Syben

The Dust

Thanks for the speedy replies everybody, glad to know you're still around (I assume Cops is lurking =P )

No worries, no hard feelings, no etc. etc. I just refuse to let this one die.

Also, in regards to the event at 4, the spider horde will reach the city at about 5:30 but I am going to make a post about the wings. Darcs, I know you have a full plate but I'm going to shoot you a pm, I have a few ideas I think you'd be interested in hearing.

The Dust

Now for unpleasantry.

@Darcs - It's been 18 days since you posted, which isn't that bad, also considering we talked before hand. I just want to make sure everything is going alright, you can PM me if you wish.

@Monochromatic Rainbow - You're going on 3 weeks, which is a bit of time.

@OneEyedChurro - You're going on 4 weeks,

@Callthecops - And you're going on 2 months ._.

When I initially started this experimental posting order, it was because I didn't want people to feel rushed or forced to write. But these lengths in between posts are reaching absurdity. I had somebody almost not join because they thought this was dead, or that the players have lost interest. Honestly, I'm considering changing because I think you're stretching this leniency way too far. If you're too busy, no longer have the desire, or can't rp for some reason, then say something. If you have writer's block PM me, I have sixteen million ideas I can give you.

I don't feel it would be that hard to get at the very minimum 1 post up every two weeks, and I may start implementing a time frame if things keep going this way.

The Dust

Alright so, we've another applicant who wants to join up. I wanted to get everybody's opinion on the new character. Keep in mind the new player and I haven't really discussed anything but some ideas on powers.

Rough CS

Basics

Name: Rathe Catanzano
Age: 23
Appeared Age: 23
Height: 5'6"
Weight: 139 lbs.
Eye Color: Hetero-chromatic - left green, right brown
Hair Color: blond, multi-colored from dyes
Physical Disabilities: None
Physical Identifiers: multiple piercings, monochromatic faction tattoos, and sub-dermal implants.

• Notable crimson skull tattoo on her chest. The crimson pigment itself denotes a certain level of status among The Forsaken, as the naptha-derived chemicals that give it additional brilliance beyond that achieved by the more common iron oxides are especially hard to come by. Although traditions vary and death symbology is common, some units enforce an informal code with regard to the use of exceptional pigments or design such that it signifies a certain number of kills, exceptional brutality, or some other notable combat achievement.
• Many of Rathe's tattoos have raised ridges where sub-dermal implants, mostly bone fragments and small ball bearings, have been inserted for accent. It's not an unusual feature among The Forsaken but, as it's an excruciatingly painful process, one typical of the tough and drunk.

Appearance:
While lightly built, Rathe's figure is lean and well-toned with no obvious body fat and having defined muscles of the sort one might find with a sprinter or other whose body is regularly tested. Her features are generally soft and attractive, though they often carry an expression that might be described as harsh, piercing, or menacing. When left loose, tangles of blond hair fall nearly to her waist, though they're seldom left to do so in favor of braids or, more often than not, dreadlocks that hang in thin ropes or which are bound up into loose arrangements to keep them out of the way. While her natural hair color is more of a brassy blond, it's seldom solely that color as Rathe indulges her femininity, such as it is, by soaking several of the ropes in mixtures of soot, zinc paste, and more commonly blood to dye some black, others white, and others a dark crimson. Beads, pieces of glass, and other tiny baubles are woven into her braids, though she tends to add a few dyed human teeth as well, lest men think her weak and submissive. Rathe was born a brown-eyed girl but, following recovery from the mutagenic virus, her left eye turned a mossy shade of green, as if somehow symbolic of her new found abilities.

Rathe prefers to travel light for reasons that will become clear below and that, combined with long days in the sun, has given her naturally olive complexion a substantially darker copper tone. Her dress is typically limited solely to that necessary for decent coverage, not that she cares for either (decent or coverage) but safety necessitates it, and its usually a motley assortment of snug-fitting pieces, often with all sorts of odds and ends attached. The more notable pieces are a necklace made of dyed human teeth - trophies denoting the number of human kills in which she's participated* - and a pair of "antelope" horns affixed to her goggles from a hollow abomination she single-handedly downed. To be sure, it was no antelope. As for her necklace, it's initial circumference is completed and the second has begun.

* The practice of collecting human teeth is in dispute among The Forsaken, with some viewing it as barbaric. It's common only among outlying bands who exercise their own brand of "policing" the faction borders. These groups are largely responsible for the risks associated with trading in Forsaken territory and are tolerated solely for their strength. The practice itself involves each member of a marauding Forsaken band extracting a single tooth from each human slain in battle by whatever means they see fit. These serve as trophies and are almost always worn prominently as an indication of strength.

Background

Residence: Transient, formerly Forsaken territory
Profession: Scout
Aligned Faction: The Forsaken
Relatives: Nielz Catanzano - Father

Backstory

TBD

Gear

Weapons:

• Compound bow with titanium riser and split laminated wood limbs at 55lbs. draw weight and 30" draw length. Having relatively small pulleys, the bow resembles a recurve from a distance, excepting of course the multiple strings. The limbs have been left in their natural wood color which, though being a composite of various types of scavenged wood, have a generally sandy color. The titanium riser has been blacked to prevent reflection.
• Hand-made flintlock pistol. This four-barrelled construction has a dual-trigger system whereby each trigger ignites two barrels on either side to propel poorly-aimed wads of shrapnel with devastating force over a short range. The shrapnel itself is made up of whatever Rathe can find, typically a mix of shattered glass fragments and ball bearings.
  
  pistol

  
• Kukri: A nasty-looking blade with a jagged business side and a crimson-stained leather grip.

Armor:

• TBD

Ammunition:

• Arrows: A dozen aluminum-shafted barbed arrows - unmatched set but all approximately 275 grains.
• Black powder: Not technically a weapon in and of itself, but the shrapnel propellant for her flintlock.
• Shrapnel: Roughly a fistful, or enough to refill all four chambers twice.

Backpack A:

• TBD

Miscellaneous:

• TBD

Immortalis Information

Manifested Phenomena: Photo-kinetics
Unique Abilities:

• Karma chameleon: Having the ability to manipulate the physical properties of light, Rathe can alter the reflection and scattering of light of her body and, to a lesser extent, relatively small things in immediate contact with it. The degree to which she can camouflage herself is striking and she's even capable of mimicking simple patterns, such as the color striations of a rock formation; however, her effect on objects is less impressive and largely why she prefers to travel light and dress lighter. Generally, the objects need to be against her body and Rathe works her camouflaged pattern to incorporate the object such that little manipulation of the object itself is necessary. Alternatively, she may choose to shift the object behind her or simply drop it to make it appear abandoned.
• May the force be with you: Rathe's more unique talent is that for giving mass and form to ambient light to produce small, simple objects. The degree of the effect depends greatly on the amount of ambient light, such that in a dimly lit room she might be capable of forming little more than a lock pick or small wrench, while in full mid-day sun something the size of a baseball bat would be feasible. Regardless of the lighting, the objects are simple, having no moving parts or complex construction. For instance, a club, blade, simple wrench, arrow, or simple bow would be possible but a spiked club, adjustable wrench, pliers, or bow and arrow would not. Being composed of light, the constructs are semi-translucent and give off their own glow, though the hue depends largely on the nature of the object and the amount of emotion attached to its use. For instance, utility items have little and tend toward the shorter wavelengths (e.g. indigo and blue), while weapons in a combat situation tend toward crimson or scarlet.

Strengths:

• Shhhhh: Being camouflaged means little if one tromps around like a bull in a china shop and Rathe has adapted her movements accordingly, such that she moves with a fluid grace that not only supports her visual stealth but also renders her silent as well.
• Sticky fingers: For one who's hard to see and hear, it's only natural that things might go missing from time to time. Through experience, Rathe has acquired a light touch, when needed, and has a delicate hand with locks as well, though mainly with the types of locks used for entryways. Other types, like those used for safes or lock boxes are more hit or miss.

Weaknesses:

• Can you see me now?: Camouflage is, unfortunately, one of those things where effectiveness can't be determined objectively. That is, despite her best efforts and belief that she's concealed perfectly, she only knows for certain when she's caught.
• Hot-headed: While not directly related to her talents, stealth is only useful if one remains stealthed. Rathe's temper, however, tends to get the better of her and she's known to break stealth to vent some rage on a skull or two.
• Manipulator: Rathe can only work with ambient light, so in dim conditions her physical constructs are necessarily limited.

The Dust

@OneEyedChurro Sounds good.

The Dust

Been awhile since some of you posted, how's everything going?

The Dust

@Darcs Bartender permanent character please. With all of my GM powers combined I command that chill as fuck bartender never dies, ever, no matter what.

Also as for Dr. Nevvo... are you sure about that? I mean sure he works in a spark and hollow research facility that was being destroyed catastrophically.. and I guess it is pretty extreme that a piece of roof fell on him and began crushing him.. and I mean I'm not saying anything but... are, you, sure?

The Dust

You picked the spiders, you picked the motherfucking spiders you sadist!

@TheMadAsshatter

I am a real bastard.

<Snipped quote>
Keoma FUCK. you JUST said that you GOAT-MOUTHED MICROPHALLUSED SHADOW FUCKER.

@Darcs

XD I knew Nevvo was your favorite.

Wait wait wait I made an even better one

@Darcs

ROFL. Stahp XD

The Dust

The Creature from Jon's Post SPOILER ALERT

In case you were wondering... sweet dreams.

The Dust

Tick...

Tick...

Tick...

Jon's thumbs twiddled obscure patterns around themselves; his hands slick with sweat as he watched the round clock's hands travel slowly across its face. Time dragged on for an eternity when you weren't doing anything, even more so when you were waiting for something. On top of that, this something was so potentially exciting, and dangerous; Jon was filled with a mixture of adrenaline and fear, the combination of which almost make him nauseous. Though, he was lacking a good measure of fear. Worried, perhaps, but it had been a long time since Jon had felt real, heart clutching fear.

During his training for the Winged Guardians, fear was something the instructors relentlessly tried to beat out of you. Along with mixed signals about shame and humility. Jon's mind wandered as he thought back to one of those particular moments, he had been young. Young, and afraid. Dark waves of fear thinly veiled beneath his demeanor of hope, for a better life. A life that would mean something.

...Anything..

”Goddammit Jon! What are you waiting for! Crawl your worthless piece of shit! CRAWL!!” Drill instructor Havvit screamed, his face face and covered in a mixture of dirt and sweat. Seventeen year old Jon was frozen, on his belly, still a foot away from the barbed wire that he was supposed to be crawling under. Thin muddy channels ran beneath the wire, forming shallow trenches between the stakes holding the obstacle up. Though Jon saw none of that, he only heard the roar of gunfire. The instructor yelled at him again, but the words fell on deaf ears. Ears covered by Jon's hands as he whimpered pitifully.

He was about to give up, to decide he couldn't do this, about to go home. A wrenching pain seared through his gut, doubling him over around the instructor's boot. ”What?! YOU PATHETIC LITTLE TURD! YOU WANNA GO HOME? DO YOU!?” Havvit roared, as if reading Jon's mind. His screams over the gunfire were only met with pitiful sobs, emphasized by the tears coursing down Jon's face.

”Listen here you little fuck,” Havvit began, crouching low next to Jon so he could be heard, ”Do you think the forsaken are going to wait for you to get your shit together before filling you full of holes!? Do you think the hollows are going to hesitate before tearing your little brother and stringing him up by his entrails?! CAN YOU NOT PROTECT YOUR FAMILY? ARE YOU JUST SOME STANDARD, WAITING FOR THEIR NAMED TO BE SIGNED ON A DEATH REPORT? TELL YOU WHAT YOU LITTLE BITCH, I'LL HAVE YOU BROTHER MAN UP AND DIG YOUR GRAVE WHEN I CARRY WHAT'S LEFT OF YOU HOME! MAYBE HIS TEARS WILL SOFTEN THE GROUND SO IT WILL BE EASIER TO DIG, IS THAT WHAT YOU WANT YOU WHINY LITTLE SHIT?!”

”Sir! NO SIR!” Jon squeaked, uncoiling from his position and wiping his eyes. Havvit was right, Jon didn't want any of that.

”WHAT DID YOU SAY? I THOUGHT I HEARD MY DAUGHTER FOR A SECOND.”
”SIR! NO! SIR!” Jon bellowed, diving headfirst into the mud, crawling furiously as live rounds ripped through the air above him.

Jon smiled sadly to himself. Havvit was long dead, beheaded during a forsaken raid out in the sandy dunes of Forsaken territory. Jon had never had anybody give him that kind of real talk in his life, and he was thankful for it. Havvit hardened him, prepared him for the real world. When Jon came out on the top of his class, Havvit had laughed so hard he was brought to tears. They shared a drink afterwards, Havvit still chuckling to himself, amused.

”Looks like my little whelping turned into a man after-all,” Havvit had said back then, toasting his drink to the night sky.

Jon looked up from the gunmetal bench he was hunched over as the door opened, signaled only by a slight hum and the quiet rush of air. ”We're ready Jon,” Dr. Addison said, turning and leaving just as quickly as she had come. Jon knew where he was supposed to be going by now, Grayson had damn near given him the full tour. The thought of Grayson made him smile, he was so proud of his little brother. No matter what Jon did in his life, the advancements Grayson was making would affect the world for a very long time.

Jon stood, stretching his stiff muscles. His heart was beating as if he had been sprinting. ”Perhaps I too, can change the world, huh bro?” Jon asked the empty locker room. It only took him a moment to shed his clothes and change out into a patient's gown. He was feeling kind of breezy in the back, but that much was to be expected. If something went wrong, and didn't kill him, the doctors would need quick access to his body and the gear he normally wore wouldn't allow for that. Still, without some form of firearm, or knife, or lethal object on his person, Jon felt kind of naked, regardless of the gown.

Jon familiarized himself with the weight of Arthur, his tactical brass knuckles. He was about to set it in the locker when the door quietly hissed open again, and a familiar voice spoke.

”You should let me hold onto that for you, for luck,” Grayson said sheepishly, his young face brightened by his boyish smile.

”Sure little bro, for luck right?” Jon asked bemused, smiling as he passed the weapon to Grayson.

”Erm, right. I actually came here to wish you that... Good luck, I mean,” Grayson replied, stumbling over his words. It was very apparent that he was really worried.

”Hey bro, you remember that time in the foothills?” Jon asked rhetorically, recalling their favorite memory of their time together growing up.

”The foothills around Dresden? How could I forget such a thing!” Grayson beamed, ”I was stuck in a dead-end path, trapped by a wicked looking two-headed snake! And you just walked over, and picked it up like it was domesticated or something, and tossed it aside, cursing at it as it slithered away!” Grayson retold, chuckling towards the end of it.

”Remember that,” Jon started, placing a hand on Grayson's shoulder, ”I ain't afraid of nothin', it's everything else that's afraid of me. The boogeymen checks under his bed for me at night. Hell, the Reaper once came for me when I was shot once, I kicked his ass all the way out of the hospital wing!” Jon boasted, full of mock bravado. He knew just how to ease his brother's worries, but there was only so much he could do in a situation like this.

Grayson replied with a fit of giggles, ”Yea? Ok, Hah!” Grayson remarked, wiping a mirthful tear from his eye.

”The point is little bro, I'm the manliest man around, and ain't nothin' gonna take me out of the fight before I'm good and ready, and that will never happen! I'm never gonna die! Not today! Not Tomorrow! I'm going to live a thousand lifetimes of whooping ass!” Jon struck a pose at the end of this, flexing his arms with a leg on the bench.

Grayson giggled some more, before abruptly hugging his brother. ”You better...promise?” He asked in a quiet tone.

”I promise,” Jon said, his heart skipping a beat as he hugged his brother. ”Now c'mon you little twerp, stop getting emotional on me. There's work to be done! MANLY WORK!” Jon cheered, marching from the room melodramatically.

Grayson watched him leave curiously, a bit perplexed. Apparently his brother had never learned that his manly bravado wasn't as quite effective as he hoped. Grayson smiled still, his brother was always being weird, at least in private or among friendly company. He had been pretty thankful that Jon hadn't embarrassed him like that in front of his bosses. He chuckled to himself as he left the locker room.

”C'mon you slow ass,” Jon teased, walking backwards as he motioned for Grayson to catch up.

For the next few minutes they walked in silence, with the occasional word uttered here and there, or a playful nudge. The corridor looked just as pristine as when Jon had arrived a few hours ago, he wondered if this was an inherent ability of the material or if there were some very stealthy janitors. The floor was cool against the bottoms of his bare feet, much cooler than he could remember ever feeling. Hell, he barely remembered what ice was like. He could remember having it a few times in Dresden, but such commodity had been hard for him to come by as a Wing. Ice cubes weren't exactly a pressing concern when you were on patrol or filing paperwork.

The floor actually made him shiver as he walked across it, causing him to be quite thankful when he entered the operating room. Not because the cold receded, in fact the room looked very much like the hallway other than the equipment in it, but rather because of the operating gurney. This room looked much like the observation room he had been looking at a few hours before. Seeing the same room, and having such vivid memories flashing through his mind made him realize exactly what it was he was about to do. The look of pain on that man's face as he burned alive, the sadistic smile from the rush of power. It made him slightly worried how such an experience would effect him mentally.

In fact, he was suddenly starting to get the feeling that this was a bad idea. It was very likely he could die. The scientists had explained there tests, but that hand only been a handful of people. What if he was the one in ten that would die? What if he became a hollow? Extreme scenarios played out in his mind, and for the slightest of moments he hesitated. Halfway between the threshold of the room and running back the way he had come. For a single heartbeat, a fear he was unfamiliar with had stopped him in his tracks. A fear that he was trained to ignore, yet it's icy fingers slithered around his heart.
”C'mon you slow ass!” Grayson chided, playfully nudging his brother into the room. They chuckled together, Jon's worries washed away as he looked upon Grayson and remembered all of the things, all of the people he was trying to protect.

”Got the jitters, Mr. Diederich?” Dr. Addison commented as she walked in behind him.

”Are you sure you're not like a medium or something? I swear all you scientists and doctor types know exactly when we're least expecting you,” Jon retorted.

”We have watches Jon, did you not get the memo?” Dr. Nevvo said plainly, following in behind Addison.

”Must of missed it. So we're all on time, now what?” Jon asked, walking into the middle of the room and sitting on the edge of the gurney. Dr. Addison and Dr. Nevvo separated to separate workstations on either end of the room, both of which were on wheels.

”Now? We kill you,” Dr. Addison replied bluntly. Grayson's face went pale, and it seemed as if he breath had caught in his lungs.

”Please, Dr. Addison, no need to be so dramatic,” Dr. Nevvo said, irritation creeping into his voice.

”We're going to tie you down, drug you, and fill the room with a gaseous compound that's going to turn you into a Popsicle. All with a homicidal creature we know next to nothing about in the room with you,” Addison quipped, seeming to ignore Dr. Nevvo.

”Oh well, if that's all..” Jon started, but the humor seemed lost to everybody else in the room.

”Jon..” Grayson started solemnly.

”I know, I know... I'll be fine, alright?” Jon said, trying to console his brother. Jon laid back on the table as Dr. Addison walked over, a needle held in her hand.

”This is a sedative, it's going to-”

”I don't need the full brochure package, Doctor,” Jon said, cutting Dr. Addison off. She frowned at him, shooting him a steely glare as she pressed the needle to his arm.

”Good luck, I'll be up in the viewing port with the general,” Grayson said, looking slightly squeamish as he turned to exit the room.

”We're scientists Dr. Grayson, we don't believe in luck,” Dr. Nevvo corrected, sounding as mighty and pretentious as ever. Grayson nodded in response as he exited the room. Jon was about to open his mouth to reply, when a sudden wave of numbness hit him. He tried to lick his lips but he felt literally paralyzed.

Dr. Addison laid him back, and began strapping ties around his body. ”These are to ensure you don't go on a power trip when you wake up.. and well.. to keep you still if the numbness wears off.” Jon, even though he felt very compelled to, couldn't formulate a response, or even make a face, as she strapped him to the bed. He was stuck looking at the fluorescent light hunkered in its little glass dome attached to the ceiling. Dr. Nevvo leaned over into his vision, waving his hand and smiling at Jon as darkness descended across his vision.

”Ah, Mr. Grayson, here to enjoy the show?” General Paxton Bradley asked, chuckling heartily between puffs on the cigar he always seemed to have clasped between his portly fingers.

”I'm not sure about enjoying it..” Grayson replied meekly, standing at the window to watch Addison and Nevvo prepared his brother's sleeping body.

”You're brother is a lot smarter than he comes off young man, he's tough as rock too,” Paxton commented, through yet another cloud of swirling smoke.

”It's just.. is this really safe?” Grayson expressed, his worries eating away at him slowly. He was proud to be able to help his brother, even more so that Jon reciprocated that feeling, nothing made him feel warmer inside. Yet, they didn't know enough about these creatures, and this one in particular seemed a lot smarter than Nevvo gave it credit for.

”Proven and repeated results seem pretty solid to me lad,” Paxton said, setting his glass of whiskey down. Grayson grimaced, looking over at the General. A wise, and battle hardened man, of some size, but Grayson felt him detestable. Always smoking, always drinking, as if he had to fill the void in his life with those vices. And now, risking his brother's life for some idea that he could create an army of Immortals, the idea itself was the very definition of dangerous science. Not dangerous because of the risks, but because of what people would do with it. Grayson had a book on “The Manhattan Project” which had changed his outlook on science. Humankind was always going to abuse and use progress.. but.. he was just some lowly acolyte in a world of supposed masters. He could only help them destroy the world, again.

”Seal the room and let our friend out,” Dr. Nevvo commanded, striding into the room and breaking Grayson's thoughts. Grayson looked at him, as Nevvo took his station at the view port. Grayson truly detested this man, he was a pompous ass and a fool who made a mockery of what science really was.

”Opening the vault now,” Addison stated, her fingers tapping away on the keyboard of the terminal. This room was an exact replica of the other one they had watched a man nearly burn alive in. Though, that one was being cleaned at the moment.

Grayson watched as the most terrifying, and fascinating creature he'd ever seen was forced out of its hiding place. It screamed in protest, its cries shattering the stillness in the room. It had always been a curious thing to Grayson, the way its voice carried over the intercoms even when unplugged or unpowered. They had figured out that as long as there was a connection its voice would emit, it seemed to speak in a thousand radio frequencies. It flashed across the room, impossibly fast, its body becoming a blackened blur of what seemed like smoke as it transition from one spot to the other. It stopped in front of the window, it's faceless form seeming to stare at Dr. Nevvo.

”Hello beautiful..” Dr. Nevvo cooed, placing his hand on the glass almost lovingly, sickeningly.

”I'm starting the process,” Dr. Addison said, though it didn't seem as if she was looking for confirmation from Nevvo. Grayson grimaced as he watched the scene, they were like twisted parents experimenting on their children–In the name of science. A part of him was glad neither of them actually had children, though he wondered what kind of twisted little monsters they would have grown up to be. A large, calloused hand placed itself on Grayson's shoulder, and he looked up into the grizzled face of Paxton.

”Your brother is about to change the world,” Paxton said a bit awestruck. Grayson didn't answer him, instead he continued looking out of the window as the room filled with an ethereal, teal gas. It settled across every surface, except for the preparation tables which had been wheeled after Jon was ready. The room began turning a shade of light blue as patches of ice began to form on the walls and floor. Jon's body immediately began to dim into a deathly, pale white. His lips rapidly turned into a bruised colored purple as the sheer cold worked its way into his body. A patch of ice formed on Jon's arm, but the spark didn't move.

”It's not working!” Grayson exclaimed in a panic.

”Patience young man, we haven't met the criteria for bonding yet,” Nevvo explained coldly, his attention never turning away from what was happening in the other room. The spark continued to stand still, it's wispy form hued in black unmoving, unflinching. Jon's body was rapidly deteriorating, becoming even paler with a hint of a blue tinge to his skin.

”You're going to kill him!” Grayson cried out, pounding his fist against the glass in horror as he watched his brother die.

”That's what we need! Your brother knew the risks!” Nevvo snapped, shooting an icy glare at Grayson.

”He's flat-lining,” Dr. Addison commented, monitoring Jon from her terminal. Yet the spark didn't move.

”C'mon you bitch..” Paxton said through clenched teeth.

”Don't let him die..” Grayson pleaded, tears streaming down his cheeks as he fell to the floor. He looked up to find Dr. Nevvo staring at him open mouthed. The spark too, seemed to be turned towards Grayson, ”Please..” he begged pitifully.

The spark let out a screech, its formless head thrown back as it assaulted the ears of those watching it. ”Its disrupting the system!” Dr. Addison cried out, as the screen of her terminal erupted in a spray of electricity and shattered glass. She crumpled to the ground, her face peppered with the green tinted shards of the terminal screen, her face staring out in open horror.

”Oh my god!” Grayson cried out, falling back and scooting himself to the far wall of the room.

”You are.. so tremendous..” Dr. Nevvo said, watching as the Spark flashed over to the gurney, crouched above Jon. It looked one last time at Dr. Nevvo, before bonding with the chilled body of a dying man.

The intercom in the room exploded in a display of fire and smoke, just as a piercing siren resounded throughout the complex. Paxton moved over to the door, trying to pry it open after it failed to do so automatically.

”It's jammed!” He exclaimed, the butt of his cigar falling from his mouth and hitting the ground in a shower of ash and sparks.

An angry look came over Nevvo's face as the warning siren continued to blare, ”You.. bitch..” He said, betrayal evident in his voice as he pounded his fists against the glass. ”You're not going to destroy me! All of my work! All of my progress!” Nevvo cried out, barely audible as an explosion rocked the facility.

”Hey! Over here you mongrels!” Paxton yelled at the workers fleeing down the hallway. Grayson whimpered in complete shock and fear, his ears were still ringing and he was still huddled against the wall.

”You BITCH!” Dr. Nevvo screamed, a second explosion throwing him from the view port and sending him to the floor, where he came eye to eye with the still body of his dead assistant. ”It.. it was too smart for us.. this whole time.. it could have.. it just..” He blubbered, crawling towards her, his hand outstretched towards Addison's face. A third explosion hit the facility, causing part of the room's roof to collapse directly onto of Nevvo.

Paxton, seeing the opportunity, wasted absolutely no time, ”C'mon Grayson! We're getting the hell out of here!” He declared, yanking the boy to his feet. Paxton half led, half hauled the sobbing boy up the rubble.

”But! My brother!” Grayson cried out, pulling against Paxton's hold on him.

”We can't help him now! Don't be a fool soldier!” Paxton roared, overpowering Grayson's resistance and dragging him up the broken concrete to the floor above. They scrambled up into the hallway as yet another explosion shook the compound, knocking them to the floor.

”Mother of God..” Paxton breathed, staring at a wall of fire quickly funneling down the corridor.

---

By the seventh explosion, Jon was fully conscious once more. He groaned as he tried to roll off of the gurney. His entire body felt like it was frozen, and on fire at the same time, he felt sick and a plume of dust was raining down on his face, yet he was still strapped to the gurney. He blinked, trying to clear his vision, trying to ignore the ringing in his ears, or the splitting headache continually slamming against his skull. Something was evidently, terrible wrong. He struggled against his bindings, feeling suffocated and claustrophobic, but they wouldn't give way. He screamed with effort, feeling the tightness in his chest increase, feeling his lungs struggle to pull in oxygen.

His body turned blue, icy blue, as a layer of frost permeated his skin. The straps across his body began to freeze, the thin layer of cloth shattering in its frozen state. Jon fell off the bed, gasping for breath as the ice on his skin subsided.

”It worked..” He whispered hoarsely, he could hardly believe it. It glanced upwards, towards the viewing window. The observation room had a plume of smoke escaping through a collapsed ceiling. ”Shit..” he said, nothing could ever be simple and easy. He gathered himself and got to his feet, looking for a way out. He was still sealed in the room, but he could feel the tingle beneath his skin, the tingle of the phenomena the spark must have given him. He stretched his hands towards the door dramatically, trying to focus on the tingle beneath his skin. But nothing happened. Jon looked down at his hands, which from the wrist onward were a bright pink. It suddenly occurred to him that he couldn't feel his hands, yet he still had muscle control over them. He had trouble grasping the foreign concept of being unable to feel his hands, which caused him to exhale in frustration. A frosty cloud exited his lung, dotted with tiny sparkles of frost.

He raised an eyebrow curiously, exhaling a bit stronger than he had last time. Another plume roiled from his lungs, tiny ice crystals suspended in the air. He filled his lungs to their limit, and blew out a breath as hard as he could. The cloud of frost washed over the door of the room, audibly freezing it. Jon smiled to himself and kicked the door as hard as he could, shattering it into large, frozen chunks.

”I just froze and broke a steel door.. holy..” He started, but that thought escaped his mind as he looked into the flaming corridor before him. There was a definite bump in his plans, seeing as he couldn't feel his hands, but at least he wasn't useless. He took another breath, letting a plume of frost drift down the hallway from his lungs, the sheer coldness of his phenomena leaving an icy trail down the hallway. He tread across the surface carefully, but found that his feet acted like impromptu magnets. He walked across the thin layer of ice, his feet crackling as the soles of his feet stuck to the ice, without slipping. Though there was a moment when he lost concentration due to a door erupting off its hinges and followed by a plume of fire, but other than that he made it down the iced over floor without much trouble.

He found himself back at the locker room, and only partially damaged. A water main had burst, but one good lungful of oxygen froze the stream solid. Jon felt it better to change now, while he had the chance, than run around half naked. It was very difficult for him to work his hands, without being able to feel them he was constantly losing his grip on something or dropping it. It didn't help anything that something, somewhere in the facility had blown up again and sent another adrenaline spiking shock wave through the complex, causing Jon to lose his grip on his pants once more. He cursed under his breath, this was taking far longer than he would have liked.

Sometime later he found his way to the upper level. He had found out along the way that he could do the same trick with his boots if he focused–sticking to the ice from the fire he had to put out. As he descended higher, signs of civilization returned to him in the form of pained wails and panicked screams. He looked around frantically, trying to help where he could, but found most sections had suffered far more damage than those below.

”I can feel them! I ca-” A voice cried out, ending off in a strangled cry of pain. Jon sprinted towards the voice, a few doors down the hallway he was in an inside what seemed to be, well Jon didn't exactly know. Every room was kind of the same to him, full of test tubes and computers. This particular room held the mangled, bleeding body of a scientist trying to say something, but only succeeding in uttering pained gurgles. Multiple slashes coated his twitching body, and his eyes were rolling back into his head.

”What happened!?” Jon asked, feeling stupid for doing so. It was obvious the man couldn't speak, yet Jon knelt next to him anyways, trying to offer some form of comfort. The scientist's eyes went wide, as he pointed up towards the ceiling. Jon looked up only to see the busted hatch of a ventilation shaft.

”I don't know what you're pointing at,” Jon said, desperately wanting to help the man. It was then that he heard the skittering sounds of something in the vents above them. He looked up once more, eyeing the opening suspiciously. A small creature burst from it, hissing viciously as it impacted Jon's chest. Jon moved his hands to fend the creature off, only succeeding in the thing biting his hands multiple times. He flayed his hands around desperately, unable to use them effectively as the creature tore into them, though his hands didn't bleed. He took a breath and exhaled, freezing the creature slowly as the icy cloud covered its body. It flipped over onto its back, its legs curling in towards its torso.

Jon rolled the thing off of him, getting to his feet as the frozen creature shattered against the floor. He looked at his hands, covered in what seemed to be like bullet sized holes, though he felt nothing, and there was no blood. Hell, with his luck the thing was probably venomous too, but he felt nothing, which kind of made him lose all hope of ever regaining feeling in his hands again. He knelt down near the broken pieces of the creature that had attacked him, struggling to pick up the pieces. He dropped one, and it shattered into even smaller pieces, provoking an angered string of curses from his mouth as he fumbled a second piece.

He almost had the third piece, but the scientist issued a loud gurgle of pain, causing Jon to drop that piece too, and let loose another string of profanities. He stood, defeated, and looked at the scientist, who was currently spasming. Jon was halfway to him when the guy's chest exploded, releasing what must have been thousands of tiny little insects, and not just any insect to Jon's great displeasure. Spiders. He blasted them with a wave of frost, but there were too many for him to effectively stop all at once. He dashed for the exit, reaching back to close the door and frowning in anger as his fingers fumbled the handle. He cursed again, leaving the door and heading further into the compound.

He could hear them all around him now, the skittering legs of the little black spiders, or the big black spiders. He wasn't sure which, he hadn't seen anymore... yet. He felt his breath come in ragged gasps once more as the walls loomed all around him, seeming to press in close. Panic built up inside him, causing him to fall to his knees. He held his head cradled in his arms, breathing in rapid, short breaths of air. As he rocked back and forth on his knees, the walls seemed to slowly recede to their previous positions and size, no longer threatening to close in around him. He gathered himself and stood, looking around nervously, as if the walls were baiting him into a trap.

”I need to get the fuck out of here,” He said, to nothing but the sounds of the skittering spiders in the vents. He made his way further down the hallway, or was he heading up now? He wasn't sure, he only knew there was forward. A few minutes later and her came to a stairwell, which he knew from memory lead up to the ground floor, where there was a nice large exit for him to go through and be free of this place. He took the steps two at a time, rushing up the flights up stairs, eager to free himself of this prison. He smashed through the ground floor door with his shoulder, its newly frozen hinges giving away easily under Jon's weight.

The ground floor was absolute pandemonium. Squadrons armed with guns stood backed up against one wall, their muzzles flashing without pause as hundreds of the larger spiders advanced towards them. Some, no a group, of the little beasts took notice of Jon, and he turned and left without another word. He sprinted down to the floor below, hoping to find another exit as he dashed down the hallway. This wind of the complex seemed rather intact, other than the gore streaked across the floors and the what Jon assumed were fresh layers of web spun throughout the corridor. He continued on, only pausing when a sign caught his eye–“Armory”. Now that sounded good to him.

Even better than the thought of somehow manipulating a gun, Jon eyed the cart Grayson had used to show off his new, fancy equipment. The thought of Grayson filled his heart with sadness, but if he had any hope of ever finding him again he had to press on. Jon walked up to the cage the gear was locked behind, freezing it with an angry exhale and shattering it with a solid kick. He used the same tactic to break open the cases, only now feeling the use of his power straining his heart. He gasped, struggling against the pain as his heart beat furiously in his chest.

It took a few moments, but eventually he recovered. He looked out at the gear spread out before him, the weapons, the ammunition, and the suit. ”You are gorgeous..” He said, looking at the wraith armor, only know what it was because of the clear label put on it. It took him some time, long enough that the explosions stopped and he no longer heard gunfire, but he managed to suit up fully. He found that he had much better control of the armored gloves, feeling through the frost coating the inside of the glove, rather than his hands themselves. It was still weird, and exceptionally awkward to put into practice, but it was manageable.

By the time he made it outside, the orange hue of evening was stretching across the horizon. He had found a blown side of the building, exiting just up the slope of the mountain. There had been a rather large fire, but that was quickly, and carefully dealt with. Jon didn't want to over exert himself again. He stood on top of a rather flat boulder, his gun resting in his unfeeling hands, yet he could feel the weight of it pulling against his arms, and in an offhanded way, Jon could feel himself holding the gun. If he maintained focus, he could do the same bodily freezing trick, but with just his hands, and he could feel them through the ice, somehow. Everything was an enormous mystery to him at the moment. Especially what had happened to the science facility, lying in a state of flaming ruin below him.

Even more so than that, the biggest question of all was what he was going to do now. Not with his new life, or powers, or even the search for his brother. He felt his sense of duty flare up inside him as he stared out over the roiling wave of creatures, exiting from the shattered maw of the building. Thousands of them plowing across the desert, heading west, towards Russel City. At the rate they were... skittering, they would be upon the residents of Russel in a matter of hours. Jon wasn't sure if anybody was aware of what was happening, or if anybody was prepared for such a thing. Jon had never even heard of such a thing happening before.. this horde of bloodthirsty creatures.

---

Somewhere within Russel City, beneath the pouring rain under the cover of a Winged Guardian's outpost, a radio crackled to life. The bored, on duty sentry yawned, taking hold of the device in his hand and pressing the button.

”This is Sky Watch One, who is this?” The Wing said lazily, watching the rain clean the boots he currently had propped up on the wall of the tower.

”Sky Watch, This is Papa Bear,” The Guardian sat up suddenly, focusing on the radio transmission, ”Divert all assets towards the Eastern Perimeter.. I want.. everybody,” The voice demanded. The Guardian set the radio down, feeling partly in shock as he raised his binoculars. He didn't see anything but a roiling cloud of dust heading towards the city. It could have been a dust storm.. unless it was a large mass of..

”Holy... shit...”

Current Time: 4:35 P.M.

The Dust

They spent some time gathering bodies and hauling them to the hole. Despite the time that it had taken to dig, it still felt early into the night, perhaps just a few hours in. Though, it was hard to tell as the darkness seemed to settle in every corner and crevice. This had the effect of creating a somber kind of atmosphere, depressing and full of unspoken sorrow. For a time, Alex and James worked in resolute silence, going about their work slowly and steadily. The town was in a higher state of devastation than Alex had first realized.

Her boots stuck to the hard, blood stained earth as she trod across it, the congealing trail of blood make sickening suckings sounds as she traveled back and forth from the ruins to the pit. The desolate, abandoned buildings seemed to grin with wicked maws through the darkness. Their rubble strewn bodies collapsed and charred. Alex turned into one of these buildings, her flashlight barely penetrating the darkness as she made her way around overturned furniture and shattered aesthetics. Glass crunched beneath her boots, pulling her gaze down for just a moment. She was standing on the remnants of a broken family photo, poorly taken, but clearly outlining the joyous faces of the former residents. The daughter of which Alex had just finished hauling to the pit from outside the house, all four pieces of her.

A frown pulled at the corners of her mouth, and she looked away. She knew she should feel, sick, nauseous even–any normal person would. Yet, she only felt her cold, steel reserve to finish burying these people, however informally. She wasn’t planning on saying anything afterwards, no hopeful words for the departed. She hardly felt anything, most of the time she was lost in her own thoughts. At least, what thoughts were her own. Occasionally Aeshma would chime in with a snide remark about weaklings, or tasty morsels. The latter thought did make her feel just a tad queasy. It wasn't easy having a presence inside you that literally felt the need to express his desire to consume raw, human flesh.

Alex scoured the house, not finding much in the way of bodies. Plenty signs of looting and destruction, and large smears of blood to enhance the overall scene of the house. Though, she was only able to pass through the common area and the dining area. The rest of the house had collapsed, probably from being set ablaze as the soot covered floors and charred splinters of wood would suggest. As she rounded the corner back out of the kitchen, her flashlight graze across a boot protruding slightly from beneath an overturned sofa. She braced her foot against the upper edge of the sofa and gave it a solid push, sending it toppling over and revealing a large portly man beneath. Despite his bloody, half squashed appearance, it was plain to see was, or had been, the father.

”James,” Alex called out, ”I’ve got a large one over here.”

James had largely disconnected himself, partially out of conscious effort, after the fourth or fifth body, and the last several minutes sort of blurred together. To him it was almost as though he forced himself into a lower state of sentience, simply doing what he knew he should be doing and not giving it any more thought. He stopped keeping count of how many he had laid into the hole, as well as stopped caring about the people they used to be.

After what felt like countless minutes of this, the sound of Alex’s voice snapped him back to reality, bringing his attention the cooked body of a young child. As he fully realized what he was doing, he let out a slight yelp and unceremoniously dropped the body onto the dirt just outside of the house he was in. He took a moment to process the last five seconds, then turned to where he heard Alex call from.

“Yeah, okay, give me a second,” he said, giving the body he had just been carrying a brief regretful look. He came to the house Alex was in, finding her standing over the body she had mentioned. He was, indeed, a big one. “Okay, so, I grab his legs, you grab his hands?” he asked, fairly distraught.

”Sounds like a plan..erhm..” Alex started, positioning herself around the top half of the man, ”Well.. hand and stump.” She grabbed exactly that, what was left of the man’s forearm and his one remaining hand. She gave a grunt of effort, mimicking that of James’ as they hefted the body upwards. Alex’s hands slipped away from their purchase, losing grip due to the half congealed blood his body seemed to be coated in. Her half of the body hit the floor with a wet thud. ”Fuck, sorry,” she said, letting out another grunt as she struggled to raise the body off the ground and keep her grip.

James jumped slightly when the body slipped from Alex’s hands, but his grip didn't waver. He let out a slightly shaky sigh. “Let’s just hurry up,” he said. He had been trying to shut out his emotions ever since he first laid eyes on the carnage, but for some reason now he was finding it difficult, a growing feeling of uneasiness settling inside him. It had been a long time since he ever saw carnage of this degree. He couldn't think of exactly when, but he knew something had happened, several years ago.

He cleared the thought from his head as Alex picked the upper part of the body back up. It took far too much effort to move the ample girth of the corpse, by the time Alex and James reached the pit and rolled the body in, Alex felt just about worn out. She stopped for a moment, placing her hands on her knees and taking large breaths of air. She looked down at herself, barely illuminated by the glow of her flashlight, which was currently laying askewed on the ground. She was covered in blood, and other filth. She felt almost as if she had begun to rot too, maybe from the sheer stench of the all the bodies. She had the sudden, powerful urge to wash herself, but she suppressed it. That would be a deplorable waste of drinking water.

”How about a break huh?” Alex suggested, doing her best to wipe her filthy hands on her shirt, aiming for some paltry semblance of cleanliness. The act wasn’t very effective, it had become very apparent to her that she would be burning her shirt when all was said on done. In fact, she had discarded her jacket to remain with her supplies awhile ago, and was contemplating doing the same with her pants. She decided against that thought upon observation of her trousers, they were lost to the cause as well and would have to be cremated.

”Holy shit, I thought you’d never ask,” he said, letting himself drop to the ground with little effort. He wasn’t exactly physically exhausted, but either way he needed a moment to regain his calm. He would have been fine if it weren’t for the town being a massacre, but that, coupled with his jarring break of focus moments ago, had done quite enough to shake him somewhat. He leaned all the way back on the ground, bringing his hand to his face. He stopped it short when he noticed just how much blood covered it.

He sighed once more, rolling onto his side, staring into the desert, trying to recover himself. This wasn’t like him, and he knew it. He began to worry that he might devolve into paranoia again, but he somehow doubted it. It felt different from how he did before one of his episodes, though the last few hours definitely did take a toll on him. ”Dammit,” he muttered. He kept passively scanning the desert, trying to distract himself.

Alex joined James’ on the ground, placing herself next to him. She shuddered slightly as her hands pressed into the earth, and the loose soil clung to grime coating them. She dried to dust her hands off, but only succeeded in smearing the muck around more, causing her to sigh heavily. ”What I wouldn't give for a shower.. or a river.. hell even a puddle, right about now,” She muttered, mostly to herself as she recline back on her hands, looking up at the sky. Thousands of perpetually suspended lights twinkled as she looked at them, each one separately seeming to contest the others for her attention. Space seemed truly wondrous at moments like this, only brought down with the realization that she would be stuck here. In a world where hauling mutilated corpses was the normal, day to day routine of life.

”You ever wonder if our ancestors did something to cause this?” She started, peering over towards james. She had never been the religious type, she always sought comfort in logic and reason, things she could perceive. Invisible deities had never seemed to help her much. ”What could a person possibly do to deserve a world like this, I wonder,” She pondered quietly, feeling utterly and incomprehensibly small in the grand scheme of things. She sighed, turning her gaze upwards once more, ”I guess it doesn't really matter now.. nothing matters but survival. I think that’s why I'm here, James, survival. I've lived everyday in fear, wondering if it would be my last. Perhaps the wastes would claim me, maybe the Wings, or some back alley mugger would get the jump on me. Living a quiet, meek like.. I know, I don’t seem the type right?” She paused, chuckling. James scoffed slightly at that, rolling himself onto his back as she continued.

”When I was young… I was taken away from the family I can only assume I had.” James had a feeling he knew where this was going and tried to shut out what Alex was about to say. “I lived in a slave camp for years, it was there that I first became an Immortal. I thought that with powers like these, things would be different. Yet, everywhere I turned there was only discrimination and fear.. oppression. Things are getting worse too, you'd have to be blind not to notice it. What would we do if everyone turned against us? When they finally start raising their guns en masse, to eradicate us, one by one. When all I want is to live like they do, with a semblance of freedom in a world that’s already too dangerous for anybody to effectively live in. I want a family, I want a home, I want to live where I don’t have to fear everybody trying to knife me in the dark…. I want to stop being a slave to other people’s desires and emotions.”

Despite James’ best efforts, memories of his own time as a slave came flooding back to him. All the memories he had been repressing for the last several years. Of course, it was hard to keep them from bubbling up every now and then, and it figured it would happen again, now. There were too many triggers all around him at that moment. Countless mutilated bodies, endless desert all around, isolation, darkness, and now Alex’s own recountance. He closed his eyes and turned back over in the sand, a pained expression forming on his face as he actively tried to shut out the memories once more.

Alex stopped suddenly, letting herself fall back onto the ground to calm down. She felt tears glistening at the corners of her eyes, but she dared not wipe them away with the state of filth her entire body was in. ”But I can’t do that by myself, that’s why I sent the call out... I know you don't really know me.. but it would be nice to know that I’m not in this alone,” Alex posed the question softly, as if afraid of the answer. She was so tired of being alone, so tired of living in fear and paranoia. She tired of what the world had made her… a monster too worried about others to show her eyes in public.

She leaned up and stuck out her grimy hand in his direction, ”Would you help me change the world James?” She asked bluntly, an inkling of hope creeping into her voice despite making such a wild proposition to a stranger she had just met a few hours ago. A stranger that had watched her kill another Immortal in the guise of a savage beast. A stranger that would help bury a town for no other motive than it had to be done.

James had hardly registered what Alex said. His mind was too preoccupied with the tempest of tumultuous thoughts and memories that circulated in his head. It was only at the direct mention of his name that he finally turned back to Alex. He tried not to show his distress so much. ”I’m sorry, did you say something?” he asked, relatively nonchalantly.

Alex looked at him, a bit taken aback. This gave her a moment to actually slow down and mull over everything she said, though it took mere moments until she broken down into a fit of giggles. She fell back into the dirt, laughing at the absurdity of it all, the insanity of what she was asking. She wiped away her tears, grimaced at the moist, spongy streak left across her face, and turned back to James. ”I said, do you want to help me change the world?” The question still sounded highly absurd to her, but the tone of her voice made it certain that she was entirely serious.

James couldn't help but be slightly confused. Of course, he hadn't quite gotten the entire context of what she had said, but the question itself helped fill in the gaps. ”Change the world,” James said, somewhat whimsically. He let a smirk crack on one side of his face. ”I don’t know about that, but for now I think…”

He stopped himself short, his smirk disappearing in an instant. He had heard something, something close, much closer than he should have allowed before picking up on it. He bolted himself upright, simultaneously drawing his CZ and cursing himself as he realized his AK was lying with his backpack, several meters away. ”I think we have company,” he whispered, turning his head around rapidly. Alex rolled over onto her stomach, trying to find what James was looking at. James jumped up to a crouch and turned towards the town. ”Wolves,” he said, noting the unmistakable sound of paws hitting the sand. He really wished he hadn't zoned out; they were already in the town, probably preparing to get the jump on James and Alex.

James stood up and reloaded his CZ with his low-grade rounds, firing two shots into the air before switching back to his usual loads. ”Hopefully that will deter them,” he said. Unfortunately, that wasn't so, as was evidenced when a howl pierced the silence and several gaunt, dog-like figures emerged from behind various buildings and debris.

Alex stood, frantically patting herself down. She grit her teeth, trying to stave off the fear that was trying to slowly ensnare her. ”Fuck,” she cursed, ”My stuff is in the post office..” She let the sentence hang as the low growls creeped closer to them. There was no chance she could outrun a pack of wolves, she was defenseless. She kicked herself mentally, she should have recharged back in Russel, but she hadn't been expecting to find Isolone in this state–and without power.

James had taken note of Alex’s lack of weaponry, and from the look on her face, suspected she also couldn't use her power. ”My AK is just over there,” he said, looking at the porch of a house about 30 meters away where his belongings sat. He handed his pistol to Alex before continuing. ”I can get there if you keep me covered, either that or you can keep their attention until then.” He could feel his heart rate increasing. As much as he hated to think so, it was probably their best bet. Given the circumstances; 13 hungry wolves, a pistol with a tendency to malfunction, and no other means of defense, they needed to tilt the odds in their favor. This was their best shot.

Alex looked at James curiously, pulling back on the slide of the gun. She wasn't quite sure what he was bringing to this fight, but she did agree on trying to obtain his weapon. She nodded, satisfied with the condition of the pistol–which was subpar. ”I can barely see without my light.. I’ll try to grab their attention,” Alex said, feeling her leg muscles coil with adrenaline as she inched towards the opposite direction of the porch. The wolves came closer, their eyes glowing a pale green in the dark night. Alex quivered with anticipation as the pack slowly advanced.

”Such tasty morsels.. let me-” Aeshma hissed from within Alex’s mind. She shut him out, putting her entire focus to the encroaching animals before her. Their low growls seemed to echo across the packed, rocky soil, reverberating all around Alex. ”GO!” She called to James, feeling her adrenaline spike as she fired a shot directly ahead of her. She wasn't sure she actually hit anything, her vision too obscured by the darkness. A furious cacophony of barks and howls sounded out around her as she sprinted opposite from James stuff, leading the animals that were pursuing her around the back of the post office.

James made a dash for his AK, taking note of any of the canine predators that went after him. The shots had done a good job of keeping their attention, but as he neared his AK one of them jumped in front of him, baring it’s teeth and snarling at him ferociously. James slid to a stop, a mere five meters away from the beast. From here he could make out the details of the animal quite clearly. It was very wolf-like, but not exactly a wolf. It’s fur seemed more rigid, and it’s ears were particularly pointy, shaped like an arrowhead.

The animal began to approach him slowly, step by step. James held his ground, taking a quick look around to make sure that he wasn’t about to get flanked. Sure enough, there was one more on his right, about to jump. Damn pack mentality. James dodged as soon as it made the jump, leaping to his left and rolling out of it. He evaded the one going for the kill succesfully, but the one that seemed to serve as the distraction tried to go for James while he was still rolling out. James kicked some dirt behind him in an effort to discombobulate the animal. It worked just long enough for him to get up and make it to his rifle.

He snatched it up, taking a moment to get it in his hands before turning around and opening fire on the two that he assumed were pursuing him. He fired three shots, but the two had broken off, possibly to try to flank him again. He listened closely to their movements, hearing one of them move to the other side of the building next to him. The other had gone a few buildings down, probably to head him off. He broke away from the building and ran towards Alex, firing on three of the wolves that had gotten close to her. They went down fairly easily, and it seemed like Alex had wounded another.

Alex’s legs pumped furiously, her feet nearly losing purchase in the dirt as she flew across it. Close behind she could hear the vicious snarls of the beasts. She squeezed the trigger of the handgun, aiming blindly behind her. One, two, three rounds, but she didn't wait around to see if she’d struck any of the wolves. She rounded the corner of the office building, sliding through the dirt as she tried to maintain her velocity. The wolves barreled around the corner after her, a hand's width behind her as she rounded another corner, heading for the front of the office. One of the beasts snapped at her, catching the rear of her pants and tearing away a chunk of the material as Alex pushed forward against the pull of the wolf.

The others seemed to scramble over themselves to get at her, their ferocity scared her, but spurred her adrenaline to greater heights. Still, she didn't feel she was going to make it, just a few feet from where her gear was stashed. The hollow crack of a rifle range out, and Alex could audibly hear the impact the rounds made against the flesh of her pursuers. She thanked James mentally, diving through the ruined window of the office. She hit the cool concrete in a roll, sliding to a dusty stop as she scrambled for her gear. Even though she was practically blind within the building, the paltry light coming through the window barely enough to illuminate anything, it only took her a handful of seconds to dump her stuff on the floor and secure her knives.

Glass crackled as an ash gray bloodhound leaped through the window, it’s rather large body breaking off jagged edges of glass from the window frame. Alex whirled around, rolling back as the beast soared towards her. Both blades plunged into its skull from beneath the wolf’s jaw, and as Alex rolled back she used her feet to propeel the wolf over her, rather than on top of her.

As the wolves pursuing Alex came to a bloody halt in the ground, James returned his attention to the two who were no doubt following him. He heard one of them behind him, making a leap at him. He spun around, the butt of his rifle hitting the wolf in the head, knocking it unconscious. It hadn’t deflected it, however, and it still hit James pretty hard, knocking him onto his back. He tried pushing it off, and while it wasn’t too heavy, he had bigger problems converging on him.

He pulled his AK out from under the beast and leaned backwards, putting the muzzle of the rifle into another one of the bloodthirsty hounds’ mouth and firing, sending a globule of brain matter out of it’s skull. It collapsed in a heap as he spun the rifle around and shot another just before it tried to pounce him. He checked around and, seeing no others in sight, pushed the unconscious one off of him and shot it in the head. He brought the rifle to his shoulder, taking another quick look around. The wounded wolf began to make a run for it, along with another that had witnessed the carnage. Eight down, five to go.

Alex pressed the hilts of her knives together, locking them into place as she turned the two weapons into a single entity–A bladed staff of about five feet. She felt the familiar weight of the weapon as it whirled through her hands, it has been some time since she had felt the need to use it. She crouched, peeking out of the doorway of the building. The wolves seemed torn between their targets, but a few seemed set on Alex. One of them advanced, growling as it and Alex circled slowly in front of the office. She kept her eyes strained, scanning the very edges of her vision for movement, knowing that bloodhounds never directly attacked, not when they had backup. Sure enough, a pure white mongrel charged at her from her side. The bladed ends of the staff whipped around her as she spun the weapon, one tail end of it gouging a narrow line through the dirt as she brought it around and cleaved open the side of the beasts face. It howled in pain seconds before Alex whipped the other end of the staff around, fully decapitating the wolf and cutting off its strangled cries–literally.

James knew that the fight would likely be over soon, having heard two more of the hounds die at Alex’s hands. Only three left. One was inside the post office, probably about to try to get the drop on Alex. One was trying to sneak around behind the collapsed inn, and the last one James couldn’t hear. He ran over to where Alex was standing. ”There’s only three left. One is…” James stopped, lining up the sights of his rifle on the second floor window of the post office and firing twice. A yelp came from the window, followed by a thud. ”Make that two more,” he corrected himself.

Alex flinched as the hound’s body hit the ground next to her. ’He’s a damn good shot in this darkness..’ she thought to herself, keeping a watchful gaze on the remaining two predators. One of them feigned forward and Alex responded by whipping her staff towards it, causing the wolf to emit a snarl and back off. They circled around her cautiously, all too aware of how quickly their brethren had been gunned, or cut down. The one she had been watching, a midnight black wolf, feigned again but Alex flinched backwards, trying to remain aware of the wolf behind her. She shot a glance over her shoulder, turning slightly as the one in the rear let out a snarl, giving the first wolf all the opportunity it needed to launch itself at her.

As the final wolf made it’s presence known and began circling Alex along with the other, James brought his rifle up and took aim. This was a typical tactic, Alex would attack one wolf, leaving herself open to the other. Still, after taking a moment to gauge Alex’s behavior, he could tell which one she was going for, and as the wolf she had turned a blind eye to leaned back for the kill, James fired, splattering a mosaic of gore onto the dirt next to the bloodhound. It’s body turned into a rigid corpse mid-leap, causing its lifeless body to fall to the ground and tumble into Alex’s legs. She yelped as she tumbled backwards over the wolf, prompting the one she had been watching to leap into action.

Alex didn’t bother trying to recover, rather she braced one end of her staff against the dirt, pointing the other towards the final bloodhound. The upward end of the weapon pierced through the middle of the beast. Its jaws snapped furiously towards her as it slid down the shaft, close enough that Alex could feel the heat of its foul breath. Aeshma roared from within Alex’s consciousness, tearing away her control. She let out a howl, her hands curled into claws as she gouged the wolf’s eyes out. The creature wailed pitifully as she attacked it with the same ferocity it had shown her. She took its jaws in both hands, feeling the creature’s sharp teeth cut into the palm of her hands as she twisted with all of her absolute, rage fueled might. The hound’s neck snapped loudly, to which Aeshma receded back into his dark corner of Alex’s mind.

”Fuck Me!” She exclaimed loudly, rolling away from the bodies of the bloodhounds. She knelt on all fours, trying to catch her breath as she stared down at her bloodied hands from between the bloodstained locks of hair dangling around her face. James lowered his rifle, taken aback by Alex’s outburst of pure, instinctual bloodlust. ”Shit, are you sure it’s dead enough?” he chimed in, sarcastically.

”The Spark.. my spark.. he..” Alex gasped. She stopped, trying to settle her nerves and maintain proper breathing. ”I.. am fairly certain it’s not going to get back up,” She replied, standing as she did so.

James looked between Alex and the corpse for a moment before simply bringing his hand to his face and sitting down again. ”Well I guess that’s that,” he said. “Two of them made a run for it. One was wounded. I doubt we’ll be hearing from them again for a while,” he continued. He let out a sigh, setting his AK on the ground next to him and laying down, still breathing heavily from the short battle.

”You’re a damn good shot James, I mean fuck, what did you say your power was again?” Alex exclaimed, turning to look at him and failing to make him out clearly through the darkness. He was a blotchy silhouette to her, but the way he had gunned down those wolves, it was almost as if he could see clearly.

James look up at Alex briefly. ”Like I said, I've got really good sensory abilities. Sight, hearing, feeling, everything,” he stated in between breaths. ”If I hadn't been distracted and caught off guard, I’d have heard those bloodhounds long before they reached the town.” He mentally reproached himself once more for that, knowing he could have easily dispatched them long before they were a tangible threat. ”Hell, who's to say we wouldn't have been completely ambushed if I hadn't heard them when I did?” he retorted.

”You’re probably right,” Alex agreed, ”Luckily neither of us were alone when it happened.. even armed I almost didn't make it.. so I mean, Thank you,” She finished king of sheepishly, a feeling of familiar meekness washing over herself.
”Speaking of which, can I have my pistol back?” he asked.

”Er.. here,” Alex said, holding the gun out into the darkness, ”I think there’s something stuck in the slide there.. some piece of hardware you got,” She scoffed.

James took the pistol, noticing the stovepiped casing in the ejection port. ”Shiiiit. Well, it’s a good thing you didn’t need another shot,” he said. ”Yeah, it’s not great. I bought this pistol a while back. Thought I was getting a bargain for it, but it turned out to have a faulty ejector. I would have replaced it, but parts are hard to find, and I’m not good enough at metalwork to make one myself,” he finished, sighing as he pulled the slide back and let the spent casing fall into the dirt.

”Heh, remind me to get you a new one when I get some hardware in.. going to need a lot of it for what I want to do,” She said, carefully retracing her steps to clean up her stuff inside the office.

James chuckled slightly at that. ”Yeah, will do,” he replied. He sat back up, picking his rifle up and putting it back with the rest of his things. It was then that the smell of the many other dead bodies returned to him. ”Ughhhh… we still got work to do,” he said, grabbing his things and hauling them to the post office.

”Hey..” Alex started, stopping in the doorway as James dragged his stuff closer, ”You never answered me…”

James stopped at that, recalling the question she had asked before the attack. It seemed a strange thing to ask, to “change the world” as she so put it. He wasn't even sure how he or she would go about doing so. ”I really don’t know,” he replied truthfully. ”I mean, if I knew more about you and what you had in mind…”

He sighed once more, tilting his head upwards. ”’Changing the world’ sounds like a tall order to me. I mean, for now, I guess I’ll help you however I can. If it’s like you said and things are really as bad as you say they are for us, there’s no point in going back to Russell City,” he stated, matter of factly.

Alex smiled at him, sure that he would see it, ”We have a lot to do, then.”