Chasers115

—(••[ 𝕎𝕀𝕊ℍ𝔼𝔸𝕋𝔼ℝ ]••)—

Kusari Bloodworth and Marcus Howell

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𝕊𝕖𝕡𝕥. 𝟟, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘 / / 𝕌𝕊𝔸ℝ𝕀𝕃ℕ 𝔼𝕒𝕤𝕥 / / 𝕆𝕦𝕥𝕡𝕠𝕤𝕥 𝕊𝕙𝕠𝕨𝕖𝕣𝕤 / / 𝟙𝟟𝟙𝟚

---

No sooner after had Marcus climbed up than guards started approaching, with the message that his team had come out victorious. He scanned the area, still looking for any sign of the rest of his teammates, but was interrupted by the approach of a man with a large hose. A sight which made Marcus sigh in relief.

“You sir, you do good work.” Marcus said gratefully, extending his arms out and accepting the gift of a nice rinse he was being given. He was happy to at least have most of the sewage off of him, if not be completely clean. When the rest of the people came over and started spraying him with what appeared to be disinfectant, he was a bit surprised. Of all the things that he had worried about, disease wasn’t something that he had even thought about. A mental note to try and keep track of all possible threats, no matter how small.

“Any chance one of you fellows can lead me to those showers you mentioned? Or at least point me the right way?” Marcus said, gingerly accepting the towels and clothes, trying to carry them without getting any more filth on them.

“Guess I’ll see you back in the showroom!” Marcus said to Callan, giving a short wave and walking off in the designated direction.

It didn’t take long for him to find the showers; the directions provided to him were more than useful enough for him to find his destination. By the time he got there, he could hear the sound of running water already; so he chose the stall the most opposite he could find. He left his fresh change of clothes nearby, neatly folded and meticulously separated from his current clothes, which he placed in a pile. Those'd be getting thrown away regardless; just as soon as he emptied the pockets. He stepped in and threw the towel over the door, not noticing the wieght of the fabic causing it to move ever so slightly ajar, before beginning the arduous process of scrubbing his skin nearly clean off his body. The broken arm gave him some trouble, but where he couldn't just wash around, he forced it out of the way with a gasp of pain and clenched teeth.

A slight pang of guilt hit him and he washed the refuse from his body; he felt like he hadn’t actually helped out his team that much during that fight. He’d gotten like, 6 points out of 64? But he knew he wasn’t any good as a front-line fighter; so there wasn’t much he was going to be able to do besides exactly what he did. Hit and run tactics – grab a flag and run away before Kusari could hurt him anymore than she had. Yet…he felt like he could do more now. He almost wanted a rematch, just to see what that vision was all about.

He needed something to fall back on when his power was recharging. Hand-to-hand combat was probably the most useful: he already knew how to use a gun (though some extra training wouldn’t hurt), but the added protection would help him when he was recharging and might allow him to do some extra offense with his Leap. He had a whole two weeks ahead of him, so maybe he’d be able to request some training during that time period. The mental image of him flashing out of nowhere and doing sweet roundhouse kicks against a bad guy came to mind – a mental image that he absolutely adored.

Kusari watched as water stained red with her blood swirled into the drain at her feet. The fact that she could stand here without a trace of injury was a reminder that she was not normal. She looked at her right leg, and then her right hand. They too were a more obvious reminder. She didn't have it in her to cut off her right arm again and spend another ten minutes reattaching her normal limb. The tentacle had to go for sure, outside of being in combat she didn't think she could stand living with that thing.

The sound of someone entering the security outpost's shower room caught her attention for a moment, but she didn't bother seeing who it was. She simply finished washing herself and exited the stall. After drying herself off she grabbed the clothes one of the guards had gotten for her. It was one of the red and black school uniforms she requested. She walked for the exit, but stopped as she passed the in use stall. The door was slightly open, allowing her to see that Marcus was currently using it. Perhaps due to her mental exhaustion, or the fact that she was an individual with little in the way of tact, she didn't immediately see what was wrong with the fact that a guy had been showering so close to her, let alone the fact that she was now peeking at him.

From where Kusari was standing, she'd be able to see the extent of Marcus's scarring; the slight burn that sometimes peeked out from his sleeve blossomed and bloomed across the entirety of his arm, even dripping down the left side of his torso a small amount. The marks that were on his face were mirrored in a few spots on his torso, and there was a faint slash that jutted across the right side of his collarbone, as if someone had sliced him with a knife. Fortunately for him, he'd already finished up and begun wrapping the towel around his waist, preventing Kusari from getting an eyefull.

She'd noticed Marcus's scars on his face before, but hadn't thought much of them. However, she now saw that he also had scaring from what looked like a fire on one of his arms.

Scars were something she envied more than one should. Scars were proof that you've been hurt in some way, sometimes more than simply physically. Scars are proof that someone is human, that they've gone through adversity and come out in one piece. Her body meanwhile was an unnatural blank canvas. There was no proof of the hardships she'd had. She was disgusted with herself.

Marcus turned around, and suddenly Kusari realized how awkward this was. She averted her eyes. She needed an excuse, something, anything. thankfully she had something she wanted to say to him. "You're not holding a grudge, are you? For what I did during the test."

"GA-HEH!" Marcus shouted in surprise, seeing Kusari standing there. He nearly slipped in the leftover puddle of water, grabbing the towel around his waist and making sure it was secured tightly; determined not to give her any more of a show than he'd already given her. His face went a little red at the thought, but was quickly mitigated by Kusari talking.

Yeah, he was still pretty pissed at her. She'd run up out of nowhere, shattered his arm and then delivered blunt force trauma directly to his skull. He'd be holding that grudge for more than a couple-

But it was a combat scenario. Everyone else seemed to have understood that. Callan and Sander had gone at each other without pulling punches, and Angel had nearly shouted Chris's to death. It seemed like he was the only one who didn't get that memo. This was his life now; these kind of things weren't friendly - and going in under the assumption they were...well, he'd been shown what happened then.

A long sigh. "No. I'm not. It was a training exercise. I didn't go into it as seriously as I should have, and you took advantage of a clear opening. Not really anything to hold a grudge about." He said, crossing his arms defensively. "Besides, like I told you; we're even. You have every right to hold a grudge, yourself."

Kusari frowned, and crossed her arms. "We aren't even at all, because I'm not holding anything against you." She took a deep breath, feeling herself losing her temper. You aren't the one that forced us to compete against each other with the threat of death hanging over our heads. I'm more angry with myself for going along with it so easily." She glanced at Marcus's broken arm. "I'm not doing this again. I shouldn't be hurting any of you, regardless of what they tell me. We're allies after all, right?"

"I certainly appreciate it." Marcus said, looking sheepishly at the ground. It was a nice thought; that they wouldn't be in another situation where they were told to fight each other. But he knew it'd come around one day - either than or he'd be dead before he could actually see it.

"I don't know if it's that easy though. Even if they didn't have us fight each other again someday; there's a whole nest of people and monsters out there willing to hurt us instead. I guess it makes sense that we practice in controlled situations before we can get seriously injured."

Controlled. That was the whole difference here. That was the difference between them and the beasts of DC - and in more than one way.

"So yeah, we're allies. But all we can do is watch out for each other and try not to lose our cool during these kind of games." Marcus said, shrugging and looking back to Kusari.

Kusari was silent for a moment, her gaze fixed on a non-specific crack in the wall of the shower room. She wanted to say she could look out for him as well, but she didn't believe she could. The only thing she was good at was not getting killed. "Right... if the worst ever happens, feel free to let me take the fall. I can take the landing." She let out a sigh. "I should let you put some clothes on, I'll see you wherever these asshats are taking us." She said, heading towards the door. Before she left, she stopped at the door and looked back to Marcus. "Not bad, by the way." She winked at him, and walked out.

"Hell, between the amazing regenerating girl, and the fabulous rewinding boy, the two of us can take pretty much any fall we may stumble on!" Marcus said, grinning. His grin quickly faltered however, his entire face immediately exploding into a crimson hue. He watched he walked out, speechless, as his face slowly started to mellow out.

Of the million thoughts that were currently running around his head on fire, he was not having a super great time in silencing any of them as he pulled his clothes on. Moreso, he didn't want to elaborate on any of them. He was left in a mental limbo, and he tried to divert his attention by cleaning his filth-covered phone off in the sink. He furiously cleaned out every nook and cranny, the redness of his face periodically increasing every time a new thought came by.

A notification on the screen of his phone helped to cut through the slight haze of his overactive imagination: [1 New Message]. He tapped it once, bringing up the mentioned response.

Try not to lose this one, you klutz! You know how much I start to worry when my baby brother drops out of contact! I’ll make time tonight, so you’d better be ready to tell me everything! Call me whenevs!

Max

He grinned slightly at the message, before pulling the waterlogged napkin out of his other pocket. It was bled through and nearly illegible, but he could still almost make out the numbers Emma had written down. He might be able to copy it over correctly, but maybe asking for another would be a better idea. Still, after lunch today, was that a feasible thought anymore? And what the hell had Kusari meant just now? His face flushed again, before he neatly folded up the napkin and gently put it in his pocket.

Maybe it'd be easier to focus if he just worried about watching his classmates beat the shit out of each other.

—(••[ 𝕎𝕀𝕊ℍ𝔼𝔸𝕋𝔼ℝ ]••)—

Homeroom (cont.)

An Autobiography by Marcus Howell

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Marcus had walked back to the classroom by himself, neglecting to try and hunt down any of the previous lunch-mates. His mind pondered things slowly, things that he really didn’t want to ponder, but had more than enough of an opportunity to.

“What the hell happened back there?” was first and foremost on his mind. He wasn’t the jealous type…he was more of a ‘let everything roll off and move on’ type. And, while he was certainly sassy, he was never directly confrontational about it. So why now? What exactly had triggered that? It wasn’t a side of him he liked, and he’d seen the surprise in basically everybody’s face.

Was he just lashing out because he was pissed at the dog?

That wasn’t it. He knew anger, and he knew anger well. That hadn’t been straight anger so much as just him trying to shoot down a challenger. A challenger for what though? Emma? He had absolutely no right to Emma; any ‘challengers’ were just additional dates, much like he’d done.

Why then? He’d jumped to try and shoot down Ernie; to try and seem like the big macho man in front of Emma. Maybe it was because of the dog. Perhaps he was over-compensating to draw the attention away from his irrational fear of a goddamned ankle-biting dog. Or maybe he was just afraid of having something snatched from his grasp, even it was as small as a simple date. Or maybe he was just a huge asshole, and his true colors were starting to show.

This was getting him just about as far as any of the other times he’d sat down and over-analyzed himself. He was fairly practiced in pointing out his own flaws (god knew he had enough free time to become a pro) and this was the point where his inner monologue was just going to start calling him names. By now, he had made the journey back to the classroom, and sat down in his seat.

Fortunately, there was plenty going on to distract him. The addition of elective choices was nice, and Marcus briefly skimmed over the paper before turning his full attention to the topic of ‘Flag and Seek’. His chest swelled a bit with egotistical pride at the mention of how good Blue Team did with their healer, remembering the friendly face that had almost blown him to smithereens. The rules seemed very simple; points for flags, a win for the healer, yadda yadda. Flag football wasn’t a foreign concept to him, and this was just flag football with the addition of superpowers. Every teenage boy’s dream, really.

Sander, Angelique, Grant, and Lily. There were only two names he really recognized from that list, but the opposing team was one he knew only slightly better. His two roommates and Kusari stuck out, and Marcus couldn’t help but give a little ‘it’s on’ glance to his suitemates. There’d be bragging in 430 tonight, one way or another.

And then everything got serious for a moment. The change in tone was so drastic that Marcus’s own heart sank as Fred spoke. His emotion quickly turned to contempt though, the longer that he talked.

“They've learned well enough by now to stay away from more densely populated cities where the chances of running into a large number of mages are high, but that hasn't stopped them from attacking smaller locales.”

Not as important.

"...you should know that they've been behaving strangely in the last year.”

Is that why…?

But Marcus didn’t have much time to ponder these things, for as quickly as the tone shifted, it shifted back, and they were left to learn chemistry or something. He was too busy cracking open the new phone that he’d been given and deliberately trying to divert his mind elsewhere. It took a little while for him to get it started up, but he eventually succeeded. Immediately, he pulled the small slip Rosa had given him and copied it into his contacts, following up with a quick text.

Finally got a cell phone. They told me you at least got my message, so I hope you haven’t been freaking out too much. Let me know if you’re free for a call later tonight; a lot’s happened since we last talked.

Marc

The rest of the time was decidedly not spent on listening to someone yammer on about bonds and ions and garbage. Instead, he was filling out his elective form, putting his pencil to his mouth as he went over the decisions; a few of the choices stuck out to him, but he was having an overall hard time trying to decide which ones he liked the least. P.E might be fun to try out again, especially with the new abilities they all had. But it might just be regular, boring P.E, which would not be fun to try out again. It was strange; they way everything was laid out, you'd almost forget that it was just a facade to help them better adjust. He shook his head, trying to loosen that thought from his mind, and focused more on his elective paper.

Electives

• Art/Photography - 1
• Creative Writing - 6
• Woodworking - 8
• P.E. - 7
• Film Study - 4
• Music Theory - 5
• Home Ec - 3
• Computer Science – 2

All that was left to do now was daydream, and come up with some strategies for this ‘game’ they were about to play. It’d be easier if he knew everybody’s powers, but that didn’t stop him from coming up with some pretty amazing fight scenes in his head. He looked forward to being one of the first groups out there – might as well give everyone something to try and strive for, he thought to himself, a confident smile the only thing betraying his thoughts.

—(••[ 𝕎𝕀𝕊ℍ𝔼𝔸𝕋𝔼ℝ ]••)—

Homeroom

An Autobiography by Marcus Howell

---

Marcus stood bleary-eyed at attention, having been rudely awoken by what he assumed to be standard operating procedure here. His shirt and pants remained wrinkled, a testament to his ability to sleep in everyday-wear, and a bigger testament to his lack of worry over appearances. If they were waking him up this early, they’d get over him being slightly disheveled. It’s not like he wasn’t usually somewhat disheveled.

He looked around the room a little bit, yawning and trying to get his bearings. School was in session, if the desks were anything to go by. The man who leaned at the desk seemed friendly enough; and the slight glimmer of white that Marcus’ eyes caught meant that he was a peer at least. A peer in the sense that he at least knew what they were going through. He sat in his seat, fiddling with one of the pencils on his desk as the man spoke.

He watched with child-like fascination as a woman came walking in through, with many guards behind her carrying boxes. He watched with slightly more fascination as he received a large box, apparently containing a laptop, and a phone, which was-

“Chestnut.” Marcus said in tandem with the lady, nodding and grinning slightly. Someone who could take a joke at least. His grin shone warmly, only pausing with curiosity when she leaned in towards him.

"We've delivered your message and she's definitely received it. Since you have a phone now, why don't you try calling her in your own time?"

He stared as she slipped him a small piece of paper, viewing the number that was written down on it. His heart skipped a beat as he gratefully accepted it, looking to the woman’s eyes and uttering a small “Thank you. M-ma’am.” His grin returned as his extra funds were denied, and he shrugged nonchalantly. “Never know unless you try!”

The rest of the requisition filling was uneventful for Marcus, he craned his neck to try and see what everyone else received. He silently mused to himself, happy that he hadn’t asked for much and didn’t have too many boxes to worry about. There were a few things that caught his ear: the first and foremost being…

“Pets!”

Marcus’ attention was immediately diverted to the three animal carriers that were brought into the room. Two cats…and a dog. A small dog, but a dog nonetheless. He doubted anybody was looking at him, which was fortunate because he tensed up ever so-slightly, his grin faltering. God, he hated the little creatures. Luckily this one seemed to be going straight to…Siena.

Betrayal

This could be slight problem, he reasoned to himself, trying to calm his breathing down ever so slightly from the more than slight problem he was faced with. A dog. Why did it have to be a dog? Of all the things she could have requested; a cat, a hamster…even a snake or something.

Marcus tried to forcibly tear his attention away from the small crate as the woman addressed Cal. A mischievous smile crossed her face; a smile that he, as a fellow mischief maker, recognized as nothing good. He looked forward to seeing what else this lady had done.

Finally, he mentally slapped himself for not requesting a firearm of some sort. He’d been caught off guard the first time, and probably would have spent the entire battle hiding behind a truck had there not been a spare. A pistol or something would have been nice; he made a mental note to request one later.

The rest of the requisitions and the classes went by without incident. His mind raced, mentally going over the numbers that were written on the slip in his hand. She’d gotten his message at least; and he had a viable communication relay with her. It had been a while since they’d last spoken; there’d be quite a bit to catch up on.

—(••[ 𝕎𝕀𝕊ℍ𝔼𝔸𝕋𝔼ℝ ]••)—

Brent | Emma | Marcus | Callan | Kusari

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𝕊𝕖𝕡𝕥. 𝟘𝟜, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘 / / 𝕌𝕊𝔸ℝ𝕀𝕃ℕ 𝔼𝕒𝕤𝕥 / / 𝕌𝕊𝔸ℝ𝕀𝕃ℕ 𝕋𝕣𝕒𝕔𝕜 / / 𝟘𝟡𝟘𝟘

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_{Collab with @ERode@Diggerton@Chasers115@Piercing Light@Baklava}

Brent let out a long breath, watching the white cloud disappear into the cold air. Though it was only September, the morning was still cold, whatever sunlight that peeked from the clouds being distant and warmthless. Around the surprisingly well-maintained track field, soldiers did their own laps under the gaze of a sergeant. There were a couple other adults who weren't in uniform either. Probably live-in staff who decided that they might as well keep in shape. Help them run faster if an aberration goes wild and all that.

He had been in the field since 7AM, and, tapping his foot against the grassy ground, the brunette nodded to himself. Just a couple more laps then, too cool down. Then he can go have a big breakfast, go shopping, and figure out a good reason for him to meet this Clark person.

Two hands slapped his cheeks, and Brent rolled his shoulders once more.

"Let's get this done!"

It wasn't long after that Emma appeared at the training field. It was uncharacteristically early for Emma, made clear by the coffee cup in her hand and the bags under her eyes. She was about as ‘dressed down’ as she was likely to get, donning only a simple zip hoodie and t-shirt paired with jeans. To be quite frank she wasn’t exactly sure what she was doing here- of course she had come here determined to get stronger, hoping to be of more help the next time she was in battle, but she wasn’t exactly sure what getting ‘stronger’ entailed. Learning to control her Tulpas better? Learning to throw a proper punch? Learning to take a proper punch?

Probably all of the above, she decided.

Emma bristled slightly when she noticed the boy from yesterday. She was embarrassed that she was unable to keep any semblance of composure at the sight of her comrade's corpses. She prided herself on her ability to save her bullshit for her own time, but she lost it yesterday, she recognized that much.

That’s not to say she wasn’t still in tatters.

Her first inclination was to turn around as soon as she saw him, but she knew that she couldn’t let pettiness get in the way of her resolve. She offered a small wave at him, hoping that he wouldn’t be… angry? Or sympathetic, maybe? Perhaps she more hoped that he wouldn’t be anything.

Before Brent could properly kick off though, a familiar face waved at him. Small, really, but that face in particular was important. The pretty angry girl from yesterday that slapped Shane because she was too useless to protect her friends herself, was it? The one that was dislikeable in any way other than her decision? The one that he had been planning on looking for?

Well, it was definitely lucky then, that she found him before he found her.

Returning the wave, Brent called out with his usual smile, "Morning there, didn't think you were the sporty type!"

Emma returned Brent’s smile, but there was a hint of hesitation in her face. ”Good morning… no, not really, but… I figured I should get tougher if we’re going to have to be fighting. If I get tougher we won’t have to worry about people dying, right?”

Her smile turned to a frown. ”Anyways… I’m, uh, sorry about yesterday, alright? I wasn’t really… I wasn’t being fair to you or Shane, and I acted like an idiot. I just wanted to think I was doing the right thing.”

She’d been thinking about what to say since last night, and she still thought the words coming out of her mouth sounded stupid.

Tougher? Brent cocked an eyebrow at that, trying to recall what it was that she even did. Wasn't she the one that controlled those puppet-monsters? Not the one that was getting pingponged constantly by a giant scorpion? "Tougher? Uh...don't think that'd be very useful. I wasn't down on the field myself, but I'm pretty certain that natural human resilience isn't going to be too great against Mr. I-Level-City-Blocks-Casually."

Before he could continue on that particular line of thought though, the girl segued into a different topic, that of an apology, and all the brunette did was shrug. "Yeah, no problems. You're better off apologizing to Shane than me, really. I don't care either way. Anyways, dead bodies, asked some questions and it turns out they bring them underground. Someone called Clark, lives in 221, knows more."

He started jogging on the spot. "Dunno if it's A or B though, but I was gonna go check that out in the evening. Wanna come along?"

The boy started jogging with no warning. She called out after him, ”Y-yeah! Okay!” And he was off. But really what exactly did sending them ‘underground’ mean? And who could Clark be? Emma felt like she was getting wrapped up into some sort of conspiracy plot. But he did have a point, both about Shane and how she should be training. Her mental to-do list was reevaluated.

I still don’t even know his name, do I? She sighed as she watched Brent make his way down the track.

Marcus made his way to the track, a new hoodie pulled over his head, and a small drink in his hand. He congratulated himself on running out immediately and getting clothes, rather than wandering around the campus their first day in; the slight chill in the air seemed to be a warning as to what would have happened had he not. He didn't congratulate himself for not getting grocery supplies though, and the shitty vending-machine frappuccino was his reward for that lack of planning. Still, he hoped it would do its job and keep him awake; the previous night had not left him very well rested, and the slight bags under his eyes attested to that.

He'd woken up and slipped out of the room with the intention of making it down to the track and trying out his new...'power'. Something had happened on the battlefield when Lily threw the grenade at him, and he had every intention of trying to make it work again, just as he had spent some time practicing his rewind when he first got it. Of course, there was the matter of his decidely-not-chestnut ankle bracelet. He'd pondered his way around that one, not wanting to risk the electrical taze that had been previously mentioned, before he just decided to ask someone. A few moments later, he'd been cleared for practice and directed to the USARILN Track and Field, based on the fact that he'd be doing glorified running.

And it seemed like he wasn't the only one who'd decided to make their way over to the track for practice. Beside the numerous people who Marcus assumed to be staff and assorted personell, there were a few vaguely familiar faces to be found. He'd just tossed his empty bottle and was preparing to shout some form of greeting when a loud cacophany rang out from the bleachers.

"Hey... hey you." Kusari looked down at Callan, who had managed to fall asleep at the track field. She had been thinking of talking to her for hours, but now she was feeling a bit apprehensive. She'd cut her hair to prepare for training last night, only to wake up to find it had grown back to it's full length. The fact that her hair grew in such an annoying manner must have slipped her mind. Instead of cutting it, she had tied her hair back into a ponytail. As for her clothing she had on a plain grey shirt and sweatpants. "Callan, right? You can't seriously be aslee- HEY!" Callan's awkward sleeping position on the blench turned out to be a bad idea, as she ended up slipping and falling down, hitting her head multiple times in the process. Kusari winced with every loud bang. Well, surely she was awake now.

Callan hadn't woken up at 6 am since... well, she couldn't really remember. In fact, she'd fallen asleep trying to remember why she'd done so that morning a few hours ago. She'd arrived back at her dorm, taken a quick shower, and then fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow. She'd awoken to a growling stomach and, after taking care of that problem, going to the track to train had seemed like a better idea than going back to sleep. She ran two miles in 6 minutes before she decided to see if she could jump from the ground to the top of the bleachers. Then she started trying to remember when she last woke up and 6... then she feel asleep... and then....

"You really are tough, I guess you have to be if you're this clumsy." Kusari said. Wait, was that the first thing she'd said to this girl? Classic. Kusari coughed into her hand and started again. "Callan, right? I'm Kusari. This may seem kinda sudden and weird but uhh." Kusari frowned and looked around, as if someone was going to help her asked this absurd request. She didn't notice, but her altered leg's claws were tapping the ground anxiously. "I want you to fight me. Fight me and don't hold back. Hit me as hard as you can in fact. I need to get into shape, well we all do really. Oh, and don't worry about hurting me, I'll heal from pretty much anything."

Her hood fell down as she smacked the back of her head against the underside of the bench in her rush to get up and see who was talking. She rubbed the back of her head as she listened to the slim white haired girl standing over her-- Kusari.

"Uh," she looked at Kusari like she was crazy-- and told her so with a disbelieving scoff, "Sorry, but... are you insane? What do you mean you'll heal from anything? ...You know what my ability is, right?" Her amethyst eyes drifted down to the girls leg and she raised an eyebrow. She'd caught a climpse of that anomaly last night, but now that it was right in front of her face she couldn't tear her eyes away.

Kusari resisted the urge to let out a condescending sigh."My eyes are up here seaweed." She said. Kusari was accustomed to strange looks from people but she wasn't going to put up with it from someone that was supposed to be her ally, it'd get old way to fast after all. "And no, I'm not insane. I had my leg cut off and my throat torn open yesterday, I'm pretty sure I'll be fine."

Leg cut off? Throat torn open? Eugh, that sounded unpleasant. Callan considered an apology for staring, but something about Kusari, coupled with her still lingering grogginess, made her feel a little less inclined. Looking at her face this time, Cal gave her a skeptical stare as she mulled over her odd request.

"Alright," she finally shrugged, getting to her feet, "If you really want, I guess." Honestly, she was a little curious about how hard she could punch as well. Someone like Kusari presented the perfect opportunity to test that out.

"We should probably head down to the track though. I don't want to get in trouble for breaking anything." She glanced at the dent in the bench and shoved it back down. Wrinkled and imperfect, but much less noticable. As the metal so easily gave beneath her palm, she found herself already second guessing their agreement. Was this even a good idea? Weren't there other ways to 'get into shape'?

"I thought I recognized that blunt force trauma!" Marcus said, leaning on one of the bleacher's railings. He's seen the tellale streaks of aquamarine hair from where he'd been standing and made his way over, correctly assuming that there was only one teal-haired girl who could roll down the metal stands without any trouble. He gave a quick nod to the girl in the white hair, making his way over to where the stands met the ground. "How many times did you concuss yourself before all of this went dooooooowwwwwnnn..."

His voice trailed off a bit as he rounded the stand and got a better look at the girl Callan was standing with. His eyes locked to the most noticeable feature first: the large beast-like leg, with three crimson claws jutting out. They fortunately didn't appear to be bloodstained (Marcus doubted such a civil conversation would be happening if they were), but the ruby tips certainly made for an eye-catching spectacle.

But he was being rude. He quickly snapped his eyes up to the girl's head, following what seemed like an eternity of silence to him with an actual recognization. "Oh hey, you were with us on arrival day, weren't you?" he asked, looking between Callan and the slim girl. He recognized her - she was the one that had slipped the cuffs and almost gotten them all killed on their first hour at USARILN, but that didn't seem like the best of topics to bring up right now.

Bonk bonk bonk.

As Brent made his laps with his new...friend lagging behind, the sound of metal against a thick skull drew his attention to the bleachers, where the hobo he had spotted a couple of hours ago was now just tumbling down and down and down and ouch, that must have hurt. As her aquamarine hair spilled out from the hood, though, he narrowed his eyes and recalled the midget mage who got swatted by a giant scorpion. Oh, yeah, right, there WAS a student that did in fact have superhuman toughness, hm? And then, beside her was...

The white-haired one from the orientation. The one that essentially got him and Sophia shot, because she slipped the cuffs and spooked some newbie soldier. Outside of that monster leg, she seemed fine, huh? Passing by right as some scarred blond dude mentioned the whole arrival day thing, Brent called out, "Yup, she totes was! Nice to see the bullets didn't hit her!"

With that, he continued onto his second lap.

Kusari watched Callan easily push the dented bleacher flat, for a moment her instincts told her that this was a bad idea and that she should stop. Of course this was a bad idea, but that didn't mean it was a wrong idea. She simply nodded at Cal's suggestion to move to the track, when Marcus showed up. Kusari recognized him as the boy that wouldn't shut up on the truck. He too just couldn't resist staring at her leg. She couldn't blame anyone for looking, but he wasn't being subtle about it at all. At least he didn't need her to snap him out of it like she did with Callan. As if on cue, a boy running on the track chimed in, nonchalantly calling her out. The words 'Who's this bitch?' spoke in her mind, but thankfully were halted before coming out of her mouth. "Yes, I was the one that slipped out of my cuffs and got some of us shot. It won't happen again, I intend to be taking any shots from now on." Kusari out a huff and walked past Marcus. She had no problem beating herself up about what she'd done. It was a dumb mistake, something she didn't plan on repeating. "Feel free to join if you want." She said.

She stopped on the track where she agreed to spar with Callan, waiting for her so they could begin. It'd been a while since she'd been in a fight, hopefully street brawls translated well into bouts with mages.

Callan and Marcus exchanged looks as Kusari made her way down the bleachers-- her raptor claw loudly tapping the metal with each step. If Marcus was going to join them, he should probably know.

"She's askin' me to punch her," Callan mumbled to Marcus, hesitating to follow so she could wait until Kusari was out of earshot.

"I don't know, that didn't seem punch-worthy to me." Marcus said, mumbling back over to Cal. "She owned her mistakes, and she's willing to make up for it. I'd let it go personally, unless she was the one that shoved you down the bleachers."

"No, no," Callan shook her head vigorously, "She's asking me to punch her."

"Wait, literally?" Marcus asked, visibly surprised at Callan's response. "She knows what you do, right? She was standing right there when you bent the bench back into place?" he asked, guesturing to the slightly wrinkled section of metal.

She nodded slowly.

"Well, if she knows that, then she either has the ability to take the punch, or she's suicidal and you're her means of death. Given the numerous other ways around here to get killed, and that leg of hers, I'd say she knows what she's doing. So, hit 'er with all you got! Infirmary's right down the road if she's not as tough as she thinks!" Marcus shrugged indifferently, looking over at the white-haired girl.

"God," Callan rolled her eyes. "You're seriously on board with this?"

She looked between Marcus and Kusari, feeling defeated. Cal hurried up the bleachers to grab her bag, slinging it over her shoulder. "If she dies, I'm punching you next," she quipped, passing Marcus on the way down. A joke... partially. She actually was concerned about killing Kusari. That probably wouldn't look great on her record... or tombstone, if that's how they dealt with manslaughter. Heh-- manslaughter? She'd be a straight up murderer.

"Well, if you kill her, we'll ALL be getting detention." Marcus said, raising his hands almost defensively. "So...maybe not all you got. Maybe like, half of what you've got; work your way up from there. Baby steps!" he said as she passed him, stepping down the stairs behind her.

"Don't punch me though, you'll turn me into a bag of flour. I'd really appreciate my ribs not becoming dust."

"Heh." She forgot about whatever she was going to say next as Emma approached. At this point she couldn't decide whether they were gathering a training group or audience.

Not long after Brent came Emma to greet the duo… ‘not long’ being relative to their differing physical ability. She stopped, trying to catch her ailing breath. Tired after one lap? She sighed to herself as she put up a hand in greeting to the pair. She recognized them as people she had fought alongside yesterday. Callan and the other guy. She never got his name. She also thought she saw Kusari hurrying off towards the track, raptor leg still attached to her. Emma did her best to put on a friendly smile. ”Hey guys!” She had heard Kusari invite Marcus to tag along, and thought that perhaps wherever they were going would suit her better than trying to catch up with the near-stranger on the track. ”Mind if I come along?” She was well aware of the likely chance that she wasn’t wanted.

"Oh," Brent turned, jogging in place once more, "Finished already, uh....Right, I'm Brent. Don't think I caught your name before. Or any of your names. But your name's what's relevant here, so yeah."

He wasn't totally sure who the white haired girl was inviting at the moment, and kept quiet about that. Considering her giant raptor leg of death, the youth doubted it was going to be for a friendly race or something like that. Her resting bitch face didn't help either, all things considered...but her oath to take all the shots next time was nice. He'd like to see that in person, whenever it happened.

Emma nodded at the now named Brent. ”Yeah… I’m Emma. Or Em, either way. Uh, by the way…” Her face reddened a little, aware of the implications of what she was saying and how it might be interpreted by the others, ”I’m in Building A, Suite 318. So you can find me for that, uh, thing tonight.”

"Sure thing," he replied with a smile, "I'll be looking forward to it then. Later!"

Maybe he'll figure out a high-cardio routine she can do when he had time. Having such a red face after just one lap really was pathetic, after all!

Marcus looked hesitantly between the two from his position near the bleachers. He wasn't quite sure if this was a conversation he was supposed to be listening to, but they'd been the ones to end up in his earshot, so he wasn't going to be the one to move. With whatever wierd conversation they were having seemingly finished, Marcus took it upon himself to make introductions after a brief moment of silence.

"Marcus Howell, at your service!" he said, making a slight flourish with his hand, looking to both of them. "And I'm not fighting, Cal 'ere would most certainly break every single bone in my pathetic body. I'm just gonna stand here and watch, maybe cheer a bit. You're welcome to also stand here and cheer, if you're not in the mood to go back to the infirmary!" he said, smirking a little. He'd come down here to try and work out the logistics of his new power, but this little side-trip couldn't hurt. Couldn't hurt him at least.

Callen waved somberly at Emma before dropping her bag on the ground and continuing towards the center of the track, leaving Marcus to continue talking to her. She wanted to get this over with and wasn't really interested in whatever Emma and Brent were going to be doing that night.

Emma nodded slowly at Marcus. "Nice to meet you..." And then she did a double take. "Wait, did you just say fight? Does that mean...?" She pointed at Cal and Kusari, "Really?"

"Hey, apparently she literally asked for it. With that kind of confidence, and that leg of hers, I'm curious as to what her power actually is." Marcus replied, crossing his arms and leaning on the fence.

"Oh, you didn't see it yesterday? Kusari can't die. And sometimes her limbs grow back as raptor parts? I'm a little fuzzy on that last part." Emma's voice sounded a little too casual for the topic, which probably meant she was starting to get too used to the craziness that happened here.

Kusari tilted her head back to see Callan taking her sweet time walking to her. The girl was probably anxious about this, but she didn't really care. It wasn't as if either of them were in any real danger. Looking beyond Callan, she'd noticed Emma arrive. He voiced that she wanted to join in their training, Kusari had no problems with that. Emma could be a good sparring partner as well, since her puppets could fight for her, and simply be summoned again when killed. She promptly got distracted by the boy that was running on the track, whatever they were up to wasn't any of her business, though Emma could at least not make it sound so suggestive. Kusari let out an annoyed groan and looked to Callan."Come on already, we don't have all day!"

"Right," she nodded before releasing a long, drawn out sigh. Callan bunched up her fists, cocked one arm back and--

"A-are you sure about this?" She suddenly relaxed her posture, leaning back. Frankly, she was a little disturbed nobody had stopped her from doing what she was about to do yet.

"Yes, I'm sure." Kusari said in a monotone voice. "If you don't start I will."

"Okay, okay!" She reassumed her punching stance, chewing on her lip. Kusari didn't look half as scared about all this as Callan felt-- she tried to take some comfort in that, though the sneaking suspicious that the albino skeleton of a girl was just plain nuts still lingered. As she readied the blow, she paused once more. Her eyes darted between Kusari's head, gut, and arms. Oh man, she was gonna be sick.

"Where do you want me to punch you?" she asked, setting her jaw.

Kusari's right eye twitched in annoyance, her patience at the moment was about as short as the wick of a candle. "I guess I'll start then." Kusari dashed forward at a speed she still wasn't accustomed to using her transformed leg. The distance was closed in half a second, the only thing now was to decide how to strike Callan. Punching this girl would only hurt her own hands, she could use her talons but she wasn't sure how dangerous that could be.

Kusari went for an alternative to a direct strike, she placed her right leg behind Callan's right heel, and then pushed against her throat using her right hand. She doubted even with her enhanced strength and durability that being grabbed by the throat was all the comfortable, she'd likely try to move back or resist, which should result in her leg tripping her up and causing her to fall.

Callan's eyes widened at Kusari's response and subsequent dash. "Wait--" she reflexively threw one arm across her body to protect it. She was fast. As she felt the girl's hand collide with her throat, her arm extended sharply, shoving Kusari several meters away as she attempted to step back. With her footing scrambled by Kusari's hook around her heel, she fell backwards onto the grass, landing roughly on her ass

Emma winced from the sidelines. She leaned in towards Marcus, "Kusari's holding back, but I think Cal's going to get her ass kicked. I don't think Callan's really into it." Emma had to admit, this was a little fun to watch.

Marcus chuckled a bit as Callan went toppling over. "Oh no, I can tell you that Callan's probably holding back too. At least until she stops worrying about hurting her and just throws a decent punch already!" Marcus said, yelling the last part a little bit louder, hopefully enough that Callan could hear him.

"Ten bucks says my teammate can whoop your teammate." Marcus said, grinning and turning his head to look at Emma.

"Oh, you're so on." Some people might say that the two seemed a little too excited at the prospect of their friends beating each other to death, but this wasn't exactly a normal situation.

Kusari's maneuver didn't go quite as planned. Usually a shove from someone being attacked like this wasn't quite so effective in halting the assault. Callan was ridiculously strong however, which was why Kusari was now in the air long enough to contemplate what she should eat for dinner. Her body fell to the ground, and she heard a disturbing sound from her shoulder, followed by a wave of pain. She shot back up to her feet perhaps a bit quicker than she should have. Wobbling in a circle for a moment she planted her feet and shook her head. "Ah..." Her shoulder had been dislocated, the area was already surrounded by a dim light and healing it's self. Since it was such a minor injury it was quickly back to normal.

Callan had in fact been knocked onto her bottom, but that was far easier to recover from than what she'd done to Kusari. She raised her hands, and prepared to receive an attack. "Great, now come at me!"

Was it really okay? Cal winced as Kusari wobbled around on her feet. A normal person probably wouldn't have been able to hop up that fast, though. She got to her feet and spared a tentative smile, rubbing over each of her knuckles with the pad of her thumb. Okay. She was gonna do it. For real this time. She crouched, shifting one leg forward.

"Here I come!" she warned. She cleared the gap in three bounds, driving her fist into Kusari's abdomen with as much strength as she could muster. Maybe it was the sudden rush of adreneline or maybe she was just an idiot, but by the time she remembered Marcus' wise suggestion about baby steps it was far too late.

Callan's fist collided with Kusari's body, her arms not even moving fast enough to block the blow. It didn't matter if she could see it when her pathetic arms couldn't keep up, she'd need to do something about her terrible muscle mass. Right now however she was more worried about something else.

Callan's fist had lodged it's self inside her stomach, having punched all the way through her. Kusari didn't scream in pain, perhaps she was too shocked at what she was looking at. With her lips quivering she placed shaky hands on Callan's arm and slowly pulled it out of her body. There was a lot of blood, along with things she didn't recognize... well she did recognize a few things. She'd have to replace that meal later.

Kusari held up a finger and sat down as if she was simply tired and needed a rest. She sat there for a few minutes, shuddering in pain as her wound slowly closed.

"Yeah... I'm done... for the day." She muttered, spitting out a bit of blood from her mouth. She looked to Callan, then down to her own transformed leg. Nah, I literally asked for this, can't get mad. CAN'T GET MAD.

"Don't worry about it, I'm fine." She said. That was a lie.

Marcus had just uncrossed his arms and gone to shake Emma's hand when he heard something. Something that sounded far too...meaty that what he was normally comfortable with. He head quickly snapped back to the fight, and it was readily apparent that he had just missed the best part. And by best part, he meant that Callan had just killed her sparring partner. Or would have, had Kusari not been...well...herself. That knowledge, the 'can't die' thing that Emma just told him, was probably the only thing keeping him from freaking out right now.

"Oh shit..." Marcus muttered, eyes fixed on the two as Kusari slowly sat down. "...Callan's gonna be pissed at me."

"Oh shit..." Emma muttered, reaction significantly more pedestrian. "Looks like I'm out ten bucks." She said, shrugging a little. She'd seen Kusari take worse, after all. "I guess we should go make sure Kusari or Callan aren't freaking out." She said, walking calmly towards the scene.

Something clattered onto the track as Brent did another lap. White, with viscera clinging onto it. A bone. A vertebrate? He stopped, picked it, and then turned to the center of the grassy track.

The bone clattered onto the ground once more.

He had turned just in time to see that aquamarine girl's fist stuck INSIDE the albino's torso. Blood soaked the gray shirt as his jaw dropped in slow-motion. Damn. Superhuman strength was actually that insane, huh? And, considering how raptor-girl just...walked it off afterwards, her massive gaping hole just fleshing itself together? Brent looked back at the piece of bone. She had regrown part of her spine just as easily, huh?

A student with superhuman physique and another student capable of regenerating from near-fatal wounds. There was a dragon as well, and some berserk normal dude. Nice. He should properly introduce himself then. Gotta network, after all. Picking up that bloodied bone once more, Brent tossed it up and down in his hand as he approached the two.

"Yo, need this? Guess you totally can take all the bullets after all, eh? Didn't know you'd literally be trying to kill each other though."

Because if they were, he totally would have been watching.

There was no resistence. Nothing. Like punching through paper. Callan was frozen in place, still trying to process what just happened, until Kusari's hand gripped her arm. She inhaled sharply as the contents of the girl's stomach spilled onto the grass. Reaching out with her clean hand to help, Kusari gestured for her not to and sat down. All at once and like a faucet, tears started spilling from her eyes as she looked between her bloody fist and the gaping hole, which had already started to heal. Even so, it was obvious Kusari was feeling the pain normally. Before she could even ask if she was okay-- which would have been an extremely dumb question-- Kusari answered.

She dropped to her knees and covered her mouth. "Oh God...." she choked, "I-- I'm sorry! I didn't think--"

She almost didn't notice Brent as he strolled up holding... God, was that her spine? Callan was on the verge of hyperventilating now. She swallowed hard and tried not to think about vomitting.

Kusari watched wide eyed as Callan dropped to her knees and began sobbing. She figured the girl would be a bit shocked, but she wasn't ready for the waterworks. "I-I said I'm fine aloe head. I asked for it didn't I?" Now she felt bad, not making girls cry was basically the eleventh commandment for her. Though looking at her right now, Kusari couldn't help but find her a little cute. Her face tensed into a frown that looked as if she were about to murder someone, unfortunately this was Kusari's embarrassed face. She was about to reach out to place a hand on Callan's shoulder when Brent walked up to them holding... holding a vertebrae? Was that from her? Kusari was mildly disgusted at it, seeing vital parts of her body outside of her was fairly macabre after all.

Seeing the bloody bone only made Callan worse, Kusari slapped it from Brent's hand. "What's wrong with you?" She nearly growled, then turning back to Callan. She had to somehow diffuse this situation. "Stop crying you bab-" She choked down her words and started again. "Hey, you wanna go on a date? I'll pay."

Wait, what was that?
Huh?
The fuck did I just say!?

At least it wasn't an insult.

In truth, Callan was desperately trying to get a grip of herself. Seeing Kusari slap the vertebrae from Brent's hand probably shouldn't have been as comforting as it was. But, if she had the strength to do that, she was probably going to be okay-- even if she wasn't right at this moment. Kusari's question gave her pause. A... date? With her? After she'd just done that?

"Wh--" She felt the tears begin to subside in the face of such an unexpected question. Before she overcame her hesitation to respond, however, Emma and Marcus had waltzed up with... jokes.

Emma approached Kusari with a sympathetic smile on her face. "No scarf this time, sorry." She joked. Probably not very funny. "... Are you, er, okay? Need anything? Uh, does water or something help?" Probably not an appropriate question. She had clearly missed all talk of dates, or her reaction would've been entirely different.

Marcus, having walked over with Emma, stood beside Callan. "Hey Cal, you alright down there?" he said, kneeling down beside her. "Don't worry, apparently she can't get killed!" he added, looking to Emma for confirmation. That being said, it still looked like she was in quite a bit of pain. He looked over to the rival duo and quipped to Emma: "Does she need an ice pack or anything? Shot of morphine? Shot of rum? Anything like that?" Hopefully his more cheerful attitude was putting his roommate at ease. Otherwise, he was about to get puked on, or thrown across the field, and he didn't know which he'd prefer.

Eh, so she didn't need it after all. And it turned out that mental weakness was still a thing for someone who was pretty much Superwoman. Good to know. Brent shrugged at all this, as Emma and scarface approached from the sidelines once more, each with their own attempts to diffuse or make like of the situation. None of those compared to the white-haired girl's attempt though.

If he had been drinking water, he would have spit it out.

A date? After Superbaby just put a hole through her chest?

"What, did she take your heart as well?"

...

Bad decisions for days.

Callan barely processed what Brent had said, being much too busy shooting daggers at Marcus.

"Apparently?" She got to her feet, shaking her head incredulously. She failed to see how any of this was funny. Maybe she would later, but for now.... She looked back at her fist and slowly opened her palm. She sighed and wiped her tears away with the inside of her jacket, trying to calm herself down. She couldn't blame Marcus for this-- or even Kusari for that matter. It was her fault and she should have known better.

Oh shit. She's pissed

Marcus could clearly see the daggers coming his way, and it didn't take long for him to figure out exactly where he'd tripped up and stuck his foot in his mouth. Especially when Callan had nicely pointed it out for him. "I-I mean, I figured as much! No way she'd be willing to go up against you if she didn't have the power to take it!" he stammered, quickly trying to work his way out of the hole he'd so delicately placed himself.

He stood up, moving his hands in the universal 'calm down' motion. She was apparently taking this way harder than he'd originially anticipated. To him, the fact that Kusari had sat down should have been the end of it, and they could all talk back and forth while they waited for her to regegnerate.

"Everything's fine; she's okay - you're okay. Nobody got hurt here!" he said, his tone still upbeat, but it was clear he was trying to reassuring at the same time.

Callan furrowed her brow in frustration. "No!" she argued, matching his volume "She did get hurt! Look!" She motioned to Kusari, but the point she was trying to make was almost completely null now. The wound was nearly done healing. "She's not dead, but she DID get hurt. Really hurt." She looked down at Kusari unaccusingly. The memory of her face was still fresh in her memory-- that look of shock in her eyes.

She grit her teeth-- was that all it was going to take for her to kill someone? They tell her they can handle it-- say 'Go ahead! Punch me!'-- so she goes ahead and... does that. And... a date? Was that a joke, too? She could feel her eyes starting to tear up all over again. She turned on her heel and sprinted back to her dorm-- way too fast for anyone to catch up.

"Ah, that went well." Kusari watched as Callan ran off faster than an Olympic athletic. She then glanced at Marcus as she stood up. "The hell was that about? You two really just sat there and argued about me without letting me get a word in edgewise. She let out an irritated groan. The last thing she figured she'd have to deal with here was drama, she'd need to shut this nonsense down as soon as possible. She looked down at her shirt, it was now stained red and had a Callan fist sized hole in it.

"Whatever, I'll see you later." She said, then walking away. There was a need to go after Callan, the longer she waited the more awkward things would be, she'd rather cut off her other leg than let things fester. She spotted the bag she'd seen Callan set down before their sparing match, she must had forgotten it. Kusari picked up the bag and headed for the dorms.

"I mean, I was kinda hoping someone else would say something and bail me outta that one, maybe help me reassure her that everything was okaaaaaaaaay aaaand she's gone." Marcus said, trailing off as Kusari also walked away.

Emma gave Marcus a sideways glance as Callan and then Kusari stormed off. "Well..." Emma snickered, "Looks like you're in trouble. You're lucky you didn't get a hole in your chest too, eh?"

"Oh, shit, you're immortal as well?" Brent raised an eyebrow at the blondie.

"Yeah, I kinda figured I'd be in trouble. I suppose I deserve it though." Marcus said, sighing and shaking his head. "Don't know if you noticed, but I was egging her on pretty hard back there." he said, smirking softly and looking off to the dorms. "I'll give her a bit to calm down, and then I'll apologize for making her totally wreck your teammate. Which, by the way, you owe me ten dollars for." he said, turning his attention fully to Emma.

"And no, my power's not immortality. That'll very much kill me." Marcus said, chuckling and glancing over at Brent. "I actually came here to work out some of the kinks, if you're curious." he finished, looking between the two of them.

Emma sighed, reaching for her wallet. "You're lucky I actually have real money." She said, extending the last of her wallet's contents towards him.

"Oh, hey; I really didn't expect anybody here to actually being carrying cash! Keep that stuff - it'll probably be a collector's item when this whole thing rolls over. You can use your card to buy me a drink sometime." he said, smirking again. He mentally applauded himself for that one: he hadn't exactly meant to be Mr.McCoolSmooth there, but it was an accident he really wasn't upset about making.

Emma blushed. "F-fine."

It looked like she had landed a date with Marcus and a late night excursion with Brent within the span of an hour.

"Great. She sarcastically remarked to herself.

—(••[ 𝕎𝕀𝕊ℍ𝔼𝔸𝕋𝔼ℝ ]••)—

Marcus Howell

---

"Suppression module: on,"

Welp, it was official. The battle was over and they were going to be back on their way to USARILN. In a way, Marcus was glad. There’d be a nice, comfy bed waiting for him when he got home. He shivered for a moment. ‘Home’. That place certainly was not ‘home’; his home was someplace far away, and not entirely intact. This would have to do, and he had a feeling it would be that way for a while, at least.
Adding to that were the kind escorts who had arrived. It looked like there was a pretty large group of soldiers who’d shown up, and a tow truck for some reason. He watched sadly as numerous bodies were loaded into one of the trucks, more bodies than had come from their team. Other teams had apparently taken casualties as well, a fact that grimly reminded him of how much had been going on. Everyone had seemed so separated, but now that the bodies were being taken, he was reminded of the unity they shared. They were a big team; and everybody had lost people.

He looked around as the soldiers formed around them, more of them off in the distance performing other duties. Shane’s slow movement caught his eye, and he sighed, raising his hands in the surrender position as well. He’d already almost been shot once; so he was happy to do anything to mitigate that risk.

Marcus jolted a little bit as Shane passed out, cautiously looking around to see if there was a source. It made sense that the dude would be exhausted after that show of force, but it certainly seemed like a delayed reaction. He eyed the unconscious form with as much curiosity as the guards, but remained where he was, hands still raised slightly.

He internally chuckled a bit at what he thought was a humorous scene of a few guards attempting to coax a dragon onto a tow truck, but didn’t focus on that very much. The orders from the remaining guards quickly brought his attention back to his own predicament. Once again, into the truck; this all seemed very familiar to him.

“Does this one have a mini-fridge at least?”

---

The sit at the hospital was just about as quiet as the ride over. He’d sat back on his bench and closed his eyes, his weary mind still spinning a little bit because of the green gas they’d been subjected to. The poison nausea paired with the ever-so-slight motion sickness from the ride over didn’t exactly make for a winning combination, so he’d sat silently, halfway between waking and sleep, only vaguely aware of some chatter around him. If it were anything important, someone would shove him.

Now, Marcus maintained relatively the same position. Arms crossed, leaned slightly back in his chair, eye closed. As much as he tried, he couldn’t fall asleep here, but he hoped he was at least tricking his body into feeling a little less tired. He wasn’t quite sure why he bothered to stay after they’d shuttled in; a quick examination of him showed that he didn’t have any injuries aside from some superficial glitter cuts, thanks to Lily’s power taking care of his shoulder injury. That was probably the reason he stayed; Lily’s cries of pain and subsequent unconsciousness worried him slightly, and now he was just waiting to see if she made a recovery. He’d leave any additional ‘thank you’ speeches to the rest, and maybe send her a fruit basket at some point. Maybe send the blonde boy one too, for unintentionally keeping everyone else healthy.

His eyes popped open at an unexpected sound. Multiple boots; usually the sound of multiple boots meant he was about to get shoved off to yet another room or something, if the previous few days were any indication. What he saw was a little more surprising; A Precursor. The white mage of the Precursors to be precise: Benediction himself. It made sense; if the Director had one in her pocket to deal with escapees, then she’d also have one ready for healing. Wouldn’t want any unfortunate accidents to reduce the more important staff, he surmised.

He imagined that they didn’t qualify as ‘important staff’.

Hell, he probably should have been grateful for the small effort that the man did expend on them. The white light that filled the room was undoubtedly his power, a fact confirmed by the tickling sensation that accompanied his glitter wounds healing, along with the sound of numerous IVs dripping on the floor. Seemed that people as great as him didn’t worry about the messes they left behind.

As quickly as he came, Benediction was gone. Marcus looked around – people were sitting up from their beds and looking around, nurses were gossiping and walking around, one had even cleared them. He stood up from his position, stretching and yawning. It had been a long day, and now that he was free to leave, he was heading straight for his bed.

He shuffled slowly out of the room, trying not to step in any of the puddles spilled on the floor. He gently scooted past one student, arm trapped in a cast, apparently trying to get one of the nurses to free him from his plaster prison. The crowd dispersed slightly at the door, and a momentary look around the halls showed Marcus which way he needed to go to get back to the suites.

—(••[ 𝕎𝕀𝕊ℍ𝔼𝔸𝕋𝔼ℝ ]••)—

Callan | Grant | Marcus | Siena | Lily

---

𝕊𝕖𝕡𝕥. 𝟛, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘 / / ℂ𝕣𝕚𝕞𝕖𝕟 ℂ𝕦𝕝𝕡𝕒𝕖 𝟙 / / ℕ𝕠𝕣𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕟 𝕆𝕦𝕥𝕤𝕜𝕚𝕣𝕥𝕤

---

_{Collab with @Baklava@Deathmyster@Chasers115@PapiTan@Kyrisse}

Watching after Lily, Callan's attention was drawn to a dark brown mess of hair peppered with blond strands darting ahead of Lily with inhuman speed. She barely had enough time to fill her lungs with a gasp before Shane entombed the boy in crystal-- but not before the boy proved that he was more than capable of cracking Shane's wall. What the hell was that all about? She noted the black X marring the crazed student's throat and she felt a sudden chill. Why had he tried to attack Shane just now? Was that... was that what a stigma did?

Her research on the subject had yielded more questions than answers-- the result of people speculating over the last 10 years and the governent being suspiciously unwilling to share their research. She once again tried to remind herself that giving that online thread she'd found a proper look would probably be to her benefit. Though the boy's well-being concerned her, everything seemed to be under control. If Shane was going to kill him, she knew he already could have. Marcus' question managed to stop her from thinking too deeply on the matter-- though she wouldn't soon forget what she'd just seen.

"How're you feeling, Cal?" Marcus said, turning to their resident super hero. "Don't try and play tough, we all saw you get grand-slam swatted back there, and we can't have our lead star sitting out the next fight; we'll all get kil-" his voice caught in his throat, and his face immediately paled as his memory brought forward an unpleasent fact: there had been casualties. In the thick of the battle, he'd nearly managed to forget it. Now that he had the time for everything to catch up to him, the weight of the realization pressed down on him like an iron weight.

She tore her eyes away from scene. With a sheepish scoff, Callan absentmindedly scrunched her ponytail as she replied, warmth spreading across her cheeks, "It wasn't so bad. I might go see Christmas later about my leg. I think it'll take a while to heal, but I can deal for now. Anyway, I wasn't much of a lead this round. You guys did way better than me. I didn't kill a damn thi--" she paused, noticing the odd expression on Marcus' face. Was it something she said? "Uh... well, I might not go see Christmas after all. The blood thing is kinda hard to swallow... no pun intended."

Her eyes swept over the rest of the group as she spoke, wanting to let everyone know what a good job they did. Almost everyone was there. She spotted Siena off a little ways, but where was....

"Where's Padma?"

No words, just action. He walked past his teammates, classmates, without a word, to where Padma laid. Where what was left of Padma laid. He stared down at the body, his eyes lidded, blinking slowly. He didn't grieve, he didn't cry. He just stood in thought as he looked at the body. Was there something he could've done? Would it have been possible to somehow save her... Of course, he wouldn't find out. Not now. Now that she's already gone. He closed his eyes, letting out a sigh. "Sorry..." He muttered under his breath. "I'm sorry I didn't do anything..."

As Grant passed, Cal followed him with her eyes for a moment before looking ahead. There she was. Padma. Lifeless as could be.

Her hand slid tightly over her mouth and her breath caught in her throat. She was deathly silent and her eyes seemed void of any emotion as they stared at her teammate's lifeless form. For one blissful moment she felt nothing at all as she tried to comprehend her feelings, which suddenly felt like a lottery wheel of emotion. Happy it hadn't been her, sad she was dead, angry she hadn't been there to stop it, surprised to see more death so soon, happy it hadn't been Marcus-- or Siena, sad that her loved ones would miss her, angry that nobody had called for her help-- even though she probably wouldn't have made it in time. Angry that the school hadn't given everyone weapons to fight with. Angry that Grant hadn't watched her back. Angry that she was dead. The wheel had stopped spinning.

She barely heard Grant's muttered apology-- speaking over him before he even ended his sentence, "What the fuck happened?" Her eyes darkened as she shifted her gaze from Padma to Grant.

"You were supposed to watch her back! What the fuck happened?!" she stepped towards him, lowering her hands, which tightened into fists. Her voice cracked as she asked the question a second time, her face a mixture of frustration, confusion, and helplessness.

Grant barely turned his head, opening his eyes to glance at the angered Callan, who directed her frustrated words toward him. As if it were his fault. His fault. His fault? His brows furrowed ever so slightly as he looked back at the body. They stood in silence as he recollected the events. The events before and during her death... He let the silence in that moment linger before he slowly shook his head. "It was so quick.. I was so focused on just chucking rocks, I didn't even notice the squirrels so close... Those squirrels... They tried to attack me. Kill me, and I froze... I just froze... And when I couldn't defend myself, she did. And even though she was right there, right in front of me... struggling... dying..."

He held the knife with a death grip. "I did nothing." Was the last thing to come from his mouth as an explanation. His voice was, as usual, tired, almost regretful. Yet no sadness, no grievence. No anger, frustration. It was on the complete opposite spectrum of Callan's emotional outburst toward him.

The silence that hung in the air only fueled the panicked fire that was building inside of her-- and his response did little to provide any comfort. In fact, the lack of emotion as he spoke-- sounding more sleepy than sorry-- caused her shoulders to shake and tears to well up in the corners of her eyes. The same lack of emotion she had felt the night before. More sleepy than sorry. Could she have saved her? Could she have saved any of them? Callan inhaled sharply, cocking her head to the side.

"Nothing?! How could you do nothing?!" her voice rose. She couldn't remember the last time she'd spoken at such a high volume. Her shadow started to flicker. It twitched unnaturally, darkening as the edges seemed to harden. "Sh-she's fucking dead! And you just stood there and watched!"

It was Cal's voice that caught Siena's attention. The volume enough to cut through the rest of the din. Enough to pull Siena's head out of the ocean and keep her floating for a moment longer. Following the sound, the brunette soon found her teammates. Almost all of them.

Padma.

If there was a voice left in Siena's body, it vanished as her eyes went over to the lifeless body. The cry for help that she would have, should have made lost in the booming thunder echoing through the storm. Back under the water, the emotions threatened to drown her as the adrenaline sank to the pit of her stomach, heavy now that it had run its course. Anger. Regret. Guilt. The final of the three was the final blow, stealing away Siena's breath entirely as the ocean threatened to boil over. Pinpricks in the back of her eyes. Heat that reminded her she was alive. Pain dug deep, anchored her in the sea as she lingered a short distance away from the others.

'It was my fault.'

But she was too much of a coward to say it. She deserved to drown in the sea.

Marcus stood by, silently. He'd neglected to say anything when Callan's questioned pierced his mind like a dagger, but he fortunately wasn't the one that had to tell her. In all honesty, he wouldn't have known how to approach the topic if he had been the one that needed to. Now, he stood back and watched his roommate tear into their teammate. It was only when she started getting heated that he stepped in, his stressed mind paying no attention to the twitching shadow on the ground.

"Callan." he said softly, almost placing his hand on her shoulder, but pulling back. "Settle down. It's not Grant's fault; most of us haven't even seen those things, much less fought against them." his voice was growing a bit stronger now, as the color flushed back to his face. "There's no way we could have been ready for this so soon. Nobody did anything wrong, it just...happened." he had no idea how comforting or defusing this was supposed to be, but the words just didn't seem to be there. He stopped, looking off to the side in silence.

'Liar.'

She hadn't noticed the loud thumping in her ears until it started to fade upon hearing her name-- it sounded distant and far away. Her mind numbing frustration was shattered as she realized it was Marcus speaking to her. She took a step back and her shadow, unnoticed, returned back to normal. Defeated, she sniffled, wiped the remnants of her almost-tears away and sighed, biting down on her lip. He was right-- she couldn't blame Grant for this. He was just some kid that woke up one morning with powers and a streak on his cheek. That's all any of them were-- the X's, too. He probably hadn't even had them for more than a week-- if her own timeline was any reference. But still....

"I fucked up.... I shouldn't have charged ahead and left you guys," she said dejectedly.

"Hey now. What did I just say?" Marcus said, his voice nearly demanding. If Callan turned to look at him, she'd fine a mix of soft anger, tempered by a quiet understanding. "Nobody did anything wrong. That includes you. Look at your leg right now and tell me what that thing would have done to the rest of us if it got close." his eyes flitted away for a moment, and his hand instinctively reached up to fiddle with the dog tags around his neck. "People die now. It happens. Sometimes there's nothing you can do about it." he finished, his eyes darting back to address Callan.

"God, I know. I just... I wish there was," Callan looked back at Padma, but couldn't bring herself to look any further than the girl's shoes, "Grant, I'm sorry. Marcus is right-- it's... it's nobody's fault." She said that, but her guilt lingered-- made worse by realizing how stupid she'd been for snapping at Grant. Of all people, he probably felt the worst about what happened-- and she'd only encouraged it. She glanced between Grant, Siena, and Marcus, opening the apology up to them as well.

'It was mine.' But her coward heart dared not break the peace that began to settle. They were already calming, even if her personal storm was reaching its peak. She hated this part. It was her own fault this time. Not dubious events that she couldn't pinpoint the reality of when everything was left in shambles inside. Not faceless loss after faceless loss made to pull herself together when the floodgates couldn't hold.

In the event of Marcus calming Callan down, Grant simply stood there, taking her emotional words before Marcus had stepped in. Wasn't his fault... Was his fault... he wasn't sure anymore. He was just tired. When he finally heard his name once more from her, in a much more calm tone, he focused in on her words. Nobody's fault. He let out air through his nose quietly as he turned away from the body, simply nodding in response. "I'm going to the trucks..." He'd say lastly before he began walking to said trucks.

Marcus wasnt quite sure how to take the whole thing. Grant seemed okay, but he honestly didn't know the guy well enough to determine if he was actually okay. He sighed softly, looking back to Callan. "You sure you don't want to head over and get yourself patched up? Some of those burns look pretty bad." The words came out slowly, and although he tried, he couldn't force a happier expression on his face. He was tired right now, not just physically, and he longed to leave this battlefield behind him.

Callan was silent for moment before answering-- staring after Grant and lost in thought. She turned away and weakly shook her head, "I'm fine." As she spoke she looked down at her leg. The deep gash made by the monster's beak, amidst its painful throbbing, had managed to bleed through the sleeve of her shirt-- she'd known this, but failed to notice that it hadn't stopped bleeding since. Two hours might be too long for a few stitches at this rate. She curled her lips into a frustrated snarl and sighed. "Shit..." she hissed, "Mm... no, I think I can make it."

"Really?" Marcus said, bringing his hand up to his chin in a thoughtful position. "'Cause, and I'm no doctor here, so correct me if I'm wrong; but I'm pretty sure all that blood is supposed to stay on the inside of your body." he finished, his joking demeanor immediately shifting into business, bringing with it an equal change in his tone. "Swallow your pride, go over there and...what? Drink his blood? Ew." he stopped for a moment as he watched the medical process their healers were going through, but quickly got back on topic. "Go over there and drink the blood, or I swear to god I'll hide your crutches while you sleep."

"Have you seen that guy?" she grimaced, "He looks half dead already!"

"I doubt they'll drain him dry. If they need to stop, I'm sure they'll stop. Zhang's probably monitoring him or something." Marcus said, looking over to where the boy lay. He didn't particularly look to be the healthiest, but if they said stop, that would be the end of it. "I'm not dragging you to the infirmary because you passed out on the transport ride back. Go." he said, nodding his head in the direction of the rest of the people being healed.

She sighed looking down at her blood soaked leg. For a moment she considered removing the sleeve wrap to reassess the damage, but that probably wouldn't help her case. Anyway, Marcus seemed to know what he was talking about and the thought of passing out because of this didn't exactly appeal to her. Of course, Christmas' blood didn't either, but... if it wouldn't kill him, maybe he could spare a few drops.

"Yes, mother," Callan sighed with defeat, managing half a smile before she headed off in Lily's direction. Despite how awfully bleak everything seemed, it felt good to be able to smile-- at least a little bit. Hope was something she'd felt she was sincerely lacking these days. Recover. Live to fight another day. Stay strong. She was grateful for the unintended reminder-- as well as the concern.

As Callan walked away, Marcus took one brief look down at the body where it rested. It was hard to believe that less than an hour ago, she'd been riding a transport over with them and prepping herself for combat.

People die now. It happens.

As much as he desperately wanted anything different, the words he'd said were true. They seemed to help the others at least, if the diffusion of the argument were anything to go by, but he didn't truly believe them himself. He contemplated saying some words, something to 'help the departed along', something to fill the deafening silence that hung around him. After a long moment, failing to find the proper response, he settled on a soft "Thank you."

Grant left shortly after, leaving Marcus and Callan to have their exchange. Leaving Siena enough courage to finally, finally approach the body, mind a cacophany of "what if" and "if only." With Callan starting to move towards Lily, that really only left Marcus and Padma. Weight pressed in the back of Siena's head. Her fault.

'You have no one left to hide behind now.' Mocking words rang clear in her head. Clearer than everything else. She wanted to be drowning. The storm quieted in the realization, leaving behind serenity for a terrifying moment of clarity. A moment where she could almost catch a glimpse of the endless expanse. Infinite. Incomprehensible as eternity was.

Just a few drops of the storm.

This storm is yours to take. Calm, lightning, and all.

And just as quickly as it had come, the eye passed, leaving Siena to the mercy of the new set of emotions that took turns to batter her. Disgust over the calm, frustration that despite what she told herself to feel, the tears refused to come. That she wanted to grieve, but was too absorbed in her own problems to do it properly. Lost again in the wake of what she'd felt. No one left to hide behind. Finally regaining her voice, Siena turned her attention towards the lone familiar face left.

"I...I'm glad you're alive." The words came out shaky, just as battered as she felt, but stronger she had thought they would be. Between the mental and physical exertion, there was little that seemed more appealing than following Grant to a truck and closing her eyes, but that would have meant being alone with every thought she tried to hide behind another name. Ezio. Gavin. Marcus. She just needed someone to hide behind. "Do you think Cal will be okay...?"

'More okay than I feel, at least...'

Marcus gave a weak smile, if only to show that he was alright. "Yeah, me too. Good to see you're still kicking as well. he said, his usual enthuasim somewhat lacking. He turned to look at Callan as Siena mentioned her, turning back and shrugging. "I hope so; I don't want her bleeding all over the carpet when we get back. How about you? You doin' alright?" he said.

The tone of his voice hopefully made it apparent that he wasn't just talking about being physically well. Siena hadn't said much yet, and he wasn't getting a very good read on how she was handling the aftermath. As much as he didn't want to be the stoic, 'put your mind at ease' guy, he'd take up the mantle if he had to.

He was just as exhausted. Siena internally grimaced, another trickle of guilt curling deep into the rest of the pit. Instinctively, her fingers curled into the ends of whatever locks had sprung loose from their usual confines, curling, pulling. Satisfaction coming with every barely audible snap of a strand breaking under pressure. "I should be asking you that." Because it wasn't the first time she was left with an aftermath. Not the first time she'd felt loss that cut deep enough to ache in her bones, and it wouldn't be the last if she kept using her abilities. With a modicum of effort, Siena pushed the emotions back down her throat, to the back of her mind where they had less space to run rampant. There was no use in trying to compartmentalize them when it was her and not someone else. Her problems, not his. "But thanks for the concern." She tried her best to return the weak smile, found that she was too exhausted to manage emotional labor, and quickly switched to an apologetic look when the expression faded quickly into little more than a tired uptick of the lips.

A thought that bordered on a fuzzy memory came to mind.

"Don't push yourself too hard." Or else he would break like so many others that put themselves behind others. Despite her best attempts, she could feel the desperation and concern break through the facade she tried to keep going. A quick nervous scratch of the head to turn her face away in case anything cracked the mask was all that Siena could afford before she spoke again. "I um...I mean...you've been taking care of everyone else so far, so you should take care of yourself first." It took most of her self control not to turn her statement into a nervous question--Why? Because you know you're only saying it because you know Gerwulf would have?--but it was enough...wasn't it?

"Yeah. Trust me, I'm doin' my best here." Marcus mumbled. It came out a little harsher than he meant it to; a little more honest than he intended. Almost surprised at his own bluntness, a more upbeat comment quickly followed, as if it were a built in reflex: "I'm rewarding myself with a nice hot bubble bath when we get back. It's the least I deserve after making sure all you guys don't drip all over the nice beds they've provided." he chuckled slightly, rubbing the back of his neck.

He opened his mouth to follow up with something else; another witty comment, a joke, something to lighten the mood, but found his words had abandoned him. He stammered out nothing, resigning himself to his silence. A quick sigh, and an almost pained look showed that he didn't have anything left to raise spirits. "Thanks"

Halfway to where Lily was, a black thread wrapped itself around Callan's wrist. While the supergirl did say that she didn't need her injuries taken, Lily didn't really believe she wanted to stay hurt too long. That, and the fact that Lily wanted to prioritize her team mates. There was a cry of pain from the golden haired girl as all of Cal's injuries transferred to her. The black string promptly dissipated.

She paused at the black thread that materialized around her wrist, followed by an immense feeling of relief as the gash, as well as the burns, dissipated. Poor Lily. She winced at the sound of the girl's cry. She wanted to shout a thank you, but with so many other people around, her desire not draw anymore attention to herself won out. She'd thank her personally on the ride home... maybe send her a 'Thanks for healing me!' card. Maybe she'd send one to Christmas too if she ever managed to get over how weirdly nonconsensuall this all seemed. Behind her, she overheard Siena talking to Marcus and glanced back at them over her shoulder. She felt a strange pang of isolation, but brushed it aside-- instead choosing to think about Padma.

I won't let your death be in vain. She nodded to herself, resolve renewed.

—(••[ 𝕎𝕀𝕊ℍ𝔼𝔸𝕋𝔼ℝ ]••)—

Marcus Howell

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The world exploded.

Before Marcus could even see if his shots hit their mark, and far before he could start preparing his next move, the entire world exploded. From what his still foggy brain could understand, the air became saturated with little crystals, which seemed to brush up against and simultaniously not touch him. It seemed to wrap tightly around him, a circumstance which quickly gave rise to panic in his brain. He would have burned a rewind, had it the potential to benefit him, but his stationary time taking aim meant that he would once again end up in the same spot if he did rewind. This was a fact that his calmer brain would relay afterwards, a mental note as to combat strategies and the value of remaining mobile, especially given the nature of his power.

For now, his panic settled a bit as he quickly found himself in a large crystal sphere, seemingly made of the same materials as the fans he'd noticed across the battlefield. Which probably meant that this thing was a friendly creation; either that or he'd soon be crushed to a fine powder and there was nothing he could possibly do about it. He chose to remain blissfully optimistic about the situation, rather than contemplate his own crushing for very long.

Speaking of crushing, what was currently happening down below him was something that caused him to stop in awe. The entire battlefield, one in which they had been fighting for their lives, was a dome of crystal, trapping the creatures inside. This was the work of someone powerful; magic the likes of which he'd only seen on the original ten. The power of a Precursor, which made all their fighting seem worthless. If someone could come along and do this, no matter how much effort was expended, what was the point of them even being here? Sure, this might be their future, but why send them out first?

This point seemed to be hammered home as the sphere finished, and subsequently imploded inwards on itself in a brute show of raw magical strength. When they were finally deposited on the ground, Marcus was, for a brief moment in his life, speechless. Thousands of thoughts raced through his head, one of which being the comprehension of overkill that just happened. The point rang home again, although in a harsher light: what was the point in them even being here? If there were fighters that were more qualified to do this than a bunch of newbies, why send them out? He shook his head, the poison’s after affects almost causing him to lose his balance; there'd be plenty of time to mull it over later.

First, there was the issue of his pistol. G.I Jerkoff was standing a little ways away from the rest of them, along with a group of other soldiers, one of whom was currently vomiting. He honestly couldn’t blame the guy. And when we’re done, you just push this little switch to turn the safety on. Marcus looked down to find the little switch, fumbling with it for just a moment before pushing it down. “Hey, Private Pissed-Off! I bring you the present of Lucie, undamaged.” he said, extending the pistol outward with one hand. Nonono! Barrel down, Marc, barrel down.

He nearly dropped the gun in his sudden motion to flip it over, an action which seemed to cause a few of the guards to tense up. He handed it over to Jerry, barrel down, as well as the strap and magazines. “14 shots. One left in there for you to shoot yourself in the foot and appeal to Zhang if you want.” he said, turning away from the little group of guards.

“Hey kid!” the sound of his new friend’s voice caused Marcus to stop in his tracks and turn around. “15 shots. Try counting a little better next time, or you’ll get yourself killed going after a monster with an empty gun and a prayer.”

Marcus’s mind clouded ever so slightly. It was a little mistake, but the guard was right; that kind of error would have easily lead to his death. His mind raced a little bit, considering the ‘what if?’ He’d made a mistake, a lapse in judgement, which fortunately didn’t get the chance to play out in this fight. Which meant that it was fine, just a slight miscalculation that he’d have to learn from. He didn’t say anything as he turned back around. He silenced the ’what ifs’; right now he just wanted to find his team and make sure everyone else was okay.

"Lilianna! Front and center! You're taking all the other injuries and healing through them with this guy's blood!"

Sounded like he needed to hurry if he wanted to catch them before they got assigned somewhere else.

Good job Marc! Maybe next time I’ll let you actually fire it, see if you can shoot real bullets as well as those BB’s. I’m thinking ice cream on the way home, what about you? Don’t tell Mom though, she’ll skin us both!

Hider

To be continued in collab

—(••[ 𝕎𝕀𝕊ℍ𝔼𝔸𝕋𝔼ℝ ]••)—

Callan | Emma | Grant | Marcus | Lily

---

𝕊𝕖𝕡𝕥. 𝟛, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘 / / ℂ𝕣𝕚𝕞𝕖𝕟 ℂ𝕦𝕝𝕡𝕒𝕖 𝟙 / / ℕ𝕠𝕣𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕟 𝕆𝕦𝕥𝕤𝕜𝕚𝕣𝕥𝕤 / / 𝟚𝟙𝟛𝟘

---

_{Collab with @Baklava@Diggerton@Deathmyster@Chasers115@Kyrisse}

Déjà vu.

Callan once again flew back into the trench, this time leaving a decent crater where she landed. She rolled over to her non-chemically burned side, holding her stomach while she gasped for breath. She scrunched up her face and repeatedly pounded the side of her free fist into the dirt as she waited for the pain to subside. Question answered-- she couldn't control Emma's shadow things. She rolled onto her knees and pressed her hand up against the trench wall for support.

"Urghh... I don't... I don't think they wanna listen to me," she said to Emma with a forced laugh, the slightest note of irritation in her voice.

Emma winced as Callan flew back into the trench. She was thankful that she didn't have to fight in the front lines like her. "Sorry Callan!" she called out. Emma had thought that would work, but apparently the tulpas really weren't great at thinking independently. Devotion reappeared next to her. Okay, I just have to copy Cal… that’s all. She called out to the pair, ”Devotion, attack from the right side, Determination attack from the left. Aim for the eye!” Emma hoped that her commands would suffice this time.

Callan pulled herself to her feet and climbed out of the trench-- albeit a bit slower than before. "Time for a redo," she muttered. Truthfully, she was a little frustrated, but she couldn't blame Emma. By comparison, Cal had far less control over her own ability than she did. As she took off, she realized the green fog was suddenly being blown away by a massive crystaline structure near pink team. Reinforcements? Through the dissipating fog, she spotted 'Determination' and 'Devotion' following Emma's orders. Hopefully things would work out better this time around.

Oh, how Grant longed for a nap right now. Nap? No, maybe full on sleep. He was tired, yet the battle was not won. He kept his eyes shut for the time being while his teammates were working on getting rid of the remaining monster. It helped with the dizziness, just a bit. But with every breath he took, the nausea seemed to punch him straight in the gut, and it wasn't nice at all. He wished that it would end, just end already... His eyes opened, and he noticed, the fog was going away. Blowing away, more like. Relief. He took in a big, deep breath and let it out, feeling the fresh air fill his lungs to the brim. Though the fog went away, that feeling of nausea stayed, not as strong, but lingering. Looking down, he noticed the knife that he dropped. Padma's knife. He let out a sigh, shaking his head and picked it up. He regained enough strength to push himself up from the ground at least, but he still leaned against the wall.

While the beetleman let out one final wheeze, Marcus still stood alert, waiting for any sign of movement. It certainly seemed as though his execution had actually worked, and it doubly seemed as though this creature was now nothing more than a corpse. Although the battle wasn't over, it felt like a small victory to him; they'd been able to reduce one of these monsters to pathetic wheezing and gasping, a trait all too often reserved for the human combatants. It was kind of poetic, or karmatically appropriate at least.

He turned to look behind him, not really surprised that Lily was there. As he opened his mouth to say something to her, a sudden shift in the weather drew his attention elsewhere. A great wind swept over the field, dispersing the fog ever so slightly. Marcus took the opportunity to hesitiantly pull his shirt off his face and take a small breath, followed by several large and eager breaths when he realized it was not poison. He had no idea who was responsible for the windmills, but he made a mental note to thank them later.

He turned back around to meet Lily's eyes, his grin less forced and more confident this time around. "How're ya feeling, Lily?" he asked, moving to stand beside her. Off in the distance, he watched Cal climb out of the trench, and Emma summon some...things. Shadows, by the look of it.

Lily swayed on her feet, the front of her shirt held tightly against her nose and mouth. She tried to fight off the overwhelming nausea and dizziness from the fog as she focused now on Marcus' back rather than the beetleman who had let out one last wheeze before completely becoming still. How am I suppose to watch his back when I feel like I'm gonna keel over anytime soon? she thought irritatedly as she continued to fan the fog away with her free hand. The small movement aggravated the dizziness and she slowly sank down to the ground to avoid falling over. Are we all just gonna die in this fog?" she thought, her muddled mind trying to figure out if she could transfer the effects of the poison the way she did her other injuries. Did it work that way? Her eyes sought out the remaining monster that was closest to them. Maybe she could make the eye monster sick enough for her team mates to finish it off. She let go of her shirt. It was useless trying to shield her nose and mouth anyway. She can't escape the poison unless she stopped breathing. And besides...if I'm gonna transfer it, it's gotta be potent. She inhaled deeply, the nausea doubling as she did.

But before she could do anything, she felt a wave of fresh air sweep around her...or at least air that wasn't tainted with poison. She sighed in relief as she felt the nausea and dizziness abating a little. She looked towards Marcus and nodded. "I think so," she said as she slowly got to her feet. She still felt nauseous but it was a lot better than it was a couple of seconds ago. She followed his gaze towards Callan and Emma. "We should help them out."

"Funny, I was just thinking the same thing!" Marcus said, slowly walking over beside her. "I don't know how much good a bullet will do against it, but it's always worth a shot. Plus, we've got you if we need...oh yeah, you alright?" he asked, looking down towards her leg almost reflexively. Some part of his brain outright refused to believe that she should be beside him just casually chatting after that little incident, but that part of his brain hadn't quite caught up yet.

"Of course I am," Lily grinned as she looked down at her leg, her mood automatically picking up when she thought of how useful she had become in the battle. She bent and then extended her knee. "Good as new. As if nothing happened," she added triumphantly. "Plan B worked really well."

Marcus smiled, nodded, and jogged over to the hole, coming to stop slightly behind the pit. With the beetleman executed, he and Lily were free to help with the last remaining beast. He stopped to take aim again, wincing as his shoulder sent electricity sparking through his body. Not the greatest strategist, his current plan was 'shoot the large eye monster in its large eye'. Finess would have to wait until later; this was not a plan that required it.

Lily followed after Marcus, still set on watching his back as she was told to. It was easier now that the nausea had already faded. She stood to his side, not wanting to get in the way of what he was planning to do. She, however, noticed how he winced when he took aim. How best to help in this kind of situation? She couldn't just stand there and do nothing. Figuring that the best way to help him was to take away the injury, the black string reappeared on her wrist with the other end wrapping around Marcus' wrist. Pain blossomed in Lily's shoulder. It was tolerable though. "It should be easier to shoot now."

The dull thudding that accompanied his aim suddenly stopped with the appearance of a black string on his wrist. He turned to Lily, looking at her just in time to see her shoulder turn red. He appreciated it, especially whith his arms up and aiming, and he hoped his look of gratitude conveyed that. When this was over, he'd probably ask for it back, just so he didn't feel guilty. That was later though, there were important things to be taken care of now.

Same as before, two shots, aimed directly at the thing's giant eyeball. He caught himself holding his breath, but only after he'd fired the shots.

With each painful step of her sprint, Cal could feel her mind clear. It was just her and this one single goal for a moment-- to finally kill this nasty fucker. Twice it had swatted her away now and she wasn't about to let it do that a third time. More likely than not, she assumed it would be anticipating her. She half expected it to be patting its stinger against the dirt like it was a home plate-- waving it in the air expectantly. Well, either way she wasn't about to be intimidated.

The moment she saw the tail move, she sharply twisted her torso to the side and kicked one leg out in front of her. It was her turn to score a homerun, she thought to herself with a slight smile peeking through the grimace on her face as she slide across the ground-- aggravating her leg and the scorches on her side. She unintentionally growled as she thrust her arm upwards. Corny, unspoken one-liners would be a small comfort compared to the satisfaction of driving what was left of her katana through this thing's gut-- assuming its on-the-fly hockey skills weren't a concern.

—(••[ 𝕎𝕀𝕊ℍ𝔼𝔸𝕋𝔼ℝ ]••)—

Lily, Marcus, Emma, and Grant

A Hole Lotta Trouble

---

As Marcus knelt back down into the trench to regain his composure, a shape from one of the other teams caught his eye. A large scorpion, comprised of one eye and one long, slender leg was stumbling over towards them. He looked at it uneasily, trying to subtly draw his comrade's attention to it. "Watch yourself folks, we got another one incoming." He kept a steady eye on it, trying to figure out what it's deal was, before a guttural bellow drew his attention. Cal seemed to be making her way over to it, so his attention was best used on the source of the anger.

He turned just in time to see something large hurtling through the air. Something very large...and coming directly at them. Indeed, it would appear as if the fishmen had been promoted from lackeys to ammunition. Marcus reflected on this situation very eloquently, allowing his teammates to also appreciate the grievousness of their position:

"HOLY SHIT! he yelled, immediately hitting the dirt.

Lily laughed gleefully at the fishman's roars of pain. She probably sounded sadistic being so happy about it but she couldn't help it. Hurting the monsters meant that they were one step closer to finishing this nightmare of a battle... well, that or one step closer to getting hurt more by the bellowing beetleman. She was just about to peek out of the trench when Marcus' voice caught her attention. "Another one incoming? Haven't we had enough?" she asked. But before she could look at what Marcus meant, she heard an angry yell from the unearthed beetleman and then something large flying towards them. Something that was screaming and shooting out scales. Something that had a black string tied around its wrist, the other end of which was was still attached to her own wrist. Even when Marcus yelled out and hit the dirt and even when the scales rained down around her (and for once missing hitting her), all she could really say was "Oh."

Grant was too busy trying to catch the breath that had been forcefully knocked out of him from the fall he took into the trench he had just made that by the time he heard Marcus's outburst, it was too late. He opened his eyes a sliver and saw... the hell was that? He tried to focus on the falling- wait that was coming toward him. By the time he finished his confused thought, he felt the force of however much force a fishman would deal to him. All the breath he spent all that time catching was knocked out of him once more as pain spread throughout his torso. A pained, "GAH!!!" came from him the moment the fishman made its impact.

Marcus felt the rush of wind above his crouched form, and heard a loud impact as the fish was expertly catapulted into their makeshift trench. He seemed to be fine at least, his shoulder still throbbed with unnerving warmness, but he had been fortunate in the fact that the fishman had missed him completely. His head turned slowly to see the final resting place of the beast, his stomach sinking low when he saw the very-much-human legs sticking out from underneath it.

Lily watched silently as her black string once again dissipated into thin air as the catapulted fishman died on impact. She looked at it for what seemed like the longest time, its face melting into the face of a man she didn't quite recognize. His eyes were wide and staring blankly at her while his mouth moved soundlessly like a fish out of water. Is he trying to tell me something? What is he trying to say? Maybe if I move closer I can figure it out. Maybe if I---

"Jesus Christ! Grant! Talk to me man, you alive under there!?" he said, his voice frantic, while propping himself up against the fish and trying to roll it off his teammate.

Lily's thoughts were interrupted by Marcus' frantic voice. She blinked and then the fish was no longer a man. It was a very dead fish with the injuries that she had just a few minutes ago. And below its unmoving, lifeless body was one of her teammates. Grant. She would have helped out but the vision that she had just seen confused her. Ghosts from her past, most probably. Why were they showing themselves in the middle of the battle? She was having difficulty focusing as it is. Her mood plummeted.

Was he alive? He could still feel pain. Did that mean he lived through that? No, of course he was alive. No way was he dying to some fish being thrown at him. He struggled, opening his eyes once more.. something ran down his chin. Blood? Was it blood? No, no it was just some saliva that must've flown out from his mouth when he let out that sound in pain. Just then, he noticed the weight of the fishman on him. He struggled beneath the body trying to push it off, and he can see one of his teammates helping him with the task. A thought occurred to him, seeing his chains waving just above him.

"Marcus.. back off from the body...! I've.. I've got it!" His voice sounded strained in his ears, but that's probably to be expected with the fishman on him. He waited for Marcus to stop pushing before he made contact with the fishman body with both his chains. The feeling of weight against him was obviously much lighter than the ground itself, but it was still there. He lifted the fishman's body from his own, taking in a deep breath.

"Alright, well...if you say so!" Marcus said, raising his hands in an almost 'I'm innocent' motion. There was no time to argue, and he saw the chain attach itself to the corpse. If he could chuck a boulder, then Marcus trusted Grant's ability to lift a dead fish off himself.

Lily looked on in amazement as Grant lifted the corpse off of himself. Wow... she thought idly. It was a good ability. Destructive and helpful at the same time. Chains and monsters, blood and death. Despite the war still going on around them, she found her mind drifting off from one thought to the other. Their dead classmates, how many were still standing? How many were injured? How many were dying? How many monsters were still there? Will the battle end? She thought about her worth in all this. Sure, she was able to make herself a little useful. But what about later? Would she be able to help out the injured after the battle? Would there be an after the battle? Will she be able to survive and be able to help out? She sat down onto the ground and hugged her knees to her chest.

He turned back to look at the combatants, his heart leaping when he saw the beetleman reach for another fish. "Um. Guys. I don't want to be the bearer of bad news, but he's about to do it again!" he paused for a second, looking almost pitifully over at Lily, where she sat. "Lil's, I hate to say it, but it might be time for Plan B, unless either of you can think of anything better."

Lily slowly looked up at Marcus. Plan B... She thought back to what she had said to him earlier. ...you can shoot me and I'll transfer the injuries to it. Perfect way to get even with me too...Still a good plan, a good plan... She nodded. "I'm okay with Plan B."

Marcus sighed, almost wincing at the nonchalant way Lily agreed to the plan. He winced even more when his brain came up with a plan, and the exact injuries that would benefit the group huddled in the trench.

Grant sat up in time to hear the news about the giant armored man about to throw another fish. Wait, another one? "The hell.. he's gonna do it again?" He complained. He let out a frustrated sigh, using the dirt beside him to pull himself up as the fishman's corpse hovered at his side with the help of his chains. No way in hell was he letting that beetle of a man get away with throwing a fish at him. He peeked above the trench to see the man approaching. If he was gonna enact revenge, better do it quick. He already had 'fling the fish back at the beetle and see how HE liked it' in his mind, but he doubted that would leave much of an impact at all. "What now, what now, what now, what now..." Quietly came from his mouth in panic when he realized the girl, Lily, had a grenade belt. Grenades. There's that feeling of an assault of knowledge bombarding his brain again. "I got an idea." He'd say simply, raising his hand, and the fishman corpse raising in sync.

Lily followed Grant's eyes as he looked at the grenades that were strapped onto her hips. She shook her head. "I'm not allowed to touch them. So your plan better not involve me handling any of them," she said in a flat voice. Self doubt was creeping into her head and it wasn't helping much with her mood. If only she could remember who she really was and why she had the x mark on her neck then maybe she can be a bit more helpful, do a little more.

Marcus also followed Grant's eyes, his face paling a slight amount around the same time that Lily spoke. At least Lily was taking her duty of not blowing them up seriously, but it still seemed as if it were about to happen again. "Aaaaand what would that be...?" he said, the question very slow and very hesitant. A sudden peek at the Beetle-Man behind them spurred him into action, however, and he spoke a bit quicker: "Actually, you know what? Just explain while you do it; we're running short on time here!"

Meanwhile, across the battlefield Emma stood taking in the results of her and Kusari's attack. Evidently it was a success, the doll toppling to become one with the ground. Emma allowed herself only a moment to celebrate, clapping her hand together with a small smile. She took a moment to survey the field, scanning to see if there was anyone else to help. In truth she would rather declare her work done, but she knew better than that. Either that or she was afraid she would disappoint her new 'classmates' by flaking out on them in the middle of a life-or-death battle. She noted the position of her teammates, wincing as she saw Lawrence attending to an injured Christmas. She shook her head. She wouldn't be able to help there, as much as she might have wanted to. She was more worried about the 'eyepion' killing someone, even if they were on a different team. Emma glanced at Kusari and gave her a smile and a nod, gesturing to indicate that she was going after the eyepion.

She didn't really have time to exchange pleasantries with Lazarushian woman, even though she would've preferred to chat with Kusari instead of diving back into the battle. Instead she chased after the errant eyepion, who had by now joined blue team. She arrived shortly behind it to find a new set of monstrosities- fish men, beetle men, and the corpses of monsters aplenty. She glanced around for the Blue X's, finding only the blue haired girl with the sword. She saw the beetle man moving towards a trench, yells emanating within. The rest of blue team. Emma decided. She ran past the eyepion, taking a wide path around it to avoid drawing its attention, heading towards the trench. She reached it and jumped in.

She landed next to Lily, Marcus, and Grant. She looked across the trio. There was a man sized fish in the trench. The girl had grenades. A beetleman was queuing up another fish. ”Uhhhh... hi?” was what escaped Emma's mouth.

The golden haired girl was still doubting herself and contemplating on how she'd handle the pain from Plan B when a girl landed beside her. She blinked and looked at her. What was her name again? She remembered seeing her in that orientation they were in but no matter how hard she wracked her brain, she couldn't come up with a name. Did it really matter? She lifted a hand and gave her a small, lazy wave. "Hi," she greeted.

Marcus visibly jumped when another figure came tumbling into their little hidey-hole. He hadn't been expecting the second fish to hit so soon, and he fumbled with his pistol for a moment, intending to draw it, but not quite getting that far. For, it was not a fish that had landed in their midst, but a girl; one who appeared to be the same age as the rest of them. He stared dumbfounded for a moment, processing. She didn't appear to be a monster, and she certainly didn't seem to be trying to kill them, which made her friendlier than most of what was on the battlefield.

"H-hello?" he stammered. "Welcome to the shitshow, Mrs...?"

"Emma... or Em, either way is fine." She said, managing a smile even though she was in a trench that they might very well soon die in. "I'm from the, uh, red team." She said with a hint of hesitation. She felt a little odd about the whole situation- the 'whole situation' encompassing everything that had happened since she was captured. She was hardly used to using superpowers to fight monsters.

While the new girl that dropped in introduced herself to the others, Grant was busy peeking over the trench at the impending doom that was the giant armored man. "Let's just get this over with.." He'd mutter, walking over to Lily, who had the belt of grenades. "I'm taking one." He declared simply before doing as he said, and stepped back to his chain-supported fishman corpse, rotating it around so the mouth of said corpse was pointing up. He observed the corpse from top to bottom quickly, realizing that the legs of the corpse would probably be a problem with the fishman corpse's air accuracy. He took took a few deep breaths before focusing more on the form of the corpse's legs, which at the moment seemed to vibrate and shake before being drawn to each other, sticking.

Grant grabbed one of the legs and gave a good pull, and no matter how much he did, they stuck together like glue. Very, very strong glue. Figuring that was good enough, he 'willed' the mouth of the corpse open with the help of his chains, detaching a chain after he did. The weight that pressed down against Grant's being grew noticeably, but there wasn't time to worry about it. He attached one chain, precisely on the pin of the grenade before dropping it into the fishman mouth, closing it with his chain. It looked very... bizarre, a chain attached to the corpse while also another seemed to just phase into it. After doing all this, Grant peeked above the trench, seeing the giant, armored, beetleman approaching. "Alright... three..." The chains began to reel back, one chain following the grenade pin's movement. "Two..." His eyes narrowed as he gazed on at the approaching beetleman. "One!" He gulped down a lump in his throat as his chain pulled the pin of the grenade in the fishman's mouth, and a split second after, the corpse was flung from the trench, as if it was a javelin, aimed toward the approaching enemy. Immediately, as both of his chains detached from their objects, the weight lifted from Grant's body. He let out a deep breath, leaning against the dirt beside him once more.

Emma. Gotta try to remember that. Lily thought to herself, repeating the name over and over in her head to make sure she doesn't forget it. She was still repeating the girl's name in her head when Grant walked over to her. She looked at him, nodded and then simply watched him take a grenade from the belt she was still wearing. She didn't really mind. The grenades were probably better in his hands than hers. What was he planning to--- Oh. Once again, she found herself watching in amazement at how Grant used his powers as he executed his plan. "Fish grenade," she muttered as she watched her team mate chuck the grenade stuffed dead fish back to the beetleman. Her eyes followed it as it sailed overhead, her mind already looking forward to the mayhem it will cause. Strangely, the idea seemed to lift her mood up a bit. She would have stood up and peered out of the pit but she and Marcus still had something to do. She figured that it'll be easier if she was sitting down. Falling flat on her face wasn't exactly inviting.

Meanwhile, Marcus had snapped back to the testy topic of Plan B. He gave Lily a pained look before speaking. "Alright Lily...if you're sure about this..." he said slowly, his words very unsure and almost apologetic. "...if you're not going to back out, then I think our best bet is to hit him in the knees; that'll at least reduce his mobility if we need to get out of this pit in a hurry." A double shot from both Grant and Lily would probably make short work of the creature, but it also gave them some breathing room if it managed to survive the assault.

"Now...here's the really hard question..." Marcus said, once again wincing through clenched teeth, "...do you want to do it, or would you rather somebody else do it for you?"

Lily laid her hands on her knees. It made sense. Injuring the monster in its knees would possibly render it unable to walk...just as she would be unable to walk before she transferred it. It didn't matter. Ending the battle and surviving were their goals. A little pain was nothing. She nodded slowly. "No, there's no backing out of this. I suggested it after all. And it works well enough," she tried giving Marcus a small smile of assurance but it ended looking awkward. She can never really smile properly when she was in one of her sadder moods. She sighed. "I don't think I can do it myself. I'd probably be too scared...so I think it'd be best if you do it." She extended her legs out away from her. She gestured towards her knees. "Shoot when you're ready." She looked up at him and saw the uncertainty in his eyes. "Just point and shoot. No real need to worry about me. I'll be fine. I've done it twice already. Point and shoot. No need to think too much about it." She had no idea if her words would offer him assurance more than her awkward smile could.

Emma glanced at Marcus, and then at Lily. She blinked. Wait, what? "W-what are you guys doing?" She said, distinctly not smiling, worry in her voice evident. Was he... going to shoot her in the knee? No, there's no way that's their plan. I must be misunderstanding something...

The small golden haired girl looked towards their guest from red team and shrugged as if what they were about to do was something they did on a regular basis. "Plan B," she replied before turning her attention back to her shooter.

He figured as much. There'd be too much risk and hesitation associated with shooting herself in the leg, and Lily didn't need to worry about it any more than she had to. Marcus returned an equally awkward smile, eyes darting over to Em, while he hesitantly brought up his gun. "Trust me, it's not a plan I like, but she'll be fine; it's her power. Still, just promise me one thing, Lily: No hard feelings?" he said, a forced chuckle escaping his lips. Point and shoot. At least she was trying to make him feel better about it. He aimed the barrel directly at one knee; one was all they'd need for now, and he didn't want to do it more times than they had to. He gave one last reassuring look at Lily. "On three. One..." he didn't finish the countdown as he pulled the trigger. In his mind, it'd be like taking off a band-aid, and was probably something that should be done without tensing up for it.

Hopefully Lily felt the same way.

Emma gave the two a look of incredulity. She covered her ears. He's really going to shoot her... I should've stayed with Kusari... She lamented to herself.

Lily looked at Marcus and then gave him a curt nod. Of course there won't be any hard feelings. Why would there be? It's not as if he was doing it cause he wanted to. It was--- All thoughts flew out of her head as the gun shot rang out. Her eyes widened and she bit her lip as pain immediately spread through her leg. She closed her eyes tightly as she tried not to scream, figuring that if she did, Marcus would only feel bad about it. But the pain was so intense that a whimper escaped her lips and tears streamed down her face.

Hailey! She heard someone call out. A man's voice. Hailey! The same name but this time, it was a woman's voice. Hailey? Who was Hailey? Someone in their team? Do I really need to know who Hailey is? Do I even care? Will knowing who she is make this pain go away? Lily thought to herself.

Hailey, don't you dare ignore me, young lady!

"Hmmm...?" The voice sounded angry and it sounded like the person saying it was just right next to her. She reached up and wiped her tears with the back of her hand. Did she even want to open her eyes?

HAILEY!

The female voice was angrier now. "What?" she demanded as she opened her eyes. She found herself staring at Marcus, the still smoking gun in his hands. She furrowed her brows, trying to make sense of it all. And slowly, she remembered the fishman flying towards them, the beetle man yelling out in fury...Plan B. "Plan B," she said as if to remind herself what she needed to do. She gritted her teeth and focused. The pain will go away soon... she reminded herself as the black string reappeared on her wrist, the other end wrapping itself around beetleman's wrist. It didn't even take long for Lily's knee to be good as new.

—(••[ 𝕎𝕀𝕊ℍ𝔼𝔸𝕋𝔼ℝ ]••)—

God, knock it off with the sappy speeches and stuff, before the outsiders start thinking we're decent human beings.

Hider