[sub][h3][center]Archie[/center][/h3][/sub][hr]

[i][b]Archie, please.[/b][/i]

[i]“Look, Archie. You’re never going to know if she likes you unless you tell her how you feel. Be yourself around her. And be confident too. Girls like guys that are sure about how they feel. You just need to show her. Get her alone, somewhere peaceful, tell her that you feel something towards her, and ask her out.”

"You guys must be pretty unlucky, huh? I mean, in your first week you came across a murder. I've been here for four years now and I've never experienced something like that. I hope your friend is okay. She seemed pretty upset when she left."

"Is your hand okay? It looks like you should run it under some cold water."

'Hope you make it tonight! There's plenty of booze and firewood. Let me know if you need help finding the campsite.'[/i]

It was a silent cry in the dark of his mind, an minute shard of light in the inky blackness that somehow cut through the fog of his consciousness like a knife. It was small, but it was [i]enough[/i] to disconnect him from his adrenaline fueled shellshock.

Archie was too close and far too fast to lay on the brakes now with any effectiveness. In a moment of clarity he threw his massive, tree trunk sized arms upwards to brace himself. He collided with the wall with a thunderclap of force, his enormous clawed hands crumpling steel as he transferred the force of his enormous body into the structure rather into Eli and Keaton's tiny forms. He loomed above them now, blood dripping off his mangled jaw and disappearing with a hiss of heat as soon as it came in contact with skin or the cold metal floor. For a moment, the giant was still.

And then there was an explosion, and he felt his battered body rock away from the sudden concussive force. Most of the shrapnel and other refuse bounced off his thick dermal armor, but some of the larger pieces found their way into his arm- which had come down just besides Keaton in a last ditch effort to protect the two from receiving any collateral damage. He had no respite, though- and felt one of his legs get pulled out and away. He cast a look down and away, finding Natalie feebly pulling at the appendage.

She was strong as an ox, but she only weighed a hundred pounds.

Her grip was unyielding, but the minute amount of added weight meant the giant was completely unimpeded. As she pulled away, he simply lifted his leg, and with little effort pulled it back towards his body. Natalie came with it, and very quickly ended up with her legs and pelvis underneath his enormous foot. The giant shifted his weight, the explosion and sudden intrusion taking over again. He faintly remembered this one's scent. This one had been there before. He pressed downwards- Natalie's thick bones withstanding the force but the thick claws of his feet were digging into her now. Even if they didn't break skin- too much weight on her abdomen and the internal damage would be irreparable.

[b][i]Archie, please.[/i][/b]

He remembered her, though.

He remembered stopping her before she hurt herself at the cafe in the street. He remembered curling around her, holding her close.

Holding her hand.

The giant moaned and shifted its weight again, instantly taking the weight away, but did not remove its foot until Natalie released her grip- or was forced into Archie through some other means.

[hr]

In all his years working on The Promise, never had they had a year quite as... dramatic as this one.

Between the constant trouble that a space station of parahumans caused, the breakout, the apparent presence of an antagonistic individual, and now... this, Gennedy had certainly been busy. Busier that he had anticipated. But a small part of him, the darker side that relished the chance to cut lose for once, was finding a silver lining in the situation. Yes, people were dying. There would be cleanup to organize. Funerals to plan. Miles of red tape and paperwork.

But for just a moment he was twenty years younger and back in security.

It wasn't often he got to [i]use[/i] his power. All things considered it was always active, but he never got to do much [i]with[/i] it. His years of enforcing were mostly over, and he didn't get to flex any muscle unless there was a very specific situation that demanded his specific skill set. A situation like this, one might say. It was simple, really. The terrorists had thus far been using explosives and firearms exclusively. The staff on The Promise were mostly trained in combating parahumans in nonlethal ways. He was functionally immune to bullets, and he was close by, waiting to be announced as he had been every semester. He could act faster than it would take security to arm properly and arrive once more.

The first gunman had not expected him. They were untrained, evidently. He hadn't checked his corners as he had passed through the cafeteria and into one of the corridors that led to The Promise's main hub. With his non-dominant hand, Gennedy redirected the barrel of the gun away from him. Bullets couldnt pierce him, but a shot to the face would still hurt. He stepped forwards and with his dominant arm he launched a jab into the man's masked face- shattering the ceramic and stunning the terrorist. He pulled his dominant arm down and grabbed the stock of the gun, pulling it out and down while he shoved the the barrel upwards with his off hand. This dislodged the gun from the man's grasp.

Gennedy pulled and stepped back, separating the gun from the man's body. He righted the LMG in his grasp, and fired two shots into the man's chest and head. Holding the gun close to his person, he paced into the door that the terrorist had just left from and into the cafeteria- where the final gunman was checking for survivors. From his position, he could see an overturned table with at least two vaguely familiar individuals huddled behind it. Across the room was the advancing terrorist.

He raised his gun, but he was unfamiliar with the firearm, out of practice, and old. The assailant was none of those things- and quickly managed to get a few shots off on him. What they weren't though, was bulletproof. Gennedy felt the impacts on his leg and upper chest distantly- in the same way that a six foot thick concrete wall felt someone's punch. He grunted, more out of indignation than pain, and raised his own gun in spite of the fact that he was being fired upon.

Breathe in. Aim. Breathe out.

Two shots. One in the chest followed by another in the head.

Silence.

He breathed, but didn't drop the gun in case there were any other gunmen in the area. Holding the gun with his dominant hand, he pulled his radio off of his hip.

"This is Hardin. One down outside, one down inside. We have at least two survivors. Loading bay unknown."

Backup would arrive any second now, now that the cafeteria was secured. Gennedy moved over to the two beside the table. Two girls- the one, Amelia, he recognized. The other not so much. He positioned himself a few feet away from them, towards the edge of the table, and kept his gun trained on the entrances from the loading bay. He glanced to Amelia, taking note of her status, as well as Lynn- who was doing notably worse.

"Help will be here any second now." he said, returning his eyes to the iron sights of the gun. "I'm no good with medical, but I can make sure no one hurts you two again. Just stay with me."