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Zoe's gaze fixed on her hands as she recovered from the fall. Red with blood both fresh and dry, and who knew what else. Melted bone, maybe? Whatever scraps remained of the gravity-user's windpipe?

They weren't the only thing stained. There was blood on her clothes, the shorts that hadn't been covered in alloy. More dotting her skin here and there that she could only assume was Callan's. There was an odd sort of guilt at the back of her mind as she melted it away. Like maybe it would have been better that they saw her as what she was.

After all, she'd killed three people in the space of minutes. Tortured another in cold blood. Maimed a teammate for the sake of efficiency. To make things worse, she'd probably wake up within the next week and be smiling about it. Involuntary reaction or not, that didn't make her a good person. And given that she'd embraced that monstrous, horrific part of herself voluntarily... Even 'okay' seemed like one hell of a stretch.

But then, she wasn't in a position for self-pity. And while she cared about the others, she doubted anyone was dumb enough to consider her a friend, so there'd be nobody to lean on. A problem of her own making, of course. They didn't need to see how it was all affecting her. She wouldn't burden the others with her pain and she didn't need or want their pity. Better to just get moving.

[color=f7976a][i]"You don't need to be untouchable; You just need to act like it."[/i][/color]

It hurt a little as she pulled her legs out from the rubble, standing shakily. It was a good feeling, pain. She liked it. It made everything make sense, felt right to her. Embraced it, the dull ache in her muscles and sting of tiny scrapes and scratches on her skin. As she raised her head, her expression twisted into a victorious grin, the moment of hopelessness seemingly abandoned.

Part of her wanted to go and help get everyone into the truck, but she hesitated. Did they even know what she'd done out there? Maybe, maybe not, they'd find out soon enough. Might not be worth the risk of approaching either way, and others seemed to already be helping. 

It didn't feel right to stand by, but for now, she'd only tear away what little joy they might find in victory. Even if it rang hollow, the reasoning was sound. Last thing the others needed while they were hurting was [i]her[/i].

Bodies. Dead, lying around the battlefield. The kid was one of them, right? She wondered-- If it hadn't turned out the way it did, if she'd gotten there immediately, would it have changed anything? Because it could have, in her mind. Didn't take her long to finish most of their attackers off after arrival. Still, she couldn't claim to know what happened, or what would've happened.

Watching as Allison rushed over to the body, an old conversation sprung to mind. Words that maybe she shouldn't have said.

[quote][color=palevioletred][i]"Try not to get anyone killed while I'm gone! I'd hate to have to clean up after any of you."[/i][/color] [/quote]
And sure enough, two of them were gone. Savannah was dead, Aaron was... who knew where. There was a lot Zoe could say about the way she'd acted-- But there was no denying that she'd been right on the money. Part of her was just grateful that they'd only taken themselves out instead of having the others die for their mistakes. That was probably an ugly thing to think.

But it didn't surprise her.

She had no place in mourning these dead.

The microphone - She could always go to pick it up. Hardware, a vague hope that the people in charge could glean some information from it. Zoe knew it was a bit of a stretch, but she was holding out hope. The others didn't know about it, as far as she was aware, and she wasn't sure if Ernie would go and get it. She knew Christmas definitely wouldn't.

Being an 'X' meant any survivors were probably unlikely to bother her, and the journey wasn't a long one. She'd just make her way back to the point on her own. Better to spend as little time in the truck as possible, avoid the people who weren't fundamentally screwed up the way she was. Looking past the conflicting emotions that fogged her mind, it seemed to Zoe that there was some kind of undeniable truth to all this.

For all the last week's talk of cooperation, of unity, of trust... Kindness hadn't been the thing to win the fight. What saved them was ruthlessness and bloody determination. They didn't need Zoe to stand by them, they didn't need her as a friend. It was clear, then, that what they needed was the girl that thrived on pain, that would kill without hesitation. She'd been right. About everything. About Savannah, about the others, about the way the world worked.

So why did the idea make her feel so [i]wrong[/i]?