ERode

—(••[ 𝕎𝕀𝕊ℍ𝔼𝔸𝕋𝔼ℝ ]••)—

The trip was long, and most people didn’t seem to be interested in talking at all. He had, of course, introduced himself to all of them. He even asked them leading questions like ‘How did that fight go?’ or ‘What are your powers?’, only to receive mostly silence. Or maybe some short one-liner. Or whatever else. Real cheerful bunch, really.

Still, he could understand it. He could even understand if they were pissed at him for being one of the ones that essentially showed up just to see the end. Watching the scenery outside from a small window, he kept an eye on the corpse-carrying truck, all the way until that particular truck set off elsewhere, leaving no indication of whether it was heading towards a cemetery or a garbage dump.

Eventually, all were carted towards the hospital once more, where Brent once again had to put up with basically nothing. His amethyst eyes flickered to each ‘student’ present, remembering their faces, but the mood was simply too…awkward. Too tense and quiet to have much of a conversation. So he kept quiet as well, wondering if that blonde boy with the healing blood was now going to just become an endless supply of medicine for the rest of the hospital. With five blood bags stuck into him, that looked to be very, very likely.

“Sucks to suck,” Brent muttered, still wondering why he was even there when his singular had already been patched up. Even someone like him knew that no one here was going to be interested in playing an icebreaker, after all. He looked to Sophia once more, but amidst all that had happened, the young girl was similarly silent, retracting into herself.

He sighed, leaned back, and just waited.

Didn’t have to wait long, it turned out, not when Jesus with a chip in his shoulder walked in and healed everyone. Ah.

That was a chance.

As a miracle was performed, a healing light practically disintegrating all the injuries, Brent instead focused on all the tubes that suddenly just...fell out of the students' bodies. As all sorts of nasty liquids splattered onto the vinyl floor, the youth rushed forwards and tilted them upwards once more. He wasn't sure about the science behind these things, but blood was precious, and wasting it on the floor was a pain. While a doctor announced that they were all free to go, Brent turned to the one that had to clean up this surprise mess and asked, "Name's Brent. Want some...uh...help?"

He gestured with the tubes that he still held in his hands, as if asking if there was any place to put them.

"Oh, don't worry about that...uh," she glanced around, looking for any of the other staff to help. They had all hurried to see Benediction, of course. "It's all right. I'll have to get more clamps for the tubes soon, anyway. But you can take off your cast, I think. He healed you, too, right?"

"Oh yeah," Brent rolled his shoulder, "Looks like it's fine now. Guess if Jesus is here, you can all go on vacation for a day or two? Margaret probably needs that."

He looked at the tubes in his hands, before shrugging and asking, "I mean, do you have a bucket or something for this? Just feels like a waste, all the blood on the floor...and I'm not even the vampire dude. I can knot them up if you'd like?"

"If you'd like to," she smiled gratefully, "but I didn't think you'd want to be in here any more than necessary, you know? A lot of the kids here--they just see the hospital as the place to die. Or wait to die."

Brent shrugged, as he started the whole process of tying the tubes together. They were more flexible than he expected, and as he did so, he said, "Guess I haven't been here long enough to really think of it that way. And, hey, you can die anywhere, you know? Did you ever hear about that study they did in Canada? 100% of people who breathed air died afterwards. Dangerous world out there."

"At least this hospital has comfy beds and no fees."

Should he? Ah, he had nothing to lose anyways.

"Good looking staff as well."

Alissa giggled at the joke, though she found it slightly in poor taste given the circumstances. Still, it was rare to find a subnatural who had a--positive? Would she call it positive?--positive-er view on the world than the usual student traffic in the hospital.

"All right, you, get the other tubes if you're so keen on flattery," she said with a smile.

"Yes ma'am," Brent saluted, grinning back, before turning his back on her as he got to work on the remaining tubes. The mess was still there, but being able to use his right hand without any vestiges of pain popping up was wonderful. Tonight wasn't going to be left-arm-and-leg night after all.

"By the way, where do those that do die go? Is there a cemetary in USARILN or something?"

His back remained facing her.

"Just asking for a friend and all."

Alissa bit the inside of her cheek, unsure if she could answer that. She figured she could tell at least what everyone in the hospital already knew.

"I don't know exactly, but subnaturals--students--who die get taken underground. To the basement floors. That's all the regular staff know, sorry. We don't have any clearance for those floors. But--" she stopped, clamping another set of tubes before continuing quietly "--Clark might know."

"Clark?" Brent turned, wiping a bit of IV fluid on the sleeve of his jacket.

"I'm not sure if I should be telling you about him," Alissa closed off another tube with a troubled expression, "but you can find him in 221. I think letting you know that much is okay...? It's restricted access for now, though. One of the guards came in earlier with Clark--it looked pretty bad--oh, I think...I shouldn't say anymore."

She remained quiet for several seconds, finishing off her side of the room before joining Brent where he was busy knotting the last few tubes.

"Try not to ask the staff around here too many questions, okay?" she said softly, keeping her voice low next to him. "Some of them...aren't really trying to keep the students...healthy. You shouldn't give them a reason to target you."

He recalled. The girl with the glassy eyes. All those who were walking around with missing limbs. His own dark thoughts about how easy it would be to kill them all if a mistake had simply been made with the dosage. And he nodded. "Thanks for the heads up," he replied, "I'll mop up the rest of the floor then. Do you use Windex for blood?"

That bitter taste was surfacing once more. He swallowed it down.

"We have a stronger bleach solution for disinfecting the floors. You can just mop up the blood and we can finish up later. Remember to wash your hands!" she patted him on the arm, "And thanks for helping."

—(••[ 𝕎𝕀𝕊ℍ𝔼𝔸𝕋𝔼ℝ ]••)—

Brent got an upgrade. Woo. Now he can make a mecha.

I wish.

On the first layer of buff, Brent can now choose the upgrade. Extension buffs on the same object are still random. Letting the buff drop and reapplying the first layer will count again as the "first layer" for choice, but loses the compounded effects of extension buffs.

—(••[ 𝕎𝕀𝕊ℍ𝔼𝔸𝕋𝔼ℝ ]••)—

Beyond? Or above?

It stretched out like the sky, but it was an ocean. A sky that he could touch. A sky that he could reach. But a sky that he should not touch. Because it was neither sky nor ocean. It was a sea of words, countless words whirling about, each word attached to meaning, each meaning attached to reality.

And to take that plunge was to drown within that excess of emptiness.

So he reached out. Not to take, but to receive.

To receive the single droplet from the abyssal depths.

It rang in his mind, resonating with his silver blood.

Selector.

“-haps.”

Brent blinked, tilting his head towards Sophia. Had she said something? Did he doze off? He blinked some more, trying to clear out the double-vision that he was seeing. Maybe there was some lingering green fog. Or maybe he was just tired. For a moment there, all he had was more questions, before he realized something else.

Something had intrinsically changed within him. He looked at his hand, looked at all that surrounded him, and decided that this was also something that he could deal with later.

After all, the world around him was so much louder than his own thoughts. A superhuman smashed into Shane’s barrier, before being promptly encased in a crystalline cage, his screams and hunger still audible from the breathing holes made in it. Arguments and tears resounded all around, Arbiters and Aberrations clawing each other about with guilt, shock and anger. And, at the center of all this were the four dead bodies that Shane had dragged out of the battlefield.

A redhead with her neck twisted into a corkscrew.

A brown girl with her throat torn out.

Two soldiers, headless.

He had a feeling that these people weren’t concerned at all about the dead soldiers.

Another girl walked up to Shane now, and his feelings were correct. What, did they become besties in one day? One hour? His eyes narrowed even more as Shane replied not with a true explanation, but with what was essentially an obvious message to ‘hit him’. That was ugly. Did she feel better after the slap? Did he feel better after that slap? Was this going to do anything that would help either of them?

No.

Brent closed his eyes, before he watched the two once more.

They were both just dealing with their frustrations and weaknesses in their own way, huh?

Beneath his skin, his blood tingled.

—(••[ 𝕎𝕀𝕊ℍ𝔼𝔸𝕋𝔼ℝ ]••)—

What was he supposed to feel about this?

As Shane resolved in entire incident in less time than it took for the trio to even arrive here, Brent could only watch as those crystalline structures provided both salvation and destruction. The golem, turning into a whirlwind of dirt, couldn’t do anything at all as students (and one dragon) was airlifted into safety, before the pink-haired Arbiter put on some actual clothes and put his full attention into destroying the monsters that remained.

In a large scale attack that made even Prism’s laser beams pale in comparison, a massive dome of death was erected, swallowing the entire battlefield whole, before Shane grounded everything within into dust. The golem, the ‘category three’ that was greater than a monster that could level multiple city blocks, was torn into shreds, its core crushed and its ‘body’ scattered into the wind. The scorpion fared worse, its carapace shattered and insectoid fluids creating a blue splash against the diamond dome, before even that was engulfed by a myriad of stakes. The Olive Garden wasn’t even an issue, meatballs and spaghetti put into a blender and turned into goo. And, at the end of all this, Shane even went out of his way to drill the death-dome into the earth as well, a tremendous quake resounding as the earth was rend.

From some miracle, none of the military trucks had toppled over during that devastation, and once those crystals dissipated into emptiness, all that remained was a new landmark on the map.

Brent stood at the edge of the aerial platform, his eyes wide, his mouth open, trying to comprehend the enormity of all this from someone who was more injured than he was. Shane could give birth from his dick and not be in as much pain as he currently is. And yet he could do this? With such power, what the hell was he and Sophia even doing here? Moral support? Strategic advice? In-flight entertainment?

A familiar, unpleasant feeling surfaced. In the face of such might, what were any of them doing here? What…what was he supposed to feel about this?

“We can't trust your aim.”

In the face of that power, Shane didn’t need to trust anyone but himself.

“They'll learn soon enough. I'm just helping them earn their stripes.”

In the face of that power, Brent had earned nothing, learned nothing.

"Not all of us are useful."

In the face of that power, Alex was right.

His amethyst eyes flickered at those who survived. Exhausted, injured, angry, grieving, breaking.

All their efforts were for naught. Nothing would have changed if they had never came over to begin with. And even though Shane’s injury had reopened, even though he had to resort to drinking the magic blood of an unconscious boy after that, even though he could scarcely speak…it didn’t matter. The strongest Arbiter in USARILN East held a fragment of god within him, and Brent’s own power couldn’t match it at all.

Generation and manipulation vs improvement? What a fucking joke.

“This isn’t enough.”

He narrowed his eyes. What wasn’t enough?

“Everything.”

Then that made it simple. He’ll study more. Train more. Practice more. Utilize his power more. Do everything more, until he could be trusted, could earn his stripes, could be useful. Brent smiled, the same lovely, genuine smile he always had.

“Damn Shane,” he said, with a short laugh, “That was fucking bonkers! Were you this insane when you first got here, or what? Like, god, that’s some massive overkill. Visualized the golem as those green pigs or something?”

Turning to Sophia, Brent almost considered slapping her on the back, before recalling her whole thing about not using his right hand. Instead, he said, “And hey, Sophia, guess we weren’t really drafted after all, eh? Guess Zhang just wanted us to witness the gloriously incandescent form of the strongest and all.”

Everyone else was tired, vomitting, or whatever else, but Brent decided not to let that stop him.

It was always better to smile, after all.

—(••[ 𝕎𝕀𝕊ℍ𝔼𝔸𝕋𝔼ℝ ]••)—

A rapid exchange of information flew over Brent’s head as he watched the battlefield from above. Menagerie’s monsters clearly gave no shits about Geneva conventions, what with the gas warfare that was going on. It brought back bad memories, and the youth instinctively reached for his mouth, before stopping.

They were high up. And if this was like that bitch’s gastritis, Shane wouldn’t be getting a response back at all. He took a shallow breath. Category three was stronger than two. The golem was a huge threat then. Category two destroyed city blocks with ease. Category three then…cities? If only he could maintain an Overclock without being in contact with it. Then maybe they could just drop hydrogen bombs or whatever.

But that was enough milling about.

Brent slapped both hands against his cheeks as Shane displayed another show of strength, blowing away all the poisonous gas with gale-force winds. For something that sounded so simple, his power really was ridiculous. Nevertheless, the field was now clear to view, and it was…horrifying.

Even this high above, it was easy to see all the bodies strewn across the plain. Both monsters and humans were laid down like broken dolls, red splotches on a dark brown canvas. In the lighting of the moon, the stark contrast was made even more prominent, and he couldn’t help but narrow his eyes. This was what he would be dealing with now, huh? This was what others had to deal with while he had his dinner date and messed around in the hospital.

Shit, he missed out on everything!

Amethyst eyes flickered from one place to the other as he leaned as close as he could to the carnage below. The golem was a definite threat, but most other monsters were eradicated. Amidst a field of monstrous meatballs, a couple of students were facing off against some scaly half-lizard thing as it spewed some liquid all over the place. Off by her lonesome, an aquamarine bullet was repelled constantly by a scorpion monster, her ‘clones’ advance similarly dissuaded.

So, the question was…where was that caster?

There were too many meatballs that looked like the same trash mob monsters. Not a caster, unless it was the whole ‘hide a tree within a forest’ concept. Dragon was either breathing out vomit or had also been afflicted by the poison gas…which meant that it didn’t spew that out. Scorpion was doing fairly well considering the circumstances. Immunity? Or did it not need to breathe? Giant, going by whatever that girl said, couldn’t be the caster for some reason. He’ll trust that for now.

Brent took in a deeper breath, catching a whiff of the blood and death that pervaded all over the chaotic battlefield, and said, pointing, “Aim for the scorpion. If that’s not it, the caster’s either invisible or underground, and you’d be better off taking down the golem first. In that scenario, I’ll watch and see where the gas is being drawn, if it starts heading back over to the area. Convergence might indicate the location of the caster.”

He couldn’t do much, really, not without any weapons training or any technology to upgade, but, if nothing else…

See.

Think.

Act.

He could easily do all that.

—(••[ 𝕎𝕀𝕊ℍ𝔼𝔸𝕋𝔼ℝ ]••)—

@VampireOracle
She should instinctively understand the basics of her power, if I recall correctly.

—(••[ 𝕎𝕀𝕊ℍ𝔼𝔸𝕋𝔼ℝ ]••)—

@VampireOracle
etherpad.net/p/sB7NIcLpKh

Not sure if you caught it in the Discord chat. But here's the link to the collab, if Sophia's actually going to willingly walk to her death without even a final meal.

—(••[ 𝕎𝕀𝕊ℍ𝔼𝔸𝕋𝔼ℝ ]••)—

A present has arrived. Do you open?
[YES] or [NO]

Lawrence Ellison

A box, plastered with cute cartoon dogs, opens up to reveal an old-fashioned coffee grinder, the hand crank-type that gives off a faux-antique impression. Within the box is another, unwrapped box, containing a chew toy. A chew toy that has the likeness of a blond human being.

Lilliana Brandt

A slender, elegant case opens up to reveal a kaleidoscope tube, fanciful depictions of fairy tales drawn onto the exterior. Peering it and twisting one end of the tube would reveal an ever-changing array of colors and patterns. A small note placed beside it reads “basically you, lol”

Emma Halwell

A cooler, painted Christmas colors, reveals tubs of Haagen Daaz ice cream in either chocolate or vanilla flavor. It is obvious that this was bought in bulk. It is similarly obvious that the ice cream had become partially melted during the night.

Grant Rotem

A heavy box crushed down on his chest, making it difficult for him to even believe that he didn’t wake up. Opening it reveals a set of weights and a couple of pages ripped out from a Men’s Fitness magazine, buried underneath a hell lot of acorns.

Christopher Drake

A bundle wrapped in red is torn apart to reveal a large picnic blanket, as well as an hourglass, with red sand within. ‘5 min’ is engraved in the bottom of the hourglass, and a hand-drawn instructional manual shows a screaming stickman placing a thick square over itself.

Sander Lorraine

A cardboard box is cut open to reveal a cheap looking cape, the type that kids wear on Halloween to pretend that they’re some sort of monster, as well as a bottle of silver glitter. In the bottom of the box is the little girl from the taco commercial, asking Sander “Why not both?”

Callan Webb

Leaning against the bedside as Callan wakes up is a truly gargantuan weapon, something that’s more of a block of steel attached to a traffic sign pole rather than a sword. But it still was indeed a sword. The Buster Sword from FFVII laid embedded in her dorm’s floor, deep enough that someone’s ceiling probably had a sharp point poking out of it. Callan Webb? More like Callan Weeb.

Kusari Bloodworth

Hanging off her closet is a new addition to Kusari’s otherwise drab collection of clothing, a white ballroom dress of sparkling silk, tailored specifically to her own measurements. It looked like something a princess would have, something so out-of-place in pretty much any place in USARILN. The price tag was still attached to it.

Marcus Howell

On top of Marcus’s desk is a thick, hard-cover book full of dad jokes and bad puns. On top of that book is an oppai mousepad featuring Ekko’s marvelous pecs. Once he sees himself in the mirror, Marcus will also note that someone drew a super classy moustache on it. In permanent marker. Was this really Christmas? Or was he just getting bullied?

Zoe Fletcher

Two badass black leather gloves rest on her face. There are metal studs, there are skulls and devils, there are pointless belts and buckles, there are way too many chains…there are essentially so many ‘badass’ things that it’s clear whoever made it tried too hard. But still, badass. A note beside them reads “Limiter Accessory, Get!”

Hazel Baker

During the night, someone surrounded her bed with ice cream cones. Tens and tens of ice cream cones. Enough to make a fence around her with them. Three numbers are written on the sticky note plastered against one of the cones. Three numbers that will give two girls diabetes.

Siena Santana

A list. What was balanced on top of her forehead was a rolled up piece of paper that became a list. A list of books, complemented by a list of authors. And each book, once found, was a book devoid of words. Purely illustrations. Many abstract. Many without a discernable hero. Just a list of books containing stories without heroes.

Angelique Lachance

By the time she woke up, a karaoke machine was already installed in her room, filled with sappy romance songs and painful country songs. Not a single half-decent death metal song in sight. Unbeknownst to her, the lobby of Building A had already been plastered with posters advertising ‘karaoke night’ at a certain room.

Allison Revel

An advent calendar for January rested on a silver platter at her table, accompanied by a thick file that had the profile picture of every handsome bachelor or bachelorette living in Building A. Each flap opens up to reveal a flavoured condom. 31 days and 31 distinct flavors. Gotta catch em all.

Savannah Churchill

Opening up her fridge that morning revealed that Santa had apparently decided reciprocate the milk and cookies she left for him and filled up every available space with jugs of milk. 2% organic milk, expiring within two weeks. A note falls onto the floor, apparently pinned between the door and the frame of the fridge. “Good luck, leprechaun.”

Christmas Halvost

Instead of bed covers, Christmas was blanketed with a XXL-sized t-shirt, featuring a whole bunch of cat girls from a visual novel he had been rather into recently. Cat Girl Paradise or something like that. Nevertheless, the poses that those anime girls were in on the shirt were definitely rather…hardcore.

Aaron Erikson

A small box, simply wrapped, contains a brass pocketwatch from Switzerland, elegant in design and accurate in function. There are two winding keys, one to adjust the time and another to activate the second function of this watch: that of a music box. A fantastical tune tinkles softly from it. Wound to the limit, this tune lasts five minutes.

Ernest Mars

There was no embellishment, no decoration. All there was was a weight on his pelvis, and Ernie would wake up to a handheld, solar-powered, waterproof vacuum cleaner, a high-tech tool that he can carry with him anywhere. No more lugging around. No more tearful farewells. Now, they can truly be together, wherever, forever.

Sophia Lemane

Headphones were what came out of the shiny paper bag. Headphones for someone without a music player. Its noise-cancelling abilities were excellent, as if it was designed solely to shut out the rest of the world. With these on, even in a crowd, she can just be alone with her thoughts. Wireless, broken headphones meant solely for solitude.

Gregory Irving

Gregory received a copy of Huniepop on his Steam account. At only $2.30, it was definitely a steal for something that will keep him awake all night for quite a few nights.

Brent tears off his white beard, tosses his red cap into the garbage, and carefully, CAREFULLY strips off the optical camouflage suit that he had continuously overclocked throughout the night. His body was red from the high temperatures, and he immediately dived into a snowbank.

It had taken him six dozen drinks before Zhang agreed to give him his allowance in yearly instead of monthly lumps, and he had then roleplay as a dog for two hours in order to get her to hand over the master key to the dorms for a night, but ultimately...

"BRENT! WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?!"

Worth it.

Merry Christmas, you degenerates.

—(••[ 𝕎𝕀𝕊ℍ𝔼𝔸𝕋𝔼ℝ ]••)—

Tsk.

After all that time he spent trying to get Sophia to relax and speak more, the incident that occurred simply wiped away all that progress. She was even paler than before now, and had definitely clammed up. Ah, what a difficult situation. What words should he use here to comfort her? How should he even help her relax to begin with? Or is this more of an event in which he lets her calm down on her own?

He turned his gaze from one table to another, picking out where vomit and blood and spilled food wasn’t present, before breathing in deeply. No matter where they went, the smell of charred flesh would stick around a bit longer in here, wouldn’t it? And even if those hardworking janitors emptied an entire bottle of Febreeze, that experience would still remain.

Brent turned to Sophia. Then he caught a familiar, domineering individual walking past the scene of the ‘carnage’, taking the stairs up.

From there, the decision was much too easy to make.

“How about we go up a floor or two then,” he said, tilting his head towards the stairs. Her knees were probably weak, and holding up a plate laden with artfully-placed greens was probably doing work on her singular arm. Gesturing towards the crook of his own left arm, Brent said, “I can carry that for you too, if you want.”

He was never a waiter himself, but just two plates in one arm shouldn’t be hard at all, right?

Regardless of whether or not Sophia accepted his offer, Brent soon headed up the floors, taking careful steps to ensure that the plates didn’t fall out of his arm and make him a gallant fool. Ascending two more floors to reach the third, he stepped out to something that looked practically identical to the floor that they had just been at a couple minutes before. Still no guards, but also less people, and a much more…restrained atmosphere.

In the far corner, their glorious Director Zhang was drinking alone, and clearly, no one wanted to deal with an intoxicated iron maiden. Hell, even Brent didn’t really want to deal with her, but…

He wasn’t going to run away and hole up in a corner either, not after going up this far. Not when she wasn’t even the one that shot him. Not when her strength was something admirable and something that he wanted. Brent turned to Sophia, trying to gauge that girl’s own emotional state, before deciding that it didn’t matter. Zhang was talking on the phone, and all things considered, the bar in a public place. And if they were in an institution where it was perfectly fine to fuck over young kids, he doubted that the dashing, gray-haired bartender would ask for their ID.

And the drinks bar was completely empty too. They had the pick of any seat they wanted!

Brent closed his eyes, swallowed his apprehension, and took his steps at a steady, fast pace. This was different from chatting up the strongest Arbiter while he played Angry Birds. Different from exchanging greetings with a shark-teethed mummy. Different from discussing depressing topics with someone who totally didn’t want to. This was him saying ‘hi’ to the same person who executed a soldier and who could execute everyone in this room.

But, regardless, Brent took a seat by the Director, smiled naturally at ‘Steven’, and said, placing his mountain of meats on the counter, “Bourbon. On the rocks.”

Literally the only ‘adult’ drink he knew the name of. Never mind that wine was better with meat.

“Sophia, you want anything?”
@VampireOracle
@January

—(••[ 𝕎𝕀𝕊ℍ𝔼𝔸𝕋𝔼ℝ ]••)—

In order to appease the gods that be, I, ERode, am proud to announce a new project!

THE GREAT ANIME OP CREATION THING

THE SONG WILL BE INTO FREE ~DANGAN~.

THE CONCEPT WILL BE TO GIVE OFF THE GENERAL FEEL OF WISHEATER, AS WELL AS CAPTURE SOME OF ITS CHARACTERS IN WHAT WILL BE AN ANIME OP.

THIS WILL BE A SOLO ENDEAVOR, MAINLY BECAUSE I WANT TO MONOPOLIZE BROWNIE POINTS.

HOWEVER!

IF YOU WANT YOUR CHARACTER/THEIR ABILITY TO BE REPRESENTED BY A CERTAIN SCENE IN AN ANIME OP, MENTION ME AND I'LL RECORD IT. I SHALL START ON CHRISTMAS DAY. AND HOPEFULLY FINISH IN A MONTH.

---

Also have no idea why I just went all caps there.

Here's my credentials, to give you all an idea of my capabilities as an editor.
Action-y.
Feels-y.
Rap-y.
Edgy.
Fately.
Recently.

But yeah, note that I can give off the impression of your character existing both by using a lookalike or someone with a similar power. So wrack your brains and try hard, or you might just not show up.