Siusan Achillea Landing. Siusan could already feel her hackles begin to raise.
Because it was never really the height itself that was scary, right? Just the fear of splatting the wrong way after that stomach-flipping drop. Easily avoidable if you had the means and enough practice. The deer faunus examined her twin cudgels.
…
Yeaahhh, they wouldn’t be helping with any forest acrobatics any time soon. So ‘means’ was out of the picture. Considering that the tallest thing she’d been around for years was a particularly fortunate tree, ‘practice’ was very much off the list too.
Deep brown eyes surveyed the land before her. No visible Grimm, no clearing in sight, no landing strategy. Bleh. Guess she’d have to go buckwild right off the bat.
A roll of the shoulder punctuated her anxious irritation. Fine by her.
Bio: A child of the desert, Siusan was fortunate enough to be born in Vacuo to a Faunus couple hailing from Vale. She faced little discrimination for her race excluding the occasional schoolyard brawls that shaped the somewhat uncouth parts of her present personality. A survivor through and through, not afraid to beat down or get beaten down in the dog-eat-dog society of her Kingdom. Following a brief stint/expulsion from Vacuo’s primary combat school, Siusan transferred to Mistral’s famous Sanctum Academy, barely able to restrain herself from too many fights in order to graduate. From there, Beacon Academy became her next goal.
Semblance Name: Aillén Dé Danaan Description of Semblance: An almost complete transferral of Aura to one of two functions: Attack or Defence. In Attack Mode Siusan’s strength reaches nearly unstoppable levels, giving her the ability to crush even a Goliath with her bare hands. Her senses are also heightened during this fervor. In Defence Mode her skin becomes impenetrable, her mobility slightly increased. Semblance Limitations: Both enhancements come at a great cost to Siusan’s body. Attack Mode drains her Aura almost completely. Even a single, solid punch to the Faunus would be enough to hospitalise her in this ‘enhanced’ state. Defense Mode inflicts the opposite, draining her of strength in her arms and dulling her senses. Both functions leave her incredibly fatigued at the end of their ten minute duration.
Weapon: Liath and Bodhmall – Two cudgels that combine into a hefty crossbow. At the ends of these weapons are leaden knobs that allow her to unleash devastating crushings unto her enemies. Siusan favours its dual wielded cudgel form, its weighty blows bringing her great satisfaction. They also make effective walking sticks in her often fatigued state. Due to her confrontational nature, the crossbow form is rarely used. Favoured Dust Element: Lighting and Fire
Other: Favourite food is clam chowder. Ambidextrous.
Bio: A child of the desert, Siusan was fortunate enough to be born in Vacuo to a Faunus couple hailing from Vale. She faced little discrimination for her race excluding the occasional schoolyard brawls that shaped the somewhat uncouth parts of her present personality. A survivor through and through, not afraid to beat down or get beaten down in the dog-eat-dog society of her Kingdom. Following a brief stint/expulsion from Vacuo’s primary combat school, Siusan transferred to Mistral’s famous Sanctum Academy, barely able to restrain herself from too many fights in order to graduate. From there, Beacon Academy became her next goal.
Semblance Name: Aillén Dé Danaan Description of Semblance: An almost complete transferral of Aura to one of two functions: Attack or Defence. In Attack Mode Siusan’s strength reaches nearly unstoppable levels, giving her the ability to crush even a Goliath with her bare hands. Her senses are also heightened during this fervor. In Defence Mode her skin becomes impenetrable, her mobility slightly increased. Semblance Limitations: Both enhancements come at a great cost to Siusan’s body. Attack Mode drains her Aura almost completely. Even a single, solid punch to the Faunus would be enough to hospitalise her in this ‘enhanced’ state. Defense Mode inflicts the opposite, draining her of strength in her arms and dulling her senses. Both functions leave her incredibly fatigued at the end of their ten minute duration.
Weapon: Liath and Bodhmall – Two cudgels that combine into a hefty crossbow. At the ends of these weapons are leaden knobs that allow her to unleash devastating crushings unto her enemies. Siusan favours its dual wielded cudgel form, its weighty blows bringing her great satisfaction. They also make effective walking sticks in her often fatigued state. Due to her confrontational nature, the crossbow form is rarely used. Favoured Dust Element: Lighting and Fire
Other: Favourite food is clam chowder. Ambidextrous.
Zoe didn't stop the rot as Kadabra lifted the building.
Perhaps in a better state of mind, she would have known that the danger was over, that the movement of the building was from a friend. That Allison had fallen unconscious, and would be unable to flee no matter how much 'encouragement' she offered. That there was nowhere else for them to go as the building floated above the city. As it was, Zoe absorbed none of that, only a sense of white-hot panic as their situation seemed to become even more precarious.
So she kept going, her breathing rapid and panicked. This was necessary, hurting them, if it meant they'd make it out alive. They couldn't fight something this powerful, she couldn't protect them. She'd be the last one alive again. It wasn't right. They had to leave-- Why wouldn't they leave?
"It's not safe here. You have to go, please, I don't want you to die--" Muttering just loudly enough to be heard, desperation to save them from a fight that she didn't realise was over. But there was laughter there too, the sick undercurrent of enjoyment that came with hurting those she cared for. This was the best way, they wouldn't leave if she just told them to, they never did. Efficiency, prioritising. That was the key, it was always the key. "Hurry up."
He had expected more. Though it would have been awful, he had expected so much more than just...
The gun dissolved in his hand, reduced to atomic dust, red, angry marks emerging, an imprint of what the gun once was. Before him, the crusher mage's head had vaporized, leaving a deep hole that a plume of flame jetted out from. The all too unnecessary third overclock.
And once the crusher mage was gone...
If the slime is up and the crusher is dead, we're fine.
Zoe was no longer needed.
Brent's eyes turned from the unconscious Allison to the blighted Gregory. Already, the slime's gelatinous mass was being crushed by a man who tossed mountains like baseballs. No contest now. They were done. All too easy. This was what he needed to do. Sacrifice blood and material wealth for victory. A deep sigh hissed out between his teeth as he clenched his burnt hand, relishing pain, revolted by agony. His left reached for the stun gun, silver circuitry once again overwriting the scientific limitations of the weapon.
"Alright," Brent replied, observing a distance of two meters. "Thanks for holding out as long as you did, Zoe."
At such a distance, he wouldn't miss, even if shooting with his left.
...
When Zoe fell over, Brent turned his smile towards Gregory.
"How's that stigma? Need me to knock you out as well?"
Tunnel vision kept Gregory from feeling the burning that crawled over his skin courtesy of Zoe, and even her words barely registered in his ears. Dangerous up here? They'd just given their position away. If the two didn't die here then, as morbid as it was, he'd rather Zoe send her rot straight through his head than suffocate while being melted alive in the slime.
The sight of success was enough for excitment to blot out the sensation of his skin, though relief once Kadabra joined in broke Gregory's focus. Slapping a hand over his burning back was a horrible idea as the squelch of broken down skin and flesh filled his ears along with an awful stench. To say nothing of the pain from touching an open and spreading wound. Stumbling to keep upright he fumbled around for the pile of firearms even as the entire building rumbled and rose. "You're the one kili-"
Stopping mid-yell as Zoe twitched from the delivered shock, Gregory glanced at Brent with a frown before he shook his head and sighed. "Yapping away as usual, but no." he muttered before gritting his teeth at the Precursor's words. Taking another deep breath as he glanced at the two unconscious Aberrations, his hand reached up to rub at his own X before he caught himself and stopped. Grumbling something underneath his breath, he tried to find some way to stand comfortably with a chunk of his upper body rotted raw.
"Got it," Brent nodded. A first aid kit would have been really helpful right about now, wouldn't it? Another oversight. If Zoe had gone a little too far with her magic, Gregory and Allison would have bled out by the time Kadabra delivered them to the evacuation point. He'd grown too dependent on thinking that healers could get them out of the situation. Hadn't Ernie carried such a kit with him basically everywhere? Had it available and knew how to use it?
Something new to learn then. When things finally quieted down? No, he had to do it as soon as possible. Gun training as well. There was no guarantee, after all, that they would even return to USARILN East now.
Not after the show Evacuation Group pulled off.
Shaking his head, Brent walked off, back towards the elevator shaft. Throughout the entire fight with the slime, the pleas for help from those within the stopped elevator hadn't stopped, a background ambience of terror that was easily overlooked in the heat of the moment. Now though? If Evacuation was so hellbent on completely destroying the public's trust in Unit B, he had to make up for that. Ensure that the Slime Team had some good rep, at least. Carve them out as the exception to the rule.
Arbitrarily approaching the steel doors, Brent placed his hand against the door and applied his power once more. Twice. Thrice. And on the fourth application, the door warped beyond repair, disintegrating beneath his grasp. And what laid behind that door? The regulars within, pressing themselves against the opposite wall, eyes wary and judgmental. They hadn't been a floor higher or a floor lower or stuck inbetween floors. They just had the fortune and misfortune of having the elevator stop as soon as they entered.
All too easy. He had expected more.
"W-wh-" One of the businessmen began, pale-faced at the sight of the armed subnatural.
"Ah," Brent smiled, "Don't worry, sir. All known threats have been dealt with by Unit B and Kadabra. I'm...Proteus, and we're currently being transferred t-"
A bespectacled woman, looking past him, gasped suddenly at the prone bodies of Allison and Zoe, as well as the flesh-rotten form of Gregory.
"-o the evacuation point," the arbiter continued, before stepping aside. "Feel free to make yourself comfortable. We'll be arriving shortly."
"Those people," the man began again, sliding past Brent as if he was trying to stay as far away from him as possible, "are they s-"
"My teammates," Brent cut in, continuing to smile genuinely and pleasantly, "The battle has been hard on them. Now, if you c-"
"Let us down." As if emboldened by the arbiter's relenting tone, an elderly individual spoke up. "I will not stand to be in the same building as the subnaturals that brought ruin to the city! Anyways, isn't that woman over there the lunatic that almost killed a reporter?"
Brent blinked, before shaking his head. "Ah, it's easy to get those two mixed up, but this isn't Zoe. And down below...well, that's a little..."
"What?"
"All known threats have been dealt with, but there's still the possibility of an unknown threat appearing, sir. That's why the Precursors are escorting you back. If my team makes you uncomfortable, feel free to relocate to one of the upper floors. The lower ones have been damaged during the conflict."
The old man narrowed his eyes. "No," he said, with a decisive shake, "If there're unknown threats, shouldn't you lot be down there looking for them? We should be escorted, not you! Take responsib-"
The amethyst-eyed youth sighed, pulled out one of three remaining guns, flicked the safety off, and...maintained his smile.
That shut the senile bastard up fast enough. The businessman who spoke up first had also broke out in cold sweat, while the remaining occupants of the elevator cab were quick to file out, avoiding eye contact as they went up the adjacent stairwell.
"Y-you aren't going to..." Alone now with a subnatural, bravery was in short supply, previous demands dying in his leathered throat.
"We're tasked with saving lives, sir," the arbiter said, "That's why my team's here."
"R-right."
"Would you like me to help you up?"
With the few scraps of composure left in him, he shook his head, walking off as quickly as his knees could afford.
As that trembling back disappeared into the shadows of the stairwell, Brent flicked the safety on once more, a mixture of satisfaction and irritation boiling within him. Ah, that was a bit fun, at least. If Angelic hadn't been so murderous and threatening, perhaps he could have played the loose cannon archetype instead. Got some results from there. For now though, the brunette pulled up a swivel chair, sat down, and leaned back.
The throbbing of his right hand continued to gnaw at the back of his mind. Ambidexterity. He should learn that as well.
A figure in camouflage floated outside the window, ragdoll-like in his flight before he was dispensed onto the subnatural's floor. Ernie blinked, taking only a moment to regain his balance as he reached solid ground. Kadabra's fine control was no joke, huh?
With a sigh, the Aberration surveyed the room's unconscious inhabitants, eyes lingering first on Zoe, then Gregory and Allison's bleeding forms.
"What the fuck?" he grimaced. It sounded less like an exclamation and more like a genuine question as to what the hell had happened here.
"Oh, Ernie!" Brent hopped off from his seat, the wheels squealing as it spun away. "Glad you're around. Wouldn't happen to have a medkit on you, would you?"
"Huh?" Ernie looked up, still looking horrified from what he'd seen. Again? Why the fuck was Brent so casual about this? That sensation of paranoia returned briefly, though he shoved it away in favor of the current situation.
With one last withering glance at the redhead, Ernie nodded and unclipped the kit, starting to unpack it. "How did this even happen?"
"Zoe half-lost her mind and tried to force Allison and Gregory to run away after their job was done by using her power...gently?" The arbiter shrugged, before waving the blonde aberration over. "Anyways, it looks bad, but it's not life-threatening. Knocked her out before she could fully go off the rocker."
He paused, contemplative.
"Think she got better, compared to Wisford. But that might be optimistic."
"She could have fucked off herself, instead of trying to threaten people away," Ernie muttered, gesturing at Gregory to remove his shirt, "The Factory mission isn't a point of comparison any of us should be using. By that logic, a couple of melted thumbs would be better than Wisford. Doesn't change the fact that she's a fucking psycho."
His hands clenched around the roll of bandage. He was starting to run low, thanks to a certain ginger and her motel freakout.
"This class is full of nutjobs. Hazel and Sander... fuck, even Angelique."
The Senators at least took out any dissenters before they could cause more shit. What the fuck was he meant to do here with USARILN, where all the weapons of mass destruction had free reign to fuck up whatever they wanted? Ernie turned to Brent. There was too much in his furious expression, emotion that he didn't know how to release. Fear. Sadness.
Betrayal.
"You heard, right?"
Quirking a brow at Ernie's reaction, Gregory looked at Brent dubiously before nodding towards Allison instead. "No point in bandaging if we're getting Christmas'd or something in a bit. She probably hit her head on the way down though, didn't check."
He didn't disagree with Ernie's points either, but whatever he had to say on the matter would probably just piss the other Aberration off even further. Nutjobs and unhinged they might have been, but far too useful ones to simply get tossed aside. It didn't help that they'd only get worse until they became Animi if he wasn't remembering things wrong from the site either.
Tilting his head, Gregory leaned back against a table carefully and grimaced before asking, "Sounded like a bunch of crap was coming from the cuffs, but couldn't really pay attention to it. Did they run into a mob of panicked civilians or something?"
Ernie fiddled around, searching for his smelling salts. Probably wasn't a good idea to undress an unconscious girl without her permission. The memory was branded into his head and he breathed deeply as he recalled. "From what I saw, 'panicked civilians' probably is the best way to put it. There were... a lot, more than I could even count before Kadabra picked me up. Probably ganged up on the evac team. And all of them were just..."
Inhuman. The blood. The lifeless eyes. Fucking mounds of flesh that merely resembled the living. There was an unreasonable divide between life and death, one that made the boy's breath hitch uncontrollably. He hated seeing them.
"There were just so many, Ernie half-whispered, "Bleeding from their heads, their ears. Must have gotten their eardrums ruptured or some shit. Then there were a bunch that got crushed by fallen cars. That's not something you do to a Reg without aiming to kill. I don't...fuck, I don't know what they were thinking. I've never seen anything like that, anything so..."
Reckless. Vindictive. Excessive. Words he'd see on a vocab test and not on a list he'd use to describe the people he thought were his friends.
"Self-indulgent," he decided, practically spitting the word out.
Exhaling slowly as Ernie explained, Gregory glanced at the building's edge and won- Clicking his tongue as he caught himself, he couldn't bring himself to be too surprised at what had happened. It still sucked to see what sort of effect the aftermath had on the other Ab though, and he frowned as he had to strain his hearing to catch what was being said. Was it fortunate that his imagination was vivid enough to paint a scene for him just from the description he heard? Had they been trying to block off the civilians from getting to them, but dropped the cars when the situation had gotten out of hand?
Cutting his speculation short, Gregory was a bit taken aback by the heat in Ernie's voice, and he forced himself to stand up despite the pain and discomfort. "Don't think that's going a bit far?" He asked as he dropped himself into a chair that hadn't gone skidding out and pushed himself over.
Ernie gave the blond a strange look. He was the one going too far? His classmates had slaughtered dozens for...he didn't even know why. He couldn't even give them the benefit of the doubt and call it an accident.
He said none of it out loud. Instead, he turned back to Allison, sighing a resigned "I don't know. I don't know if I want to care anymore."
Sliding to a stop next to the two with a bit of a spin, Gregory ignored the way his back protested as he leaned against the backrest. "It is a lot easier to not give a damn," he agreed as he raised his left hand and stared at the splotches of decayed skin.
"This outcome was probably bound to happen with such a large group of subnaturals though, considering the fuss that was raised when we moved into town." Kadabra's control was steady enough that Gregory barely even moved as he started to ramble on a bit.
The discussion was interrupted by a pained groan as Zoe shifted, slowly pushing herself up into a sitting position.
The redhead looked disoriented, but fear seemed to override that as she got her bearings. Catching sight of her teammates, it became pure confusion - she barely even registered Ernie's presence. "You're okay?" It didn't make sense. They were still here, hadn't fled, but they were alive. It didn't seem that anything else had happened to them, beyond the patches of decay that littered their skin. Finally, without the haze of her stigma, she realised the danger had stopped long ago.
It had stopped the moment the slime died. Even as the corners of her mouth attempted to lift into a smile at the sight of her teammates, Zoe herself was disgusted. Again. She wasn't supposed to do it again. God, she wanted to vomit.
Damn it, why the fuck did they save me?
Zoe wasn't sure if the others had noticed her sitting up, but she glanced over regardless. For all her earlier conviction, the girl looked sickened at her own actions. Clenching her fist so the glass shards dug into her palm. There was a lot of blood seeping between her fingers, but it wasn't life-threatening. Her stigma wouldn't let her if it was. As the pieces seemed to come together, she spoke slowly. "No-one had to get hurt this time, did they? Not like before." Not like Wisford.
So Angelic had been involved as well.
No, that was a stupid thought. He knew she was involved. She literally screamed her threats over the cuffs, and there was no way in hell he could have mistaken those superpowered screams as something coming from anywhere else. How irredeemably dislikable. After going out of his way to offer her help, after she tried constantly to be a 'good Abe', after he twisted logic enough to temporarily absolve her of the full weight of the Montreal incident, after all that...
Hah. He didn't want to admit that someone he liked, someone he wanted to rise above just decided to walk off the edge all by herself. The way Ernie worded it, Evacuation Team sounded like they had all turned into terrorists. And here he was, more displeased with a friend's regression than the lives that such a mistake caused. Here he was, trying to think about how to turn things around instead of simply...feeling.
Brent forced himself to drop the smile that was about to emerge, eyes flickering to Zoe instead, warily reaching for the stun gun once more. Too little. Next would be two overclocks.
But the red-haired girl seemed calm, or at least disorientated enough to appear so.
"Wasn't bound to happen," Brent said, head tilting towards Gregory, "Someone could have stopped Angelic. There was Marcus there too. Kusari. Sophia. Lawrence. Siena. Grant. Lots of options. Who else..."
Wasn't willing to pull the trigger on a classmate?
"...was involved?"
He blinked.
"And yeah, Zoe. Nothing outside of superficial wounds. Your hand alright?"
"If it was gonna make me bleed out, I wouldn't have been able to do it." Zoe's eyes were becoming clearer now; It seemed she knew where she was, at the very least. She still wasn't quite looking at the others as she reopened her fist and began to pull out the shards with a small smile that, given the whole situation, was ever-so-slightly creepy. "I mean that I didn't have to hurt you guys at all. Danger was over. Pointless."
The last word of the statement didn't just apply to her own actions, but what their classmates had done. It wasn't the body count that bothered her, rather how wasteful their attack must have been. But she should have expected it, shouldn't she? Angel had started listening to her, and maybe that was enough. Zoe chuckled, tossing aside a blood-coated glass fragment. "Whole thing's rotten, huh?"
"Yeah, would be nice if it didn't," Gregory agreed as he glanced between Brent and the now-awoken Zoe, "but mob mentality's a hell of a thing." It was probably a bit too callous to think of dozens dead as a "Play stupid games, win stupid prizes," sort of situation. Well, it was hard to make any real judgements without knowing both sides of the story.
"Situation's pretty much," he remarked offhandedly as he wondered the sort of fallout that was going to follow this whole incident. Would any of the others get thrown under the bus as a cost? Drumming his fingers atop the table, he fell silent as he watched the buildings pass by as Kadabra carried them along.
"Rotten."
That was another good word. And though Ernie stubbornly ignored all the self-awareness Zoe was displaying, he could at least agree with her on that.
" 'Soldiers will be waiting for us there and shoot us on sight'," he mused, talking bitterly and turning to the others, "What do you guys think? Is this class special enough to avoid a firing squad? Even Regulars have been executed for less."
"There are...chambers," Brent said, "underneath the hospital. They keep the more dangerous ones down there. Sedated and such. Probably as a last resort."
He let out a whistle, kicking away a shard of glass. A little cold? A little too pragmatic? A little too cruel, already envisioning a split in those within Unit B, those who proved themselves 'useful' and those who proved themselves 'dangerous'.
"I think we're in the clear," the arbiter said, gesturing to the general vicinity, "But I can imagine the others getting such treatment afterwards. Collared like Hazel, however much that would help, or even tossed into USARILN's dungeon. At least..."
He flinched. Was he so fine with imagining evacuation team being tossed underneath a bus and consigned to true imprisonment just because enough 'important' pieces, Sander, Callan, Chris, and Zoe, weren't involved in that incident?
"...that's better than death."
A prison within a prison, filled with the worst East could offer. Was it bad that Ernie admired Zhang's pragmatism in this moment?
They deserve it.
They did. But he wasn't going to voice it where everyone could hear. He chuckled morbidly instead.
"I guess hanging underground with a corpse-eater would be punishment enough. The smell's terrible."
Ernie knew Hector? Brent's eyebrows lifted momentarily, before cracking a smile of his own.
"Least they won't be rooming with the kid. Dude has no idea how to organize his toybox."
Ernie's turn to be surprised.
"Wait, the corpse-eater is a kid? You've been down there?"
"Wait, how do you know about him if you haven't been down there?"
"Uh, Emma told us before the Factory mission. Reasons to not die or something like that," Ernie racked his brains. There was only one 'kid' he knew of at East. Something about 'clearing bodies' had been mentioned in the chatroom, "Don't tell me that Hector guy is the one."
"Yup, he is. Had some giant Tumor wannabe in the room with him as well. Paid him a visit like, on my second night or so in USARILN with Emma, and I'm pretty sure that made her bonkers."
Emma and Brent hung out? And he also knew that she was a secret ass? Oh, thank god. Ernie's weak smile broke wider. Man, this whole ordeal had made him stupidly desperate for normal conversation. He sat facing the windows, watching the city go by.
"Hey, how come you got the VIP tour? I was dragged off the truck and into a calculus class on my first day!"
Brent scratched the back of his head, recalling those unpleasant and embarrassing details. "Man, it's a super silly story now that I think about it, but it's like...Emma wanted to know where people went when they died, and I had nothing better to do, so I asked around a bunch and we more or less lucked out with meeting this guy called Clark. He knew where to go, lead us there, and BAM, underground cells carrying crazy kids."
"Probs woulda gotten more, if Emma hadn't started laughing maniacally and got us both tazed." Brent shrugged. "Woke up in a cell just in time for Freddie to come and smacktalk us for being curious. And from that day on, I'm pretty sure Emma wants me to slip down a flight of stairs and impale myself on an umbrella."
"Seriously? Dude, she said she'd let me die if it came down to another fight with rogue mages. Like not even in a joking way."
Ernie wondered if this was in violation of their ceasefire, telling this to not only Brent but Zoe and Greg too. But even then he couldn't say he cared too much. He was just glad someone else, Brent especially, saw Emma for who she really was. The others would have found out in their own time anyway, if she was truly as 'bonkers' as Brent was claiming.
"I don't know how to act around her. She might be nice sometimes but...man, that good girl shit reeks."
"Wait, this was after Wisford? Geez, that's pretty fucking nasty, considering all the shit that went down." Brent shook his head, surprised that anyone would have said something like that after what had happened to Savannah. "Really hoping that Marcus doesn't get screwed over by her. Dude deserves hella more than a bipolar weakling."
A loaded pause, as Ernie's thoughts flickered to Cal, then to the scarred Arbiter. Sure, Marcus was a dummy for dating Emma but...
Those trigger-happy bastards deserve each other.
Nah, interfering with relationships was...it wasn't good, right? Marcus and Cal were his friends. And Emma was sort of one too...?
Thoughts for another time. For now, Ernie managed a small laugh. "Heh...yeah, for real."
"Mhmm. Maybe a miracle will happen," Brent said, turning towards the cityscape that had become so distorted. "But I'm not holding my breath."
His hands stuck themselves in the pockets of his dark trousers, churchwear out of place with military hardware.
"Least she's not as irredeemable as Chris."
"Oh really?" Ernie quirked an eyebrow. A full-blown gossip session over the battered remains of a metropolis. This was happening now? Not that he was complaining. He welcomed it. Anything to block out what he'd seen, "He didn't go on a punching spree, did he?"
"Naw, not talking about that," Brent said, waving off that particular incident. He scratched his chin, thinking for a moment about the ramifications of sharing such details, before deciding that, yeah, of course he was going to bitch about it.
"He got me in the buffet room and basically told me to back off from Siena...but the scaly bastard doesn't even have the balls to ask her out in person! Like, nevermind the fact that I only like her, but holyyyy, I swear. Dude almost makes Emma sound like a saint! And hell! Thought he had hots for Angelic the entire time!"
Not asking someone out in person? Ernie was far from an expert on these things but that did seem kinda shady. Easy to lure someone out and scam them that way.
"Isn't there some kind of 'all's fair' rule for this stuff?" Ernie wondered out loud. Never mind the Angelique stuff, he wanted to hear how his friend dealt with a loser like this, "Did you kick his ass at least? The guy's built like a plastic straw."
"Pretty sure I could just bend his back over my knee and snap him, yeah," Brent laughed, "But I wanted to give him a chance, you know? So I told him where Siena was staying and all. Dared him to confess right there. Thought I'd light a fire up his ass and get him to man up...and you know what ends up happening instead?"
Ernie's eyes lit up. "Aw, this is gonna be good."
"I come up a couple minutes later, and the dude's left a letter there instead!"
Brent raised his hands up, gesticulating in exasperation.
"There was a comfy ass sofa he coulda sat his skinny shithole on, but apparently the dude's so busy being a grungy snake that he couldn't even just wait for Siena to come back! Probably creamed himself in relief when he realized that she wasn't there, so he could take the bitch-route and fuck off into a closet instead."
Yeah, this was so much better than thinking about a future where evacuation team got punished for all the crap they pulled.
"Just...gah! Is it weird that I'm making such a big deal of it or something, Ernie?"
It wasn't. Ernie knew this jig they were dancing well. A big, fat distraction. It was working fantastically.
"Nothing weird about looking out for a friend, dude," he shrugged after failing to hold in his laughter at Brent's exasperation, "I don't think a guy that can't even ask someone out properly can handle an actual relationship. It's Siena's problem to deal with at the end of the day.
He snickered, mischievousness rising. "If we're being honest here, I wouldn't've thought the guy who strips naked to use his power would get embarrassed so easily. But the world's a weird place," A grin before something occurred to him. "Sayyyy, how did you even find out about the letter, you sly bastard?"
"Oh, that?" Brent's grin widened, all toothy and a little bit mean-spirited, "Siena and I have like, real fucked up sleeping schedules, so I basically roomed with her. How else do you think I knew her room number?"
The Aberration's eyebrows rocketed up with glee. He gave the Arbiter a playful punch on the shoulder. "Awww shit, you really are sly! So did she end up reading it?"
"I mean, it wasn't even planned...but it certainly was lucky," Brent said, before scoffing at Ernie's later statement. "And of course she didn't read it. No way in hell I gave Chris a chance to man up, only for him to use purple prose to poetically propose his passion."
"He...no way, he didn't write a poem, did he?"
"I'll leave it to your imagination~"
As Zoe finally pulled the last shard from her palm, she listened to the others' conversation with interest. What she heard actually surprised her slightly, though she didn't really care about the pair being discussed. Or more accurately, she had an idea of them, and she didn't think she liked it much. But nonetheless, she was surprised as she finally - properly - noted Ernie's presence along with the conversation topic. It annoyed her, but as their talk seemingly reached a conclusion, part of Zoe knew it would be better to keep her mouth shut.
She very rarely listened to that part.
"Thought you and Emma would've gotten along, Ernie." Words came out before she could stop them, what little filter Zoe had lost somewhere in the mess of blood and pain. "You've got a lot in common. Hiding, running away, letting everyone else do your jobs for you..."
Ernie blinked, turning to the redhead with an eyebrow raised. He didn't recall ever messing with her, or hearing of any news of her disputes with Emma. "And what's that supposed to mean?"
The redhead glared at him, her irritation apparent. What, was he playing dumb now? "Let's start with Wisford, seeing as you're so hung up on that. You didn't actually give a damn about helping anyone - practical concern? Bullshit. You just wanted to run away. Yeah, I hurt Callan, because the others just sat there watching, because lives were on the line and every second mattered. Seconds that you made me waste because you couldn't stand the idea of having no-one to hide behind."
"I didn't hear you with any of the other groups, either. Probably spent this fight doing the same thing. But you know what really pisses me off? Lily." Zoe's tone was level, and that was perhaps more dangerous than her usual ferocity. Struggling to her feet, she glared at Ernie. "Lily didn't know who did that to me. Lily probably lay there wondering if we were being preyed on by god-knows-what, because Emma was too busy trying to run away, and you couldn't even make sure she knew what was going on. And don't tell me there wasn't time, because you sure as hell had time to tell her to change her fucking shirt."
"She...didn't know?" Ernie paled in disbelief at her complete lack of situational awareness. Another talk he needed to have after. As for the rest...
"That...that's not even my fault, okay? I asked Emma to check on her because I was cleaning up the mess caused by your bullshit. Hell, she was the one that brought her in the first place. How was I supposed to know she didn't know? Take that shit up with with her; I'm the one who stuck around to actually try to fix things. And what? You think I was gonna let an Aberration walk around a motel swarmed with USARILN guards in blood-covered clothes?!"
He honestly hadn't even considered that at the time. It was just damn gross.
"She's more unstable than you'd believe. I'm sure the guards have files on that shit so they wouldn't have hesitated to take her out and poke around to see who she fucking maimed. So don't try to shove that on me. And don't you dare say I don't give a damn."
Ernie got to his feet too. Slight mistake. Zoe was a few inches taller and built like a freaking panther. But he kept his resolve. She wasn't completely wrong but she wasn't going to know that.
"I held you back because I'm not stupid enough to let a classmate who'd probably never been a mage fight enter an outnumbered match. And you know what? It's honestly funny because back in that shithole you actually had me convinced that you cared. You were begging to help and then the next thing I know, Cal almost bleeds to death and then this happens!" He gestured wildly at Gregory and Allison.
"I might have retreated but the only wrong decision I made back there was not holding you back longer and knocking your ass out before you hurt any of my friends."
"You think I don't care? Fuck you."
Zoe shook her head. In a way, he was right, but not how he thought. It wasn't that she didn't care to help them, didn't care to stop hurting them-- It was that she didn't know how. Because the only way anything ever got done was with brutality, and to think otherwise was naive. Wrong. It had to be wrong.
"You know what I saw when I got to that battlefield? I saw my classmates floating above a fucking deathtrap and Lawrence, one of the only people who tried to help me, with a hole straight through him. I didn't know if he was alive or dead. The kid was already gone, and the others weren't stopping it." Zoe looked frustrated, and it bled through to her tone. "Yeah, I'd do it differently if I had the chance. But at least I did something, and that's more than I can say for you."
"I'm not gonna spend my life begging for forgiveness, so think what you like. You probably only care so long as you're losing people to hide behind, you cowardly piece of shit." Perhaps that was paranoid, thinking the worst of people so easily. But you judged others by your own standards. "None of this was for my sake, none of it was just because I felt like it. Have I screwed up? Yeah. Am I fucked in the head? No-one knows that better than I do. But whether you believe me or not, I've been trying to protect you guys."
This was pointless. He'd already revealed more than he wanted to about Lily. Made big claims he couldn't take back. It was pointless because everything they were throwing at each other were truths that weren't going to fix either of them. He knew he was a fucking coward and he knew that he'd been hiding since the day Devon shoved a mop into his hands. What the fuck did she want from him?
Ernie grit his teeth as she ranted. This bitch clearly didn't know how to face anything in a way that didn't involve rushing in headfirst. So fucking stupid. All her cards were on display and she didn't even care. He'd seen that desperation, that determination at Wisford. He was seeing it now. So when Zoe declared that she'd been protecting them, Ernie scoffed. Because what was the fucking point?
Despite everything, he knew what a Stigma could do to someone. He just knew that despite her actions and unlike him, Zoe was a shitty liar. So he believed her. And he hated that. Because what would his opinion change?
"Then start acting like it," he said curtly, the heat having left his words, "Keep that shit directed at the monsters and Ground Zero folks. Maybe someone else would believe you then."
"I'm not sure it'd be a good thing if they did." Because then they'd start to trust her. They might start to care. They'd be vulnerable, exposed, and all it would take was one slip. Bursting veins. A torn out throat. The shuddering, whimpering body of someone that thought they loved her, bundled in a too-large coat. "Truth is..."
I'm scared. I don't want to be like this.
I'm strong. I did what had to be done.
Cowardice. Conviction. Neither were voiced. Instead, she sighed, speaking as though it were the easiest thing in the world to understand. "Someone has to play the villain, and people like me don't get happy endings. Thought I could keep the others from ending up the same." Hurt crept into her voice, remembering what their teammates had done. A bitter laugh. "Fat lot of good that did."
He looked at her impatiently. This was something too familiar, someone he knew driving themself into a corner. Stupid.
"Obviously your villain act isn't up to scratch," he remarked, "No one here was willing to shoot you through the torso so that's a no-go."
She did care. To the point of losing herself, which was more than Ernie could ever say for himself.
"Look. There are people here who...give a shit," He didn't include himself in that group but that wasn't important here. "They don't want you getting hurt, especially if you're doing it to yourself. That's why we're all in this building here, right? We're gonna learn from this. We're gonna talk instead of running around in circles next time and if it's distance you actually need then you'll get it."
Internally, he laughed at himself. What hypocritical shit was he going on about now?
"In my experience, trying to decide who deserves a happy ending only ends up making everyone want it more. There's no need to think about it so hard. You care too much to play the villain anyway. No way you're winning any Oscars with that."
It was a shame he couldn't say the same for the evacuation team. They really had him fooled.
"That probably makes me more dangerous, not less. If I didn't care, I'd probably be a lot better at looking after you guys. Passion's unpredictable." Her ruthlessness wasn't born from detachment, but protectiveness. And that meant that she wouldn't let go of them. That she'd happily paint a city in blood if it meant they'd survive another day. "Sometimes caring means you do what you have to do. Carrying the burdens. Pulling the trigger."
No, caring didn't stop her from being a monster. "The road to hell, isn't it? If I didn't give a damn, it'd be a lot easier." Zoe sighed. Fact was, she wasn't worth shit. Only violence, only destruction. And if she couldn't destroy herself to keep them safe, she was more than happy to let the world destroy her in their place. Her gaze flitted to Gregory, and then Allison. "I'm not really someone you want caring for you."
"You don't always have to be the one to make that decision," Ernie replied, "But I guess you're right. Sounds like a lot less work when you've run out of shits to give. Unfortunately for yourself, you don't seem like the type to take the easy road at all."
He looked away. This was too familiar.
"Looking after people without caring, huh? Not many people can manage that."
He was probably right. And she knew she couldn't stop herself from caring far too much. For a brief second, Zoe looked as though she wanted to say more, but eventually settled on silence.
"Are you all done?" A cold, tired voice eminated up from the crumpled form of Allison Revel. She felt as if she had just been hit by a truck, all the energy drained from her body leaving her in an exhausted pile on the ground. She had been lying there for what felt like forever, not exactly sure when she rose back into consciousness, though it had seemed that no one had noticed when she did, as their gossiping and arguing must have been very important. "Can someone please help me up?" It took her a moment to get out the words between laboured breaths.
"Yeah," Brent offered a hand, glancing over at the silent Ernie and Zoe duo, "You feeling alright now? Or still dead on the inside?"
"I'm fine," Allison said before grabbing Brent's hand and lifting herself off the floor, wincing at the sharp pain that flew over her back as she did. She shrugged off his comment and tried to stand on two wobbly legs, using Brent to balance herself. Her back was on fire, the pain only compounded by her exhaustion. She refrained from looking at the others, finding the floor to be a more welcoming sight. She had too many things to focus on. The pain, her exhaustion, Zoe's actions, their victory, and everything she had just heard. None of this had to happen. "I'm fine," she quietly repeated, moving away from Brent, her legs just stable enough to carry her.
Oh, this was familiar, wasn't it? Brent's eyes narrowed, before pulling a chair over. Allison, what were her relationships with Evacuation Team again? He couldn't recall much of anything, but he also doubted that she had absolutely no friendships within that group of civilian-crushers. "Who're you trying to convince here? Yourself?" he said, not unkindly, "Take a seat at least. Deserve a break after the shit you managed to do."
"Thanks." Allison muttered, lowering herself into the seat. She took a moment to gauge her surroundings, something that her place on the ground had not allowed her to do. The building was, indeed, being lifted towards the evac point. It was probably the least important piece of information she had gained in the past few minutes. She had somehow earned a front row seat to the "People with Awful Morals" convention, listening to people she should be able to call allies tear each other apart. And Angel... Allison didn't want to believe it, but if it was true, then she was as right as ever. Good people don't exist. How often would she learn that lesson?
Allison shrunk down in her silence, leaning forward in the chair, resting her arms on her legs. Maybe it was just a dire situation, maybe an accident. Allison gave Ernie a second chance, so why not Angel? That didn't matter, not right now. Personal romantic trouble could be dealt with later, no matter whether murder was involved or not. What about the civilians? What was being done about those caught in the chaos? Likely nothing, if previous events were anything to go by. Allison's mind floated back to being surrounded by monsters disguised as people. A stupid, idealistic girl had no place in this world. In the end, all Allison really knew was that her back hurt.
The grim quiet seemed to spread throughout the room, it's occupants patiently awaiting the arrival at their destination.
Ernie did nothing but watch. Stare apathetically at the overturned cars. The civilians shuffling past, doing everything in their power to ignore the carnage that had taken place less than an hour ago. The streams of blood moving outwards from their lifeless sources.
So much...
Everywhere...
He shook the memory from his head.
His hands were shaking.
He knew violence. He knew that small actions had devastating effects, that a single gunshot was enough to brand fear into the heart of a city. Violence was supposed to be calculated, never more than needed. Like a misplaced splotch of black destroying a whole palette. Discretion was key when it came to subnatural operations. Restraint was something even the worst X-marks of Reno possessed. Liam would have their heads otherwise. The Senators thrived because there was a little thing the Mahers beat into everyone that joined their ranks. Discipline.
But here? There was nothing. Just a huge, steaming mess of inexperience and unrestrained psychopathy. Bureaucratic asshats turned a blind eye to kids tearing themselves and others apart as long as they got their job done and stayed out of the Regulars' way.
His hands were shaking.
They'd seriously had him fooled. Latching onto people, exaggerating their goodness if they showed the slightest bit of kindness to his rotted self. It was a trap he dived headfirst into once and he hadn't learned since. Fuck, it wasn't even trust. Just expectations, all of them shattered by the sight before him. Stupid, stupid.
Ernie ignored the looters as he approached a particularly dense gathering of bodies. Blood coming from their ears, already drying.
There was no reason for any of this. He couldn't think of any. That was the worst part.
He'd heard Marcus' gunshots. He'd heard Angelique's declaration of imminent death. How many other sadistic acts had he missed over the cuffs? All the people he knew on Evac Team... they were supposed to be good, as flimsy as that belief was. He'd hoped that they were better, that they were ideals he could never achieve. They were meant to be different from him. They were meant to be different from the Senators, though Ernie supposed that that particular wish came true.
Because they were worse. So much worse.
It wasn't a fucking accident! How do you lift a bunch of cars without meaning to, then let them topple onto unsuspecting Regulars? How do you accidentally completely pummel several people's torsos or shout at them until blood leaked from their skulls?
Ernie grimaced as he looked over the body of a burly man, red pouring from a single hole in his temple. No other signs of harm on him. Had Marcus even tried to stop this guy without a gun? Had Emma? Those belts had non-lethal options for a reason. Had any of them even considered them in the heat of battle?
Monsters and fakers, wherever he went. God, this world was fucking diseased. He already knew he was part of the problem. He just never thought that his classmates would be too.
Ernie didn't protest as his clothes dug into his skin and transported him upwards. There was no reason to fight.
𝕊𝕦𝕟: 𝕊𝕖𝕡𝕥. 𝟚𝟘, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘 / / 𝕎𝕒𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕥𝕠𝕟, 𝔻.ℂ. / / ℂ𝕚𝕥𝕪 / / ~𝟙𝟚𝟝𝟘 Collab with @RedDusk and @January
The Aberration leaned against the roof's barrier, sighing in frustration as he surveyed the city. Almost a whole hour had passed since the evacuation order but still the crowd showed no sign of easing up. If anything it looked like even more of a pain to wade through. Ignoring the Regulars, his gaze moved vertically, binoculars trained on the rubble shooting up in the distance. The slime and grey lines were still present. Man, shouldn't the Precursors' top dog have the situation handled by now? Kadabra was really taking his sweet time.
And Brent's team was right in the midst of it all.
There was no time to uselessly stress though. A distant figure traversing the rooftops caught his eye and Ernie's hand moved back to the communicator.
"Sander? What are you doing?"
Sander's only response was an annoyed grunt as he flung himself onto a vertical wall and began climbing.
A pang of annoyance rung in the buzzcut boy's voice. "C'mon man, talk to me. It's the least you can do after ditching me on the other end of the fucking city. What's your plan here?"
Sander's hand snagged on a jagged piece of glass, and the entire shattered window fell on him. He recovered his footing easily enough, taking his time shaking glass and dust out of his hair as he clung to the wall.
Ernie's voice chose that exact moment to blare through the cuff, and Sander's frown only deepened.
"I'm fighting." -He almost growled -"You stay put."
"I'm not gonna sit around while my friends are making dumbass decisions and putting themselves in unnecessary danger," Ernie spat back, summoning his rope to hop off the building safely. There were no civilians in the area to witness it, thanks to the ice giant, "If you seriously feel the need to babysit me even during the end of D.C. then just ask for my location and I'll give it to you. It's not like you can stop me right now, the way you're heading. Are you going after the crusher or the slime?"
"The what?"
Jesus, was this guy for real? Ernie jogged down the road, his head trying to juggle the conversation and his current task. The area by the arboretum was mostly residential, which meant that there'd be family homes. Which meant children. Which meant scooters and bikes.
"The air crusher who's summoning grey lines and turning buildings into literal dust. Entire guard towers and jet planes. It's calculated. This guy knows what he's doing so don't just charge in with zero plan."
"Oh." -Sander mumbled, heaved himself onto another rooftop. From there, he finally got clear view of the chaos bellow. In the distance, the slime monster kept moving, but he did notice the human silhouette floating in its mass.
"I see him." - Red eyes zeroed in on his target, and Sander couldn't help but sniff the air -"Brandy." -He whispered, almost as an afterthought. The last comment went unheard.
"Alright, what's he got surrounding him? Maybe you can knock a tower down and charge during the distraction or something."
"He's in slime." -Sander stated the obvious, fingers curled then uncurled as he fought the urge to charge.
"Fuck, really?" Ernie groaned as he sifted through an unlocked house, looking for the entrance to the garage. A check of the communicator confirmed Sander's location. Not far from Brent, which meant not far from the slime. Crap. "Whatever you do, don't touch that slime. Is Kadabra there too? Do you see what he's doing?"
"He's throwing stuffs."
Made sense. Ernie didn't know why he asked the obvious. "Use him as a distraction then. Remember, don't touch the slime."
Wait. There was something else about this. The guard towers had been systematically disabled. Strategic. This wasn't a random rogue. This was someone with a plan, with the aim to cripple the nation by striking at its heart. Ernie only knew of one organisation with the balls to do something so catastrophically large-scale.
"One more thing, Sander," the Aberration's tone was more serious than anything previous. More calculating. Entire corpses were always somewhat unnerving, like they could spring back to life when you had your back turned. But less than an entire corpse... "If you manage to beat this guy, see if you can bring his head back in one piece. The USARILN guys might be able to find something important."
The morbid request did make Sander quirk an eyebrow, but he simply nodded with a quick "Okay".
Ernie was pleasantly surprised by the lack of follow-up questions. Of course Sander of all people was alright with this sort of stuff. "Cool. Good luck then."
With that, the line cut. A scarf and pair of gardener gloves were procured to hide his glow. Armed with his soldier's uniform, a whistle and a Razor scooter, Ernie began making his way through the panicked throng.
As Ernie’s voice quieted, a lot seemed to be happening in the streets bellow. Yet, Sander chose not to observe, instead focusing his attention of the oozing slime and its human-shaped accomplice. Turning around, Sander dug his fingers into the concrete and ripped out a small section of the floor. With all his might, he launched it toward the human mage, already readying another follow-up attack.
A crushing field timed to eliminate Kadabra's projectiles took care of the new intrusion as well, though a sudden spray of lines around Sander's approximate position was enough clue that the mage had caught on to someone aiding the Precursor. The crisscross hatching of gray lines folded into and out of themselves for a brief second before piling inward towards a designated center point, one that Sander was dangerously near.
Ignoring the obvious telegraph around him, Sander merely reached for another slab of concrete.
The building around the Aberration vanished into a thin powder of wood and concrete dust, the inward implosion beyond anything a man-made object could withstand. With the disappearance of half a building, anyone within viewing distance would have seen the appalled look on the attacking mage's face when he saw a body falling to the ground below, unmarked by his devastating power. Fear and shock all rolled into a large, multilayered barricade of timed implosions, clearing out another wave of Kadabra's projectiles and much of the ground around them, forming a shallow moat that the slime oozed over easily.
More lines timed their detonations down the trajectory of Sander's fall, but every section of building turned to particulate matter still left an ominously glowing Aberration in its wake, entirely unfazed by the damage.
Sander hit the ground hard, cracks spreading like spiderwebs beneath him. Yet, he was unscathed, the force of the blows only fueled his fury. Seconds after his fall, and the blood mage was already back on his feet, scaling another building to get the height advantage on the slime creature.
Ernie's words still echoed in his head. Don't touch the slime. But how else would he get to the human mage?
Frustration gnawed as him, so he gave up and dove straight for the crusher, heedless of Ernie's sensible advice.
The slime swallowed him in a thick liquid that cut off air and hindered movement. Without any traction to push off of and only uncooperative slime to struggle against, Sander's movements bore little fruit. Meanwhile, the living ooze shifted further into itself, condensing carefully and keeping its empowered ally above the suffocating mass. At the same time, it pulled Sander deeper into its body, intending to confine his movements there.
With his air supply cut off and his strength neutralized, there was little Sander could do. He struggled in vain, feral growls bubbled from his throat, just as his lungs began to burn for oxygen. He fought uselessly, the slime contouring and deafening any shows of force deep within its body. While Sander was immune to the digestive effects, he wouldn't be able to withstand the lack of air for long.
𝕊𝕦𝕟: 𝕊𝕖𝕡𝕥. 𝟚𝟘, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘 / / 𝕎𝕒𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕥𝕠𝕟, 𝔻.ℂ. / / ℂ𝕚𝕥𝕪 / / ~𝟙𝟚𝟜𝟘 Collab with @GreenGoat and @RedDusk
Broken.
Torn down.
The behemoth, powerful, imposing, destroyed like it was nothing but sand in front of the ocean. But it was not enough; pain still wracked her body, memories still haunts her, she still needed to move, to move forwards.
That figure, wielding weapon of pure shadow, caught her eye. Powerful, strong...
Hateful.
Loathesome.
Hazel's blood was still boiling, her heart beat sounding like war drums in her ears. Forward, she needed to move forwards. Into the red, into the white, where everything left her, where nothing followed.
Her eyes were hidden, but the rictus grin stretched over her face as she swept a giant sword towards that girl's neck was enough to tell anyone of her current state of mind.
A giant sword was difficult to miss, especially when it came from right in front of the girl. Despite this, the sheer surprise of the sudden attack caught Callan off guard. The shadow hammer was lifted barely in time to perform a clumsy block, though the force of the swing swept the Arbiter to the side. She landed on her feet a few meters away from her initial position, the hammer now transformed into a dark katana.
"Hazel, what the hell?!"
Almost immediately after Callan spoke, Hazel had already started moving again, once more swinging that giant sword from the same angle. But, while she was blinded by that murderous beat in her blood, she wasn't attacking blindly. Her broken arm turned transparent, as a giant flail appeared, threatening to crush Callan from the other direction.
An attack from both sides. Nowhere to go but up. Callan launched herself at a low angle, her trajectory a shallow arc to land directly on Hazel and slash at her shoulder with the blade.
Meanwhile, Sander witnessed the fight from the side, watched as Hazel threw the first attack. He remembered what happened with Christmas. And now, with Callan. Despite his conviction, he couldn't stand aside. With fury in his red eyes, he began sprinting towards the battle.
The projected sword and flail crashed behind Callan, exploding spectacularly. Callan, making a brave move, dodged while attacking at the same time. However, whether she had forgotten how Hazel's ability worked, or had no knowledge of it whatsoever, jumping towards Hazel in a straight line while in her line of sight wasn't smart.
Hazel's good arm flickered as she simply swept it outwards, turning visible but for a moment before going transparent again, projecting the sword straight towards Callan's path.
The force of the explosion shook Callan mid-air, sharply diverting her from her original flight path. With no awareness of this new ability, she was caught off-guard once again. Another attempted block, significantly less successful than the first. Her own blade deflected Hazel's only slightly, directing the disintegrating surface away from her chest at least. The giant sword met the Arbiter's bottom half, sending the girl pinwheeling away and into the ground with only a few scraps of fabric still lingering on her legs. She groaned and attempted to get back on her feet, katana still in hand.
Sander, seeing the brutal sword connect with his friend, launched himself at Hazel from the side, a fist raised and ready.
That euphoric feeling surged through Hazel as the blow connected, the feeling of pain, of blood spilling from her body, growing more and more distant.
Forward...
She moved to deliver the coup de grâce, to shove the entire length of the sword into the fallen girl's heart, if not for the moving shadow she caught at the corner of her eyes. Moving more out of instinct than anything else, she just barely caught Sander's attack with a projected limb. The red-eyed Aberration was knocked back a fair distance, clothes promptly disintegrated as he flew back. Callan seized the distraction's opportunity, going for yet another aerial strike, her sword raised high above her head.
Sucking in her breath, Hazel backed into Callan's swing, behind the sword and right into Callan herself. In a move reminiscent of what they were taught in the school, she pulled onto Callan's arm, throwing her onto the ground, before slamming an enormous projected fist onto her for good measure.
The Arbiter gasped, the breath knocked out of her and the familiar sting of a fractured rib prompting tears to well in her eyes. A shaking hand stretched out to prop herself back up. In the distance she could see Sander speeding back. He'd be here soon. He'd stop her.
With a horrid grin seemingly stretched to disturbing dimensions, Hazel noted the still moving girl, that feeling welling up in her chest as once again, she slammed a giant fist onto the girl. Once, twice, thrice, again and again, until the girl moved no more. She couldn't feel anything anymore, just that feeling of intense pleasure.
That, and the need for more. To destroy more until she herself broke apart.
From his watch, Ernie removed the binoculars from his face, feeling sick to the stomach as he watched blow after blow pummel his prone friend. Callan, his clumsy but good-natured companion, beaten into something exposed and broken.
She's smiling...
Hazel was smiling. Why the fuck was she smiling? Of course he knew 'why', but it still disgusted him. A familiar terror and rage churned. Cal wasn't moving. These fucking binoculars weren't strong enough so he couldn't even see if she was still breathing or not. Hazel was beyond forgiveness now. He didn't give a shit what Emma said, that murderous bitch needed to die. The binoculars were raised once more and he observed Sander's incoming attack with vindictive ardor.
Hazel's previous attack had hindered the blood mage's advance, but otherwise leaving no lasting damage. Sander was quick to recover, and soon enough, he was launching himself toward Hazel with reckless abandon. His right hand clenched into a fist as he pulled it back, ready for another devastating blow.
A bullrush.
One from one of the more invulnerable one of them. Images flashed of crystals encasing him and his apparent rage then. He was fast, he was strong, and he was invulnerable. Intense hate and jealousy mixed in with the swirl of emotions, as well as an almost overwhelmingly white feeling of anticipation.
Hazel swiped upwards, bringing up the projected hand to simply swat him upwards, ground and all.
Sander, in his bloodlust, had not seen the attack coming. It sent him flying, but he reorientated himself midair easily enough, landing on his feet a few blocks away from Hazel.
Emboldened and encouraged by the ease of which he simply flew away, Hazel quickly launched herself towards him, twisting in mid air. A large fist from below, this time, to bring Sander straight up. It was, after all, a place where he could not move freely at all.
A large explosion, and another swipe upwards. Landing on her feet, her muscles tensed, ready to launch herself after Sander if he did get launched upwards.
The blood mage anticipated the attack this time. He leapt backward to dodge Hazel's projected limb, expression twisting with rage and frustration as the dust from the explosion clouded his senses. Before it barely settled though, he charged again, inhuman speed rushing toward Hazel.
Still blinded by her own smoke, she did not — could not — anticipate the attack through the dust. His speed and strength simply punched through her stomach with a squelch, as if it was but wet paper.
But still, she stood, showing no signs that she was in pain, or that she even noticed her stomach was torn open. With him so close, all she needed to do was form a blade with her still working arm, and shove it straight into his body.
The blow collided with Sander's torso and launched him backward. He stumbled, but quickly regained his balance, bloody fist clenched at his side. However, he didn't charge right away, instead standing back to regard Hazel with a puzzled look. He had seen enough injuries on people to know what was bad enough for a grown man to curl up and pass out. Yet, the Aberration before him remained on her feet even with a hole in her guts. He frowned, right hand kept clenching and unclenching, unable to come to a decision.
He was there, unscathed, unfazed, as if she had been nothing against him.
Powerful.
Loathsome.
Strong.
Hateful.
Powerful emotions urged her to continue on, rage and rampage, to keep on destroying everything and him as well. But, her body seemed not to listen, as she took one faltering step, with a slight look of confusion upon her face. Just for a moment, it seemed as if she might just topple over unconscious, before her eyes focused again.
With all her remaining strength, she sent one last giant fist flashing towards Sander, the impact of which would send out her largest explosion, knocking her off her feet, and into the deep oblivion of unconsciousness.
Sander leapt sideway to dodge the blurry outline of the projected limb. Still, the explosion that followed caught him off guard again. He was thrown forward, landing hard on his arms and knees. In the aftermath of the impact, he righted himself slowly, shrugging off dust and debris as he climbed to his feet. The off scent of Hazel's blood still remained though, the beat of her heart was still going, faint as it was. He blinked, taking a few seconds to collect his thoughts before lifting her into his arms. The gaping hole in her torso gave him pause, but seeing as how she was unimpeded by pain, he swung her over his torso and went to seek out Callan.
The Arbiter was unconscious when he found her, so he tucked her beneath his free arm and dashed off, heading toward the evacuation point.
Ernie's view of the fight had been completely obstructed since Hazel's smoky explosion. One final bang, bigger than the rest had marked the end of the match, though there was no way to tell who the victor was. A few moments passed before Sander's naked form shot out of the cloud, carrying an unconscious Callan and bloodied Hazel with him. Ernie raised an eyebrow, partly out of confusion and partly out of annoyance, as he tracked the Aberration across the sky. What the fuck happened to 'staying close'?
He clicked his tongue once more, flicking through the communication options on the transmitter until he found the blood mage's channel. "Sander, what happened? Are they still alive?"
"Yes." -Sander answered curtly, before he realized he didn't enable the cuff to transmit yet. It took a few seconds for the knowledge of how to come back to him -"Transmit. Yes. Over."
"...You didn't kill Hazel." A statement rather than a question. There was obvious disappointment in his tone.
"I won't." -A pause, just as Sander remembered about the cuff, again -"Transmit. I didn't kill you."
Ernie's lip curled. So even Sander of all people had more morals than him? Bullshit.
"We had orders to kill her if she threatened someone again. You sure you want to let her go?"
"...They can kill her later. I won't."
"...Fine. Where are you taking them anyway?"
"Evacuation."
A check of the map told Ernie that the red-eyed mage was talking about the point and not the truck. That was a relief.
"Make sure that the guards put those extra cuffs on Hazel when you get there then."
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