Baphomini

Afterimages: The Mirrored World

Clammor. Everything just felt like noise as things started to happen. It was all just c o l o r s. Just chaotic jumbles of nonsensical colors frantically flashing and clashing at the edges of his vision as he was tossed about like the puppet he appeared to be. That, along with the ever-shifting presence of hot and cold surrounding them made the whole situation disorienting enough that Kousuke found themself feeling physically sick as they were jumbled about in the waxy creature's arms. His stomach churned violently with each jostling stride and eventually, he could take no more of it.

Forcefully, Kousuke twisted in the angel's hold and promptly shoved against the beast to throw themself out of the creature's arms. He rolled as he toppled to the floor and curled on his side for a moment with a long groan.

"You'll thank me for that..." he muttered. It was only a few beats longer before he quickly propped himself up slightly and...well, there went that lunch...nothing new there. Granted, though, it was the first time he had vomited in a mirrored black void!

That's a stupid thing to be positive about. There's nothing positive about any of this. I'm a literal puppet! Surrounded by equally bizarre freaks! Bizarre freaks who are now watching me vomit my brains out. Oh─ Oh no─

Kousuke coughed and gagged, choking on his own bile as he realized─

They're watching me! They can see this! They can see me! Like this!

"Fuck.." the word bubbled out of his mouth as he fought to hold back the reflex to just let it all out, but it was no use. The sound of his own heaving and everything else that came with it was enough to make him feel even more sick to his stomach and he just continued to go through the motions until there was nothing left to give.

Archaic Circuitry: Old Code, Young Blood

Name: Oradon "Ora" Grazer
Age: Young Adult
Species: Quasit
Height/Weight: 6’8” / 112 lbs
Sex/Gender: M / Apagender (pronoun indifferent)

Appearance:

Oradon

Ora is a truly unsettling and monstrous figure, a quasit whose appearance is hardly recognizable as anything remotely human or natural. Standing at a towering 6'8", Ora's build is almost comically gangly and skeletal, with skin stretched taut over their bony frame like a sickly twig. Their limbs are unnaturally long and spindly, the two sets of arms a particularly disturbing feature - the primary pair extending well past their waist with massive, claw-tipped hands that nearly scrape the ground, while the shorter secondary arms jut out from their torso in a T-rex-like position, their stubby, three-fingered hands ending in rounded, blunt claws. Ora's legs are equally exaggerated, digitigrade, and raptor-like, making up the majority of their height. But the most unnerving aspect of Ora's form is undoubtedly their head, a sharp, triangular shape crowned with a ring of jagged, tooth-like horns that can shift and move independently. Where one might expect eyes or a normal face, Ora instead has a constantly shifting array of mouths, each unique in size, shape, and dental configuration. These orifices appear and disappear across Ora's featureless visage, their tongues and teeth varying wildly - a gaping maw here, a thin slit there, all in a disturbing display of inhuman, shapeshifting power. Ora's skin, meanwhile, is a vibrant orange hue, speckled with splotches of pink and purple that lend an almost feverish, diseased appearance. And as unsettling as Ora's physical form is, their tendency to constantly tear off their own limbs, leaving gory wounds to slowly regenerate over time only adds to the overall sense of uncanny wrongness. Truly, this quasit is a being of pure, unadulterated monstrosity.

Personality:

Ora is a quiet and reserved individual who tends to keep to themselves, rarely voicing their opinions or speaking up in most situations. They approach life with a great deal of caution and thoughtfulness, often overthinking things to the point where they miss opportunities to act or express themselves. This cautious nature extends to Ora's relationships as well, as they are slow to open up and form close bonds with others. However, once Ora does feel a connection to someone, they become extremely protective, especially of those they care about. Ora has a strong moral compass centered on the fair and equal treatment of all people, regardless of species, and they will not hesitate to stand up against any form of discrimination or mistreatment, even if it means putting themselves in harm's way. This sense of justice is a core part of Ora's identity, and they despise any form of speciesism or bigotry. Paradoxically, Ora's tendency to be easily swayed by others can make them blind to their own mistreatment, and they will often take the brunt of ridicule and abuse as long as those close to them are spared. Despite their quiet and reserved nature, Ora's unwavering moral principles and fierce protectiveness of the vulnerable make them a formidable ally and a force to be reckoned with when it comes to standing up for what they believe is right.

What Are You Looking For?: “It…sounds crazy, I know…but…I…I want to find a cure… For my stains? I want to be able to eat…I want to be able to drink water…I…I want to be able to hold someone… I just want to live my life without…all of this…”

Capabilities:

• Job: “Research Assistant” ─ Ora’s job can hardly be called a job. As a quasit, Ora’s regenerative abilities were a key attribute in what they were able to do for work, while their lack of sight limited them from a lot of the typical options available for their kind. Rather than working in a factory or on a construction site or something of the like, Ora was dragged into a “career” of being a test subject for a research facility. In this position, Ora helped researchers test out everything from cosmetics and pharmaceuticals to various levels of weaponry. It was a rough gig, but it provided housing on top of decent pay, so, in Ora’s mind, it paid off.
• Fight-Style: Improvised Weapons (mostly blunt force, often their own limbs)
• Magic: Hemokinesis (Blood Magic)

Magic Form(s):

• Basic Kinesis Ability: Minor Shapeshifting
  
  • Getting Mouthy: Ora can grow additional mouths and hide existing ones as needed. These mouths can be all different shapes, sizes, and types with all kinds of different forms of teeth, fangs, tongues, and more.
  • Magic Stain: "Sick to the Stomach" — Anything Ora consumes will make them nauseous to some degree. Water is the base level at just a little nausea, with simple things like bread and crackers being some level above that. The more complicated and flavorful a food item is, the sicker Ora feels after eating it, and it doesn't just stop at a feeling. As it is, Ora has the worst case of IBS a living creature could have, making them effectively intolerant to everything.
• First Spell: Moderate Poisoning
  
  • What Those Mouths Do?: Ora can produce a weak venom by shapeshifting the required glands along with fangs when sprouting new mouths. This venom likely won't kill the creature it hits, but it will slow down most, resulting in a short slumber for many exposed to its toxins.
  • Magic Stain: "Gives Me Hives" ─ Ora's body has become extremely sensitive, to the point that a simple touch from another triggers an allergic reaction, most commonly in the form of a rash and hives. Depending on exactly what they were touched with, this reaction can even lead to more extreme reactions akin to chemical burns that can scar badly, despite the regenerative properties of their species.

Archaic Circuitry: Old Code, Young Blood

Name: Oradon "Ora" Grazer
Age: Young Adult
Species: Quasit
Height/Weight: 6’8” / 112 lbs
Sex/Gender: M / Apagender (pronoun indifferent)

Appearance:

Oradon

Ora is a truly unsettling and monstrous figure, a quasit whose appearance is hardly recognizable as anything remotely human or natural. Standing at a towering 6'8", Ora's build is almost comically gangly and skeletal, with skin stretched taut over their bony frame like a sickly twig. Their limbs are unnaturally long and spindly, the two sets of arms a particularly disturbing feature - the primary pair extending well past their waist with massive, claw-tipped hands that nearly scrape the ground, while the shorter secondary arms jut out from their torso in a T-rex-like position, their stubby, three-fingered hands ending in rounded, blunt claws. Ora's legs are equally exaggerated, digitigrade, and raptor-like, making up the majority of their height. But the most unnerving aspect of Ora's form is undoubtedly their head, a sharp, triangular shape crowned with a ring of jagged, tooth-like horns that can shift and move independently. Where one might expect eyes or a normal face, Ora instead has a constantly shifting array of mouths, each unique in size, shape, and dental configuration. These orifices appear and disappear across Ora's featureless visage, their tongues and teeth varying wildly - a gaping maw here, a thin slit there, all in a disturbing display of inhuman, shapeshifting power. Ora's skin, meanwhile, is a vibrant orange hue, speckled with splotches of pink and purple that lend an almost feverish, diseased appearance. And as unsettling as Ora's physical form is, their tendency to constantly tear off their own limbs, leaving gory wounds to slowly regenerate over time only adds to the overall sense of uncanny wrongness. Truly, this quasit is a being of pure, unadulterated monstrosity.

Personality:

Ora is a quiet and reserved individual who tends to keep to themselves, rarely voicing their opinions or speaking up in most situations. They approach life with a great deal of caution and thoughtfulness, often overthinking things to the point where they miss opportunities to act or express themselves. This cautious nature extends to Ora's relationships as well, as they are slow to open up and form close bonds with others. However, once Ora does feel a connection to someone, they become extremely protective, especially of those they care about. Ora has a strong moral compass centered on the fair and equal treatment of all people, regardless of species, and they will not hesitate to stand up against any form of discrimination or mistreatment, even if it means putting themselves in harm's way. This sense of justice is a core part of Ora's identity, and they despise any form of speciesism or bigotry. Paradoxically, Ora's tendency to be easily swayed by others can make them blind to their own mistreatment, and they will often take the brunt of ridicule and abuse as long as those close to them are spared. Despite their quiet and reserved nature, Ora's unwavering moral principles and fierce protectiveness of the vulnerable make them a formidable ally and a force to be reckoned with when it comes to standing up for what they believe is right.

What Are You Looking For?: “It…sounds crazy, I know…but…I…I want to find a cure… For my stains? I want to be able to eat…I want to be able to drink water…I…I want to be able to hold someone… I just want to live my life without…all of this…”

Capabilities:

• Job: “Research Assistant” ─ Ora’s job can hardly be called a job. As a quasit, Ora’s regenerative abilities were a key attribute in what they were able to do for work, while their lack of sight limited them from a lot of the typical options available for their kind. Rather than working in a factory or on a construction site or something of the like, Ora was dragged into a “career” of being a test subject for a research facility. In this position, Ora helped researchers test out everything from cosmetics and pharmaceuticals to various levels of weaponry. It was a rough gig, but it provided housing on top of decent pay, so, in Ora’s mind, it paid off.
• Fight-Style: Improvised Weapons (mostly blunt force, often their own limbs)
• Magic: Hemokinesis (Blood Magic)

Magic Form(s):

• Basic Kinesis Ability: Minor Shapeshifting
  
  • Getting Mouthy: Ora can grow additional mouths and hide existing ones as needed. These mouths can be all different shapes, sizes, and types with all kinds of different forms of teeth, fangs, tongues, and more.
  • Magic Stain: "Sick to the Stomach" — Anything Ora consumes will make them nauseous to some degree. Water is the base level at just a little nausea, with simple things like bread and crackers being some level above that. The more complicated and flavorful a food item is, the sicker Ora feels after eating it, and it doesn't just stop at a feeling. As it is, Ora has the worst case of IBS a living creature could have, making them effectively intolerant to everything.
• First Spell: Moderate Poisoning
  
  • What Those Mouths Do?: Ora can produce a weak venom by shapeshifting the required glands along with fangs when sprouting new mouths. This venom likely won't kill the creature it hits, but it will slow down most, resulting in a short slumber for many exposed to its toxins.
  • Magic Stain: "Gives Me Hives" ─ Ora's body has become extremely sensitive, to the point that a simple touch from another triggers an allergic reaction, most commonly in the form of a rash and hives. Depending on exactly what they were touched with, this reaction can even lead to more extreme reactions akin to chemical burns that can scar badly, despite the regenerative properties of their species.

𓆣 ☢ Middle Man ☢ 𓆣

Things That Are Unfair (as decided by me)

❈ Got arrested for existing in a place determined off-limits
❈ Spent an entire night in jail because of that arrest
❈ Got "put on leave" the next more
⁎ Boss doesn't even have the balls to fire me so I can have unemployment income
❈ The bus driver wouldn't accept my one-day-old bus pass
❈ Fucking credit company took my autopayment today and over-drafted my checking account
❈ Landlady left a note on my door saying I'm late on rent
❈ My water was turned off
❈ So was my power
❈ Rats built a nest in my pantry. Again.

Lilian grumbled and growled to himself as he tossed items into his bag, occasionally glaring over at the note set on his bedside table, "Overdue on rent my fucking ass," he muttered, "I'm a month and a half ahead, you dumb bitch. Not that you ever pay attention to that shit," he shoved a laptop into the bag and tossed in the charger after it, "I tell you every goddamn month, 'I paid it last month' but do you ever fucking listen? No, of course not, why the hell would you? Not like you actually care about the people you rent to, we're all just cash cows waiting to be milked when you jack up the rent for the fifth time in a year."

He continued to rant and rave as he gathered various recording equipment, tossing a nicer camera in the bag along with a microphone and a small ring light. His work badge fell out of the mess of equipment he was pulling around and he sneered down at it before kicking it under a pile of clothes, "Fucking Dean can't understand that the only reason I get the stories he loves so much is because I do what I do. Fucking show him," he snatched the Geiger counter he'd ordered off the counter and turned it on for a moment, "Let's see what you think of my so-called recklessness when I get the first exclusive interview with a supervillain" scoffing, he turned the device off and went over to throw it in the bag with everything else, "Asshole'll be begging me to come back."

Zipping up the bag, Lilian tossed it over his shoulder, grabbed his phone and keys, and headed out the door. He hadn't changed out of his clothes from the previous day. Hadn't fixed his hair or done anything. His mind was on a single track, and that track was to hunt down the man of the hour.

Gamma-Burn.

A bus, a train, and two more buses later and Lilian was walking up to that damn Chipotle where it felt like all his trouble started. Slinging his backpack off, he pulled out the Geiger counter, replaced his bag to his back, and flipped the thing on once more.

That asshat better be who I think he is...

The gadget crackled to life, clicking and popping away. The sound was met with looks from passersby, but Li ignored them as he carefully began moving about to follow the trail of the lasting radiation.

Thank gods this shit lingers...

Afterimages: The Mirrored World

GET OUT.

The warning shook through Kousuke's very soul. Raging and rattling like an animal in a cage, sending out reverberations that screamed in a silent cacophony through every fiber of their being. Pulling back the cords with the fall of the beast, Kousuke brought his hands up to his ears, as though it would help with the internal drone. It wasn't noise, per se, not physically. It held no air, only feeling. A bright, hot burning that scorched his heart, his lungs, his chest. It burned in his throat and his mouth. A formless fire spreading from the center of his being all the way to the furthest reaches and even beyond. The heat surrounded him. Surrounded the girl. It filled the space like an oven, and he and the lot of these others were being cooked alive.

Something was wrong. Something was very wrong. Red eyes flashed open as tight wooden fists clawed at delicate velveteen ears. Kousuke caught sight of the shards in the air. How they glistened and refracted as they slowly began to draw into one another. He glanced at the broken creature on the ground, destroyed only by the combined efforts of three...four individuals? The new form was strange. Haunting. Intimidating for sure, but something about the heat surrounding the creature made of hands and eyes and wings and wax seemed less of a threat. Less of a threat to them, that was. That same heat surrounded Kousuke themself and the girl. It even surrounded that ice beast, strangely enough. They all shared it, and from that Kousuke deduced that they all had a connection in some way or form. They were four, brought together for one reason or another. To fight that thing? Surely there was more to it than that, but Kousuke couldn't bring himself to ponder on it for long. The growing heat in the area was becoming suffocating. The puppet which had been cut loose from its strings was done playing the hero. They wanted out. They wanted to escape this horrid reality and get to some place where things made sense.

S N A P !

The air shifted, and a frost took hold. What had once been broiling heat was now absolute zero temperatures and Kousuke found himself choking on the sudden change in atmosphere. He gasped, dropping to his knee in an instant and quickly catching himself on the glass-scattered ground. The shards cutting at the linden surface of their jointed hands stung more than they felt it should have, but the puppet could hardly think about it through the chaos taking hold in their mind as they coughed and hacked at the pressure around them. The sudden ice filling their lungs. The feeling of cold vapor rushing down their throat. A dagger in their heart as the chill spread through their veins like liquid nitrogen. It was too much. Too cold. Too heavy. Too thick. Fear was clawing at the corners of his mind, stripping away at the adrenaline that had kept him in the moment just seconds earlier. Fight was quickly becoming flight as the weight of everything finally settled in. As that warning continued to rumble and roar deep within him.

GET OUT.

GET OUT.

GET OUT.

GET OUT.

Something was definitely wrong. Something was coming, something worse. Kousuke seethed at the pain. The pain from the shards embedded in his hands. The pain from the freezing air filtering through his lungs which simultaneously burned from the coughing still wracking his body. The pain from the deafening, soundless alarm blaring inside him. Body shaking, Kousuke fought to get his voice, rasping out all that he could for the others to hear.

_{"Get out...g-...g-get ou-out...w-w-we...we h-have to..."}

𓆣 ☢ Middle Man ☢ 𓆣

A whole ass fucking night in a holding cell at the city police station. A whole ass fucking night! After being detained by the police and being read his rights, Li had been dragged downtown, almost literally. He...admittedly hadn't gone down very easily, and, as a result, he had more than a few bruises, as...well as a small taser burn, but those were all but gone by the time he was finally met with the presence of his boss. Not Hal. Thank god. The last thing he needed at that moment was Hal Roberts' judgemental attitude and mockery. No. It was Hal's boss— Mr. Malcolm himself. The man was the only person Lilian could think to call the night before. He didn't exactly have any friends, and his family were all back in Montreal or somewhere in the French countryside. Not exactly helpful here. Beyond that, he wasn't close with any of his neighbors, only really knew their faces, and he highly doubted his landlady would give a shit about him being in jail. Hell, she might have even used it as a reason to evict him! There was no telling with that woman, and she and Li weren't exactly on the best of terms.

As a police officer unlocked the cell, Li caught the gaze of his boss, like that of a disappointed father. He knew that look all too well, but it didn't faze him. Not anymore. He just dashed out of the cell as soon as it was open, ducking past the police officer, and around behind the man who had paid his bail. He watched as Mr. Malcolm exchanged pleasantries with the officer, thank her. Thanking her. What the hell was he thanking her for?

With a huff, Lilian crossed his arms over his chest and glared at the woman, "Where do I file a complaint about the guys who brought me in?" he asked coldly.

Both the woman and Mr. Malcolm looked at Lilian. While the lady officer seemed unfazed by the question, Lilian's boss was staring at him in some mixture of shock and appallment. The man turned to the woman and gave a tight smile.

"I'm sorry," he told her, "He's...very impassioned."

The woman shrugged and moved to step around them and head back toward the front of the building, "Not the worst I've dealt with," she hummed, "Though the guys who brought him in would probably beg to differ. Heard he gave one of them a bruised rib."

"Of course he did," Mr. Malcolm sighed, following after the officer as she went.

Lilian trailed along behind both of them, moving his hands to his pockets as he glared at the backs of their heads, "In my defense, the asshole nearly yanked my arm out of the socket," he muttered.

"After you attacked one of the other officers," the woman replied pointedly.

"He attacked me first!" Li burst, "I didn't do anything wrong!"

The officer stopped as they made it to the lobby and turned to look at Lilian, looking down at him with a cold and serious frown, "You resisted arrest after crossing a police line and then assaulted three police officers. You're lucky to be getting off with merely a fine and a night in jail."

Lilian opened his mouth to argue but stopped as Mr. Malcolm looked at him with the same hard, cold gaze and instead bit his tongue as he looked away from the two. Mr. Malcolm thanked the officer again and she directed them to where they could pick up Li's belongings. After what felt like hours of paperwork, they were finally walking out of the building, Mr. Malcolm pulling out his keys while Lilian checked over his video camera to make sure it was intact.

"You can't keep doing things like this, Lilian," Mr. Malcolm spoke firmly, "The company's insurance can't cover this kind of damage."

"So now I'm damage?" Lilian muttered, rewinding the recording to when the officer had popped out of the forest and grabbed him and playing it frame by frame as he pinpointed when the altercation had truly begun.

"That's not what I'm saying," the man huffed and walked over to his car parked by a meter, "All I'm saying is that we can't handle the chaos you inflict."

Lilian laughed, still not looking up from the replay as he responded, "If that were true, you would have fired me years ago. What I do is valuable to you. You specifically, not you the company. You like that I'm willing to throw my life on the line to get a story because it gets the story. And you don't care about the consequences of my actions because you know I'm not stupid enough to try and sue a major commercial company with high-stakes lawyers that would eat my public defender for breakfast before the jury could even be assembled. Possibly even literally depending on the alignment of your lawyers. Gods know eating people is not a new concept among villains. Just look at the Crimson Artist. Even working for the DNCC that guy was getting off on eating people. I wouldn't be surprised if your lawyers were secretly literal blood-sucking arachnids."

Lilian stopped by the car and looked at it. It was nice. Though granted, Lilian knew jack shit about cars. But hey, it was clean. He looked at Mr. Malcolm next to see the man rubbing his temple.

"You...are such a blister of a person," he muttered, then sighed, "The point is, Lilian, the trouble you've gotten yourself into has only escalated in the past months, and it's starting to draw negative attention. HR is on my ass, and the board is getting fed up with social media calling us out as a dangerous work environment because of people witnessing your antics. You need to cool it back."

"So you don't want good stories," Lilian said flatly.

Mr. Malcolm turned to him, exasperated, "This isn't about the stories, Lilian! This is about you running around nearly getting yourself killed in the name of a company that is already in the bad graces of OSHA for being subjected to violent attacks from villains who get offended by an online article. All I'm asking is that you think for just a moment and try to go about your work in a way that doesn't blow up on social media painting us as a corrupt and evil company sending their reporters off to their deaths!"

Lilian watched him blow up, then, when he was down, he turned his attention back to his camera and returned to futzing with the recording as he answered, "With all due respect, sir, I couldn't give a single crap what people on social media think. So what if a few people see me getting tossed around by villains and collateral damage while I work? As long as I'm not pressing charges, no one is truly at fault, and if it comes to a legal issue, I can just tell investigators the truth. I choose to do what I do and there's nothing you can do to stop me because even if you fire me, I'll continue doing what I do and publish my stories freelance. But in the end, we both know you're not going to─"

"I'm placing you on probational leave until further notice."

The words were cold. Hard. Almost cutting. Causing Li to look up immediately.

"What the fuck?" he spat, "What do you mean you're placing me on leave?!"

Mr. Malcolm sighed and started to walk around his car, "Until you can get your shit together, we can't afford to have you on staff. You're writing is amazing, Lilian, but it isn't worth the sanctity of the company. I'm sorry."

Li stared after the man, then ran around the car to catch up with him, "This is fucking bullshit! You can't just kick me out of work for being prone to danger. Danger, in its essence, is the nature of a reporter's job! Even weathermen are in danger when they report in the field. What makes this any different than that shit?!"

"I won't be talked out of this, Lilian. Occupational hazard is one thing. We have insurance for that. Throwing your life on the line to get a close-up shot of an explosion is completely outside of anything any company has covered. Again, I'm sorry, but this is just the way it has to be. When you're ready to perform in a reasonable manner, maybe I'll change my mind, but until then, you're out. Have a good day, Lilian."

With that, the man got into his car, started the engine, and waited for Lilian to move away before pulling away from the curb and weaving into traffic. Lilian stumbled back to the sidewalk and leaned against a concrete wall lining a planter outside the police station.

Well fuck...

𖤐 Hell's Renegades 𖤐

As the conversation surrounding amusement parks and beaches and what all took off, Roy watched over the group, waiting patiently for everyone to be together. Sometimes it was rather difficult working with such a large team, but nevertheless, Roy was happy to have a team at all, even with how ramshackle they all could be. It was refreshing, in a way, how often their individual personalities clashed. It made for the perfect spread to represent his project. The very program he led. The very program of which this chaotic cluster of once-villains embodied.

He found himself thinking back to his meeting with Agent Bell. How the man had dismissed his arguments regarding the Grey Scale so adamantly. With so much variety, it was hard not to believe in the validity of Malcolm Grey's writing. Here they had a total of ten individual villains, once thought to be irredeemable criminals, now sharing the same space with each other, cracking jokes and making witty quips as they waited for his announcement. They had come a long way already, even with their past failures, and Roy had faith in them yet.

It was all he really had in his life, after all...

★ ★ ★

Harper was the last to join the group, dragged out of their room by the same guard who had gone off after them following their retaliation on Sabriel earlier. The same guard with which Sabriel had spent much of the morning flirting. The same guard who had a clear stick up his ass compared to the other guard. Or maybe Sabriel's observations were more on point than the two guards let on?

Harper stomped along across the common area, the guard not far behind them. Stopping, Harper turned on the guard and stared him down, sneering. The man held up his hands in a gesture of defense and backed off without a word, turning to go join the rest of the staff as the morning duties were handled. Once free of the guard, Harper whipped back around and stared down the group scattered around the seating area, white gaze flicking over each member of the team before they looked to Roy. The agent offered them a kind wave before signing a good morning greeting to them. They rolled their eyes, giving a huff, then signed a greeting in return before striding over and flopping heavily down beside Sabriel and crossing their arms their chest.

★ ★ ★

Smiling still, Roy looked over the group one more time, "Once again, I'd like to say good morning everyone," he said cheerily, "It's good to see you all. I know I've been absent for a while now, and I apologize. I had some business to see to out of state and only just got back yesterday. I trust you've all been well?"

★ ★ ★

Sabriel was the first to scoff at the man's obviously rhetorical question, "If you call getting yelled at and pushed around whilst a certain someone ran amok through the halls in a senseless attempt at escape, well, then sure. I've been bloody well peachy."

The words were cold and pointed, laced with a tone that was almost a snarl as the white-haired man sneered. He looked off, away from Roy and away from Dr. Gate in particular. Much as he played it off as not caring about everything that had happened surrounding the doctor over the past few weeks. Much as he kept up his flirtatious guise. He was still upset with the woman, and found himself wishing she had never come back from her brief period of isolation from the group, or better yet. He wished she had just escaped like a normal person when she had the chance.

The whole event had been, an outrageously wild spectacle. A spectacle that apparently had led to mass destruction of much of the compound outside their unit and what Sabriel could only imagine was more than a few injuries, if not full out deaths. Yet all that was witnessed by those still in the 'Doghouse' as the staff called it-- Dehumanizing in Sabriel's opinion --was a droning alarm, wild chatter on the guards' radios, and the absolute panic attack a certain angel. That, and the incessant demands of one certain day guard who seemed to have an issue with each and every one of the 'Hounds' for no reason other than their status as 'past' criminals. How he hated that term. Hounds. At least the media referred to them as 'renegades'. That was far better than Hounds.

After everything though. All the chaos. All the destruction. All the possible casualties. She was still among them. Dr. Gate was still there, and it bugged Sabriel to no end knowing that not only was she still there, but she was back Back on unit. Back in the Doghouse. Back in his space.

What bugged him more, however, was the knowledge that before all the chaos. Before everything. He would have been happy she was still there. Happy she was in the same space as him once more. At times, he felt like that happiness was still there. Something had to fuel his flirting after all. Yet as much as he clung to that speck of dying emotion, that care-free don't give a crap view on life in general, it just wasn't enough to make up for all the aggravation he felt instead. And that was what made him truly bitter. Truly sicken by all of it.

★ ★ ★

While Sabriel was lost in his sulking, Harper glanced at the man beside him as the incident from about a week prior was brought up, then turned their gaze to Roy and raised their hand.

Roy looked to them and nodded, "Yes, Mx. Willard?" he prompted.

Harper rolled their eyes at the formal title and moved their arms to have one sticking out with a fist, while the other formed a C, which they moved in a circular motion to tap the fisted hand, before pulling the C into the finger sign for the letter H-- their sign name, essentially telling the man to just call them Harper. With that, they sighed, shook their head, and gave a dismissive wave before bringing their hand up with their fingers outstretched and thumb folded in to tap their index finger to their chin with the rest of their fingers facing out. They followed this by pressing their thumb and fingers together and moving the index finger of their other hand around the 'closed mouth' shape of their first hand, before finally spelling out 'Gate' as a name.

Roy watched them carefully through their signing, and when they were done, he spoke carefully, "You're asking if we're going to talk about Dr. Gate, yes?" he asked.

Harper nodded and shifted to bring their legs up on the couch so they could sit lotus style, hands resting on their knees. Like everyone else in that room, Harper was no stranger to the incident that had taken place about a week before. Unlike Sabriel, however, they were less sour about all the chaos, and more just annoyed that there seemed to be no serious repercussions for the whole ordeal. They knew far more about the event than any of the other Hounds, having witnessed it fully through the camera system. Though...they weren't about to reveal that they had access to that. Still, there was no denying that Dr. Gate's little spree had been absolutely catastrophic for more than just a handful of individuals. It rubbed them the wrong way, to see Dr. Gate go off on such a destructive frenzy, only to be let off the hook just like that, when they themself had to deal with talk after talk just for lashing out now and then. If they didn't know any better, they would assume that Roy and the rest of the higher ups were trying to pretend the whole thing never happened. Worse yet, they would think that Dr. Gate was getting special treatment.

As they simmered quietly, Harper listened to Roy's cop-out answer to their question. The man simply smiled and shifted where he stood as her said, "No, Dr. Gate will not be the topic of our conversation today. We've already dealt with all we can regarding recent events, and while I know it may not be pleasing to some, in favor of keeping the program on track, it has been decided that Dr. Gate will be remaining among us, with a few revisions to her procedure, at the very least. Dr. Gate is already well aware of the actions being taken in response to her recent excursion, and I feel it is outside the concern of anyone else here what the actions entail."

★ ★ ★

"So in other words," it was Casey who butt in then, "Whacher sayin' is, y'all'er jus' gonna sweep it all under the rug n' pretend it never happened."

Out of everyone, Casey surely had the most reason to be upset with Dr. Gate. Yet, ne was a little more forgiving than others, which was truly remarkable considering Dr. Gate's antics prior to her separation from the main group had nearly gotten nem killed. Ne wasn't upset about the fact that Dr. Gate's rampage was being wiped off the table. No. Casey was more fixated on the fact that, whenever lives got tossed around here, it seemed like everyone was quick to look the other way.

★ ★ ★

Roy frowned at nem, not an angry from, but more of a stern expression than he'd held before, "Not quite, Mx. Von Braun, but, as I said, this is not the focus of our meeting today."

"Then what in Hell's name is it!" Sabriel groaned and Roy immediately diverted his attention to the man as he continued, "I swear you're worse than a bloody strip tease!"

Always with the crass remark, Roy thought with an inward sigh and resisted the urge to shake his head as he pulled his attention away from Sabriel to look back over the rest of the group.

The rising commotion was concerning, but Roy just straightened his posture and lifted his hand to show a letter containing the signature of Agent Bell and a few others, "We've made it past our probation period!" he announced, "As of today, you all will be seeing some pleasant changes. You can expect more freedom in your regiment from here on out, so long as you keep out of trouble, and best of all, throughout the day, you all will be meeting with a member of the legal team who will be going over the return of any approved personal items you may have had with you, or which you have requested otherwise. In addition to this, you all can expect to begin receiving payment for your services with the DNCC!"

★ ★ ★

Sabriel stared at Roy dully, as though the man had just told them he finally had a bowel movement after three days of being backed up. The so-called announcement felt, to him, like the most useless information that had ever come out of the man's mouth. So they got to have their clothes back. Big whoop. Who even cared? Scrubs or civis, they were still prisoners, as much as Roy tried to tell them otherwise. They were still Hounds. The only thing that truly caught his attention was the last bit. Being paid. Frankly, he hadn't expected to even get a paycheck at all, but the fact that they were now, and hadn't before rubbed him the wrong way.

"You mean to tell me we haven't been getting paid up 'til now?" he questioned, purposely wording it to start something. If it hadn't been voiced, it might have been overlooked, and the whole meeting would have been for nothing but telling them they could wear shoes now. Now that it was out there. Now that the seed was planted, it was sure to take root, and Sabriel knew that at least someonewould take the bait and turn this little drop of information into a whole ordeal.

Invaders Grimm: Taking Urth (Invader Zim spin-off)

Bumping for notice because we need two more players

The Seven

@Visyn@Donut Look Now I'll send you both a link to the discord that way y'all can work on building your characters together and we can get this story rolling!

The Seven

@Donut Look Now If that's the direction you want to take for them! My kindness boy is portrayed as the toxic "nice guy" while Reign's hope gal is a gaslighting gatekeeping girlboss instilling people with false hope and making them doubt what isn't hopeful whdhdjdb but like I said, the corruption can also lead to the opposite of what they stand for!

@Visyn Maybe while she's certainly chaste, she's a huge flirt and a tease, leading people on with a sensual nature and then damning them for being lustful pigs!