Iris's small frame and effeminate features belie an unrepentant courtesan whose only pleasure is in the sensually depraved. With careful application of makeup and jewelry, the Aasimar finds a plethora of ways to enhance the exotic appearance of his heritage, easily catching eyes wherever he goes. He's used to servicing the obscenely wealthy and has become spoiled on the decadence of his clients, exchanging physical pleasantries for perfumes, clothes, and jewelry worth more than the lives of most.
Shorter in height than most of his customers, Iris stands at a waifish 5' 2", a trait that most of his guests enjoy, especially when coupled with his limber body and light weight. Hardly heavier than two sacks of grain and far more entertaining as company, those who purchase Iris's services are graced with the Aasimar's delicate charms, refined to perfection in precisely contoured eyeliner emphasizing the courtesan's coquettish blinks and large blue eyes while subtle brushes of mica and black gloss decorate his lips, always ready to purse for a kiss and slick in preparation for other nightly activities.
Where his fellow "entertainers" often required the defined shading of rouge to trick the eyes of customers, Iris's dainty face starts round near his cheeks and slims down to a soft chin, leaving him looking far more innocent than anyone in his profession should.
A mixture of spoiled and cynical, Iris enjoys what he does and is a firm believer that while his youth and beauty lasts, he should burn himself out doing what he enjoys until the prime of his life passes him by. Carpe diem is the Aasimar's calling and for all his unsavory business, the relative "boy" would like to leave the mortal coil with as few regrets as possible.
But living every day as if it were your last has its consequences, especially in the social strata of a brothel where Iris is known for his promiscuity even among the other courtesans. Customers may flock to him, but friends certainly do not. All connections with Iris are strictly cordial, and the Aasimar prefers it that way. Having seen far more heartbreaks than love stories come true, he takes a very cynical view on romance, especially when he finds himself pleasuring a man who had married his wife only a fortnight ago, both swearing undying devotion and love 'til the grave.
And apparently that grave was Iris Elcot.
As a child Iris had always possessed a natural's gift for the bardic arts, with every song and music piece he performed evoking spells and effects that placed him soundly in the category of a future bard. It interested him, to a certain degree, since the mysteries of the arcane promised far more revelations and secrets than the boring gossip of mundane life and Iris spent much of his life practicing privately, his family more concerned with promoting their liquor business than promoting their son's talents. He didn't hold that against them, but he also never tried his hardest for them, preferring to sing alone and play the piano than attend social events to build connections.
His family lived lavishly for upper middle-class merchants, always pushing their budgets to the limit, even during the hard times. They had only themselves to blame when the old business of brewing and distillation was overshadowed by a much larger provider to whom most of the city turned for purchases of liquor. But they were eternal optimists, his parents, and loan after loan were taken to compete--in vain--against far larger guilds of merchants. Products failed to sell adequately and customers lost interest in the paltry offerings of a small family business compared to the variety that the larger guilds could offer at a discounted rate.
And so it didn't surprise the younger Iris Elcot in the least when the collectors finally came for their money and his parents had none to give. Their house and possessions were taken away, leaving the entire family of three on the streets where they found shelter in shared housing within the slums of the city, leaving an old life behind with tears and wailing that the soon-to-be-courtesan found, at best, hypocritical.
When the opportunity presented itself in the form of a brothel owner's offer, the Aasimar was quick to accept, knowing physical appeal was all he had now that there was nothing of the family business to attend to. Even that, he had learned little, the trade of crafting alcohol from start to finish not something he had ever cared for throughout his life. Nightly pleasures seemed a far more enticing prospect, and his tastes had always aligned with the more deviant side of life.
Years of nightly courting eventually built Iris a large base of connections, though only on an illicit level. Most of his clients preferred to keep it between themselves that they frequented a male courtesan's brothel room more than they cared for their arranged marriages and groomed-to-fit wives. It was with one such client that Iris encountered Professor Lorrimor who noticed the latent bard's talents going to waste. When the client excused himself to greet an unexpected guest, the professor spoke with Iris alone, unfazed by the naked Aasimar's less than dignified posture across the customer's writing desk.
The small chats were mere curiosity at first and glancing conversations, but as the client called for Iris's services more often and the professor found himself mired in research papers at the nobleman's home, the two struck up a casual friendliness with one another, bolstered greatly by the professor's complete immunity to anything sexual and his vast knowledge of the supernatural, particularly the details of a bard's songs and performances, the minutiae of which fascinated Iris to no end. And perhaps the professor, too, saw something like potential in the night worker.
Before long, the old sage had summoned Iris, much to the courtesan's surprise, for a quest that would be more than anyone had bargained for. The decision only took several nights and several customers to make and before long Iris had agreed to the professor's request, packing his belongings and traveling to the specified trainer who would prepare him more for the rigors of adventuring.
Huh, on second thought, it'd probably be easier to remove pings since it's not like anyone in this game relies on the forum @mentions to know when an update's out.
Yeah, guys, moving forward I'll just remove the ping list and save you all one grisly, horrifying notification.
As evening wound down into night, Bald Head Island settled for another rest, creatures and subnaturals alike slipping back into the comforts of shelter and sleep as dark clouds obscured the moon, heralding the heavy storm to assail the island. Aldrich was performing the rounds of the estate and its far reaches, checking in with several soldiers in person and finally calling Andrew on his way back, sorely regretting not bringing an umbrella along as rain began pouring. The café owner had long been a friend and one of the few privy to Aldrich’s best-kept secret. Between the de facto leaders of the island’s two social divisions—those who lived on the estate and those who refused to—they kept a steady sort of peace and Aldrich made sure to provide Andrew with enough supplies to prevent the town from starving itself into nonexistence out of sheer stubbornness.
“Aldrich!” The panicked voice on the other line was followed by the unmistakable sound of stubble being scratched, one of the man’s nervous tics.“Christ! Finally got a hold of you!”
“What’s wrong?”
“Wish I knew it all, but you know how my power is. Won’t get me anything I want to know. Caught a glimpse while fishing—Amigos. Already on the island, but I can’t tell where. Landed off the north coast by the looks of those rocks.”
“Why didn’t I hear of this until now?”
“Couldn’t reach you all day. Went to the estate myself but they said you were off doing rounds. Signal’s really killing me on this island. The maid girl—Elvia I think—she said she’d go herself to find out and report to you, but if you hadn’t heard nothing ‘til now…”
“North coast, right?”
“Yeah, but doubt they’ll still be there when you get there.”
“Any idea why they’re here?”
“Not a recon group, tell you that. Armed to the teeth and nails. Teitel’s works. Siege, more like. Talked to that girl hours ago.”
“All right.”
Aldrich pulled a red flare gun from his coat’s inner pocket, firing it into the air immediately as he sprinted back to the estate. The watcher that night was Lucas, a newer addition to the estate, and already he worried the boy had fallen asleep on the job. A quick stop to send a warning to the soldiers’ phones, but his priority was the students in the estate. For the Amigos to mount a siege now was too much of a coincidence.
Luckily, Olivia was the one to catch the flare in Lucas’s stead, late from tending to the greenhouse. She dropped the watering can, abandoning her pumps for speed and running on stockinged feet back to the manor, screaming “Attack! There’s an attack!” at the top of her lungs. The reaction was instantaneous. Lights all across the manor lit up as the rest of the staff woke, the earliest responders already pulling on the warning siren installed throughout the estate.
High-pitched screeching pierced the night's downpour and several disheveled staff members were already unlocking the doors to the students’ rooms, rushing in to wake them. Any who seemed too groggy were picked up and carried swiftly downstairs to the basement where the more combat-capable staff members—relatively—were already preparing defenses. Several looked decidedly inhuman ranging from a bundle of ghostly wisps to a redhead who looked like she was smearing the air around her with every movement of her hands. As the last of the students entered the basement storage room, she slid her hands across the surface of the door, smudging the edges, the hinges, and the door handles until the door looked like a childish paint smear on the adjoining wall.
“Wait, we’re missing people!” one of the butlers shouted, hurrying to the door and trying to pry it back to its original form, but it was entirely two-dimensional now.
“Who?!” the girl shouted back, curly hair looking like a nest around her head.
“The singer girl—Lachance—and the Gregory boy! Elvia, too—” the butler stammered, turning back to the door.
“Aldrich is still out there, just leave it to him. You know the procedures!” An older girl snapped, hands dripping what looked like black ink. “Red flare is high danger. No chances! Anyone who didn’t make back here will have to find some other way to—”
A rolling rumble cut her off, rippling through the island as if right below their feet and shaking the very foundations of the manor. Rubble and dust rained upon them as the jolting shudder of the land finally died down. One of the floating wisps flitted up to check the structural damage and returned announcing, in a whispering voice, that no damage had been done, outside of small cracks that had sprung up in the tremor.
“Wait for Aldrich,” another of the wisps spoke in the same soft voice. “Three hours maximum. After, we head to the ferry. Get you guys off the island.”
A bright red whip snapped towards the Hellcat perched a safe distance away from the cliff edge, flying towards the driver’s seat from the right and narrowly missing Angel’s torso. Instead it simply split the car’s front end away, cutting away the vehicle’s front just before the steering wheel.
And both of Angel’s legs at the knees.
Before the girl could even comprehend what was happening, a shrill laugh echoed and something wrapped long, cold fingers around her neck, yanking her body out of the driver’s seat and away from the stumps of the singer’s calves. In the process it slammed her head against the new edge of the newly truncated car, knocking her out in the process.
“Get her cuff off right?” A dark blue sphere floated in the man’s hand as he addressed the stringy, tattooed girl beside him, her dangling red whips mowing the grass around her feet clean. Behind them stood a group of nine fellow Aberrations, all armed with either mundane weaponry or more exotic gear shimmering like the weapons couldn’t decide if they were real or not. Several of them were bloodied and bruised while one stumbled along, one arm twisted at a hideous angle.
“ ‘Course I fucking did. I don’t miss,” she spat back, turning frenzied brown eyes in his direction, the whites lined with red capillaries. “You think I shoot up a bit and can’t aim? That what this is? Think ‘cuz Teitel likes you best you get to boss me around like—”
An unseen force slammed her temple, sending her careening to the ground and pinning her arms down before she could retaliate.
“Don’t need you if you can’t control yourself,” the dark-skinned man replied, orb pulsating rapidly in his hand.
“…Fuck you,” the girl growled, but she dissipated her whips. Only when she had let the fight drain from her shoulders did the man let go, turning to the hulking shadow creature that had by now approached them, holding a legless girl in its grip and patiently waiting for instructions.
“Thi, patch her up. When that’s done, take her to the boat.”
“Right away, sir.” A small, Asian woman with a short bob cut carrying a metallic briefcase approached the bleeding girl, kneeling down to unlatch the case and pull out a long chain from which strange surgical instruments dangled, their forms twisted and seemingly unusable. She pulled a long saw from the chain, its end still attached to the main tool line by a thin, purple thread. Holding it out to her side she nodded at another member of the large group, a young man with half his hair shaven off and piercings along ear and lip. He grabbed the blade of the saw for a moment, then let go once it had heated to a white-hot gleam. A quick slide across both of Angel’s stumps cauterized the amputations and the shadow beast stalked off, the subnatural girl dangling in its hands like a toy.
“We still gonna hunt for the fucker?” the tattooed girl stood up, rubbing at the blooming bruise across her face. “Should just blow this entire place to hell.”
“We give Zhang a bigger reason to attack us than the monsters and we’ll get exactly that. Teitel wanted just one of her new toys and the client wanted the generator on the sole condition that we manage it without attracting Zhang’s ire. He’s made too much of a commotion now. We’ll have to leave.”
“Hah, this island full of fucking rejects. I can take ‘em all.”
“No. You can’t.” The counter was delivered as curtly and firmly as a universal truth and the group’s leader turned back, heading towards the direction of their docked boat.
He stopped at the sight of a bespectacled maid glowing like a beacon. Even as a crushing force threw her back, her body had already let off a burst of light bright enough to wash the entire cliff field in white, permanently blinding several of the enemies in the area. The subnatural surgeon, lucky enough to have been turned around and gathering up her gear in the flash of light managed to get away with several seconds of blindness and heavy afterimages. She pulled at a strange pair of gloves on the chain, where each finger looked as if twisted needles grew from the tips. Donning the gloves in one hand, she took tongs in another and pried out one of her eyeballs, revealing heavy modification along the inside of her skull and along the length of the optic nerve, glimmering purple and black with her power. Easy enough for the suddenly living needles on the glove to repair the damaged nerve ends of her eyes once they made the right contacts and before long one eye was restored to normal. She tucked it back into its socket, adjusting the flap of her eyelid back to normal before working on her second eye as well.
By the time she was done, the maid had escaped, leaving behind a group of blinded Aberrations in her wake.
Thi set to work fixing her comrades, all of them already heavily modified by her powers and easily reparable once she had her hands on them. Whatever the maid had hoped to achieve would be quickly undone.
Once everyone had vision again, the group of Aberrations reoriented themselves and continued towards the beach, wary for any more attackers and moving on hair triggers as they headed toward their escape route. Despite the tension, the walk was relatively smooth and quiet, save for the wiry tattooed female’s occasional whines.
“Man, we could totally take ‘em.” -She gritted the words out, stepping over a puddle of mud –“Maybe if you stop bein’ a lil’ bitch.”
“Maybe you shut your whore mouth, Isa.” -A tall blond commented, finally having had enough of the ramblings.
“Maybe you shut up, cabrão.” -The heavily tattooed Aberration snapped, fists clenched and shoulders squared, ready for a confrontation. The blond only gave her a withering look, but the brown of his eyes suddenly flared red, like heated copper.
Other members of the group stopped dead in their tracks, gazes darting between both of them and their leader, waiting for the tension to sort itself out.
Then something clicked, metallic, like a chime. A round, heavy object rolled at their feet.
“Rhohan!”
The shadow creature lunged past them and threw itself onto the grenade, just mere moments before it went off. However, the muted explosion only heralded a rain of gunfire upon them, mundane weapons, but more than enough to kill.
Yet, the Amigos were also adept at what they did. Especially those that survived this long.
The tall blonde ducked, turning his molten eyes toward where the muzzle flashes were, while his nearby comrade had already had her laser whip out. A wall of solid ground rose between them, bullets lodged themselves uselessly in packed dirt while the shadow creature leapt up and into the slaughter.
Minutes passed, and the last of the gunshots were finally silenced.
Most of the Aberrations still stood tall, some bloodied but Thi had already begun working on that. Still, her power did not work on the dead, so one of their own was lying still, broken beyond repair. The others only gave him a passing glance before they kept on moving, deaths and losses having already become an all too familiar part of their violent, fast lives.
However, another issue presented itself when the group finally made it to the site of their ship. The only thing left of the vessel was its charred hull sticking out from the shallow water. Obviously, they had not hidden it as well as they thought they did. That forced their leader to consider alternatives, and a certain boat docked at a southward pier.
Aldrich returned to the estate to find everyone gone, which was exactly as he had hoped. He tracked mud and water into the hallway and ducked under the mantle of a nearby fireplace that always remained unlit despite constantly filled with firewood. "Decorative" was how most of the staff explained it to anyone who asked, but a small switch hidden in a concealed crevice opened the back wall of the fireplace, sliding it down to reveal a small shaft with a simple metal ladder installed against the lip. Aldrich leapt onto the ladder, flicking the switch and the sliding door closed before descending into a narrow hallway in the basement—another hidden passageway in the manor walls for exactly these sorts of situations. The bookcase door hiding the exit from the hallway took several slams of the man’s shoulder to open, stuck as it was from months of disuse. When he finally shoved it aside and stepped into the main storage room, the entire house’s staff along the students were there, but a quick headcount told him they were already missing two of the kids as well as a member of the staff. And there was no time to look.
Several of the estate subnaturals had already aimed varying weapons at the bookcase filled with miscellaneous boxes and old, folded clothing, but they visibly relaxed on seeing the head of staff despite the dripping rainwater and the man's heavy breaths from the sprint.
”Move! Go!” he shouted at them, pointing towards what appeared to be a clean section of the far wall. At his command several of the staff hurried to shove aside boxes and crates, clearing the path until one of them finally hammered a fist on a spot high on the wall. Something clicked and the wall opened inward into a door-sized passageway large enough for two people at a time to enter.
The walls of the hidden route were lined with simple support beams and basic wooden planks for flooring, but recent upkeep had kept it clean and the single line of small, electric lights flickered to life as the doors open, triggered by motion.
”Hostiles on the island. Amigos do Paí, if you know of them, and they’re not pulling their punches. Not enough information on why they’re here, but we need to evacuate the guests first. Follow the passageway. It’ll take you to the lighthouse in town, near the ferry. I need to remain here and make sure to buy time if they attack the house.”
”Aldrich—Elvia is—” One of the maids spoke up, the redhead from before.
”Dead until proven otherwise. Don’t take chances with the Amigos. She knows what it means to not return here in the event of an attack.” If he grieved for the missing girl, Aldrich didn’t show it, directing the students towards the secret passage with a firm raise of his hand. ”Leave, now. If they decide to attack the town and destroy that ferry, you’ll have no transportation out of here for at least an hour.”
He was already turning around to the bookcase entrance as he spoke, shoulders squared for a fight he knew he wouldn’t win.
In the chaos of both sound and storm, Gregory had been caught unawares outside, fiddling with the guns in the hunting shed as he alternated between testing out his new capabilities and conventional firearms. The flash of red in the sky out the window had caught his attention, however, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out something was wrong. He picked up a pistol and a pack of ammunition, stepping out of the shed and into the heavy rain warily before hurrying along the beaten path back to the mansion, eyes alert for any signs of approach and letting his Stigma fill in the blanks of shapes and shadows in the dark forest, approximating size and distance as well as what the object was. 5.322cm twig. Oak. Freshly snapped. Pinecone. 7.112cm in length, 5.896cm width at largest point.
He shook his head, trying to clear water from his eyes and as well as the influx of facts and figures that threatened to overwhelm him again. Letting his Stigma progress to a certain point had its benefits, but he had pushed it a bit too far and now textures and colors were starting to define themselves in his mind as well. It was debilitating at its worst when his mind couldn’t escape the mental crossfire of information and overloaded he had almost forgotten how to breathe. Now, though, he heaved steadying breaths and continued on, ignoring the exact weight in kilograms of the gun in his hand, the increasing weight of waterlogged clothes on his body, and the dizzying amount of calculations it took a human to take even a single, balanced step.
Sudden thumping and splashing to his left had him firing shots blindly into the darkness as panic overtook him, but his Stigma had its uses when it wasn’t blindsiding him with an overabundance of unnecessary information. The approximation was a giant rabbit, something he could hardly believe were it not for the certainty of his Stigma.
It bounded away terrified by the gunshots that had—by all calculations of his curse—completely missed.
One detail popped out to him in the steadily overflowing wave of data, though.
One thought. “Likelihood of noise attracting danger, approximating from location of flare, 43.76%.”
He ran faster, tripping over smaller logs and bushes when his feet couldn’t react to the information in his mind and stumbling on slippery patches of rocks and dirt. But it didn’t matter. He needed to get to safety first, and in this unfamiliar place only the manor meant “safety.” Relatively speaking, his Stigma reminded.
About an hour and a half passed between everyone being ushered into the basement and Aldrich's arrival.
One week for this brief prep and chat period before the battle, but those posts will also be on week-long timers. Feel free to fuss and panic and make out in the corner or something. (banjo: please don't make out in the corner) The staff will be trying to get you guys to go through the tunnel, but you are free to argue.
Your characters can choose to head off to the ferry or remain at the mansion against Aldrich's wishes (choices >;]). If further moves are made beyond discussion, the GMs will collab events with you.
7:00 pm – Rainfall. Enter the Nutribullet. 7:00 pm – Lilianna and Sophia talk. Lily don’t give a shit. Sophia don’t see shit. 7:00 pm – Angelique confesses her undying love for Kenny G. Allison doesn’t run away for whatever reason. (Monday – Chapter I) 7:20 pm – Dinner with the 430 kids and whoever the fuck the other two are. Siena exposes herself as a Burberry Bitch. Emma accepts her for who she really is. No one likes Ernie. Marcus channels his inner sassy black woman ‘brazen high-school girl’. (9/7) 9:30 pm – There’s a ‘Criss Angel joke’ in here somewhere but I can’t find it. Something something disappearing acts. Chris and Angelique don’t solve a mystery. (Monday – Chapter III) 10:20 pm – Christmas helps Sander accessorise. Sander sleeps with him in return. It’s not gay at all. (Static) 10:30 pm – Marcus talks to his way cooler and awesomer sister. Siena phone home. Gerwulf can’t answer the phone with his big fat gorilla hands. 10:30 pm – Cal returns some stanky jeans. Wants to fight with Sander. Cal shows interest in landscaping. (Mistakes Left Unsaid) 11:00 pm – Marcus makes some plans. Offers some bandaids to Cal in case Sander makes a boo-boo. Kadabra band aids. Shit taste. Newton is obvs best grill. (Folly of an Eager Beaver) Night – Hazel buys armor. She’s getting that Mobile Suit one way or another.
9:00 am – Zoe asks some questions. Freddy answers some of them. (Questions and Answers) 10:00 am – Kusari and Cal talk. No spine juice this time. How boring. (Feelings and Overshooting) 10:30 am – Can Ernie not be a shit for two seconds? (Spoilers: No.) Brent is the ultimate wingman. Angel gets her shoes back. ‘Montreal’ is a no-no. (Tuesday – Chapter IV) 11:00 am – Awkward morning-afters with Sander and Christmas. Kusari is cranky. Still not gay. (Safeguard) 4:00 pm – Marcus and Emma have a date. No thrown drinks. How boring. (9/8) 4:00 pm – Everyone remembers the pants. Cal tries to forget. Angel buys some swag. (Tuesday – Chapter VI) 4:30 pm – Cal’s parents are kinda assholes. Also Cal is SHIT at naming things. (Callan in the Dark) 5:30 pm – Lawrence calms Cal down. No ‘get a hold of yourself!’ bitch slaps. How boring. (Close and Bad Calls) 6:30 pm – Zoe talks with Allison. No finger-banging or face-melting involved. How boring. 6:30 pm – It’s time to d-d-duel. Cal lets Misery play with the nice vampire boy. Sander gives gives Cal a lift. (Upheaval) 8:00 pm – Brent likes them Mad Flaps. Ernie broke a vending machine. Grant continues fusing with his mattress. Gregory doesn’t break a window. 9:00 pm – Urgh, blood everywhere. So messy. Kusari’s still cranky. Sander blurbles. Christmas freaks out (again). Cal gets a neato scar. (Undercurrent) 9:20 pm – Sander and Christmas move out. Cal wants to fight again. Fred’s just here for a good time, man. (Hope) 9:50 pm – This isn’t what it looks like, man. No—nah bro, I swear. It’s just cold and body heat is really—IT’S NOT FUCKING GAY, ALRIGHT?? (Heal) 11:30 pm – Marcus gets no answers. Cal blames the dog. (Callan World)
9:00 am – Emma plays Charades with Miranda. They both suck at this game. (9/9) 12:00 pm – Cal gets some free healthcare. Christmas has weenie handwriting. 12:10 pm – Sander and Christmas get takeout. It’s not gay at all. (Haven) 12:30 pm – Zoe and Angel play with some Ground Zero peeps. Messy stuff. (Wednesday – Chapter VIII) 12:48 pm – Turns out Ernie did kinda sorta accidentally kill someone. Awkward stuff. Fred reveals the incredible truth about Rain’s pee-pee bits. Denial gets harder to do. (Harmless) 9:10 pm – Sander drinks toilet cleaner. Ernie’s bad with emos. (Hazy) 10:40 pm – Okay, this one’s kinda gay, right? No? Urgh, whatever. Sander would be a really shit drunk-texter. Christmas just wants to read his book. (Heart)
Sometime – Zoe and Lawrence yell in a library. Verbal bitch slaps are thrown. Not boring. 5:00 am – Ernie gets a beach episode. Tries out some Spiderman shit. (Brittle) 9:30 am – Brent’s kind of a masochist. Angel channels her inner Rocky. (Thursday – Chapter IX) 1:00 pm – Despite her name, Angel sucks at flying. Siena is a fucking weeb. Brent traumatises Angel. Chris gives everyone a piggy-back ride. (Thursday – Chapter X) 3:00 pm – Christmas strips in an alleyway. Ernie admires his handiwork. Oh myyyyy. (Bruise) 10:00 pm – Come on, Sander and Christmas literally shower together in this one, how is that not—Urgh, still? (Balance)
5:30 pm – Angel gets a canary. Has no appreciation for opera LIKE THE FUCKING UNCULTURED BITCH SHE IS. (Friday – Chapter XI) 6:03 pm – Sander and Christmas skip leg day. They both kinda suck at laundry. (Remission) 6:40 pm – The Laundry God enters his domain. Ernie gives a psychology lesson. Christmas needs more towels. Sander gets top quality ironed jeans. (Relapse) 8:00 pm – Sander gets fabulous with a new phone. Cal is a filthy litterer. (Rehabilitation) 8:20 pm – Ernie loses an iron. Christma—Oh come on, this has got to be gay. (Recondition)
10:30 am – Ernie Mars: Hall Cop. Allison doesn’t become a vacuum killer. How boring. 1:00 pm – Who let the dogs out? Certainly not Marcus, look at that boy run! Lizzy asserts her dominance. Sander plots a murder. Christmas is a filthy snitch. Ernie is a whiny bitch. (Demand) 4:00 pm – Chris’ Pretty Terrifying Stressful Date. Siena flaunts some moola. 11:00 pm – Ernie tells a lie. Christmas is just there. Sander doesn’t splatter Ernie all over the wall. How boring. (Define) 11:00 pm – Look. I’ve been working on this stupid Interaction Week timeline for about two hours now. It’s gay, alright? IT’S GAY. (Disconnect)
10:30 am – Sander and Cal swap some juicy goss. Cal sucks at Google. (Distill) 10:30 am – There’s a ‘Chris Lilley’ joke in there somewhere. But even if I did find it, none of you filthy Americans would get it, would you? Lily forgets her holidays. Christmas just wants to read. (Distance) 6:00 pm – Zoe is Back in Black. Yes, I know it was a solo post but I just wanted to end the timeline with an AC/DC reference. Leave me alone. (Reflection)
7:00pm – Welcome to La Plata. After Arrival – Allison needs a shower. Kusari is a playa. (Part 1) 7:10pm – Ernie takes a bath and disapproves of Cal’s renovation methods. 8:00pm – Kusari likes Cal’s pants. Cal Weeb makes anime noises. 8:00pm – Emma is bummed out. Marcus is a menace. Timothy deserves more than minimum wage. 8:30pm – Gearhead debuts. Marcus is a filthy capitalist. Martha is cranky. Ernie is crankier. 8:40pm – Zoe doesn’t like fairytales. Cal is bad at sassing. Marcus makes a good save (for once, amirite). 9:00pm – Marcus makes a good point. Cal is still a sad sack. 9:00pm – Brent tells another girl to kill herself. (Sheesh, dude.) Angel wants to get punched in the goddamn face. (Chapter II: To Become Stronger) 9:00pm – Brent offers something thicc. Siena swallows. Chris hears. Marcus is just here for a good time, mang. 9:00pm – [CARELESS WHISPER SAXOPHONE LOOP 10 HOUR] (Part 2) 9:00pm – Kusari doesn’t get mad lit off the goon. (I know my lingo, yo.) Emma asks a bunch of questions. (Emma and Kusari: Seeking a Much Needed Drink) 9:45pm – Angel is bad at jokes. Siena is bad at jokes. Marcus needs to shut his goshdarn mouth. (Chapter III: Soul Sisters) 10:00pm – Cal gets some new tools. Brent wants to play among the stars¬¬ 10:15pm – Cal can’t sleep. Angel wants to shop. (Chapter IV: Wishes of Recovery) 10:30pm – Lily is super chill about head trauma. Angelique tries to extend the Soul Sister Harem. (Chapter V: Strangers in the Night) 10:45pm – Angel is dumb. Sander is even dumber. (Chapter VI: Factory of Questions) 11:00pm – I legit got emotional when I read the grandma parts. :QQ: 11:40pm – Sander does a hand smooch. Christmas fondles some hair. (Routine)
8:00am – Ernie unveils his makeover. Angel talks visions. Look at dat lore. (Chapter VII: Power and Confidence) 9:20am – Christmas is bad at talking. Sander is a metrosexual. I’m gay for Marianne. (Recognition) 10:00am – Emma sets her sights on dat ass. Cal makes a friendo. (Emma and Callan: Love and Zombies) 11:00am – Emma makes a big, fat confession. Ernie is bad at crying girls. (Emma and Ernie: Misplaced Confession) 11:10am – Ernie is a subtle binch. Cal acquires a sugar daddy. 11:30am – Emma talks conspiracies. Siena lets that Sav sadness get bottled up and aged like a fine wine. (Emma and Siena: Visions, Superpowers, and the Secrets of the School) 12:00pm – Emma makes a friendo. Lily has the wrong phone. Who the dang heck is Hailey?! (Lily and Emma: A Visit and a Phone Call) 12:00pm – Sander helps the local fast food economy. Christmas takes a nap. (Relief) 12:30pm – Cal gets evicted. Allison experiences a close call. 1:00pm – Allison makes baby rhymes. Angel experiences the Gay. 3:00pm – Emma runs around. Hazel eats the plantlife. HAZEL IS GOAT SELF-INSERT CONFIRMED (Emma and Hazel: Red Tape) 10:00pm – Emma loses it again. Angel wastes coffee. (Emma and Angel: Words Better Left Unsaid) 10:00pm – Lily moves out. Sophia forgets the donuts. How dare. (Lily and Sophia: Trying to Sneak Out)
2:00am – Marcus is a sad boyo. 7:00am – Brent uncovers a conspiracy. Angel reveals her harem plot. (Chapter X: Conspiracy Theory) 7:30am – Chris sheds a manly (pfft, nah) tear. Angel has no time for this shit. (Chapter XI: Taming the Dragon (Part 2)) 8:30am – Marc makes his TV debut. I’m still gay for Marianne. 9:00am – Marcus gets dat Social Link. Siena reveals some backstory. (FINALLY. GAWWD) (Masking Smiles) 3:00pm – Siena calls her pyjamas ‘jammies’. Allison doesn’t laugh, somehow. Jean Jimmons is shit. Jerry is still best NPC. (Shopping News) 10:30pm – Zoe gets handsy. 10:30pm – Zoe gets some guests. Angelique is pissy. Emma is dumb. Brent doesn’t care. Lily does a whoopsie. Kusari is cool with it. Ernie unveils his janitorial power level.
9:00am – Welcome to D.C. 9:00am – Emma laughs at Zip Zip Boi. Marcus gets no action. (Emma and Marcus Part 1: Arrival/Pillow Talk) 9:00am – Sophia gets a roommate. Lily gets a couch. (Arrival at Hyatt Regency (Sophia and Lily)) 9:00am – Hazel is a menace (ft. Steinway abuse). 11:00am – Jam Session. Pianos and harps and violins and vocals and all dat. 11:00am – Sander accessorises. Christmas knows materials. What the shit is a grosgrain? (Scent: Nostalgia) 12:00pm – Get in loser, we’re going shopping. Brent becomes a pack mule. Allison goes Americana. Siena gets a Fatality. Marcus is the Fatality. Angel goes to Nordstrom. What the shit is a Nordstrom? (Thursday | September 17 | 12PM) 2:00pm – Ernie is an idiot. Brent is an enabler. Marcus makes sure no one gets killed. (Ernie, Brent, and Marcus: Splattered! Across the Penthouse) 7:00pm – Ernie starts bulking. Brent forcefeeds another person his meat. (Ernie and Brent: Get Fit or Die Trying) 7:00pm – Callan is a filthy vandal. Emma is a filthy thief. RIP Riley’s cat. (Emma and Callan: Teenaged Delinquents) 8:00pm – Marcus is a filthy liar. Brent is a filthy coward. (Denial) 11:00pm – Angel trains the menace. Hazel is a piano prodigy. (Chapter III: Late Night Lessons)
8:00am – Chris is a bitch. Brent don’t play with bitches. (Friday | September 18 | 8AM) 8:00am – Ernie tries to be responsible (haha rip). Lily makes a friend, kind of?? (Ernie and Lily: Breakfast for Two) 9:00am – Angel trains the menace. Zoe fights a pillow. (Chapter IV: Blowing Off Steam) 11:00am – Ernie tries to be responsible again (oh dear). Kusari doesn’t like Guy Fieri. Truly a monster. (Ernie and Kusari: Feud Network) 12:00pm – Ernie’s a filthy racist. Angel likes Sesame Street puppets more than her friends. (Ernie and Angelique: No Strings Attached) 12:00pm – Wanna know how I got these tats? Siena is a sassy gril. Marcus is a dirty boi. (Relaxation Station) 1:00pm – Sophia walks into a wall. Brent learns the truth. (Friday | September 18 | 1PM) 4:00pm – Ernie sucks at French. Siena doesn’t kill him for his buffoonery for whatever reason. (Ernie and Siena: The Piano Guys) 5:00pm – Angel laughs at Zip Zip Boi. Marcus makes his debut on the Hug Counter. (Chapter VI: Popularity Talk) 8:00pm – Determination makes its TV debut. Darren is a good boyo. Terry is a good boyo too. Oh yeah, Emma’s there too, I guess… (Emma and Darren: The Interview) 9:00pm – Emma deals with Regular shit. Marcus is purtyful. Mysterious Rich Boyo keeps showing up places. (Emma and Marcus Part 2: Night on the Town) 9:00pm – Hazel is a menace, pt. 2 (ft. Ernie’s pain). 9:00pm – Sander is a video game nerd. Christmas is a drunk shit. Rich Boyo makes his first appearance. (Scent: Liquor) 10:00pm – Zoe doesn’t toss meat. How boring. Brent confesses his case of the crazies. (Madness, Mistakes, and Meatballs – Zoe & Brent) 11:40pm – Smooches, ye boi. It’s super gay. (Scent: Skin)
8:00am – Zoe bankrupts a coffee shop. Siena is honest?!? (Straightforward Surprises – Zoe & Siena) 9:00am – Ernie is probably a druggo. Emma doesn’t kill him for whatever reason. Hazel is password protected. Better security than Cal’s phone. (Ernie, Emma, and Hazel: A Friendly Brunch) 10:00am – Cal is bad at dealing with phone cameras. Sander is bad at backstory. 11:00am – Sander is a smoochy boi. Christmas is bad at sandwiches. 12:00pm – Ernie shares shower stories. Allison finally has some backstory. Also she probs fucked a dude with red eyes. (Ernie and Allison: Red Eyes, White Lies) 1:00pm – Zoe is an arcade lord. Marcus is bad at everything. No one forgets Zip Zip Boi. (Pinball Wizard – Zoe & Marcus) 3:00pm – Emma deals with gay shit. Allison is too gay to function. (Emma and Allison: I’m Trying Not To Be Awkward, But You’ve Got A Nice Ass) 5:30pm – Zoe is Zoe. Barbra makes things worse. (Bad Publicity) 6:30pm – Zoe reflects on her horde of child criminals. Lily begins her Soccer Arc. (Thanks for Lending a Hand – Zoe & Lily) 9:00pm – Five boys make absolutely damn sure that Zhang never lets any subnatural in her domain stay outside of a USARILN facility for the rest of time. Kadabra supports gay pride. (Saturday | September 19 | 9PM) 9:00pm – Ten girls make absolutely damn sure that Zhang never lets any subnatural in her domain go anywhere near a bottle of liquor for the rest of time. 10:00pm – Wet, naked, gay girls. That is all. (Chapter VIII: Confession Of Two Girls Over A Wet Mattress) 11:40pm – Look at the smoochy boi go! Christmas is bad at kneeling hugs.
8:00am – Brent gets a healthy dose of Jesus. Siena makes the ship tease of the century. (Brent x Siena gitfucktscaly) 10:00am – Angel is bored. Lily remembers. (Chapter IX: Healing Through Music) 11:00am – The catfight of the century. Emma deals with Stigma shit. Angel deals with it too. (Emma and Angel: Mutual Understanding)
8:40pm - Welcome to Zhang's Estate. After Arrival – Hazel cosplays. Olivia despairs. After Arrival – BEST BOIIIIIII After Arrival – Lawrence gets a scolding. Rosa gets left on read. Lizzy’s just there for a good time.
5:00am – Ernie is a double texter. Angel runs away. Brent does nothing. (Chapter I Accusations) 12:00pm – Lily admits. Sophia forgives. (September 21st: Lunch with Sophia) 2:00pm – Brent and Siena lovingly beat the shit out of each other. Best Friends Forever!! (Honesty) 3:00pm – Ernie annoys the maidstaff. (Ernie and Elvia: Laundry Lessons) 7:00pm – Emma lets loose. Marcus holds on. Determination joins the fray. 10:00pm – Zoe gets handsy. Kusari knows crotches. 11:00pm – Ernie returns to alcoholism. Sander does the same. (Ernie and Sander: Bar Buddies) 11:40pm – Sander plays rough.
12:00am – Gay grills (Chapter II: Hollow Love) 1:00pm – Ernie is a KKK. Brent is not okay. Lisa is best waifu. (Ernie and Brent: Donut Frying and White Lying) 9:00pm – Siena has daddy issues. Marcus is bad at doors. (Sacrifice) 10:00pm – Four teens make absolutely damn sure that Zhang locks the liquor cabinet in her estate for the rest of time.
9:00am – Wabbit Season. Ernie steps in crap. Marcus gets an arrow to the knee. Brent almost Fruit Ninja’s a fuzzy pal. (Ernie, Marcus, and Brent: We’re Going on a Bear Hunt) 10:00am – Siena pumps the brakes on friendship. Angel is still fucking blind as shit. (Learning to Drive) 11:00am – Ernie is bad at crossbows. Marcus is bad at guns. Emma gets shit on. (Ernie and Marcus: Debate, Discussion, Declaration) 2:00pm – Chris gets rejected so hard that the Chinese Dragons felt it. Siena plays the ‘we can still be friends’ card. (Worthwhile) 8:00pm – Hazel goes for a dip. Marcus sees the moon. 10:00pm – Sander goes for a walk. Hazel does a pimp slap. 11:00pm – Ernie is everyone’s favourite drunkard. Siena gets a Need for Speed. (Ernie and Siena: Designated Driving)
10:00am – Angel sings a baby to sleep. Zoe is a sleppy babby. (Chapter III: Happy Birthday) 10:00am – You know that thing where people in movies run across the beach into each others’ arms? That, but gay. (Reunion) 12:00pm – Brent is bad at ice cream. Chris is bad at arguing. (Empty Words) 2:00pm – Sander is good at Google. Christmas cries again. No surprises there. (Relate) 5:00pm – Angel is a filthy donut thief. Lily learns who to trust. (September 24: Two X’s and An Apology)
3:00pm – Raptor Girl is no more. Sander snarls. Christmas tries out camouflage. 3:40pm – Sander approves of cross-dressing. Christmas is a hecking homo. No surprises there. (Recalibrate) 5:40pm – It’s gay. No surprises there. Also the maidstaff are very prepared for homo sex. (Reprise) 7:00pm – Angel kisses and tells. Brent breaks a uterus. (Chapter IV: Choices)
9:00am – Christmas’ bitch level improves. It’s gay. No surprises there. (Resolve) 8:00pm – Angel reaches out. Sophia falls silent. (Chapter V: Understanding) 10:00pm – Ernie learns that there’s really no difference between roofies and high-alcohol drinks. Allison continues fucking a murderer. (Ernie and Allison: Keeping Tabs)
2:30am – Brent doesn’t suplex Siena to sleep. How boring. (A Moment’s Reprieve) 10:00am – Angel has shit taste in chips. (Chapter VI: Denial) 11:00am – Sophia does some literary analysis. Marcus triggers another gal.
11:00am – Sophia plays piano. Chris shittalks a 14-year-old. Nice one, asshole. 11:00am – Zoe has good taste in underwear. Siena ain’t afraid of no X’s. Tater Tot gets a snack. (The Bitch and the Bookworm) 2:00pm – Ernie forgets how to use a dishwasher. Lily reveals the truth, sort of. (September 28: Dishes and a Fight) 5:00pm – Zoe doesn’t read. Lawrence wants to sew. 8:00pm – Angel doesn’t beat children. Hazel strips someone else for once. (Chapter VII: Shackles)
Some Ungodly Hour – Siena needs a hand. Linda needs a raise. (Of Arms and Monsters) 10:00am – Y’know, with a title like ‘Fire in the Hole’, I was rather disappointed at the lack of butt fireworks in this collab. Four teens undergo a gun safety seminar. 12:00pm – Lily and Angel don’t team up and beat up Ernie with their instruments. How boring. (September 29: Troubles and Music) 1:00pm – Chris is a weenie. Marcus dropkicks a fool.
9:00am – Brent and Sander gallantly compete for Ernie’s hand. (Assurance?) 5:00pm – “Stop following me.” “Aight.” (Zoe & Allison - Sorry for the Meltdown) 8:00pm – The only balls Chris has are the ones on the billiards table. Angel loses her patience. (Chapter VIII: Burdens)
Sometime – Things are heating up between Brent and Siena. (Burn Marks) Sometime – Hazel is a comedian on the rise. Emma is a Boss D.J. (10/1 – Emma and Hazel: All I Need) 9:00am – Christmas is bad at knives and also really chill with murder. Sander is gay. No surprises there. (Raw) 8:00pm – “But I’m nothing without this suit gun!” “If you’re nothing without this suit gun then you shouldn’t have it.”
11:00am – “Stop being an antisocial asshat.” “Aight.” (Two Guys, No Fish)
10:00am – The maidstaff are very prepared for homo cross-dressers. Also gay. No surprises there. (Rousing) 1:00pm – NIGHT CURRENTS AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA. A special guest makes an appearance.
5:00pm – Angel robs the maidstaff of their jobs. Marcus is an unfaithful ho. (Chapter IX: Loss of Control)
6:30am – Siena cracked her phone like some dumdum. Callan has problems controlling her dumdum face. 10:30am – Welcome (back) to USARILN East. After Arrival – Emma is good at triangles. Best Girl enters the fray and fills the Unit’s Punk Girl quota. (alone in the dark) 4:00pm – Sander slobbers all over a poor defenseless Christmas. Christmas is a shy gay. (my fire, my faith) 5:00pm – Brent is bad at office administration. Rosa encourages children to play with sharp things. (Acquisition) ?????? – Angelique gets a check up.
5:00am – Ernie bitches about people (no surprise there). Brent reveals his lapse of retardation. (Ernie and Brent: Working Things Out) 5:00am – Ernie is a South American crime lord. Zoe is a filthy pig. (Ernie and Zoe: Insinuations and Initiated Investigations) 11:00am – Callan continues her endless reign of destruction over Suite 430. Marcus gets sexy texts from his older sister’s friend. Weird. (Pep Talks and Toast) 12:00pm – Callan continues her endless reign of destruction over the USARILN East campus. Rosa gets a boo-boo. (Permission Slip Up) 12:30pm – Callan continues her endless reign of second-hand embarrassment over Ernie. Ernie does a decent Matrix impression. (Barely Aware) 1:00pm – Hazel is good at names. Siena doesn’t ruin her clothes this time. The mime wins. 1:30pm – Zoe gets a boo-boo and also there’s backstory stuff. (Solo Post: Built for This) 2:00pm – Marcus gets robbed. Emma was likely a low-key Satanist. Determination don’t play by no rules. (Emma and Marcus – Bubble and Trouble) 5:00pm – Callan judges a book by a cover Emma briefly described. What a butt. Brent is a weirdo stalker man. (How’s Your Fine?) 6:00pm – Callan has shit taste in everything. Emma is a filthy hipster. 7:00pm – Siena is good at Google. Zoe is bad at school. (Zoe & Siena: Nobody Needs to Know) 9:30pm – Kusari hallucinates biblical figures. Callan hallucinates Angelic figures. (Knock On Wood)
9:00am – Fantasy Costco, where all your dreams come true! GOT A DEAL FOR YOU! Ernie leaves a Shrek cosplay behind. Siena is a benevolent piano teacher. (Ernie and Siena: Shopping and Not-So-Much Truth Dropping) 3:00pm – Callan thinks Determination is cool, an opinion that’ll definitely last for the long-term. Emma is a coffee snob. Determination does sex jokes?? (Emma and Callan – Déjà Vu) 9:00pm – Brent cops a feel. Siena suffers, as usual. (Brent’s Spaghetti)
9:00am – Zoe explains how Marcus is gonna win. Not fighting what he hates, saving what he loves. Also Marcus is bad at running. 9:00am – Ernie continues his endless reign of noise pollution over the Aberration Dorms. Allison ain’t afraid to cut a bitch. (Ernie and Allison: Hallway Hassling) 10:00am – Kusari finds her muse. Brent vogues. Siena suffers, as usual. (Like One of Your French Girls) 2:00pm – Ernie wants to trick-or-treat like some dumb little BABY. Emma is bad at arts and crafts. (Emma and Ernie – A Pleasant Chat) 7:00pm – Brent has the flyest ride in the hood. Siena is bad at chopsticks. (“EAT THIS!” “NEVER!”)
2:00am – Marcus has a wet dream. Callan fakes a medical degree. Siena is clueless. Tater Tot lurks in the shadows. 10:00am – Emma gets no answers. Brent endorses the Church of Rosa Schur. (Catching the Dream) 6:00pm – Allison is a conspiracy nut. Zoe is a bad, bad friend. (Zoe & Allison: Giving Up the Ghost)
10:00am – Ernie makes a girl cry again. Come on, dude. Callan falls asleep on someone else’s bed like a fucking WEIRDO. (Ernie and Callan: Bad News) 11:00am – Marnie Domestic AU. Don’t like, don’t read. OR: That one time Marcus and Ernie did a shitty reinterpretation of that scene from that John Green book. (Ernie and Marcus: Clearing Things Up) 2:00pm – Sander corners Ernie in the bathroom and somehow it is not as gay as it sounds. Ernie gets his slamjam on. (Ernie and Sander: Toilet Troubles) 2:30pm - Christmas didn't stutter once in this one. Did y'all notice that? Sander is bad at Spot the Difference. (my hallowed hell, your hollow heart) 4:00pm - Sander recaps his garbage Spot the Difference skills. Christmas doesn't do much but he's definitely gay in this one. (my shooting star, gravity bound) 6:00pm – Chris reaches peak baby bitch. Brent prays to Bullet RNG-sus. (Saints and Dragons) After – Brent shines bright like a diamond. Siena is bad at emojis. (Re:) 7:00pm – Sander bleh 7:00pm – Callan ensures heart problems via energy drink for the long term. Grant is an enabler and occasional shouty boi. (Wish Granted) 8:00pm – Chris is a whiny baby man. Zoe works at Hot Topic. (Zoe & Chris: Naked Anger) 8:30pm – Grant unveils his master technique. UNLIMITED PET WORKS. Callan raids the dog treats (probably not the first time, amirite). Siena gets a new roommate, whether she likes it or not. (Pure Therapy) 10:30pm – Callan becomes PETA’s nemesis. Zoe supports her illegal activity. (Empty Encouragement)
2:00am - Christmas reenacts an R. Kelly classic. Sander is bad at everything. Alvin's Yeezys aren't mentioned ONCE JAN, WHAT THE HELL. (my bitter taste, my hours wasted) 9:00am – Ernie vents at something that isn’t a time-frozen mannequin. Weird. Zoe is still a filthy pig. (Ernie and Zoe: Baking and Blaming) 9:00am – Callan bribes for friendship points. Determination makes a verbal boo-boo. Ernie shoots his goo all over the place. Emma is a double texter, which definitely won’t have its consequences in the long term. (Callan and Determination, Ernie and Callan, Callan and Emma: Callan Actually Cleans Something For Once) 1:00pm – THE SAV TALK AAAAAA. Ernie goes bungee jumping. Brent is a weeaboo. Siena gets ‘nam flashbacks. Marcus gets physically and emotionally beaten and it’s a thing. 6:30pm – Brent gets a roommate. Siena is bad at catching. 8:00pm – Callan almost sees the moon. Hazel grasps that shaft. (Will You Train With Me?) 12:00am – Sander can show you the world~~ Callan laments her single status. (Floating)
1:00am – Zoe is a conspiracy nut. Margot endorses underage bar hopping. (Zoe & Margot: Answers) 8:00am – Callan is a fucking weenie IDIOT. Determination falls on the wrong side of the Vicky Mendoza Diagonal. (Secrets Out) After – Determination is TOO GOOD, MAN. 9:00am - Sander is good at money. Christmas poses for an inevitable future Jan commission. 11:00am – Ernie doesn’t study for Sander’s test. Sander is suspicious. Emma is fit for the interrogation room. (Ernie, Sander and Emma: Laundry and Leisurely Lying) 12:00pm – The title says it all. Ernie disrupts the Waffle House peace. Callan is a hecking weirdo but like more than usual. 3:00pm – Zoe continues to ruin the lives of Unit B. Zhang’s just here for a good time. (Zoe & Zhang: Making it Personal)
Most of the students were already back at the temporary camp; Kadabra dropped some of them off earlier to the gasps and relief of the normal survivors as a building lowered itself gently to the ground nearby and several more shaken civilians stumbled out. The APC brought the rest just a few minutes prior, and the unconscious blood mage was carried in last after soldiers found him collapsed en route to the evacuation point, a trail of demolished buildings and shredded concrete behind him. As soon as the students were collected, their injuries were also healed with syringes of magical blood. For those who were there before, namely Callan and Hazel, their wounds had already been treated with Christmas’ blood. Both were currently resting in one of the tents nearby. The healer in question was in another tent, still hooked up to IV drips and blood bags, his power put to good use.
However, the students had only minutes to recover. Soon enough, they were given orders to move and guards were herding them onto an APC, not unlike their first day at USARLN East. The unconscious ones were simply strapped to their seats, and any attempt at asking for clarification was met with silent glares and grunts. The urgency of their situation was palpable, but went unsaid. Christmas, however, remained behind. His power was simply too integral to salvaging the bloody aftermath of DC.
Director Zhang watched passively as the last of the soldiers left in the second APC, escorting Unit B to one of her personal safehouses in the southeastern seaboard of North Carolina. Now that the students had done their part, she needed to be able to do hers. And that meant keeping them out of sight and out of mind. Surely, once the survivors regrouped and the situation in DC was stabilized, rumors, testimonies and survivors’ stories would definitely begin to circulate. Then the media would dive for them like hungry hawks. She was confident that she could handle all this. But she needed an early head start, and what was better than coordinating the relief efforts here, with a powerful healer at her disposal. Then she would work on their publicity. Opinions of the masses were easy enough to sway, with just the release of selected footage. Claims of injuries and violence would be harder to verify, especially when the wounds were healed by magical means. As for those who were more persistent with their accusations, she could just blame it on the desire for compensation.
It might seem cruel, to twist their words and minds in such a way, but every miracle required sacrifices. And looking around, this world could really use a miracle or two.
The Director retreated from the forefront of attention once the students had been taken away, letting the chaos of the aftermath swallow up everyone else’s attention completely. She pulled out a separate, secured phone not connected to military systems and scrolled through the list of contacts, each name encrypted into gibberish and memorized long ago.
Not all sacrifices were bloodless, and there was only a small window for the actions she wanted to pursue. Her finger paused, the nonsense list of names barely visible on the screen in the bright day. A hand covered her eyes as if shielding them from the light. She stood still a second longer then lowered her hand, tapping swiftly a contact from the list.
The phone rang only once before Morph picked up.
“Director.” The girl’s soft voice betrayed no surprise, though there was the sound like a utensil clinking against a bowl or dish on the other end.
“How are you?”
“Available.” A light rustling followed the sound of a chair being pushed back.
“That’s good. There’s an emergency in Washington. I assume you’re nearby.”
“I’ll be there within two hours.”
“Details when you arrive. Remember to bring your phone.”
The trucks drove for over seven hours with minimal rest, stopping only briefly at gas stations for quick refuels and a large helping of the snacks in the store, moving them southward along the I-95 S. Cities and towns gave way to large, open stretches of lonely road punctuated by the occasional town and smaller city that passed them by outside the windows. Everywhere they went, there were soldiers and militia roaming and several times a smaller town would have the nerve to stop the procession of trucks for questions before the matter was quickly cleared up by the sight of the cuffed students.
As they continued further south, their route moved into lusher farmlands heavily fortified with fencing, light walls, and soldiers on the perimeter. Signs of battles and losses against Dreamcatcher’s monsters lined the gouges and decimated earth along several miles of fortifications. The soldiers were tense, moving through territory that had seen its fair share of battles, but there was no hesitation—they had jobs to do, even if the world wanted to fall apart around them. Most were there to keep subnaturals in check through the Institutes’ employ, but several knew there was little else they could do to make a difference. Time had proven, more than anything else, that magic was an absolute necessity now to fight back.
By the time they reached the southern end of North Carolina, the soldiers were just as eager to rest, though they didn’t reveal it as easily. The tiny town held little by way of interest for most people, and many of its residents had relocated to safer locales in the last several years, leaving behind unclaimed homes and businesses that had fallen into disrepair. Those who stayed were the old and the uncertain and the paltry militia had neither the means nor the training to fend off any serious attacks. But for all that seemed impractical about the location, there was a elegance to the area—sweeping rows of farmland, some overgrown where the owners had left and others still well-maintained despite the lack of protection, a clear, glistening river mere miles from the main town of Southport, and a soft, balmy temperature that was cooling down significantly as the seasons shifted slowly towards the end of autumn. Dogwood trees were bare of their characteristic spring blooms, but the warm shades of autumn lingered in the browns, reds, and oranges of the fallen leaves. Across the river lay a thick forest that had once been a carefully observed national reserve, but had by now been abandoned for more pressing matters. There, too, the vegetation was aging with fall and a stubbornly functioning lighthouse illuminated the night with flashes of brown and old green.
The students were shoved onto a short ferry ride towards Bald Head Island, with unconscious students or heavy sleepers carried on stretchers onto a ferry that, despite the look of the worn down town, was still crisply maintained, its red paint and polish recently buffed to a bright sheen. Water and the smell of the ocean buffeted the boat for some time, but around an hour later they had arrived at the island, stepping off the pier and onto the smooth sand of the beach. Instead of the usual pier the ferry docked at for the journey, this pier was an unmarked location several miles north of the main village on the island and well into the territory of the island’s previous natural reserve left unchecked and untouched since the Slumber.
South of their location, at the usual ferry route, lay a small village of little more than 80 or so residents, the broken down housing either patched up by obviously amateur work or in complete dilapidation. But electricity flowed there, as did running water, and the people lived as comfortably as they could manage. Supplies seemed low, since the remaining convenience store in town had shelves half empty or half spoiled, but people came and went all the same, the only notable oddity being that they brought in items and came out with entirely different items.
Further down the short road was a gas station that pumped no gas, but still refilled cars just as well. A mystery, really, and for some strange reason the majority of people felt a natural aversion to the location, as if they simply didn’t want to go there. It suited the purposes of the inhabitants just fine and instead of living in designated homes, most people preferred to stay in the large motel at the village center, living apparently for free while those who preferred their own forms of privacy took up abandoned houses around town. A single tavern—it would be a stretch to call it a proper bar—was the sole source of guilty pleasure entertainment around the place, since the movie theater was entirely nonfunctional and no one had found the motivation to repair the projector in every theater room.
It would take someone braver than usual to figure out that the town’s inhabitants were all subnaturals.
The commanding officer of their group checked his phone once more, then led them past the lapping waves and into the underbrush, every soldier flicking their mounted flashlights on immediately as the darkness of the forest swallowed the group.
There was an animal trail to follow, and the sounds of rustling terrestrial creatures and disturbed birds permeated the crunching of leaves and twigs beneath their feet. The trek, luckily, did not last too long. Just thirty minutes later moonlight broke through the leaves as they entered a vast clearing of land that looked to be an old estate. In the distance, a large three-story house built in the old colonial style with creaking wooden porches and ornate columns sat alone among the swaying grass and meadow saffrons that dotted the field, lights bright inside its many windows and carefully carved doorways.
A cobblestone path led the way to the front steps of the porch and several maids and butlers stepped out from behind the grand double oak doors, bowing politely to the students. The maids all sported the same outfit of ruffled white lace over a black, knee-length dress and each had their hair neatly tied into a doughnut bun. The men wore a similar uniform in tailored, double-breasted suits and slicked hair swept back over their heads.
The soldiers seemed uneasy on approach and once closer there was an obvious reason why: every staff member of the house was a subnatural—all were white marks and hardly older than the students save for a much older, unmarked man who appeared to be in his late forties with a trim, graying beard and a sharp glare to his natural countenance. He approached the group, nodding once to the commanding officer before regarding the sorry states of the students.
“The Director will house everyone in her private estate for now,” he announced, voice deep and clear despite the signs of his age. “My staff will show you to your rooms. Anyone incapable of moving will be brought to the infirmary in the back of the mansion.” He turned to the soldiers then, regarding them coolly. ”There are also quarters to accommodate your men, Officer. I imagine you’ll be stationed on the island perimeter at this rate?”
“Affirmative. We’ll leave them with you,” the soldier replied, glancing once more at the students before signaling his men to stand down. Weapons and shoulders relaxed and a maid gestured for the military units to follow her while others rushed to take the stretchers from several soldiers.
”Follow the maids to your rooms, please,” the older man spoke again, looking towards the students. As he talked, the maids were already surrounding the students, herding the uninjured into the building’s vestibule and down the west wing of the mansion towards a set of stairs that led to the second floor hallway and a series of similar rooms, ten on each side, with a plaque boldly announcing the intended occupant’s name on every door. The only exception to the group was, once again, Hazel who remained surrounded by four guards on each end of her stretcher. Two carried her into her designated room and remained on alert in case she attempted any sudden moves upon waking, weapons at the ready. Two more stood guard outside the door.
Each room contained sets of nondescript, white pajamas for the students in their size and a small armoire of clothes that had apparently come from their dorm rooms at the Institute. A folded set of swimwear lay in the back of the bottom drawer and gentle lighting from the rectangular wall scones revealed that there was electricity in the place despite its remote location. The walls were decorated in striped pastels of cream and white while a mahogany, canopied bed accented the cozy room with a matching sofa and coffee table against the far wall. There was a pastoral charm to the gold ivy and vine filigree that trimmed the edges of the bed and nightstand, and the old-fashioned style of adding entablatures and pediments to the tops of doorways was displayed in its finest here as every entrance looked hand-carved in uniform floral designs. A silver chain hung beside each bed, within reaching distance—a bell mechanism that would ring for a maid at the occupant’s convenience.
”For any inconvenience, please summon a staff member with the silver chain beside your beds. You are free to select your own rooms, but bear in mind we added your clothes according to the name plaques on the doors.”
With another bow, the brown-haired girl left, followed by the majority of the maid. An older-looking blonde remained and gave them several more reminders.
”The baths are in the east wing, accessible from the hallway at the far end. Food has been prepared in the dining hall on the first floor. From the foyer, please head straight towards the double doors in the back to find the dining area. You’re free to move about as you like while here, including forays to the beach, but please do not leave the island or move beyond the perimeter. Guards will open fire without question if you choose to and we will also be obligated to stop you if we believe you are attempting to escape.”
With a kind smile, she curtsied and left as well.
The estate's distant location from proper centers of civilization meant there was little by way of cell signal. Calls in the area often dropped or refused to patch through. As if to ease the burden of communication, internet was available in the estate and there were studies bordering a library on the third floor with computers for open use. A small gallery nested in a corner on the third floor, connected to the library by a short hallway. Various paintings by foreign artists were compiled in the private collection and covered a range of styles from classical to abstract to contemporary.
A large billiard room sat on the second floor, east wing, containing a TV, several sofas, the customary billiard table, several small two-seater tables, and a wine rack on the wall. Connected to the billiard room by another set of doors was a small gym with basic exercise equipment. These particular rooms laid along the same hallway as the bathrooms containing both a large bathtub and a separate shower stall. Along the walls of the bathroom were long, wooden shelves filled with folded, soft towels and expensive soaps and shampoos, freshly purchased for the recent occupants.
On the first floor, to either side of the main foyer (before arriving at the back doors that entered the dining hall) were two sitting rooms with recliners and massage tables. Here, too, were silver chains to be pulled for summoning staff. A small music room beside the west sitting room on the first floor housed a piano, two cellos, a violin, and several stands with flutes and clarinets. Behind the main dining room were the kitchens, which also bordered the infirmary even further behind that, positioning the food preparation place in between the two rooms that would need it most. Private chambers for the servants were attached to the side of the mansion and a particular private chamber took up the entire attic space.
Below the mansion laid a wine cellar, a larder, a pantry, and various storage rooms filled with crates of miscellaneous tools, decor items, and nonperishable foods. Towards the back of the underground hallways were cleaning rooms equipped with various detergents, softeners, and dry-cleaning chemicals for laundry purposes. An easy stairwell allowed access to the open grounds above the laundry rooms via a trapdoor where certain larger items such as delicate down comforters and long tablecloths hung on a clothesline, fluttering gently in the night air.
Outside, a large garage connected loosely to the back of the mansion and contained several white bicycles of varying heights and two gleaming cars, the models several years old by now, but still very clearly black Dodge Charger Hellcats, a model known for its unnecessary acceleration and horsepower.
Behind the mansion was an outdoor pool with floor lighting accompanied by a pool house and a large greenhouse where various vegetation were grown for both visual enjoyment and for practical, kitchen purposes. A short distance away, asphalt had been laid down for a tennis court and a basketball court, the required supplies for each sport resting in sheds nearby. A quarter of a mile from the mansion's backend accommodations was a shooting range and another shed filled with various hunting equipment from crossbows to rifles to skinning knives, all impeccably maintained and cleaned alongside a large table, though the cloying, gamey smell in the air revealed the shed had seen plenty of use recently.
Further away were the stables, home to three horses (a black Thoroughbred, a white Andalusian, and a brown-white tobiano-patterned Pintabian), the entire structure completed with a large tack room filled with saddles, bridles, and grooming equipment, along with the feed.
The entirety of the estate, despite the rustic appeal of its decor, revealed a careful attention to maintenance and cleaning, marrying the old-fashioned style with a modern cleanliness that made banister railings and mirrors sparkle immaculately.
In the midst of it all, the various questions surrounding the location and its staff were easy to forget--for the moment.
As the class undertook their quiet retreat the world kept moving, processing the annihilation of the United States’ most secure citadel. Yet in the midst of this widespread apprehension, USARILN East’s unnamed unit of subnatural teens took the spotlight once more, acquiring a cult following that only blew to immeasurable proportions as the days passed. Public debate ignited with a previously unseen fervor, heated discussion covering the question of whether or not these recent public appearances would put these subnaturals in a whole new light. The media was lit ablaze.
The catalyst was a series of videos of unknown origin. “Leaked” footage from the perspectives of the teenagers that had so bravely battled the odds to be the heroes the city needed.
The voice of Proteus sharply giving orders to his squad, culminating in the defeat of the crusher and the slime creature in an impressive collaboration with Kadabra. A girl with an ethereal sword. A long-haired boy flinging re-purposed pipes at the slime. A brown-haired girl in chainmail crushing the ice giant to pieces with monstrous, astral limbs. The girl previously identified as “Siena Santana” diving through solid concrete in her rescue efforts. Time Scar receiving tearful thanks from a dust-covered civilian. Emma from the news getting thrown to her side, only to continue digging with a grim resolution moments later. Angelique Lachance and a small girl with shining eyes working together to locate trapped victims, with ethereal chains moving to the sites as they were pointed out. A recording of the underbelly of a colossal reptilian beast as it tore through cars and charged towards the slime monster. A blonde girl with a pregnant woman, healing individuals in a crowd with a black thread. A censored shot of a pale, lanky boy with wisps of red smoke rising from his naked body leaning down to pick up an aquamarine-haired girl while holding another bleeding girl over one shoulder. A short segment of footage from a third-person perspective, filmed with a steady hand, showcased an unconscious subnatural boy attached to multiple bags of blood along one arm while paramedics withdrew blood from both his other arm and a leg, injecting the healing liquid rapidly into the nearby gurneys of severely injured people.
It didn’t take the netizens much critical thinking to deduce the nature of the shaky footage. Skewed, low angle shots and nondescript watermarks such as the “B-15 42782 Roless, B.” in the footage featuring Proteus’ team were consistent features throughout all the videos. Someone had obviously broken into USARILN’s impenetrable database and released recordings of the battle from the students’ ankle cuffs. But if slander had been their intention then the leaker had fallen short. From the selective clips released online, it was incredibly difficult finding anything malicious around the courage and goodwill displayed by the teenagers. If more footage could be found then perhaps a more critical view could be taken towards the subnaturals but alas, there was nothing.
Strangely enough, out of all the leaks only the footage from a “B-02 15263 Bloodworth, K.” had been missing its audio. The issue was passed over easily though. Never in this decade of terror had there been such a treasure trove of raw, in-depth subnatural footage available to the public aside from the carefully curated footage of the Precursors’ battle with Garrote that had been heavily edited for public disclosure and the usually unclear news broadcasts of random subnatural attacks. Not many people bothered to look a gift horse in the mouth. Rumors of a murderous riot in the middle of the disaster had been similarly passed over, or erased before anyone could check back on them.
Of course with the public knowledge of these new subnaturals and their abilities, the online forums went hard to work, compiling background research and theories to cover these new figures. Emma Halwell had already been christened with “Pandora”, a tongue-in-cheek reference to the saccharine image she had displayed in her talk with Darren Lingard. The juxtaposition of the sweet girl and the dark, shadowy figures she unleashed with their myriad talents were enough for several astute viewers to coin her the name of the Greek myth Pandora—the “all-gifting,” the woman who released evil into the world, but held hope close to her bosom, sealed tight within the jar. It was as close as the public would come for now to admitting that they needed subnaturals—that the monstrous plague upon the world could be solved by the very same powers that brought them to being guided by the subnaturals that people had yet to accept.
The unhinged redhead from the WJLA interview hadn’t gone without her own brand of bad publicity either, proving herself as the prime evidence that the world’s governments were more than correct in their legislations against the magical youths. Czernobog was the name given to Zoe. “Black God”, the Slavic personification of evil and bad luck. Even in the dim night light, the black mist and tattoos brought forth by the X-mark’s power had been visible and described in close detail in the testimonial Barbra Tyson had delivered after the interview. It was more than enough to condemn almost all the Washington subnaturals.
And yet Barbra’s smear campaign had been easily overshadowed by the tragedy that had befallen the capital.
The internet was abuzz instead with the fervor of naming their new subnaturals that had been revealed to the public. Whether they would see more of them in the future didn’t worry most people and arguments over names set the web on fire. But the majority always seemed to win out in the end and Siena was named Sylph for the way she seemed to move like air through the material of the building. Hazel’s name flipped between Marionette and Puppeteer for several hours, but by the end of the various discussions on Reddit’s r/subnaturals “Marionette” had finally won out as the popular choice. The dragon that had attempted to take on the slime was given a large pool of names to draw from, but the final call was Kilgharrah after the Arthurian dragon of the same name who, in some renditions, allied with Merlin and—by internet logic—humans. Sophia took Seer by a landslide, with some wondering if she might have a similar power to Foresight, but relegated to viewing only the present time. Black threads that seemed to move wounds from one source to another gave Lily the name of Norn, the name for beings that controlled man’s fate and often visually depicted with threads. Angel’s display of power netted her the name of Siren, though with less reference to the mythological temptresses and more to the effects of a police or ambulance siren; something that draws the ear. Large amounts of interest cropped up for Grant, whose matter manipulation and control gave way to much speculation about his capabilities. One of the end results was his nickname—Gleipnir—the impossible chain that could bind a monster.
The most impressive of the clips, however, was the girl whose immaterial sword seemed to destroy the slime on contact as she reached out towards a raging surge of the dense liquid mass. A sword to fight the monsters. Multiple jokes about the “Infinity +1” sword were thrown around, but the end name for her was Excalibur, drawing again from famous Arthurian legends that, if the theory of Dreamcatcher’s existence was to be believed, might not have been legends at all.
Meanwhile the long-haired mage firing projectiles at the slime near Excalibur’s position was, for most people, somewhat unimpressive given the scale of what Kadabra could do, but people were fascinated all the same, wondering how the details of the power worked and noting the drawn line. Gregory was named Ballista, though Rifle was also a close contender. Once laughter and derision over the naked student had died down, his speed and red smoke earned him the name Ifrit, though the nickname was less of a focus while people tried and failed to uncensor the footage just to appease the question of whether this particularly tall guy had genitals to match.
As talk surged about a new team of superheroes to replace the Precursors (with equal amounts of scoffing and scorn on the opposition), the Director remained in the thick of it, manipulating information through rumors and hearsay and spreading the leaked clips on various accounts bounced through proxies and foreign locations, looking as if there had been a data breach. A particular rumor that she did not spread, however, was that a mage whose power involved technology and networking had been at the root of the data breach. It seemed silly and far too convenient for her to spread the thought, but the minds of the internet had come up with a story for her, so she pretended to field the DOD’s questions with the answer that she was currently investigating the leak, but of course all checks came up clean and the world held too many possibilities for even the craftiest to consider everything. It occurred to very few (and even they dismissed the thought) that the Director could be lying. She seemed too austere to be the sort. Too severe. Too heartless to help the subnaturals that way.
Her private estate, however, told a different story.
You'll have a little over two weeks IC for this interaction period (until 0500, 7 October 2020 IC) on the island and the same amount of time OOC to sort things out. I will delay any deadlines for this case should the need arise since it's a much longer interaction period than the usual several days to a week that we've been used to, but I have been planning to increase your interaction period durations for a while now, especially once people have certain routines set down for their character so we'll need to cover less minute details.
The location is several miles north of the main island village, as mentioned, and it's in a similar state of neglect as Southport, though people still certainly live there. For anyone who wants to venture that far, most people on the island are subnaturals, so ping a GM if you head into town. All basic conveniences are there such as a grocery store, hardware store, etc., but before any interactions, poke a GM since everything's a little strange, like previously mentioned.
Callan will be depressed and sulking in her room for much of this period.
Christmas will not show up for the first four days of the duration here. He'll be there on day 5 (24th IC) along with the dog for Siena, the birbo for Angel, and the cat for Sophia.
On the second day, several soldiers will arrive with a cooler of blood for Sander (21st IC).
On the third day (22nd IC), a group of soldiers will arrive at the estate with any items salvaged from the hotel in Washington. It'll be in a large box in the foyer and will be brought in around 4 AM. Since the penthouse was somewhat intact still, they were able to recover much of what was left behind.
Clothing from DC shopping trips.
Stuff from Siena and pals' shopping spree.
Swimsuits for Emma and Allison.
Christmas's ribbons.
Wisford equipment forgotten in rooms during D.C attack. But all wishalloy have been taken back.
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