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Tapping slender fingers against the hilt of his sword as they walked, Artemis' tired and most certainly apathetic eyes shifted their gaze towards the sky. A bright, blue layer above their heads, with nary a cloud in sight. It would appear that some of his group had begun interacting, which was a prospect Angelicus condoned. "You should engage in conversation with your team, Artemis," the ghostly knight stated. 

Not long after, did the spirit user hear the smallest member of their gathering ask a public question. It warranted a thought. This group of misfits had been haphazardly thrown together and sent into the Battlefield without knowing a single fact about one another. A small chuckle escaped Artemis' lips at the notion. This was a suicide mission, and they were all expendable. The soldier had considered this odd ever since he received the letter which caused this entire scenario to unfold. Was the government trying to get rid of them? Every moment in the Badlands with this group made it seem like little else held any merit.

"I have a hard time dying," Artemis responded, turning his attention to the young gestalt who had introduced themselves as Dawn. "That's about it," the boy managed a small sigh. However, the ability had left Artemis in situations where death spread its miasma around him, leaving the spirit user with the role of sole survivor. Friends, companions, and even a closer relationship had all perished in response to this never-ending war, but Artemis remained.

One would understand that the prospect of his ability colored the boy a recluse. The world withered around him, and yet he remained unscathed. Rather, Artemis would claim it abandonment, where reality passed him by like a flowing lake. All he could do was to sit on a rock watch the stream pass by. 

"I'm Artemis," the boy introduced himself, large black eyes turning to view the miniscule creature named Dawn. It felt odd to fight next to a little girl, no matter what resided beneath. 

Growing close to others was a mistake. If anything, these people would all die, and perhaps even Artemis himself. He had failed to do that enough times in the past. He gave the girl at his side another look, this time sizing her up with a raised eyebrow. "You ready for this?" Artemis asked. Dawn was a peculiar individual. Someone the swordsman was quite skeptical of. 

However, seeing how Aden lit a cigar, Artemis seized the opportunity and reached a hand into his pocket. "It's gonna' get bloody," the boy stated with the same level of monotone apathy he had displayed since meeting the group. He lit the small, paper cylinder in his mouth, and exhaled a long breath. 

"Dawn's spirit is in the possession of a powerful ability, Artemis," Angelicus began, the bright specter's attention fixed on Dawn's ghostly companion. "It is useful in a group such as this. Chains would offer quite the advantage.., if a bit dishonorable."

Tilting his head at Angelicus, Artemis puffed the cigarette in his mouth, "a bondage spirit," he stated, "kinky." Again, the boy spoke with the expressed enthusiasm of a broom. "That's what we would call a Utility based power, in my old group," Artemis continued. "Offers tactical advantages, and whatever."

"As well spoken as ever," Angelicus sighed, "at least you're getting along," the spirit finished. It had been difficult for Artemis to move on from the now deceased members of his old squad. However, he was constantly reminded that death walked hand in hand with every soldier. A truth none could escape.