[center][img]http://i65.tinypic.com/21o8tg4.png[/img][/center]
[color 33ec06][center][h3]Not My Usual Alarm Clock[/h3][/center]
[center]An Autobiography by Marcus Howell[/center][/color]
[hr]
For the first time in many nights, Marcus was actually sound asleep. Perhaps it was the training regime they’d been put through shaving off the excess energy he always seemed to have, or just an overall good week having helped to settle his constantly whirring mind; a few lunch dates with Emma, a class free week, and the relative peacefulness of his strolls around campus (barring a single occasion). Whatever the case, he was completely passed out by the time the guards arrived. 

The sound of knocking woke him up from his slumber – while he had been sleeping well, he certainly wasn’t a heavy sleeper anymore. His groggy mind had mostly collected itself by the time they were traipsed down the hall; a splash of cold water having given him a little bit of a boost. He unconsciously smoothed down the jeans and t-shirt he’d accidentally fallen asleep in again, along with a fruitless attempt to calm his hair and a quick sigh to calm his nerves.

The walk there passed with uncharacteristic silence from Marcus, who still sleepy mind was preoccupied trying to figure out what was going on. It looked like everyone had been called out, and he caught Emma’s eyes in the crowd, her worried expression mirroring his own slight anxiety. Last time they’d been marched out like this had been the first day, a day that hadn’t gone over so well.

When they sat down and were being fed information, Marcus’s mind hurriedly went about its frantic mile-a-minute thinking. He was already sorting through the briefing, the relevant sections standing out in his head.

A significant threat. Had they been told what category the first day’s creatures had been? Not that he could remember. Still - an entire platoon of students for a single subnatural seemed like it was a bit overkill, but the target’s ability presented a unique situation. Teams. Callan was a Striker; a position that suited her, but didn’t help to ease his worries. Sander would also be there. Better at control? Siena and Emma, Support: actively putting themselves in danger trying to get the clockwork creatures to attack them. Christmas and Ernie were on the same team. Bad pairing. Hopefully Ernie had taken his advice. [i]Not his problem[/i], as long as the healer was protected.

A team for him: two names he didn’t recognize, and one that he did, but which lacked a face. Lawrence? He’d heard that name somewhere. Civilian help. A pseudo Evac Team, as he simplified in his head. A position where he’d hopefully not have to deal with combat at all. Back away from the actual fight, where he’d likely be the last to know if his friends were getting slaughtered.

It all made strategic sense, but that didn’t stop his fluttering heart.

They were given seven hours before deployment. He needed to find his roommates and Emma, make sure they were going to be okay. Find his team – see if anybody recognized Lawrence’s name. The group was starting to disperse. An umbrella for him. A quick gaze over the crowd to see if he could find the people he was looking for. Emma was walking towards him.

He thumbed over the tags beneath the fabric of his shirt. Breathing slowed. Frantic analyzation stopped.

Mask up.

“[color 33ec06]We’ve dealt with worse than a single huffy subnatural![/color]” Marcus said. The words helped to calm his own heart – the rationalization finding root in his convictions. If he could say it so easily, then actually making himself believe it wasn’t much harder. “[color 33ec06]And that was when were split up against four different groups of DC’s boys, and we didn't have a strategy, [i]AND[/i] we'd been here less than twelve hours. We’re all focusing on the one target, and they’ve got a pretty well thought out plan for us – so I think we’re going to be fine.[/color]

[i]Hopefully[/i]

“[color 33ec06]You wanna grab breakfast?[/color]” The words came out casually, as if they weren’t about to go out on another life-threatening mission. “[color 33ec06]No use sitting around for seven hours psyching ourselves out – and you certainly don’t want to be out there on an empty stomach![/color]” he said, forcing the hints of worry back behind his usual grin.