banjoanjo

World's End Online

Wendy Douglas

"Should we, uh... Do you want to be friends?"

Age: 23

Gender: Female


Credit

Appearance: Presentation that Wendy lauds with much thought but little effort. She's 5'7", fit, dresses vaguely sporty with that casual sweatpants look everyone's doing these days. Wendy can almost always be found with a distant, thoughtful look on her face. Recently some bags have been growing under her eyes ("Wake me up at 3 again and I'm throwing the router out the window." "...").

Personality: Aloof, quiet, sometimes so awkward it makes you wonder why she even left the house that day. Even after a brief conversation, it's fairly easy to tell that Wendy isn't the most socially competent person. It's something she's been trying to rectify over the years, with encouragement from her siblings and varying success. Pretty hard, sometimes. She wouldn't deem herself uncomfortable in most social situations anymore but there are definitely times when she zones out and thinks of all the other things she could be doing instead.

Like grocery shopping. Or walking through the park. She likes the park.

Background: Wendy was born the youngest of three. She grew up in an uneventful suburb. Not quite savvy enough to join the middle-class cliques but not enough of a pushover to get properly picked on, she found herself in a strange void in her school years. Friends were few and far between. Hobbies swinging between nerdy and sporty came and went. The only real constants she had were Lucas and Joy, who were always more than willing to dote on their youngest.

College passed in a similar manner, and it was there where Wendy knew she had to step out of her comfort zone. It worked, somewhat ("Mm." "You're getting there, kiddo."), but those days seemed to go by in a flash. Employment was the next big step. That was the plan anyway. Employers didn't seem to have an interested in newly-grads who clammed up after a few sentences.

Wendy currently works as a pizza delivery-driver, courtesy of Lucas' friend's friend, and resides with Joy in an apartment close to the city. World's End Online was a hobby she'd picked up from her brother, the remaining sibling occasionally joining their party despite her claims that she'd "grown out of it". Though other VR games provided the superhero experience she and Lucas prefer, Wendy found herself drawn to the quaint aesthetic of the medieval period, as well as the calm she found in the grindier quests.

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Ingame Name: Wendel Douglass ("You're not smart, Lucas." "Yer nert shmert, Loo-kuhs." "Ugh.")

Ingame Gender: Uh. ("Should we flip a coin?" "Oh, there's a third option.")

Ingame Appearance: Wendel's appearance is based on her real self, apart from some very noticeable changes. An almost comical array of scars adorn her face and neck ("How many do you need?" "As many as we can get."), accompanied by an equally vast collection of ear piercings. ("How many do you need?" "At least these ones make sense, asshole.") Her jaw is considerably sharper, more masculine. ("Woah. Should I grow my hair out?" "I don't know what Kim sees in you.") In similar trains of thought, she also sports a virtual height of 5'11" and a significantly more muscular body. ("I like it." "Yeah, can't blame you there.")

Ingame Personality: Her strange fascination with the scenery is magnified tenfold. Pretty much the same as real life, except now that she has the luxury of literally frolicking away from her anxieties, she's likely to take it. The virtual world is nicer like that.

Class: Swordsman ("They look big." "Huh?" "Just let her be.")

Notable Skills
("Non-confrontational as ever, hey?" "You think so?")

Thunder Stroke: Wendel grips her sword by the blade and swings it in a wide arc, inflicting damage and a significant knock-back effect on any enemies caught in her path.
Blade Dash: Wielding her weapon in a fencer's stance, Wendel surges forward with supernatural speed. The damage inflicted is negligible but enemies in the line of fire are left stunned for 5 seconds. She mostly uses this skill outside of combat to traverse large distances faster.
Pack Mule (Passive): Wendel likes to hike. Movement speed remains unaffected by bag weight. Immunity to stamina-based debuffs.

Equipment: Knightly sword, heater shield, armor, Adventurer's Kit with extra comfy bedroll.

Others: Lucas is 28 and is set to wed next Spring. Joy is 24 and "too fuckdamn good for the bitches in this dagshit town". ("Drink some water and please stop coming back so late.")

Celestial Bonds

Horsing Around

Amelie | Wren | Yulia

_{A Collab by @banjoanjo @Baklava and @Lasrever}

---

𝓝𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓶𝓫𝓮𝓻 𝟖𝓽𝓱, 𝟏𝟑𝟐𝟕 / / 𝓐𝓾𝓼𝓯𝓮𝓵𝓭 / / 𝓒𝓪𝓻𝓻𝓲𝓭𝓪𝓷'𝓼 𝓔𝓼𝓽𝓪𝓽𝓮 / / 𝓜𝓸𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰

---

Horsey Horse Neigh Neigh, Wheeeeeee

Amelie eyed the stable horses warily, as concerned with them this morning as she had been the day before.

They were formidable creatures for sure. Special, with how out of reach they seemed. Outside of the travelling caravans that would pass through their village, the noble beasts were a rare sight. The churchmen had been a notable exception.

Amelie guessed that the horse's back was about as tall as her brow. That didn't seem like a good thing. She'd warned Wren about being trampled for a reason. Nonetheless, the brunette was determined not to fall behind, not while there was a noble in the near vicinity. Her shoulders squared themselves, and she willed her expression to remain still.

It wasn't so different from the one Wren wore, face neutral even while bullets of sweat gathered at the back of her neck. She didn't want to touch the horses, let alone ride them. She had to draw the line somewhere, didn't she?

Wren continued staring at the massive animals as she relayed a voiceless message to her compatriot, "M'not doing this."

As far as riding went, Yulia had no cause for concern; considering who she worked for, she'd been taught some time ago. Unworried by the upcoming lessons, she'd wasted no time in mounting her horse and taking the opportunity to properly look over the other pairs. They seemed... interesting, to put it charitably. Her gaze paused on the nearest two, the brown-haired girl and her dirt-covered companion.

The efforts to conceal their unease were admirable, but a neutral expression did little to hide how tense someone was, and she felt fairly certain of their discomfort. Not experienced riders, by her estimation, which made one pair; she'd have to wait and see how well the twins were faring, as well. She'd been fairly distant towards her partner, oddly enough; but in contrast the smile on her face was warm, all friendly concern - mixed with a little amusement - as she waited for the other pairs to get ready. "You'll get used to them faster than you expect, for what it's worth."

Oof. Were their nerves that obvious? Either way, she accepted the encouragement gratefully.

"Thank you, miss," Amelie bowed her head before turning to Wren. She placed her shaking hand on the seat of the saddle, summoning an encouraging smile. The horse huffed with the contact.

"See? It's not too bad. You don't even have to touch it!"

Were they serious? They couldn't be serious, could they? Wren frowned in alarm, her expression more severe as she looked from Yulia to Amelie.

"No."

"C'mon, just try putting your hand on one like how I'm doing. I heard that horses are really...f-friendly. And shy."

A pause as Amelie willed her hand to stop shaking. It worked, sort of. She got an idea.

"You're not scared of the poor old horsie, are you?" she said out loud, making sure someone outside the pair would hear. Apologies could come later.

What?! Bristling with frustration, Wren's gaze darted to Yulia and the others for a moment before she quickly hissed a response, "No, I am not scared of it."

She scowled, suddenly becoming aware of her partner's game.

"It just--" Wren searched for the words, "What's the point?"

"The longer you take to get on the horse, the more time you'll have to spend with them; they won't let you skip the lesson." Yulia's expression was sympathetic, assuming the girl's partner had little reason to lie about her fears. "As for usefulness, they can travel further than you, and faster, for longer. You'll need to ride, unless you think you can win a race with a horse."

Wren furrowed her brow, as if actually considering the possibility before providing a short nod. Either way, this seemed to be another one of those pesky 'requirements'. The list of which was growing longer and more horrible by the day. Next they'll be asking her sit in a tub of hot water. She sighed through her nose and looked back to Amelie, "You first."

Oh, gods.

Amelie continued grinning painfully. "No...problem...!"

As the girl opened her mouth to ask the instructor for assistance, a loud "Phew! About time, eh?" rang out. Lysandra Aulmoore yawned, trotting lazily around on her own horse.

"Come on, man, help the poor soul out!"

The instructor scowled but did as he was told, pulling out a mounting block he'd prepared for the beginners. He had told them to mount from the midsection, grabbing the reins and front of the saddle with one hand while keeping the stirrup steady in the other. Amelie did exactly that. With a burst of energy in her leg, she pulled her upper body onto the steed. Only her upper body.

"Um..." Amelie shivered, the blatant lack of solid ground against her soles becoming very daunting. The instructor helped her get the other leg over. However the damage had been done. Amelie was seated now, but was bent forward as if attempting to maintain fetal position despite both feet trapped firmly in the stirrups. She didn't dare look up.

"...S-see?" she looked to Wren, trying to follow the instructor's exasperated plea to straighten her back, "N-n-nothing to it..."

Boy, did that sound convincing. Wren frowned, scratching the back of her neck.

Alright. She was doing this. Adjusting her hat, cloak, and gloves, Wren bravely stepped towards her allotted steed. She eyed the horse warily as she took the reigns and side-stepped onto the block, prepared to react in case the animal made any sudden movements. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the tail flick and her head snapped towards it, lips pursing into a long, thin line.

Damnit. She took a deep breath, slipped one foot into the stirrup and jumped, quickly swinging her free leg up between herself and the horse. The resulting position left her gripping the horn and and some stray strap on the saddle while her knee pushed against her nose. She flexed her foot in the stirrup to little avail. Gods, why was this dumb thing so big?

Not wanting to be interfered with as Amelie had been, Wren grit her teeth and flailed until she finally managed to pull herself the rest of the way up. All the way up. All that tree climbing was paying off. Crouched with both feet planted in the seat, Wren cautiously gripped the saddle, choosing a position that would allow her to bail quickly should she need to.

The smallest trace of a satisfied smile pulled at her lips as she stared at the horse beneath her. She'd done it!

"...That doesn't look--nngh!" Amelie collapsed back into her crouched position, the will to push herself upright lost when the horse shifted below her.

Yulia had been finding a little more entertainment from the pair's struggle than she should have, but that changed as the smaller one leaped onto the saddle. Mentally preparing herself to rush over when this went horribly wrong, she stared at the girl in genuine bewilderment. "S-sit down! You'll fall!"

"Hm?" Wren glanced at the the woman with an offended frown. Her? Fall? Not a chance. And she wasn't about to start hugging the horse for dear life. Besides, this way seemed better. She felt much more in control. Choosing to ignore the advice, Wren reached for the reins. Now how was she supposed to get this thing going again?

"Oooh. Impressive, but that won't do, little girl," Aulmoore shrugged. She seemed disappointed that she wouldn't be able to see someone ride standing up, "If you want to get her to move, you need to squeeze her with both legs. Sitting."

Wren glowered. Who the hell was she calling little girl? Urgh. And what did she mean by 'squeeze'? She didn't want to think about having to wrap her legs around the creature. Thinking for a moment, Wren lowered her torso closer to the horse, reaching her arms out on either side. Maybe she could imitate it?

Temporarily dropping to one knee, Wren firmly clapped her hands on either side of the horse. Squeezing quickly shifted into scratching as the horse's body lurched forward. Her fingers dug into the side of the saddle as her balance entirely abadoned her. It was moving too much! She couldn't grab on!

Sucking air through her teeth in place of a scream, Wren unexpectedly began to slide right off the side of the horse. "Oof!" she attempted a one legged jump to get away, covering her head and rolling as she hit the ground. Thankfully the horse stepped over her and soon came to a stop, leaving the stubborn hermit curled up in a small cloud of dust.

Watching the girl topple, Yulia couldn’t feel too sympathetic, a muttered “told you so,” accompanying her own – far more deliberate – dismount. With a frown, she looked over to the crumpled heap on the floor, concern creeping in. At least the horse hadn’t trampled her, or there'd be far more to worry about. “Are you hurt?”

Wren laid there in defeat for a moment, reflecting on the events which had brought her there. Yes, it seemed horse riding was an activity best done seated after all. It was a mistake not to listen-- just as much as it was a mistake to come here. At the nearing voice, Wren pushed herself onto all fours, indignantly glancing up at Yulia for a moment before sighing. "Yes," she responded, a little dustier than before, but overall fine save for a red scrape on her cheek. Her layers of dingy clothing had at least accomplished that much. She quickly stood, not bothering to brush off the dirt as she straightened her hat and cloak. She frowned at several of the petals and leaves left behind on the ground, quickly picking up one particular twig of rosemary which was still in tact.

Yulia looked at the scrape, appearing to contemplate something for a couple of seconds before nodding to herself. Usually, she’d save her magic for something more dangerous, but she could handle riding a little tired, especially if it earned her some goodwill. Next time she’d bring some medical supplies. After a few seconds, the cut was healed, though Yulia noticeably winced upon the spell’s completion. Speaking loudly enough for the whole group to hear, she forced a slight smile.

“Try not to fall too often. I’m happy to help with any injuries, but it’s a little more straining than I’d like.”

Meanwhile, Amelie had been doing her best to dismount; a rather hapless effort since the instructor had been too distracted by Wren's fall to help her down. She eventually got it. After finally freeing her foot from the stirrup, Amelie swung her leg over with what seemed like a bizarre, horizontal cartwheel, landing in a splits-esque position with one foot still in the remaining stirrup.

"She's fallen from worse," Amelie panted, winded from the sudden spike of panic and still reeling from the height of the horse, "But that was way too close, Wren."

She turned to Yulia. "Thank you for your kindness. I hope it didn't tax you too much."

“Well…” Yulia yawned, turning to head back towards her horse. It wasn’t an entirely pleasant experience, to say the least. The suddenness of the fatigue seemed to have taken her by surprise, but she waved off the concern with a small smile. “It’s not so terrible. You never know, the practice might do me good.”

Wren rubbed at the smooth place on her cheek where the scrape once was, not fully comprehending who was responsible at first. She spent a good amount of time trying to find it. She hardly noticed Amelie when she spoke to her.

When it seemed as though Yulia might be returning to her horse, Wren spoke up, "How did you do that?"

Yulia paused, looking back at the girl with a smile. “It’s magic, of course. One of you two should have your own, if I'm not mistaken. Mine heals.”

"Wren is the mage in our pair," Amelie smiled, relieved. "It's really cool."

Wren pursed her lips. It was cool... but maybe not that cool. Healing injuries immediately like that seemed like a pretty useful trick. At least her abilities could keep people from bothering her too badly. She chose not expand beyond a small shrug.

“Is that so? In that case, I’ll look forward to seeing it.” Yulia nodded towards Wren - seemingly respectfully - before looking over to their instructor and grimacing. As much as she’d have liked to ask for some more information now, they did have a lesson to continue after all. Her smile became apologetic as she stepped away. “While I’d love to hear more from you both, maybe that should be saved for another time. I fear our teachers might be getting a little impatient.” With that, the servant departed, heading away to remount her horse.

A Certain Variegated Pseudepigraphum [Toaru/Raildex RPG]

GEORGE ELLINGTON

---

George felt some responsibility for the fake out this whole night turned out to be.

Maybe if he hadn’t been bashing Purp’s ears so hard, the ‘razzi doll wouldn’t’ve wriggled outta his mitts. The ‘beatnik’ watched in gobsmacked dismay as the other arrival, some brickhouse brunette, popped the clutch and tore ass after the photographer. Well, George might’ve been a total fat-head in a fight but if it was a chase that needed to be run, he was your guy. He’d have to go hard after this false start though. With a crouch of his long legs, he felt his power swell around him, and he took off with an explosive leap.

Speaking of ‘explosive’…

The ear-smashing bang caught the group as soon as his feet left the ground. The edge of the Hot Box dug painfully into his back. There was no time to react, no time to revert. Gravity still borderline eradicated, the kinetic force of the blast threw the boy upwards and outwards, his terrified screech thankfully masked by the noise of the explosion as he ascended past the skyline.

—(••[ 𝕎𝕀𝕊ℍ𝔼𝔸𝕋𝔼ℝ ]••)—

Tell me if links are bad bois. Won't put this in IC post until the Xander stuff is added.

Post-Estate Interaction Period

Wednesday (Oct. 7)

6:30am – Siena cracked her phone like some dumdum. Callan has problems controlling her dumdum face.
10:30am – Welcome (back) to USARILN East.
After Arrival – Emma is good at triangles. Best Girl enters the fray and fills the Unit’s Punk Girl quota. (alone in the dark)
4:00pm – Sander slobbers all over a poor defenseless Christmas. Christmas is a shy gay. (my fire, my faith)
5:00pm – Brent is bad at office administration. Rosa encourages children to play with sharp things. (Acquisition)
?????? – Angelique gets a check up.

Thursday (Oct. 8)

5:00am – Ernie bitches about people (no surprise there). Brent reveals his lapse of retardation. (Ernie and Brent: Working Things Out)
5:00am – Ernie is a South American crime lord. Zoe is a filthy pig. (Ernie and Zoe: Insinuations and Initiated Investigations)
11:00am – Callan continues her endless reign of destruction over Suite 430. Marcus gets sexy texts from his older sister’s friend. Weird. (Pep Talks and Toast)
12:00pm – Callan continues her endless reign of destruction over the USARILN East campus. Rosa gets a boo-boo. (Permission Slip Up)
12:30pm – Callan continues her endless reign of second-hand embarrassment over Ernie. Ernie does a decent Matrix impression. (Barely Aware)
1:00pm – Hazel is good at names. Siena doesn’t ruin her clothes this time. The mime wins.
1:30pm – Zoe gets a boo-boo and also there’s backstory stuff. (Solo Post: Built for This)
2:00pm – Marcus gets robbed. Emma was likely a low-key Satanist. Determination don’t play by no rules. (Emma and Marcus – Bubble and Trouble)
5:00pm – Callan judges a book by a cover Emma briefly described. What a butt. Brent is a weirdo stalker man. (How’s Your Fine?)
6:00pm – Callan has shit taste in everything. Emma is a filthy hipster.
7:00pm – Siena is good at Google. Zoe is bad at school. (Zoe & Siena: Nobody Needs to Know)
9:30pm – Kusari hallucinates biblical figures. Callan hallucinates Angelic figures. (Knock On Wood)

Friday (Oct. 9)

9:00am – Fantasy Costco, where all your dreams come true! GOT A DEAL FOR YOU! Ernie leaves a Shrek cosplay behind. Siena is a benevolent piano teacher. (Ernie and Siena: Shopping and Not-So-Much Truth Dropping)
3:00pm – Callan thinks Determination is cool, an opinion that’ll definitely last for the long-term. Emma is a coffee snob. Determination does sex jokes?? (Emma and Callan – Déjà Vu)
9:00pm – Brent cops a feel. Siena suffers, as usual. (Brent’s Spaghetti)

Saturday (Oct. 10)

9:00am – Zoe explains how Marcus is gonna win. Not fighting what he hates, saving what he loves. Also Marcus is bad at running.
9:00am – Ernie continues his endless reign of noise pollution over the Aberration Dorms. Allison ain’t afraid to cut a bitch. (Ernie and Allison: Hallway Hassling)
10:00am – Kusari finds her muse. Brent vogues. Siena suffers, as usual. (Like One of Your French Girls)
2:00pm – Ernie wants to trick-or-treat like some dumb little BABY. Emma is bad at arts and crafts. (Emma and Ernie – A Pleasant Chat)
7:00pm – Brent has the flyest ride in the hood. Siena is bad at chopsticks. (“EAT THIS!” “NEVER!”)

Sunday (Oct. 11)

2:00am – Marcus has a wet dream. Callan fakes a medical degree. Siena is clueless. Tater Tot lurks in the shadows.
10:00am – Emma gets no answers. Brent endorses the Church of Rosa Schur. (Catching the Dream)
6:00pm – Allison is a conspiracy nut. Zoe is a bad, bad friend. (Zoe & Allison: Giving Up the Ghost)

Monday (Oct. 12)

10:00am – Ernie makes a girl cry again. Come on, dude. Callan falls asleep on someone else’s bed like a fucking WEIRDO. (Ernie and Callan: Bad News)
11:00am – Marnie Domestic AU. Don’t like, don’t read. OR: That one time Marcus and Ernie did a shitty reinterpretation of that scene from that John Green book. (Ernie and Marcus: Clearing Things Up)
2:00pm – Sander corners Ernie in the bathroom and somehow it is not as gay as it sounds. Ernie gets his slamjam on. (Ernie and Sander: Toilet Troubles)
2:30pm - Christmas didn't stutter once in this one. Did y'all notice that? Sander is bad at Spot the Difference. (my hallowed hell, your hollow heart)
4:00pm - Sander recaps his garbage Spot the Difference skills. Christmas doesn't do much but he's definitely gay in this one. (my shooting star, gravity bound)
6:00pm – Chris reaches peak baby bitch. Brent prays to Bullet RNG-sus. (Saints and Dragons)
After – Brent shines bright like a diamond. Siena is bad at emojis. (Re:)
7:00pm – Sander bleh
7:00pm – Callan ensures heart problems via energy drink for the long term. Grant is an enabler and occasional shouty boi. (Wish Granted)
8:00pm – Chris is a whiny baby man. Zoe works at Hot Topic. (Zoe & Chris: Naked Anger)
8:30pm – Grant unveils his master technique. UNLIMITED PET WORKS. Callan raids the dog treats (probably not the first time, amirite). Siena gets a new roommate, whether she likes it or not. (Pure Therapy)
10:30pm – Callan becomes PETA’s nemesis. Zoe supports her illegal activity. (Empty Encouragement)

Tuesday (Oct. 13)

2:00am - Christmas reenacts an R. Kelly classic. Sander is bad at everything. Alvin's Yeezys aren't mentioned ONCE JAN, WHAT THE HELL. (my bitter taste, my hours wasted)
9:00am – Ernie vents at something that isn’t a time-frozen mannequin. Weird. Zoe is still a filthy pig. (Ernie and Zoe: Baking and Blaming)
9:00am – Callan bribes for friendship points. Determination makes a verbal boo-boo. Ernie shoots his goo all over the place. Emma is a double texter, which definitely won’t have its consequences in the long term. (Callan and Determination, Ernie and Callan, Callan and Emma: Callan Actually Cleans Something For Once)
1:00pm – THE SAV TALK AAAAAA. Ernie goes bungee jumping. Brent is a weeaboo. Siena gets ‘nam flashbacks. Marcus gets physically and emotionally beaten and it’s a thing.
6:30pm – Brent gets a roommate. Siena is bad at catching.
8:00pm – Callan almost sees the moon. Hazel grasps that shaft. (Will You Train With Me?)
12:00am – Sander can show you the world~~ Callan laments her single status. (Floating)

Wednesday (Oct. 14)

1:00am – Zoe is a conspiracy nut. Margot endorses underage bar hopping. (Zoe & Margot: Answers)
8:00am – Callan is a fucking weenie IDIOT. Determination falls on the wrong side of the Vicky Mendoza Diagonal. (Secrets Out)
After – Determination is TOO GOOD, MAN.
9:00am - Sander is good at money. Christmas poses for an inevitable future Jan commission.
11:00am – Ernie doesn’t study for Sander’s test. Sander is suspicious. Emma is fit for the interrogation room. (Ernie, Sander and Emma: Laundry and Leisurely Lying)
12:00pm – The title says it all. Ernie disrupts the Waffle House peace. Callan is a hecking weirdo but like more than usual.
3:00pm – Zoe continues to ruin the lives of Unit B. Zhang’s just here for a good time. (Zoe & Zhang: Making it Personal)

—(••[ 𝕎𝕀𝕊ℍ𝔼𝔸𝕋𝔼ℝ ]••)—

RIP SAP

Ernie | Marcus | Brent | Siena

_{A Collab by @Chasers115 @ERode and @Papitan}

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𝕋𝕦𝕖: 𝕆𝕔𝕥. 𝟙𝟛, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘 / / 𝕌𝕊𝔸ℝ𝕀𝕃ℕ 𝔼𝕒𝕤𝕥 / / 𝕋𝕣𝕒𝕚𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝔾𝕣𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕕𝕤 / / 𝟙𝟛𝟘𝟘

---

Surprise Attack

Ernie stuck his head around the corner, scanning every possible location until he was satisfied that the coast is clear. From behind the wall, he emerged, wielding formidable containers in both hands. In his left, a bulky first-aid kit, far too large for use on an active battlefield. In his right, a picnic basket. Both were gently placed in a location hidden from most angles as the Aberration pulled his phone out, accessing the Team SAP group chat.

"Setting up now how long til bday girl comes"

It was a very difficult endeavor for Marcus to try and hide his texting from Siena, playing it off under the guise of texting Max. Still, he was worried that at any moment, she'd look over and the entire thing would be ruined. So, he'd tried to distract her with small talk everytime his phone buzzed.

"So where are we going again?" he asked, knowing full well where they were going.

T-minus 5-10, do I need to distract?

5-10 is perfet for me. Any idea where brent is tho?

Late. Stall a bit longer.

Looks like its up to yuo marco

Fortunately for Marcus, Siena was preoccupied with their plans for the day. The last thing she really wanted was for any serious injury, and while she doubted that would be the case with training knives, there was always the potential. Glancing at Marcus at his inquiry, the girl took a moment to process it. A small upturn of the corner of her lips indicated some attempt at a smile, though it wasn't really the warmest one she could muster.

"Training grounds. You're not having second thoughts about getting poked and jabbed, are you?"

"It's entirely possible that I'm having some second thoughts, yes." Marcus said. That part wasn't a stalling tactic; he was honestly a little bit worried about knife sparring, especially considering the Ernie had speared him through the leg with an arrow not that long ago. Who knew what he could do with a knife?

"Whoops. Hang on a second, my shoelace is untied." he added, kneeling down to tie his laces very slowly. Hopefully they didn't need too much time, because there were only so many ways he could draw this out.

"You really must be having second thoughts." Siena glanced down at Marcus's oddly slow procedure of tying his shoe. "I'm sure that they'll only stab you a little bit, but you don't have to come if you don't want to."

"Nono, I do want to come." Marcus said sheepishly, finishing his knot. Apparently that one hadn't exactly been subtle enough. "I definitely need the training, or at least the practice. I'm just...not super confident in the other two."

For varying reasons.

"Do you think we should get more band-aids? I've got this whole box of Precursor ones back at the suite we can use..." he said, jerking his thumb back towards the dorms.

"That sounds a little unsettling," Siena replied with a faint chuckle. "And I don't think having Benediction's face plastered over a cut will really make it heal any faster."

Still, the girl slowed her pace to a stop, facing her roommate with a cautious smile. Not entirely happy, she reminded herself--something that did its best to remove malice.

"If it makes you feel more comfortable, I'm reasonably certain that I can keep any serious injuries from happening, and relatively confident that I can fix anything that needs immediate attention." One way or another. The brunette let her lips twist upward into something closer to teasing as she rounded off the thought. "Buuuut if having the Precursor band-aids makes you feel safer, we can always go get them."

"Ech. Even if Bene did heal them faster, all I've got left are Kadabra. And he's got a weird bug-eye thing going on. It's super unsettling." Marcus said, grimacing a little and shaking his head.

The whole 'distraction' thing was starting to delve more into issues that he wasn't certainly he wanted to face. Would Siena being there make him feel more comfortable...or less? Somewhere in his mind, they were at the estate again; Siena calling into account how much he actually trusted her.

But this was a lot of introspection over some dumb bandaids.

"Can we? Just as a secondary Plan C? When you guys are all bleeding and I'm panicking?" Marcus said, attempting to sound as innocent as he physically could.

"Oh, ye of little faith. I sincerely doubt I'll be bleeding much," the girl replied with a light tone, but she realized in the back of her head that she wasn't entirely sure how serious the statement was. "But if you're that concerned, we can grab whatever you need from the dorm. The point is to make you feel more prepared, not like you've run through a battlefield."

---

It was a few moments later, and Marcus was sincerely hoping that his stall tactics had given Brent and Ernie enough time. There really wasn't much more he could do without arousing Siena's suspicion, and he was growing increasingly nervous as it appeared that neither of them were present. "Well...we're here!" he said, trying not to allow his uneasiness to show through.

Overhead, a tall figure was watching the Arbiters approach the training ground. With practiced efficiency, he dived down to deliver the perfect sneak attack, a cord trailing from his feet.

"SURPRISE!" Ernie shouted into Siena's face, noticeably golden and upside down. It seemed that he was hanging by his feet, his rope suspended metres in the air.

Siena had a few possibilities in mind when they arrived and the training ground seemed to be empty.

What was effectively someone pulling a Spiderman maneuver and shouting in her face was not one of those possibilities.

'Whattheholymotherfuckshitwhatthefuck?!'

Her body jerked back, her feet spacing themselves to better brace her, eyes widening in surprise as her mind tore through plausible reactions. Not enough time for her phone first, didn't have a source up and at the ready--what the fuck--she'd have to hope that her own strength was enough. Every makeshift plan fired through her head in the blink of an eye, and she felt her arm draw up, fist made--shouldn't have stepped back, that removed the option of using a knee or elbow effectively--prepared to drive forward in the moment of blind instinct.

The spectacle was amazing, really! He wasn't sure what Ernie had up his sleeve, but the sudden bungee-jump dive surprise was a neat little show. Hell, he was in the middle of giving Ernie a round of applause when he saw Siena's stance shift. Despite all the past experiences he had, and the fact that he absolutely should have expected this, he still didn't. This whole situation was more a point against him for not warning Ernie than anything else.

"Woah woah woah!" Marcus exclaimed in surprise, nearly leaping to grab Siena's hand before she could knock Ernie around like the pinata he resembled.

While Ernie was bungee jumping, Brent had been in position as well, silver circuitry racing down his forearms to overclock the party popper he had bought at the last minute. Fireworks had been a miss with Siena, but surely this wouldn't be as bad?

...no, he was totally doing this just to see what sort of reaction he got.

Wheeling around the corner after 'surprise' rang out, the arbiter pointed the popper at Ernie's suspended back, before letting it rip, a resounding 'FWEEEEEEEE' sounding before strings of colorful silk and glitter shot out with explosive force, saturating the immediate area with prismatic garbage that he had no intention of cleaning up. WIth a big fat grin, he leaned over to the side and called out (hopefully in unison to Rope Boi), "Happy birthday, 'ena!"

Too many things at once. Hand was caught on something, a pop that should have made her flinch, strings of color showering down. Too many things going at once. Her heart thundered, blood pounding in her ears, and the need to reason out what she was doing shut down, replaced by a much stronger need to survive.

That was probably most unfortunate for the single person that had nothing to do with invoking the reaction.

Fluidly, her feet pushed her away from the offending presences, closer to the one keeping her in place and hindering the very real need to respond to a flight or fight impulse. Unfortunately for Marcus, he was in the way of the "flight" instinct, which only left one option. She dropped her weight, one foot rising to slam down into the nearest unfamiliar foot, a heightened sense of danger pushing her to twist slightly to allow easier access for her free elbow to swing into the space behind her with as much strength as panic could muster.

'Oh my god, that's his face?!!'

Explosions, confetti. These guys really had everything planned out. It was a shame Siena had just tried to punch Ernie.

"Oh yeah, I should have mentioned, Siena's not good wi- OWCH!" Marcus started his apology, cut off by Siena stomping on his foot. He looked down for a brief moment to see what it was that was actually crushing his toes, before shooting an angry look at Siena. A look that wouldn't been seen past her own elbow.

"Oh, shi--!"

CRUNCH.

Oh boy. Crunch wasn't a good noise. Especially not when it was coming from his nose.

Marcus was vaguely aware of a pressure on his face, and a warmth. His thoughts were a little muddled by the ensuing concussion, a thousand little dialogues firing off at once.

Where had it all gone wrong? Why was his face so warm all of the sudden? Was he falling? Or was the ground rising? Was he on an elevator? That would explain things. Everything smelled funny. Man, his nose was really runny; hopefully someone brought a box of tissues. Rewind? That was silly - he wasn't even watching a movie! Man, Siena looked pissed. Who made her so mad? Why was there so much fog around? Was he doing a cartwheel? He couldn't cartwheel! Well, maybe he cou-

And then he crumpled to the floor. Like a five dollar sack of potatoes.

---

Birthday Bashing

Eyes colored gold with the ability and name of her favored healer, Siena had chosen to remain faithful to the duty of fixing her roommate's face.

It was hard to believe that she'd managed, for the third time in a month, to hit the scarred boy directly in the face. With Marcus too far out of his wits to rewind the damage, Siena had found that profuse apology wasn't a viable option, and instead settled for fixing Marcus's very damaged nose. Without having to rely on a secondary ability to numb the pain, the brunette was able to at least deal with the worst of it with only a few pulls of the name--odd that Skonos had lingered longer that time than she ever had before. Still, the bruise had been a signal of the unfortunate event.

Grimacing, Siena focused on trying to fix that too.

"I can't believe I hit him in the face again."

Who could have seen this tragedy coming? No one, that's who.

While Siena wrapped up her healing magic deal, Brent was busy mentally absolving himself of any sort of guilt that may have spawned from watching his scarred buddy do a cartwheel after being elbowed in the face by a scrawny white chick. Yup, this was clear indication that Marcus needed to start working out his face muscles. Maybe he'd be more receptive than Emma to a workout routine? The arbiter took a bit of a corndog. Yup, that'll be his birthday present, whenever the hell that was.

"No worries," Brent said airily, "I'm sure we can all agree that this was just a misfortunate accident, 'ena. Get all the bad luck out of the way BEFORE we bring knives and swords into the mix, eh?"

"That doesn't sound too bad," Ernie chimed from a distance away. There was only about the third of the silk and streamers left to pick up, though he still hadn't thought up a way to clean up the glitter. Maybe there'd be a broom in Ground Zero... "Wait, did you say 'again'?"

"I didn't hit him with my elbow the other times..." As if that made any of it better. Siena grimaced at the memories. "Though I still feel terrible about it."

" 'Times'? With an 's'?!"

"Totes wild," Brent said, chuckling, "'ena's basically got Terminator reflexes, ya know? First one I recall was back in DC, where Marcus popped out from between clothes and got a...right jab, was it?"

"T-Terminator reflex--that's not a good thing." The girl grimaced again, scolding herself slightly when she felt an uncanny tugging sensation in the back of her mind for letting her focus drift too far. "I just...don't do well being startled."

"Yeah," Ernie sighed, "that one's on me. Sorry, Siena."

"I'll keep that in mind for future hijinks too," Brent replied, even if it was totally up in the air as to whether or not he'd continue to mine this little quirk for entertainment value, "And hey, it's not totally a bad thing. If a mugger leaps at you from the darkness, you'll be the one elbowing him in the face instead of screaming and doing nothing!"

"Uuuuurghl..." Marcus softly moaned, slowly opening his eyes. Blurriness slowly formed together to actually become the world, and Marcus squinted in confusion as his eyes attempted to focus on the closest object. It was...a person...small...female...

"Siena?" he muttered out loud, slowly sitting up. Why was he on the floor? He blinked a few times, trying to regain his bearings. Training Ground. They were in the Training Grounds. And....Ernie and Brent were here too. Things were starting to come back to him. Including what had actually occurred. After only a few moments of blankly staring into space, he'd reestablished his surroundings and actions.

"Did...you punch me in the face? ...Again?" He said, gingerly touching his nose.

"I-I'm sorry..." And she really was. "Try not to move too much, I'm almost done fixing the damage."

"Why me?"

"Um...well..." Siena winced a little as she tried to reason out the most plausible explanation. "If I had to venture a guess, I'd say probably because there was only one of you behind me to keep me from bolting?"

"Sounds about right," Brent added unhelpfully, "Between us gym bros, breaking past definitely wasn't an option." Ernie cackled heartily in the background.

"From now on, I'm wearing a goalie's mask around you." Marcus said, the last of daze finally clearing as he shot an irritated look to both Brent and Ernie. Lots of help they were. Team SAP...more like Team...something else.

Maybe the daze wasn't completely cleared.

"On the topic of hockey masks and ice skates, seguing into blades," the amethyst eyed arbiter spoke, "Let's get that cake up and out here, Ernie! Get a preview of 'ena's knife skills and all."

"Sounds good!"

Reaching into the picnic basket, Ernie pulled out his creation. The icing practice had gone well, many delicately piped flowers bordering the piece. A neatly written (and spelled) 'HAPPY BIRTHDAY' sat at the top, as well as an unlit candle that read '17' in bold red lettering.

It was only an instant, but she knew that the mask had failed. A flicker of something between hurt and betrayal that was just as effectively overwritten by confusion. She couldn't deny that the cake looked immaculately prepared. She couldn't deny that part of her wanted to feel good about the fact that they'd cared enough to put something together.

A much larger part was utterly uncertain of how the information had gotten out to begin with.

"H-how did you know it was my birthday?"

"Uhhh," Ernie frowned. That flicker of emotion hadn't been sustained enough to make him feel bad but, between this and the reaction to the friendly surprise, it certainly hadn't looked good. "The school gives out that information if you want it. And then Marcus confirmed so...I'm sorry, was that not okay?"

Before Marcus could even come up with an excuse, Ernie had thrown him under the bus. A painful and ill-advised facepalm was quickly turned into a 'my bad' face, as Marcus could nearly predict the accusatory glare he was going to get from Siena.

How? Her gaze slipped toward her roommate, still confused and uncertain, but she replaced the expression with a sheepish grin. Sort of.

"I-It's fine, I was um..." Careful. "Just trying not to make it a big deal or anything. I didn't really want to think too hard about it."

Not entirely inaccurate, if not quite the truth either.

"Right...sorry, man. If we knew birthdays weren't your thing we never would have shoved this on you."

"Oh, no, I...think I'm flattered?" Nervously, Siena tugged at the end of a stray lock of hair. "I've never really had anyone around that put this much effort into a birthday."

Was that weird? She had a sinking suspicion that she should have kept that to herself.

"Maya just used it as a count to--" A moment of hesitation, and a helpless shrug to make the entire matter seem smaller. "--to remind me that I had to be ready by this year to be properly shown off, I guess."

"That sucks." Marcus muttered from his still-sitting position. Birthdays were supposed to be special, not just showcases for the model child. Another of a long list of things ruined by Siena's upbringing. A list which was starting to make Marcus bitter for his fellow roommate.

"Well, hey! A proper birthday today! It's a celebration of you, for you, and to be enjoyed primarily by you. And next time we'll try and remember not to do anything surprising. Even remotely." he gave a chuckle with the last part, which was hopefully indicator enough that there were no hard feelings.

Uwah, things got heavy real fast. Though he had really just trusted that Ernie/Marcus's information was accurate, Brent hadn't actually considered how they knew to begin with. Still...

"Eyup, let's have some wholesome fun before we start stabbing at each other!" A zippo lighter spun into his hand, the lick of flame setting the candle ablaze. "Now, just like we rehearsed, guys!"

They didn't rehearse, but a birthday song as basic as this didn't need to be, right?

Rehearsed?

'What are they going t--oh. Uh...' They were singing, and she had no idea what she was supposed to do. Smile? Expect it? She settled for trying to grin through the entire performance. It didn't entirely work, she was certain.

It was a learning experience, at least. An awkward, stumbling, learning experience that was made worse by the fact that she didn't know why, after their song, her training comrades were staring at her like they were expecting her to do something--it was not until an agonizing awkward silence had passed that someone decided to tell her to blow out the candle. Of course, that had gone badly when Ernie had innocuously asked if she'd made a wish--apparently a birthday tradition because when she had foolishly admitted that she had not, in fact, made a wish, the Aberration had Brent relight the candle. When all was said and done, Siena was fairly certain that the only thing she had done even remotely correctly was cut the cake, and that was only because that, at least, had been self-explanatory.

...at least the cake was good.

---

Knife Prep

Well, that was over...quickly? Yeah, Brent was happy enough that all the party festivities and eating was done. There were no happy birthday cards, only a set of cute dog (Tater Tot?) sweaters gifted to Siena from someone who wasn't even there, but he was happy that they could get a selfie of the birthday girl and the members of Team SAP, all awkwardly smiling in front of a half-demolished cake. Perhaps offering her the katana for cutting the cake wasn't the most brilliant idea? ...no, these were the memories that they'd keep with them when they grew gray and old. Totally worth it then.

Doing a few dynamic stretches to get his body warmed up and his blood flowing, Brent rotated his shoulders clockwise as he paced around.

"We ready to go in a bit for some fun, festive Birthday Stabbing Lessons?"

"Should you be so pumped up to stab someone?" Ernie joked, clearing the paper plates, "People might get the wrong idea."

"I wouldn't count on it being 'fun' or anything..." Understatement of the century, really. "It's not exactly as flashy as it is in popular media."

"Good thing we're not popular then."

"Speak for yourself, neeeerrrd." Marcus said with a laugh, walking over to give Ernie his plate and playfully jabbing Brent with his elbow as he did.

"Oof. Better watch out or you're gonna get shoved in a locker, Brent." Ernie grinned along.

"You're all incorrigible." Siena gave a mock-sigh before drawing her phone, tapping the screen to life, glancing through her sources, flicking through the list until she came upon the ones she'd prepared specifically for their training session. "All jokes aside, we should get started if we want to get much practice in."

Speaking of which...

"Other than Brent's...katana, I guess our equipment is limited to what I have...?"

"I brought band-aids!" Marcus said, unhelpfully as always.

"Well," Brent replied whilst lovingly carressing his probably-authentic katana, "We do have those knives."

"I still can't believe you bought that thing," Ernie chuckled. He wasn't sure why Siena made 'encourageable' sound like a bad thing so he moved past it, " 'Those'? Did how many did you bring, Siena?"

"A few, but they're all a bit on the older side." Older meaning 'outdated', but if it had a sharp edge, it would do. With a faint motion toward the sole bag she'd arrived with, the brunette didn't seem to be bothered by her own possession of legitimate weaponry. "You're free to take whichever ones you want. It's not like Gerwulf was using them when I left."

"Ladies first," Brent gestured towards Marcus.

"Yeah? Well, age before beaut- wait. Dammit." Marcus started, cutting himself off abruptly when he realized that phrase didn't work in his favor either. "I'll go. Not because you told me to." he said, glaring at Brent as he pulled a random knife out of Siena's bag. Wasn't like there'd be much difference between them; a knife was a knife, after all.

Ernie moved to pick one out too, though he put more consideration into it and took a weapon that didn't look as worn. As he did, he shot Marcus a glance that read something along the lines of 'Dude, why does your roommate have an entire bag of knives?'. It didn't seem like a safe question to ask out loud, especially when said owner of the bag of knives was right in front of them.

Brent grabbed one as well. No real difference, really, and if he ACTUALLY had to tryhard, these knives were one overclock away from becoming quality combat blades anyways.

Something like butterflies landed in the pit of her stomach. Ah, somehow it felt odd, being the one teaching how to hold a knife. She pocketed her phone, flashed an apologetic smile, and was in action.

Ths was how she'd first learned it too, wasn't it?

It wasn't in line with the usual, hesitant movements the girl took. Each step served a purpose in closing a short distance toward Ernie, each mechanical motion engrained so deep into memory that it was more reflex than thought as she grabbed for clothing with her off-hand--Guess off-hand's misleading for you--her free hand moving in equal measure for what would have been a stabbing motion had there been an actual weapon in her hand.

Ernie, whose attention had unwisely been on the scuffs of the borrowed sheath instead of the stabbing instructor, let out a small yelp as he was dragged to Siena. Fuck, he hadn't even seen her move! His gaze moved warily to where the knife would have been.

Her movements stopped short, of course. Not as precise as Gerwulf's would have been, her hand several inches away rather than a hair's breadth. The Arbiter released her grip while stepping back, expression still apologetic.

"Case in point on the popular media thing. Nobody's going to announce they're coming at you with a knife for a challenge." It had been significantly less pleasant when she'd first learned that lesson, and Maya had given Gerwulf an irate seminar about the entire ordeal. Siena wasn't certain whether that was a memory she enjoyed. "Most of the time, if it comes down to it, you won't have time to draw your weapon."

Ernie took a quick step back as soon as he was released, taking a nervous breath. "Alrighty. Lesson definitely learned."

"Glad you're the guinea pig, Erns!" Marcus said, chuckling from what he believed was a safe distance away.

"Zero to a hundred real fast, huh?" Brent remarked, still becoming accustomed to the weight of the knife itself. "So is the plan here that...technique doesn't matter if they get the jump on you?"

"It's not a plan, just a point. Knives aren't exactly a tool for prolonging a fight," Siena noted while glancing at the knife in Brent's hand. "They're for ending a fight, and the fact we have superpowers won't mean much if someone slits our throats before we can react."

That sounded a little too serious, so she gave a helpless shrug, tried to bring herself a step away from Gerwulf.

"At least, as far as the four of us go. Entirely different story for the durable ones."

Ernie frowned. slightly bummed that he wasn't included in what Siena considered the 'durable ones'. Guess he still wasn't a Callan or Kusari or Sander.

"Gotta hit 'em hard and fast, or get hit yourself," he nodded, saying out loud to absorb it properly. It was pretty much in line with Devon's philosophies and had worked well while it lasted.

Marcus hummed thoughtfully. 'Hard and fast' was pretty much specifically what his power was all about, but being in a position where he actually had to fight wasn't really his forte, despite how often it seemed to be occurring. Perfect for either evacuating people quickly...or for lethal hit-and-run tactics. Something to think about, for sure.

"Hm...so with that line of thought...what are you going to teach us, 'ena? We gonna go through the boot camp of hell to increase our awareness of our surroundings to thwart assassins?"

"Hardly. I'm going to show you how to use a knife." That was what they'd agreed on, wasn't it? She shifted her weight slightly out of nerves moreso than anything else. "That said, I was only taught how to use a knife on...um..." The brunette grimaced. "Things that work like people. So don't...don't count on the same theories working on things that are significantly less human-looking."

But they'd faced off against subnaturals more often than abnormal creations at that point, and the idea of being targeted was still fresh enough in her head. She kept that to herself.

"Anyways, for now we can focus on where you should aim your knife and...I guess how to avoid getting stabbed if someone does get the jump on you." It occurred to the brunette that she probably wasn't being very encouraging for a first lesson. Again, she tried to correct herself. "Though if it's any consolation, you'll all probably catch on how not to get stabbed a lot faster than I did?"

Ernie raised his hand as if it were an actual classroom, again looking over a vast part of Siena's words.

What the fuck does learning 'how not to get stabbed' mean?!

"For the aiming thing, are we going for lethal and...non-lethal?" He reined his confusion in for now. "Like, are we gonna learn how to just disable people with sharp stuff?"

"Non-lethal, primarily. I don't really think I like the idea of teaching you guys how to actually kill a person."

Marcus remained very quiet for that statement, finding extreme interest in the design on the knife sheath instead. Ernie couldn't help but have his gaze flicker in the scarred Arbiter's direction but otherwise responded with a simple, "Cool, thanks."

"Would imagine that it'd be pretty simple how to move onto killing someone after disarming them anyways," Brent shrugged, either not noticing or not caring about Marcus's sudden silence. "But cool, we gonna be pairing off? Or are we going to be imagining peeps for this exercise?"

"Let's work on demonstrations before we get to stabbing each other."

---

Opportunity

Siena had been mostly right. Mostly. Her trio of students did pick up not getting stabbed faster than she had, though she wasn't entirely certain whether that was a matter of their ability or her lack of it. The girl had decided that it wasn't worth the anxiety to keep thinking on it, and certainly not worth the potential injury that a distracted mind would result in. Demonstrations had been easy enough with the use of an illusionist's abilities, particularly when demonstrating how to actually stab an opponent.

Allowing herself to be cut by an illusory knife for the sake of "teaching" was also much less painful than getting hit by a solid one, sheathed or otherwise.

It was unfortunate, of course, that illusions weren't ideal for practice with actual impact, and her ability to solidify them was...not nearly enough for their purposes, but that was where the benefit of having partners came from...right? They were all about the same level, right?

"Cool. Cool, cool," Ernie said mostly to himself as he faced his training partner. He hadn't thought this part of the session through. Obviously they'd have to face off together at some point but...man, he really didn't want to straight up shank any of them. Luckily Siena had said it was okay to leave the sheaths on. He observed the stance she'd used and imitated it well.

"So do we count down from three then jump each other?" he asked his partner and official instructor.

"We'll start slow. I'll try to attack, and you counter. Remember, a few scrapes with the sheath when you counter is fine--nobody really ever gets out of an encounter with a knife without a few cuts." Even if one of the two had virtually no training with a knife. "No countdowns though--kind of counterintuitive to lesson one if we do that."

Reminding herself to start at a reasonable pace, Siena gave herself a moment before starting her movements once more. Your typical knife attack will have one hand trying to immobilize so the knife has easier access. She imitated the motions she remembered in her head, one hand prepared to immobilize Ernie's knife hand, the other keeping the sheathed blade brandished without being too overt. Not as neat as her instructor, but it would pass.

"Yeah, I think I'll take a pass on the cuts," Ernie summoned his glow, "But--yah!"

Luckily, he'd been paying attention to Siena this time. He saw the knife whip towards him, as well as the free hand. Right, don't let yourself get pinned. But heck, he only had one knife. What was he supposed to do with that free hand while he was trying not to get snatched?

No more thinking time. It was a sloppy action. The Aberration's knife swiped at Siena's empty hand while the other hand blindly aimed to grab the knife hand by the wrist.

Not quite what she'd expected.

The sheathed knife slid across Siena's palm, and the girl mentally commanded it to flinch back like it would have, had the blade been brandished to bite into her skin. Her attention, however, was on her knife, watching as Ernie seemed to forget, for a brief moment, that it wasn't entirely wise to try and stop a hand with a knife in it at a small target. Without breaking her rhythm, Siena simply changed her trajectory, "injured" hand back in play, grasping for the now-exposed elbow to gain control over the opposing weapon, her own weapon hand suddenly jerking out of its original pathway, now aimed for a higher target.

Slashing at the empty hand had done nothing but expose the arm wielding the knife. Butts. That was his own fault for going for such a half-assed approach. This time Ernie concentrated on the groping hand. Seeing the knife go high, he went low, trying to grab at the free hand to yank her off balance and strike her in the torso then.

Better.

Siena could see the movements, where they would lead, and knew she had a counter for them filed away in the back of her head.

She didn't do more than adjust her steps to barely keep her from staggering into the strike entirely, muscles tensed to both brace and maintain her position.

"Little slow on the start, but not bad on the follow up." She glanced down at the point of impact. "Though you should aim lower if you can. No ribs to hit down here."

'Little slow' seemed like an understatement but Ernie was pleased with the comments nonetheless. Easiest way to learn was from your mistakes.

"Okay, thank you!" Ernie chimed and got back into position, "Go again?"

"Alright, I'm going to go a little faster this time." The brunette quickly calculated her next move. "I guess we should work out dealing with powers after you get the hang of this."

Ernie's face darkened as he recalled the Amigos. "Yeah, that sounds really important."

"Like you wouldn't believe." Siena muttered under her breath. Readjusting her stance, the brunette calculated another plan of attack. "Hope you don't mind if I check on the other two for a second after this."

And without so much as taking a breath, the girl lunged again.

---

Marcus and Brent Stab Each Other Dead

After unsheathing the knife, the first thing Brent did was close his fist over the bladed edge, first gently, and then firmly.

No cut. Cool. Released.

"Ready to go?" he asked, amethyst eyes turning to Emma's boyfriend, "Or should we do some dynamic stretches first?"

Marcus was slightly nervous to be paired up with Brent. From what he'd seen so far, he wasn't exactly sure if Brent had a limit on anything he did. Case in point, the subtle sound of a knife sheath rubbing against metal. A sound that immediately caused Marcus to whip his attention around to his 'partner'.

"Wh-? Are you sure that's a good idea?" Marcus started, significantly more nervous now that Brent was wielding an unsheathed knife.

"Eh?" Amethyst eyes flickered over to Siena manhandling Ernie, both of their blades sheathed. Hm... "Right, sure. Of course."

Brent made a show of sheathing the knife again. "Thought it'd make more sense to train with real edges, yah know? Fight the fear."

"I-I mean..." What was he doing? There was absolutely no reason to try and save face around Brent; even less if he was trying to seem like he wasn't up to the challenge. Why on Earth was he still talking then?

"I'm just worried about you, man. I can rewind if you shank me...I just don't want you to bleed out if something goes horribly wrong."

"Oh, thanks man," the arbiter replied airily, "I guess, out of concern for me, you can keep your blade sheathed, while out of concern for you, I can unsheath the knife?"

"That seems like the opposite of 'concern'." Marcus said, unsure whether he should take that as a joke or not.

"Concern for your growth as a world class knife fighter?"

"You know what? Let's stick with sheathed. Maybe try for 'completely intact' knife fighter first, work our way up to 'world class' some other day."

"Sure, s-"

Brent dropped low, legs coiling before bursting forward. The distance wasn't crossed in any god-like speed, but the footwork from kickboxing still helped, his arms naturally adopting a position where his chest and face were protected. Without hestitation, now that both knives were sheathed and 'harmless', he swung out once with his knifehand at Marcus, a horizontal slice to the chest.

Baby steps, after all.

Brent's attempt to surprise Marcus worked flawlessly, as the scarred arbiter nearly didn't register Brent's approach until he was almost on top of him. Although his reflexes were only average, his survival instict was a prime motivator in situations like these. He took an awkward half-jump backwards, bending forward to try and pull his torso-area out of harm's way.

Backwards kept it simple. First swipe evaded, Brent continued his forward momentum, this time readjusting to a thrust aimed dead center.

With Marcus still on the defensive, he attempted to roll his body to the left, bringing his left arm across to try and deflect Brent's arm to the best of his ability. Were he more strategically oriented, this may have been a good opportunity for a counter-stab. Alas, he was not, still in the midst of just trying his hardest not to get shanked.

Deflection. Left side. Brent didn't force his arm to continue the course, instead flipping the knife into ice pick grip, a sideways thrust to Marcus's side while his free hand reached out for the scarred boy's face.

He had read somewhere that people instinctively prioritized their face over other parts of their body. Time to test.

Things were starting to get dicey for Marcus, as all he could was try and keep up. He brought his right hand up, attempting to block or otherwise deflect Brent's attack at the wrist, leading with his sheathed blade. It was clumsy and off center though, as he'd also attempted to bring his left elbow up to stop whatever Brent was about to try and do to his face, more out of sudden panic than anything else.

Damn, that actually wasn't bad. Brent had hoped that a hand in his face would make the scarred arbiter forget about the knife rushing for his ribs, but both were dealt with. Props to the dude for that. But he had forgotten to move at that point, and as the palm met the elbow, Brent set his right foot down onto Marcus's, braced his core, and, hand grasping onto that elbow that was so close to Marcus's face, pushed.

Christ, Brent was really going all out here. Marcus let out a small, pained breath as Brent's foot stomped down on his own. He felt the shift in weight, felt the intent at least. There was probably no way he could win a shoving contest against the muscular build of his opponent, so there was really no point in trying to shove back. Instead, Marcus brought his left arm further across, trying to latch onto whatever he could grab of Brent; his intent on grabbing the same wrist he'd just blocked.

As Marcus's hand wrapped around Brent's free hand, the well built arbiter clenched his fist in anticipation. They were toppling over, combined weight bringing each other down, but when it came down to it, he'd be the one on the top. No worry there then. What he needed was...

In that moment, Brent sucked in a breath and shouted as loudly and sharply as he could, splaying open his fingers and twisting his wrist out of Marcus's grasp. A shout to grab attention, a wild motion to present a threat, and then his right hand, wielding the knife, was in motion, pressing towards his sparring partner's stomach.

"GAH!" Marcus shouted in surprise. Brent was yelling and flailing; shit, he hadn't accidentally caught him with something? His knife was still sheathed, right? Then why was-?

And then the thick sheath pressed itself into Marcus's flabby ;-;stomach.

"There we go," the amethyst eyed youth said, taking a step back. "Felt like we barely did any actual knife fighting tho, ye?"

The sensation of something hard pressing against his body told Marcus that the sparring had ended. He took a few moments to regain himself, huffing slightly at the excurision; it had happened very quickly, pretty much exactly as Siena had demonstrated previously. In his head, he made a note to never get into a knife fight with Brent, the cheating bastard.

"Maybe to you it did. I was fighting for my life there!" Marcus said, chuckling slightly.

"Running for your life, maybe," Brent grinned, slapping him on the back. "But hey, you managed to deal with some pretty tricky stuff, dude. Ever take martial arts?"

Marcus grinned. "I'd barely ever been in a fight up until we got drafted into USARILN. Guess it's just au natural." He attempted to look smug as he said this and nonchalantly twirled the knife in his hand, but it was stymied slightly by him immediately dropping and quickly recovering it.

"Smooth as a true master of the blade," he grinned, "Better work on your footwork though. Siena's probably got tips for you on that, but generally, most people can move faster forward than backwards. So don't backpedal too much or you'll just get run over."

"You haven't seen me moving backwards that much, have you? Believe me, I am a master at backpedaling." Marcus said, chuckling.

"Both blademaster and backpedal master?" Brent took a couple more steps back, before readying himself once more. "Alright, let's see if your masteries get you anywhere in round two!"

---

Opened Wounds (The Important Part)

It had been a moderately successful training session, Siena had to admit. It was nowhere near a level that she would have felt comfortable sending the trio into a fight with, but they'd at least managed to understand how to incapcitate a regular human and try to account for the potential of powers. Of course, the concept had largely been the same--attack before a target could realize what was happening if possible. If not, observe for possible limitations. If even that failed, then a knife wasn't going to make any difference in the end. She'd run a few drills, utilizing weaker abilities in her arsenal to act as a "random" subnatural, and it had gone...relatively well. As expected, there had been a few issues, but it was to be expected. Ernie, for one, took a little longer to grasp new concepts--the easiest to solve with a little extra time and attention. With enough practice, Siena was certain that the Aberration would be able to hold his own.

It was almost unfortunate that Ernie was the only one with an easy "fix" available.

Marcus's tendency to panic was difficult to work with, though Siena couldn't help but feel a slight sense of relief at that. She'd been surprised as it was that her roommate had stuck around for the training portion of the ordeal...but it was at least some minor comfort that the blonde didn't make hurting and killing a priority. Siena wasn't entirely certain she wanted to change that.

Then, of course, there had been Brent. Aggressive, which wasn't unexpected, but outside of a few minor advantages it maintained in a controlled situation...

Broken in the storm again. He could have died.

It wasn't ideal.

But Siena had little choice but to file her observations away so she could focus on first-aid lessons, which had been a weight off her shoulders. It was easier for her not to be the instructor, always easier to listen to them than anything else. Unfortunately, keeping the thoughts comparmentalized was significantly less simple when they had settled into the cafeteria after their training had concluded. Once again, the brunette had taken to pushing her meal around on her plate moreso than actually eating it, mind too preoccupied with "next times" and "what ifs" to remember she needed to actually eat her food.

Meanwhile, Ernie had the contents of his first aid kit splayed out over the table, murmuring to himself as he counted through it all. Normally he'd be annoyed if he knew most of his supplies were going to be wasted on fake Ground Zero people but today was an important demonstration. Hopefully future missions would be more successful and less deadly because of sessions like these. He'd been worried about teaching a full class of Arbiters, the potential squeamishness that would have come from those who didn't benefit from others' suffering, but they'd actually managed to push through it and learn a lot!

"Man, I didn't think we'd go through so much of it today," he remarked, "I'm gonna have to run into town to stock up tomorrow."

"I didn't realize you were going to go through it at all. Figured it would be more 'theoretical' than you made it." Marcus said, attempting to hide his grimace with a fake laugh. Some of the things Ernie had done at Ground Zero didn't exactly sit with him that well. Even if they were fake people, everything that happened to them was real. The screaming, the crying, the fear...especially the sound...euuugh. Bones crunching was not a noise he was comfortable with, and screaming...

...well, he didn't care for the screaming either.

Needless to say, he hadn't touched much of his plate while they'd been at the cafeteria.

While Marcus went green and Ernie worried about stocking up his kit, Brent mumbled to himself, eyes out of focus as he saw a different scene before him. In his mind, the arbiter continued to replay the surprisingly bountiful amount of knowledge Ernie had disseminated towards the three, visualizing each gruesome injury and the makeshift solutions for them all. Cuts, breaks, burns, bullets. Hopefully the knowledge would help. Hopefully it'd be more useful than applying knife fighting techniques against a monster. He palmed the bullets he kept in his pockets, cool to the touch, as his gaze turned skywards. No whumpf whumpf, no dragon roars, but still...

"Medical aid is a physical skill," Brent said with a shrug, "Not gonna learn if you don't apply it practically."

Well, as someone who regularly went to Ground Zero for his own training, it wasn't like he cared all that much for those thoughtless drones.

"Most training works better with application over theory," Siena claimed absentmindedly, mind still turning over what they'd gone over. She'd done her best, of course, to mitigate and remove pain where she could, but it wasn't an ability she could hold infinitely. Besides which, they wouldn't always be in a situation where tearing the sensation away was an option. Her fork scraped lightly against the surface of her plate, a dim thought in the back of her head. Would the people of Ground Zero count? She imagined crimson welling up on their skin, light that rose like wisps of smoke, then imagined--ah, no. Not then. "Better to practice on people that will get better regardless of the end result than on each other though. I would hate to have my first practical on one of you."

Ernie nodded vigorously, finally snapping the clasps of the kit shut to start on his dinner. "Yeah, what those guys said. It won't be any prettier in a real fight, though maybe throwing the newbie soldiers into the deep end was a mean thing to do..." Not that he was very sorry for it. It was only Marcus after all. Siena and Brent had dealt with it a lot better.

"Yeah...no...obviously." Marcus said, shrugging his shoulders. "It just makes me glad that we've usually got Lily or Christmas around. The wonders of modern medicine, you know?" he added, trying to play it off. It was certainly a beneficial lesson to learn, but that didn't really make him more comfortable in the aftermath.

"Pretty awk that we have to cut open Christmas for him to work his magic though," Brent replied, "Or have Lily open up her own body during transfers. If only Bene-bro could be our main healer. Not like they don't already have free invincibility in the form of Sparrow."

Ernie swallowed a forkful of pasta, his expression more stern than usual.

"Lily's off the table for easy heals, since it takes too long to convince her to use Kusari. Tulpas are off limits now too. Christmas can't be trusted to navigate the battlefield and his magical tell is too easy to find. Makes him easy to snatch."

'Stern' might have been an understatement. 'Calculating', perhaps. Disdainful.

"All the more important that we have more people who can 'heal' in the future. There's a good chance that the main two won't always get to our fighters in time to get them back in fighting shape, or even keep them conscious. Take how long it took for us to set up Lily on the island, for example."

Another forkful. Dark, hazel eyes trained on the table.

"But Wisford might be the better example here. That was a fucking shitshow."

"Shitshow, sure, but it was also our first proper operation. Did well until gargoyle girl came out from the van and fucked everything up."

A pause, linger regret that had long been resolved.

"Coulda gotten at least one of them if she didn't body block."

"She...came out from the van?"

"The gargoyle abe that..." Ernie turned to Marcus. The man in the van himself. The Aberration looked more confused than anything else.

Marcus paled. Perfectly planned. It was almost as if Brent had perfectly planned the whole day around this. The mention of Wisford had brought up the first set of walls he'd hoped nobody would notice, but the outright accusation that Brent had delivered had knocked every single one of them down. His eyes nervously flicked between every single one of them sitting at the table - they weren't the friends he'd been sitting with just a second ago. Now, they seemed like predators, watching his every move. Ready to tear a confession from him.

"I..." Nothing came out. He had no explanation.

"Yeah," Brent said, attention on the ones that actually spoke up, "I had three shots lined up for those three abes. Dunno how the gargoyle got in to begin with, but I think that surprise element was what really made things spiral out of control. Factory fight by itself was not totally horrible, right?"

Not horrible? Was that how they considered the fight against Factory?

Focus.

Her gaze shifted from one person to another. Brent didn't know how, sure, but he hadn't been in charge of the evacuation. Grey eyes fell onto the scarred Arbiter for a long moment as Siena searched for the correct words. She never found them.

"How?"

The armor piercing question. A question Marcus had only had to answer once before.

"I don't-" the words caught in his throat, coming out as breathy whispers.

"I don't know."

"What do you mean, you 'don't know'?" Ernie stared at him, hard. "The APC was your job, wasn't it?"

A pause.

"Don't look so nervous, Marc." Ernie added. He didn't think it was malicious.

"I mean...I mean 'I don't know'." Marcus repeated, desperately trying to stammer out his explanation without it faltering. "One second there was nothing, and then she was there. She-she...must've been teleported in or something." That made sense, nobody knew the extent of other people's powers. It was the second bet explanation he could come up with, and he'd been struggling to come up with excuses for a while now.

Liar.

Why...?

"You're terrible at lying, Marcus." The words came before she could stop them, and Siena didn't even have the sense of mind to mask the turmoil. Hurt. That was the word. Hurt. Her gaze turned away briefly. Too many thoughts. Why did he need to lie? Hypocritical, really, considering how often she did it herself, but the emotional response was too immediate. "So please, just...answer the question."

"I'm not-" Marcus started defensively. Her eyes were turned away from him. Of all the people that could call him out of a lie, she was the best. "They...they were coordinated. Knew where the APC was. She...wasn't there...and then...everything..."

Marcus wasn't dumb enough to let something like a 'gargoyle' onto the APC. Ernie knew that. But the Arbiter was acting like a really shitty liar all of a sudden.

"Wait, so did she teleport in or not?" Ernie looked between Siena and Marcus, hoping for a straight answer.

He was still lying, wasn't he? Siena struggled to control the immediate backlash.

"People died in that incident, Marcus." Ah, too late. "So just. Answer. The question."

A silence.

"Cal...blames herself," Ernie said quietly, a darker emotion starting to bleed into his words with every passing realisation, "Hell, Emma blames herself."

The Aberration looked to Marcus desperately. Heatedly.

"Dude, just...there's no reason to look like that. Can you just tell us what's going on?"

People died. The girls had been blaming themselves for far too long now. Marcus had done nothing to try and fix that; the only way to fix it would inevitably make things worse. That was what he'd come to accept, and the entire train of thought that had been driving him this whole time. Even when Brent had questioned him, he figured that if nobody knew what actually happened, he could keep trying to do damage control. He'd tried to help Callan in the hospital. He'd tried to help Emma when she was at one of her worst moments. He had desperately hoped that everything he'd done would help. That's what he was there to do, right? Help the team when they were feeling down.

But it hadn't worked. Everything was all coming to one explosive finale, and he was stuck right in the middle.

Only thing he could do now was face the music.

"It was an accident..." he started. That wasn't enough. It would never be enough. "There was a collector...and I had to make sure everyone was okay." Get to it already. There would be no sympathy here. "I didn't...check. And she got through."

An accident. Not his fault. Siena likely would have done the same, and she knew it, but it didn't calm her down. She took a carefully measured breath, trying to calm down, and succeeding in the barest amount. Another breath. Try.

"Nobody expected you to manage that perfectly." Well, that was a lie. Not his fault. "Were you ever going to tell them?"

Marcus sighed, looking to the ground. That was really the kicker here, wasn't it? The fact that he knew what happened, and had let Callan and Emma sit and stew. That was more damning than anything.

"I tried...I tried to at least let them knew it wasn't their fault. Tried to tell Callan that there was nothing she could have done. Tried to let Emma know, too..."

He played around with his food some more, daring not to look up. He knew what he'd find in their eyes.

"You didn't try hard enough," Ernie's glare was directed to his own plate. He didn't have the heart to look up, "You didn't try at all."

While the admission beat on his head with the full force of its many implications, Ernie merely rested his head in his hand. Tired. He was tired of being disappointed by this guy. Anger had passed during their talk on the island. Marcus wasn't worth such a heated emotion anyway, and Ernie doubted he could reignite it when his Stigma had flickered out to almost nothing. It had been a long time since he'd seen anyone besides himself do such a selfish and pathetic thing. Such a dumb mistake snowballing into something unforgivable.

"I had to watch them cry. Both of them." Ernie chuckled bitterly into his hand. "I couldn't say a damn thing to make it better."

That was an image he'd never be able to erase. Callan in his room, trying to hold back tears. Failing to keep that revelation from overwhelming her. All because of Marcus. Ernie hated that memory. He despised it with his entire being.

It was a fact he'd acknowledged long ago. Marcus was likable. Marcus wasn't a scumbag that acted out whenever he was in a bad mood. Marcus would always be closer to Cal in a way Ernie could never breach. Same for Emma. So if Ernie, some weirdass new kid that sat with them at lunch, had seen both their weakest emotional moments, what the fuck had Marcus seen?

Resigned hazel eyes turned to the Arbiter. Tired. For now, he was unaware of the hypocrisy of his words. "It takes some special guts to see someone hurting, someone you're supposed to care about, and just sit there doing nothing."

The Aberration sighed, hands returning to their place over his eyes. He asked it as if he was asking about last night's game.

"Did you have a nice month at least? Being in the clear while your friends tore themselves apart?"

Couldn't say a damn thing to make it better.

"Yeah. Me neither." Marcus said, softly enough that it might not even be heard. This last month, there had been a part of him that wondered how things would work out if he had said something. Would it have even mattered? Callan would still blame herself for actually tackling the gargoyle, and Emma would still blame herself for not being able to help. The only thing it would have done was come around to hurt him.

Hell, it might have been worse for them if they knew. At least, that was a line of justification he'd tried to sell to himself at one point.

"I would hardly call it 'being in the clear.'" Marcus said bitterly, looking to Ernie. There was an emotion that burned in his eyes, a queer mixture of sadness and an almost resigned anger. "I've been there while every single one of them tore themselves apart. Right next to them. Trying to make it better. Every. Single. One."

Chestnut eyes focused on Ernie. He'd never be able to stop him. He wouldn't put a friend down like an animal.

They flicked to Siena. A promise he would never keep.

"You're so full of shit." Siena muttered quietly. She caught the gaze, didn't turn her eyes away like she normally would have. "But I guess that's why you make such a good face for us."

Not his fault. He couldn't have known about the gargoyle, couldn't have known what would have happened. Not his fault, and she would regret this.

"You watched them tear themselves apart, and you kept quiet." Not his fault. "You can sell it as trying to fix it, and maybe you provided some modicum of comfort, but that doesn't change that you watched them hurt and decided that you were worth more."

Not his fault. She was going to regret it.

"But I guess that lines up with what the rest of the world thinks, right Time Scar?"

" 'Time Scar'," Ernie barked out a laugh at the heroic moniker, harsh and bitter, "The heart of our operation! Didn't care enough to not shoot a guy in the face and had even less compassion for the teammates he was supposed to comfort. What a fucking headline."

"Wh-what?"

Worth more? That was what Marcus had decided, wasn't it? Even when he was alone, thinking over everything that had happened, he'd determined that he was worth more. It the hypotheticals where he realized that the girl was an aberration, they always ended the same way. Him against her? It was no question. Even if he knew...he wasn't sure that anything would have changed. Those kind of thoughts were the ones that tore him apart. He was worth more than Savannah. Emma was worth more than a regular. His wellbeing was worth more than Callan's peace of mind.

There was nothing he could say to defend himself, even before Ernie spoke up. Even before Ernie had betrayed him to his roommate.

All he did was look at Ernie. A look that said more than he could ever hope to.

Ernie caught what Marcus was sending and all at once it was like his heart fucking plummeted through his stomach.

"W-what do you mean, 'what'..." his head swiveled between Marcus and Siena before settling on the girl. She had to have known. Otherwise that meant Ernie had just...

His tone was almost accusing. "You were there! What the hell do you mean?"

Grey eyes shifted from one party to another, and despite her best efforts, the brunette couldn't restrain a slight flinch at Ernie's tone.

No. No, no, no. No.

Her eyes went back to Marcus, and the expression on his face. No. No, no. No.

"I-I...it--" A vehement denial rose as a defense mechanism, but it was torn away so easily. The gunshot. She had heard it, but she'd assumed... Siena turned her attention from Ernie to Marcus again, seeking confirmation, denial, something.

Marcus closed his eyes in concentration, and let a deep breath escape.

"Yeah. To protect Emma."

"To release your anger," Ernie scoffed, fury momentarily reignited by the familiar excuse. He didn't care who was listening, "You could have fired literally anywhere else, used your powers. But you didn't. And you can't take that back."

He could have. He didn't. Was it panic? Was it anger? Could he attribute it to anything but himself? Probably not. He knew. It wasn't a mistake he could undo.

But again, he wasn't sure if he would, given the opportunity.

"Yeah. I know." Marcus said, a mix of bitterness and defeat. Ernie had ruined everything. Callan. Siena. Possibly two of the highest people in his world. Maybe he did need a way to release his anger. Maybe that's why it slipped out of his mouth.

"I'm sure you understand that feeling."

Ernie's hand shot out, grabbing Marcus roughly by the shirt and hauling both to their feet.

"Don't," he snarled through grit teeth, "don't you fucking start."

Shit.

Siena shot to her feet, one hand on her phone, her eyes snapping to attention.

"Stop."

Marcus couldn't really say he was surprised by the sudden lift; he had a feeling it was going to happen at one point or another, and he quickly moved to put his feet under him and relieve a little bit of the choking. He didn't even care that Siena was speaking up. He couldn't exactly worsen her opinion of him at this point.

"What? he said, voice slightly strained by Ernie's grip on the front of him, but no less defiant. "You're allowed to tell secrets, but I'm not?"

Escalate and escalate and escalate. With a single phrase, everything went to shit, and before Brent's eyes, the camaderie built up from Washington onwards crumbled just like that. Should have expected it, really. The foundations weren't all that strong, after all, and now, the bonds were burning up, disintegrating into ash by secrets kept from back in Wisford. Did Marcus seriously not tell a single soul? Did Sophia seriously not tell? Lawrence never noticed or spoke up either? Not even confided to those closest to them?

And now it was the bullet, the shot that Marcus fired to protect Emma and kill a regular. All these sins spilling out while others within the cafeteria took notice, guards eyeing the dissonant quartet. He should be taking steps to stop this, to do something to resolve the situation.

But in that moment, Brent disliked the scarred arbiter as well. It was a mistake, how the gargoyle even got inside to begin with, but to keep silent on the 'how' for so long, even to his best friends? The enhancer recalled his own talk with Marcus in Washington. They weren't close then, and it was too much to expect someone to spill their guts out that easily to a stranger. That was okay. He didn't mind that. And hey, maybe Emma and Callan never asked, so Marcus was never obligated to really explain himself. Sure. That worked out too. Made sense. Maybe he just hoped that enough time had passed, enough incidents had occured, that people would eventually forget Wisford. That the mistake that cuased the death of a young girl would remained buried, never disturbed.

Amethyst eyes flickered once more to the guards.

Keep it quick.

"We're all assholes with skeletons in our vaults," Brent said, locking eyes with Marcus, then with Ernie, "Take this shit outside before the two of you get shot."

Ernie glared back at Brent, then to Marcus. His hold didn't loosen.

"Rethink your next words, buddy."

Dangerous. Nothing good would come from this. Ernie had seen the guards too.

"You've lost enough already. Don't make me take more."

Ernie let him go then but he remained on his feet, his gaze still boring a hole through Marcus.

"I don't think there's much else to say, pal." Marcus said, straightening the front of his shirt.

With that, he turned away, walking towards the cafeteria door. Staying would only cause more problems, and he didn't even bother to turn around and look at Siena or Brent.

"Well."

Brent watched Marcus until he disappeared into the crowds.

"Shit."

Somehow, the situation diffused, and Siena felt her fingers release her phone as she released a quiet breath. No relief.

"Shit." Still no relief, but no regrets. Not yet. Her gaze turned away from Marcus's retreating form, her mind still buzzing. He'd killed someone--it paled in comparison to her own mistakes, but...ah, damn it. And what was he talking about? Ernie too...? Too many things, and worst of all, a declaration that remained constant like an underlying whisper.

If it came down to it, he was still worth more, wasn't he?

Fuck.

Ernie watched Marcus too, before he sat back in his seat with a tired exhale. He looked dazed. Then confused. Then mournful.

Silence echoed over the table until Ernie managed to find his voice.

"Siena, I'm..." he croaked. Words would never be enough. "I'm sorry."

Best birthday ever. How did everything turn out this way? Oh, he fucking knew how. Sliding away from the table, Brent stood up, took his tray, and said, "I'll be grabbing a drink. Third floor."

He'll track Marcus down tomorrow. For now, the bitterness needed to be burnt away, the mercury purged.

Never too deep, hm?

Siena took a moment before she turned her attention to Ernie, her mind still churning through countless thoughts, but she did what she did best.

You really never get any better at this, hm?

"It's...I'll be fine." Siena claimed. She wouldn't be, but that wasn't for anyone else to know. Taking her own tray, Siena gave a weary breath. "I think I'll...get some air before I try heading back."

If she even went back at all.

Ernie didn't try to stop her, nor did he offer to go with her.

"Okay. I'll see you later."

He packed up his and Marcus' trays when he finished eating. Pocketed Siena's phone after she uncharacteristically forgot it. Then he headed up to the bar.

---

Digestif

Brent waved at Ernie as the buzzcut boy appeared. Before him was an empty shot glass, the tips of his ears the only indication that the arbiter was slightly buzzed.

"An Old Fashioned, please," Ernie called to the bartender and took a seat beside Brent. The drink came quickly and Ernie took a sip, slightly grimacing at the taste.

"Rough day, huh?"

Ernie scoffed. "I'll say."

A larger sip this time.

"You knew about the APC."

"Yup. Pieced it together after a bit." A pause. "Never knew he didn't even tell Emma."

"What about everyone else?"

"Who else?"

"Callan. Siena, me, the whole freaking class." Ernie had a dangerous glint in his eye, though he kept it trained on the tumbler in front of him. "You didn't think to tell us?"

"Talked to Callan," Brent replied. "La Plata hospital. Turned out for the worst, and then she holed up. Spoke to Marcus in Washington, after I thought he had time to sort it out. He didn't, so I let it go. Confirmed with Sophia. Non-answers there, but enough to draw the conclusion."

He tapped the shot glass, slowly, like a metronome.

"Thought it was Marcus's story to tell. Thought that he already did."

The finger stopped, resting on the rim.

"No one brought that incident up, not to me. Not about Sav. And not a single person in the APC ever spoke of it."

Even then, would he have been all that eager to pin the blame on anyone? No. Perhaps this problem only escalate so dramatically because of how long it had been kept under wraps.

Ernie didn't know what he was looking for with this conversation. Another person to blame? Was he willing to drive off Brent too? A nauseous feeling started churning in his stomach.

"I see," he muttered, and gulped down the rest of the glass.

It felt like a frightening reenactment of the gym on the island. A bridge freshly burnt, still smouldering. Ernie looking to Brent for reassurance.

"I was too harsh on him."

"If I saw what you saw, I probably would have broken his nose back when I first talked with him."

Ernie chuckled. "Yeah, and get shot straight after. Thanks for stepping in when you did, by the way."

"No problem."

A thoughtful expression emerged then, the warmth of his vodka dissipating.

"Will you tell them now?"

Ernie hesitated. Ordered another drink, a Manhattan this time. The intent in his eyes only deepened as he drank.

"Only if I have to."

"Give him some time," Brent replied. "Noticed how he didn't bring his gun back on Bald Eagle Island?"

"What are you trying to say?"

"Not too sure. But..." He motioned to Steve, pointing at the empty glass. "I can understand the fear and the regret."

Ernie stared into the bottom of his glass, taking in Brent's words. "He's not a bad guy. Selfish, cowardly maybe but not...bad." Not like Ernie. The Aberration leaned into his elbows. "It's too late either way. I don't even think I regret it this time."

"Mm, relationships you want to keep are hard to make when you bury so much shit in the back of your mind, hm?" Brent raised his glass. "A toast then."

Ernie lifted his drink, amused. "What are we toasting to?"

"To Team SAP. It was fun while it lasted."

A melancholy sigh. "To Team SAP then."

Glass clinked against glass, before Brent downed it in a single go, the imitation of warmth spreading through his veins once more, fuelling the embers within his stomach.

"So, what's our new duo name anyways? Sesame Street?"

Ernie downed his drink too, laughing heartily at the quip. The alcohol was already starting to loosen him up.

"Needs some workshopping," he grinned.

He pulled Siena's phone from his pocket, placing it in front of Brent before ordering another.

"It's a start," he replied, flipping his glass upside down.

"An excellent one," Ernie nodded a few times too many. He pushed the phone closer to Brent. "Siena's."

"Forgot it?"

"She said she needed some air. Left it on the seat. It probably isn't a fun idea for her to see me right now so could you give it back to her instead? I know you guys are close."

"Oof, we're not close enough for a psychic connection, yah know? Know where she went?"

"I dunno. Just out."

"Hm..." Brent nodded. "Was thinking of getting some air myself. Guess I'll head out then?"

"Yeah. I should be getting back to the dorms anyway," Ernie replied, despite ordering another drink. "See you later, man."

"Aye."

A pause.

"Steve also makes protein shakes, by the way."

"Oh, neat."

"Yup. See ya."

And with a quick phone swipe, Brent was gone, a knight galloping for his princess.

—(••[ 𝕎𝕀𝕊ℍ𝔼𝔸𝕋𝔼ℝ ]••)—

Back to School pt. 2

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𝕌𝕊𝔸ℝ𝕀𝕃ℕ 𝔼𝕒𝕤𝕥

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October 12

Ernie and Callan: Bad News

Ernest | Callan

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𝕄𝕠𝕟: 𝕆𝕔𝕥. 𝟙𝟚, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘 / / 𝕌𝕊𝔸ℝ𝕀𝕃ℕ 𝔼𝕒𝕤𝕥 / / 𝔹𝕦𝕚𝕝𝕕𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝔹: ℝ𝕠𝕠𝕞 𝟛𝟘𝟝 / / 𝟙𝟘𝟘𝟘

---

_{Collab with @Baklava}

Callan had never had any reason before to visit the Aberration dorms before. No, she had to correct herself. That wasn't what they were called... but who was going to judge what she thought inside her head? Callan was too exhausted to care about that anyway. Not that she had any regrets about staying up with Marcus, but her hefty three hours of sleep hadn't awarded her with much common sense, either. She made it all the way to the third floor before realizing that she had no idea which one was Ernie's.

Callan clumsily pulled her phone out of her pocket and began searching for his name. Pretty easy to do since she only had a whopping six of them saved.

Before she tapped the screen again, however, a familiar sound caught her attention. Someone was running a vacuum somewhere. And it sounded pretty close. Roaming the halls a little further, she found the room in question. The terribly loud VRRMMM of a vacuum accompanied by... Callan leaned in closer. Was Ernie singing?

'Put On A Happy Face'. She'd heard that in a children's show once. His voice... wasn't great. But she'd heard worse. Ernie at least seemed to be enjoying himself. Callan smiled, covering her mouth to resist a small giggle before quietly clearing her throat. She'd almost completely forgotten why she was here. Standing up straight again, Callan tucked her bangs behind her ears, did her best to straighten her wrinkled shirt, and knocked.

A click as the vacuum was shut off. The machine was shoved into the closet, shut away with a heavy duty lock. Ernie wasn't expecting guests, which most likely meant that those Aberration hallmates of his had finally figured out how they were gonna get back at him. But the revenge plot would be useless if they couldn't destroy the source, hence the lock.

Ernie rolled his shoulders and took a breath to prepare for the worst. One fist was curled as he whipped the door open, though it slackened quickly once he saw who the visitor was.

"Cal? I thought you were gonna text."

Callan jumped, not expecting it to open so quickly. She blinked in surprise for a moment before answering.

"Oh yeah... you asked me to do that," she smiled apologetically. She looked about as tired as she felt. Her hair didn't seem as carefully brushed, there were clear bags under her eyes, and her movements seemed a bit sluggish.

"Sorry, I totally forgot. Been kinda busy this week...." Callan glanced past Ernie, into his room. "Are you busy? I can come back later, but... I just really needed to talk to you."

"Uhhh," he looked back into his room, "no, I guess not. Come in if you want. Sorry for the mess."

On the meticulously ironed and spread blanket was a pile of folded socks. Apart from some slightly askew papers on his desk, there didn't seem to be anything else out of place.

"That's oka...y...." Stepping inside, Callan gawked at how clean everything was. Not even the type of clean that made it look like nobody lived there, either. It was the type of clean that only got that clean when people cleaned it. Really cleaned it. Callan was too tired for tact. "I think this looks too clean for it be called a mess," she laughed, approaching his bed.

She immediately made a mental note not to sit on it. "Do you iron your bed?"

"It's rude for a man to leave his laundry out. And I iron the sheets, if that's what you mean," he grinned, not too bothered by her comment, "I got this fabric steamer from Costco the other day though. Can't wait to try it out."

The boy hurried over to the papers to straighten them out, bumping the computer chair out of the way with his leg. "So what did you need?"

"Dang, you really are passionate about cleaning," she mused out loud. Callan stepped towards the computer chair, but immediately thought better of it. She might fall asleep if she got too comfortable and she didn't want to inconvenience her friend anymore than she already felt she was. Maybe it was just her imagination, but the sort of vibe she got from Ernie's bedroom was not to touch anything.

Callan's expression grew more serious when he posed his question. She watched him straighten the papers on his desk for a moment before answering.

"Information," she admitted, "Or maybe just advice... I don't want to go into too much detail here but... basically I'm worried about Marcus."

She ran her fingers through her bangs, nervously remembering that Ernie was the only one that knew about her feelings for him.

"I know D.C. was hard on everyone, but do you know if anything happened? To him specifically? Or maybe it happened at the estate...? I don't know. He just seems kind of off lately...."

"Huh," Ernie tried not to smile at Cal's ever-obvious feelings. Some things never changed, even after weeks of absence. He continued sorting his desk as he explained, speaking casually. Not like getting worked up over it had solved anything. Marcus was getting close to a lost cause.

"I thought he was fine when we hung out on the island. Dunno. I guess--"

Wait.

Ernie blinked, putting the pieces together. She was unconscious, unable to hear what was happening over the cuffs. And if she hadn't talked to anyone during their stay at the mansion...

The Aberration took a breath. "What do you mean, 'if anything happened'?"

Callan stared for another moment, perplexed by the question. "Sorry," she sighed, "I should probably just talk to Marcus about this, but... I don't want to be annoying or make him more upset or something, you know?" She almost forgot about where she was for a moment and sat on the bed behind her. Instead she shifted her weight to her other leg and crossed her arms tightly.

"I know we all wish we could have done more. That feeling was pretty bad all by itself... and a big part of the reason why I...," she smiled somberly, "I mean I guess it's a good thing I didn't get featured on the news after what happened, but I wish I could've been there. No telling how many people I might've been able to pull out of that building...." She bitterly thought of Hazel. Callan didn't want to blame her, but... it was a little hard not to sometimes.

She swallowed, averting her eyes. Even with all the encouragement from Marcus, it still bothered her. She assumed it always would.

"Anyway, I didn't get a chance to be so close to aftermath, is all I'm trying to say. So... maybe he saw something really bad during the rescues? That's just my theory anyway."

It took far too much effort not to groan out loud. Dammit, this girl. Ernie placed his hands on his desk, leaning so he didn't need to look her in the eye.

"It...wasn't the rescues, it was what happened before. Did no one tell you what they did?"

"What they did...?" Callan repeated the words, suddenly unsure. Ernie didn't seem to be alluding to anything good. She simply waited, digging her fingers into her arms. That's right... Kusari had mentioned killing people to protect Sophia....

A few seconds of silence. He needed to explain carefully. It was going to be a lot to take in.

"After we split up, Cat's Cradle showed up. Then everything went to hell. A mob started attacking the evac team and..." It was hard to contain his anger. Ernie's voice took on a more callous tone. "Well, they didn't handle it smartly. A lot of people died, murdered by our classmates. I didn't have time to count them all but...there were," he breathed, "a lot."

He turned to face Callan, his eyes only briefly narrowing when he saw her on the bed.

"And among the dead was a man who was shot in the head."

Was this wrong? Talking about a friend like this behind his back? Irreversibly fracturing something in Marcus and Cal's relationship?

She would have found out at some point.

He said he wasn't even sorry.

"Marcus fired straight into that man's head. Didn't even try to aim anywhere else."

From bad to worse.

It had to be a joke.... a really bad joke. More than anything, she wanted it to be. But it made too much sense, didn't it? The heroes messed up. So they made sure none of the footage got loose and took them away to a secluded island. Far away from prying eyes. Far away from nosy reporters. Far away from exposing the truth.

This was bad. So bad. How could she not have known? The more she thought about it, the worse it got. She could feel Misery impatiently waiting on her. This was a nightmare. She shouldn't of come here. Shouldn't have asked so many questions.

Callen hadn't even realized she sat down. She stared at Ernie in disbelief.

She took a deep breath, "Why?" There had to be a rational way to look at this. She wasn't there. She didn't see.

Ernie looked at her, a sad smile on his face.

"The Reg was hurting Emma."

Callan opened her mouth, but abruptly closed it. That made sense, too.

Marcus would do whatever was necessary to stop someone from hurting Emma....

Heroes find another way.

She believed that when Kusari said it. When she mentioned protecting Sophia. But now.... How many people would she kill if it were Marcus?

Suddenly her head was pounding. Too tired for this... too much to think about.... She leaned forward on the bed and buried her face in her hands.

If she'd been there, he wouldn't have had to make that choice. Nobody should have to make that choice.

"Who else?"

Ernie gulped, thinking of Siena. "Do you have to know?"

Silence.

"No, I guess not... but..."

She lowered her hands and looked at him. "Were you there?"

He shook his head.

"I only heard the commotion over the cuffs. Went to the location sometime later to see what happened and...put the pieces together from that."

She sat up, the corner of her mouth twitching into half of a helpless grin, "So how can you be so sure Marcus shot someone?"

A strange irritation made his expression turn to a scowl. He had zero reason to mislead her. "I asked him myself, on the island. He didn't deny it. 'Diplomacy wasn't stopping anything, Ernie. Force did.' " Ernie spat out a cheap impression of the scarred Arbiter. "Fucker didn't even--never mind."

Callan bristled defensively, her face flushing. "Well, what would you have done?" Her voice was irritable. Accusing.

"The fuck's that supposed to mean?" Ernie scoffed right back, momentarily forgetting who he was talking to.

She didn't realize how angry she'd sounded until her own tone was thrown back at her. Callan blinked in surprise for a moment before looking away, tightly gripping the edge of the bed.

"Ernie," she sighed, her voice softened, breaking, "What would you do?"

The question made Ernie flinch. He knew what he would've done, what he had done.

You don't even remember that guy's face, do you?

"If someone I cared about was getting beat in front of me...yeah, I'd be so angry I wouldn't be able to see straight. And sure, if there was a gun in my hand, if there was such a convenient solution to it all..."

Shame rushed through him. He didn't dare finish that sentence because he knew he would've been able to control himself even less.

"Marcus might be a good guy but he didn't murder someone in cold blood because it was his only option. He did it because he was upset. But even if I would've done the exact same thing, even if a hundred people would have fired into that guy's head, that doesn't make what happened a single bit less wrong."

She went quiet again, though the storm in her head kept raging. There was nothing to grasp onto. Nowhere to go. This was her new reality. These people. These choices. Ernie's answer was a frightening mirror of what she thought she might do, too. Hell, it was part of what had made her so careless in Wisford. A life for a life. Thinking too much about Marcus and not enough about Sav. Not weighing them all out equally like she should. It wasn't what she wanted, but it was reality.

And why was she so willing to forgive Marcus, but still condemning Kusari? Still wondering about what everyone else had done? Grasping around blindly for a justification?

Before she knew it, she was quietly crying. Callan covered her face again, staring into the dark creases of her hands.

"I should've been there," she muttered, finally, "I could've...."

"No. No, not at all. Neither of those. You were protecting the city, like we should have. You were fighting alongside a Precursor."

Hastily, he snatched the tissue box from his desk and left it beside Callan on the bed. Crying people weren't in his expertise but tissues...helped, right? He knelt in front of her, a pained look on his face.

"You can't take responsibility for other people's mistakes. This was a choice they made. They--we all have to live with that."

"I know," her voice shook, "I know, but.... I want to help. I could've helped. If Hazel hadn't taken me out of the goddamned fight--" She had to pause to breathe, sucking air between her teeth. Ernie's voice was closer now. But her head was still pounding.

"Nobody should be forced to make that choice. If it were me... if I ever had to choose between Marcus or Emma or you or anyone here..." she grimaced, struggling to hold back a sob. She felt so small. Selfish. Confused. "I need you guys."

Ernie didn't react to the mention of Hazel. That was a different topic entirely. Instead, he took her hand and pressed a tissue into it for her to use. His hand remained by the girl's for a bit before he rested it on her shoulder.

"I know you want to help," he said quietly, "That's the best part about you."

He had no answers for the rest. No promises. D.C. was only an indicator of what was to come. There were plenty of worse things they could face, the Amigos were just the start. The choices would keep coming and coming until the member count of this blasted team came down to zero. But geez. Seeing a friend look so miserable made him feel like garbage. Made him want to make reckless promises. Made him believe he had the determination to keep them too.

"You won't lose us. Not physically, not...to the mistakes we make. We're gonna get through this together."

Callan gratefully accepted the tissue, wiping at her nose while she used the back of her hand to clear her cheeks. She flashed him a weak smile, "Yeah... assuming I don't get anyone else killed."

Clearly unsatisfied with her own efforts, Ernie snatched a tissue himself and wiped at her tear-streaked cheeks with a light grimace.

"Dude, stop thinking like that. D.C. was a mess for everyone."

"Heh," Callan flinched away in surprise, blushing at his odd show of concern.

"I'm not talking about D.C.," she clarified, trying to speed up the process by using the edge of her sleeve, "I'm talking about Wisford."

"...What do you mean?" he asked tentatively. He took one of her hands, the one she'd wiped with earlier, and cleared the residual moisture. The sleeves would just...have to be endured.

"With..." It was getting a little harder to concentrate-- and not just because she was tired. Callan didn't remember being quite this close to Ernie before, but... it was fine. She let him maneuver her hand however he pleased and continued, "With Savannah. I forgot, you didn't see what happened...."

She wasn't sure if she wanted to talk about it again after all this time, but... she didn't mind talking to Ernie about it. She was, however, quickly beginning to feel that she'd unloaded enough of her problems onto him. It shouldn't be his job to clean her up whenever she became a mess like this. "When that gargoyle abe grabbed Sav, I tried to get her away, but I..." she forced her voice to be more steady, "I got her killed instead. It was my fault she died back there."

Ernie didn't know any gargoyle Aberration. He didn't know anything about that fight, except that it happened by the APC straight after he and Zoe had asked them to pick up David. And while it felt useless to assign blame weeks after that nightmare of a mission, he knew that it was plain irresponsible to not acknowledge the part he potentially played in the deaths and injuries that took place.

All the more reason to keep his filthy mouth shut. Cal, especially her, would never find out. Not about David, not about the man he'd shot in his panic. No one would.

The boy looked conflicted as he pried Callan's hand open, taking the used tissue with his own and tossing them both into the wastebin by his desk. After that, he slumped into his computer chair with a sigh.

"Callan," he started, unsure of how to go on between his own guilt and this particular topic. This seemed like something he was supposed to keep between people more like himself and Zoe, "That was a Cat 3 mission. And on top of that, we got attacked by...really bad guys. Trust me when I say 'really bad'. Honestly, it's a fucking miracle we lost only one. I don't know how you can blame yourself."

Callan smiled. That sounded familiar.

"Yeah... right," she scoffed. She didn't expect Ernie to understand, "I'm glad you weren't in the middle of that mess, but... if you'd seen what I did, you might think a little differently." She thought of Brent and shook her head. Wasn't going to cry about it anymore. "It's in the past. Nothing's gonna change it. But if I did ever get the chance to go back... I think I could have made sure we all made it." She looked down at her hands, running her fingers over where Ernie had wiped up the tears.

"Yeah, there's...no point on dwelling on the past if we don't learn from it."

His hands fidgeted idly now that there was nothing to do. Or not. He stood up to pick up the pile of socks still on the bed.

"Failure is the best teacher, or something like that, right? Our track record might not be improving with every mission but," he paused. Everything was still so unclear, except for one thing, "this whole class is getting stronger with every passing day at, like, a scary rate. I know that if we did that mission at where we are now, those rogues wouldn't stand a chance. But we can only prepare for the future now. Stop what happened to Sav from happening to anyone else."

"That's right," she sighed, leaning back on her elbows. Callan stared up at the ceiling while Ernie dealt with his socks, thinking. "Just gotta keep moving forward...."

It didn't seem like he'd convinced her. That was...fine. No big. Yep. There was way too much other stuff on his mind now, thanks to that particular can of worms getting cracked open again. Ernie took his time with each pair, fitting them into a space-efficient arrangement in his closet.

"Actually, there's something I've been meaning to ask," he attempted a topic change, "how did--well, are-- how are you dealing with all this? That move from being just a high school kid to being on the front lines for all those scary missions?"

"Hmm," she had to think about that one. Already knowing how she felt, the words were what seemed hard to find. Distracted and with the socks out of the way, Callan unthinkingly pushed her shoes off her feet and laid down. (Man, were the beds at USARILN always this soft??)

"I think it might be because of my power, but I..." she stifled a yawn, "I'm fine. I don't mind fighting. I'm not saying I don't ever get scared... or miss my old life... or have doubts. But... I think I can do this. It just feels... right...."

"But you get so hurt all the time," he pushed more. He hadn't looked up from his sock drawer yet. "And you say it 'feels right?' "

Callan giggled, resting her eyes. Just for a second, she told herself, "I know, it sounds nuts." She was going to elaborate, but drowsiness was hitting her hard for the umpteenth that morning. "It's okay," she mumbled, making even less sense.

"It doesn't sound nuts if there's nothing to sound," Ernie chuckled, hoping she'd say more. But he was returned with nothing but the sound of light breathing. Worried, he stuck his head out of the closet, only to sigh when he saw a passed out Callan. On his freshly-made bed too. Geez, maybe they should have had this chat by the couches.

A small shake of the shoulder achieved nothing. A bigger shake did the same. Ernie pinched the bridge of his nose, unsure if he should be irritated or amused. She couldn't stay here forever, he was a busy guy. Having someone in his room without his supervision was out of the question. Urgh. Alright, nothing he hadn't done before.

Sorry, bud.

The students here didn't keep their important possessions smartly. That was one thing he'd noticed from the start. It was the kind of stuff that made for easy break-ins, whether it was a for a surprise visit or...something less friendly. With his index finger, he reached over and tapped on the outside of the girl's pants pockets, listening for the tell-tale click of a plastic card.

No dice.

Same for her hoodie pocket. Fuck.

At this point, Ernie was wearing an immature pout, like a six-year-old talking about cooties. He rolled his eyes as the rope came into being, flipping the girl onto her front and...for fuck's sake. He apologised profusely as he reached into her back pocket, looking the card's details over once he successfully eased it out. Huh, she was older than him? A quick glance at the girl didn't clarify anything.

...Whatever. They could go now.

Ernie and Marcus: Clearing Things Up

Ernest | Marcus

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𝕄𝕠𝕟: 𝕆𝕔𝕥. 𝟙𝟚, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘 / / 𝕌𝕊𝔸ℝ𝕀𝕃ℕ 𝔼𝕒𝕤𝕥 / / 𝔹𝕦𝕚𝕝𝕕𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝔸: 𝕊𝕦𝕚𝕥𝕖 𝟜𝟛𝟘 / / 𝟙𝟙𝟘𝟘

---

_{Collab with @Chasers115}

A few minutes later, the Aberration was outside Suite 430. Like a stork delivering a baby, the rope floated in the air behind him, holding on tight to a blanket, its shapely load conspicuously hidden by the impromptu blanket sack. Ernie let himself in with a yawn.

Marcus was sitting on the couch, idly flipping through the channels on another boring day. Callan was off somewhere, Siena and the dog were both gone, so he had the Suite completely to himself. And he had done absolutely nothing all day. At one point he'd attempted to take a nap, but it hadn't exactly worked out for him, despite the lack of sleep he'd gotten the night before. When that hadn't worked, he'd ended up looking through some of the options on Netflix, which Callan had been kind enough to leave on. He didn't expect to hear someone outside so early, and he craned his neck to look at the door when it opened, trying to see which roommate it was coming back.

"Ernie?" he asked in surprise, more than a little shocked to see him walking in through their door.

"Marc," Ernie nodded back politely. He moved straight to Cal's side of the room, somehow restraining himself from letting out an audible groan as the suite revealed its pigsty glory to him once again. It had barely been a week, for crying out loud. After clearing the stuff on her bed, he placed the owner down. The rope pulled the blanket over her before it was finally time to get to work.

"How do you live like this? Honestly," he said, bending down to pick up wrinkled clothes and discarded wrappers alike.

Marcus ignored the question, focusing instead on the thing floating behind Ernie. The very large and heavy looking object, hidden by an equally large blanket. He followed Ernie cautiously as he walked through their suite, more than a few questions roaming through his head. The most important one came to the front when he lifted one part of the sheet to see the aquamarine hair underneath.

"I-is...is that Callan in there?" he asked, followed by a slightly more urgent "Is she alright?"

"Yeah, she fell asleep in my freaking room. You gotta tell her to lay off those Netflix binges. Looked tired as hell when she showed up," Ernie trashed the first round of wrappers before bending down again.

Marcus let out a soft sigh. Asleep. That was fine. Certainly better than any other option. "Yeah, that's partly my fault. We had...a movie night in the Suite last night." Technically, that was the truth, but there were more than a few details he was leaving out.

"She's just completely passed out?" Marcus asked, more out of a sense of curiosity than anything else. He'd seen her...well, heard her fall asleep on metal bleachers, but this was something else. She really could sleep through anything.

"You can just...leave her on her bed, I guess." he added, grinning and shaking his head.

"Wow, mad invite," he joked, "But yeah, she's completely out cold. Like a Grizzly in Winter, they'd say."

Clothing got tossed into the laundry basket. Ernie peeked under the bed in search of more to do, inhaling a sharp gasp when he spotted the sheer layer of used energy drink cans beneath the girl.

"Holy shit, that can't be healthy," he exclaimed.

Marcus made a small hum of curiosity, dropping the section of blanket back over Callan's head and bending down to peek at what Ernie had apparently found. He let out a low whistle of amazement, before speaking aloud; "Do you think her power helps against caffeine poisoning too? And how does a person sleep with that much in their system?" Marcus asked, sounding legitimately impressed.

"I sure fucking hope it does," Ernie grimaced, not-so-fun memories returning, "That shit gives you heart attacks. And toilet troubles. It's a wonder she can sleep at all."

More frowning as he estimated the sheer volume of cans to clear up.

"Do you guys have a broom? Or maybe a rake would work better here..."

Man, Marcus really didn't need to think about Callan's resistance to toilet troubles at this moment in time.

"I doubt we have either of those. Do you want me to see if I can find a large shovel or something?" he asked, taking another look at the unconcious lump snoring away on the bed.

"What was she doing in your room anyway, did she walk in and just pass out immediately?"

Ernie blinked. Paused. Then the rope maneuvered under the bed, sweeping out all the cans with a large motion.

"Nah, she wanted to hang out." The lie leaving his mouth easily. "Not that I blame her for falling asleep."

He held a corner of the delivery blanket for Marcus to feel. "Check it, dude."

Marcus gave Ernie a quizzical look, slowly reaching out to touch the blanket, and he was pleasantly surprised with the result.

"Oooh," he cooed, "That's niiiiice. Where did you get this?"

"Eh, just went to the usual Bed, Bath & Beyond," Ernie grinned, clearly very pleased with the praise, "It's the fabric softener that's the important part though. Took me ages to find the right combo."

"Wait, you have a perfect cocktail of fabric softener you use?" Marcus said, wowed by the sheer level of micromanagement Ernie apparently put into his laundry duties. "I'm definitely calling you next time I do laundry."

"Business hours only, buddy. My services are always available. The Best in the West."

Ernie took an armful of cans to take to the bin, only to realise that it was already near full. "Oh, come on..."

"Business? Surely you can make an exception for your bestest buddy Marcus, right?" Marcus asked, fluttering his eyelashes and attempting to give Ernie his most innocent look. A look the quickly turned to a grimace as he heard Ernie grumbling from the trash can.

"Maybe a special discount at the most. Maybe," Ernie scoffed at the puppy eyes, "if you help me with sanitising your freaking dorm first."

And that's how the rest of the morning passed for the two boys. Partly a back-and-forth between the two dorm buildings to fetch supplies from Ernie's room, partly some visits to the dumpster behind the cafeteria. Honestly, it was a pretty fun time for Ernie. Hanging out with a friend, having a whole room to busy himself with, scolding Marcus for being such a slob when he had two female roommates to consider; an all around good day for the neat freak Aberration. Only when the whole suite was finally tidied up did Ernie flop himself onto the 430 couch.

"Alright," Ernie breathed tiredly, "now we can talk discounts."

"God. That was something." Marcus said. Maybe it was just the lack of sleep, but the incredible amount of cleaning they did had taken a little bit of a toll on him. Hell, they cleaned places that he wouldn't have even thought of. He certainly didn't think that it was possible to work up a sweat while cleaning.

"How do you live like this?"

"A lotta practice makes a lotta perfect," Ernie shrugged, "Once you get in a routine, you'll be surprised at how easy it gets."

"Yeah...no offense...but I don't think I'm going to practice this very often." Marcus said, grinning slightly. "But hey, if I feel like doing it again, I'll ask Callan to go fall asleep at your place!"

The Aberration groaned. "Please don't. I think she drooled on my sheets."

However, the mention of the supergirl reminded Ernie of something he needed to say. Something important.

"She absolutely drooled on your sheets." Marcus laughed.

Ernie joke-grimaced some more before grinning along. "Right. Guess I should go take care of that then. If you're serious about the laundry then just text me whenever."

"Oh I'm super serious. My clothes are gonna be the fluffiest they've ever been!"

"Heh, yeah, you'll have the nicest clothes on the block. Right after me, of course. See ya."

Ernie moved to leave but as he crossed the threshold, he hesitated. He looked back over his shoulder, his smile light but his tone anything but.

"Marcus. You remember my promise on the island, right? What I would do if you fucked up again?"

Marcus cocked his eyebrow in confusion. This seemed like it was coming out of nowhere; and after the morning they'd just spent getting the room all tidy...it was a fair statement to say that he was a little caught off guard by the sudden shift. He didn't say anything for a moment, as he tried to figure out if Ernie was making a poor excuse for a joke, his friendly demeanor starting to sour a little as he realized this was no joke.

"I think I remember the gist of it, yeah." he said, keeping his eyes on the Aberration. Was this a challenge? Was this the moment? His mind started to think of escape routes as he warily eyed Ernie. Like an animal who had just spotted a predator.

"Good. Because I haven't forgotten either. I meant it." Ernie turned to face Marcus properly, though he didn't move from the door. "I just thought I should remind you cos your actions affect more people than you'd think."

Marcus still eyed Ernie, carefully listening to him talk. This was all stuff they'd been over already, and he didn't quite understand why Ernie was bringing it up now, of all times. His eyes darted around cautiously, waiting for the other shoe to drop. When it didn't, he was more confused than anything.

"O...kay?" he finally said, still on edge.

"Okay."

Ernie didn't move. Because he had a point to make, right? If he left now wouldn't that sorta...lessen the impact?

Also why was he getting the feeling that Marcus wasn't absorbing everything he was saying?

"Okay," he said again, when he realised that he'd been standing there in silence a bit too long.

Marcus's eyes darted back and forth again. Why was he just standing there, all menacingly? Was this a joke? How was he supposed to react? Should he just kick Ernie out of his Suite now? Did it lessen the impact of kicking someone out if they were already leaving?

"...okay?" He repeated, more confused than ever.

"Okay."

More momentary silence.

God, why didn't he just leave before? He considered telling Marcus what he and Cal really discussed but...no, he'd find out eventually. That wasn't his talk to have. Ernie's eyes drifted to Callan's bed and his expression turned to something sadder.

"Yeah, I meant it," he reiterated, probably unnecessarily, but gulped before he started again, "But if...if I was doing something horrible myself, you'd...do the same for me, right? You'd stop me, whatever means possible?

Marcus followed Ernie's eyes to Callan's bed, still wearing the confused expression. Did she have something to do with this?

"If you needed to be stopped...I'd do...something." it was a vague answer, but he really couldn't give anything else. He probably wouldn't be able to kill any of his friends, but he'd never throught he'd shoot another person either. There was no telling what he'd do in the moment.

"Ernie...why are you asking me this?"

Because I'm a liar.

Because I'm even worse than you.

Because I'd deserve it.

Because you had the decency to face your crime head-on, instead of pointing fingers at everyone else.

Ernie forced a chuckle, clearly not satisfied with Marcus' response.

"No reason," he shrugged helplessly, "Just thought it was important."

"Wh-?" Marcus started, unable to find a thought to finish his sentence. Why was Ernie being so wierd all of the sudden?

"Ernie...are...are you okay?" he finally asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Ernie shrugged again. Guess that was the best he was going to get. He turned again to leave, piping out an "I'll catch you later," as he closed the door behind him.

Marcus watched as Ernie left, not offering any response as the door slowly shut. That was...strange. Maybe it was the lack of sleep, but he had left that whole conversation very confused. Why would Ernie bring something like that up, anyway? The whole thing was just...there was something about it that he didn't like. He felt uneasy for some reason.

He gave a quick look back into Callan's bed before he sat back down on the couch. Thank god she hadn't been awake to hear all of that. The D.C incident certainly wasn't something that he wanted to talk with her about; if only because he wasn't sure how well she would take the news. If she knew what he'd done while she was trying to be the hero...it wasn't something he wanted to think about.

"Your actions affect more people than you'd think."

Yeah...it would devastate her if she knew.

Slowly, the pieces began to click.

At the end of it all, he'd thought of a million different scenarios in which Callan knew what he'd done, and all the evidence pointed towards the same place. The only way she could have known. After all, there was one likely person who had no issues with reminding him of his actions.

As Marcus donned his hoodie and left the dorm for the night, that scenario kept running through his head. The fresh air hadn't helped as much as he thought it would, and the pacing and running his hands through his hair anxiously hadn't helped either.

Sure, it was possible...but maybe he was just overreacting. He and Ernie were friends. Even though Ernie hadn't been pleased with his actions, he wouldn't have done something like that.

Right?

---

By the time Callan finally woke up, the sun had set. Her conversation with Ernie seemed like little more than a bad dream. The room was clean though-- really clean. Evidence enough that he was the one who had gotten her home. It took a few extra minutes of hiding under the covers, internally dying of embarrassment before she dared get up.

Marcus was there. Probably still not feeling great after the other night. She didn't want to bother him too much, so she kept the conversation minimal-- something that seemed almost too easy. She'd already decided on what to do with what she'd learned that morning. And that was absolutely nothing. Marcus had enough to worry about. There was nothing to discuss, anyway. She believed Ernie and she trusted Marcus. Nothing had changed there.

Despite her best efforts to keep the mood light, however, he still seemed a bit off... nervous, even.

She chalked it up to the nightmares.

Texty Text

Hey Ernie! Super sorry for crashing on your bed. I don't even remember falling asleep lol

:unamused: :unamused:

agh, probably drooled on ur bed too, huh? I owe you big time. Plus for cleaning our room :sweat:

Np. Between the sports cloths and the ride back AND the room servise your starting to owe me a lot

I expect snacks and a netflix marthon next time :triumph:

dude literally anytime. me casa is your casa. we don't hang out enough

Ye defs :thumbsup:

Ernie and Sander: Toilet Troubles

Ernest | Sander

---

𝕄𝕠𝕟: 𝕆𝕔𝕥. 𝟙𝟚, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘 / / 𝕌𝕊𝔸ℝ𝕀𝕃ℕ 𝔼𝕒𝕤𝕥 / / ℂ𝕒𝕗𝕖𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕚𝕒 𝔹𝕒𝕥𝕙𝕣𝕠𝕠𝕞 / / 𝟙𝟜𝟘𝟘

---

_{Collab with @RedDusk}

It often started with an unpleasant buzz in his skull. His jaws ached, and he often found himself digging into his forehead with dull fingernails, as if that could release the pressure. It didn’t. Nothing would work, except violence in his limbs and fire in his blood. He knew. He had been to GZ a few times this last week. Yet, he did not let himself indulge. He stared at the ghosts, he watched them wandering about on the rooftops. But he didn’t give in.

He was starving his Stigma on purpose. It had happened before. Blood was a valuable commodity back at the lab. What they gave him was always from some sort of animal. And when they didn’t have business with him, it was days and days curling up in his empty cell, fingers coming away bloody. But he endured. He did not snap, he was strong, even then.

He was supposed to be stronger now. He could do this. So he had been working out his aggression in other ways. The gym had become a place he frequented, though only late in the evening when there weren’t that many people around. During the days, he would jog through the school ground, trying to focus on his breathing and keeping his mind off thoughts about carnage and death and crimson waves.

It felt doable, days ago. Now he couldn’t even hear himself think over all this buzzing.

So he found himself taking a break from exercising that late morning, rinsing sweat off his brows in a public bathroom.

The door sweeped open then, revealing a yawning Ernie walking in. The sight of Sander stopped him in his tracks. Stopped him well. Because between the sudden fear stabbing at his heart, the uncertainty of how to greet an acquaintance he hadn't talked to in a while and the basic need to relieve himself, Ernie had no idea what course of action to take.

"Oh fuck," he muttered under his breath.

Sander's only response was reaching for the soap dispenser and began rinsing his hands. He either did not notice or did not bother to acknowledge Ernie's presence. Ernie thanked his lucky stars and quietly maneuvered around to the urinals. He unzipped his jeans and let loose. The process was quick and he sent glances over his shoulder every so often. Ernie knew better than most that vulnerabilities were easy to exploit in the bathroom, something people like Carlton could attest to. A small sense of achievement lit his walk back to the sinks, though the initial dismay returned once he saw that the vampire was still there. He began washing his hands in silence, three sinks down from Sander.

Sander only seemed to notice him then, eyes first widened in surprise, then quickly narrowed, as if he was doing some serious internal debate. Because it was exactly what he was doing. The Stigma was clamouring in the back of his mind, bleeding hate and rage into his veins.

He cared about Christmas, so he stayed away. He was concerned about the consequences, so he tiptoed around other students. He was practicing restraint, so he refused the ghosts of GZ. But Ernie. Ernie was…disposable. Ernie was…justified, or so his Stigma was telling him. Blood for blood, that evening when Christmas returned to him bruised and battered. He could pretend he was better, but Sander knew well enough that he was not.

So he took a few steps toward Ernie, then.

Ernie's sink was shut off immediately and he turned to face the other Aberration. Fuck. Fuck, he knew this was coming. The numerous, untouched days since the island had gotten his hopes up.

"That's the thing about cowards, Ernie. Whatever they're running from, it'll alllllways catch up."

"Sander--" he began.

But Sander did not let him finish. A fist flew, aiming right for Ernie’s face. The shorter boy cried out, reeling back. But the rope saved him from falling backwards on the floor. Ernie was upright, for now, but he took a dazed step backwards. Blood began dripping onto his shirt. Sander was on him in a second, another bloody fist raised and swung. Ernie barely felt the impact. Barely got moved. But the terror he was feeling felt more tangible than the fist itself. He stumbled back even more. Frustrated by Ernie's inaction, Sander grabbed the other Aberration's collar and shoved him backward, right into the wall. There was no resistance. A loud thud echoed through the bathroom. Ernie tried to back up further but there was nowhere to go.

"N-no, stop," he whimpered. He could feel his injured nose starting to throb. Sander didn’t. The blood mage simply pushed forward, enraged by the scent of drawn blood. His left hand was bloodied and probably bruised, the skin was split with jagged cuts, but Sander didn’t care. The pain was a welcome distraction. It was the proof of violence. The promise for more. He wanted more, because this was what he deserved. This was his alone. His to take.

So he lifted his hand, throwing another punch at the side of Ernie’s head. Ernie closed his eyes to take the hit. Impact, no pain, as always. Only the heat in his nose. Later, he would realise how stupid he was, being scared so witless when only the first punch had done any actual harm. But for now there was only panic. Maybe if he just kept taking it, Sander would leave him alone.

"I'm sorry," he tried, raising his arms in an attempt to block the next hits. Sander knew his wrist landed wrong somewhere along the line. It throbbed now, and he thought it would swell up, soon. He knew. Probably broke it. But adrenaline was thick in his blood, and his head was filled with the terrible clamour of the Stigma, so the pain didn’t reach him. It felt muted, like a dream.

He breathed, then landed another punch on Ernie’s stomach. Pain flared. He only grew furious, shoving Ernie's arms out of the way and gripping the shorter boy’s neck this time.

“Fight.” -His voice was hoarse. Thick with anger –“Fight back, coward.”

Red hands. No red eyes. How had he not put the pieces together yet?

"Why?" Ernie only squeaked back, tears welling in his eyes.

That question only served to enrage Sander, prompting him to clench his fingers tighter.

"Stop!" Ernie grabbed at Sander's wrists, trying to wrench him away.

"Make me."

Ernie could practically feel Owen's sneer. Sense Liam's disappointment. This was why he'd grown up in the back of a nightclub, wasn't it? Because he was weak. Because he was afraid. Because he never had the will to put his neck on the line, to fucking fight for anything. Not even himself.

"You're not like them, Ernie."

That was true. If he was, this stupid, stupid fight would have already finished. The Senators demanded everything from their soldiers. Ernie could provide nothing.

Ernie pushed weakly against Sander's chest, a tear making its way down his cheek now.

"FIGHT BACK!" -Sander almost roared, slamming Ernie's head back against the wall.

Another wave of panic. No choice. No choice but to obey.

With a cry, with all his strength, Ernie shot his fist out at Sander's throat. The blow hurt, and Sander stumbled backward, coughing and choking. Ernie remained in his spot, slightly hunched. On hand was against the wall but the other...

The other was in a tight fist.

The buzzcut Aberration merely stared back, like he couldn't believe what he'd just done.

It took Sander a few moments to recover, but when he finally did, blue eyes glanced up with a murderous glint to him. As if he had gone mad. Maybe he did. In one long stride, Sander was standing right in front of Ernie again, hand outstretched and grabbing the latter's jaws. A faint outline of red enveloped both of them, signalling that Sander's power was working. Streaks of blood on Ernie's face was also gone, absorbed to fuel the blood mage's rage.

"Then you die." -Sander only whispered this time, sense and self apparently had been engulfed by the Stigma.

No. Fuck you, no. He told him to fight back. Don't FUCKING change it now!

The red drain would suck him dry if he didn't end this fast. Ernie's rope whipped itself around Sander's neck, tightly, tightly, like he could fucking decapitate this guy if he--no. The lanky boy was lifted high, quickly, his head smashing against the halogen lights and raining glass on the floor. Nothing more came out of the blood mage but gurgling noises and incoherent grunts. Blood was began to ooze from various cuts on Sander’s face, just as his head spun dangerously, black spots dancing at the edge of his vision.

Yet, he fought, grabbing at the rope around his neck.

Yelling hard, Ernie commanded the rope with a clawed hand, throwing Sander to the side this time. The boy made sickening thuds as his head hit the wall, again and again and again. Ernie didn't let up until Sander went limp and the red haze stopped.

Silence.

Ernie collapsed against the wall, shocked. What had he--oh god. The boy rushed to his unconscious attacker, close but not daring to touch him. An ugly bruise was starting to form, dangerous red stirring to the surface in an uninterrupted line around Sander's neck. Blood dripped steadily from several lacerations on his head. Some of it was smeared on the wall Ernie had bashed him against. Sander was still breathing, fortunately. But this was really, really bad.

Silence. Nothing but the buzzcut boy's harried breaths.

Overhead, the broken light still flickered sporadically. Glass tinkled downwards. It was too close to the lunch hour, people were going to show up. There was...fuck, what the fuck was he meant to do now?

Hurry, hurry now. You do that well.

So much.

Sander himself was dumped onto a stall toilet, the rope once again used, this time to lock the door from the inside. No time to think. No time to clean. Ernie ran, quickly, quickly--for fuck's sake, hurry.

He stumbled out the bathroom, blindly shoving into people who were walking to the very same room he left. Went far, far away from the cafeteria. Waited by the bus stop and didn't bother concealing his X-mark, nor the drops of blood on his shirt. Only when the bus had reached the city center did he dare to pull out his phone. Trembling fingers tapped on a contact, one he'd acquired from what felt like an eternity ago.

Christmas. It all seemed real fucking ironic now.

Cafeteria bathrom first stall

Both of yuo stay the fuck away from me

October 13

Ernie and Zoe: Baking and Blaming

Ernest | Zoe

---

𝕋𝕦𝕖: 𝕆𝕔𝕥. 𝟙𝟛, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘 / / 𝕌𝕊𝔸ℝ𝕀𝕃ℕ 𝔼𝕒𝕤𝕥 / / 𝔹𝕦𝕚𝕝𝕕𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝔹 / / 𝟘𝟡𝟘𝟘

---

_{Collab with @Lasrever}

Sleep was...impossible now. Ernie didn't know if he should be thankful or not. On one hand, he could avoid that frightful dream Emma warned him about. He could keep an eye out for Sander should he attack him again, a knife on his belt at all times. On the other...he was freaking tired. Only hours before, the boy had woken up with his face smushed on his new keyboard, a horrendous chord blasting through his headphones. Must have passed out in the early morning. It was a wonder he made it to his morning workout in time.

Ernie stood in the communal kitchen, staring at nothing as he stirred a bowl of cake mix. Homemade, of course, none of that store-bought bullshit. The birthday girl deserved only the best. The bench was littered with open flour packets and similar bowls he hadn't finished mixing. Still about four more flavours to make, and he hadn't even begun the lattice-work for the pie. He flinched as the oven alarm went off, before summoning his aura to avoid wasting time looking for the mitts. Eyes blinked shut as they were blasted by hot air, but Ernie didn't need sight to know the job had been well-done.

Ah. At least that heavenly smell would rouse him a bit.

Zoe wasn't exactly a morning person, to say the least, and this week had made the problem a whole lot worse. She'd started to dread the visions brought by her stigma, her wound ached incessantly, and she'd been sleeping at her desk as she tried and failed to put together what the hell was going on with all this. Combine that with a complete lack of motivation to look after herself, and the girl was a mess. Her hair was a bird's nest, her clothes were more crease than fabric, and the dark circles under her eyes had taken up permanent residence. At least when she ran into people at Ground Zero there was an excuse not to look her best, but that excuse didn't really fly when she was hanging around the dorms.

Who gives a shit anymore, right? She chuckled to herself, making her way bleary-eyed into the kitchen. It wasn't like she'd been leaving her room much without reason, and she didn't encounter that many people hanging around the dorms. She paused as she entered the room, the smell hitting her - she didn't really recognise it, but it was good. And was that Ernie? It took her a little longer than it should have to put two and two together.

"Kinda early for cake, don't you think?" The redhead yawned, looking around the room.

Ernie looked the girl up and down, the bags under his eyes emphasizing the unimpressed look he usually reserved for only Zoe. It seemed that the lack of sleep had thoroughly eroded his tact as the only response he had for his fellow Aberration was a monotone, "Ew."

Anger flashed across Zoe's expression, but after a moment she just shook her head, frowning. "Fuck you too, then."

A pause as Ernie mentally rewound the conversation.

"Huh. It is kinda early," he said to the ceiling, before turning to Zoe herself, "My bad."

That last part was supposed to be an apology, or as close to an attempt at one as Ernie could muster in his current state. He suddenly remembered something.

"Oh yeah, any updates on the Amigo thing?"

"Mm-hm." Zoe grumbled something that might have been an acknowledgement of the apology. She was silent for a long moment, preoccupied with the important task of coffee-brewing until she absorbed Ernie's question. Without turning to look at him, she spoke. "No-one's gotten back to me yet. Hopefully won't take too much longer."

"Yeah..."

Man, one-syllable responses were so much easier. Why didn't he use them more often? As he placed the cake tray down, he noticed the coffee machine being turned on. He pointed to a far corner of the counter.

"There's cake if you want. Otherwise it's getting tossed out."

The cake itself looked nice. A perfectly applied layer of white frosting coated the piece. Icing roses neatly bordered the top, creating a spiralling decal that complimented the neutral tones well. The only flaw the cake seemed to have was the bright blue 'HAPY BITHDAY' emblazoned at the top in crooked piped icing.

"If you're not saving it for a special occasion."

Zoe looked at the cake, impressed by the decoration - if slightly surprised that it had come from Ernie. Seemed like he didn't just do drinks then, although she was starting to wonder why he did all this stuff. She'd tried baking someone a cake exactly once, and there was a reason she hadn't made a second. "Who's it for, anyw--" But as she finally looked at the message, she paused."You know that's not how you spell that, right?"

Ernie grimaced. Of course he knew...eventually. Why else would he toss it away? "Look, do you want it or not?"

Taking another bowl, one for fondant this time, he sighed. "It's Siena's birthday. Me and the guys are preparing a surprise for later."

"Yeah, I'll have some. Siena, huh?" Zoe picked up her coffee with a slight grimace - she still didn't like the stuff, but needed the caffeine considering the state she was in. It was kind of a surprise that this was the first she'd heard about Siena's birthday, but it made sense; she didn't exactly seem like the type to bring up the subject. "Well, tell her happy birthday from me once you get there."

After her first bite, she paused, giving Ernie a look. "It's good. How d'you know how to do all this, anyway?"

"Actually, I only picked this stuff up when I got sent to West. Already knew how to cook so it wasn't too hard. And," he tried not to sound too childish, "I just...really like birthdays."

"Had time to practice baking there, huh? Sounds pretty relaxed." Zoe shrugged, though she couldn't help raising an eyebrow at the birthdays comment. Honestly, she'd never been a fan of the things herself. "Gotta celebrate when we get the chance around here."

"Mm, the monster situation is pretty relaxed on the West side too so we didn't get sent out as much. Also most of the kids there have a power that's dumb like floating two feet in the air or some shit so it's only like a handful of the same people who actually go on the missions." Ernie nodded in agreement with her statement about celebrations.

"Sometimes I think I'd take a dumbass power over this." Zoe forced a laugh, trying - and failing - to pass it off as a joke. "Whole lot less trouble for everyone, I'd bet."

Ernie nodded again. More awkwardly this time, since he was getting the feeling that she wasn't completely kidding. "Uh huh...yeah, those guys can be pretty fun. Can't count on them to have your back in a fight though."

A silence lingered after that sentence. If was totally honest, it was good that Zoe showed up when she did. Despite everything he told himself as an excuse, Cal's admission had affected him badly. And between the foreboding dreams, the Amigos, the threat of getting jumped of Sander again, the development of his powers and a whole load of other baggage, he needed to get something off his chest.

"Hey," he started hesitantly, rubbing his eyes, "you remember that David guy, right?"

"Course I do." She remembered all of them, one way or another. David was no exception to that rule, although being on someone else's side made it a little less frequent. Not that the memory wasn't sweet in its own way, the screams ringing out as warm blood coated her hand. For a brief second, Zoe was looking at something else - breaking into a vicious smile as her thoughts started running--

Shut the fuck up. As quickly as it had appeared, the smile was replaced by what could only be called disgust, before she managed to force her expression into neutrality. Really had to get better at that - it didn't do her much good to wear her heart on her sleeve, even if outright lying didn't sit well with her. Especially when she was getting blindsided by this kind of topic. "Why bring him up now?"

Ernie stared at weird expressions for a second, an alarmed eyebrow raised high before he finally responded.

"I dunno," he sighed, "Honestly, I haven't been thinking about that either but it sorta...came up recently."

He stared at the pan.

"The APC only got attacked after we shoved the guy in their hands. A kid got killed and everyone's finding some way to blame themselves. But...fuck, I don't know. Wasn't all that sorta our fault?"

Zoe raised an eyebrow, but didn't appear particularly horrified by the assertion. More surprised than anything; that certainly didn't cross her mind. "Guess you could look at it that way. Sure, our fault, I'll take that." Honestly, she tried not to think too hard about the dead ones - well, the ones she'd seen dead, at least. Not that Ernie needed to know why.

Still, even with it being the first time she'd thought of it, the guilt that came with the idea was negligible, relatively speaking. The indirect death of a kid she barely knew wasn't really all that much to Zoe, even if she just picked from the things she'd done in here. And more than that, the implications of what Ernie was saying irritated her in more ways than one. "Why're you guys still sitting around blaming yourselves, then?"

"I'm not sitting aroun--" Ernie frowned, trying to articulate everything he wanted to say, "I mean...that was far from my first mission, y'know? Shit happens, I know that. But the others..."

He leaned on the counter, contemplation taking him out of his baking for now.

"I dunno. Seeing them feel shitty makes me feel shitty. Makes me think too much. Like if it was our fault, would that--god, this is stupid--would it fix things for them?"

"No. They're not used to death. Besides, what happened in Wisford... that takes more than one person fucking up. I don't want them pointlessly blaming themselves," Zoe shook her head, "but I want them to figure out where they're responsible and do their damnedest to stop it from happening again. Even if there was some magic fix-everything button, I'd tell you not to use it."

"So if they do feel shitty, it means they are figuring out what went wrong?" Ernie's eyes widened at the lesson but he quickly covered it with a frown. What the heck, why was Zoe actually making sense now?

"Or maybe they're just moping. I'm not a mind-reader." Zoe scowled. Tricky subject, death, and blaming yourself for your actions was something she was painfully familiar with. But this was a different situation - the things she got hung up on were the times she'd pulled the trigger. "The difference is whether they're trying to do something about it. Help them figure out who fucked what, then what happens with that's their choice. Once they know everything, who they blame's not up to you."

"...Yeah."

'Help them figure'--no, he couldn't do that. They'd never look at him the same way. And he...he needed them. Ernie's mind drifted to Callan in his room, crying, and him being able to do nothing about it. If she knew...hell, if any of them knew...

Ernie spoke up again, eager to shift the subject to something that wasn't as guilt-tripping. "Blame is...hard to figure out, yeah. Letting them know everything though...I'm not trying to be an ass or anything here, but it's kinda funny hearing that from you." A corner of his lips quirked up. "You were really into that 'big bad villain' thing, that day in the lighthouse. Told Emma about David but didn't say jack about what I was doing there. What was that about, huh?"

"Why do you think I never tried to hide what I'm like, Ernie?" Zoe sighed, rolling her eyes. "I'm not a complete idiot. I know half of you hate me and the other half are scared I'll rip their throats out if they look at me wrong. Might as well use it where I can. Besides..."

To tell the truth, there wasn't really all that much thought going into this. The root of it all was much more simple, but that didn't make her any less certain about sticking with it.

"I said I would take responsibility. I don't break my promises."

Ernie narrowed his eyes at the girl. There was always the chance she'd use it against him. Always. Yet, when he examined her for any sense of impending betrayal, he couldn't find anything. And for some reason, he trusted that conclusion. For now.

"Right." He knew not to count his blessings, especially when they were falsely gained. "Thanks, I guess."

"No skin off my back." Zoe shrugged. It helped her out to make sure people kept their distance, after all. After a long moment of silence, she cleared her throat. Even if she didn't mind talking, she had a routine to try and stick to and no matter how exhausted she was missing a day at Ground Zero was a no-go. "If there's nothing else, I'm gonna leave you to your cake."

Ernie nodded. He needed some time to think anyway.

"Don't got much else to say, unless you want to pick up some cake decorating skills. I'll see you later then."

"I think I'll pass." With a small smirk, Zoe turned to leave. "Later, Ernie."

Callan and Determination, Ernie and Callan, Callan and Emma: Callan Actually Cleans Something For Once

Callan | Determination | Ernest

---

𝕋𝕦𝕖: 𝕆𝕔𝕥. 𝟙𝟛, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘 / / 𝕌𝕊𝔸ℝ𝕀𝕃ℕ 𝔼𝕒𝕤𝕥 / / 𝔹𝕦𝕚𝕝𝕕𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝔹: ℝ𝕠𝕠𝕞 𝟚𝟘𝟛 / / 𝟘𝟡𝟘𝟘

---

_{Collab with @Baklava and @Diggerton}

She was more than a little pleased with herself. Exhausted as all get out, but with something of a pep in her step, Callan brandished a small silver basket, complete with glittery purple gift paper carefully tucked in between several cups noodle packets, a bottle of hot sauce, three pack of pizza-shaped erasers, and a knitted purple scarf, rolled up and tied with some twine. It was kind of like a miniature version of the senior night gifts they used to give out at the last home game of the season back at Westlake High. Nowhere as extravagant, but fit for its purpose.

The only part of the gift that seemed a bit lackluster was the note. Scrawled in Callan's average looking handwriting on a piece of paper torn out of a notebook, it read:

Just felt like you needed a pick-me-up.

Hang in there, Party Queen.

--Cal

Shifting the gift into one hand, Callan knocked on Emma's door.

A faint groan could be heard from the other side, followed by the rustling of sheets and then a loud bang and an equally loud ”Shit!”

It took roughly another 30 seconds before the door opened. There was no Emma, instead the tall form of Determination dominated the door frame. She was quiet at first, looking Callan up and down, eyes lingering for a moment on the basket, before speaking up, ”Uhhhh... heyo, kelp head. Wassup?”

Callan was surprised to see Riley open the door. 'Determination', she mentally corrected herself.

"Hey, Det," she smiled, choosing not to comment on the nickname, which she couldn't decide was flattering or not. "Is Emma around?"

"Nope. She's... doin' something. I dunno. But heeeeeeeey, if you're bored your good ol' buddy Determination is here!" she said with a small wink and finger guns.

She wanted to... hang out? Managing a nervous laugh, Callan tucked her hair behind one ear, "Actually, I just wanted to drop something off for Em. If that's cool...."

”Yeah. Yeah, yeah, for sure.” she said, putting on a not-so-subtle forced smile. She should've expected it, really. Who would want to hang out with someone who wasn't real.

Determination coughed. ”So, uh, watchya got?”

Oh, geez. Spotting the strain in the tulpa's smile, Callan couldn't help but feel a little sorry for the thing. Shit, and she hadn't even thought of her when she was out buying this stuff the night before....

It wasn't Det's fault it looked like Riley, right? She idly wondered how often Emma left her alone in the room, considering she'd done so the last two times they hung out.

"Uh... just some stuff I thought she might like," Callan held the basket up for Determination to see, thumbing through the different items. She hesitated before speaking again, eyes darting between the tall, blue-haired tulpa and the empty room behind her. She wouldn't regret this, right? Emma had never said anything about Determination being especially dangerous on her own. "Uhhh... maybe I could come in and set it down?" she offered with an awkward grimace.

Determination visibly lit up, just a little. ”I'm sure Em'll be all over that stuff. Yeah, come on in.” Determination held open the door for Callan, gesturing her forward. Inside the room was surprisingly clean, with the small exception of the bed, which hadn't been made. In the corner Spartacus was curled up on a cat bed, now cleaned and looking significantly healthier after being fed. The TV was on, and apparently Determination was watching Blade Runner before Callan showed up. The film was just about hitting the halfway point - it was the scene where Sebastian finds Pris in the dumpster. ”I was just, uh – Emma showed me this movie. I wanted to watch it again, but, uh, I kinda fell asleep.”

Callan looked around the room again. She'd already seen it, but... it suddenly seemed a bit different now. Her eyes lingered on the screen for a moment, trying not to think too hard about Emma's tulpa watching that of all things."Yeah, that's an awesome movie. Definitely worth watching more than once," she said, noting that apparently Det needed sleep. But with only one bed...?

Callan set the gift for Emma on the center of the desk, quickly turning back to face Determination. It didn't seem fair to be so creeped out by everything she did, but.... "Does Emma head out alone very often?" she asked tentatively.

"I mean, not all the time. She usually has me tag along, but, uh... y'know. I can tell that she feels weird about... all this. Figured I'd stop pestering her to take me with her all the time." Determination gave a slight shrug, taking a seat on the bed.

Callan remained standing, slipping her hands into her pockets in a faux-casual pose. "All this?" Callan repeated, curious about exactly how aware Determination was of the situation and all its parts.

"I mean, like... she went from having this mindless goon to having a weird new alien roommate that wants to follow her around all the time. Plus I..." Determination paused, getting caught up thinking about what to say, "I'm pretty much her ex. In looks, personality, and..." she stopped herself.

"Looks and personality."

Callan suspiciously arched one eyebrow.

"Yeah- I bet it's tough for both of you."

"Yeah. Tough." Determination said, laying back on the bed, "I mean, I don't really give a shit, y'know? Not like it's my fault I look like this. I think it's kinda cool."

Chewing her lip, Callan found herself at a crossroads. Det was clearly a lot more aware of everything than she thought. But would Emma be upset about her talking with it about all this stuff? Apparently they could communicate telepathically, too. So who was to say Emma wasn't hearing about all of this right now? And if not now, later?

She moved towards the door a step, but stopped. Just one more question.

"Hey, where do you sleep?" she smiled nervously, pretending to look for a second bed tucked away somewhere.

”Oof. Creep much, kelp head? Uh, on the bed.”

"Ah-!" Callan laughed hard and suddenly. Yeah, she kept forgetting about how great at being subtle she was. "I just meant-- you know-- the bed looks kinda small. And there's only one. Can't be too comfortable!" she hastily tried to patch up whatever insinuations her question might have set off before reaching for the door. It was sloppy work and probably making things worse. Best to get out of dodge now. "A-anyway, I don't wanna be a bother, so I should probably...."

”Hey, wait, Cal...” Determination reached out, looking down. Her words came out hesitantly, ”Listen... there was, uh, something I wanted to... I guess something I wanted to tell you.” she paused, looking up with at her with a nervous smile.

Hand already on the doorknob, Callan's grip tightened. Almost enough to start denting the metal. Oh, fuck. Just leave. There was no way staying in this kind of situation could turn out okay.

...but what kind of situation was this exactly? What could Emma's tulpa possibly want to tell her?

She waited expectantly.

”Right... I, uh, just wanted to say...” Determination sighed, composing herself, ”Emma's been through a lot... and is going through a lot. She's got this... this tendency to become enamored with people really quickly... kinda like how you guys are 'BFFs' or whatever now. My point is, she trusts you. A lot... more than anyone else here. So don't mess with that, alright?”

'More than anyone else'.... including Marcus? Callan's expression was an unreadable jumble of emotions as she processed what the tulpa had said. First and foremost, it wasn't at all what she expected. This was the sort of thing one person said behind another person's back. Not in a bad way, but... still. And what exactly did Det think she was going to do...?

"Uh," Callan nodded slowly, "R-right. I'll remember that.... Thanks..." And with that, she quickly jerked the door open and slipped back out into the hall.

”I mean it, Cal!” Determination called after her. ”Shit, I really fucked that one up, didn't I?” she muttered to herself, inaudible to Callan.

---

In the kitchen, Ernie was folding the edges of a pie. An uncharacteristic amount of flour was lathered on his apron. The poor guy looked exhausted and it was apparent that if he'd had even an hour's worth of extra sleep there definitely wouldn't be so many open bags of ingredients resting on the counter. He yawned, long and loud, before opening the oven.

Callan's heart was still pounding as she left Emma's dorm room behind. It didn't take long for the anxiety to subside, however. Emma's tulpa hadn't said anything too horrendously crazy, though she decide that talking with Det one on one wasn't something she wanted to have happen again any time soon. A tasty aroma emanated from the kitchens before she made it to the door. Curiously, wondered towards it, not daring to peek her head around the corner until she heard what seemed like a familiar yawn.

Poking her head around the corner, Callan spotted him, tireless baking away it seemed. "Whoa, what's goin' on in here?" she grinned in awe.

Ernie turned his head. Even the bags under his eyes didn't affect the smirk that showed up when he saw her. "Cake."

"Oooh," she cooed, briefly noting how tired Ernie looked. Was any one at this school getting enough sleep these days? She propped her elbows up on the counter and glanced at the cake. "It smells good, what's it..." she paused, leaning a bit closer and squinting at the iced lettering.

"O-oh," Ernie closed the oven after placing the pie in. He noticed her looking. "Yeah, just trying to grind a good one out. I'm not using that one in the corner though. You can have some if you want."

"Seriously?" her grin widened as she sidled up next to the offered cake. Was it wrong of her to be so eager? She hadn't had breakfast, yet-- or ever tried Ernie's baking, so... Two perfectly good reasons not to decline.

She chuckled at the mispelled words, "I'm guessing this is supposed to say 'happy birthday'," she remarked.

Ernie sighed. "Yeah. Pro-tip: don't try to spell things on three hours of sleep."

"What?" Callan frowned, looking up from where she'd been cutting a small piece, "Late night?"

"Oh yeah, totes," Ernie replied, trying to sound breezy. All light and casual-stylez.

"Hmm," Callan hummed with faux suspicion as she moved into the kitchen area, searching for a plate and fork, "What were you doing?"

Besides keeping watch from my window with a knife in my pants?

"Practicing. Piano." Nailed it. "Siena wants me to learn a piece by Friday. Speaking of Siena, that's," he pointed to a topic change, gesturing at the cake, "who the cake is for. Team SAP's holding a little surprise for her later today."

Callan spun to face him with fork in hand and several questions. Foremost... "Oh shoot! Her birthday's today?"

Ernie nodded. "Didn't I text you about it?"

Callan frowned, "No..." She thought for a moment, trying to remember if she could have spaced it.... No, definitely not. "And what's team SAP?"

"Oh...shit, that's my bad then."

At the mention of his bros, Ernie grinned proudly.

"Just a dumb name for me, Marcus and Brent. Don't ask me what it stands for though. It's been ages and...honestly, I'll look stupid if I have to ask."

Callan scoffed, "Fair enough... don't worry about it though. I should probably know my own roommate's birthdays." She dished up her slice of cake and leaned against the counter, idly combing her fork through the icing. Geez, she was going to have to make a run into town to find a gift or something before she turned in for the day.

"I didn't know you played piano," she said.

"Yeah, Siena helped me pick it up again."

"Oh what?" Callan swallowed the bite of cake in her mouth and laughed, "Siena plays? Man, I'm 0 for 2 today..." She didn't even know Ernie and Siena hung out. Then again, it was easy to miss a lot over the course three weeks. And her flipped schedule over the past few days hadn't done much to change that.

She set her empty plate on the counter and decided to take a shot at the dark. "By the way... are Brent and Siena dating?"

If Ernie had been drinking water, the question would have made him choke. Instead he cracked up.

"Hahaha, heck if I know!" He tried not to double over, remembering what Brent had told him about the Chris nonsense. "Want me to ask for you?"

Callan laughed along, though a little less enthused. Clearly she wasn't in on the whole joke, "Oh God, no!" She looked apologetic, "Just trying to figure out exactly how much I missed last month."

"Well, they do seem to hang out a lot. Even if they're not together right now I doubt there'd be much in their way."

"Ah okay... haha, I was just curious is all. Even though we're roommates, I guess Siena and I don't talk much. She's usually got her nose in a book anyway."

"Hm. That sounds like her," Ernie nodded, "How come you guys don't talk that much? Is the book tougher to get through than we thought?"

Callan laughed, "It's not like we don't get along. Just different interests I guess."

"Kinda like us, right?" he laughed, "I don't think I've touched a basketball in months."

"Heh," Callan shrugged lightly, "Kinda..." Her voice trailed off for a moment, as if a thought had just occurred to her. Funny how she considered Ernie one of her closest friends, yet there were so many differences. None where it mattered though, right? "Man, it's been a while since I touched a basketball, too, actually."

She waved both her hands in front of her, "Super strength kinda messed up my game..."

"That'll just have to be another thing we ask Heph. Unbreakable earphones and super-strength basketballs. Put that guy to good use, right? USARILN's got too many of those saran wrap trucks anyway."

Callan laughed, "Tell him to build me a whole super-strength proof house while he's at it. I've already gone through one hair brush and remote this week. Almost jacked up Emma's doorknob just now, too."

The piping bag burst in Ernie's hand, spewing a horrendous amount of icing over the top of the cake. He worked quickly to make it seem like a conscious action, grabbing the icing spatula and spreading the spurted substance in an even layer.

"Hair brush and--geez, is this the part where you tell me you've pummelled a whole house before? Heph might not have the time for that one," he chuckled lightly. But the spatula was held in a white-knuckle grip.

It was there. Small, but there. A pinch of pain. Just enough to make her wince at the comment. Almost unreadable and poorly masked behind a shrinking smile, but just enough... if you knew what to look for. Otherwise, she didn't seem to miss a beat. It was wasn't her fault, was it? Misery was the one who did it.

"Yeah, I guess that'd be a pretty big ask," Callan laughed, pushing herself off the counter to get a closer look at the cake, "You need any help with anything?"

Ernie stared back for a moment, solemn, scanning that chink in the armor. He didn't know what to make of it, whether it was regret or something else. So he improvised again. Kept that solemn expression and moved his arms protectively over the cake.

"You're not one of those people that waits until someone else buys a present and then just adds their name to the Christmas card, are you?" he asked with a pretend-glare.

Callan pouted, pretending to look offended, "Aw, c'mon. I wouldn't do that... but now that you mention it..."

She smirked, "I wouldn't mind helping you clean up in exchange for some gift ideas. I was gonna make a run into town, but... I have no idea what to get her."

"You, cleaning up for me? Man, what mirror universe are we in?" Ernie grinned cheekily. "Sure, I'll take you up on that. Hell, you can even help me with the decorating. Put your name on the card and all that. Might make Siena happy to hear that her friends worked on it together."

"I was inspired by the cleaning legend himself!"

Cleaning up the kitchen turned out to be even easier than Callan thought. Ernie hadn't made a very big mess, even with the obvious sleep deprivation. His good mood made the work go by faster, too. Something Callan was grateful for considering that she didn't usually enjoy the tidying up part. It was well worth the effort, though. Following Ernie's advice, Callan managed to find a shop in town that sold an assortment of adorable dog sweaters. Probably a good idea with how much colder it'd be getting, right? She bought a few different styles, unsure of what Siena might like, and folding them neatly into a pastel pink gift bag.

Normally she'd be anxious to see Siena open it, but with her sleeping schedule running so late already, she simply dropped it off with Ernie and returned to her dorm.

---

Texts

Omg Callan
You have like no idea how awesome this gift is, that scarf was a gift from my sister and I felt so shitty that it got messed up
You're def getting the friend of the year award thank you so much

aw its no biggie, gurl
glad you liked it ;)

I really do <3<3<3<3
I'll try not to get Kusari's blood all over this one

lol ya maybe don't wear this one into battle
that or get ernie to hook you up
i hear he's a pro at doin laundry no joke

Yeah, I think I'll just leave this one at home
Shit man that was our first battle, feels like so long ago
Didn't I almost get you killed?
Whoops xd

dang it does feel like a long time
haha but no you didnt almost get me killed
getting smacked by that monster wasnt a fun time tho :grimacing:

:sweat_smile:
Det's pretty much calling her own shots now so that kind of thing probably won't happen again
Probably

if it does, im holding you responsible
just so you know haha

:(
Hey man, take it up with her
She's a big girl now

Always blame the parents :kissing:

Woah man, cut a single mom some slack
This analogy really works because she basically treats Marcus like her step-dad that she doesn't like :/

..?
What?

Fr I mean it
Me and Marcus were out and she just showed up, I don't think she's into us... like... yeah
And then she started getting all mouthy so I sent her home
Like a kid who doesn't like her mom getting a new boyfriend
((Okay yeah this analogy feels weird now...))

Hmm that is kinda weird
but I guess it makes sense shed want to spend time with you
your like her creator

Yeah . . .
It's not that I don't like her, it's just awkward as hell
The whole Riley thing is just too weird
Idk maybe I should try to get over it, not like she's going to go away

sorry em :/
id like to help but i think im just as lost as you on this one
like i said tho, maybe you'll have another dream soon and she wont look like your ex anymore

Dw about it, this is totally my problem
You're doing enough just by being my vent
I just feel like really guilty, because Marcus and everything
Because I'm sure he'd be all jazzed up to hear that I apparently can't stop thinking about fucking Riley :x
…
I just read that over amd that's not how I meant that...
I was trying to say like
I was using fucking for emphasis, not as a word
Just forget I said anything pls

lol dw I know what you meant
your secret's safe with me ;)

Thanks <3
Things are already fucked enough, last thing I need is this shit ruining my relationship with one of the like four cool people here

Yeah I feel you
hang in there. you got this.
ttyl

Seeya

Ernie, Marcus, Siena and Brent: RIP SAP

Link

October 14

Ernie, Sander and Emma: Laundry and Leisurely Lying

Ernest | Sander | Emma

---

𝕎𝕖𝕕: 𝕆𝕔𝕥. 𝟙𝟜, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘 / / 𝕌𝕊𝔸ℝ𝕀𝕃ℕ 𝔼𝕒𝕤𝕥 / / 𝕃𝕒𝕦𝕟𝕕𝕣𝕪 ℝ𝕠𝕠𝕞 𝟙𝟜 / / 𝟙𝟙𝟘𝟘

---

_{Collab with @RedDusk and @Diggerton}

Ernie sat in front of the washing machine, slumped, his head leaning against the wall. Fucking...fuck. This was hardly new. The paranoia, the constant need to greet people with some semblance of a smile. He'd operated with little sleep before but this? This was ridiculous, and it was starting to take a major toll on him. Maybe Callan had the right idea with all those energy drinks. Ernie felt his eyelids getting heavier, more and more concentration being needed to keep them open. And this wall was starting to get real...comfy...

It was then that a lanky figure walked in, blue eyes trained on Ernie like he knew exactly where the other Aberration was. Well, he did. Stopping in front of Ernie, Sander poked at his shoulder. With a sigh, Ernie opened his eyes, roused by the contact and the sudden scent of cologne filling the air. His blurry gaze moved upwards until they met the blue of the teen in front him.

The reaction was instantaneous.

A golden glow lit shadows against the walls. Ernie's legs kicked out against Sander, sending the shorter one backwards off the bench and onto his bottom.

"Don't," Ernie muttered as he shifted back, his rope poised and ready.

"I'm not here for...that." -Sander blinked, seemingly surprised before moving a few steps back, crossing his arms.

"Good. Stay that way. Stay back." Ernie glared at the lanky Aberration and began getting to his feet.

Sander cleared his throat, but he complied, backing away further. He scrunched his brows though, contemplating. Ernie stood in a ready stance, prepared to lunge or make a break for it if Sander snapped again. Another student entered the room but a withering glare from the glowing Aberration sent the poor kid right back out.

"What do you want?" Ernie growled. His eyes kept flickering to the door.

"To...thank you, actually." -With the prompt, Sander got straight to the point, flashing Ernie an uneasy smile.

The buzzcut boy's face scrunched into an ugly squint. "Huh?"

"The other day. Whatever you did, it triggered something." -Sander shrugged, tone light and neutral, as if several broken bones and a concussion were nothing -"I'm...free now."

Unable to help himself, his lips split into a grin. He tapped the X mark on his throat.

"I'm free. It's silent now."

Ernie's gaze flickered from Sander's face to his neck, realisation dawning quickly.

"You had the dream."

"You know about it?" -An eyebrow arched -"Are you...? Is it silent, for you too?"

"I..." the shorter teen's hand reached for his own mark, "Almost. It's there but it's...quiet." And, contradictory as it was, that didn't necessarily feel like a good thing.

"What did you do?"

Ernie grimaced. "I don't know. It just happened."

First Emma, now Sander? This...what did this mean for the others? Hazel the bipolar titan and Zoe the anti-villain? No, that wasn't important right now.

"I almost killed you in that bathroom," Ernie said accusingly, "And you said that triggered the change?"

"It could. The shadow wouldn't have come, otherwise." -Funny enough, they almost killed him several times before, and nothing happened. Maybe Ernie just got that close. Or maybe the shadow took all those years finding its way. Or maybe it was all a big coincidence. Regardless, he felt that Ernie might know more, considering that he was a fellow Aberration.

"The shadow..." The details matched Emma's description. "Did it want to consume you? The Stigma?"

And the most important factor. Ernie could feel the dread welling up.

"Did you...have to fight?"

"It wanted to. I just...got lucky."

" 'Got lucky' how?"

Sander's expression hardly changed, but his blue eyes grew cold.

"Well, how did you get lucky?"

Ernie noticed the shift. "I..."

Think. Think, dammit. What else did she say?

"Something...protected me."

"Who?"

"Something right? I dunno, it didn't make much sense," Ernie blindly repeated Emma's words.

"There must be someone." -Sander simply shook his head, frowning. The shadow was a liar. A thief. How could Ernie know what it really was? -"How can you tell it was the shadow? How can you chase it away?"

God. Right, Emma had mentioned a 'someone else'. Someone among old names from the class. Bitch sure chose a bad time to leave out details. Ernie's improvisational lying could only go so far.

"Yes. There was...someone...?" Ernie tried cautiously. "It's kinda--I don't really want to talk about it."

"Then don't." -Sander let it go, obviously didn't seem to be that interested in Ernie's story after all -"It's fine. I just...want to thank you, then. Maybe we were just...in the right place at the right time."

"It's no problem?" Ernie winced, though inwardly he was relieved that the subject was dropped. Shame. Looked like he wasn't going to get any details out of this guy.

But with the last statement, Ernie's scowl returned.

"Wait. No, it wasn't 'right' anything. You attacked me first! What the fuck was that about?"

"Stigma." -Sander looked Ernie straight in the eyes then, face blank. Despite everything, his feelings about Ernie did not change the slightest. In fact, they might have intensified, now that he was no longer guilting himself into accepting the bad things in his life -"I'm sure you understand."

So it wasn't because he hadn't been paying attention to Christmas on the island? Ernie paused, mulling over the information. He didn't know if that was better or worse. All he knew was that he was still pissed as all hell.

"You're a fucking cunt." Ernie stated simply.

"Then what are you?" -Sander simply looked interested, as if he was genuinely curious about the answer.

Ernie suddenly felt the strong urge to swing something at Sander's head. Something with a handle that shattered easily. But there was no such thing within his grasp. Instead he just pinched the bridge of his nose.

"A really angry dumbass," he sighed, wondering why he was playing along with Sander's 'I know you are but what am I' bullshit, "Look, if there's nothing else to say can you just go?"

Sander nodded, accepting the request easily. He turned and left quickly without another word. Ernie watched him exit, waited a full minute before the buzzcut Aberration finally slumped back into his seat. God, that guy was a piece of work and a half.

"Fucking asshole..." Ernie muttered to himself and pulled out his phone. The golden glow disappeared in the meanwhile. There was someone he needed to talk with, now that he'd learnt that there were some important fucking details she'd left out of her supposedly friendly warning. His fingers tapped impatiently on his thighs, playing out a piece he'd been practicing as he waited for the ringtone to end.

”Hello?”

Ernie did his best to maintain a civil tone. His efforts resulted in his outward expression coming out as something between a smile and a vicious grimace. "Yeah. Hi. Are you busy right now?"

”Uh, not... particularly? What's up?”

"We need to talk. About that thing we talked at the bus stop."

”Uhhh... sure. Let's talk, then.”

"Laundry Room 14. I'll be waiting." He hung up then. Minutes later, he heard someone outside.

”So what? Gotta do some laundry? You, uh, realize you don't have any clothes with you, right?” a muffled voice came from being the door, in the hallway outside the laundry room.

”No. Just here to talk to someone, you can hang out here for a bit.” Emma said, pushing open the door, waving at Ernie as she walked in.

”Pffft. Fine. Whatever.” the voice called from behind her as she walked in.

Emma shut the door, nodding at whoever was on the other side, ”What's up?” she said, turning towards Ernie. He merely glowered back at her silently, not rising from his seat. Emma stared. ”Uh, you wanted to talk, right?”

"You didn't say that it was a 'someone' in the dream." His tone wasn't happy.

Emma looked confused, ”Uh, someone? What are you talking about?”

"The big, bad, evil dream-shadow!" Ernie gestured wildly, "You didn't tell me it was a person."

Emma shrugged, clearly not taking this nearly as seriously as Ernie was, ”Was it? I dunno man, the whole thing was confusing as fuck. It showed up as someone from my past, but, like, that's not what it was. I could tell it was... something else. What, did you have the dream?”

"The past?" he croaked, turning even paler. Guess that was the only part he caught. His head found its place in his hands as he groaned.

”Uh, Ernie? What's going on?” Emma asked, concern edging into her voice.

Ernie sighed. "Look. I have a lot of people I don't want to see. And I'm very sure they don't wanna see me back. So even if you think it's unimportant, if you could mention details like this when you're talking about situations where our entire fucking sanity is on the line, that would be really fucking appreciated!"

Emma was quiet for a moment.

”Sorry.” she said, quiet, subdued.

Another beat.

”I was trying to help, really, I just... I don't have any fucking idea how to handle this shit. These dreams are so fucking weird, and... I was still trying to make sense of the whole thing.”

Ernie frowned back at her. The exhaustion on his face was more apparent than ever.

"Yeah." It seemed that he was accepting the apology. "I shouldn't have yelled. It's just...I've been low-key freaking out ever since you told me about it. And then it turned to a high-key freaking out. And then I hear about this and--"

A breath. He closed his eyes.

"The person it looked like. Was it someone good or bad from your past?"

Emma shrugged. ”Good, I guess. Maybe a little bad too.”

She sighed.

”I guess mainly it was... someone that I really wanted to see.”

The boy looked more sorrowful than ever, hearing that. Even if he wanted to see them, it wouldn't be real.

"And that's how it lowers your guard? The bad thing?"

”That's how it happened to me. I... I practically invited it to do whatever it wanted to me. So don't do that, I guess.”

"Okay," He nodded. A pause. "...okay. Sander got the dream, by the way. That's why I'm asking now. Guess we can expect the others to come round soon."

”Hm. I guess we'll see, huh? Hope things work out for everyone. I'd suggest that we start notifying people, but... honestly, I'm still not sure what the right thing to do is. How did he seem?”

Ernie didn't have to think long. "Happy. A lot happier."

He furrowed his brow.

"Should we tell them? I know I said we should expect more dreams but what if some of them are just holding out for something that never comes? And...we don't even know what happens if you fail to resist it."

That was the part that scared him the most.

”I'm just... do you know what Sander did? I'm still trying to figure out if we should fight it. I mean, it was... it was eating my stigma. And it almost finished, and my stigma is almost gone. So what if letting it eat is the right thing to do? What if that's how we get rid of it?” Emma sighed. ”I'm lost. The thing seems dangerous, but...”

"Uhhhhhh," Ernie blinked. He wasn't looking forward to talking with the lanky Aberration again, even if it was for important information, "He didn't mention anything. Maybe we, or just you, can ask him later?"

”Probably a good idea. I don't really know the dude, where can we find him?”

The Aberration's eye twitched. "I...have his number. I guess we could arrange a meet-up," Ernie said through grit teeth. "Uh, I should warn you though. There's a good chance he won't give information to me...specifically."

He sighed.

"I may have led him to think that I've already had the dream. Also there are...other things, so..."

Emma raised an eyebrow. "Makin' enemies all over the place, huh? Don't worry, I can do the talking, I guess."

Ernie merely rolled his eyes. "Right, thanks. One more thing I gotta ask though. Did you have to do something to trigger the dream? Sander mentioned that he got it after he...got hurt...so I was just wondering."

"Not sure. I wasn't hurt, it was after we got back from the island... I can't think of anything in particular that would've set it off. I was in a normal dream, and then it just... happened. Maybe it had something to do with the battle."

Ernie forced a smile. "Yeah...the battle..." he shifted nervously, "Welp, guess I'll text him now."

He took his time composing it. Even consulted Emma for a spell check.

Hey Sander, are you free to meet up right now? Emma and I want to talk more about the dream.

There was no reply, but a few minutes later, Sander appeared, poking his head into the laundry room, expression was one of subtle curiosity.

"Can I help you?"

Ernie grimaced visibly at the sudden appearance. Right, super senses. He nudged Emma with his elbow for her to start.

”Hey Sander. We, uh, wanted to try to figure out what's going on with the dream, since... you've had it too now. I was just wondering, when that shadow came, did it... did it get to do what it wanted before you fought it off, or...?”

Sander tilted his head, carefully discerning Emma's expression. He did remember her from their previous brief interactions, though nothing notable really came to his mind about her. Their curiosity was rather...suspicious, though.

"Why do you want to know?"

”Because, these dreams are affecting all of us. Affecting our stigma. Me and Ernie aren't sure what's causing the stigma to get better – fighting it or letting it eat. We both... it ate, and then we fought it off, so we're not sure which caused the stigma to lessen. If we can figure it out we can tell everyone else and help them get rid of their stigmas.”

Sander looked at Emma for a few moments, before he finally spoke up. It didn’t really matter if they wanted to know. What he was truly concerned about was Christmas’ involvement in all this. He didn’t want the blond boy to be used as another tool in this aspect, too.

“I didn’t fight it. It would have eaten me. But…I was saved.”

”Hmmmm... so you did the same thing we did. It could go either way, still. I was thinking that the right thing to do was fight it, since... it seemed evil, but it was eating our stigmas. And our stigmas are better. That's gotta mean something, right?” Emma sighed. This really didn't tell them anything – more of the same information she already had.

"It was a debt. You owed it something, and it collected, didn't it?" -Sander crossed his arms -"You all wanted something when...mark appeared, yeah?"

”W-What? Where exactly are you getting the idea that it was collecting a debt? There... wasn't anything in my dream that suggested that.”

Sander just looked confused then -"It's just...me then?" -He looked at Ernie. The pause lingered before Ernie realised that he was the one getting addressed.

"Uh, yeah, seems like it." He nodded along to his own response.

"Then that's all I know."

Ernie narrowed his eyes. "Are you sure?"

Sander just stared at Ernie. Another coincidence? Maybe the power was granted randomly, after all. Either way, he didn't really care.

Emma watched the exchange with a frown. Debts? Because of their powers? It was worrying, to say the least. ”Well... thanks for coming to swap info, Sander.” she cut in, ”Even if we didn't really learn a lot, it's still... helpful.”

"Yeah. Thanks." Ernie added flatly.

Sander nodded, then turned around and made another quiet exit. Again, Ernie watched him leave. He waited a few moments before turning back to Emma.

"That helped, right? Sort of?"

Emma shrugged, ”Nothing that'll help use figure out what we actually wanted to. The bit about the debt was... interesting. Definitely didn't have anything like that in my awakening or in that dream, so... I dunno what to make of it.”

"Mm," Ernie sighed, "It's like the more we find out, the weirder it gets. Bad news, all around."

He contemplated for a moment.

"So what's the verdict on telling the other Abes? Are we still keeping our mouths shut?"

”I... we still don't know what the right answer is, so maybe it's best if we just keep quiet. Let them... let them decide for themselves what they wanna do. Wouldn't want to tell them anything that'll mess them up, right?”

The 'mess them up like you did to me?' Ernie was thinking didn't leave his mouth. He nodded instead.

"Okay. Thanks for all the help, and for sticking to my story." A cheeky smile lit his face. "I knew you'd be good but I didn't think you'd be such a pro at it."

”Yeah, whatever. I'll see ya later, I guess.”

”Yeah, c'mon Em, let's goooooo!” the voice from behind the door called.

”Right. Later.” Emma nodded, turning towards the door.

Hm, guess they weren't quite there with their classmate-ship yet. He thought it'd be funny to make a callback to their earlier days. Ernie raised an eyebrow at the unfamiliar voice but ultimately left it alone. Didn't seem out of place for someone like Emma to have a bunch of random pals. The girl outside must've been a close friend to wait so long. He'd sate his curiosity but there were only two minutes left on the machine's timer. He didn't like his work being put off or interrupted.

"Mm. Seeya." He gave a short wave and turned back to his laundry.

—(••[ 𝕎𝕀𝕊ℍ𝔼𝔸𝕋𝔼ℝ ]••)—

Back to School pt. 1

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𝕌𝕊𝔸ℝ𝕀𝕃ℕ 𝔼𝕒𝕤𝕥

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October 8

Ernie and Brent: Working Things Out

Ernest | Brent

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𝕋𝕙𝕦𝕣: 𝕆𝕔𝕥. 𝟠, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘 / / 𝕌𝕊𝔸ℝ𝕀𝕃ℕ 𝔼𝕒𝕤𝕥 / / 𝔾𝕪𝕞 / / 𝟘𝟝𝟘𝟘

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_{Collab with @ERode}

Staying up was...not a fun idea. Not that Ernie was tired. There had been something there for sure, something between weariness and the plodding monotony that came with having to practice anything. But he wasn't tired. Years in the kitchen had sharpened his tolerance and this particular drain was far from physical.

Practice. That was all he needed to do. Improve his dexterity with the blasted thing, lift more, move faster. Perfect practice makes perfect. Be prepared for the next time, be stronger, braver.

A crooked smile tore across his face.

Yeah. Next time those Amigos came at them, he'd still probably die alongside some unfortunate classmates, the barest bit more satisfied with himself than he'd been on the island. But for now, it was time for his workout. The smile faded with the memory of the argument on the island, the prospect that something had snapped between him and Brent. Something...nah, that couldn't be it. They were friends. He'd shared one of his biggest secrets with the guy and it had been respected. Things should be fine.

With that train of thought slowing to a relatively safe stop, Ernie strolled into the gym, whistling with an aura of joy that only seemed half-forced.

Crimen Culpae. Wisford. Washington. Bald Head Island.

Loss. Loss. Win. Loss.

Lift, pull, push, lunge, skip, run.

He'd gotten lax during that one win. Got it into his head that he improved significantly, when it was just more and more freebies from that garden of words. Had fallen into too gentle a routine, had treated everything as 'exercising' instead of actual 'training'. Got too mired up with relationship bullshit, spent way too much time nagging Siena, hadn't even bothered with picking up new skills of his own. First aid. He kept on thinking about learning that from Ernie, but he never said a word. Marksmanship. It was never enough, just to play around with a couple hunting rifles. Should have gone further. Gone until it hurt.

Metal clanked against metal as Brent lifted himself from the bench, back drenched, arms shaking. Took him a few tries before he could grab his sports drink without it slipping out of his palms. Somewhere along the way, he lost it, huh? That obssession with victory, and the purpose that it gave him. A guidepost in the quagmire, honing his thought process until it was lethal. Beneath him, the gym equipment disassembled, reassembled, form cooling back into the ordinary object it had been before.

Wasn't enough just to win once. Shouldn't aspire to just that. He took a deep breath, then another.

And when the door to the gym creaked open, the arbiter turned with a reflexive smile.

"Yo," he waved, "Had something to eat yet?"

"Found some leftover snacks in my dorm," Ernie replied, waving back with his own grin, "Nice to get my face into all that packaged stuff again."

"Totally done with high quality organic ingredients cooked by maids and butlers?" Brent laughed. "Gotta watch out for your macros, man."

"Mmyeah," the Aberration glanced over the unknown term with a smile, "Doesn't help that we skipped training yesterday either."

Was that smart, bringing up that mess? Didn't feel like it.

"I mean, I heard swimming helps with muscle-work, amirite?" He tried a weak joke to tide the moment over.

" 's long as you're not diving headfirst to avoid the fireworks, yeh." Better off latching onto brighter memories, at least until things were in a better order. "Never was one for swimming myself though. Just the smell, you know?"

"Yeah, fair. Can only take so much seaweed. I always hear how sand gets in all your places but I didn't think they meant all your places, y'know?"

"Woah, dude, careful with that mental imagery there. Too early in the morning for sandcrotch."

"Every time's too early for sandcrotch," Ernie grimaced at the memory.

Another chuckle, before Brent went back to his sets, the comfortably familiar sound of metal clanking against metal disappearing as a joly of silver circuitry changed it into the same electromagnetic resistance device that he had made for Callan a long, long time ago. "Better start warming up now, eh? Aiming to reach the eight minute mile by next month, right?"

Ernie nodded happily. "It's gonna be great."

He meant it. Getting into this kind of routine had done wonders for so many other aspects of daily life, from nutrition to practical knowledge.

Shame it's not worth a damn in a real fight, eh?

Ernie slackened his grip on the machine, pausing, then glancing to Brent.

If Brent noticed the glance, he didn't show it, nor acknowledge it. What was present instead was a single minded focus, bordering obssession without the emotional weight of passion, as the magnetic bar went up and down, biceps bulging and veins popping as amethyst eyes burned into something that wasn't there.

Miffed that he'd been unacknowledged, even if he hadn't said anything out loud, Ernie frowned.

"Do you..." he tried to put it gently, "do you think we could have done better?"

Brent paused.

"You could have done better."

"Yes. Always."

Ernie had been expecting that. The frown deepened.

"For real, though. Even if we had ten times more proper training, if we had an actual functioning team, would we still be alive if they had sent just one more of their Brazilian douchebags at us?"

He sighed.

"I'm not talking about how we worked yesterday. I'm wondering if it was even possible for us to get a 'win' scenario in the first place. It's a goddamn miracle we only lost two."

There was something deeper there. Of course victory was possible. If they could get this far, through a month of shitty, hellish incidents without any real training, then in ten months, Unit B could become a force to be reckoned with. They had so many options in terms of pure destructive power, and two arbiters that had functionally infinite versatility. But it wasn't a matter of reason, was it?

Brent turned, that weight-lifting machine reassembling into its natural state, eyes locking onto Ernie's. There was no malice there, just a steadfast...something.

"It is possible." A nod. An assertation. "We're not all at that point yet, but we could get that 'win' scenario against the Amigos."

Even in their current states. Even as wretched and ill-prepared as they were. But he didn't need to reach that far.

"It would require the entire unit to be an actual functioning team though, instead a dysfunctional group of kiddos."

Ernie barked out a laugh, a sarcastic retort escaping before he could stop it.

"Yeah, that's gonna happen."

"Who knows?" Brent replied noncommitally. "Miracles do happen."

"Dumb luck happens," Ernie corrected him, "Not miracles. Even then, this group's shit might be too much for even a miracle to handle."

"Well, here's to hoping that they flush that shit out of their systems sooner rather than later. Campfire bonding certainly didn't work out in that favor...like, at all."

"Yeah..."

Ernie felt awkward tinge of responsibility there. It'd certainly been his prodding at the campfire that escalated things but...c'mon, how was he supposed to know that pasty fucker had burned someone?

"It's not just that drama stuff. There are too many of us that don't plan at all outside of 'run at them and fight'."

Brent laughed at that. "Yeah, everything's a hell of a mess. Thought Lawrence or Grant would try to get a handle on the situation, but they were just cold fishes the entire time too. But..."

He recalled Washington. All their 'real' powerhouses running off into danger immediately. Hazel disappearing at the start. Callan seeking heroism and redemption. Sander god knows where. Chris doing things the only way he knows how to. Zoe drunk on her bloodlust.

"...hard to rein in people whose powers are so straightforward and strong. Hell of a mess," he repeated. "Could say that they just brute forced their way through last morning, huh?"

"Or it was just dumb luck. But brute force is probably more accurate."

Ernie was going to regret this. It needed to be said.

"It's not just the ones with straightforward powers. Siena was about to jump out there if I hadn't stopped her. And you were going to run back to the mansion with zero information."

"Yeah," Brent nodded, "Went retard mode even from the get go, thinking that the Amigos wouldn't have arrived at the estate that soon. Didn't take into consideration the flash that accompanies Siena's teleports as well. Should have, considering what I saw in Wisford."

A shake of his head. Genuine regret. Obvious mistakes he made in the heat of the moment, for the sake of someone he hardly knew, and wasn't sure if he cared about THAT much. Lost his focus, lost his sight, and after awhile, probably lost his fucking mind.

"Lots to work on for sure. Hah, maybe Lawrence and Grant staying still and being out of the way was the best move to make."

Ernie nodded too, but the stern expression remained. Something had happened back there, even if Brent wasn't willing to talk about it.

"We've got enough dumbasses. We don't need pro-strategist Proteus of all people going 'retard mode' just like them."

"I'll try harder from now on," Brent replied. "See if I can make the outlier that was Washington into the norm."

See if there was another 'leader' to be found, now that Grant was a bust.

"Gonna be counting on you to back me up though, yeah? You're the cowboy here, after all."

"I thought Tonto was the back up," Ernie managed a small smile. It faded quickly. Somehow, his hand found its place on Brent's shoulder. No jokes here.

"You're right about Washington. I'm serious too, yeah? We can't afford this bullshit next time. You...really had me worried yesterday."

Christ, when did this become real? How the hell did he actually be this close to someone who may as well be his opposite? It had been so cheap before, so easy, simple even, but now...

"No bullshit, just winning," Brent replied, "I'll do it properly from now on."

He remembered Wisford once more, that formation that Unit A had taken, even without their ace in hand. There was exhaustion, fatigue, but they had never buckled under the pressure of Factory's minions, even as such a small group. Had no significant injuries. No losses, even without a healer. There were so many more pieces in Unit B, so many Queens and Knights, but everyone just smashed their heads against the wall and solved it with their overpowered abilities instead. There had to be a better way.

There was a better way.

"Thanks. For holding me back and all, Ernie. Retrospectively appreciate it."

Oh. He hadn't been expecting that. Ernie felt his heart grow a size, a grin growing along with it.

"What are friends for, right?"

"Right," Brent replied offering a fist bump, "'fore I forget, teach me how to do those first aid things sometime, eh? Keep putting it off but hell, that shit's definitely gonna be useful one day."

"Yeah, of course."

Now that he thought about it, they couldn't have returned to the campus at a better time. Already he was coming up with ways to use Ground Zero to its full potential.

"Yeah, that can definitely work!" Ernie mused, returning the fist bump, "Just text me when you're free. I've got plenty to teach."

"Looking forward to it," Brent chimed, happy that at least one bridge hadn't been obliterated during that rough morning, "Now get back to it, Ernie. Let's see you put some pro sprinters to shame by the end of this month."

Ernie and Zoe: Insinuations and Initiated Investigations

Ernest | Zoe

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𝕋𝕙𝕦𝕣: 𝕆𝕔𝕥. 𝟠, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘 / / 𝕌𝕊𝔸ℝ𝕀𝕃ℕ 𝔼𝕒𝕤𝕥 / / 𝔹𝕦𝕚𝕝𝕕𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝔹 / / 𝟘𝟡𝟘𝟘

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_{Collab with @Lasrever}

One good thing about the school getting crapped on while they were away: no classes.

One good thing about returning to the craphole: he could reunite with his precious equipment.

Ernie sighed with contentment as he plugged in the cleaner. The hallway had become quite the dump during his absence. The Reg janitors were always too spooked to stay in the Abe dorms long enough to do a decent job, and the tense atmosphere since the attack had only made things worse. No one could be assed to finish the job and it wasn't like Ernie was a particularly busy guy. The vacuum started with a vibrant roar. He got to work.

He'd been uninterrupted on previous shifts. Sure, there was the occasional glare and scream to 'shut that fucking thing off'. The standard fare, whether he was here or at West or in Reno. As much as he wanted to annoy Allison with the noise, it seemed like a dick move to do it so soon after what happened on the island. He moved past her room quickly, reaching the hapless halls of the second floor in no time.

Zoe groaned at the sound of the vacuum, tossing a notebook against the wall in frustration. After everything they'd dealt with, was some peace and quiet really too much to ask for? It was too early for this, and too soon for it. There was enough on her plate without any extra irritation adding to it. Standing up, she was well aware that she looked like a mess, but also that she didn't give enough of a damn to change it.

So it was a fairly bedraggled Zoe that poked her head out into the corridor, blue eyes fixing on the culprit. She probably should have been less surprised to see Ernie, considering the guy's neat-freak tendencies, but this was seriously pushing it. "I'm pretty sure they already clean the corridors, Ernie--" She grimaced, glaring at the vacuum like it had personally offended her. "And why the hell is that thing so loud?"

"They don't, actually," Ernie frowned, reeling from the fleshmelter's sudden appearance. The vacuum was temporarily switched off, "They don't do it properly. Of course it's loud, how else is it gonna get everything those stupid janitors missed?"

"And there's absolutely no way to clean without deafening everyone in a ten-mile radius, right." Zoe looked at him incredulously. "Couldn't you just not go to the messy parts? There's a whole institute here, you can't just go cleaning it top-to-bottom." Sure, maybe it'd be better to just let Ernie get on with his weird cleaning thing, but she didn't really feel like the hearing loss today.

"The 'not messy parts'," Ernie scoffed, growing more indignant, "Please. This whole school's a freaking dump, I'd have to chew off my foot to get away without fixing some of it. Besides, I don't wanna get lectured on mess by you of all people."

Zoe looked at Ernie for a good few seconds before replying in a level tone. "And what's that supposed to mean, exactly?" Of course she had an idea, but she'd be damned if she was going to be the one to voice those thoughts.

Those few seconds were enough time for Ernie to assess the degree of fucking up he'd just done.

"I meant..." he spoke slowly, as if that would stall the conversation for him to make a decent excuse, "that..."

Oh, what the hell was he trying to be nice for?

"C'mon, even outside of fights you're not so..." Nope, not going there. "A-and look at your room!"

He gestured dramatically at the space behind the door.

Zoe glanced back, unimpressed by Ernie's horror. Okay, so there were maybe a few things lying around, but she didn't see the big deal. Hell, most of it was fairly normal for someone to have out, anyway.

"...the room's usually tidy. Just wasn't in the mood yesterday." Zoe looked faintly irritated. "And I'm clean enough, but thanks for that."

"Yesterday..."

A lot of baggage there. His eyes narrowed as he remembered something. Something about Zoe in town.

"Yeah, that wasn't fun," he replied, his mind replaying the detail he wanted to broach before he actually said it out loud, "At least we're back now, right? Must be good to have GZ again."

"It helps." Didn't make the whole thing feel any less disgusting, but hey; at least she didn't want to tear real people's throats out as much. That, and it kept everything from replaying in her daydreams. She shrugged, trying to appear indifferent. "Whole lot better than the alternative, anyway."

"Oh, for sure."

No need to discuss 'the alternative'. Ernie paused, aware of how awkward further conversation could be. They were far from friends. Wasn't as weird as the Emma situation but...still not great. There was a lot to say.

One thing at a time. "I--" Ernie glanced away. "You were right, by the way. The Brent and Siena thing. There were better ways to handle that."

"Glad you realised it." Zoe frowned, thinking over the situation. It was honestly a little late to be having this revelation, but better late than never at least. Hell, with everything that had followed, she'd almost forgotten about that incident. Almost, but not quite; she had an impressive ability to hold a grudge. "At least it didn't get them killed, but yeah. Just... don't let them do anything that dumb again, and we're good. Death happens, but shit like that's preventable."

"Me and Brent...talked. I don't think it'll happen again."

There was the question of how he was going to bring it up with Siena but that would be for another day.

"Same could be said for you, couldn't it? The 'dumb' stuff. I'm not talking about the 'alternative' you mentioned earlier, but the running out on your own and expecting no one to see you. Should I have done something there, too?"

The statement managed to get a bit of a rise out of her, though she was more uncomfortable than angry.

"I know what I'm doing. Fact is, I'd rather be the one getting hurt than have someone do it for me." Zoe didn't want to go into detail on that one. Didn't want to try and have that discussion with Ernie - he'd hardly be sympathetic, judging from his reaction when she'd tried to go through with it herself. And more than that, admitting such a weakness was more frightening than she cared to admit.

"They don't know how to handle a fight like I do. Shitty as it sounds, the difference between me and them is that I'm good enough to finish what I start." Admittedly, some of this was her ego talking, but that didn't make it any less true as far as she was concerned.

"I don't doubt you there," he said, but he couldn't help but raise an eyebrow for the rest of the statements. Was it really so bad to want to keep one of the team's powerhouses alive? "Ideal situation would be no one having to take one for the team, though. Even you. Wouldn't the better thing be teaching the others how to handle a fight?"

"And how often do we get an ideal situation?" Zoe chuckled, shaking her head.

"Listen, while I'm sure everyone would leap at getting fighting instruction from the team psychopath, I don't know how to teach anyone about making the right decisions. Even if they trusted me as far as they could throw me." Of course, she wasn't really objecting to that view - hell, she'd be the first one to admit that she was unstable, even broken. That the Stigma was stronger than she was. But that didn't make it any less of an obstacle.

"Something's gotta be done," he muttered, not expecting any input from Zoe. Brent hadn't offered any solid answers either. "There were too many mistakes yesterday." Many, including his own.

"You're right; we're lucky we only lost two." Zoe scowled. She could have done more, so much more, if she'd been better. Stronger.

"If it were up to me, I'd say they need someone to tell them what to do, but they're never gonna listen. I can't help anyone by thinking about that shit." It was strange, but she could talk about this frankly where Ernie was concerned. Perhaps because she knew he was capable - at least mentally - of the same things as her. "All I know is I'm gonna do whatever it takes to try and spare them the worst of it."

Always the resolve with this girl. Even when she was borderline-slaughtering teammates on every mission, somehow he still didn't doubt her. Weird how that worked.

"Yeah," he scratched his head, mulling over her words. Couldn't have a team leader telling them what to do without them listening to each other. Couldn't have them listening to each other without someone who could lead. It was a cycle of complete dumbfuckery. "I guess I'll do that too."

A pause as he worked out the best way to approach what he really wanted.

"Yeah, uh, while I'm here, there's something I gotta ask. What did you get from the Amigo you found?"

"From him? Nothing. Don't get me wrong - I would have," Zoe grimaced, frustrated, "but he got out of my range. Only had time to catch up before I killed him automatically, and he passed out before I got the chance to question him." The whole thing was far from an ideal situation, and there was more than one reason it irritated her. The delay in getting any info was the main part, of course. But beyond that, there was the undeniable feeling of disappointment that she wouldn't get to ask the questions.

Not that she planned on mentioning that, though she didn't make an effort to hide it either. There didn't seem to be much point, considering who she was talking to.

"That staff mage, Margot, said I'd be the first to know if they get anything." Zoe continued. "So it's better than nothing, at least."

An unexpected anger coloured his expression. Nothing. Really? He searched her expression for any signs of lying but found nothing. He couldn't think if any reason Zoe would lie either.

"Dammit," Ernie sighed, "Margot. The chainsmoker scar lady?"

"Yeah, her." Zoe narrowed her eyes at Ernie's anger, though she was hardly worried by it. "I think she'll tell me; as much as she can, anyway." It was hard to pin down why she felt sure of that. Whatever the reason, she didn't think Margot would hide anything she didn't have to.

"Sure, if she even knows the right questions to ask."

There was something off about her, like she knew a lot more than she needed to let on, but Ernie still didn't think much. She was a USARILN dog. Not a Senator.

"Do you think you can let me know when she gets to you? This shit seems important."

Something about Ernie's statement didn't sit right with her, and after a few seconds she gave him a faintly confused look. "I figured they'd know a hell of a lot more about all this than we do." And she wasn't quite sure how telling a classmate would help. Still, Zoe didn't take long thinking over her answer.

"It depends what she tells me. And I'd need you to keep your mouth shut to the others." For what it was worth, she figured Ernie was more than capable of doing that much. Though how much she'd risk telling him was still up in the air.

Ernie scoffed. "Like the others would even know what to do with Amigo intel. Don't worry. if you feel like it needs to be a secret for whatever reason, I've got no reason to blab."

A pause before he continued. He didn't like that Margot.

"I dunno. Would you ask a baker for plumbing tips? I don't know how long that lady's been with USARILN but the Amigos are still out there because the Institute doesn't know their secrets."

Another thing came to mind.

"Did she use her teleporting clone thing to take the guy?"

Zoe nodded. "Yeah. She carried him back from town - well, one of her did anyway." At least from what she'd been able to tell; it hadn't taken long for Margot to exit her sight, so the thought seemed to make sense.

"And yeah, they don't know the Amigos' secrets, I'll give you that. I suppose this is the part where you tell me you're secretly a South American crime lord." The statement was mostly sarcastic, but a hint of suspicion had crept into the redhead's expression. Not of that, obviously - she had a really hard time seeing Ernie as the lord of anything - but something about this wasn't sitting right.

"Pfft, nah. Crime lords need a surprising amount of math skills, y'know?"

Quip aside, back to the topic.

"Did she check his mouth?"

"Not that I saw." Zoe frowned. "Why?"

"There's a thing they do. Good way to check," he shrugged, "I dunno, we only knew they were Amigos cos Aldrich told us. But we don't know how he knew that. Did he just notice they were really tan and assume the worst? That's not reliable. Having someone confirm would make things better. Or worse, I guess."

"Amigos were already up to something major before, but I don't know what. Figure the institute had some way of knowing who they were." Zoe sighed, remembering her first encounter with Andrew. But the uncertainty was irritating, and anger sparked in her expression. "I'm just sick of being attacked by all these groups without knowing who the fuck they're working for. It was the same in Wisford, and far as I know those Animi in DC could've been with someone too."

Ernie's brow furrowed sharply. "Wait, how do you know what the Amigos were doing?"

"There was a guy in town on the estate. Same one that told me where to find the straggler. He sees stuff, said they're bringing in a bunch of supplies." She shrugged. "Couldn't give me much detail, 'cause they had subs blocking what he could see. Whatever it is, doesn't sound good."

Ernie cursed inwardly. Letting that shit happen under their noses. What the hell were the Senators doing?

Staying in the Estate the whole time had been a dumb idea after all. He sighed and fiddled with the vacuum cord. "Guess we just gotta sit around and wait for the next disaster. Like you said, it'd be nice to get any sort of detail."

There was one very possible reason this group was the one under attack. He just didn't know how they were being found so easily. It's not like most of them outside of Sander and Zoe were very strong.

"Wisford and D.C. were the same guys, if you need to know. The ones David tried helping."

"Right. So they were following us." It could have been a coincidence, but paranoia seemed like the safer option right now. "Shame David didn't seem to know shit, though. I'd kill for the chance to know what's going on with all this." Well, she'd kill for a lot of things, but figuratively speaking. "I just want to be able to fight back. Right now, it seems like we're waiting around to be picked off one by one."

"That just brings us back to the class bullshit we were talking before," Ernie rolled his eyes but he definitely agreed.

"I dunno about the following. Might have just been wrong place, wrong time. D.C.'s a perfect place to hit if you're looking to cause some chaos." And chaos was definitely part of what Fracture was aiming for. "Maybe it was just coincidence we were there to stop it."

"Maybe you're right," Zoe sighed, "but I'd rather see us paranoid and alive than dead for putting shit down to coincidence."

"Understandable."

Looks like he got everything he wanted. For now, anyway. There were still some questions he wanted an answer to. Ernie hoisted the vacuum cleaner.

"Well, I guess I'll be cleaning further down. Keep me updated, yeah?"

"Right." Zoe nodded. For what it was worth, the discussion had at least given her some questions. And more than that, motivation. Part of her had been willing to sit around and wait for answers, but he was right; the staff didn't know everything about all this.

"See you around, then. Figure I've got some investigating to do."

Ernie and Callan: Barely Aware

Link

October 9

Ernie and Siena: Shopping and Not-So-Much Truth Dropping

Ernest | Siena

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𝔽𝕣𝕚: 𝕆𝕔𝕥. 𝟠, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘 / / ℂ𝕣𝕚𝕞𝕖𝕟 ℂ𝕦𝕝𝕡𝕒𝕖 𝟙 / / 𝕊𝕙𝕠𝕡𝕡𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝔻𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕣𝕚𝕔𝕥 / / 𝟘𝟡𝟘𝟘

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_{Collab with @PapiTan
About two thirds of this is an inconsequential shopping montage so read at your own risk.}

It was fucking cold.

Cold for the Westerner, anyway. Not quite chilly enough for the dumbass store attendant to turn the heating on. As he examined a rack of sweatpants by the storefront, Ernie could feel the hairs on his legs standing up, his calves bared by the glory of his khaki shorts. Standard West fashion. Helped him fit in with the bros but he might as well have been in his underwear in this North Carolina weather. The sentiment applied to pretty much his whole wardrobe. East had not been on his yearly schedule, for sure. It had been a while since he'd last gone shopping. Now it was nipping him in the ass. And his legs. And his mitten-less fingers.

Fuck, he hated Eastern weather.

Considering her relatively brief stint as one of USARILN East's cuffed subnaturals, Siena had found herself in need of new items an alarmingly high number of times. With much of her clothing having been at Zhang's estate during the attack and the loss of yet another e-reader, Siena was starting to think she would need the equivalent of a standing order at electronic shops and some sort of elite loyalty program for her preferred brands of clothing. Thankfully, even with the loss of her physical card case, the advent of technology had made it easy enough to obtain an alternate method of payment.

Not that it mattered when the card case had only held the preferred cards and not every one, she supposed.

Clad in fleece-lined stockings, a knee-length skirt had been a feasible choice even in the chillier weather. Coupling that with her usual attire of a coat and season-suitable blouse, and one might have been hard pressed to believe that the girl had to scrounge what was available in her wardrobe out of what remained. With that in mind, Siena couldn't help but feel a twinge of pity for a familiar face clad in clothing ill-suited for the weather they were experiencing.

"Ernie?" The question wasn't really necessary, she recognized the boy without much effort. "I take it you're out replacing clothing too?"

"Hm?" Ernie snapped a picture of the sweatpants' label, noting the size, brand and ridiculous price before addressing Siena properly with a smile. "Less 'replacing' and more 'stocking up'. Didn't really have weather in mind when I was packing for East."

Not that he had much to pack. Not that he had anything, period, when he got tossed into West.

"Oh...right..." For all the time that their class had spent together, it was easy to forget that Ernie hadn't come in at the same time as everyone else. If his current attire was the best that he'd packed for the colder months coming forth...Siena couldn't help but give a faint grimace at the thought of the boy literally freezing to death. "I forgot you transfered."

Well, at least being unprepared for clothing was something she could help with.

"Mind if I join you in stocking up? Apparently clothing has a short lifespan here." Siena gave a half smile to the boy before she continued. "I can cover for you. Our allowance isn't exactly enough to replace what we lose, much less stock up on anything."

Ernie chuckled genuinely.

"Sure! It'd be nice to have a shopping buddy. Oh, and don't worry about the cover."

The Aberration displayed the photo gallery on his phone, swiping through the photos of labels he'd taken. They were fairly pricey items, certainly not a collection that would fit into a student's $500 budget. Among them were the sweatpants he'd just snapped.

"I don't actually buy things when I go out. The request forms accept all sorts of stuff! I just gotta write down what I see and I save some cash. Sure, it takes a while to show up and sometimes it's not even the right size but," he shrugged, "it works. Mostly."

The smile faltered for a moment. He was using the requisition sheets? That wasn't exactly the most time-friendly method, and it was already starting to get cold...

"Ernie, I..." A pause. "I'm gonna have to insist that you let me cover for you today. I don't want our next briefing being about you freezing to death in your room."

"Well, it'd be real flattering if they held an entire briefing about little ol' me but..."

Ernie quickly looked her up and down. It gave him a fair idea of how big this 'cover' would be.

"I have a feeling I won't be able to pay you back. Within this year, at least. Maybe this decade."

Siena couldn't help but blink once in surprise. Paying her back? What exactly was she going to do with money in their situation? After a handful of trips with her other peers, the brunette wasn't entirely sure what to make of Ernie's concern. The half smile grew a fraction warmer, confusion flickering across her expression for an instant before she regained herself.

"You don't need to pay me back...?" Siena scolded herself internally for letting the claim trail off like a question. "Believe me when I say the money's not going to be missed."

Not gonna be missed? He looked her outfit over once again, noting her expression but unsure of what to do with it.

...Yeah, he could believe the money talk. He still felt the barest bit icky about the whole thing but in the end, he shrugged.

"Alright, you win. Since you're covering, how about you pick the first store? I'll hold the bags."

"I haven't really explored, so we can always start here," Siena claimed, her eyes drifting toward the display that Ernie had snapped a picture from, making a small gesture towards the sweatpants and offering an almost cheeky smile. "Make sure you get those in your size and all."

Ernie returned the smile with sloppy salute. "Aye aye, cap!"

His go-to store chains were the outdoor apparel outlets. Practical, fairly stylish from his personal perspective. Nothing that stood out too much. Ernie entered the automatic doors, ignored the slackjawed expression of the cashier, and headed straight for the jacket racks. Quick swipes made the process speedy, but he couldn't help but linger on one particularly blinding jacket. A mostly blue piece, hindered by the hideous, canary-yellow sleeves and hood. It was the kind of sight that'd make babies cry. An unbelieving grin lit up his face as he swished it in Siena's direction.

"This one's pretty wild," he laughed.

With her upbringing, Siena couldn't claim to know much about outdoor apparel. The extent of her "outdoor" adventures, after all, had never really involved roughing it in anything more rustic than a rambling estate. That said, she had taken some interest herself in a few articles of clothing--most of it seemed as though it would be sturdier than her standard fare. It was worth considering. Was.

Her opinion of the entire concept took a sharp nosedive once Ernie brandished an affront to both color and eyesight. A bright, blue and yellow article of clothing that could have passed for a biohazard warning sign. The girl's smile faltered for a moment. Was he going to--that wasn't--it was hard to bite back every protest she could muster.

So hard, in fact, that she almost didn't succeed.

"It's...certainly eye-catching." Not in a good way. "It almost looks like it would glow in the dark."

"Whoa, you think?" Ernie's eyes widened and he scanned the label for any mention of glowing. Wouldn't that be a fun thing to have, even if it was ugly as sin in the daytime. He cupped his hands around a patch of yellow, hoping the dark would prompt a reaction from the material. But there was nothing.

"Dang, almost," he sighed, before replacing it with a swamp green down-vest. Not as outstanding as the yellow, but still pretty bad. Besides, Siena seemed to like this joke. "How 'bout this one? Like what you see?"

Was he disappointed that it didn't glow? The thought was incredulous, and Siena almost found herself in disbelief that anyone would want to wear anything that garishly bright. Every part of Siena told her that she could probably get him better winter clothes from other places. Every. Single. Part.

Still, the brunette smiled when he next atrocity came out, looking more like mud turned into fabric than an actual vest. The smile wasn't quite as well-humored as the first.

"I think you'd have to roll around in the dirt a little before it matches you," Siena heard the words before she entirely realized she was saying them, grey eyes widening in surprise at the retort before she did the only thing she could: roll with it. Brandishing the best attempt as a mischievous grin that she could, Siena prodded at the vest a little harder. "Though maybe if we have a marsh mission, it'll act as camo."

A pause as something caught her eye, and Siena flicked aside a few more offending articles of clothing before fishing out an insulated jacket. Neutral, nothing entirely flashy or outstanding, especially with only black as its body, a shock of ivory fur trimming the hood. With a few other pieces...

"I think you'd look pretty good in this." The friendly smile returned again. "Plus you could wear it now and, you know, not be cold for the rest of the day."

At Siena's comments, Ernie laughed once again, though he couldn't help but sense that it wasn't a complete joke. Nothing major, right? It was a pretty ugly piece.

"Guess the Shrek costume can come another day," he remarked before he accepted the jacket. Nice lines, plus black was a color that was impossible to goof up. Yes, this one would do great. He flashed Siena an approving thumbs up as they both head to the counter.

"Alrighty," Ernie rolled his shoulders as they left the store, testing the feel of the purchase. It was good stuff, "Where to next? I'm guessing a place with no nuclear-yellow?"

"Your guess would be correct," Siena replied with a laugh. "I hope you're not too disappointed by the lack of crossing guard couture."

Well, to be quite honest, there were a number of places that Siena had to stop by, but the mental image of Ernie turning in requisition sheets for something as necessary as clothing refused to sit comfortably. Taking a moment to think over their options. Outdoor wear might not have been her forte, but...

"I think I saw a Neiman Marcus on the way here," the girl mused softly. "Though I'm not much help on the men's fashion front. Maybe you have some ideas?"

Ernie was about to make a quip on the name of the scarred boy but the tail end of her sentence threw him off more than he expected.

"Fashion...? Uh," he adjusted his beanie. What was the point? He only ever needed to look passable so he could fit in on campus. "I don't really know, I just want some clothes."

Um...? The moment of uncertainty from Ernie was matched in equal part by confusion from Siena. Grey eyes darted from his face to an unspecified spot on the floor, back to the boy.

"That was what...uh, I mean if you know clothing brands you like, we can..." The words trailed off, still fettered by Siena's confusion. "Sorry, are you not much for the entire vogue thing?"

"I don't...read magazines?" He didn't read much of anything, really. Man, what was this weird feeling of dumbassery that he was starting to feel? Hazel eyes glanced around quickly for a lifeline, settling on the storefront of the one they'd just left, "I mean, Columbia is...that's a brand, right...?"

There was being out of the loop and there was being completely unaware. This moment was starting to seem closer to the latter, which was a first for Siena. At least when Gerwulf dressed badly, it was because he didn't care, and no amount of explaining would change that. This was...entirely different.

"Um, yeah, that's right..." Blinking her uncertainty away and masking as much of her distress and confusion with a smile as possible, Siena dared for another attempt. "If you have a list of clothes you need, I can try to find the trendy stuff that matches you."

Did he really need 'trendy'? Ernie looked to Siena again, noticing the way she kept trailing off. It was sorta like...she actually felt bad about the whole thing. And that sorta made him feel weird. All this awkwardness wasn't worth some fancy scraps of fabric.

So Ernie nodded. Not like he had any other plans today. "Yeah. Yeah, that works. Lead the way. Oh, before we go, do you think you could..."

He pulled a tube of concealer from his pocket, looking apologetic.

"Less hassle this way, y'know?"

It took a moment for Siena to understand the need for the concealer when subnaturals were commonplace, but it made sense. Sort of. Hopefully any recognition would be dismissed as coincidence without the mark. She returned the apologetic expression with a careful smile that showed little more than a faint comprehension.

Closer to a human disguise, she supposed.

"Don't look like you shot me or something, I'm used to it." Siena responded while accepting the tube. "Make up is a girl's best friend or something like that."

Did he look like that when he shot people? Ernie smiled, relieved. "Huh. Marilyn always told me it was diamonds."

"When diamonds make girls ageless, I'll believe that."

---

Shopping for men's fashion had proven to be an enlightening experience--well, shopping for men's fashion with different limitations than she was accustomed to. Deferring to Ernie had been easier, even if Siena couldn't quite understand the appeal behind some of the...creative choices that many had chosen to unfortunately display in their windows. She'd figured out early on that Ernie was about equally educated in fashion as most of her peers (read: almost not at all), but that didn't make trying to work with what there was any less enjoyable. To an extent.

Casual men's fashion was much more difficult than the uniform formal wear she typically saw males in. No set rulebook, and only advertisements to base things off of.

And who or what was a Billabong?

She fingered a dubiously colored jacket, impressed by how soft the exterior was, but unimpressed by it looking more like it belonged in a gym, its grey hues patterned in a manner that screamed "stretch me" over "wear me". In a nice cobalt shade, it could be a nice intermediate between a full blown jacket and no jacket at all, even if it did look more like it belonged on the beach than in the autumn. Then again, those words applied to almost the entire store--maybe it was a new trend for men. Siena wasn't entirely certain.

"Oh, you like that one?"

Ernie appeared next to her to examine the jacket. Slung across his arm was a baggy pair of trousers that was far more suited to mountain expeditions than anything more formal than a late-night Mcdonald's run.

"It's a little masculine for me, don't you think?" Siena claimed with a helpless shrug of her shoulders, but she turned the jacket over to look at the back. No obnoxious designs, at least. "But maybe I can convince Marcus to replace his torn up hoodie with it."

Her eyes drifted to the trousers over Ernie's arm--she swore they looked like another set's older cousin.

"Trying those on?" Siena set the grey jacket down, opting instead for one that held a little more color than "light neutral" to it. As if Marcus needed more grey outerwear. "By the way, did you need anything other than clothing? We might as well tackle it while we're out here."

"It looks handy for snow missions, if we ever go on any. What do you think?"

He held them aloft for Siena to revel in their baggy glory.

"Eh, I heard they were starting clearances at Costco. I was gonna check them out. Not sure if I'll actually get anything but," he shrugged, "it's Costco."

"Is...is it going to keep snow out of your pants?" Siena questioned, eyeing allt he extra space that it seemed to provide. Perhaps it was meant to be worn over another pair--she'd never know. Excessive snow had never been on her checklist of things to prepare for or ask about Offering a playful grin, Siena couldn't help but add to the thought. "I feel like you could fit another pair of legs in there."

The distraction was not enough to keep the faint light of confusion from showing on Siena's face at mention of "Costco". It almost sounded like Cosco, but wasn't that a logistics company?

"Um...Costco?" Her turn to be the one in the dark, it seemed.

"Yeah, apparently the one in this city is pretty good. Have you never been there?"

"I'm afraid not." Giving a sheepish smile in response to the inquiry, Siena did her best to explain--she thought she did a pretty good job. "I'm not actually sure what that is."

Ernie's mouth dropped open.

"You don't--oh my god. Okay. After we get all our clothes, I'm gonna take you there. Might as well have lunch there to get the full experience."

He giggled in delight.

"Ah, I remember my first time. I think you'll love it there."

Ernie's reaction was nothing short of delight, and Siena suddenly wasn't certain whether Costco was a shop or something else entire--wait, lunch? She hid the confusion behind a smile.

"I'll take your word for it," the girl replied, a sense of satisfaction coming from Ernie's own excitement. Her eyes drifted back to the baggy pants. "But we really have to get you some clothes that don't imply 'mountain climbing expedition' everywhere you go."

---

Exactly thirteen shopping bags later, Ernie slumped his arms into a trolley, watching with satisfaction as their haul tumbled into the metal basket. Brent would be proud of the arm work he'd done today. Man, they really weren't kidding when they said 'shop 'til you drop'. They'd probably stocked enough clothing for the next three winters. With a content hum, he pushed the trolley to where he'd left Siena to admire the bunker-like splendor of Costco's exterior.

"So you've really never been here?"

Siena wasn't entirely certain what she was looking at as she examined the exterior of Cotsco. A bunker? A warehouse? It reminded her, vaguely, of the type of building that she expected to see weapons in, but there was a steady stream of people decidedly not bringing firearms or other death-inducing devices into or out of the facility. In fact, glancing into the entrance made it look like a storage unit--if storage units were well stocked with items that were up for purchase, at least.

Glancing towards Ernie as he approached, Siena gave a sheepish smile.

"Not a single time." Her eyes drifted once more to the entrance. "It looks kind of...imposing?" That seemed to be the right word, or at least close enough to it. Her eyes then fell on the trolley--they'd purchased a lot already, true, but was an entire trolly necessary? Curiosity seared at her again, making her want to dive headfirst into their expedition, but the girl held herself in check. "I mean, it looks like they have guards at the doors. What exactly are they selling here...?"

The boy flashed a knowing smile. If eyes could actually sparkle then they'd definitely be doing it now.

"Everything you could dream of. And more," he chuckled, and with a flash of his membership card they were in.

A sprawling laneway of widescreen TVs greeted them first. Storeys-high, industrial shelves peeked over the array of electronics, hinting at the unimaginable size of the store chain's stock. Families bustled past them, pushing trolleys filled to the brim with items of all different categories as Ernie breathed in the atmosphere.

"Isn't it incredible?" he sighed and turned back to face Siena.

Incredible was certainly one way to put it. Siena wasn't entirely certain what she'd expected, but it really looked like Costco had everything as a selection. Towering shelves, palettes of items that the girl both could and couldn't identify, electronics, jewelry? The brunette had to take an extra few seconds to take in everything before she could formulate a response, eyes turning back to her companion.

The expression on her face was one not entirely unlike someone experiencing snow for the first time.

"I don't think I've ever seen a single store with this much selection." Her eyes drifted over tablets, cameras, caught sight of a sign that had the word "seafood" printed over it far in the back of the store, then returned to Ernie. Siena felt her mind try to reject what her senses told her--there was no way that they were selling seafood in the same place as tablets and televisions. None. No way. "I...have no idea where to even begin."

The Aberration chuckled sagely.

"It's not just a store, Siena," he said as a nearby family argued over how many crates of dog food they were bringing home, "It's the happiest place on Earth. Also it helps if we move counter-clockwise."

He gestured their path with a sweep of his arm.

"Shall we?"

"I'll defer to your lead, good sir." It seemed like a smarter idea than wandering off on her own and never seeing Ernie again.

Taking her place beside the Aberration, Siena let her eyes trail over the cases of goods, the literal palettes full of items that the girl wasn't entirely sure anyone would need in bulk. A bitter voice sounded off in the back of her head, reminding her again that she was still struggling to figure out the world outside the walls of her gilded cage. One even darker than that demanded to know whether she missed the empty estate.

Siena refused to acknowledge the self-aimed question.

"I know it hasn't been long, but how has your piano practice been going?" The question came as naturally as Siena could manage it. Anything was better than letting her mind stew, after all. "I thought of ordering some sheet music, so if you had any preferences, I'd love to hear them."

"Uhhhh," Ernie looked like a child caught skipping class, "well, I've been sorta busy lately. Squeezed in a few sessions at the mansion but since we've gotten back...not so much. The music rooms are a bit of a walk from the dorms."

"Hmmm..." Siena allowed the note to hang in the air for a moment, looking contemplative, but acknowledging that she was letting it steep for her own benefit. "I guess not having a keyboard on hand makes practicing kind of harder..." Still, the girl gave a half-grin. "I guess I can let it slide this time if you haven't forgotten everything."

"Sorry, Miss," Ernie clapped his hands in front of his face in a mock begging position, "I'll do my homework next time."

'Not sure if I'll actually get anything' turned out to be a blatant lie. An hour or so later, Ernie was pushing a trolley filled to the brim with items. The most notable items were two large cardboard boxes: a fabric steamer and a new vacuum cleaner. Assorted snacks and cleaning utensils were also included. Siena, too, had a trolley, though rather than the equipment Ernie was boasting, her load was mostly made up of two electronic keyboards.

Ernie gulped down a bite of pizza, keeping an eye on their purchases as he ate.

"So? Did you like it?"

"Indubitably." Carefully peeling back the foil from her own food, Siena gave a quick look over her own purchases--a few electronics, a few pet care items, a few variety packs as far as snacks went for the dorm...the girl had to say that it had been a productive shopping trip. Moreso than she'd expected, even with the intention of "stocking up". Costco's vast size and selection left an impression that she was certain wouldn't be fading anytime soon. "The convenience is undeniable. I can safely say it's been a pleasant experience."

Carefully taking a small bite into what the menu had only vaguely described as a "chicken bake", Siena was...pleasantly surprised by the flavors. Nothing offensive, and she could taste the main ingredients.

Siena failed to notice that the opposite end of the oblong delicacy was starting to leak white fluid, the first of many drops precariously clinging to the foil only by the grace of some hygienic greater power.

"How'd you find out about this place?"

"Mm, yes, in-doob-ly," Ernie nodded solemnly, hoping his guess that it was a positive word was correct. When the question was raised, he smiled at the memory. "It was one of my first weeks at West. Bunch of guys took me out since I didn't have clothes then either. I swear, the first time I went to a Costco, I bought double what we both got today. Almost used up my whole allowance!"

In-doob-ly? The word came to mind, an attempted recreation of her own diction, but missing just a little something. Siena did her best not to let the moment of confusion fluster her, instead taking solace in what seemed to be a pleasant memory.

"Are you always without clothing?" The girl questioned, a light, joking tone lacing the inquiry. "But managing double what we bought on the allowance the school gives? That's quite a feat." Allowing herself the comfort of an almost genuine grin, the Arbiter gave a quiet, light laugh before she spoke again, biting back the question she wanted to ask at the last moment. "I'm afraid I'm not much company in comparison, but I'm glad that the metaphorical torch of Costco introductions was passed to you."

"I guess I've never had much to pack," he shrugged with a smile, "And maybe 'double' was a little over the top. It was still a lot though."

Meta--what now?

Ernie kept his composure. "Spreading the magic of retail is the best honor a guy could have," he grinned, "Don't worry. You were great for a first-timer. I had a lotta fun today."

Fun. It was hard not to feel surprised, given her tendency to assume the worst of a situation. Her grin grew a fraction warmer, a step closer to genuine.

It was nice to have at a few moments of peace.

"I'll take a compliment where I can get it. The entire 'going out with a friend' thing is still new territory to explore." She offered a hapless shrug of the shoulders along with the words. "We should do this again next time you need to stock up on anything."

"Yeah, definitely!"

Ernie didn't even want to look at the receipts they'd accumulated. He definitely wouldn't be able to pay her back by the end of the year.

"What do your parents do anyway, for you to have so much to spend?"

The smile faltered for a moment.

"Oh, my father evidently developed some sort of software." Siena did her best to trivialize the matter as it were. It wasn't as though she was completely lying. "I wasn't given much detail on it since he married up the social ladder. I think most of the money has been in the family for a few generations."

"Wow, that sounds fancy." Ernie gulped down another bite of pizza. The old money stuff had never made sense to him. "Does that mean you're like American royalty or something?"

"I wouldn't say royalty, but I suppose my family is prominent in the high society circuit." It certainly felt like it with how many events she read of afterwards with her parents in attendence. Thinking on it only reminded the girl of things she preferred to view as passing flights of fancy. "The opportunity to ask in detail never really came up."

'High society', damn. Ernie supposed that made their current location even more fun than it was before. Like putting Big Mac sauce on lobster. He gestured to the two trolleys.

"I bet the Founding Fathers or whoever your ancestors were are glad that their money is being put to good use," Ernie laughed, "Oh, your bake is dripping something, by the way."

"I'm certain that Hamil--oh, shit...!" Hissing faintly in disapproval, Siena held the bake away from her, over the table where small trail of white droplets followed it, but not before it had left an inopportune spattering of mystery sauce along the thigh of her pants. The girl grimaced faintly. At least she had plenty of time to change when they got back. "Well, it could have been worse."

A pause.

"It could have been about four inches to the left and much harder to explain."

"Yeah, what's even going on with this wrapping?" Ernie leaned closer to squint at the bake, "I swear, even some cling wrap and a rubber band would've worked better than whatever this foil is."

"I sincerely do not want to test that theory," Siena claimed. "I'd rather keep my pants salvageable today."

Which was more than she could say of her clothing in the last few combat encounters they'd had, but Siena kept that thought to herself. Not the point.

"Though it wouldn't be the worst idea I've ever gone along with."

For real? Ernie could think of a lot worse.

"Heh, yeah. Worst would be scrambling into an underground tunnel when you see a tsunami coming. Or teleporting back into danger knowing that there were Amigos coming to tear the whole place up, righ--" Ernie chuckled before coughing violently, realising all too late what he just said.

Again, Siena's expression faltered, unpleasant memories of the island coming back to mind. Broken bodies, people gone. Bad ideas. The girl winced when words didn't come to mind immediately.

'Third worst, actually.'

Not the right words.

"I--" Didn't have a response, so she quieted the half-assed protest and averted her gaze instead.

"Shit, that was a dick move. I didn't mean--" He couldn't finish that sentence honestly.

"It's...it's fine." Because she probably deserved it in some measure. "There were better countermeasures than going along with a bad idea."

"...Yeah, there were," Ernie muttered in agreement. He'd already talked it over with Brent. But this was necessary too, right?

An ugly pause lingered in the air.

"I thought you were gonna die out there."

"...I'm sorry." Even though it wouldn't have changed anything that already happened.

'I expected to die out there.'

"I was just supposed to be an escape route."

Rescuing Gregory had never been part of her perogative.

"I won't say I have any excuses beyond that."

Ernie stared at her, trying to make sense of her words. He...got most of it, hopefully. Probably. In the end, he just let out a tired laugh.

"I...understand, I think." He sighed. Keep it simple, stupid. There was a very easy explanation to it. "You just really care about Brent, right?"

"Care" was a strong word, but it wasn't entirely wrong, Siena supposed. She would have done the same for the few faces that had managed to endear themselves to her. Granted, most of them weren't stubborn enough to have a believable image of trying to throw themselves into danger even with plenty of obstacles in the way, but...

She offered a half-hearted attempt at a smile.

"Something like that."

Oh. That shy awkwardness. Reckless dives into danger. Ernie could recognise that immediately.

"Mmhmm, I geddit." Relieved, he flashed a knowing smile. "Don't worry, I won't blab about it. It's good to see you guys are so tight."

Had Brent told Ernie about their prior conversations? Unexpected, but not something she would argue against.

"Thanks. I appreciate it." It wasn't as if she wanted more people to know exactly how twisted she was. Gingerly trying to readjust her meal in its aluminum confines to prevent further leakage, Siena did her best to at least put the topic at ease again.

"By the way, did we actually have a plan for carrying all this back?"

Ernie was silent. Unmoving. Slowly, his eyes shifted to the sheer bulk that was occupying the two home aquarium-sized trolleys, if the aquariums were made to fit a pet shark.

"We...we'll figure something out..."

October 10

Ernie and Allison: Hallway Hassling

Ernest | Allison

---

𝕊𝕒𝕥: 𝕆𝕔𝕥. 𝟡, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘 / / 𝕌𝕊𝔸ℝ𝕀𝕃ℕ 𝔼𝕒𝕤𝕥 / / 𝔹𝕦𝕚𝕝𝕕𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝔹 / / 𝟘𝟡𝟘𝟘

---

_{Collab with @VarionusNW}

It was a damn good thing they finally got back to East. The Building B hallways had never been cleaner and Ernie made sure everyone fucking knew it.

As the morning sunlight trickled through the windows, a group of X's flipped him off as they walked past, familiar faces who'd complained about the noise plenty of times during the week. Fuckers. If the ensuing sneer he threw their way made them feel any better, they definitely didn't show it. The boy continued vacuuming, one machine in his hand while another was maneuvered around by a floating, golden rope. It was a seriously productive way to practice. Honestly, he didn't know why he hadn't thought of it sooner.

Allison's eyes shot open, a wall of noise crushing her head from every side. A phone rang incessantly from upon her desk, mingling with the constant whir of vacuums coming from the hallway. It probably would've given her a headache if she didn't have one already. Half of Allison wanted to smash the phone and break the vacuums for denying her sleep, but she needed to wake up anyway. She removed herself from the bed, slowed by aching limbs and sweat-soaked clothes, and slinked over to the desk. She fumbled for a moment to grab the phone, rejecting the call and squinting at the screen. Seven missed calls, all from the same number. She weakly threw the object onto the bed before focusing on changing into something clean.After a few minutes, Allison had made herself at least somewhat presentable, just enough so that she wouldn't look like a complete mess.

She stepped towards the doorway, and looked back at the phone on the bed. No, this wasn't the time to deal with that. Not with Angel still missing. Allison needed to focus, but first that meant dealing with the loud distraction filling the hallway. She opened the door and the noise only got louder, prompting Allison to massage her temples in a vain effort to quell the headache. The boy had gone and outdone himself this time, using his power to manipulate a second vacuum. He certainly had a talent for turning the aberration dorms into a noisy, if relatively clean hellscape. It was almost funny, a similar scenario had been the first time that Allison found Ernest to be kind of amusing, rather than a complete dick. Maybe he would be able to miraculously redeem himself again? Or at least lie well enough to pretend that he could.

"Hey, Ernie!" Allison called over the din, slowly walking in the direction of the guy who had stabbed her in the eye, become her friend, and given up on Angel immediately, "can you hurry up and cut that out, or are you trying to give everyone in the building a headache?"

The boy rolled his eyes as the familiar face made herself seen. "Better a headache than dust allergies!" he shouted, clearly not thinking that she was important enough to turn the vacuums off for now. "Just sit tight, I'll be out of your hair in a sec."

"Alright then," Allison said as she winced at Ernest's yelling, her voice ringing with a tinge of annoyance. She didn't want to take him at his word, but she did have more important business to tend to than making sure the clean-freak gave the floor some well deserved silence, if one could call punching a bag and running around until one was exhausted "business." Then again, she'd probably need to talk to Ernie eventually, at least to clear up the Angel-shaped rift that had been opened between them, and at most to get someone reasonable onto her side. Though, she had no illusions that getting Ernest on board with an Angelique rescue mission would be a simple task.

She decided to wait him out, shuffling towards the wall and leaning back against it, trying to ignore that she clearly placed next to the room that belonged to Angel.

"I think," Allison shouted, "that I'll just wait until you're done." With that, she resigned herself to the wall and the humming of the machines.

But he wasn't going to be done for a long while. Ernie made his way past Angelique's door quickly, like he was avoiding it, but that seemed to be the peak of his haste. There was a particularly stubborn spot the other door down. The machine ran over it again and again but no result. Yet. Before he knew it, Ernie had completely stopped his movement down the hall, working away at the same spot.

Allison wasn't sure how long she had been watching Ernie vacuum the same section of the floor. The beating of her head had mixed with the whir of the machines, the rhythmic throbbing resulting in a sort of trance-like state. Eventually, though, she realized it was getting rediculous. She removed herself from the wall, moving back towards Ernie on unwilling legs.

"Hey," she shouted as she approached, "How many of those things do you even have?" The question seemed innocent enough, Ernie was using two vacuums and probably had more stashed away.

"I bought a new one yesterday. Why you ask?" he responded cluelessly.

"Oh, no reason," as she spoke, a purple sliver appeared above her shoulder.

The vacuums shut off immediately. Ernie brought them both closer, shielding them with his own body. "H-hey, don't fucking do that," he warned.

"I'll think about it," Allison held back a laugh, dissipating the shard. She kind of felt bad for the gesture, but it was certainly effective. "Don't worry, I wouldn't actually destroy your stuff, not so easily at least. I mean, those can't be easy to repair, right? It would be better to break something simple and easy to fix, like an eye." A memory of the pain in her eye socket resurfaced as she made the comment, a hand reflexively reaching to make sure the eye was still there.

Arms protectively poised between the girl and the vacuums, Ernie glared back, obviously not sharing the same humor she had about the almost-prank. But as she went on he released a bitter sigh, his shoulders slumping. A childish 'I said I was sorry!' almost escaped his mouth but he restrained himself.

"Okay," he muttered, "I definitely brought that on myself. Sorry...for trying to keep things in order around here." The half-apology came out with a huff.

"I mean, maybe you could try to find a better time so you aren't enraging most of the floor?" Allison thought for a second, "actually, now that I think about it I doubt that would work. Every time's a bad time. Oh, maybe you could hand out complimentary earplugs?" She proposed it as a joke, but it almost seemed like a good idea. "Anyway, thanks for trying to make things slightly cleaner, but I don't know if it's really worth the noise pollution, or the death threats, or the extreme likelihood of murder." Allison scratched her head before walking away slowly, still facing Ernie. "Just, try not to wake me up and give me a headache next time, alright?"She stopped, remembering the entire reason she decided to wait for Ernie to finish, "Oh, by the way, do want to meet for a drink in the next few days? I kind of want to talk to you about some stuff." The cautious way she spoke those last few words made the topic in question obvious, as did Allison nervously glancing towards Angel's door.

"Yeah. Sure I'll do that."

It seemed like Ernie heard her advice at least. Whether he'd actually follow it was a different matter. He shared her glance at the door, immediately feeling like a shithead for being so unnecessarily obnoxious. Stupid, immature. Even if he didn't agree with her choices, he could empathise with the hurt of losing someone.

"Drinks is...sounds fine," he tried a nicer smile, "I know the last time we talked wasn't great but if you need to like, talk, I'm just a text away."

Plus, it wasn't you I had the problem with.

"Oh, right, of course. I'm still not used to using a phone, I guess." That was only half of it, but Ernie didn't need to know about the calls. It was already enough of a problem that she had mentioned him, even slightly, to Ernie previously. Still, Allison had to solve that particular issue sooner or later, before anyone else realized what was going on. "Tomorrow, 9 or 10-ish sound alright?"

"Yeah, I should be free," Ernie nodded, "I'll see you then? Mix you another few?"

"Yea. See you then," With that, Allison left Ernie to his own devices, those being two vacuums that she had no doubt he would turn on again as soon as she was out of range of the noise. In that case, Allison made sure she was as far away as she could get, and headed to Ground Zero. Maybe Ernie would listen to reason.

Ernie and Emma: A Pleasant Chat

Link

Ernie: Vent

Ernest

---

𝕊𝕒𝕥: 𝕆𝕔𝕥. 𝟡, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘 / / 𝕌𝕊𝔸ℝ𝕀𝕃ℕ 𝔼𝕒𝕤𝕥 / / 𝔾𝕣𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕕 ℤ𝕖𝕣𝕠 / / 𝟚𝟛𝟙𝟝

---

Plastic, like a takeout container. People's faces weren't meant to feel like that. Maybe when they were dead with that rigor mortis stuff but it was nothing Ernie could speak of from experience. Liam had always cleared them out before it was his turn to clean. The girl hadn't moved at all. Hadn't even flinched when she was prodded again, just so he could make sure she really was the time-trapped doll. Plastic all the way. The forums were right after all. Apart from that whole 'displaced, looping city' stuff, there really wasn't much else to Template.

The harsh wind made him rub his tired eyes. Perhaps he should've just gone to sleep after all. Head to that mysterious ocean and let that mind-eating presence consume his everything, just the way Emma warned it would. Would that be better or worse than trying to get a rise out of a doll person? Ernie sat by her and looked out over that fake city. Broken, weary buildings. No lights apart from the occasional dumpster fire. Barely any people too. He tried looking where she was looking. Perhaps there would be some crazy Ground Zero secret that even Zhang didn't know about. But there was nothing, nothing that looked important anyway. Which meant that he'd come all the way up here for nothing. Which really sucked cos it took him ages to do it without floating up at a really lame speed or faceplanting on the edge or cartwheeling and overshooting the damn girl.

This new rope was really something. At first he'd wanted to liken it to having a third arm to control. But it was far more than that. It was strong. Flexible. Far more dexterous than what he could achieve with his normal hands, and he was still far from reaching the limits of its uses. He was getting better with it with every passing hour. First day back, he could barely peel a carrot with the magic cord. Now he could dice onions at a rate that would make Ramsay himself blush. The added removal of the need for skin contact meant the Ground Zero folks were at his mercy, now that he could practice without fear of blood splattering his clothes. Then there were the new mobility options.

Flying had taken him much longer to figure out. Wrapping the rope around his torso like a harness and moving around that way had the most control but was also...embarrassingly slow. Golden glow or not, he was still far from being another Sparrow. He tried prioritising speed next, having the rope fling him like a baseball pitch. Ten times faster. Ernie could cross the grounds in seconds but the nature of the flinging mostly resulted in mis-throws and motion sickness. Arguably more embarrassing than the harness method. He figured out a relatively fool-proof flight method eventually but...man, maybe he should've asked Siena or Brent for help figuring this out. But he wanted it to be a surprise. He also didn't want anyone seeing him throwing up.

"Aaargh," he yawned loudly, not caring who was listening in, "Training is freaking haaarrd."

No response. Not that he was expecting any. Ernie turned to the girl. So eerie. Human, but so...not.

"No time for chit-chat, huh?"

Again, nothing. C'mon, he knew that was a good joke. It looked like he could say whatever I wanted with zero consequences, positive or otherwise.

"Did you know Siena's got a thing for Brent? I had no clue! I mean, I knew they were pretty much bros but...yeah, that's it. I'm really happy for them."

No result. He tried one that would raise more eyebrows.

"A classmate's dog died because of me. Guy was being a prick so we broke into his dorm and put laxatives in the bowl. Like in that Mr Bean movie, right? The plan was just to have it shit all over the place but...heh, guess the little thing didn't take well to all those chemicals. Don't tell Siena."

Template was a good listener. Hadn't even turned and given him a judging look.

"Once in the bathroom, when I was six, I accidentally peed on Jordan Werrett's shoes and told everyone he did it to himself."

Silence. All the more encouraging.

"I'm pretty sure I killed a kid here. Made her--him fall through the ground. I barely even think about it, with everything going on. Isn't that awful?"

Great crowd.

"I keep telling everyone my fabric softener's ten times better than the ones they have in the laundry rooms but that's totally not true. The ones they provide are fine. I just think mine's smell way nicer."

An excellent audience.

"The only reason I keep using the loud one to vacuum the halls is cos I'm waiting to see which one'll try to beat the shit out of me first. It's been ages since I've gotten in a fistfight with someone that's actually in my league."

The Aberration dorms had indeed gotten rowdier during our time away. The class cancellations combined with an open campus and five hundred dollar stipend was a recipe for trouble. West had a problem like that too. Of course, Building B did have its gems. Just going down the hall, Ernie had Rose in 304. She liked his cooking. Peyton in 303. 302 was Gregory. An unfortunate soul. Ernie hoped he didn't have to suffer long. Allison was 301. Her views were...not great but at the end of the day, Ernie didn't mind her too much. Then Room 300...

He wrapped his arms around his legs. It was starting to get chilly. His mouth opened before he realised.

"I miss her," he eventually muttered, almost unwillingly, "I hated her because...man, how could I not? But I never wanted her gone. Well, now I don't. I just...miss her. A lot."

Quiet, in the air. The wind was tickling his ears so he pulled his beanie down. The ensuing warmth was sort of comforting.

"And I...I miss a lot of the others too. I never thought I would. Most of 'em were such...assholes. But they, at least, never made me fight Dreamcatcher monsters. Or even any Amigos, for that matter."

There was danger everywhere. The monsters. The mages. Fracture and Amigos and maybe even Cat's Cradle. Regs too. Hell, they couldn't even go to a club without getting shot at. Danger, everywhere we went. Even on campus. He couldn't ever let his guard down, not when people like Zoe and Sander slept less than a five minute walk from his room. Now, even his dreams weren't a safe place. Everything that could end him kept following or lurking or getting stronger or building its forces where he couldn't see. And he knew--he fucking knew--that one day they'd get him. Because he'd make a mistake, or someone else would make a mistake. Or the plainest and simplest reason: because he was weak. Weak in every fucking way that mattered. So he spoke out again.

"I don't think I have long to live."

Silence.

"I'm not okay with that. I'm not okay at all."

He was probably shouting by that point.

"I wish..."

Then he stopped. What was it exactly that he was hoping for? He wanted to run, yes. It was the first thing that came to mind. Skirting around in this nightmare of an Earth gave him a better chance of survival than having Kardos directly propel him into dangerous missions. Maybe he could find another group to join or just loot old buildings and live off those shattered cities. Maybe he could locate another Senators cell, try to get some pull there. The world would continue to break down from the inside out, eaten alive by monsters and mage gangs, but he would be fine at least, right?

Ah. Still the same old stupid, selfish Ernest.

He didn't belong here. He was a dumbass. A coward. Everyone else was acting like the chosen ones they apparently were. Or at least fighting more like one. Everyone could handle it...everyone but Ernie. And yet, he was still part of this fight. He still had friends to keep alive, a future he needed to work towards. A long, long lifetime of paranoia and regret would be the only waiting for me otherwise.

Elvia had said it plain and simple. Actors and observers. Those with the power to act had to, or they'd lose everything. And, like it or not, he had that power. He'd live and breathe and fight and die as an actor. Because that future was something he wanted even more than that brief escape from this cursed school.

So he spoke his wish. Quietly. It was like something his mother would say. If someone's really listening, you don't have to raise your voice at all.

"I wish I could be more. Not just for them, or even myself. For...everything. And everyone."

Maybe that way, he wouldn't be so afraid of people knowing the truth about him.

Template remained silent. He didn't mind that. Some wishes were just something you'd have to deal with yourself. Ernie grinned, more genuine than usual.

"Still not talking? Good. Guess now I can tell you all about my--"

"It is 11:30." A stony male voice rang out over the cuff channel. "Students are to begin departing Ground Zero for the midnight reset immediately. Stragglers will be forcibly removed and may face further reprimand."

Ernie sighed. Looked to Template.

"Later then."

She bid him goodbye by continuing to stare into nowhere and remaining silent. Still glowing, he hopped down and departed. The soldiers watched him as he crossed the Ground Zero barrier, their brows furrowing when his steps slowed outside.

"Why aren't you moving?" one of the guards called out, hands firm on his weapon.

"There's no curfew on Saturday, right?" Ernie frowned.

"Curfew doesn't apply to the Ground."

"Huh? I swore that you could head back in--"

"Curfew doesn't apply to the Ground now," the guard spat, "If you have no further business here then leave."

"But I'm just standing here," Ernie scoffed right back, "I'm not even inside the freakin' place."

The soldier merely rolled his eyes and nodded to two other guards beside him, the pair subsequently striding towards Ernie with their weapons pointed.

"Take him back to the dorms."

A harsh jab later and Ernie was grumbling forwards. Trudging slowly didn't stall much as the escorting guards were more than happy to motivate him with the barrels of their rifles. It was a fucking lousy way to end a Saturday, for sure. But as Ernie walked, he caught something in the corner of his eye. It was bulky, rested on a nearby bench and...

Was that a blue-ish green or a green-ish blue?

The dim lighting wasn't offering any favours. Ernie only stopped to look for a second before a sharp pain in his shoulder made him hiss.

"Keep moving," the guard growled.

The Aberration rubbed his shoulder but otherwise complied.

Whatever she was doing there, it probably wasn't worth him getting shot over. Probably.

---

GZ Funtimes

Ernie writes notes on his fancy new rope cos it's neat and will help him remember things good.

ROPE NOTES

Writing words = Yes but messy
Drawing pictures = Yes but messy
Coloring inside the lines = No
Choping food = Yes
Diceing unions = YES (no more goggles!)
Vegetable carving = No
Trimming meat = Don't know if rope is clean for that
Vaccuming = Yes
Scrubbing = Yes
Ironing = Yes but dangeruos

Flying = Yes
Flying fast = Only a bit faster than GZ guy running from me with a gun
Flying with people = Not yet - awkward and squirmy
Throwing things = Yes but need to grab propperly and practise accurasy
Throwing people = Yes
Throwing me = YES. Faster than flying but make me sick. NEED PRACTISE
Lifting car - yucky GZ sedan = Yes
Throwing car = No
Lifting bigger car = No

Hurt people = Yes
Strangle people = Yes
Smash people = Yes
Shoot gun = Yes and funny
Throw knifes = Yes but not accurate
Cut off arms = Yes
Cut off head = Yes
Punch through chest = Yes but gross
Very good for the slow stuff

End Note = NEED MORE PRACTISE!!!

A Certain Variegated Pseudepigraphum [Toaru/Raildex RPG]

GEORGE ELLINGTON

---

The 'Beatnik' grimaced at Purp's rough tone. Guy was definitely rattled. Using his power and booking it was George's standard whenever it looked to be a rumble starting but that wasn't an option here.

"Then how 'bout I just snatch the camera?" George tried, "No need to lay mitts on the little lady that way, 'specially with the number of us here to nab her if she does split. Doubt she'd leave without the thing anyway."

@HereComesTheSnow

A Certain Variegated Pseudepigraphum [Toaru/Raildex RPG]

GEORGE ELLINGTON

---

Well, this was all a real kick in the pants.

The girl spouted something about Judgement beeswax and before George could even begin to wonder why something about it bugged him, Purps was about two secs out from knuckling her. He didn’t need the IQ to know that wouldn’t run well in front of the real cops. They needed to be separated ASAP.

Unfortunately for everyone and despite his expertise in many other areas, George was about as useful in a fight as a wounded turkey, flailing with just as much panic and reckless abandon. Haymakers weren’t gonna be thrown on his end anytime soon. Plus, wasn’t it sorta…grody to be fighting when a corpse was right there?

“Woah!” George raised his hands, his gaze flickering rapidly between the two, “Let’s not play too rough ‘ere. Please?”

@HereComesTheSnow @GreenGoat

A Certain Variegated Pseudepigraphum [Toaru/Raildex RPG]

GEORGE ELLINGTON

---

“It’s too darn hot~”

George’s voice was average at best. Which was a bummer cos it would’ve been a real neat act to add to his repertoire. Sound always travelled further than image. Would round the folks up a little easier cos really, he could only juggle so high before the Judgement officers dragged him down again. Plus the ladies loved a crooner, dandy or otherwise.

And Mr. Ellington was most definitely dandy.

“It’s too darn hot!”

Indeed, it was ‘darn hot’, as Porter himself had remarked. August had truly taken hold of this technological marvel of a city. Sunshine would beat on the city like a dog waking its owner, pulling vacationing kids from their apartments and into the streets, the adolescents taking in the Summer like only a youngster at the peak of their youth could. Longer days! Shorter nights! Ain’t no better time to take in the sunlight hours than now. There were only so many days of August left to enjoy. So even at this late hour there were still many citizens roaming around. And where the students went, their wallets accompanied.

“I’d like to sup with my baby tonight!”

Not that George would ever admit to doing it for the money. ‘Course it was a decent bonus but, well, it was the art that really mattered. The performance. The smiles, the shock, the wonder…heck, even the heckling. Being a goof wasn’t news to Ellington. It was a decent gig all around. Definitely helped swing his attention from the pile of homework still on his desk.

“Refill the cup with my baby toni--"

George didn’t register the noise at first. It could’ve just been something rattling around in the Hot Box. The holiday season had offered some handfuls of extra yen today. He wouldn’t be surprised if his power was jacking something up inside. But…no. Whether it was intuition or some wacky, mystic force of the universe, the Illinois native knew that something wasn’t right here.

Anxiously readjusting the straps of the Hot Box, George peeked around the corner. A purple-haired teen, a dude that seemed to be more beef than human, a petite photographer and…

“Great shades of Elvis...” George swore out loud.

His gaze didn’t linger on the downed woman for long. Thank god his cup ramen dinner was still waiting back in the apartment. Upchucking in front of all these folks would’ve been a bad time for everyone. The foreigner shuffled awkwardly. The heat would be arriving soon, right? That’s what these two dudes were clamoring about. They seemed to have the right idea. On the other hand, the remaining member of this little gathering…

“Jeez, doll,” George chuckled nervously, “You’re really gettin’ your rocks off, huh?”