Chasers115

—(••[ 𝕎𝕀𝕊ℍ𝔼𝔸𝕋𝔼ℝ ]••)—

Lily, Marcus, and some Verbally Abused Fish

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Lily watched with strange fascination as Grant clubbed the squirrel she had successfully transferred her injuries to. As it died with her injuries, she was left unscathed and brand new. The black string that had connected her with the monster dissipated into thin air. I've got something to contribute to this battle, after all, she thought a little gleefully. She would have whooped but then she remembered what she had done earlier and her eyes sought out Marcus. Was he able to take cover from the blast of her poorly aimed grenade? Poorly aimed... yeah... Grenades are probably a bad idea... She had been distracted when the shrapnel hit her that she was not able to keep track of what had happened to her team mate. Her heart began beating fast as the thoughts of him being blasted to bits crossed her mind. Too late for her thoughts. She should have thought about that before she let the bomb fly out of her hand. But Lily had a habit of worrying about things a little later than she should. And for most times, she ended up getting the desired result anyway. Or at least close to it. When her eyes finally landed on him, she sighed in relief. He seemed okay. But she'd bet her life that he's probably angry at her.

With the squirrels basically taken care of and the rest of the threats a good ways away from them, Marcus took a moment to process what was going on around him. His eyes struggled to avoid looking over towards their latest casualty, the twisting in his gut threatening to increase if he glanced that direction. Instead, he turned his attention to the second pressing issue; Ethan's team, where a sun was apparently being conjured in above their fight. He hummed in surprise more than anything, silently hoping that the great ball of light was a side affect of one of their powers, rather than the herald of their imminent doom. He flinched as a loud, guttural roar rang out across the battlefield, and turned to see the addition of a dragon on the field. Thank god it seemed to be on their side; otherwise Marcus would have seriously considered jacking one of the trucks and driving back to USARLIN.

A different, but equally loud and guttural roar swiveled his attention back to their predicament. The fish men seemed to be trying to dig out the other...'creature'...and it seemed to be none too happy with its situation. Siena and Grant seemed preoccupied at the moment...for various reasons, and Cal was still fighting the big thing, which left him and Lily to try and take out the rest of them for now.

While Marcus was eyeing the monsters closest to both of them, Lily was transfixed by the light show from Ethan and the eye scorpion from red team. She looked up at the sky, at the green spinning circles, and wondered what they would do. Leave it to the golden haired girl to be distracted while chaos raged around them.

"Alright Lily, you and I, let's see what we can do about the 'Freaky Face' crew over there." Marcus said, his words humorous but his tone sounding very strict. He wasn't super pleased to be stuck with her; she had thrown a grenade at him by accident mere moments ago. But, accidents happened, especially in the heat of battle, he wasn't injured, and he could very well be much worse off without her help than with it. His eyes flicked nervously to the remaining grenades on Lily's soldier belt.

Lily snapped back to focus when she heard Marcus' voice addressing her. She looked at him and followed as his eyes settled on the grenades on the soldier belt she had stapped on to her hip. It was obvious that her earlier move had been a total failure... well, not exactly a failure since she apparently was able to take out some of the fast squirrel monsters. But still... Her mind drifted off.

"Alright, here's the plan, let me know if you've got a better one: We run up, and we shoot the fish until they die, and then we shoot the bug-man until he dies. Then we celebrate and go home. Simple as that." Marcus said, half jogging over to where the fishmen were retrieving their incapacitated team member. "If they can't get him out, we should be fine. If they do get him out, we run as fast as we can back to the trucks, and hope that he's not faster than us." he paused for a moment to look over to the blonde girl, his tone becoming serious for a brief moment, "I'm gonna sound mean, so don't take this the wrong way, but DO NOT touch any more of those grenades. If your hand even brushes those things, I will take you back to the truck and stuff you in it myself."

Lily nodded as she looked towards the fishmen trying to free the creepy beetleman from his entrapment. They were slow, clumsy and obviously panicking from the enraged moans of the trapped monster. It would have looked funny if these things weren't out to kill all of them. She jogged towards Marcus and lifted her hands up in the air in an 'I surrender' type of gesture. "I won't touch them. I'm sorry," the blonde girl immediately apologized as she once again turned her attention to the team mate she almost killed.

"Good, as long as we're on the same page, because it'll be a while before I can do that trick again!" He smiled a little more warmly this time, trying to make light of the situation. He hadn't been hurt, miraculously, so he wasn't as mad at Lily as he probably should have been, but he still wanted to avoid that happening again. His mind was still trying to comprehend exactly what it was that he did, but he pretty much had a vague understanding by now. There'd be time to think about it later.

"Keep an eye on that light show over there, and keep an eye on that mystery circle above us. If you say 'move', I'm going to do so without hesitation, but I expect the same from you, deal?" he said, offering a warm, but still strict, smile. "Just make sure you tell me which way to dodge!" he finished, turning to take a knee and aim at the still-digging fishmen.

At Marcus' instructions, Lily nodded again. She made a mental note to remember to ask for instructions next time to avoid any unnecessary mistakes. "Watch your back, keep an eye on the lights, say which way to dodge. Okay, I can do that." She said in a confident manner. She looked back towards the fishmen and an idea struck her. She could apply what she did earlier. Of course it would hurt like hell but why not? It seemed like an effective way. "There are two of them...aim for only one. Once you take it out and the other comes for us, you can shoot me and I'll transfer the injuries to it." She scratched her head. "Perfect way to get even with me too," she added.

"Wha-? Shoot you?" he said, turning to look at her worriedly. "I mean, I'm not that upset with you, I just- you know what, let's just save that for Plan B." he sighed, before returning to his aiming. Even if it was one of the best ways to damage the enemies, Marcus wasn't sure how comfortable he'd be with shooting his own teammate. There were too many risks, in his mind, but if it came down to it...he shook his head slightly; right now he needed to focus. He peered down the sight, grinning slightly, his finger gently resting on the trigger. "Alright, let's make some fillets!"

They weren't very far away from the targets, about 30 feet give or take, if he had to make an estimate. Close enough that a shot shouldn't be too difficult, but far enough that they'd hopefully be able to make a break for the truck if bug-boy did manage to free himself. Steadying his aim, Marcus looked down the sight at the nearest fish man, relaxed his elbows a bit, and pulled the trigger three times in quick succession.

—(••[ 𝕎𝕀𝕊ℍ𝔼𝔸𝕋𝔼ℝ ]••)—

Marcus Howell

A hit and a miss - Marcus considered that a success. He was currently backing towards the transport, squirrels approaching, while he readied another shot. They were coming up quickly now, and the group would be in trouble if nobody else did anything about them. He lined up another shot, stopping in his tracks to take aim, and…

"Marcus, take cover!"

He turned his head slightly to look at Lily, who was standing nearby, arm arced as if she had thrown something. A glint in her hand caught his eye, him at first believing it to be the object she was about to throw. It was a pin. A grenade pin to be precise. Almost in slow motion, his eyes locked onto the object in the air, currently slightly over his head.

His teammate had just thrown a grenade at him.

Or, not at him per se, but he was currently occupying the area in which she’d thrown it. He didn’t know much about explosives, but he had a pretty good idea of what was about to happen to him, and none of it was pleasant. His feet turned of their own volition, and he found himself turned towards the transport, running in a blind panic. There was no way he’d be able to get out of the blast zone in time. His eyes darted to the last thing he was about to see: the determined look of Lily, still confident in her throw, as everything around him seemed to stop.

While Lily’s face showed determination, Marcus's showed desperation. Two different emotions, both with the same goal: survival. He’d been in such a situation before; a scene he relived in his head in what he assumed to be his life flashing before his eyes.

The asphalt was cold, as cold as the blood in his veins and as cold as the night sky that stretched infinitely beyond above him. The stars twinkled brightly...odd, they hadn’t done that before. Each star twinkled once, and was subsequently snuffed out, but he felt himself grow warmer. Somewhere up there, Dreamcatcher watched them all from the safety of his cocoon. He was safe and sound far above, while those still stuck on the ground suffered because of it. He had questions for the beast; "Why?" "How could you let this happen?", but the fading of his vision suggested he'd never get the chance. The warmth in his chest grew hotter, curiously hot, as if each star had lent him a small portion of its light. As the last star faded and the night grew black, he snapped back to reality.

The world rushed to meet him, folding itself inward to allow for his safe passage. His head swirled, a combination of panic, confusion, and motion sickness. He heard static, loud static that seemed to be coming from directly behind him. The ground shifted as well, his feet scuffing through the dirt and catching something, sending him sprawling to the earth below. He did not move to catch himself, his arms preoccupied with reflexively covering his head as his body impacted. Behind him, much farther behind him than previously, something exploded. At least, he assumed it was an explosion; he felt a rush of heat, and the normal sounds of the environment were silenced and replaced with a high-pitched ringing.

His vision swirling, his ears ringing, and his stomach threatening to turn itself inside-out, Marcus slowly raised his head. It took a moment for him to regain his senses, and it was his vision that returned first. He certainly was not laying where he expected to be laying, but more importantly; he had apparently not been eviscerated by hot shrapnel.

As his mind struggled to comprehend what had just happened, his ears stopped ringing. What replaced that was far worse; the screams. Two sets, one of which was cut disturbingly short. He reached for the pistol that had left his grip, retrieving it from its spot nearby. His legs shook, but slowly steadied themselves as he struggled to his feet, taking a couple extra steps as he righted himself.

There’d be no time to figure out how he’d survived until later. For now, he looked at the horrifying scene before him, and his stomach twisted again. Focus. Focus on the target. He raised his gun uncertainly, trying to stop the shaking in his arms long enough to regain his aim. If there were any squirrels left by the time Grant and Siena were done with them, he’d take the shot.

—(••[ 𝕎𝕀𝕊ℍ𝔼𝔸𝕋𝔼ℝ ]••)—

A Night on the Town

An Autobiography by Marcus Howell

And so, Marcus found himself wandering around the school proper. The first order of business was the registrar’s office, as the bottom of the sheet said, and he was keen to get there before doing any exploration. He’d joked about it to the girls, but there was a small part of his mind that was worried he’d lose the sheets by accident; he was slightly accident prone, and the last thing he needed was to go chasing a couple papers across the campus.

He looked down at his own paper, keeping Callan’s and Siena’s folded over (peeking would be rude, of course). He didn’t think that his was too unreasonable:

Requisition Sheet

• 1 Laptop
• 1 Cell Phone
• Additional Funds to my Account
• A Message to Max Howell of the 442nd Air Force Fighter Wing: “Still Alive”

(Underneath the last item was a small paragraph: “I don’t care how you deliver this; cell phone, phone call, mail, rent a plane and write it in the sky if you have to. Just make sure this message is delivered.”

It was like writing a letter to Santa in a way: Sending a letter to someone he’d probably never see, hoping with all his heart he got everything he wanted, and inevitably being disappointed when the results finally came around. Nostalgic.

Fortunately, he had also taken one of the maps that the faculty had been kind enough to leave. Finding the registrar’s office wasn’t too difficult, and he only almost fell down the steps while reading the map once. The delivery of the forms was less than exciting, him passing them to the grumpy lady on the other side, and quickly skedaddling away from her scathing gaze. With no more responsibilities, and a free reign on the campus, Marcus set out, a gleam in his eye and a skip in his step.

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𝕊𝕖𝕡𝕥. 𝟛, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘 / / ℂ𝕣𝕚𝕞𝕖𝕟 ℂ𝕦𝕝𝕡𝕒𝕖 𝟙 / / 𝟚𝟘𝟝𝟟

---

It was a successful night of shopping for Marcus. He had managed to find a general store, and had bought the necessities he needed for the morning. While he appreciated Siena’s offer of a toothbrush, he had an image to upkeep! He wasn’t gonna use some girly pink toothbrush, his was going to be manly; blue, with Spiderman on it.

The rest of his shopping spree was spent on clothing, and that took about as long as regular toiletries did. He wasn’t very picky about his outfits, as long as they were functional. Plain jeans, plain long sleeved shirt. Some of the shirts had funny little blurbs on them, but they were otherwise unremarkable. His shoes got an upgrade; from plain sneakers to some work boots. The same comfort as sneakers, but with a steel toe in it. The way Marcus figured it, a little extra protection, no matter how small, was worth the price.

He was on his way back to his dorm when the alarm sounded.

Marcus stopped in is tracks, bags swaying uncertainly. A significant threat near campus, and he was just coming back from a shopping spree. It wasn’t the best position to be in, and he continued walking to his dorm, still listening to the broadcast and waiting for instructions.

Menagerie. As far as he was a aware, Menagerie was one of the good guys. It'd make sense for their combat assessment to be helped along by a guy that could make DC's beasts. Kill on sight seemed a little harsh for a test, so Marcus was forced to assume it was not, in fact, their scheduled assessment. They were going up against a Precursor, one of the originals, with nothing but a strike force and some new students. Perhaps he'd stay towards the back.

Blue team. His roommates, and three others, one of which happened to be a healer. His confidence was not elevated upon hearing about the limited healing situation, but he was put at ease a little bit when he heard his roommate's names. Two people he already knew, and that he was pretty sure wouldn't leave him to get killed. It occurred to him, however, that he didn't even know their powers; they'd have to figure that out on the ride over.

These were the things that stuck in his mind as he threw his stuff on his bed. They were going out to battle, and he didn’t even have a weapon. Hopefully one would be provided for him, or else there wouldn’t be much he’d be able to do. The only thing left was to wait for someone to ‘escort’ him to the trucks.

“Ah, right on time. Let’s get going!” he said, nearly running into a guard on the way back out his door.

The Elder Scrolls: Oblivion - Crimson Skies

Glenndus had been outside when the skies turned red. He, like many of the people, had fled to the chapel when the daedra started pouring into the city. What had started as a day of festivities and merriment was currently one of death and smoke; both of which he could smell from his position near one of the supporting pillars.

Thank The Nine that something had fallen in front of the doors; he’d been able to set up with a few others and shoot the beasts as they tried to make their way in through the only available entrance. He didn’t know how much help he was, but there were enough bodies out there to convince him he was doing some good. If they’d had to defend numerous entrances, that would have been the end of them, most certainly.

Now, Glenndus sat in his position, resting his weary body. From here, he had a good line of sight on the only entrance, and a pretty good view of the rest of the chapel. If Dagon himself were to smash through the building, he’d at least be able to see it coming. His hand tensed around his bow, where it rested next to him.

He wasn’t sure how comforting that was.

At one end of the chapel, a man prayed to his gods. A noble cause, and if the gods were willing to offer any assistance in stopping the legion of devils that were surrounding them, he certainly wasn't going to turn it down.

“...going to die.” came a voice from inside the chapel. Glenndus shot the Breton man a dirty look, but said nothing. He noted that a few others were currently milling about; others who seemed like they might actually be worth a damn when hell itself spilled into the chapel. They all seemed to be making their introductions, or talking to themselves, and he listened carefully, continuing to maintain his watch on the door.

He wouldn’t be joining in the conversation, there would be time enough to make introductions and give thanks if they all made it out of here alive.

—(••[ 𝕎𝕀𝕊ℍ𝔼𝔸𝕋𝔼ℝ ]••)—

The Wheels on the Bus...

An Autobiography by Marcus Howell

The pickup and transportation were a little bit rough, but that was about how Marcus expected it to go down. He hadn't quite expected the 'prisoner' treatment of transportation, but upon reflection, he figured it made sense. Not many people were very fond of the empowered, so it made sense that they'd be on their guard. Everyone else in the transport seemed to just be quietly riding it out; Marcus figured that some of them probably didn't have a choice in the matter. He, while quiet for most of the ride, punctuated the most dreary of silences with the occasional comment:
"Hey! Can somebody tell me where the mini-fridge is back here?"
"Any chance we can turn on the radio? It's dreadfully silent back here!"
"Are we there yet, are we there yet, are we..."
"Oooh! Can we stop and get ice cream!? I'd really love some ice cream right now!

None of these really caused anything but an angry glare his way, but he still sat back with a smile on his face. The humor helped him take his mind of the crippling fear of wherever the hell they were going right now, but the occasional deep breath helped too.

When the Precursors had shown up, Marcus of course craned his neck and pressed his face up against the transparent side of the truck, like an eager child looking at Christmas lights. "Awww, you guys put together a fireworks show for us? It's not as interesting as the radio, but I suppose it'll do!" he said to the truck, watching the battle outside.

It was the shout from the captain the shut Marcus up for the rest of the ride. Clearly these things were not for show and tell, and something out there was going wrong. The weird insect thing would certainly make an appearance in his nightmares, but that was norm nowadays. He sat silently in his seat, trying not to slide to the back of the vehicle, until they arrived at the complex.

New Arrivals

"Holy moly, does everyone around here have a stick shoved up their backside!?" had been one of Marcus's comments as they were being unloaded, before the Director showed up. Nobody in the facility seemed to have any concerns regarding the openly hostile treatment of the newest members, and Marcus was starting to get a little irritated. Not irritated enough to pick a fight with one of the guards, but irritated enough for his jokes to start accumulating the telltale inflection of contempt.

He stood in line, listening to the director's speech as she pointed out the various ways that she was gonna end their miserable existences. Oh man...threats to splatter us across the floor like paint, what way to make a group feel at home! He felt slightly validated when a couple of the other attendees spoke up. He smirked as the man with the mug spoke, grateful that he was at least somewhat aware of the current mood in the room.

"Um, yeah, Queen Stick, question over here!" Marcus said, looking to the Director. "Can I get my mandatory criminal ankle bracelet in chestnut? Anything else tends to clash with my eyes." He said this with a defiant smirk; he wasn't necessarily being openly defiant, but he had to have some sort of outlet for his irritation, and it felt like a small victory to him.

Of course, now that he'd said it, he gauged the director and the rest of the room for reactions. If something were about to happen and he were about to get punished for his smart mouth (it wouldn't be the first time), there wasn't much he could do to stop it, but he could at least try and brace for it.

—(••[ 𝕎𝕀𝕊ℍ𝔼𝔸𝕋𝔼ℝ ]••)—

@Diggerton Aw yeah! We'd need a team name though! Tell me how you guys feel about:

• Team Bundle of Fun
• Team Barrel of Monkeys
• Team E.L.M
• Team Manic Depressives
• Team Oh God I'm Not Clever Somebody Help

I tried to think of something that tied all our powers together, but I couldn't come up with a thing. Not a single thing. Send help.

—(••[ 𝕎𝕀𝕊ℍ𝔼𝔸𝕋𝔼ℝ ]••)—

@Snagglepuss89 Nope. Definitely the double space.

You want me to PM you a two page essay on how Marcus thinks Lawrence is the greatest? Because I'm not gonna do that; it's far too early for your self-indulgent fanfiction!

—(••[ 𝕎𝕀𝕊ℍ𝔼𝔸𝕋𝔼ℝ ]••)—

Alright, Marcus's thoughts are in! Don't get mad and come to stuff him in whatever they use for lockers around here!

I'll probably update that as more people get put onto the CS. I know there are some that have been accepted, but my writer's block is starting to set in, so I need to go beat that to death with a broom.

EDITZ: God, I was trying to figure out what it was about Lawrence's opinion section on my post that was pissing me off so much. Turns out I put two spaces between his name and Marcus's description. You authority people aren't the only ones with that OCD curse!

—(••[ 𝕎𝕀𝕊ℍ𝔼𝔸𝕋𝔼ℝ ]••)—

@dragonmancer That's harsh man. Real harsh! Hurts right here, right inside. Right in the appendix.

@January That one. I want that one.

EDIT: I suppose I should actually make some constructive decision. Just throw Marcus in anywhere, he'll probably do well with anybody people that are willing to tolerate his presence!

DOUBLE EDIT: Well, since everybody else is doing it, I'll put together a list of people Marcus would want to hand around with. Eventually.

—(••[ 𝕎𝕀𝕊ℍ𝔼𝔸𝕋𝔼ℝ ]••)—

Oh gawd, we have to make friends? Oh no, it's 'pick your own partners' again! EXCEPT I DON'T KNOW ANYBODY THIS TIME!

*Horrified Screaming*