Private Roleplay~ IOD

smilies • 3 October 2014 at 4:26 AM

"... Where are we?"
As soon as their hands parted, the teleporter had shrunk back, distancing herself from Two as if he were a test tube of some particularly unstable chemicals. She'd certainly been studying the leader's character in that way- and Telly had not been led to expect quite such a patient response. When he'd specifically told her he was already late, and not to delay him any longer- she'd fully anticipated a swift and painful punishment. But he only sounded disinterested.
He read her expression. "That's not my job anymore. If I want to get you in trouble, I'll just send you to Nine. She could use the practice."
"Mm..." Winding up one of her curly, blonde pigtails, Telly made a rather discomforted sound, and stared down at the sea, watching it lap against the shore.
They were standing on a very ordinary hill. The grass was green, but rather dry, and only brushed around their ankles. The wind was soft, and the sky was mostly grey, with a few spots of blue leaking through. "Finland. We're in Finland." It was more than an impressive distance to teleport, but she wasn't here to show off.
"West or south?" Two asked.
"West," she answered, then took a deep breath. "Behind us, in the valley, is a quaint fishing village."
She didn't turn to look, and neither did he.
"Does that ring any bells?" The teleporter closed her eyes.
"No."
Her eyes widened and she searched him thoroughly, searching for a hint of deceit. "No?"
"No," he repeated, and glanced sideways at her. "Should it?"
"Yes!" She grabbed his hand, turning him to look down at the town below. Another flash and the distant buildings sprung up around them- and in the same instant as they were grown, they crumbled.
The town was in a truly fantastic state of disrepair. Barely any of the roofs were still whole. They sported frequent holes and tears, looking like giant, clawed hands had come down from the sky. Many of the more flimsy walls had been smashed through, and some were even blackened and burnt through by fire. Some even still appeared to smolder, and dust hung thick and heavy in the air. But the buildings were all still standing, and for the most part, intact. The eerie vibe was born more through the empty shell of the past it left behind- combined with the overgrowing weeds, which crept over the wreckage, a scavenger, slowly but relentlessly taking tyrannical root. It reminded Telly of something out of a fairy tale- she half-expected to see a castle looming before them, a princess slumbering in its tallest tower. However, as they looked around the town, it was obvious that they would find no snoozing villagers here. Time itself was not the sole villain at work; it was joined by crude, ugly violence.
"Sorry," he looked around, unapologetic. "Still nothing."
"Is that so?" Telly's voice was calm despite the turbulence below the surface. "Then, will you take a guess?"
"No need," he shook his head. "It was obviously Dalta. There's no one else quite so lazy or quite so vicious," the second leader's lips twitched- as if to smile or grimace, she couldn't tell. "And considering your choice in guest, I know you at least think, of all their agents, it was me." He slipped his hands into his pockets with a careless shrug. "So, was it?"
"What do you mean? How can you ask that? Don't you /know/?"
"I don't recall."
Shivering not from the wind, but from shock and disbelief, Telly demanded; "You don't... Don't tell me, you get a lot of 'slaughter the village' orders?"
"Enough," he said simply. "So, what is it you want? Revenge? If you're not going to hurry up and kill me..." His tone was dismissive.
She sighed and sat down on the porch of a skeleton house. "You really don't remember?" When he didn't respond, she told him. "I know it was you. I was there, and I saw you."
He looked scornful. "As if." At her look of confusion, he said, "If it had been me, and you were there, do you think you'd still be here to tell the tale? You'd have never made it out alive."
His confidence certainly put an edge to the blonde's nerves, but she took a deep breath and admitted; "That's true. I never would have, if you hadn't saved my life. Gene's, too." She paused, a little confused. "She... Never said anything?"
Two stood very still for a moment, and she observed what a perfect statue he would make. He looked just as cold as one, too, a thought that set her shivering. She still managed to speak.
"The two of us were hiding behind the waste-bins, just over there." A gesture directed his attention to a splintered wall and an especially black scorch mark at its feet. "You walked over, kicked the bins aside... You were wearing white, you know, like that sword you had, the one that seemed to make the air thrum, and both were covered in-"
And then his fingers tightened around her neck. Her words cut off abruptly with a splintering, choking sound. Mid-sentence, Two had interrupted her by grabbing her throat and single-handedly yanking her up by it. He was just tall enough that her feet swung helplessly a foot off the ground. She wasn't exactly a matchstick supermodel, and yet he seemed to have no trouble lifting her.
"What's this?" he asked softly, voice like silk and grip like iron. "Did you call me out here to listen to some weak sob story?"

"Not quite," Katrix answered Damon. "We don't know how many powers they want, but if the group has anyone with brains at the top, then they can't be in want of too many more recruits, after all the new intake from us." The brunette looked a bit disheartened. "Our estimates say, if their population gets too much bigger, they won't be able to effectively stay hidden, or supply themselves with enough food. So they won't be picking up many more."
"Then, how are we going to get in?" Clay worried.
"Well, knowing powers, their population will be constantly decreasing, so we don't have to worry about them stopping recruiting altogether," she assured him. "Therefore, in order to make you two look attractive-"
Damon interrupted unhappily. "If it's about good looks, you shouldn't have cut my hair off!"
This seemed to upset One's train of thought, because she showed a muddled expression and was unable to pick her words back up. There was a moment of awkward floundering on the part of almost everyone before Gold spoke up.
"I don't think Katrix meant physical attributes," she sniffed; "So spare us your vanity, Damon darling."
Damon 'darling' looked truly irritated, but managed to restrain himself from replying (rudely) by remembering his company. He merely gave a (he would describe as dignified; others, childish) huff and crossed his arms over his chest.
"Duh, I meant the most important trait... Intelligence," the brunette suddenly drawled, pulling up a chair and lounging back with terrible posture. "By showing that you can work together, you'll definitely appear very valuable in the rebels' eyes, since most powers are less than cooperative... If they plan to work as a team, they'll need individuals capable of teamwork. Otherwise, we don't have much to worry about, because they'll just fall apart on their own." She looked inordinately pleased at that.
Leaning across to Vivian's side, Damon quickly forgot his chagrin with her and whispered; "Is it just me, or did her attitude just do a 180 again?"
"Yes," she replied at the same volume.
"It's kind of scary," he muttered, watching as the girl spun the cake decoration '5' idly around her pinky finger.
Vivian smiled, just enough to show a sliver of teeth. "I think it's interesting."
He gave a quiet groan, then slid back to resume his previous position.
Like the good student to the two delinquents, Clay was standing straight-backed and trying to show he was paying attention. He was saying; "So, the plan is for me and Damon to run around the rebels' hunting grounds on a power rampage... Together, in order to look clever, right?"
"Damon and I," the female 'delinquent' turned up her nose.
"Yes," One nodded. "However, rebels and Ferals aren't the only ones active in those areas. Most of them are too close to the front lines for them not to be patrolled regularly by both the Glaeroes and ourselves. If you two were to run into either of those..."
"They'd kill us. Or try to," Damon finished with a shrug and a smirk.
There was a sound an awful lot like a snort from the girl in the chair. "Do you think that's what I care about? No, it's that they might recognize your highly memorable mug. It's very unlikely a power would, since they have few fond memories of their past life, and all prefer to recognize through energy and aura- which we can't sense like they can- over physical features. However, if a user saw you, and got away... Then everyone at their base would know you're alive. And through their spies, the rebels would know. And then they'd probably bother to learn your faces."
Damon looked seriously put out. "So you're saying that haircut was for nothing, since I'm still too recognizable?"
"It was a safety precaution!" she told him. "There's really not much else we can do to change your appearance. You can't exactly walk around carrying a makeup kit, seeing as they'd check your stuff. And I didn't think either of you'd go for facial scarring."
He shuddered. "Uh, no."
"But- how did you put it? Ah- 'chicks dig' guys with scars," Vivian said, smiling at Damon. "I thought you'd be all into the bad-boy image."
"Perhaps I'm not into those kinds of girls," the playboy scowled, trying to play it cool, but internally fuming.
She grinned widely. "Oh, of course. You have very refined tastes. A specific type, like say-"
Damon looked very close to shouting something unrefined at her, but someone else bet him to the punch.
"Is it okay if we move on?" Katrix asked, trying hard not to look entertained.
"Very well," Vivian allowed with a small smile, moving back to rest by the wall and wait her turn to properly talk with the first leader. Her previous admonitions about vanity didn't stop her from admiring her new outfit while she did so.

asi • 4 October 2014 at 8:45 PM

A loud, echoing call of, "KILL! KILL! KILL!" swept through the tunnels with the trickling wind, and all she could think was, "Really? Again?"
But as 'Verse pushed, shoved and kicked her way to the forefront of the crowd- many powers scrambling to get out of her way as they sensed her- the throbbing chant suddenly seemed to up and die. All the momentum it had built stole away, as if sucked into the cold stone, and it left them empty.
Just as she reached the edge of the crowd, a rock jutting out of the floor struck her foot and sent her lurching forwards. To put it simply, 'Verse tripped.
She caught herself well before she hit the ground, but that didn't save her from one power's snicker, which rang out probably much louder than he intended in the silence.
In a flash her fingers were curling into the cotton of his shirt, yanking him into the makeshift arena with her.
She got in his face. "So you think that was funny, do you?"
If he was too startled to reply then, he most certainly was when she smashed her forehead into his face with a sickening crack. A moment was taken to admire his state; first with sight, then with taste, as she leaned back in and licked a trail up his cheek with her tongue. Then 'Verse stuck a knife in his temple and slashed it downwards. A deep gash opened up down the side of his head and blood poured out, streaming along his neck and soaking into his shirt. She let him crash into the ground and wiped her wet, red fingers on her trousers while he lay there, not dead but dying.
"Comedy gold," she said, then cackled like a classic fairy-tale witch.
The girl then turned to the rest of the crowd, showing them her psychotic grin. She didn't know why their leader had selected her of all the rebels to take the speed-power's place. For the life of her she couldn't figure out why he'd chosen Zan, either, but Chase had been obvious. Not only had he been powerful and shared their love of violence, he'd also been smart, fair, had showed respect where it was due and none where it was not. He had made perfect sense as Rai's right hand man. 'Verse didn't know why he'd promoted her... But when she looked to the rebels and saw the grudging, hateful fear and respect in their eyes, knowing she could do almost whatever she wanted to them and not suffer repercussions for it, she didn't just love it. She gloried in it.
At the remains of the fight which had taken place, 'Verse knew that ideally, as an authority, she probably ought to look at least a little disgruntled about the mess. But she didn't care for that. It wasn't as if she'd received any strict, non-reinterpretable instructions on this sort of matter. Instead, she looked delighted.  
"Oh, you children just couldn't keep it in your pants," she crooned, pausing to give her mostly clean arm a long, slow lick. "Well, if you want to fight, come at me!"
Several of the newest, most foolish of the recruits took up her challenge with feverish whoops and furious growls, and ran at her all at once. Two minutes or so passed violently, with much pounding, yelling and screaming, before all but 'Verse were lying on the ground; some out cold, some with broken bones, possibly some in critical condition, but she would be hard pressed to care less.
The reversal power drew herself up to her full height and ordered the others; "Go to your rooms and get some f*cking rest. God knows you'll need it tomorrow, for when I thrash your a*ses!" No one who saw her smile could doubt she meant it, and would enjoy every kick, punch, stab and slice given and received. The crowd began to quietly disperse, a few of the more easily excited powers swapping enthusiastic words about the next day's training as they went.
While the cavern emptied, she finally turned and set her eyes on the cause of all the disruption. A male, a little banged up, but hardly looking like he'd been in a fight brutal enough for the rebel's excitement. 'Verse just grinned at him, daring him with her eyes to act or speak, anything to entertain her.

"To make sure these two don't run into any Falchions or Glaeroes and blow their cover, I want them to coordinate their movements with you, Five," Kitty turned to the other leader, wearing a very serious expression. "Although Two is certainly going to get the worst of it all, one leader just isn't enough to cover all this area."
Nor did the first leader intend to put all her eggs in one metaphorical basket- especially one which more than a couple of people on base would describe as a bit of a 'basket case', even if they wouldn't say so out loud. There clearly wasn't a lot of trust in Two going around, and with good reason, as just demonstrated. Katrix couldn't ignore that.
In a few weeks, she knew, he'd probably be more popular than even Damon here had ever been. But, that didn't seem like it would exactly be a good thing for One, either.
She continued; "You're to take charge of one of the other three pieces of the Frontline. Don't worry too much about strategy or giving orders- your group will come with a couple of veterans who can basically run it themselves. You'll just be there to learn and lend some sense of security to the encampment. Occasionally, the troops will need you to prove you can actually fight, but there should be no need for you to be in any life-threatening danger." The way she looked at him now, her eyes couldn't have been more searching than if she had Zach lying on an examination table and running an x-ray machine over him. "You know, as soon as we get Three back, and things here are relatively stable, we're planning an expedition to the other island, IOS. Things are done very differently over there, it's true, but that's not to say that skills there aren't useful here. Every few Truces, we send a couple of leaders over for training- as do they. It's like an exchange program," she mused, crossing and uncrossing her legs, while her fingers continued to play with Five's birthday cake number. "I intend for you to take part."
"Oh, right," Damon said, who had zoned out for a while, but jumped back in at the mention of IOS. "I hear that's a lot of fun," he gave Zach a rather knowing, lopsided smile.
Clay, too was interested. "From who? We don't have a lot of people who have done it, do we?" he asked.
"Three- I mean, the former one, Fain- had gone once before; so had Col," stated Vivian. "Other than that, I don't think..."
"I was there," Katrix abruptly announced. "I came here from IOS."
"Oh," the so-called soldier looked even more curious in her new leader. She pushed her golden hair back behind her shoulders and began reevaluating the girl all over again. "That's... Interesting," could be heard murmured under her breath.
Now Kitty's attention fixed itself back on the '5' in her hand, which she had very nearly just dropped in her idle fiddling. She glanced up at the corresponding leader. "As well as the education, it should be well worth the visit, seeing as they have our fortune teller... If you haven't figured this out already, I'm making an investment in you. All of this training will be useless if you go and die, so by putting in this effort, I'm betting on you staying alive for a year or two at least. So I hope you're prepared to put in a little hard work and prove it worthwhile."
The three non-leaders were silent at this. A person didn't have to be an empath to feel the slight tinge of jealousy to the air, as other lives were decidedly not being invested in. Two of them knew all too well the odds of them dying were very, very good. As in, bad for them, because the stats were very verbal about them not outliving the month. The third, well, she knew about Unnoens, and the carnage they brought with them. /No one/ had a high survival rate in those times, and her job included protecting One's life at the risk of her own. And she could see the signs that yes, Unnoens were exactly what was likely at this time.
"I'll give you the chance to choose your own battlefield," the brunette decided. "Any of the three bits of front line remaining. If you wish, you may gather files on them from Eight and research to your heart's desire. Or just close your eyes and pick; it's up to you. Only be sure to demonstrate some competency over the next few months, or I'll be forced to reconsider." She lingered a moment to make the implications explicitly clear.

smilies • 5 October 2014 at 2:31 AM

"About us..." Clay started anxiously.
"You'll be placed in the region closest to wherever your leader decides," Katrix shrugged. "As for contact, take these." Again seemingly from out of nowhere, she conjured out two identical pieces of paper; white, lined, A5 in size. One stood and handed one sheet to Clay and the other to Zach.
Damon raised an eyebrow and said, "Wow, real old-school."
"They're magic paper," the leader said with an entirely straight face. "Near indestructible. Won't tear or burn, and water and dirt just slides right off it. Write on it, and the ink will disappear, but reappear on the other's piece. Neither of you can erase anything though, so don't write anything stupid, you hear me?"
"Like Harry Potter," the former five smirked.
"Ehehehe, right..." Katrix smiled and looked nervous. "Well, it shouldn't possess you, so don't worry about it... But speaking of possession," she broke in. "Are you two sure about this?"
They exchanged a look at her sudden doubt. "What do you mean?" Clay asked quietly.
"If the both of you are not absolutely certain that your powers have no real ill will towards you, that they will work with you and not seize the chance to take over... If there's the slightest question about that, we'd all be better off if you just stayed at home. The last thing we need," and Katrix hit them both with a diamond-hard stare, "Is for you two to lose your heads and bat for the other team. Either of the other teams," she added, then looked a little confused about her baseball analogy. "Rebel or Glaeroes. You know what I mean."
"I'm fine. That won't happen, I'm sure of it," the summoner answered easily, after a mere moment of thought. "My power's always been very kind to me!" he smiled. "I'm so fortunate."
Damon was longer in replying. He took some time to stare at One and his soon-to-be partner respectively, and whether his blue eyes were troubled or just reflective was anyone's guess. Finally, he said; "I'm in."
"All right!" Katrix clapped her hands together and grinned. "Now show me your power-'dos!"
Clay spoke for them both when he said... "What?"
"Do your hair all aura-like, you know," she whined. "How the rebels had it when they came over! Like this!" With a little concentration, and some staring up at her eyebrows, the girl turned pinkette. Vivian too, took the opportunity to show off and flashed her hair a light green.
In response, Damon and Clay stood there wearing awkward expressions, until the leader got impatient and cried out; "Oh, what's the matter with you? Don't tell me you can't do it?"
"It's just that, my aura is lavender-colored," Damon muttered. "It would look dreadful with my complexion."
A pause, and Katrix turned to the other boy. "Well, what's your excuse?" she asked helplessly.
Clay looked about as pitiful as she had just sounded. "I AM doing it," he said unhappily, and his hair seemed to darken ever so slightly, then resumed the shade of desert dust, which it had been for all of about two minutes. "It's not my fault it's so similar to my natural hair color..."
Katrix fell back into her chair and sighed. "Okay, okay, whatever. You guys can go now, bye!" she waved them off.
While the two boys took their cue, Vivian remained silently behind, obviously intending to catch the girl alone.

taffy789 • 8 October 2014 at 7:03 PM

Although Zach had been fighting off drowsiness for half of the briefing, he'd picked up on the bits that most concerned him and was pleased with what he heard.
 If he was correct, his mission detailed training on the front lines while making sure Bunny-Boy and Lavender only got seen by the team they WANTED to be seen by. However, a key, important difference existed between the assignments of the new leader and two ex-leaders. Zach's assignment put him in slightly more danger than he was in usually; theirs, on the other hand, was both a tough job and a death sentence. 
While he appreciated their sacrifice for the sole purpose that it meant HE wouldn't be chosen to risk his skin, Zach couldn't fathom why the ex-leaders stayed with the obvious death trap for a mission.
If he was in their shoes, he would've simply lied about the state of his relationship with his power, thus avoiding his inevitable demise at the hands of some wild rebel.
 Then again, he didn't have to worry about escaping a kamikaze mission in he near future, it seemed, for he was being "invested" in.
 If there was anything concerning the investment deal that he hated, it had to be the way One looked him over while relaying his mission.
 Her stare was scrutinizing, heavy, observant.
 It reminded Zach vaguely of the way doctors- and their cold, impersonal eyes that peer out over white masks hiding any facial expression- check over people. There's no warmth in them asking you how you feel, and no real care for your health is ever present. That they're keeping you healthy and alive isn't because of any sentiment held towards you; it's simply business.
 This type of relationship was one Zach felt begrudgingly familiar with, and one he almost rejected any part in. He didn't, though, because doing so would've been idiotic. Katrix's proposal didn't just benefit her, of course.
Finding no fault with being kept alive, Zach approved of Katrix's plan and met her serious, searching stare with an steady, confident one of his own. 
 He hoped the clearly mental girl would understand his expression as a "yes" to his mission because he sure wasn't about to waste what little energy he had left confirming something obvious.
 Energy, Zach had also noticed, was all that Katrix seemed to have, switching back and forth between moods as much as she did.
For fun, he thought about it and quickly decided that he preferred the impersonal Katrix, even with her drill sergeant like demeanor, more than the giddy, useless one- that his superior had a borderline multiple personality disorder didn't concern him as long as one of those personalities kept him safe.
 When the briefing wound down and Katrix handed them the papers, Zach broke his fixed expression of tired apathy to glare down at the sheet with disgust, and a nervous messenger stammering out, "I-I can't read your handwriting" came immediately to mind. Deciding he'd deal with that when it became an issue, he pushed the horrible memory away.
 He thought instead of the sweet relief of sleep that awaited him back at his office, and was inwardly overjoyed when the One dismissed them.
 Zach was halfway to the door when he remembered something important and decided to get done with it now.
 "One," he spoke his first word since Katrix dragged him along as if he'd been casually chatting with her all day, "there's something that needs an eye kept on it."
 He remembered his conversation with a certain Blondie and chose what he said next carefully.
 "While on the mission to the border of A-C and A-M, before the rebel attack... My squad ran into a group of rebels, yes, but we also were in battle with a... concerningly powerful feral."
 "God, we're all going to die," Zach almost felt compelled to add, but didn't. Saying something like that would probably be against the agreement he made with the stubborn blonde, and was also a tad bit too dramatic of a statement for his tastes in any case.
 "This feral was apparently fighting against the rebels when we arrived, and it seemed to not want to join them, so we don't need to worry about that. I also managed to injure it, so maybe by now it died of its wounds."
 Another pause to gather his thoughts, then he continued,
 "On the off chance it hasn't though, I think Intelligence or Scouting should try to keep an eye out for it. Its in possession of a guy's body, and has a strong elemental power- electricity."
"And", Zach added, "it has golden hair and eyes. That's everything."
 With that curt statement, Zach escaped through the door, wanting to leave before Katrix tried to question him deeper about Blondie's feral friend- or even worse- made him in charge of hunting the darned thing.



When the crowd finally stopped their annoying chanting and dispersed, Wither couldn't have been any happier.
 He pushed the dying, rag doll body of muscles-foe off his own torso; the girl fell to the bloodied ground with little effort on Wither's part.
 Unaware of 'Verse, who'd by this time finished up with the challengers and now stood, towering over him, Wither pressed his left hand- it hurt to move the right one still, for some reason?- to his lower chest area to check for pain. Where a broken rib once was, there now was no injury, bruise, or any sign of hurt at all. He did the same to his jaw, and was pleased to find the same result. 
Despite his healing factor leaving him relatively unscathed, three of his teeth laid on the ground a few feet away from him, and those wouldn't fix themselves like the rest of him did.
 Wither lapsed into a quick moment of silence for the loss of his fellow comrades at arms. They'd helped him win many battles against all sorts of dangerous enemies, such as the dreaded beef jerky- with its salty powers- and the horrible-but admittedly filling- bread slice. Those white, toothy heroes would all be dearly missed.
 In the next second, Wither forgot all about the brave sacrifice his teeth had made, for a quick pain shot up his right arm.
 That was strange. Very strange.
 There was so much energy flowing into him from the dying bodies now that, if a knife slashed an important vein somewhere on him, the wound would heal before it got the chance to kill! So, why was his arm still causing him such grief?
 His stubborn arm angered him. It angered him because it hurt him. It angered him because he couldn't move it. It angered him because it hung as limp and as useless as muscles-foe- now dead, drained of so much energy that her heart simply gave up and stopped beating.
 He was still being angry at his arm when he heard loud, excited breathing, looked up, and noticed 'Verse standing above him. Meeting her eyes, Wither blinked.
 Out of the two rebels in the cavern who were currently NOT dying or already dead, Wither looked like the one who HADN'T almost died in a fight- even with the dislocated right shoulder, and the copious amount of blood staining his black hoodie. The energy sapped from the wounds of others had healed him, saved him, fed him- all quite literally. 
 His skin glowed with a healthy, tannish hue, warm and alive and so different from his usual sickly pale, cold skin. His hair and eyes, too, lost all trace of his aura, and had reverted from a stark grayish-white and to his old user's own black shade. Wither enjoyed being warm and not pale; it left him with a full, satisfied feeling that replaced the vapid lacking of... something in his chest and made this weird reality he happened to exist in worth continuing to exist in.
 All of these warm feelings, however strong, couldn't fight the cold, sadistic grin of 'Verse, who interested Wither yet annoyed him at the same time.
 He glanced her over once and wondered if he should try to kill her or not. If he did, then maybe he'd be lucky and she'd still interest him dead. If he was unlucky though, then he'd end up killing her and she WOULDN'T be interesting dead, and that would be a shame and a waste. Then again, there was always the chance she would be MORE interesting dead, but was he, Wither asked himself, ready to take that chance?
He decided no, and stood up, his blank, curious stare unwavering even when under 'Verse's vicious glare.
 Wither opened his mouth to speak, then remembered that if he spoke, then 'Verse would speak as well, and if she did that then she would probably annoy him more.
 But then his arm hurt again and that annoyed him more than 'Verse possibly could, so Wither decided to go ahead and deal with the unnecessary noise.
 "My arm hurts and it isn't fixing itself," Wither finally said, black eyes blinking, right arm dangling uselessly from its socket.
 "Also you breathe loud," he added, with a slight frown.

asi • 5 November 2014 at 5:17 PM

She couldn't very well answer, but she nevertheless made a spluttering, incoherent try with what air she had left. Soon she was forced to break off and gasp, the air she did manage to grab scraping its way down her narrowing trachea in a manner nearly as painful as the hand on the neck, the cause. Though her hands shot automatically up to his, they did not claw at him, instead they stopped. She got the feeling he probably wouldn't appreciate that much, so instead she hung limp as a doll.
And with that, Telly somehow, in those moments of panic, scraped together enough concentration to... Go.
Dry grass suddenly poked at her nose, some loose gravel stabbing into her supporting palm, but the assistant wasn't complaining; the cold bucket of relief splashed over her throat was an improvement a hundred times over. It was only momentary, however.
A pair of lightly trod steps and Two had no qualms about kicking her while she was down, because that's literally what he did. Hard. For a moment, she felt only air. Telly rolled over onto her back from the momentum of it, eyes filled with sky and tears while her body seized up on itself, instinctively trying to curl inwards and protect her, but stopped by the harsh jolts of pain. All she could judge was that something was definitely broken, or worse.
All she could think was, 'Sh*t sh*t sh*t sh*t.' Staring down at her were those eyes, like long stagnant water, lifeless and polluted. He really would kill her here. He was really going to kill her.
She jumped again, this time Two appearing to shrink until the distance between them was about the same as a basketball court. The slope of the hill was just beginning where she landed, marking the edge of the former town. Telly was shaky on her feet, and more so on her middle, but stayed upright. Her training had braced her through more pain than this before. She'd taken a beating, but she wasn't yet beaten.
"Stop! Two!" she yelled, the result a horrible, rasping screech. Her hands were quickly grasping at her neck as the responding pain shot up it. Still, she forced out; "I'm NOT your enemy!"
It was too quiet, utterly silent save for the slight whistling of the breeze. And the similar sound of her every labored breath. She half expected the wind to pick up into a storm as if to serve the mood. But it continued as lazily as ever, turning a blind eye to the scene.
He turned and approached, and she stumbled backwards as he came too close far too soon, only a handful of meters remaining.
It proved just enough for their purpose, though, because when he spoke she had to strain her ears to hear.
"You're a spy," he said. His voice was almost low enough to be called a growl. "I don't need another spy."
"You knew?" Disbelief seeped into her tone. He knew about Gene? She was one of the best!
He gave her a look like, dumb question. "She was from Dalta. I'M from Dalta. How could I not know?"
But he kept her... Her confusion must of been evident on her face, because his next statement explained it. "She was MY spy."
Now the pieces fitted in to place, a horrified look of dawning understanding replaced the question in her features as she realized her mistake. Gene had been a turncoat then, and was feeding Dalta the answers Two wanted to give, right up until her demise. And she could see he wouldn't have let himself lose her unless it suited him.
"I'm n-not-" she protested feebly.
His expression would have been painfully scathing to look on had he not lacked the passion. "You're from Dalta, and you approached me." There was little she could say to that kind of reasoning. This had been stupid, stupid, stupid. But she didn't have anymore time to repent her choices, because he looked about ready to beat the crap out of her again... Or possibly skip that and cut straight to the killing.
"Are you really prepared for Dalta to come after you? They're so heavy-handed, they'll leave wastelands stretching five miles from where you stood! I can put them off your trail. I can take Gene's place!" she argued frantically. That had, after all, been her mission. "Whatever you say!"
"I don't care," he said, and sent her over with a punch.
His next blow was meant to come down hard on her stomach, but she caught his foot with her hands, finding herself just strong enough to hold it. Fighting back was pointless, she knew, but she wouldn't mind living a little longer.
"I'm better than her!" she tried to tell him. This was pathetic, and angry, shameful tears stung at her eyes, but she was going to /die/. "I can be useful... Please!"
Although he could have easily crushed her hands and continued till she was dead, he paused. "Why bother?" he asked, sounding weary and bored. "You've already failed."
To say the least, she pounced on however little an opening he gave. "I don't give a sh*t about Dalta!" It came out as a hiss from all the pain wracking her nervous system. "I never have!"
He didn't look interested, and yet... "Why?"
"Because," she panted, and fumbled because she'd never asked herself that question before. Then she realized why. "Because I knew you meant for me to run."
"Too bad," he said. "You didn't make it, and I don't give first chances..." Without any cues in expression, he increased the pressure until she cried out, her strength slipping, just barely holding up. "Let alone seconds."
All of a sudden she was truly desperate for answers. "So was it you? Was I right?" she wanted to know.
"Yes. You were." Numbness had crept up her arms and it took her several moments to notice the pressure had ceased, Two had removed his foot from her. "You must have an impressive memory," he remarked.
Telly couldn't think to respond.
His foot slammed into her again, but compared to the one before, she barely even took notice of it, though her skin would correct that later. It was more of a thoughtful kick that anything else.
"I'm not like those other Dalta agents," she remembered her line and clung to it, wishing it was as simple as a lifeline at sea. "I haven't been brainwashed like them. I would still have done the same thing, come to you, even if I had landed here without Dalta on my shoulders." She spit this out, resent well present.
Again, "Why?" Again, a pause. "Not out of misplaced gratitude. Because I assure you. It would be misplaced."
She blurted out; "I want to be your assistant."
Next thing she knew, he was crouching by her side, filling her vision with his dark hair, dark eyes, pale skin. He probably wouldn't look any different in a grayscale photograph. "Are you really that stupid?"
Her throat was still giving her pain to speak, but through pure force of will she soldiered on. "I want to work for you. I figure that's about as safe as anywhere on the Falchions' side."
"You're wrong about that."
She stared at him evenly, despite her position. "With all due respect," she choked a little but went on. "That's what you say."
Then he asked, "Why do you want to live so bad anyway?"
Although he was entirely blocking her sight, she still saw the sky in her mind's eye. It may have been gray and heavy like concrete that day, but to her it stood as strong a symbol as it ever did. "I want to leave IOD."
"You have," he scoffed. They were in Finland right then after all.
"Only because you're here with me." She gave a cough as harsh and dry and chalk on blackboard. "I want to be free to go where I want. Without IOD or Dalta on my tail." Stating it clearly like that, it didn't sound so special or wonderful. She knew that, but was still no less determined to see that future through. That was the kind of person she was.
"That's impossible."
"It's not-"
His head titled ever so slightly, and his expression might have even look comforting when he said, "For you. It is."
If it didn't make her blood boil. She snapped at him, fast and hard and cold, like a steel trap glinting cruely in the sunlight, edged with sharp despair. "Not for you! You could easily do it for me. You could free me."
"But I won't." Despite all her efforts, he stayed calm and completely detached, even as her death was in his hands.
"So just let me work for you!" she half-shouted, half-whispered, hope already drained away.
"... Fine."


Her mouth turned down in displeasure, and she didn't bother hiding it in her tone. "Do I look like your doctor?"
'Verse could see the energy as it was pulled up from the bodies and into the boy before her. She was smart enough to realize this was why he didn't exactly look as though he'd been yanked through the rosebush that was violence. She had also seen enough injuries in her time to work out why it wasn't working on that arm.
But it wasn't like she cared about that. The energy-absorbing was much more interesting. It seemed to rise much more heavily off those with the more fatal wounds. From the others, only slight tendrils were sucked away. Watching it thicken his own aura, she couldn't help but feel some reluctant admiration. What could she say? She liked his style. But no way would she be caught dead actually /saying/ that.
Besides, his attitude still managed to p*ss her off.
"Go cry me a river, and maybe I'll kiss it better, whiner-boy," she sneered, then turned abruptly and marched off.
That wasn't particularly impolite, by her standards. It was basically how she usually acted, to the males at least.
She tended to be slightly nicer to the girls.

smilies • 5 November 2014 at 5:25 PM

"Fine," he'd said.
"What?" Mentally, Telly added a few expletives.
"I really should have an assistant anyway. My division- at the very least- would be screwed if anything happened to me. I just hadn't been able to find a suitable replacement," his shoulders rolled beneath a shirt as free of wrinkles as it had been that morning. Two spoke plainly, and if there was any arrogance to be found, it was not in his voice or expression. "All of the obvious candidates... Fell a little short of my standards. But you, you might do."
She lay there, rather dazed. With the grass tangled and mushed up in her bright curls, her skin quickly turning purple, plus the glassy numb look of suppressed pain and amazement in her eyes, she was no doubt quite the sight.
Of course, Two didn't seem to care in the least. He was already on to deciding; "What should I call you? Something that doesn't conjure images of men in ridiculous bodysuits."
Even in her state, the well-ordered mind quickly determined the best course to quickly reestablishing herself in relative safety. She needed it. "My real name is Teija Laukkanen."
"Teij... It'll do." He stood. "You start right away, with taking me directly to the encampment."
She accepted his help to her feet, and did as per his order. Soon, a blanket of white surrounded them, like a freak snowfall had left the two in a winter wonderland. But no, it was only the color of the tent walls which dominated the space so. Although she was taken aback by the leader's new choice in color scheme, Telly was all of a sudden tired beyond even the thought of moving her tongue. The expected wave of nausea hit her, and she stood stiff as a board, not daring to move till it passed.
Furniture here was predictably sparse and simple, although there were two decent couches (both in Falchion blue) and a large table surface. It was spacious enough, with an curtained door leading further into the tent, presumably to the leader's sleeping space. She had only enough time to glance over what little there was before Two, in no way acknowledging the change of scene, pursued his logical train of thought.
"Now, go back to base and clean yourself up," he told her. "Then you'll return here tomorrow to await further instructions."
She nodded rather dumbly. What was she supposed to do with a whole day?
He hadn't give a sign of dismissal, so she knew to wait while he picked a couch and lounged across it, looking rather lazy as he examined the table laden already with an assortment of papers.
"Why the whole day? It's to see your friends, of course," he spoke quietly, gaze still trailing over the documents.
The tongue had to move. "What do you mean?"
"Don't think no one noticed you've been acting like a wooden doll for the past several months. I suppose it's because you planning this the whole time." He shrugged. "People have been worried unnecessarily. Lose the attitude."
"I thought-"
"I would prefer it? We don't choose who works in which division based on simplistic character traits." He sounded rather sarcastic.
Did... Okay, she knew he'd kind of mentioned a children's tv show just moments prior, but did he really just reference a crappy teens' romance book..?
"I don't need anyone adding brainwashing to my reputation," Two explained casually, flipping a few pages aside, and then looked up. "Oh, and you know, I wasn't actually going to kill you. At least not right away. I needed to be teleported, and it would have been so inconvenient to wait half an hour for the next one."
"..." Was it too late to reconsider her choice? Telly wondered. Death now looked a lot less scary.
"Now hurry up and leave."


"Okay!" She called out happily after Zach, failing to sound as if the mood of his words, let alone their actual, had sunk in at all.
Now that those people were gone, and nothing seemed to be calling for her attention, that attention fell back onto the table before her.
Her brow furrowed as she continued to look thoughtfully at the map. The minutes dragged out with Katrix lost in her two-dimensional world, and it wasn't until the neglected projected map gave way to its screen saver that she looked up and saw Vivian had remained, watching her.
"Oh, I'm sorry. Just trying to..." She struggled to think of the word. "Visualize things, you know?"
Vivian walked over, her shoes making sharp clopping sounds against the steel. It reminded Katrix a bit of a horse, and brought a smile to her face, although she knew better than to say so aloud. Tall people with long faces were always being compared to horses, and were hardly ever fond of it.
"Would not such a task be rendered to vast extents of greater ease with the projection of a 3D model? It would be but a simple chore to do so," the golden-blonde told her.
By the second sentence, Kitty's head had started spinning. "Um... Yes, I know. I'm just a little old-fashioned," she admitted, just hoping she'd interpreted the other's words correctly. It wasn't like Vivian hadn't been speaking intelligible English before, with the others in the room...
She seemed to have taken pity on the leader and only nodded once.
"I guess you're here to talk about resuming your duties as my assistant, right?" Katrix asked, now starting to fold up the map below her, having forgotten to remove the cake numbers from it.
Pursing her lips, Vivian made sure to do so before she answered. "Well, there is that," she agreed, and then her pale blue eyes flashed. "Yet there is also a matter of superior importance on which I contrive to speak to you."
"Okay..." Interest made itself plain on Kitty's features as she waited.
Vivian reached inside her pocket and drew out a small piece of paper, which grew as she unfolded it. Then wordlessly it was handed on to the first leader, who recognized it for what it was; paper very like the stuff she had just given Zach and Clay. When she tried to create a small tear in one corner, it resisted with ease.
"It's composed of three different languages," Gold explained, as several moments had passed and Katrix, scanning the inky lines, looked like she'd had compost shoveled down her throat. "Chinese, Italian, and Russian." It was like something straight out of a [yeep] historical spy novella. All that was missing was German, and then it would be a combination that just stank of pure evil.
The brunette looked up, disbelieving. "You don't read all of those, do you?"
"Not one," Vivian responded. "But I've had it reliably processed."
"You didn't use Google Translate did you? Because-"
Her assistant quickly overrode her with, "Do you wish to know what it says, or do you not?"
She hesitated. It was a dangerous question. While the answer seemed an obvious; 'Yes, of course'... There was the implication there in the other girl's tone that she might be happier not knowing. "What is it?" Kitty asked quietly. When really, the real question she was thinking was, 'What's Two done now?'
"Evidence of a betrayal."
"Who exactly did he betray?" She couldn't quite stop her fingernails from digging into her arms, although she knew they would probably leave ugly stress marks later.
Vivian eyed her for a moment. "He? You seem to have a certain someone in mind already."
At this, Katrix stared, with an expression of incomparable surprise. "Are you telling me it's not Two?"
"No. But I admit myself confounded as to the attitudes all seem to direct toward him."
One blinked.
"I would like to informed on the nature of the event that brought about such a change. He seemed to be acting perfectly normal over the past few days," Vivian explained. "Certainly, he has never been very likable, but there was never this degree of suspicion surrounding him before."
"B-but," the leader spluttered. "Weren't you listening to him and I just now?" She had only realized that when she walked into this room- not during the conversation, or she might have died of embarrassment.
"Yes," the assistant said evenly.
"And?"
Vivian examined her nails carefully. "It sounded," she remarked slowly, "Like he very much wanted us to trust you to do the right thing, at his own expense."
Shakily, Katrix said, "That was him being sincere..." 
With her characteristic haughtiness; "I didn't say he wasn't at that. At least as far as he ever is sincere."
"S-so," the brunette spoke with doubt marring her tone, "Despite thinking it his intention, you trust me?"
"In my experience, Two has always given sound advice."
When Vivian didn't respond to her incredulous expression, Katrix sighed. "The only real reason everyone has for all the distrust of Two would be the recording those rebels left for us."
"I must have missed it," the assistant looked miffed, and not just at the unpleasant reminder. She was the type to very much dislike being left out of the loop. "Is there a way I could view it?"
One's expression was now matching in annoyance. "I'm afraid not. We have people working on recovering it, but currently... No." Still, she did her best to explain what they had seen and heard. To Kitty's surprise however, the other remained entirely unchanged in looks and further, remarked nothing upon it.
"This letter..." Vivian began explaining as soon as the leader had finished. "Is the previous One's instructions regarding his successor. It was apparently written well in advance, and placed in the care of a low-ranked," here she sounded even more snooty than usual, continuing grudgingly, "Yet trusted subordinate, to be revealed at the commencement of the Truce matches, in case he had not returned by that time."
"I know about," Katrix said quickly. "I was around when Two read it out."
Sounding irritable, the golden-blonde told her; "It was never read out."
Hands hiding her mouth, Kitty let out a rather silly giggle. "'Course not, with all those languages, he may as well speak in binary code, everyone would understand just as much."
"I mean..." Vivian looked at her for a long moment. "The person who should have taken over as One is Three."

asi • 5 November 2014 at 5:29 PM

Silence. Then; "Three?"
"The previous one, yes. It says quite clearly here that One intended for Fain to lead in his absence," she stiffly affirmed.
Katrix stared at her shoes. "But... He's missing. He's been missing for months and months."
"Evidently, the former One has been gone for longer than that," Vivian said dryly. "He made provisions for that too. In that case... He apologizes to Two," she emphasized, "But tells him on no uncertain terms that he must take his place. And it is signed..." She held up the very end of the letter and showed it to the other, "Yuliy." The paper was then folded up neatly. "There is no doubt that this is the genuine article."
"But... Yet... You, with me as One... Think Two is doing the right thing?" Katrix asked in bewilderment. Even though the information that had just been dropped on her head seemed to weigh something like a bag of bricks, she kept up better than she had in the past given others reason to believe she could. (She realized now that due to the nature of the paper, Two must have been forced to hold on to it, which was why Vivian was able to find it, when she went back into Two's room to go through his wardrobe and select the one thing he never wore).
"Two has blatantly disobeyed the will of the former One, but it doesn't necessarily follow that he's betrayed us," came Gold's sudden reply. "One, your predecessor, couldn't have known about the current situation. Taking this into account, I can't see that Two has done anything terribly wrong." Her nails made a loud clicking sound on the table when she tapped it. Katrix noticed they'd been painted a pale blue. Quite like the girl's eyes, but unlike what Kitty knew her aura to be. "I have no idea what his motives might be, but in the past, he has proven himself to have the Falchion's best interests... In mind," Vivian substituted the last two words for something else. Then she slipped in a small grimace. "That does not, of course, mean I want him in One's position."
"You trust him...?" The leader trailed of confusedly.
"I respect him," Vivian corrected, resolving to make herself very clear. "But I don't /like/ him." She paused, a look bordering on brooding slipping across her face. "And I have to conclude he no longer appears to be trustworthy. If it suits you, I will investigate."
"You'd do that?" Katrix seemed dazed, and the other gave a strangely ladylike kind of snort.
"You aren't very used to the idea of assistants, are you?" she commented.
"Actually," One confided in hushed tones. "I was kind of like your position now back at IOS?" This left the golden soldier looking rather blank, just trying to imagine it. "...Anyway, you should work with Nine! She's already investigating Two, only, I'd like someone a little less condemning on jury..." She finished with a little nervous laughter. "I think you two would do good together!"
"Fine, that's what I'll do then... Before I go, have you any instructions about Five's feral?" asked Vivian.
The leader pondered this, the incident having completely slipped her mind. "He said, um... Electricity power, golden aura, right?"
Vivian nodded.
"Oh, that's all right. Four already described that one in his report." Then she murmured wonderingly; "Four... That guy is strangely obedient."
"Strangely?" Apparently One considered Five a 'normal' on cooperative.
Katrix smiled apologetically. "Oh, I suppose it's not that strange, if I think about it. I've met stranger..." And then a curious expression appeared on her face.
"Well," Vivian said, for she really didn't care to question every weird thing her leader did. She'd be here all day then, so; "What did you decide to do about the feral, if I may ask?"
"Uh, find him?" At the prompting expression, she continued uncertainly, "Then, just watch him I guess?"
"...Very well, I will report any findings on the matter straight to you."
"Good," Katrix sounded relieved. Then her assistant offered her a polite bow, and swiftly exited the room, leaving her finally alone.
She had a lot to think about.
A lot.


*Why is it,* rang a thought directed not outwardly, but inwards, *You remember these things I don't?*
On invitation, the other presence in his mind soon slunk to its forefront, still rubbing the metaphorical sleep out of his imaginary eyes. Somehow, the power's sandy-white mental hair managed to be even wilder than his user's real stuff, as the guy mused his pale other hand through it. He did a very good impression of having just tumbled out of bed. It was a shame his only audience knew such a thing was impossible, for Locke had no physical form, unless he hijacked Two's body.
*It isn't my fault,* the power defended with a childish frown. *You just did not care to remember!*
*What do you mean?* Two asked slowly.
*I mean, you chose to rid yourself of it. You didn't want to remember these things any longer, so you decided not to.* Said like it was the simplest thing in the world.
*Why would I do that?*
*How should I understand your reasoning?* Although he shrunk back at the singularly unamused expression Two sent him, he still continued to mutter rather self-righteously; *If it helps, you did it before you disposed of your emotions. Perhaps you felt they impeded on the stability of your emotional state, when you still had one to speak of-*
*So you're saying,* Two interrupted, and somehow he seemed to be growing progressively darker, *That I have a number of... Distressing memories hidden away where only you can access them?*
*Yes,* Locke said, then immediately backtracked, showing his imaginary palms in an effort to placate his user. *But it's not like you think. None of them are important. You're not missing anything about that person, or anything like that!*
More tired of Locke's antics than anything- as if he was going to get mad- Two took a few minutes to think this over. *And there's absolutely nothing about this Mael character, is there?*
*No, of course not. I'd have told you if I knew a thing about him.* Locke looked rather ashamed that Two would think anything other than that of him. *They're all like what you just found. Besides, after everything you've done since three years ago-* he paused for a moment, then went on- *None of these memories would affect you in the least.*
*And there are no memories you have of taking over from me that I don't know about...*
*No! I've told you, the only time that happened was just... A few... Weeks, ago?* Suddenly uncertain, the power's voice rose into a question. *When the rebels attacked and you were totally out of it.*
*Days. One week.*
*Yes, as you say. That was the only time, all right?* The soft gray of the power's eyes was ringed with tiny worry lines as he said this. Lines which definitely shouldn't appear on a face so young, even if it was only a mental expression. Still, there was a naïve sort of honesty to Locke, the kind that one couldn't help but believe.
Two noticed all of this, yet gave no reaction. He only sought to make sure; *You can't show the memories to me in any way?*
A series of images flickered through Two's mind, all of them fleeting and blurred, indistinct. Locke sighed and flicked his deficient attempts away. *I really am not a photographic video machine. But as far as I can tell, there are only a few more like that girl. The rest, dead,* he said carelessly. His eyebrows drew into a melancholy arching frown, but one without sympathy. *And it's not like you knew any of them.*
Two turned away, now disinterested. *It doesn't matter then. I'll have them back soon enough anyway.*
The other hesitated, then nodded once, before he slunk back into the vague unconscious state from whence he came. There, the power slept.

taffy789 • 7 November 2014 at 6:57 PM

 Zach surprised himself when he made it to his office door without beginning to sleepwalk. Somehow he was able to pull his key out of his pocket, locate the keyhole, and successfully unlock the door after only three tries. In his tired daze it never occurred to him that the door was ALREADY unlocked, but even if he'd realized his great waste of time, it wouldn't have mattered the least bit to him. He'd overcome one obstacle, and was just that much closer to his end goal, his bed.
 After pushing open the door, Zach stumbled into his office, barely sparing a glance at Raven, who sat at the office desk filling out some /extremely/ important paperwork that would be shredder fodder in a few months. He trudged on past her, deaf to any comment she had to make concerning- well, anything. Listening to Raven snark was at the very bottom of his list of priorities- at the top sat, of course, going to wonderful, beautiful sleep.
Zach arrived at the door to his room, flung it opened, and slammed it shut behind him as he stepped inside.
 Not bothering to even unstrap his boots, Zach found and threw himself on his substitute bed cot, and was asleep within a few minutes.


Not knowing what else to do, Wither stepped over the bodies and began to follow 'Verse out of the large cave. As he approached the exit of the expansive cave he faltered, not wanting to get lost in those twisting rocky halls and let all that fresh energy sit and go to waste.
 Torn between leaving the bodies or staying, and with his arm throbbing, Wither stood awkwardly at the mouth of the cave and wondered what he should do, why his arm wasn't healing, and if he should've simply went ahead and killed the strange, interesting power after all.


A girl from the Sixth Division leaned against the metal wall beside her and sighed loudly. She'd been up since five that same morning, and after a whole day of running around the base, she felt ready for a nice nap... But she wasn't at all ready for the sudden appearance of a crazy girl with blue hair.
 "Hiya!" the said crazy girl exclaimed, popping out of seemingly nowhere to invade the Sixth Division girl's much wanted personal space, "Whatcha up to?"
 Shocked, the Sixth girl reeled back, only managing a small, "Uh, what?" in reply. The answer being good enough for Eight, she continued to prattle on about herself.
 "I'm really confused right now!" she announced to the other girl, and grabbed her conversational partner's hand, studying the red nail polish embellishing it with interest.
 "You see, I'm trying to remember about a fun carnival. But I can't." The Eighth leader blinked. 
"Well, actually I can, but not the one I want to remember. It's weird. I was just there, I think! Yet I can't remember it. Or I can. But it's not it. I think." A pause. Eight played with the girl's fingers a bit- much to the other's annoyance- and asked,  "...Does that ever happen to you?"
 Trying to pull her hand away from the crazy leader's bear trap grip, the Sixth girl puffed out a quick, "Yes it does!" in hopes that the affirmation would somehow get her out of the mess she found herself in.
 "I knew I wasn't alone!" Eight grinned ear to ear, but frowned as another thought entered her head.
 "But... Memory sure can be weird sometimes, right?" 
By this time the Sixth girl freed herself, and nodded along with a "right, yes you're absolutely right" before skillfully slipping away. 
 Eight blinked again, and watched the girl leave with no emotion on her face except for a completely absent one.
 "Memory is really weird sometimes~" she repeated, as if trying to hold onto her own thoughts.


Zzzzzzzzzzz...

~~~~~~~~~~
Zzzzzzzzzzz...
 The snoring is a pleasant, comforting sound, but it doesn't distract you from the violent shaking.
You can't escape it. Even the dank concrete floors feel sweaty and shaky under your fingertips, but you slowly realized the floors aren't the problem. Instead, you should be blaming your own two hands, which spazz uncontrollably as you attempt to sit yourself up on the floor. You fail in your attempt, and find yourself lying on you side, your left cheek pressed against the rough, cold concrete.
 A shiver like impending death steamrolls down your spinal cord, and you wince at the comparison, for it held more truth than you would've liked it to.
 Ignoring any thoughts about your looming doom, you go through your usual panic recovery steps.
 Your chest inflates and deflates, and your heart slows with every deep, calming breath your force down your lungs.
 One, two, three- you count all the way to ten in your head. It doesn't make you feel any better, so you go to fifteen, then twenty, and finally you count out each second in the minute that passes before giving up and moving onto the next task.
A word pops into your head, "exercises", and you roll onto your back. You stretch your trembling arms into the air, only for them to shake too much, give out, and fall back to the concrete- causing a loud, slapping sound on contact.
 Alarmed, you twist your head to the left to check if you woke up your sister.
 No, she's still asleep, snoring, tangled up in thin sheets, and hanging half way off the cot. She's always been such a heavy sleeper, and you envy her for that. You, on the other hand, are awoken by every tingling sensation you get; by each jolting spark of fear and panic screaming in your mind, "SOMETHING'S WRONG SOMETHING'S WRONG!" 
Except the only thing is, this jolting doesn't have a voice. It use aches or stiffness, stress or numbness, or it just plain makes you feel afraid for no reason at all. 
But... there is a reason. There's always a reason for these feelings, and you somehow know what the reasons are. And the reason the stinging electrical shock woke you up this time; the reason you flew out of your bed and landed onto the cold floor in a mess of bedsheets and pillows...
 The horrible sensation grips you again, and all your muscles tighten as if preparing you to run, to avoid whatever fate lies in your in path, as if telling you to escape-!
 To escape... to where?
 Four metal walls surround you on all sides. One single, reinforced steel door sits on the wall to your right, and the only clean air filtering into the stuffy, windowless room is from a vent on the ceiling that is too high to reach and too tiny to crawl through.
 Trapped, that's what you are.
 Back when your "jolts" first started occurring- and also back when you thought every small spasm received was a death sentence- you took to pounding on that reinforced door; clawing at the walls in a vain, stupid attempt to run from what you thought was your doom. This did nothing but annoy the guards on duty and make your sister cry, so you eventually stopped trying to "escape" after that one guard gave you two black eyes and a knocked out baby tooth for drowning out his football game on the colorless TV.
So now, you lie on the floor, every part of your body screaming at you to run away even though you can't go anywhere. You close your eyes, wishing you had less sense again so you could go crazy, pounding on the walls and screaming at the top of your lungs because- unlike all those other times- death really lurked behind the next corner.
 It took you a long, long time to finally figure out how your jolts- well, you suppose the... doctors would call them your "power"- worked. Because you have an idea of how they work now, you know what this panic, this fear is, and how it compares to the others before, which just warned about sickness, or painful proddings, or 'testing'.
 The jolts shocking through your body now warn about none of the above things. They act frantic, urgent, scared even, and they are so, so, so much worse than all the others that came before them. They don't beg; they plea. They don't yell; they scream. They warn you about the approaching danger but in the most terrible way, as if blaring sirens wail and pound your head and your back and your chest. The jolts- no, your power- it tells you that you are going to die today- and soon.
 It tells you this even though you can do nothing, absolutely nothing, to prevent it from happening. 
You think about this and your heart thunders in your chest, beating frantically, trying to burst from your rib cage. You need to do something- anything at all- so your eyes scan the room again, quickly, searching for an exit, wishing one would appear out of nowhere- a sudden, magical escape from your terrible situation. A door leading to anywhere but here, so you can wake up your sister and just run away from everything.
 No such door appears though, and you are left stuck, laying on the concrete and feeling trapped, terrified, and... and... vulnerable.

awesomeness • 7 November 2014 at 7:02 PM

Vulnerable.
The word flies from a memory of that day, the day when you and your sister were thrown into a truck, weird collars around your necks, and the people who'd picked you up had said something like, "Look at them, look how cute and vulnerable they are."
Vulnerable.
You realize the meaning of the word- it's when you can't do anything to help yourself- and you remember another phrase, "Like pigs to the slaughter", said by a doctor as you both had watched a line of older children march into helicopters and disappear, never to be seen again.
Those kids died, you know, they died because they couldn't do a thing about their situation. They were vulnerable.
You are vulnerable.
And because of this, you will end up dead with them.
Your sister, however, you think as you look back at her and wonder how she hasn't fallen to the floor yet, won't die- at least not today. Your power also keeps you up-to-date with her, for some reason, and you at least find some peace within the panic knowing she's going to be okay for a while, and not die with you. You still worry though, because you don't want to leave her, and you don't want to simply go and... disappear on her. No, you've been watching out for her for... how long? Even before you both were taken away by the government people, it was like you only had each other. And you're older-by nine months, but still OLDER- and you have the ability to tell when she's in trouble, so you should always be around to help her.
But you can't, you can't stay around forever for her and that's that, isn't it?
You don't want to die.
You're eleven and you don't want to die.
The sudden truth sets fire in your heaving chest and in your burning, salty eyes, too.
You really, really don't want to-
Panic explodes inside you, scorching fire shooting down from your brain and tensing every muscle in a sudden, violent jerk. Your body folds inwards without you wanting it to, but lets you free in the next second. You spring up, finally able to move again, and only one thought burns in your mind.
They're coming.
They're coming and you're going to die and there's nothing. you. can. do. about. it.
You do something about it anyway.
Your sister groans as you push her back onto her cot, and she wakes up, long dark brown bedhead falling into her face as she asks, "Zach..? What is it..?"
You shush her and tell her to be quiet before crawling under the cot and pulling the thin, hanging sheet down in front of you, in a vain attempt to hide.
She tries to question you again, but even she falls silent as the sound of boot steps grow louder and louder... You hear the door slam open, and there's a short pause before one of the guards asks, "Where's the other kid?"
The silence continues on, stretching itself outward, its looming, searching tendrils grabbing and swallowing the room as your blood pounds in your ears. Two sets of boot heels click towards the cot, slowly.
...
You knew they would find you before they did, but you still aren't going out without a fight.
You cling to the frame under the cot, kicking at a guard's face as he attempts to pull you out. He flinches back before your foot can land, so you break loose from his grip once. The same guard is about to grab you again when he suddenly shouts, and you hear your sister's fake "Sorry!" as she tries to explain how her foot slipped and happened to hit the man's nose hard enough to cause it to bleed.
You know he's going to raise his hand to hit her before his hand even moves, so you crawl out from under the bed and give yourself up. Of course, it doesn't matter that the guard smacks you instead, as you're going to die today anyway, right?
Your sister is still calling, "Zach, Zach, what's going on?" as you both are dragged from the room.
You're shaking, and you hope she can't tell that you're scared. You wonder if you'll be brave enough to say goodbye.

~~~~~~~~

Sitting up in his own cot, Zach fought off the "I'm going to barf" feeling and tried to stop the goosebumps from spreading any further up his arms.
Colors, images, intense emotion... They all swirled in his brain, overwhelming every sense and even blocking out reality. So realistic, so enveloping the memory was that, even after Zach woke up, he still FELT eleven again, could still see the walls pressing around him, sense the panic in his power's urges, feel that sinking vulnerable fog that pressed down on him for so much of his youth...
This memory was NOTHING like the other dreams Eight's dive into his brain had stirred up . This one... This one was so, so very real...
So... personal.
Another tidal wave of colorful sensation and fear slammed into him again, shaking his body and brain back and forth like a dog with a toy in its jaws, and this time, Zach retched, his body thrown forward, and he came incredibly close to puking.
The wave dissipated, leaving the Fifth with only the remnants of childish panic and fear and no outlet to put them to. He stood up, and his large, empty room suddenly seemed a lot smaller to him. Sweat from that nightmarish memory caused his shirt to cling to his back, and made him feel hot and uncomfortable. The walls of his room closed in closer on him, and, now panicking, Zach's eyes flew to the only door present.
A consuming fear gripped him, a phobia that came crawling back into his brain like a persistent bug trying to make it's home under a person'a skin. He rushed to the door, yanking on the handle hard and fearing it wouldn't open-
Of course, the door, not being locked, slammed open and Zach gave a deep sigh of relief, his shot nerves relaxing.
Now, returning slowly to his normal, passive self, Zach closed the door- no, a crack had to be left; he couldn't will himself to fully close it just yet- and he headed back towards his cot to sit down and catch his breath.
He did sit, worked to slow his breaths, and his panic faded as time passed- only to be replaced with bitter, furious, and vicious anger.
It directed itself towards himself first, and he cursed his own name for acting so stupidly, for freaking about a memory- over a fake stress that no longer existed or posed him any real threat.
Next, the anger directed itself towards another person, Eight.
Yes, at Eight. At that crazy girl who'd taken the liberty to search through his memories like she had a right to- to shake everything up and put him on edge for fun. Rage built inside him, and he considered marching right over to her and demanding she fix whatever she messed up in his mind, but, no, he wouldn't let that girl in his memories again if his life depended on it.
Holding his head in his hands, Zach sat on his cot and breathed in and out, counting the passing seconds as he did so.
It did little to calm him. Somewhere along the line all of his little tricks of preventing a panic attack had stopped working, but then again, it wasn't like he became panicked that often anymore. No, he'd been free of the worry of dying for a long time.
Until, he thought, sucking in a deep breath of air, now. But even now he wasn't in any real danger of death- it was just his stupid brain not realizing that. He fought with his own racing heart, trying to make it understand this but failed. It wouldn't listen to him, and now the anxiety kept him awake, making the fact he'd only gotten fifteen minutes of sleep before his memory woke him all that worse.
Sighing, Zach laid down on his cot again, deciding that if he couldn't go to sleep, he sure could fake it to avoid doing more work.

asi • 15 December 2014 at 10:19 PM

Five strides and he still hadn't resumed following her, she forced herself to stop. No matter how tempting it was to just keep going, she remembered what Rai had once said to her about communication.
"Well, are you coming or not?" 'Verse snapped back at him, not risking her eyesight on the dumb lost puppy look she thought he was probably wearing. "It's not like you know where to go, idiot."
Not willing to put up with any more of his sh*tty attitude, especially while she was basically being a saint, she stepped off again down her path, this time not caring if he went with her or curled up and died where he stood.

"So... You and her, huh."
"Yup," he tried to smooth back his dark hair and threw up his arms when he realized how little there was to get ruffled in any direction. "Best friends forever- newsflash," said Damon, fake shocked look and all.
"Is that so..." The other murmured quietly.
"Er," he said, watching as Clay took a wrong turn when they should've been headed right. He folded his arms and with an awkward expression, asked, "Where are you going?"
Stopping to give a smile, Clay answered, "One dismissed us, right? We're free to go!"
Damon grabbed the summoner's sleeve and yanked him back before he could run off. "Are you crazy? If anyone recognizes us, the mission is screwed. We're meant to go back to our room, obviously!" Whatever happened to, 'Ooh, Damon, we'll get in troouble!'
"Huh? You got to see that Gold chick," Clay gave a small kind of bewildered frown. "I want to see a friend of mine, too."
"But Vivan- no, that wasn't any kind of courtesy call. She's One's assistant, she was just doing- whatever it is she does. It's got nothing to do with me," he stared in frustration. Wasn't that obvious? He'd thought the kid dense, but not thick-
"Really," said Clay plaintively, and then rolled his eyes.
If he'd been skeptical before about the success potential of the mission ahead of him, then Damon felt his stomach... Sink somewhat, along with the kid's cooperativity levels. It was like the guy was trying to pick a fight (or at least an argument) with him, and the mission hadn't even started yet. "Clay-" he began with the other's name, then stopped suddenly. Damon yanked the two of them around a corner just as someone entered their corridor, slowing trotting past.
Apparently his partner had no regard for such things, because he spoke directly and hardly bothered to hush his voice. "You don't seem like the types to be friends."
"Is that really important?" Damon couldn't help but sound a little snappish.
Clay shrugged. "Dunno, is it?" With his eyes stretched out wide again, the shy caramel-brown of his eyes on display, he seemed genuinely curious.
If that was the case, why not say something now? If it would snap Clay out of being so antagonistic. As things were right now, they weren't making any progress, physically towards the room, nor socially. Staring straight ahead at the plain metal wall, he thought about it and answered; "I... Strongly admired Vivian ever since I first saw her in action. I mean, she's beautiful and all, but her personality stinks at least at first glance and I wouldn't've looked at her twice if she hadn't-"
The start of the second sentence's second clause had barely passed through his mouth when he glanced back to his side and, empty.
Damon had actually been holding onto his arm ever since he pulled the guy aside. And save for the corners, the corridors were really very straight.
So when he quickly looked in every direction and still no Clay, he was slightly... Awed.
How the heck did Clay manage that? Okay, he'd been in charge of distractions, but-
God, just from that, Damon should've seen this coming.
With no idea who the other former leader's friend could be, he just groaned and marched back to his room.

Paperwork was a monster and Raven just needed to kill it.
No, really. She'd tried to plunge right into it, but the whole inky mess was rather overwhelming. By itself, each paper was relatively simple to understand, but all together...
Most of the time, she just had to send it on to the person who actually needed to see it, after reading it through once to make sure it was all in order. Straight-forward, maybe, but bewildering all the same.
On the bright side, it was a kind of warfare. It had the same mind-numbing properties as the real thing, and served as an equally-potent distractor, only it lasted longer and wasn't as life-threatening.
Yet it had only been a handful of hours and already she was looking forward to knives and fists again. At least she'd had training for that. But this, this was a beast with many heads and she hadn't a clue where to begin decapitating. Unlike in real fights, she couldn't actually /win/.
Finally, she threw up her hands (or at least, her good one). She was done. So done. There was no way Raven would make any more progress that night, that was, unless you counted muscle cramps as "progress".
Rubbing at her eyes- scribbles were still flashing before them- she methodically packed up her tools, pushing pens off the desk and into the waiting draws below, waiting impatiently while the computer light slowly dimmed, taking the sight of the room with it. Standing around and blinking while her eyes adjusted. She very nearly jumped when the noise came out of the dark; movement in the room beyond. A shock ran down her back and she was sure it was making all the hair there stand on end. Raven hadn't even noticed anyone come in, she'd been so wrapped up in that crap.
"Watch yourself," she muttered to herself as she hurried from the room, before she could have another weird encounter with that guy. "You're getting sloppy."

After seeing Karen off to her luxury quarters, Lily headed straight to her own. She wasn't feeling an awful lot like sleep herself tonight, and she hoped to make use of her roommate's snappish attitude to force her reading light out.
She couldn't help the fact that these fanfictions-I-mean-ancient-diaries were entirely riveting.
The room was entirely dark when she opened the door, and the dim hallway glow didn't exactly hurry to stream in.
"Raven?" she whispered, worried that her roommate may be asleep. But her eyes adjusted and caught a sweeping movement between the beds. Someone was standing there, and they turned at her arrival. Here's the catch; that figure wasn't slim and girlish, and it certainly wasn't her roommate.
Lily did what any girl like her would do in her position; that is, stumble backwards and fumble for the door handle with one hand, while a dagger slid down her sleeve into her waiting right one.
By now, she'd recognized the figure, but that information didn't really serve to calm her movements-
His own hands darted forward, snatching hers away from the door, gripping tightly her armed hand, and yanking her into the room. He kicked it closed behind them and held the girl firm until she stilled.
"No no no," he was moaning. "Please let's skip the whole dead shtick, it's such a waste of time! You know it's me."
"O/kay/, Seven, you can let me go!" she tried to sound sharp but it was late and she couldn't help but laugh just a little when his hands snuck up around her arms. "Hah, cut it out, hug time is over... Hey don't tickle me!" She practically squawked, pushing him away.
"Soorry?" he asked, laughing silently. "You're so ticklish, it's unreal."
It was a while before they sobered up, the last chuckles dying out, and when they did, Clay looked rather upset. "Why did you seem so shocked to see me? Did you think I was dead?"
"Of course I did!" Lily's gaze scurried down to his neck and ran around it in confusion.
"But," she watched that lump in his throat wobble, "The new Nine and you are friends, right? Don't say she didn't tell you anything?"
She paused and spoke carefully. "She didn't tell me. Subtle hinting may or may not be a thing, but-"
"I suppose she takes her job very seriously," Clay finished, remembering what he did of that leader's meeting.
She muttered, "You've no idea," before clearing a tiny cough from her throat and saying, "Anyway, forgive me for not having much faith in our healers. The ones I've met have big mouths, appetites to match, and can't heal more than the hiccups."
"That's funny right, you'd think hiccups would be a piece of cake, but Bliss turned me away with a glass of water to drink upside down," he murmured in wonder.
"Who? Like the lead healer? What was his name again?"
"Bliss. Yeah, he's amazing!" Clay chattered enthusiastically, waving his arms around all animated. "Crushed throats and chest stabs are no problem for him! The dude's like a superhero or somethin'! Except, you know, one that stays locked up in a boring bleach-coated hospital all day."
"I didn't even think that was possible..." said an embarrassed Lily, feeling guilty for not believing he'd recover. She'd /seen/ him die, or very nearly. It was very hard to accept that anyone could recover from something like that.
Not being the best at reading people, her friend merely shrugged and said, "Neither!"
"I'm glad that you're okay now, we need leaders more than ever, with Six and Col-" she stopped, but Clay barely even noticed.
He was saying, "No way Lils, I'm not hanging around here 'nymore. That's why no one knows about me and Five- you know, Damon," he explained.
Lily digested this slowly, and looked more worried by the second. "You're leaving? Is this some kind of secret mission?" she asked doubtfully.
"Yeah!" he nodded. "Just listen, you're not going to believe this."

smilies • 15 December 2014 at 10:21 PM

Once he'd given her a quick low-down, she too nodded, slowly. "You're right... I don't believe it. What are you thinking?!" she finally yelped.
If she was feeling just a little less shocked, maybe the puppy-dog face he showed her then would have melted her. "I thought you out of everyone would understand..."
Breathe in, breathe out, don't shout, Lily composed herself wryly. "Why on earth," she began when she thought her face was its normal color again. "Would you accept?"
About to answer, he paused, reached for the switch beside the door (quietly voicing a, "you don't mind?" to which she shook her head). With some light in the room and a moment's consideration of the beds, he correctly identified hers and took a seat on the edge. Lily examined the way it dipped under his weight and wondered if she'd regret letting him later. Probably, but she quickly forgot as he started with a slow, "We're being sent there because they have an Unnoen candidate, right?"
"Right," Lily agreed, and worried that this was going to go the way she thought it was.
"And uh, they must be pretty sure of themselves to brag about it n'all?"
She wished he'd stop phrasing everything like a question and just nodded empathetically.
Clay seemed to catch on for once because he looked away and spoke more clearly. "You know there hasn't been an actual Unnoen... Whatever for like a quarter century? Uh, well... I mean, a quarter century." He tried to correct it into a hard-ended sentence and she managed to keep a neutral expression and not laugh at the gruff voice he put on. He continued; "That's before we were born!"
"Erm, yeah, something like that," she frowned and made do. Her own math skills probably weren't good enough to give lessons.
"Well," he said shyly, and said again, "Well, if that's what you wanna do, then, it would probably be a good chance to, um, get some tips..."
Trying to pretend that wasn't alarming was... No, that was impossible. With eyes wider than is possibly healthy, Lily stammered, "Oh, yeah! If- if that's what you want, then I guess... That's probably a good idea?" Now she was the one questioning everything.
"Yes... At least, I hope so," Clay looked very relieved. "I'm happy you think so too."
The blonde felt like she'd just had a basketful of rocks shoved in her arms and been told to eat them. Too confused by the 'gift' to even pretend to look grateful, she just floundered like a fish out of water. "Okay... But... What'll everyone here do without you?"
"Eh? I'm sure you'll get along fine! All the new leaders seem smart and tough and nice too, and I never really did anything to begin with." All this was said with the easy-going air that could only belong to someone completely ignorant of the actual state of affairs. Or a very good actor. Or someone with appalling judgement. As for Clay, the answer was all three. "Say, there's at least one slot still open, right? You should take it!"
"Sorry?" Lily didn't know what else to say to that.
He nodded emphatically. "Sure, you could do it! You already managed everything for Three with the old one missing, even though you're like the most forgetful person I know? Hey, remember when-"
"Seven," she ground out helplessly, interrupting him. "I didn't even pass the third level of the qualifying test. I can't possibly become a leader." Lily couldn't emphasize this enough to try and get it through his thick skull.
"Ohh, right, sorry," he chuckled with a guilty look. "Thought you were better than that."
He was lucky she wasn't the competitive type, or she really would've got mad. "Well, I'm not. I don't even know if they've got anyone to stand in. Are you- are you sure you can't stay?"
He sighed, but it was in annoyance. "I don't know. One asked me to go. There isn't really a reason for me not to, so why would I say no?"
With a measured expression, Lily asked mildly, "She's rather pretty, isn't she?"
"Pretty?" Clay exclaimed. "Lily, you're pretty. One is something else."
Just what was one supposed to say to something like that? "Clay-"
"I've made my decision, alright?" he scowled, suddenly sounding grumpy. "Look, it's late, I'm tired."
"You can sleep here if you want. Raven won't mind," she suggested quietly, forgetting not to know her roommate was at that meeting.
Although tempted, he shook his head. "Nah. I gave Damon the slip earlier, and he probably isn't too pleased. Having a tired zombie-Clay on his hands tomorrow wouldn't improve that..." He did that stupid sheepish laugh again, and she refused to let it endear him to her any more. "I'll, see you later, maybe..."
"... Yeah," Lily said, knowing that 'maybe' was more like it.

She was half-asleep on her feet, but still she stood outside the healer's office, where the lights were still on and people still worked away their timeless day.
On the bright side, she knew Riley wasn't there any longer. You'd have to be crazy to have been working that long.
Raven steeled herself to push open the doors and walk herself in. Why was she even hesitating? Healing her was their job, [yeep], they were healers! She was being incredibly stupid, and she knew it. So why? Was she so determined-
"Oh my sh*t," she tried to yelp, but it came out like she had gravel stuck in her throat, because very suddenly someone else was also standing in front of the door. And that someone looked like they'd been run over by a truck.
She ran over to help, grabbing the injured by their sides before their support gave out. To her relief, Raven's hands did not come up very sticky, but as the other's weight fell onto her shoulders, she knew this person was far from okay. She still asked though, because what else were you supposed to say? "God, are you alright? You nearly gave me a heart-attack... Telly?"
The girl stumbled on her feet, but with Raven's help soon found the balance to push her blonde curls out of her face and give a small smile.
"Hey... Shadow," she said, puffing a bit but her voice was still strong. "Guess what?" the teleporter asked. She didn't wait but answered, while her face stretched into a wide grin; "I got a promotion."
Raven hadn't a clue what had happened, and already felt sick. As she helped the other girl into the hospital and up onto a bench, (and the most she ever got of the story was "Two made me assistant."), the worry that had been eating away at a corner of her mind was being funneled fertilizer. If that was what happened at IOD while getting a promotion, and to someone like Telly...
Well, this girl sure needed the healers more than she did, that much was clear.

These past few days, Riley had been working relentlessly, although perhaps he wouldn't get "employee of the month" for it... Seeing as the minute the hospital desk looked reasonably presentable, he scarpered. His brand of "work" was rather less workish than that.
He'd been trying to track down Alex and Angel, though he had little to show for his efforts. People came to IOD and they never left. There wasn't a huge amount of interest in keeping track of everyone within it beyond alive and deceased.
He was back in Three's- his own office, skimming through old reports. His eyes were glazing up from the artificial light when he reached out and snagged his fingers around his coffee mug, lifting it to his lips to take another sip...
Of course, the cup was empty. He set it back down with a sigh and dared glance at the time. Yes, he really ought to call it quits for the day, but- one more. It called to him. One last report.
As chance had it, it was nothing. Just another couple of bodies found ridden with flies near the canyons of A-B, an area known to be thick with Glaeroes. As the corpses weren't of the Falchions, it was probably the results of simple Feral duty- and whether the rogues were of the rebels or not, what did it matter? All it did was culminate in was two piles of rotting flesh with a third as a side of ash, and a record to clog up his search-
Wait. Ash? Riley started, his pen slipping from his hand and hitting the floor with a light smack. Maybe... Could it be-
But if that was the case, then what on earth was Alex doing all the way over there, by the Glaeroes? If it really was her...
This "lead", though it was the most he'd found thus far, was not exactly the golden nugget he'd been searching for. In fact, it was so riddled with "what ifs" that he found it more draining than anything else. What, after all, could he do with a single crumb of bread?
Riley wandered into bed and fell almost instantly to troubled sleep. His dreams were hazy and indistinct, and when he awoke, the boy would remember none of it. In any case, he would soon be grateful for what little sleep he did manage to steal, then.

taffy789 • 31 December 2014 at 5:49 AM

Wither, deciding his arm needed to be repaired, tore himself away from the leaking energy that poured out of the dead bodies and followed the strange, yet somewhat annoying power down the slippery halls of the cave. Wherever she led him, he hoped there would be someone who could make his arm work again and, preferably, a lot of open wounds...
Wither followed 'Verse deep into the Rebel cave system, trailing behind her close like a child to his mother.

 -Three Days Later-

"Riley? Riley?" rung Annabell's voice throughout the hallway, bouncing off the metal walls and into the dorms of those still asleep.
A few passerbys glanced over the loud girl with soured stares, all of them silently disapproving of her causing a ruckus at such an early morning hour.
 The young woman smiled sheepishly at those who passed her, and she decided to focus on waking up her friend instead of on her own great embarrassment.
 "Riley! You need to get a move on!" she shouted- as quietly as one COULD shout- at the Fourth's office door, and she tried again at the handle only to find it still unmovable- locked up tight.
 Tired, Annabell rubbed at her eyelids and breathed out a deep, sad sigh. If there was one thing she didn't want to do, it was standing around and yelling at an unresponsive door at six in the morning. Riley, however, in his reluctance to open up his office or acknowledge Annabell's cries at all, had forced her into such an unwanted position. Despite Riley agreeing to go with Annabell to see Raven off, he seemed to be completely dead to the world now, unprepared fulfill any plan!
 "Riley, Raven's going to leave for the front lines soon," Annabell continued to call out, praying the Fourth would reply this time, "Please, she's expecting us there-!"
Ah yes, poor Raven, being sent away to fight, and all. Annabell felt deep pity for the girl- though she would never admit so to her friend, out of fear of offending her. But poor Raven was being dragged along to the battle by Five, her boss and who also was, as Annabell saw it, someone who caused the shadow user varying degrees of grief, to say the very least.
  After knocking on Riley's door once more, Annabell ran her hands through her hair, and was displeased with the short length of her once long locks. The blonde strands had not grown as much as she had wanted them to in the past month, and so the ends sat, curled upwards and swinging, a few centimeters above her shoulders- a reminder of the day Alex went insane and sent a singing, singeing, burning beam of death Annabell's way.
Poor, tragic Alex. 
Poor, haggard Riley. 
Poor, put-upon Raven.
And, came the thought to Annabell's mind, switching her back into reality as swiftly and suddenly as an opened door hitting her face, poor me, stuck waiting here.
 The others, she decided, with their problems, deserved more of her pity, but at the same time she couldn't help but wonder if she should keep some sympathy reserved for herself.
 Such a thing seemed too selfish though, as her troubles seemed tiny in comparison of those of her friends.
 Raven, stuck in danger and forced next to an annoying superior...
 Alex, most likely feral and roaming IOD crazed and alone and, oh Riley, working his hardest to find his sister and, on top of it all, his girlfriend too.
 Perhaps Riley did deserved a little slack for not waking up so quickly- after all, it was easy for Annabell to notice how hard he'd been pushing himself, working to find all that he'd lost.
 In fact, it was just yesterday, when Annabell asked Riley about Raven's departure, that he'd seemed so lost in thought, so unconcerned with the immediate around him that he almost hadn't heard her...
 ...
 Wait a minute.
 "Riley, are you even in there?" Annabell called through the door, silence again the only answer to her question.
 She ran another hand through her hair, but this one darted with exasperation and frantic realization.
 Had Riley even heard her speak the other day? She had felt so positive the muttered reply had been a yes, but now, thinking on it more...
 Annabell stared, struck muted by despondence, at the metal door.
She would give him five more minutes.
If he didn't appear within that time, she would run and try to catch Raven before she left.


 Packing had always been an easy task for Zach, mostly because he rarely went anywhere and owned nothing to his name.
This time was no different. Tucked away in a large black duffle bag sat everything the Five would need during his stay at the front lines- two weeks worth of clothes(he'd been informed new uniforms would be periodically delivered to the camp, so the clothes really did nothing but fill the empty luggage space), all the basic toiletries, two packs of playing cards, emergency cigarettes, emergency "for bribing and/or the black market" cash, a laptop needed to keep in touch with his fellow leaders, and because his so-called mission required it, the magic piece of paper that now laid flat against the bottom of his bag.
 His swords, along with a few other choice weapons, stayed locked away in a case, the very one that Zach had gripped firmly in his hand as he'd stepped out of his dark, empty office and shut the door behind himself.
 Currently he was on his way to the East Gate, taking large, confident strides while balancing his heavy duffle bag on one shoulder and holding a heavy case of deadly weapons in the opposite hand. He strode forward, looking vaguely annoyed, and he tried not to think to hard about sleep.
 Ah, sleep. Ever since that vivid dream of a memory, it had been beckoning to him yet alluding him like a teasing, quick rat playing a game of "catch-me-if-you-can!" with a limping cat. Zach still blamed Eight for his inability to get some decent rest, but revenge seemed impossible to achieve. As it seemed, even with Two gone Eight was untouchable- mostly because she had disappeared. 
This wasn't some rumor, as Zach had asked around for the leader himself, and Eight's assistant- some unremarkable, unimpressionable girl whose name Zach didn't bother to remember- had even confirmed it: nobody had recalled seeing any glimpse of the leader for the past three days.
 Eight's assistant had informed Zach "not to fret" about Eight's disappearance(to which Zach had replied, "Who's fretting?") and told him that, "Eight does this every so often. She blinks off everyone's radar for a while, so to say. It's remarkably odd, but nobody minds because she more often than not comes back after a few days. Although it is difficult to predict when she will be sighted once again- in my memory, she once disappeared for an entire week!"
Having received the information he needed and not wanting to hear a lecture on the "remarkably odd" habits of the resident crazy, Zach had left the assistant with a curt goodbye.
 While not off seeking answers and revenge or trying and failing to get sleep, Zach had amused himself the past three days by doing nothing at all, sending all his work towards his assistant, and then proceeding to completely ignore said assistant.
 Now thinking about Raven, Zach frowned, an action that highlighted the dark, unhealthy circles under his eyes that looked like smudges of black permanent marker and seemed bent on staying rooted where they were.
 Zach had not spoken a single sentence to Raven ever since they exchanged words outside of the makeshift hospital. Although the conversation hadn't been the most unpleasant one in Zach's memory, Raven hadn't made an attempt to chat with him again, and so the Five followed her lead of general avoidance. Instead of talking, he sent all his work her way and hoped it would get done. This new method of dealing with his assistant was still beneficial to him while being less dramatic than the old method, so Zach had been coming to terms with the new and improved way of running things.
 This "new way" was soon coming to an end, however, as Zach knew he would see Raven again, face-to-face, in a few measly minutes.
And knowing the touchy-feely teleporters at the base, he would probably have to go as far as holding hands with his assistant while traveling to the same camp they would be stuck at together-!
 Stopping his stride down the endless hallway, Zach rubbed at his eyelids with his free hand. Sure, he could send Raven somewhere else, or keep her stuck back at the base, but no, whether Zach liked it or not she was too useful to him. Who else was going to do all that paperwork but her, after all?
 Resuming his walk to the East Gate, Zach tried to leave the thought of his inevitable reunion with dear Shadow behind him, and shifted his focus to the thought of having a few precious, stolen moments of alone time at the East Gate, for he'd made sure to arrive before anyone, including his assistant, would...

 As it turned out, Zach was wrong.
 Leaning against a metal wall in the large, spacious circle that made up the East Gate, the Seventh leader stood, and her apathetic, aloof gaze gained some emotion upon Zach's arrival.
 "Five," Gale said, giving a slight, benevolent smile, "it's nice to see-"
 "Why are you here?" Zach questioned after stopping in the entranceway of the nearly empty room, his cold stare cutting off the Seventh's words and causing the emotion to be masked over again.
 "Do you think I have a motive of some sort?" Gale retaliated from her wall.
 "I know you aren't here to see me off," Zach stated, and set down the duffle bag and weapon's case near his feet, "because there's no reason for mourners to gather here to wave me good bye."
 They both knew these words to be true, as the circular area was suspiciously lacking of any well-wishers vying to see their Fifth leader before he left to the midst of battle.
Zach glanced Gale over with sharp, critical eyes and continued with an equally cutting, "And even if a flock of mourners wanted to say how close they are to me before I go to do what they assume is surely keel over, you wouldn't be part of that. So why are you here?"

awesomeness • 31 December 2014 at 5:56 AM

A deep exhale of breath, and Gale pushed herself from the wall.
 "I've heard rumors," Gale explained as she made her way over to the fifth leader, "about your mission. They might not be correct, but I must ask- did One herself give you this-"
 She broke herself off when she got a full, complete glimpse of Zach's face.
 "What's wrong?" Zach frowned, noticing Gale's lapse into silence, "You're staring at me. Talk."
 Blinking, she attempted to shake herself out of her mute stupor. "It's..." she faltered, then continued, "You look terrible. Those bags under your eyes are way too dark and your face looks like it's withering away. You look like death."
 "Thanks. I try," Zach frowned, to which Gale winced and replied, "When you make those ugly faces it only looks all that much worse."
 "Go on with what you were saying about One," came Zach's order, and Seven complied after muttering, "You need to see a doctor, dude," under her breath.
 "Uh, anyway," the girl coughed, "Yes. One. She gave you this mission, correct? Were they her direct orders?"
"If it means that much to you to know that useless piece of information, then by all means," Zach snapped, "waste my breath with your question. Yes, One gave me direct orders to go on this mission. Now, answer MY question- why is it important?"
 "I was just seeing if the new One took her duty seriously," Gale answered, aloof.
 Zach's eyes narrowed. "Liar."
 "If I have to be honest," Seven grimaced, "I wanted to see if it was true that One herself picked you for this mission."
 "She did. Does that make you upset?" 
 "No."
 "Again," Zach stated, eyes fixed on Seven, "you're lying."
 "I am NOT upset by it," Seven snapped, "It's too petty of a thing to be upset by. I know how I feel and I'm not upset."
 "Then you're lying to yourself then, because my intuition is never wrong." Zach said this and watched as Gale's apathetic facade broke once more- for a split second- to reveal his words hit their mark.
 "Never mind this," Seven said, and turned her back on her fellow leader, "I got the information I wanted. I don't need to suffer through this anymore. I'm leaving. Enjoy waiting here alone without your mourners."
 "I will," Five answered back sincerely.
 
As Gale retreated from the grumpy fifth leader, she couldn't shake the sinking feeling that, had she been in his position, no mourners would've shown up to see her off either... 



The sun's rays already reached over the horizon, reflecting off the golden desert sand and revealing the most sacred, enlightening truth of the universe to all those they touched- that the desert was HOT.
 Even at six in the morning, with the chilly air from the night before still dissipating away in fear of the oncoming scorching heat, the desert was an intolerable, inhumane, and ungodly place to be.
 Despite this, thirty odd people remained, shivering and sweating, standing around and working to make the illogical, inhospitable desert sands their new temporary home.
 Tents had been pitched, blown over, and then pitched again- this time with heavy rocks weighing down the corners. An user who controlled the ground had created a nice, solid slab of rock the size of a mall parking lot to use as the camp's foundation, but even with this the soldiers were having a hard time setting everything up. The occasional strong gust of wind that blew through had a nasty habit of blowing sand onto the rock foundation, and this same sand got into everything- clothes, supplies, boots, sunblock, food- every tent had to come equip with its own broom and dustpan because of the unescapable grains.
 Such a terrible place must be the devil's playground sent to Earth, and the toiling, ragged soldiers made sure to voice this opinion to whoever could hear them whenever they could.
 One soldier, oddly enough, stayed quiet about his complaints. Although this was more due to him being struck by looming, silencing fear of his future than because of any actual content with his assigned encampment.
 Sitting on a supply crate in front of his new tent, wearing a a large sun hat to protect his head from the heat and- even though his dark, olive skin only grew tanner in direct sunlight- slathering copious handfuls of sun screen onto his arms, legs, neck, and face, this reticent Glaeroe soldier, Naji, wondered when his bunkmates were going to make their arrival.
 It was just yesterday that a frightening green card had appeared on Naji's door back at base and had told him in big, threatening, capital letters, 

"NO. 2385694. YOUR SKILLS ARE NEED ON /THE FRONT LINES/. 
BE PACKED AND STANDING AT ATTENTION IN THE WEST EXIT HALL BY TOMORROW BY 5 AM SHARP. 
IF YOU FAIL TO ARRIVE ON TIME THEN AN INTERROGATION WORKER WILL BE SENT TO RETRIEVE YOU. 
HAVE A GOOD DAY.
[ ❤️ ] "

And on the other side of the card, the same threatening message had been duplicated in undecipherable Spanish... 
"NUMBERO 2385694."
 ...and so on.
 This green summons card, such a small, insignificant thing, had such a great, immeasurable power over him that, within the course of a day, it had managed to banish him to the far reaches of Glaeroe territory, to the expansive, sandy wastelands that stretched on for miles on end, twisting and turning and shifting and spreading out and out and out and on towards forever...
 Naji shivered. Surely he would die out here. Burn to death or get stabbed by some crazed Falchion axe murderer or meet some horrible, terrible fate that would prove once and for all just what rotten luck he had...
 "Hey!" a loud voice called out to him, and Naji jumped a foot into the air, then proceeded to come crashing back to Earth with enough ferocity to knock himself off the crate and onto the hard, rock slab.  
 "Woah, easy there. Don't have a heart attack now," a different voice said, and through the dazed, dull ache of his head Naji could make out two dark figures towering above, silhouetted against the blazing sun.
 Two pairs of hands reached down and pulled the boy up, and both voices prattled on, asking if he was okay, and if he needed to see a medic, which, one voice mentioned with a laugh, would be kind of ironic, considering the "new guy" was supposed to be a healer...
 Yeah, the second voice had agreed, barking with laughter and sending a ringing dial tone vibrating through Naji's right ear, that IS kind of ironic, I didn't catch that, and you deserve a high five for that!
 The two pairs of hands dropped Naji's arms to give one another a big high five, and, with his support gone, to the floor again fell Naji.
 "Oh dude, I'm so sorry about that!" one of the voices apologized, and Naji was helped up once again.
 When his head hit the stone slab for the second time, Naji's blurred vision from the first contact had been miraculously cured, and so he could now clearly see the owners of the two voices. They were both male, both tall, both extremely goofy looking- not exactly twins but akin enough that one got the feeling they were inseparable.
 "You're the new guy, right?" one boy- the one with the horrible red sunburn radiating from his cheeks and nose- said, "We're the ones who are supposed to teach you the ropes of IOD! I'm Samuel. My friends can call me Sam, and anyone I met is really my friend. And my buddy over there is George."
 "No, it's not," the other boy- the one lacking any obvious sunburn- corrected, "It's /hor-HAY/. As in, it looks like the English George but with a J instead of the Ge. Jorge." He emphasized the phonetic sounds of his name under his breath one more, then sourly crossed his arms. "You know that you introducing me as "George" gets my goat, don't you... Sammy."
 "And you know that calling me Sammy gets mine," Samuel gave an eye roll. "Now we have each other's goats. We broke even. And knowing us we'll probably end up trading back goats by the end of the day."
 "True," Jorge agreed.
 Feeling confident enough to stand on his own without falling over, Naji broke away from the pair's grip, and turned to face them instead of letting them go shouting in his ears and making him deaf.
"I'm Naji," the exasperated boy introduced himself, then continued, "and if someone could please explain, clearly, what I need to do here... Well, that would be nice."
 Jorge's eyebrows rose with interest. "Naji, just how long have you been at IOD...?"
"Uh... A week," came Naji's admission.
 Samuel whistled, "And you got sent to the front lines already? Tough luck buddy. We must be getting low on healers."
 "Yeah, bad luck," Naji scoffed, "tell me about it."
 "Hey, don't you worry about it!" Jorge grinned, and gave Naji a big pat on the back that almost knocked the poor boy over, "You're in with us now! You don't need to worry about bad luck! Our little duo is nothing but pure skill! Nothing gets past us!"
 Samuel, looking past Naji, blinked.
 "Hey, Jorge. Wasn't our tent here just like. Two seconds ago."
 Both Jorge and Naji's heads swiveled around, and their eyes widened with surprise when they saw the empty space where the still-empty tent had once been sitting behind them. The said tent could be seen by all blowing through the rest of the camp like a plastic bag dodging SUVs in a grocery store parking lot.
 "...I thought you put the rocks on the corners," Jorge muttered to Samuel,  only for his friend to reply back, "I thought you did."
 Jorge spoke for all when he sent a curse toward the heaven above and he and Samuel took off to go catch the fleeing tent.
 Dumbstruck by all that had just happened and gone wrong in such a short amount of time, Naji collapsed back onto the supply crate and tried not to watch the pathetic scene his two new bunkmates made as they tried to tackle the tent.
 He stared up at the sky above him and wondered what those who were still safe- and NOT facing future death due to incompetent teammates- were doing back at the Glaeroe's main base.

asi • 1 January 2015 at 10:11 PM

The hall was alive with the sounds of struggle. Fists swinging into boxing bags with a slam, the bags slamming back; feet pounding into treadmills, their breathing rate also taking up the challenge; and both muscles and voices groaning under the strain of weights being hefted.
The redhead in the Glaeroes outfit- not the only redhead in the room, but certainly the only one not wearing casual sweats- had just fallen down onto her butt, stretching her tired arms out behind her and trying to catch her breath. She watched the rhythmic buzz of the gym go on without really seeing any of it, her mind occupied with hating the way the black fabric clung to her sticky skin. Yuck.
Unfortunately, the girl's ever helpful host had still not gotten around to getting her some different clothing. Though she had requested it numerous times (directly before and after each time she had ventured into public), he would always just wave his hand, say, "Sure, sure," and forget about it immediately. Or that's how it seemed to her, anyway.
The reason Xela was here, in this gym area, instead of in a private training room like she presumed the Glaeroes must also have, was the fear of identification. She had no idea just how far Septa had gone to get them into the Glaeroes, but suspected that he would not have registered them in the database. If he had, then the two of them could easily fall out of his control... Not likely. So she went to the public gym, which had the pointed downside of being a rather /social/ training spot.
In order to avoid Glaeroes, Xela stuck around the workout freaks. Their serious attitude didn't lend to idle conversation, they were intimidating to scare off anyone else who would talk, and they tended to hang around the tougher equipment, which was good... At first, until her body started screaming that it was going to give out.
Still, she was infinitely glad her user, while not the most dedicated to her old school's training, had not neglected her form like so many of her gender did. Even with all those girlish diva dreams she'd had. As long as Xela didn't ogle too much at the muscly freaks around her, she could feel pretty good about holding her own here.
"Wow, Xela, you're amazing," came a voice right beside her, and she nearly gave herself whiplash snapping her head around to stare.
"Guithe, what are you doing here?" she hissed, trying with varying success to keep her voice hushed and not sound to furious.
Looking abashed, the younger girl gazed at her knees. "But it's so boring, staying in our room all day..."
"But you're too young for this place! If people see you, they'll start asking questions," Xela couldn't help but argue, quickly glancing around her to make sure no one was paying them attention. God knew they already had too much of that with questionable intent from one of the leaders here. "You have to stay there."
"But... But I hate that room," Guithe said, her voice trembling at the end like she was already on the edge of tears.
She hated it? This brought a frown to the older girl's face, remembering how nice the room was and Guithe's initial reaction (she'd definitely liked it then). But then she remembered Guithe was a child, and children tended to express themselves in rather simplified terms... It was not the room she did not like, but how lonely it was.
Now the power was filled with regret for storming off here as she did. The reason for that, she recalled, was that her and Septa had argued.
Guithe had been on the floor, lying on her stomach and determinedly turning one poor dog bright red in the pages of her book. (Going crazy being shut in with a hyperactive (comparative to herself) kid, Xela had asked the leader to fetch something to entertain her with... The first time, he brought knives. Needless to say, the redhead sent him away. The second time, he brought a coloring book and its pencils, and, weirdly, a junior science kit, which so far just sat in the corner). Anyway, while the kid was distracted, Xela had taken the chance to ask- or try and order- something of the leader.
"Send her home," she'd told him lowly, not to be overheard. "For God's sake, she's not even in her teens. She isn't supposed to be here!"
"But I can't!" He'd said frantically. "I don't have the authority, higher leaders would find out, she'd just end up back where she started. There's no way to send her back!"
"You don't have the authority?" Xela repeated, feeling a little disgusted. "You could sneak us in here just fine, how hard is a helicopter off base? Or a teleporter, whichever. Can't leaders just boss them around, no questions asked?"
"It... It's not that easy!" But he hadn't been able to tell her why.
Back in the gym, Xela sighed, grabbing the little girl's hand and pulling them both to their feet. "Come on. We'll go back together." As she quickly led them towards the exit, she continued glaring about her, daring anyone to look at them or approach.
Honestly, she was just a bit paranoid. If anyone glanced up and saw them, they'd probably just think Guithe was really short and small, maybe a midget. People weren't /that/ nosy...

A pair of green eyes slowly blinked their lashes, trying to clear away the confused fog that had settled there.
Riley stared at those eyes, and they stared back.
That voice... Strangely distant and muffled though it was, there was no doubt in his mind that it belonged to his friend, Annabell. Though, even as he quickly sobered up, he still couldn't quite work out what she was doing outside his door. What Riley did know is that she probably wouldn't be yelling at a flat, inanimate steel surface if she had her way. And his intuition told him the whole shouty thing probably meant 'urgent' or 'important'.
Oh. The eyes were his. A reflection. Of course, he finally realized, breaking away from the vision.
Several minutes of scrambling later, Riley had pulled himself and the next immediate layer together enough that he could answer the door and the prospect of being unceremoniously dragged into the public eye without wanting to die of mortification, of all things. Not that he thought Annabell a likely harbinger of such a fate... But as his sister always said; "When you have stalkers, make sure you are worth being stalked!"
...Alex didn't have a great many practical sayings, and he liked to think of this one as just her version of, "Wear clothes, look human."
Anyway, a quick look in the mirror told him all he cared to know. Honestly, he looked fine. Not too tired or anything, and heck his hair was tidy. Perhaps his skin still had a bit of a green tinge to it, but there was nothing he could do about that. Wearing clothes and everything, Riley jogged over to the exit, and, remembering how he'd forgotten to call out any kind of reply in the rush, pressed the button and stumbled slightly in his haste to get out of the door as it slid open.
"Hi Annabell, sorry to keep you waiting, I didn't hear- what are you here for anyway?" Riley said all of this rather quickly, still running on fast from the adrenaline boost of his hurried morning routine.

As soon as the errand boy for Fifth was off, Raven exhaled deeply in relief, finally allowing herself to pat down the shirt-collar that had been niggling at her for the past three interviews. In order to achieve an image of professionalism, and therefore authority, the assistant had set herself up on a strict fidget allowance, with only so many of each motion available per hour, and so on. Needless to say, thinking about when the next nervous movement could be made did not at all help with her urges.
She'd only had the position for what, a few weeks? Of course she was still grappling with getting the hang of it.
Secretly, Raven thought the only reason Lily didn't go crazy was because she was perpetually forgetting things- hence avoiding the worst part about being am assistant- the waiting. Even busy as she was, it was inescapable that as an assistant, one would always be waiting on someone; to reply, to send in results, to get back from a mission so they could be sent on the next, for supplies to get shipped in... Two's reputation of being a huge video game nerd now made sense to her.
Luckily for Raven, she was heading out into the fighting zone today, and so her paperwork was really not much at all... Or that's how it would've been, if she had taken up her duties directly instead of neglecting them for the whole first week. Still, she'd done her bit to catch up over the past few days, so now the stuff was manageable at least. When Raven checked the time, she saw she still had about fifteen minutes before she was needed at the gate. So, with a strong sense of satisfaction, she changed her profile to show her new station- which would send half the new incoming work scattering in different directions- closed the laptop, slid it into her bag, slung that over her shoulder... Yes! She was off.
Due to the fact that he hadn't actually seen or talked to her direct superior in days, it would be lying to say Raven wasn't the least bit apprehensive about working with him... With him. But, she figured, as long as she was reliable, obedient when being obedient was actually important, and reined in the snappy comments, she wouldn't find herself dead, back with Karen in the Punishment chambers, or worse. Otherwise, Raven would just continue avoiding the jerk as much as possible. They obviously just did not get along, and that was that.
The best thing about the whole situation was that the guy was clearly not attractive to anyone with working eyes, (her blonde roommate had to have something wrong with hers), and so not a frustration on any plane other than the platonic one.
Calm in the knowledge that her timing was good and had plenty to spare, Raven entered the East Gate. Although Zach was there and she may have felt some slight surprise at this display of punctuality, she simply found a spot along the wall and silently double-checked her concealed knives as she waited.

taffy789 • 2 January 2015 at 4:17 AM

While Riley's appearance relieved her, his admission made Annabell want to bang her forehead against the wall.
 Instead of resorting to self-harm, she remembered her Krav Maga, did some deep, diaphragmatic breathing, and then was able to calmly explain the situation. "I think I told you yesterday and you didn't hear me, but Raven's leaving for the front lines in a few minutes. If we hurry, we can catch her before she leaves."
Not wanting to waste any more time, she wrapped a hand around Riley's wrist, and began to lead him in the direction of the East Gate.
 

 Raven had arrived and there'd been no snarky confrontation yet, which surprised Zach, and made him briefly wonder if his sleep-deprived face was actually as scary as Seven had made it seem.
 From his spot near the entrance way, Zach leaned on his own part of the wall and watched Raven out of the corner of his eye. His assistant still seemed bent on ignoring him, so he chose to do the same and shifted his gaze to the wide, domed ceiling arcing over his head.
 After a minute of silence passed, Zach felt himself almost beginning to nod off...
 Then, no, his intuition suddenly sparked, telling the boy to stay alert, for there was an immediate, life-threatening danger!
...This 'danger' was- of COURSE, given the recent, odd habits of his power- a spider sitting in its web somewhere near the top of the domed ceiling.
 Now both more annoyed and awake, Zach stopped staring at the ceiling and again looked at Raven.
They would have to talk sometime, but as far as she seemed concerned, today was not the day.
 Zach accepted this, and resolved to enjoy Raven's vow of silence for however long the gift stayed.
 He, on the otherhand, didn't vow to anything, and thus couldn't help but open his mouth when his intuition caught the feeling of approaching footsteps.
 As Annabell and Riley rushed down the halls, Zach turned towards Raven and spoke to her plainly.
"Shadow, look alive. Your mourners are coming."
 
 "Oh goodie," Annabell said with relief upon seeing Raven standing at the East Gate, "we made it in time."
 She dropped Riley's wrist and suddenly felt a bit ashamed of her actions- perhaps it had been rude of her to drag him the entire way like an unruly child; she should not try to be so hasty and impatient in the future.
 With that mental note tucked away, Annabell approached Raven with a small, reserved smile.
 "Well, I'm glad we beat the teleporter here, at least," Annabell said, and twirled a strand of hair around one of her index fingers.
"Um," she continued, awkwardly, and waved a hand towards Raven's bag, "I guess you got everything you need, and, um, everything?"
 Becoming increasingly aware how bad she was at goodbyes, Annabell glanced towards Riley for help, praying the boy wasn't too tired to aid her. He most certainly would be better at parting with Raven, Annabell reasoned, for they were close friends, after all.


~~

Flipping a large green card between her fingers, a young woman leaned against a wall in the Glaeroe base and actively listened to her friend complained.
 "Who do they think they are, sticking that threatening green thing to my door like that," the said male friend's emotional voice boomed from inside his room, "the bosses over me, or something?!"
 "Actually," the young woman mused, "yes, yes they are your bosses."
She watched with silent mirth as various objects- mostly clothes, but also the occasional notebook, wad of cash, or stuffed animal- flew out from the doorway of the room, hit the hallway wall opposite, and landed in a clumsy pile of junk that was now blocking most of the passageway. 
 From inside the room, banging and rustling could be heard- the tell-tale signs of a wrecked, messy living space.
 When the young woman told her friend, "You don't need all this stuff", she was met with a childish, "Maybe I do, Evinha. Can you see the future?"
 Ignoring the comment, the young woman returned to looking over the green card, an amused smile gracing her lips. To the seasoned Glaeroe eye, the entire thing was clearly a joke- sounding just serious enough to make the new Glaeroes quake in their boots, but hilarious to anyone who knew how empty the "sending interrogation workers" threat was. Knowing the leader in charge of interrogation, some of the younger girls- younger than her, at least, and more foolish too- would purposely skip their designated send-off time in hopes of seeing the popular interrogation leader.
 The text on the back of the card, however, was less straightforward than the hilarity of the front, and confused the young woman to no end.
 "Which pair of leaders are in charge of the administration duty this month?" she remarked, frowning at the card with disdain. "They did a poor job on these cards. The Spanish is poorly translated, and then it turns into gibberish," she said to her friend, who quickly refuted her claim with an educated "Nu-uh!"
 More loud clanks and bumps, and her friend crawled out from his room on all fours, and then laid down in the hall. The young man- or, older man, compared to the average age of his fellow soldiers- stuck out his hand towards his friend, and she handed him the card.
 His eyes darted over the 'gibberish' and he let loose a bark of laughter.
 "Look," he held the card up for her to see and pointed to a line of the messed-up 'Spanish', "I noticed it earlier but didn't bother to read it because I got angry. But halfway down the horrible Spanish changes into fluent Portuguese. Very fluent, because it doesn't say that you should report to one of the exit halls, but it says to report to..." Not being able to help himself, he snickered. "Don't mind it. But it is lewd and I love it."
"I suppose we know which pair printed the cards," the young woman remarked, and then snapped a quick, "Are you serious?" at her friend as he packed the card in his bag.
 "What?" he frowned. "I said it's lewd and I love it. I want to keep it and laugh at it later."
 She rolled her eyes but the action did not stop her friend from packing the card in his backpack and moving on to the pile of junk spread out around the hallway.
 When he was done tidying up, his backpack was bulging and impossible to zip up.
 "...Eh, I'll sort it out later," the young man decided with a shrug. "What time do we have to be ready tomorrow?"
 "Five in the morning."
 "Then four thirty seems like a good time to fix things to me," the young man grinned, and was about to stand up from his seat on the floor when something coming down the hallway caught his eye.
 He stared at the oncoming figures, then stood up, and gasped out of shock, "It WASN'T because I was sitting!"
Confused, the young woman glanced down the hallway too, and immediately saw what had surprised her friend.
 "Oh," she said, and sucked in a deep breath of air. She turned to her friend, the two began to whisper.

 As Xela and Guithe moved down the hallway, an older man, old enough to be aiming for the "unshaven" look, stepped away from the woman he was talking to and into the path of the walking girls.
 "Hey, stop," he commanded in a serious voice that seemed odd coming from a man with such a naturally goofy demeanor to him, "I have an EXTREMELY important question to ask you."
 The next action was more fitting for him; he dropped to one knee so he was eye level with Guithe.
 "If you had a cute little pet animal," he asked, a deep, mock serious tone present in his voice, "would you rather have one you could play with all day or one you could pet all day? This is very important."
"He means no harm," the woman called from her place on the wall, and tried to meet Xela's eyes with a reassuring gaze.  

asi • 3 January 2015 at 9:14 PM

With what he hoped was a suitably apologetic expression- Riley really hadn't been listening- the fourth leader simply nodded and let his friend manhandle the walk quest. Her taking charge was just as well, really since it's not like he knew from which gate Raven was leaving.

The pleasant sensation she felt on seeing her two friends walking towards her was just enough to squash down any kind of sarcastic acknowledgement she might have given her leader. Raven even managed to smile a bit in greeting.
"Yeah," she said, in reply to Annabell's bag-directed gesture. "I think so. The only other thing I could think of needing is a portable shower... I've no idea what the facilities are like there, but I'm not holding out great hope for our noses." She'd been attempting to joke, but it only seemed to come out like she was generally insulting the Falchions' setup.
Riley shrugged lightly. "Well, if that's all you've got to worry about, then I guess you're sorted." As he spoke, Raven caught his eye and was immediately reminded of a conversation they had not had. Had he been avoiding it? Still, with Annabell, Zach, and a teleporter who could be popping up any moment now to whisk her away, it hardly seemed like a good time to raise the issue.
Instead, her and Riley talked idly about the kinds of clothing she was bringing and what kind of weather to expect, until the growing sense puzzlement in the air eventually snuffed it out. There was a short period of silence while they all wondered what was keeping their transport. Then Raven muttered a quiet curse, her expression suddenly cleared by realization.
"I bet the table for teleport duties is still muddled up. Since the next shipment of kids doesn't come in until next week, they're probably short-staffed and over-worked without their best teleporter. Annoying," she scowled, clearly impatient.
"Oh, that's too bad," said Riley, sounding politely concerned. "Wait, wasn't it that girl... Didn't you know her?"
Raven stared at him for a few moments, then understood him. "No, she's not /dead/. Although perhaps that isn't entirely the wrong attitude," she added snidely. "She got promoted. Two's new assistant. Of course, this is all his fault."
After taking this all in, Riley decided to just settle on a non/committal, "Huh," in reply. The both of them were already well-aware of how their views differed in this area.
It was not too much later that the teleporter did appear, though looking so dusty and road-worn that one might think they'd opted to do the distances on foot instead. Still, they seemed prepared enough to do one last there and back, wearing an expression that said they'd crush everything standing between them and their bed... Ironically enough, a teleporter wouldn't normally have that problem.

Guithe looked with wide eyes at the male blocking their way, then quickly glanced towards her caretaker for guidance. However, seeing that Xela had fixed the two with a glare that only needed a little cranking up to turn very literally deadly, and would not risk looking away, Guithe knew this was up to her.
She thought over the question very carefully. She tried to show the same expression as Xela did when she was considering something deeply, with a cute furrow between the eyebrows. However, no matter which way Guithe looked at it, there only seemed to be one answer she could give with satisfaction. Looking up and meeting the asker's eyes, she explained confidently; "I would definitely rather have a cute little animal I could play with all day! Xe-Xe says too much of a repetitive motion is not good, so if I were just petting all day, my hand would get sore! Also, playing is a lot funner! We could play lots of different games, like hide and seek and tag and shops."
Although she felt a bit nervous about saying so much to strangers, the girl got more enthusiastic about playing with the cute animal the more she thought about it, and ended up getting a little carried away. Sneaking a nervous glance at Xela, however, the red-haired power still looked as serious as ever, not taking her eyes off the strangers, so Guithe figured she was doing fine.
Guithe turned back to the man, wearing her 'Xela's deep-thinking' impression once more, before telling him; "You remind me of Big Brother Lich-y." She smiled cutely.
This must've startled Xela, because though still unwilling to look away from the perceived threat, she still spoke sharply. "He's not your big brother."
The young girl reconsidered this, then finally corrected herself. "Big Brother-In-Law Lich-y." If one looked carefully, they might have seen a rather cheeky look cross her face before fading back into youthful innocence.
Xela's face, which had already been a little flushed from her workout, turned a darker shade, and she actually broke her stare towards the strangers to stick it on Guithe. "Don't- that- Guithe!" she protested, forgetting their company.
The kid just gave her cutest smile and left her 'Big Sister' floundering as she asked her new 'friend' curiously, "Do you have a funny name too?"

taffy789 • 4 January 2015 at 3:04 AM

When the teleporter poofed into the room, Annabell met the new arrival's angry, frustrated frown with a small, sad one of her own.
 "I guess that's your cue out?" she remarked, and turned to Raven, her mind unhelpfully clearing itself of any sentimental words of parting.
 "I um, I hope you stay safe? And find good showers there. Mostly the safe thing, but if there are showers there too, um," Annabell fought the urge to shrink behind Riley and let him do the talking again, "then that's great! Um. Just try to stay safe and keep your health up? Try to stay in touch, if you can. It'll be great to know that you're doing okay. So I guess I'll see you later, Raven..."
 Only now she allowed herself to shrink behind Riley and let him voice his goodbyes.
 As he spoke to Raven, Annabell's gaze drifted to the silently standing figure of Five, who had picked up his luggage and moved to the teleporter's side.
 It seemed almost wrong to ignore him as if he never existed, and after sone consideration, Annabell decided it wouldn't hurt her to be a BIT pleasant to the unpleasant person who had promised not to try to "put down" her feral friend...
 "Goodbye and good luck to you as well, Five," Annabell smiled to the leader, but then stepped back to dodge the daggers his glare shot at her.
 "... Never mind then," Annabell muttered under her breath, just loud enough for her friends to hear.
 As if her words had made him impatient, it wasn't soon after her quiet comment that Zach called out, "Hurry it up Shadow, it's not like we can wait all day." to Raven in his usual grumpy manner.
 "Sorry I even tried," Annabell sighed to the rest of the group after Riley and Raven had finished talking. She reached out, grabbed one of Raven's hands, and gave it a comforting, final squeeze. "Good luck, Raven, really," Annabell said with one of her signature sympathetic smiles, "with everything." Her words, while nothing but sentimental, seemed to be pointing in the direction of the grumpy Fifth leader. 
"Good luck."


"Ah, 'Lich-y'?" 
An amused expression set itself on his face, and was accompanied by a soft, if slightly confused, "huh" sound. He glanced up at his friend, saw she was currently staring down the hallway, into space with a solid, stoic expression, and he snorted air from his nose in what could be described as a soundless, dry-humored laugh.
 "Well," he continued, and rubbed at the dark, black stubble lining his chin, "my name is not as funny as 'Lich-y', I can say that. My name is Pedro, but if you want, you can call me Dro, or, Big Brother Dro, mi hermano Dro,Tio Dro, irmao-" He listed the titles off of his fingers and didn't stop until his friend gave him a nudge with her foot.
 "Oh, I am sorry. Call me anything you want. The main thing is-" here Pedro stood up, as if about to proclaim to the world an important announcement, some game-changing discovery for mankind- "THIS LITTLE LADY NEEDS A FERRET RIGHT NOW."
With that exclamation, he slammed a foot into the door of his room, and the door swung open with a loud bang, which caused a pink alien of a cat to screech and dart out of the doorway and into the hallway.
 Pedro gasped, "Meu gatinha!" and raced down the hall in pursuit of the strange, fleeing animal, calling out to it what those who understood Portuguese would recognize as, "I did not mean to scare you my love!"
 "Again," his friend explained with a sharp intake of air, "he means no harm. But Guithe," the young woman walked over to the door of the room and held it open for the little girl and her guardian to peer inside, "if you want to come look at the animals, Dro won't mind. He likes to show them off.
...And hand them out to people," she added as an afterthought.
 Pedro's room was messy, littered with bags of various pet foods, cage fodder, and the occasional empty pet cage filled with even more animal care supplies. The room, big enough for two people to share and not go crazy in, only had one oddly neat bed, which was pushed against the wall as if trying its very best to stay out of the way. Big, prominent tables occupied most of the room, and on and under these tables sat cages- clear, glass cages with heat lamps under which sleeping snakes sunbathed; large, spacious wired cages in which rats ran on treadmills and nibbled on wooden toys; sparkling, clean aquarium tanks where elegant fish danced in and out of tiny, plastic seaweed strands.
 From it's comfortable spot on the bed, a lazy, graying, medium-sized mutt for a dog lifted its head to get a good look at the new visitors, and its tail slowly began to sweep against the bedspread, creating a sound not unlike a helicopter in the midst of taking off.
 More inactive clutter filling the room and gave the space an appearance of abundant activity- cat scratching posts, dog toys and bones, random bits of piping and scrawny old rags and colorful chew toys and odds here and ends there and then near the bed- like a pillar of order jutting out of a sea of chaos- stood a small, orderly filing cabinet with a stack of composition books sitting on top of it.
"The ferret he mentioned," the young woman said after thinking about it for a while, "is most likely under one of the tables. But you shouldn't touch anything until Dro returns. Although the dog is safe to pet, but please be gentle. Also," the young woman extended a hand towards Xela, her sharp brown eyes doing a quick, flicker of an examination over the new Glaeroe as she did so, "my name is Eva. And, I think your name is along the lines of, 'Xe-Xe'?"

asi • 4 January 2015 at 10:32 PM

Although Raven had never doubted Annabell's genuine niceness, she still found herself unexpectedly touched by her goodbye. While the blonde didn't exactly have a gift for words... It was the thoughts and feelings behind them that really counted, of course.
"You too, you know," she said quietly, then glanced to Riley as well. He probably wouldn't have a speech as well. He'd never been good at that sort of thing. "The two of you look after each other for me, okay?"
Really, Raven wasn't sure who she was more worried about; on one hand, strange things were definitely going on with Riley, and he was also currently powerless... But those strange things seemed to be rendering him invulnerable, kind of making it look unlikely Raven would lose him anytime soon. On the other hand, Annabell was determined to save her very, very dangerous friend, and since the saving would probably involve being in the same vicinity as the guy, it was shaping up to be very, very dangerous. Speaking of...
Turning back to just Annabell, she added; "For what it's worth, I'm sure you'll succeed in the end, with... You know," she finished lamely, knowing that Annabell would.
Riley nodded. "Heck, maybe next time we meet up, we'll have the whole gang from Super School back together," he said, with what Raven thought was rather forced optimism. The sentiment was nice though.
As Annabell backed off, apparently feeling compelled to address the moody jerk of a leader over there, Riley promised to send her updates with his leader privileges and all that. Raven knew they probably wouldn't turn up as regular as he said, but felt content thinking they would come when they needed to.
Hearing her irritable leader call out to her in such a typical fashion, the assistant couldn't suppress a scowl. It seemed even Annabell's tireless goodwill wouldn't ease the guy's attitude. How on earth was someone like Raven supposed to deal with it? Riley just gave her a sympathetic look and patted her on the shoulder.
Her right shoulder, attached to her wrong arm. She did her best to hide her wince. Riley didn't seem to notice, the pain faded and she relaxed.
"Don't worry, it'll just make me feel better about not," Raven muttered in reply to Annabell's sigh, feeling a bit angry about the way Zach had rejected her friend's kindness. Did her leader really have to act so completely unreasonable? Ugh, whatever. She gave one last glance between her two friends before Annabell dropped her hand and Raven walked off to join the leader and teleporter.
The latter thrust a hand out towards her in a stellar display of patience, shaking it around slightly to demand her attention.
As much as she wanted to snap something, the look on the guy's face made her uncertain about provoking him further. She settled for a glower before snatching the proffered hand up. It could be worse. It could be one of those teleporters who made everyone join hands in a circle, meaning she'd actually have to endure holding Zach's for a whole ten seconds.
Before she left the base behind completely, Raven remembered to say, just loud enough for everyone to hear; "Thanks." And then they vanished.
She felt a little regretful she hadn't also managed to wish them good luck. Then, she thought dryly, she probably couldn't afford any to spare.
As the three disappeared, Riley, though still feeling a little awkward for not being the one with a lot to say- he rather thought Annabell did much better at goodbyes and that sort of thing than him- forgot himself enough to exclaim; "Did you see Five's face? God, I hope he's all right, jerk or not. He didn't look fit to be sent out like that..."

While Guithe responded to the announcement with a gasp and a squeal of excitement, Xela rather found herself frozen in shock. Was there... Was there, by any chance, something in the water here that the Glaeroes drunk, that did something very strange to their menfolk? For Dro's female friend, back against the wall, seemed perfectly ordinary, if a little distant.
Then Xela remembered the guys in the gym, and, with a sigh, had to conclude that it was just her luck to meet the crazies. By the time she watched Pedro run off chasing after a cat thing, the capacity her face held for expressing surprise had already dulled to a point where this barely registered.
However, although the guy's actions were definitely weird, Xela reluctantly found herself agreeing with his companion's repeated assurance. Unlike Lich, who seemed much more dubious, this Pedro seemed to have good intentions... Even if they were misguided.
A ferret? Really? Watching Guithe wander into the room full of animals, Xela very nearly turned to the more reasonable seeming woman to tell her on no uncertain terms that they would not be accepting any sort of animal. Hopefully she'd be able to enlist her as aid in persuading Dro to drop his scheme.
Then she saw how happy her charge looked, head tilted back as she gazed up at the rat cages, wide eyes darting after their quick-footed movements and smiling in amazement... Compared to how unhappy she'd been just minutes prior, from being stuck all alone in an empty room... Maybe this kind of company wouldn't be such a bad thing, if it meant the little girl would be more content to stay out of harm's way? It seemed to Xela a very unorthodox sort of solution, but when she actually considered it, she couldn't come up with a good reason not to try it... Knowing their landlord, forget protests, he'd probably be thrilled.
Though if she ended up spending all day cleaning up after an animal, she would be taking it back without a second thought.
At this point, Guithe called out for her attention. "Xe-Xe, do you think, if I called another person Big Brother, Lich-y would get very jealous?"
Xela thought about it, and Guithe giggled quietly while she waited, apparently finding something funny about her expression. "Probably," the power answered finally, and with complete honesty.
Guithe nodded seriously at this verdict. "I like Tio Dro," she seemed to decide, and Xela wondered if she knew what it meant. The older girl didn't herself, seeing as she couldn't remember whether or not her user had ever taken any foreign language class, let alone any of the content she might have learned. Still, knowing both its likely origin and how prevalent the language was amongst the Glaeroes, she dared not ask.
Having reached a conclusion about the ferret situation, Xela also invited herself inside, although she did not approach any of the pets. She didn't remember any previous encounters of herself or her user with animals either, nor did she feel the need to experience one. She only intended to pay heed to words of the sensible young woman- Eva, she now knew- and make sure Guithe didn't touch anything she wasn't supposed to.
Currently, Guithe was standing beside the snake enclosures, watching them sleep with a strange expression on her young face. Xela felt a wave of relief wash over her that the words Dro had shouted were not; "THIS LITTLE LADY NEEDS A SNAKE RIGHT NOW." If he'd said that, Xela really would've had to put her foot down, standing on both though she was. In any case, the look Guithe was wearing was not what Xela would call enthusiasm for snake-keeping, so she felt fairly safe about that not happening.
Seeing as the kid was fine and hadn't yet reached the dog, Xela turned back to Eva and shook the offered hand firmly.
"Xela," she introduced herself with her real name. It couldn't possibly do any harm, and she couldn't think of anything else 'Xe-Xe' could be short for anyway. In an attempt to seem less suspicious and more like a human being, she grudgingly added, "Sorry, I'm still a bit tense from my last mission out there. It always takes me a while to settle down at the base again."
Guithe was now kneeling on the floor, reaching out to very lightly stroke the dog from the top of its head and down its back. She was smiling as she listened to the sound of its tail wagging. "Big Brother Lich-y is a dog person," she told Xela and Eva, this time keeping her voice low for the dog's benefit.
"How do you know that?" Xela questioned, doubtful and really a bit tired of Big Brother Lich-y this and that on top of her own suspicious thoughts.
"The book he gave me was full of dogs," Guithe explained simply, surprising the older girl with her logic.
"...Oh."

taffy789 • 8 January 2015 at 6:36 PM

"Oh yeah," Annabell frown, and considered Riley's words.
 "Yeah, his face did look ugly-" she realized how the statement sounded and corrected herself- "I mean, it was ugly in an unhealthy way, and that horrible mean expression he had wasn't helping anything else either... But... I see what you're saying."
 The girl stared off into the direction where the group had been standing before they'd teleported away.
 "Five did look scarily unhealthy, and something may be wrong. Still," Annabell remarked, "my heart can't help but go out to Raven more. She has to be the assistant to that... that jerk. She'll have to deal with him, and I hope that she won't go insane."
 Crossing her arms in a subtle show of defiance in her stance, she further explained, "I had to talk to the guy once. He has no tact, and it's like he's trying to find your buttons and purposely push them! No sensitivity to anybody else's feelings at all. I couldn't imagine what it would be like having to work with someone like that, so really," Annabell concluded with what could be seen as a miffed expression, "I pity Raven a bit more at the moment."'


Five? What a JERK.
 Was the line of thought running through Seven's head as she stormed down the hallway.
 She couldn't believe him- how DARE he insinuate that she was envious, angered over some petty thing like a mission!
 Why would she even care about such a thing- care about the apathetic Five receiving a mission from One, despite his Truce scores being significantly lower than Gale's, who'd tried her hardest, her very best, to impress the ones in charge...
 ...
 Alright, Gale admitted to herself, stopping dead in her tracks, if she could hear the bitter in her own thoughts, then perhaps she WAS a bit envious.
Although, it wasn't so much that she was envious of Five particularly- when he had a scary face like that, who WOULD envy him?- but more so, she was offended that One had not bothered to speak to her, to offer her any mission, or to recognize her for her Truce performance.
 Her SIM score had been one of the best; Gale had trained for months to make sure of that. Was this lack of recognition because of her low ranking as leader, or for some... other... reason...
 A cold, nagging thought blew into Gale's mind and she started walking again, as if trying to escape the chilling realization that maybe, just maybe, One had reviewed the tapes from the Rebel invasion, and had seen... Gale.
 Or rather, not Gale, but a walking, talking, attacking shell of a girl. A girl taken over by her own power. Killing her fellow Falchiones. Not in control.
 Such a thing wasn't very befitting of an ambitious leader, was it?
 A migraine, most likely stress-induced, rocked the Seventh's skull, and she closed her eyes in an attempt to block out the pain. It didn't work, but when the pain subsided Seven's eyes again opened and she saw where her feet had taken her- the torture hall.
 Of course she had came here. The remaining feral Falchiones continued to beckon to her, yet shivers shook Gale's spine whenever she thought of them. Despite her fear, she'd been checking up on the ferals every day for three days now, watching as progress was made and comrades recovered. And even now, although there were very few left stuck under the influence of Raze, it didn't stop Gale from lingering out in the pristine, clean hallway and listening to the banging on the doors, the muffled yells and shouts of rage, to the wild powers going insane and to the silent pleading of the users unable to take back control...
 Gale took in a deep breath, and, with a cold chill following her, she stepped once more into the torture hall.


Eva nodded in recognition of Xela's introduction, but said nothing in reply. Instead of talking, she watched Guithe pet the dog and listened to conversation between the small child and her "big sister". For a long while, she stayed silent, which was why it was a surprise to anyone when she finally decided to speak up, and addressed Xela. 
"You and Guithe both know the Septa?" As she spoke, Eva pulled on her brown ponytail, casually fixing the loose strands of hair and making them tight and neat on top of her head. 
 "Which means you must be..." the young woman hesitated, glancing her eyes over Xela once more before choosing a careful word, "...familiar with the leader. I haven't seen you around, so, if I may ask, are you new? Although," she added thoughtfully, and here she stopped fixing her hair, "I never see Septa, and know little about him, so maybe who I don't see isn't always new. If I am wrong, then please excuse me."
 She didn't wait for Xela's reply or correction; in fact, she'd left the question open-ended, hanging in air like a growing elephant in the room, yet another animal cramping up the small space and crowding the humans with its presence.
Eva didn't act as if she'd asked any question. She drifted off again and had begun to stare at one of the cages- the one holding the two rats- before slowly switching her gaze to the young Guithe.
 "That child is very cute," she stated plainly, and now looked towards Xela expectantly.

Before the conversation could go any further, Pedro strolled back through the doorway, now cradling a big, pink, twitching wad of pink bubblegum. When the wad of gum meowed, however, it became clear to anyone with working ears that the blob was a cat.
"Clementine," Pedro said the name with too much emphasis on certain vowels, "got all the way down the hall! But I caught her and she has calmed down now." He stroked the hairless cat, Clementine, and she purred while fitfully squirming in his arms.
 Glancing around his room, ("Sorry about the mess; it is all very hectic right now", he also explained to Xela in an off-hand comment) Pedro smiled a grin that could illuminate a city block upon seeing Guithe petting the dog.
 Pushing past the two girls, he joined Guithe near the bed, and unceremoniously dumped Clementine on top of the scruffy dog before squatting down next to Guithe.
 The cat made a angered "meow" at being thrown on the dog and quickly stepped off of the mutt, but the dog didn't seem to mind much. Its tail only beat faster as Pedro patted the dog's head, his owner's arrival exciting him greatly.
 "This is Bolivar," Pedro explained to the small girl, "I was picking up supplies from a training facility in Bolivia when I found him at a nearby town. He was old, and his vision was bad, and some people who had him wanted to put him down, so I told them to let me take him instead. He has been with me ever since then. And he's old, so he doesn't need to walk and play as much as the little puppies, which is good."
 Pedro patted Bolivar again and allowed the dog to lick his hand.
 "He is a very good dog. But I think a ferret would be a better pet for you," Pedro stated, and grinned at Guithe.
"Would you want one?"

asi • 10 January 2015 at 2:34 AM

"Right..." Riley nodded. Then he smiled slightly, managing to find a little amusement in it despite everything. "Who knows, maybe he'll drive her so far that this is how Raven'll take her place among the leaders," he joked, knowing that while they hadn't yet gone as far as demoting him, the higher-ups would never accept someone powerless into their ranks. He was well-aware that probably the only reason he was still there was because they already had a shortage of leaders, and couldn't afford to let everyone know exactly how depleted they were. It had occurred to Riley that being a leader, while normally the safest occupation you could get on IOD second to retirement and potentially some invaluable power-based duty, that these were not normal times, and in outright war, they'd be more likely to get killed than anyone else- not to mention responsibility and workload. These were not good times to be a leader. Still, he'd had to dismiss the idea of trying to fork it off onto someone else as soon as it came to him. For some VERY important reasons.
Firstly, given the aforementioned why for not stripping him of rank, One would probably not be happy if he gave it up. Although he'd never been outright offered the chance to leave IOD, when Riley had asked about it for Raven, he was told that if a person had no power, then the leaders had no right to keep them there. One knew he wasn't planning on leaving IOD, and he had the feeling she might actually be unbelievably p*ssed if he tried to hang around without any responsibilities. And she could definitely make his life difficult. Or over. Secondly, Two had helped... Okay, kind of directed him into this position (Riley probably would've never applied for the position on his own, after all). Knowing the second leader, there was going to be a reason for that. And though Riley's feelings about the guy were different to Raven's, if there was any truth in hers, messing with Two would probably be a worse mistake than anything he could screw up with One. Finally, the best thing about being leader was the resources at one's disposal. Riley had made much more progress on his searches in the past few days than he could have imagined making in months as a lowly subordinate. There was no way he could afford that kind of pace either, considering the average life expectancy here on IOD... To put it simply, Riley was well and truly stuck in a web with a one-way road. On the bright side, at least he knew it.
He wondered if Five felt similarly, that is, the future weighing on him, or if it was something else entirely that was bothering the guy.
Probably the latter. He got the feeling he and Zach weren't very alike.
Remembering Annabell was still there and likely getting worried about his fixation with that one section of wall, he turned back to her, looking apologetic about drifting off. "So, uh, what are we- or, you- going to do now? " Riley asked, doing his best not to sound presumptuous. Who knew if Annabell wanted to hang out with a crazy leader like him, haha...

Of the fifty or so Falchions who'd gone feral and had successfully been rounded up by Two, less than a third remained inside the Punishment sector's cages. Most had been thoroughly examined and then deemed fit enough to be returned to daily life at the base. Of course, some others had taken a less savory way out- wearing themselves down until they were too drained of energy to even breathe... And one or two finding a way to choke themselves on their clothing.
All in all, the girl in charge was pretty pleased with the recovery rate... Though it still did not bode well for their future against the rebels. Considering how diluted the dose had been, it spoke levels about the potential of rebel 'medicine'.
Another girl sat very quietly against a wall. Brown hair, straggly from days without washing, fell down her back and her fringe, over her eyes, keeping them hidden from view. A ribbon, dark pink in shade was slowly being passed through the girl's hands, running against her fingertips before slipping away. The ribbon was traded hands and the process repeated. Over and over again.
Watching this through the monitor in the hall, Karen tried to recall what it would feel like, how silky the centre would be, how sharp the edges. When the leader had first seen the captive take the ribbon from her hair, she'd panicked, thinking it might be long enough for the girl to strangle herself somehow. Luckily, her assistant had been there to assure it was not, and talk sense long enough for Nine to calm down.
She thought it was a reasonable enough reaction though, considering how that girl was one of the few friends Karen had left... Danielle.
The ribbon sequence paused, and the girl on the screen looked up suddenly, as if she knew someone was watching, and Karen nearly sighed in relief. Dani looked good. Her face was calm and aware, her eyes trailed over her surroundings and seemed to register it all, and most importantly, they'd lost all trace of unnatural color. Dani looked... Like Dani.
When Nine's assistant remarked on the same thing, Karen nodded. It had been quite soon time since the rampage in that room had subsided, and the feral in her friend had fell into quietude. Now that Dani seemed recovered, they could examine her and determine whether or not she was- or would be- all right. "You can bring her in," Nine said, pushing down her own feelings and trying to stay as professional as possible.
Just as her assistant obediently walked out of the room, Karen felt the temperature drop minutely as someone else entered it. She looked up to see a regular visitor... Seven.
This time, after making doubly sure she was well on schedule for her work of the day, Karen decided to go over and greet her. Though she sure wasn't known for being a social butterfly, the leader figured it couldn't exactly hurt... Or at least be THAT painful.
"Seven... Nice to see you back again," she, well, tried.
As soon as she'd spoken, she knew. This was a huge mistake. It was probably going to be the most awkward, flimsy and empty conversation ever. There was nothing even the slightest bit nice about the torture rooms, and it was certainly never 'nice' for anyone to be there. Urrghh. What HAD she been thinking?

Should she claim to have been working under Septa for some time? Or should she deny closeness, in order to keep secret his part in smuggling them in, in case they were found out? If it was revealed somehow now, to these two, it would be no one's fault but their own. Wouldn't it be wrong to screw the guy over for that?
Actually, it kind of was his fault for not giving them any kind of story to tell if they did get questioned. When she asked, Septa had just laughed and told her not to get dragged off by interrogation workers. Needless to say, the power had not been amused, but what could she do when he ran off saying he had leader things to do? ...She wasn't exactly going to try and follow.
Xela was still trying to think up a way to respond to Eva (and consulting her moral compass, particularly in regards to sketchy, bad-at-parenting leaders) when Pedro returned. Saved by the man with the hairless cat, she might say... If Xela was inclined to such dramatic phrases, which she wasn't.
"C-can I really have one?" Guithe asked quietly, looking between both Xela and Dro with wide, beseeching eyes.
...Even if Xela had decided most determinedly to put her foot down, she still thought she might have been swayed by that look. As it was, the redhead just looked away, shrugging her shoulders as if to say, 'What do I care?'
Guithe grinned like she couldn't believe it and ran over to hug Xela's stomach. "Xe-Xe's the best big sister ever!"
Noticing an eerie similarity between the smile her charge had just shown her and that of Lich, Xela felt a shiver run down her spine. Now feeling the immense responsibility of providing a good role model for the kid, she looked over at Pedro and asked seriously; "If you really plan on giving this girl a ferret, it better be well trained, and you have to show her how to look after it properly. As for costs..." Actually, Xela wasn't going to worry about that one, "You can just bill them to Septa," she said dismissively, before realizing how suspicious that might sound.
"We're... Friends," she told Eva quickly. "But Guithe and I haven't known him as long as she might lead to you to believe. We're relatively new, only been here a couple of months, and I've barely spent any time at base."
That should do it, she hoped. She saw how Guithe listened carefully to the half-truth, and by the look in her eyes, seemed to understand. Good, it seemed Xela could trust the kid not to let anything slip and bring their cover crashing down. Hopefully, the other two people in the room wouldn't pick up on the same thing as Guithe had- the lie half.

taffy789 • 11 January 2015 at 2:55 AM

Little did Riley know, Annabell was just as spaced out as he had been.
 Although her thoughts were far from the musings of Newton or Descartes, and instead were mainly compromised of, "Gosh, I'm really tired still."
 Which explained why when Riley asked her what she was planning on doing next, she answered, without thinking her words through, "Oh, my bed."
 Then, realizing something was wrong, Annabell blinked.
 "Wait, I mean, sleep. We should go to sleep. Or even," Annabell blinked again, "I should just go back to sleep. Unless you wanted to do something else with me, I guess?"
 She paused and wondered if she could've phrased all of that better. Thinking what she said over, Annabell decided that it would be better for her to simply shut her mouth before accidentally digging herself into a deeper hole.


Seven hadn't expected to see Nine, and she wasn't at all prepared for the her fellow leader to speak to her.
"Nice to see you as well," Seven replied to Nine, kicking herself for reusing the Ninth's greeting as her own.
 Inwardly, Gale wasn't positive how she should behave when Nine spoke to her. On one hand, she wanted to act laid back, uninterested, yet superior, but on the other... 
 She met Nine's eyes for a spilt second, blinked, and, resisting the urge to immediately drop her gaze to feet, slowly turned her head to look elsewhere. (Ironically, Gale recalled that the entire "stare-blink-look away" thing was a technique used by cats to show friendly intent. Nine wasn't a cat, though, so Gale doubted that the awkward second of eye contact would do anything but promote more silence between the two).
 To avoid looking back at Nine, Gale stared straight at the tv screens which showed the remaining ferals. She watched them for a bit, but the Ninth's presence by her started to soon make her feel ill... or was it maybe, feel inferior?
Out of everyone Gale had thought would fill the ranks above her, she'd initially had expected Karen to be among the top. It was no secret that the girl had been a favorite of the previous Nine, and, because of this, Gale had assumed Karen would pursue more ambitious goals than just her old commander's position. Only when the Truce ended did she finally realize that the Ninth's motivation for achieving leader status wasn't simply ambition- or else Karen would've most likely stomped on her while climbing the ladder to the top.
 While she sighed with relief at the fact the new chief torturer hadn't rung her neck in the Truce arena, Gale couldn't exactly shake the lingering feeling that Karen could- should- be standing at her place instead.
 Perhaps, after everything, Gale was unworthy of her already low ranking?
Although, she COULD'VE been a higher ranking if she had cared to, but- with her old commander being Thomas- she had declined taking the easy to obtain position of Sixth when she had the chance. 
Perhaps it was because the old Six had just- most needlessly- passed, but at that time, the rank had seemed to her an undesirable, a cursed thing. Cursed it might as well have been, seeing the fate of Dylan, after all.
 It was the thought of feral Dylan that kicked Gale out of her thoughts and back into the steely cold of reality. Praying her face had looked more "silently contemplative" than "this girl is completely spaced out is she even awake?", Gale tore her eyes off the tv screens and back to Nine.
 "...How many Falchiones are still feral?" Seven asked the Ninth, drawing out the sentence slowly.
Soon after she spoke, Gale realized  there was actually like, a bunch of tv screens showing how many ferals were left right in front of her, and that she'd been staring at those same tv screens for a solid minute before asking that stupid question.
Yep, Gale decided with finality, Nine definitely was more deserving than her of the ranking of Seventh.
 

 Eva didn't exactly reply to Xela- unless one counts an toneless "hmmm" sound as a good enough reply- but instead she settled her gaze on Pedro, whose reactions were clearly the more animated ones of the duo.
 Her friend had looked as excited as Guithe when Xela announced her approbation, but he recoiled at Xela's conditions.
 "Do you think I would give an animal to a little girl without telling her how to care for it? I may be silly, but I am not a fool," Pedro said, appearing offended that Xela would even think to tell him how to hand out his animals. Miffed, he then added, a bit too seriously, "The ferret is free, because true love is priceless." 
If anyone was paying attention to Eva, they would've see the young woman roll her eyes.
 "Guithe," Pedro began, and shepherded the girl towards the tables, "let's look at the ferret!" Upon reaching the cages, the young man dropped to his knees, reached under the table, and slid out a large cage- one so big the top of it scraped under the table as he slid it out.
 "This is Rambo!" Pedro declared as he unfastened the wire door near the bottom of the cage. The ferret did not race out the door right away, as it was currently lounging in a hammock towards the top of it's large, platform-filled cage. Slowly, the animal became more curious about the new visitors and climbed down the small staircase to meet the new, exciting people. As the ferret exited the cage, Pedro carefully lifted it up, sat himself in a cross-legged position, and gently brought the animal to his lap.
"Guithe," he said, seriously, and motioned for the girl to sit across from him, "first impressions are always the most important, even with animals. So when you take the ferret, you have to be gentle. And if I will let you HAVE this cute ferret, then you have to promise me to always be nice to it, and to never hurt it, okay? Also," Pedro now glanced up at Xela with a lopsided grin, "it is a big responsibility to have a pet- especially a ferret! They need to play a lot, and they want attention, but they are not a toy. They need to eat and rest and be loved too, and even feel safe. And the ferret also uses a litter box that is very smelly and needs to be cleaned at least every other day."
 He grinned a mischievous smile and added, "You can get your big sister to help you out with that, though."
 Moving on, he held the large Rambo out towards Guithe to hold in her lap.
"Rambo is about two, and has had a lot of people taking care of him in the past," Pedro continued to chatter, "so he is trained not to bite, but you have to be careful still, because he nips if very annoyed. Also, if you want to rename him, it would be okay."

asi • 17 January 2015 at 1:48 AM

"Oh... Of course, if you're tired, you should get some rest," he assured her quickly. "We can always do something else later. As for me, I don't think I'll go back to bed yet. I feel... Strangely full of energy," Riley said, only realizing this as he spoke.
What would he do now? Turning towards the exit, he wondered idly whether anyone was looking for him yet. For leader duties or anything similarly dull and heavy. Even if they were, it didn't matter right now... Since for some reason, it always seemed to take forever for the grunts to find him. He knew this because every time they did, they very hesitantly asked to make sure he was indeed Four, and their tired faces were overcome with relief each time he confirmed it. This happened even when Riley was in his office, sitting at his desk- as if they'd mistaken five people for him just on their way over. At first, he'd suspected it was like this for all new leaders, but on investigation, it didn't seem to be the case... Nine for one definitely had no trouble. Was his face too common of something?
Anyway, it wasn't like he was thirsting after that kind of pastime, no way. In fact, he bet it was the cause of his restlessness. His body was probably just sick of sitting at a desk and flipping through page after page. He'd feel much better after a bit of a workout; that's what he'd do. After telling Annabell as much (''I suppose I'll be in Three's training room. Maybe this time I'll make it to the SIM's 'Novice' setting..."), he started towards Annabell's room- it was on the way, may as well be a friend and walk her there- and then he'd go on to his private battle SIM chamber.

She wasn't sure if she was more embarrassed or relieved by the way Seven's attention was directed pointedly away. It would have been bad had the other leader expected her to be leading into a proper conversation, but this silence was still uncomfortable.
At least Seven was polite- Karen hadn't worried about being snubbed, but it occurred to her now that perhaps she should have been. Nine wasn't a high rank- as far as the leaders went, in fact, it was the very lowest of the low- and she'd seen how hard her predecessor had worked to garner respect and recognition from the others. She had confidence that, with a strong attitude and the reputation her sponsor had left, she'd be able to employ her position to its utmost potential... But Karen had never thought it would be easy or instantaneous.
That was okay though- Nine was the type to enjoy a challenge.
She wondered, not for the first time, what One planned to do about the empty Six slot. It was possible she might decide to move Seven here on up a place, although Nine knew the motion wouldn't extend to her- Eight never changed- unless she went all the way up to Seven... Moving numbers was such a hassle though, hopefully they'd find another solution. One with less confusion.
"Fourteen," Nine answered without a thought, until movement in one of the screens caught her eye and she reconsidered. It had been the door opening in Dani's cell, and Karen watched as her assistant bent over the brunette and tapped her gently on the shoulder. The girl looked up, startled, and for a moment everything was still and tense and Karen's gaze clung to the video feed like a lifeline.
Then a unwashed, drained-looking Danielle let the assistant cuff her hands and ankles with the unbelievably tough plastic strap things they used, and then help her to her feet and from the room. Now one slot on the screen showed only an empty cell.
"With any luck," she said finally, although she felt luck had little to do with it, "That'll now be thirteen."
Karen then turned properly to the other leader. "You wouldn't want to sit in or watch, would you? It's just, you seem to be interested in Ferals, and..."
What if it was personal? Better not say anything! "Otherwise, you'll have to excuse me. I need to test her- one of the captives- before we can decide whether or not she's clean, and what is suitable to do from there..."
That was definitely not the most sensible explanation Nine had ever given, but hopefully Seven had got the gist of what she was trying to say, as Nine's assistant had just reappeared at the door and was waiting patiently for the leader to follow him.

Although Guithe did notice her guardian looking a bit startled at how Pedro had reacted, she was easily led away by the lure of true love- a ferret!
Besides, Xela was a big girl, her big sister, who could take seven bad guys with a single look from her scary laser eyes! She could definitely handle anything this guy could throw at her- and Tio Dro seemed way too nice to be the type to throw things at her big sister anyway.
And oh, he was so CUTE!
She meant Rambo, not Tio Dro. Guithe had already promised, if Big Sister Xela made Big Brother Lich sad by rejecting him again, she'd definitely step in and marry him. Big Sister Xela had already said Big Brother Lich would be jealous if she called Tio Dro 'big brother' too, so she definitely couldn't think about marrying him.
Even if he gave her ferrets.
Managing with some small difficulty to keep her excitement silent, Guithe sat down opposite Pedro and did her best to listen carefully and nod at the right times to prove it, even as her eyes were glued to the ferret the entire time.
It was true that she felt a little bit nervous when Pedro offered her Rambo to hold, but when she glanced over and saw Xela watching from a distance and looking completely unperturbed, she was soothed enough to reach out and confidently take the ferret with all the gentleness Tio Dro had asked for.
Staring at the soft, furry heap in her arms, feeling its warm body rise and fall with life, Guithe thought about the last statement Pedro said before deciding; "I don't think I want to rename him. I know I'd be very sad if someone renamed me. If they did that, what would all my friends do? Wouldn't it be very hard for them to find me? I wouldn't want to trouble them like that."
Xela's eyes gave a warning flash, and the redhead found herself wishing the younger girl wasn't always so sincere. While it was true that Xela had figured Guithe's name was the last thing anyone would use to track her down here (age, anyone?), it was still alarming that Guithe might think it safe, not when the little girl definitely had more enemies than friends. If there was a time when Xela couldn't be there and Guithe had to hide... Still, it was better if she didn't say anything about that now. She'd talk to Guithe about emergency procedures later, when they didn't have company.
Xela looked at the kid and said, in a very neutral voice; "Aren't you forgetting something, Guithe?"
She felt pretty pleased with the girl when she saw the serious glint to her eyes and knew that Guithe understood she meant more than the obvious. Still, Guithe just nodded attentively and turned back to Tio Dro, promising to be the nicest person ever to Rambo and never ever hurt him even accidentally, and definitely get Big Sister Xela to clean the litter box regularly.
Guithe giggled quietly at the power's new scowl. "Or maybe not. Big Sister Xela has such a scary glare, the litter box might run away!"
"Just promise to clean the darn thing," Xela grumbled, looking a little abashed at the girl's claim.
"Ah, I promise!" Guithe assured her, smiling most cutely.

taffy789 • 18 January 2015 at 9:13 PM

Annabell thought it was extremely nice for Riley to walk with her back to her room, and she told him so as they approached her door.
 She pulled her key out of her pocket, and was working on unlocking her room when she looked back towards Riley and said to him, "Hey, good luck with the SIM. And do me a favor and don't push yourself too hard, okay? Especially since I woke you up so early today!"
The door creaked open, and she added, "Tiring yourself out isn't good for your health, so be careful."
 With those few words if motherly advice, Annabell walked through her door, said goodbye to Riley, and disappeared inside the room.


Did she want to sit in on the interrogation? If she was honest with herself, Gale knew the answer was a sure yes. Like the ferals, the ex-ferals intrigued her, yet to her, they somehow seemed more frightening than their deadlier counterparts. Perhaps she wasn't scared of them as persons, but instead feared having to chit-chat with them... 
What sort of 'conversation' started with "So, you killed some people against your will. How was that?" anyway?
 Not a conversation Gale wanted to have anytime soon, that's for sure.
Thinking on it further, Gale made up her mind easy.
 "No, I'll watch the interrogation from an observation booth, if that's fine with you," Seven told Nine, and then immediately wondered if requesting to watch was a big mistake, for a number of reasons.


"I wanted to hear that," Pedro smiled back, "and I want you to keep your promises, okay? Rambo deserves a lot of love and care! And excuse me, but I have to get everything you need to care for him."
 With that, the young man stood up, and began scurry around his room, grabbing a toy here, searching for litter there; pulling a large, plastic tub out from under his bed and finding ferret treats, opening his closet door and somehow producing  out a few children books on ferret care- Pedro did all these things and soon there was a medium-sized cardboard box sitting in the middle of room, a full ferret care package.
 Promising that he only needed "One more thing!", Pedro rushed to the bedside filing cabinet and began to rummage through the many papers stuck inside it.
Eva, who apparently had grown bored watching Pedro race about, now unclipped the lid on top of the rat's cage and carefully picked up one of the large, greying rats.
 Stroking its fur with her thumb, she turned towards Xela.
"Do you think that Guithe is old enough to care for the ferret?" she asked, her eyes on the squirming rat in her palm, "In your own opinion, I mean. You seem hesitant about the entire thing." 
Eva's eyes left the rat and drifted towards Guithe, and her voice softened as she spoke again, stating more than questioning, "Just how old is she anyway?"

asi • 20 January 2015 at 1:37 AM

"Yeah, I know. Bye, Annabell," Riley said as the door closed between them.
And then he was walking onwards, quietly, not thinking of anything in particular, when-
"Would it really be too excessive an amount of trouble for you to pay a little mind to where it is you are going?"
Although this was not directed at Riley, for it did not sound quite close enough, he still looked up immediately, not because of the volume, words, or the tone, really, but because of the strange 'proper' way that the 'w's were pronounced.
And she certainly was a sight. What a lady. She had stunningly bright, golden hair, the poise of a queen, and the muscles of a... Wow. Well, she most definitely had them. They weren't... Bulging, per se, but they certainly had presence. This was one strong woman. In any case, she would have been beautiful... If only her mouth wasn't turned down in such an unpleasant expression. That look was enough to repel any guy with eyes.
Once the victim of her words had gathered herself up off the floor and scrambled away as fast as her feet could carry her, the woman turned to go forwards and noticed him staring.
"Well, whatever are you-" she stopped. Examined him. He found it a thoroughly uncomfortable experience.
"You would be Four, is that not accurate," she said slowly, hardly a question at all, despite its phrasing.
Personally, Riley was just shocked. This was really the very first stranger to positively identify him in a public area, without being formally introduced first. It seemed kind of incredible, but there it was. "Yes?" he said after a minute, once he'd got the handle on his voice mechanisms again.
"You're the one who fought Five..." she said quietly, and now Riley was definitely nervous.
For the most part, he'd managed to avoid running into any trouble with the infamous pack of rabid fans belonging the former Five, who he was 'supposed to have' killed. He was assuming this girl wasn't talking about the current Five... Considering they hadn't really 'fought', disagreeable as the guy was. Then again, a crazy, obsessive fangirl seeking revenge for her hero's death probably wouldn't use the word, 'fought', either... Shouldn't she be accusing him of murder?
Actually, on closer inspection, this one really didn't look like the type to be in Damon's fanclub... She looked more like the type to kill him for the notion.
Still, she was looking at him very coldly, and he was on the verge of breaking out into shivers when she merely huffed and strode on past him, sharp clipping footsteps fading fast.
Well, that was weird.
And scary.
He was going to stop standing awkwardly in the middle of the corridor now.

Nine nodded solemnly in understanding, then turned and waved at some of her underlings to join them as she met up with her assistant.
He too, seemed in a pretty optimistic mood about this next one.
"She freaked me out for a minute in there, looking up all sudden like that," he confessed good-humoredly. "But I think she's alright. Quiet, but definitely relieved to be out of that room. I know I would be."
Nine and those behind her soldiered on in absolute silence. Of course, those guys who had worked under the previous torturer tended to take their job very seriously- even when that job was something snoreworthy like security on the inside of the base; even when it was as thoroughly pointless as guarding Two, of all people.
Ah, they probably knew they were just for display. Until the rebel invasion, that is, when Two had certainly made them earn their keep, running around and cleaning up that mess. So Karen guessed they didn't have this job for nothing.
It was pretty cool to have guys like that at her fingertips.
"You know what would make this whole thing easier?" Her assistant continued, completely unfazed by his company, and it was easy to see that he'd come from the fourth division, "A 'SENZI'."
"A what?" Nine was finally baited into speaking again.
He seemed strangely excited by her question. "It's something those technowhizzes at Silence developed. It actually detects the energy waves a person gives off and can use them to determine whether or not they're a user or a feral or what."
That gave the leader a moment's pause. "Seriously?"
"Yeah, we even had one a couple years back, but they say it ran out real quick," the assistant sighed regretfully.
Now that the rebels were quickly appearing to be a huge threat, something like could really be invaluable... "I'll talk to One about it. Maybe we can get our hands on one of these things again," Nine decided, remembering the girl's plans for a visit to the other island sometime soon.
He smiled slightly at the idea, yet never faltered in his brisk stride. "But you know, over there, they've probably invented a dozen new crazy good inventions since last we heard from them. All the stuff we know about will be long outdated and once you got there, you'd have to start from scratch deciding what to take," her assistant reasoned, just as they reached the chosen interrogation room's door. First he let Seven and another underling (there for the other leader's convenience) into the adjoining room- the observation booth- and then unlocked the one meant for Nine and himself.
Karen had never really paid excessive attention to her assistant, only thinking in terms of his efficiency at following and dishing out orders, but now wondered if that had been a mistake. He seemed really into IOS technology, that was for sure. Maybe she'd even suggest to One that he tag along on that trip- it looked like it would definitely make the guy happy, that was for sure. She'd think over this some more later, once she'd dealt with Dani.
After her assistant, she walked into the room and took a seat at the desk which never failed to remind her of every cop drama ever- opposite the girl who had been, and hopefully was once more, one of her best friends since she started Super School.
She watched as the captive's eyes first focused upon the assistant, then skipped over her to linger upon the single guard who had followed them inside to hover in front of the door, barely discernible from her backdrop in both expression and attitude.
Drawing Danielle's attention now, Nine gently placed her hands upon the desk and said; "Now." She ignored Dani's small, surprised, "Karen?", and went on to say, "Let's begin."

"Old enough?" Xela raised an eyebrow. "What's the worst that could happen? It bites her? It dies and she cries over the thing?" She was really interested in what kind of doom the other girl could be prophesying.
Personally, the power had just been concerned about mess and general annoyance. But now she figured, as well as the animal keeping Guithe company and out of harm's way, it would probably be a good experience for the kid, to have some hard work and responsibility. That's what parents were supposed to do, right? Fill their children's lives with trials until they got sick of it and ran away? ...Something like that.
What was Guithe's actual age, anyway? "I don't know," Xela admitted, shrugging her shoulders again. She squinted a little at the back of the kid's silky black bob of hair, trying to recall...
Ah, Guithe was one of those lab rat kids, right? Like that friend of Alex's; he hadn't known his age. Well, that made it simpler, if nothing else. "You could ask her, but she probably doesn't know herself."

taffy789 • 25 January 2015 at 11:24 PM

"Ah."
 If anything could be said about Eva, it was that she had a way of saying everything on her mind by saying nothing at all.
 She picked up the conversation again, however, by asking yet another question.
 "I was under the impression that you two were related in some fashion," Eva said, staring at Xela with her small, expectant brown eyes.
She spoke again, keeping with the same detached, lofty tone- as if she remained uninterested in Xela's backstory despite her repeated probings of it. "Where did you met Guithe, Xela?"

Pedro had just finished digging through his filing cabinet and returned to the center of the room with arms carrying a packet of paper and a worn composition book. He glanced towards Xela, saw Eva talking to her, and quickly decided to  descend on Guithe again.
 "How are you liking Rambo?" he asked, grinning ear-to-ear. "If you say you like him then I'll be very happy!" Pedro sat down near Guithe again, and slid the cardboard box of ferret supplies in front of him.
 "There is food and litter in this box for the ferret! There are a few treats too, but you should not give him many because then he will get too fat and will not be able to move." He reflected over this fact for a short moment before moving on, "And there are many toys in this box too! Ferrets enjoy to explore, and so there is some tubing, and some cat toys for him to chase around. You can also cut up the box and turn it into a fort, but you have to be careful and tell him no if he tries to eat the cardboard. If he eats stuff that is not his ferret food or treats, then his stomach will hurt! So you must be careful..."
 He was talking faster now, and his semi-awkward English slipped into a more heavily accented, coarser version because of this. Obviously he was now yammering, but he seemed oblivious to this and instead grew only more passionate as he chattered on. His excitement, even if strange, was almost infectious, and anyone could see he was just happy to have an audience to share his animal care knowledge with.
 And so Pedro lectured on, explaining in great depth menial details about ferret care that would go over the heads of even the most patient and attentive adult, let alone a small child.


Ushered inside the observation booth, Seven stood uneasily at the window and watched as Karen slid down into her chair, smooth and professional.
 The interrogation hadn't even started yet, but Gale had to fight the urge to begin playing with her hair. She couldn't though, for she had to save face around the Nineth's underling, who stood stoic and unmoving by the door, just like one of those creepy guards that stood outside that one palace in London...
 Gale allowed one of her nervous hands to slip through the brown strands of her short, choppy hair.
 The observation room sat a weird position, one that made Gale question the skill of the base's architect. Instead of being parallel to the table at which Nine and the Falchion sat, Gale's window was angled towards the interrogator's chair, so she saw caught the blunt of Karen's strict demeanor and saw only half of the (hopefully) ex-feral's face.
 The effect was a stressful one on Gale, who felt as if she was sitting in the place of the captive girl, as if it was her squirming under the harsh, hot lights of the room, her the one being questioned...
 She told her jittery hands to quit ringing themselves dry (something near impossible in any case considering she had this incredibly nasty disorder called hyperhidrosis), and the Seventh regained composure once again, straightening her back and preparing herself for the start of the interrogation.


Zach had closed his eyes before teleporting(as the sudden shift of scenery never failed to give him a headache if he didn't) and when he opened them again, he saw that he was standing knee deep in tall savannah grass.
This didn't shock him. He knew that he was stationed in area A-E, and he had expected to be surrounded by nothing but nature for the next few months. Then again, he also had expected to be teleported DIRECTLY to the camp, not to a vast, empty plain with no distinguishing landmarks in sight.
 Annoyed, he flipped around to give the teleporter a dirty look.
 "What gives?" he asked, motioning a hand toward the endless savannah around him, "Where's the camp?"
 To even Zach, the teleporter looked dead on the inside, and was obviously exhausted as he replied, "You're close enough to the camp to walk there safely enough. I need to get back to base and if I take you any farther I won't have enough energy to teleport all the way back."
 "Seems more like your problem, not mine," Zach pointed out, unsympathetic.
 The teleporter opened his mouth, as if to say something, then closed it, instead choosing to smile a dark slasher smile at the Fifth leader.
 "Yes, that is my problem. But now, YOUR problem is figuring out which direction camp is in." His smile grew wider. "Have fun!"
 With that, the teleporter zapped away.
 "Camp is north," Zach stated to the thin air, then rolled his eyes. "What a stupid move to try to pull on a power like mine."
 Abandoned by the teleporter, the Fifth stared at the lazy plain around him and slowly soaked in his bland, still surroundings.
 Then, without warning, the wind picked up behind him, a cold, gentle breeze that- being as jumpy and dazed as he'd felt recently- Zach had almost mistaken for a warning about a rear ambush.
But there was no danger. A simple glance around the empty plain assured him of that much.
 There were no Glaeroes, ferals, or rebels to be seen anywhere, unless, of course, they had somehow learned how to hide behind thin, stringy blades of prairie grass.
 Zach knew the plain concealed no threats. It was placid. Calm. It couldn't have been any other way, for the plain was nothing but weary grass that bent back in the wind, grass that bowed to even the weakest force trying to push it down and press it into silent submission.
 Yes, the new, stirring wind commanded the entire plain to be quiet, hushing every bug or bird and replacing all natural noise with the muffled rustling of foliage.
 The noticeable lack of noise bothered Zach, to some extent, but he didn't say anything as he turned his sleep-deprived eyes north, adjusted his backpack straps on his shoulders, and took the first step towards the encampment.
 And the first step into a large, deep puddle of mud.
 As the Fifth attempted to unstick his boot from the quicksand-like gunk, he groaned out loudly, "God I hate nature." 

asi • 1 February 2015 at 7:46 AM

Though Guithe really had been trying hard to pay her utmost in attention, her inevitable slackening happened way back, even sooner than one might have expected. A certain phrase left Pedro's mouth and the girl was lost, her face clouding over with worry, her bottom lip set off wobbling.
"T-Tio Dro..." She said, completely forgetting about the rule of not interrupting as his rambling went over her head. Tugging urgently at the edge of Pedro's sleeve, Guithe stared up at him with wide, blue eyes, a hint of a tear sparkling in each corner. This was clearly brake-screechingly important, a code red level matter, D-Day and the bombs are falling kind of thing. "Xe-Xe is always saying Big Brother Lich-y eats too many sweets, and those are like human treats, right? Is he going to get fat and not be able to move, too?" Although she remained relatively quiet and reserved in volume, childish panic was clear in her expression.

Related? Back by Eva, a puzzled Xela was busy looking discreetly between herself and her black-haired, warm-toned kid. She hadn't even considered claiming to be siblings, to be honest... In her eyes, they didn't seem to have a huge amount of physical resemblance. Actually, it would have much easier to get away with calling Guithe her "big brother"'s little sister. At least the hair color was right, even if the texture was all wrong, and the skin wasn't TOO off, if the guy got a bit more sun. Only she hadn't talked with the leader about it, didn't know what the base might know about him... And she'd given that lie away from the get-go.
"Here," she ended up answering rather obviously (very vaguely), and gave Eva a typical 'you stupid?' look. Yeah, that was a bit harsh, but she really was getting tired of this. Especially considering the complete lack of effort put into disguising the blatant prying. "Now if you want to do a full-body search, I'm gonna have to see your warrant for that."
She felt pretty smart for nailing that legal cop-show lingo or whatever that was there.
"Guithe!" she then called out. "Can we move it along? I'm sure you don't want Lich to worry..."
Xela very much doubted that that guy had even noticed Guithe was gone yet. He'd almost definitely left for work- or whatever it was Septa actually did with his daytime. Pretending to work, probably, Xela imagined, with patience being quickly exhausted at the very idea. But of course, /she/ didn't want to hang around here forever. Twenty minutes and a ferret was surely adventure enough.

Guithe looked up for her big sister, looked down to her lapful of ferret, up at her 'uncle' and then down where the box of ferret supplies sat.
"Um... Coming?" She questioned rather than answered, with an expression that seemed almost as eager to leave as she had been to play with that science kit of Lich's. And she was convinced that thing would blow up the second she opened it.


Having said that, Karen stilled, her lips parted slightly but her mouth empty of words... She'd completely forgotten the next line in the script.
Her assistant didn't even glance at her, but spoke up; "Give me your name, number, and a list of your regular duties."
Dani turned to the boy, seeming to believe that he didn't know- when in reality he had of course looked over her file before entering, and knew these facts as well as Karen did herself. "My name's Danielle, I'm 95, uh, 3..."
Nine and the assistant watched with perfectly unamused faces as the girl, staring upwards at the ceiling, frowned and scrunched up her face in an effort to recall a simple six-digit number. But internally, Karen was smiling so much it hurt. Dani could never for the life of her recall numbers. Heck, the girl needed a reference for her home address, so forget this! (... To be absolutely fair, Dani's house had been something that had changed a lot. But that didn't make it any less of a fact that the girl's memory for numbers was downright dismal.)
Finally, Dani gave up, her eyes darting downwards to read off her arm the rest of the number. Her faced was flushed in embarrassment and she seemed to be fighting a severe case of the giggles deep in her chest while she tried to explain her job. "My team functioned as back-up for this one scouting team- whenever they caught sight of the enemy, in small numbers, they'd call us up to deal with them... When I'm at base they'd give me cleaning and moving jobs, since with my TK I can uh, clean large areas quickly, since I have a larger mental reach than a physical one, and I can carry lots more objects with it, and some heavy ones too..."
Though she had started the discussion eagerly, by the end, Dani sounded downcast and eventually trailed off. She looked even more upset as no one said anything, the other two remaining purposefully silent.
"I'm here because my power took over, right? I can't understand what happened... TK has always been friendly to me, why would they attack anyone?" Dani's hands were bound in front of her, so Karen didn't miss how nervously they fidgeted, twisting that ribbon until it was thin and tight and twirling it around her index finger. She was clearly distressed by the event, which despite its obvious downsides, was a much better sign than the alternative of indifference- or anything else.
There was a suitable pause, during which Danielle realized the two were not going to say anything about what happened, and slowly calmed down. Then Karen went on to ask, "What's your favorite color?"
"Blue- purple," she answered quickly. "Bluish purple."
Karen paused, before giving a near imperceptible nod to her partner, indicating for him to continue, and only occasionally inserting a few more personal questions. She could see why the few people she had tried to bring into these interrogations- people who had actually known the former ferals- had, on seeing them, recoiled at the idea. To be completely impersonal, around someone that you cared about, in that state... It wasn't easy.
Dani answered every question put to her as Karen knew Dani might answer the question- not every reply was entirely expected, but in hindsight, none of them were strange or surprising.
So Nine stood up and smiled, then waited as her assistant walked around the table to crouch down and first slice the plastic around her ankles, then the handcuffs. The leader could finally go over and help her friend up, even relaxing enough to sling a friendly arm over Dani's shoulders.
"Looks like you're getting out," Karen told her gently, mindful of the girl's clearly worn emotional state. Her own sense of relief at just being able to speak that line was trembling in her shoulders and threatening her constant frown lines. And the look Dani gave her then in response, it made all the tension and stress of the job feel worth it just in that moment, as they walked toward the door.
"Oh, thank you Karen," Danielle sighed into her friend's shirt, leaning heavily on the leader. She was practically falling asleep on her feet. As soon as she got her out of here, Karen would put the brunette straight to sleep. After all that had happened, Dani obviously needed her rest.
Then they were there, with the guard moving to the side as her boss reached for the knob, and Karen couldn't resist it- she made the mistake of glancing at her assistant, just out of the corner of her eye.
It was enough.
Though it was not in her ability to see auras, in this instance Karen didn't need to. The power's energy level was so strong, the leader could feel it buzzing in the air around her as she lunged sideways, trying to make contact again with the girl who'd slid from her grasp in just an instant.
That was the problem with Nine's power, she thought as the floor hit her hip and forearm hard and she ignored it, trying to spin around as fast as she could, get the prisoner back in her sight. It really was the worst limitation- she needed to touch. And that was yet another reason why a face-off with Danielle of all people was a scene straight from her nightmares.
The knife that the assistant had been sneaking up with was yanked out of his hands and sent flying across the room before the guy himself was pulled upwards. He was held hovering in mid-air by the power, who shot Nine a warning look while the assistant started clutching his throat and making terrible choking sounds.
From her place on the floor, this was not looking good.
Then that power, that thing which had so convincingly played Dani, yet looked so alien now, with its dark, fiercely purple eyes and hair; it stretched one hand out towards the corner where the knife had fallen.

smilies • 1 February 2015 at 7:56 AM

*Nine!* Her assistant's telepathy rang out inside her head, trying to stir her, but Karen was too busy staring in shock and horror to think, let alone move. There was something oddly hypnotic about the fear that coursed through her, about that violent shade of purple, about the tragedy of their circumstances and her own lack of even potential efficacy here that in that moment, she was completely paralyzed.
She watched as the knife rose and shot forwards to land neatly in the power's waiting hand. Those furious eyes remained only on Karen, even as the assistant continued to have the life slowly squeezed out of him, his noises growing fainter by the second.
"How could you tell?" the power hissed at her, apparently wanting an answer before it sliced the leader open.
The truth was funny enough to almost make Karen want to laugh. They hadn't known, it really was impossible to know for absolutely sure- unless, as she had only just been told, they had this "SENZI" invention. As it happens, the attack was the very last part of the test. No power would miss something so very direct, and there certainly wasn't one willing to risk death for anything. Least of all for trust of users. So they showed their true colors- quite literally.
In the end, Karen said nothing.
Because at that point, a bright green, crackling whip of energy snapped forwards, snaking itself around the rampant power's waist and then she was flying forwards, straight past Karen and in the direction of the exit.
With perfect timing, the door swung open and the guard who had been standing outside lifted his sword and skewered the power on it.
Both Nine's assistant and Danielle collapsed to the ground at once, the crackling energy whip was gone, and the two guards looked at each other and started swearing lightly at what had just happened. ("F*ckin' h*ll, did you see that one coming?" "D*mm it, she had me pinned, if I wasn't a psychic...")
Nine pulled herself to her feet, hurrying over to the side of her assistant. Leaning in close, she could hear his breathing, and she could hear how faint it was. Even if they had healers on the scene ten seconds ago, he wouldn't make it, he was already practically gone. She was going to need a new assistant.
Then she looked at Danielle's dead body, sighed, and her tired, shell-shocked mind struggled to think how the h*ll she was going to break this to Lily.
She was not going to cry. Not here. Not now.
Karen made it past the guards and into the hall. As soon as she was out, she stuck a hand on the metal wall and leaned into its cool chill, breathing heavily. She... Remembered doing a similar thing straight after Two's torture tutorial. She wiped the sweat from her brow and really couldn't believe she was wishing herself back there already.
Then she looked at the floor and saw some blood had followed on her shoes.
Sh*t. Just, sh*t.


"Let's hope the feeling isn't mutual," Raven muttered quietly, eyeing the pale blue of the early morning sky before them. Though the savanna had a reputation for the more mild conditions, Raven did certainly not intend to try Mother Nature to see what she could do. Prior to leaving she'd heard horror stories of a camp set upon and decimated by a herd of rabid moose, and it had been told with an unnervingly straight face. Whatever the truth was about that, Raven concluded that the last thing she needed for the coming weeks was an enemy that was /the/ literal force of nature.
She started walking, taking care to tread lightly on the grass, and feeling ever so slightly foolish for it.
This was not an area Raven was familiar with, and while she wouldn't call herself LUCKY for being here with Zach, it was definitely a plus that someone knew were they were going. Even if it might have been unnecessary, had he not backtalked to the end-of-his-tether teleporter. Still, the guy was her boss right now and perhaps finding things to criticize him for was not the most productive use of her time.
So, though certainly resentful of the situation, Raven forced a swallow and resigned herself to the walk. After all, the worst part was the company, and she had already realized she'd need to endure that for... Well, the foreseeable future.
She continued to walk through the pale stringy grass, now irritably brushing away the strands that scratched at her lower legs... Why did she think wearing a skirt would be a good idea again? Professionalism? Looking like some uppity business lady? God. F*ck skirts.
Though the gold-brown blur of the plain seemed to stretch on and on into the horizon, when Raven swung her head to what had to be the east and squinted, she thought she could see- yes, those bluish bumps there, those had to be the mountains of A-C. And to the west... No, A-F, the volcano, seemed to be missing from the picture. Raven kind of wanted to see it... But they weren't here for sight-seeing, she supposed...
And so she marched onwards.
This whole, 'not talking' chapter in her life, even if it would make everything easier, was so far proving to be exceptionally dull.
After tiring her eyes of the great outdoors, Raven started staring at Zach.
What? It wasn't like there was much else to look at.
He looked bad.
It was almost nice. Not even in a spiteful way, though there was that too. But like many other areas that Raven had visited on IOD, there was something awfully, well, PRETTY about the savanna, empty though it was. IOD was a horrible place. It should look ugly to match. But it didn't, instead it was eerily, hauntingly beautiful, and it left a bad taste in her mouth.
Zach wasn't like that at all though.
He looked really, really bad.
Like god, he looked bad bad. Was he in a state to be walking anywhere? If he fainted, she was not going to carry him. Or maybe that wouldn't be a problem. It looked more like he was about to keel over and die.
... If that happened, would they hold her responsible?
She continued to stare at him, but now was watching carefully for signs of imminent toppling, while trying to think up something to say which wouldn't give the wrong impression- or anger the guy to death.

taffy789 • 2 February 2015 at 12:30 AM

 Zach unstuck his boot from the mud, and lifted an eyebrow at Raven's mutter. Although he took it as a sign of Raven breaking her vow of voicelessness, it soon became clear that Raven was still bent on stubbornly adding to the plain's utter silence and annoying the crap out of him. The girl was obviously trying to find new and exciting ways to bother him. He decided to ignore her as well, and took the second step towards the encampment- and around the mud puddle- sweating already as he did so.


Eva cocked her head to one side and said bluntly, "I didn't mean to offend. Surely you can see why anyone would be curious about Guithe." 
 While Eva said this, Pedro was staring into the large, watery eyes of said topic of curiosity and staying uncharacteristically quiet. He took in a quick intake of air, and muttered- most seriously- "I can not take it."
 Eva, her attention suddenly off of Xela, turned to her friend.
 "Dro?" she asked, a quizzical eyebrow lifting on her forehead.
 "I can not STAND it Evinha!" he shouted, smacking one hand on his knee. He stood up, saying something loudly in Spanish that made Eva roll her eyes.
 He repeated his words once more in Portuguese before finally translating them into English, "She is too cute!" He motioned towards Guithe and feigned a heart attack, collapsing onto his bed and scaring Bolivar, who whined and moved from his comfortable spot on the mattress.
 Sitting up suddenly, Pedro ran his fingers through his thick, black hair in a sign of mock distress.  "This menina will kill me. I am going to get fat from all this sweetness and not be able to move!" 
 Then, realizing his words, he turned to Guithe to explain, "Your big brother will be able to move and I will  too! We will both be fine and safe. Have no worries, menina, Tio Dro says so."
 He grinned with utter delight as he flaunted his new title.
 Seeing Eva and Xela done talking, however, Pedro got off the bed, picked a composition book and pen off the floor, and approached the dear menina's caretaker.
 "Here," he said, and handed the book and pen to Xela. "See the chart? With the free space at the bottom?" He helpfully pointed to the particular box he was talking about, "Sign your name there, and put your room number next to it. The food and litter come free but my people need to know where to bring it!" As if impressed with himself, Pedro added with a grin, "Yes, I have people. Lots of people! They do things for me and it is amazing."
 "When you say that you sound like you're handing out things a lot stronger than pets," Eva remarked with a half smirk.
 "Evinha!" Pedro exclaimed, deeply offended, "There is a menina here! You can not mention illegal things!" 
"You are forgetting that your pet-gifting ring is a Glaeroe black market in its own right," Eva pointed out.
 "Nobody important cares," Pedro countered, "and pets do not hurt anyone. The no pets rule should go to h-" he cut himself off with a glance at Guithe, "...to a very bad place. And love should not be illegal."
With that, he turned on his heel away from the two girls, walked to the center of the room, and heaved the box of ferret supplies from the floor.
 "Evinha, get the cage!" he commanded, then the orders changed when he saw she was still holding one of the rats in her hand.
 "Evinha! Put meu primo into his cage and then get the other cage!"
 "Do you think I would just drop him on the floor?" Eva questioned back, already in the process of returning the graying rat to his home. 
 "I never know with you," Pedro said seriously, "You have the unreadable eyes."
 Eva shook her head, closed the rat's cage, and went to pick up the ferret cage.
 Pedro turned to Xela with a smile, "We will help you carry everything out! It is not a problem! Not even a little one."


As the interrogation began, Gale had continued playing with her hair.
 The entire set-up was intimidating, and she squirmed, as embarrassed as the captive girl sitting in her seat.
 Despite this, she followed the interrogation loyally, hanging on every word, every question.
 When the assistant asked for the basic personal information, Gale answered for herself in her head.
 Her name was Abigail Williams; her current number was seven and her first identification number had been 6-4-4-8-0-9. Unlike the captive girl- Danielle, that was her name- Gale had no trouble remembering it, but she knew not everyone was as good at recalling their numbers. 
On top of that, the only reason Gale remembered hers was because of a mnemonic device she'd created. It went something like, 'Sarah forgot four envelopes, oh no!' Six-four-four-eight-oh-nine.
 The device, admittedly, made zero sense and was really silly, and Gale would've rather died before confessing to something as stupid as creating a nonsensical saying to the Ninth, inside or outside of interrogation.
 The other question, the one about remembering one's regular duties, was simple enough to answer. As Seventh, she was now in charge of decoy responsibilities, but before that she had been a scout, dancing through IOD as an unnoticeable gust of wind. Her work deep within enemy territory was what had gotten her the promotion to First Division, after all.
 Then came the personal questions, and Gale quietly chuckled about how out of place a question like 'What's your favorite color?' seemed next to the more professional, serious-sounding ones.
 How would've she replied to that question? If anyone saw her closet, they would've guessed her favorite color to be silver, but in actuality Gale only wore the color because it reminded her so much of her own power, so much like the blowing wind... Also bright colors, like her actual favorite, yellow, didn't seem to suit her complexion or personality. Knowing herself, Gale would probably just ended up telling Nine that she didn't have a favorite color, but silver came close.
 The questions continued, and the Seventh managed to calm herself down again. It was relaxed, calm, and so obvious that the captive girl was not a feral. Every question was answered shyly and with an embarrassed awkwardness, all without the characteristic viciousness of rouge powers who only know death and destruction. 
Nine even seemed a bit happy, although Seven didn't consider herself to be in a position to judge her fellow leader. It seemed as if Danielle was on a first name basis with the interrogator, so perhaps the two were... friends?
 When Nine announced the captive safe and they both went to leave, Seven allowed a sigh of relief.
 She watched the happy pair near the door and then decided to exit her own as well, and then perhaps stop and acknowledge the Ninth's professionalism and job well done- or, er, something like that. Gale began to ponder about how to phrase, 'Good job at asking people questions! You looked cool!' without sounding totally lame, but then it suddenly didn't matter, as Danielle viciously exploded into a fury of purple power and Gale silently screamed, knowing Nine was about to die.
 She was wrong. Nine's assistant was the one who received the lift into the air; the possibly broken neck; the choking, pained noises of oncoming, inevitable death.
 "Oh God!" the guard standing near the door screamed, voicing Gale's thoughts for her.
 "Oh God, Tyler! Oh God!" the guard continued screaming, and was out the door within seconds.
 Gale didn't follow.
 The floor seemed to be swallowing her feet, preventing any movement. As if she was watching some gruesome, terrible, TV show, Gale stared at the window, at the raging power and at the unfolding tragedy.
 She could help.
 The thought crossed her mind the moment Danielle had exploded-no, it had never been Danielle, but a power.
 She could help. Her own power told her there were cracks between the mirror and the wall, mere hair widths but plenty big enough for air particles to slip through. She could be inside the interrogation room in nanoseconds, forming herself into a violent tornado powerful enough to press the power against the wall and subdue her there. Then Nine could escape and find help for her assistant as Seven dealt with the power.
 She could help, but she didn't.
 A fierce whip of energy and a sword and it was all over.
 Nine was left alive; Gale was left sweaty and paling; Danielle and assistant were both left dead.
 Gale quickly found that she couldn't breath. During the entire attack she had held her breath and now she had forgotten how to breathe entirely, as if the air refused to leave her lungs.
 She began to turn blue, as blue as the assistant's face when heaved into the air, as blue as the color Danielle's power had claimed was her favorite.
 What had just happened?
The blockade in her throat broke and the fresh, sharp air funneled down, searing like hot water.
 It was senseless, all of it. Senseless and terrible and tragic and yet it still had happened.
 That poor girl, still trapped inside her power the entire time, hadn't deserved such a thing. The poor assistant didn't either. He was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. Just like the girl.
 Tears dripped down Gale's cheeks, but they weren't the kind that made face's red and prompted wild sobbing- no, these tears were simply acknowledging something horrible had occurred, and the Seventh quickly brushed them away without much problem.
 She stared ahead at the window again, at the messy, bloody interrogation room, and finally decided that she needed to get away from it all before she threw up.
 She flew out the door and made up her mind to run far away from the torture hall and never return, but her plans were foiled when she saw Nine standing a few feet to her right and felt her heart shatter.
 "O-oh," Seven stuttered, finding it impossible to cover her own pale, shaking features with a mask of indifference, "Nine..."
 What could she say? It had been a stupid idea to even speak up. She would have been better off just running away- not alerting the leader to her presence.
 What could she possibly say?

awesomeness • 2 February 2015 at 12:40 AM

~~~
After they'd trekked across the empty plain for miles, Zach began to think about all his past missions in the great savannah. 
He'd hated them.
 Glancing over at the vague, bluish shapes on the distance, he began to think about all his past missions in the great mountains.
 He'd hated those too.
 Especially that time when he had gotten separated from the rest of his group, and he'd almost frozen to death during a freak snowstorm. What horrible luck- yes, 'what horrible luck' said in a sarcastic, drawn out sort of way, as in 'what HORRRRIBLE luck'- though perhaps it was better 'luck' than the rest of his group had at the time, as the cave they'd found shelter in that night hadn't been structurally sound. His intuition had led him to the mess of caved-in boulders and dirt that very next morning. All dead. Go figure.
 What horrrrible luck.
 Now he was getting into really iffy territory with his thinking, and he shifted gears away from anything that could trigger another nightmaremory. Or rather, a daymaremory. But nightmarish all the same. God, he was going to kill Eight if he saw her again.
 He hated her, just as he hated his missions, Raven's attitude, and the entirety of IOD. 
The only place on IOD he DIDN'T hate was his bed, where he would rather be instead of struggling through miles of stupid tall grass with large clumps of mud still stuck to one of his boots.
 Zach took in a deep breath and tried to fight off an oncoming dizzy spell, as he'd been walking too far too long already.
 He hated this. He hated IOD. It'd been a horrible one and a half years. Everything before that hadn't been life in the sunshine either. Even before the crappy scientists.
His brain throbbed, and it was getting harder to think, or maybe harder to control what he thought about. Ideas flittered into his brain and flittered out. It was so hot. He hadn't walked much recently. Not when it was so hot. Not for so long.
 Not when he was so tired.
The savannah was horrible. But it could be worse. He could be stationed in A-C.
 God, did he not have pleasant memories about those freaking mountains.
 And there he was once more in the iffy territory. 
 Sometime somewhere while walking he became aware of Raven staring at him. She'd been doing it for a while.
 Was he struggling now? Was he pale and sweaty? He felt sweaty. Disgusting.
 Oh God!
 His power sent shockwaves through him and Zach promptly tumbled over, his backpack weighing him down and making him top heavy.
 He landed on his sword case with an "ompff" and remained laying on the ground. His power was still freaking out inside his mind; he could feel it. Why? He'd walked through a spider web and the eight-legged 'demon' was now sitting on the leg of his khakis.
 Zach decided to simply lay on the ground and await eventual decomposition.


After the tent had been successfully chased down and caught, -and set down again this time WITH rocks on the corners-  Naji, Samuel, and Jorge all moved around their cramped living space, setting up the cots and unpacking the bags.
"It isn't so bad here," Samuel said with optimistic cheer and- noted Naji with despair- while ignoring all the signs of everything being horrible here.
 "It really isn't so bad!" Samuel continued to insist, "Since we're still setting up, no big missions have been started yet. Also there's plenty of food, and water, and-"
 "Lots of open air!" interjected Jorge, grinning.
 "Yeah," Samuel added, "lots of sunlight too, huh!" He laughed, "We have everything we need to survive here. It isn't so bad."
 The optimistic barrier created by the two friends hushed Naji into quiet submission and trapped all his negative thoughts inside his own mind.
 While most of these thoughts were the general "Oh dear God I'm going to die and they'll have to bury my body in the desert sand", his new teammates were also a large source of his disquiet.
Naji glanced at the the two and watched with growing exasperation as they argued over living space.
 "Look, you can't put your junk on the floor here," Jorge reasoned with Samuel, "because this is obviously where my boots are going to go. Go put your junk in your own boot space, not mine."
 "Obviously," Samuel retaliated, "you don't understand the glorious principles of 'first come first serve'. It's like, one of the Ten Commandments! Right above 'finders keepers losers weepers'. And hey, if that was your boot space, why weren't your boots there?"
 "...Because I was wearing them?"
 "Proves my point exactly."
 "What point?!?"
 ...And so on.
 As he listened to the two friends bicker on, Naji recalled a time when, after the people at base told him he was getting a "veteran team" to be a part of, he feared his teachers of IOD ways would be tough, terse, war-worn and no nonsense. He had expected his teammates to be strict drill sergeants yelling out orders while threatening to brain him a knife handle.
 What he hadn't expected, out of all things, were Samuel and Jorge. Now, Naji wasn't sure which reality frightened him most. Was it the imagined reality where his teammates were hardened and cold and ready to kill even him, or perhaps did he have to fear the reality where the people in charge of his life couldn't even set up a tent properly?
 Glancing back at his two bunkmates, Naji shivered.
 Sure, they looked nice enough. Optimistic. Hopeful. Kind. 
But those attributes were more suited for the personality portion of a beauty pageant- not for war.
Their faces glowed with youthful charm, and anyone could see that their silly smiles reeked incompetence, despite that, as soldiers, their only jobs would be punching threats until the threats were no longer threatening.
 Naji didn't know whether he should feel safe around them because they would not hurt him, or terrified because they could not possibly hurt anything else.
 Torn, the young boy simply decided to accept the emotion that came easiest to him- despair.
 "I'm going to smack you straight up on the side of your head," Jorge threatened Samuel, his voice hitting the top ceiling flaps of the tent, "If you don't move your trash this instant."
 "Why are you telling me where to put my trash," Samuel quipped back, "when I don't go around telling you where to put yourself?"
 "I'm giving you until the count of three, Sammy," Jorge glowered.
 "Surprised you can count that high."
 "ONE," Jorge called out loudly.
 Naji, sighing, picked up his large sun hat from his cot and placed it back on his head.
 "Oh look," Samuel taunted, "look at me, not picking up the trash."
 "TWO," Jorge said, and Naji moved towards the exit without a sound.
 "Tres es next, correcto?" Samuel grinned innocently.
 "THREE!" Jorge exclaimed, picked up a nearby pillow, and was in the process of beating up his friend with it as Naji abandoned the loud, unaccommodating tent in favor of the inhospitable desert landscape.

asi • 6 February 2015 at 9:56 PM

Any snappy counter Xela may have returned was quickly forgotten amongst the ensuing interruption. She watched as Guithe smiled and giggled and fast seemed completely reassured at his words, all evidence of any scare draining very quickly from her face, like- Xela thought gloomily- how rain washed the tell-tale blood from dead, beaten bodies. Guithe was just so innocent- that kind of person, well, simply shouldn't last at a place like this. Not even at the relative safety of the base- no, Guithe should not, on no account, be here.
But if Septa couldn't do anything about it, what could she do?
In an automatic motion Xela took the notebook as it was passed to her, and she dutifully began filling it out as instructed with clear, careful handwriting. It was still a task in which the power lacked confidence.
When it came to giving out her room number, she did take a moments pause for consideration. If she put down their own, they'd lose the anonymity of the room- there was something comforting in the thought that no one knew where the room was, or who was in it. Still, Lich hadn't given them a word of warning against this kind of thing. Heck, he hadn't even spared a second's concern. If they were really in an unstable position, he should have given her some kind of a heads up! If anything happened, it would definitely not be her fault.
Also, she had the strange feeling that she didn't want to leave the impression that she actually stayed in the room with the leader... That could lead to all kinds of messes.
She decided to just go with it and put down their actual room number.
Now that Xela was concentrating very hard on printing down the digits, she missed entirely the next exchange between Eva and Pedro. Considering the fact that her name was four letters and her room number only two digits long, it was true that she took a rather excessive period of time to write it. Luckily, there was a limited amount of time even one like Xela could justify spending to make the curve on the seven look sharp, and she finished up without making everyone wait too long.
As for Pedro's offer of assistance, she accepted it with just a short nod of the head, and after replacing the composition book and pen back where they'd come from, Xela strode out the door, intending to lead the way.
Guithe, on the other hand, made sure to thank both of the nice Glaeroes before hurrying off to keep her big sister at least in their sights. She wasn't too certain about her own ability to navigate the base, when it came down to it. It wasn't like she'd had a proper opportunity to explore, after all.
Seeing that she clearly wouldn't be matching her big sister's stride any time soon, Guithe instead turned to Eva curiously. "Miss Evinha, what's your favorite animal?"


Nine looked up at the sound of the other door opening, up to face instant regret as she saw the expression that Seven was wearing. She'd forgotten completely about the other leader nearly the moment she'd walked into the interrogation room and right up to this moment had remained that way. And now that Karen had been confronted like this, what could she do?
She couldn't look weak. She couldn't.
Nine sured up her shoulders and met the others eyes, doing her best to conceal the growing sense of desperation she really felt behind a solid stone wall of... Well... Strength of will, mainly, and whatever else there was she had going for her. She cleared up her throat and told Seven; "That probably wasn't what you were expecting to see. Or at least, not- " She stopped, finding herself unwilling to describe even the smallest detail of what had just occurred. Her brow line hardened, along with her heart. "It was a test. Sometimes, they fail. It's just how it works. But I'm sorry that was the sort you witnessed... That's all," Karen said as she turned away from Gale, and she was unable to keep her spine from slumping.
Unfortunately, there was no rest to be found for this leader, as immediately she was approached by the two guardsmen.
"Nine," the girl with the energy-whip power addressed her, apparently testing her availability while both seeming to have immeasurable patience and at the same time, an air demanding attention. Sometimes Nine thought these guys were just a little TOO good at all this.
It was rumored that Two was very good at dishing out training regimes from h*ll... And Nine saw evidence of this everywhere she looked.
"What is it?" she prompted, a little weariness showing in her tone.
The two exchanged a look. "We were thinking- considering the date and the results of the last three tests... With the unlikelihood of any further recovery, it's time you start thinking about alternative... Treatments," the boy explained tactfully.
"It's not like we can keep them forever, they're only getting more dangerous," the girl added... Less so.
"I'll start thinking about it," Karen replied sharply, before she could remind herself not to shoot the messenger. Everything they were saying was true. It wasn't their fault she didn't like to hear it, either.
She still ordered them to go dispose of the bodies.
Of course, despite her cold treatment, they weren't phased at all, just nodded and left to do as she said, chatting quietly between themselves all the while.
There was a moment when she stared after their backs and thought about calling out, pulling one of them back. The girl maybe, for her reliability in a tight spot, or the boy for his display of sense. Both were hyper-competent for their job, after all.
But seeing how content they seemed now, how well they worked as a team, Karen shook her head and stalked off back to the main observation room. Today had had too much misery already. God forbid she add to it.
Stopping just past the doorway, Nine took a deep breath and announced to everyone in the room; "Ford. You're assistant."
There was a moment's shocked silence before another of her underlings spoke up; "But what about Ty-"
At the grim expression on Nine's face, that thought was quickly cut off. Instead they switched to the protest, "Nine, he isn't even even in First D!"
Meeting in turn the eye of each and every person in the room, Karen ground out as slowly as she could, so that every single one of them understood; "Ford's assistant."
It was very, very quiet.
Then the guy in question jumped up and grinned. "All right!" he said loudly.
How much was she going to regret this? Still, Karen didn't pause but pulled out her notepad, scribbled her signature and handed it to the guy. "Go to First and get yourself registered. While you're there, see if you can grab Three's assistant. I need a word with her."
After receiving his instructions, her new assistant ran off, smile not one bit diminished, while the leader's frown only grew as she walked on over to her desk and sat down.
As the room slowly recovered its natural noise level, Karen just stared at her piles of paperwork and saw nothing. She did, however feel something. She ran her hand over the thing in her pocket and didn't need to look to know what it was. One of the guards must have slipped it in without her noticing. Smart. If the ribbon had been offered to her, Karen would have instantly responded with, 'No'. But now that she had it in her hand, there was no way she could bear to let go.


"Crap," Raven cursed as he really did go down. She waited a few decent seconds but as the guy was clearly making no attempts to get back up, she was forced to step over to his side and peer down at the guy through the thick long lashes of grass.
He didn't look THAT out of it.
Raven sighed and didn't have much trouble deciding to skip the usual niceties of, 'Are you okay?' and, 'Where does it hurt?' She wasn't his f*cking nurse. Thank god for that. In celebration of the fact, she planted a relatively gentle kick on his ribcage.
"Get a move on or I really will leave you behind," she threatened with biting honesty... Of a sort. She fully intended to go on to camp by herself- in order to find someone else to send back for the leader. Maybe if it wasn't for her condition, Raven would actually try dragging him. But as it was, her arm was still injured and there was not a chance she'd be able to pull it off like this.
Sparing a moment to glance around them once more, and marveling in how little the scenery had changed, she wondered how much further they could have to go. "The camp can't be that far," she murmured aloud rather hopefully. In this heat, she was already longing for that shower, whatever its quality.
Not one for patience, Raven looked back down at Zach and decided to give him a hand by taking his and yanking him up to at least a sitting position. To justify herself, she told him, "If you're too late, the troops might ransack your room of all its complimentary chocolates. So come on."
Yes that really was her best attempt at motivator.