Aaron walked. A lot. It was something even an toddler could do comfortably, but he liked to believe that he was better at it than most. Blindfold him and he'd still be able to navigate the walk from the school gate to his house, no sweat.
He reveled in this almost-night silence. The sounds of leaves crunching underfoot, distanced cars and chatter. The dim orange of sunset added a nuance to the peaceful scene. Aaron loved autumn a lot more than he should have.
Then the car pulled up.
"You're out late," Henry called out, poking his head out of the green Ford. He'd paid for it himself.
Resisting an instinctual frown, Aaron climbed into the passenger seat, dumping his backpack in the seats behind. "Yeah."
...
Crap, he was supposed to say more. "Elaborate". He always forgot.
"There was a field trip today. With the Book Club."
Henry overlooked the lull with deliberate pep, flashing teeth and crinkled eyes doing nothing but stirring a familiar discomfort in Aaron's gut. Effort lavished on a lost cause. Blurs of orange were prettier than Henry's forced smile so the boy turned to the window instead. Camberton Street. Just five more blocks. Good.
"Oh, I think I remember that one! State Library, right?" Henry pressed on.
"Mmyeah."
"Did you get to see the workbook from that kid in 1830? The one with a drawing that looks like Jimmy Carter."
"Uh, I think we missed that one."
"Your tour guide didn't know what he was doing then, skipping past the best exhibit. We laughed for a three minutes straight when we saw that thing."
"Oh. Uh, maybe we'll get to see it another time?"
"I think I took a picture of it. I'll show you when we get home. Speaking of, did you take any?"
"I didn't bring a camera."
"Ah, you should've told me about your trip! I would've lent you mine."
Aaron didn't feel like pointing out that the reminder for the Book Club excursion had been scrawled on the fridge calendar for weeks now, though he couldn't blame him for overlooking the highlighter yellow print that always seemed to disappear into the white page. Yellow for Aaron. Blue for family events. Green for Dad's assignments. Bright, bright red for Henry's commitments, a shade that demanded your attention even if you were merely giving the fridge a passing glance. There seemed to be a red reminder every two or three days while the yellow text dimpled a square once a week, politely squeezing itself in the Saturday boxes, the meager space underneath Henry's tutoring sessions.
"Yeah...sorry."
"Don't apologise, kiddo. It's just a camera. Hell, I probably took enough for the both of us when I went."
"...Yeah. Sorry."
A sigh escaped Henry's lips, one he'd incorrectly assumed would go unnoticed by Aaron. Guilt and weariness hit the younger boy with equal force.
"Did you have fun at least?"
"Mmhmm."
Elaborate, dammit.
"It was nice."
Pitiful silence filled the car for only a few seconds before the driveway mercifully made itself seen. Past the impeccably painted fence. Past the lawn that Aaron had trimmed himself. Aaron and Henry stepped into the house, a humble, single-floor property. It seemed far more spacious, more modern than it actually was, thanks to the careful eye of their mother.
"You're out late," David Schofield looked up from the television, looking pointedly at his youngest son.
"Field trip," Henry explained before Aaron could open his mouth, "They went to the State Library."
Aaron nodded in affirmation, the usual disappointment and relief colouring his senses as the patriarch turned back to the evening news.
"Mm. Did you learn much?"
"Yeah, it was nice." Aaron managed a reply and began moving to his room before he could overthink his vague response. While he walked, he could hear his mother in the living room with Henry, asking something about Jared Gleeson's son and tips on college essays. Last week it had been Barbara Diaz.
As for Aaron, he walked a little faster. He wasn't stopped for further questioning.
“…Sorry, were you expecting more? I’m not the kind of person that looks for name meanings or family trees and stuff. Aaron’s just Aaron. It's from some Bible story if I remember correctly but...we don't even go to church that much? I don’t think there’s anything fancy to find about a name that three guys in my grade have.”
How old are you?
“12. Technically not a teenager yet, like everyone keeps telling at me. My birthday’s in June if you’re wondering.”
What do you look like?
“But aren’t you right in front of—oh okay…”
“Um, I’m tall. That’s a big thing. 5 foot 3, last time I checked. Skinny. Brown hair, dark eyes. Not really anything that stands out. Henry got the flashy blond hair from my dad and auntie so I guess there wasn’t much left for me. What else, uh…I look sporty. That comes with the ‘tall’ thing. Usually you don’t even have to play anything to look fit if your body is basically a flag pole but I do so it…works. Dad and Henry said girls like tall guys a lot but they don't talk to me and I don't talk to them so it's sorta...”
“I walk a lot. One look at my legs can tell you where I’ve been. I swear my knees are rock magnets cos they’re always scraping against something. Might be safer to keep the bandaids permanently glued on. There are a lot of other scratches on my legs too, cos trees are annoying and I always get too hot to bother wearing long pants when I go out. They’re really tiny scratches so they don’t even matter that much.”
Do you have any hobbies?
“It used to be basketball but now...I walk. A lot. By the lake, around the forest. The summerhouses, the rocks. There’s a lot to look at out there. Have you ever tried just looking? Staring and examining something until you want to pass out, learning all the cracks and holes, the insides and outs. Boring, right? Yeah, I might sound like one of those loony art types but concentrating on one thing is really interesting. Anything can be interesting if you want to look further.”
“It’s nice to be out there, like I’m on a one-man trek into the unknown. Not to say I don’t like being in the house but…yeah, I don’t. I like the quiet and the alone-ness out there. I can read and draw without anyone around to complain about college tuition when they think Henry can’t hear or try to find me so they can apologize for forgetting to take me to my game. It makes me feel better that way.”
“Heh, no, I don’t get scared. Safest town in Colorado, right? So I don’t get worried. My parents don’t get worried either. I…don’t know if they know where I go, actually. Don’t tell them, please, just in case. Maybe…sometimes…this might sound crazy but…I don’t think I’d be scared even if something was out there. Like, after all these years of walking around, I found something like E.T.! Wouldn’t that be so cool? It’s a bit much to hope for, I know.”
“Maybe…I’m waiting for something to take me away.”
What are some things that you especially dislike?
“Stuffy rooms. The thermostat is always too high. Yelling voices. And peas. They’re mushy and gross. There’s a lot of things in the world, I can’t just check my opinion like that on the spot. Come back tomorrow?”
“No. No, I don’t dislike my family. Can you not ask me something like that so suddenly? Where did that even come from?”
What are your goals for the future? Both immediate and long-term.
“There’s this hill out west I want to look around. There’s always something interesting if you look far enough. Also a whole pile of books I need to finish. I’m really behind on my reading for Book Club.”
“Long term? That’s a big question. I’m only in middle school. Even my brother said he doesn’t know. He made me promise not to tell mom and dad, all serious-like. I don’t know what he’s worried about. He can get into whatever university he wants. Maybe I should try for that too. Not sure which one, or what major I’d even take but, eh, I dunno.”
“I don’t think it matters where I go. As long as I get out there, I think I’ll be happy. Or, well…anywhere where they aren’t.”
What's your home life like? Specifically, what is your relationship like with your parents?
“Fine. It’s fine. Kind of a strange question to ask, really. Not everyone has a tragic backstory. Nothing to complain about when there’s…nothing, y’know?”
“If you’re dying to know, leave me alone and ask my brother, Henry. I bet he has a lot more to say about our parents than I ever would. N-not that that’s bad or anything. It’s just the truth. No really, it’s fine. I know it could be a lot worse. I could get beaten or starved or poor or in a split household like Jessica Baker’s parents. I can’t complain.”
“Huh? Neglected? No, no, they talk to me. They try to, at least? I dunno, it’s weird. I know they’re itching to get back to Henry so what’s the point of sticking around? They’ll probably forget about what I said the next day. Not that I say much.”
“Henry is…he’s nice. Maybe he feels bad for me. He shouldn’t. He earned all of this fair and square.”
“…C-can we talk about something else now?”
What's your favorite animal, and why?
“Agh, I’m bad at these questions. Uhhhhh…otters. Mom bought me this really cute plush one when I was a baby, before I can even remember. I’ve had it ever since. I know it's kinda girly but...”
“Is that a good reason for it being a favorite? I’ll think up a better answer if you need.”
How about your favorite color?
“I don't think boys my age are supposed to have that sort of answer ready. Mine's is green. Or orange. Or blue. Urgh, I’m really bad at these. It’s whatever I see in when I walk so it’s never really one color.”
“I’ll try to cut it down to one if it’s that important but…well, I don’t want to be rude but does it matter that much? All the pretty stuff is made up of crazy mixes of colors. And that’s not even considering the way light changes everything after you wait a while. Does it make sense to pick just one?”
What are your grades like?
“They’re fine too. B’s and sometimes A’s. The English teacher is always saying I need to write more though. Apparently, I don’t explain enough, write out the feelings. It all sounds a bit dumb to me, but please don’t tell him I said that. Always A’s in Gym. I’ve never had problems with running for long games or ‘hand-eye coordination’ or whatever. Overall they’re passable. Nothing like Henry’s but…”
“I need to keep my expectations reasonable. I’m never gonna be like him.”
“…Uh, yeah. My parents would try to do that serious talk thing if I let my grades drop. Or not. It doesn’t really matter. All I need to do is put the work in and everything will stay the same.”
Do you believe in magic?
“No offense, of course, but…why would I do that? I’m not a five-year-old.”
Henry Schofield ▮ 17 ▮ High School Student ▮ Aaron's older brother ▮Hard-working, Empathetic, Well-liked TBA
David Schofield ▮ 43 ▮ Newspaper Editor ▮ Aaron's father ▮Logical, Goal-oriented, Focused TBA
“…Sorry, were you expecting more? I’m not the kind of person that looks for name meanings or family trees and stuff. Aaron’s just Aaron. It's from some Bible story if I remember correctly but...we don't even go to church that much? I don’t think there’s anything fancy to find about a name that three guys in my grade have.”
How old are you?
“12. Technically not a teenager yet, like everyone keeps telling at me. My birthday’s in June if you’re wondering.”
What do you look like?
“But aren’t you right in front of—oh okay…”
“Um, I’m tall. That’s a big thing. 5 foot 3, last time I checked. Skinny. Brown hair, dark eyes. Not really anything that stands out. Henry got the flashy blond hair from my dad and auntie so I guess there wasn’t much left for me. What else, uh…I look sporty. That comes with the ‘tall’ thing. Usually you don’t even have to play anything to look fit if your body is basically a flag pole but I do so it…works. Dad and Henry said girls like tall guys a lot but they don't talk to me and I don't talk to them so it's sorta...”
“I walk a lot. One look at my legs can tell you where I’ve been. I swear my knees are rock magnets cos they’re always scraping against something. Might be safer to keep the bandaids permanently glued on. There are a lot of other scratches on my legs too, cos trees are annoying and I always get too hot to bother wearing long pants when I go out. They’re really tiny scratches so they don’t even matter that much.”
Do you have any hobbies?
“It used to be basketball but now...I walk. A lot. By the lake, around the forest. The summerhouses, the rocks. There’s a lot to look at out there. Have you ever tried just looking? Staring and examining something until you want to pass out, learning all the cracks and holes, the insides and outs. Boring, right? Yeah, I might sound like one of those loony art types but concentrating on one thing is really interesting. Anything can be interesting if you want to look further.”
“It’s nice to be out there, like I’m on a one-man trek into the unknown. Not to say I don’t like being in the house but…yeah, I don’t. I like the quiet and the alone-ness out there. I can read and draw without anyone around to complain about college tuition when they think Henry can’t hear or try to find me so they can apologize for forgetting to take me to my game. It makes me feel better that way.”
“Heh, no, I don’t get scared. Safest town in Colorado, right? So I don’t get worried. My parents don’t get worried either. I…don’t know if they know where I go, actually. Don’t tell them, please, just in case. Maybe…sometimes…this might sound crazy but…I don’t think I’d be scared even if something was out there. Like, after all these years of walking around, I found something like E.T.! Wouldn’t that be so cool? It’s a bit much to hope for, I know.”
“Maybe…I’m waiting for something to take me away.”
What are some things that you especially dislike?
“Stuffy rooms. The thermostat is always too high. Yelling voices. And peas. They’re mushy and gross. There’s a lot of things in the world, I can’t just check my opinion like that on the spot. Come back tomorrow?”
“No. No, I don’t dislike my family. Can you not ask me something like that so suddenly? Where did that even come from?”
What are your goals for the future? Both immediate and long-term.
“There’s this hill out west I want to look around. There’s always something interesting if you look far enough. Also a whole pile of books I need to finish. I’m really behind on my reading for Book Club.”
“Long term? That’s a big question. I’m only in middle school. Even my brother said he doesn’t know. He made me promise not to tell mom and dad, all serious-like. I don’t know what he’s worried about. He can get into whatever university he wants. Maybe I should try for that too. Not sure which one, or what major I’d even take but, eh, I dunno.”
“I don’t think it matters where I go. As long as I get out there, I think I’ll be happy. Or, well…anywhere where they aren’t.”
What's your home life like? Specifically, what is your relationship like with your parents?
“Fine. It’s fine. Kind of a strange question to ask, really. Not everyone has a tragic backstory. Nothing to complain about when there’s…nothing, y’know?”
“If you’re dying to know, leave me alone and ask my brother, Henry. I bet he has a lot more to say about our parents than I ever would. N-not that that’s bad or anything. It’s just the truth. No really, it’s fine. I know it could be a lot worse. I could get beaten or starved or poor or in a split household like Jessica Baker’s parents. I can’t complain.”
“Huh? Neglected? No, no, they talk to me. They try to, at least? I dunno, it’s weird. I know they’re itching to get back to Henry so what’s the point of sticking around? They’ll probably forget about what I said the next day. Not that I say much.”
“Henry is…he’s nice. Maybe he feels bad for me. He shouldn’t. He earned all of this fair and square.”
“…C-can we talk about something else now?”
What's your favorite animal, and why?
“Agh, I’m bad at these questions. Uhhhhh…otters. Mom bought me this really cute plush one when I was a baby, before I can even remember. I’ve had it ever since. I know it's kinda girly but...”
“Is that a good reason for it being a favorite? I’ll think up a better answer if you need.”
How about your favorite color?
“I don't think boys my age are supposed to have that sort of answer ready. Mine's is green. Or orange. Or blue. Urgh, I’m really bad at these. It’s whatever I see in when I walk so it’s never really one color.”
“I’ll try to cut it down to one if it’s that important but…well, I don’t want to be rude but does it matter that much? All the pretty stuff is made up of crazy mixes of colors. And that’s not even considering the way light changes everything after you wait a while. Does it make sense to pick just one?”
What are your grades like?
“They’re fine too. B’s and sometimes A’s. The English teacher is always saying I need to write more though. Apparently, I don’t explain enough, write out the feelings. It all sounds a bit dumb to me, but please don’t tell him I said that. Always A’s in Gym. I’ve never had problems with running for long games or ‘hand-eye coordination’ or whatever. Overall they’re passable. Nothing like Henry’s but…”
“I need to keep my expectations reasonable. I’m never gonna be like him.”
“…Uh, yeah. My parents would try to do that serious talk thing if I let my grades drop. Or not. It doesn’t really matter. All I need to do is put the work in and everything will stay the same.”
Do you believe in magic?
“No offense, of course, but…why would I do that? I’m not a five-year-old.”
Heyo players. To celebrate Wisheater’s 1st birthday, we’re gonna be emptying slug wallets and buying noises for your ears. Characters will be voiced by freelance actors, posts will be read, but most importantly, Jan will be paying for all of it (within reason).
Of course, all of this is completely optional since you will have to do your own modifications and writing if you want something to be read out.
Here’s what you need to do to:
Provide 1-3 lines of dialogue you believe convey your character’s personality best.
A brief description of the kind of voice/personality you would prefer for your character. (e.g. Are they peppy/angsty? Deep man voice or nah? General atmosphere and mood? Hometown accent?)
The post you want to get voiced. It can be an ‘events so far’ piece, a modified solo post/collab, etc. The biggest condition is that it MUST be in first-person. The work to edit all them collabs into a first-person perspective falls on you and you only.
If you’ve got any further questions, spam January. Happy anniversary, folks!
Aw man, thanks for the notice! It's been almost a year of hard work on everyone's part and it's nice to see that sort of acknowledgement from an outside audience.
Character apps have been closed for several months now, as it'd be impossible to fit new players into the story at the moment. However, that is not to say that it's an impossibility in the far future. When we open for apps again we’ll let you know. Thanks again for the interest and the compliment condiment.
He knew a petty squabble when he saw one. He'd been involved in plenty himself. Even so, he wasn't going to get wrapped up in a dumb fight, not when Brent and Siena were possibly dead because of him.
A scowl broke out across his face.
Because of him, huh? Zoe had made a fair point. Even if he couldn't melt them he should have done more. Hurting something for their own good. How inhuman. How disgusting.
He hated how much sense it made to him.
So he'd kept his mouth shut. Letting Marcus take the blame for what had essentially been Ernie's lie had been a dick move in more ways than one but the Aberration just couldn't bring himself to step in. Both sides had spouted only the truth, as pointless as the whole ordeal was. Besides, he there were bigger fish to fry.
[DISCONNECTED]
A word that stole his breath as much as it injected dread into his very veins. Why remove the cuff when it would have been so much easier to put a bullet through her skull? Best case scenario, just a fortuitous attack. Angel fought bravely and they disabled her before delivering the final blow. Worst case...
The buzzcut boy cast his gaze over the group, eyes briefly narrowing at Sander's armored hand. A new trick.
Worst case scenario, the Amigos did what mercenaries did best and carried out a job for a chance at a client's hefty moneybags. It always came down to motive. This wasn't Fracture. There was an objective here. So why remove the cuff? They didn't want to be tracked. Why would they be tracked? They were taking Angelique with them, dead or alive. Why Angelique? If she really was decuffed and stolen, he doubted that it was just another case of rabid rock fans. There had to be something that made her valuable, something that a client had taken enough interest in to buy the Amigos' services.
That's where his train of thought came to a breakneck stop. Unfortunately, he couldn't conjure any reason anyone would want that psychotic two-time mass murderer. Infiltrating USARILN property for some fallen rockstar whose powers didn't compare to even the weakest Amigo agents made no sense. None of it did, so he needed to stop wasting brainpower on it.
He'd defused whatever the fuck Zoe's problem was with the phone's information. Marcus and Emma had left for intel. The others were preparing for battle. Everyone but Christmas and Sander who were snuggling in the corner or some shit. At least they finished while he was talking to Zoe.
Nodding to the brunet's plate-covered hand, Ernie spoke out. "New trick, huh?"
"I suppose." -The blood mage simply shrugged, dull red eyes watching the darkness outside -"What do you want?"
A bit testy today? Not that Ernie could blame him.
"Zoe's headed out, getting ready to fight. I guess Hazel is too. Are you not going with them?"
"Aren't we leaving?" -Sander quirked an eyebrow, a look of confusion on his features -"Why would they stay?"
"We need to assume that they could attack us while we're taking the ferry," Ernie scratched his head, clearly not fond of the circumstances, "Sink our battleship then finish us off in the water. If they're really as close as you claimed then we might have a fight on our hands before we can get everyone on the boat."
Sander breathed out, his shoulders sank slightly. Another fight. Of course. The fire in his chest crackled as the prospect -"Who are these people? Rogues?"
"Mercenaries. Rogues don't even compare to these guys. I'm sure they've slaughtered people ten times stronger than our team combined."
“So…very strong rogues.” -Sander kept his voice light, but the faint glow of his eyes seemingly brightened. He fell silent for a few minutes, contemplating, before he finally asked –“Between a DC monster and these guys, who would win?”
The spectrum of both categories was kind of ridiculous but Ernie didn't see any reason to not answer. "Amigos probably have team strategies and combos figured out. Fight smarter rather than harder. If they're attacking USARILN property then they're probably a really elite squad. So, uh, I guess these guys then?"
Was this going anywhere?
"Are you scared or something?"
"Are you?"
The buzzcut boy was startled by the sudden return but ultimately chuckled. "I'm terrified, yeah. Knew some guys that ran into them. You haven't answered my question though."
"I am. But not for long."
"Huh. What's changing it?"
"Blood." -Sander looked around the group, face carefully blank -"Enough, and everything will go away."
Right, his power. Ernie had never really delved into the details. He'd hoped that what he'd seen with the guards in D.C. would be enough. Wary of the way Sander was looking over the class, Ernie frowned.
"You drank beforehand?"
"A little bit." -Sander gave the blond boy sitting in the corner a meaningful gaze -"But I can't drink more."
"You...need to drink from someone else," Ernie uttered something between a question and a statement in his grim realisation.
"Yes." -Sander admitted easily -"Maybe...more than one? I need quite a bit."
Suddenly all too aware of what the implications of his questioning were leading to, Ernie mentally speedran through a class roster. He didn't know how fast Kusari's regen worked. Sophia and Lawrence still needed to be fit enough to make a run for the boat. Christmas shouldn't have been considered in the first place. All the B-lister powers and personalities had run out, leaving only...
Oh, come on.
It all came down to how mobile they could be in the end. Ernie cringed as he looked down to his right hand, where his rope usually manifested. He didn't need his body to move anymore. At least, he hoped he didn't. Still, Zoe had tasked him with guarding the trapdoor, which meant standing in one place so...
Ernie blinked furiously.
Fuck, he was actually considering it. Somewhere deep down, he knew it was petty. Getting worked up over ickiness and minor pain in the face of death. If it was anyone but him at this blood drive Ernie would have made that incision in their place.
It was a simple calculation. The weakest had to support the strong. The difference between Sander and his combat results spoke for themselves.
Lives were on the line here. This wasn't the time for being a little bitch.
With a gulp, Ernie said, "I...I can lend you some. Some blood. But I need to ask you a favour in return."
Sander blinked then, a bit of surprise crept into his features. He knew Ernie didn’t like him. They might keep it cordial, but Sander had to admit he still had doubts for Ernie, and if those doubts were ever justified, he knew he would not hesitate to act. Yet, he was also willing to get blood from Ernie. Preferred Ernie, in fact, because Sander was selfish. Between Christmas and literally everyone else, he knew what he would choose. So he chose.
“I can't return it, but...alright. What is it?”
Ernie shifted uncomfortably. "Zoe's going to be sneaking around, trying to catch those Amigos off-guard. When you're out there, I need you to do your best to keep all their attention and attacks on you. On anyone but Zoe. Be the biggest distraction you can be. Can you do that?"
“Sure.” -The offer was far too simple, so Sander just nodded without really giving it much thought –“But…if it’s really bad, you should go when you can. Leave me, if you must. I’ll be fine.”
"Why do you people keep talking like that?" Ernie muttered but was ultimately relieved at Sander's easy response. Now for the messy part, "So how's this gonna work? I cut my arm somewhere and you put your face on it?"
"If that's what you want." -Sander smiled at that, slightly amused -"Or...you can just nick your finger."
Just his finger? Area-wise, Ernie supposed that was better. As long as no one was watching. He took a quick look around the lighthouse, finding no private room to his dismay. His finger was going to be in someone's mouth. A dude's mouth. There was something definitely wrong about that.
Just his finger. Nothing weird about--yeah, he couldn't finish that sentence.
At least it wasn't his foot or anything.
He set the dog down in a rune, ignoring the subtle whine. Nodding once to confirm, Ernie unzipped the first aid kit he'd brought along with a grimace. He'd thankfully restocked in the manor's infirmary during the stay, as well as obtained some new tools.
With a wince and a cut from a freshly unwrapped scalpel, the buzzcut Aberration offered the pinky finger of his left hand to the vampire.
"Make it fast."
Sander took Ernie's hand in his, as if giving the other Aberration a firm hand shake. Red glow enveloped both of them, and not a drop of blood dripped from their joined hand. For the most parts, the blood mage was silent. Focused. His gaze was red and hungry, but his breathing remained calm and controlled. Eventually though, he spoke, looking up from where he had been staring at the red glow on his hand.
"You're not fighting outside, yeah?"
Though he was relieved that the process didn't involve any mouth spaces, Ernie had underestimated the effects blood loss would have on him. His breaths hastened and there was a gradual fatigue he tried to fight off with rapid blinking.
This was fine. This was needed.
"Yeah. I need to watch the trapdoor," Ernie answered straightforwardly, trying to control his breathing.
"I know you might hate me for this, but..." -Sander suddenly lowered his voice, leaning in -"Keep Christmas with you."
"And stay with him." -He did not add a 'please'.
Ernie fought a yawn as his free hand reached around for a wall to lean on.
Just like Wisford. He knew what the consequences would be. Knew they would be bad. But it wasn't like he could just turn Sander down, not while they were in this position.
Ernie's hand clenched involuntarily.
"A favour for a favour?" he attempted a weak smile, "He'll stay with me. 'S fine, all fine."
Brent and Siena were taking an awfully long time to get back. The blond might be in the right place after all. Still, there were present concerns to consider.
"How much more blood'd'you need anyway? It's, uh, not feelin' good right now."
“I’m asking you…to put him first. Make sure he’ll be fine, Ernie.” -Yet, Sander did not let go, red eyes gleaming –“Do everything you can.”
Not nice. Ernie could feel a darker intent building, cold fear rising to replace whatever facade of nicety they'd maintained before. Guess free cocktails didn't reserve a place in Sander's good books.
"They won't find him," he replied, though his voice was lower now, almost quivering, "We'll run away through the tunnels if we have to. I'll get him off this island myself if everyone else dies trying to get to the boat. Let go of me."
"You promise?" -The grip only tightened.
"I promise," Ernie had to refrain from spitting the statement. His fingers slackened noticeably, "I can't protect him if I'm too weak to move. Let go, now."
Sander finally let go then, the last droplets of blood disappeared quickly into the palm of his hand. Thick strands of red smoke were once again rising from his body, and he let the armor on his hand crumbled away. He had no need for it anymore.
"I...never forget a scent, Ernie." -He was no longer looking at Ernie -"I'll find you, after."
"Don't break your promise." -With that said, he began to walk toward the entrance, looking out into the darkness.
As soon as the grip released Ernie reeled back, his shoulder bashing clumsily into the wall behind him. Nothing had changed after all. Still the same red eyes. Still those hands that had gripped his own with as much intent as when they'd squeezed his neck that day. Ernie's breaths began to shudder and he knew full well that it wasn't because of the blood loss.
With one final grit of his teeth, he muttered to the exiting figure. "Save the threats for the real enemies, Sander."
Red eyes glanced over the blood mage's shoulder, and something that looked like sadness pulled on Sander's features. He met Ernie's gaze in a brief moment, before turning right back. He knew it was terrible. But between Christmas and everyone else? The choice was clear.
Marcus hadn't quite made the run as well as the rest of the staff had, being not quite that athletic himself. He certainly couldn't compare to the long strides of the red-headed giant or the quick pace of some of the maids, and he only had to use his power to jump once, just to allow himself a quick breather and catch back up.
They'd left Siena and Brent behind. He'd tried the phone again, only for the same result. For all he knew, they were dead.
He was trying very hard to not focus on that point. To not focus on the oozing corpse that was likely his roommate. The massacred body that was one of his close friends. Two people he'd done nothing to stop, because they were so sure that they could handle it.
It would have been so easy to just steal her battery again. Damned with the consequences. Hypocrisy could kiss his ass; it would have been easier to stop them, despite the fact he'd do the same for his friends.
Or, apparently he wouldn't, because here he was sprinting down a tunnel running for evacuation. Again. Always running. And it never went as planned.
He barely had enough time to register the situation. There was cutlery, tables and silverware. This was an outpost, and the blood signified that something might have gone wrong here, which didn't bode well for their escape. Or maybe it boded extra well, and whoever had been here had managed to deal with all the hostiles. Only the best for Zhang's guard, right?
It was midway through that thought that he registered a face. The crimson hair that whirled around to glare at him. The angry face which scared him more than it should have, because he'd seen what she could do. He would have stammered out an apology, had it not been for...
Colors. Colors and shapes, and blooming pain. His mind was so clouded that he wasn't even completely sure what had happened to him. She'd plunged her hand straight through his stomach and liquified his organs. His knees buckled and he hit the ground. He was dying, and the fear of that was outclassed by the...
...familiar pain. She hadn't done any of that. She'd simply done one of the worst things humanly possible to a man. She'd football punted him, right in his weakpoint.
Just as the nausea started, he rewound. Before the vomit in his throat could make it out. The sound of static was his reprieve, putting him on his feet again, with a stange feeling of pain that didn't exist. Like he should have still been curled up on the ground, but his own nervous system didn't register it.
"What the HELL Zoe!? The fuck is your problem!?"
It would be a few seconds before the anger subsided enough for him to realize who he was yelling at.
Ernie, on his part, merely regarded the spectacle with a mixed expression of sympathy and sheer horror, too caught with his regrets of the lost duo to complain or intervene.
Would have been more merciful to melt the guy, really.
'Sorry's and 'what have I done's were dispelled by a small bark from the Chief, irritation quickly replacing the sorrow. Was this really the time? With a louder yip from the dog, Ernie summoned a makeshift leash around its neck and dropped it to wander the lighthouse for the moment.
"Bloodied ears would have been too nice, huh?" he grimaced at the pair.
Emma had paused to let her breath catch up to her, Determination close behind. Whatever small reprieve they got between now and whatever the hell Sander smelled out there was quickly soured by the sound of a squalling Marcus behind her. Although, has she wheeled around, she could hardly blame him, having only barely caught sight of what Zoe had done to him. Emma pushed herself towards the trio, laying a gentle hand on Marcus’s back as she shot a venomous glance towards Zoe, ”Is now really the time for this shit?” she shouted out.
What was her problem? That was a pretty long list, but Zoe smiled. "Right now, my problem is that you let our teammates zap off to die without doing anything about it. My problem is that you lied to my face until we'd gone too far away to help them. Seems pretty fucking reasonable that I might have an issue with that." She laughed - a bitter chuckle rather than any noise of enjoyment, but it didn't quite come off that way as she glanced at Emma. "And considering we're about to be in the shit again with four people missing, yes, now is exactly the time. Because I can't take the risk of them letting that happen again."
"What exactly do you think that I could've done? Marcus said, the heat in his eyes dying down slightly as he shifted towards the comforting presence of Emma. "Would you feel better if I had punched her in the face and dragged her down this tunnel? Or smash her E-Reader so she could be completely defenseless if we got into a fight? And, unless you can burrow through solid ground, none of us can do a damn thing about it until we get out of this hole."
"So yes. I lied. I lied because it made no difference if I told the truth or not." he finally finished, his glare dulling further as he looked to the ground.
"Yes, that's exactly what I'd want you to do." Hell, it was what she'd been planning if anyone else tried to run. "Sometimes you've gotta hurt people for their own good." An all-too-familiar phrase, her mouth twisting with disgust as she heard herself say it. Disgust that only grew as she looked at Marcus.
"Don't start this 'woe is me' bullshit either. If you'd told me, maybe I would've had time to do something." Something undeniably cruel entered Zoe's expression as she looked down at Marcus. "God knows it wouldn't be the first time I've had to cover for you people. I haven't forgotten Wisford. How you - and Emma, for that matter - did nothing. I can't claim to know what went on in D.C, but people died there too. And now Brent and Siena might well have joined them because you wouldn't throw a punch."
Unfair, probably. Almost definitely a low blow. But seeing him stand there like he'd been completely helpless in all this got to her. Maybe she had no room to talk, but she at least admitted what she was. "How many more people have to die before you stop making excuses?"
”Fuck you, Zoe!” Emma spat out, her mouth twisting into a distinct frown, ”We’re in the middle of a fucking battle and you’re picking now to quibble about our performance? You really wanna keep score about how many people died because of us? Are you gonna talk like you’ve done nothing wrong? I fucking saw what you did to Callan! Sure, you know what, Savannah would be alive if I did more, but at least I’m not hurting my own fucking team.” Zoe had obviously struck a nerve, Emma’s voice nearly rising to a shout.
Determination, who up until now had been keeping his distance, moved a little closer towards Emma, his eyeless gaze falling upon Zoe, mouth forming a hard line.
Marcus's eyes fell upon the gaze that Zoe gave; it wasn't anger, that much he could deal with. She was looking down on him like she was so righteous, like she was bounds and leaps above them. Disgust. An expression he could recognize, if only because he'd seen it so much as a subnatural. He'd seen it from the people at DC, when he was just trying to enjoy himself at a concert. The fact that a subnatural would look down upon another in the same way angered him more than her words did, and Emma's own confidence only served to bolster his, despite the blow that her mention of Savannah brought; a small shot that he did his best to ignore for now. Which, all things considered, a bolstered anger at this point might not have been the best thing for his health.
He put his hand in front of her to try and keep her back, as if he were trying to protect her. "I know that Zoe. But I try to keep from hurting my friends as much as possible, since I can at least distinguish between my friends and my enemies. I'm not sure if you noticed during your spree, but your boyfriend Lawrence managed to survive Wisford - I managed to keep him from bleeding out on the dirt. You're welcome."
"As for 'excuses'. I don't know. I haven't found that number yet. I'll ring you up when I do."
He moved to push past Zoe and up into the lighthouse, looking at Ernie and Emma over his shoulder. "I'm going up top. If Sander is smelling people, I'd at least like to know which direction the ambush is coming from."
On his way up, as he was passing the tables, he grabbed one of the stools that had been left slightly askew. It would work wonders for being an improvised weapon when he took it apart, as well as being an excellent stress reliever when he started trying to smash it into tiny pieces. Of course, he didn't want to do it here, with everyone around; lest some sign of active aggression set Zoe off and reduce him to dust.
"I think there's someone up there already. Watch out for your own ambush." Ernie warned quietly, breaking his uncharacteristic silence to nod at the dog sniffing at damp footprints. With the canine's investigation completed, he dissipated the leash and picked the pet back up.
Zoe couldn't stop herself from chuckling as Callan was brought up; Emma clearly had no idea how much worse that particular situation could get. As for the boyfriend comment, it hadn't been met with much more than genuine confusion in her expression, but as Marcus walked past she couldn't quite manage to hold her tongue.
"I've never hidden from the fact that I'm a terrible fucking person." Zoe said, appearing mostly unashamed of that fact. "Hell, I'll give you two more for your list. I almost killed Kusari a day after we got here, and I spent half my time in Wisford torturing and blinding some kid who didn't know shit. Fun times." And while it might have made her life easier, she didn't mention Ernie's part in it.
"I'm trying to get better now," Zoe frowned, "but unlike you, I won't pretend I had no choice in any of that. I'm not that pathetic." There was a slight pause before she shook her head. She'd planned to head up the stairs as well, but right now she didn't want to risk exiting Lawrence's range for fear that she'd melt Marcus into a puddle.
Emma sneered at Zoe, following close after Marcus. As she passed the redhead she muttered ”Fucking psycho.” just loud enough for her to hear. Determination quickly followed as well, maintaining his gaze on Zoe.
Ernie waited for the two to leave, the communicator he'd borrowed from Chris still clamped tightly in his hand. This wasn't the time to bring up beef from weeks ago, nor to spout frustrations at each other. Though fury and irritation had broiled in the pit of his stomach the Aberration forced his mouth to stay shut, keeping his eyes locked on Brent and Siena's GPS icons instead. No reason to provide Zoe with another target for verbal abuse. No need to have more of the obvious stated. He'd ignored the spat for this reason and yet something still managed to jump out at him.
What had really transpired at Wisford. She'd kept to her word after all. Ernie hadn't caught it the first time in the tunnels but now she was outright lying. He was the only one benefiting from this false retelling and while he appreciated the social safety, the paranoiac cogs in his mind started whirring once again. Not good at all. This was leverage against him, wasn't it? What was this demon playing at?
With a calculated tone of nonchalance, Ernie called out. "Always gotta play the bad guy, huh?"
Zoe's shoulders slumped as Emma and Marcus headed up the stairs, and she glanced towards Ernie with a sigh. She didn't see why he'd be questioning her on it now. "You already know that. Not like they're wrong about me anyway, so I may as well take a little extra heat." To tell the truth, despite sounding slightly bitter, the redhead looked more tired than angry. "If you're gonna try and lecture me too, just get on with it. We've got a fight to prepare for."
'May as well'? Ernie failed to understand the reasoning behind that. Why would you want to take that sort of shit? The admission made him pause, his mind trying to recalibrate with the new information and failing miserably. Urgh, she had a point about the lecturing too. It's not like anything would get fixed in this time frame. Probably best not to talk himself out of breath right before a fight.
"I guess it can wait," he said somewhat sheepishly.
Surely he had something to say, right? Ernie looked at the communicator once again.
"They're alright, if that's what you're worried about. Gregory didn't make it--looks like he got caught outside the manor--but Siena and Brent are in the tunnels. They'll be here soon."
"They're alive? Okay, that's-- Thanks for letting me know."
Zoe's anger faded a little at the news, relief visibly softening her expression. At the very least, they hadn't caused any more casualties through their softhearted idiocy. Gregory's loss was unfortunate, but she didn't register it as any more than that unlucky. A poor turn of events. Not something to lose her composure about. Something to contemplate later. Wish I'd been there to see it.
Grimacing at the unwanted thought, she spoke shortly. "Watch the tunnel. Hopefully no Amigos will find it, but if they do..." She didn't exactly mean to order Ernie around, but a sneak attack would mean definite casualties before they could respond. A lot of unpleasant possibilities. "Just... stand guard, alright? I'd do it myself, but I'm more useful attacking." Offensive tactics were risky, of course but not as risky as keeping everyone cooped up in one building and waiting to die.
"Sounds doable," Ernie nodded. Wasn't like he could help anywhere else. At the mention of attacking, Ernie's expression became colored with irritated dismay.
"The Amigos aren't like the people at Wisford," he cast his gaze down at the tracker, "They're mercenaries, experienced with a lot of kills and weapons on their belt. Attacking directly is just plain suicide."
So they were that dangerous, huh? If that were true, much as Zoe hated to admit it, Ernie had a point. "Then I'm not gonna charge right at them, but I'm not much use in here. There's nothing for me to use. Best case scenario, there's some grass or something nearby - I touch that, and you guys just gotta knock 'em over so they get caught. Trees would be even better."
But that aside... "Playing it completely safe won't work. If they're coming for us, we can't just dig in and try to survive the fight - we have to go out there and win it."
He didn't think he'd ever be able to put it into words how much he disliked this mindset. Reckless and borderline suicidal, relied on too many variables in the environment. Ernie hadn't visited the lighthouse enough to remember the layout of the shrubbery. And yet, there was an annoyingly solid point in all that dumbassery.
Trying to talk her out of it would be a waste of time. The best he could do now was increase the chances of success rather than change the method.
"Dark and stormy," the buzzcut boy murmured, trying to recall Liam's words, "It fucks with sound and sight. If the others make a decent enough distraction with their fight then you could sneak around and put that insta-kill to good use. The less teammates getting seen, the better."
"Fine." It was times like this that she wished she could take a hit, but even Ernie's plan beat sitting around waiting. Or arguing for that matter. "I'll stay in cover until there's a chance. Might be better I head out before the Amigos get here, though - if they see me, then I'm screwed. Just don't take too long with that distraction."
Turning, presumably to head out, she paused. There really was a pretty good chance that she died trying this, wasn't there? "If they find me--" It'd mean a quick death if she was lucky. A slow one if she wasn't. But she didn't have any last words worth remembering - at least, not for him - so she grinned instead, seemingly unafraid. "Don't let anyone risk their life for me. That's all."
He stared for a moment, something questioning and confused in his gaze. Where did all that ballsiness come from? That final request only made his spirits sink deeper but in the end there wasn't anything he could do but nod. Avoiding risks was his specialty.
The Aberration thought hard for something profound to say. He was possibly sending someone out to their death after all. But in the end he couldn't muster up anything more than a "Make it fast, Zoe."
"Will do." With a nod, Zoe turned to leave - nothing left to say about the danger she was about to go putting herself in. But it was necessary, right? After all, the Amigos weren't gonna let them leave just because they asked nicely, and ferries weren't renowned for their evasive manoeuvres. This time really was kill or be killed.
With that thought in mind, her expression was composed as she headed out of the door, dashing for the first sign of cover. Meanwhile, Marcus was unsuccessfully trying to rip the leg off a wooden stool while simultaneously not missing a step and falling down the stairs. His anger had subsided into frustration at first, and was now just weary indignation as he attempted to wiggle the loosest leg he could find, in some method that would leave him with a small club. It wasn't working, although he did have to commend the expert craftsmanship of the furniture.
Finally, with a sigh, he turned around, offering the stool to the shadow beast that was tagging along. "Det, can you be a pal and rip the legs off this? It would be nice to have something to swing around before we find the source of those bloodstains."
Emma watched Marcus with an incredulous look, barely containing laughter as he struggled with the chair. Determination, however, had no such reaction, offering a stern ”Yes.” before taking the stool and separating it from its legs, first handing one to a reluctant Emma and then offering one to Marcus.
"You're alright, buddy." Marcus said, examining his new weapon. His still had the screw pointing straight out the top of it, so he could use it as a makeshift spear if things weren't going so well, but it didn't really change the fact that it was a stool leg. As far as weapons went, it wasn't exactly on the top of his list. His mind flashed back to his pistol, likely still sitting on top of the desk in his room. He would have felt way better with that at his side, but he hadn't taken it. All because he believed some of the things Lawrence said. All because he'd made a bad decision. He'd chosen incorrectly, and as much as he tried to think otherwise, Zoe's words especially rang home.
I won't pretend I had no choice in any of that.
He shook his head again, hefting the club to test it's weight. It would make due for now, but he was a little nervous in all honesty. Blood was never a good sign, and whoever the owner was, he was likely either dead, near death, or hostile. Or if they were especially lucky, the dude was untouched and on their side. But things rarely seemed to workout that way for them.
"Hey Emma, as much as I like marching towards the unknown, is there any chance you can have Det lead?" Marcus asked, slightly unsure of who to defer the question to. Sure, Det had free will, but it was clear that Emma was still his...'master'? Would that have been the correct term. It didn't matter; he was wasting time on pointless thoughts.
"He can probably take a punch better than I can, and can most certainly deliver a better one."
Emma turned to Determination. In truth, she didn’t exactly know who called the shots here either. Determination, as far as she could tell and discern from their conversations, still had to follow orders, but…
Well, she wasn’t exactly sure he liked being ordered around. It seemed that things were more of a team effort now.
Luckily it didn’t come down to having to figure it out, as he merely gave a nod, moving ahead of the other two and tossing the chair to the side. A small sigh came from Emma as she ascended the stairs, her eyes moving towards Marcus, giving him a sideways glance. ”Hey, by the way… about what Zoe said… I wouldn’t worry about it too much. We’re all doing our best to adjust, and for what it’s worth… I think you’re doing a good job.” she said as encouragingly as possible.
Marcus gave her a half smile, watching Determination as he led the way. "I appreciate it, and it's worth a fair amount coming from you." he said, carefully taking the steps one at a time. "It's just stuff I don't want to think about in the middle of all of this, I'll be fine."
There was a slight pause in his words before he continued; "And..."
I want you to stop blaming yourself for Savannah, you have no idea what actually happened there.
"...I think you've been doing a great job yourself, even though you're a little hard on yourself." he said, lightly bumping into her as they climbed.
”I’m…”
Emma cut herself off with a sigh, a smile finding its way onto her face, ”Thanks.” she was trying to find something to convince herself that he was right, but, of course, he wasn’t. Marcus was right, though, now wasn’t the time for this stuff, so she left it hanging there as she continued up the stairs.