[h2][color=red]Wednesday[/color][/h2][hr][hider=Hope - Marc Tatossian Edit][youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tZFpqhWeABM[/youtube][/hider][hr]

It hadn't been the first time she had seen fire and explosions come from the skies. She doubted it would be the last time either.

The first time she had ever seen such a sight was when she was very young, when the war on superhumans was fresh and new. When fighting those of alien ability was the next great thing. The fervor in those early years was a towering tidal wave of energy, gathering speed and strength as it tumbled out from the source. With this surge of change, there came a great many rules and instructions. Those rules made no sense to her, but everyone quite unanimously agreed that they were to be obeyed. Or maybe they just knew the futility of resisting such a force. At the cost of one, insignificant pocket of the populace, they could buy back... whatever it was. Whether that was safety, or pride, or something else altogether, Wednesday did not know. A lot of people did believe in the cause too, or in the very least they made themselves believe it. They were wise to do so. If they hadn't, they likely would've perish with the rest of the superhumans as a sympathizer.

She had heard it grow. She had seen it all from those early embers and watched as the flames consumed her city in a rapturous, patriotic blaze. First came the shouts, then the guns and finally the trucks, dark and greedy. People were swallowed up by those trucks. Sometimes quietly in broad daylight, and sometimes in loud midnight feastings. The outcome was aways the same- those people were never seen nor heard from again. Then, she got tired of being quiet. She wanted to strike fear back. And she did. With fire and flames of her own. But then, one day, fire and flames did little more than to prolong the inevitable. Eventually those dark, greedy trucks came for her too.

She saw the same change in the distance, rumbling towards them in a tidal wave of fire.

Wednesday had always been a fighter, the kind who fell and claimed it was only making her chin strong. But coming to this island had made her a runner. She was a cornered animal on this island- trapped and surrounded by hundreds of other criminals just like her. She had become a a loner because of it. A survivor, who saw this great movement of imminent, destructive change and had seen the likes of it before. Who's first instinct was to turn tail and run, as far and as fast as she could. For the first time in years, Wednesday was sweating. She was trapped in that awkward stage between zero and one, that uncomfortable stage where her mind worked to decide between fight or flight.

When Wednesday rushed towards the shelters, anxiously looking for Estal, Jack, and Rico, she didn't know what she was doing. She was absent, even as she shouted at them to get up, and to get moving. She didn't stop to think about the consequences. She didn't care that Jack was dangerous, or that Estal didn't heal her, or that Rico didn't know his head from his ass sometimes. Something in her drove her to help them, at least before she ran. Something told her to make them run with her.

Haeda was so close to Aber. She could smell the death in the air already. It likely wouldn't be long before she could see those who brought it. Her mind continued to race. Borea and Praxum were the furthest from Aber, but Borea was three thousand strong. They had people. They had a small army. One large enough to be worth warning.

[color=red]"Borea!"[/color] she had yelled to them. [color=red]"To site Borea! Hurry!"[/color]

The dangerous in the jungle would be little compared to the dangers on their doorstep. It was worth the risk.

[color=gray][u]MENTIONED:[/u] [@Inertia] [@LazyEgg] [@Ginger Kollie][/color]