[hider before the worst]
[center][h3][color=cyan]『𝕊𝕒𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣』[/color] [color=8493ca]『ℂ𝕙𝕣𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕞𝕒𝕤』[/color][/h3][/center]
[center][img]http://i65.tinypic.com/28hztyw.png[/img][img]http://i63.tinypic.com/2h84geb.jpg[/img][/center]
[center][img]http://i.imgur.com/3R5vYYi.png?2[/img][/center]
[hr][center][color=silver]ℂ𝕠𝕝𝕝𝕒𝕓𝕠𝕣𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟 ℙ𝕠𝕤𝕥   / /   [@RedDusk] [@January][/color][/center][hr][hr][center][color=silver]𝕊𝕖𝕡𝕥. 𝟙𝟚, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘   / /   𝕎𝕚𝕤𝕗𝕠𝕣𝕕, 𝕄𝕒𝕣𝕪𝕝𝕒𝕟𝕕   / /   𝔹𝕒𝕤𝕖  / /  ~𝟙𝟟𝟘𝟘[/color][/center][hr]
Sander couldn’t remember the last time he drank this much. It had been too long, and the memories so blackened by the fire in his heart he didn’t even want them anymore. 
 
But he recalled them nevertheless, when the power filled his lungs and bled into his limbs. He held it back with his newfound strength; the fire snuffed to ashes in his ribcage, barely embers. Its warmth taunted him still, ghosted along his skin like smoke and sent his heart hammering, but he was holding. He hadn’t lost control. 
 
Yet. He knew that the moment he loosened his grip, the tainted power would take over, like it did so many times before. But for now, he was holding back the currents. And that was enough. 
 
He kept his head slightly downturned, arms wrapped around himself while thin wisps of red smoke rose upward through the fabric of his blue hoodie. He was wearing nothing beneath the jacket, not even the provided ‘armor’. He didn’t need it. Just like how he didn’t need anything else they gave him. Not even the phone. The cuff alone would do, and he knew for a fact that any orders or directions would have a hard time getting through to him once he reached the height of his power. He needed to be there in this fight. Because he promised Christmas he wouldn’t get hurt, and this was the only way he could be absolutely sure. And he could get back sooner, too, since he could defeat this monster faster. This wasn’t arrogance. He simply trusted his power that much. For all its fire and madness, it had never failed him. 
 
The black X on his throat was his only certainty. It had been for a while now. 

As the truck began to move, Sander kept his head down, seemingly lost in thoughts. Even when cold hands reached up to grip his arm, he only lifted his head a fraction before looking back down again, hiding the red gaze at his feet. 

When one of his teammates, Angel, tried to start a conversation, he kept his answers short and curt. This was [i]definitely[/i] not a good time. 

Eventually, the truck arrived at their destination. They weren’t immediately ushered into the desolated warzone around them, but Sander suspected they didn’t have long. The scents of death and carnage around told him enough; this place was a death trap. A knot tightened in his guts. He had a bad feeling about this, and the feeble flame in his chest couldn’t drown it out. 
 
Almost mindlessly, he began to wander away from the main group, his jumpy limbs unable to stay still.

With his hands still around Sander's arm and his thoughts as scattered as the nearby debris, Christmas found the sudden movement a welcome change, even if he nearly stumbled after Sander. His roommate didn't look in the mood to talk, so Christmas let go, unsure if that was the best way to approach what could be death in mere moments, but he didn't want to distract Sander, whose role was so crucial.

Sander halted his steps once he felt the grip on his arm loosen. He half-turned, looking at his roommate, waiting. 

Christmas looked back, eyes wide.

“[color=cyan]This place…isn’t good.[/color]” -Sander explained, head jerking toward a particularly fresh whiff of blood –“[color=cyan]Stay safe.[/color]” 

[color 8493ca]"But you're--you're fighting the--that,"[/color] Christmas replied, half-turning towards the distant monstrosity. [color 8493ca]"It's worse f-for you."[/color]

“[color=cyan]Can’t hurt me. I’m stronger.[/color]” -Sander lifted the corner of his lips in a grin that might have shown too much teeth. He trusted his power. Far more than he trusted himself. His expression mellowed soon enough though, as he looked at Christmas’ t-shirt –“[color=cyan]You’re cold?[/color]” -As if to confirm, he reached over to take the blond boy’s hand in his. 

The rain and cold had barely registered to Christmas in the devastation of the moment. At the reminder, though, he realized he was quite chilled from both the water and the cooling temperature. It seemed the wishalloy he had clumsily applied in the truck wasn't capable of blocking out temperature changes, unfortunately, and he had forgotten his jacket at the suite when soldiers had come to pick them up for the second briefing.

[color 8493ca]"J-just a little. I'm okay."[/color]

Sander stared on a few more moments, before he finally reached up to unzip his hoodie and slipped out of it. The cold weather barely registered against his skin, even when his power was at its lowest, so he figured he could do without the jacket –“[color=cyan]Here.[/color]” -He draped the blue hoodie over Christmas’ shoulders -"[color=cyan]Better?[/color]" 

The lingering warmth from Sander's strange body heat whenever his powers were in effect clung to the soft material of the blue jacket and Christmas clutched at it instinctively, goosebumps rising on his skin as his body soaked up the welcome heat.

He nodded to the question, breathing in the scent of cologne again. 

[color 8493ca]"Please--please be careful."[/color]

He knew it was selfish to ask for that because he wanted Sander to come back to him, but the fading light felt too much like an ill omen amidst the horror of the town--horrors he had intentionally looked away from every time his eyes found a splash of color too dark to be normal.

[color 8493ca]"Please."[/color]

“[color=cyan]Can’t hurt me.[/color]” -Sander repeated the assurance one more time, his hand fell on the blue ribbon looped around Christmas’ wrist –“[color=cyan]Don’t let them hurt you.[/color]”
 
In the distance, he thought he could catch a glimpse of a helicopter’s spining blades. His ride? Reality nagged at him, and he knew he didn’t have long. Best get this over with –“[color=cyan]I’ll see you after this, yeah? I’ll find you.[/color]” -He gave the ribboned wrist a last squeeze. 

[color 8493ca]"Okay,"[/color] the healer whispered back, following Sander's gaze. The ribbon on his wrist was a bad place if it got caught on the belt or anything, and he was afraid of it tangling with his fingers if he had to fumble with the equipment again, so Christmas pulled it loose and tied it back into his hair, the habit still fluid despite a week without the strip of cloth. He managed to put the helmet on afterwards, managing--by some small miracle--to figure out the buckle and velcro.

It was in those little gestures that he found sparks of bravado and the flicker of resolve caught the faint red of Sander's eyes, bright with the dying light like a smoldering flame and a promise that they wouldn't die here. Christmas braced his nerves.

[color 8493ca]"I-I'll be waiting,"[/color] he offered in response.

Sander only grinned, an expression that seemed almost too carefree and contented to belong in warzone. With a final tap on his roommate’s shoulder, he was gone, walking briskly toward the waiting helicopter. 
[/hider]