that sounds awesome. Im down. What time?
Is it good if I come now? I kinda already left
Callan groaned, holding her phone up as she rolled over in her bed. It wasn't that she didn't want to hang out with Emma, but her sleeping schedule was in dire of fixing.... No, it would be fine. Still had plenty of energy drinks left.
Sure! Cya
Emma's new walk from Building B to Building A wasn't a long one- it only took but a minute for her to end up at the door of Suite 430. She gave it a quick knock, quietly hoping that Cal wasn't still in bed.
Callan answered relatively quickly. Quicker than she had the day before, at least. Though the effort of her attire was the same as always, she seemed ready to go.
"You ready to lose?" she smirked, hoisting a small cinch bag over her shoulder.
"Pfffft, not a chance in hell, Webb. I'll have you know that I have smashed every minigolf course in NYC. Like, I'm a certified minigolf pro, so don't take it too hard when you lose."
"Oh boy," Callan's confident smile only wavered for a second, "It's gonna be really embarrassing when you lose to a total noob like me."
"Here I was thinking I would go easy, seeing as there's not a chance that you're good as me. Looks like someone is gonna have to be put in her place, though."
"I ain't scared of you, Party Queen."
The afternoon went by as pleasantly as Callan felt it could have, sleep deprivation aside. Her muscles were sore, but thankfully she wasn't required to do anything too strenuous. Not that doing so would have helped in a game like minigolf-- as she quickly found out. Emma's self proclaimed title of 'minigolf pro' turned out to be nothing to sneer while Callan's ability turned out to be a major hindrance for such a green player. It was frustrating to lose, but the casual chatter and good company was enough to soften the blow.
Birthday: January 30th Birthday: December 21st
"And no, I don't get two Christmases. Total bullshit. Not even extra presents!"
"Ha, my folks at least got a chance to replenish the funds before my birthday came around."
"Hmph. Bullshit, I tell you!"
Sign: Aquarius Sign: Sagittarius
βThat means we're supposed to be, like, BFFs aren't we? At least, I think my horoscope said that before.β
"Haha, yeah I think I remember reading that, too. But don't think I'll be going easy on you just because of that. You're goin down, Halwell."
"We shall see. Weee shaaall seeeee."
Favorite Color: Purple Favorite Color: Purple
βTwinning!β
"Purple is the best color. Confirmed."
Favorite Animal: Wolves Favorite Animal: Cat
βWolves... don't, uh, seem very cuddly.β
"Okay, cats are a close second. They're great, don't get me wrong but... wolves. There was like this four hour special on National Geographic about them a few years ago and they've been my favorite ever since. They're seriously just so cool, you have no idea."
"I think I'll go with something that can't bite my face off."
"No fun if you can't pet them, huh?"
Favorite Food: Steak Favorite Food: Pizza
βI'm a New Yorker, after all.β
"Oh, pizza's good, too... now I'm getting hungry. We're grabbing dinner after this, right?"
"Now that's definitely cheating. Come on, I need something you can like... buy at a store immediately. What are you gonna do? Scour the campus for day old pizza every time you want a snack?"
"Hey, why not? But if you're twisting my arm I guess I'll say... cup noodles. With lots of hot sauce."
Favorite Ice Cream: Cookies n Cream Favorite Ice Cream: Cookie Dough
βClose, young Cal, but cookie dough will always reign supreme.β
"Not even close. And you'll never convince me otherwise~"
"You know, I think I heard somewhere that people who like their coffee black are either psychopaths or megahipsters. You better have a knife on you somewhere, or I might need to rethink this friendship."
"Oof. Caught out on both accounts. I'm from fucking Tribeca, hipster is in my blood. Now you know my darkest secret, Cal."
"Ew, oh god. That better not be contagious."
Favorite Weather: Snowy Favorite Weather: Rainy
βSnow is a close second, but there's something magical about a rainy day.β
"Ha, I was just about to say the same thing about rain. Definitely a close second, but I dunno. There's something about freshly laid snow that's kinda magical, too. Makes me think of fresh starts. Like a white sheet of paper or a perfectly sharpened pencil..."
"But? Man, you get all these badass decerations and an excuse to eat tons of candy. What's there not to love?"
"Yo, honestly... scary movies."
"Oh no. Oh noooooo Cal. If we're gonna hang I'm gonna have to give you a masterclass on horror movies."
"Haha, thanks but I think I'll pass...."
Emma smirked. "We'll see about that."
Favorite Sport: Basketball Favorite Sport: Pass
βYeah, not really a... ugh, just not my thing.β
"Hey, I don't judge."
Favorite Movie: Love and Basketball Favorite Movie: Blade Runner: Director's Cut
"Tears in rain? That shit makes me cry every time. Plus, Harrison Ford... and Pris! Mreow. C'mon! Classic."
"Wait... Love and... what? What is that? You're totally making that up, I've never even heard of it."
"You're kidding, right? It's literally one of the best love stories of all time."
"Yeah, you're totally shitting me. That sounds like... I dunno, it sounds fake as shit. 'Love and Basketball'? That sounds like the title of a movie that's in a TV show."
"Oh my God, that's it. I'll just have to show it to you some time."
"Oof. Fine, but I don't have high hopes."
Favorite Music Artist: Frank Ocean Favorite Music Artist: Radiohead
"Sorry, is my douchey hipster showing again? I try not to let that happen, but man OK Computer is like the theme to my life and Kid A was transformative."
"I can't see anyone ever hating on Radiohead. It's a solid choice-- even if I already know what a filthy hipster you are."
"Ayyyy. Frank Ocean is a pretty solid choice too."
Even through all the smack talk and smiles, however, Callan couldn't help but notice that Emma seemed tired. And after that lecture the other day about taking care of yourself, too. She made a mental note to try and do something extra nice for her soon. Not that she felt Emma needed it. What with someone like Marcus around. The Riley situation had to be stressful; she could only imagine. And while she would have loved to help Emma find an escape from both Riley and the secret she was keeping from her boyfriend, Callan desperately needed a full day's sleep tomorrow.
The night ended casually. No intense discussions. Minimal Marcus references. Callan was surprised to hear that Emma had moved to her own room, though it made sense. Not a big deal considering how she didn't seem especially close to either of her roommates, though Callan couldn't help but think she might get a little lonely. A stupid idea. She supposed it made hanging out with Emma a lot easier if she could convince herself, even for a few hours, that she and Marcus weren't together. But things always came full circle.
Nonetheless, she wished Emma goodnight, promised to kick her ass next time, and headed home to prepare for another tiring night of training at Ground Zero.
Bitch I still can't believe you've never heard of Love and Basketball
Omg. Cal. Stop making things up, please.
Ugh I'm gonna have to find some time to educate you :P
Hmmmmmm. I guess I gotta give it a try, since it has the blessing of the honorable Callan Webb. Only if you watch Alien with me tho
uh. :worried:
That's my deal. Take it or leave it.
:weary: man that's brutal. I'll think about it
Dw Cal, if you get scared you can jump in my arms :kissing_heart:
:sob: great so if I dont die of a heart attack first...
marcus will totally murder me for makin moves on his girlfriend :sob: :sob: :sob:
I won't tell Marcus about what happens if you don't :smirk: :peach:
omg go to bed
Pretty tempting to skip a good night's rest with you around :heart_eyes:
-______- ok fine we'll watch ur dumb alien movie JUST GO TO BED
Staying up was...not a fun idea. Not that Ernie was tired. There had been something there for sure, something between weariness and the plodding monotony that came with having to practice anything. But he wasn't tired. Years in the kitchen had sharpened his tolerance and this particular drain was far from physical.
Practice. That was all he needed to do. Improve his dexterity with the blasted thing, lift more, move faster. Perfect practice makes perfect. Be prepared for the next time, be stronger, braver.
A crooked smile tore across his face.
Yeah. Next time those Amigos came at them, he'd still probably die alongside some unfortunate classmates, the barest bit more satisfied with himself than he'd been on the island. But for now, it was time for his workout. The smile faded with the memory of the argument on the island, the prospect that something had snapped between him and Brent. Something...nah, that couldn't be it. They were friends. He'd shared one of his biggest secrets with the guy and it had been respected. Things should be fine.
With that train of thought slowing to a relatively safe stop, Ernie strolled into the gym, whistling with an aura of joy that only seemed half-forced.
Crimen Culpae. Wisford. Washington. Bald Head Island.
Loss. Loss. Win. Loss.
Lift, pull, push, lunge, skip, run.
He'd gotten lax during that one win. Got it into his head that he improved significantly, when it was just more and more freebies from that garden of words. Had fallen into too gentle a routine, had treated everything as 'exercising' instead of actual 'training'. Got too mired up with relationship bullshit, spent way too much time nagging Siena, hadn't even bothered with picking up new skills of his own. First aid. He kept on thinking about learning that from Ernie, but he never said a word. Marksmanship. It was never enough, just to play around with a couple hunting rifles. Should have gone further. Gone until it hurt.
Metal clanked against metal as Brent lifted himself from the bench, back drenched, arms shaking. Took him a few tries before he could grab his sports drink without it slipping out of his palms. Somewhere along the way, he lost it, huh? That obssession with victory, and the purpose that it gave him. A guidepost in the quagmire, honing his thought process until it was lethal. Beneath him, the gym equipment disassembled, reassembled, form cooling back into the ordinary object it had been before.
Wasn't enough just to win once. Shouldn't aspire to just that. He took a deep breath, then another.
And when the door to the gym creaked open, the arbiter turned with a reflexive smile.
"Yo," he waved, "Had something to eat yet?"
"Found some leftover snacks in my dorm," Ernie replied, waving back with his own grin, "Nice to get my face into all that packaged stuff again."
"Totally done with high quality organic ingredients cooked by maids and butlers?" Brent laughed. "Gotta watch out for your macros, man."
"Mmyeah," the Aberration glanced over the unknown term with a smile, "Doesn't help that we skipped training yesterday either."
Was that smart, bringing up that mess? Didn't feel like it.
"I mean, I heard swimming helps with muscle-work, amirite?" He tried a weak joke to tide the moment over.
" 's long as you're not diving headfirst to avoid the fireworks, yeh." Better off latching onto brighter memories, at least until things were in a better order. "Never was one for swimming myself though. Just the smell, you know?"
"Yeah, fair. Can only take so much seaweed. I always hear how sand gets in all your places but I didn't think they meant all your places, y'know?"
"Woah, dude, careful with that mental imagery there. Too early in the morning for sandcrotch."
"Every time's too early for sandcrotch," Ernie grimaced at the memory.
Another chuckle, before Brent went back to his sets, the comfortably familiar sound of metal clanking against metal disappearing as a joly of silver circuitry changed it into the same electromagnetic resistance device that he had made for Callan a long, long time ago. "Better start warming up now, eh? Aiming to reach the eight minute mile by next month, right?"
Ernie nodded happily. "It's gonna be great."
He meant it. Getting into this kind of routine had done wonders for so many other aspects of daily life, from nutrition to practical knowledge.
Shame it's not worth a damn in a real fight, eh?
Ernie slackened his grip on the machine, pausing, then glancing to Brent.
If Brent noticed the glance, he didn't show it, nor acknowledge it. What was present instead was a single minded focus, bordering obssession without the emotional weight of passion, as the magnetic bar went up and down, biceps bulging and veins popping as amethyst eyes burned into something that wasn't there.
Miffed that he'd been unacknowledged, even if he hadn't said anything out loud, Ernie frowned.
"Do you..." he tried to put it gently, "do you think we could have done better?"
Brent paused.
"You could have done better."
"Yes. Always."
Ernie had been expecting that. The frown deepened.
"For real, though. Even if we had ten times more proper training, if we had an actual functioning team, would we still be alive if they had sent just one more of their Brazilian douchebags at us?"
He sighed.
"I'm not talking about how we worked yesterday. I'm wondering if it was even possible for us to get a 'win' scenario in the first place. It's a goddamn miracle we only lost two."
There was something deeper there. Of course victory was possible. If they could get this far, through a month of shitty, hellish incidents without any real training, then in ten months, Unit B could become a force to be reckoned with. They had so many options in terms of pure destructive power, and two arbiters that had functionally infinite versatility. But it wasn't a matter of reason, was it?
Brent turned, that weight-lifting machine reassembling into its natural state, eyes locking onto Ernie's. There was no malice there, just a steadfast...something.
"It is possible." A nod. An assertation. "We're not all at that point yet, but we could get that 'win' scenario against the Amigos."
Even in their current states. Even as wretched and ill-prepared as they were. But he didn't need to reach that far.
"It would require the entire unit to be an actual functioning team though, instead a dysfunctional group of kiddos."
Ernie barked out a laugh, a sarcastic retort escaping before he could stop it.
"Yeah, that's gonna happen."
"Who knows?" Brent replied noncommitally. "Miracles do happen."
"Dumb luck happens," Ernie corrected him, "Not miracles. Even then, this group's shit might be too much for even a miracle to handle."
"Well, here's to hoping that they flush that shit out of their systems sooner rather than later. Campfire bonding certainly didn't work out in that favor...like, at all."
"Yeah..."
Ernie felt awkward tinge of responsibility there. It'd certainly been his prodding at the campfire that escalated things but...c'mon, how was he supposed to know that pasty fucker had burned someone?
"It's not just that drama stuff. There are too many of us that don't plan at all outside of 'run at them and fight'."
Brent laughed at that. "Yeah, everything's a hell of a mess. Thought Lawrence or Grant would try to get a handle on the situation, but they were just cold fishes the entire time too. But..."
He recalled Washington. All their 'real' powerhouses running off into danger immediately. Hazel disappearing at the start. Callan seeking heroism and redemption. Sander god knows where. Chris doing things the only way he knows how to. Zoe drunk on her bloodlust.
"...hard to rein in people whose powers are so straightforward and strong. Hell of a mess," he repeated. "Could say that they just brute forced their way through last morning, huh?"
"Or it was just dumb luck. But brute force is probably more accurate."
Ernie was going to regret this. It needed to be said.
"It's not just the ones with straightforward powers. Siena was about to jump out there if I hadn't stopped her. And you were going to run back to the mansion with zero information."
"Yeah," Brent nodded, "Went retard mode even from the get go, thinking that the Amigos wouldn't have arrived at the estate that soon. Didn't take into consideration the flash that accompanies Siena's teleports as well. Should have, considering what I saw in Wisford."
A shake of his head. Genuine regret. Obvious mistakes he made in the heat of the moment, for the sake of someone he hardly knew, and wasn't sure if he cared about THAT much. Lost his focus, lost his sight, and after awhile, probably lost his fucking mind.
"Lots to work on for sure. Hah, maybe Lawrence and Grant staying still and being out of the way was the best move to make."
Ernie nodded too, but the stern expression remained. Something had happened back there, even if Brent wasn't willing to talk about it.
"We've got enough dumbasses. We don't need pro-strategist Proteus of all people going 'retard mode' just like them."
"I'll try harder from now on," Brent replied. "See if I can make the outlier that was Washington into the norm."
See if there was another 'leader' to be found, now that Grant was a bust.
"Gonna be counting on you to back me up though, yeah? You're the cowboy here, after all."
"I thought Tonto was the back up," Ernie managed a small smile. It faded quickly. Somehow, his hand found its place on Brent's shoulder. No jokes here.
"You're right about Washington. I'm serious too, yeah? We can't afford this bullshit next time. You...really had me worried yesterday."
Christ, when did this become real? How the hell did he actually be this close to someone who may as well be his opposite? It had been so cheap before, so easy, simple even, but now...
"No bullshit, just winning," Brent replied, "I'll do it properly from now on."
He remembered Wisford once more, that formation that Unit A had taken, even without their ace in hand. There was exhaustion, fatigue, but they had never buckled under the pressure of Factory's minions, even as such a small group. Had no significant injuries. No losses, even without a healer. There were so many more pieces in Unit B, so many Queens and Knights, but everyone just smashed their heads against the wall and solved it with their overpowered abilities instead. There had to be a better way.
There was a better way.
"Thanks. For holding me back and all, Ernie. Retrospectively appreciate it."
Oh. He hadn't been expecting that. Ernie felt his heart grow a size, a grin growing along with it.
"What are friends for, right?"
"Right," Brent replied offering a fist bump, "'fore I forget, teach me how to do those first aid things sometime, eh? Keep putting it off but hell, that shit's definitely gonna be useful one day."
"Yeah, of course."
Now that he thought about it, they couldn't have returned to the campus at a better time. Already he was coming up with ways to use Ground Zero to its full potential.
"Yeah, that can definitely work!" Ernie mused, returning the fist bump, "Just text me when you're free. I've got plenty to teach."
"Looking forward to it," Brent chimed, happy that at least one bridge hadn't been obliterated during that rough morning, "Now get back to it, Ernie. Let's see you put some pro sprinters to shame by the end of this month."
One good thing about the school getting crapped on while they were away: no classes.
One good thing about returning to the craphole: he could reunite with his precious equipment.
Ernie sighed with contentment as he plugged in the cleaner. The hallway had become quite the dump during his absence. The Reg janitors were always too spooked to stay in the Abe dorms long enough to do a decent job, and the tense atmosphere since the attack had only made things worse. No one could be assed to finish the job and it wasn't like Ernie was a particularly busy guy. The vacuum started with a vibrant roar. He got to work.
He'd been uninterrupted on previous shifts. Sure, there was the occasional glare and scream to 'shut that fucking thing off'. The standard fare, whether he was here or at West or in Reno. As much as he wanted to annoy Allison with the noise, it seemed like a dick move to do it so soon after what happened on the island. He moved past her room quickly, reaching the hapless halls of the second floor in no time.
Zoe groaned at the sound of the vacuum, tossing a notebook against the wall in frustration. After everything they'd dealt with, was some peace and quiet really too much to ask for? It was too early for this, and too soon for it. There was enough on her plate without any extra irritation adding to it. Standing up, she was well aware that she looked like a mess, but also that she didn't give enough of a damn to change it.
So it was a fairly bedraggled Zoe that poked her head out into the corridor, blue eyes fixing on the culprit. She probably should have been less surprised to see Ernie, considering the guy's neat-freak tendencies, but this was seriously pushing it. "I'm pretty sure they already clean the corridors, Ernie--" She grimaced, glaring at the vacuum like it had personally offended her. "And why the hell is that thing so loud?"
"They don't, actually," Ernie frowned, reeling from the fleshmelter's sudden appearance. The vacuum was temporarily switched off, "They don't do it properly. Of course it's loud, how else is it gonna get everything those stupid janitors missed?"
"And there's absolutely no way to clean without deafening everyone in a ten-mile radius, right." Zoe looked at him incredulously. "Couldn't you just not go to the messy parts? There's a whole institute here, you can't just go cleaning it top-to-bottom." Sure, maybe it'd be better to just let Ernie get on with his weird cleaning thing, but she didn't really feel like the hearing loss today.
"The 'not messy parts'," Ernie scoffed, growing more indignant, "Please. This whole school's a freaking dump, I'd have to chew off my foot to get away without fixing some of it. Besides, I don't wanna get lectured on mess by you of all people."
Zoe looked at Ernie for a good few seconds before replying in a level tone. "And what's that supposed to mean, exactly?" Of course she had an idea, but she'd be damned if she was going to be the one to voice those thoughts.
Those few seconds were enough time for Ernie to assess the degree of fucking up he'd just done.
"I meant..." he spoke slowly, as if that would stall the conversation for him to make a decent excuse, "that..."
Oh, what the hell was he trying to be nice for?
"C'mon, even outside of fights you're not so..." Nope, not going there. "A-and look at your room!"
He gestured dramatically at the space behind the door.
Zoe glanced back, unimpressed by Ernie's horror. Okay, so there were maybe a few things lying around, but she didn't see the big deal. Hell, most of it was fairly normal for someone to have out, anyway.
"...the room's usually tidy. Just wasn't in the mood yesterday." Zoe looked faintly irritated. "And I'm clean enough, but thanks for that."
"Yesterday..."
A lot of baggage there. His eyes narrowed as he remembered something. Something about Zoe in town.
"Yeah, that wasn't fun," he replied, his mind replaying the detail he wanted to broach before he actually said it out loud, "At least we're back now, right? Must be good to have GZ again."
"It helps." Didn't make the whole thing feel any less disgusting, but hey; at least she didn't want to tear real people's throats out as much. That, and it kept everything from replaying in her daydreams. She shrugged, trying to appear indifferent. "Whole lot better than the alternative, anyway."
"Oh, for sure."
No need to discuss 'the alternative'. Ernie paused, aware of how awkward further conversation could be. They were far from friends. Wasn't as weird as the Emma situation but...still not great. There was a lot to say.
One thing at a time. "I--" Ernie glanced away. "You were right, by the way. The Brent and Siena thing. There were better ways to handle that."
"Glad you realised it." Zoe frowned, thinking over the situation. It was honestly a little late to be having this revelation, but better late than never at least. Hell, with everything that had followed, she'd almost forgotten about that incident. Almost, but not quite; she had an impressive ability to hold a grudge. "At least it didn't get them killed, but yeah. Just... don't let them do anything that dumb again, and we're good. Death happens, but shit like that's preventable."
"Me and Brent...talked. I don't think it'll happen again."
There was the question of how he was going to bring it up with Siena but that would be for another day.
"Same could be said for you, couldn't it? The 'dumb' stuff. I'm not talking about the 'alternative' you mentioned earlier, but the running out on your own and expecting no one to see you. Should I have done something there, too?"
The statement managed to get a bit of a rise out of her, though she was more uncomfortable than angry.
"I know what I'm doing. Fact is, I'd rather be the one getting hurt than have someone do it for me." Zoe didn't want to go into detail on that one. Didn't want to try and have that discussion with Ernie - he'd hardly be sympathetic, judging from his reaction when she'd tried to go through with it herself. And more than that, admitting such a weakness was more frightening than she cared to admit.
"They don't know how to handle a fight like I do. Shitty as it sounds, the difference between me and them is that I'm good enough to finish what I start." Admittedly, some of this was her ego talking, but that didn't make it any less true as far as she was concerned.
"I don't doubt you there," he said, but he couldn't help but raise an eyebrow for the rest of the statements. Was it really so bad to want to keep one of the team's powerhouses alive? "Ideal situation would be no one having to take one for the team, though. Even you. Wouldn't the better thing be teaching the others how to handle a fight?"
"And how often do we get an ideal situation?" Zoe chuckled, shaking her head.
"Listen, while I'm sure everyone would leap at getting fighting instruction from the team psychopath, I don't know how to teach anyone about making the right decisions. Even if they trusted me as far as they could throw me." Of course, she wasn't really objecting to that view - hell, she'd be the first one to admit that she was unstable, even broken. That the Stigma was stronger than she was. But that didn't make it any less of an obstacle.
"Something's gotta be done," he muttered, not expecting any input from Zoe. Brent hadn't offered any solid answers either. "There were too many mistakes yesterday." Many, including his own.
"You're right; we're lucky we only lost two." Zoe scowled. She could have done more, so much more, if she'd been better. Stronger.
"If it were up to me, I'd say they need someone to tell them what to do, but they're never gonna listen. I can't help anyone by thinking about that shit." It was strange, but she could talk about this frankly where Ernie was concerned. Perhaps because she knew he was capable - at least mentally - of the same things as her. "All I know is I'm gonna do whatever it takes to try and spare them the worst of it."
Always the resolve with this girl. Even when she was borderline-slaughtering teammates on every mission, somehow he still didn't doubt her. Weird how that worked.
"Yeah," he scratched his head, mulling over her words. Couldn't have a team leader telling them what to do without them listening to each other. Couldn't have them listening to each other without someone who could lead. It was a cycle of complete dumbfuckery. "I guess I'll do that too."
A pause as he worked out the best way to approach what he really wanted.
"Yeah, uh, while I'm here, there's something I gotta ask. What did you get from the Amigo you found?"
"From him? Nothing. Don't get me wrong - I would have," Zoe grimaced, frustrated, "but he got out of my range. Only had time to catch up before I killed him automatically, and he passed out before I got the chance to question him." The whole thing was far from an ideal situation, and there was more than one reason it irritated her. The delay in getting any info was the main part, of course. But beyond that, there was the undeniable feeling of disappointment that she wouldn't get to ask the questions.
Not that she planned on mentioning that, though she didn't make an effort to hide it either. There didn't seem to be much point, considering who she was talking to.
"That staff mage, Margot, said I'd be the first to know if they get anything." Zoe continued. "So it's better than nothing, at least."
An unexpected anger coloured his expression. Nothing. Really? He searched her expression for any signs of lying but found nothing. He couldn't think if any reason Zoe would lie either.
"Dammit," Ernie sighed, "Margot. The chainsmoker scar lady?"
"Yeah, her." Zoe narrowed her eyes at Ernie's anger, though she was hardly worried by it. "I think she'll tell me; as much as she can, anyway." It was hard to pin down why she felt sure of that. Whatever the reason, she didn't think Margot would hide anything she didn't have to.
"Sure, if she even knows the right questions to ask."
There was something off about her, like she knew a lot more than she needed to let on, but Ernie still didn't think much. She was a USARILN dog. Not a Senator.
"Do you think you can let me know when she gets to you? This shit seems important."
Something about Ernie's statement didn't sit right with her, and after a few seconds she gave him a faintly confused look. "I figured they'd know a hell of a lot more about all this than we do." And she wasn't quite sure how telling a classmate would help. Still, Zoe didn't take long thinking over her answer.
"It depends what she tells me. And I'd need you to keep your mouth shut to the others." For what it was worth, she figured Ernie was more than capable of doing that much. Though how much she'd risk telling him was still up in the air.
Ernie scoffed. "Like the others would even know what to do with Amigo intel. Don't worry. if you feel like it needs to be a secret for whatever reason, I've got no reason to blab."
A pause before he continued. He didn't like that Margot.
"I dunno. Would you ask a baker for plumbing tips? I don't know how long that lady's been with USARILN but the Amigos are still out there because the Institute doesn't know their secrets."
Another thing came to mind.
"Did she use her teleporting clone thing to take the guy?"
Zoe nodded. "Yeah. She carried him back from town - well, one of her did anyway." At least from what she'd been able to tell; it hadn't taken long for Margot to exit her sight, so the thought seemed to make sense.
"And yeah, they don't know the Amigos' secrets, I'll give you that. I suppose this is the part where you tell me you're secretly a South American crime lord." The statement was mostly sarcastic, but a hint of suspicion had crept into the redhead's expression. Not of that, obviously - she had a really hard time seeing Ernie as the lord of anything - but something about this wasn't sitting right.
"Pfft, nah. Crime lords need a surprising amount of math skills, y'know?"
Quip aside, back to the topic.
"Did she check his mouth?"
"Not that I saw." Zoe frowned. "Why?"
"There's a thing they do. Good way to check," he shrugged, "I dunno, we only knew they were Amigos cos Aldrich told us. But we don't know how he knew that. Did he just notice they were really tan and assume the worst? That's not reliable. Having someone confirm would make things better. Or worse, I guess."
"Amigos were already up to something major before, but I don't know what. Figure the institute had some way of knowing who they were." Zoe sighed, remembering her first encounter with Andrew. But the uncertainty was irritating, and anger sparked in her expression. "I'm just sick of being attacked by all these groups without knowing who the fuck they're working for. It was the same in Wisford, and far as I know those Animi in DC could've been with someone too."
Ernie's brow furrowed sharply. "Wait, how do you know what the Amigos were doing?"
"There was a guy in town on the estate. Same one that told me where to find the straggler. He sees stuff, said they're bringing in a bunch of supplies." She shrugged. "Couldn't give me much detail, 'cause they had subs blocking what he could see. Whatever it is, doesn't sound good."
Ernie cursed inwardly. Letting that shit happen under their noses. What the hell were the Senators doing?
Staying in the Estate the whole time had been a dumb idea after all. He sighed and fiddled with the vacuum cord. "Guess we just gotta sit around and wait for the next disaster. Like you said, it'd be nice to get any sort of detail."
There was one very possible reason this group was the one under attack. He just didn't know how they were being found so easily. It's not like most of them outside of Sander and Zoe were very strong.
"Wisford and D.C. were the same guys, if you need to know. The ones David tried helping."
"Right. So they were following us." It could have been a coincidence, but paranoia seemed like the safer option right now. "Shame David didn't seem to know shit, though. I'd kill for the chance to know what's going on with all this." Well, she'd kill for a lot of things, but figuratively speaking. "I just want to be able to fight back. Right now, it seems like we're waiting around to be picked off one by one."
"That just brings us back to the class bullshit we were talking before," Ernie rolled his eyes but he definitely agreed.
"I dunno about the following. Might have just been wrong place, wrong time. D.C.'s a perfect place to hit if you're looking to cause some chaos." And chaos was definitely part of what Fracture was aiming for. "Maybe it was just coincidence we were there to stop it."
"Maybe you're right," Zoe sighed, "but I'd rather see us paranoid and alive than dead for putting shit down to coincidence."
"Understandable."
Looks like he got everything he wanted. For now, anyway. There were still some questions he wanted an answer to. Ernie hoisted the vacuum cleaner.
"Well, I guess I'll be cleaning further down. Keep me updated, yeah?"
"Right." Zoe nodded. For what it was worth, the discussion had at least given her some questions. And more than that, motivation. Part of her had been willing to sit around and wait for answers, but he was right; the staff didn't know everything about all this.
"See you around, then. Figure I've got some investigating to do."
π½π£π: πππ₯. π , ππππ / / βπ£ππππ βπ¦ππ‘ππ π / / πππ π‘π‘πππ π»ππ€π₯π£πππ₯ / / ππ‘ππ Collab with @PapiTan About two thirds of this is an inconsequential shopping montage so read at your own risk.
It was fucking cold.
Cold for the Westerner, anyway. Not quite chilly enough for the dumbass store attendant to turn the heating on. As he examined a rack of sweatpants by the storefront, Ernie could feel the hairs on his legs standing up, his calves bared by the glory of his khaki shorts. Standard West fashion. Helped him fit in with the bros but he might as well have been in his underwear in this North Carolina weather. The sentiment applied to pretty much his whole wardrobe. East had not been on his yearly schedule, for sure. It had been a while since he'd last gone shopping. Now it was nipping him in the ass. And his legs. And his mitten-less fingers.
Fuck, he hated Eastern weather.
Considering her relatively brief stint as one of USARILN East's cuffed subnaturals, Siena had found herself in need of new items an alarmingly high number of times. With much of her clothing having been at Zhang's estate during the attack and the loss of yet another e-reader, Siena was starting to think she would need the equivalent of a standing order at electronic shops and some sort of elite loyalty program for her preferred brands of clothing. Thankfully, even with the loss of her physical card case, the advent of technology had made it easy enough to obtain an alternate method of payment.
Not that it mattered when the card case had only held the preferred cards and not every one, she supposed.
Clad in fleece-lined stockings, a knee-length skirt had been a feasible choice even in the chillier weather. Coupling that with her usual attire of a coat and season-suitable blouse, and one might have been hard pressed to believe that the girl had to scrounge what was available in her wardrobe out of what remained. With that in mind, Siena couldn't help but feel a twinge of pity for a familiar face clad in clothing ill-suited for the weather they were experiencing.
"Ernie?" The question wasn't really necessary, she recognized the boy without much effort. "I take it you're out replacing clothing too?"
"Hm?" Ernie snapped a picture of the sweatpants' label, noting the size, brand and ridiculous price before addressing Siena properly with a smile. "Less 'replacing' and more 'stocking up'. Didn't really have weather in mind when I was packing for East."
Not that he had much to pack. Not that he had anything, period, when he got tossed into West.
"Oh...right..." For all the time that their class had spent together, it was easy to forget that Ernie hadn't come in at the same time as everyone else. If his current attire was the best that he'd packed for the colder months coming forth...Siena couldn't help but give a faint grimace at the thought of the boy literally freezing to death. "I forgot you transfered."
Well, at least being unprepared for clothing was something she could help with.
"Mind if I join you in stocking up? Apparently clothing has a short lifespan here." Siena gave a half smile to the boy before she continued. "I can cover for you. Our allowance isn't exactly enough to replace what we lose, much less stock up on anything."
Ernie chuckled genuinely.
"Sure! It'd be nice to have a shopping buddy. Oh, and don't worry about the cover."
The Aberration displayed the photo gallery on his phone, swiping through the photos of labels he'd taken. They were fairly pricey items, certainly not a collection that would fit into a student's $500 budget. Among them were the sweatpants he'd just snapped.
"I don't actually buy things when I go out. The request forms accept all sorts of stuff! I just gotta write down what I see and I save some cash. Sure, it takes a while to show up and sometimes it's not even the right size but," he shrugged, "it works. Mostly."
The smile faltered for a moment. He was using the requisition sheets? That wasn't exactly the most time-friendly method, and it was already starting to get cold...
"Ernie, I..." A pause. "I'm gonna have to insist that you let me cover for you today. I don't want our next briefing being about you freezing to death in your room."
"Well, it'd be real flattering if they held an entire briefing about little ol' me but..."
Ernie quickly looked her up and down. It gave him a fair idea of how big this 'cover' would be.
"I have a feeling I won't be able to pay you back. Within this year, at least. Maybe this decade."
Siena couldn't help but blink once in surprise. Paying her back? What exactly was she going to do with money in their situation? After a handful of trips with her other peers, the brunette wasn't entirely sure what to make of Ernie's concern. The half smile grew a fraction warmer, confusion flickering across her expression for an instant before she regained herself.
"You don't need to pay me back...?" Siena scolded herself internally for letting the claim trail off like a question. "Believe me when I say the money's not going to be missed."
Not gonna be missed? He looked her outfit over once again, noting her expression but unsure of what to do with it.
...Yeah, he could believe the money talk. He still felt the barest bit icky about the whole thing but in the end, he shrugged.
"Alright, you win. Since you're covering, how about you pick the first store? I'll hold the bags."
"I haven't really explored, so we can always start here," Siena claimed, her eyes drifting toward the display that Ernie had snapped a picture from, making a small gesture towards the sweatpants and offering an almost cheeky smile. "Make sure you get those in your size and all."
Ernie returned the smile with sloppy salute. "Aye aye, cap!"
His go-to store chains were the outdoor apparel outlets. Practical, fairly stylish from his personal perspective. Nothing that stood out too much. Ernie entered the automatic doors, ignored the slackjawed expression of the cashier, and headed straight for the jacket racks. Quick swipes made the process speedy, but he couldn't help but linger on one particularly blinding jacket. A mostly blue piece, hindered by the hideous, canary-yellow sleeves and hood. It was the kind of sight that'd make babies cry. An unbelieving grin lit up his face as he swished it in Siena's direction.
"This one's pretty wild," he laughed.
With her upbringing, Siena couldn't claim to know much about outdoor apparel. The extent of her "outdoor" adventures, after all, had never really involved roughing it in anything more rustic than a rambling estate. That said, she had taken some interest herself in a few articles of clothing--most of it seemed as though it would be sturdier than her standard fare. It was worth considering. Was.
Her opinion of the entire concept took a sharp nosedive once Ernie brandished an affront to both color and eyesight. A bright, blue and yellow article of clothing that could have passed for a biohazard warning sign. The girl's smile faltered for a moment. Was he going to--that wasn't--it was hard to bite back every protest she could muster.
So hard, in fact, that she almost didn't succeed.
"It's...certainly eye-catching." Not in a good way. "It almost looks like it would glow in the dark."
"Whoa, you think?" Ernie's eyes widened and he scanned the label for any mention of glowing. Wouldn't that be a fun thing to have, even if it was ugly as sin in the daytime. He cupped his hands around a patch of yellow, hoping the dark would prompt a reaction from the material. But there was nothing.
"Dang, almost," he sighed, before replacing it with a swamp green down-vest. Not as outstanding as the yellow, but still pretty bad. Besides, Siena seemed to like this joke. "How 'bout this one? Like what you see?"
Was he disappointed that it didn't glow? The thought was incredulous, and Siena almost found herself in disbelief that anyone would want to wear anything that garishly bright. Every part of Siena told her that she could probably get him better winter clothes from other places. Every. Single. Part.
Still, the brunette smiled when he next atrocity came out, looking more like mud turned into fabric than an actual vest. The smile wasn't quite as well-humored as the first.
"I think you'd have to roll around in the dirt a little before it matches you," Siena heard the words before she entirely realized she was saying them, grey eyes widening in surprise at the retort before she did the only thing she could: roll with it. Brandishing the best attempt as a mischievous grin that she could, Siena prodded at the vest a little harder. "Though maybe if we have a marsh mission, it'll act as camo."
A pause as something caught her eye, and Siena flicked aside a few more offending articles of clothing before fishing out an insulated jacket. Neutral, nothing entirely flashy or outstanding, especially with only black as its body, a shock of ivory fur trimming the hood. With a few other pieces...
"I think you'd look pretty good in this." The friendly smile returned again. "Plus you could wear it now and, you know, not be cold for the rest of the day."
At Siena's comments, Ernie laughed once again, though he couldn't help but sense that it wasn't a complete joke. Nothing major, right? It was a pretty ugly piece.
"Guess the Shrek costume can come another day," he remarked before he accepted the jacket. Nice lines, plus black was a color that was impossible to goof up. Yes, this one would do great. He flashed Siena an approving thumbs up as they both head to the counter.
"Alrighty," Ernie rolled his shoulders as they left the store, testing the feel of the purchase. It was good stuff, "Where to next? I'm guessing a place with no nuclear-yellow?"
"Your guess would be correct," Siena replied with a laugh. "I hope you're not too disappointed by the lack of crossing guard couture."
Well, to be quite honest, there were a number of places that Siena had to stop by, but the mental image of Ernie turning in requisition sheets for something as necessary as clothing refused to sit comfortably. Taking a moment to think over their options. Outdoor wear might not have been her forte, but...
"I think I saw a Neiman Marcus on the way here," the girl mused softly. "Though I'm not much help on the men's fashion front. Maybe you have some ideas?"
Ernie was about to make a quip on the name of the scarred boy but the tail end of her sentence threw him off more than he expected.
"Fashion...? Uh," he adjusted his beanie. What was the point? He only ever needed to look passable so he could fit in on campus. "I don't really know, I just want some clothes."
Um...? The moment of uncertainty from Ernie was matched in equal part by confusion from Siena. Grey eyes darted from his face to an unspecified spot on the floor, back to the boy.
"That was what...uh, I mean if you know clothing brands you like, we can..." The words trailed off, still fettered by Siena's confusion. "Sorry, are you not much for the entire vogue thing?"
"I don't...read magazines?" He didn't read much of anything, really. Man, what was this weird feeling of dumbassery that he was starting to feel? Hazel eyes glanced around quickly for a lifeline, settling on the storefront of the one they'd just left, "I mean, Columbia is...that's a brand, right...?"
There was being out of the loop and there was being completely unaware. This moment was starting to seem closer to the latter, which was a first for Siena. At least when Gerwulf dressed badly, it was because he didn't care, and no amount of explaining would change that. This was...entirely different.
"Um, yeah, that's right..." Blinking her uncertainty away and masking as much of her distress and confusion with a smile as possible, Siena dared for another attempt. "If you have a list of clothes you need, I can try to find the trendy stuff that matches you."
Did he really need 'trendy'? Ernie looked to Siena again, noticing the way she kept trailing off. It was sorta like...she actually felt bad about the whole thing. And that sorta made him feel weird. All this awkwardness wasn't worth some fancy scraps of fabric.
So Ernie nodded. Not like he had any other plans today. "Yeah. Yeah, that works. Lead the way. Oh, before we go, do you think you could..."
He pulled a tube of concealer from his pocket, looking apologetic.
"Less hassle this way, y'know?"
It took a moment for Siena to understand the need for the concealer when subnaturals were commonplace, but it made sense. Sort of. Hopefully any recognition would be dismissed as coincidence without the mark. She returned the apologetic expression with a careful smile that showed little more than a faint comprehension.
Closer to a human disguise, she supposed.
"Don't look like you shot me or something, I'm used to it." Siena responded while accepting the tube. "Make up is a girl's best friend or something like that."
Did he look like that when he shot people? Ernie smiled, relieved. "Huh. Marilyn always told me it was diamonds."
"When diamonds make girls ageless, I'll believe that."
Shopping for men's fashion had proven to be an enlightening experience--well, shopping for men's fashion with different limitations than she was accustomed to. Deferring to Ernie had been easier, even if Siena couldn't quite understand the appeal behind some of the...creative choices that many had chosen to unfortunately display in their windows. She'd figured out early on that Ernie was about equally educated in fashion as most of her peers (read: almost not at all), but that didn't make trying to work with what there was any less enjoyable. To an extent.
Casual men's fashion was much more difficult than the uniform formal wear she typically saw males in. No set rulebook, and only advertisements to base things off of.
And who or what was a Billabong?
She fingered a dubiously colored jacket, impressed by how soft the exterior was, but unimpressed by it looking more like it belonged in a gym, its grey hues patterned in a manner that screamed "stretch me" over "wear me". In a nice cobalt shade, it could be a nice intermediate between a full blown jacket and no jacket at all, even if it did look more like it belonged on the beach than in the autumn. Then again, those words applied to almost the entire store--maybe it was a new trend for men. Siena wasn't entirely certain.
"Oh, you like that one?"
Ernie appeared next to her to examine the jacket. Slung across his arm was a baggy pair of trousers that was far more suited to mountain expeditions than anything more formal than a late-night Mcdonald's run.
"It's a little masculine for me, don't you think?" Siena claimed with a helpless shrug of her shoulders, but she turned the jacket over to look at the back. No obnoxious designs, at least. "But maybe I can convince Marcus to replace his torn up hoodie with it."
Her eyes drifted to the trousers over Ernie's arm--she swore they looked like another set's older cousin.
"Trying those on?" Siena set the grey jacket down, opting instead for one that held a little more color than "light neutral" to it. As if Marcus needed more grey outerwear. "By the way, did you need anything other than clothing? We might as well tackle it while we're out here."
"It looks handy for snow missions, if we ever go on any. What do you think?"
He held them aloft for Siena to revel in their baggy glory.
"Eh, I heard they were starting clearances at Costco. I was gonna check them out. Not sure if I'll actually get anything but," he shrugged, "it's Costco."
"Is...is it going to keep snow out of your pants?" Siena questioned, eyeing allt he extra space that it seemed to provide. Perhaps it was meant to be worn over another pair--she'd never know. Excessive snow had never been on her checklist of things to prepare for or ask about Offering a playful grin, Siena couldn't help but add to the thought. "I feel like you could fit another pair of legs in there."
The distraction was not enough to keep the faint light of confusion from showing on Siena's face at mention of "Costco". It almost sounded like Cosco, but wasn't that a logistics company?
"Um...Costco?" Her turn to be the one in the dark, it seemed.
"Yeah, apparently the one in this city is pretty good. Have you never been there?"
"I'm afraid not." Giving a sheepish smile in response to the inquiry, Siena did her best to explain--she thought she did a pretty good job. "I'm not actually sure what that is."
Ernie's mouth dropped open.
"You don't--oh my god. Okay. After we get all our clothes, I'm gonna take you there. Might as well have lunch there to get the full experience."
He giggled in delight.
"Ah, I remember my first time. I think you'll love it there."
Ernie's reaction was nothing short of delight, and Siena suddenly wasn't certain whether Costco was a shop or something else entire--wait, lunch? She hid the confusion behind a smile.
"I'll take your word for it," the girl replied, a sense of satisfaction coming from Ernie's own excitement. Her eyes drifted back to the baggy pants. "But we really have to get you some clothes that don't imply 'mountain climbing expedition' everywhere you go."
Exactly thirteen shopping bags later, Ernie slumped his arms into a trolley, watching with satisfaction as their haul tumbled into the metal basket. Brent would be proud of the arm work he'd done today. Man, they really weren't kidding when they said 'shop 'til you drop'. They'd probably stocked enough clothing for the next three winters. With a content hum, he pushed the trolley to where he'd left Siena to admire the bunker-like splendor of Costco's exterior.
"So you've really never been here?"
Siena wasn't entirely certain what she was looking at as she examined the exterior of Cotsco. A bunker? A warehouse? It reminded her, vaguely, of the type of building that she expected to see weapons in, but there was a steady stream of people decidedly not bringing firearms or other death-inducing devices into or out of the facility. In fact, glancing into the entrance made it look like a storage unit--if storage units were well stocked with items that were up for purchase, at least.
Glancing towards Ernie as he approached, Siena gave a sheepish smile.
"Not a single time." Her eyes drifted once more to the entrance. "It looks kind of...imposing?" That seemed to be the right word, or at least close enough to it. Her eyes then fell on the trolley--they'd purchased a lot already, true, but was an entire trolly necessary? Curiosity seared at her again, making her want to dive headfirst into their expedition, but the girl held herself in check. "I mean, it looks like they have guards at the doors. What exactly are they selling here...?"
The boy flashed a knowing smile. If eyes could actually sparkle then they'd definitely be doing it now.
"Everything you could dream of. And more," he chuckled, and with a flash of his membership card they were in.
A sprawling laneway of widescreen TVs greeted them first. Storeys-high, industrial shelves peeked over the array of electronics, hinting at the unimaginable size of the store chain's stock. Families bustled past them, pushing trolleys filled to the brim with items of all different categories as Ernie breathed in the atmosphere.
"Isn't it incredible?" he sighed and turned back to face Siena.
Incredible was certainly one way to put it. Siena wasn't entirely certain what she'd expected, but it really looked like Costco had everything as a selection. Towering shelves, palettes of items that the girl both could and couldn't identify, electronics, jewelry? The brunette had to take an extra few seconds to take in everything before she could formulate a response, eyes turning back to her companion.
The expression on her face was one not entirely unlike someone experiencing snow for the first time.
"I don't think I've ever seen a single store with this much selection." Her eyes drifted over tablets, cameras, caught sight of a sign that had the word "seafood" printed over it far in the back of the store, then returned to Ernie. Siena felt her mind try to reject what her senses told her--there was no way that they were selling seafood in the same place as tablets and televisions. None. No way. "I...have no idea where to even begin."
The Aberration chuckled sagely.
"It's not just a store, Siena," he said as a nearby family argued over how many crates of dog food they were bringing home, "It's the happiest place on Earth. Also it helps if we move counter-clockwise."
He gestured their path with a sweep of his arm.
"Shall we?"
"I'll defer to your lead, good sir." It seemed like a smarter idea than wandering off on her own and never seeing Ernie again.
Taking her place beside the Aberration, Siena let her eyes trail over the cases of goods, the literal palettes full of items that the girl wasn't entirely sure anyone would need in bulk. A bitter voice sounded off in the back of her head, reminding her again that she was still struggling to figure out the world outside the walls of her gilded cage. One even darker than that demanded to know whether she missed the empty estate.
Siena refused to acknowledge the self-aimed question.
"I know it hasn't been long, but how has your piano practice been going?" The question came as naturally as Siena could manage it. Anything was better than letting her mind stew, after all. "I thought of ordering some sheet music, so if you had any preferences, I'd love to hear them."
"Uhhhh," Ernie looked like a child caught skipping class, "well, I've been sorta busy lately. Squeezed in a few sessions at the mansion but since we've gotten back...not so much. The music rooms are a bit of a walk from the dorms."
"Hmmm..." Siena allowed the note to hang in the air for a moment, looking contemplative, but acknowledging that she was letting it steep for her own benefit. "I guess not having a keyboard on hand makes practicing kind of harder..." Still, the girl gave a half-grin. "I guess I can let it slide this time if you haven't forgotten everything."
"Sorry, Miss," Ernie clapped his hands in front of his face in a mock begging position, "I'll do my homework next time."
'Not sure if I'll actually get anything' turned out to be a blatant lie. An hour or so later, Ernie was pushing a trolley filled to the brim with items. The most notable items were two large cardboard boxes: a fabric steamer and a new vacuum cleaner. Assorted snacks and cleaning utensils were also included. Siena, too, had a trolley, though rather than the equipment Ernie was boasting, her load was mostly made up of two electronic keyboards.
Ernie gulped down a bite of pizza, keeping an eye on their purchases as he ate.
"So? Did you like it?"
"Indubitably." Carefully peeling back the foil from her own food, Siena gave a quick look over her own purchases--a few electronics, a few pet care items, a few variety packs as far as snacks went for the dorm...the girl had to say that it had been a productive shopping trip. Moreso than she'd expected, even with the intention of "stocking up". Costco's vast size and selection left an impression that she was certain wouldn't be fading anytime soon. "The convenience is undeniable. I can safely say it's been a pleasant experience."
Carefully taking a small bite into what the menu had only vaguely described as a "chicken bake", Siena was...pleasantly surprised by the flavors. Nothing offensive, and she could taste the main ingredients.
Siena failed to notice that the opposite end of the oblong delicacy was starting to leak white fluid, the first of many drops precariously clinging to the foil only by the grace of some hygienic greater power.
"How'd you find out about this place?"
"Mm, yes, in-doob-ly," Ernie nodded solemnly, hoping his guess that it was a positive word was correct. When the question was raised, he smiled at the memory. "It was one of my first weeks at West. Bunch of guys took me out since I didn't have clothes then either. I swear, the first time I went to a Costco, I bought double what we both got today. Almost used up my whole allowance!"
In-doob-ly? The word came to mind, an attempted recreation of her own diction, but missing just a little something. Siena did her best not to let the moment of confusion fluster her, instead taking solace in what seemed to be a pleasant memory.
"Are you always without clothing?" The girl questioned, a light, joking tone lacing the inquiry. "But managing double what we bought on the allowance the school gives? That's quite a feat." Allowing herself the comfort of an almost genuine grin, the Arbiter gave a quiet, light laugh before she spoke again, biting back the question she wanted to ask at the last moment. "I'm afraid I'm not much company in comparison, but I'm glad that the metaphorical torch of Costco introductions was passed to you."
"I guess I've never had much to pack," he shrugged with a smile, "And maybe 'double' was a little over the top. It was still a lot though."
Meta--what now?
Ernie kept his composure. "Spreading the magic of retail is the best honor a guy could have," he grinned, "Don't worry. You were great for a first-timer. I had a lotta fun today."
Fun. It was hard not to feel surprised, given her tendency to assume the worst of a situation. Her grin grew a fraction warmer, a step closer to genuine.
It was nice to have at a few moments of peace.
"I'll take a compliment where I can get it. The entire 'going out with a friend' thing is still new territory to explore." She offered a hapless shrug of the shoulders along with the words. "We should do this again next time you need to stock up on anything."
"Yeah, definitely!"
Ernie didn't even want to look at the receipts they'd accumulated. He definitely wouldn't be able to pay her back by the end of the year.
"What do your parents do anyway, for you to have so much to spend?"
The smile faltered for a moment.
"Oh, my father evidently developed some sort of software." Siena did her best to trivialize the matter as it were. It wasn't as though she was completely lying. "I wasn't given much detail on it since he married up the social ladder. I think most of the money has been in the family for a few generations."
"Wow, that sounds fancy." Ernie gulped down another bite of pizza. The old money stuff had never made sense to him. "Does that mean you're like American royalty or something?"
"I wouldn't say royalty, but I suppose my family is prominent in the high society circuit." It certainly felt like it with how many events she read of afterwards with her parents in attendence. Thinking on it only reminded the girl of things she preferred to view as passing flights of fancy. "The opportunity to ask in detail never really came up."
'High society', damn. Ernie supposed that made their current location even more fun than it was before. Like putting Big Mac sauce on lobster. He gestured to the two trolleys.
"I bet the Founding Fathers or whoever your ancestors were are glad that their money is being put to good use," Ernie laughed, "Oh, your bake is dripping something, by the way."
"I'm certain that Hamil--oh, shit...!" Hissing faintly in disapproval, Siena held the bake away from her, over the table where small trail of white droplets followed it, but not before it had left an inopportune spattering of mystery sauce along the thigh of her pants. The girl grimaced faintly. At least she had plenty of time to change when they got back. "Well, it could have been worse."
A pause.
"It could have been about four inches to the left and much harder to explain."
"Yeah, what's even going on with this wrapping?" Ernie leaned closer to squint at the bake, "I swear, even some cling wrap and a rubber band would've worked better than whatever this foil is."
"I sincerely do not want to test that theory," Siena claimed. "I'd rather keep my pants salvageable today."
Which was more than she could say of her clothing in the last few combat encounters they'd had, but Siena kept that thought to herself. Not the point.
"Though it wouldn't be the worst idea I've ever gone along with."
For real? Ernie could think of a lot worse.
"Heh, yeah. Worst would be scrambling into an underground tunnel when you see a tsunami coming. Or teleporting back into danger knowing that there were Amigos coming to tear the whole place up, righ--" Ernie chuckled before coughing violently, realising all too late what he just said.
Again, Siena's expression faltered, unpleasant memories of the island coming back to mind. Broken bodies, people gone. Bad ideas. The girl winced when words didn't come to mind immediately.
'Third worst, actually.'
Not the right words.
"I--" Didn't have a response, so she quieted the half-assed protest and averted her gaze instead.
"Shit, that was a dick move. I didn't mean--" He couldn't finish that sentence honestly.
"It's...it's fine." Because she probably deserved it in some measure. "There were better countermeasures than going along with a bad idea."
"...Yeah, there were," Ernie muttered in agreement. He'd already talked it over with Brent. But this was necessary too, right?
An ugly pause lingered in the air.
"I thought you were gonna die out there."
"...I'm sorry." Even though it wouldn't have changed anything that already happened.
'I expected to die out there.'
"I was just supposed to be an escape route."
Rescuing Gregory had never been part of her perogative.
"I won't say I have any excuses beyond that."
Ernie stared at her, trying to make sense of her words. He...got most of it, hopefully. Probably. In the end, he just let out a tired laugh.
"I...understand, I think." He sighed. Keep it simple, stupid. There was a very easy explanation to it. "You just really care about Brent, right?"
"Care" was a strong word, but it wasn't entirely wrong, Siena supposed. She would have done the same for the few faces that had managed to endear themselves to her. Granted, most of them weren't stubborn enough to have a believable image of trying to throw themselves into danger even with plenty of obstacles in the way, but...
She offered a half-hearted attempt at a smile.
"Something like that."
Oh. That shy awkwardness. Reckless dives into danger. Ernie could recognise that immediately.
"Mmhmm, I geddit." Relieved, he flashed a knowing smile. "Don't worry, I won't blab about it. It's good to see you guys are so tight."
Had Brent told Ernie about their prior conversations? Unexpected, but not something she would argue against.
"Thanks. I appreciate it." It wasn't as if she wanted more people to know exactly how twisted she was. Gingerly trying to readjust her meal in its aluminum confines to prevent further leakage, Siena did her best to at least put the topic at ease again.
"By the way, did we actually have a plan for carrying all this back?"
Ernie was silent. Unmoving. Slowly, his eyes shifted to the sheer bulk that was occupying the two home aquarium-sized trolleys, if the aquariums were made to fit a pet shark.
It was a damn good thing they finally got back to East. The Building B hallways had never been cleaner and Ernie made sure everyone fucking knew it.
As the morning sunlight trickled through the windows, a group of X's flipped him off as they walked past, familiar faces who'd complained about the noise plenty of times during the week. Fuckers. If the ensuing sneer he threw their way made them feel any better, they definitely didn't show it. The boy continued vacuuming, one machine in his hand while another was maneuvered around by a floating, golden rope. It was a seriously productive way to practice. Honestly, he didn't know why he hadn't thought of it sooner.
Allison's eyes shot open, a wall of noise crushing her head from every side. A phone rang incessantly from upon her desk, mingling with the constant whir of vacuums coming from the hallway. It probably would've given her a headache if she didn't have one already. Half of Allison wanted to smash the phone and break the vacuums for denying her sleep, but she needed to wake up anyway. She removed herself from the bed, slowed by aching limbs and sweat-soaked clothes, and slinked over to the desk. She fumbled for a moment to grab the phone, rejecting the call and squinting at the screen. Seven missed calls, all from the same number. She weakly threw the object onto the bed before focusing on changing into something clean.After a few minutes, Allison had made herself at least somewhat presentable, just enough so that she wouldn't look like a complete mess.
She stepped towards the doorway, and looked back at the phone on the bed. No, this wasn't the time to deal with that. Not with Angel still missing. Allison needed to focus, but first that meant dealing with the loud distraction filling the hallway. She opened the door and the noise only got louder, prompting Allison to massage her temples in a vain effort to quell the headache. The boy had gone and outdone himself this time, using his power to manipulate a second vacuum. He certainly had a talent for turning the aberration dorms into a noisy, if relatively clean hellscape. It was almost funny, a similar scenario had been the first time that Allison found Ernest to be kind of amusing, rather than a complete dick. Maybe he would be able to miraculously redeem himself again? Or at least lie well enough to pretend that he could.
"Hey, Ernie!" Allison called over the din, slowly walking in the direction of the guy who had stabbed her in the eye, become her friend, and given up on Angel immediately, "can you hurry up and cut that out, or are you trying to give everyone in the building a headache?"
The boy rolled his eyes as the familiar face made herself seen. "Better a headache than dust allergies!" he shouted, clearly not thinking that she was important enough to turn the vacuums off for now. "Just sit tight, I'll be out of your hair in a sec."
"Alright then," Allison said as she winced at Ernest's yelling, her voice ringing with a tinge of annoyance. She didn't want to take him at his word, but she did have more important business to tend to than making sure the clean-freak gave the floor some well deserved silence, if one could call punching a bag and running around until one was exhausted "business." Then again, she'd probably need to talk to Ernie eventually, at least to clear up the Angel-shaped rift that had been opened between them, and at most to get someone reasonable onto her side. Though, she had no illusions that getting Ernest on board with an Angelique rescue mission would be a simple task.
She decided to wait him out, shuffling towards the wall and leaning back against it, trying to ignore that she clearly placed next to the room that belonged to Angel.
"I think," Allison shouted, "that I'll just wait until you're done." With that, she resigned herself to the wall and the humming of the machines.
But he wasn't going to be done for a long while. Ernie made his way past Angelique's door quickly, like he was avoiding it, but that seemed to be the peak of his haste. There was a particularly stubborn spot the other door down. The machine ran over it again and again but no result. Yet. Before he knew it, Ernie had completely stopped his movement down the hall, working away at the same spot.
Allison wasn't sure how long she had been watching Ernie vacuum the same section of the floor. The beating of her head had mixed with the whir of the machines, the rhythmic throbbing resulting in a sort of trance-like state. Eventually, though, she realized it was getting rediculous. She removed herself from the wall, moving back towards Ernie on unwilling legs.
"Hey," she shouted as she approached, "How many of those things do you even have?" The question seemed innocent enough, Ernie was using two vacuums and probably had more stashed away.
"I bought a new one yesterday. Why you ask?" he responded cluelessly.
"Oh, no reason," as she spoke, a purple sliver appeared above her shoulder.
The vacuums shut off immediately. Ernie brought them both closer, shielding them with his own body. "H-hey, don't fucking do that," he warned.
"I'll think about it," Allison held back a laugh, dissipating the shard. She kind of felt bad for the gesture, but it was certainly effective. "Don't worry, I wouldn't actually destroy your stuff, not so easily at least. I mean, those can't be easy to repair, right? It would be better to break something simple and easy to fix, like an eye." A memory of the pain in her eye socket resurfaced as she made the comment, a hand reflexively reaching to make sure the eye was still there.
Arms protectively poised between the girl and the vacuums, Ernie glared back, obviously not sharing the same humor she had about the almost-prank. But as she went on he released a bitter sigh, his shoulders slumping. A childish 'I said I was sorry!' almost escaped his mouth but he restrained himself.
"Okay," he muttered, "I definitely brought that on myself. Sorry...for trying to keep things in order around here." The half-apology came out with a huff.
"I mean, maybe you could try to find a better time so you aren't enraging most of the floor?" Allison thought for a second, "actually, now that I think about it I doubt that would work. Every time's a bad time. Oh, maybe you could hand out complimentary earplugs?" She proposed it as a joke, but it almost seemed like a good idea. "Anyway, thanks for trying to make things slightly cleaner, but I don't know if it's really worth the noise pollution, or the death threats, or the extreme likelihood of murder." Allison scratched her head before walking away slowly, still facing Ernie. "Just, try not to wake me up and give me a headache next time, alright?"She stopped, remembering the entire reason she decided to wait for Ernie to finish, "Oh, by the way, do want to meet for a drink in the next few days? I kind of want to talk to you about some stuff." The cautious way she spoke those last few words made the topic in question obvious, as did Allison nervously glancing towards Angel's door.
"Yeah. Sure I'll do that."
It seemed like Ernie heard her advice at least. Whether he'd actually follow it was a different matter. He shared her glance at the door, immediately feeling like a shithead for being so unnecessarily obnoxious. Stupid, immature. Even if he didn't agree with her choices, he could empathise with the hurt of losing someone.
"Drinks is...sounds fine," he tried a nicer smile, "I know the last time we talked wasn't great but if you need to like, talk, I'm just a text away."
Plus, it wasn't you I had the problem with.
"Oh, right, of course. I'm still not used to using a phone, I guess." That was only half of it, but Ernie didn't need to know about the calls. It was already enough of a problem that she had mentioned him, even slightly, to Ernie previously. Still, Allison had to solve that particular issue sooner or later, before anyone else realized what was going on. "Tomorrow, 9 or 10-ish sound alright?"
"Yeah, I should be free," Ernie nodded, "I'll see you then? Mix you another few?"
"Yea. See you then," With that, Allison left Ernie to his own devices, those being two vacuums that she had no doubt he would turn on again as soon as she was out of range of the noise. In that case, Allison made sure she was as far away as she could get, and headed to Ground Zero. Maybe Ernie would listen to reason.
Plastic, like a takeout container. People's faces weren't meant to feel like that. Maybe when they were dead with that rigor mortis stuff but it was nothing Ernie could speak of from experience. Liam had always cleared them out before it was his turn to clean. The girl hadn't moved at all. Hadn't even flinched when she was prodded again, just so he could make sure she really was the time-trapped doll. Plastic all the way. The forums were right after all. Apart from that whole 'displaced, looping city' stuff, there really wasn't much else to Template.
The harsh wind made him rub his tired eyes. Perhaps he should've just gone to sleep after all. Head to that mysterious ocean and let that mind-eating presence consume his everything, just the way Emma warned it would. Would that be better or worse than trying to get a rise out of a doll person? Ernie sat by her and looked out over that fake city. Broken, weary buildings. No lights apart from the occasional dumpster fire. Barely any people too. He tried looking where she was looking. Perhaps there would be some crazy Ground Zero secret that even Zhang didn't know about. But there was nothing, nothing that looked important anyway. Which meant that he'd come all the way up here for nothing. Which really sucked cos it took him ages to do it without floating up at a really lame speed or faceplanting on the edge or cartwheeling and overshooting the damn girl.
This new rope was really something. At first he'd wanted to liken it to having a third arm to control. But it was far more than that. It was strong. Flexible. Far more dexterous than what he could achieve with his normal hands, and he was still far from reaching the limits of its uses. He was getting better with it with every passing hour. First day back, he could barely peel a carrot with the magic cord. Now he could dice onions at a rate that would make Ramsay himself blush. The added removal of the need for skin contact meant the Ground Zero folks were at his mercy, now that he could practice without fear of blood splattering his clothes. Then there were the new mobility options.
Flying had taken him much longer to figure out. Wrapping the rope around his torso like a harness and moving around that way had the most control but was also...embarrassingly slow. Golden glow or not, he was still far from being another Sparrow. He tried prioritising speed next, having the rope fling him like a baseball pitch. Ten times faster. Ernie could cross the grounds in seconds but the nature of the flinging mostly resulted in mis-throws and motion sickness. Arguably more embarrassing than the harness method. He figured out a relatively fool-proof flight method eventually but...man, maybe he should've asked Siena or Brent for help figuring this out. But he wanted it to be a surprise. He also didn't want anyone seeing him throwing up.
"Aaargh," he yawned loudly, not caring who was listening in, "Training is freaking haaarrd."
No response. Not that he was expecting any. Ernie turned to the girl. So eerie. Human, but so...not.
"No time for chit-chat, huh?"
Again, nothing. C'mon, he knew that was a good joke. It looked like he could say whatever I wanted with zero consequences, positive or otherwise.
"Did you know Siena's got a thing for Brent? I had no clue! I mean, I knew they were pretty much bros but...yeah, that's it. I'm really happy for them."
No result. He tried one that would raise more eyebrows.
"A classmate's dog died because of me. Guy was being a prick so we broke into his dorm and put laxatives in the bowl. Like in that Mr Bean movie, right? The plan was just to have it shit all over the place but...heh, guess the little thing didn't take well to all those chemicals. Don't tell Siena."
Template was a good listener. Hadn't even turned and given him a judging look.
"Once in the bathroom, when I was six, I accidentally peed on Jordan Werrett's shoes and told everyone he did it to himself."
Silence. All the more encouraging.
"I'm pretty sure I killed a kid here. Made her--him fall through the ground. I barely even think about it, with everything going on. Isn't that awful?"
Great crowd.
"I keep telling everyone my fabric softener's ten times better than the ones they have in the laundry rooms but that's totally not true. The ones they provide are fine. I just think mine's smell way nicer."
An excellent audience.
"The only reason I keep using the loud one to vacuum the halls is cos I'm waiting to see which one'll try to beat the shit out of me first. It's been ages since I've gotten in a fistfight with someone that's actually in my league."
The Aberration dorms had indeed gotten rowdier during our time away. The class cancellations combined with an open campus and five hundred dollar stipend was a recipe for trouble. West had a problem like that too. Of course, Building B did have its gems. Just going down the hall, Ernie had Rose in 304. She liked his cooking. Peyton in 303. 302 was Gregory. An unfortunate soul. Ernie hoped he didn't have to suffer long. Allison was 301. Her views were...not great but at the end of the day, Ernie didn't mind her too much. Then Room 300...
He wrapped his arms around his legs. It was starting to get chilly. His mouth opened before he realised.
"I miss her," he eventually muttered, almost unwillingly, "I hated her because...man, how could I not? But I never wanted her gone. Well, now I don't. I just...miss her. A lot."
Quiet, in the air. The wind was tickling his ears so he pulled his beanie down. The ensuing warmth was sort of comforting.
"And I...I miss a lot of the others too. I never thought I would. Most of 'em were such...assholes. But they, at least, never made me fight Dreamcatcher monsters. Or even any Amigos, for that matter."
There was danger everywhere. The monsters. The mages. Fracture and Amigos and maybe even Cat's Cradle. Regs too. Hell, they couldn't even go to a club without getting shot at. Danger, everywhere we went. Even on campus. He couldn't ever let his guard down, not when people like Zoe and Sander slept less than a five minute walk from his room. Now, even his dreams weren't a safe place. Everything that could end him kept following or lurking or getting stronger or building its forces where he couldn't see. And he knew--he fucking knew--that one day they'd get him. Because he'd make a mistake, or someone else would make a mistake. Or the plainest and simplest reason: because he was weak. Weak in every fucking way that mattered. So he spoke out again.
"I don't think I have long to live."
Silence.
"I'm not okay with that. I'm not okay at all."
He was probably shouting by that point.
"I wish..."
Then he stopped. What was it exactly that he was hoping for? He wanted to run, yes. It was the first thing that came to mind. Skirting around in this nightmare of an Earth gave him a better chance of survival than having Kardos directly propel him into dangerous missions. Maybe he could find another group to join or just loot old buildings and live off those shattered cities. Maybe he could locate another Senators cell, try to get some pull there. The world would continue to break down from the inside out, eaten alive by monsters and mage gangs, but he would be fine at least, right?
Ah. Still the same old stupid, selfish Ernest.
He didn't belong here. He was a dumbass. A coward. Everyone else was acting like the chosen ones they apparently were. Or at least fighting more like one. Everyone could handle it...everyone but Ernie. And yet, he was still part of this fight. He still had friends to keep alive, a future he needed to work towards. A long, long lifetime of paranoia and regret would be the only waiting for me otherwise.
Elvia had said it plain and simple. Actors and observers. Those with the power to act had to, or they'd lose everything. And, like it or not, he had that power. He'd live and breathe and fight and die as an actor. Because that future was something he wanted even more than that brief escape from this cursed school.
So he spoke his wish. Quietly. It was like something his mother would say. If someone's really listening, you don't have to raise your voice at all.
"I wish I could be more. Not just for them, or even myself. For...everything. And everyone."
Maybe that way, he wouldn't be so afraid of people knowing the truth about him.
Template remained silent. He didn't mind that. Some wishes were just something you'd have to deal with yourself. Ernie grinned, more genuine than usual.
"Still not talking? Good. Guess now I can tell you all about my--"
"It is 11:30." A stony male voice rang out over the cuff channel. "Students are to begin departing Ground Zero for the midnight reset immediately. Stragglers will be forcibly removed and may face further reprimand."
Ernie sighed. Looked to Template.
"Later then."
She bid him goodbye by continuing to stare into nowhere and remaining silent. Still glowing, he hopped down and departed. The soldiers watched him as he crossed the Ground Zero barrier, their brows furrowing when his steps slowed outside.
"Why aren't you moving?" one of the guards called out, hands firm on his weapon.
"There's no curfew on Saturday, right?" Ernie frowned.
"Curfew doesn't apply to the Ground."
"Huh? I swore that you could head back in--"
"Curfew doesn't apply to the Ground now," the guard spat, "If you have no further business here then leave."
"But I'm just standing here," Ernie scoffed right back, "I'm not even inside the freakin' place."
The soldier merely rolled his eyes and nodded to two other guards beside him, the pair subsequently striding towards Ernie with their weapons pointed.
"Take him back to the dorms."
A harsh jab later and Ernie was grumbling forwards. Trudging slowly didn't stall much as the escorting guards were more than happy to motivate him with the barrels of their rifles. It was a fucking lousy way to end a Saturday, for sure. But as Ernie walked, he caught something in the corner of his eye. It was bulky, rested on a nearby bench and...
Was that a blue-ish green or a green-ish blue?
The dim lighting wasn't offering any favours. Ernie only stopped to look for a second before a sharp pain in his shoulder made him hiss.
"Keep moving," the guard growled.
The Aberration rubbed his shoulder but otherwise complied.
Whatever she was doing there, it probably wasn't worth him getting shot over. Probably.
GZ Funtimes
ROPE NOTES
Writing words = Yes but messy Drawing pictures = Yes but messy Coloring inside the lines = No Choping food = Yes Diceing unions = YES (no more goggles!) Vegetable carving = No Trimming meat = Don't know if rope is clean for that Vaccuming = Yes Scrubbing = Yes Ironing = Yes but dangeruos
Flying = Yes Flying fast = Only a bit faster than GZ guy running from me with a gun Flying with people = Not yet - awkward and squirmy Throwing things = Yes but need to grab propperly and practise accurasy Throwing people = Yes Throwing me = YES. Faster than flying but make me sick. NEED PRACTISE Lifting car - yucky GZ sedan = Yes Throwing car = No Lifting bigger car = No
Hurt people = Yes Strangle people = Yes Smash people = Yes Shoot gun = Yes and funny Throw knifes = Yes but not accurate Cut off arms = Yes Cut off head = Yes Punch through chest = Yes but gross Very good for the slow stuff
Callan had never had any reason before to visit the Aberration dorms before. No, she had to correct herself. That wasn't what they were called... but who was going to judge what she thought inside her head? Callan was too exhausted to care about that anyway. Not that she had any regrets about staying up with Marcus, but her hefty three hours of sleep hadn't awarded her with much common sense, either. She made it all the way to the third floor before realizing that she had no idea which one was Ernie's.
Callan clumsily pulled her phone out of her pocket and began searching for his name. Pretty easy to do since she only had a whopping six of them saved.
Before she tapped the screen again, however, a familiar sound caught her attention. Someone was running a vacuum somewhere. And it sounded pretty close. Roaming the halls a little further, she found the room in question. The terribly loud VRRMMM of a vacuum accompanied by... Callan leaned in closer. Was Ernie singing?
'Put On A Happy Face'. She'd heard that in a children's show once. His voice... wasn't great. But she'd heard worse. Ernie at least seemed to be enjoying himself. Callan smiled, covering her mouth to resist a small giggle before quietly clearing her throat. She'd almost completely forgotten why she was here. Standing up straight again, Callan tucked her bangs behind her ears, did her best to straighten her wrinkled shirt, and knocked.
A click as the vacuum was shut off. The machine was shoved into the closet, shut away with a heavy duty lock. Ernie wasn't expecting guests, which most likely meant that those Aberration hallmates of his had finally figured out how they were gonna get back at him. But the revenge plot would be useless if they couldn't destroy the source, hence the lock.
Ernie rolled his shoulders and took a breath to prepare for the worst. One fist was curled as he whipped the door open, though it slackened quickly once he saw who the visitor was.
"Cal? I thought you were gonna text."
Callan jumped, not expecting it to open so quickly. She blinked in surprise for a moment before answering.
"Oh yeah... you asked me to do that," she smiled apologetically. She looked about as tired as she felt. Her hair didn't seem as carefully brushed, there were clear bags under her eyes, and her movements seemed a bit sluggish.
"Sorry, I totally forgot. Been kinda busy this week...." Callan glanced past Ernie, into his room. "Are you busy? I can come back later, but... I just really needed to talk to you."
"Uhhh," he looked back into his room, "no, I guess not. Come in if you want. Sorry for the mess."
On the meticulously ironed and spread blanket was a pile of folded socks. Apart from some slightly askew papers on his desk, there didn't seem to be anything else out of place.
"That's oka...y...." Stepping inside, Callan gawked at how clean everything was. Not even the type of clean that made it look like nobody lived there, either. It was the type of clean that only got that clean when people cleaned it. Really cleaned it. Callan was too tired for tact. "I think this looks too clean for it be called a mess," she laughed, approaching his bed.
She immediately made a mental note not to sit on it. "Do you iron your bed?"
"It's rude for a man to leave his laundry out. And I iron the sheets, if that's what you mean," he grinned, not too bothered by her comment, "I got this fabric steamer from Costco the other day though. Can't wait to try it out."
The boy hurried over to the papers to straighten them out, bumping the computer chair out of the way with his leg. "So what did you need?"
"Dang, you really are passionate about cleaning," she mused out loud. Callan stepped towards the computer chair, but immediately thought better of it. She might fall asleep if she got too comfortable and she didn't want to inconvenience her friend anymore than she already felt she was. Maybe it was just her imagination, but the sort of vibe she got from Ernie's bedroom was not to touch anything.
Callan's expression grew more serious when he posed his question. She watched him straighten the papers on his desk for a moment before answering.
"Information," she admitted, "Or maybe just advice... I don't want to go into too much detail here but... basically I'm worried about Marcus."
She ran her fingers through her bangs, nervously remembering that Ernie was the only one that knew about her feelings for him.
"I know D.C. was hard on everyone, but do you know if anything happened? To him specifically? Or maybe it happened at the estate...? I don't know. He just seems kind of off lately...."
"Huh," Ernie tried not to smile at Cal's ever-obvious feelings. Some things never changed, even after weeks of absence. He continued sorting his desk as he explained, speaking casually. Not like getting worked up over it had solved anything. Marcus was getting close to a lost cause.
"I thought he was fine when we hung out on the island. Dunno. I guess--"
Wait.
Ernie blinked, putting the pieces together. She was unconscious, unable to hear what was happening over the cuffs. And if she hadn't talked to anyone during their stay at the mansion...
The Aberration took a breath. "What do you mean, 'if anything happened'?"
Callan stared for another moment, perplexed by the question. "Sorry," she sighed, "I should probably just talk to Marcus about this, but... I don't want to be annoying or make him more upset or something, you know?" She almost forgot about where she was for a moment and sat on the bed behind her. Instead she shifted her weight to her other leg and crossed her arms tightly.
"I know we all wish we could have done more. That feeling was pretty bad all by itself... and a big part of the reason why I...," she smiled somberly, "I mean I guess it's a good thing I didn't get featured on the news after what happened, but I wish I could've been there. No telling how many people I might've been able to pull out of that building...." She bitterly thought of Hazel. Callan didn't want to blame her, but... it was a little hard not to sometimes.
She swallowed, averting her eyes. Even with all the encouragement from Marcus, it still bothered her. She assumed it always would.
"Anyway, I didn't get a chance to be so close to aftermath, is all I'm trying to say. So... maybe he saw something really bad during the rescues? That's just my theory anyway."
It took far too much effort not to groan out loud. Dammit, this girl. Ernie placed his hands on his desk, leaning so he didn't need to look her in the eye.
"It...wasn't the rescues, it was what happened before. Did no one tell you what they did?"
"What they did...?" Callan repeated the words, suddenly unsure. Ernie didn't seem to be alluding to anything good. She simply waited, digging her fingers into her arms. That's right... Kusari had mentioned killing people to protect Sophia....
A few seconds of silence. He needed to explain carefully. It was going to be a lot to take in.
"After we split up, Cat's Cradle showed up. Then everything went to hell. A mob started attacking the evac team and..." It was hard to contain his anger. Ernie's voice took on a more callous tone. "Well, they didn't handle it smartly. A lot of people died, murdered by our classmates. I didn't have time to count them all but...there were," he breathed, "a lot."
He turned to face Callan, his eyes only briefly narrowing when he saw her on the bed.
"And among the dead was a man who was shot in the head."
Was this wrong? Talking about a friend like this behind his back? Irreversibly fracturing something in Marcus and Cal's relationship?
She would have found out at some point.
He said he wasn't even sorry.
"Marcus fired straight into that man's head. Didn't even try to aim anywhere else."
From bad to worse.
It had to be a joke.... a really bad joke. More than anything, she wanted it to be. But it made too much sense, didn't it? The heroes messed up. So they made sure none of the footage got loose and took them away to a secluded island. Far away from prying eyes. Far away from nosy reporters. Far away from exposing the truth.
This was bad. So bad. How could she not have known? The more she thought about it, the worse it got. She could feel Misery impatiently waiting on her. This was a nightmare. She shouldn't of come here. Shouldn't have asked so many questions.
Callen hadn't even realized she sat down. She stared at Ernie in disbelief.
She took a deep breath, "Why?" There had to be a rational way to look at this. She wasn't there. She didn't see.
Ernie looked at her, a sad smile on his face.
"The Reg was hurting Emma."
Callan opened her mouth, but abruptly closed it. That made sense, too.
Marcus would do whatever was necessary to stop someone from hurting Emma....
Heroes find another way.
She believed that when Kusari said it. When she mentioned protecting Sophia. But now.... How many people would she kill if it were Marcus?
Suddenly her head was pounding. Too tired for this... too much to think about.... She leaned forward on the bed and buried her face in her hands.
If she'd been there, he wouldn't have had to make that choice. Nobody should have to make that choice.
"Who else?"
Ernie gulped, thinking of Siena. "Do you have to know?"
Silence.
"No, I guess not... but..."
She lowered her hands and looked at him. "Were you there?"
He shook his head.
"I only heard the commotion over the cuffs. Went to the location sometime later to see what happened and...put the pieces together from that."
She sat up, the corner of her mouth twitching into half of a helpless grin, "So how can you be so sure Marcus shot someone?"
A strange irritation made his expression turn to a scowl. He had zero reason to mislead her. "I asked him myself, on the island. He didn't deny it. 'Diplomacy wasn't stopping anything, Ernie. Force did.' " Ernie spat out a cheap impression of the scarred Arbiter. "Fucker didn't even--never mind."
Callan bristled defensively, her face flushing. "Well, what would you have done?" Her voice was irritable. Accusing.
"The fuck's that supposed to mean?" Ernie scoffed right back, momentarily forgetting who he was talking to.
She didn't realize how angry she'd sounded until her own tone was thrown back at her. Callan blinked in surprise for a moment before looking away, tightly gripping the edge of the bed.
"Ernie," she sighed, her voice softened, breaking, "What would you do?"
The question made Ernie flinch. He knew what he would've done, what he had done.
You don't even remember that guy's face, do you?
"If someone I cared about was getting beat in front of me...yeah, I'd be so angry I wouldn't be able to see straight. And sure, if there was a gun in my hand, if there was such a convenient solution to it all..."
Shame rushed through him. He didn't dare finish that sentence because he knew he would've been able to control himself even less.
"Marcus might be a good guy but he didn't murder someone in cold blood because it was his only option. He did it because he was upset. But even if I would've done the exact same thing, even if a hundred people would have fired into that guy's head, that doesn't make what happened a single bit less wrong."
She went quiet again, though the storm in her head kept raging. There was nothing to grasp onto. Nowhere to go. This was her new reality. These people. These choices. Ernie's answer was a frightening mirror of what she thought she might do, too. Hell, it was part of what had made her so careless in Wisford. A life for a life. Thinking too much about Marcus and not enough about Sav. Not weighing them all out equally like she should. It wasn't what she wanted, but it was reality.
And why was she so willing to forgive Marcus, but still condemning Kusari? Still wondering about what everyone else had done? Grasping around blindly for a justification?
Before she knew it, she was quietly crying. Callan covered her face again, staring into the dark creases of her hands.
"I should've been there," she muttered, finally, "I could've...."
"No. No, not at all. Neither of those. You were protecting the city, like we should have. You were fighting alongside a Precursor."
Hastily, he snatched the tissue box from his desk and left it beside Callan on the bed. Crying people weren't in his expertise but tissues...helped, right? He knelt in front of her, a pained look on his face.
"You can't take responsibility for other people's mistakes. This was a choice they made. They--we all have to live with that."
"I know," her voice shook, "I know, but.... I want to help. I could've helped. If Hazel hadn't taken me out of the goddamned fight--" She had to pause to breathe, sucking air between her teeth. Ernie's voice was closer now. But her head was still pounding.
"Nobody should be forced to make that choice. If it were me... if I ever had to choose between Marcus or Emma or you or anyone here..." she grimaced, struggling to hold back a sob. She felt so small. Selfish. Confused. "I need you guys."
Ernie didn't react to the mention of Hazel. That was a different topic entirely. Instead, he took her hand and pressed a tissue into it for her to use. His hand remained by the girl's for a bit before he rested it on her shoulder.
"I know you want to help," he said quietly, "That's the best part about you."
He had no answers for the rest. No promises. D.C. was only an indicator of what was to come. There were plenty of worse things they could face, the Amigos were just the start. The choices would keep coming and coming until the member count of this blasted team came down to zero. But geez. Seeing a friend look so miserable made him feel like garbage. Made him want to make reckless promises. Made him believe he had the determination to keep them too.
"You won't lose us. Not physically, not...to the mistakes we make. We're gonna get through this together."
Callan gratefully accepted the tissue, wiping at her nose while she used the back of her hand to clear her cheeks. She flashed him a weak smile, "Yeah... assuming I don't get anyone else killed."
Clearly unsatisfied with her own efforts, Ernie snatched a tissue himself and wiped at her tear-streaked cheeks with a light grimace.
"Dude, stop thinking like that. D.C. was a mess for everyone."
"Heh," Callan flinched away in surprise, blushing at his odd show of concern.
"I'm not talking about D.C.," she clarified, trying to speed up the process by using the edge of her sleeve, "I'm talking about Wisford."
"...What do you mean?" he asked tentatively. He took one of her hands, the one she'd wiped with earlier, and cleared the residual moisture. The sleeves would just...have to be endured.
"With..." It was getting a little harder to concentrate-- and not just because she was tired. Callan didn't remember being quite this close to Ernie before, but... it was fine. She let him maneuver her hand however he pleased and continued, "With Savannah. I forgot, you didn't see what happened...."
She wasn't sure if she wanted to talk about it again after all this time, but... she didn't mind talking to Ernie about it. She was, however, quickly beginning to feel that she'd unloaded enough of her problems onto him. It shouldn't be his job to clean her up whenever she became a mess like this. "When that gargoyle abe grabbed Sav, I tried to get her away, but I..." she forced her voice to be more steady, "I got her killed instead. It was my fault she died back there."
Ernie didn't know any gargoyle Aberration. He didn't know anything about that fight, except that it happened by the APC straight after he and Zoe had asked them to pick up David. And while it felt useless to assign blame weeks after that nightmare of a mission, he knew that it was plain irresponsible to not acknowledge the part he potentially played in the deaths and injuries that took place.
All the more reason to keep his filthy mouth shut. Cal, especially her, would never find out. Not about David, not about the man he'd shot in his panic. No one would.
The boy looked conflicted as he pried Callan's hand open, taking the used tissue with his own and tossing them both into the wastebin by his desk. After that, he slumped into his computer chair with a sigh.
"Callan," he started, unsure of how to go on between his own guilt and this particular topic. This seemed like something he was supposed to keep between people more like himself and Zoe, "That was a Cat 3 mission. And on top of that, we got attacked by...really bad guys. Trust me when I say 'really bad'. Honestly, it's a fucking miracle we lost only one. I don't know how you can blame yourself."
Callan smiled. That sounded familiar.
"Yeah... right," she scoffed. She didn't expect Ernie to understand, "I'm glad you weren't in the middle of that mess, but... if you'd seen what I did, you might think a little differently." She thought of Brent and shook her head. Wasn't going to cry about it anymore. "It's in the past. Nothing's gonna change it. But if I did ever get the chance to go back... I think I could have made sure we all made it." She looked down at her hands, running her fingers over where Ernie had wiped up the tears.
"Yeah, there's...no point on dwelling on the past if we don't learn from it."
His hands fidgeted idly now that there was nothing to do. Or not. He stood up to pick up the pile of socks still on the bed.
"Failure is the best teacher, or something like that, right? Our track record might not be improving with every mission but," he paused. Everything was still so unclear, except for one thing, "this whole class is getting stronger with every passing day at, like, a scary rate. I know that if we did that mission at where we are now, those rogues wouldn't stand a chance. But we can only prepare for the future now. Stop what happened to Sav from happening to anyone else."
"That's right," she sighed, leaning back on her elbows. Callan stared up at the ceiling while Ernie dealt with his socks, thinking. "Just gotta keep moving forward...."
It didn't seem like he'd convinced her. That was...fine. No big. Yep. There was way too much other stuff on his mind now, thanks to that particular can of worms getting cracked open again. Ernie took his time with each pair, fitting them into a space-efficient arrangement in his closet.
"Actually, there's something I've been meaning to ask," he attempted a topic change, "how did--well, are-- how are you dealing with all this? That move from being just a high school kid to being on the front lines for all those scary missions?"
"Hmm," she had to think about that one. Already knowing how she felt, the words were what seemed hard to find. Distracted and with the socks out of the way, Callan unthinkingly pushed her shoes off her feet and laid down. (Man, were the beds at USARILN always this soft??)
"I think it might be because of my power, but I..." she stifled a yawn, "I'm fine. I don't mind fighting. I'm not saying I don't ever get scared... or miss my old life... or have doubts. But... I think I can do this. It just feels... right...."
"But you get so hurt all the time," he pushed more. He hadn't looked up from his sock drawer yet. "And you say it 'feels right?' "
Callan giggled, resting her eyes. Just for a second, she told herself, "I know, it sounds nuts." She was going to elaborate, but drowsiness was hitting her hard for the umpteenth that morning. "It's okay," she mumbled, making even less sense.
"It doesn't sound nuts if there's nothing to sound," Ernie chuckled, hoping she'd say more. But he was returned with nothing but the sound of light breathing. Worried, he stuck his head out of the closet, only to sigh when he saw a passed out Callan. On his freshly-made bed too. Geez, maybe they should have had this chat by the couches.
A small shake of the shoulder achieved nothing. A bigger shake did the same. Ernie pinched the bridge of his nose, unsure if he should be irritated or amused. She couldn't stay here forever, he was a busy guy. Having someone in his room without his supervision was out of the question. Urgh. Alright, nothing he hadn't done before.
Sorry, bud.
The students here didn't keep their important possessions smartly. That was one thing he'd noticed from the start. It was the kind of stuff that made for easy break-ins, whether it was a for a surprise visit or...something less friendly. With his index finger, he reached over and tapped on the outside of the girl's pants pockets, listening for the tell-tale click of a plastic card.
No dice.
Same for her hoodie pocket. Fuck.
At this point, Ernie was wearing an immature pout, like a six-year-old talking about cooties. He rolled his eyes as the rope came into being, flipping the girl onto her front and...for fuck's sake. He apologised profusely as he reached into her back pocket, looking the card's details over once he successfully eased it out. Huh, she was older than him? A quick glance at the girl didn't clarify anything.
A few minutes later, the Aberration was outside Suite 430. Like a stork delivering a baby, the rope floated in the air behind him, holding on tight to a blanket, its shapely load conspicuously hidden by the impromptu blanket sack. Ernie let himself in with a yawn.
Marcus was sitting on the couch, idly flipping through the channels on another boring day. Callan was off somewhere, Siena and the dog were both gone, so he had the Suite completely to himself. And he had done absolutely nothing all day. At one point he'd attempted to take a nap, but it hadn't exactly worked out for him, despite the lack of sleep he'd gotten the night before. When that hadn't worked, he'd ended up looking through some of the options on Netflix, which Callan had been kind enough to leave on. He didn't expect to hear someone outside so early, and he craned his neck to look at the door when it opened, trying to see which roommate it was coming back.
"Ernie?" he asked in surprise, more than a little shocked to see him walking in through their door.
"Marc," Ernie nodded back politely. He moved straight to Cal's side of the room, somehow restraining himself from letting out an audible groan as the suite revealed its pigsty glory to him once again. It had barely been a week, for crying out loud. After clearing the stuff on her bed, he placed the owner down. The rope pulled the blanket over her before it was finally time to get to work.
"How do you live like this? Honestly," he said, bending down to pick up wrinkled clothes and discarded wrappers alike.
Marcus ignored the question, focusing instead on the thing floating behind Ernie. The very large and heavy looking object, hidden by an equally large blanket. He followed Ernie cautiously as he walked through their suite, more than a few questions roaming through his head. The most important one came to the front when he lifted one part of the sheet to see the aquamarine hair underneath.
"I-is...is that Callan in there?" he asked, followed by a slightly more urgent "Is she alright?"
"Yeah, she fell asleep in my freaking room. You gotta tell her to lay off those Netflix binges. Looked tired as hell when she showed up," Ernie trashed the first round of wrappers before bending down again.
Marcus let out a soft sigh. Asleep. That was fine. Certainly better than any other option. "Yeah, that's partly my fault. We had...a movie night in the Suite last night." Technically, that was the truth, but there were more than a few details he was leaving out.
"She's just completely passed out?" Marcus asked, more out of a sense of curiosity than anything else. He'd seen her...well, heard her fall asleep on metal bleachers, but this was something else. She really could sleep through anything.
"You can just...leave her on her bed, I guess." he added, grinning and shaking his head.
"Wow, mad invite," he joked, "But yeah, she's completely out cold. Like a Grizzly in Winter, they'd say."
Clothing got tossed into the laundry basket. Ernie peeked under the bed in search of more to do, inhaling a sharp gasp when he spotted the sheer layer of used energy drink cans beneath the girl.
"Holy shit, that can't be healthy," he exclaimed.
Marcus made a small hum of curiosity, dropping the section of blanket back over Callan's head and bending down to peek at what Ernie had apparently found. He let out a low whistle of amazement, before speaking aloud; "Do you think her power helps against caffeine poisoning too? And how does a person sleep with that much in their system?" Marcus asked, sounding legitimately impressed.
"I sure fucking hope it does," Ernie grimaced, not-so-fun memories returning, "That shit gives you heart attacks. And toilet troubles. It's a wonder she can sleep at all."
More frowning as he estimated the sheer volume of cans to clear up.
"Do you guys have a broom? Or maybe a rake would work better here..."
Man, Marcus really didn't need to think about Callan's resistance to toilet troubles at this moment in time.
"I doubt we have either of those. Do you want me to see if I can find a large shovel or something?" he asked, taking another look at the unconcious lump snoring away on the bed.
"What was she doing in your room anyway, did she walk in and just pass out immediately?"
Ernie blinked. Paused. Then the rope maneuvered under the bed, sweeping out all the cans with a large motion.
"Nah, she wanted to hang out." The lie leaving his mouth easily. "Not that I blame her for falling asleep."
He held a corner of the delivery blanket for Marcus to feel. "Check it, dude."
Marcus gave Ernie a quizzical look, slowly reaching out to touch the blanket, and he was pleasantly surprised with the result.
"Oooh," he cooed, "That's niiiiice. Where did you get this?"
"Eh, just went to the usual Bed, Bath & Beyond," Ernie grinned, clearly very pleased with the praise, "It's the fabric softener that's the important part though. Took me ages to find the right combo."
"Wait, you have a perfect cocktail of fabric softener you use?" Marcus said, wowed by the sheer level of micromanagement Ernie apparently put into his laundry duties. "I'm definitely calling you next time I do laundry."
"Business hours only, buddy. My services are always available. The Best in the West."
Ernie took an armful of cans to take to the bin, only to realise that it was already near full. "Oh, come on..."
"Business? Surely you can make an exception for your bestest buddy Marcus, right?" Marcus asked, fluttering his eyelashes and attempting to give Ernie his most innocent look. A look the quickly turned to a grimace as he heard Ernie grumbling from the trash can.
"Maybe a special discount at the most. Maybe," Ernie scoffed at the puppy eyes, "if you help me with sanitising your freaking dorm first."
And that's how the rest of the morning passed for the two boys. Partly a back-and-forth between the two dorm buildings to fetch supplies from Ernie's room, partly some visits to the dumpster behind the cafeteria. Honestly, it was a pretty fun time for Ernie. Hanging out with a friend, having a whole room to busy himself with, scolding Marcus for being such a slob when he had two female roommates to consider; an all around good day for the neat freak Aberration. Only when the whole suite was finally tidied up did Ernie flop himself onto the 430 couch.
"Alright," Ernie breathed tiredly, "now we can talk discounts."
"God. That was something." Marcus said. Maybe it was just the lack of sleep, but the incredible amount of cleaning they did had taken a little bit of a toll on him. Hell, they cleaned places that he wouldn't have even thought of. He certainly didn't think that it was possible to work up a sweat while cleaning.
"How do you live like this?"
"A lotta practice makes a lotta perfect," Ernie shrugged, "Once you get in a routine, you'll be surprised at how easy it gets."
"Yeah...no offense...but I don't think I'm going to practice this very often." Marcus said, grinning slightly. "But hey, if I feel like doing it again, I'll ask Callan to go fall asleep at your place!"
The Aberration groaned. "Please don't. I think she drooled on my sheets."
However, the mention of the supergirl reminded Ernie of something he needed to say. Something important.
"She absolutely drooled on your sheets." Marcus laughed.
Ernie joke-grimaced some more before grinning along. "Right. Guess I should go take care of that then. If you're serious about the laundry then just text me whenever."
"Oh I'm super serious. My clothes are gonna be the fluffiest they've ever been!"
"Heh, yeah, you'll have the nicest clothes on the block. Right after me, of course. See ya."
Ernie moved to leave but as he crossed the threshold, he hesitated. He looked back over his shoulder, his smile light but his tone anything but.
"Marcus. You remember my promise on the island, right? What I would do if you fucked up again?"
Marcus cocked his eyebrow in confusion. This seemed like it was coming out of nowhere; and after the morning they'd just spent getting the room all tidy...it was a fair statement to say that he was a little caught off guard by the sudden shift. He didn't say anything for a moment, as he tried to figure out if Ernie was making a poor excuse for a joke, his friendly demeanor starting to sour a little as he realized this was no joke.
"I think I remember the gist of it, yeah." he said, keeping his eyes on the Aberration. Was this a challenge? Was this the moment? His mind started to think of escape routes as he warily eyed Ernie. Like an animal who had just spotted a predator.
"Good. Because I haven't forgotten either. I meant it." Ernie turned to face Marcus properly, though he didn't move from the door. "I just thought I should remind you cos your actions affect more people than you'd think."
Marcus still eyed Ernie, carefully listening to him talk. This was all stuff they'd been over already, and he didn't quite understand why Ernie was bringing it up now, of all times. His eyes darted around cautiously, waiting for the other shoe to drop. When it didn't, he was more confused than anything.
"O...kay?" he finally said, still on edge.
"Okay."
Ernie didn't move. Because he had a point to make, right? If he left now wouldn't that sorta...lessen the impact?
Also why was he getting the feeling that Marcus wasn't absorbing everything he was saying?
"Okay," he said again, when he realised that he'd been standing there in silence a bit too long.
Marcus's eyes darted back and forth again. Why was he just standing there, all menacingly? Was this a joke? How was he supposed to react? Should he just kick Ernie out of his Suite now? Did it lessen the impact of kicking someone out if they were already leaving?
"...okay?" He repeated, more confused than ever.
"Okay."
More momentary silence.
God, why didn't he just leave before? He considered telling Marcus what he and Cal really discussed but...no, he'd find out eventually. That wasn't his talk to have. Ernie's eyes drifted to Callan's bed and his expression turned to something sadder.
"Yeah, I meant it," he reiterated, probably unnecessarily, but gulped before he started again, "But if...if I was doing something horrible myself, you'd...do the same for me, right? You'd stop me, whatever means possible?
Marcus followed Ernie's eyes to Callan's bed, still wearing the confused expression. Did she have something to do with this?
"If you needed to be stopped...I'd do...something." it was a vague answer, but he really couldn't give anything else. He probably wouldn't be able to kill any of his friends, but he'd never throught he'd shoot another person either. There was no telling what he'd do in the moment.
"Ernie...why are you asking me this?"
Because I'm a liar.
Because I'm even worse than you.
Because I'd deserve it.
Because you had the decency to face your crime head-on, instead of pointing fingers at everyone else.
Ernie forced a chuckle, clearly not satisfied with Marcus' response.
"No reason," he shrugged helplessly, "Just thought it was important."
"Wh-?" Marcus started, unable to find a thought to finish his sentence. Why was Ernie being so wierd all of the sudden?
"Ernie...are...are you okay?" he finally asked.
"Yeah, I'm fine," Ernie shrugged again. Guess that was the best he was going to get. He turned again to leave, piping out an "I'll catch you later," as he closed the door behind him.
Marcus watched as Ernie left, not offering any response as the door slowly shut. That was...strange. Maybe it was the lack of sleep, but he had left that whole conversation very confused. Why would Ernie bring something like that up, anyway? The whole thing was just...there was something about it that he didn't like. He felt uneasy for some reason.
He gave a quick look back into Callan's bed before he sat back down on the couch. Thank god she hadn't been awake to hear all of that. The D.C incident certainly wasn't something that he wanted to talk with her about; if only because he wasn't sure how well she would take the news. If she knew what he'd done while she was trying to be the hero...it wasn't something he wanted to think about.
"Your actions affect more people than you'd think."
Yeah...it would devastate her if she knew.
Slowly, the pieces began to click.
At the end of it all, he'd thought of a million different scenarios in which Callan knew what he'd done, and all the evidence pointed towards the same place. The only way she could have known. After all, there was one likely person who had no issues with reminding him of his actions.
As Marcus donned his hoodie and left the dorm for the night, that scenario kept running through his head. The fresh air hadn't helped as much as he thought it would, and the pacing and running his hands through his hair anxiously hadn't helped either.
Sure, it was possible...but maybe he was just overreacting. He and Ernie were friends. Even though Ernie hadn't been pleased with his actions, he wouldn't have done something like that.
Right?
By the time Callan finally woke up, the sun had set. Her conversation with Ernie seemed like little more than a bad dream. The room was clean though-- really clean. Evidence enough that he was the one who had gotten her home. It took a few extra minutes of hiding under the covers, internally dying of embarrassment before she dared get up.
Marcus was there. Probably still not feeling great after the other night. She didn't want to bother him too much, so she kept the conversation minimal-- something that seemed almost too easy. She'd already decided on what to do with what she'd learned that morning. And that was absolutely nothing. Marcus had enough to worry about. There was nothing to discuss, anyway. She believed Ernie and she trusted Marcus. Nothing had changed there.
Despite her best efforts to keep the mood light, however, he still seemed a bit off... nervous, even.
She chalked it up to the nightmares.
Hey Ernie! Super sorry for crashing on your bed. I don't even remember falling asleep lol
:unamused: :unamused:
agh, probably drooled on ur bed too, huh? I owe you big time. Plus for cleaning our room :sweat:
Np. Between the sports cloths and the ride back AND the room servise your starting to owe me a lot
I expect snacks and a netflix marthon next time :triumph:
dude literally anytime. me casa is your casa. we don't hang out enough
It often started with an unpleasant buzz in his skull. His jaws ached, and he often found himself digging into his forehead with dull fingernails, as if that could release the pressure. It didnβt. Nothing would work, except violence in his limbs and fire in his blood. He knew. He had been to GZ a few times this last week. Yet, he did not let himself indulge. He stared at the ghosts, he watched them wandering about on the rooftops. But he didnβt give in.
He was starving his Stigma on purpose. It had happened before. Blood was a valuable commodity back at the lab. What they gave him was always from some sort of animal. And when they didnβt have business with him, it was days and days curling up in his empty cell, fingers coming away bloody. But he endured. He did not snap, he was strong, even then.
He was supposed to be stronger now. He could do this. So he had been working out his aggression in other ways. The gym had become a place he frequented, though only late in the evening when there werenβt that many people around. During the days, he would jog through the school ground, trying to focus on his breathing and keeping his mind off thoughts about carnage and death and crimson waves.
It felt doable, days ago. Now he couldnβt even hear himself think over all this buzzing.
So he found himself taking a break from exercising that late morning, rinsing sweat off his brows in a public bathroom.
The door sweeped open then, revealing a yawning Ernie walking in. The sight of Sander stopped him in his tracks. Stopped him well. Because between the sudden fear stabbing at his heart, the uncertainty of how to greet an acquaintance he hadn't talked to in a while and the basic need to relieve himself, Ernie had no idea what course of action to take.
"Oh fuck," he muttered under his breath.
Sander's only response was reaching for the soap dispenser and began rinsing his hands. He either did not notice or did not bother to acknowledge Ernie's presence. Ernie thanked his lucky stars and quietly maneuvered around to the urinals. He unzipped his jeans and let loose. The process was quick and he sent glances over his shoulder every so often. Ernie knew better than most that vulnerabilities were easy to exploit in the bathroom, something people like Carlton could attest to. A small sense of achievement lit his walk back to the sinks, though the initial dismay returned once he saw that the vampire was still there. He began washing his hands in silence, three sinks down from Sander.
Sander only seemed to notice him then, eyes first widened in surprise, then quickly narrowed, as if he was doing some serious internal debate. Because it was exactly what he was doing. The Stigma was clamouring in the back of his mind, bleeding hate and rage into his veins.
He cared about Christmas, so he stayed away. He was concerned about the consequences, so he tiptoed around other students. He was practicing restraint, so he refused the ghosts of GZ. But Ernie. Ernie wasβ¦disposable. Ernie wasβ¦justified, or so his Stigma was telling him. Blood for blood, that evening when Christmas returned to him bruised and battered. He could pretend he was better, but Sander knew well enough that he was not.
So he took a few steps toward Ernie, then.
Ernie's sink was shut off immediately and he turned to face the other Aberration. Fuck. Fuck, he knew this was coming. The numerous, untouched days since the island had gotten his hopes up.
"That's the thing about cowards, Ernie. Whatever they're running from, it'll alllllways catch up."
"Sander--" he began.
But Sander did not let him finish. A fist flew, aiming right for Ernieβs face. The shorter boy cried out, reeling back. But the rope saved him from falling backwards on the floor. Ernie was upright, for now, but he took a dazed step backwards. Blood began dripping onto his shirt. Sander was on him in a second, another bloody fist raised and swung. Ernie barely felt the impact. Barely got moved. But the terror he was feeling felt more tangible than the fist itself. He stumbled back even more. Frustrated by Ernie's inaction, Sander grabbed the other Aberration's collar and shoved him backward, right into the wall. There was no resistance. A loud thud echoed through the bathroom. Ernie tried to back up further but there was nowhere to go.
"N-no, stop," he whimpered. He could feel his injured nose starting to throb. Sander didnβt. The blood mage simply pushed forward, enraged by the scent of drawn blood. His left hand was bloodied and probably bruised, the skin was split with jagged cuts, but Sander didnβt care. The pain was a welcome distraction. It was the proof of violence. The promise for more. He wanted more, because this was what he deserved. This was his alone. His to take.
So he lifted his hand, throwing another punch at the side of Ernieβs head. Ernie closed his eyes to take the hit. Impact, no pain, as always. Only the heat in his nose. Later, he would realise how stupid he was, being scared so witless when only the first punch had done any actual harm. But for now there was only panic. Maybe if he just kept taking it, Sander would leave him alone.
"I'm sorry," he tried, raising his arms in an attempt to block the next hits. Sander knew his wrist landed wrong somewhere along the line. It throbbed now, and he thought it would swell up, soon. He knew. Probably broke it. But adrenaline was thick in his blood, and his head was filled with the terrible clamour of the Stigma, so the pain didnβt reach him. It felt muted, like a dream.
He breathed, then landed another punch on Ernieβs stomach. Pain flared. He only grew furious, shoving Ernie's arms out of the way and gripping the shorter boyβs neck this time.
βFight.β -His voice was hoarse. Thick with anger ββFight back, coward.β
Red hands. No red eyes. How had he not put the pieces together yet?
"Why?" Ernie only squeaked back, tears welling in his eyes.
That question only served to enrage Sander, prompting him to clench his fingers tighter.
"Stop!" Ernie grabbed at Sander's wrists, trying to wrench him away.
"Make me."
Ernie could practically feel Owen's sneer. Sense Liam's disappointment. This was why he'd grown up in the back of a nightclub, wasn't it? Because he was weak. Because he was afraid. Because he never had the will to put his neck on the line, to fucking fight for anything. Not even himself.
"You're not like them, Ernie."
That was true. If he was, this stupid, stupid fight would have already finished. The Senators demanded everything from their soldiers. Ernie could provide nothing.
Ernie pushed weakly against Sander's chest, a tear making its way down his cheek now.
"FIGHT BACK!" -Sander almost roared, slamming Ernie's head back against the wall.
Another wave of panic. No choice. No choice but to obey.
With a cry, with all his strength, Ernie shot his fist out at Sander's throat. The blow hurt, and Sander stumbled backward, coughing and choking. Ernie remained in his spot, slightly hunched. On hand was against the wall but the other...
The other was in a tight fist.
The buzzcut Aberration merely stared back, like he couldn't believe what he'd just done.
It took Sander a few moments to recover, but when he finally did, blue eyes glanced up with a murderous glint to him. As if he had gone mad. Maybe he did. In one long stride, Sander was standing right in front of Ernie again, hand outstretched and grabbing the latter's jaws. A faint outline of red enveloped both of them, signalling that Sander's power was working. Streaks of blood on Ernie's face was also gone, absorbed to fuel the blood mage's rage.
"Then you die." -Sander only whispered this time, sense and self apparently had been engulfed by the Stigma.
No. Fuck you, no. He told him to fight back. Don't FUCKING change it now!
The red drain would suck him dry if he didn't end this fast. Ernie's rope whipped itself around Sander's neck, tightly, tightly, like he could fucking decapitate this guy if he--no. The lanky boy was lifted high, quickly, his head smashing against the halogen lights and raining glass on the floor. Nothing more came out of the blood mage but gurgling noises and incoherent grunts. Blood was began to ooze from various cuts on Sanderβs face, just as his head spun dangerously, black spots dancing at the edge of his vision.
Yet, he fought, grabbing at the rope around his neck.
Yelling hard, Ernie commanded the rope with a clawed hand, throwing Sander to the side this time. The boy made sickening thuds as his head hit the wall, again and again and again. Ernie didn't let up until Sander went limp and the red haze stopped.
Silence.
Ernie collapsed against the wall, shocked. What had he--oh god. The boy rushed to his unconscious attacker, close but not daring to touch him. An ugly bruise was starting to form, dangerous red stirring to the surface in an uninterrupted line around Sander's neck. Blood dripped steadily from several lacerations on his head. Some of it was smeared on the wall Ernie had bashed him against. Sander was still breathing, fortunately. But this was really, really bad.
Silence. Nothing but the buzzcut boy's harried breaths.
Overhead, the broken light still flickered sporadically. Glass tinkled downwards. It was too close to the lunch hour, people were going to show up. There was...fuck, what the fuck was he meant to do now?
Hurry, hurry now. You do that well.
So much.
Sander himself was dumped onto a stall toilet, the rope once again used, this time to lock the door from the inside. No time to think. No time to clean. Ernie ran, quickly, quickly--for fuck's sake, hurry.
He stumbled out the bathroom, blindly shoving into people who were walking to the very same room he left. Went far, far away from the cafeteria. Waited by the bus stop and didn't bother concealing his X-mark, nor the drops of blood on his shirt. Only when the bus had reached the city center did he dare to pull out his phone. Trembling fingers tapped on a contact, one he'd acquired from what felt like an eternity ago.
Sleep was...impossible now. Ernie didn't know if he should be thankful or not. On one hand, he could avoid that frightful dream Emma warned him about. He could keep an eye out for Sander should he attack him again, a knife on his belt at all times. On the other...he was freaking tired. Only hours before, the boy had woken up with his face smushed on his new keyboard, a horrendous chord blasting through his headphones. Must have passed out in the early morning. It was a wonder he made it to his morning workout in time.
Ernie stood in the communal kitchen, staring at nothing as he stirred a bowl of cake mix. Homemade, of course, none of that store-bought bullshit. The birthday girl deserved only the best. The bench was littered with open flour packets and similar bowls he hadn't finished mixing. Still about four more flavours to make, and he hadn't even begun the lattice-work for the pie. He flinched as the oven alarm went off, before summoning his aura to avoid wasting time looking for the mitts. Eyes blinked shut as they were blasted by hot air, but Ernie didn't need sight to know the job had been well-done.
Ah. At least that heavenly smell would rouse him a bit.
Zoe wasn't exactly a morning person, to say the least, and this week had made the problem a whole lot worse. She'd started to dread the visions brought by her stigma, her wound ached incessantly, and she'd been sleeping at her desk as she tried and failed to put together what the hell was going on with all this. Combine that with a complete lack of motivation to look after herself, and the girl was a mess. Her hair was a bird's nest, her clothes were more crease than fabric, and the dark circles under her eyes had taken up permanent residence. At least when she ran into people at Ground Zero there was an excuse not to look her best, but that excuse didn't really fly when she was hanging around the dorms.
Who gives a shit anymore, right? She chuckled to herself, making her way bleary-eyed into the kitchen. It wasn't like she'd been leaving her room much without reason, and she didn't encounter that many people hanging around the dorms. She paused as she entered the room, the smell hitting her - she didn't really recognise it, but it was good. And was that Ernie? It took her a little longer than it should have to put two and two together.
"Kinda early for cake, don't you think?" The redhead yawned, looking around the room.
Ernie looked the girl up and down, the bags under his eyes emphasizing the unimpressed look he usually reserved for only Zoe. It seemed that the lack of sleep had thoroughly eroded his tact as the only response he had for his fellow Aberration was a monotone, "Ew."
Anger flashed across Zoe's expression, but after a moment she just shook her head, frowning. "Fuck you too, then."
A pause as Ernie mentally rewound the conversation.
"Huh. It is kinda early," he said to the ceiling, before turning to Zoe herself, "My bad."
That last part was supposed to be an apology, or as close to an attempt at one as Ernie could muster in his current state. He suddenly remembered something.
"Oh yeah, any updates on the Amigo thing?"
"Mm-hm." Zoe grumbled something that might have been an acknowledgement of the apology. She was silent for a long moment, preoccupied with the important task of coffee-brewing until she absorbed Ernie's question. Without turning to look at him, she spoke. "No-one's gotten back to me yet. Hopefully won't take too much longer."
"Yeah..."
Man, one-syllable responses were so much easier. Why didn't he use them more often? As he placed the cake tray down, he noticed the coffee machine being turned on. He pointed to a far corner of the counter.
"There's cake if you want. Otherwise it's getting tossed out."
The cake itself looked nice. A perfectly applied layer of white frosting coated the piece. Icing roses neatly bordered the top, creating a spiralling decal that complimented the neutral tones well. The only flaw the cake seemed to have was the bright blue 'HAPY BITHDAY' emblazoned at the top in crooked piped icing.
"If you're not saving it for a special occasion."
Zoe looked at the cake, impressed by the decoration - if slightly surprised that it had come from Ernie. Seemed like he didn't just do drinks then, although she was starting to wonder why he did all this stuff. She'd tried baking someone a cake exactly once, and there was a reason she hadn't made a second. "Who's it for, anyw--" But as she finally looked at the message, she paused."You know that's not how you spell that, right?"
Ernie grimaced. Of course he knew...eventually. Why else would he toss it away? "Look, do you want it or not?"
Taking another bowl, one for fondant this time, he sighed. "It's Siena's birthday. Me and the guys are preparing a surprise for later."
"Yeah, I'll have some. Siena, huh?" Zoe picked up her coffee with a slight grimace - she still didn't like the stuff, but needed the caffeine considering the state she was in. It was kind of a surprise that this was the first she'd heard about Siena's birthday, but it made sense; she didn't exactly seem like the type to bring up the subject. "Well, tell her happy birthday from me once you get there."
After her first bite, she paused, giving Ernie a look. "It's good. How d'you know how to do all this, anyway?"
"Actually, I only picked this stuff up when I got sent to West. Already knew how to cook so it wasn't too hard. And," he tried not to sound too childish, "I just...really like birthdays."
"Had time to practice baking there, huh? Sounds pretty relaxed." Zoe shrugged, though she couldn't help raising an eyebrow at the birthdays comment. Honestly, she'd never been a fan of the things herself. "Gotta celebrate when we get the chance around here."
"Mm, the monster situation is pretty relaxed on the West side too so we didn't get sent out as much. Also most of the kids there have a power that's dumb like floating two feet in the air or some shit so it's only like a handful of the same people who actually go on the missions." Ernie nodded in agreement with her statement about celebrations.
"Sometimes I think I'd take a dumbass power over this." Zoe forced a laugh, trying - and failing - to pass it off as a joke. "Whole lot less trouble for everyone, I'd bet."
Ernie nodded again. More awkwardly this time, since he was getting the feeling that she wasn't completely kidding. "Uh huh...yeah, those guys can be pretty fun. Can't count on them to have your back in a fight though."
A silence lingered after that sentence. If was totally honest, it was good that Zoe showed up when she did. Despite everything he told himself as an excuse, Cal's admission had affected him badly. And between the foreboding dreams, the Amigos, the threat of getting jumped of Sander again, the development of his powers and a whole load of other baggage, he needed to get something off his chest.
"Hey," he started hesitantly, rubbing his eyes, "you remember that David guy, right?"
"Course I do." She remembered all of them, one way or another. David was no exception to that rule, although being on someone else's side made it a little less frequent. Not that the memory wasn't sweet in its own way, the screams ringing out as warm blood coated her hand. For a brief second, Zoe was looking at something else - breaking into a vicious smile as her thoughts started running--
Shut the fuck up. As quickly as it had appeared, the smile was replaced by what could only be called disgust, before she managed to force her expression into neutrality. Really had to get better at that - it didn't do her much good to wear her heart on her sleeve, even if outright lying didn't sit well with her. Especially when she was getting blindsided by this kind of topic. "Why bring him up now?"
Ernie stared at weird expressions for a second, an alarmed eyebrow raised high before he finally responded.
"I dunno," he sighed, "Honestly, I haven't been thinking about that either but it sorta...came up recently."
He stared at the pan.
"The APC only got attacked after we shoved the guy in their hands. A kid got killed and everyone's finding some way to blame themselves. But...fuck, I don't know. Wasn't all that sorta our fault?"
Zoe raised an eyebrow, but didn't appear particularly horrified by the assertion. More surprised than anything; that certainly didn't cross her mind. "Guess you could look at it that way. Sure, our fault, I'll take that." Honestly, she tried not to think too hard about the dead ones - well, the ones she'd seen dead, at least. Not that Ernie needed to know why.
Still, even with it being the first time she'd thought of it, the guilt that came with the idea was negligible, relatively speaking. The indirect death of a kid she barely knew wasn't really all that much to Zoe, even if she just picked from the things she'd done in here. And more than that, the implications of what Ernie was saying irritated her in more ways than one. "Why're you guys still sitting around blaming yourselves, then?"
"I'm not sitting aroun--" Ernie frowned, trying to articulate everything he wanted to say, "I mean...that was far from my first mission, y'know? Shit happens, I know that. But the others..."
He leaned on the counter, contemplation taking him out of his baking for now.
"I dunno. Seeing them feel shitty makes me feel shitty. Makes me think too much. Like if it was our fault, would that--god, this is stupid--would it fix things for them?"
"No. They're not used to death. Besides, what happened in Wisford... that takes more than one person fucking up. I don't want them pointlessly blaming themselves," Zoe shook her head, "but I want them to figure out where they're responsible and do their damnedest to stop it from happening again. Even if there was some magic fix-everything button, I'd tell you not to use it."
"So if they do feel shitty, it means they are figuring out what went wrong?" Ernie's eyes widened at the lesson but he quickly covered it with a frown. What the heck, why was Zoe actually making sense now?
"Or maybe they're just moping. I'm not a mind-reader." Zoe scowled. Tricky subject, death, and blaming yourself for your actions was something she was painfully familiar with. But this was a different situation - the things she got hung up on were the times she'd pulled the trigger. "The difference is whether they're trying to do something about it. Help them figure out who fucked what, then what happens with that's their choice. Once they know everything, who they blame's not up to you."
"...Yeah."
'Help them figure'--no, he couldn't do that. They'd never look at him the same way. And he...he needed them. Ernie's mind drifted to Callan in his room, crying, and him being able to do nothing about it. If she knew...hell, if any of them knew...
Ernie spoke up again, eager to shift the subject to something that wasn't as guilt-tripping. "Blame is...hard to figure out, yeah. Letting them know everything though...I'm not trying to be an ass or anything here, but it's kinda funny hearing that from you." A corner of his lips quirked up. "You were really into that 'big bad villain' thing, that day in the lighthouse. Told Emma about David but didn't say jack about what I was doing there. What was that about, huh?"
"Why do you think I never tried to hide what I'm like, Ernie?" Zoe sighed, rolling her eyes. "I'm not a complete idiot. I know half of you hate me and the other half are scared I'll rip their throats out if they look at me wrong. Might as well use it where I can. Besides..."
To tell the truth, there wasn't really all that much thought going into this. The root of it all was much more simple, but that didn't make her any less certain about sticking with it.
"I said I would take responsibility. I don't break my promises."
Ernie narrowed his eyes at the girl. There was always the chance she'd use it against him. Always. Yet, when he examined her for any sense of impending betrayal, he couldn't find anything. And for some reason, he trusted that conclusion. For now.
"Right." He knew not to count his blessings, especially when they were falsely gained. "Thanks, I guess."
"No skin off my back." Zoe shrugged. It helped her out to make sure people kept their distance, after all. After a long moment of silence, she cleared her throat. Even if she didn't mind talking, she had a routine to try and stick to and no matter how exhausted she was missing a day at Ground Zero was a no-go. "If there's nothing else, I'm gonna leave you to your cake."
Ernie nodded. He needed some time to think anyway.
"Don't got much else to say, unless you want to pick up some cake decorating skills. I'll see you later then."
"I think I'll pass." With a small smirk, Zoe turned to leave. "Later, Ernie."
She was more than a little pleased with herself. Exhausted as all get out, but with something of a pep in her step, Callan brandished a small silver basket, complete with glittery purple gift paper carefully tucked in between several cups noodle packets, a bottle of hot sauce, three pack of pizza-shaped erasers, and a knitted purple scarf, rolled up and tied with some twine. It was kind of like a miniature version of the senior night gifts they used to give out at the last home game of the season back at Westlake High. Nowhere as extravagant, but fit for its purpose.
The only part of the gift that seemed a bit lackluster was the note. Scrawled in Callan's average looking handwriting on a piece of paper torn out of a notebook, it read:
Just felt like you needed a pick-me-up.
Hang in there, Party Queen.
--Cal
Shifting the gift into one hand, Callan knocked on Emma's door.
A faint groan could be heard from the other side, followed by the rustling of sheets and then a loud bang and an equally loud βShit!β
It took roughly another 30 seconds before the door opened. There was no Emma, instead the tall form of Determination dominated the door frame. She was quiet at first, looking Callan up and down, eyes lingering for a moment on the basket, before speaking up, βUhhhh... heyo, kelp head. Wassup?β
Callan was surprised to see Riley open the door. 'Determination', she mentally corrected herself.
"Hey, Det," she smiled, choosing not to comment on the nickname, which she couldn't decide was flattering or not. "Is Emma around?"
"Nope. She's... doin' something. I dunno. But heeeeeeeey, if you're bored your good ol' buddy Determination is here!" she said with a small wink and finger guns.
She wanted to... hang out? Managing a nervous laugh, Callan tucked her hair behind one ear, "Actually, I just wanted to drop something off for Em. If that's cool...."
βYeah. Yeah, yeah, for sure.β she said, putting on a not-so-subtle forced smile. She should've expected it, really. Who would want to hang out with someone who wasn't real.
Determination coughed. βSo, uh, watchya got?β
Oh, geez. Spotting the strain in the tulpa's smile, Callan couldn't help but feel a little sorry for the thing. Shit, and she hadn't even thought of her when she was out buying this stuff the night before....
It wasn't Det's fault it looked like Riley, right? She idly wondered how often Emma left her alone in the room, considering she'd done so the last two times they hung out.
"Uh... just some stuff I thought she might like," Callan held the basket up for Determination to see, thumbing through the different items. She hesitated before speaking again, eyes darting between the tall, blue-haired tulpa and the empty room behind her. She wouldn't regret this, right? Emma had never said anything about Determination being especially dangerous on her own. "Uhhh... maybe I could come in and set it down?" she offered with an awkward grimace.
Determination visibly lit up, just a little. βI'm sure Em'll be all over that stuff. Yeah, come on in.β Determination held open the door for Callan, gesturing her forward. Inside the room was surprisingly clean, with the small exception of the bed, which hadn't been made. In the corner Spartacus was curled up on a cat bed, now cleaned and looking significantly healthier after being fed. The TV was on, and apparently Determination was watching Blade Runner before Callan showed up. The film was just about hitting the halfway point - it was the scene where Sebastian finds Pris in the dumpster. βI was just, uh β Emma showed me this movie. I wanted to watch it again, but, uh, I kinda fell asleep.β
Callan looked around the room again. She'd already seen it, but... it suddenly seemed a bit different now. Her eyes lingered on the screen for a moment, trying not to think too hard about Emma's tulpa watching that of all things."Yeah, that's an awesome movie. Definitely worth watching more than once," she said, noting that apparently Det needed sleep. But with only one bed...?
Callan set the gift for Emma on the center of the desk, quickly turning back to face Determination. It didn't seem fair to be so creeped out by everything she did, but.... "Does Emma head out alone very often?" she asked tentatively.
"I mean, not all the time. She usually has me tag along, but, uh... y'know. I can tell that she feels weird about... all this. Figured I'd stop pestering her to take me with her all the time." Determination gave a slight shrug, taking a seat on the bed.
Callan remained standing, slipping her hands into her pockets in a faux-casual pose. "All this?" Callan repeated, curious about exactly how aware Determination was of the situation and all its parts.
"I mean, like... she went from having this mindless goon to having a weird new alien roommate that wants to follow her around all the time. Plus I..." Determination paused, getting caught up thinking about what to say, "I'm pretty much her ex. In looks, personality, and..." she stopped herself.
"Looks and personality."
Callan suspiciously arched one eyebrow.
"Yeah- I bet it's tough for both of you."
"Yeah. Tough." Determination said, laying back on the bed, "I mean, I don't really give a shit, y'know? Not like it's my fault I look like this. I think it's kinda cool."
Chewing her lip, Callan found herself at a crossroads. Det was clearly a lot more aware of everything than she thought. But would Emma be upset about her talking with it about all this stuff? Apparently they could communicate telepathically, too. So who was to say Emma wasn't hearing about all of this right now? And if not now, later?
She moved towards the door a step, but stopped. Just one more question.
"Hey, where do you sleep?" she smiled nervously, pretending to look for a second bed tucked away somewhere.
βOof. Creep much, kelp head? Uh, on the bed.β
"Ah-!" Callan laughed hard and suddenly. Yeah, she kept forgetting about how great at being subtle she was. "I just meant-- you know-- the bed looks kinda small. And there's only one. Can't be too comfortable!" she hastily tried to patch up whatever insinuations her question might have set off before reaching for the door. It was sloppy work and probably making things worse. Best to get out of dodge now. "A-anyway, I don't wanna be a bother, so I should probably...."
βHey, wait, Cal...β Determination reached out, looking down. Her words came out hesitantly, βListen... there was, uh, something I wanted to... I guess something I wanted to tell you.β she paused, looking up with at her with a nervous smile.
Hand already on the doorknob, Callan's grip tightened. Almost enough to start denting the metal. Oh, fuck. Just leave. There was no way staying in this kind of situation could turn out okay.
...but what kind of situation was this exactly? What could Emma's tulpa possibly want to tell her?
She waited expectantly.
βRight... I, uh, just wanted to say...β Determination sighed, composing herself, βEmma's been through a lot... and is going through a lot. She's got this... this tendency to become enamored with people really quickly... kinda like how you guys are 'BFFs' or whatever now. My point is, she trusts you. A lot... more than anyone else here. So don't mess with that, alright?β
'More than anyone else'.... including Marcus? Callan's expression was an unreadable jumble of emotions as she processed what the tulpa had said. First and foremost, it wasn't at all what she expected. This was the sort of thing one person said behind another person's back. Not in a bad way, but... still. And what exactly did Det think she was going to do...?
"Uh," Callan nodded slowly, "R-right. I'll remember that.... Thanks..." And with that, she quickly jerked the door open and slipped back out into the hall.
βI mean it, Cal!β Determination called after her. βShit, I really fucked that one up, didn't I?β she muttered to herself, inaudible to Callan.
In the kitchen, Ernie was folding the edges of a pie. An uncharacteristic amount of flour was lathered on his apron. The poor guy looked exhausted and it was apparent that if he'd had even an hour's worth of extra sleep there definitely wouldn't be so many open bags of ingredients resting on the counter. He yawned, long and loud, before opening the oven.
Callan's heart was still pounding as she left Emma's dorm room behind. It didn't take long for the anxiety to subside, however. Emma's tulpa hadn't said anything too horrendously crazy, though she decide that talking with Det one on one wasn't something she wanted to have happen again any time soon. A tasty aroma emanated from the kitchens before she made it to the door. Curiously, wondered towards it, not daring to peek her head around the corner until she heard what seemed like a familiar yawn.
Poking her head around the corner, Callan spotted him, tireless baking away it seemed. "Whoa, what's goin' on in here?" she grinned in awe.
Ernie turned his head. Even the bags under his eyes didn't affect the smirk that showed up when he saw her. "Cake."
"Oooh," she cooed, briefly noting how tired Ernie looked. Was any one at this school getting enough sleep these days? She propped her elbows up on the counter and glanced at the cake. "It smells good, what's it..." she paused, leaning a bit closer and squinting at the iced lettering.
"O-oh," Ernie closed the oven after placing the pie in. He noticed her looking. "Yeah, just trying to grind a good one out. I'm not using that one in the corner though. You can have some if you want."
"Seriously?" her grin widened as she sidled up next to the offered cake. Was it wrong of her to be so eager? She hadn't had breakfast, yet-- or ever tried Ernie's baking, so... Two perfectly good reasons not to decline.
She chuckled at the mispelled words, "I'm guessing this is supposed to say 'happy birthday'," she remarked.
Ernie sighed. "Yeah. Pro-tip: don't try to spell things on three hours of sleep."
"What?" Callan frowned, looking up from where she'd been cutting a small piece, "Late night?"
"Oh yeah, totes," Ernie replied, trying to sound breezy. All light and casual-stylez.
"Hmm," Callan hummed with faux suspicion as she moved into the kitchen area, searching for a plate and fork, "What were you doing?"
Besides keeping watch from my window with a knife in my pants?
"Practicing. Piano." Nailed it. "Siena wants me to learn a piece by Friday. Speaking of Siena, that's," he pointed to a topic change, gesturing at the cake, "who the cake is for. Team SAP's holding a little surprise for her later today."
Callan spun to face him with fork in hand and several questions. Foremost... "Oh shoot! Her birthday's today?"
Ernie nodded. "Didn't I text you about it?"
Callan frowned, "No..." She thought for a moment, trying to remember if she could have spaced it.... No, definitely not. "And what's team SAP?"
"Oh...shit, that's my bad then."
At the mention of his bros, Ernie grinned proudly.
"Just a dumb name for me, Marcus and Brent. Don't ask me what it stands for though. It's been ages and...honestly, I'll look stupid if I have to ask."
Callan scoffed, "Fair enough... don't worry about it though. I should probably know my own roommate's birthdays." She dished up her slice of cake and leaned against the counter, idly combing her fork through the icing. Geez, she was going to have to make a run into town to find a gift or something before she turned in for the day.
"I didn't know you played piano," she said.
"Yeah, Siena helped me pick it up again."
"Oh what?" Callan swallowed the bite of cake in her mouth and laughed, "Siena plays? Man, I'm 0 for 2 today..." She didn't even know Ernie and Siena hung out. Then again, it was easy to miss a lot over the course three weeks. And her flipped schedule over the past few days hadn't done much to change that.
She set her empty plate on the counter and decided to take a shot at the dark. "By the way... are Brent and Siena dating?"
If Ernie had been drinking water, the question would have made him choke. Instead he cracked up.
"Hahaha, heck if I know!" He tried not to double over, remembering what Brent had told him about the Chris nonsense. "Want me to ask for you?"
Callan laughed along, though a little less enthused. Clearly she wasn't in on the whole joke, "Oh God, no!" She looked apologetic, "Just trying to figure out exactly how much I missed last month."
"Well, they do seem to hang out a lot. Even if they're not together right now I doubt there'd be much in their way."
"Ah okay... haha, I was just curious is all. Even though we're roommates, I guess Siena and I don't talk much. She's usually got her nose in a book anyway."
"Hm. That sounds like her," Ernie nodded, "How come you guys don't talk that much? Is the book tougher to get through than we thought?"
Callan laughed, "It's not like we don't get along. Just different interests I guess."
"Kinda like us, right?" he laughed, "I don't think I've touched a basketball in months."
"Heh," Callan shrugged lightly, "Kinda..." Her voice trailed off for a moment, as if a thought had just occurred to her. Funny how she considered Ernie one of her closest friends, yet there were so many differences. None where it mattered though, right? "Man, it's been a while since I touched a basketball, too, actually."
She waved both her hands in front of her, "Super strength kinda messed up my game..."
"That'll just have to be another thing we ask Heph. Unbreakable earphones and super-strength basketballs. Put that guy to good use, right? USARILN's got too many of those saran wrap trucks anyway."
Callan laughed, "Tell him to build me a whole super-strength proof house while he's at it. I've already gone through one hair brush and remote this week. Almost jacked up Emma's doorknob just now, too."
The piping bag burst in Ernie's hand, spewing a horrendous amount of icing over the top of the cake. He worked quickly to make it seem like a conscious action, grabbing the icing spatula and spreading the spurted substance in an even layer.
"Hair brush and--geez, is this the part where you tell me you've pummelled a whole house before? Heph might not have the time for that one," he chuckled lightly. But the spatula was held in a white-knuckle grip.
It was there. Small, but there. A pinch of pain. Just enough to make her wince at the comment. Almost unreadable and poorly masked behind a shrinking smile, but just enough... if you knew what to look for. Otherwise, she didn't seem to miss a beat. It was wasn't her fault, was it? Misery was the one who did it.
"Yeah, I guess that'd be a pretty big ask," Callan laughed, pushing herself off the counter to get a closer look at the cake, "You need any help with anything?"
Ernie stared back for a moment, solemn, scanning that chink in the armor. He didn't know what to make of it, whether it was regret or something else. So he improvised again. Kept that solemn expression and moved his arms protectively over the cake.
"You're not one of those people that waits until someone else buys a present and then just adds their name to the Christmas card, are you?" he asked with a pretend-glare.
Callan pouted, pretending to look offended, "Aw, c'mon. I wouldn't do that... but now that you mention it..."
She smirked, "I wouldn't mind helping you clean up in exchange for some gift ideas. I was gonna make a run into town, but... I have no idea what to get her."
"You, cleaning up for me? Man, what mirror universe are we in?" Ernie grinned cheekily. "Sure, I'll take you up on that. Hell, you can even help me with the decorating. Put your name on the card and all that. Might make Siena happy to hear that her friends worked on it together."
"I was inspired by the cleaning legend himself!"
Cleaning up the kitchen turned out to be even easier than Callan thought. Ernie hadn't made a very big mess, even with the obvious sleep deprivation. His good mood made the work go by faster, too. Something Callan was grateful for considering that she didn't usually enjoy the tidying up part. It was well worth the effort, though. Following Ernie's advice, Callan managed to find a shop in town that sold an assortment of adorable dog sweaters. Probably a good idea with how much colder it'd be getting, right? She bought a few different styles, unsure of what Siena might like, and folding them neatly into a pastel pink gift bag.
Normally she'd be anxious to see Siena open it, but with her sleeping schedule running so late already, she simply dropped it off with Ernie and returned to her dorm.
Omg Callan You have like no idea how awesome this gift is, that scarf was a gift from my sister and I felt so shitty that it got messed up You're def getting the friend of the year award thank you so much
aw its no biggie, gurl glad you liked it ;)
I really do <3<3<3<3 I'll try not to get Kusari's blood all over this one
lol ya maybe don't wear this one into battle that or get ernie to hook you up i hear he's a pro at doin laundry no joke
Yeah, I think I'll just leave this one at home Shit man that was our first battle, feels like so long ago Didn't I almost get you killed? Whoops xd
dang it does feel like a long time haha but no you didnt almost get me killed getting smacked by that monster wasnt a fun time tho :grimacing:
:sweat_smile: Det's pretty much calling her own shots now so that kind of thing probably won't happen again Probably
if it does, im holding you responsible just so you know haha
:( Hey man, take it up with her She's a big girl now
Always blame the parents :kissing:
Woah man, cut a single mom some slack This analogy really works because she basically treats Marcus like her step-dad that she doesn't like :/
..? What?
Fr I mean it Me and Marcus were out and she just showed up, I don't think she's into us... like... yeah And then she started getting all mouthy so I sent her home Like a kid who doesn't like her mom getting a new boyfriend ((Okay yeah this analogy feels weird now...))
Hmm that is kinda weird but I guess it makes sense shed want to spend time with you your like her creator
Yeah . . . It's not that I don't like her, it's just awkward as hell The whole Riley thing is just too weird Idk maybe I should try to get over it, not like she's going to go away
sorry em :/ id like to help but i think im just as lost as you on this one like i said tho, maybe you'll have another dream soon and she wont look like your ex anymore
Dw about it, this is totally my problem You're doing enough just by being my vent I just feel like really guilty, because Marcus and everything Because I'm sure he'd be all jazzed up to hear that I apparently can't stop thinking about fucking Riley :x β¦ I just read that over amd that's not how I meant that... I was trying to say like I was using fucking for emphasis, not as a word Just forget I said anything pls
lol dw I know what you meant your secret's safe with me ;)
Thanks <3 Things are already fucked enough, last thing I need is this shit ruining my relationship with one of the like four cool people here
Ernie sat in front of the washing machine, slumped, his head leaning against the wall. Fucking...fuck. This was hardly new. The paranoia, the constant need to greet people with some semblance of a smile. He'd operated with little sleep before but this? This was ridiculous, and it was starting to take a major toll on him. Maybe Callan had the right idea with all those energy drinks. Ernie felt his eyelids getting heavier, more and more concentration being needed to keep them open. And this wall was starting to get real...comfy...
It was then that a lanky figure walked in, blue eyes trained on Ernie like he knew exactly where the other Aberration was. Well, he did. Stopping in front of Ernie, Sander poked at his shoulder. With a sigh, Ernie opened his eyes, roused by the contact and the sudden scent of cologne filling the air. His blurry gaze moved upwards until they met the blue of the teen in front him.
The reaction was instantaneous.
A golden glow lit shadows against the walls. Ernie's legs kicked out against Sander, sending the shorter one backwards off the bench and onto his bottom.
"Don't," Ernie muttered as he shifted back, his rope poised and ready.
"I'm not here for...that." -Sander blinked, seemingly surprised before moving a few steps back, crossing his arms.
"Good. Stay that way. Stay back." Ernie glared at the lanky Aberration and began getting to his feet.
Sander cleared his throat, but he complied, backing away further. He scrunched his brows though, contemplating. Ernie stood in a ready stance, prepared to lunge or make a break for it if Sander snapped again. Another student entered the room but a withering glare from the glowing Aberration sent the poor kid right back out.
"What do you want?" Ernie growled. His eyes kept flickering to the door.
"To...thank you, actually." -With the prompt, Sander got straight to the point, flashing Ernie an uneasy smile.
The buzzcut boy's face scrunched into an ugly squint. "Huh?"
"The other day. Whatever you did, it triggered something." -Sander shrugged, tone light and neutral, as if several broken bones and a concussion were nothing -"I'm...free now."
Unable to help himself, his lips split into a grin. He tapped the X mark on his throat.
"I'm free. It's silent now."
Ernie's gaze flickered from Sander's face to his neck, realisation dawning quickly.
"You had the dream."
"You know about it?" -An eyebrow arched -"Are you...? Is it silent, for you too?"
"I..." the shorter teen's hand reached for his own mark, "Almost. It's there but it's...quiet." And, contradictory as it was, that didn't necessarily feel like a good thing.
"What did you do?"
Ernie grimaced. "I don't know. It just happened."
First Emma, now Sander? This...what did this mean for the others? Hazel the bipolar titan and Zoe the anti-villain? No, that wasn't important right now.
"I almost killed you in that bathroom," Ernie said accusingly, "And you said that triggered the change?"
"It could. The shadow wouldn't have come, otherwise." -Funny enough, they almost killed him several times before, and nothing happened. Maybe Ernie just got that close. Or maybe the shadow took all those years finding its way. Or maybe it was all a big coincidence. Regardless, he felt that Ernie might know more, considering that he was a fellow Aberration.
"The shadow..." The details matched Emma's description. "Did it want to consume you? The Stigma?"
And the most important factor. Ernie could feel the dread welling up.
"Did you...have to fight?"
"It wanted to. I just...got lucky."
" 'Got lucky' how?"
Sander's expression hardly changed, but his blue eyes grew cold.
"Well, how did you get lucky?"
Ernie noticed the shift. "I..."
Think. Think, dammit. What else did she say?
"Something...protected me."
"Who?"
"Something right? I dunno, it didn't make much sense," Ernie blindly repeated Emma's words.
"There must be someone." -Sander simply shook his head, frowning. The shadow was a liar. A thief. How could Ernie know what it really was? -"How can you tell it was the shadow? How can you chase it away?"
God. Right, Emma had mentioned a 'someone else'. Someone among old names from the class. Bitch sure chose a bad time to leave out details. Ernie's improvisational lying could only go so far.
"Yes. There was...someone...?" Ernie tried cautiously. "It's kinda--I don't really want to talk about it."
"Then don't." -Sander let it go, obviously didn't seem to be that interested in Ernie's story after all -"It's fine. I just...want to thank you, then. Maybe we were just...in the right place at the right time."
"It's no problem?" Ernie winced, though inwardly he was relieved that the subject was dropped. Shame. Looked like he wasn't going to get any details out of this guy.
But with the last statement, Ernie's scowl returned.
"Wait. No, it wasn't 'right' anything. You attacked me first! What the fuck was that about?"
"Stigma." -Sander looked Ernie straight in the eyes then, face blank. Despite everything, his feelings about Ernie did not change the slightest. In fact, they might have intensified, now that he was no longer guilting himself into accepting the bad things in his life -"I'm sure you understand."
So it wasn't because he hadn't been paying attention to Christmas on the island? Ernie paused, mulling over the information. He didn't know if that was better or worse. All he knew was that he was still pissed as all hell.
"You're a fucking cunt." Ernie stated simply.
"Then what are you?" -Sander simply looked interested, as if he was genuinely curious about the answer.
Ernie suddenly felt the strong urge to swing something at Sander's head. Something with a handle that shattered easily. But there was no such thing within his grasp. Instead he just pinched the bridge of his nose.
"A really angry dumbass," he sighed, wondering why he was playing along with Sander's 'I know you are but what am I' bullshit, "Look, if there's nothing else to say can you just go?"
Sander nodded, accepting the request easily. He turned and left quickly without another word. Ernie watched him exit, waited a full minute before the buzzcut Aberration finally slumped back into his seat. God, that guy was a piece of work and a half.
"Fucking asshole..." Ernie muttered to himself and pulled out his phone. The golden glow disappeared in the meanwhile. There was someone he needed to talk with, now that he'd learnt that there were some important fucking details she'd left out of her supposedly friendly warning. His fingers tapped impatiently on his thighs, playing out a piece he'd been practicing as he waited for the ringtone to end.
βHello?β
Ernie did his best to maintain a civil tone. His efforts resulted in his outward expression coming out as something between a smile and a vicious grimace. "Yeah. Hi. Are you busy right now?"
βUh, not... particularly? What's up?β
"We need to talk. About that thing we talked at the bus stop."
βUhhh... sure. Let's talk, then.β
"Laundry Room 14. I'll be waiting." He hung up then. Minutes later, he heard someone outside.
βSo what? Gotta do some laundry? You, uh, realize you don't have any clothes with you, right?β a muffled voice came from being the door, in the hallway outside the laundry room.
βNo. Just here to talk to someone, you can hang out here for a bit.β Emma said, pushing open the door, waving at Ernie as she walked in.
βPffft. Fine. Whatever.β the voice called from behind her as she walked in.
Emma shut the door, nodding at whoever was on the other side, βWhat's up?β she said, turning towards Ernie. He merely glowered back at her silently, not rising from his seat. Emma stared. βUh, you wanted to talk, right?β
"You didn't say that it was a 'someone' in the dream." His tone wasn't happy.
Emma looked confused, βUh, someone? What are you talking about?β
"The big, bad, evil dream-shadow!" Ernie gestured wildly, "You didn't tell me it was a person."
Emma shrugged, clearly not taking this nearly as seriously as Ernie was, βWas it? I dunno man, the whole thing was confusing as fuck. It showed up as someone from my past, but, like, that's not what it was. I could tell it was... something else. What, did you have the dream?β
"The past?" he croaked, turning even paler. Guess that was the only part he caught. His head found its place in his hands as he groaned.
βUh, Ernie? What's going on?β Emma asked, concern edging into her voice.
Ernie sighed. "Look. I have a lot of people I don't want to see. And I'm very sure they don't wanna see me back. So even if you think it's unimportant, if you could mention details like this when you're talking about situations where our entire fucking sanity is on the line, that would be really fucking appreciated!"
Emma was quiet for a moment.
βSorry.β she said, quiet, subdued.
Another beat.
βI was trying to help, really, I just... I don't have any fucking idea how to handle this shit. These dreams are so fucking weird, and... I was still trying to make sense of the whole thing.β
Ernie frowned back at her. The exhaustion on his face was more apparent than ever.
"Yeah." It seemed that he was accepting the apology. "I shouldn't have yelled. It's just...I've been low-key freaking out ever since you told me about it. And then it turned to a high-key freaking out. And then I hear about this and--"
A breath. He closed his eyes.
"The person it looked like. Was it someone good or bad from your past?"
Emma shrugged. βGood, I guess. Maybe a little bad too.β
She sighed.
βI guess mainly it was... someone that I really wanted to see.β
The boy looked more sorrowful than ever, hearing that. Even if he wanted to see them, it wouldn't be real.
"And that's how it lowers your guard? The bad thing?"
βThat's how it happened to me. I... I practically invited it to do whatever it wanted to me. So don't do that, I guess.β
"Okay," He nodded. A pause. "...okay. Sander got the dream, by the way. That's why I'm asking now. Guess we can expect the others to come round soon."
βHm. I guess we'll see, huh? Hope things work out for everyone. I'd suggest that we start notifying people, but... honestly, I'm still not sure what the right thing to do is. How did he seem?β
Ernie didn't have to think long. "Happy. A lot happier."
He furrowed his brow.
"Should we tell them? I know I said we should expect more dreams but what if some of them are just holding out for something that never comes? And...we don't even know what happens if you fail to resist it."
That was the part that scared him the most.
βI'm just... do you know what Sander did? I'm still trying to figure out if we should fight it. I mean, it was... it was eating my stigma. And it almost finished, and my stigma is almost gone. So what if letting it eat is the right thing to do? What if that's how we get rid of it?β Emma sighed. βI'm lost. The thing seems dangerous, but...β
"Uhhhhhh," Ernie blinked. He wasn't looking forward to talking with the lanky Aberration again, even if it was for important information, "He didn't mention anything. Maybe we, or just you, can ask him later?"
βProbably a good idea. I don't really know the dude, where can we find him?β
The Aberration's eye twitched. "I...have his number. I guess we could arrange a meet-up," Ernie said through grit teeth. "Uh, I should warn you though. There's a good chance he won't give information to me...specifically."
He sighed.
"I may have led him to think that I've already had the dream. Also there are...other things, so..."
Emma raised an eyebrow. "Makin' enemies all over the place, huh? Don't worry, I can do the talking, I guess."
Ernie merely rolled his eyes. "Right, thanks. One more thing I gotta ask though. Did you have to do something to trigger the dream? Sander mentioned that he got it after he...got hurt...so I was just wondering."
"Not sure. I wasn't hurt, it was after we got back from the island... I can't think of anything in particular that would've set it off. I was in a normal dream, and then it just... happened. Maybe it had something to do with the battle."
Ernie forced a smile. "Yeah...the battle..." he shifted nervously, "Welp, guess I'll text him now."
He took his time composing it. Even consulted Emma for a spell check.
Hey Sander, are you free to meet up right now? Emma and I want to talk more about the dream.
There was no reply, but a few minutes later, Sander appeared, poking his head into the laundry room, expression was one of subtle curiosity.
"Can I help you?"
Ernie grimaced visibly at the sudden appearance. Right, super senses. He nudged Emma with his elbow for her to start.
βHey Sander. We, uh, wanted to try to figure out what's going on with the dream, since... you've had it too now. I was just wondering, when that shadow came, did it... did it get to do what it wanted before you fought it off, or...?β
Sander tilted his head, carefully discerning Emma's expression. He did remember her from their previous brief interactions, though nothing notable really came to his mind about her. Their curiosity was rather...suspicious, though.
"Why do you want to know?"
βBecause, these dreams are affecting all of us. Affecting our stigma. Me and Ernie aren't sure what's causing the stigma to get better β fighting it or letting it eat. We both... it ate, and then we fought it off, so we're not sure which caused the stigma to lessen. If we can figure it out we can tell everyone else and help them get rid of their stigmas.β
Sander looked at Emma for a few moments, before he finally spoke up. It didnβt really matter if they wanted to know. What he was truly concerned about was Christmasβ involvement in all this. He didnβt want the blond boy to be used as another tool in this aspect, too.
βI didnβt fight it. It would have eaten me. Butβ¦I was saved.β
βHmmmm... so you did the same thing we did. It could go either way, still. I was thinking that the right thing to do was fight it, since... it seemed evil, but it was eating our stigmas. And our stigmas are better. That's gotta mean something, right?β Emma sighed. This really didn't tell them anything β more of the same information she already had.
"It was a debt. You owed it something, and it collected, didn't it?" -Sander crossed his arms -"You all wanted something when...mark appeared, yeah?"
βW-What? Where exactly are you getting the idea that it was collecting a debt? There... wasn't anything in my dream that suggested that.β
Sander just looked confused then -"It's just...me then?" -He looked at Ernie. The pause lingered before Ernie realised that he was the one getting addressed.
"Uh, yeah, seems like it." He nodded along to his own response.
"Then that's all I know."
Ernie narrowed his eyes. "Are you sure?"
Sander just stared at Ernie. Another coincidence? Maybe the power was granted randomly, after all. Either way, he didn't really care.
Emma watched the exchange with a frown. Debts? Because of their powers? It was worrying, to say the least. βWell... thanks for coming to swap info, Sander.β she cut in, βEven if we didn't really learn a lot, it's still... helpful.β
"Yeah. Thanks." Ernie added flatly.
Sander nodded, then turned around and made another quiet exit. Again, Ernie watched him leave. He waited a few moments before turning back to Emma.
"That helped, right? Sort of?"
Emma shrugged, βNothing that'll help use figure out what we actually wanted to. The bit about the debt was... interesting. Definitely didn't have anything like that in my awakening or in that dream, so... I dunno what to make of it.β
"Mm," Ernie sighed, "It's like the more we find out, the weirder it gets. Bad news, all around."
He contemplated for a moment.
"So what's the verdict on telling the other Abes? Are we still keeping our mouths shut?"
βI... we still don't know what the right answer is, so maybe it's best if we just keep quiet. Let them... let them decide for themselves what they wanna do. Wouldn't want to tell them anything that'll mess them up, right?β
The 'mess them up like you did to me?' Ernie was thinking didn't leave his mouth. He nodded instead.
"Okay. Thanks for all the help, and for sticking to my story." A cheeky smile lit his face. "I knew you'd be good but I didn't think you'd be such a pro at it."
βYeah, whatever. I'll see ya later, I guess.β
βYeah, c'mon Em, let's goooooo!β the voice from behind the door called.
βRight. Later.β Emma nodded, turning towards the door.
Hm, guess they weren't quite there with their classmate-ship yet. He thought it'd be funny to make a callback to their earlier days. Ernie raised an eyebrow at the unfamiliar voice but ultimately left it alone. Didn't seem out of place for someone like Emma to have a bunch of random pals. The girl outside must've been a close friend to wait so long. He'd sate his curiosity but there were only two minutes left on the machine's timer. He didn't like his work being put off or interrupted.
"Mm. Seeya." He gave a short wave and turned back to his laundry.
He'd noticed it a while ago, but he didn't want to acknowledge it for fear of setting off the whole cascade of events. That slowly creeping sense of unnatural dread that signaled the beginning of another restless night. Another nightmare for him to endure, like his own little theater of the damned.
He was in the passenger seat of a car. A Hellcat, he knew. Instinctively, he knew exactly where he was right now. He was in a fast car, on Bald Head Island - the same little stretch of land that Zhang's Estate had been on. Maybe still was. Or maybe it was all splinters, like everything else that had been on the island. Though he couldn't hear the words, he could hear someone talking next to him. He turned his head to find the source, immediately finding the action to be slow and muddled, like he was submerged in water. Beside him was Angel, clad in her bikini, hand steady on the wheel as they flew down the road.
" -re you okay, Marcus? You seemed like you were phasing out there."
"Yeah...no...I'm fine. I was just...thinking is all..." he said, slowly glancing around the cab of the car. Something felt wrong. He couldn't quite pin down what it was, but something was definitely off. Was it him? Was something wrong with him?
"Are you sure you're good? You're as pale as a ghost, and you seem like you're freaking out." The voice was directly in his ears, whispering from inside his skull instead of coming out of her mouth.
"I said I'm fine...can you not do that?" Marcus replied, a sudden wave of irritation rolling across him. He pulled down the overhead mirror as he spoke; something didn't feel right. Was it him? Was somethi-
Of course it was him. The mirror revealed that much. In the reflection was his face. His normal face. Without the arbiter mark. Without the scars. It was...him.
"You're definitely freaking out. Do you need to barf or something?" The voice came from the backseat of the car.
"I'm fine! Jesus. Just...give me a second." his irritation had turned to anger at this point
"There's no need to be such an asshole about it!" Something about it made him want to wring her neck. Why was he so angry?
"-ost control." The voice beside him again. Angel was saying something.
"You're fine. It wasn't your fault." he said, trying to be reassuring.
"It wasn't your fault." Another voice from the back, repeating his words like a parrot. A tone that sent shivers down his spine.
"It was my fault."
"No! It wasn't! It wasn't anybody's fault!" Marcus shouted, running his hands through his hair. He didn't dare turn around to face the backseat...it was as if he could feel what lurked behind him.
"Then whose fault was it!? WHOSE?" she shouted angrily, followed by a sickening sound. A wet, bony crunch, followed by another, as if someone hadn't gotten it on the first try.
"I don't know!" He was lying. He was angry.
"I lost control. Marcus turned to look at her. Whatever was sitting in the passenger seat wasn't Angel. It was her body, but her head was shrouded in shadows, like an oily black flame. He was pointing a gun at her. All he wanted was for them to quiet down for a moment, so he could think things over. It would all be fine if he could just think for a moment.
The gun shook in his hand, but did not fire. There was something around his neck, lifting him in his seat. A raspy whisper from behind him. "I thought you'd be better"
His own neck crunched once under the pressure of the noose.
"Lost control." It was only as the car crashed through the guardrail that Marcus actually knew what she was talking about.
They were weightless. The cliffside was a perfect drop. Marcus could feel his stomach rise in his body, like the feeling you'd get right before the drop on a rollercoaster. His neck twisted again. He could feel the skin tearing and the blood running down the front of him.
"Make the sacrifice!Let me go!"
"I lost." Like that, Marcus was alone. Cripplingly lonely. Even as the ground rushed to meet him. Even as he could feel his shins jam the rest of his leg bones deeper into his torso. As every single rib splintered and fractured like plywood. As his jaw hit the dashboard, forcing his head backwards until he heard the pop of every single vertebrae. As the glass and metal forced its way through his face, tearing through skin like paper. As the flames sizzled through his nerves until he could feel nothing, and he heard a screaming that was not his own. A screaming that brought so many emotions with it, until he knew that he was worthless and deserved this punishment.
Even through that, the worst feeling was the loneliness.
He shot straight up out of bed, the sheer momentum carrying his bedsheets off the top half of him. He was in his room. No...not his room. He was in Suite 430; the room he'd been given. His stomach was flipping, threatening to force it's way out of his body.
The room was dark, soft moonlight only illuminating a faint portion of the room. He didn't know exactly what time it was, but none of that really seemed to matter as he made a mad dash for the bathroom. If Siena and Callan were around, he hadn't noticed them in his rush. The safety of the porcelain was a welcome sight, even more welcome when his stomach did not stop it's heaving. He'd lost the dice roll this night. At least he had the sense to close the bathroom door so he wouldn't be disturbing his roommates.
He sat on the white tiled floor, breathing heavily, eyes watering and hands shaking. This kind of thing was happening more frequently, and he didn't particularly care for it. He didn't feel like breaking down and sobbing this time, he just felt like giving up.
Siena had, as per her usual, decided that staying up late was fine--well, it had been fine, for all intents and purposes. Though she kept experimentation with her abilities to a minimum with her roommates in mind, Siena had chosen to bury herself, once more, in words. Every night. The later she could push off sleep, the better--shouldn't she feel bad about that? It wasn't as though Brent had left any terms vague when he pointed out that she needed sleep. It had been easier with the presence of new nightmares, ones that she hadn't gotten used to tearing the peace from her rest. Not yet, at least.
There shouldn't have been a yet.
Tater Tot seemed restless, the canine constantly padding near Marcus's bed despite constant, quiet calls to return. To be certain, Siena doubted that the dog was restless for no reason, but she doubted that Marcus would have been thrilled to wake up to a dog perched on his chest. It seemed that every twenty minutes, the ruby-coated canine would rise from his position curled at the foot of Siena's bed to peering at the boy, head cocked and tail half raised...but at least, the dog had eventually drifted off into an energetic dream. The brunette liked to pretend that the small creature dreamed of chasing tennis balls.
It was only a few moments after Callan had returned and all but collapsed into her bed that anything deviated powerfully from the norm.
Marcus shot out of bed, the motion registering as familiar in Siena's head, but her body already moving, tossing aside her reader in favor of her phone, with every bookmark, every defensive option available, her eyes darting from the boy's figure making a wild beeline for the bathroom, his name on the tip of her tongue, but failing to escape before he had vanished. Siena furrowed her brow in concern, halfway off the bed already, Tater Tot having woken with an equally violent start, shaking himself out and looking at the girl with wide, questioning eyes. Heart pounding with adrenaline, mind filled with too many "what ifs", and every fiber of her being knowing what it wanted to do, even if her mind said that it was a poor idea, at best. Conflicted, the girl pushed herself fully from her spot on the bed, eyes drifting toward Callan to gauge what her own reaction should be.
It was another night of rigorous training and, as usual, Callan felt so tired that she could scarcely remember the walk back to her dorm room. Normally she'd stay even longer, but tonight she felt as though everything had somehow managed to catch up with her.
By some stroke of fate, she even decided to forgo the shower that night. Callan collapsed onto the bed in an exhausted heap, not bothering to provide Siena with so much as a wave. Not four seconds passed before the sudden rustling of bedsheets, followed by the frenzied sound of bare feet dashing across the floor, caused her eyes to snap open. Sitting up quickly, she caught a glimpse of disheveled blonde hair disappearing behind the bathroom door, followed by the unmistakable sound of someone retching into the toilet.
She waited for a moment, hand over her mouth as she awkwardly sat there. The toilet finally flushed and she waited a bit more, exchanging a worried glance with Siena, before finally slipping out of bed and approaching the door.
She tapped her knuckles against the door gently, hesitating before she finally said his name. "Marcus?" she asked, "You okay?"
Marcus's head jerked towards the voice behind the door. Of course it would be Callan coming to check on him - it was basically the same scene from the Capture the Flag scene. Pathetic, propped up against the wall beside the toilet as he evaluated his life, and frighteningly close to just giving up. Only this time, the game wouldn't be finished by the time he got out of here. He was still quivering like a frightened schoolchild as he tried to think of some sort of response. Everything shook with residual fear, a feeling that only made himself more irritated. He'd been through these nightmares before, the fact that they still had this much effect on him was a greater look into his psyche than the actual contents. At least it hadn't caused a full-fledged breakdown this time, that would have been a little harder to hide.
"Y-yeah," a good start as his voice immediately caught in his throat, "Yeah. I'm okay. Must've...must've eaten something that didn't agree with me."
Even if he wasn't naturally awful at lying under pressure, the shakiness of his voice still came through perfectly.
Quietly, Siena lowered her phone, allowing it to fall into her sheets as though finally deciding that the situation wasn't quite so dangerous. Her mind buzzed with alternating currents of concern and curiosity, the two twisting into an abomination that Siena doubted she wanted to deal with in depth. A voice in the back of her head told her to be wary of the explanation, but for the moment, she allowed that to slide. She approached Callan, careful in her movements, mind twisting in trying to decide what she wanted to feel in that moment.
"I--" Do not think that food makes anyone react that way. "--don't think he's 'okay' if he just um..." Marking the unpleasant action of losing the contents of one stomach with a faint grimace and a shrug instead of the correct word, Siena allowed another phrase to take its place. "Well, you know." Concern still pulsed in the pit of her stomach, but she gave Callan a weak, wary attempt at a smile. Distant and hollow again, but not because she did not feel what went behind it this time. "I'll see if we have anything that can help his stomach settle."
Because regardless of what had caused the situation, Siena was acutely aware that Marcus likely wasn't keen to hear platitudes and condolences from her, of all people. She lowered her voice to a soft whisper, painted over the thoughts with words that were accurate, but acceptable in the situation.
"He probably doesn't want me crowding him anyways."
"Good idea," Callan nodded gratefully, taking a self-conscious step away from the door. As if Marcus could sense either of them crowding from the other side.
"Uh... do you need some help?" she called out again, unsure of what she could do for him-- only that she agreed with Siena. He definitely didn't sound okay.
"No. I'm..." There was a longer pause here than he would have liked. The rational part of his brain desperately needed attention; someone to just talk to and be there to listen. And yet, he also wanted to avoid talking; maintain the guise that nothing was wrong, even though it meant stewing in his own thoughts. Even if people knew, he could still pretend like they didn't. Deny what was so obvious; he was good at that, at least.
"...I'm good." he finished.
Callan was beginning to feel like she was well on her way to becoming a nuisance. "Are you sure?" she pressed, her voice thick with concern in spite of herself, "Because you really don't sound like it."
Another pause. It was Callan. Of all the people around him, with the varying degrees at which he trusted them, she was still fairly high on his list. Maybe it wouldn't be...
"...no. I'm not." he finally answered, the first truthful statement of the night.
Callan blinked at the door, surprised by the answer, even if it was exactly the one she'd been looking for. She tried to think of a reason why Marcus might not be okay. Determination? Emma wouldn't have changed her mind and told him, right? Or maybe it was something else entirely.
"Did you... wanna come out here and talk about it?" she prodded, nervously pushing her bangs back. She didn't exactly have the best track record when it came to being perfectly open and honest with Marcus. Though not for lack of wanting. She just... didn't want to burden anyone. Brutally aware of how hypocritical she was being, Callan waited.
Marcus let out a silent groan. He didn't really want to go anywhere; this spot was comfortable. Well...maybe not, but he didn't even want to put in the effort to stand up. Still, there were people outside, and even if he had forced Callan away, he couldn't just hide in the bathroom forever.
"Yeah...just give me a second." he said, shaking his head where he sat. He forced himself to his feet, and stood unsure for a moment as he evaluated his balance. On steadier legs, he walked over to the sink to splash some cold water on his face and just think for a moment. His eyes caught his own, looking himself in the mirror; his face. Only, it wasn't; his face didn't have scars or white streaks. This was someone else's face. Every imperfection, every spot of discolored skin, that was someone else's.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Marcus walked towards the door. Taking a deep breath, he swung it open, looking to the aquamarine hair on the other side. His eyes carried the same defeat as they had when she found him in the sewers, with the added redness that came from his previous retching. He said nothing, his brain having failed to come up with anything that might alleviate the concern, instead giving a slightly unsure smile to the girl on the other side.
Hearing the facet come on, Callan glanced towards her bed in alarm. She rushed over and speedily managed to bundle every stray sock and shirt into her comforter and shove it towards the corner. To her credit, the mess could have been much worse. No doubt she owed that to Ernie's cleaning spree before Wisford. Not to mention the fact she'd only really been home to sleep all week-- likely also the reason she was suddenly feeling so out of the loop when it came to her roommate's well being.
Callan quickly resumed her place in front of the door, taking a few hurried steps back when she finally heard the knob turn. Reflexively, she mirrored his smile, relieved to see that he at least seemed physically okay on the outside. "Have a seat in my office," she gestured with a brittle attempt at sounding like an ultra-professional therapist.
Marcus scoffed once, and rolled his eyes. "You have an office now? Didn't realize that you were such a renown consultant." he said, his joke a fair bit dryer than usual. He followed her gestured hand back to the room, sitting heavily on the suddenly available space. Even now, he had no idea what he wanted to talk about. Maybe he should have just said he was fine and gone back to bed. That would have been easier.
"Heh," Callan laughed weakly, mentally kicking herself. Marcus always seemed to know how to lighten a mood-- something she felt she was significantly worse at. You can do this, she encouraged herself, Just listen.
She waited for Marcus to take a seat, steeling herself with a small breath before sitting a good foot or so away.
"So," Callan looked him over worriedly, "Bad dream?"
"Something like that." Marcus said, looking off to the side. He ran his hand nervously through his hair; debating how much he actually wanted to say. "I've been having nightmares for a while now, every so often a really bad one comes around. It's really nothing to worry about." he was starting to backtrack on his decision now. If he just played it off and made Callan think he was okay, he wouldn't have to face the things he'd mentally pushed aside.
'Nothing to worry about'... except Marcus just lost his dinner. Not to mention everything else that seemed off right now. Callan wasn't buying it. And apparently this was a recurring thing? She felt a pang of guilt in trying to reason out how long this might've been going on, regretting having been so distant. But even if she hadn't, it's unlikely he would've opened up to her about it, right?
Callan frowned, leaning forward a bit to try and see his eyes. Searching desperately for an excuse to believe him. Or maybe just some sign of what to say. "What are they about?" she asked instead, immediately feeling a knot in her stomach when she realized that might be too much. "You don't have to tell me!" she added quickly, "I understand if you don't want to.... I just want to help...."
Marcus was consciously aware of the weight on the bed shifting. His eyes darted to meet hers, and then back to the ground. She just wanted to help. And boy did he need it.
"They're..." even as he tried to think of a way to describe them, a small surge of fear coursed through his heart. He didn't want to go back there.
"Do you remember where you were when you got your powers?" Marcus asked, seemingly off topic.
The question caught her off guard. "Y-yeah," Callan looked away, finding her own spot on the floor to look at until Marcus continued.
Oof, not exactly the best of topics. He hadn't exactly meant to make this into a lecture, but it seemed like Callan had her own bad experiences. Perhaps a topic for another time.
"When I got mine, I was basically crippled in a refugee camp. I...didn't have a great time before that." It seemed like a dumb statement, but there really was no way to generalize it. "That's usually where the nightmares come from, if they're not USARILN's doing."
Callan couldn't help it. Her eyes passed over the scars across his cheek and mouth before locking onto sad brown eyes. She'd heard of refugee camps on the news-- never nice stories. Tales galor of broken homes, broken families... broken people.
She could only imagine what he might've gone through. Her heart broke for him.
It took her a moment to find the right words, even if all she came up with was probably the same thing anyone would say. She didn't feel like it was enough considering how badly she wanted to make him feel better, but.. it was all she could do for now.
"Marcus... I'm so sorry."
He watched as her eyes traced over his face. Every little detail, every little mark. When her eyes met his, all he could do was give another pathetic half-smile.
"It's...it's okay. Sometimes it's just hard to escape, you know?"
"Yeah... I get it," she said, thinking for a moment.
"But, you know.... If you ever need help," Callan started, looking down at her hands as she nervously twisted her fingers , "I'm always here for you."
She felt like she might have crossed a line somewhere in saying that, but it was true. And she felt like Marcus really needed to hear it.
"Since we're teammates and all," she added.
"Thanks Callan. I really appreciate that." he'd said the words to enough people before, all wishing their best and saying they'd be there for him. This time though...it felt genuine.
Memories of broken doors and clawed carpets came to mind; the utter panic he'd felt when he feared the worst for her.
"And you know I'm always here if you need me." he added, throwing in his own offer.
"Yeah..." she half sighed dreamily. Hearing him say that made it feel like she had butterflies in her stomach and she almost didn't catch herself staring.
"I mean-- I'm pretty sure you've said that before," Callan added with a nervous laugh. "Anyway, as long as you know."
"I do. And thank you."
As expected, things were probably going more smoothly without her than they likely would have gone with her presence. Siena had made certain to take her time, glad to have given herself the excuse of having to find specific things from the kitchen to buy herself as much time as she needed to stay out of the way. After all, even if she'd managed to say the same things, it wouldn't have been the same result. Empty, disingenuous promises at best. Most of the words were muffled, even with the relative silence of the kitchen after Siena had quickly (and surprisingly easily) managed to locate both the tea she'd been looking for and a few, easily prepared, bland food items.
It was odd--listening in on conversations was something she'd thought would have been left behind without any real reason. Apparently old habits--bad habits?--died hard.
She'd known, to some extent, of when Marcus had received his mark. Remembered it from their brief conversation when she'd been in a self-induced isolation, trapped by her own inability to leave without a source in her hand, but she hadn't realized that he'd been in a refugee camp. The words made her stomach churn, her mind wandering to unpleasant thoughts. Unpleasant. Unwelcome.
'You get to one of 'em after a big disaster or attack, and there's always gonna be someone that wants to get even.'
Careful, even breaths became the focus of Siena's thoughts as she did her best to balance everything on the largest flat surface she could find. All three cups rattled unceremoniously in unison with her own unsteady grip, the small stack of toast sliding precariously about on its plate for a moment before the girl took another deep breath. Careful. Erasing all traces of her own thoughts from her face, the brunette painted on a cautious, concerned expression, stepped back to her roommates, and cleared her throat gingerly to attract their attention. "I managed to find s--"
She was certain that action didn't work nearly as well as the small, four legged creature that bolted past her, trying to leap onto the bed. He failed, having jumped a fraction of a second too early, his front paws scrabbling helplessly at the sheets before he slid off with a small thump. Tater Tot blinked as though he had been betrayed, rolling to his feet and looking up with his tail wagging, mouth open to continue his haphazard panting. Siena, on the other hand, remained frozen in place for a moment before finding it in her to try again.
"O-Or that can happen.."
Callan had nearly forgotten about Siena. The moment she spotted the tea tray rounding the corner, Callan self-consciously slid another inch or so away from Marcus, desperately trying to hide the dopey grin on her face behind a fake cough and the back of her hand. She suppressed a laugh at the sight of Tater Tot's sad attempt at joining them on the bed, almost tempted to pick him up before she remembered how much Marcus disliked dogs. Frankly, Callan thought it was a miracle he hadn't requested a different room by now.
"Sorry, puppy. People only," she chuckled.
Meanwhile, Marcus had flinched at the sudden impact against the bed. Just when he had been starting to calm down, the terrible little thing had come running in to trigger him.
Still; even he couldn't admit that it was a hilarious series of events. The terrifying eyes and teeth squished into eachother at the moment of impact. He snorted a little bit behind his hand, allowing a full-blown chuckle through. What a stupid little monster.
"Er..." Regaining herself with a half exasperated smile and a quiet chuckle to herself at Tater Tot's expense, Siena carefully approached with the tray in hand, the contents now far steadier after a sufficient distraction from thoughts she'd rather not confront. "As I was saying, I thought you might want something to settle your stomach."
Tater Tot gave a small sound by her feet, earning a sidelong glance.
"Not your stomach, Tater Tot..." The canine seemed to accept that, happily sitting on his haunches, tail still wagging. Siena returned her attention to her roommates, expression still set in a flawless imitation of concern. "I'm pretty sure the tea isn't caffeinated, so um...it shouldn't keep anyone up...?"
'Might be better for me if I stay up for a little while.'
"Thank you." Marcus said softly, carefully taking the tea from the tray so it wouldn't spill on Callan's sheets. He waived the toast for now; last thing he wanted to do was make a mess on Callan's...perfectly immaculate bedspread? When had that happened?
"Thanks, Siena," Callan smiled, accepting both some tea and a slice of toast. The lack of caffeine was a little disappointing-- not that she could blame her. Though it definitely would have come in handy on the not-so-off chance Marcus still needed help getting his mind off of whatever had woken him up in the first place. She felt she'd done a pretty good job of hiding it so far, but Callan was plenty exhausted.
Nonetheless.
"Hey, by the way... they just came out with a bunch of new shows on Netflix," Callan offered, looking between Siena and Marcus, "Unless everyone was planning on goin' back to sleep...?"
"Sure, I can stay awake for a little bit." Marcus said, taking a sip of the tea. He reflexively made a small face; it was a little more bitter than he was used to drinks being. He grinned slightly to himself, completely unaware of the connotations of his next sentance.
"Netflix and chiiiiii-" Now he'd realized. Halfway through his sentence, he coughed awkwardly, as if he were trying to distract the two from his own voice. "Hang out. We can just hang out."
He quickly took another sip of tea, hoping nobody had heard him, despite the fact that he knew they had.
Violently blushing, Callan nearly crushed the cup in her hand before Marcus got a chance to warp his wording. Her shoulders relaxed just a bit and she leered at him while taking a quick sip. Man, the tea was kind of bitter, wasn't it?
When nobody else immediately said anything, Callan sighed, shaking her head as she stook up.
"God, you're an idiot," she smirked before turning to Siena, "What about you, Siena? Wanna watch?"
Had she missed something? The expressions and quick changes in mannerisms hadn't escaped her notice, but the brunette was thoroughly confused at to what the cause was. It was hard to cover the utter uncertainty that she felt at the moment.
"U-Um...s-sure?" Still confused. Absolutely and entirely, and notes of it crept into her voice. With no other way to understand what she'd apparently missed, Siena had little choice but to bite the bullet and ask--nothing had sounded incorrect in the conversation. "Um...does 'Netflix and chill' mean something that I'm misunderstanding? I...feel like I missed something."
Marcus had already been trying to bury his face immediately after he made the unfortunate joke, and the sudden question only forced his face to grow redder as he tried to disappear. Suddenly, he was acutely aware of both his roommates watching him, and all he could do was give Callan an apologetic grin.
Immediately, Callan directed her attention towards Marcus with a look that clearly said 'This is your fault'. She waited for him to provide the explaination, but it never came. Instead all she got was a stupid grin.... Stupid, stupid grin.
"It's when you..." Callan started the sentence with no idea how to finish it so she quickly backtracked, "It's a phrase you use when you're... w-when you wanna hook up with someone."
Hook up--she knew that turn of phrase. Siena racked her mind for a moment, expression shifting to one of focus as she fumbled through all the colloquialisms that she'd been exposed to. Hook up, hook up...ah, right, there had been the time that Perkins had used it with the rest of--oh.
A light of realization flickered across her expression as the meaning clicked into place, eyes darting from one roommate to another. Her smile faltered for a moment, and Siena gave a courteous, fake cough as though it would erase the awkwardness of the moment. It did not.
"Oh."
God it was quiet.
It was a moment of silence before Marcus stood up, taking a piece of toast and marching triumphantly towards the living room. "Yes! Netflix! Go!" With any luck, this entire incident would be forgotten. Or the sun would supernova and kill them all.
"Yeah..." Callan rubbed her temple, suffering from the embarrassment of having to explain. She muttered a quick apology to Siena before following after Marcus.
With that awkward situation out of the way, the trio sat down to watch Netflix together; the first Suite activity they'd all had since Wisford. Of course, it was hard for it to feel like a Suite activity - Marcus and Callan had deliberately placed themselves as far away from eachother on the couches as they physically could have. Plus, the addition of Tater Tot guarding the spot between Siena and Marcus had forced the boy further into the armrest of the sofa. Still, it was a pleasant distraction from the nightmares that had begun this whole night. He could almost feel safe in his own dorm room, with the fears of the past thankfully out of mind for now, however brief it was.
Even after Siena left to go take Tater Tot outside, Marcus and Callan still remained on the couch. At one point Marcus had attempted to stammer out some sort of apology, but the eye contact just left the both of them flustered and embarrassed, saying nothing as the TV shows continued on. It was only after a few hours of mindless television had passed that Marcus finally attempted to say something.
"Hey Cal; I just wanted to thank you. It's good to know you've always got my back, and it probably means more to me than-" Except when he looked over to address her, he was met with her snoring face. Who knows how long she'd actually been asleep.
For a moment, Marcus sat in stunned silence. But it didn't take long for him to smile to himself and roll his eyes. He stood up, turned off the television, and slowly made his way back to his bed. He'd had a long night, but he at least felt like he could sleep a little bit easier now. Maybe he'd have another nightmare, but perhaps he'd be okay this time.
Except...there was something he was forgetting.
When Callan woke up later in the day, she'd find a blanket thrown over top of her; one that hadn't been there when she fell asleep.
