Chasers115

—(••[ 𝕎𝕀𝕊ℍ𝔼𝔸𝕋𝔼ℝ ]••)—

Marcus Howell

---

"Suppression module: on,"

Welp, it was official. The battle was over and they were going to be back on their way to USARILN. In a way, Marcus was glad. There’d be a nice, comfy bed waiting for him when he got home. He shivered for a moment. ‘Home’. That place certainly was not ‘home’; his home was someplace far away, and not entirely intact. This would have to do, and he had a feeling it would be that way for a while, at least.
Adding to that were the kind escorts who had arrived. It looked like there was a pretty large group of soldiers who’d shown up, and a tow truck for some reason. He watched sadly as numerous bodies were loaded into one of the trucks, more bodies than had come from their team. Other teams had apparently taken casualties as well, a fact that grimly reminded him of how much had been going on. Everyone had seemed so separated, but now that the bodies were being taken, he was reminded of the unity they shared. They were a big team; and everybody had lost people.

He looked around as the soldiers formed around them, more of them off in the distance performing other duties. Shane’s slow movement caught his eye, and he sighed, raising his hands in the surrender position as well. He’d already almost been shot once; so he was happy to do anything to mitigate that risk.

Marcus jolted a little bit as Shane passed out, cautiously looking around to see if there was a source. It made sense that the dude would be exhausted after that show of force, but it certainly seemed like a delayed reaction. He eyed the unconscious form with as much curiosity as the guards, but remained where he was, hands still raised slightly.

He internally chuckled a bit at what he thought was a humorous scene of a few guards attempting to coax a dragon onto a tow truck, but didn’t focus on that very much. The orders from the remaining guards quickly brought his attention back to his own predicament. Once again, into the truck; this all seemed very familiar to him.

“Does this one have a mini-fridge at least?”

---

The sit at the hospital was just about as quiet as the ride over. He’d sat back on his bench and closed his eyes, his weary mind still spinning a little bit because of the green gas they’d been subjected to. The poison nausea paired with the ever-so-slight motion sickness from the ride over didn’t exactly make for a winning combination, so he’d sat silently, halfway between waking and sleep, only vaguely aware of some chatter around him. If it were anything important, someone would shove him.

Now, Marcus maintained relatively the same position. Arms crossed, leaned slightly back in his chair, eye closed. As much as he tried, he couldn’t fall asleep here, but he hoped he was at least tricking his body into feeling a little less tired. He wasn’t quite sure why he bothered to stay after they’d shuttled in; a quick examination of him showed that he didn’t have any injuries aside from some superficial glitter cuts, thanks to Lily’s power taking care of his shoulder injury. That was probably the reason he stayed; Lily’s cries of pain and subsequent unconsciousness worried him slightly, and now he was just waiting to see if she made a recovery. He’d leave any additional ‘thank you’ speeches to the rest, and maybe send her a fruit basket at some point. Maybe send the blonde boy one too, for unintentionally keeping everyone else healthy.

His eyes popped open at an unexpected sound. Multiple boots; usually the sound of multiple boots meant he was about to get shoved off to yet another room or something, if the previous few days were any indication. What he saw was a little more surprising; A Precursor. The white mage of the Precursors to be precise: Benediction himself. It made sense; if the Director had one in her pocket to deal with escapees, then she’d also have one ready for healing. Wouldn’t want any unfortunate accidents to reduce the more important staff, he surmised.

He imagined that they didn’t qualify as ‘important staff’.

Hell, he probably should have been grateful for the small effort that the man did expend on them. The white light that filled the room was undoubtedly his power, a fact confirmed by the tickling sensation that accompanied his glitter wounds healing, along with the sound of numerous IVs dripping on the floor. Seemed that people as great as him didn’t worry about the messes they left behind.

As quickly as he came, Benediction was gone. Marcus looked around – people were sitting up from their beds and looking around, nurses were gossiping and walking around, one had even cleared them. He stood up from his position, stretching and yawning. It had been a long day, and now that he was free to leave, he was heading straight for his bed.

He shuffled slowly out of the room, trying not to step in any of the puddles spilled on the floor. He gently scooted past one student, arm trapped in a cast, apparently trying to get one of the nurses to free him from his plaster prison. The crowd dispersed slightly at the door, and a momentary look around the halls showed Marcus which way he needed to go to get back to the suites.

—(••[ 𝕎𝕀𝕊ℍ𝔼𝔸𝕋𝔼ℝ ]••)—

Callan | Grant | Marcus | Siena | Lily

---

𝕊𝕖𝕡𝕥. 𝟛, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘 / / ℂ𝕣𝕚𝕞𝕖𝕟 ℂ𝕦𝕝𝕡𝕒𝕖 𝟙 / / ℕ𝕠𝕣𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕟 𝕆𝕦𝕥𝕤𝕜𝕚𝕣𝕥𝕤

---

_{Collab with @Baklava@Deathmyster@Chasers115@PapiTan@Kyrisse}

Watching after Lily, Callan's attention was drawn to a dark brown mess of hair peppered with blond strands darting ahead of Lily with inhuman speed. She barely had enough time to fill her lungs with a gasp before Shane entombed the boy in crystal-- but not before the boy proved that he was more than capable of cracking Shane's wall. What the hell was that all about? She noted the black X marring the crazed student's throat and she felt a sudden chill. Why had he tried to attack Shane just now? Was that... was that what a stigma did?

Her research on the subject had yielded more questions than answers-- the result of people speculating over the last 10 years and the governent being suspiciously unwilling to share their research. She once again tried to remind herself that giving that online thread she'd found a proper look would probably be to her benefit. Though the boy's well-being concerned her, everything seemed to be under control. If Shane was going to kill him, she knew he already could have. Marcus' question managed to stop her from thinking too deeply on the matter-- though she wouldn't soon forget what she'd just seen.

"How're you feeling, Cal?" Marcus said, turning to their resident super hero. "Don't try and play tough, we all saw you get grand-slam swatted back there, and we can't have our lead star sitting out the next fight; we'll all get kil-" his voice caught in his throat, and his face immediately paled as his memory brought forward an unpleasent fact: there had been casualties. In the thick of the battle, he'd nearly managed to forget it. Now that he had the time for everything to catch up to him, the weight of the realization pressed down on him like an iron weight.

She tore her eyes away from scene. With a sheepish scoff, Callan absentmindedly scrunched her ponytail as she replied, warmth spreading across her cheeks, "It wasn't so bad. I might go see Christmas later about my leg. I think it'll take a while to heal, but I can deal for now. Anyway, I wasn't much of a lead this round. You guys did way better than me. I didn't kill a damn thi--" she paused, noticing the odd expression on Marcus' face. Was it something she said? "Uh... well, I might not go see Christmas after all. The blood thing is kinda hard to swallow... no pun intended."

Her eyes swept over the rest of the group as she spoke, wanting to let everyone know what a good job they did. Almost everyone was there. She spotted Siena off a little ways, but where was....

"Where's Padma?"

No words, just action. He walked past his teammates, classmates, without a word, to where Padma laid. Where what was left of Padma laid. He stared down at the body, his eyes lidded, blinking slowly. He didn't grieve, he didn't cry. He just stood in thought as he looked at the body. Was there something he could've done? Would it have been possible to somehow save her... Of course, he wouldn't find out. Not now. Now that she's already gone. He closed his eyes, letting out a sigh. "Sorry..." He muttered under his breath. "I'm sorry I didn't do anything..."

As Grant passed, Cal followed him with her eyes for a moment before looking ahead. There she was. Padma. Lifeless as could be.

Her hand slid tightly over her mouth and her breath caught in her throat. She was deathly silent and her eyes seemed void of any emotion as they stared at her teammate's lifeless form. For one blissful moment she felt nothing at all as she tried to comprehend her feelings, which suddenly felt like a lottery wheel of emotion. Happy it hadn't been her, sad she was dead, angry she hadn't been there to stop it, surprised to see more death so soon, happy it hadn't been Marcus-- or Siena, sad that her loved ones would miss her, angry that nobody had called for her help-- even though she probably wouldn't have made it in time. Angry that the school hadn't given everyone weapons to fight with. Angry that Grant hadn't watched her back. Angry that she was dead. The wheel had stopped spinning.

She barely heard Grant's muttered apology-- speaking over him before he even ended his sentence, "What the fuck happened?" Her eyes darkened as she shifted her gaze from Padma to Grant.

"You were supposed to watch her back! What the fuck happened?!" she stepped towards him, lowering her hands, which tightened into fists. Her voice cracked as she asked the question a second time, her face a mixture of frustration, confusion, and helplessness.

Grant barely turned his head, opening his eyes to glance at the angered Callan, who directed her frustrated words toward him. As if it were his fault. His fault. His fault? His brows furrowed ever so slightly as he looked back at the body. They stood in silence as he recollected the events. The events before and during her death... He let the silence in that moment linger before he slowly shook his head. "It was so quick.. I was so focused on just chucking rocks, I didn't even notice the squirrels so close... Those squirrels... They tried to attack me. Kill me, and I froze... I just froze... And when I couldn't defend myself, she did. And even though she was right there, right in front of me... struggling... dying..."

He held the knife with a death grip. "I did nothing." Was the last thing to come from his mouth as an explanation. His voice was, as usual, tired, almost regretful. Yet no sadness, no grievence. No anger, frustration. It was on the complete opposite spectrum of Callan's emotional outburst toward him.

The silence that hung in the air only fueled the panicked fire that was building inside of her-- and his response did little to provide any comfort. In fact, the lack of emotion as he spoke-- sounding more sleepy than sorry-- caused her shoulders to shake and tears to well up in the corners of her eyes. The same lack of emotion she had felt the night before. More sleepy than sorry. Could she have saved her? Could she have saved any of them? Callan inhaled sharply, cocking her head to the side.

"Nothing?! How could you do nothing?!" her voice rose. She couldn't remember the last time she'd spoken at such a high volume. Her shadow started to flicker. It twitched unnaturally, darkening as the edges seemed to harden. "Sh-she's fucking dead! And you just stood there and watched!"

It was Cal's voice that caught Siena's attention. The volume enough to cut through the rest of the din. Enough to pull Siena's head out of the ocean and keep her floating for a moment longer. Following the sound, the brunette soon found her teammates. Almost all of them.

Padma.

If there was a voice left in Siena's body, it vanished as her eyes went over to the lifeless body. The cry for help that she would have, should have made lost in the booming thunder echoing through the storm. Back under the water, the emotions threatened to drown her as the adrenaline sank to the pit of her stomach, heavy now that it had run its course. Anger. Regret. Guilt. The final of the three was the final blow, stealing away Siena's breath entirely as the ocean threatened to boil over. Pinpricks in the back of her eyes. Heat that reminded her she was alive. Pain dug deep, anchored her in the sea as she lingered a short distance away from the others.

'It was my fault.'

But she was too much of a coward to say it. She deserved to drown in the sea.

Marcus stood by, silently. He'd neglected to say anything when Callan's questioned pierced his mind like a dagger, but he fortunately wasn't the one that had to tell her. In all honesty, he wouldn't have known how to approach the topic if he had been the one that needed to. Now, he stood back and watched his roommate tear into their teammate. It was only when she started getting heated that he stepped in, his stressed mind paying no attention to the twitching shadow on the ground.

"Callan." he said softly, almost placing his hand on her shoulder, but pulling back. "Settle down. It's not Grant's fault; most of us haven't even seen those things, much less fought against them." his voice was growing a bit stronger now, as the color flushed back to his face. "There's no way we could have been ready for this so soon. Nobody did anything wrong, it just...happened." he had no idea how comforting or defusing this was supposed to be, but the words just didn't seem to be there. He stopped, looking off to the side in silence.

'Liar.'

She hadn't noticed the loud thumping in her ears until it started to fade upon hearing her name-- it sounded distant and far away. Her mind numbing frustration was shattered as she realized it was Marcus speaking to her. She took a step back and her shadow, unnoticed, returned back to normal. Defeated, she sniffled, wiped the remnants of her almost-tears away and sighed, biting down on her lip. He was right-- she couldn't blame Grant for this. He was just some kid that woke up one morning with powers and a streak on his cheek. That's all any of them were-- the X's, too. He probably hadn't even had them for more than a week-- if her own timeline was any reference. But still....

"I fucked up.... I shouldn't have charged ahead and left you guys," she said dejectedly.

"Hey now. What did I just say?" Marcus said, his voice nearly demanding. If Callan turned to look at him, she'd fine a mix of soft anger, tempered by a quiet understanding. "Nobody did anything wrong. That includes you. Look at your leg right now and tell me what that thing would have done to the rest of us if it got close." his eyes flitted away for a moment, and his hand instinctively reached up to fiddle with the dog tags around his neck. "People die now. It happens. Sometimes there's nothing you can do about it." he finished, his eyes darting back to address Callan.

"God, I know. I just... I wish there was," Callan looked back at Padma, but couldn't bring herself to look any further than the girl's shoes, "Grant, I'm sorry. Marcus is right-- it's... it's nobody's fault." She said that, but her guilt lingered-- made worse by realizing how stupid she'd been for snapping at Grant. Of all people, he probably felt the worst about what happened-- and she'd only encouraged it. She glanced between Grant, Siena, and Marcus, opening the apology up to them as well.

'It was mine.' But her coward heart dared not break the peace that began to settle. They were already calming, even if her personal storm was reaching its peak. She hated this part. It was her own fault this time. Not dubious events that she couldn't pinpoint the reality of when everything was left in shambles inside. Not faceless loss after faceless loss made to pull herself together when the floodgates couldn't hold.

In the event of Marcus calming Callan down, Grant simply stood there, taking her emotional words before Marcus had stepped in. Wasn't his fault... Was his fault... he wasn't sure anymore. He was just tired. When he finally heard his name once more from her, in a much more calm tone, he focused in on her words. Nobody's fault. He let out air through his nose quietly as he turned away from the body, simply nodding in response. "I'm going to the trucks..." He'd say lastly before he began walking to said trucks.

Marcus wasnt quite sure how to take the whole thing. Grant seemed okay, but he honestly didn't know the guy well enough to determine if he was actually okay. He sighed softly, looking back to Callan. "You sure you don't want to head over and get yourself patched up? Some of those burns look pretty bad." The words came out slowly, and although he tried, he couldn't force a happier expression on his face. He was tired right now, not just physically, and he longed to leave this battlefield behind him.

Callan was silent for moment before answering-- staring after Grant and lost in thought. She turned away and weakly shook her head, "I'm fine." As she spoke she looked down at her leg. The deep gash made by the monster's beak, amidst its painful throbbing, had managed to bleed through the sleeve of her shirt-- she'd known this, but failed to notice that it hadn't stopped bleeding since. Two hours might be too long for a few stitches at this rate. She curled her lips into a frustrated snarl and sighed. "Shit..." she hissed, "Mm... no, I think I can make it."

"Really?" Marcus said, bringing his hand up to his chin in a thoughtful position. "'Cause, and I'm no doctor here, so correct me if I'm wrong; but I'm pretty sure all that blood is supposed to stay on the inside of your body." he finished, his joking demeanor immediately shifting into business, bringing with it an equal change in his tone. "Swallow your pride, go over there and...what? Drink his blood? Ew." he stopped for a moment as he watched the medical process their healers were going through, but quickly got back on topic. "Go over there and drink the blood, or I swear to god I'll hide your crutches while you sleep."

"Have you seen that guy?" she grimaced, "He looks half dead already!"

"I doubt they'll drain him dry. If they need to stop, I'm sure they'll stop. Zhang's probably monitoring him or something." Marcus said, looking over to where the boy lay. He didn't particularly look to be the healthiest, but if they said stop, that would be the end of it. "I'm not dragging you to the infirmary because you passed out on the transport ride back. Go." he said, nodding his head in the direction of the rest of the people being healed.

She sighed looking down at her blood soaked leg. For a moment she considered removing the sleeve wrap to reassess the damage, but that probably wouldn't help her case. Anyway, Marcus seemed to know what he was talking about and the thought of passing out because of this didn't exactly appeal to her. Of course, Christmas' blood didn't either, but... if it wouldn't kill him, maybe he could spare a few drops.

"Yes, mother," Callan sighed with defeat, managing half a smile before she headed off in Lily's direction. Despite how awfully bleak everything seemed, it felt good to be able to smile-- at least a little bit. Hope was something she'd felt she was sincerely lacking these days. Recover. Live to fight another day. Stay strong. She was grateful for the unintended reminder-- as well as the concern.

As Callan walked away, Marcus took one brief look down at the body where it rested. It was hard to believe that less than an hour ago, she'd been riding a transport over with them and prepping herself for combat.

People die now. It happens.

As much as he desperately wanted anything different, the words he'd said were true. They seemed to help the others at least, if the diffusion of the argument were anything to go by, but he didn't truly believe them himself. He contemplated saying some words, something to 'help the departed along', something to fill the deafening silence that hung around him. After a long moment, failing to find the proper response, he settled on a soft "Thank you."

Grant left shortly after, leaving Marcus and Callan to have their exchange. Leaving Siena enough courage to finally, finally approach the body, mind a cacophany of "what if" and "if only." With Callan starting to move towards Lily, that really only left Marcus and Padma. Weight pressed in the back of Siena's head. Her fault.

'You have no one left to hide behind now.' Mocking words rang clear in her head. Clearer than everything else. She wanted to be drowning. The storm quieted in the realization, leaving behind serenity for a terrifying moment of clarity. A moment where she could almost catch a glimpse of the endless expanse. Infinite. Incomprehensible as eternity was.

Just a few drops of the storm.

This storm is yours to take. Calm, lightning, and all.

And just as quickly as it had come, the eye passed, leaving Siena to the mercy of the new set of emotions that took turns to batter her. Disgust over the calm, frustration that despite what she told herself to feel, the tears refused to come. That she wanted to grieve, but was too absorbed in her own problems to do it properly. Lost again in the wake of what she'd felt. No one left to hide behind. Finally regaining her voice, Siena turned her attention towards the lone familiar face left.

"I...I'm glad you're alive." The words came out shaky, just as battered as she felt, but stronger she had thought they would be. Between the mental and physical exertion, there was little that seemed more appealing than following Grant to a truck and closing her eyes, but that would have meant being alone with every thought she tried to hide behind another name. Ezio. Gavin. Marcus. She just needed someone to hide behind. "Do you think Cal will be okay...?"

'More okay than I feel, at least...'

Marcus gave a weak smile, if only to show that he was alright. "Yeah, me too. Good to see you're still kicking as well. he said, his usual enthuasim somewhat lacking. He turned to look at Callan as Siena mentioned her, turning back and shrugging. "I hope so; I don't want her bleeding all over the carpet when we get back. How about you? You doin' alright?" he said.

The tone of his voice hopefully made it apparent that he wasn't just talking about being physically well. Siena hadn't said much yet, and he wasn't getting a very good read on how she was handling the aftermath. As much as he didn't want to be the stoic, 'put your mind at ease' guy, he'd take up the mantle if he had to.

He was just as exhausted. Siena internally grimaced, another trickle of guilt curling deep into the rest of the pit. Instinctively, her fingers curled into the ends of whatever locks had sprung loose from their usual confines, curling, pulling. Satisfaction coming with every barely audible snap of a strand breaking under pressure. "I should be asking you that." Because it wasn't the first time she was left with an aftermath. Not the first time she'd felt loss that cut deep enough to ache in her bones, and it wouldn't be the last if she kept using her abilities. With a modicum of effort, Siena pushed the emotions back down her throat, to the back of her mind where they had less space to run rampant. There was no use in trying to compartmentalize them when it was her and not someone else. Her problems, not his. "But thanks for the concern." She tried her best to return the weak smile, found that she was too exhausted to manage emotional labor, and quickly switched to an apologetic look when the expression faded quickly into little more than a tired uptick of the lips.

A thought that bordered on a fuzzy memory came to mind.

"Don't push yourself too hard." Or else he would break like so many others that put themselves behind others. Despite her best attempts, she could feel the desperation and concern break through the facade she tried to keep going. A quick nervous scratch of the head to turn her face away in case anything cracked the mask was all that Siena could afford before she spoke again. "I um...I mean...you've been taking care of everyone else so far, so you should take care of yourself first." It took most of her self control not to turn her statement into a nervous question--Why? Because you know you're only saying it because you know Gerwulf would have?--but it was enough...wasn't it?

"Yeah. Trust me, I'm doin' my best here." Marcus mumbled. It came out a little harsher than he meant it to; a little more honest than he intended. Almost surprised at his own bluntness, a more upbeat comment quickly followed, as if it were a built in reflex: "I'm rewarding myself with a nice hot bubble bath when we get back. It's the least I deserve after making sure all you guys don't drip all over the nice beds they've provided." he chuckled slightly, rubbing the back of his neck.

He opened his mouth to follow up with something else; another witty comment, a joke, something to lighten the mood, but found his words had abandoned him. He stammered out nothing, resigning himself to his silence. A quick sigh, and an almost pained look showed that he didn't have anything left to raise spirits. "Thanks"

Halfway to where Lily was, a black thread wrapped itself around Callan's wrist. While the supergirl did say that she didn't need her injuries taken, Lily didn't really believe she wanted to stay hurt too long. That, and the fact that Lily wanted to prioritize her team mates. There was a cry of pain from the golden haired girl as all of Cal's injuries transferred to her. The black string promptly dissipated.

She paused at the black thread that materialized around her wrist, followed by an immense feeling of relief as the gash, as well as the burns, dissipated. Poor Lily. She winced at the sound of the girl's cry. She wanted to shout a thank you, but with so many other people around, her desire not draw anymore attention to herself won out. She'd thank her personally on the ride home... maybe send her a 'Thanks for healing me!' card. Maybe she'd send one to Christmas too if she ever managed to get over how weirdly nonconsensuall this all seemed. Behind her, she overheard Siena talking to Marcus and glanced back at them over her shoulder. She felt a strange pang of isolation, but brushed it aside-- instead choosing to think about Padma.

I won't let your death be in vain. She nodded to herself, resolve renewed.

—(••[ 𝕎𝕀𝕊ℍ𝔼𝔸𝕋𝔼ℝ ]••)—

Marcus Howell

---

The world exploded.

Before Marcus could even see if his shots hit their mark, and far before he could start preparing his next move, the entire world exploded. From what his still foggy brain could understand, the air became saturated with little crystals, which seemed to brush up against and simultaniously not touch him. It seemed to wrap tightly around him, a circumstance which quickly gave rise to panic in his brain. He would have burned a rewind, had it the potential to benefit him, but his stationary time taking aim meant that he would once again end up in the same spot if he did rewind. This was a fact that his calmer brain would relay afterwards, a mental note as to combat strategies and the value of remaining mobile, especially given the nature of his power.

For now, his panic settled a bit as he quickly found himself in a large crystal sphere, seemingly made of the same materials as the fans he'd noticed across the battlefield. Which probably meant that this thing was a friendly creation; either that or he'd soon be crushed to a fine powder and there was nothing he could possibly do about it. He chose to remain blissfully optimistic about the situation, rather than contemplate his own crushing for very long.

Speaking of crushing, what was currently happening down below him was something that caused him to stop in awe. The entire battlefield, one in which they had been fighting for their lives, was a dome of crystal, trapping the creatures inside. This was the work of someone powerful; magic the likes of which he'd only seen on the original ten. The power of a Precursor, which made all their fighting seem worthless. If someone could come along and do this, no matter how much effort was expended, what was the point of them even being here? Sure, this might be their future, but why send them out first?

This point seemed to be hammered home as the sphere finished, and subsequently imploded inwards on itself in a brute show of raw magical strength. When they were finally deposited on the ground, Marcus was, for a brief moment in his life, speechless. Thousands of thoughts raced through his head, one of which being the comprehension of overkill that just happened. The point rang home again, although in a harsher light: what was the point in them even being here? If there were fighters that were more qualified to do this than a bunch of newbies, why send them out? He shook his head, the poison’s after affects almost causing him to lose his balance; there'd be plenty of time to mull it over later.

First, there was the issue of his pistol. G.I Jerkoff was standing a little ways away from the rest of them, along with a group of other soldiers, one of whom was currently vomiting. He honestly couldn’t blame the guy. And when we’re done, you just push this little switch to turn the safety on. Marcus looked down to find the little switch, fumbling with it for just a moment before pushing it down. “Hey, Private Pissed-Off! I bring you the present of Lucie, undamaged.” he said, extending the pistol outward with one hand. Nonono! Barrel down, Marc, barrel down.

He nearly dropped the gun in his sudden motion to flip it over, an action which seemed to cause a few of the guards to tense up. He handed it over to Jerry, barrel down, as well as the strap and magazines. “14 shots. One left in there for you to shoot yourself in the foot and appeal to Zhang if you want.” he said, turning away from the little group of guards.

“Hey kid!” the sound of his new friend’s voice caused Marcus to stop in his tracks and turn around. “15 shots. Try counting a little better next time, or you’ll get yourself killed going after a monster with an empty gun and a prayer.”

Marcus’s mind clouded ever so slightly. It was a little mistake, but the guard was right; that kind of error would have easily lead to his death. His mind raced a little bit, considering the ‘what if?’ He’d made a mistake, a lapse in judgement, which fortunately didn’t get the chance to play out in this fight. Which meant that it was fine, just a slight miscalculation that he’d have to learn from. He didn’t say anything as he turned back around. He silenced the ’what ifs’; right now he just wanted to find his team and make sure everyone else was okay.

"Lilianna! Front and center! You're taking all the other injuries and healing through them with this guy's blood!"

Sounded like he needed to hurry if he wanted to catch them before they got assigned somewhere else.

Good job Marc! Maybe next time I’ll let you actually fire it, see if you can shoot real bullets as well as those BB’s. I’m thinking ice cream on the way home, what about you? Don’t tell Mom though, she’ll skin us both!

Hider

To be continued in collab

—(••[ 𝕎𝕀𝕊ℍ𝔼𝔸𝕋𝔼ℝ ]••)—

Callan | Emma | Grant | Marcus | Lily

---

𝕊𝕖𝕡𝕥. 𝟛, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘 / / ℂ𝕣𝕚𝕞𝕖𝕟 ℂ𝕦𝕝𝕡𝕒𝕖 𝟙 / / ℕ𝕠𝕣𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕟 𝕆𝕦𝕥𝕤𝕜𝕚𝕣𝕥𝕤 / / 𝟚𝟙𝟛𝟘

---

_{Collab with @Baklava@Diggerton@Deathmyster@Chasers115@Kyrisse}

Déjà vu.

Callan once again flew back into the trench, this time leaving a decent crater where she landed. She rolled over to her non-chemically burned side, holding her stomach while she gasped for breath. She scrunched up her face and repeatedly pounded the side of her free fist into the dirt as she waited for the pain to subside. Question answered-- she couldn't control Emma's shadow things. She rolled onto her knees and pressed her hand up against the trench wall for support.

"Urghh... I don't... I don't think they wanna listen to me," she said to Emma with a forced laugh, the slightest note of irritation in her voice.

Emma winced as Callan flew back into the trench. She was thankful that she didn't have to fight in the front lines like her. "Sorry Callan!" she called out. Emma had thought that would work, but apparently the tulpas really weren't great at thinking independently. Devotion reappeared next to her. Okay, I just have to copy Cal… that’s all. She called out to the pair, ”Devotion, attack from the right side, Determination attack from the left. Aim for the eye!” Emma hoped that her commands would suffice this time.

Callan pulled herself to her feet and climbed out of the trench-- albeit a bit slower than before. "Time for a redo," she muttered. Truthfully, she was a little frustrated, but she couldn't blame Emma. By comparison, Cal had far less control over her own ability than she did. As she took off, she realized the green fog was suddenly being blown away by a massive crystaline structure near pink team. Reinforcements? Through the dissipating fog, she spotted 'Determination' and 'Devotion' following Emma's orders. Hopefully things would work out better this time around.

Oh, how Grant longed for a nap right now. Nap? No, maybe full on sleep. He was tired, yet the battle was not won. He kept his eyes shut for the time being while his teammates were working on getting rid of the remaining monster. It helped with the dizziness, just a bit. But with every breath he took, the nausea seemed to punch him straight in the gut, and it wasn't nice at all. He wished that it would end, just end already... His eyes opened, and he noticed, the fog was going away. Blowing away, more like. Relief. He took in a big, deep breath and let it out, feeling the fresh air fill his lungs to the brim. Though the fog went away, that feeling of nausea stayed, not as strong, but lingering. Looking down, he noticed the knife that he dropped. Padma's knife. He let out a sigh, shaking his head and picked it up. He regained enough strength to push himself up from the ground at least, but he still leaned against the wall.

While the beetleman let out one final wheeze, Marcus still stood alert, waiting for any sign of movement. It certainly seemed as though his execution had actually worked, and it doubly seemed as though this creature was now nothing more than a corpse. Although the battle wasn't over, it felt like a small victory to him; they'd been able to reduce one of these monsters to pathetic wheezing and gasping, a trait all too often reserved for the human combatants. It was kind of poetic, or karmatically appropriate at least.

He turned to look behind him, not really surprised that Lily was there. As he opened his mouth to say something to her, a sudden shift in the weather drew his attention elsewhere. A great wind swept over the field, dispersing the fog ever so slightly. Marcus took the opportunity to hesitiantly pull his shirt off his face and take a small breath, followed by several large and eager breaths when he realized it was not poison. He had no idea who was responsible for the windmills, but he made a mental note to thank them later.

He turned back around to meet Lily's eyes, his grin less forced and more confident this time around. "How're ya feeling, Lily?" he asked, moving to stand beside her. Off in the distance, he watched Cal climb out of the trench, and Emma summon some...things. Shadows, by the look of it.

Lily swayed on her feet, the front of her shirt held tightly against her nose and mouth. She tried to fight off the overwhelming nausea and dizziness from the fog as she focused now on Marcus' back rather than the beetleman who had let out one last wheeze before completely becoming still. How am I suppose to watch his back when I feel like I'm gonna keel over anytime soon? she thought irritatedly as she continued to fan the fog away with her free hand. The small movement aggravated the dizziness and she slowly sank down to the ground to avoid falling over. Are we all just gonna die in this fog?" she thought, her muddled mind trying to figure out if she could transfer the effects of the poison the way she did her other injuries. Did it work that way? Her eyes sought out the remaining monster that was closest to them. Maybe she could make the eye monster sick enough for her team mates to finish it off. She let go of her shirt. It was useless trying to shield her nose and mouth anyway. She can't escape the poison unless she stopped breathing. And besides...if I'm gonna transfer it, it's gotta be potent. She inhaled deeply, the nausea doubling as she did.

But before she could do anything, she felt a wave of fresh air sweep around her...or at least air that wasn't tainted with poison. She sighed in relief as she felt the nausea and dizziness abating a little. She looked towards Marcus and nodded. "I think so," she said as she slowly got to her feet. She still felt nauseous but it was a lot better than it was a couple of seconds ago. She followed his gaze towards Callan and Emma. "We should help them out."

"Funny, I was just thinking the same thing!" Marcus said, slowly walking over beside her. "I don't know how much good a bullet will do against it, but it's always worth a shot. Plus, we've got you if we need...oh yeah, you alright?" he asked, looking down towards her leg almost reflexively. Some part of his brain outright refused to believe that she should be beside him just casually chatting after that little incident, but that part of his brain hadn't quite caught up yet.

"Of course I am," Lily grinned as she looked down at her leg, her mood automatically picking up when she thought of how useful she had become in the battle. She bent and then extended her knee. "Good as new. As if nothing happened," she added triumphantly. "Plan B worked really well."

Marcus smiled, nodded, and jogged over to the hole, coming to stop slightly behind the pit. With the beetleman executed, he and Lily were free to help with the last remaining beast. He stopped to take aim again, wincing as his shoulder sent electricity sparking through his body. Not the greatest strategist, his current plan was 'shoot the large eye monster in its large eye'. Finess would have to wait until later; this was not a plan that required it.

Lily followed after Marcus, still set on watching his back as she was told to. It was easier now that the nausea had already faded. She stood to his side, not wanting to get in the way of what he was planning to do. She, however, noticed how he winced when he took aim. How best to help in this kind of situation? She couldn't just stand there and do nothing. Figuring that the best way to help him was to take away the injury, the black string reappeared on her wrist with the other end wrapping around Marcus' wrist. Pain blossomed in Lily's shoulder. It was tolerable though. "It should be easier to shoot now."

The dull thudding that accompanied his aim suddenly stopped with the appearance of a black string on his wrist. He turned to Lily, looking at her just in time to see her shoulder turn red. He appreciated it, especially whith his arms up and aiming, and he hoped his look of gratitude conveyed that. When this was over, he'd probably ask for it back, just so he didn't feel guilty. That was later though, there were important things to be taken care of now.

Same as before, two shots, aimed directly at the thing's giant eyeball. He caught himself holding his breath, but only after he'd fired the shots.

With each painful step of her sprint, Cal could feel her mind clear. It was just her and this one single goal for a moment-- to finally kill this nasty fucker. Twice it had swatted her away now and she wasn't about to let it do that a third time. More likely than not, she assumed it would be anticipating her. She half expected it to be patting its stinger against the dirt like it was a home plate-- waving it in the air expectantly. Well, either way she wasn't about to be intimidated.

The moment she saw the tail move, she sharply twisted her torso to the side and kicked one leg out in front of her. It was her turn to score a homerun, she thought to herself with a slight smile peeking through the grimace on her face as she slide across the ground-- aggravating her leg and the scorches on her side. She unintentionally growled as she thrust her arm upwards. Corny, unspoken one-liners would be a small comfort compared to the satisfaction of driving what was left of her katana through this thing's gut-- assuming its on-the-fly hockey skills weren't a concern.

—(••[ 𝕎𝕀𝕊ℍ𝔼𝔸𝕋𝔼ℝ ]••)—

Lily, Marcus, Emma, and Grant

A Hole Lotta Trouble

---

As Marcus knelt back down into the trench to regain his composure, a shape from one of the other teams caught his eye. A large scorpion, comprised of one eye and one long, slender leg was stumbling over towards them. He looked at it uneasily, trying to subtly draw his comrade's attention to it. "Watch yourself folks, we got another one incoming." He kept a steady eye on it, trying to figure out what it's deal was, before a guttural bellow drew his attention. Cal seemed to be making her way over to it, so his attention was best used on the source of the anger.

He turned just in time to see something large hurtling through the air. Something very large...and coming directly at them. Indeed, it would appear as if the fishmen had been promoted from lackeys to ammunition. Marcus reflected on this situation very eloquently, allowing his teammates to also appreciate the grievousness of their position:

"HOLY SHIT! he yelled, immediately hitting the dirt.

Lily laughed gleefully at the fishman's roars of pain. She probably sounded sadistic being so happy about it but she couldn't help it. Hurting the monsters meant that they were one step closer to finishing this nightmare of a battle... well, that or one step closer to getting hurt more by the bellowing beetleman. She was just about to peek out of the trench when Marcus' voice caught her attention. "Another one incoming? Haven't we had enough?" she asked. But before she could look at what Marcus meant, she heard an angry yell from the unearthed beetleman and then something large flying towards them. Something that was screaming and shooting out scales. Something that had a black string tied around its wrist, the other end of which was was still attached to her own wrist. Even when Marcus yelled out and hit the dirt and even when the scales rained down around her (and for once missing hitting her), all she could really say was "Oh."

Grant was too busy trying to catch the breath that had been forcefully knocked out of him from the fall he took into the trench he had just made that by the time he heard Marcus's outburst, it was too late. He opened his eyes a sliver and saw... the hell was that? He tried to focus on the falling- wait that was coming toward him. By the time he finished his confused thought, he felt the force of however much force a fishman would deal to him. All the breath he spent all that time catching was knocked out of him once more as pain spread throughout his torso. A pained, "GAH!!!" came from him the moment the fishman made its impact.

Marcus felt the rush of wind above his crouched form, and heard a loud impact as the fish was expertly catapulted into their makeshift trench. He seemed to be fine at least, his shoulder still throbbed with unnerving warmness, but he had been fortunate in the fact that the fishman had missed him completely. His head turned slowly to see the final resting place of the beast, his stomach sinking low when he saw the very-much-human legs sticking out from underneath it.

Lily watched silently as her black string once again dissipated into thin air as the catapulted fishman died on impact. She looked at it for what seemed like the longest time, its face melting into the face of a man she didn't quite recognize. His eyes were wide and staring blankly at her while his mouth moved soundlessly like a fish out of water. Is he trying to tell me something? What is he trying to say? Maybe if I move closer I can figure it out. Maybe if I---

"Jesus Christ! Grant! Talk to me man, you alive under there!?" he said, his voice frantic, while propping himself up against the fish and trying to roll it off his teammate.

Lily's thoughts were interrupted by Marcus' frantic voice. She blinked and then the fish was no longer a man. It was a very dead fish with the injuries that she had just a few minutes ago. And below its unmoving, lifeless body was one of her teammates. Grant. She would have helped out but the vision that she had just seen confused her. Ghosts from her past, most probably. Why were they showing themselves in the middle of the battle? She was having difficulty focusing as it is. Her mood plummeted.

Was he alive? He could still feel pain. Did that mean he lived through that? No, of course he was alive. No way was he dying to some fish being thrown at him. He struggled, opening his eyes once more.. something ran down his chin. Blood? Was it blood? No, no it was just some saliva that must've flown out from his mouth when he let out that sound in pain. Just then, he noticed the weight of the fishman on him. He struggled beneath the body trying to push it off, and he can see one of his teammates helping him with the task. A thought occurred to him, seeing his chains waving just above him.

"Marcus.. back off from the body...! I've.. I've got it!" His voice sounded strained in his ears, but that's probably to be expected with the fishman on him. He waited for Marcus to stop pushing before he made contact with the fishman body with both his chains. The feeling of weight against him was obviously much lighter than the ground itself, but it was still there. He lifted the fishman's body from his own, taking in a deep breath.

"Alright, well...if you say so!" Marcus said, raising his hands in an almost 'I'm innocent' motion. There was no time to argue, and he saw the chain attach itself to the corpse. If he could chuck a boulder, then Marcus trusted Grant's ability to lift a dead fish off himself.

Lily looked on in amazement as Grant lifted the corpse off of himself. Wow... she thought idly. It was a good ability. Destructive and helpful at the same time. Chains and monsters, blood and death. Despite the war still going on around them, she found her mind drifting off from one thought to the other. Their dead classmates, how many were still standing? How many were injured? How many were dying? How many monsters were still there? Will the battle end? She thought about her worth in all this. Sure, she was able to make herself a little useful. But what about later? Would she be able to help out the injured after the battle? Would there be an after the battle? Will she be able to survive and be able to help out? She sat down onto the ground and hugged her knees to her chest.

He turned back to look at the combatants, his heart leaping when he saw the beetleman reach for another fish. "Um. Guys. I don't want to be the bearer of bad news, but he's about to do it again!" he paused for a second, looking almost pitifully over at Lily, where she sat. "Lil's, I hate to say it, but it might be time for Plan B, unless either of you can think of anything better."

Lily slowly looked up at Marcus. Plan B... She thought back to what she had said to him earlier. ...you can shoot me and I'll transfer the injuries to it. Perfect way to get even with me too...Still a good plan, a good plan... She nodded. "I'm okay with Plan B."

Marcus sighed, almost wincing at the nonchalant way Lily agreed to the plan. He winced even more when his brain came up with a plan, and the exact injuries that would benefit the group huddled in the trench.

Grant sat up in time to hear the news about the giant armored man about to throw another fish. Wait, another one? "The hell.. he's gonna do it again?" He complained. He let out a frustrated sigh, using the dirt beside him to pull himself up as the fishman's corpse hovered at his side with the help of his chains. No way in hell was he letting that beetle of a man get away with throwing a fish at him. He peeked above the trench to see the man approaching. If he was gonna enact revenge, better do it quick. He already had 'fling the fish back at the beetle and see how HE liked it' in his mind, but he doubted that would leave much of an impact at all. "What now, what now, what now, what now..." Quietly came from his mouth in panic when he realized the girl, Lily, had a grenade belt. Grenades. There's that feeling of an assault of knowledge bombarding his brain again. "I got an idea." He'd say simply, raising his hand, and the fishman corpse raising in sync.

Lily followed Grant's eyes as he looked at the grenades that were strapped onto her hips. She shook her head. "I'm not allowed to touch them. So your plan better not involve me handling any of them," she said in a flat voice. Self doubt was creeping into her head and it wasn't helping much with her mood. If only she could remember who she really was and why she had the x mark on her neck then maybe she can be a bit more helpful, do a little more.

Marcus also followed Grant's eyes, his face paling a slight amount around the same time that Lily spoke. At least Lily was taking her duty of not blowing them up seriously, but it still seemed as if it were about to happen again. "Aaaaand what would that be...?" he said, the question very slow and very hesitant. A sudden peek at the Beetle-Man behind them spurred him into action, however, and he spoke a bit quicker: "Actually, you know what? Just explain while you do it; we're running short on time here!"

Meanwhile, across the battlefield Emma stood taking in the results of her and Kusari's attack. Evidently it was a success, the doll toppling to become one with the ground. Emma allowed herself only a moment to celebrate, clapping her hand together with a small smile. She took a moment to survey the field, scanning to see if there was anyone else to help. In truth she would rather declare her work done, but she knew better than that. Either that or she was afraid she would disappoint her new 'classmates' by flaking out on them in the middle of a life-or-death battle. She noted the position of her teammates, wincing as she saw Lawrence attending to an injured Christmas. She shook her head. She wouldn't be able to help there, as much as she might have wanted to. She was more worried about the 'eyepion' killing someone, even if they were on a different team. Emma glanced at Kusari and gave her a smile and a nod, gesturing to indicate that she was going after the eyepion.

She didn't really have time to exchange pleasantries with Lazarushian woman, even though she would've preferred to chat with Kusari instead of diving back into the battle. Instead she chased after the errant eyepion, who had by now joined blue team. She arrived shortly behind it to find a new set of monstrosities- fish men, beetle men, and the corpses of monsters aplenty. She glanced around for the Blue X's, finding only the blue haired girl with the sword. She saw the beetle man moving towards a trench, yells emanating within. The rest of blue team. Emma decided. She ran past the eyepion, taking a wide path around it to avoid drawing its attention, heading towards the trench. She reached it and jumped in.

She landed next to Lily, Marcus, and Grant. She looked across the trio. There was a man sized fish in the trench. The girl had grenades. A beetleman was queuing up another fish. ”Uhhhh... hi?” was what escaped Emma's mouth.

The golden haired girl was still doubting herself and contemplating on how she'd handle the pain from Plan B when a girl landed beside her. She blinked and looked at her. What was her name again? She remembered seeing her in that orientation they were in but no matter how hard she wracked her brain, she couldn't come up with a name. Did it really matter? She lifted a hand and gave her a small, lazy wave. "Hi," she greeted.

Marcus visibly jumped when another figure came tumbling into their little hidey-hole. He hadn't been expecting the second fish to hit so soon, and he fumbled with his pistol for a moment, intending to draw it, but not quite getting that far. For, it was not a fish that had landed in their midst, but a girl; one who appeared to be the same age as the rest of them. He stared dumbfounded for a moment, processing. She didn't appear to be a monster, and she certainly didn't seem to be trying to kill them, which made her friendlier than most of what was on the battlefield.

"H-hello?" he stammered. "Welcome to the shitshow, Mrs...?"

"Emma... or Em, either way is fine." She said, managing a smile even though she was in a trench that they might very well soon die in. "I'm from the, uh, red team." She said with a hint of hesitation. She felt a little odd about the whole situation- the 'whole situation' encompassing everything that had happened since she was captured. She was hardly used to using superpowers to fight monsters.

While the new girl that dropped in introduced herself to the others, Grant was busy peeking over the trench at the impending doom that was the giant armored man. "Let's just get this over with.." He'd mutter, walking over to Lily, who had the belt of grenades. "I'm taking one." He declared simply before doing as he said, and stepped back to his chain-supported fishman corpse, rotating it around so the mouth of said corpse was pointing up. He observed the corpse from top to bottom quickly, realizing that the legs of the corpse would probably be a problem with the fishman corpse's air accuracy. He took took a few deep breaths before focusing more on the form of the corpse's legs, which at the moment seemed to vibrate and shake before being drawn to each other, sticking.

Grant grabbed one of the legs and gave a good pull, and no matter how much he did, they stuck together like glue. Very, very strong glue. Figuring that was good enough, he 'willed' the mouth of the corpse open with the help of his chains, detaching a chain after he did. The weight that pressed down against Grant's being grew noticeably, but there wasn't time to worry about it. He attached one chain, precisely on the pin of the grenade before dropping it into the fishman mouth, closing it with his chain. It looked very... bizarre, a chain attached to the corpse while also another seemed to just phase into it. After doing all this, Grant peeked above the trench, seeing the giant, armored, beetleman approaching. "Alright... three..." The chains began to reel back, one chain following the grenade pin's movement. "Two..." His eyes narrowed as he gazed on at the approaching beetleman. "One!" He gulped down a lump in his throat as his chain pulled the pin of the grenade in the fishman's mouth, and a split second after, the corpse was flung from the trench, as if it was a javelin, aimed toward the approaching enemy. Immediately, as both of his chains detached from their objects, the weight lifted from Grant's body. He let out a deep breath, leaning against the dirt beside him once more.

Emma. Gotta try to remember that. Lily thought to herself, repeating the name over and over in her head to make sure she doesn't forget it. She was still repeating the girl's name in her head when Grant walked over to her. She looked at him, nodded and then simply watched him take a grenade from the belt she was still wearing. She didn't really mind. The grenades were probably better in his hands than hers. What was he planning to--- Oh. Once again, she found herself watching in amazement at how Grant used his powers as he executed his plan. "Fish grenade," she muttered as she watched her team mate chuck the grenade stuffed dead fish back to the beetleman. Her eyes followed it as it sailed overhead, her mind already looking forward to the mayhem it will cause. Strangely, the idea seemed to lift her mood up a bit. She would have stood up and peered out of the pit but she and Marcus still had something to do. She figured that it'll be easier if she was sitting down. Falling flat on her face wasn't exactly inviting.

Meanwhile, Marcus had snapped back to the testy topic of Plan B. He gave Lily a pained look before speaking. "Alright Lily...if you're sure about this..." he said slowly, his words very unsure and almost apologetic. "...if you're not going to back out, then I think our best bet is to hit him in the knees; that'll at least reduce his mobility if we need to get out of this pit in a hurry." A double shot from both Grant and Lily would probably make short work of the creature, but it also gave them some breathing room if it managed to survive the assault.

"Now...here's the really hard question..." Marcus said, once again wincing through clenched teeth, "...do you want to do it, or would you rather somebody else do it for you?"

Lily laid her hands on her knees. It made sense. Injuring the monster in its knees would possibly render it unable to walk...just as she would be unable to walk before she transferred it. It didn't matter. Ending the battle and surviving were their goals. A little pain was nothing. She nodded slowly. "No, there's no backing out of this. I suggested it after all. And it works well enough," she tried giving Marcus a small smile of assurance but it ended looking awkward. She can never really smile properly when she was in one of her sadder moods. She sighed. "I don't think I can do it myself. I'd probably be too scared...so I think it'd be best if you do it." She extended her legs out away from her. She gestured towards her knees. "Shoot when you're ready." She looked up at him and saw the uncertainty in his eyes. "Just point and shoot. No real need to worry about me. I'll be fine. I've done it twice already. Point and shoot. No need to think too much about it." She had no idea if her words would offer him assurance more than her awkward smile could.

Emma glanced at Marcus, and then at Lily. She blinked. Wait, what? "W-what are you guys doing?" She said, distinctly not smiling, worry in her voice evident. Was he... going to shoot her in the knee? No, there's no way that's their plan. I must be misunderstanding something...

The small golden haired girl looked towards their guest from red team and shrugged as if what they were about to do was something they did on a regular basis. "Plan B," she replied before turning her attention back to her shooter.

He figured as much. There'd be too much risk and hesitation associated with shooting herself in the leg, and Lily didn't need to worry about it any more than she had to. Marcus returned an equally awkward smile, eyes darting over to Em, while he hesitantly brought up his gun. "Trust me, it's not a plan I like, but she'll be fine; it's her power. Still, just promise me one thing, Lily: No hard feelings?" he said, a forced chuckle escaping his lips. Point and shoot. At least she was trying to make him feel better about it. He aimed the barrel directly at one knee; one was all they'd need for now, and he didn't want to do it more times than they had to. He gave one last reassuring look at Lily. "On three. One..." he didn't finish the countdown as he pulled the trigger. In his mind, it'd be like taking off a band-aid, and was probably something that should be done without tensing up for it.

Hopefully Lily felt the same way.

Emma gave the two a look of incredulity. She covered her ears. He's really going to shoot her... I should've stayed with Kusari... She lamented to herself.

Lily looked at Marcus and then gave him a curt nod. Of course there won't be any hard feelings. Why would there be? It's not as if he was doing it cause he wanted to. It was--- All thoughts flew out of her head as the gun shot rang out. Her eyes widened and she bit her lip as pain immediately spread through her leg. She closed her eyes tightly as she tried not to scream, figuring that if she did, Marcus would only feel bad about it. But the pain was so intense that a whimper escaped her lips and tears streamed down her face.

Hailey! She heard someone call out. A man's voice. Hailey! The same name but this time, it was a woman's voice. Hailey? Who was Hailey? Someone in their team? Do I really need to know who Hailey is? Do I even care? Will knowing who she is make this pain go away? Lily thought to herself.

Hailey, don't you dare ignore me, young lady!

"Hmmm...?" The voice sounded angry and it sounded like the person saying it was just right next to her. She reached up and wiped her tears with the back of her hand. Did she even want to open her eyes?

HAILEY!

The female voice was angrier now. "What?" she demanded as she opened her eyes. She found herself staring at Marcus, the still smoking gun in his hands. She furrowed her brows, trying to make sense of it all. And slowly, she remembered the fishman flying towards them, the beetle man yelling out in fury...Plan B. "Plan B," she said as if to remind herself what she needed to do. She gritted her teeth and focused. The pain will go away soon... she reminded herself as the black string reappeared on her wrist, the other end wrapping itself around beetleman's wrist. It didn't even take long for Lily's knee to be good as new.

—(••[ 𝕎𝕀𝕊ℍ𝔼𝔸𝕋𝔼ℝ ]••)—

God, knock it off with the sappy speeches and stuff, before the outsiders start thinking we're decent human beings.

Hider

—(••[ 𝕎𝕀𝕊ℍ𝔼𝔸𝕋𝔼ℝ ]••)—

Lily, Marcus, and some Verbally Abused Fish

---

Lily watched with strange fascination as Grant clubbed the squirrel she had successfully transferred her injuries to. As it died with her injuries, she was left unscathed and brand new. The black string that had connected her with the monster dissipated into thin air. I've got something to contribute to this battle, after all, she thought a little gleefully. She would have whooped but then she remembered what she had done earlier and her eyes sought out Marcus. Was he able to take cover from the blast of her poorly aimed grenade? Poorly aimed... yeah... Grenades are probably a bad idea... She had been distracted when the shrapnel hit her that she was not able to keep track of what had happened to her team mate. Her heart began beating fast as the thoughts of him being blasted to bits crossed her mind. Too late for her thoughts. She should have thought about that before she let the bomb fly out of her hand. But Lily had a habit of worrying about things a little later than she should. And for most times, she ended up getting the desired result anyway. Or at least close to it. When her eyes finally landed on him, she sighed in relief. He seemed okay. But she'd bet her life that he's probably angry at her.

With the squirrels basically taken care of and the rest of the threats a good ways away from them, Marcus took a moment to process what was going on around him. His eyes struggled to avoid looking over towards their latest casualty, the twisting in his gut threatening to increase if he glanced that direction. Instead, he turned his attention to the second pressing issue; Ethan's team, where a sun was apparently being conjured in above their fight. He hummed in surprise more than anything, silently hoping that the great ball of light was a side affect of one of their powers, rather than the herald of their imminent doom. He flinched as a loud, guttural roar rang out across the battlefield, and turned to see the addition of a dragon on the field. Thank god it seemed to be on their side; otherwise Marcus would have seriously considered jacking one of the trucks and driving back to USARLIN.

A different, but equally loud and guttural roar swiveled his attention back to their predicament. The fish men seemed to be trying to dig out the other...'creature'...and it seemed to be none too happy with its situation. Siena and Grant seemed preoccupied at the moment...for various reasons, and Cal was still fighting the big thing, which left him and Lily to try and take out the rest of them for now.

While Marcus was eyeing the monsters closest to both of them, Lily was transfixed by the light show from Ethan and the eye scorpion from red team. She looked up at the sky, at the green spinning circles, and wondered what they would do. Leave it to the golden haired girl to be distracted while chaos raged around them.

"Alright Lily, you and I, let's see what we can do about the 'Freaky Face' crew over there." Marcus said, his words humorous but his tone sounding very strict. He wasn't super pleased to be stuck with her; she had thrown a grenade at him by accident mere moments ago. But, accidents happened, especially in the heat of battle, he wasn't injured, and he could very well be much worse off without her help than with it. His eyes flicked nervously to the remaining grenades on Lily's soldier belt.

Lily snapped back to focus when she heard Marcus' voice addressing her. She looked at him and followed as his eyes settled on the grenades on the soldier belt she had stapped on to her hip. It was obvious that her earlier move had been a total failure... well, not exactly a failure since she apparently was able to take out some of the fast squirrel monsters. But still... Her mind drifted off.

"Alright, here's the plan, let me know if you've got a better one: We run up, and we shoot the fish until they die, and then we shoot the bug-man until he dies. Then we celebrate and go home. Simple as that." Marcus said, half jogging over to where the fishmen were retrieving their incapacitated team member. "If they can't get him out, we should be fine. If they do get him out, we run as fast as we can back to the trucks, and hope that he's not faster than us." he paused for a moment to look over to the blonde girl, his tone becoming serious for a brief moment, "I'm gonna sound mean, so don't take this the wrong way, but DO NOT touch any more of those grenades. If your hand even brushes those things, I will take you back to the truck and stuff you in it myself."

Lily nodded as she looked towards the fishmen trying to free the creepy beetleman from his entrapment. They were slow, clumsy and obviously panicking from the enraged moans of the trapped monster. It would have looked funny if these things weren't out to kill all of them. She jogged towards Marcus and lifted her hands up in the air in an 'I surrender' type of gesture. "I won't touch them. I'm sorry," the blonde girl immediately apologized as she once again turned her attention to the team mate she almost killed.

"Good, as long as we're on the same page, because it'll be a while before I can do that trick again!" He smiled a little more warmly this time, trying to make light of the situation. He hadn't been hurt, miraculously, so he wasn't as mad at Lily as he probably should have been, but he still wanted to avoid that happening again. His mind was still trying to comprehend exactly what it was that he did, but he pretty much had a vague understanding by now. There'd be time to think about it later.

"Keep an eye on that light show over there, and keep an eye on that mystery circle above us. If you say 'move', I'm going to do so without hesitation, but I expect the same from you, deal?" he said, offering a warm, but still strict, smile. "Just make sure you tell me which way to dodge!" he finished, turning to take a knee and aim at the still-digging fishmen.

At Marcus' instructions, Lily nodded again. She made a mental note to remember to ask for instructions next time to avoid any unnecessary mistakes. "Watch your back, keep an eye on the lights, say which way to dodge. Okay, I can do that." She said in a confident manner. She looked back towards the fishmen and an idea struck her. She could apply what she did earlier. Of course it would hurt like hell but why not? It seemed like an effective way. "There are two of them...aim for only one. Once you take it out and the other comes for us, you can shoot me and I'll transfer the injuries to it." She scratched her head. "Perfect way to get even with me too," she added.

"Wha-? Shoot you?" he said, turning to look at her worriedly. "I mean, I'm not that upset with you, I just- you know what, let's just save that for Plan B." he sighed, before returning to his aiming. Even if it was one of the best ways to damage the enemies, Marcus wasn't sure how comfortable he'd be with shooting his own teammate. There were too many risks, in his mind, but if it came down to it...he shook his head slightly; right now he needed to focus. He peered down the sight, grinning slightly, his finger gently resting on the trigger. "Alright, let's make some fillets!"

They weren't very far away from the targets, about 30 feet give or take, if he had to make an estimate. Close enough that a shot shouldn't be too difficult, but far enough that they'd hopefully be able to make a break for the truck if bug-boy did manage to free himself. Steadying his aim, Marcus looked down the sight at the nearest fish man, relaxed his elbows a bit, and pulled the trigger three times in quick succession.

—(••[ 𝕎𝕀𝕊ℍ𝔼𝔸𝕋𝔼ℝ ]••)—

Marcus Howell

A hit and a miss - Marcus considered that a success. He was currently backing towards the transport, squirrels approaching, while he readied another shot. They were coming up quickly now, and the group would be in trouble if nobody else did anything about them. He lined up another shot, stopping in his tracks to take aim, and…

"Marcus, take cover!"

He turned his head slightly to look at Lily, who was standing nearby, arm arced as if she had thrown something. A glint in her hand caught his eye, him at first believing it to be the object she was about to throw. It was a pin. A grenade pin to be precise. Almost in slow motion, his eyes locked onto the object in the air, currently slightly over his head.

His teammate had just thrown a grenade at him.

Or, not at him per se, but he was currently occupying the area in which she’d thrown it. He didn’t know much about explosives, but he had a pretty good idea of what was about to happen to him, and none of it was pleasant. His feet turned of their own volition, and he found himself turned towards the transport, running in a blind panic. There was no way he’d be able to get out of the blast zone in time. His eyes darted to the last thing he was about to see: the determined look of Lily, still confident in her throw, as everything around him seemed to stop.

While Lily’s face showed determination, Marcus's showed desperation. Two different emotions, both with the same goal: survival. He’d been in such a situation before; a scene he relived in his head in what he assumed to be his life flashing before his eyes.

The asphalt was cold, as cold as the blood in his veins and as cold as the night sky that stretched infinitely beyond above him. The stars twinkled brightly...odd, they hadn’t done that before. Each star twinkled once, and was subsequently snuffed out, but he felt himself grow warmer. Somewhere up there, Dreamcatcher watched them all from the safety of his cocoon. He was safe and sound far above, while those still stuck on the ground suffered because of it. He had questions for the beast; "Why?" "How could you let this happen?", but the fading of his vision suggested he'd never get the chance. The warmth in his chest grew hotter, curiously hot, as if each star had lent him a small portion of its light. As the last star faded and the night grew black, he snapped back to reality.

The world rushed to meet him, folding itself inward to allow for his safe passage. His head swirled, a combination of panic, confusion, and motion sickness. He heard static, loud static that seemed to be coming from directly behind him. The ground shifted as well, his feet scuffing through the dirt and catching something, sending him sprawling to the earth below. He did not move to catch himself, his arms preoccupied with reflexively covering his head as his body impacted. Behind him, much farther behind him than previously, something exploded. At least, he assumed it was an explosion; he felt a rush of heat, and the normal sounds of the environment were silenced and replaced with a high-pitched ringing.

His vision swirling, his ears ringing, and his stomach threatening to turn itself inside-out, Marcus slowly raised his head. It took a moment for him to regain his senses, and it was his vision that returned first. He certainly was not laying where he expected to be laying, but more importantly; he had apparently not been eviscerated by hot shrapnel.

As his mind struggled to comprehend what had just happened, his ears stopped ringing. What replaced that was far worse; the screams. Two sets, one of which was cut disturbingly short. He reached for the pistol that had left his grip, retrieving it from its spot nearby. His legs shook, but slowly steadied themselves as he struggled to his feet, taking a couple extra steps as he righted himself.

There’d be no time to figure out how he’d survived until later. For now, he looked at the horrifying scene before him, and his stomach twisted again. Focus. Focus on the target. He raised his gun uncertainly, trying to stop the shaking in his arms long enough to regain his aim. If there were any squirrels left by the time Grant and Siena were done with them, he’d take the shot.

—(••[ 𝕎𝕀𝕊ℍ𝔼𝔸𝕋𝔼ℝ ]••)—

A Night on the Town

An Autobiography by Marcus Howell

And so, Marcus found himself wandering around the school proper. The first order of business was the registrar’s office, as the bottom of the sheet said, and he was keen to get there before doing any exploration. He’d joked about it to the girls, but there was a small part of his mind that was worried he’d lose the sheets by accident; he was slightly accident prone, and the last thing he needed was to go chasing a couple papers across the campus.

He looked down at his own paper, keeping Callan’s and Siena’s folded over (peeking would be rude, of course). He didn’t think that his was too unreasonable:

Requisition Sheet

• 1 Laptop
• 1 Cell Phone
• Additional Funds to my Account
• A Message to Max Howell of the 442nd Air Force Fighter Wing: “Still Alive”

(Underneath the last item was a small paragraph: “I don’t care how you deliver this; cell phone, phone call, mail, rent a plane and write it in the sky if you have to. Just make sure this message is delivered.”

It was like writing a letter to Santa in a way: Sending a letter to someone he’d probably never see, hoping with all his heart he got everything he wanted, and inevitably being disappointed when the results finally came around. Nostalgic.

Fortunately, he had also taken one of the maps that the faculty had been kind enough to leave. Finding the registrar’s office wasn’t too difficult, and he only almost fell down the steps while reading the map once. The delivery of the forms was less than exciting, him passing them to the grumpy lady on the other side, and quickly skedaddling away from her scathing gaze. With no more responsibilities, and a free reign on the campus, Marcus set out, a gleam in his eye and a skip in his step.

---

𝕊𝕖𝕡𝕥. 𝟛, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘 / / ℂ𝕣𝕚𝕞𝕖𝕟 ℂ𝕦𝕝𝕡𝕒𝕖 𝟙 / / 𝟚𝟘𝟝𝟟

---

It was a successful night of shopping for Marcus. He had managed to find a general store, and had bought the necessities he needed for the morning. While he appreciated Siena’s offer of a toothbrush, he had an image to upkeep! He wasn’t gonna use some girly pink toothbrush, his was going to be manly; blue, with Spiderman on it.

The rest of his shopping spree was spent on clothing, and that took about as long as regular toiletries did. He wasn’t very picky about his outfits, as long as they were functional. Plain jeans, plain long sleeved shirt. Some of the shirts had funny little blurbs on them, but they were otherwise unremarkable. His shoes got an upgrade; from plain sneakers to some work boots. The same comfort as sneakers, but with a steel toe in it. The way Marcus figured it, a little extra protection, no matter how small, was worth the price.

He was on his way back to his dorm when the alarm sounded.

Marcus stopped in is tracks, bags swaying uncertainly. A significant threat near campus, and he was just coming back from a shopping spree. It wasn’t the best position to be in, and he continued walking to his dorm, still listening to the broadcast and waiting for instructions.

Menagerie. As far as he was a aware, Menagerie was one of the good guys. It'd make sense for their combat assessment to be helped along by a guy that could make DC's beasts. Kill on sight seemed a little harsh for a test, so Marcus was forced to assume it was not, in fact, their scheduled assessment. They were going up against a Precursor, one of the originals, with nothing but a strike force and some new students. Perhaps he'd stay towards the back.

Blue team. His roommates, and three others, one of which happened to be a healer. His confidence was not elevated upon hearing about the limited healing situation, but he was put at ease a little bit when he heard his roommate's names. Two people he already knew, and that he was pretty sure wouldn't leave him to get killed. It occurred to him, however, that he didn't even know their powers; they'd have to figure that out on the ride over.

These were the things that stuck in his mind as he threw his stuff on his bed. They were going out to battle, and he didn’t even have a weapon. Hopefully one would be provided for him, or else there wouldn’t be much he’d be able to do. The only thing left was to wait for someone to ‘escort’ him to the trucks.

“Ah, right on time. Let’s get going!” he said, nearly running into a guard on the way back out his door.

The Elder Scrolls: Oblivion - Crimson Skies

Glenndus had been outside when the skies turned red. He, like many of the people, had fled to the chapel when the daedra started pouring into the city. What had started as a day of festivities and merriment was currently one of death and smoke; both of which he could smell from his position near one of the supporting pillars.

Thank The Nine that something had fallen in front of the doors; he’d been able to set up with a few others and shoot the beasts as they tried to make their way in through the only available entrance. He didn’t know how much help he was, but there were enough bodies out there to convince him he was doing some good. If they’d had to defend numerous entrances, that would have been the end of them, most certainly.

Now, Glenndus sat in his position, resting his weary body. From here, he had a good line of sight on the only entrance, and a pretty good view of the rest of the chapel. If Dagon himself were to smash through the building, he’d at least be able to see it coming. His hand tensed around his bow, where it rested next to him.

He wasn’t sure how comforting that was.

At one end of the chapel, a man prayed to his gods. A noble cause, and if the gods were willing to offer any assistance in stopping the legion of devils that were surrounding them, he certainly wasn't going to turn it down.

“...going to die.” came a voice from inside the chapel. Glenndus shot the Breton man a dirty look, but said nothing. He noted that a few others were currently milling about; others who seemed like they might actually be worth a damn when hell itself spilled into the chapel. They all seemed to be making their introductions, or talking to themselves, and he listened carefully, continuing to maintain his watch on the door.

He wouldn’t be joining in the conversation, there would be time enough to make introductions and give thanks if they all made it out of here alive.