Chasers115

—(••[ 𝕎𝕀𝕊ℍ𝔼𝔸𝕋𝔼ℝ ]••)—

Waking and Warning

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𝕎𝕖𝕕: 𝕆𝕔𝕥. 𝟟, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘 / / 𝔹𝕒𝕝𝕕 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕 𝕀𝕤𝕝𝕒𝕟𝕕 / / ℤ𝕙𝕒𝕟𝕘'𝕤 𝔼𝕤𝕥𝕒𝕥𝕖 / / ~𝟘𝟚𝟘𝟘

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It was his fault, honestly; he'd grown complacent, and now he was paying for it. A few weeks of only minor nightmares here and there had left him thinking that everything was fine. Now, as the cold sweat began to envelop his body, his dreaming mind was plagued by a guilty conscience yet again, taking the form of another night of terror for him.

Another Shattered Night

The scenery was burned again, but this time it was somewhere less familiar to him. An empty road, with debris and bodies lying everywhere. Featureless, save for the burned out truck that was tipped on its side, still smoking gently in the warm breeze. There were ruined bodies scattered around it, all charred to a crisp. He didn't have to investigate to know who they were.

He was standing firm, pistol in his hand as he looked down at the man he was about to kill. The guy deserved this. Marcus was the judge, the jury, and the executioner here, his word was law and his actions were final.

Only...it wasn't the man he was pointing at anymore. It was himself. He was grinning up at himself, a look on his own face that frightened him to the core. He couldn't quite place it, but it was somewhere between insanity and...hunger.

"What would Callan think about this? Or Max? Or Dad?" The dream-self spoke, pushing his head against the barrel. "Do it. You don't feel anything, remember? Why are you hesitating? Nobody else would. Not Brent. Not Ernie. Aren't you gonna...?"

Before Marcus could answer, the figure had changed again. Siena, kneeling before the gun, wearing the same look upon her face.

"Do it. Make the sacrifice. Do it now or I will make you do it!"

The sentence was shouted at him as he froze, Dream-Siena's hands reaching up his gun. As much as he tried to pull it away, he couldn't...her fingers found their mark, and squeezed.

But the only sound was a soft voice.

"Why?"

Emma. Hole in her head, right where the barrel was pressed. The blood was running down, across her face, into her mouth.

"Why won't you let me go?"

All she did was look at him. Her expression wasn't hunger...it was sadness. Sadness and fear.

"Let me go." Dream-Emma repeated, her voice growing in volume until she was shrieking in pain.

"Let me go!" Firm hands pulled the trigger again, Emma's head snapping back in impact.

"Let me go!" Another shot, blasting another hole through her face as she looked up at him.

"LET ME GO!"

The volume of her yelling rose more and more until she was shouting at the top of her lungs, ending with her visceral screaming as it all faded away. As he watched in horror, Emma's screams were drowned out by silence, and he was only vaguely aware of the flames crawling over his face...

He lurched up in bed, breathing heavily as panicked tears threatened to well in his eyes. On his nightstand, his phone's screen was lit up. It must have been the notification that woke him. He rubbed his face, rolling towards the device and bringing it closer to his face to look at the screen.

23 Missed Calls. 7 New Voicemails. 1 New Message.

We're fine. I've been trying to get a hold of you for the last few weeks! I don't know where you guys are since you left D.C, so let me know you're at least alright. Tell whoever's in charge that they had better damn well let you call me when you get a chance, or Sammie and I are going to come looking for you!

Max

He sighed in relief, sitting up in his bed. She was fine. Nothing had happened, it had just been terrible reception like he'd thought. He took a moment to gather himself, typing out a quick return message.

Sorry, we're at some sort of estate out on an island, and the phone reception is terrible. As soon as we get somewhere with better service, I'll call you immediately!

Marcus

Message Failed to Send

He grumbled angrily. He'd have to remember to wander around in the morning, climb up a palm tree or something before Max flew a jet into the building. Setting the phone back on the stand, he laid his head back down on the pillow. The foggy images of his latest nightmare ran through his head again, Emma's screaming echoing in his mind like a catchy song. He involuntarily gave a small shudder, adjusting his position on the bed to stare up into the dark ceiling.

Tonight was going to be another long night.

---

𝕎𝕖𝕕: 𝕆𝕔𝕥. 𝟟, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘 / / 𝔹𝕒𝕝𝕕 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕 𝕀𝕤𝕝𝕒𝕟𝕕 / / ℤ𝕙𝕒𝕟𝕘'𝕤 𝔼𝕤𝕥𝕒𝕥𝕖 / / ~𝟘𝟝𝟘𝟘

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If only he'd known how right he'd be.

A warm glow outside his window was merciful enough to catch Marcus's eye, dragging his tired mind away from the darkness he'd been staring into for the last few hours or so. Between the periodic checking of his phone and the moments of silence, he'd nearly lost track of the time.

He rose out of his bed, grabbing his phone and nearly yanking the charger out of the wall before he corrected his mistake and wandered over towards the window. He almost would have believed he was still in his hellish dreamscape with the way the scenery looked; something in the sky splashing the world with bright red shadows.

He had only a few moments to unsuccessfully try and locate the shining object before something caught his ears: a sound he was disturbingly familiar with at this point - the heavy footsteps of people running and the muffled sound of shouting.

He already had one of his shoes on when the skull-piercing sound of an alarm rang out, shocking what little grogginess he still had away. Nearby, sitting on the desk; the object he'd avoided since it had been delivered. A simple pistol, stuck in a simple holster. The gun that had been useless at Wisford. A small measure of safety...his only defense.

'You can kiss the team goodbye.'

It was better this way. Safer. He left the pistol sitting on the desk, slipping on his other shoe.

He lunged for the door, only narrowly avoiding it as it flung open. The maid who'd barged in wasted no time in grabbing the slightly surprised Marcus and tugging her along with him, nearly yanking him off his feet.

He needed no explanation however, and quickly caught up, his strides matching hers as the two of them sprinted through the hall.

---

Everyone had finally made it down into the basement, and Marcus had wasted no time in doing a headcount, as he imagined everyone else had also done. He came up with one person missing, and it was none other than the rockstar herself, Angel.

"Dead until proven otherwise"

The callousness of the statement impacted in Marcus's brain, and he found himself sitting on the opposite side of the fence. Hopefully Angel was fine. She could take care of herself in a pinch like this, and while the notice hadn't exactly been timely, it was something at least. He was grateful to have not woken up dead, and he hoped that wherever Angel was, she could say the same thing.

He tried to ignore the sickened pit in his stomach, focusing on the conversation as it went around the room.

"There's no point in sticking around. They caught us off guard, and it's best to assume that they're better manned and better equipped. All we can do is play defensively and see if we get the chance to retaliate later." Marcus said, leaning on the wall nearby. His hair was slightly spiked up from the amount of times he worriedly run his hands through it, but he was mostly calmed down right now.

Iron Rose Adventurer's Guild

Liv & Vitus

_{Full Resolution}

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Name:
Liv & Vitus
_{"It's a little hard to explain..."
"Understatement of the era."}

Gender:
"Ugh."
"Ugh."

Physically Female
Female (Liv)/ Male (Vitus)

Race:
Human (Both)

Age:
20 (Liv)/ 32 (Vitus)

Rank:
D-Rank

Personality:
"Devilishly handsome and bitch, respectively."
"Don't you mean utterly useless and warrior?"

Vitus, although he has 'accepted' his position in life, has not exactly gotten any happier about it since the incident. While the two of them have forged a tentative alliance of necessity, it doesn't stop Vitus from being an absolute pain Liv's backside. He's very sarcastic, often openly atagonizing Liv while she's in control. He doesn't do this out of any desire to open a rivalry between the two, just a way of playfully annoying his unwilling partner. He tends to carry the same attitude over to anybody he talks to, and he really has no desire to not be astoundingly punchable.

When he's in control of the body, it is only subtlely different. Vitus is the calm and collected yin to Liv's wild and rash yang, and he prefers gathering as much information as he can about a situation before he makes any decisions to move forward. Everything seems slower with him at the wheel; cool and calculating.

Vulgar, eager, and passionate--those are the three words that most are able to draw from Liv at a glance. While still getting accustomed to the idea of sharing her body with another, permanent resident, she's been able to...almost accept Vitus's presence. Liv's personality runs on the fiery side, and if she could punch her snarky soulmate of sorts, she absolutely, 100% would. The behavior doesn't exactly shift when she's dealing with others--her personality makes her a little abrasive to be around if she doesn't respect you enough to hold her tongue.

When in control of the body, Liv's quicker to spring into action. Though keen and perceptive in her own right, the very temporary nature of her abilities and the need to get close and personal has made her more adept to flying by the seat of her pants than in Vitus's more meticulous planning. Under Liv's command, it's act quick or be swept away by an unyielding torrent of fire.

History:
Vitus was an average, if ambitious young adult before a little brat showed up and caused his whole life to go straight to the shitter. He grew up in a small village in Rhode. His life was nothing short of uninteresting, save for the fact that he grew up hearing tales of adventurers and even getting the chance to see some of them as went about daily life. With little-to-no fighting ability of his own, it was understandable that Vitus turned to magic as his adventuring foothold.

It happened that Vitus found himself no to terribly good at casting normal magic either. He wasn't able to channel his own energy too terribly well, and he had just been getting discouraged with his lot in life when one of the casters told him about a different type of magic. He'd been trying to learn how to channel magical energy through himself, but it was also possible to channel magical energy through existing energy. This was where he first learned the art of Soul Casting, and while not the coolest sounding arcane art, he was finally able to cast magic like a natural.

Born and raised in a small, intimate little "clan" (for lack of a better word), Liv knew from a young age that she'd be some sort of Adventurer, there had never been any question about it. Most of the people in her family had been Adventurers--a good way to obtain the ammunition that they needed for their magic. After all, almost everyone had been able to utilize some form of Liv's Soul Forging magic, why not earn some magic out of it in the process? Hearing stories of places far from home was enamoring, and Liv couldn't help but want to be able to live it herself.

First, she just had to obtain some weapons.

It was an unfortunate decision, really, that Liv decided to be young and brash. Unfortunate that she didn't seem to notice that most members of her family didn't have the need to continue carrying the souls they used with them, and those that did had methods to do so with. Unfortunate that Liv tried to carry souls that didn't belong to her in her own body. Fortunately, she was young, brash, and weak--things could have gone worse if she'd tried to take the souls of anything particularly strong. As it was, she suffered from a few days of a cataconic state and a permanently slowed rate of aging. Nothing too severe compared to going insane.

After a shaky recovery and a a few years more of training, Liv decided that it was time for her to leave and finally enroll in the Guild--if only that was what actually happened. What actually happened was that she had heard a few whispered rumors about a certain someone that utilized souls for their magic, but utilized them in ways that, according to her family's teachings, weren't safe...so she sought Vitus out, prepared to do anything to set him straight.

So, imagine Vitus's surprise when a teenager showed up at his university, clad in armor that appeared to be ancient, and did not fit her at all. There was plenty of shouting to be had, something about Vitus's method of magic casting being 'wrong', and something about Liv being out way past her curfew. Imagine Vitus's double surprise when the child grew frustrated enough to challenge him to a duel over their differing styles; an offer that Vitus took because, hey, how hard could it be to beat up a snotty teen?

At least, that's what he thought right up until she almost lopped his head off with her first swing.

It was during this duel, after the metaphorical gloves had come off, that they found something interesting happening. Neither of them could quite gain the upper hand, athough they were still landing hits against the other. The match was fairly even up to the end, with both of them teetering on the brink of death. However, by some twist of fate, there was no winner of this fight. Both Liv and Vitus landed their killing blow at the same time, causing a wild reaction between the two styles of magic.

Vitus's style attempted to capture Liv's soul for future use, while Liv's gem worked at absorbing Vitus's soul. In essence, Vitus collected Liv's soul and they were both sucked back into the now-empty body of Liv. Vitus was killed, while Liv was reanimated as some sort of psuedo-undead creature; a ghost possessing a corpse.

With the two of them technically possessing the body, they found themselves inexorably linked together. One person could control their actions as normal, while the other was forced to sit on the sidelines and shout, unable to do anything but watch through shared senses as their body moved on it's own. However, with two equally powerful souls, it was found that this 'control' would constantly shift between the two without warning, and neither of them could predict when a shift of dominance would happen. They've been living like this ever since; a forced cooperation between two rivals eventually blooming into a reluctant team.

It was only recently that the two both agreed they could probably do better as adventures, and not just getting by off the land and what supplies they could pawn off for cash. Adventuring seemed more profitable than trying to hunt down woodland creatures for every meal of the day, and they both decided to enroll in the Guild, Vitus making sure that they looked in tip-top shape to hopefully pass under any 'no-undead' clauses.

Magic:
Vitus
Vitus employs an arcane cating method known loosely as 'Soul Casting'. It's not a popular method of magic, as some people seem to take offense with people using the souls of dead things as fuel for power. The main focus of Soul Casting is to channel arcane energy through life energy, transforming it into magic. There are some drawbacks of course: First of all, Vitus has to have to souls to be able to use them, although this is a factor where Liv's actually been helpful; the gem in their chest serves as a soul storage for the duo. Secondly, the spell strength is directly linked to the strength of the soul. A soul from a single rat or measly chicken or something less powerful wouldn't make for a very strong cast.

With soul casting, Vitus is able to fill a few roles: He can fight offensively, turning souls into elemental energy and throwing them at enemies, or he can act as a psuedo-healer, forcing the life energy in a soul to bolster existing life energy and heal wounds (a trick made necessary by the fact that their body doesn't heal on it's own anymore).

Liv
Much like Vitus, Liv employs a magic dealing with the soul. Unlike Vitus, LIv employs 'Soul Forging', which is...not really suited for most legitimate mages. Utilizing a soul, Liv is able to "reforge" it into a tangible form. In her case, she reforges the souls into weapons. For all intents and purposes, she could theoretically use any type of soul for this ability, but it's most reliable and effective (and not to mention less frowned upon) when she utilizes the souls of monsters. As far as obtaining the souls, Liv is capable only of removing the souls from beings that are very recently deceased or in the process of dying, with the latter being easier for her to work with.

Forging a soul into a weapon frequently takes on properties of the owner of the soul--what shape it is, what abilities it may or may not have, what attributes it possesses...all decided the first time that Liv ever forges that particular soul's weapon. These things never change after the first time that Liv reforges the soul. That said, reforging the first time can take a few hours, but once a soul has been given a tangible form once, forging it back into its weapon form only takes a few moments.

Unfortunately, forcing a soul to become tangible does have its drawbacks. For one, the effect isn't permanent. Most of the time, the weapon doesn't last for longer than a few minutes at a time. More than that, the effects are taxing on the soul itself, and utilizing the same one too frequently can cause permanent damage to the soul, which leads to damaged weapons--this type of damage can't be fixed through Liv's magic. Of course, being able to forge and potentially possess any weapon doesn't mean that Liv is capable of using every soul in her arsenal either. She's only able to wield one reforged weapon at a time, for one thing, and though the soul-forged weapons are easier to use for complete beginners in the most basic sense, they don't make their wielders a master of the art. Liv's ability to use her weapons comes almost solely from what she herself is capable of.

Unfortunately for Liv, since starting to utilize her magic at full force, even before the unfortunate incident with Vitus, her body had issues aging. A few incidents from before she obtained her gem resulted in Liv trying to carry more than one soul in her body, which anyone could tell you is a terrible idea. Her age hasn't quite been able to catch up since.

Skills:
"I can make a mean casserole..."
"You used poisonous mushrooms last time."
"Yeah, and it was pretty mean!""

When combat is needed, Liv is the girl you want to go to. Despite a younger, smaller body and a relatively young age, Liv has been at practice since she was first able to hold a weapon in her hand. Family values aside, the woman had always known that she would have to eventually learn how to take down a monster. As it turns out, Liv has a natural affinity towards violence--she's a damn natural on the battlefield, and her ability to quickly swap between weapons thanks to her magic has made her a force to reckon with.

Vitus meanwhile, is better at tasks that take some concentration or level of detailed thinking. He picks up many topics quite quickly, and there's not many things that can escape his keen eye. It used to be a fairly decent smooth-talker, well versed in the art of persuasion, to the point where he was considering becoming a con-artist if the whole 'magic' thing didn't work out. Getting stuck in body that looks like it belongs to an angry teenager has slightly diminished the effectiveness of this strategy, however.

Equipment:
"You did take the stuff off my body, right? ...Liv? Right?"
"Absolutely not, interloper."

Soul Gem
A gem that Liv formerly carried around--now it's just stuck in her chest. In order to provide her magic a higher level of efficiency, her family provided her the Soul Gem. It has the ability to contain and aid in the redirection of souls that Liv draws from her targets. It makes for easier utilization of both her abilities and Vitus's, but doesn't do much else other than look shiny.

Scalemail
Liv's armor is scalemail, and it is old. Passed down to her from her mother, who received it from...well, Liv's not entirely sure where the armor came from. By the time that it was given to her, it was not only old and somewhat worn, but also wildly unfitted for the girl's slowly growing body. It still hangs a little large on her, but she hasnt had the time or patience to try and obtain a new set, so this is the best that she can do.

Survival Kit
Liv and Vitus carry around a large backpack full of the things they found useful before applying as an adventurer. It's just your basic assortment of camping goods; flint and steel, waterskins, etc.

Emergency Dagger
Vitus's reccomendation; the two always have a dagger sheathed somewhere on their body. It tends to alterneate between being sheathed on their waist and sheathed in one of their boots, depending on who actually used it last.

Anything Else:
As mentioned before, Liv and Vitus's body is, by all accounts, a corpse. While their possesion of the body allows for them to 'sense' things like a normal human, their sense of feeling has greatly diminished. Pain is dulled at worst, and there have been more than one occasion where neither of them realized a bone was broken until it snapped back into place during Vitus's maintenance.

Liv's body used to age slowly as a result of a few mishaps with her magic. While she is physically twenty, her body still looks like it's about to reach its late teens at best.

Iron Rose Adventurers [Light-hearted exploration and questing]

Mark another one for the 'interested' category, if you're still accepting!

—(••[ 𝕎𝕀𝕊ℍ𝔼𝔸𝕋𝔼ℝ ]••)—

Fire in the Hole

Marcus | Angel | Kusari | Brent

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𝕋𝕦𝕖: 𝕊𝕖𝕡𝕥. 𝟚𝟡, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘 / / 𝔹𝕒𝕝𝕕 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕 𝕀𝕤𝕝𝕒𝕟𝕕 / / ℤ𝕙𝕒𝕟𝕘'𝕤 𝔼𝕤𝕥𝕒𝕥𝕖 / / ~𝟙𝟘𝟘𝟘

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Fire in the Hole

BANG! BANG! BANG!

After the pain inducing and mystery solving escapade that was his hunting adventure with Ernie and Brent, Marcus had finally managed to make his way back up to the shooting range. Apparently, there were bear and shit on this island too, so carrying a pistol around with him might not have been such a terrible idea - hopefully he'd be able to request one. For self defense of course.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Which, if he was going to be carrying a pistol around, it made sense that he should train a little bit with it in the upcoming weeks, just to keep himself sharp. The few targets that had been helpfully put out for him had a fair number of bullet holes in them, and ever since Marcus had started learning to aim for recoil, the holes were getting closer and closer.

Plus, he'd only fumbled with the reload a little bit. Dropping the clip straight out of the gun and onto the ground wouldn't be a problem in combat as long as he could quickly replace it, so he probably didn't even need to embarass himself trying to catch it when it had just plummeted out. Thankfully, there hadn't been anyone around but the staff to see, and that guy had been kind enough to say he hadn't seen it.

Of course, if he were going to be out in the field more often, perhaps it wouldn't hurt to try some other equipment as well. Maybe panicking civilians would be less inclined to do things if he had a bigger gun. Maybe he wouldn't have to do things that he'd regre-

Marcus tried to distract himself from that line of thinking by examining some of the other weapons that were around, his eyes immediately falling on the unmistakable form of a shotgun. Lawrence had a shotgun way back in Wisford, hadn't he? That other guy had one too, that's what he'd been holding when he got knocked out of the APC. What he'd used against the gargoyle.

Maybe if he'd been better with it, Savannah would still be...

He shook his head again, his blood starting to boil at himself. He wasn't doing any favors thinking about these kind of things, so why did they keep coming up? All he was doing was making himself angry at this point. Fortunately, he had a couple of targets to take his anger out on.

He set himself up, adjusting his ear protection and glasses once before taking aim. Arms loose. Don't let the elbows lock. Deep breath

BLAM!

Even through the earmuffs, the shot rattled Marcus slightly. More than that, the gun had nearly flung itself from his hands, blasting backwards and slamming his shoulder back, a small 'pop!' and small shoot of pain accompany the impact. He probably hadn't dislocated anything, but the sound of static and sudden rewind made it apparent that he wasn't taking any chances.

It was early in the morning. Angélique’s mind had been occupied with what she had seen in the town the past days, so much that she did not know that she had been jogging way more than she usually did in the morning. Reaching the premises of the mansion, she heard gunshots coming from the shooting range. Strange, someone had decided to train this early in the morning. Then again, America was notorious for gun fanatics, something that was still very rare in Canada despite the country changing its firearms policies a few years back, considering the world was unsafe from both Subnaturals and monsters.

Curious as to who was training at this time of the day, Angel jogged towards the firing area, only to find an inexperienced Marcus falling over after taking a forceful drawback blow from the firing shotgun. She couldn’t restrain a chuckle at the scene, finding it however quite convenient of his ‘Rewind’ power to recover from a fall.

“Gee, be more careful when firing that thing. You’ll blow yourself a hole before long.” Angel’s voice came from inside Marcus’ ear muffles, as if they actually had been headphones broadcasting her words.

Kusari arrived to the shooting range on one of the white bicycles available. She could have walked, but it had been a while since she'd rode a bike. Her long hair was tied into a ponytail, lest it catch onto some part of the bike. It was a nostalgic feeling peddling along a smooth rode and feeling the wind on her face. She still remembered the days her father taught her to ride her first bike. She fell so many times, and wanted to quit many times. But her father told her to keep going, and she always listened to what he said. She wanted to be just like him after all. She looked at her right palm, there was once a scar there from her many times falling, it was gone now. What did it look like again?...

She set the bike against the shed just as she heard the sound of a shotgun go off. Walking over to the range she saw Marcus and Angel, the latter teasing the boy for apparently mishandling the firearm. "Maybe you should practice with something that doesn't kick as hard first." She said, walking up to the two.

Marcus made an involuntary noise as someone began speaking directly into his brain, jumping and nearly dropping the loaded shotgun as he did so. He looked around quickly, being sure to set the gun down very gently before he swung around wildly, finally spotting Angel approaching the range.

"Stop that!" he yelled at her rather indignantly, probably louder that necessary because of the muffling effects of the ear protection. He moved one of the 'cups' off his ear to compenstate, which would hopefully allow him to have a normal conversation without shouting at Angel.

"Sneak up on people at the shooting range, and you're gonna be the one with extra holes, Angel." Marcus joked, his eyes flicking past the raven-haired form to spy a form nearly on the other end of the spectrum: Kusari and her snow white locks.

"I've been practicing with handguns all morning, and I was gonna try and broaden my horizons a little bit." Marcus said, pondering the theoretical 'kickback' of other guns. Clearly he wasn't very good at estimating that factor if the shotgun had nearly wrenched his arm off his body. "Either of you have any suggestions? Baby's first high-powered shotgun?"

He had heard the gunshots as he got closer, and had even came in expecting someone else to swap gun tips with. What Brent didn't expect though, as he came in with his three remaining handguns holstered on the utility belt he looted from DC, was that there were three people, a whole trio of individuals that he hadn't ever really seen together before. Angelic, Kusari, and Marcus? That was definitely a strange group.

Knocking the side of the shooting range to announce his arrival, the arbiter waved at the group, one brow arced.

"What's this, you're giving gun safety lessons, Marcus?"

Angélique was taken aback by Marcus suddenly yelling at her. Jeez, did he got from the wrong side of the bed this morning? It's not like she meant to scare him, it was probably better speaking through his muffles than just show up right behind him and tap his shoulder.

"Given how you shoot, I wouldn't even be surprised." she answered to the guy just as Kusari and Brent arrived, nodding to the two as they made their presence known.

"How about you just take a proper stance first, then try and get used to the recoil?" the sole Aberration in the group walked towards Marcus, arm extending her hand to the scarred Arbiter "You handy with handguns? Let's make a deal then. You show me how to use pistols, I show you how to use a shotgun, a rifle, or both even."

"Yeah. Perfect examples of what not to do" Marcus said, giving a small nod to Brent as he arrived. He took a moment to raise his eyes in surprise as Angel mentioned her proficency with shotguns and rifles, putting his hands on his hips as he smirked.

"Now wait a second. When did you become the master of all things firearm? I don't think I've even seen you touch weapon, and you're telling me that you're proficent enough with both shotguns and rifles to teach people how to use them? Skill set like that starts to raise a couple questions, Angel." he said, a slight grin on his face.

"But, I guess I can do that. Don't exactly know how well I can teach you, but probably enough to at least get the basics down. 'Pull the trigger', 'Try not to shoot your friends', stuff like that."

Angélique scratched the back of her head, slightly embarrassed by Marcus' eulogy as she chuckled faintly. "I wouldn't say that I am master-level like Lawrence is, but he spent quite some time showing me how to use them. After that, I just went training on my own and improve, really."

"I mean... I've got to find something to do with all that free time we have, yeah?"

"A summit between gun nuts then, eh?" Brent chirped in. "Mind if I leech off some rifle advice, Angelic? Gotta move up to bigger guns if I want to do work anyways."

"Oh... sure. That'd be even better than the Desert Eagle you requested, all things considered with your powers."

While the others were talking Kusari picked up a handgun. After examining it for a moment she took out her cell phone, scrolling through notes she had taken in the library. She recognized the gun, and had learned as much as she could about it. She slid the phone back into her skirt pocket and picked up the gun once more. She flipped the safety on and off, getting a feel for it. She ejected the magazine and pushed it back in a few times. With the magazine out she pulled back the slide repeatedly. She loaded the gun and pointed it down the range. "Oh."

She lowered the gun and looked to the others. "I'm about to fire this so uh, put on ear protection I guess." She said, waiting a few moments before aiming at a target again. She pulled the trigger, a shock going through her hands as the gun fired. She missed the target by at least two feet. She frowned at the gun, then aiming it again. She let out a breath and took another shot, this time hitting the target. She sat the gun down and looked at it with a contemplative stare. "That wasn't nearly as fun as people make it out to be..."

"Do you want to do the teaching first then, since you've got the bigger auidence?" Marcus said, looking over to Angel. He was cut off by Kusari saying something, and between his confused stare as he tried to put together what she'd just said, he barely had enough time to slap his hand over his unprotected ear when he finally did figure it out. A little bit of ringing, but no permanent damage at least.

"Yeah, I always used to hear people from the country talk about how much fun it was to go out and shoot deer with these things. I guess it's better when you've got the thrill of the hunt behind you?" Marcus said, the strained explanation making it very clear that he was no expert on the subject.

"Eh?" Brent replied, removing his hands from his ears as well, "Don't feel that adrenaline pumping through your veins when the gun kicks back? Or any satisfaction at hitting the target dead center?"

Busy with what Marcus was telling her, Angélique did not notice Kusari preparing herself to shoot.

"If you want me to, sure then. I'll just go and-..."

The shot made Angel jump, startled. Her ears were ringing, feeling it into her brain as she winced from the pain. Guess that's why everyone was bringing ear pads when gone to a shooting range, and why Lawrence had insisted on her bringing some when they went training. When her hearing returned, she could only discern what Brent had been talking about. The joy of pulling the trigger?

"I wouldn'T know myself, personally. Gun regulations has only been around in Canada recently. Used to be a country frowning on their use. Even now, people over there are reluctant to carry them around, if only to stockpile them at home if there's a monster showing up."

"I don't feel the thrill behind it. I guess it's just for training, or kill time."

"I've yet to hit the target dead center, so I'll have to get back to you on that one." Marcus joked, looking back to Angel. "Alright teach, what do you have for us? What's our first lesson here?"

"I guess I'm a little desensitized at this point." Kusari said, letting out a yawn. She placed her hands into her pockets and looked at Angel. "Yeah, let's see what a rockstar can do."

"Well, I suppose no one needs to know about gun safety protocols, given we're all handy using those already, yeah?" Angélique took the shotgun and flipped the safety switch on and off for good show, then turned to the shooting range. Unlike previously, when she had been practicing with Lawrence's breaking-action shotgun on her knees, she was standing up, bringing the butt of the shotgun on her shoulder bone.

"Really, it's only a matter of stability and handling the weapon. If your stance is flawed and your footing insecure, your body will follow with the drawback. Considering a shotgun packs enough recoil as it is, it's normal you'll jerk back with each shot, but your aim will be affected if you back off too much."

Following the steps she undertook, Angélique positionned her feet as for the side where her arm was holding the furthest part of the shotgun was slightly placing itself in front of her, while the other side holding the gun's handle was perfectly aligned with her body and her foot facing sideways, giving her more balance. Her whole body angle was slightly angled sideways from the direction she was aiming.

"That's the stance you should be having if you want the best accuracy, and better absorb the impact if you take a standing shot. Naturally, I'm left handed, so if you are righ, just do the opposite."

Breaking from her stance, Angel went to take a pair of earmuffles and placed it onto her ears, waiting for the others to shelter their ears before returning to her stance. "Now let's see the results. Mind you, I'm still a novice, so don't be too surprised if I miss my shot." the firearm adept chuckled, her voice projected to her classmates as if nothing stoof in the way of their hearing.

Taking a breath, then slowly sighed, her finger pulled on the trigger in a moment that fit right. As she expected, her shot missed where it was intended, but the spray of bullets shredded one side of the target. But, the main point of her show was to demonstrate about the stance, not the shot itself. Effectively, when Angel took the shot, her body rocked slightly back with the force of the recoil, but her grip was steady and firm, and her body did not seem to have moved that much compared to Marcus earlier.

"Okay. I think I understand that much." Marcus said, once again speaking slightly louder unconsciously to accomodate the somewhat muffled sounds of his own voice. He went over to where Angel was standing and gratefully accepted the gun from her, trying to mimic her stance and follow her advice as well as he could.

Positioned in the same way she had been, arm aligned with his body, foot facing sideways. He gave Angel a quick look for confirmation, before turning back to the target. "Watch your ears!" he said, lining himself up on the target.

Deep breath. Don't hold it, don't try and anticipate the shot. Squeeze the trigger.

Marcus's body rocked, but the gun didn't fling itself from his grasp this time. He even managed to hit the target a little, most of the shot going too high because of the recoil. Still he'd managed to fire it without hurting himself, despite the slight sting that trembled where he'd been holding it. He looked towards Angel like a small child who'd just learned something all by himself; a kid-like look of pride on his face.

"There you go, hotshot! Now all that's left is to find that sweet spot where you think you can get the shot to go where you want it to." Angélique smiled proudly and raised her fist for a bump, reminiscent of that time back in Crimen Culpae when they exchanged a fist pump as rallying encouragement for their first fight ever as a team.

"Awesome! You can just call me 'Tex', little missy." Marcus said in a horribly butchered Old-Western accent, returning the fistbump with the excitement of a small boy being told he'd actually done well. "Anybody else want to try 'Angel's Shotgun School' before I show her the ins and outs of something fair bit smaller?" Marcus asked, his eyes trailing over Brent and Kusari.

"See?" Brent grinned, slapping Marcus on the back, "Exciting after all, eh? And yeah, give me a go. Shame they don't have sniper rifles here, but these are functionally the same, right?"

"There must be rifles around here somewhere, no? I suppose the concept of shooting would remain the same, but you simply add a scope, right?"

"Feel like a pro military dude would slap you on the head for that," the arbiter replied, "But sure, let's go with that. Marcus, the gun?"

"All yours, my shootliness" Marcus said, slightly (but safely) flourishing the shotgun to Brent. He at least knew how to shoot the thing without hurting himself - he'd likely spend some portion of the week trying to nail the whole 'aiming' thing.

But if there was one thing he knew about shotguns, it was that aiming was not a priority. And if there was one thing he knew about firearms in general, it's that Max would beat him about the head for thinking that.

"Thank you kindly, Sir Howell," Brent curtsied gracefully, before receiving the shotgun himself. Adopting much of the same footwork that Angelic demonstrated. Plugging his ears with foamy bits, the arbiter's ears traced with silver circuitry momentarily, completely cutting off sound as the ear plugs transformed into some different. Was that good enough? Probably. Most of his past upgrades had made sound a non-issue, due to simply turning the guns into lasers, but now...

A thumb flicked the safety off, as Brent took aim, both eyes wide open, locked onto the target. His breathing steadied, and, almost naturally, he imagined the crusher once more. Correct after the first shot. Ready. Set. Fi-

Click.

Brent blinked. Pulled the trigger again.

Click.

"Goddamnit," the arbiter laughed goodnaturedly, "Angelic, wanna teach us how to reload this thing as well?"

"Oh, right. My bad." Angel chuckled as she had forgotten about this important part of the lesson. Can't go about teaching them how to shoot a shotgun without telling them how to reload the thing. Fortunately for her, the shotgun looked very much like Lawrence's own, a double-barelled with break-action reload.

"If I may?" Angel requested as she held out her hand.

"Go ahead, Shotgun Sista."

Taking the shotgun from Brent's hands, Angélique displayed the gun to her peers. "This one is basically a break-action shotgun. As the name implies..." Angel grabbed the gun by the handle with one hand while the other placed itself on the top of the barrel, pushing downwards forcibly to crack the gun in two. "You just need to reload from the slots there. It's easier than it looks. Simply put some pressure on the barrel."

The Aberration young woman cracked the gun back in one piece and held it out to Brent, leaving the whole reloading procedure to him.

Kusari stifled a laugh upon hearing Angel say "Hotshot," she sounded like a soccer coach. Her demonstration seemed decent at least, Marcus's shot wasn't half bad all things considered. She had to cover her mouth and turn around once Marcus opened his mouth however. The boy's humor rating was so low it had overflowed into infinity. She let out a cough and walked over to the shed. She picked up a hunting rifle similar to one she'd seen while researching in the library. She took a moment to pick out the right ammo before leaving the shed with the gun, just in time to hear Brent call Angel "Shotgun Sista." Kusari's mouth wiggled like a worm getting poked with a needle.

"I-I found a rifle Brent. I'm gonna try it out first if you don't mind." She said, managing to not laugh. She could swear they were doing this on purpose. She sat the gun down and pulled back the bolt, then placing a round inside. She pushed it back in halfway, then thinking she might as well add another bullet. She pulled the bolt back again and the round popped out. "O-oh,
right." She quickly picked up the round, hoping no one saw that happen. After properly loading the rounds in she took aim at a target, making sure to get into the right position. She wondered how likely it would be that she would be able to get in position in the middle of a fight. She supposed practice would help with that.

Letting out a breath she fired, just barely missing the target. She adjusted the angle of the gun and fired again, this time hitting the target near it's bottom. She ejected the empty casing and sat the rifle down. She rubbed her shoulder, the impact of the gunpowder would have likely left a bruise if not for her magic. It didn't help being nearly skin and bones.

"Oh, nice first shots," Brent nodded at Kusari's attempts, before following Angelic's instructions. It was a bit unnerving how easily the shotgun broke apart, but on the other hand...the arbiter's mind naturally turned towards those Hollywood scenes where people reloaded shotguns by spinning them, and decided to make that a future goal.

Two slugs jammed in and locked into place, the arbiter grinned at the three of them, lining up his shots once more. Puffs of light burst within his ears, those plugs once again becoming extra-effective, before firing once.

A burst of force and a tremor shook his body. Left side. Adjust.

A burst of force and a tremor shook his body. On point. Celebrate.

"Oh man," the arbiter remarked feeling the shotgun's power in his very bones, "This is way cooler than the DEagles. Might even knock off mountains with these!"

"Impressive!" Angélique remarked at both Kusari and Brent nailing their shots exceptionally well for first timers. She remembered her attempts took way more tries than this. "Who knows? With our powers growing so quickly, you might as well be blowing holes in mountain in no time with those guns."

Clearly those teams exercise did good to the rockstar's morale. At this point she didn't really mind her previous animosity with Brent. She was just glad to be around and improving with teammates.

Turning to Kusari, the Aberration quirked up a worried eyebrow. "Are you alright, Kusari?" an ironic question, considering the girl was immortal, but it came out as sheer reflexes.

"Careful using mountains as shooting practice though." Marcus started, having taken up a casual stance a fair distance away from the practice, while still allowing him a decent look at the targets as they were hit. "Every mountain you blow up is one that Kadabra could use later. Those might very well become a limited resource between you two."

He gave Kusari a half-look as Angel spoke up, listening for her answer at least. She was immortal, that much he knew; even if she'd accidentally blown her arm off by accident, she'd probably react in the same way as if he stubbed his toe. A little misfire bruise would be nothing, even if she gave herself one.

Kusari blinked at Angel for a moment, wondering if she knew about the fact that she'd been having trouble focusing and sleeping lately. What happened in D.C kept bothering her, kept making her think that she had set herself on a course she could never steer from. She looked down at her hand, still on her shoulder. Right, she was just overthinking things. "Yeah... I think I'll stick with handguns, anything larger might be too much for someone as light as me."

"Why're you interested in guns anyways, Kusari? Trying to pick up a new hobby after all?"

Kusari shook her head. "I just figured I should learn at some point. I don't want to have to rely on cutting myself up just to be able to do anything in a fight." She said. It was half true, she also couldn't stand looking at those claws anymore.

"Always good to have a backup." Marcus agreed from his position towards the back. Of course, for those of them without combat powers like himself, it was more like a 'Plan A' than a backup. This was the extent of his combat powers, with his only backup being 'call for someone who can actually do damage'.

While the others talked among themselves, Angel walked over the rifle, taking a long look at it. Bolt-action. Again a gun Lawrence had showed her how to use. Were the types of weapon he used just that common, or did he actually take them from hunting supplies? Fiddling with the bolt and the cartridges, the lone Aberration here made sure it was properly loaded, swinging it to her shoulder as she took the same stand she had positionned herself in earlier for demonstration.

"Watch your ears." she called out softly with her magical whispers, waiting a few seconds of delay before taking a shot. She was surely more comfortable with that type of weapon as her shot, despite being rusty, managed to hit the target at a lower point. If that target had been a man, he would've got shot in his "assets".

"Whoops..." she muttered with a faintly amused grin.

Brent cringed, his nether regions tightening instinctually.

"Ooooh....oh no." Marcus said, his quick inhale hissing through clenched teeth.

Kusari let out a whistle. "Nice shot."

"Oh... uh... I meant to aim for the chest, really..." Angélique chuckled slightly, ejecting the spent bullet, reloading for another shot and taking aim.

Another shot, this time way better, straight to the heart. Satisfied with this one, Angel flipped the safety on and lowered the gun upright to ground level. "Well, who's next?"

"Man. You do give love a bad name." Marcus joked, looking around the room as Angel called for volunteers.

There was a hard silence as eyes dashed to eachother, before Marcus finally stepped forward.

"I guess I'll give it a shot...a try...dammit." he said, stuttering his way through accidental puns and grabbing the rifle quickly to try and just brute force his way through that embarassing exchange with minimal questions or comments.

He lined it up the same way he had with the shotgun, having to hold it slightly more forward due to the longer barrel. He took another deep breath, lining up the shot, squeezing the trigger. The only real mistake he made was trying to anticipate the kickback, which forced his shot a little higher than he'd intended. Or, quite a bit higher than he'd intended.

He'd meant to shoot the target in the center torso, or at least, that was where he had been trying to aim. He was contemplating whether he should admit that as he stared at the clean hole right through the 'head' of the target.

“God, and the guys back then told me I was bad.” Angel laughed whole-heartedly at Marcus’ references. Not that it was the funniest kind of humor, but music-related bad puns were something she did appreciated.

Had she known Marcus made a mistake, the Aberration girl wouldn’t have thought the Arbiter was a natural professional at shooting. It was just too unbelievable for a first timer to shoot straight for the head on his first try. Very impressive indeed.

“Wow… you do have a knack for headbanging. That was pretty metal. You sure this is your first time?”

Marcus let out an audible groan. He thought his own jokes were terrible, but this girl. A joke like that was banned under the Geneva Convention last time he'd check. Psychological torture and the like.

"What can I say?" Marcus said, quickly drifting into smug territory. "Beginner's luck and all that. Not that I need luck of course." he said, making a display of brushing he nails across his front and blowing them off. He was lying again, taking all the credit for his mistake, but with any luck nobody else had noticed it.

"Huh..." Kusari looked at the hole in the target's head left by Marcus. It certainly was a good shot. After biting her lip and trying not to comment on the growing scent of cheese thanks to the bad jokes being flung around, Kusari turned to Marcus. "That was pretty good Marcus, let's see another." She said, suddenly feeling like teasing him due to his bravado.

Oh boy, the beginning of a snowball effect. Marcus shrank nervously a little bit, before he puffed back up to his full, confident size. "Hey, don't be hiding behind me to try and get out of your lessons. Let's see one of you two hop up here and take a crack at it!"

"Three's a charm, Zippy. Don't be content to sit on your laurels on the first shot. Give us at least another two, then we can switch." Angel remarked, approving of Kusari's demand. It would be a waste to just have him shoot a single time when they were here to train, no matter how muc marksmanship Marcus had. Overconfidence was no good either.

"I thought it was a crowd? Marcus softly whined, picking the rifle back up and sliding his ear protection back over his head. It was simple, all he had to do was the exact same thing he'd just done - should lead to the same results. Scientific method or something like that.

He lined up his stance again, trying to mimick exactly what he'd done before. Take up the stance Angel had shown him, line it up, compensation for the longer barrel, aim for center mass, deep breath and squeeze.

Another shot rang out, this one going high a wide, just barely splintering the edge of the target in the right shoulder. No good. He was still trying to anticipate the recoil. He squeezed again, offering himself little time to realign the shot in favor of a quickened, nervous barrage. This one went even further out, slamming hard against the wooden wall opposite of him.

Dammit. One more.

He took another deep breath, his shoulder aching slightly and the gun drooping off to the side a little. Compensate, lift it up.. Another slow exhale, and a slow squeeze of the trigger, without trying to anticipate anything; just like Max had taught him with pistols.

The rifle slammed against his shoulder once more, the shot firing a little far to the left and puncturing where one of the kidneys would be. Or at least where he thought it would be. He wasn't a doctor.

"Maybe it was beginner's luck after all." He said sheepishly, sliding one side of the earguards off and setting the rifle down.

"No worries man," Brent replied, "Not everyone can perform under pressure. I'm sure you'd be a sniper elite if no eyes were on you."

"It's alright Marcs, no one shot is ever the same, unless you're some sort of machine I guess." Angel encouraged with a small fist bump on his shoulder.

"Well, no, I'm pretty certain Marcus is a machine. With his endless array of dad jokes and all."

"I'm positive any loyal machine would have self-destructed itself after the first dad joke. Especially after 'headbanging' over here. That would have been a bluescreen at least. If the damn thing didn't just delete itself." Marcus said, trying to hide his slight wince as Angel bumped his shoulder. Perhaps he hadn't been holding it exactly as Angel was. Or maybe that was just the price to pay for firing these things. Either way, it'd probably be an aching bruise before too long.

"C'mon, it wasn't that bad! I just can't resist a bad music pun if you set me up for them. You're the one who started it." The controversial rockstar giggled gleefully.

"Think you're good on your own for the rifle while our resident dad teaches me about handguns, Brent?"

"I'm a fast learner," the amethyst eyed youth said, "Probably won't shoot my eye out."

"Alright then. Have fun. I'll be just over there if you need something." the shades-wearing young woman told the Arbiter before grabbing Marcus by the shoulder. "C'mon Zip Zip, tell me your secrets!"

"I'm gonna show you the secrets of the inside of this barrel if you keep calling me Zip Zip." Marcus joked, trying to pass his wince off as a slightly strained smile. Nonetheless, he picked up one of the pistols, making sure everyone who was interested was paying attention.

"Alright, let's see if I can remember everything she told me..." Marcus started, mind working hard to try and recall Max's exact words. First was the grip...maybe.

You're gonna drop it holding it like that, dummy.

"Alright, hold your hands on the gun like I have mine here. Basically, you're trying to lock down the most solid parts of the gun so it doesn't force itself back if you're trying to get multiple shots off. It'll probably feel weird, but that's normal."

Don't stand so rigid, you look like one of Buckingham's boys!

"Stance is basically the same one you showed us for shotguns, Angel. No need to compensate as much since it's only a pistol, but similar."

You're gonna break your elbows if you lock them like that; loosen up a little.

"When you aim, try to keep your arms a little loose. You want them straight out in front of you, but don't lock your elbows. Nice and easy."

There you go. Now just take a deep breath, and squeeze the trigger. Don't try and anticipate when it will go off, or you're going to throw off the shot.

"Breath in, aim, fire on the exhale. Same deal as the rest of them."

He punctuated this by looking down his sight, and following his own instructions. There were two loud pops as the gun fired twice, the first shot nearly hitting the center of the chest where he was aiming, and the second being about an inch or an inch and a half to the right.

"I see..." Angel remarked, comtemplative over Marcus' demonstration. He really was quite the shot with handguns. So the basics kind of were the same, only that the stance and the way to hold the weapon were different. It couldn't be that hard, considering the gun was lighter, right?

"Nice shots. You really do know your stuff, huh?"

"I'd hope so. I've been forced to go over it enough times. Although I guess I can't complain considering the situation, can I?"

"Mhm... who though you to use firearms?"

"My sister. She's military, and I guess she figured it wouldn't hurt to make sure I knew how to work a firearm at least. She was right on that account, but I really don't need to give her any more reasons to be smug."

"Damn, I'm surprised you aren't more disciplined, Marky. If I'd been military I'd kick my younger brother into obedience. Not that I've ever thought of being a soldier myself before." Angélique grinned at the younger boy, taking one pistol that had been left on the shooting counters. It seemed loaded? Inspecting the firearm more closely, she deduced where the safety switch was, flipping it off before taking the stance Marcus showed her.

Gripping the handgun with her two hands at the handle; trigger finger pointing where she was shooting; arms extended in front of her and at face level; legs firmly planted in the ground, one in front of the other, one eye closed and the other staring at the iron sights. The whole positionning and weapon in her hands felt less cumbersome. Why did Lawrence told her that it was more difficult to shoot these?

Breath in, relax, breath out, take a shot. She realized why it was more difficult now.

She let her guard down due to the lighter weight of the gun. Not that she dropped the weapon, but it violently jerked upwards as it fired as her hands and arms recoiled from the kickback, making her shot go completly astray above the target.

"Uh... whoops?"

"Just because it's smaller doesn't mean you should treat it with any less care." Marcus said, nodding for her to try and take another shot. "Put your hands together like I showed you, should help with some of the recoil."

"Watch your wrists as well," Brent said, peering over before turning back to his own shooting, "Gotta align it properly and all."

"Alright." the Aberration rockstar nodded at her two mentors. She took the stance again, placing her hands like Marcus indicated her, but unconsciously locking her wrists and arms while doing so. While her next shot did indeed not jerk her body backwards, her stiffened positionning made the gun lean down from it's intended target, hitting the target lower than expected. Again, a clear hole had ripped the region that should not be touched.

"I... I missed again..." Angel remarked as she took a long glance at the shot she just made.

"You gotta stop. I'm not gonna teach you shit if that's the evil you do with it."

"That's not a miss, but...yeah, no. How bout you just stick with screams instead of castration?"

The situation would've been funnier had it not been for her small frustration at missing her targets, and the sudden reminder that her voice was indeed one hell of a weapon. Huffing angrily, Angel resumed to her shooting stance, this time evaluating what she did wrong the last tries. Not too stiff, not too loose. Firm, but not terribly so.

Three was a charm indeed. Dumb luck or coincidence, her shot flew straight to the heart, again.

Kusari avoided making fun of Marcus for missing his shots after being called out, getting exposed was bad enough after all. Instead she went back to the handgun she'd used before. She picked it up and took the proper stance. Before she fired however, she had to stop the giggling fit caused by Angel. She hoped she didn't get stuck with a nickname as bad as "Zippy," though never getting one at all would be just fine with her. She took a deep breath, focused, and fired. She hit the target, but not where she was aiming. She tried again, again and again until she ran out of bullets. Nearly all of the shots had hit, but none dead center where she was aiming. It was a bit more than optimistic to think she could become a master marksman so quickly, though she did seem to have a knack for it.

As she ejected the magazine she looked over to Angel, she'd just shot below the belt again. Good luck to anyone getting into a firefight with her. After some playful criticism from Marcus and Brent she took another shot, this one hitting the mark. "Jeez Angelic,
you're making us look bad."

"I-it's just beginner's luck, really."Angélique chuckled in modesty. Looking at the white-haired Arbiter's shots, she had quite the talent herself as well. It felt strange to see her haughty figure smiling and giggling like that. Kusari always striked Angel as the serious and cold-hearted person, given their past interaction and her actions so far. Maybe she wasn't such a bad person after all? A flash of the time they drank against each other for contest in D.C. for their girls night in. She had promised the tall girl a rematch, or more like a proper time to drink together.

"Hey, those shots aren't bad either. Your hits are on target." Angel smiled as she turned to her own target.

Following Kusari's lead, she proceeded to empty her magazine as well. She always aimed for center mass of the target, but her shots had circled all around the intended target; pectorals, sides, throat, belly and shoulders. Eventually, the gun clicked as the raven-haired Aberration pulled the trigger. Empty. Unsure how to change ammo, she took a bit of time to examine the handgun, finding the trigger to eject the magazine, which fell on the ground as she did not expect it to come out this quickly. She fumbled around with the new magazine until it had properly clicked inside the handgun.

"Not too bad! By the end of this, we'll have our own little gunslinging posse!" Marcus said, stifling a small chuckle as the magazine hit the ground. He'd done a similar thing when he first changed magazines, although he had tried to catch it and ended up smacking it halfway across the range by accident.

"Unless you need any training, Brent, I'd say that today was a pretty successful set of lessons. We can all operate a small armory now - which I'm prefectly fine with!"

"Yeah. Thanks for the help, Marcs. I'll have to train with what I own once we get back to the institute."

Hopefully we will use those on actual deserving people...

—(••[ 𝕎𝕀𝕊ℍ𝔼𝔸𝕋𝔼ℝ ]••)—

Doctor's Orders

Lawrence | Marcus

---

𝔽𝕣𝕚: 𝕆𝕔𝕥. 𝟙, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘 / / 𝔹𝕒𝕝𝕕 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕 𝕀𝕤𝕝𝕒𝕟𝕕 / / ℤ𝕙𝕒𝕟𝕘'𝕤 𝔼𝕤𝕥𝕒𝕥𝕖 / / ~𝟚𝟘𝟘𝟘

---

Doctor's Orders

Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock.

It was a very deliberate sound, with purpose. This was not the first time Lawrence had stopped by Marcus' room today, nor the second, nor the third. At this point he wasn't expecting it to be the last time either. At his side, Lizzy sniffed the air tentatively, picking up a familiar scent. She had not been around for the previous visits, but now it was evening and the dog had since finished its daily wandering. Besides, Lawrence figured a dog would help to cut some of the tension from the meeting- some therapists used them for that reason, didn't they?

He wasn't exactly sure, he'd never exactly studied psychology in spite of how people used him at USARILN East.

Either way, there were certain people on the team he couldn't avoid talking to, and near the top of the list was the person occupying this room. A funny guy, supposedly, although Lawrence didn't really think they shared the same sense of humor. Really he didn't know much about Marcus at all aside from the fact that the guy was dating Emma, his roommate back at USARILN. A fact which altogether didn't tell him a whole lot.

Still, what he did know was what had happened since Wisford, and knowing nothing else about the guy that gave him a very good reason to be here.

Four knocks on his door roused Marcus from his thoughts. He certainly hadn't had many visitors while they'd been here at the Estate; it seemed like everyone he knew he just ran into or he was the one seeking them out. He stood from his chair, making his way cautiously to the door. With his luck, it was Zhang here to execute him for his crimes.

He swung the door open quickly, eyes falling on Lawrence. Certainly not one of the people he had been expecting, and not exactly one of the people he was hoping to see. It was possible that he might have been actively avoiding Lawrence, if only so he didn't have to talk about Wisford anymore. Looked like he really had no choice in the matter now, though.

He eyes dropped from Lawrence to the creature standing beside him. Dog. Large dog.

The reaction was immediate, his entire body tensed and froze as he assessed the situation. This one didn't seem to be hostile. Of course not. Why would Lawrence bring an angry dog to his room? Why would Lawrence bring any dog to his room? Between his slight panic and the active suppression of his 'flight' instinct, it didn't occur to him that this was the dog that probably saved his life back at USARILN. Still, the dog didn't seem to be making any movements, and he followed suit, though his eyes flicked back and forth between Lawrence and Lizzy.

"Oh...h-hey Lawrence." Marcus said, taking a moment to settle himself and try and silence the tremors in his voice. "Wasn't expecting to see you at my doorstep. What's up?" There, that was a little more casual.

I don't really think I'm that intimidating.

Just what had Marcus been doing in here that he was so nervous right off the bat? Drugs? Porn? It really wasn't his business either way, but it was still curious if nothing else. Lizzy, for her part, walked right past the younger Arbiter and began sniffing around the room for any snacks she could take as repayment for her earlier good deeds at USARILN East. Lawrence kept an eye on the dog in case she made herself too much at home in the other guy's room, but let her do her thing.

“I wanted to see how you're doing- and I'm not exactly talking about your health here Marcus. Can I come in?”

"Sure...yeah. C'mon in, take a seat." Marcus said, already having scooted to the side to allow Lizzy easy entrance. He gave a slight wave of his hand in invitation to Lawrence, still standing to the side to allow him in as well. As much as Marcus wanted to just slam the door in Lawrence's face, he was at a bit of an impasse here; he strongly doubted Lawrence wouldn't just kick the door back open, and the dog had already wandered in - and he wasn't going to tell her to get out.

"First though, how are you doing? And I am talking about your health here." he said, leaning against the dresser. "You took some hits in Wisford and DC."

“Thanks.”

With that Lawrence entered and took a seat on the room's couch, content to let Marcus control the conversation for the moment. It's not like he would forget the entire reason he was here after a little redirection, and it wouldn't exactly be productive to try and force his topic through immediately. Lizzy, with her search complete, trotted back over to the Arbiter and sat down at his feet, receiving a scratch behind her ears in response with his free hand. The other having slipped into his shirt at the mention of Wisford.

“Healthy as can be, all things considered. Not even any scarring. Magic sure beats science in the 'Not dying' department. I have you all to thank for getting me out of that mess, I do appreciate it.”

"I can agree with you on that department. Way better than the beds and nurses of the old days." Marcus said, giving a slight but nervous chuckle. It was good to hear Lawrence's thanks at least, despite the fact that...

'He has all of us to thank for getting him into that mess as well.'

...well, yes. That.

Marcus sighed, as though he was mentally preparing himself for what was about to come out of Lawrence's mouth. He was a man on a mission, that much was clear at least, and he had a few ideas of what that mission would be - none of which he was particularly excited to go over.

"Alright, shoot. I asked my question." Marcus said, the emotion in his voice a calm mixture of many others even he couldn't identify.

“I already asked mine, Marcus. How are you. Since Savannah, since pulling that trigger.”

It was half the reason Lawrence was here, anyway. Marcus was an Arbiter, but as it stood if they were deployed tomorrow Lawrence would be able to predict his mental state about as well as an Aberration. Maybe the guy was somehow taking everything well, and 'Doc' would have nothing to worry about, but he seriously doubted that. Quite frankly, he trusted nobody on this team to deal with stress in any way that resembled a healthy manner.

Marcus looked to the ground, speaking softly, almost to himself. "You really don't beat around the bush, do you?" he said, giving a light scoff.

He raised his head to look Lawrence in the eye while he spoke. There was no hiding anything from him; he had been there on the APC, he knew the events as they had happened. He'd had as much time to ruminate on the events as Marcus had, though he seriously doubted that they'd spent the same amount of time thinking about them.

"I've certainly been better. But I'm sure most of us have." Marcus said, giving a weak smile. "Got two people killed, one by accident and another on purpose. I'm not really sure how exactly I'm supposed to come back from that one."

He gave another slight chuckle, at a thought only he could hear. "I'll be honest; I thought I would feel way worse about the shooting than I do. Guess that's about all you need to know about that, huh?"

“I'd consider all the not-talking about it we've been doing beating around the bush enough.”

Still, it was almost the exact opposite of what Lawrence was hoping to hear. Grief could be easy enough to work through once one found out how they handled it best. Indifference though... or at least as close to it as Marcus claimed to be was worrying. With a sigh he removed the hand from inside of his shirt and ran it through his hair, trying to think of how to best approach the subject now.

“It's not really about coming back. Savannah was... unfortunate, most of all for her, but I know I at least can hardly blame you for that. Not every decision we make is going to be the right one, especially on the battlefield.”

He of course had hardly known the girl, and even if Lawrence was sympathetic, she was far from the first life he'd seen taken away, even one so young. It was clear that he, at least, wasn't dwelling on that specific loss.

“That man you shot though- you have powers Marcus. That could have been taken care of in a number of ways that didn't result in killing an unarmed man. If you're not feeling 'way worse' about that then we have a problem- because it hurts all of us if civilians see 'subnaturals' murdering people in the street. They're not going to take the context of what was happening to Emma into account.”

"I think I'd feel better if I knew more people were blaming me for Savannah...everyone else seems to think it's their faults in some way or another..." Marcus muttered to himself.

"And I know. That incident was a shitshow for us. Especially with me being there and what I did. I know." he continued, his voice starting to grow more despondant. "And I've tried to convince myself that I should be sick to my stomach with guilt, I should be tearing my hair out over killing that guy...but it doesn't happen. I feel terrible; there were so many things that I could have done..." Marcus was starting to ramble now, his voice growing faster as he progressed through his own thoughts.

"But honestly...that was as much a battlefield as Wisford. That man was a hostile. I tried to stop him and he turned on me, and I saw it. He was going to beat me to death, and then finish beating Emma to death. And god knows what would have happened if he took my gun off my lynched corpse..."

"Knowing that...I made a bad choice, but I'm having a hard time telling myself that I should feel guilty for my actions."

“I don't know if you're telling yourself that so you can sleep easier, or you really are that callous- but it doesn't matter either way Marcus.”

And now it was time for the real reason Lawrence had stopped by. It was pointless, in his opinion, to bring up problems without offering solutions, or trying to help the other person work through them. There was a definite problem here, and not just for some abstract reason like morality, but a rather objective one in Lawrence's view.

“Look, if you're so comfortable with killing civilians as anything but a last resort in a situation it's a problem Marcus. It's a problem that hurts the team. Whether you think killing that man was justified or not, civilians and the media can spin that into anti 'subnatural' propaganda so hard they really will become our enemies. Then you can multiply what happened with that man and Emma by a thousand and kiss the team goodbye. You don't have an 'X' on your throat, and if you can't control that trigger I don't think you should deploy with a gun next time.”

If Marcus was being honest, he wasn't sure if he was telling himself that to help him sleep better either. Hardly mattered though, like Lawrence said. However, the way Lawrence was describing it painted him as the bad person, something he'd actively been trying to justify away. It wasn't that he was comfortable killing civilians, not by a long shot. He just...was able to make reason enough for it in his case. After all, if that man was a hostile, then he wasn't a murderer, he was acting in the best interests of the team.

Murderer.

No.

His thoughts took him away from defending himself, only being brought to rest with Lawrence's last point. He wanted him to deploy without a gun. No defense if things went wrong. All the other words seemed to trickle past; he was worried about his own well-being first. Even thinking about it...his heart was already starting to race. Another bout of 'what if' scenarios. What if he hadn't had a gun when the squirrels were charging them during their very first combat encounter?

But it had done little good elsewhere. In Wisford the most he'd done was with a flare gun, not even an actual pistol. But it had range...if they got caught by another mage with crowd control powers...

"I...don't think that's a good idea. There's too many unknowns around. And even if you give me a melee weapon...what if it's not enough?" Marcus said, internally trying to ease his worried mind.

“There's a million 'what-if's out there Marcus. What if you kill another civilian who doesn't have a weapon and it deepens the rift between civilians and subnaturals even further? The point is firearms carry with them a certain level of responsibility, if you can't handle it then we need to work on finding other solutions to your self defense problems.”

Christ, it wasn't as if Lawrence was trying to get the guy killed, quite the opposite. He was trying to get as many people to live as possible. It wasn't as if guns were extremely useful in most situations that they were deployed into anyway- as experience had taught him well. Their last few deployments had been a painful reminder that he was the only one in this group with experience, and it was beginning to become a pain in the ass.

“You were giving orders after my incapacitation, right? If you want to be a leader for this group you need to start keeping a broader picture of what it means to protect this squad in mind. Your personal safety- and everyone else's- are only one factor that's going to lead to a half decent future for everyone. It sucks but PR is important too, or USARILN might decide we're not worth the trouble. What do you think happens then?”

'What if' this, 'what if' that. Lawrence was correct in that sense, and Marcus was acutely aware of it; there were too many what-if's floating around. He'd spent far too much of his life living in them to not understand that. But he wanted to be prepared for them, to be ready if some of the more likely 'what-if's reared their head.

But...maybe Lawrence was right in the rest of it too; even if he saw the situation from the angle of 'people trying to kill helpless subnaturals', that's not what the majority would see it as. He needed to focus bigger - making sacrifices for the good of the team and all. It was his responsibility as the face; to make sure that they were seen in a good light, despite the dangers and brutality of their condition.

"I don't want to be the leader..." He didn't deserve that responsibility. He'd made nothing but terrible calls, one after the other. "...but it always seems like nobody else is willing to take it."

He sighed, looking to the floor, eyes searching as a few thoughts crossed his mind. "What were you thinking? Self-defense wise?"

“I'll do what I can to give some direction to everybody, but we were both there in Wisford. I don't have the kind of power the rest of you do- chances are I'm going to die sooner rather than later. May as well be you taking up the mantle- would probably be better than one of the X's.”

Lawrence didn't intend to die of course, especially after his experience in Wisford, but it would be stupid to deny the strong possibility. Still, he hadn't exactly expected to be asked what Marcus should do as an alternative. He didn't really know what exactly the guy was capable of with his powers, his observations during the last two incidents being understandably hazy. Giving Lizzy a quick rubdown for a few seconds while he tried to think, the Arbiter finally answered;

“Not sure there quite frankly, I don't really know your abilities intimately enough to be able to come up with a plan for them. Why don't we try to get together for a training session and see what we can come up with? Somehow I don't think you'd be the least capable person here in that department.”

"Alright...." Marcus said, still a little bit uneasy about the agreement. There was still the shaking feeling that Marcus was agreeing to something that could only go poorly for him, but he was at least willing to compromise.

"If-" He stopped suddenly, correcting himself before continuing. "When we get back to USARILN, we can do a training session. Might be good to have a second opinion anyway...lord knows I've probably not thought of everything I can do with these powers." There was a sullen uneasiness to his statement, as if Lawrence had forced the agreement out of him, rather than persuading.

With a nod to finalize the agreement Lawrence stood from the couch and stretched. He had honestly expected the encounter to go far worse- but then again he had far more experience dealing with Abes than Arbs. Lizzy stood as well, and trotted over to the door, pointedly ignoring the person who still hadn't payed her back for the rescue a couple weeks ago. With a hand on the younger guy's shoulder as he passed, Lawrence quickly followed after her, ready to get on with the rest of his day now that one of the main issues that had been bothering since his recovery had seemingly been dealt with.

“Thanks for hearing me out Marcus, we'll find a solution in all this. Right now though I think we just need more... stability than power. I'm hoping you can help offer that- even if it's not genuine.”

With that Lawrence opened the door and slipped out, Lizzy falling into place beside him, and offering a wave with the back of his hand as he did so. He didn't really expect a drastic change to stem from the conversation, but one step in the right direction was still a step better than before.

If only he could get a couple good leaps out of the group before it ended up being too late.

—(••[ 𝕎𝕀𝕊ℍ𝔼𝔸𝕋𝔼ℝ ]••)—

Shy Lies and Hazel Eyes

Sophia | Marcus

---

𝕊𝕦𝕟:: 𝕊𝕖𝕡𝕥. 𝟚𝟟, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘 / / 𝔹𝕒𝕝𝕕 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕 𝕀𝕤𝕝𝕒𝕟𝕕 / / ℤ𝕙𝕒𝕟𝕘'𝕤 𝔼𝕤𝕥𝕒𝕥𝕖 / / ~𝟙𝟙𝟘𝟘

---

It had been a whole week, and Marcus still had yet to explore the entirety of the Zhang Estate. He'd managed to explore most of the surrounding area, between hunting with Ernie and Brent, and wandering around the beach at night, but the inside still had areas that he hadn't managed to wander into accidentally. He contemplated between the wine cellar and the library, eventually making his decision based on the fact that anybody sneaking into a wine cellar at 11am could be accused of being an alcoholic.

He was impressed by the size of the library - it almost seemed like Zhang was trying to build a second campus all the way out here. Which, depending on how things were going on campus, or at least from what he'd been hearing over the Death and Taxes forums a while back, might not have been the worst idea.

Now done spending time in front of the computers with a smile plastered on as if it would help as she tried to communicate with her family, Sophia made her way into the library for yet another time. Absentmindedly rubbing at a eye as she walked through the shelves, she tried to decide what to read this time. It was good to read, to immerse herself in a different world where the worries there could be banished simply by closing the book. Unlike in real life.

Deciding to head to a corner of the library she hadn't yet explored properly, Sophia turned a few corners until... oh. There, some feet away, was a person. It took a second for the dread to come rushing in as her tired mind took its time registering the person there. Classmate. Classmate: Marcus. After yesterday's encounter with Angélique, did she want to fail another conversation? He's not that bad, she told herself. Yet.

Fighting the urge to turn around and hide behind one of the shelves surrounding her, she took a few steps forward. Looked at him with her dark brown eyes, slightly puffy from her cry last night. Forced a slight smile to her face. "Oh..." Keep talking. "Hello, Marcus." Her voice was quiet, but in the library that wasn't so out of place.

Marcus nearly jumped in surprise when he heard someone else's voice - he hadn't exactly expected anybody else to be here at this time, but it probably wasn't as out of the ordinary as he thought. He just wasn't expecting it was the problem. He whirled around, immediately identifying the voice's owner. It was Sophia, the poor girl who had the pleasure of being the only person besides him and Lawrence to have attended both Evac missions.

And with the state she appeared to be in, that had been doing her as much good as it had been him.

"Oh hey Sophs!" Marcus said, forcing an equal smile to his own face. There was really no point in beating around the bush if he wanted to talk to her, so he might as well have gotten the hard part out of the way first: "How're you feeling lately? We haven't exactly had the opportunity to talk since-"

He cut himself off there, quickly searching for something to replace the thought. "...in a while."

Oh, she'd startled him. Then... perhaps she could have walked away without him noticing. Too late. She had started it, and she would finish it. Even if everyone was insistent on always asking her how she was. Was it genuine concern? A reflex upon seeing that she was younger than the rest of the team? A need to feel that they were being responsible? A polite question? Probably that. Before all this stuff had happened, she hadn't realized how much humans loved asking that question.

A muscle keeping her smile in place twitched as she noticed Marcus's quick cut off and change of phrasing. Right, they hadn't talked since Wisford. Golden eyes and a snap. Say something. "Yeah... it's been a while."

He just said that, you. Pay attention. Oops. Tensing slightly, Sophia wished that Marcus would have given her something more to respond to. "I'm... I'm fine." Her eyes darted to the nearest shelf of books and began scanning the titles without really reading. "Enjoying the... accommodations. You?"

"Doing fine. We've been getting nothing but upgrades to our living quarters, which is nice. Means I have to map out the air ducts everytime we change locations though, which is starting to become annoying." Marcus joked, giving a slight, and only lightly forced, chuckle at his own quip.

He brought his hand up to the back of his head nervously, becoming immediately aware of how little he actually had to talk to her about. They hadn't known eachother before Wisford (a bad subject to bring up if ever there was one), and this didn't exactly seem like the best of times to sit down and talk about their lives together.

Apparently Marcus was also fine, and making jokes that he could only understand. Sophia only glanced back at him with a hint of confusion. Air ducts? Did he mean escape passages? She wasn't feeling up for this stuff and jokes. So why had she started this again? Again there was that urge to just turn around and walk away. But then she'd never get better, would she? Despite what she had told herself that other night in D.C, she hadn't taken any steps to get to know her classmates.

She didn't really feel like trying now, but... she started to choke something out. "Do you um-- which do you-- you... uh..." No no no. Wrong. Her fists clenched, this time not focused enough to bother hiding them behind her back. Her face began to flush. "I... sorry." Bad idea, bad idea, bad idea. Stupid.

Right. That was a dumb joke to make without any sort of context. Not that there was any context...so that'd mean it was just a dumb joke overall. A real poor attempt at lightening the mood on his part, as he could tell by the slightly confused look he got. He had absolutely no idea how to interact with Sophia.

How's your brain handling all that exestential dread and those horrible atrocities you were forced to attend?

Although, it seemed only fair, because Sophia stumbled through her own sentance as well. He gave a nonchalant wave as she apologized, speaking up to hopefully salvage the attempt at conversation.

"So what kind of books do you like to read, Sophs?" Marcus asked, taking the initiative off Sophia's shoulders.

There, something to latch on to. A question to answer. It wasn’t the easier to answer, but it was something. Sophia’s gaze darted around the area, scanning the titles of the books as she searched for an answer. What did she like to read? "Uh, mostly fiction?" But that was too broad. Theme. Genre. What about those?

She liked… something that she could lose herself in. Good character building. It had to be realistic. No overpowered people going bam and knocking everyone down within a few seconds. Lots of conflict. How did she fit that into words? "I don’t know," she said, making sure to look anywhere but at Marcus. But she had to give more than that, so it slipped out as a whisper, something that would have been lost if the library wouldn't have been so quiet. "Something that I can... lose myself in."

Fiction was certainly a broad topic, and Marcus found himself looking around the shelves at the same time Sophia was. There were a lot of them - all various genres and materials, somewhere that he might have enjoyed himself a few months ago. Back when he used to read for fun instead of it being the only thing to do as the weeks passed on mercilessly.

"Something to get lost in?" Marcus found himself repeating, a moment passing before he snapped himself back to the conversation. He grinned a bit, his eyes scanning some of the lower shelves as he talked.

"Now you're starting to sound like Siena." he said, before realizing something. Did Sophia know Siena? They'd been on DC Evac together, but that didn't necessarily mean anything if Siena had been busying herself rescuing people from that building. "...erm. My roommate. Real big into books. Huuuge bookworm, that one." he explained hastily, trying to give Sophia some context to work from.

Was sounding like Siena a good thing or a bad thing? Sophia decided to go with good. It made things simpler. "Yeah... I kn-- have met her." She'd only talked to Siena briefly once, that wasn't enough to say that she knew the girl. But hey, surprise surprise, she actually knew someone. Impressive, huh? That's four people, plus maybe Marcus. So considering that there are around seventeen, eighteen people in the team... I know less than a quarter of them. Impressive. "Know" meaning having spoken to them at least twice.

Realizing that her flickering smile had dropped while doing her calculations, she hauled it back up. Time to make small talk. Are you here to lose yourself in a book too? Want to stop thinking about last Sunday? Not that. The smile dropped again. Get yourself together. Running a hand over her eyes, she twirled a strand of hair around her finger. "You like reading too? Considering that you're..." Keep going. "...that you're here so early."

Oh okay, so she did know Siena! That meant he wasn't just blathering on and leaving Sophia in a state of mass confusion. Excellent.

"Eeeeh." Marcus made an noncommittal noise, giving the wavering 'so-so' hand gesture. "I used to. Right now I'm mostly just seeing what sort of resources are available. Check out all the places that this estate has to offer; know your surroundings and all that jazz." he added.

His eyes flickered across Sophia as she twirled a strand of hair. Another Siena move. He'd only seen her do that when she was answering questions about herself though. Questions she probably didn't want to answer. Whenever she was uncomfortable. He wasn't making Sophia uncomfortable, was he? He tried to make his grin a little more friendly, just to give the sense that they were friends.

Despite whatever their actual, working relationship was. 'Not great', as Marcus assumed.

Mhm, yeah. Sophia nodded in response to what Marcus said, but that was the only sign that she was paying attention. For she still wasn't looking at Marcus, though her thoughts were currently filled with trying to figure out what to say. Better to think of what was in the now than to think about a week ago. Still, no matter how she tried to find something, she came up blank for words. And with nothing to keep her in the present, her mind slipped back to the past. Not too far however, only so she was thinking of her time online just earlier.

Had she done a good enough job reassuring her sisters for the second time? They need so much attention. It was not a nice thought, so unlike her. Especially since she had just spent more time than she realized typing and rephrasing her e-mails to them. But it was her job. Even though she was more shaken up than either of them would ever realize about what had happened in D.C, it was they who needed the attention. And she would give it, just as she had tried to give reassurance to Angélique yesterday. I failed with that, though. On it went, until the world closed around her, shutting her in with her thoughts.

Marcus had plucked one of the books off the shelf, and had flipped it over to read the back synopsis. Some Sci-Fi romance novel involving a woman from the past and a spaceman from the future, and how things went down when she was suddenly forced into his world. 'How would she cope with the amenities of the future? Hilarity ensues!'. Not really his type of thing, and a surprise to find in Zhang's collection. It made him wonder how much of this stuff was actually ordered by her.

The sudden silence caught up to him, however. He'd not heard a single peep in response, and he looked over with a slight hint of confusion to see where the conversational hitch was. He easily recognized the glassy stare of someone lost in their own mind, and he gently placed the book back on the shelf as he half-turned to look at her.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Marcus said, raising his voice to hopefully snap Sophia out of her little trance.

Penny... penny. For her thoughts. Marcus's voice cut in, and she dragged her gaze over to him. Made herself look and focus on his face. She didn't share her thoughts. They were private. Not even if someone offered her a penny. Yes, she knew it was an expression, but still... she didn't like sharing. Should I tell him about why I was thinking the other day that Angélique isn't actually an emotional weirdo? Tell him about how my older sister needs me for support, even when I feel I can't give it? Tell him about how I still can't stop thinking about all that death?

Her gaze hardened a bit, banishing the glassy look. "Just... people. Family." She should have told him she was thinking about bunnies.

Family. He got lost in his own mind thinking about that fairly often. Even if he did only have Max. And Sammie, if you counted her - and he was reluctant to cut numbers just because of silly little things like 'not actually being related.'

"That's not a bad one to get lost in." Marcus said, his own voice slightly preoccupied as he started to drift off in his own thoughts, before slamming himself back to the conversation at hand. "All good things, I hope?"

You'd better hope, otherwise this conversation is going to come to an abrupt halt..

Perhaps not, but at this point Sophia wasn't really sure where she stood in her family. Whether she was simply needed, or actually loved. But that was not fair. Not rational. She really did miss them in a way, but... things had always been complicated with her sisters. As the middle but yet older sister, things were bound to be complicated. A few rapid blinks betrayed the liquid emotion that was beginning to build up in her eyes. Sadness? Frustration? She didn't even know.

"Yeah," she mumbled. "They're hanging on to m--" No, she shouldn't be saying that. Giving that away. Wrong phrasing. She tried again. "They're fine."

Marcus gave an agreeable hum, closing his eyes and nodding slightly. There were clearly things that she didn't want to tell him, but that was fine. Everybody had their secrets, and he certainly wasn't close enough to Sophia to ask about hers. She had a family though, that was good.

How big was Savannah's family? How many of them did you leave crushed and without a daughter or a sister?

There was another moment of silence as Marcus leaned slightly on one of the bookshelves, his eyes searching around aimlessly. He knew what he wanted to say; it was the same thing he'd wanted to tell Sophia and Lawrence for weeks now. Perhaps he'd been deliberately avoiding them, because standing here right now, he was having a hard time convincing himself to not just drop it. But in his mind, it was important. Something that needed to be said, even if it was simple.

"Hey Sophs..." Marcus said, his voice suddenly serious, albeit slightly quieter. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry."

The sudden change of topic caught Sophia by surprise. Just a moment ago it had been books, but now Marcus had gone and changed the subject. To something that perhaps would have been better left alone in her thoughts, not pulled out into the spotlight. Of course he was referring to Wisford. What else was there for him to apologize for? And why was he apologizing to her? Such an apology could have been given to anyone on the team, not just her. Because Savannah had been part of the team.

Those questions flew through her head, but were soon replaced with something heavier. Memories. Not just of the death, but everything that related to Sav. Even the few memories that Sophia held that related to Sav were too much to handle today, and a tear that had been gathering before slipped down her cheek.

The pictures flashed. Golden eyes. Dark wings. Purple scarf. The scene Sophia had dreamed once resurfaced.

It was too much. Too much. She had been pushing those memories away each day, not letting them get too close. Letting other things take the stage. But now it had been dragged up. She took a step back as her surroundings began to narrow once more, the shelves closing in on her. As that lightheaded feeling suddenly came back. Sav. Savannah. Dead. Snapped.

Still, beneath what the sudden memory overload was causing, something so ingrained that it wouldn't disappear even now prodded her. Apologies have to be accepted. So even as she struggled to find something to latch on to that would take her out, a shaky voice spoke. "It's okay, you shouldn't blame yourself. None of us realized."

"I know." Marcus said flatly. No matter how many times people kept telling him that it wasn't his fault, he still kept some of the blame for himself. The 'if only' and 'what if' questions that plagued his mind every time the subject was brought up.

"But I'm sorry you had to deal with that."

Because she's too young?

Because she's a person. And no person deserves this.

Age had nothing to do with it. Trauma certianly didn't have an ge restriction anymore, and for her part, Sophia seemed to be handling things reletively well for her age. The benefits of a forced maturity, Marcus supposed. If they could even be considered benefits.

The point was, he didn't feel bad because someone her age was being put through this hell of theirs; he was just sorry it was happening at all.

Another apology. Another automated response. "It's okay. It's over." Except it wasn't over. Not at all. It never would be, not as long as those memories remained. Which would be forever. Though Sophia had responded to Marcus's words, they weren't doing any good when it came to pulling her out of whatever was going on in her head at the moment. She still couldn't get the images out of her mind, and now it was showing more visibly. Especially in the eyes. In the shivering hands.

She needed to sit down. The thought surfaced through the current haze, and it was something to do. Lightheaded was never good, especially when it came to her. There was no chair nearby, but in her closed in surroundings she knew that shelves surrounded her. She leaned heavily against one, struggling to draw in deep breaths. One, two, thre-- Another image. "One, two..."

A dark gaze darted from shadowed shelf to shadowed shelf to low ceiling, then to the only still colored thing there was: Marcus. Focus. Brown hair. Hazel eyes. Three scars. Hazel eyes. Not gold. She had this under control. Under control. Sophia's breathing began to slow, her appearance becoming a bit calmer. "It's okay."

A moment of confusion caught Marcus by surprise as he struggled to assess the situation. Dealing with people and trauma clearly wasn't one of his strong suits, but he was at least getting a little better at recognizing it. The shaking hands, the labored breathing, the sudden lean to support her weight; she was having some sort of episode, something like what Siena had.

Obviously; he was making her re-live what was probably one of the most traumatizing events of her life. Of course she was starting to panic. His mind raced to try and fix his mistake. How did Siena deal with hers?

that only lasts as long as there's something for me to focus on.

Something to focus on. There really wasn't anything around here to focus on unless Marcus wanted to shove a book in Sophia's face. Ironically, it probably would have been easier if it were Siena right now. There was an abundance of material for her to focus on.

His eyes darted back to Sophia as she muttered something to herself. She was counting. Good. Trying to catch her breath. She scanned around the room, finally ending at him, as her eyes seemed to trace every part of his face. Him. She was trying to focus on him.

He moved a little bit closer to at least try to help, making sure to keep himself at least in her frame of vision. "Right here, Sophs. Focus on me. Marcus. Everything is okay. You're fine. You're at the library." he spoke slowly and calmly as the attack seemed to fade; as Sophia seemed to regain control of her breathing and start to calm down.

Something else for her to focus on. To take her mind off of it. Books. What better topic for a library?

"So. Fantasy?" Marcus said hastily, quite obviously moving to change the subject. "You like the old 'faires and dragons' type book, or are you more into the newer 'vampires and werewolves' type of fantasy?" His tone was slightly stressed as he spoke - similar to that of someone who was being held at gunpoint or something. Forcing himself to make small talk, while also trying to make sure Sophia was okay.

Sophia focused. Marcus's voice reached out to her, something she could focus on that was more than an apology. She breathed. She counted. She would be okay. Okay. The lightheaded feeling and the shakiness in her hands would take a while to fade, but she was beginning to feel better, pushing those memories away. Now though, she was now in a strange rare state where she calm enough to string words together well enough, but still flustered enough to not worry as much as she usually did about how whatever she said would be accepted.

So when Marcus spoke, she responded in a way that was different from usual. She took the question and really answered it, focusing more on each word that was said now than the future. "Fantasy is just one type that I can like." She let out the rest of her breath slowly before continuing. "But... a bit of both those options work. It depends? I like any book that is written very... realistically. Not just action. I need very deep and complicated characters, and everything needs to be there for a reason. I need to be able to trace their actions and decisions all the way back, and I want to be able to understand why." She took another slightly shaky breath before continuing, eyes still locked on Marcus's face. "And I hate perfectly bad or good characters. There needs to be a good reason for why they turned out a certain way, they can't just be bad because 'it's great to conquer the world and enslave all to my will'. And--"

Then Sophia stopped suddenly, because she finally realized what she was doing. Her breath had steadied enough to calm her mind down, meaning that she was now very aware of what had happened in the past few minutes. Too aware. She immediately looked away from Marcus, a flush creeping into her face. "Sorry-sorry-sorry," she whispered. Shit shit shit. What had she done?

"Hey, hey. Woah." Marcus said, slightly taken aback by Sophia's sudden barrage of apologies. He'd been trying to listen very intently as Sophia spoke about characters and the like, trying to make her feel at least comfortable with talking while she recuperated. It was interesting to hear someone talk on about a subject they were deeply interested in, something that Marcus suddenly realized he hadn't heard much of despite his friendly standing with most of the people in their class.

Everyone had to be passionate about something, and it seemed like he hadn't heard anybody really go on like Sophia was.

"Relax, you're fine." he added. She at least didn't seem to be having any more problems, just a general fluster about her. "A character who's just evil with no real goals or motivation is like a cardboard cutout just there to get beaten in the climax." Marcus said, trying to empathize with Sophia and put her a little more at ease. "And a good character with no flaws has nothing to overcome - no arc or anything. They're just a cutout too - but we're supposed to root for them for no other reason than 'they're the hero'. I get where you're coming from."

She had just said twice as much-- no maybe three times as much as she usually did. Blabbering on about characters. Though Marcus told her it was no problem, the gate swung shut and now Sophia couldn't say anything when he tried to continue the conversation. She felt bad, leaving his words hanging there. Really bad. He was trying to be nice. She knew that she should say more, continue what she had started, but she had reached her word limit for the day. Instead, she just nodded. "Yeah..."

The sudden silence was plain to see. There was really no more to add to the conversation, and Marcus felt like he'd done more than enough damage already without risking any more by opening his dumb mouth. He brought himself back to a neutral position, shifting his weight on his leg slightly and rubbing his head.

"But, I've got other places to explore, and I'm sure that I'm not helping you find anything interesting on these shelves..." Marcus said, making an excuse for his impending exit. "Guess I'll see you around?"

And... he was leaving. At least this time, unlike yesterday, she felt a bit better about him wanting to leave. Being left alone to read something sounded like a very good idea right now, and at least there were no unforgivien apologies or misunderstandings between them. Not really. Just a whole lot of words unspoken, and a general awkwardness between them. Which was pretty bad but... perhaps not as bad as it could have been. "Yeah, see you."

—(••[ 𝕎𝕀𝕊ℍ𝔼𝔸𝕋𝔼ℝ ]••)—

Commotion by the Ocean

Chris | Marcus

---

𝕋𝕦𝕖: 𝕊𝕖𝕡𝕥. 𝟚𝟡, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘 / / 𝔹𝕒𝕝𝕕 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕 𝕀𝕤𝕝𝕒𝕟𝕕 / / ℤ𝕙𝕒𝕟𝕘'𝕤 𝔼𝕤𝕥𝕒𝕥𝕖 / / ~𝟙𝟛𝟘𝟘

---

Commotion by the Ocean

It was nice to be down on the beach during the day, and especially when he could actually enjoy it without the threats of Hazel absolutely destroying him.

The warm sand shifted appealingly underneath Marcus's bare feet as he walked along the shore, occasionally picking up a flat rock or a nice seashell and trying to skip it across the waves. He'd always been told that a flat surface worked better for rock skipping, but the ocean was rarely ever flat, which made the whole concept slightly more difficult for him. He'd seen Max get some decent skips out of a few rocks before, but she'd neglected to share her secret in favor of being the 'Howell Rock Skipping Champion'.

God, she was such a pain in his backside.

He chuckled slightly to himself as he threw another rock, frowning slightly as it disappeared directly into the white peak of a poorly timed wave.

Chris had been walking over the sand of the beach and had been wearing swim trunks for the occasion. He stopped dead in his tracks when he spotted that class clown throwing rocks into the water. There was a pause of thought as Chris wondered if he should give that kid what he deserves. He wasn't really looking for trouble, but even still, it was difficult not to suppress the urge to at least give him a punch or something. The dragon-arbiter walked slowly towards Marcus from behind; hands in the pockets of his swim shorts, and feet moving in hushed footsteps across the soft sand.

Once he was close enough, Chris lifted his leg and pressed it onto his back. Since he knew he could just rewind the injury he didn't bother to hold back on force either, but had more intent to use that force to shove him into the wet sand and water rather then focus on bruises.

Marcus was too busy looking around on the ground for another rock to notice the approach of Chris. As he bent over to pick up what he thought was a perfect skipping stone (but was in reality just a sand dollar), something pushed into him from behind, easily toppling him face-first into the sand. As if to make matters worse, a small wave splashed over his face as soon as he fell, soaking over his head and causing him to come up spluttering.

He took a moment to wipe the saltwater and sand from his eyes, still sitting in the surf as it soaked him. Of course, what he saw didn't exactly please him...but perhaps it wasn't the worst thing at the moment. He could use an outlet.

He scoffed once, standing to his feet and brushing sand off himself, his hair still dripping. "Coming up behind me on sneaky little komodo feet, huh Scales?" he started, making a grand show of wiping the sand off his pants. "If we're going by last meetings formula, I think that means..."

He didn't finish his sentence. From where Chris was standing, Marcus was still bent over brushing himself off, the sound of static fading into existence. From Marcus's perspective however, he utilized his surprise factor to his full extent. One fast-forward, and a sucker punch straight across the jaw, before he stopped in the same spot he'd started, arms crossed.

"...I would get the first punch this time."

He had his arms crossed as he wasn't expecting him for such a fast jab. Frankly Chris made the mistake in thinking that Marcus was all dodge no punch, but sure enough his unexpected blow to face caused him to step back and nearly lose his footing. Blood was drawn, dripping from some part of his lip as he drew a finger to inspect the stingly numb bruise.

Well since he was going to use his abilities, it would only be fair Chris returned the favor. Draconic scales grew over his arms and parts of his face and torso; He immediately went to deliver the same back-handed blow reinforced by the iron-like scales with his left arm. Once again attempted to predict his rewind, His right hand readied into a fist as he imagined through his head the first blow would phase through him or something like that, and assuming Marcus would stay in relatively the same spot after avoiding or undoing the injury he would be prepared to punch his gut. A strategy devised of a still poor understand of how exactly Marcus's time manipulation worked.

The scales again. This was a little show Marcus had seen once before; apparently this kid was a one trick pony. If their last meeting was any indication, he was about to get bitch-slapped right across the face.

Fortunately enough for Marcus, he learned from his mistakes. He employed the simple strategy referred to as 'ducking', narrowly avoiding the dragon-scale backhand as it breezed over his head.

"That one agai-?" Marcus started, only barely getting his hands in front of Chris's follow-up before it socked him directly in the stomach. The impact stung Marcus's hands a fair amount as it impacted, and forced him to take a step backwards. It did not however, stop him from opening his stupid mouth.

"That's not how this script goes at all. I should be getting pissy and trying to feed you promise-daises now, shouldn't I? Or am I remembering incorrectly?"

He shook his hand a little bit as he spoke, as if he was trying shake off the stinging pain that was slowly fading.

Chris was a bit surprised that Marcus resorted to ducking instead of warping or whatever it was Marcus was able to do. Even more so when he tried to block his ambush. He stepped back at the same time his fellow arbiter did, his face far more serious and...observational. He was trying to observe that shitstain's expression. Was he holding back on him? Had Chris gone in a bit too far?

That concern was washed away with his remarks however. Chris spat blood to his left before replying. "Do you ever shut up?" There was a small desire to breathe flames upon the bastard, but Chris didn't want to kill him. He had no intentions of murder, despite how annoying Marcus was, he was still a teammate. To him this was just to vent his frustration and to assert dominance in a way, a feeling of foolish pride that clouded his judgement. Was it the dragon guiding him to such stubborn and foolish choices or was it the inner demons that still haunt him in the corners of his conscience?

He didn't know, or rather, he didn't care. All he was interested in right now was fulfilling his primal desire of punching Marcus square in the face. Chris kicked sand up into the air and, hopefully, into Marcus's field of vision; With his attempt to blind his opponent he immediately dove to kick him without bothering to even checked if his initial tactic had worked.

"No. I don't. Clown and all. Honk honk, Geico." Marcus said, watching for any sort of incoming attack. What he got was...sand? The kid was kicking sand at him? It was mildly effective; Marcus focused himself on the few grains that landed on his face and around his eyes, wiping those off almost reflexively.

Something hard impacted his chest. Almost in slow-motion, Marcus identified it as the two feet of Chris, who had just planted a dropkick firmly in his center mass. All of his breath left his body, and he went sprawling across the beach, struggling to refill his empty lungs. Static again, but a rewind this time.

When he found himself back on his feet, Marcus had to take a second to locate his foe, who was now behind him.

The moment Chris landed he moved to get back into a stance. For a second he was confused that Marcus wasn't in front of him, but a quick deduction made it evident that he must be behind him due to his powers. He wasn't sure if he should keep pummeling him, so the scaled arbiter turned back around to face him and leaped a bit back to get some distance, once again trying to study his opponent.

"Had enough yet you piece of shit?" He spat another few drops of blood before wiping his bleeding mouth with his wrist.

"I'd say 'I'm just getting started', but let's be honest here; that's a little bit cliche, don't you think?" Marcus said, watching as Chris backed off a fair amount.

"Picking flowers and throwing sand? You really are a child, aren't you? Is that what this is? A temper-tantrum? Mommy Siena didn't put you down for your nap?" he taunted, watching for a reaction from the kid.

Each remark Marcus made only reminded Chris of how much he wanted to pummel that brat. There was no direct response, no choice of words. Just silent anger evident by clenched fists and a burning glare. Anger, no, rage pumped through his blood. He thought he had felt his own draconic shadow encourage further violence. His hatred towards the time-manipulating arbiter was not like his anguished rage to the monsters he wanted to exterminate, but rather of something more like an animal frustrated with a rival male.

A primordial, territorial instinct. Marcus was like him, a subnatural forced to be on the same grounds, yet his demeanor was an assault on Chris's pride. He felt that he needed, or rather, was justified in teaching Marcus a lesson; Even though that if he was distant to this conflict he'd see himself as the antagonist.

Bring out your true form and show him terror. His own voice encouraged in his head, as if he had forgotten in that moment that he was even human. People like him only hurt the unity of a team, no one will miss him.

He was still far from actually falling down that path, but Marcus's taunt worked, Chris was infuriated. He lunged forward with arms fists ready to jab at his torso, but as he lunged flames started to trickle out of his lips as he seemed to be holding his breathe.

Perfect. As intended. Marcus stood at the ready, watching his opponent get closer, and closer, and just ready to punch him when he struck. He'd noticed the flames seemingly dripping from Chris's mouth. He didn't like fire - his arm seemed to twinge as he contemplated that fact. If Chris were willing to use something like that on him - well, he'd just have to see what kind of damage he could force Chris to do to himself.

Another fast forward, this time placing himself as far behind Chris as he could in eight seconds, but with the added benefit of another sucker-punch. This one he aimed directly for the center of his mouth, just to see if he could force the dragon-mage to swallow his little fireball.

The countdown in his head ticked slowly. Thirty seconds. Thirty seconds to distract him until he could get a few more shots in.

There was another unexpected blow as Chris was punched straight in his mouth. However instead of having it retreat back into his gut he opened his bruised lips to let out the trail of flames. The punch had made him miss is initial mark but he kept the breathe going as he turned his head to travel a bit, the flames ended just as they grazed his leg.

The gout of flames surprised Marcus. They surprised Marcus even more as they traced a long semi-circle around the beach, finally ending at-

Burning, searing pain, and then nothing. An awful scream that pierced the calm sound of waves as they crashed along the shore. The meaty smell of charred skin as his leg no longer supported his weight below him and he fell. His body was cold, despite the fire. He knew this sensation.

He was trapped. His own roof burying him alive. He'd decided to leave seconds too late. He'd realized that there was nobody was coming to save him - if he were going to survive this, it'd be by his own actions. The same actions which had him frantically clawing at shattered wood as the splinters tore his fingers apart. The wooden timbers were growing hot. Too hot. His arm. He could feel the skin sizzle and pop, and then nothing. There should have been pain, but there was none. Why didn't it hurt? Something smelled like roasting meat. How much time did he have left by the time he crawled out? How close was he to...

Even though he told himself not to, he looked down. There was no pant leg. A large section of his skin was charred. He could see the burned pink of muscle beneath the oozing crimson that was rapidly staining the sand. His body was shaking. He was going into shock. His last rewind. He grasped for it as his mind started to dull. Static. He begged a deity he didn't believe in for the sweet sound of static, as the warmth of tears started to drip down his face.

He was behind Chris again. He'd managed to rewind before he'd punched him the second time, and more importantly, before he'd been cooked like a damn marshmallow. His hands still shook despite the lack of pain he felt, and there was an odd feeling of emptiness now that the adrenaline had forcibly been removed from his system.

Still. He was sane enough to make a decision. And that decision was to beat Chris's ass. He aimed a sharp kick directly at the back of his knee, aiming to grab the back of Chris's head and force his face into the sand if he went down even slightly.

For a second there was a bit of a moment of realization that Chris himself had actually nearly fried one of his teammates. How far was this going to drag on? Did he really get so angry that he nearly killed his fellow peer who's only crime is being an annoying bitch? There was some sense of trauma, his focus left Marcus and to his hands as if he couldn't believe he had just done that.

you monster

Fortunately for the both of them Marcus had rewound to undo that grave injury, and delivered a sharp blow to his knee, causing him to fall. His fall was cut even shorter when the back of his head was gripped onto as he sent Chris's face into the sandy earth by the time arbiter, who was now practically as enraged as Chris was.

There was a moment of stillness. Mostly because Chris was still in shock about the whole fire incident. He didn't bother to retaliate at that moment, he allowed Marcus to beat him down due to his sense of justice.

"WHAT. THE FUCK. IS YOUR PROBLEM?" Marcus yelled, punctuating each portion of his sentence by yanking Chris's head up by the hair, just enough to force it back into the sand. The soft, cushiony surface of the beach made the whole ordeal very unsatisfying, but Marcus wasn't exactly focused on that much right now.

Several times he remained still to allow Marcus the satisfaction of beating his head against the soft earth. His bruised mouth was now full of sand and most of the ringing pain in his head felt numb. Once he decided that enough was enough, Chris suddenly lunged up with energy and gripped Marcus's wrist firmly. The fight could have continued, but at this point things would only get worse if they did. Chris couldn't come out of this fight as a victor, even though his pride demanded otherwise, he was about to continue a fight he already lost; A fight not by strength but by virtue. Even against a fellow arbiter Chris's anger led to another stupid and primal decision.

"No more, if we keep going like this at least one of us will be dead." As much as he wanted to punch him across the mouth, Chris's anger was held back, constricted, in his own sense of order.

"I wasn't aiming for 'death', but 'unconscious ' wouldn't be such a bad thing!" Marcus muttered, attempting to jump up and headbutt Chris in the face. A clumsy maneuver, given the slight height difference, but he was trying anyway.

Chris struggled a bit with his attempt to pursue an attack. Still, he managed to hold him back enough to push back, despite him wanting to shove him into the sand himself. "There is no need for that, you already won."

"Clearly I haven't, because you're still bitching at me." Marcus said, struggling to escape from Chris's firm grasp on his wrists, this time bringing his leg up to try and give Chris a swift kick to the stomach.

Having been on the defensive, Chris caught his foot. And his hands not been partially armored they'd probably would have been bruised from the blow. "No, I lost already. I made a stupid decision out of anger, I lost control, you didn't." He dropped his foot. Chris defensive stance slowly lowers, arms fell to his sides. "I apologize for getting carried away, I don't expect forgiveness, but I'm not going to pursue this fight anymore. As the victor you are free to seek justice upon me, I won't fault you for lack of mercy."

Marcus looked Chris dead in the eye as he dropped his hands, trying to find the intent behind all of this. He was seriously giving up out of some sense of 'justice'? He'd lost because Marcus hadn't reacted hastily? What kind of white-knight bullshit was this?

Marcus socked him once in the stomach, as hard as he could, giving an angry half-shout as he did. He threw his arms in the air immediately afterwards, angrily grumbling. "Goddammit. You know how to ruin a perfectly deserved beating, you know that? You think beating the shit out of you is going to make me feel better just because of your wounded sense of 'juuuuustice'?" Marcus said, emphasizing the derision in his voice.

He didn't wait for an answer, kicking a clump of sand towards Chris's face and storming off past him. There was no point. There was no goddamned point if it was for his own 'sense of righteousness'.

Chris felt the final punch, which caused him to grip his chest. However he didn't fall, he wouldn't allow himself to have the comfort of sand. As Marcus left, Chris didn't move. He stood there, staring towards the water and sky. He contemplated the foolishness of his actions. Perhaps if he stood there in his lonesome, he can see past the void, see the dragon within him and understand it more.

Perhaps if Chris weren't so lost in thought, he might have heard the soft running of Marcus coming up behind him. A combination of him trying to go as fast has he could as silently as he could, right until he got in the perfect range to...

"PSYCHE!" Marcus yelled, planting his feet directly in the center of Chris's back for his own dropkick. A dropkick with the express goal of seeing exactly how far into the water Marcus could surf Chris's body. If he were lucky, maybe the kid would fall unconscious and drown.

He didn't bother to move or get up. Once he hit the ground, Chris just remained there. He didn't move, nor complain, let alone offer any resistance. He deserved no less.

He was wrong, maybe there was a point to needless violence after all; because this did make him feel better.

Marcus huffed once, looking down at the pathetically crumpled form of Chris. He wasn't a bad person for doing that just now, was he? Chris had tried to slow roast him...or rather, had succeeded in slow roasting him before he rewound. He'd stopped fighting because of that, but it certainly didn't make it not happen. Here he was taking petty revenge on someone who had already given up...

...and he felt great.

He pondered this slightly, watching the fallen form of Scales for a second, to make sure the kid was still breathing at least. A shame, but Zhang would probably have his head for executing one her tools. Satisfied that he hadn't killed him, and just feeling generally satisfied overall, Marcus walked back off the way he came. Maybe he wasn't a bad person - maybe he just did bad things to people who deserved it.

He'd be alright with that, if it were the case.

—(••[ 𝕎𝕀𝕊ℍ𝔼𝔸𝕋𝔼ℝ ]••)—

Low Tide, Bare Backside

Hazel | Marcus

---

𝕎𝕖𝕕: 𝕊𝕖𝕡𝕥. 𝟚𝟛, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘 / / 𝔹𝕒𝕝𝕕 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕 𝕀𝕤𝕝𝕒𝕟𝕕 / / ℤ𝕙𝕒𝕟𝕘'𝕤 𝔼𝕤𝕥𝕒𝕥𝕖 / / ~𝟚𝟘𝟘𝟘

---

Low Tide, Bare Backside

Freedom.

As much freedom as she could have anyways, with the guards standing a distance away, hands on their weapons. There was no maid around this time, perhaps unable to accompany her after telling her about this place due to work or the like. Even the grim faced men did nothing to curb her excitement however; the ocean wasn't something she saw everyday.

The feeling of sand on her bare feet, the salty air, and even the constant strong breeze around her. It matters not that it was relatively dark out, illuminated only by the moon and stars; all that matters was this new sensation. It was enough to make her forget about the chasing dream, the stigma that always threathened to overwhelm her.

Stepping closer towards the gentle waves, she felt an odd sense of accomplishment as the water ran around her ankles, darkening the hem of her skirt as the water splashed upon it. Feeling a little bit braver, she waded in deeper, before promptly being swept off her feet by a particularly strong wave. Panicking in the shallow water, she discovered another new thing about the sea.

Sea water in eyes stings.

Wailing pitifully, she started struggling harder to escape this oddly devious trap that lured her in with promises of new experiences.

Marcus had managed to find his way down to the beach finally, and while the dim illumination hampered how much of the ocean he could actually see, it was there. It was right in front of him - the smell of the salt, the soft sound of the waves lapping against the sand. He could have stayed here forever if he really let himself go. Just hang out on the beach, lost in memories; memories of happier days and better times.

He chuckled to himself, remembering some of those days. The first time Max and him had dared eachother to take surfing lessons. The amount of times Max went head-over-pinfeathers into the ocean when a wave caught her directly. The several times when he did the exact same thing because he was too busy laughing at Max. How pissed those instructors got because it didn't seem like the siblings were actually trying to learn anything.

It was a good time.

His reminiscing was cut slightly short, however. Somewhere, there was a sound slightly higher than the constant rolling of the waves. Was it an animal? Out here on the beach?

Marcus strained his ears, walking cautiously towards the sound as best he could trace it, eventually coming over a small dune and locating the source. A girl? Drowning in the shallow water?

Had it been a little lighter, he might have noticed the guards standing nearby, or the ankle braclet that would give him a clue as to this woman's identity. As it were, he simply approached the struggling figure, offering a hesitant question:

"Miss? Are you okay?"

A voice called out to Hazel, one that was very close to her.

Waving her hands around, she grasped his legs, pushing against the sand as she pulled herself to him, to safety. Unfortunately the sheer panicked force she did it with toppled them both over to the sands. Coughing out the sand and sea water from her mouth, she sat up on Marcus, her eyes visible underneath her bangs, locking onto his with a serious gaze.

"D-do not enter the water. Its poisoned."

There was a flurry of emotions floating through Marcus right now; and only a few of which he wanted to acknowlege. First and foremost was the big question:

"P-poisoned!?" Marcus stammered, shifting his body slightly to at least angle himself away from the apparent danger of the approaching waves. How could that even happen? Was this another one of DC's tricks? Poison the entire ocean and leave the human population surrounded by giant pools of death?

"What do you mean, 'poisoned'?" he finally said, looking up to the girl's eyes where they hid underneath her bangs. He shifted uncomfortably underneath her, disregarding her position on top of him for the more important issue of poisoned oceans.

Something about this one seemed familiar...he was sure he'd seen her before somewhere. She wasn't on their team, was sh-

Oh.

Oh no.

"It stings." She spoke, rubbing her eyes for a moment. "The water stings in my eyes."

No, that would not be enough to convince anyone. Even she, with her limited knowledge of things would not believe herself with just that. How would the water kill anyone if it just stings the eyes? No, there was another part to the trap, the lure itself.

"It pulled me. It moves and swept my feet from under me." Hazel spoke confidently.

"What."

It was not so much a question, as a statement. The water stung her eyes. The ocean swept her feet out from under her. The salt water ocean stung in her eyes, and the quickly moving waves knocked her off balance.

Had Marcus not known what this girl was capable of, he might have been angry at the expense of air he was about to use explaining.

"Miss. It's saltwater. It's not meant to go in your eyes, and it's perfectly normal for it to burn when it does. Also, the thing that swept you off your feet is called a 'wave'. It's when the water moves quickly and splashes onto the beach - it can definitely throw you off balance if you're not expecting it, but it is also perfectly natural."

Giving another uncomfortable, and this time slightly worried squirm, Marcus added: "Also, could you please get off of me?"

Nodding, Hazel stood up, gathering up her skirt as she stepped off him. Oblivious to what she was displaying, she started squeezing the water off her skirt, a slight contemplative look on her face as she did so.

"I see. So it was not a devious trap to lure me in, grab my feet and poison my eyes."

Flapping her skirt for good measure, she turned to the boy again.

"Are you here for the water too?"

Marcus brought his hand to his eyes as the skirt came up, starting to remember some of the traits this girl displayed, namely a utter lack of concern with explosing herself. Plus, if this was the same girl from the flag-game, she really wasn't worried about exposing other people either. A point that he made very prevolent in his mind.

"N-no. It was none of those things. It was nature, taking you by surprise apparently." Marcus said in a tone almost like disbelief, as he slowly stood up and became very interested in trying the wipe the sand off himself, rather than look at the flasher.

The sound of a question being directed towards him forced him to look up and acknowlege the girl. There was a pause as he contemplated even answering, rather that running as fast as he could, before he went with the more civil of the options.

"Yeah...it's...relaxing. At least to me it is; the methodic crash of the waves, smell of the salty breeze. When the sun is up, the sand gets warm beneath your feet, but when it's down the ocean brings a slight chill with it, just to remind you it's still there." He nearly sighed wistfully, almost losing himself in memories again, completely unaware to the fact that the poetics would probably be lost on her.

The sands... the sands were still warm beneath her bare feet, and the ocean had been there since at least yesterday. What an odd thing to worry about. Hazel stood there on the beach, far enough that the water only rushed around her toes. Still feeling that rush, that feeling of excitement, she stretched out a hand towards Marcus.

"Its still there. The ocean. Feel it for yourself."

There was a long moment of pause as Marcus eyed the hand. He looked from the hand, to the bangs that now hid the girl's eyes, and back to the hand. Like a stray dog trying to decide if the person offering it food was legit or not. After that moment had passed though...he gave in. He shouldn't have, but he did. He knew what this girl did, the things she was capable of and indeed apparently ready to do at a moment's notice.

Right now, she seemed like an avereage girl. Somewhat literal and a little lacking in world-view, but 'average' was a term that piqued his interest enough these days to look past it.

His hand grasped hers, the waves crashing around his feet, not quite reaching the bottom of his rolled-up pantlegs. "I know it's..." Marcus started in defense, before cutting himself off. Waste of speech that was.

"Yeah. It's still out there."

She puffed up slightly with pride over that, wriggling her toes as the next wave came in.

Now that Hazel wasn't running around in the water excitedly, she could see what Marcus was talking about. The sound, the wind, the mere sight of the sea and its smell. Not that she liked the fact it hurt her eyes, but if its not poison then she could definitely find a way around that. The sounds of the waves was certainly hypnotic, in a good way she feels. It reminded her of... of... .

What did it remind her of?

Marcus reliquished his grasp of the girl's hand after what seemed like an appropriate, yet slightly awkward amount of time. Still, it was humourous to watch her slowly fall into sync with everything he had just been talking about. The look of someone who was also lost in their thoughts. He smirked a little, looking at what little moon he could see.

"Really takes you away, doesn't it...? Marcus said, growing confused as he tried to put a name to a face. "...actually. I don't think we've met?"

"We did." She answered promptly.

Hazel could remember a lot of times theyve met, first at that meeting in that room with long tables, there was that exercise, and she was very sure he was also in that very fancy tower room they were in before it collapsed. Without hesitation, she listed off all the locations they have ever been grouped together.

Those she could remember anyways.

"I am still here. The water did not take me away."

Marcus sighed, giving himself a moment to run his hand across his forehead. A mental flag somewhere in his head changed 'somewhat literal' into 'very literal'.

"I don't think I know your name. And I also don't think I've ever told you mine. Hi, I'm Marcus." he said, in the tone of someone who was very bluntly putting their cards on the table.

"And that's n-" he started, sighing again. "That's good to hear. Wouldn't want you getting swept out to sea or something."

"You did not, and I do not recall giving you my name." Bowing slightly at the introduction, she gave an automatic reply. "Nice to meet you, Marcus."

Seeing as Marcus had let go of her hand, she waded in deeper, gathering up her skirt lest it got wet from the water rushing about her knees. Not that it would do any good; that horse had long bolted from its stall after all, considering how wet she was from that last tumble. Unable to really enjoy herself while holding up her skirt, she instead stripped off her skirt, throwing it back onto the dry sand. There again was that feeling, the same one that made her feel as if she could dance around in the water. It wasn't a bad feeling at all, though she was wary of jumping around when the water could sweep her off her feet.

"Hazel. I am Hazel Baker."

Hazel's sudden lack of clothing caused Marcus to bring his hands up to his eyes again, and illicited an embarassed "GEH!" from him as he did so. Right. The excercise. She had been the one who stripped there, too. He'd seen it on the television screen.

"Careful out there!" Marcus warned, keeping his hand covering his eyes as he felt his face cool down slightly. "The waves are stronger the further out you go, and you don't want to get knocked over again!"

"I see."

She remembered. Hazel did not want to be knocked down again. But if there was a risk that she might fall over again, she might as well keep her clothes dry. Or relatively dry. Taking off her blouse, she bundled it up and threw it neatly beside her skirt. Now she was free to face the water head on, with the only way it could harm her being her eyes. Having conquered the water, she turned to Marcus, still staying where he was. Was he afraid of the water? Wary of its grabbiness? Fear borne of experience, perhaps?

"Are you not going in the water?" There was a tinge of confidence as she continued, as if to allay his fears. "I have beaten the water."

There was another soft 'flump' as something landed on Hazel's skirt, and a quick glance at the matching blouse told Marcus basically everything he needed to know about what was happening right now. There was a naked woman dancing around in the ocean right now, without a care in the world, and she was inviting him in with her.

What would Emma have to say about this?

"N-no. I'm good! I just wanted to come enjoy the beach, not necessarily the ocean." Marcus said, still shielding his eyes from the nude form of Hazel. He certainly wasn't planning on parading into the middle of the water even before she'd gone out there - all he'd wanted was a peaceful walk along the sand.

"I see." Hazel turned back towards the ocean, stretching out a hand towards the light of the moon. "You hate me, fear me like everyone does."

It wasn't something she was unused to, nor was it remotely anything new in her life. Fear and hate was something even she could recognize quickly. After all, he wasn't brave enough to even look at her, cowering behind his hands. But why then was he able to approach her before? If he truly was afraid of her or hated her, wouldn't he be not even dare to hold her hands?

Contemplating on the issue more, moving her hand slowly to grasp the moon's image, she decided perhaps it was only outright fear and hate she could recognize.

"Or perhaps... do you hate my appearance?"

"What?" Marcus said in surprise, peeking indignantly from behind his hand, immediately growing flustered and hiding back behind it. "N-no. No. It's none of those!" he added, taking an extreme interest in the moon overhead.

"It's just that...most people don't just fling their clothes off and go skinny-dipping with other folk nearby. I'm...not quite sure how to react when someone just parades around me as naked as the day they were born..." he explained, eyes daring to drop to her eye level for a moment at least.

Was it rude to not at least wade out a little further? Especially when he was now being actively challenged on it, and everything was becoming a huge misunderstanding? Surely if she could just hang out in the nude without caring, he shouldn't care about it either, right? Was that how this worked?

Regardless, he hiked his jeans up a little further, wading into where the water came up to calf-level, the waves gently lapping around his legs. He still tried to avert his gaze though, daring not to look Hazel directly in the...nakedness.

"And I might be a little intimidated by you. I'll admit that much." he added quietly. "But that's just me knowing literally nothing about you besides your name and your actions."

The moon reflected in the water again, shimmering slightly. Hazel had reached for it, as if trying to pluck it from the sky and save it.

"What's it remind you of?" he asked, trying ever-so-subtly to change the subject.

"I understand. Everyone fears me, hates me for what I can do. It does not matter to me." She turned to look at him. "I'm just a weapon, made to destroy and be destroyed."

There was a moment of silence as she contemplated his words, with only the rhymic sounds of the waves crashing upon the beach accompanying them. Finally, she answered, though there was a tinge of uncertainty in her voice.

"I do not know." Hazel blinked. "Her laugh. I said the moon was cheese..."

Almost instantly, she clapped her hands over her ears, crouching down in the water, enough so the water rushed around her body. Voices, memories and images started to press in on her, rushing through her mind as she started reciting random strings of words and numbers to herself in a low voice to allay them. Judging from the intensity, it would not be long before she needed an outlet.

"Nono. You're not-" Marcus started, sighing angrily. It seemed like he was having this discussion a lot recently, about how they weren't just toys to be thrown at a problem until either it or they were dead. They were human beings, goddammit. Why was he the only one who was still willing to accept that? That they deserved to live and die as more than tools?

"You're not just made to be destroyed. We're all here to live our lives, no matter what we are." he said, a slightly pleading tone hiding underneath his exasperated one.

His frustration ebbed a bit when Hazel mentioned laughter. That was something that he could use a little more of nowa-

She dropped.

Well, Hazel didn't actually drop, but witht the scene presented before Marcus, she might as well have. Something was hurting her, or at least it seemed that way, there wasn't anything that Marcus could see as he splashed hurridly over to her assistance.

"Hazel! Hazel, are you alright?" he asked nervously, kneeling next to her. She was muttering something to herself, some sort of gibberish that Marcus couldn't understand, in what seemed to him to be distress. "I'm right here, Hazel. Are you alright?" he repeated, trying to get some sort of answer out of the girl.

She stood up abruptly, seemingly back to normal, though oblivious to the tears streaming down her cheeks.

"I need to go."

Slowly, she waded back towards the shore, gathering her clothes. Her movements seemed oddly tense and jerky as she flapped off the sand of her clothings, her breathing rough and ragged, as if she was holding back something. As if Hazel just thought of it, she turned towards Marcus and nodded.

"Thank you. For your concern."

"Are you sure you're alright?" Marcus asked, still standing where Hazel had been curled up, confusion in his face as he stared at her.

Nodding, she grabbed her clothes and ran away.

"Wait! I'm sorry.....that I was afraid of you." Marcus shouted, trailing off as he watched her form disappear into the night. She didn't seem at all like she had during the Flag game, and it was hard to believe that a frolicking naked girl could warrent enough damage to authorize a 'shoot immediately' warning.

They were an odd bunch, and it seemed like he was learning new things about them every day.

There was probably some life-lesson here, but as Marcus waded out of the water, looking up at the moon, he was damned if he could think of anything inspiring.

—(••[ 𝕎𝕀𝕊ℍ𝔼𝔸𝕋𝔼ℝ ]••)—

Apologies and Atrocities

Emma | Marcus

---

𝕄𝕠𝕟: 𝕊𝕖𝕡𝕥. 𝟚𝟙, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘 / / 𝔹𝕒𝕝𝕕 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕 𝕀𝕤𝕝𝕒𝕟𝕕 / / ℤ𝕙𝕒𝕟𝕘'𝕤 𝔼𝕤𝕥𝕒𝕥𝕖 / / ~𝟙𝟡𝟘𝟘

---

Apologies and Atrocities

Emma’s chest felt tight as she approached Marcus’s door. It was the nerves, she decided. She knew that she couldn’t keep pretending that he wasn’t there. She had to say something sooner or later. Sooner was better, she decided. After all, he killed someone for her. It couldn’t be easy, she knew. Not to mention he was her… boyfriend? After a couple of weeks?

You’ve always been so goddamn needy, Em.

The words still hurt, but that was because they were true. But she pushed the memory away, raising her hand to knock. After a moment of hesitation, she did.

Hey Max, just letting you know that I made it out of DC in once piece, although you probably already knew that. There were a lot of fighters that went down over the city, so just let me know that you guys are okay!

Marcus

Marcus stared at that message on the screen of his phone, heart clenching in fear. It had taken him so many tries to get that message to send, that when it finally had it felt like a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders. Now, that weight was back on - it had been hours, and he'd heard no response.

Of course it was crazy to think that there was any reason to it other than the problems he'd just had. Signal here was terrible - that must've been the reason he wasn't getting anything back from her. Or maybe the squad was out doing training after the threat of a full-scale attack. Or maybe they were on cleanup duty. Or maybe...

The thoughts raced around in his brain, like frightened cats. The knock on his door nearly spooked him out of his worrying, and he sat up in bed, simply looking at the door for a moment. He hadn't rung for any staff - which meant that whoever was out there was waiting specifically for him. He didn't want to answer, and he contemplated just lying in the bed until whoever it was gave up and went away.

It didn't take long for that thought to become another endless train of beating himself up for cowardice, and he rose to feet - if only to prove to himself that he would. And when he opened the door, he saw a face that threw all his emotions into disarray, simply because he wasn't sure how to feel about her seeking him out.

"O-oh! Hey Emma. What's up?" he said, as nonchalantly as he could force.

”Hey.” Emma said, weariness clear in her voice. It’d been too long since she had gotten anything resembling a good night’s sleep. ”Can we… uhhh, can I come in? I want to…” Emma picked her words carefully, ”I think we should talk.”

"Oh. Uh...yeah. Sure; come on in." Marcus said, Emma's words tightening the knot that was already in his chest. 'We need to talk.' was up there on everyone's list of phrases they never wanted to hear, because nothing good ever came from talking. Chatting, conversing, even discussing were all good, or at the very least, productive things. Talking was bad. He didn't care for talking.

He opened the door the whole way, stepping aside to allow Emma entrance into his temporary quarters.

Emma gave a small nod, stepping inside. She was well aware how this must look to Marcus, how she must’ve looked. She was conscious of the dark bags sagging underneath her eyes, but they seemed to be a more and more common occurrence since she’d come to USARILN. Emma was about to take a seat on the bed, but instead hovered awkwardly, instead picking a spot to stand. ”So… from a penthouse to a mansion, huh?” she said with a clearly nervous laugh. Maybe forced small talk would make this easier.

"Hells yeah!" Marcus said with labored enthusiasm, crossing his arms and taking up a leaning position where he was by the door. "At this rate, I expect our personal cruise liner to be coming within the month!" He was doing a similar thing as Emma, albeit without knowing. If a conversation started off so casually, it couldn't possibly get worse, right?

”Yeah…” Emma let out a small sigh. Talking about nothing, pretending nothing had happened… it was an oddly familiar situation. It looked like Marcus was just as good at faking it as she was. She couldn’t let it keep going. ”I… I’m sorry. I never thanked you for... well, y’know. All that stuff in DC. It couldn’t have been easy…” Emma left the words hanging, the implied meaning was enough.

Right to the punch. Of course they couldn't sit here in a mindless chatter loop forever - eventually they had to get down to the heart of it. And what was he supposed to say to a statement like that? It had been very easy for him to do, especially in the moment. It had been easy, and apparently he had a clear conscious about it! He'd killed a man, and justifying his actions had never been easier.

'No worries Emma! Apparently I'm a ruthless murdering psychopath! It was easy as pie!'

"Yeah...well...there's no reason to thank me. I was just.." Marcus's thought stopped abruptly there, an unfinished sentence.

'Doing my job? Helping my team? Doing what I thought was right at the expense of a human being's life?'

”Yeah… but…”

But what?

”He might’ve killed me. So… thanks.” Emma let out a small huff, wringing her hands together. ”But that’s… not it. I also… I want you to know that I don’t want you to be putting yourself at risk for me… alright?” she said hesitantly, a weak smile on her face.

He would have killed you. Definitely.

The ugly thought coursed through his mind as soon as Emma spoke, only registering as a faint flicker of the eyes. Some imperceptible emotion, like the barely contained traces of anger that had flickered long after the deed was done. There was an awkward confusion in his mind as some measure of irritation found root in Emma...but why? She hadn't done anything.

In fact...it didn't seem like she ever did anything.

As quickly as that thought came, Marcus forcibly pushed it out. His inner self was critical of nearly everything, but he absolutely hated the loathing and absolute dickery that seemed to spout from that part of him.

None of those thoughts made purchase in his outward appearance, however. He could handle conversation as long as he wasn't actively shooting flame at the people around him.

"Hey. Like I said; there's no reason to thank me. Our entire lives revolve around putting ourselves at risk now. It's way easier to do it for someone I care about rather than some random regular."

”I…”

That’s not what I meant.

A soft gulp. Emma’s hands dropped to her side, clenching and unclenching together. ”I mean it. I…”

How the hell am I supposed to just say what I’m thinking?

”I’m sorry, Marcus. I think…” Emma’s face scrunched up, a sign of discomfort or perhaps disgust, ”I’m not sure if I can keep this up. I think I’m starting to go crazy. Like, really. I’m not sure that… I’m not sure that I’m worth saving. I’m either going to die or I’m going to break. Soon. Really soon. I’m not worth any of the effort you’re putting into me.” the words were whisper quiet, a subtle shake setting into Emma’s voice. She wished that he didn’t have to hear it. How weak she was, how close she was to just giving up. But… she couldn’t hold it back. Not anymore. And he was the only one there that she could give it to.

She felt bad for Marcus. He deserved better than having to listen to this.

Reassuring arms, though spindly and cushioned by hoodie sleeves, wrapped around Emma. Marcus; attempting to give as many good vibes as he could at one moment. Though she probably couldn't see it, his eyes were lost in the distance as he hugged her, as if he were in his own little world and not giving his full attention to her. His own voice spoke with equal volume.

"Don't. I don't know what brought you this low, but do not." It was a command, rather than the soft statement that was probably expected.

"I think you're worth the effort. Which, frankly, is the only thing required for you to be saved."

”It’s not that easy. You should… I don’t deserve to be comforted by you. I don’t…”

I don’t want you to like me.

”I’m such a piece of shit. I… I’m so unlike the person I act like I am. I’m so useless. I couldn’t do anything at CC1, I almost got Callan killed, I failed to do anything at Wisford, Savannah died because I couldn’t act, I wasn’t able to save anyone at DC. Not Lily, not the regulars, I fucking shut down in the middle of a disaster. I just let the guy beat the shit out of me, and you had to…”

She realized, in that moment, that she was trying to give him every reason he could to hate her. But just how far would she go?

"Emma. Listen. Unless you can dissolve hands, I doubt you almost got Callan killed. I..." Marcus paused here for a moment, unsure of the words he wanted to use. "Savannah wasn't your fault. DC was just a mess all around."

Although he tried to sound convincing, it was clear that Marcus was struggling to justify everything. Emma was basically repeating the same thought he'd just had, so how could he sit here and deny it when they were literally thinking the same thing? It sounded mean, and it was, and he was trying to fix it. But it was hard to change someone's mind, and harder to change his own.

Emma pulled away. ”Fault doesn’t matter, what matters is that if I had acted differently Savannah would still be alive. But fuck it, that’s not the worst of it… no, not by a long shot. I’ve… I’ve done so much, how the fuck can I just stand here and act like I’m a nice person? I put all the blame for her death on Ernie. I told him that he should’ve died. Who the fuck does that? I’m so shitty, and… and I feel so bad, I feel sick inside because no one can see it. Because you can’t see it. A-and, I just use the fucking stigma as a shitty excuse for the way I act, but… but that’s not it…” she didn’t realize it, but she was getting louder and louder.

Marcus took a step back as Emma pulled away and let out a soft sigh, looking down in contemplation as Emma's voice rose in volume. Maybe she wasn't a good person. Maybe she was just another bully - the kind of person that Marcus used to be unable to stand. Maybe...he had no justification for her. If she was so determined to prove that she was a bad person, why was he so equally determined to prove that she wasn't?

"It was a high pressure situation - I don't know if you were just stressed and lashing out or not, I wasn't there. Even if you weren't, so what? You do shitty things. You've also done a lot of non-shitty things. Just because you have moments where you..." Another pause. Another hesitation as he tried to find words.

"I've learned to look past a lot of shit recently...and I'm not going to let you go just because you think all that makes you irredeemable."

”Why?”

Emma wasn’t even sure what she was doing anymore. Was it her talking? Was the stigma talking for her? She wasn’t sure, but she couldn’t stop now, she’d gone too far, it was all just tumbling out now. ”Why would you try for someone you barely know? Why can’t you just let me go? I… I’ve let myself go. Plenty of other people have. Hell, my own parents have! W-why can’t you just give up on me, just like everyone else!” she sounded mad. Was she? She wasn’t sure. Most of all she was embarrassed, disgusted with herself. Everything was unzipping, and for once it seemed like she couldn’t stop herself.

Marcus looked to the ground for a moment. He knew the words he wanted to say, he just...didn't want to say them. Saying these kind of things meant remembering things he'd rather forget - things he'd desperately tried to forget, but never could.

"Because..." he paused, the words difficult to force out. "Because I have lost too much. I have lost too many of the things I took for granted; the little things I always assumed would be there no matter what happened."

He looked up from the ground, his eyes showing a mixture of pain and resolute determination. "Because I absolutely will not lose anything I have any possibility of keeping in my life."

There it was. The root of the problem, the ugly rotting core of the issue. All she could do was whine and cry and hurt the people around her. She didn’t deserve to be happy, she was well aware, no one should have to listen to her ‘problems’. She’d gone too far, said too much, why the hell did she get anywhere near Marcus?

All she could do was hurt him.

”Sorry.” Emma muttered.

”I’m sorry.” she said again, barely louder than the first time.

”You shouldn’t get too invested in the people here… when they die it’s going to destroy you.” she had still hung onto Lawrence’s words after all. She had hated him for it when he said it, but now here she was passing on the same bitter advice he did.

"That's fine." Marcus said, the tone of his voice matching the cool tenacity that shown through his eyes.

"If it hurts like hell, I know I'm still alive."

He sighed again, daring to give a small grin at the floor. "There's no reason to apologize for it, either. But, I guess I'll take a free one."

Emma forced half a smile. She almost wanted to keep going, but she finally managed to stop.

”I was half hoping I’d scare you off by now.” she said lightly. A joke with a hint of truth.

"Marcus Howell. Fearless protector of all things good and cherishable." he said, the humor slightly bogged down by the exhaustion and uncertainly that lay over top of it.

"You gonna be alright, Em?"

She couldn’t find it in her to lie. Not now. ”No.” she let out a small sigh, ”But I’m not… I’m not going to do anything crazy, if that’s what you’re asking. I’m… used to this.”

That's a real shitty thing to have to get used to.

"Well hey...just remember that you don't have to try and get through it all yourself. Friendly face and a listening ear go a long way when you're dealing with that kind of stuff."

”Yeah.” Emma said, a muted agreement with both statements. ”There is… one thing. Yesterday Determination… when I summoned him, he spoke.” now Emma’s tone shifted to one of worry, but more normal than before.

There was a stunned silence as Marcus processed what Emma had just said.

"He...talked? Like a person?"

”Well, not exactly like a person, but yeah… he…” Emma looked down at the ground, feet tapping rhythmically, ”He said that he ‘didn’t want to die’.”

"That's...horrible." Marcus said, his face unable to contain the unease that the whole situation brought to the forefront of his mind. "I...I assume he didn't exactly elaborate on that, did he?"

There was a sort of morbid curiosity to the question, and that was indeed growing in Marcus's head. If the tulpas could talk, or at least Determination could...that would make them one of the first ever DC creations to ever communicate, even if it was through the proxy of a subnatural.

”No. I… unsummoned him and haven’t brought him back since.”

"Thaaaat's probably for the best."

”I mean, I’m going to have to do it eventually. He’s, like, 70% of my power.”

"True." There was a moment of pondering in Marcus's head, a question that seemed to float in the air like a fog. He wasn't fond of the tulpas, he'd made that much very clear before. There was something about them that just put him on edge immediately, and he could never place it. But if the situation made Emma uncomfortable...and he was there to at least help put her at ease even the slightest...

He had just said that some problems were better with another person around.

"Do...do you want to summon him now? See if the both of us can figure out this little...thing?"

”Well… I mean, if you’re up for it, we can try.” Emma sighed. ”Although… no, I shouldn’t try to talk myself out of it. If you’re ready, I guess I am.” Emma didn’t wait for confirmation, instead summoning him quickly. Like ripping off a band-aid.

Determination rose before the pair. His mouth was now fully formed, no longer appearing as if it was bound together. While before he seemed to be an unmoving statue until given orders, now he was looking around. Finally, his gaze settled on…

”Emma.” he said the words slowly, sounding them out for the first time like a child still learning how to speak. ”Don’t send me back. P…please.”

Emma offered no response, face instead filled with questions, looking towards Marcus for answers.

Oh sweet Jesus. He was talking.

Marcus looked back towards Emma, his face indicating that he had literally zero answers, before looking back to the horrifying abomination that had spawned before them. He talked. A DC proxy was talking to him. There would be scientists that would kill people to experience something like this, and Marcus was just stood speechless - unsure of how to proceed.

"A-are...are you okay?" he finally decided on. A good catch-all question for a terrifying experience such as this.

”Yes. No… I do not know,” with everyone word it seemed that Determination was speaking faster, more like a normal person, ”As long as you don’t send me back.” he said, eying Emma. She was quick to ask for clarification, ”What do you mean? Back where?”

”Whenever… whenever I’m not here, I’m nowhere. I do not exist. It is… not good…” it seemed like he struggled to find the words to explain.

"But...if you're nowhere...if you don't exist...you shouldn't feel anything, right? It should just be like sleeping, shouldn't it?" Marcus followed, his mind struggling to come to terms with what the creature was saying. Was it even just a 'creature' at this point? It could think. It could articulate those thoughts...it was disturbingly close to human, and Marcus wasn't sure how to feel about it.

”No… that’s… not right…” Determination, if you can apply emotion to him, looked like he was concentrating, trying to figure out what to say. ”I can’t explain it.” Emma, for her part, looked befuddled. ”I’m… sorry.”

”Just don’t make me go back. Don’t let me die. Please.”

"I mean...she can't just...keep you summoned forever?" Marcus said, the statement more like a question as he turned his head to look at her and hiss "...can you?"

”I…” Emma sighed, ”Yes and no. There’s no hard limit, but there are… factors.” If Determination had eyes, they’d be pleading, ”Please. As much as you can.”

Honestly, this was kind of sad as much as it was frightening to experience. Like a small child being told the realities of death at too young an age, but with the added benefit of the child being a monstrous shadow beast birthed from the mind of a creature who 'accidentally' genocided a fair amount of the earth.

"How much do you...feel? When you're...'here'? And how much do you remember about your previous incarnations?" Marcus asked hesitantly. The plan that was slowly forming in his mind was not a good one, but it was the only one he was coming up with right now besides 'Forever Roommate'.

”I remember it all. I felt it all.”

A look of horror filled Emma’s face. ”I’m… I’m so sorry.” Determination shook his head. ”I understand why you… why you did what you did. I’ll keep fighting for you, because if you died I would to, but…” Determination looked towards the ground.

Emma was starting to understand the absurdity of their situation. But she nodded, ”I understand.” she said, throwing a questioning glance towards Marcus.

Marcus had no answers. Literally none. His face showed as much when she looked over towards him. Perhaps one more question. One more to help him put together some sort of cohesive plan.

"Do you...feel emotions? Like, if Emma told you to hang out in the corner, would you get lonely?" he asked, his voice growing more and more unsure with every inquiry he posed.

”I don’t know. I think I do.”

This was a sticky situation. Literally the worst thing he'd yet to encounter in this hellhole, and it left him completely dumbfounded as to what to try and do about it.

"I...I dunno Em." Marcus whispered, his eyes not leaving the spots where Determination's would be. "This is your call..."

”I’ll…” Emma thought for a moment before deciding, ”I’ll do it. If it hurts that much, I’ll try to keep you from… going back there.” Emma glanced towards Marcus, ”I… can’t promise you won’t, but I’ll try.” Determination nodded. ”Okay.”

—(••[ 𝕎𝕀𝕊ℍ𝔼𝔸𝕋𝔼ℝ ]••)—

Field Trip

An Autobiography by Marcus Howell

---

After everything that had been done, they were being shoved into a crowded APC yet again. After the luxurious trip in the limo had spoiled his taste for transportation, Marcus was starting to get sick and tired of APCs. Perhaps he was just associating them with everything that had gone wrong so far; Wisford, their very first battle – hell, an APC was how this little chapter of his life had kicked off, or at least wasn’t very far into the prologue of this one-of-a-kind story. A story that defied genre, but was quickly becoming his own personal horror novel.

The slideshow of sights and quick stops helped to emphasize the length of the journey. The dull purring of the engine threatened to carry him off to another world of nightmares; a trip that he adamantly refused to allow happen. His eyes didn’t dare to shut, nor did he dare to make any lasting eye-contact with any of his classmates, limiting himself to quick glances over their weary and fallen faces.

Yet as Marcus sat there, staring out the window, it seemed like there was one brief moment when fatigue took a hold of him. A brief second as the world funneled from view and he felt his mind drifting off into…

Rewind

As Marcus sat there, staring out the window, it seemed like there was one brief moment when fatigue took a hold of him. A brief second as the world funneled from view and he felt his mind drifting off into unconsciousness. As if he’d pass out from either pain or fear as both threatened to swallow him. He was certain he wouldn’t wake up if he did. It would be merciful, but the adrenaline wouldn't allow it.

It promised. He heard the nonexistent voice whisper to him. It always promised. Lies. Truth. Both in the same unheard breath.

The window he stared out of was shattered into a veritable art piece of edges and contours, the frame slightly crushed as glass rattled around the interior. A massive stalagmite peeked through the spot where a gear shift would normally go, it's disappearance promising to severely hamper his escape.

The teeth.

The roof buckled some more as he felt everything shift. The glass in the bottom of the car shifted to the back, the sound like perverse wind-chimes as it clattered across dented metal. It looked at him directly through the cracked windshield, displaying something far more frightening than hunger or malice.

There was Nothing.

The eyes.

That should have been his end. He should have met his end so many different ways. It didn't allow him though, and as things continued in slow motion, he found himself wondering the same question he’d wondered many times: Why?

It didn’t answer. It never did. Or if it did, he was never permitted to remember.

He was accelerating quickly. The spike disappeared through the floor. The glass fell past his face to rest on the ceiling. His good arm grasped for anything as he went weightless, the world tumbling and spinning outside that windshield: the shattered projection screen for his nightmares for over three months now.

…sleep.

He jerked upright suddenly, as confusion cemented itself in his brain. Had he fallen asleep? What time was it? The seemingly endless journey of their transport had already done a fine job of keeping him disconnected with time and location. The setting sun was the only indication of how long he’d been asleep…but had it been setting before he drifted off? His brain was confused and cloudy – desperately trying to piece together information he hadn’t been paying attention to.

He shifted nervously in his seat, trying to alleviate the slight numbness in his legs. For a subnatural whose powers revolved around time, he wasn’t doing a very good job of tracking it.

Something flickered in his mind; like someone saying something he already knew. Something obvious. Something that wasn't worth mentioning.

---

The smell of saltwater comforted him as he stood on the porch of the estate. This smell was exclusively from better days – the days when Max and him would pack up all their shit and drive for hours just to spend a day at Wallis. Sure, it had been a fair distance away, but they’d just sit and talk, and it seemed like time passed by so quickly when they could just relax and chat. Plus, it beat going to Long Island, where everyone and their grandmother would flock to. Trying to get past an old woman drowning in 6 inches of ocean water quickly grated on the nerves.

He found himself sadly reminiscing those days as the moon faintly illuminated the trees, and the comforting smell of the ocean was muted beneath the chemical taint of the chlorinated pool nearby. Did Wallis even exist anymore? Did the brothers still give lessons from their little beach shack up the road?

When he retired to his room for the night, he simply lay in his bed. He didn’t change, and he only had the presence of mind to remove his shoes after a fair amount of time had passed. The back of his arm, unprotected by a sleeve, sent a slight shiver down his body as it met with the cold blanket. It all seemed too cold; unwelcoming even. Lavish places like this had led to nothing but strife in D.C, and he couldn’t help but wonder if there would be a pattern to the madness.

This wasn’t home. Home was a small cul-de-sac on the outskirts of the larger town. It wasn’t a huge estate attended by butlers and maids, all of whom put Marcus’s senses on some kind of unease. Butlers and maids the Marcus had deliberately tried to avoid on his trip to the welcome solace of his assigned room. He had eyed them as he passed, keeping them in his frame of vision until he was at his determined approximate safe distance.

Despite his pleas against it, he couldn’t help it when exhaustion finally set in, sometime far too early in the morning for the normal populace. When his blurry eyes finally failed him and his wandering mind clouded with darkness.

He expected the nightmares to come. The reminders of his sins and failures. The crimes he’d committed back in D.C. He expected to see that unnamed man’s face, open and bloody, the gunshot in his face a mirror image of Emma’s as they both lurched towards him.

But the nightmares never came. Marcus slept soundly that night, with nothing polluting his dreams. Nothing came to him, no manifestation of guilt, no damned illusion of remorse come to terrorize him. He didn't wake up until late in the morning, far more hours of sleep than he'd grown accustomed to receiving.

That frightened him more than the nightmares.