Lasrever

—(••[ 𝕎𝕀𝕊ℍ𝔼𝔸𝕋𝔼ℝ ]••)—

If anyone's interested, I finally put together Zoe's first impressions/opinions thing in the character tab :D

—(••[ 𝕎𝕀𝕊ℍ𝔼𝔸𝕋𝔼ℝ ]••)—

Well, that had been an eventful trip to say the least. Of all the things Zoe had been expecting, being attacked by what seemed pretty likely to be a rogue Precursor wasn't one of them. As much as anything else, the concept was really irritating, especially since the guards apparently felt the need to be complete dicks about everything. She knew why, but that didn't make it any more fun to deal with, and she'd gotten progressively more irritated over the course of their journey. Seriously, couldn't we at least get to the school before people started trying to kill us? Was that too much to ask?

Zoe looked relaxed for the most part as Director Zhang entered the room. There was a lazy smile on her face, and she wasn't particularly tense, but her eyes darted around the room - not looking for an escape or anything stupid like that, but just trying to size up the other people in the room and figure out which of them might cause her trouble. It wasn't really top priority right now, though.

As she listened to the introduction, her face narrowed into a scowl. The concept that they had to be tagged right away was something that definitely wasn't about to make her shout out with joy. Plus, it was three in the fucking morning. Who wanted to deal with this at three in the morning? Nobody. It wasn't as though they'd asked to be attacked by those things. Listening to the reasoning behind everything, Zoe found herself unable to keep her mouth shut, which wasn't exactly a new thing for her, but her timing could have been better. "In case we try to escape? Oh, of course. Nothing makes me want to run free more than knowing there's a bunch of creatures out there that could kill me in two seconds flat." She turned to the guy without the cuffs, listening to his explanation. "But as long as we're being chained up for our own good, that's fine. Gives me a warm, fuzzy feeling inside, you know? I didn't think they cared."

Coming to the realisation that giving that much backtalk wasn't the smartest idea, Zoe thankfully cut herself off before she said anything else she might regret. In her defence, lashing out verbally was a lot better than the alternative here. Being confined so close to so many people didn't really help with her Stigma, and actually trying to hurt anyone would definitely get her killed. As it was, she kept the look of lazy confidence on her face, although internally she was sort of regretting her outburst. She'd always had trouble keeping a handle on her temper, but this wasn't exactly the time for her brand of openness, especially with the amount of soldiers around.

—(••[ 𝕎𝕀𝕊ℍ𝔼𝔸𝕋𝔼ℝ ]••)—

Zoe Fletcher - Aberration - Reassemble

ℕ 𝕒 𝕞 𝕖 :

Zoe Fletcher

𝔸 𝕘 𝕖 :

18

ℍ 𝕖 𝕚 𝕘 𝕙 𝕥 :

6'0"

𝕎 𝕖 𝕚 𝕘 𝕙 𝕥 :

150 lbs

𝔸 𝕡 𝕡 𝕖 𝕒 𝕣 𝕒 𝕟 𝕔 𝕖 :

headshot

Headshot by Ky-th

Fullbody

By densukii on Deviantart

Tall, lean and muscular, Zoe's appearance gives off what can only be described as a predatory vibe. She has the air and manner of someone used to fending to themselves, and an expression often firmly fixed into a confident smirk. There is an air of arrogance about her, not least because of the way she carries herself and her relaxed, lazy stride. She seems to have been in more than a few scraps, which is obvious if you take a closer look - small scars litter her body, and are especially visible on her knuckles. Her usual clothing is generally fairly muted and not designed to draw attention, though the rest of her appearance makes it pretty much impossible.

For the particularly observant, it's apparent that her arrogance isn't quite all that it seems. While she puts on an admirable front, rings under her eyes, ragged nails and the way her eyes dart around as though waiting for an attack all speak to the insecurity and self-loathing that she tries to hide. All in all, her appearance is that of someone confident on the surface, but to the exceptionally observant it may seem she's struggling to hold it together.

ℙ 𝕖 𝕣 𝕤 𝕠 𝕟 𝕒 𝕝 𝕚 𝕥 𝕪 :

Zoe is the kind of person that comes off as a born warrior or an arrogant bitch, depending on who you ask. An adrenaline junkie of the highest degree, if there's a fight going on then she'll do her best to be involved - and if there isn't, she'll more than likely make someone angry enough to start one. Despite her aggressive tendencies, she doesn't actively try to start fights despite often being involved. It just happens that a lot of people want to wipe the smirk off of her face, and that she's very easy to make angry. It's fair to say she's sadistic, volatile and easily provoked - something which has gotten far worse since she gained the 'X' on her throat.

Of course, like most people, she does have at least some redeeming qualities. For one, she's incredibly trustworthy, and will take a secret to the grave if she's trusted with it. She's also endlessly loyal (sometimes to the point of stupidity), and looks out for people weaker than herself as best she can - even if those people happen to hate her guts. Swift to become attached to anyone who sees past her attitude, it's almost strange how someone so starved of affection is so determined not to need or accept any help. She's honestly terrified of her own instability, but being called out on this is a real sore spot for her, and there's no doubt that anyone doing so will find themselves on the receiving end of an attempted assault.

While her harsh manner extends to friends as well as enemies, there is certainly a difference between the two. Towards people she dislikes, her remarks aim to be as cutting as possible, and she will make no secret of the fact that she hates someone's guts. Towards her friends, it's something closer to playing devil's advocate for whatever plans or concerns they may have rather than outright malice. She's perfectly willing to help people for what she sees as being their own good, whether they like it or not. Still, this doesn't tend to come off too well when her only way of tackling a problem seems to be charging at it head-on.

One thing that she hates is when people she trusts lie to or manipulate her without her knowledge. Like most of her hangups, it seems to be the result of some deeply ingrained self-loathing; the girl secretly considers herself a coward, a psychopath, and an utterly weak person. When she's particularly angry or upset, she has a habit of going incredibly quiet for a while before reacting, although her reactions will remain characteristically volatile. She has difficulty mustering the strength to keep control and master the urges brought on by her stigma, and it's a struggle she fails more often than not; to the point where she'll seriously hurt herself just to try and silence her fears and feel like she's in control.

ℍ 𝕚 𝕤 𝕥 𝕠 𝕣 𝕪 :

Zoe rushed into the hospital, a look in her eyes like a cornered animal. In her arms, there was a small body bundled in cloth, unmoving. Desperation filled her voice as she stood in the waiting room, the cross on her throat clear to see. "Help! Please, you have to-" her voice broke, taking on a horrified note. "I couldn't stop myself."

After the bundle was taken from her, she knew what would happen if she stayed. Knew there was no way life would be the same. But despite that, her feet refused to move - and it wasn't long before they came to pick her up. She didn't resist, and soon enough found herself at USARILN East.

Things Left Unsaid

There's a lot I'd like to take back.

Sorry

I wasn't strong enough.

There are things I try not to think about, and you're one of them.

See, I didn't know about all this when I changed, you know? I didn't realise what it would be like having this mark on my throat, being one of the freaks. There's a reason I ran. A reason that I was trying to leave you behind. I thought you'd realise that, but... God, you had to come with me, didn't you. You always were the type of kid that played hero, that liked to think we'd both be okay forever if we just helped each other through.

It's funny really, you almost got me to think that too for a while. I think it's the first time I can remember bring happy in a really long while; those years when all of us were together. Complete pain in the ass, looking after you guys, but it was worth it. I mean sure, what we did wasn't exactly making an honest living, but it kept everyone fed. People like you that didn't have a place to turn. So I was okay with it, and so were all of you.

But I wanted to hurt. After I had the dream, I wanted to hurt them, and it kept getting worse. Even if I didn't show the mark, I'm pretty sure everyone could tell something was up. I tried to find an excuse to get away, and every time you'd stop me. Until I showed you, anyway. And you still chose me, you believed in me, and look where it fucking got you. I wish you hadn't tried so hard to protect me from myself. If you'd just told me to go, hadn't come after me... hell, even if you'd ratted me out to the others, none of this would've happened. I would've ended up dead, but that's still a possibility here. I don't blame you, but you tried to help me. You wouldn't let me leave alone. Even knowing what a liar I was, what a hypocrite, what a coward... you followed me.

You were the first person I helped. The first person I was actually able to save, for a while. Even when I went off the rails a little, you kept me grounded - Or tried to, anyhow. I kinda did my own thing a lot, but we both know I'm not great at listening. Point is, you were the closest thing I'd had to a brother in a long, long time. Hell, I hardly remember the 'real' one. Only memory I have there's that he died and I didn't. Know mom and dad would've preferred it the other way round.

Sometimes I think taking you in's the only good thing I ever did. And I even ruined that.

Never told you much about my family, huh? Then again, I don't know how they're doing now. Difference is, I don't really care to. Hope the whole house burned to the ground with them in it. As for you, I guess what happened is more personal. In its own way.

Point is, when I'm ready I think I'll try and find out if you're okay. I'm not yet. It's getting worse, you know. The feeling. So much worse. And I don't know if I'm strong enough to control it yet. The people I've met here, well, at least some of them seem to be pretty good ones. I like some of them, I really do. But I'm scared that I'll hurt them the same way I hurt you. I have now. So many times, again and again, and I can't stop it. I don't know how.

One day I promise I'll learn how things turned out. I found help as fast as I could, but with the state you were in I don't know if that's enough. Chances are you'll never see me again either way. I killed you. Saving you's the one good thing I ever did, and I killed you. Guess it was pretty naive of me to think anything else, to think that maybe there'd be one thing I didn't completely ruin. The others don't know what a coward I used to be, but that's fine. Because I know. And I'll make sure I pay for every last bit of it.

I miss you, buddy.

I saw you. I tried to end it and it wouldn't let me and it made me see you instead. How fucking delusional was I? There's no way anyone would have survived that.

Reflection

I couldn't say goodbye.

I was broken when you found me. Broken, but surviving; I guess I'm still that way, really. And you let me use it to secure some sort of future-- a future built on whatever we could claw away from everyone else. But it wasn't enough. The little things, the things where no-one got hurt, it wasn't enough to keep us all going. We both knew that, and it wore on you, I think; that's why I took up the burden. Started... well, started hurting people. Bad shit. Break-ins, muggings... nothing really big, but that shit scares people, and I had to hurt quite a few. Nothing that'd get us properly hunted down, and we'd move when it started to look a little unsafe. You just looked after the others while I was out.

Sometimes I'd ask if they were scared of me. You'd never answer, and I guess that was answer enough.

I'd already learned to embrace the pain, to keep going no matter how much it hurt. How to pretend I was untouchable, to do whatever it took to come out alive. But after taking us both in, being with you guys gave me a purpose. If only you'd known what I'd become, you'd have put me down as soon as you got the chance. There were times when I'd let myself hesitate, when I couldn't bring myself to finish what I'd started, and maybe if I'd listened to my conscience then I'd be better now. But I did it for you. All of that shit; knowing there were people relying on me, I could do it. And it gets easier, after a while. I can bury it now, bury it deep, and hope it never comes up again.

Don't think I buried it well enough, though. I'm still scared of them.

Now that I think about it, you used me. I let you remake me knowing you just wanted out, did whatever it took to make sure that I'd be okay, and eventually that you guys would be too. Hoped I could make sure they had a better time of all this than I did. I'd do most of it again if I got the chance. Sacrifice is all someone like me's good for.

Well, maybe. I don't know if I owe you or not, because you saved me. If it hadn't been for you, I think I'd be dead, but you taught me to survive - No, more than that, you taught me to live again. We found each other, and because of that, we were able to save other people too. I think about that sometimes. Lets me pretend there's something good inside me. Ha. Like I've ever even come close.

We were bad for each other in a way, but I suppose we needed each other too. Needed to remind each other that there was something alive left in all that we'd done, and I guess that's all it ever comes down to. An exchange, a transaction, always something to gain and even more to lose. Someone to understand. Never got as close as you wanted, but... I suppose I was scared of that. Caring just makes it hurt more when people turn on you, when you end up hurting them. But despite everything, I didn't run away.

You promised me that you'd look after them if I ever went anywhere, and I believe you did. You always kept your promises to me. Maybe you'll keep them alive too, and I really hope you do now that I'm not there anymore. Hey, maybe you saw my T.V spot! I'm alive, anyway, and you guys'll be safer without me around. I hope no-one's having to do the stuff I used to. Hope you're getting by without that; another me's the last thing the world needs.

Still wish you were here, too. That's probably the most fucked up part of all this, huh? You're the only person that really understood me, understood how far we had to go. You knew me, and these guys don't. Or they don't understand like you did. You didn't want to be what you were, so I took on that responsibility. This monster, though; when I give myself over, I'm capable of so much I wouldn't have thought. I could be ruthless before, but... trust me, that's an understatement now.

You'd understand, right? You'd know that it isn't really me, you'd understand why I have to let myself give in. It's like we did for the others, like it was back home; someone has to dirty their hands so everyone else can make it out okay. You were able to see that I only did these things because somebody had to, that I was trying to spare everyone, that I wanted to protect you. So you'd understand. I have to believe you would, that there's a reason I'm able to do these things. That it's necessary, and if it's necessary, I can live with that. Or I'll just have to lie to myself until I can. Tear myself apart until I'm in control.

So I can't say goodbye to you yet. Always frustrated you, but it's still true I'm not good at letting go. And I know I should have left a whole lot earlier - Maybe then none of you would have been hurt. Maybe if you'd been with me, I wouldn't have been able to screw it all up. Maybe, maybe, maybe. Not like I'm gonna find an answer any time soon.

Rotten

Should've killed you when I had the chance.

You're a real piece of work, aren't you?

Oh yeah, here we go. I almost forgot about you, didn't I? Should've remembered when I was writing to the others. Can't believe that I'd let myself forget about the person that's responsible for my fall in the first place. So, where do we begin?

How about the time you hid? Ran away knowing some some fucking sub was tearing your brother apart while he begged you for help. Mercy. Anything. There's nothing you could have done, huh. That's what you told yourself, but you've seen the devastation that you've left behind. It should have been you.

They were right to blame you for it. 'I'm just a kid', like that excuses it, like that excuses anything about your sad little excuse for a life. You were scared, the first time the knife sliced you open. Cruel and unusual, making you inflict the hurt on yourself. A nice little reminder that it was all your fault. Sobbing, but what could you do? You tried to wipe away the tears, but that only got salt in the wounds.

Get up. That was the rule. You always get up and keep fighting, because otherwise someone else gets hurt. That's what happens when you're weak. Pain. Cowardice. Pain and pain and more pain. I guess it's one of the truths of the universe. Everything always seems to revolve around it with you, around hurting and being hurt. It's not like that for everyone, and I think that hurt more. You can't lose yourself so easily when it's your heart that's hurting.

Oh, that's some poetic shit, right? By your standards, anyway; they're not exactly high.

It didn't break you, though. Or you don't think it did. Jagged at the edges, maybe, sharp, but strong. You didn't shatter. You don't resent it, and you don't cry over it anymore. Maybe because you took ownership of it, your tendency to tear things down.

But the water did, as it burned your lungs and took your strength away. It wasn't the pain that scared you, because it always hurt when you fucked up and made them angry. It was the helplessness, because even if the other ones hurt, they were your choice, you were in control. Or that's what you tell yourself, because it's easier to believe it was a choice you made than to accept you were nothing more than a child. Easier to believe that love is painful and terrifying and drowning than it is to believe no-one loved you at all. Easier to keep quiet because speaking up would never work.

How long will you pretend to be the master of your own destiny? That's why the stigma scares you so much, because it's fucking with that. Fucking with your control. Maybe you could deal with the things you'd done if you could choose to hate them. If you weren't being hijacked to think they're the best things in the world. If you asked for help, maybe things'd get better, but you don't want anyone to feel sorry for you. You'd rather be hated.

You once told your best friend why you love the smell of gasoline. And then you broke his nose because his pity pissed you off, even though you knew he was just trying to help.

And part of you still wants to let someone else help you, let the next group in, because you're so desperate for anyone to care. But you don't believe they will, because you don't think there's anything about you worth keeping alive. I know you're not afraid of dying. You welcome it, dashing into danger with outstretched arms. Hoping that one day, the axe will fall on your pasty little neck. You say you're not a liar? You lie to yourself every day.

You just want something, anything, to justify your sad little worldview. Maybe that's why you play the monster now, so you can tell yourself it was right what you did because maybe they were like you. I don't, I've always done what I had to No, you've been like that for a long time.

Do you remember her? Of course you do.

Do you remember how she looked, sleeping silently, believing she'd found somewhere safe at last? Trusting you, YOU when you said it'd be okay, you deceiving lying conniving pathetic monstrous murderous piece of shit bitch--

Remember how it looked when you put a bullet through her fucking skull? Hey, firecracker, that a happy memory for you? Come on, it's not like she didn't deserve it, right? Not like they didn't all deserve it because of everything they took from you. Freaks, monsters, murderers every last one of them and you couldn't let the world have one more.

Oh wait... that was nothing to do with them, was it? Killing your best friend. Killing her. For a fucking grudge against someone she'd never met, someone you never knew any more about than hearsay. Because they were all the same, right? No, they aren't, not even a little; but you are, you always were, you sick little freak.

You knew it was wrong then. Deep down, you knew that they weren't all together. How many others didn't deserve it, had never harmed a soul? A threat, a threat, a threat, forever and always. Threats couldn't be allowed to live. A mantra. And yet when you were a threat you didn't speak up, when you felt that pull you didn't speak up, because you just couldn't handle one more rejection, right?

You know now exactly how wrong it was, and you aren't even sorry. Not properly, not really. Sorry won't bring anyone back, won't take back your actions, won't fix a single goddamned thing. I suppose you've already done too much to get back.

How many people would you have killed if things had stayed the same? Why wouldn't you face it like she did?

Never mind that, there's no point in asking. It's not as if you kept count. After all, it was all written down. They'll have kept that old thing around, I'm guessing. They won't have forgotten you, for better or - oh, who are you kidding, it's definitely for worse. But how are you supposed to feel about that?

Guess you'd rather die than figure it out, huh.

You sickening little coward.

---

Choices (Zoe's voice post)
_{by theonlyexception}

---

𝕄 𝕒 𝕘 𝕚 𝕔 :

Reassemble

Allows her to decompose organic material on anyone within 2 metres of her body. The ability requires contact with a person to become active, but once she's made initial contact it can be controlled within a 45 meter radius of her. Her ability can now be spread from creature to creature like a virus, provided they make physical contact with each other within the radius. She can also change the speed of the ability's effects at will. The speed it can spread at from a point of contact has also doubled.

Victims outside the radius will spread their infection to other organic objects in physical contact with them. Each consecutive infection outside the radius will lessen the effects of her power, taking roughly 3 infections before her power loses its effects completely.

Her ability's effects can be sped up if she focuses them into one area, roughly the size of her hand. If she makes contact, the ability is almost instantaneous, like tearing through wet clay.

Initially all that her targets feel would be an unusual itch, but if they allow it to progress it will eventually become incredibly painful. The speed of her ability has increased dramatically over time, and she is limited to only affecting things she can see. No longer needs to see a target to affect it.

The ability's use is indicated by thick black lines appearing on her skin where she channels the power, black mist rising where she makes contact and black specks exuding from affected targets. Black veins now appear on Zoe’s infected victims.

Upgrade 1

When making direct contact with something, the decomposition proceeds incredibly quickly, taking only a few seconds - essentially reducing the contacted area to liquid. The more of her body is in contact, the wider the spread of the damage. In essence, if Zoe were to run her hands over a creature, it would leave a melted sludge where its surface skin was.

This ability's use is indicated by moving, tattoo-like lines appearing on her skin where she channels the power, and a black mist rising from whatever is affected.

Upgrade 2

Power effect radius increased to 15 metres. No longer needs to see target for ability to work.

Upgrade 3

Zoe's power can now work faster to the point where it's almost instant, like tearing through soft clay. The speed it can spread at from a point of contact has also doubled.

It can also now be spread from creature to creature under her control like a virus, provided they make contact with each other and stay within the radius, and the rate it works at can be changed at will.

The radius it can work in has increased to 30m.

The lines and mist generated by her power now appear much darker and thicker, and black specks now exude from any affected creatures.

As a result of the upgrade, her stigma has noticeably worsened.

Upgrade 4

Range increased to 45 metre radius.

Upgrade 5

No longer needs to make contact to start the effect, and can instead start it on anyone within 2 metres of her body.

Upgrade 6

Zoe’s infected victims will now spread their infection to other organic objects in physical contact with them when they are outside of her range. Each consecutive infection will lessen the effects of her power, taking roughly 3 infections before her power loses its effects completely.

Black veins appear on Zoe’s infected victims.

𝔻 𝕣 𝕖 𝕒 𝕞 :

The sun shines down on her face, standing in the middle of a remote village. Around her, ramshackle huts give way to homes of her own making, comfortable and safe. In the background, she can hear people laughing and imagine the smiles on their faces. They don't need to want for anything, to wish for anything, because she's created for them everything they need.

It's a paradise, but not one for her. She moves on, her job completed and another utopia created. Wherever she goes, she is celebrated for her actions, praised and loved. She's worth something, to so many people, but as she looks out upon the village as they celebrate without even noticing her departure, there's one thing that remains clear to her - she is completely alone.

ℕ 𝕚 𝕘 𝕙 𝕥 𝕞 𝕒 𝕣 𝕖 :

"You can protect them."

A whimper echoes through the narrow street. Wordless desperation, from a man who long since lost the ability to beg for mercy. She's never seen his face before, but she despises him - despises his kind, who act from nothing but selfishness and greed. Justice, for all that ever wronged her, all who ever sought to do no more than hurt. As she grips his face in her hands, she smiles, and moments later not an inch of flesh remains on his skull. The sight is, in a word, horrifying.

Letting go, behind him she sees the face of a child a few years younger than she is, smiling brightly and seemingly unaware of the bloodshed surrounding them.

"Is he gone?"

"I got rid of him."

As Zoe speaks, her eyes scan the ground behind them - a graveyard of mutilated, unburied corpses. Despite this, she speaks with grim certainty, a cold satisfaction. She has the power to ensure a perfect life, for her and the ones she cares about, to destroy anybody who would harm them. To ensure the happiness of everyone that matters.

"No one will ever hurt you again."

𝔸 𝕨 𝕒 𝕜 𝕖 𝕟 𝕚 𝕟 𝕘 :

Aberration

𝕊 𝕥 𝕚 𝕘 𝕞 𝕒 :

Zoe's stigma manifests itself in what is essentially a feeling of bloodlust, an urge to hurt and harm other people. An intense compulsion telling her that giving in would make her happy constantly demands she give in. The more she cares about someone, the more it makes her want to hurt them - and whenever she gives in to the compulsion, the memory replays again and again, accompanied by a rush of joy.

𝔸 𝕣 𝕞 𝕒 𝕞 𝕖 𝕟 𝕥 𝕤 :

xxx

𝕋 𝕙 𝕖 𝕞 𝕖 𝕊 𝕠 𝕟 𝕘 𝕤 :

(XYLØ - Afterlife)

(EDEN - Drugs)

Other songs of varying importance

(Imagine Dragons - Shots (Broiler Remix))

(Hellberg - The Girl)

(Natasha Blume - Black Sea)

(Razihel - Legends)

(Rogue ft. Laura Brehm - Dreams)

(Stephen - Crossfire)

(Krewella - Beggars)

(Chase and Status - All Goes Wrong)

(Foo Fighters - Stranger Things Have Happened)

(Mumford & Sons - Broken Crown)

First Impressions

"Wait, you seriously want to talk to me? And I haven't even broken a rule today! Isn't that a surprise. Have to say, I didn't know you guys were fans. So, was it my good looks or charm that won you over?"

"...Oh, you do this with everyone, huh? Well whatever, ask your questions then. I'm a busy girl. Things to do, people to see, you know? Don't want anyone thinking I'm not thrilled about being here."

"Backtalk? Wouldn't dream of it. Where do you want me to start?"

---

Lawrence

"The guy kind of... Well, he doesn't really lose his cool, does he? At least not that I remember seeing, even if I deserve it more than most. He's always calm and in control of himself, even dealing with all of our shit. Don't think I could do it, myself, even before my s- Uh, situation ended up like this."

"Well, being forced to go fight monsters isn't exactly good for a girl's stability, you know? I thought we were talking about Lawrence here - I'm sure there'll be time to talk about me later."

"Anyway, I'm almost jealous of him in a way. Being able to take everything in his stride and never really lose his head, it's something I could use a bit more of myself. Plus, he does the whole therapist routine, so people kind of trust him."

"I don't know if I'd rather be like that. Sometimes it seems like he doesn't feel much about anything."

---

Liliana

"If I'm being honest about this, Lily, Liliana, whatever you want to call her, is definitely a handful. I'm not really relaxed enough to just go with it whenever she does the whole personality swing thing, so I just try to stay out of it. It's tough to keep track of which one I'd end up dealing with."

"Yeah, yeah, it's not her fault. I don't blame her for it, that's not what I'm saying. Fact is, though, I've only got so much energy to deal with anyone and she goes a little past that limit. Doesn't mean I've got anything against the girl. Life here's bad enough for the rest of us, so it must suck to deal with her problems on top of that."

"Of course I'd work with her if I had to. Hell, she can heal, right? Well, sort of. I'd just be worried she'd flip at the wrong time and screw someone over."

"No, not deliberately. She doesn't seem like the type."

---

Emma

"Emma's the type who seems like she could make friends with anyone. Seems like she wants to, as well.
You know the drill, relaxed, friendly and considerate. The type almost no-one minds, and most people seem to like."

"It scares me."

"I'm sure she'll try and talk to me. Doesn't mean I have to go along with the conversation. Trust me, it's better for her - and I'll watch her back if it comes down to it. She's a good person, right? At least as far as I know."

"So it's better that she doesn't deal with someone like me, not directly. Being around people like that only makes it harder to stay in control I'm not hurting anyone that doesn't deserve it. Not again."

"No comment."

---

Grant

"He makes me look organised. Not that I'm the queen of productivity or anything, but I at least do something with myself. I think Grant'd be pretty happy just sitting in his room for the rest of his life. Seriously lazy."

"Yeah, it gets on my nerves a bit. Life's for people to go out and live, not just sit around doing nothing. Every day in this place could be our last - Don't give me that look, you know I'm right - so I think there's something to be said for making the most of our time."

"That's different. I have reasons for avoiding people. He just seems like he can't be bothered with anything, and acts like it's a chore whenever he goes outside. I don't think I've ever seen him looking fully awake."

"Well, if I had to think, he doesn't exactly seem to like authority, or is it being looked after? That's all I got. Only time I've seen him actually react to something with any kind of energy."

---

Chris

"Oh, where do I start with this one? The guy's got a stick the size of a telephone mast shoved directly up his ass. Seriously, he looks for a problem with everyone - I don't care if he likes me or not, but I am not the only one."

"Don't encourage me. I've got enough to say here, and it's all just as nice as that."

"Positives? Well, he's strong enough to be pretty helpful in a fight, I guess. I don't need to watch his back. Personality wise, at least he can keep his mouth shut sometimes. You know, seeing as if he never opened it again I'd be more than happy."

"Fine, I'll talk about something else. Let's see... From what I've seen of him, he seems to try and push people away a lot. Like he's scared of getting close or something."

"Yeah, kind of like me, but only if I was a little bitch. Feel free to tell him I said that."

---

Sander

"Out of everyone here, I honestly feel like I don't know him at all."

"Well, he's pretty closed off, and doesn't say much. Well, nothing even close to an opinion. Friendly, I guess, but it's all surface level. He pushes people away with that, but I don't know if it's deliberate or not."

"You're right, I guess all of us do."

"I don't think we'd really get along. At least not until I see him grow a backbone instead of just bowing to everything he's told with a 'Yes sir' and a 'Thank you ma'am'. Sometimes you have to push the boundaries, instead of just playing along."

"I probably shouldn't have said that to you, huh?"

---

Callan

"Callan is an interesting one. See, I really don't mind her personality. Honesty's something we need more of around here, and she gets to the point pretty well when she has to. Doesn't feel the need to be a constant ball of energy, either."

"You're right, she's a little lazy, but she doesn't just sit around all day and it doesn't seem to stop her getting things done alright. Tries to be a good person, from what I can tell. Like I said, I don't mind her."

"Yeah, there's a but. It's the whole Dreamcatcher thing. Call me a cynic, but I'm not exactly grateful for my powers - and I don't think I'm the only one. After all, they've done a hell of a lot more harm than good. So it really gets on my nerves when she goes all defensive."

"Besides, I was never really a fan of 'heroes'. At the end of the day, you can't rely on someone else saving the day."

"Just speaking from experience."

---

Kusari

"Her only purpose in life must be to piss me off. Doesn't she have anything better to do than run her mouth all the time?"

"I know she's like that with everyone. Doesn't change the fact that I can't stand dealing with her, and the way she speaks... It's not just the things she says, exactly, but how she delivers them. As though she really believes everything she says."

"There's honest. I'm honest. That's different from ragging on everyone's flaws, hitting them where it hurts all the time. Not everything has to be said out loud."

"I'm the first to admit it, but we all know I've got one hell of a short fuse. It doesn't mix well."

"Worst part is, I can't exactly teach her a lesson. What am I gonna do, punch her? She'd probably just laugh in my face."

---

Padma

"She always seemed like the type that'd work herself too hard to me."

"No, I appreciate a break now and then. You need to relax sometimes, or you burn yourself out a bit. Just means other people have to try and pick you back up."

"It makes you into a burden, you know?"

"Me? Nah, I'm strong enough to go it alone. I know how much I can take, alright? Just happens to be more than some of these guys can."

"Yeah, well, we never really spoke."

"No."

---

Marcus

"He's not a bad guy to be around, I guess. I guess we could do with more people willing to have a laugh around here."

"Yeah, I know I'm not the comedian of the century, but that's not the point."

"Point is, it's good to have people like that. You let everyone just sit around and mope all day, it's not long before they start giving up. It's not fun to watch."

"Of course there's a time and a place. But as long as he knows when to stop, we shouldn't have a problem."

"Never asked about them. Anything that gives you scars like that isn't gonna be a happy memory. As far as I'm concerned, he has a right to keep his secrets."

---

Zoe

"I thought we agreed this wasn't a therapy session."

"Fine. They'd do well to keep their distance from me, so I'm doing them a favour by acting out."

"It's not that I don't want friends, but - hell, you already know why. It's just easiest for everyone, means I won't do something I regret."

"Of course I care, asshole. But they have each other for that, right? Don't need a psycho like me hanging around them. Best thing I can do is protect everyone. Be the pillar, the one that doesn't need any help. I think I can be strong enough for that."

"Then I'll just have to get stronger."

Hazel

"Not meaning to be rude, she's majorly creepy. Never reacts to anything, doesn't understand how anything works. Calling whatever she's got going on a personality would be a stretch."

"No, the others aren't like that. There's a difference between being in control and that."

"She doesn't annoy me. Actually, if I think about it she's pretty polite to everyone. I just don't feel right whenever she's around. Something about her just unnerves me."

"Don't know. Maybe I'm just worried about what happens when you stop pumping drugs into her system. With how she comes off, I hope no-one else is around her if it happens."

"Am I being unfair? Sorry, but that's something I'd prefer not to find out."

---

Sienna

"She doesn't mean to, I think, but she gets on my nerves quickly. I can't talk to her for too long without getting annoyed."

"Silver spoon, right? Never really wanted for anything, so there's only so much she can understand. I know it's not deliberate when she says stuff, and I try my not to take it personally, but it isn't easy."

"Stuff like that kind of hits home. Not her fault."

"I can't say I've noticed anything strange about her. Really into books, but that fits with her power and all. She has seemed a bit erratic sometimes, but I figured that's just her personality. Is it?"

"Didn't think you'd tell me."

---

Angelique

"She can be a bit snappy, but I think that goes for a lot of us. Doesn't mean I won't get provoked, but I see where she's coming from in a way. If she could try not to direct it at me, it'd save everyone a headache."

"We're pretty alike, actually, from what I can tell. She doesn't seem to get into quite as much trouble as I do, but her abilities seem a bit easier to vent with than mine are. I mean, it's a lot easier to scream at a wall without hurting anyone."

"Okay, maybe she just handles her issues better than I do. I'm not exactly the world authority on healthy coping mechanisms."

"It doesn't bother me that much. Unless it's really loud and I'm trying to sleep or something. Then it definitely bothers me."

---

Allison

"Like I said before, I respect honesty. It's one of the few good qualities I can actually stick with, so I appreciate it in others."

"Saying that, she does mess with people a lot more than I'd like, and I'm pretty easy to get a rise out of. So that's not exactly fun. As long as it doesn't go too personal, I can take a joke, though."

"Oh. That. Yeah, she can be a bit... Uncontrolled? We'll go with that. I don't want to offend your sensitive ears."

"Eh, if what I've heard is true, our St- Our issues, are quite similar. Except where I want to hurt people, she wants to, uh, do something completely different to them. Apparently. It seems rude to actually ask her, true or not."

---

Savannah

"And people say I need to work on keeping my cool."

"I'm just saying, if ever a kid needed to chill the fuck out then it's her. Girl'd pick a fight with her own reflection if it looked at her wrong."

"Her attitude isn't my problem. As long as she doesn't direct it at me, because if she thinks she can get away with that she's got one hell of a life lesson coming up."

"I'm four years older and a hell of a lot bigger. I wouldn't need any powers for that one."

"Nah. I know I act up, but I'm not the type to actually go around and beat up kids, am I? I'd just frighten her a bit, before she picks a fight with someone that isn't so considerate."

---

Christmas

"This guy is kind of a wimp."

"Okay, he's a complete doormat. He looks terrified of everything, and he just straight-up takes whatever people decide they want to do to him. Won't retaliate, even when they deserve it, because he's just that much of a coward."

"I feel like I'd have to look out for him if someone was giving him trouble. At least I'll be able to fight back. Hope they get another healer if I get hurt helping him, though. I mean, I've got a strong stomach, but drinking blood straight from another person isn't on my bucket list."

"Fact is, I can't always watch out for him, and I'm not gonna follow him around like an overprotective mom. Sooner or later, he'll have to toughen up. If he doesn't..."

"This place'll break him."

---

Alexis

"She seems to think there's good in everyone. Which is an attitude I'm in two minds about."

"Well, it's as admirable as it is stupidly naive. Trying to make everyone get along is all very well, but some people are just never going to work that way."

"No, I'm not a fan now that you ask. She's a liability, to herself and anyone that has to work with her, and sooner or later something's gonna go very, very wrong."

"What I'm saying is that her 'we can all be friends' shtick is going to get her or someone else hurt while she tries to rearrange the man-eating monsters into a goddamn prayer circle or something."

"Then again, I suppose technically there would be something good in them when she gets eaten for her hippy bullshit."

"You're right. Sorry."

---

Aaron

"Seems a decent enough kid. My first impression was maybe he could stand to be a bit more alert, but I don't think he's too shy about speaking up. The opposite, if anything."

"We don't really talk that much."

"His attitude? Oh, you mean the 'forging ahead' thing. See, that's where we differ, and probably why we're not really buddies. It's easy enough for him to talk about letting go of the past, but some things aren't easy to just forget about."

"If he even starts with that stuff about it being a learning experience, I think I'll break his nose. Just so long as we're clear on that before I do it. I warned you guys, you can't blame me."

"No, I don't plan on actually doing it. That doesn't mean it won't happen."

---

Brent

"He's almost obsessive, to be honest. Everything's planned, it all has a purpose no matter what he's doing. Always working."

"I've just never seen someone put so much effort into anything without actually caring."

"That's just what it seems like. Like he's working hard and trying to win because it's what he's supposed to do. He thinks he's meant to be some kind of winner, I don't know. Thought you guys would have psychologists for that kind of questioning."

"Running away? Hiding something? Maybe, I guess. How about you go ask him that, instead of putting me through twenty questions on it? I'm sure he'll be much friendlier to you."

"Well, he seems that way. Always says hi and everything, you know? I can't say I mind the guy."

---

Ernest

"He's an example of what happens when we stop trying. Stop caring about anyone but ourselves. He's weak, and he's exactly what I don't want to be."

"The rest of us deal with our problems at least a little, but he doesn't even try. As far as I'm concerned, that makes him weak. Too weak to put anyone else first, no matter what's going on. I wouldn't trust him not to leave me to my fate if I was in trouble."

"I don't have a problem with a little selfishness. What I do have a problem with is when it hurts other people. Not just refusing to help, hurting. That's exactly what he does."

"No. If I ever became that weak... It'd mean I don't deserve anyone's help. Even if he won't help me when it comes down to it, I'm stronger than that."

---

Sophia

"You mean she's not mute?"

"Seriously, she's never said a word to me. Not one."

"No, that has to go past nervousness. There's a reason there, has to be. No-one is just that shy out of nowhere."

"I don't know how else to describe it. Because she doesn't really give off an antisocial vibe like some people in this place do. Really doesn't seem as though she hates us or anything..."

"It's more like she can't. Get the words out, I mean. While I'd like to try and help her with that, dealing with this kind of situation isn't exactly my strong point."

---

Gregory

"Clinical. That's the first thing that comes to mind. Precise. Knows what he wants to do when he wants to do it, and you can tell by how he acts all the time. Reasoning behind it all, you know?"

"No, he's not like them. They push every day, take every single one separately - he seems to think bigger than that. Or something."

"Yeah, he can annoy me. If you're gonna go about hitting people with confrontation about everything, don't be surprised and get all pissy when they retaliate. Maybe if it's so irritating, he should think before he speaks."

"I'm not great at taking my own advice, no. What's your point?"

"Well, I'm not about to start up his fan club or anything. If he doesn't go putting his foot in his mouth, I can tolerate him. I'm just not sure how likely that is."

---

"Just so we're clear, none of that gets back to them, alright? I have a reputation to uphold. Can't have them thinking I've gone soft or anything."

"What can I say, I'm a sweetheart. So, anything else? I do autographs. I was thinking of bringing out a line of t-shirts, maybe a novelty mug..."

"Yes, I'm joking. I don't love myself quite that much. Give it a couple of years, and I might get back to you, but right now I need my beauty sleep."

Current feelings towards others

Lawrence

He stopped me from getting myself killed. I shouldn't resent that as much as I do, but it's tough to be rational about any of this. It should make me feel better that someone gave enough of a damn to stop me getting myself hurt, but it doesn't. Maybe it's because I'm so terrible at looking after them in return. And I snapped again, too, after all he did to try and help me. Pretty tough to do for someone that's not worth helping, I guess.

Feels like I let him down, really.

---

Liliana

We haven't really spoken since DC, but I still like the girl. She's kinda weird, but the whole amnesia thing must be pretty tough to adjust to so I'll cut her some slack there. Plus it's always useful to have a healer around. All that being said, though... well, she did save me in La Plata. From permanently crippling myself, if nothing else. In other circumstances, I'd probably be a hell of a lot more grateful for that, and even now I appreciate how willing she was to go through that for someone she'd never even spoken to.

But I hope she doesn't save me twice.

---

Emma

Don't think she likes me, but the feeling's pretty mutual. That's probably for the best. Although I'd be more comfortable if her summons weren't immune to my powers. I mean, I could try to argue about what she said back at the lighthouse, but I know she's right. I'm hurting the others, I'm enjoying it, I don't even know how to do anything else... 'fucking psycho' seems like a pretty accurate description. Wonder how long it'll take before they figure out it's pointless even saying all that shit to me. It's not like they ever come up with anything I haven't realised for myself.

So she can call me whatever she likes - one more insult's hardly gonna make a difference at this point.

---

Grant

...

---

Chris

I tried. I tried to get some kind of reason, and all he did was cry about how trying to talk out his problems was pointless. I mean, I'm not the most patient at the best of times, but holy shit he's a petulant fucking baby. And he actually seems to think he's frightening as well, which is almost funny because he's so completely pathetic it's unbelievable. He doesn't even try to face up to people, he just acts like it's all everyone else's fault, crying and whining.

Well he can cry me a fucking river. At least I've had reasons for snapping that aren't just 'teach that shit not to fuck with me' - it's the most insecure middle-schooler bullshit I've ever heard. And apparently whatever happened in Ground Zero was even more trivial than that? You know what, I take it back - it's not just 'almost funny', it's hilariously pathetic. There's a part of me that's weak like that, and I think that's what pisses me off most of all.

To put it simply: I can't stand this little bitch.

---

Sander

Holy shit, that was embarrassing. If ever I wanted to erase a memory--

How drunk was I? I mean, he was pretty cool to me, considering the way I acted back there, but you'd think I'd have noticed sooner. And I appreciate that he didn't, uh, go along with it. But I don't know him, and I'm more than happy to keep it that way. Considering Emma's going out with Marcus, and Ernie is Ernie (ugh), poor old Sander was the only option, in the wrong place at the wrong time. As for why I was looking for any of that?

...Old habits die hard, I guess.

---

Callan

I don't get it. Even after she explained, I don't get why she's bothering to talk when I've done so much to fuck her and her friends over. But she seemed... sincere. And she's still naive, still wants to see some better way in things, still the opposite of who I am. It's probably genuine on her part. But she thought I was a murderer, that it wouldn't even bother me to kill her, and hell - she's partly right. I won't hesitate if it really does come to that. So I don't get why she won't just ignore me. She's seen the worst parts of who I am.

And she's so wrong about the things she said. I'm anything but strong. I'm so weak I almost killed someone because I can't get over shit from so fucking long ago. But I didn't tell her that, maybe because I don't want anyone to know I'm weak. Maybe because I want to believe there's something worthwhile left in me.

I just don't get why it hurts so much when people think I might be worth helping.

---

Kusari

I'm sorry.

I warned her. I told her, not all of my Stigma, but some. That's why I told her, as a warning. Because I wanted her to stay out of my way, because I didn't want this to happen-- and I knew it would, that it was coming one way or another after what happened in the cellar. And I don't have any right to be, but there's a part of me that's pissed at her too. She - I don't know, she plays with people. Pushes their buttons and pulls their strings and keeps on asking questions, but like hell does she take the answers into account. Like hell does she listen to a warning.

And in my case, it was one push too fucking far. Because I don't know how to do anything else. Because I can't get past who I used to be, how things used to be, because I'm so terrified of ever being that weak again. If it hadn't been for the water, maybe it would have been fine, can't know now. I thought I was getting better, but what happened... showed me I can't afford to let my guard down. That I'll never be a safe person to have around.

I'm sorry for how weak I turned out to be.

---

Padma

I didn't know her. I never will.

---

Marcus

Could've probably gone about that better, but I think I... kind of fixed things? Not as well as I could have, and I definitely screwed it up, but something's better than nothing. The whole thing, the lighthouse and that half-assed apology, all seems like more evidence that I'm kinda shitty. Still, he said he planned on protecting people, and I think I believe that. If I'm only able to hurt people, it's good to think there's someone trying to keep them alive - god knows I can't manage to do that. That seems to extend to me, too, even after everything. He wasn't willing to say he'd walk away, and I don't know how to feel about that.

We might not see eye-to-eye, but it's good to know where he stands if nothing else.

---

Zoe

I can't do this anymore. I can't keep seeing them dead, liking it, living with the weight of everything I've done - what the fuck's wrong with me? I just can't seem to treat people right, to actually act like a normal fucking person for once in my life, and every time I try it's like things just don't come together. Maybe I'm just not able to be kind. There's something broken, some crossed wire in my head. Keep on lashing out, hurting people... and then I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, but I know sorry doesn't fix anything. I know better than anyone that sorry doesn't fix anything.

But it's like I can't stop, like I don't know how to stop. No matter how much I hurt, how much pain I go through, how many conversations I go into with good intentions, I can't make anything right. And I've tried, tried so fucking hard, and it just doesn't work. Because I'm a coward, deep down, a scared little girl that doesn't know how to let go of the past. How to forgive it - like I deserve any forgiveness. I hurt so many people and I think I'm gonna hurt more and I'm so scared.

To tell the truth, part of me's jealous of the others. Because I really wish I wasn't like this, you know? But hurting's the only thing I ever got from anyone, right up until I was strong enough to break out on my own. To protect people, to shield them, to be the person they can rely on and knows what to do. The rest of me's still there, but I'm so scared to let anyone in. I don't want to admit how pathetic I really am. So I keep on faking it while I feel myself falling apart.

Fuck, I just want this to be over.

---

Hazel

Okay, honestly, she's fucking weird. I'm not gonna talk about the fight, because I've not really got room to judge anyone there, but just going off of the way she acts? Almost completely emotionless, just makes a judgement based on whatever logic is going on in her brain. It doesn't even seem like she doesn't care, it's more like she doesn't understand. Like whatever that collar does to her's stopped her from knowing how to, uh, 'people'. It's screwed up.

---

Siena

Part of me's worried at how unworried she is by me. There's stuff in that conversation that I think most people would've questioned, would have confronted me about-- but she didn't. Hell, I almost get the feeling that she wanted a shot at questioning the guy I captured for herself; not the same way I wanted it, I don't think, but... I don't know. There's something dangerous about her, and I'm not sure whether to try and encourage or discourage it. In the end, that doesn't seem like a choice for me to make.

I trust her, though, despite everything. I trust her and she's smart enough to think things through better than I can. Most of the time, anyway. That's why I looked for her in the first place, why I told her about everything, why I asked her for help. From what I can tell, she kept it quiet like I asked. Doesn't seem to be scared of me either, which helps with some things, but I can't keep from wondering how long that'll last. And I can't help feeling maybe it'd be safer if she was.

---

Angelique

I didn't mean for things to go this way. Maybe there's more I could have done to stop what happened, maybe not; but there's so much more I could have done afterwards. So many decisions I could've made a little smarter, done a little better. And now, intentional or not, I've put everyone's lives on the line for her. Used to wonder what I was capable of doing for the sake of a friend, and it turns out it's a lot worse than most decent people would. Throwing everyone back into hell for the sake of my personal goals.

And even knowing what I'm about to put everyone through... to get a friend back alive, I'd make the same choice a thousand times.

---

Allison

She's so wrong about me it's unbelievable. I saw how upset she was about all this, how desperate she is to believe Angel's alive - and I just stood there without saying a word. What a good friend, right? Heartless bitch, more like. Still, she'll figure it out soon enough; I'm going to tell them everything, after all. It's probably better that she sees I'm terrible anyway and maybe this time'll be enough for her to really figure it out. So it's probably selfish that I can't stop worrying about that. Funny, though. I decided not to tell her because I didn't want her running off to get killed, and then I went and got us all signed up for the chopping block. Accidentally, but the end result matters a whole lot more than the intentions.

Least things'll be easier for her without me once she realises what a hypocrite I am.

---

Savannah

I'm surprised everyone gives that much of a shit about her. People die. If everyone's sitting around blaming themselves, they're just wasting their time - at least, they are if they're not doing anything to fix it. Make sure it doesn't happen again.

...Guess I'm one to talk about repeating mistakes, though.

---

Christmas

Wonder if he was okay, after the fight. Physically, I mean. The kid doesn't seem mentally okay anyway, but even then it was strange. Something was with them out there, him and Ernie - They wouldn't tell me anything, and I doubt he'd talk to me properly if I tried to ask. After all, he saw me being... Me, I guess. Don't know how to describe it. In any case, he didn't speak up - But I think I'd have to rip his ear off before he would. I should've done a better job of looking after him, though. Should've been the one taking the knife. Lucky he didn't get killed.

---

Alexis

'It didn't have to happen'. I've thought that phrase way too many times since that first fight. Cracked skull, right? First dead person I saw here - not the goriest I've ever come across, but not great. Still, I didn't know her, and that's probably for the best.

Doesn't mean the memory's not clear as day.

---

Aaron

Fracture, huh? At least, that's my best guess. Didn't tell us 'cause they didn't wanna freak us out - although I'm guessing they lost him somehow. Not like they took more than one of us from the island. Part of me's disappointed I didn't get to see whatever happened to him. That's kind of fucked up, isn't it?

Whatever they did with him, I'll make sure he's the only one.

---

Brent

He shouldn't have dragged the rest of them into it. It's not his fault what I did, but I don't appreciate being overridden. When I tell someone I have my limits, I fucking mean it - if he'd just listened and taken the damn shot, Allison and I could've destroyed the slime before anything else went wrong. It all worked out okay this time, but if he tries that shit again then I'm telling him to go fuck himself. Sure, it's good that he stopped me before I did anything serious, but still, none of it had to happen in the first place.

When it comes to what's going on in my head, he doesn't know nearly as much as he thinks he does. But then, he's an arbiter. I don't know why I expected anything more.

---

Ernest

I think I'm starting to not mind Ernie, which is strange. We're not friends, and we definitely don't hang out, but I don't feel all that hostile towards the guy. Although I don't think we see eye-to-eye on the whole cleaning issue - this week's probably not made the best impression with his neat freak tendencies. For what it's worth, though, I tried to give him advice. Just 'cause I'm not some kind of genius, doesn't mean I can't try and say something smart occasionally.

Don't know how much he'll have taken on board, though. Still don't think he's all that brave when you get down to it - seems kinda worried that I'll bust him for the whole thing with David, even after I said I'd take the heat. Not my style, though. I prefer not to break my word. Hopefully I helped the guy figure out what he was worried about - at least a little.

And hey, at least I got free cake out of it.

---

Sophia

...

---

Gregory

Dead. Just like the others, dead because the Amigos were too strong for us. I don't care enough to bother grieving for him - grieving's kind of a sick experience for me anyway nowadays. I try not to reflect on stuff like that, better to just bury it like all the rest. As for all the ways he could have died... I try not to think about that, too. If only that meant I always succeeded.

---

Familiar nightmares (Zoe's Stigma)

This is me, right?
I hate it so much, I'm so scared...
And I still want it so much more than words can say.

---

Lawrence

He was pretty close when he stopped me from running, wasn't he? Everyone was so panicked, so distracted, they might not have even noticed it starting, if his insides were slowly reduced and melted away - and then they would have, wouldn't they? They'd have screamed and panicked and fought, but they wouldn't have been fast enough. I know they wouldn't have been fast enough, because I can hear how he'd scream.

Feel the pain as I'm knocked down by any number of powers, as blood rushes and spills across the floor from gaping wounds that are just too much to heal quickly enough, and it's only seconds but it feels like forever doesn't it? Or maybe, maybe I just want it to be forever, maybe that's what I want things to be. Pain and bliss, agony and ecstasy, mixed and bubbling and burning me away. Sometimes I start on the others too, they're so close, so many, so tightly packed--

More voices join his in the screaming, an indistinct choir of agony.

And fuck, it's the best sound in the world.

---

Liliana

I wonder, sometimes, what would happen if I made her watch. One of the others, someone she considers a friend - after all, she's pretty eager to take on injuries for herself, from what I've seen. So how far does that push, how much can I make her take before she loses it? An interesting question... tantalising, even. It wouldn't even have to kill her at the end of the day. It's about reaching the edge, not pushing anyone over it.

And it would be useful to know how much she's willing to endure. With or without a little encouragement.

---

Emma

She's right about me. I don't think she realises just how right, but that makes the thought of proving it all the more satisfying. Pretty difficult to stay all high-and-mighty when you're slowly melting away. Piece by piece - taking it slowly. But honestly, I wouldn't stick around for this one. Not because I wouldn't want to watch her slowly fall apart, but because it's more satisfying to let the effect work on its own, feel the rush continue even when I'm gone.

To show her that she isn't even worth my time.

---

Grant

...

---

Chris

He transforms, doesn't he? And when it fades, he seems to be healed, whole once he's back as a person. That just presents... so many possibilities for me. Take off his wings, his legs... and I could go so far, so far until he was forced to change back for his own safety. Split open his skin, leave it to peel off section by section, burn out his eyes, melt his gums and watch his teeth fall into his own mouth, reduce him until he was completely helpless and keep going until he's nothing.

And even after all that, I have him to deal with. The human. So pathetic, so self-important, so utterly fucking childish. If he wants to cry, that means I can give him something to really scream over. He's so desperate to hold onto his suffering, to pretend that he's somehow special in all of this, and it's beautiful to show him how very wrong that is. Everyone has a breaking point. I take it slow once he can't run. Once his bones are rotted away and his limbs lie limp and useless, I take it so, so slowly. But I don't kill him, no. I don't kill him for a long time.

Not until I get to hear him beg.

---

Sander

I don't know much about him, really. It limits my imagination in an irritating way, stops the images from having any kind of personal touch - but I don't think I could take my time for this one either way. After all, he's invincible after a while. So I'd make it fast, make it simple, and above all else quick. The moment he let his guard down, It'd be quick. Removing everything I could reach, and then once he was nothing but the most vital parts of himself...

I guess then it's off with his head.

---

Callan

Trusting. Naive. So very breakable. Forgiveness? I know how forgiveness ends, how it always ends, but maybe she doesn't and that's okay! No better way to learn than being part of a demonstration, after all. Practical. She thinks I can beat this, that I'm strong enough to do that--

No no I'm not at all, am I, not even close to it. Falling further, falling faster... but there'd be no better way to prove her wrong. I'm not even breaking a promise if I hurt her enough beforehand, that's the beauty of it. Because I'm sure that thing will come out, try to tear me to shreds or strike me down, and then I'm only doing what she asked me to. Fulfilling a duty, showing her just how strong I can be. Or maybe it's showing her just how weak I really am.

Of course, that's less fun. But if I hurt her enough, fuck her up enough, maybe she'll have to struggle with her control just like I do. No escape, no respite, no relaxation-- fighting it every single day. Then she'll know what a lost cause it is trying to help me.

---

Kusari

It's a memory now, isn't it? I can still remember every part of that moment, but it's almost unreal at the same time. The terror that caused it seems dull and muted, and in comparison her pain is bright and fucking delicious as every nerve burns away and regrows and burns again. And there's something real about it, utterly real, none of the strangeness that comes with the others-- the pleasure of the whole thing is almost visceral by comparison.

The kind of high that people spend their whole lives chasing. I don't know how many times I've seen it since I got back. But it's always just so good. So unbelievably good. Haven't seen her since that happened, don't think I want to, because I know I'll want that feeling again. I'm trying to describe it but it's beyond words, into the depths of something primal and rabid and animal instead. Kill her. Kill her, and then bring her back just so I can do it again. I tell myself it's disgusting, utterly inhuman; hell, I've been sick a couple of times when I come back to myself once the whole thing's done.

But no matter how hard I try I can't stop myself from wanting.

---

Marcus

Wouldn't promise not to save me, wouldn't promise to walk away. It's not something I think I can understand, but that's fine, right? Just means I have to make sure it's impossible. The scenario's the same as before, tendons snapped and ligaments melted away so he can't run anywhere. So he has to struggle to move anywhere, desperately fighting and unable to stand. Except now he can't help anyone either, can't help me, can't decide that I have to make it out alive.

I normally die in these ones, one way or another. Hurting him feels good, but that doesn't. Not as much, anyway.

---

Zoe

More and more. Temptation after temptation. How can I put that into words? How could I ever explain why things are this way? How I'm so scared, so disgusted, so horrified - and how you still can't resist that self-indulgent bliss? It's easy to think I should just get it over with and tell them, there's nothing stopping me. Tell them I fantasise about tearing them to shreds, tell them I've enjoyed everything I've done to such a sick extent.

That I've never been some strong warrior, some determined hero, some suffering soldier-- fucking look at what I've turned into. I'm a monster. A freak. A subnatural. A psychopath that gets off on her own diseased fucking rampages. The most pathetic specimen that anyone's ever shit out onto this broken little excuse for a planet, whose only claim to fame is ruining the life of everyone she ever came across.

Isn't it selfish of me to even want help? Or is it more selfish to hold back from that because I'm scared of what they'll think when they learn how deep that sickness goes? I don't know if I can face them knowing how depraved and disgusting I really am. And even if I'm ever brave enough, I know there's nothing they could ever do to help.

Besides, it's not like I've never lashed out before. Maybe some of this is just me.

---

Hazel

I wonder what it would take to make her react like a person. To break through whatever robotic fucking haze she's got going on and make her do something human and feral. This one's odd - I don't know if she'd understand what was happening when I plucked out her eyes or made her hands disintegrate into nothingness, and that makes the whole thing lose its appeal.

It's better when they know what's happening, what I'm doing, who's doing it. It's personal, not clinical and detached like she is. That's just boring. It's easy enough to ignore this one, because the pain just wouldn't stick out like it does with the others.

---

Siena

Unpredictable, that's what I said. And I'm starting to think she's dangerous too. There's a mask there, a disguise, even if I didn't realise it before. There are... so many things that could lie under that, and I want to know. So I reach up, and I tear away the surface, pulling the skin from her face. There's a kind of resistance, a stickiness as I try to tear it away, and the resistance makes it feel so real; the stench of blood and rot hitting me in a single moment.

There are layers to work through, layers upon layers of skin and muscle and eventually I reach bone. She's dead by then of course, but I don't stop, don't stop peeling everything away until there's only dust left. Until there's nothing left of whatever mask she's been hiding behind, and I see what remains. But there's nothing, and I'm sorry, and I just can't help but laugh. Whatever she's hiding, whatever isn't there for me to see... none of it's going to be left once I'm done. Who knows, maybe I'll even get to see what that danger was.

---

Angelique

She's my friend. The singer, and so fond of making speeches, of trying to speak up, of trusting in me when it's all just bullshit. Every time she's there, every time she's helpful, I imagine it. When she smiles, I imagine digging my hands into her throat - slowly, oh-so-slowly, once her vocal chords are destroyed. There's a look on her face, fury, betrayal, but she's helpless. Helpless against everything I'm doing.

It's her lungs that do it. Slowly, precisely, ripping away the inside, ever-so careful because I wouldn't want to do it too fast. She wants to scream, but it doesn't do anything, and that's when I let her go. Blood bubbling up in her throat, spilling from her mouth, as she spasms and flails and chokes. There's so much pain, I can feel it in the air, with every nerve, with every fibre of my being and it's indescribable. It's... incredible.

Then I blink, and she's sitting next to me again without a care in the world. Believing I can change.

And all I want to do is vomit.

---

Allison

So forgiving, isn't she? Naive. An easy opportunity. Still, without my powers, I couldn't hurt her the way I would the rest. Not rotting, not melting, nothing that easy and effortless. But I'm stronger than her, so it's be a simple matter. The moment she tries to reach out, I knock her down, pinning her - then I grab her arm, force it to bend as far as it can and then further still until the joints tear and bones shatter.

The feeling itself isn't remarkable on its own, even if it's so satisfying to feel everything finally give. It's the sound that makes it, as tendons snap and bones crunch. A very particular sound, a mixture of a crack, loud and painful as bone breaks and shifts and grinds, and a pop as everything comes out of place - then the agony hits, fractions of a second after, and the screaming replaces it. Music. And it continues, adding to the symphony as it reaches new heights with every snap and pop and break.

She passes out, eventually, and I stamp her face into the concrete until she never wakes up again. Dead, dead without even knowing a thing about Angel's fate. Or sometimes I tell her, and she dies struggling with that hope, desperate to see her just one last time. It's tragic either way. And really fucking cruel of me.

Wonder how forgiving she'd be if she knew about that.

---

Christmas

...

---

Brent

He thinks he knows, thinks he understands even a little of this, of me. So arrogant, so fucking arrogant. No, he doesn't understand the complete and utter loss of control and the bliss that comes with it-- he never could. It was naive to think he'd ever get how far this feeling goes, but we're nothing alike. This one isn't as precise as the others, isn't as methodical.

It's an animal thing, tearing off chunks and pieces and tossing them aside carelessly. Sometimes he'll die quickly, sometimes he'll live a while, but I don't pay any attention to it. It doesn't matter how much he suffers, even if every rip and tear sends shivers down my spine; what matters is that I'm not in control, that he sees how different we truly are. No thoughts, no decisions, as I let myself be a spectator in his grisly demise.

I don't even bother to wash the blood from my hands.

---

Ernest

Still thinking about David... it's a shared experience, the first time I really got to have some fun with someone around here. Fond memories, on my part, and when it's Ernie's turn on the chopping block I bring them all back full-force. There's nothing too complicated about the first parts, a thumb drawn down the face, an ear torn free and tossed aside. It's fun seeing how he reacts to all the blood, the uncleanliness of it all as I smear it across his face.

We put out his eyes, too, as I remember it. I'm guessing bleach doesn't work on his durability, but my powers are a good compromise, a thumb dragged across agonisingly slowly until he's completely and utterly blind. 'Course, I'm not cleaning any of this up - it's more fun to let him panic from being covered in his own blood, considering all the clean-freak shit. Even more fun to watch him try and keep it together through all of it.

There's no need for him to worry, though; I'll keep his secrets once he's finished, if nothing else.

---

Sophia

...

---

Others

They're only memories, once they die. Beautiful, horrifying memories of broken bone and spattered viscera, but my imagination doesn't add much to it. Merciful, right? Ha. Might sound that way, but like hell it is - because the memories feel so much better than anything else ever could. I can't explain this to anyone, not properly, not really showing what's happening in my head.

How do you tell someone that their dead friends are your goddamn fantasy material? Even if I don't have a choice about what I feel, what I see-- they already think I'm sick enough. Maybe they want to know, some of them, what drives me to do the things I do, but...

I can't help but think that it's better that they don't. But I'm starting to wish I could tell them anyway.

—(••[ 𝕎𝕀𝕊ℍ𝔼𝔸𝕋𝔼ℝ ]••)—

I put together a character sheet! Sorry for any formatting issues, on mobile atm

Zoe Fletcher

ℕ 𝕒 𝕞 𝕖 :

Zoe Fletcher

𝔸 𝕘 𝕖 :

18

ℍ 𝕖 𝕚 𝕘 𝕙 𝕥 :

6'0"

𝕎 𝕖 𝕚 𝕘 𝕙 𝕥 :

150 lbs

𝔸 𝕡 𝕡 𝕖 𝕒 𝕣 𝕒 𝕟 𝕔 𝕖 :

Image

Tall, lean and muscular, Zoe's appearance gives off what can only be described as a predatory vibe. She has the air and manner of someone used to fending to themselves, and an expression often firmly fixed into a confident smirk. There is an air of arrogance about her, not least because of the way she carries herself and her relaxed, lazy stride. She seems to have been in more than a few scraps, which is obvious if you take a closer look - small scars litter her body, and are especially visible on her knuckles. Her usual clothing is generally fairly muted and not designed to draw attention.

For the observant, it's apparent that her arrogance isn't quite all that it seems. While she puts on an admirable front, rings under her eyes, ragged nails and the way her eyes dart around as though waiting for an attack all speak to the insecurity and self-loathing that she tries to hide. All in all, her appearance is that of someone confident on the surface, but to the exceptionally observant it may seem she's struggling to hold it together.

ℙ 𝕖 𝕣 𝕤 𝕠 𝕟 𝕒 𝕝 𝕚 𝕥 𝕪 :

Zoe is the kind of person that comes off as a born warrior or an arrogant ass, depending on who you ask. An adrenaline junkie of the highest degree, if there's a fight going on then she'll do her best to be involved - and if there isn't, she'll more than likely make someone angry enough to start one. Despite her aggressive tendencies, she doesn't actively try to start fights despite often being involved. It just happens that a lot of people want to wipe the smirk off of her face, and that she's very easy to make angry. She's not sadistic, or lacking empathy for others or anything like that, but definitely volatile and easily provoked - something which has gotten far worse since she gained the 'X' on her throat.

Of course, like most people, she does have at least some redeeming qualities. For one, she's incredibly trustworthy, and will take a secret to the grave if she's trusted with it. She's also endlessly loyal, and looks out for people weaker than herself as best she can - a softer side which she endlessly denies. Beyond that, she's happy to put herself on the line to protect people who need it. Swift to become attached to anyone who sees past her attitude, it's almost strange how someone so starved of affection tries so hard to push other people away. She seems afraid of letting anyone get close in case she loses them, but being called out on this is a real sore spot for her, and there's no doubt that anyone doing so will find themselves on the receiving end of an attempted assault.

While her harsh manner extends to friends as well as enemies, there is certainly a difference between the two. Towards people she dislikes, her remarks aim to be as cutting as possible, and she will make no secret of the fact that she hates someone's guts. Even if she thinks they're right, she'll be as pigheaded and obstinate as possible just to avoid agreeing with them. Towards her friends, it's something closer to playing devil's advocate for whatever plans or concerns they may have rather than outright malice. Generally, her hatred is reserved for people who allow their power to consume them, or who harm indiscriminately without regret, an urge at least partially seeded in self-loathing and how she struggles against the effects of her own stigma.

One thing that she hates is when people she trusts lie or manipulate her, especially if it's 'for her own good'. As far as she's concerned, anything that's for her own good is something she can be told about. When she's particularly angry or upset, she has a habit of going incredibly quiet for a while before reacting, although her reactions will remain characteristically volatile. She has difficulty mustering the strength to keep control and master the urges brought on by her stigma, and it's a struggle she fails more often than not.

ℍ 𝕚 𝕤 𝕥 𝕠 𝕣 𝕪 :

Zoe rushed into the hospital, a look in her eyes like a cornered animal. In her arms, there was a small body bundled in cloth, unmoving. Desperation filled her voice as she stood in the waiting room, the cross on her throat clear to see. "Help! Please, you have to-" her voice broke, taking on a horrified note. "I couldn't stop myself."

After the bundle was taken from her, she knew what would happen if she stayed. Knew there was no way life would be the same. But despite that, her feet refused to move - and it wasn't long before they came to pick her up. She didn't resist, and soon enough found herself at USARILN East.

𝕄 𝕒 𝕘 𝕚 𝕔 :

Reassemble

Allows her to decompose organic material after touching someone. The ability requires contact with a person to become active, but once she's made initial contact it works within a 10 meter radius of her. The ability's effects can be sped up if she focuses them into one area, roughly the size of her hand. Initially all that her targets feel would be an unusual itch, but if they allow it to progress it will eventually become incredibly painful. Currently her ability is quite slow, acting at roughly the same rate as a severe case of necrotising fasciitis on full-body with targeted attacks somewhat faster, and she is limited to only affecting things she can see.

The ability's use is indicated by black veins appearing on whatever she made contact with, and wisp-like flecks of black dust appearing around her.

𝔻 𝕣 𝕖 𝕒 𝕞 :

The sun shines down on her face, standing in the middle of a remote village. Around her, ramshackle huts give way to homes of her own making, comfortable and safe. In the background, she can hear people laughing and imagine the smiles on their faces. They don't need to want for anything, to wish for anything, because she's created for them everything they need.

It's a paradise, but not one for her. She moves on, her job completed and another utopia created. Wherever she goes, she is celebrated for her actions, praised and loved. She's worth something, to so many people, but as she looks out upon the village as they celebrate without even noticing her departure, there's one thing that remains clear to her - she is completely alone.

ℕ 𝕚 𝕘 𝕙 𝕥 𝕞 𝕒 𝕣 𝕖 :

"You can protect them."

A whimper echoes through the narrow street. Wordless desperation, from a man who long since lost the ability to beg for mercy. She's never seen his face before, but she despises him - despises his kind, who act from nothing but selfishness and greed. Justice, for all that ever wronged her, all who ever sought to do no more than hurt. As she grips his face in her hands, she smiles, and moments later not an inch of flesh remains on his skull. The sight is, in a word, horrifying.

Letting go, behind him she sees the face of a child a few years younger than she is, smiling brightly and seemingly unaware of the bloodshed surrounding them.

"Is he gone?"

"I got rid of him."

As Zoe speaks, her eyes scan the ground behind them - a graveyard of mutilated, unburied corpses. Despite this, she speaks with grim certainty, a cold satisfaction. She has the power to ensure a perfect life, for her and the ones she cares about, to destroy anybody who would harm them. To ensure the happiness of everyone that matters.

"No one will ever hurt you again."

𝔸 𝕨 𝕒 𝕜 𝕖 𝕟 𝕚 𝕟 𝕘 :

Aberration

𝕊 𝕥 𝕚 𝕘 𝕞 𝕒 :

Zoe's stigma manifests itself in what is essentially a feeling of bloodlust, an urge to hurt and harm other people. An intense compulsion telling her that giving in would make her happy constantly demands she give in. The more she cares about someone, the more it makes her want to hurt them - and whenever she gives in to the compulsion, the memory replays again and again, accompanied by a rush of joy.

𝔸 𝕣 𝕞 𝕒 𝕞 𝕖 𝕟 𝕥 𝕤 :

xxx

𝕋 𝕙 𝕖 𝕞 𝕖 𝕊 𝕠 𝕟 𝕘 𝕤 :

To be found when I get to an actual computer.

Pokémon: Start

"We won? We won!"Abigail looked at the field for a moment before her face split into a wide grin and she rushed forward, picking her Wooper up into her arms, and spinning around, looking as much like an excited puppy as it was possible for a person to look. "We did it! Go team! We're the best!" After a little more of that, Abigail realised she was maybe being a bit rude. She couldn't just ignore the other team, that was mean.

"Oh, uh, you guys did good too! Just not as good as us, but still good!" It was quickly becoming apparent that Abigail had all the social delicacy and etiquette of... Well, of something with very little of it to spare. As she let one hand go in order to give them a thumbs up, she lost her balance and basically faceplanted. Winston just looked slightly confused at what was going on. He gave his trainer a look that conveyed a lot of disappointment for something with what seemed like only one facial expression. "...Woop? Woop."

Nodding sagely, Abigail appeared to think for a good few seconds at this. Of course, how hadn't she realised it before? "You're right. We've got a journey to get on with. Professor, can we go now?" Standing up, she brushed the dust off of her clothes, looking at Kalmia. They'd won, so it seemed like it was right for her to get going soon. Heroes didn't get left behind in the dirt! They went ahead, and beat bad guys and did hero-y stuff!

Of course, an observer would notice that Abigail's manner had shifted a huge amount after the battle had finished - it seemed that the girl's intelligence was definitely something very much focused in one area. And that otherwise, the girl could charitably be called a little bit scatterbrained. It wasn't that she was stupid, just that she didn't focus on anything for more than a split second and had no filter between her brain and her mouth.

Divided We Stand

For anyone that wants to read it, the Amy/Lucas collab is up!

Divided We Stand

---

---

---

---

Location; Mayweather training room
Interacting with; Eachother_@Legion02

---

The training room ringed as Lucas kept hitting the reinforced dummy. These dummies were specifically made for those with increased strength. Or rather, who could apply quite a bit more newton than the average boxer. It didn’t matter how to the dummies. Thus the bully of Delphina kept hitting, completely alone in the hall. It was midday, so everyone was out eating. But not Lucas, a man who just went through two hellish talks. Strangely, the last one was the worst. There was something particularly embarrassing being asked by a mother if you’re dating her child. But it simultaneously hit an incredibly sensitive string. So now he was trying to cope with all that. Or rather, he was trying to forget it. Through the only way possible: fighting.

Amy entered the training room with a slight smile on her face, not really paying much attention to anything else in there. It wasn't really too often that she'd train in here but she figured it was about time to sort herself out and prepare for the tournament as much as she could, although finding an opportunity was an issue. Still, everyone was meant to be out getting food right now, so she could finally train without having to hide anything. Stretching lazily, she decided to stop holding back her powers, her grey eyes losing their colour as they extended around her. It was kind of a relief, honestly - having to keep such a tight rein on them could be a headache in more than a few ways.

Lucas had just taken a breather. Trying to keep himself under control. This wasn’t supposed to get like back in the forest. He wasn’t supposed to beat himself to the point that his knuckles started bleeding. Today was supposed to be far more stretched out. Not just a spike of anger, but a slow burn. One that would sear away the problems. If even for just a moment. Alas, he reckoned it was high time again for another set of exercises. As he stepped up towards the dummy he took a deep breath, supplying his already aching muscles with more oxygen. It was now time to train with the full power of the solar force. When pulling back his fist, a light flooded his fist. Like it a comet, it had a tail going along the arm of Lucas, ending way beyond the shoulder. With a smooth motion he moved forward, summoning forth all power he could put in a punch. Letting it get amplified by the power. He could feel the strength, the energy. He knew what it was capable of. But right when he was about to hit his target the bright energy surrounding his arm dissolved into the air. With wide eyes he witnessed how his fist hit the dummy, barely even moving it. While the bones in his fist felt as if they all just cracked. “What the hell!?” he exclaimed, looking around. There was nothing, no-one. He never experienced his powers failing. But then he saw it. Some girl, one among the group chosen for the tournament. He eyed her, trying to remember if he knew her power. He didn’t. So he slowly turned his gaze to his arm, trying to trigger the solar force again. But to no avail.

Eyes widening in surprise, Amy glanced over at the source of the noise. Wait a minute, that was Lucas, wasn't it? One of the Delphina guys, and one that most people thought of as a whole lot of trouble. If she remembered right, he wasn't the best guy to make angry. Okay, that probably wasn't good. It might have been a good idea to look around the room before she did that, now that she thought about it. Still, there was always a chance she could just pretend nothing happened. Maybe he'd just think his powers went wrong for a second and she'd be able to train in peace, although she didn't want to bring the field in completely since that seemed like missing the point of training in the first place. Settling on a comprimise, she brought it in slightly, just enough that Lucas would be a couple metres out of range. Trying a little too hard to pretend nothing had happened, she gave him what she hoped was a look of curiosity and a sympathetic smile, as if she had no idea how his powers possibly could have done that. Even as she did so, she could tell it wasn't really convincing but it was worth a try.

The girl threw him an utterly unconvincing smile as suddenly his arm coated itself once more in pure burning energy. Looking at his palm he could feel the power coursing through his blood. A whole different feeling from what he felt but seconds ago. Something was alright. Hell, something was straight up fishy. His powers never just failed. Well, his Darkstar power certainly wasn’t that reliable. In fact, he rarely could use it. But his solar force has always worked, no matter the situation. His mom told him he once destroyed the bed because he activated it when he was asleep but Lucas couldn’t remember that. Still, was the girl responsible? Maybe, he could only ask. With his power still active on his arm to serve as immediate intimidation he walked up towards her. Mayweather or Delphina, it was better to make sure they knew with whom they were talking. But when he got closer the power suddenly vanished again. The heat in his blood vanished once more. Causing him to stop walking and look at his arm again. Once could be a coincidence, twice was a pattern. He quickly took a step backward and sure enough, his power returned. He looked at the girl again, not caring to keep his power active. Even without the pure blinding energy enveloping his arm he could look menacing.

Marching like a warrior he came up to her, asking: “Delphina or Mayweather?”

Yeah, that didn't work at all. As Lucas advanced towards her, Amy couldn't help but feel a little intimidated. Sure, his powers weren't working, but without a weapon she wouldn't stand a chance fighting the guy. He'd figured her out anyway, so there wasn't much else to do but talk it out. Taking a slight step back, she replied to his question. Normally she couldn't be bothered with this type of talk, but not answering didn't seem like a good idea. Saying that, answering might not be either, but it was the best option. Although she was still a little taken off balance by his sudden discovery. "I, uh... I'm Mayweather. And you're Delphina, right?" she smiled slightly as she adjusted to the situation, this one more genuine if a little less confident.

Despite Lucas' repuatation and school status, Amy didn't actually seem hostile in any way, more annoyed with herself for not looking around than anything. She decided it might be best to introduce herself if only to make that clear, so she smiled slightly gesturing towards his arm in hopes of smoothing things over. "Oh, almost forgot. I'm Amy. Sorry about your hand, by the way. Didn't expect anyone else to be in here."

She knew who he was, yet still answered truthfully. Well, he assumed it was the truth. Mostly because she knew who he was, yet it was clear he didn’t know her. Most would have assumed answering Delphina was a better choice. Well, in a way they weren’t. He examined the girl standing before him, trying to get a grasp on her. So many people were so easy to read. It was as if they showcased their buttons and got mad the second you pushed one. Still, the girl seemed surprisingly nice to him. Especially as she knew who he was. The comment about his hand did pull his attention towards the now bright red knuckles. “Nothing big.” He said with a casual sort of neglect. His knuckles have been through worse before. Not even that long ago. Now a layer of scar tissue covered them. “Amy huhn?” he returned his attention to the girl, relaxing somewhat. Trying to look less big or ready to slam someone’s head against the ground. “Usually nobody’s here at this time. So why are you here?” Of course, he knew why.

Amy looked at him for a second, curious as well as relieved that he didn't seem ready to punch her or anything. As for his question, it wasn't really that difficult to figure out, so she was pretty sure the guy was just confirming his suspicions. "Well, it's just that, because nobody else is. I try to keep my powers to myself, and it's worked for me so far." she laughed slightly, looking relieved at how reasonable this was apparently turning out. She was silent for a moment, glancing at the scars on his hand and appearing to think things over. After a second, she spoke again. "To tell the truth, pretty much everyone in Mayweather thinks I suck, and that suits me fine. Means I can catch them by surprise if I have to, you know? Plus they don't try and drag me into stuff, so I get to pick my own battles."

Lucas listened with some unusual attention. But everything that concerned fighting endlessly fascinates him. So after Amy finished speaking he walked away, without saying. He went to a certain closet and pulled out two pairs of fingerless, MMA gloves. One pair he threw at Amy, not really caring if she’d pick them up or not. As he walked towards the boxing ring within the training hall he pulled on the gloves. Once in the ring, he said to Amy: “Guess it’s time you got dragged into some stuff. Taking people by surprise won’t be enough. Not here, not during the tournament. Show me what you got.” It was all calculated, though. The plan was forming in his head. A girl that could negate his trump card was a danger. No doubt he could overpower her physically, but the problem was her getting in the second round. During the free for all. Even then he could physically take on most opponents. But he had to be able to do more than just take on.

Catching the gloves, Amy looked at them for a couple of seconds. This seemed like a really bad idea, but the gloves gave her hope. They were designed for a specific purpose, for fighting. If that was right then there might be a chance. Not like she could risk backing down right now and annoying Lucas. If she didn't get on his good side, no way could she convince him not to tell the whole school about her powers. As she walked over to the ring, looking slightly dubious about the whole idea, she tugged the gloves on and barely held back a sigh of relief - looked like they did count as tools after all, since she could feel her other ability's effects taking hold. Seemed like Lucas might be in for a surprise. She took her place opposite him with an unreadable expression. " I guess I can try and show you a couple things."

Lucas wasn’t planning on having a talk. Hell, he wouldn’t let her say a word. He immediately went for the low kick, aiming for Amy’s ribs. A hit would hurt, but it wouldn’t deliver the devastating strike he wanted. Even an idiot could block. Even ineffectively. To take her out of the game for good he would have to aim and strike perfectly. So for now, he would have to hurt and wear her down.

Caught off guard, Amy's block wasn't as effective as it might have been, and the sting she felt from the blow showed on her face. So that's how this was gonna be, was it? She retreated a little to catch her breath. His attacks weren't refined, but there seemed to be a lot of power behind them for sure. No way was she winning a blow-to-blow fight, enchanced skill or not. She shifted her stance a little and hung back, appearing worried but actually just waiting for him to attack her again - her best chance would be to counter him and use the force of his own attacks against him.

The kick connected, but Lucas wasn’t about to let it at that. As she went back, he went forward. Applying the pressure. A simple mindset: keep the opponent busy, afraid and occupied. So they don’t have a chance at retaliating. A mindset Lucas took at heart. The look on her face was proof enough that it was working. But also a problem. The most efficient strikes one could make were counters. He needed her to attack. Still, he first had to draw her out and weaken her. He stood before her for a second, shifting his weight back and forth, keeping her guessing how he’d strike. Suddenly he shifted his weight, committing to a violent forward attack. A single strike aimed not at her face but at her stomach. Soft tissue that could easily bruise.

As Lucas struck, Amy moved with surprising speed and shifted her stance, not making any move to stop his momentum but instead using it - with surprising skill. Not that it was any skill of her own, but he didn't need to know that. Instead of blocking and letting herself take another hit, she decided to try and use the force of his attack and transfer it into a textbook and hopefully painful judo throw. Her face had changed as well, no longer bothering with the 'scared little girl' approach and replaced with something closer to an expressionless mask.

Lucas didn’t realize what happened at first. One moment he put all his weight and strength forward, the next he was with his back on the ground, feeling the air escape his lungs due to the incredible amount of force he slammed down with. But he got his breathing under control in literally no time. A throw, Lucas could only guess it was judo. She could do judo? The fight would become a little harder now. Still, Lucas was not discouraged. He would just have to learn what her style was. He jumped right up and faced her. In judo, weight and balance is everything. It was an art of using one’s power against him. The more power he’d use, the worse she could hit him back. How do you fight such a person?

Simple. Lucas once again flung a fist at her, but this time at her head. A much higher target for the girl. If she wanted to throw him again, she’d have to go up with both her arms. Opening up her sides. In judo, that wasn’t a problem. The left arm alone could achieve little. But this wasn’t judo? One attempt to throw him and he’d slam his first right in her ribs. Using the temporary distraction to grapple with his first fist around her neck. Taking control.

Amy couldn't help but be a little surprised by what had just happened. Firstly, she'd somehow managed to throw the guy, and secondly, how quickly he'd gotten up after it to launch his attack. There wasn't much she could really do but try and react, considering how surprisingly fast he was. Letting her body's instincts take over, she moved again, into a stance where she was a little lighter on her feet, more like a boxer as she brought her fists up in a block to try and turn the blow away from her head - she definitely didn't want to take a hit there. Trying to change her stance so quickly meant she wasn't quite as balanced as she should have been, however, and the force of his fist slamming into her forearms caused her to stumble back a few steps, biting back a curse from the pain of the hit.

A boxing move? The swift change of stance surprised Lucas. She knows boxing too!? The girl suddenly rising on this threat chart. Boxing was harder to counter, but again it had limitations. Ones he could clearly see. Boxers were light on their feet, moving swiftly. This was because leg sweeps weren’t done. But Lucas sure as hell would. He waited a second, mimicking her defense, keeping his eyes locked on her. Timing it right, he swept his right foot towards her. A hit on her feet would be enough to fully disrupt her balance. Right after the sweep he’d take a hit at her when she was, supposedly, completely open.

Seeing the leg sweep out at her, Amy felt her feet shifting again - and for a brief moment wondered how many fighting styles came with these gloves. Seriously, she had to get herself a pair. There wasn't really any way for her to dodge the sweep, which collided with her foot and caused her to grit her teeth, a slight pained noise escaping. Okay, that did it. Now she really was pissed. She launched a straight knee strike at his stomach, a move taken straight from Muay Thai.

Judo was understandable. The boxing could be explained. But the knee, that was one step too far. This girl was too good a fighter to have to surprise people. Hell, she certainly didn’t have the physical body for someone so experienced. After taking the knee to the stomach, a strike mostly taken by his muscles there, he took a step back. Eyeing her. The hits only caused more adrenaline to flow through him. This was one of his advantages. Through rigorous training, he got used to it. The high, the power, the blood like molten lead flowing through your veins. So few could take the kick of it and keep their head straight. It required you to get used to it, physically.

Lucas was out of plans. For every strike he tried to deliver, she had an answer. Seemingly from another sport. “You fight quite well. From your body, I wouldn’t have guessed you practiced that many martial arts. What belt you got in judo?” he asked, while still keeping his distance and his guard up.

Amy smiled dangerously, finding something about this pretty funny. "Judo, huh? Nothing." Judo? Guess that was where the throw came from. She'd gotten kind of tired of being on the defensive. So, she needed something that would let her take down a bigger, stronger opponent - yeah, she had a feeling these things would give her something. Taking a step forward, she aimed to get a hold on Lucas' arm, keeping her head down to protect it as best she could but well aware that she'd probably take a pretty strong hit for it. Still, that's what her instincts were to do, and she couldn't do much but trust them.

Unknown to her and possibly also to Lucas, the reason for the grip was to try and take the fight onto the ground. When it came to taking on a stronger opponent, having time to adjust and take a breather meant that she could shift to a style meant for that exact purpose - Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu.

Lucas had no idea what was happening. Suddenly she managed to grab his arm and the next moment she threw him with an incredible force against the ground. The only reason she managed to do that was because Lucas stood there, utterly confused. No belt but such a perfect throw? Impossible. No way she could just train judo without gaining the belt. There was little doubt, she had to have expert training. But once on the ground, Lucas had enough. As she threw him, she held his arm, which was her undoing. Lucas threw in his weight and pulled her down on top of him. Giving her no moment to think or move he locked her in his legs as he grappled towards her neck to strangle her. A hot headed approach that could most certainly end very badly.

Unable to hold herself up against Lucas' weight, Amy found herself in a little bit of trouble. Along with a fair bit of discomfort and the inablity to get herself free from the hold, along with the feelings of panic and need to escape that naturally accompanied the situation - it seemed like there wasn't much help coming from her powers in this scenario. Whether that was because of her shock or just that there wasn't a particular move coming to mind for this situation wasn't really clear. For lack of a better plan, she lashed out as well as she could towards roughly the area where his face would be, hoping to score some kind of hit and be able to breathe again.

A hit connected, on his head no less. Precise enough to disorient him for a second, letting loose of his grip on Amy. In reaction to this he rolled backwards, keeping his distance from the girl as he shook his head once more. There was something off. The girl was too good. Her physique was too light for being such a trained fighter. Did she leech off his own skill somehow? No, her strikes were too precise. Even he had flaws in his technique. Maybe she leeched off the skills from someone else? He still kept his distance, trying to find an opening. But her stance was precise and very effective.

What could be her weakness? What sport did she not know? She showcased 2 martial arts and boxing already. No way he could go up against that in a conventional fight. So he decided against going for a finishing move. Then the lightbulb in his mind came on. With a trained eye he observed her, focusing on her whole body at once. Little muscle definition, little tone. When his fists connected he could feel little resistance from any muscles. She wasn’t weak, but they certainly weren’t defined as a trained fighter. No way she would survive a battle of attrition. So that’s how he came at her. With a flurry of strikes and kicks. Constantly being sure he kept his balance and never committed fully to an attack. Even half-assed strikes could hurt.

She wasn't sure how long she could keep this up. Sure, she was blocking his strikes well enough, but that didn't change the fact that it hurt like hell. It was tiring her out, wearing her down. Already struggling to keep up the pace, Amy realised that she couldn't afford to stay on the defensive for much longer against him. No matter how well she blocked, she was still taking hits, her arms weren't up to that kind of strain and it wouldn't be long until he got past her guard. All those weeks of not training at all were starting to take their toll, that was for sure. At this rate, he was just going to outlast her, and the pain she wasn't used to was showing on her face.

Out of options, there really wasn't much she could do other than going for a last-ditch attack. One of them would have to go down after it - if she couldn't take him down then no way was she lasting much longer in the fight anyway. It was pretty much this or nothing. She had no idea if it would actually work or not, but she lunged forward, intending to launch a series of elbow strikes directly at his face, aiming the first at the bridge of his nose. If she connected, it would probably do some damage, but either way she'd left herself completely open in favour of an all-or-nothing assault. If this didn't take him down, she'd be in trouble.

A precise strike. If Lucas wasn’t so busy speeding up his strikes, he would sure block it. But he didn’t. The elbow connected though not on his nose. Somehow he managed to evade it slightly, letting the elbow not hit the nose but his cheek. The soft tissue took the brunt of the force and Lucas felt how his teeth bit down on his own flesh. A splatter of blood came out of his mouth, but Lucas was used to blood. The fact was that right now he was more than just high on adrenaline. The endorphins of his body blocked out any form of pain, turning it into a dull, distant ache. His mind was still surprisingly clear. He knew that with such an attack, the girl was now open all along her right side. He had to guess where her feet stood, but from the corner of his eye he did see her body twisting. Making an educated guess, he lifted his foot and stomped down to where he guessed the side her knee would be.

Not enough. Amy realised, as her attack made contact. It was a decent hit, but it hadn't taken him down, which meant-

Her thoughts were interrupted as he stomped on her knee, and her muscles exploded with pain that obliterated her focus. She didn't know how to push through it like he did, and it was the type of feeling that meant serious damage. Collapsing to the ground with gritted teeth she was unable to stop a pained noise from escaping her throat. She shifted, with a little difficulty, until she was sitting after which she looked up at her opponent, unable to keep it out of her voice completely. "Guess you win - Fuck, that hurts." she said, muttering the last part under her breath. At least nothing seemed broken, but that didn't make it hurt any less.

Lucas fell over backward. Slamming into the ground with a loud thud. He was surprisingly exhausted. The girl did pull out the best from him. Then again, he couldn’t use his own powers. No doubt she would have left with broken bones if she lowered her field. But that didn’t matter. He won and did so much more. The stomp would definitely bug her but only during training or the tournament would the pain get too worse. She was out, at least for now. Taking a sigh of relief he sat up. Looking at her. “I always win, honey.” He threw her a grin. “You fight surprisingly well for someone who looks like… well you.” He motioned with his hand towards her entire body. “And the throw was surprisingly well executed for someone who claims she doesn’t own a judo belt. Tell me, who trained you?”

In response, Amy just shrugged with a soft smile. "I guess I'll take that as a compliment. As for who trained me, there isn't anyone. I didn't really have anything to train for growing up, so I didn't bother." her tone was genuine, of course. What reason was there for her to lie? She couldn't be bothered trying to come up with a story right now. Wincing slightly as she sat up, she laughed a little. "Honestly, it's not been long since I even found out I had powers. Never knew anyone else with them back home."

He listened quite attentively at his victim. To his own opinion, the girl was a little too trusting. Every half-assed fighter would know what kind of effect such a stomp would have. They’d also immediately realize he didn’t do it randomly. Still, she talked. And he felt somewhat obligated to listen. When she finished he stood up and walked out of the ring, without saying anything. Only to return moments later with two sport bottles filled with water. Carefully he handed one to Amy, after which he took up his place on the ground in front of her again. Drinking from the cool liquid. Only now did he realize just how much he was sweating. “Strange. You certainly fight as if you got some extensive training. Is that another power? You can negate someone’s powers and know martial art instinctively?”

"Something like that." she looked at him curiously, surprised at how civil he was being. Saying that, she'd definitely need to get her leg checked out somehow considering what he'd done. But even so, it didn't really seem to fit. "This might be a stupid thing to ask but why bother talking to me? I mean..." She glanced at her leg. Well, she didn't want to make any accusations, it always could've been a heat of the moment thing... "Never mind. Guess I just expected you to be more hostile, me being at Mayweather and all."

“So many people are so sure that I…we are the bad guys, that they literally cannot imagine it any way else.” Though on this occasion, he really was the bad guy. Though sometimes things had to be done out of necessity. He didn’t actually bear Amy any ill will. Especially not now. But she was a threat. A danger. There was a plan and it needed to be executed as precisely as possible. Taking out any distractions was part of it. Though, at his core, he was hoping Brenna was doing the same. Just so he knew he wasn’t the only one walking in this moral deep gray area. “Honestly, if people asked more ‘why do you do this’ about common things like talking, the world would be a brighter place. So I don’t really think it’s stupid.” His voice was calm, as he tried to get his heartbeat to level out again. “I guess I’m talking here because…” why did he talk to her? After the entire morning, he wanted nothing more than to beat away the feelings. But here he was, talking to a Mayweather he just injured. After the pause that was clearly indicating that he initially didn’t have a clue why he talked to her, he answered: “You know how like, your entire life is just a giant rollercoaster? You go from situation to situation, crawl out of a hole just to fall in another.” A metaphor too deep. “I guess, what I’m saying is that I talk to you to entertain myself. Because it’s simple. And right now, I need a little simple in my life.”

Amy seemed to think for a second, before nodding slowly. "I think I get it. You don't get much simplicity in this place. But as for you being the 'bad guys', well..." Amy sighed, looking over at him. "I never really thought about it like that. Sure, you are the 'villain' school, but I don't think it's the same thing when you really get down to it." It wasn't really that easy as far as she was concerned. After all, it wasn't like everyone in Mayweather was a saint, so why would their counterparts be any different? "If I had to put words to it, I think it's more that a villain's meant to act in their own interests, while a hero's meant to use them for others. That's what I'd say the difference is. Whether you're a good person isn't the issue." She looked at him, curious to see how he was reacting to what she said, what he thought of it. After all, it might be a change from some of the more self-righteous attitudes held by her fellow Mayweather students.

“There are many ways to be a villain. But I think, by far the most common is the villain of the necessary evil. Some of us must do what others cannot. But that brings a moral dilemma to most heroes. Would you kill one person to save a hundred? Of course, heroes will say that if that person is evil, the kill means nothing. But what if it is a university professor with two kids and a loving, faithful wife? Heroes fall in a moral limbo once they enter the gray areas.” The example was not loosely chosen. Though he doubted Amy would know. His sister was once faced with the very same problem. A university professor was kidnapped. His research on nuclear fission was unparalleled. But the ones that took him were trained. His sister still claims they were some sort of black ops. Alas, she was forbidden from entering the building, lest the situation would escalate. But the situation had to be resolved. To this day, she still claimed the most daunting words she ever heard was an FBI director say: ‘No more options. Finish it.’ A few bullets later and a faithful husband and man that advocated for peace his entire life laid dead in the back of a van.

Lucas got up, realizing they’ve been talking too much about too deep stuff. Whether he’d end up as one of the kidnappers or the ones that pulled the trigger, he didn’t know yet. He would take whatever side Gianna wanted him on. “We better get that checked out.” Lucas switched subjects, as he meant her knee. He reached out with his hand and was pretty ready to support her. Though he hoped the nurse nor the assistant of the nurse would be able to heal her.

Pokémon: Start

@Eklispe @Pikmin Eye I'd prefer to go with summarising the rest of it if we can, just to stop things getting too dragged out and/or repetitive. Assuming that they all attacked the Hoppip would be fine with me if no-one's got any better ideas :)

RWBY: First Class

I'd be interested :)

Divided We Stand

THE NEXT MORNING

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Location; Running track
Interacting With; No-one

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“I can tell you this: You should get new friends, if you can call them that. I have seen Gianna’s fall, and with her, the rest of her pawns."

Keats wasn't sure how long he'd been running around the track, but it had definitely been a while. Call it dedication or some other bullshit feel-good term if you wanted, but it was more of an attempt at self-destruction, anger swirling through him ever since he woke up. There were a lot of things going on, and he wasn't sure about any of them. All he knew was that he'd been going for long enough and fast enough that it was starting to hurt. That familiar burn in his muscles as he kept on running. That was good. What he was looking for.

Yeah, he deserved that. Deserved a hell of a lot more than that, with the thoughts that just kept circling and circling around his head. Thoughts that told him to leave everyone behind, to just stop trying to watch their backs. Be his own man - what kind of disloyal backstabbing bullshit was that? He chose to stick with them, with Luke. He chose to take on each and every one of those Mayweathers. He chose it. It was always his decision, he was already his own man. They'd stick by him, he could trust them.

"They will not help you. They will not save you from what is to come. Don’t be collateral damage; find your own way out of the chaos.”

Despite what he told himself, he couldn't help but dwell on it. Keats found himself distracted, not really paying attention to where he was running at all. Losing his footing, he went over his ankle, twisting it and falling to the ground. What was wrong with him lately? He hadn't been himself. He knew what had brought this on today - stupid freaky girl and her talk about seeing the future, but it had been going on for more than that. His ankle throbbed - normally he'd go get it healed, but today he needed it there. Needed something real, something he understood.

Besides, maybe he really did deserve this. This wasn't what he was meant to be. Who he was meant to be. He was a successor to the family name. The only successor, now. Had to be a villain, and a damn good one, or he was letting them all down. Not like that was anything new. For all his training, all his bluster, Keats was never able to match up. Always second place. So why was he even bothering?

Maybe he just wasn't cut out to be a villain - no. That couldn't be it, he wouldn't let that be it. Couldn't let that be it. Nah, he had to be strong enough, there wasn't another option. He stood back up, fabric wrapping tightly around his ankle, enough to support it but not enough to stop the jolt of pain every step he took. A reminder to himself to stop being such a coward about everything, he guessed.

He checked the time. That was right, he had a meeting, didn't he? With a sigh, he walked back towards the building, head held high and walking strong, not showing any reaction to the pain as he entered. It was bad enough dealing with his own thoughts, but Keats wasn't about to let anyone else see him looking weak. Besides, maybe she'd just been messing with him. Maybe none of what she'd said was true. If it was though...

"Sometimes its fun knowing what others don't. Other times... I'm not so sure."

He smiled bitterly to himself as he walked across campus. He had a lot of questions, and no real answers to any of them. Maybe Lyla really knew something he didn't, or maybe she was just a crazy bitch looking to fuck with his head. He couldn't exactly ask her about it. Had a feeling she wasn't lying when she said he wouldn't see her again, if nothing else.

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Location: Dorm room
Interacting With: No-one

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Ah, shit.

Amy squinted up at the ceiling, getting the feeling that she'd maybe had a little too much to drink. The night was... Blurry, at least for most of the time she'd spent inside the club. She could remember coming in, the first little while of the night, then... Well, not too much. Let's see... Vague feelings of regret? Does that count as remembering? Judging by past experiences, she'd have found some way to mess up. How badly - or not badly - was a mystery to her. Yay for good decisions. Go me.

Come to think of it, she definitely remembered making someone a little angry. Judging by the lack of any kind of injury, at least she figured she hadn't been stupid enough to escalate any kind of fight in the middle of Delirium, which was mildly comforting. No super-powered thugs were going to come and break her limbs without warning or anything like that, so it could probably be worse. Time to get up and face the day.

With a sigh, she sat up. Somehow, this seemed like it might be a pretty long morning. Well, maybe she could think of it as a learning experience? Just as the thought crossed her mind, the alarm on her phone decided it was the perfect moment to ring. Loudly. With a groan, she scrambled to switch it off as quickly as she could. So much for positive thinking. Nope. Never mind. She could do without this particular learning experience, thank you very much.

What she could do with was a few more hours of sleep - or more accurately a few more hours staring at the ceiling without any more loud noises. Did she have classes today? Did she care if she had classes today? Skipping stuff probably wasn't the best idea, though. And it wasn't like she was capable of causing too much destruction anyway, and something important could always come up... Looks like I do care. Should probably get out of bed now.

Besides, she wasn't the most distinctive person anyway. As long as she kept her head down like normal, any and all potentially pissed-off people that could shoot magic beams out of their backsides probably wouldn't cause any trouble. It seemed like a sensible option anyway - both for herself and anyone else in the general area. Also whoever had to clean up the school after people got obliterated. That job would probably suck.

Anyway, there was stuff she had to do. Nothing too flashy until she decided to get started, though. Of course she could technically do whatever she wanted or needed to, so long as she could make sure no-one figured her out. Flying under the radar was the only way she'd be able to work anything out around here - being an outsider to the whole mess.

Not that she could really work things out on her own, but it was hard to think of anyone that'd help her out. Seemed like most people were already associated with either side in the great Mayweather vs Delphina shitstorm of 2016 - which kind of ruled them out. As she started to get dressed, Amy figured she might as well spend some time thinking about it during the day.

Not like there's anything better to do, is there?