ERode

—(••[ 𝕎𝕀𝕊ℍ𝔼𝔸𝕋𝔼ℝ ]••)—

Off With His Her Shirt

Brent | Siena

_{A Collab by @Papitan@ERode}

𝕎𝕖𝕕: 𝕆𝕔𝕥. 𝟟, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘 / / 𝔹𝕒𝕝𝕕 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕 𝕀𝕤𝕝𝕒𝕟𝕕 / / 𝕃𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕦𝕤𝕖 / / ~𝟘𝟝𝟛𝟝

Ernie and Christmas had already gone on ahead, the coast declared clear by the rope-slinging aberration. Emma, Marcus, Lily, and Sophia, despite being as wet as they all were, appeared to be in relatively good shape as well, but as for the birdcage the seer brought with her...that soaked bundle of feathers didn't look all too good. A wince, instinctive, but then Brent realized that he didn't even know whose bird it was. Did the brunette have a bird? Or was that just one of many pets were brought along for the ride?

Still, no one looked as if the flood had killed them immediately, and slowly, the waters were draining out, deeper into the tunnels. His boots squelched against the path, turned a quagmire by the seawater. The stench was still ever present, but it masked or washed away more unpleasant odors and soon, he was walking towards the only person who remained standing, remained silent. Siena, sporting unnaturally blue eyes, that of a painting rather than a photo of the sky.

In her own little world already, eh? Complete with sighs and gestures and all that stuff.

"Yo," Brent said, slapping her on the back, "Don't space out now, 'ena. Still don't have any sort of confirmation regarding the mansion group."

The connection faded out before the name, an odd sensation of knowing that it was still there, but still the girl remained in place, took a moment to regain herself. Heat still burning dimly beneath the surface, the same and yet entirely different from the one she'd harbored before being doused in seawater. Not hers. At least that much, she knew. Siena took another soft breath to try and soothe it, only ended up feeling another shiver creep through her--cold this time, not fear--and told herself that she needed to start thinking of what to do next. Absentmindedly, her thumb swiped across the screen of her phone, scrolling through selections despite her eyes being focused on something not there.

'Hopefully Chris will get back t---WHA?!'

Had she been in a state further from frozen to the ground, her reaction might have been more violent, more combat oriented, but between the chill and her draining stamina, Siena did the next best thing in her repertoire. Her body stiffened, back straightening at the impact, eyes snapping up--it was like watching an animal learn how to play dead while standing compressed into a split second. The remainder of the name escaped all at once, blue eyes swallowed once more by grey as her heart remembered how to beat again.

"J-Jesus Christ, Brent," the girl breathed while slowly allowing herself to relax as much as she usually would, a strained, hollow weary shadow of a smile crossing her lips out of instinct. "Glad you didn't do that ten seconds ago, I guess."

She really must have been out of it if she figuratively leapt up into the air with surprise. Taking a small step back, Brent managed a not-really grin as well. "What, were you gonna sucker punch me like Marcus?"

"Ten degrees prevented that, n-not ten seconds." Despite her best efforts, the girl couldn't keep another shiver from marring the words. Taking a deep breath and wringing at the bottom of her slip with one hand, the brunette glanced up, her attention somewhere beyond the "ceiling" above them. "Chris should be regrouping with the others. Hopefully we'll be in one group again soon."

Her gaze dropped from the ceiling, and she wondered if it would be less draining to allow the division to stay in place.

"How high do you think the chances are that the group at the estate has been eliminated already?"

That mind link technique then. Useful stuff, if it could let her communicate with people whose locations were unknown. Well, if Chris of all people were moving about on the surface, it was a good indication of the states of Callan and Sander, at least. Kusari was functionally invincible as well, which left only...Allison and Zoe. He clicked his tongue, glancing over at Siena's soaked form as well, before making a snap decision. The dragon wasn't in combat anymore, and perhaps that great flood was simply the Amigos' last warning for Unit B not to pursue. So now...

"Let's get upstairs first," Brent said, shrugging off his parka, "If the estate group can evade gunfire from Zhang's guards for an extended period of time, I'm fairly certain they're still alive and kicking. Probably knew to run when things got bad. We have a better chance in broad daylight though."

Least they'd be able to see the laser beamer coming, considering how the neighboring forest had been all but razed by flame and rot.

"You got dunked during the flash flood, right? Take your clothes off and put this on before you freeze to death."

'...huh?'

Siena blinked once in surprise at the suggestion, attention falling on the offered parka as the words rewound, sounded off in her head, and--nope. The reaction was still something along the lines of what the hell?

"U-Um...?" Eyebrows rose in a mixture of surprise, confusion, and...that was about all that managed to reach through the stifling. It took a moment longer before the logic of the statement started to settle in, thought coming to mind in efficient, quick bursts. Like bullet points more than real thoughts. Freeze to death. Hypothermia. Right, she was practically freezing. It wouldn't do much good to put on a jacket over wet clothing. It made much more sense when she thought about it.

'No, it doesn't?!'

"Thanks, but uh..." A pause. "You want me to what?"

Was it really that strange? Surely she had read those winter survival stories before, where it was the water chill, not the wind chill, that killed people? Reciprocating her 'what the hell' with his own equally baffled expression, Brent said, a little defensively, "What? Doesn't that make more sense than mutual nudity followed by body heat sharing?"

'H-huh?!'

Another blink, and had the division been smaller, Siena was certain the reaction would have been stronger. For a moment, she was left with a vocabulary that consisted of a few confused sounds, the word "what", and very little else. The fact that Siena doubted that there was anything beyond some form of concern didn't make the concept less startling. Her fingers dug deeper against the fabric of her slip, pulling the thin fabric against her skin, peach tones peeking through the areas where the clothing was pulled taut.

"I...uh, I don't th--" Siena cut herself off, a nagging feeling in the back of her head telling her that she probably didn't want to know how much worse that particular topic could get. Somewhere, she imagined, Gerwulf was throwing a fit--no, he wasn't.. "I...suppose that's fair enough."

...was she actually about to comply...?

Gingerly, she reached for the parka, another shiver running through her at the slight distance between her arm and her core. It didn't alleviate the cold, only making her more aware of the fact that water was still dripping off her hair, still soaking through her now-pointless coat, and clinging to her skin.

"Mhm," Brent nodded, handing it over. "Dunno what a safe place would be to change, but..."

Awkwardly turning around and using his own body to form some shitty human-shaped curtain between Siena and the others, the amethyst eyed arbiter shrugged lopsidedly. "I guess...go ahead?"

For a moment, Siena wondered how wise it would be to dart as far down the tunnels as she could to try and find an appropriate place to change. Not very. God forbid she came across another hostile...maybe she should have used a name to provide herself the privacy? No...that was petty in and of itself, and what would she have done that didn't attract more attention? Throw up walls? Turn invisible--that was a good one.

...but it would be a waste of her quickly diminishing reserves, said the cool, level-headed part of her. Only one way to go about it then, really.

Slipping her phone into the pocket of the dry article of clothing, Siena held it carefully with one hand, awkwardly undoing what buttons remained of her coat, shrugging off one shoulder at a time until it fell--it was so cold!--from its place, hitting the floor with a heavier thump than she'd hoped for. Grimacing, the brunette did the best she could to make quick work of the slip, peeling it off her skin where it stuck, shivering again when her hair started clinging to her, dribbling water on every available surface.

At least, she thought, there was nothing to really stare at.

With as much speed as she could muster, the brunette pulled the parka over her, secured it, and deftly pulled the hood up, bowing her head slightly as though it might aid in hiding her face.

...at least she was a little warmer.

"Done?"

"Y-yeah."

He turned.

"Wow, definitely brings out a different side to the outfit."

Heat, this type far removed from what she was used to, spread across the girl's face, quickly masked by the action of turning her face down and away.

"Wh-what's that supposed to mean?"

Brent grinned teasingly. "Indeed, what is that supposed to mean?"

Too lax though. They weren't out of it yet. The smile was removed once more, and he turned around a second time.

"Give me a sleeve, 'ena. Dry clothes probably won't be enough."

"Um...okay...?" While she'd seen what Brent was capable of, Siena hadn't considered the idea of enhancing clothing. What exactly was he going to do? Make it...even more dry? A burning curiosity started to catch, gnawing and chewing at the corner of her mind. It would be an interesting experience. As she stretched an arm toward the boy, her mind caught on to a different anomaly. "You...probably don't need to be turned around?"

"For your sake rather than mine," Brent said. "I'd recommend closing your own eyes too. Just saying."

Well, now that he told her that, the arbiter was dead certain Siena was going to keep her eyes opened the entire time. Feeling for her arm, his fingertips grazed her own, before sliding up and catching the cuff of the puffy parka. A connection was formed and from there, silver circuitry raced down his arm, flowed into the waterproof apparel, fused with the puffy down beneath, and filled the parka entirely until it was sheer silver light.

Then, it exploded, silvery threads and cloud-like feather down bursting outwards before reforming, becoming a coat that made her look much less like the Michelin Man. White with silver accents, the N0 NAME 'brand' was emblazoned on the back of the overclocked parka, while a faint, almost inaudible whining could be heard from that same area. Heating wires, powered by magic, suffused the coat with a comfortable warmth.

"Not a fashion designer," the arbiter smiled, "So I'll apologize for my lacking design sense. But hey, this should warm you up better than a mug of hot choco."

For her sake? And closing her eyes? Siena tried to rack her mind for signs of Brent's ability, but it occurred to the girl then that she'd never been able to focus entirely on its activation. The results spoke for themselves, but if there were averse effects, was it really wise for Brent to work his magic while she was wearing the item? Had he enhanced the goggles before or after he'd had them on Lily? She didn't remember in time to raise any protests before the parka shone with a silver light. Maybe that was why he'd suggested closing he--

'WHAT THE FUCK?!'

IT EXPLODED. Siena felt her heart stop in place for a second, eyes wide, voice and breath catching full stop in her throat as her body stiffened again, every muscle tensing until she was practically frozen in place. Raucous swearing and panic continued to deafen her ears as she remained frozen in place after the clothing had reformed, and Siena wasn't certain whether there had actually been any effect or whether the warmth was from a well blended concoction of mortified embarrassment.

"I--that--it ju--" Words were failing her, but then again so were thoughts at that exact moment. Evidently so was moving because still Siena remained rooted in place, looking much akin to a deer in the lights of an oncoming bus.

"Uh..." Wow, was he just accidentally triggering all her childhood trauma today? "Surprise?"

Surprise? Had the division not been firmly set in place, Siena was certain that she would have done more than pause long enough to take a careful breath to calm the rampant thoughts in her head.

"I'd say so, yeah." The words carried more than before, but it still wasn't quite enough for the situation, she supposed. The brunette thought back, again. Didn't he have to remain in contact to maintain the enhancement? That hardly seemed convenient or practical.

...but damn, if she wasn't feeling warmer already.

"But uh...thanks..." A pause. "This doesn't really seem like the most convenient way to move though..."

Brent pulled on the cuff until the fabric stretched over Siena's hand, before holding it there.

"Well, by the time it becomes wholly inconvenient, you'll be warmed up enough that the regular parka would do." A pause, and then a smile. "Better get up to the lighthouse before Christmas starts powerbombing Ernie, eh?"

Odd. It was undeniably odd that Siena didn't feel an instinctive need to try and pull her hand back. The thoughts that told her as much were disturbingly level and calm, as though reciting facts from an encyclopedia rather than really having input on the matter. Usually, that chilling part of her claimed, she would have tried. Had never really liked having unplanned contact, even if she did initiate it. Always the faintest brushes, just enough to elicit an appropriate response, not more. Never more.

The thoughts, she understood in equal measure, were simply covering for the guilt that was bubbling up in the pit of her stomach. Thick and dark, like tar that stuck to anything it touched, and covering everything with a generous coat as though it understood anything less would never make it past the chasm. Powerbombing--she'd know a lot about that, wouldn't she?

Such comprehension was tucked neatly away behind a half empty return of a smile. Equal measure. Equal return. There, but not entirely. Drained of what might have made it seem more genuine because she was just as drained. "Fair enough on both counts." She tried, to no avail, to put more into the words. Into the reflexive smile. Too tired, too weary, and Siena wasn't entirely certain that was only a physical exhaustion. How many more times would she have to...no. Better not to finish that thought, so instead, she filled the space with action. An awkward forward step to test the range of movement--it was about what she had expected. Not much practicality in moving if Brent wasn't too--not unless she intended to push him along. Her free hand slipped into her pocket, fingers tracing her phone for comfort as she spoke again. "I guess I'll follow your lead here."

"Then allow your loyal knight, Hathaway of Amaryllis, to escort you off this dreadful underground prison," Brent replied whimisically, walking off slowly, "Though the light at the end of this harrowing journey may merely be moonlight, a reflection of transient hope, it is this unworthy vassal's desire to see his charge attain a more tranquil state of mind. The darkness before daybreak has been a tiring time after all, Lady Maria, and if you do not wish to entertain this foolhardy knight's tittle-tattling, I beseech thee to rest thy razor tongue and thy beauteous countenance. From the vanguard, I benefit little from both, after all."

There was no need to turn around and no need to await any further response at that point. Brent had shot himself enough times in the heart for that little speech, after all. It really was weird, how he still wasn't tired even after all this crap. Maybe he really was better off as a human battery after all. Or a human bullshit spewer.

'What the hell?' It wasn't an exasperated thought, nor was it one of legitimate confusion. The words, though of little importance in and of themselves, Siena could grasp the idea of. A flicker of a smile, closer to real, closer to crossing the gouges, crossed her expression as she followed behind, her pace matching. He really did put everything he had into everything, didn't he? How unnervingly familiar.

And yet...

"You...don't have to do that." The words were as sincere as she could make them, but they were soft, quiet enough to carry little more than the small distance between them. Because even if, through the thick, suffocating blanket that she relied on so heavily, she appreciated the gesture, Siena didn't doubt for a moment that whatever payoff she could give wasn't worth it. "I'll be fine." Later, at least, when she had enough time to put up the walls again, to pick apart what deserved to stay and what didn't before compartmentalizing the rest as not her. Unvoiced thoughts that she pushed back because why the hell would she ever voice those out loud?

"But...thank you."

And despite it all, at least those words were real.

There was more to it. He did want to say more, after all. Want to be more direct. Want to be a little more honest. But Brent bit down on the tip of his tongue and decided against such self-satisfaction. Her gratitude was enough, and ultimately...he didn't have to tear apart her shell every time they talked. So the amethyst eyed youth chose to enjoy that small spot of warmth felt through the heated parka instead, the two of them trudging along in comfortable silence. A comfortable silence that became a little more tense as they arrived at the final obstacle, the ladder, once more.

"So...we doing this ladies first deal again?" Brent asked, turning around to get a look at Siena's complexion. "Or shall I take the initiative here and clear the path of any ruffians that may block your way?"

It felt like every time she saw this very ladder, there was something to prevent an easy climb. Grey eyes trailed up the rungs until their ending point before quickly coming back to a level position. At least this time, the obstacle wasn't something as severe as each of them having two limbs incapacitated. A fascimile of a nervous upward tic of the mouth, an imitation of the memory of a real one, appeared on command, the action made more to convince anyone around them than either participant in their conversation. Her fingers trailed once more over the screen of the phone in her pocket.

Without the imminent and overpowering need and desperation to reach the surface...

"I...believe I'll take the rear this time." Another strained imitation of a smile as she finally removed her hand from her safety blanket, motioning at the bare skin below the hem of the parka. "Given the circumstances."

"Makes sense," Brent replied, before that same teasing grin emerged once more, "Make sure you watch your back, eh? Emma might poke Marcus's eyes out if he gets an eyeful."

With those parting shots, the mega ultra smooth operator ascended three rungs at a time to avoid any sort of wrath Siena might bring down upon him.

—(••[ 𝕎𝕀𝕊ℍ𝔼𝔸𝕋𝔼ℝ ]••)—

May as well read the entire IC. We'll have a quiz for you afterwards, hot and ready to see how much you actually remember.

—(••[ 𝕎𝕀𝕊ℍ𝔼𝔸𝕋𝔼ℝ ]••)—

“They have Angel, at least... I think they do.”

What the fuck?

Callan running out to try to save others, Brent could understand. It was noble, even, something that was completely in character for an arbiter whose superpower made her Supergirl. Between letting her stay and letting her go, he would have sided with Callan against Siena, and would have even been willing to help coordinate her from underground. As long as the enemy remained ‘retreating’, the turquoise haired arbiter should be fine.

Zoe and Kusari riding on top of Chris before Kusari is dropped onto the enemy while infected by the black plague and unleashing a viral explosion to decimate the enemy? Brent could understand that as well, how effective it was for there to be someone capable of ‘carrying’ Zoe’s power to an enemy. It was smart, and if they didn’t see it coming, it was going to be an instantly fatal maneuver.
But the root of it, the root of that plan was absolutely, totally, mind blowing. Angelic, being alive? After these Amigos have done their best to kill them? A sandstorm potent enough to rip through flesh, a wooden army that even Zoe could chew through fast enough, a shadow monster that almost killed Hazel with a single attack? Not to mention the laughing she-demon that terrorized the estate, bisecting dozens and dozens? Were they really going to endanger the team for someone who, unlike the operation to scout out Gregory, were absolutely, totally, irrevocably FUCKED?

“Alli- fuck, cuff transmit. Allison, what th-”

And then all hell broke loose.

It was the rumbling first, and then the roar that sounded above, the sound of a heavy force slamming into the lighthouse. Ernie, either because he saw it or just instinctively knew, scrambled to close the manhole of the tunnel, but it was already too late. Even with the lid sealed, a waterfall bore down into the tunnels, a stark realization of what was happening hitting Brent as hard as the waist-high wave of seawater. Those bastards weren’t leaving. They just had a hydromancer who, with prep time, was going to flush them all out.

Bounding over to the stone cart, Brent leapt in right as the waves struck with enough force to push that weighty object down and down and down. Seconds at best, but that would be enough. He tore open the backpack, pulled out his dual-filter gas mask, and slapped it on while the cart continue to wobble, on the brink of toppling. Silver circuitry remade the mask into a set of artificial gills, and Brent stood, ready to dive into the quickly filling tunnel…but then the flow weakened, stopped, and…

It wasn’t a murder attempt then.

Not trusting the lull of peaceful silence, his respirator continued to hiss as he hopped out of the cart, sloshing waist deep in chilling seawater, the waterproof nature of his pants meaningless when submerged.

“Roll call,” he said down the tunnel, “Who's still kicking? End Transmission.”

A flood was still a flood, and he doubted those top-side were looking peachy, but for now...there was so little he could do. Stick with those he could reach. Cut his losses today, at least.

—(••[ 𝕎𝕀𝕊ℍ𝔼𝔸𝕋𝔼ℝ ]••)—

Eye of the Storm

Brent | Marcus | Ernie
Siena | Emma | Lily

_{A Collab by @ERode@Papitan@Kyrisse@banjoanjo@Chasers115@Diggerton}

𝕆𝕔𝕥. 𝟟, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘 / / 𝔹𝕒𝕝𝕕 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕 𝕀𝕤𝕝𝕒𝕟𝕕 / / 𝕃𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕦𝕤𝕖 / / ~𝟘𝟝𝟛𝟘

Worser and worser.

Horror and dread slackened the Aberration's jaw as he caught sight of the mobile forest, their incomprehensible numbers rendered into mere shadows as the dust storm broiled towards the lighthouse. Visibility had been bad before, with the steaming wall and storm and darkness and whatnot, but now?

Too many angles. Too many openings.

What if the lighthouse was already surrounded? How many of them were out there? It didn't matter. They needed to get away, all of them. As long as they were away it was fine. The disadvantages were overwhelming and they needed to leave now but that wasn't possible with their strongest three too wounded to move.

As Ernie forcibly lowered Siena, Lily and Brent back into the tunnels with the rope, he shouted into the communicator, unable to keep the panic from sharpening his tone.

"Fucking Christ, Emma, hurry!"

Emma was racing behind Marcus down the steps, Determination still at the top but doubtlessly not far behind. Ernie was yelling at her through the communicator, but as she rounded the last set of stairs she caught sight of him hovering by the trapdoor, ”We’re here, what the hell’s going on?!” she yelled, the panic in his voice raising her own.

Marcus was very careful not to let his own panic add to the quickly growing mix. The fact that he wasn't immediately using his stasis as the dark monster ripped through his friends meant things were better than he'd expected, and the watered down puddle of blood that was quickly forming around the torso of a man he didn't know most likely meant one of the Amigos was down.

It was a start at least, but irrelevant if they weren't prepared for the next.

Brent tumbled down into the tunnel, starbursts of pain reminding that his upper half was functional at least. What he had seen in 'broad daylight' was enough to alarm him, as even the small victory of three members of Unit B being able to take down the shadow beast with a combined assault didn't mean all that much compared to the accelerated ferocity of the sandstorm or the unending hoard of tree monsters. Wrenching the night vision goggles off his helmet, the arbiter blinked at how dim the tunnels looked, before offering it towards Lily.

"Put these on," he said, a silver jolt causing it to disassemble, reassemble, twist and screech. If his strange intuition was correct, it could now see through objects, filtering them out at the wearer's mental command. "You'll be able to see through all the dirt if you will it. Guide your chains to where Hazel is, Lily. Tell us when you've made the connection."

He wanted to say more, so much more, but Brent took in a deep breath instead, looking down the long, long path back to the estate. Keep it simple. Keep it clear. Fuck, it would suck if the goggles brought down now.

"Emma, we're going to heal Hazel and the others from here to avoid being seen. Siena, prep the pain-jammer."

"Ernie still has my phone." Concise. Clear. It was the best that Siena could do in the wake of everything. Fear and fury twisted into each other, an intimate dance that Siena didn't want to be familiar with. Didn't want to think would become a regular thing because she'd tried so hard not to let it. 'Just like before, Siena.' Hold everything down until the words came out right. Wrong? No, right. That was the correct turn of phrase. Faint pulses of pain trickled through the mental wall, no longer blinding, but still present. Not enough to ground her. "Lost my other source at the estate." Along with a plethora of others. Grey eyes trailed from the self-induced slice in her bad arm to the crimson ink that still stained the skin, an easy distraction from the chaotic buzzing in the back of her head, spilling into each crevice like the boiling sea.

Hot, cold, hurt, pain, heat. There it was. That was the word. Heat.

Fury and fear twisted again, and Siena tried, to no avail, to separate her heart--still hers? It didn't feel right--and her head. The fingers of her good arm found comfort in picking at the injury, another fresh coating of discomfort and vermilion accompanying the action. Another swell of both hurt and pain to dampen the heat. Hers. Not hers. She didn't know anymore. "...might be able to manage it without the phone, but I'd rather be sure."

The phone dropped by Siena's feet that instant, unceremoniously.

"Just get a tulpa down there with them. We've got a lot of people who need healing," Ernie's gaze remained on the swirling sandstorm outside. "Then we're leaving."

"How bad is it?" Marcus whispered, leaning in close to Ernie. He'd only managed to see a little bit from his perch atop the lighthouse, and he was painfully aware of how much worse the situation could get in the short time in took for him to run down the stairs. The rational part of his mind desperately feared the answer he'd get; Ernie's stern tone and quick barking of orders was pretty much all he needed.

"We're probably surrounded by nightmare trees but at least Cal still has her arms."

"Siena, Emma," Brent called sharply, "Tell me when you're ready."

The clatter had barely reached Siena's ears before she was moving, snatching the phone from the ground like a lifeline, droplets of blood coming off her fingers and onto the battle scarred screen like small rubies. Relief came as a violent, crashing wave to calm the panic that had threatened her, only to remind her then that the heat was still there. A careful breath, a sudden focus on the screen and the words to pull herself away. Not hers. Not her. A few taps brought up a familiar page, a familiar setting, and the process started again as Vale's name placed itself once more onto her neck.

All at once, it was too much. Everywhere, further than her eyes could see, further than she could have reached with his ability to weave agony into the nerves, it struck her. Pain. Everywhere. Before her, above her, around her, too much. Too much! Jagged gashes, rent flesh, broken people. Taking the pain away blindly would have been a stupid move, said the cool logic that Victor brought with him. She would never be able to distinguish between friend and foe if she couldn't see. That had been what she'd craved from Victor, hadn't it? The distinct division between what made one human and what made them more less.

She hid as much as she could with a carefully measured, if uneven, breath.

"I'm ready." The words were clipped, she could tell. Her eyes fell to Lily, a muted sense of concern and pity digging at the gap left behind. One that would at least slow the fire, came the selfish thought. "Not all at once."

Emma gritted her teeth. She couldn’t. She can’t. She had to. They were all as good as dead without Lily’s healing… but Determination wouldn’t like this, she knew. He had said so in no uncertain terms: She had to stop using the Tulpas as sacrifices.

But could she just watch her friends die? Worry about the lives of her Tulpas while real peop-

No, no, that wasn’t fair. She couldn’t not think of Determination as a person, not after the week they’d spent at Zhang’s manor, and she also had to accept the very real possibility that her other Tulpas were just the same as him. It was such a fucked situation. A zero-sum game between Tulpas and people, or so it seemed if Ernie was correct about how dire their situation is.

She wanted to tell herself it was a dilemma, but it only took a few seconds to make the decision. She couldn’t bring herself to tell Brent no. She had to get tougher. She had to get harder. She’d decided that, and it was time to follow through. No one dies, no matter what.

Not again.

”Ready.” she said, no uncertainness in her voice. It was Devotion, she decided. The Tulpa appeared by Siena, Brent, and Lily, ”You guys need healing first, right?”

Not Determination. Probably felt bad about it, huh? WIth the pieces in place, all Brent could do was wait, his hand over the goggles as Lily looked about, her mouth slightly ajar with surprise and then amusement. What the hell was she doing, undressing everyone with her mind? A tinge of annoyance emerged, his 'blindness' irritating when so much was going on, but soon, those black threads shot out, one racing through the dirt wall of the tunnel while another linked to the unspeaking tulpa that Emma had manifested. Sucking in a breath, Brent made eye contact with Siena, nodding once.

"Cuff transmit," he spoke, "Lawrence, cover Hazel's body with your own. Lily's going for a heal, so make sure it's not obvious. Once it's mostly done, drag her back into the lighthouse. Right abo-"

And that was when the injury was transferring, the iron stench of blood striking his senses like a sledgehammer, Lily's expression contorting viciously as a foreign pain invaded her body. She keeled over, thick, crimson ichor seeping through her clothes, and just as quickly, Devotion was eviscerated by the transfer. Amethyst eyes flickered from one to the other. The arbiter shouldn't have to say anymore from here, right? They should be used to this unpleasant method of healing by now.

As the process began, Siena let her focus linger on the events, took her mind far away from the distant feeling of...what was it? Lingering just beneath the surface of the heat, hiding itself as though it didn't want to be acknowledged again. The brunette didn't have time to try and identify it, instead sensing the sharp feeling of pain, not on her. Around her. Near her again. How would they react if she told them how it translated with Victor's name? Though there was a subtle desire to keep it anchored, the brunette knew what she was there for. The agony was silenced, pulled away with speed far greater when she wasn't carefully plucking apart the different strands of pain and sensation. She silenced both, and when the flash of agony appeared again on the shadowy creature before her--

...it felt pain?

For a moment, Siena's brow furrowed, her gaze flicking from the creature to its summoner. Her senses weren't lying to her, but it felt oddly out of place. Taking a quiet breath, the girl muted the pain from the creature too, her hands once more finding solace in picking at her own injury.

"Be careful, Lily. The injuries you take won't feel like anything from this point, but they're still going to be there."

"Callan next," Ernie ordered, "This one's pretty bad."

As he spoke, he looked back to the communicator. Too many dots still outside. With an impatient click of his tongue, he hit the 'All Channels' option. "Pull back. We're retreating back to the tunnels."

"How many of us are still out there?" Marcus asked, his eyes scanning through the sandstorm for Callan's telltale beacon of aquamarine.

"Six."

A pause as he caught sight of Chris' icon roaming around, too fast to be human.

"Seven," Ernie raised the phone to his mouth again, "Chris, get out of the storm. If you can't turn back human, just retreat in any direction but the mansion. There are probably still Amigos there."

"Do we have a plan? Because we're about to end up in the world's worst kind of sandwich." Marcus said, trying in vain to hide the cold fear that snuck through his voice. For all he knew, these were his last moments; he was finding it hard to remain composed given the situation.

Ernie blinked, clearly caught off guard by the question. Had they ever had a plan in the first place?

"We run."

Always running. He'd never stopped.

"The maids should know about the tunnel's other exits. Get everyone in here, block off everything behind so no one follows. Best case scenario, there's another safehouse on the island where we can hide out until the Amigos leave."

"Short and simple. I like it." Marcus said, eyes darting back outside. Truthfully, he hated that plan; if only because of how many times he'd done it already. But there was nothing else that could be done - they were basically outgunned at every available turn. All they could do was run away and regroup, as shitty as it was.

"Got a cart over there to push those that are KO'd," Brent spoke up as Lily continued to transfer, this time lacerations emerging on her body. Painless, she picked at her wounds while the arbiter looked away. "Who else are we missing?"

Emma chewed on her lip, thinking over the plan. Another Devotion appeared in the last one’s place. ”We should hurry up. The longer we wait the worse it’ll get.”

"Zoe, Kusari," Ernie recounted as he ushered Sophia, Christmas and Grant towards the tunnels, "Allison, Chris, Lawrence and our big three. Hurrying is a very good idea."

As he briefly snapped at Sophia and her birdcage, he could see Sander and Cal moving back already. Good.

That was a lot of people. As the black threads retracted from the dirt, moving instead to the people present in the tunnel, Brent realized that he could feel his lower half again. From the tips of his toes to his pelvis to the fact that...yeah, he figured that was the case. Bouncing up to his feet and deciding that he was definitely going to have to make Lily donuts again, the arbiter brought his x-ray goggles to his own eyes, an amethyst light radiating from its lenses. The map was useful, but only for tracking allies. Their enemies, however...

Filter out the dirt. Filter out the sand. Filter out the rain. Filter out the walls. Filt-

Too far still. It was no longer the limitation of the x-ray capabilities of his equipment, but more a matter of range. Clicking his tongue, the arbiter decided not to burn through it and lifted it down. Just silhouettes, uncountable and getting farther away. A breath of...relief? or disappointment?

"Looks like they're booking it too," Brent reported, ignoring the dampness in his nether regions. "Just gotta watch out for the group that attacked the mansion now."

It was too late for Siena to protest by the time she'd realized that the quickly dampening sense of pain included her own. The cut that she'd been picking at absentmindedly had healed, her ankle no longer throbbing, her shoulder no longer tender. She would have said something, should have, but there were too many other things to focus on. Things like people that weren't present, hostiles that weren't accounted for, hostiles that were. Brent's mention of the group at the estate sent another mixture of fire and ice through Siena's spine, sapping another portion of self-control to keep from turning Vale's abilities against anyone. Fury and fear, something in between. She could still sense pain, but it was distant and fuzzy. Too far away to make out more than a presence, like watching the horizon.

"How likely is it that we'll actually get everyone back?" Despite her best efforts, the words came out flat, quieter than she'd wanted them to. Not enough behind them to cross the border of hollow--or maybe it was because she knew they were. Siena didn't have time to linger on the thought, her focus redirected to crafting the next words with careful precision. How many are acceptable sacrifices? No...she couldn't say it like that. Her fingers picked more violently at a wound that wasn't there, pinching skin to no avail. "I don't think everyone out there is prone to listening to reason. I doubt it's wise to wait until they will."

”Doesn’t matter. If they don’t want to retreat we’ll make them. We’re outmatched.” Emma sighed, tousling her hair, ”If we’re getting out there for the injured we should do it now. Before the other group decides to show up.” Emma said, turning towards the lighthouse door. The form of Determination grew next to her, ”You ready?” she asked both him and the others.

For once, it seemed, the Tulpa didn’t respond, offering only a curt nod.

"And how do you propose convincing a dragon to retreat?" Siena questioned, the concern legitimate despite the not-quite-there intonation. Not that Chris was the only one that applied to--if it came down to it, Siena had her doubts on whether Zoe or Kusari would retreat. There was an emphasis on the former, the latter a concern if only because Siena's experiences with the regenerating Arbiter had been rocky, at best. She might be willing to back down, but memories of their disaster of a rescue attempt refused to let the bookish mage believe it would be an entirely simple task. "Going out there blindly will probably only get you hurt. It won't prevent anyone else from burning."

Quietly, without hesitation, Siena let her eyes trail back down to her phone, emotion trying to wage war on reason, but crippled by the presence of someone that struggled to feel far too many things. Not quite whole. Not quite there. A pause as she considered the next words. "I don't feel many significant injuries remaining, but there is a constant static of pain on who I assume are our teammates. Going out without a solid location or escape plan will only increase the number of people that will have to be carried back through other means."

His student was full of all sorts of surprises today. Ernie kept track of the discussion with an anxious ear. He'd been thinking the same thing of course, but it was Siena who managed to voice them. Something he probably wouldn't have had the guts to do.

"The ones out there know the consequences of staying," Ernie started cautiously, thinking of Zoe's words, "And that's their choice. They wouldn't want us getting ourselves fucked up from going out there and trying to give them help they never wanted."

Emma gritted her teeth. She wasn’t going to win this argument, maybe Siena could be swayed, maybe, but Ernie? Plus, she had no doubt Brent wouldn’t be interested in batting for her side. She couldn’t do anything by herself, could she?

Instead of continuing, Emma stood silently. A sharp ”Fine.” was what she finally offered. It looked like she wasn’t so courageous after all.

—(••[ 𝕎𝕀𝕊ℍ𝔼𝔸𝕋𝔼ℝ ]••)—

HelpWorthless

Brent | Siena | Ernie

_{A Mistake by: @banjoanjo@PapiTan@ERode}

𝕎𝕖𝕕: 𝕆𝕔𝕥. 𝟟, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘 / / 𝔹𝕒𝕝𝕕 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕 𝕀𝕤𝕝𝕒𝕟𝕕 / / 𝕃𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕦𝕤𝕖 / / ~𝟘𝟝𝟚𝟝

The cart continued to squeak and creak as its momentum built up, Brent's arms pumping up and down. It had been hard work at first, but once they reached a fair speed, the arbiter allowed himself to relax, maintaining rather than accelerating. They had been going forward for too long, and there had been no response to his own message. With both hands occupied, he couldn't check the phone either to confirm the location of his classmates, nor did he feel particularly inclined to. They should be fine. If it was just a matter of speed, Hazel, Callan and Sander were wonderful transporters, and Emma's shadow-creatures could deal with whatever they couldn't carry, not to mention the creative application of Grant's own power.

No need to confirm. No need to pursue. Pedalling the combined weight of the cart, himself, and Siena without being able to leverage his bodyweight was enough work, and he had enough to think about. So Brent continued, burying his thoughts and his scorn with the push and the pull, the rise and the fall, until a ladder revealed itself in the distance, marking an end to the tunnel. Releasing his grip on the bars, the cart shifted back to its stone form, warm but not fractured. Uneven wheels caused the two subnaturals to bounce about, and the slightly misaligned direction caused the cart to bump, and then scrape against the wall of the emergency escape route, but it decelerated, stopping a couple feet away from the ladder.

Back to the grind, huh?

"Let's go, 'ena."

It was hard to resist the urge to take names when they weren't needed. As they progressed, Siena had considered too many. A scanner to ensure that there was nobody following, a barrier user that could keep them safe, a name that might conceal them, a name that might speed things up--the options were countless, but the girl knew taking the names, though less taxing than utilizing the abilities, would only serve to wear her down. It would be too late to use them if something came barreling down the tunnels, but if she ran out of energy before they arrived at the end...Thoughts of arriving in the middle of a battle with nothing to defend herself with crept to mind, and Siena couldn't help but tighten her grip on the machete, joints turning white with the sudden pressure. With one arm out of commission and one ankle refusing to support her weight, the Arbiter was aware that without her abilities, nothing would prevent an untimely and grisly demise if they were confronted with hostiles.

Perhaps that was why she'd felt a minor sense of panic rush to greet her when the cart suddenly seemed to shift. The movements suddenly became jagged and harsh, enough to jerk Siena out of her momentary stupor, teeth clenching and body twisting to try and get a visual on what had caused it--well, that was the plan, at least.

What actually happened was her turn being interrupted by the cart hitting the wall, the impact not severe, but enough to knock Siena's already precarious position just far enough. The machete clattered against the stone surface of the cart as her good arm moved out to try and stabilize her, failed, and then the bad arm went out, a grinding, bitter pain shooting through the nerves. Thousands and thousands of individual spires that coalesced into a single, bone-white lance through her vision. Another three when she regained her balance at the cost of twisting just a little further. Vision white. Mind just as blank.

Holymotherfuckingshitwhydidshe--

"Fuck!"

The curse tore through, loud enough that Siena could hear it over the cacophany of demands to keep it back, to suck it up and deal with the pain because it should have been nothing. Righting herself immediately, Siena resisted the urge to try and soothe the injury by haphazardly applying pressure, instead turning her focus on reclaiming the machete from its place before the din in her head quieted itself enough to register the words and the situation at hand.

"R-right." It took more effort than it should have to steady the words, and though she'd given an affirmative, the brunette couldn't help but feel they weren't suited for the task in their current conditions. Two limbs down each...not exactly comforting. "...any bright ideas?"

He heard Siena's cry of pain, a question about to escape his mouth before Brent shut it, quickly. Of course she wasn't fine. Wasted breath and wasted time. Instead, the arbiter climbed out of the stone cart, doing his best not to land face-first and yet landing in a heap regardless, tumbling down unceremoniously. More bruises and soft pains to think about tomorrow. For now though, Brent was just happy that his face was still intact.

"Elevator," the amethyst-eyed youth grunted, crawling the last few feet towards the ladder. It didn't go up nearly as high as he though, but at the same time, they didn't have as much space as he'd like. It'll do though. They were always going to have to make do, when Siena's energy reserves were too precious to waste and his own power was too limited to complain about. Bringing a hand on the side of the ladder, he opened the dam once more, silver circuitry bursting into the ladder. Suffused in white light, the ladder disassembled and reassembled, turning into what almost looked to be a conveyor belt, rungs attached to the belt while a steel frame kept it upright. Similar to the stone cart, it had gears and pedals that Brent grabbed, before he motioned towards Siena.

"Grab on," the arbiter said flatly, giving the contraption an experimental turn, "Between air, water, and corndogs, where are you right now?"

Grin and bear it.

Clambering out of the cart, Siena was careful not to agitate the injured ankle more than necessary. Her movements were uneven despite her best efforts to ignore the limp, but it was enough to reach the newly constructed ladder, a flicker of concern over the energy it must have taken to enhance two relatively large pieces of equipment. The cart, the goggles, and now the ladder--was it wise? Again, the voice mocked her. She should have stopped it before it got that far--didn't she know that it was a suicide mission? It took more effort than it should have to push the thoughts away, even as she set her phone in one pocket, machete shifted to the injured arm if only to leave the good one open to grip the rungs of the ladder.

"Ask'n a girl her weight, geeze." Where are you right now? Somewhere, out in the countless worlds she might have escaped to, the answer was home. Home with no mark and no need to regret decisions she didn't make. 'Do you really have time to play that game?'' No. So instead, she gave a half-hearted attempt at a weary smile, reflex instead of any real show of emotion as she adjusted her position faintly, using the ladder to support more of her weight, mind buzzing with acknowledgement of the fact that one arm might not be enough to support her. "Let's hope air."

"Was hoping for water," Brent replied tersely, talking to get his mind off other thoughts while he transitioned between actions. The only strain was in his muscles, but that burning sensation was welcome as it scorched away more complex ideas. Up and down. Push and pull. Rise and fall. His magical reserves weren't shot yet. They never were, really. Unlike the others, he had yet to see the bottom of the well. Chains and gears creaked as he cranked, the vertical conveyor belt sending Siena up and up, stopping only when the lid was half a foot away from her head.

"Need a second for stability?"

'Could use a little more than that.' Siena didn't voice the thought, gave the best attempt at a strained smile that she could, and readjusted her grip on the rungs. With her feet in place, it was easier to keep balance, but the brunette was aware that there wasn't a pleasant way through their situation.

"I'm fine." No, she wasn't, but that wasn't something she was going to admit. At the least, their exit was in sight. Sucking in a breath to brace herself, Siena forced her arm to raise, grimaced when the resistance was pain, and managed, with significant effort, to reach the trapdoor. Pain shot down through her, made her grip tighten until her knuckles turned white as her vision started to pulse, but pain could be worse.

beatbreakruinfleshbloodbone

Blindly pushing forward against the trapdoor, the brunette hissed, swallowed her voice, and kept pushing until she felt a chill, a few droplets, and her mind acknowledged that the air that rushed over her was from outside. Hesitation gripped her then--outside. Where a hostile might be waiting, where she might manage to peek out with only enough time to realize that she'd doomed herself. Should have scanned, should have tried to find a radar, should have... "Door's not blocked."

It certainly wasn't. A few seconds after Siena's initial push the door was hastily swung open, revealing a glowing Ernie with a scalpel in his tight fist. Relief seemed to ease the expression on his tense face but he still looked conflicted.

"You're late," he said and offered his free hand towards Siena.

'Holy shit!' Siena gasped as the door as opened to the storm above her, flinching at the sudden motion, good arm gripping tighter when she almost lost her grip on the ladder, bad arm jerking to grip the rung as her bad foot slid slightly. White overtook her vision again, blurring the figure, only giving her a glimpse of the scalpel before her vision snapped in and out of focus for a moment. It took a moment for the Arbiter to fully register the owner of the voice.

"Sorry." Readjusting her position on the rungs, Siena blinked away the spots in her eyes, gave a weak shake of the head to the offered hand, a strained fascimile of a smile--it lacked any semblance of joy. Only a reflex when there was nothing else to put forth. "I'm fine, but Brent will need some help up."

Understatement of the century, the thought came, while the brunette struggled to make her way up and out of the path.

"We messed up."

Something resembling pity crossed his face as he took in the words, the sight of her mangled shoulder. But he didn't respond to the statement. He merely nodded and moved out of her way, flinching sharply as a cuff alarm started screeching behind him. Unbridled fury flared in his eyes before he took a deep breath.

"I can help with Brent," Ernie demonstrated with his rope as the end of it slithered down the hatch, "How'd you get hurt?"

A screech sounded, and Siena grimaced at the ringing in her ears. If her attention had been more focused, she might have caught the flash of emotion, but between the haze of pain and the chaos, it was too hard to catch what she normally would have. Adjusting her position, the brunette watched the rope move--would she be able to help there?

"Hostiles were already at the estate." A pulse of discomfort fired through her arm and ankle, drawing a faint grimace followed by a wry expression. "Something took the roof out from under us before the jump finished." She should have stopped it before it got that far. She kept the thought quiet, and instead glanced at the rope. "...can I help with that?"

"it's fine, 'ena," Brent called from below, oddly happy to see that Ernie hadn't met some grisly demise as well. Or, well, maybe he was just happy that it wasn't Zoe waiting for the two of them there. "My arms are still working. What's the situation up top?"

It was clearly nothing good, judging by all the sounds that were now flowing into the tunnel, from heavy impacts to roars to the screeching of more alarms, but for the time being, Brent grasped onto the rope, pulling himself up one hand at a time. Whether or not they were better off up on the surface or inside the tunnel was a subject to be discussed later.

Ernie hesitated as Siena recounted their failure, cut off her offer with a sharp "It's fine." Stupid of him. They were hurt, he wasn't supposed to be pissed off at them. But there was an unmistakable harshness in his frown now, an irritation he couldn't control because what the actual fuck was going through their heads?

"They're being held off. We're okay for now. What do you mean your arms still work?" The rope coiled itself around Brent's wrist, levitating him up to the lighthouse in a second and sitting him against the wall.

"Arms still work," Brent repeated, "Legs don't."

Unmistakable, but understandable--that was the only way that Siena could label Ernie's reaction to her own words, but the response to the situation at hand... Siena released a breath. Hostile on this side too. With Brent out of commission, it was doubtful that he'd do anything reckless like charge in, but there were so few by the trap door, and the sounds of impending--no...already ongoing? It was hard to focus on her hearing when the other senses demanded attention--combat already starting to tune themselves into a steady, white noise.

"Everyone else is engaging?" That didn't sound like the wisest idea, nor did it sound like one that the more reasonable members of their team would have gone along with had there been a choice in the matter. "...do we even know how many there are?"

A spine injury and dislocated shoulder on the two most versatile teammates. How much worse could things get?

"It's...hard to tell. Things look under control here, at least."

A slight cringe as more searing flames and white light flashed against the window. The enraged roars and ever-screeching alarm didn't exactly help get his clumsy reassurance across either.

"We need to get you two patched up first. Neither of you can move properly with those injuries."

Under control? Pushing himself sideways with a grunt, Brent peered out the lighthouse, overclocked goggles relaying to him the horrific details of the fight in stark daylight. Chris, setting an entire forest of monstrous plant creatures aflame, unable to decisively destroy them. Callan and Sander, tangoing with a shadow-creature that actually managed to hold its ground against their combined assault. A great wall that only grew taller as time passed, no doubt shielding the rest of their foes so they could continue to safely cast their magic. Hazel, critically injured and held in Lawrence's arms. It was like Wisford again. No weapons, no chances. Only words.

"Hazel first. She'll actually die soon," Brent said, knowing full well that he wasn't doing this out of concern for the unhinged aberration's health, "Where's the healers? Might be best to have them take shelter in the tunnel. If that shadow creature's knocking around Callan and Sander, a lighthouse would be just as easy to topple."

"Hazel will--" The rest of the sentence finished in Siena's head somewhere between incredulous and agitated. So...no, not really under control. Thoughts of Wisford came to mind, of Hazel's ability then to handle a combat situation. The difference was almost unreal, such a wide gap between a hopeful situation and reality that Siena had to take a moment to replay the information in her head. If Hazel was critically injured, then it was safe to assume that it wasn't a situation they wanted their actual healers at.

...well, she supposed it was a good thing she wasn't a healer then.

'In this condition? You'll probably just get in the way.' But Siena batted the doubts aside with the acknowledgement that she could provide options. If not a quick transport, if she was willing to burn a little more, then a way to stabilize her injured peer, even if it was only a temporary solution.

"How far is she?" Siena questioned, readjusting her position, shoulder still out of place and pulsing with every slight motion. She should have reduced it earlier, but everything else had seemed more important. Get to safety. Get to the others. Keep doing things to ignore the fact that it was starting to ache with more severity the longer she ignored it. Now didn't that seem familiar? "If it's just a matter of transportation..."

Transportation was out of the question. As Siena reached for a source the rope snapped to attention once again, floating freely of its own, or rather Ernie's, accord. A new trick. Harder to fiddle with than his previous ones. By his hip, his wrist jerked up, emulating the motion he wanted the rope to complete. Break down the movement, follow it with his gaze. Grab, then pull. One end yanked the girl's roaming wrist above her head while the other searched for her phone in her pocket, ultimately depositing it in Ernie's open hand.

"What are you doing?" his voice was cold.

'Wh-what the fuck?' Was about the only appropriate thought that came to mind when Siena felt her wrist jerked away from her phone, held above her head by prehensile magic rope. Even without the very real consequence of a peer's death, it was not a situation that Siena had been prepared to acknowledge the possibility of, much less react to.

It wasn't until too late that she realized what else the restraint was doing.

'No, nononono!' Panic seared the surface of her conscious thoughts, burning away logic and reasonable action in a flash fire. Her shoulder sent another lance of agony through Siena's senses as the girl tried, to no avail, to move the arm enough to stop the inevitable. The phone was neatly placed in Ernie's waiting hand, and icy dread twisted her stomach into a knot before pinning it in place with a well placed spear. Defenseless again. Fear set off too many alarms, opened too many floodgates, and though the reaction wasn't as severe as in D.C., the Arbiter couldn't deny that it was there.

'Give it back!'

"I--we can't just..." A shuddering breath that she couldn't restrain as she pushed her panic down as best she could. No sources. No guides. No safety. "I can get her back here if..." Between the surges of fear, a cold thought came to mind. Could she? Hadn't she said the same thing about Gregory? Even if she hadn't believed it then, she'd been confident that she could get herself and Brent to safety without injury. The words stopped there, further ones failing to come to replace them.

Ernie didn't move. Didn't react. "Get her back...like you did with Gregory. Is that it?"

Even through every panic-painted thought, Siena couldn't prevent the barest showing of a flinch. Eyes down for an instant, a tensing of the body to seem just a fraction smaller that lasted for less than an instant. You didn't even go to help him. But there had still been that faint, optimistic desire to, hadn't there? "I..." Couldn't think. Couldn't come up with the right end to that sentence, not with Brent there, not with her source away, not with everything happening around them. "It's n--I didn't..."

Didn't have a damn way to argue against that, but she had to do something.

"It's not a blind run this time. If we know where she is, I can reach her."

And with that, the buzzcut Aberration stopped bothering.

They were going to die here. He'd come to terms with that as soon as he witnessed Sander getting thrown around like a ragdoll. Zoe thought she could do something. Callan and Hazel were putting up a good fight. But none of them knew like he did. This class was full of suicidal idiots. It just wasn't fair. He didn't give a shit about most of them but when he did he was forced to treat them like this. Restraining them and chastising them like a stupid child. Letting cruelty bleed freely into his words.

Because the truth of it was that even with their impending deaths roaring and steaming and flaming mere yards from this temporary shelter, they did have some agency in this situation. There were smart and stupid ways to die. He just wanted to give his friends the dignity of the former, even if it meant being the poisonous shithead he always was.

"No," he scoffed at her desperation, "No, actually, you can't reach her. I've taken your phone. And if you try reaching for any spares, I'm going to take those too."

Brent glanced back and forth, recognizing both of the emotions that flared between his two...friends. Siena's panic, bubbling up behind the mask, the same sort of nervous energy that he had seen when he first caught her walking in circles around Zhang's estate. Ernie's exasperation and bluntness, a reflection of his own, when things had to be done and feelings couldn't be tread around delicately. The abberation's rope manipulation was a distant fourth in his list of priorities at the moment. He should have been more precise. Should have mentioned a more important fact that would stifle Siena's reason for jumping into the thick of it again whilst missing half her limbs.

"Lawrence is there already," Brent continued to relay, "Not carrying her back though, probably due to the intensity of the injury. Transportation isn't going to work out, Siena. It's going to have to be..."

He narrowed his eyes beneath the pulsating visor. Its time was going to be up soon, but for now, he could still see everything in gruesome, bloody detail. Sander impaled while Kusari rushed towards the quickly-sealing hole in the wall. This was a hell of a mess.

"Lily for ranged healing. Christmas to ensure she doesn't die from the wounds that she incurs...where the hell is literally everyone else?"

A frown twisted his expressions, before Brent reminded himself again. Reel it back in. Narrow it further. Use all the pieces. Stop acting. Just think.

"Siena, save your strength for something no one else can do."

The words were different from what she was used to hearing from Ernie. No, not the words, the tone? The...something. Far beyond the reaches of the gradual ebbing of the initial rush of panic and adrenaline, a calm, collected voice recited observations back. Not quite unexpected, right? There'd been something in the back of her head, constantly, warning her about most of her classmates after seeing firsthand what they were willing to do to each other for a training exercise. It was only a blithe eagerness that had let Siena turn a blind eye for as long as she had. Why she had managed to function as though largely unphased despite what she'd written on the evaluation documents.

It was hard to connect the boy that had taught her getaway driving and the one before her.

Harder still to listen to the blunt acceptance on Brent's end. Reason told her that they were probably right, and even if they weren't, with her arm held in place, she didn't have much choice but to accept that they were. Reason told her that no matter how quickly she managed to move Hazel out of danger, that didn't make healing her any easier to do without Lily or Christmas. Reason told her that the only reason she wanted to rush in at all was because it was something else to focus on. Something to pull her attention away from the dark feeling in the pit of her stomach, the cold one that gripped at her with such ferocity that it was only with growing difficulty that Siena was able to continue to push it aside into its proper place.

"You mean sit here until there's no choice but to do something." The words came out blunt, harder than she meant for them to, but it was so hard to keep herself grounded. Too hard to keep herself level when security was out of her hands and when her heart was pounding heavy against her ribs. A steady pace. Do good. Do more. Do more. It took almost all her self control to push a sudden swell of heat back down. Shit. It was the same feeling from Wisford...no, not entirely. It was climbing, not falling, reaching up, breaking through, and louder than it had been then. Louder because the only names she'd taken hadn't done enough to drive a division between what Siena wanted to become and what she was then.

Who deserves to pay?

The fact that it had managed to punch through the fear was more terrifying than the lack of security.

"...fine. At least let me reduce my shoulder."

Despite the clear suspicion he held for her words, Ernie flinched, distracted from Brent's plan for the moment. "You're gonna put your own shoulder into place?"

"That or break the entire arm. It's not like I do this frequently." A pause as Siena realized that wasn't the best way to make an argument. "I know how to reduce it, at least."

Frequently? More confusion from the boy before he regained his composure. "I know too. Maybe I should..."

Don't touch.

"...as long as it doesn't make it worse."

"Heh. No pressure or anything, right?"

Ernie moved forward to grip the wrist of her bad arm, dropping the phone a safe distance away on the ground. Truth was, he'd only done this...maybe twice? He hadn't taken a formal class on it, that's for sure. After recalling the rotations that needed to be done, he took a deep breath and just went for it.

Motherfuckingshitfuckohgoditwasgoingtobreakoffif--

Siena should have expected it. Well, no, she had expected it, but that didn't stop the feeling of her arm being pushed back into place any more pleasant. Colors in her vision, good arm tensing in response to the pain, fingers curling into a tight fist until the knuckles turned white. Had the arm not been held in place, the brunette was almost certain that it would have lashed out in an attempt at stopping the entire process. Her breath came short for a moment, tearing away the ability to tell Ernie to stop, that it wasn't going to work, but all at once things seemed to pop into place. Literally.

The sound was loud, obvious, and anything but pleasant, but immediately the pain seemed to relieve itself, no longer sending new waves like electric currents through mineral water, only letting the ripples of torment ride out their journey. As her vision cleared, the brunette released her breath, felt another spike of heat try to drive through her, and barely managed to hold it back.

"Doesn't seem to be broken." The words were strained, and Siena couldn't identify if it was from the receding pain or the rising need for release. She didn't unclench either fist. "Thanks."

An easy smile graced his face. "It's no problem."

At least they could all die with their arms intact now. A glance out the window sent shockwaves through Ernie as brutal claws skewered through Sander. Fuck, they were gonna get taken out one by one. And yet, he remained standing. Hard to frighten what was already petrified. Grief had long made its way into acceptance. The smile turned mournful and Ernie regarded Siena once more.

"Can I let you go now? You won't do anything stupid?" he asked, the phone in his hand making its way to his back pocket.

"She'll probably punch you in the face," Brent remarked drily, eyes focused outside, where the battle continued to rage. The shadow-creature didn't appear to be regenerating from the heavy wounds it received from Callan, but that didn't matter when three of Unit B's powerhouses had gotten themselves shredded dealing with just that one bastard. From some miracle, Lawrence hadn't gotten himself caught in the crossfire yet, but the steadily increasing wall still worried him. What exactly was it for? Were they going to raise it up and then flatten it? Were they stalling for time while one of their more fragile mages worked on a nuke? Were they really so cautious of this group of semi-powerful fuck ups that they played defensively even while their shadow-boy held down two of the more famous members of Unit B? He still recalled the flaming whips and the scorching beams, killing soldiers by the dozens. Why did this feel so much....less?

No, if the Amigos were holding back, this was a boon. Reel it back. Focus. Get to work. Angelic was already dead. Gregory was most likely dead. But Hazel...

"Hazel still needs healing," Brent repeated, emphasized, "Where are Lily and Christmas, Ernie?"

A hollow gaze. It always came down to this, didn't it? How selfish or smart his actions were.

"The moment we reveal that we have a healer is the moment all their priorities change," Ernie spoke bluntly, "The lighthouse comes crashing down and one or both of them get kidnapped while the rest of us get crushed to pieces."

"Lily's got a ranged heal, and Hazel's wound is hidden by Lawrence's first aid," Brent replied, "If she hides that black string underground, and Lawrence covers the rest with his body, we can mask that."

A flash of inspiration, quickly squashed to itty-bitty pieces by the fact that their communicator, Angelic, wasn't there. Pissed him off, when every piece couldn't fit the puzzle. When all the versatility in the world didn't allow him to work around something as simple as this.

"Callan's a bloody mess too, and Sander..." Why the fuck wasn't Sander invincible? "You know them, Ernie. Are the Amigos going to not kill us all if we don't reveal our healers?"

They killed anyone who got in their way. As long as he--shit--they were out of sight, there was still that chance to keep the shadow demon from doing a full sweep of the class. Why couldn't Brent see that?

Ernie had to admit that the underground string was a good idea, though it didn't completely sway his stance. A clench of the jaw as he scanned the combat phone. Emma would be here soon.

"We're not going to use Christmas," the Aberration remained steadfast, "Wait for Emma to show up with her tulpas."

Poor Determination. A grim smile creased Brent's features.

"I can squeeze out an x-ray effect on these," the arbiter tapped his visor, "Slap 'em on Lily, and she can do her work from the tunnels. Gonna need your pain negation though, 'ena."

"Pain negate won't fix blood loss."

"It'll keep Lily from passing out during the transfer."

A reluctant nod. Personally, Ernie wouldn't have cared about momentary pain on Lily's part. But she needed to stay awake so... "Fair."

His gaze returned to the phone as he barked into Emma's channel. "Hurry down faster. We need tulpas for healing."

—(••[ 𝕎𝕀𝕊ℍ𝔼𝔸𝕋𝔼ℝ ]••)—

Thunk.

Everything fell apart before they had fully materialized, two bodies tumbling and striking the smoking, sizzling floor the instant the effects of teleportation had worn off. Underprepared. Always underprepared. Like toy soldiers they tumbled down, bouncing against objects, flashes of pain sprouting as arms instinctively raised, head naturally tucking inwards until the backbone struck the corner of the table. Sunburst and starburst, agony that numbed too quickly like a firework that disappeared, scorching a thoughtless afterimage as cowardly words drowned themselves in the echoing aftermath. And then the boom-boom of his heart, drowning out the numbing rain splattering against his helmet. Waterproof. Goggles were waterproof and floated too. A miniature Ark when God drowned out the world, unleashing the reservoirs of the deep. Gotta prepare. A pair. No, just George. He envisioned moving, abdominal muscles pulling himself upwards, fresh numbness like too much aesthetic causing him no pain and only regrets. Wisdom teeth were still there, digging into the baby molars torn out. He wanted to taste them. No. His legs had to go first. Focus. The big toe. Twitch the big toe. But it was more sandy numbness, nothing working like it was supposed to. Should have prepared better. Shouldn’t have wasted his time. Not with relationships. Requests forms. He kept forgetting, kept putting it off, but if they could move things from DC to Balled Island, then they could do it with the USA of East. Brent rolled his eyes. More regrets, piling up like a town of twitching corpses. This was better than that. He still had his upper body. Could crawl? But would crawling let him dodge? Just crawl anyways. Worms and humans alike crawled. People who didn’t prepare for everything ahead of time, who didn’t even come to a dangerous place armed to the teeth, could just crawl. Silver lightning ran down his legs, sparking uselessly when he lost focus an instant later. Invertebrate. That’s what he was. That’s what you’ll always be. Pushing shit in and pushing shit out at the same steady rate, the slightest tinge of moistness dying his lower torso as a wonderfully personal stench erupted. He was losing control. He never had control. Just impulses that he followed without meeting the proper criteria. DPS check? Not high enough. Rarity check? Not high enough. Heal check? Not high enough. All that versatility meant nothing if he didn’t have plans upon plans, if it was ruined just with an injury like this. All those skills, wasted with a singular, shitty suggestion. Ah, good time to give up, right? Suicide missions all around, and Marco and Emerson and Chloe and Danielle and Maria and Jesse and Eun and and and. Disconnected and discovered and this illusion. He laughed and he got sent seven feet down the smooth hallway like an amusement park ride he didn’t know he signed up for and everything span and spun and spoon while hiccups hiccupped his cup. Dishes were still there. Clean the sink as well. Sink? No, ink everywhere, a soggy mess jammed down his throat as colors span and chest compressed. Depressed. Unpressed? Not a word. Not a privilege. Right. It was not a right. Everything was wrong. Wrong wrong wrong wrong crosses and xes and red marks everywhere, bludgeoning him with imperfections as it continued to decay, stale cookies mixing into a slurry of milk and crumbs. Something had to be done and he could do nothing. Only chatterboxes infected with opinions and memes, regurgitating the virus and swallowing the infection.
He was there to save someone.
But that someone didn’t matter.
He was there to kill someone.
But that someone didn’t matter.
So if it wasn’t save, and it wasn’t kill, then what was it?
It was…
Sour drops for rewards, cyanide drops for punishments, when they masticated both and spat out both because they didn’t want either, since the elusive third was universally better and molecularly worse and yet they never got it at all when spirits flew at the speed of light but clouds were standstill guardians that consumed it all with vaporous stomachs that only grew and grew until they spewed everything out in transparent music notes over broken ceilings so they could shower.

The unkind delusion was still missing pieces, a feverish morning daze in light that was still more like night, amethyst eyes boring intensely upon fleshy appendages that were better off amputated.

Shattered Fates - A Dark Fantasy, Boss Battling Epic

Ain't got time at this time. Just make me disappear or something. Peace, yo.

—(••[ 𝕎𝕀𝕊ℍ𝔼𝔸𝕋𝔼ℝ ]••)—

Upgrade unlocked.

Brent can now overclock objects up to the approximate volume of a queen-sized bed.

—(••[ 𝕎𝕀𝕊ℍ𝔼𝔸𝕋𝔼ℝ ]••)—

It was supposed to be an ordinary morning. Just wake up, get dressed, and leave for the gym. But when that red flare shot upwards, lighting up the night sky, accompanied by a panicked maid’s screaming off in the distance, it was all too easy for Brent to change that routine. They had a pleasant enough of a break. He blew off steam with Siena, discovered the fluffiest cutiepie with Marcus and Ernie, finally got around to chilling with Grant, and even made some pretty sweet corndog recipes. Not to mention that super fun beach party that Emma organized.

It had been a fulfilling, relaxing experience, and it never was going to last.

It was easy enough to change his routine. A proper belt, threaded through the loops of cargo pants. A tough coat to accommodate for the weather. Steel-toed boots, just like the ones that Ernie lent him during that friendly game of Flag and Seek eons ago. Combat helmet, his machete, and a canister of pepper spray, all remnants from Wisford. And, most importantly, most gloriously, his night vision goggles and his gas mask. Clipping the goggles to the rim of his helmet, the overdressed, underprepared arbiter was just about finished when a maid kicked open the door, waving at him to get out.

Gas mask went into his backpack then. Another smart trick learned from Ernie. As sirens blared, familiar and unfamiliar faces merged into a disorderly line, Brent’s eyes flickered about, confirming as many people as he could. Lisa was there. Ernie. Marcus. Over there, Emma. Allison without Angelic handholding her? Weird. Siena of course. Oh, Callan came out of hibernation.

His own headcount continued as they were ushered down the steps and his own headcount was just as grim as theirs. Brent didn’t know an Elvia, but Gregory and Angelic? In the darkness of the storage room, the arbiter pulled out his combat phone, bringing up the GPS once more.

A sharp intake of breath.

Gregory was outside, moving. Alive.

Angelic wasn’t.

[DISCONNECTED].

Amethyst eyes turned towards Allison.

Brent slipped the sturdy phone back into his pocket.

---

Hostiles. Amigos. Dangerous. Attacking USARILN property? No, Zhang’s property. No monsters in the basement here. Just kids with enough power to drive them mad. Ernie was scared. Past experience? Chris wanted to stay. To fight. A martyr. Kusari was cocky. Confident. Hah. Hazel and Sander were already gone, taking most of the Unit’s destructive power with them.

Take it in.

Blink.

That butler, Aldrich, was going to die for them. That maid, Elvia, may have already going to die for them. Zoe and Lawrence duelled with words, the latter somehow managing to convince that firecracker to leave, to make sure everyone else left. Brent noted the glow. Funny, how the first time that blond’s power was used was on an ally. Leave two to their fates so that a larger group could make it out. Compromise and sacrifice.

Take it in.

Blink.

He h-

It seeped into him, an eternal expanse of ethereal blankness. No longer an ocean, but an endlessly, dazzlingly, painfully bright space. No turmoil, merely tranquility. No light, just white. Every color and no color at all.

Birds of a feather flocked together.

The blankness fused with his body, caressing his bones, blotting out his veins. Burying and burying and burying him in the pointlessness of it all, until he was but a skeleton fused with the canvas.

Likes repelled.

And yet, that skeleton stayed distinct, pushing and pushing and pushing against the pointlessness of it all, the whiteness that consumed his skin, hair, flesh, and organs unable to bridge that final gap. There was something there in that blank garden, a faintly yellow tinge.

Overhead, another star, another gift, another fruit ripe for the picking was swallowed by the Other within that garden.

But the skeleton didn’t even notice.

Bury. Push. Bury. Push. Bury. Push.

Overdose.

-eaded towards Siena. She had her e-reader. She had unlimited power.

But she was still so frail. Like tinder. Burning bright and burning easily, but burning out so soon.

“'ena,” the arbiter said, standing beside her, “Teleportation range?”

Shattered Fates - A Dark Fantasy, Boss Battling Epic

I mean, if a waifu dies alone and unseen, was there really a waifu?

Alternatively, who here is demented enough for necrophilia?