Private Roleplay~ IOD

taffy789 • 8 February 2015 at 10:49 PM

Following the little girl out the door, Eva peered over the top of the cage in her arms and down at Guithe.
 "Good question," Eva said, and began to think.
 Pedro, who was working at nudging Clementine the whining cat away from the door so he could close it, laughed at Guithe's question.
 "I know Eva's favorite animal," Pedro grinned while balancing the heavy box of ferret supplies between the door and his own body. With a final nudge, he managed to push Clementine back into the room, and he closed the door with a resolute 'click'.
 He shifted the box to his arms and said, with a hint of tease, "Evinha's favorite animal is the llama~"
"No," Evinha frowned, "it is most definitely not."
 "Of course it is~" Pedro continued to tease, and walked past Eva, tapping on her shoulder as he did so.
 Eva's frown deepened. "Pedro, can't you see I'm trying to think of a good answer to this little girl's question?" she asked, and Pedro caught enough of the annoyed attitude to make a zipping motion on his lips.
 But her annoyed attitude didn't stop him from giving Guithe a sly wink and whispering, "Dona Evinha likes to have quiet time when she needs to think. She also gets a far off look." He twitched his head back towards Eva, who was staring at the ferret cage and thinking deeply.
"See? Far off somewhere." Pedro seemed proud of the accurate characterization of his friend.
 "Horses are my favorite animal," Eva suddenly spoke up, "They remind me of the romantic life of los gauchos.
Um," she faltered when she realized Guithe wouldn't understand what she meant, "I mean to say, gauchos are..." Her vocabulary failed her, and she looked at Pedro for help.
 Her friend only shrugged in reply. "You know English more than me."
 "But you know what I'm talking about, right?" Eva asked, and Pedro nodded.
"Gauchos in American movies have big hats and they ride around on horses," Pedro tried to explain, "And they shoot guns and do things with cows."
 "Herd cows," Eva corrected.
"Herd is a thing you do," Pedro defended himself, "You should not say anything about my talking. You do not know how to say gaucho en los ingles."
 "In any case," Eva said, disregarding Pedro's comment, "Yes, Guithe, horses are my favorite animal. What's your favorite animal?"
"I'm happy that you did not ask me that question," Pedro remarked, musing more to himself than talking to Guithe, "choosing a favorite animal! It is like asking which child is the favorite! So impossible."


"Ah," was the word Seven finally decided to utter, but that was only after Nine turned to walk away from her. The Ninth's own show of strength made Gale feel stupid for acting so weak, so she did the only logical thing to do when one felt embarrassed- she ran away.
 Well, it wasn't so much running away as it was turning around and speed walking in the opposite direction as fast as possible.
She didn't get far in any case.
 When she barely got a yard from Nine and the assistants, the word "treatment" caught her attention and she stopped dead in her tracks. Of course, the talk about alternate treatments was all just a tactful way of saying that killing the feral Falchiones was the only viable method of help left. The idea was logical enough. IOD law stipulated that any feral should be killed on sight, after all. The trapped Falchiones had been living on stolen time and now that time was almost up. Gale's stomach dropped just thinking about it.
 Trying to shake off her own lingering thoughts, the Seventh continued walking away from interrogation room, and she kept on walking until the moment she realized she was no longer walking, until she was floating, until her body disappeared around her and she became a gust of wind with aimless purpose navigating the turning and twisting halls of the base.


 Shortly after Raven began to loom over him, Zach closed his eyes to fight off a biting headache.
 It felt like a rat was clawing behind his forehead, trying to dig its way out of his skull.
 Clutching at his head, Zach dug one of his elbows into the dirt and pushed himself up into a sitting position. He sat there for a moment, grimacing in agony, and Zach could only sigh with relief when the pain finally dissipated.
 Opening his eyes once again, Zach saw Raven's outstretched hand reaching out to him. He too reached out to her, but pushed her hand back with a shake of his head instead of pulling himself up.
 Zach peeled his duffle bag strap from his shoulder, unzipped one of the side pockets, and produced a canteen of water from it.
 He gulped down half of water in it and then proceeded to- without even flinching- splash the rest of it in his face.
 As this methodical, strange process finally drew to a close, Zach rubbed at his eyes and was relieved to feel the gears in his brain turning faithfully once again.
"I feel like utter crap," he admitted with a small sigh, and reached out to brush off the small spider still clinging to his pants leg.
 The sudden headache had stretched his physical and mental limits even further, it felt like. Extreme sleep deprivation due to a crazed leader was one thing, but having one's own mind revolt against itself was easily ten times as tiring with half the effort. Frequent headaches had proved to be a constant problem for Zach since the rebel invasion, and it took no large stretch of imagination to guess why.
"...Shadow," Zach began after some time had passed,  "You said you and your power never got along. Was your little friend insane or could she just not deal with her company's personality?"

asi • 14 February 2015 at 12:57 AM

As the fellow quickly made it to the bottom of his canteen Raven watched warily, more like he was some kind of wounded animal than a sickly human. He really did look that bad... Honestly, she couldn't think why he'd be so tired. Perhaps he'd been as swamped as Raven with paperwork. What else could it be?
She scowled at his phrasing but considered the seemingly-random question fairly. The guy was her leader, after all, she may as well humor him. Crossing her arms tightly across her chest in a defensive posture, Raven gave Zach the short answer. "She couldn't deal with a lot of things. That list included users, ordinary humans, the state of not being in control, and small kittens. Insane? Probably not. Extremist? Absolutely. A good roommate?" Raven scoffed. "No. Truthfully, I'm probably much better off without her at all," she lied.
Then a thought struck to her. The excessive exhaustion, lack of sleep, then that question? Now it all seemed to make sense. Slowly, as if drawing it out would help ease it into the other guy's brain, she said; "Hey... Your power isn't trying to take over, is it?"
Convincing as to that was clearly unneeded, as she immediately began panicking, if only a little. "Holy crap, we need to get you to an isolation room right now." Raven looked around them wildly, as if civilization would suddenly reveal itself in her moment of need. Unfortunately it didn't, everything looked exactly the same as it did before, and just as empty, and it really wasn't helping her calm down.


Having wasted enough time on girls falling over at her feet and glassy-eyed leaders with nothing to say, Vivian Gold strode into the lounge of the first division through its novelty sliding door, the tail of her long, pale blue coat drifting lazily in behind her. She paused a moment to survey the scene.
It wasn't a very busy time, it was too /morning/ for that, but the room was still filled with a light buzz. After giving the assortment of gathered users- most of which were sprawled on the comfy couches, chatting and plowing through their breakfasts- a thorough once over, Vivian tilted her head back, seeming satisfied, and quickly claimed an empty table before any social climbers got an eyeful of the First assistant and decided to make themselves known- and without fail annoying.
The time was sitting prettily above the door to the offices, and Vivian, very much unused to waiting, immediately made note of the display. Three minutes past the hour, it said...
Though she was not, as said before, someone who got a lot of empty periods such as these, that did not mean Vivian didn't know how to spend them. She hadn't got to where she was now by goofing off at the least opportunity, after all.
She flipped open the case of her newly-issued I-Pad and began going through her emails from the bottom unread. All the while, her head was kept carefully lowered to not attract any unwanted attention. The one she did want would do fine with her description. After all, there wasn't anyone at base with long, golden hair to rival Vivian's. Not anymore.
A mere two minutes later, another plopped down in the chair opposite- panting and looking generally ridiculous from the rush over.
"S-sorry, got caught up in old injury release records- literally," Vivian's new guest sighed, then looked a little embarrassed as the device between them was closed and she caught sight of the serious kind of face the assistant to One had. Maybe that was someone you shouldn't be advertising your fumbles to. Vivian certainly did not look impressed.
"It seems it has not yet come to pass that you have observed the counter behind which our morning meals lay readily available," Vivian said rather pointedly to her companion, eyeing the empty hands before her.
Understandably, it took a minute before any of this clicked. "Oh! Breakfast. Sorry, I should have picked it up on my way. I'll-" she made to stand up, but now Vivian was shaking her head, and in a hurry to please, sat down again fast.
All Vivian needed to do was reach out, snag a passing grunt and relay to them their breakfast order for it to be fetched. One look between the two girls and the First kid's eyes swam with recognition, awe and fear. To the average Joe, the assistants to One and Three were pretty big news. Especially since Vivian was new again, these were her direct subordinates, and those who had filled in her place for her absence were (as she would put it) distinctly less impressive. And with Second conspicuously lacking an assistant, Third's was of course the next highest authority. It didn't hurt that Lily was both well-known and fairly well-liked. Needless to say, they got their sandwiches without any further ado.
But Vivian was of course still less than pleased. "Not only did you neglect to consider the sustenance which- as the fuel our bodies consume- must become the very foundation of our day, but you did so an entire five minutes later than you ought to have done."
Lily flinched. "Sorry..."
"Sorry?" Vivian looked at her sharply, clearly not pleased with just an apology.
"I won't do it again?" Lily tried hesitantly. To her, it really didn't seem like a smart thing to promise. But if that's what it took to appease this lady, then, well, Lily was kind of at her mercy.
Laying her hands daintily down upon her lap, the dragon of an assistant drew up her posture even more, and for a split second Lily really thought she was going to breathe fire on her out of sheer anger. In actuality though, Vivian calmly put forth her simple question; "Shall we proceed straight to business, then?"
Despite being relieved by anything other than being toasted alive, Lily felt a bit shocked at how very... Brisk this lady was. Her face was still flushed from running all the way here, didn't she get a moment to settle down? Couldn't they waste a little time talking about the irrelevant weather and, you know, actually eating? She looked at the untouched sandwiches and wondered if they'd be half as nice once the mayonnaise had soaked through the bread. This was definitely not how Lily wanted to pass her breakfasts. "Sure. Okay," she said only a little miserably.
"Good. I find your ready attitude to be commendable." And Lily really couldn't get a read on this lady's poker face. "It is probable you have been wondering long enough what it is that may have given me cause to meet you here." Actually no, Lily had just figured Vivian wanted to discuss in depth her latest email about the rising trend of foot-stabbings (in order to space out in the hospital wing, as opposed to on the battlefield. This was a lot less successful than was commonly thought, unfortunately). "Simply put, I am making you an offer of training." Wait what?


"Lich-y likes dogs and Xe-Xe... Xe-Xe likes cats," Guithe chatted happily. "And me... My favorite animal is Rambo, of course!" She gave the guy a happy little sort of bounce as she announced this, causing the rodent to shoot her a slightly disgruntled look before settling back down in her arms. "Ah! Did I surprise you? Sorry!" she murmured guiltily, and began making quiet soothing cooing noises. The ferret looked pretty pleased with himself for making a fuss.
Xela, whose pace had unconsciously slowed as she approached their room, had heard this and looked back to frown at Guithe; "I never said that."
Looking up at the sound of her big sister's voice, the kid smiled and replied confidently; "But I'm right, aren't I?"
"... You little know-it-all," Xela admitted with a shake of her head, stopping as they reached the door.
Guithe appeared a little troubled by that comment, as she muttered to herself, "But I don't know what llamas are..."
With a puzzled expression, Xela was examining the door, her hand hovering over the handle but hesitating to turn. There was something just a little... Off. But she couldn't figure out what it was.
She felt a shock shoot down her spine; she sensed movement! No doubt an ambush was waiting for her inside the room, a SWAT team armed to the teeth with tranquilizers and worse, just beyond the door..!
Actually, it was just Guithe reaching forward (having juggled Rambo until he was resting against her shoulder and she had a spare hand) and pulling a largish green sign down from the door. She forced herself to lower her stiffened shoulders, ease off the paranoia. It didn't look good.
Guithe was struggling to read what the thing said, and after a few painful-looking moments, decided to relieve the kid of it, gently taking it into her own hands.
"What the h*ll?" She read it through twice. There had to be some kind of mistake...
But as she glanced down, Xela suddenly saw that the numbers just below her rolled-up sleeve weren't the same as they were before. In fact, as it was, they matched exactly what it said on the card. And if she took a look at Guithe's arm right now, she dreaded what she would find.
Her hand was trembling slightly as it clutched the notice, but that was the only sign of her apprehension as she looked down at the little girl with the ferret and asked quietly, "Was he very mad at me when I left?"
"Hmm? No," Guithe answered easily, not seeing Xela's quickly escalating distress, preoccupied as she was with her own embarrassment at her illiteracy. "He was just a bit upset. Then he said he had to leave me by myself," she pouted down at Rambo, stroking him fondly with her freed-up hand.
"Septa..." Xela growled lowly, staring at the card and trying to work out if she was more shocked, angry, or appalled.
Apparently, they were going to the front lines.
If this was a prank she was going to KILL HIM.
And if it wasn't... Sh*t.

taffy789 • 15 February 2015 at 7:44 PM

Ignoring Raven's incipient panic, Zach calmly shook his head, as if that simple gesture would put to rest the fear of a feral Fifth leader.
"Like I said before, back during the invasion," Zach started, and slowly worked himself into a standing position, "my power isn't a threat to me."
 He had no solid evidence, no testament to this statement.
 If anything, the very thing telling him his power was safe was his power itself, and even an idiot could see the clear flaw in this method of checking. 
Despite everything, Zach still found no reason to doubt the information his power was feeding him. After all, it had never been wrong before, and if he couldn't trust the very intuition that had kept him alive for so long then what could he trust?
Although after dwelling on it further, even Zach wasn't keen on the idea of putting all his faith into a power that would surely turn on him as soon as the Raze grew too strong. Thinking it would do otherwise would be as stupid as somebody slipping a snake into their jacket and saying its natural instinct to sink its fangs into them wouldn't kick in anytime soon.
He watched the empty north, as if the encampment his power promised sat there would rise from the horizon and answer the question of his power's true nature.
 Nothing of that sort happened, of course, so Zach simply turned back to Raven.
 "Whatever the rebels slipped into the water has been affecting my power," he began again,"and now my power's more active on its own. It's almost like..." He trailed off in search of how to describe the lazy, stirring feeling of his power turning in its sleep.
"...Almost like its turning in its sleep," Zach finished, deciding that was the best explanation he could give.
 "Whatever is happening with it, it's tiring, and I already have too much crap going on to be any more tired."
He lifted his luggage up from the ground and then began to trudge faithfully due north once again. Zach decided that it didn't matter much if his power was leading him towards a cot at camp or a boiling vat of lava in a volcano; listening to his power was the only option he'd ever really had.


"You do not know what llamas are?" Pedro blinked at Guithe's confession. "Ah, it is okay. I have some books about a lot of animals and I will let you read them. But like Evinha will say to you, llamas are terrible creatures." Pedro threw a sly grin in Eva's direction. "Because the animals spit. Correct Evinha?"
 Eva seemed to lapse into a quiet sulk but gave Pedro a long glare that made him make another zipping motion across his lips.
 When the group arrived at the door, however, Pedro broke his silence again at the sight of a familiar green card attached onto Xela's door as securely as a noose is tied tight onto a tree branch.
He muttered every curse he knew in Portguese under his breath, quietly to avoid being heard by the impressionable ears of Guithe.
 Eva only reacted with yet another telling yet small "ah" sound.
 The two glanced at one another and reached a silent conclusion.
"We should set up the cages and such," Eva remarked, giving Xela a furtive sideways glance.
 "Yes, Rambo needs a good home," Pedro agreed with a thoughtful nod, "And we should set it up. Yes."
 He himself glanced at Guithe before looking at Xela with pity.
Testing if the girl's guardian was bilingual, he directed a hesitant, slow sentence of Spanish at Xela and waited patiently for a response.

asi • 19 February 2015 at 8:07 AM

A sarcastic, "Well that's reassuring," was her knee-jerk reaction to that. However, no matter how carefully she scrutinized his face for symptoms of doubt, Raven couldn't see any flaw in his confidence. It looked like he really believed in his power harboring no ill intentions, at least for now.
Though Raven didn't trust any of their kind, now was clearly not the time to pick a fight about it- or throw a fit. So she just sighed a little and marched on, only able to trail behind her bad-mannered compass.
The ground grew tougher. Rocks and red mingled increasingly in the soil, growing visible in patches with the decline in plantlife, with the the long grass turning short and hardy, and the occasional trees sad, leafless affairs.
Raven didn't even notice they'd been climbing, so gradual was the incline, until they stood at the top.
"Finally," she said, eyes lighting up as she looked down on the sight.
The land dipped down where they stood to form a sort of huge natural trench between them and the second, taller and sharper hill. Both rises were so evenly spaced, running parallel all the way until they curved out of sight, that the scene immediately struck Raven as not entirely... Right.
She remembered the whispered stories about Unnoens shaping the very land, and for a moment it almost looked a teeny bit plausible.
Then she was trotting down the slope, focused on the promise of civilization ahead.
At the base of the hill had been stolen by the Falchion's encampment. No doubt if one was coming down the hill from the other side, you wouldn't realize what you were standing on right up until you leaned over the edge and looked down. To put it simply, the Falchions who made this base had built a kind of roof structure out from the curve of the hill and packed earth on top to hide it. This only worked from one side, but since it had one and only one front to be attacked from- the rest of the area being well-guarded- the one side was all it needed.
From Raven and Zach's angle, the way the wood structure stuck out, it was like half-completed archeological dig, with the stark white of bare bones poking out but still very much entrenched within the earth. It seemed hard to believe the deception actually worked when it seemed so obvious here. Raven just hoped the Glaeroes never, ever got satellite cameras.
The front half of the base was, disappointingly enough, just tents strung up under the shelter. Further in held the promise of actual rooms, with the trade-off being no sun, ever. Also it goes without saying that as rooms went, they were pretty sh*tty. Mostly these were meeting rooms or- deeper down- bunkers, or sometimes a bit of both. But there were of course quarters for those higher of rank.
As for the activity... The camp was, to put it succinctly, a mess, but a functional one. Falchions hurried past with a kind of nervous, restlessly energy; not quite as if a pack of large, bloodthirsty hounds were chasing them down, but more like they wouldn't be surprised if that did happen. The Truce had just ended and a large number would not have been on the frontlines before- and those who had would certainly be worried about plunging into it again. None of these people looked up or paid them the slightest heed as they walked into camp.
Raven supposed it wasn't the worst atmosphere they could be having. Everyone could be acting lazy and apathetic.
She looked at her great leader some more.
She had a feeling everything would be so much easier if she could just confine Zach to his room for this whole thing.
"You sure you don't want that isolation room?" she muttered under her breath with little hope.


Not meaning to have been overheard, Guithe jumped a little in surprise. Fortunately, Rambo didn't seem bothered, occupied as he was with sniffing at the back of her neck.
Guithe didn't really know how to say that she could barely read, so she stayed quiet. Though inside, her mind was very actively imagining what these terrifying "Llamas" could look like... Three-headed fire-breathing dragons kept appearing.
She very much hoped Eva had never been actually spat at by one. That would be scary!
She turned happy again the moment the cages and Rambo were mentioned. "Can I help?" she asked eagerly, opening the door so they could all troop inside.
Meanwhile, Xela said something uninteresting to Pedro like, "No, we only speak English."

taffy789 • 28 February 2015 at 10:56 PM

Zach swept his gaze over the hovel for a base. It didn't impress him.
 "I'm still me," he told Raven pointedly. He then paused, taking the time to soak in his new- if dirty and bleak- surroundings. A Falchion scurried past to some unknown destination, passing the Fifth leader and his assistant without so much of a second glance. Zach took note of this and then continued saying to Raven, with a taunting, smug air, "But if you're that worried about me, then don't be. If you do, my feral will remember how worried you were and that rogue power will surely seek YOU out first if it gets rid of me." The implications were dark; the humor was only fit for the gallows. A second after speaking he gave Raven a cruel smirk he that fit the taunt perfectly, and those dark bags under his eyes further added to the sharp effect.
 Zach soon, however, lost whatever energy taunting Raven had given him, and he slumped back into the realm of apathy.
 "Though I do want to find my room already," he said with a slight, tired sigh. He glanced about the area before he realized the action wasn't worth the effort and stopped. Simply searching for a room conveniently labeled "Fifth's Sleeping Quarters" would get him nowhere- heck, most likely there wasn't even a specific room set up for him currently, and so his intuition couldn't possibly point him towards the proper place to go. If he wanted to get his room assignment he would have to ASK somebody for it... and the mere thought of alerting his presence to someone ready to make him toil under bureaucratic leader nonsense made Zach recoil in horror.
 Instead, he decided to let somebody else take that bullet.
 "I got us this far," he said suddenly, turning to Raven, "All the way to camp. Can't you at least find out where everything else is? At least go check in with the ones currently in charge?"
 The Fifth put all his annoyance into the command and hoped for the best result.
 

 "Yes, you can help," Eva nodded to Guithe, and swept the young girl inside the room while promising to show her how to set up the cage.
 Pedro touched Xela's arm lightly before she could enter after them, and he frowned as he made a vague hand gesture towards the green card in Xela's hands.
 "We have one also," Pedro explained simply, then decided to elaborate, "A summonings card. I and Evinha have one."
 He scratched at the side of his face as if thinking. "We leave tomorrow, at five in the morning, to the rocky front lines. You could have a different time or day or area."
 Staring at Xela's green card again, Pedro let out a tiny sigh and asked,"You are the only person caring for Guithe, right? Do you need somebody to care for her when you leave?
 I know some good people," he offered, looking at Xela with an expression reflecting his completely sincerity, "Nice people. Very nice people. They can help."


The stifling desert heat was little comfort to Naji as he wandered around the Glaeroe camp.
 His large sun hat barely blocked the blistering rays from above; what sunlight it did absorb only served to heat up his hat's cloth and make his head bead with sweat.
 Feeling easily winded in the heat, Naji found yet another supply crate to sit on and prayed a pair of goofballs wouldn't suddenly appear to frighten him off of this one. Nothing of that sort happened, so Naji contented himself with watching the camp's life move around him.
 A girl fluttered past him, her eyes searching the tents with a worried expression, as if she was searching for something she'd just lost. Another girl stomped past, a large sack of something heavy thrown over her broad, powerful shoulders. A boy followed this girl, apparently trying to get her to let him help, but he kept being snubbed. If Naji glanced a little to his left, he could see a person straining to set up a tent and putting all their effort into the project, but to his right there was a person somehow sleeping in an upright position by leaning against a stack of crates. Both these people were clearly to be respected, one for their determination and the other for their ability to achieve the impossible, and Naji watched them both go about their lives with a dulled interest.
 He finally settled on observing a large group of five teens as they sat in a semicircle and loudly talked while making large, sweeping gestures with their hands. Three girls; two boys. They all seemed to be having a nice enough time, despite everything. Perhaps they were all friends... or maybe just all teammates who were all on good terms with each other. Those were, of course, two different things.
 A sudden movement in the group caught Naji's attention, and he froze when one of them- a girl- caught his eyes and pointed to him while saying something to the others. Cheeks glowing red, Naji quickly turned his face away, trying to pretend he hadn't just been staring at them.
 His shift in gaze did nothing to fool the group however, and Naji chided himself for being so awkward- watching people of all things- as he saw the same girl getting up and walking over to confront him, her short blonde ponytail swinging threateningly with ever step she took.
 Naji steeled himself for a tongue lashing- something about him being a strange creeper who shouldn't be staring at random people. A weak defense formed in his mind, and he prepared his case carefully, thinking over what he would say.
I'm sorry, I wasn't trying to stare! I didn't mean to offend you or your friends! I stare at everybody! Uh, not in a creepy way! I just think people are interesting! But not in a creepy way!!!
 ...Even in his own mind, Naji realized with bitter acceptance, he was socially awkward.
 He came to terms with the fact that he would have no excuse to give the girl when she started yelling at him, and he slunk backwards as she approached him in anticipation for the harsh words.
 But nothing he expected came, for the least of everything he had expected was the pleasant "Hi!" he received.
 Naji stared. The girl squirmed awkwardly after a few seconds before saying, "Are you okay? You shouldn't stare. It isn't polite."
 The irony of her words didn't escape the boy, but he was too busy turning as red as a tomato to find anything funny about it.
"Uh," he blinked, feeling dumb.
 "I'm Naji. No, wait," he stammered out in an attempt to correct himself, "I meant to say 'I'm okay'! But I'm Naji... too."  His voice quietened and, defeated, he added lamely, "Naji is my name."
 The girl smiled back, seemingly oblivious to Naji's awkward struggles. "I'm Amy!" she introduced herself while flipping her ponytail tail over her shoulder. She continued, "Are you new to the Glaeroes?" Naji nodded.
 "You looked like it," she remarked, happy to be correct, "You have that lost new kid air to you."
"Uh, thanks?" Naji said cautiously, not knowing how to reply.
 His confusion continued as Amy grabbed his hand, yanking him off of the crate, and began pulling him towards her group.
 "Have no fear," Amy grinned ear to ear,"for you have friends here! ...Or at least you will after I introduce you to everybody!"
 Naji resisted Amy's forceful tugging until it became obvious that he couldn't escape her vice grip unless he chewed his own arm off. After he stopped struggling, he allowed himself to be pulled towards his fate and wondered to himself if having to meet new people would really be that bad.
 Naji looked towards Amy's group and saw four faces grinning towards him, eight eyes locked on him, and an uncountable number of words and questions waiting to be thrown at him as if he was in a cruel game of dodgeball. Panic seizing him, Naji stared at the pale hand gripping his wrist and desperately tried to think up a plan of escape.
 ...
 Okay, it was official.
 His arm would have to go.

asi • 12 March 2015 at 1:30 PM

It was a rather prolonged stare that Xela gave him, as she turned over what Pedro had said and the intents behind it. The offer was not, in actuality, a completely unwelcome one. She may have known Lich longer- a few whole days longer- but these two near strangers seemed leagues ahead in terms of trustworthy. Not to mention the fact that ferrets were definitely more child-friendly than knives. What a competition it was.
Without offering any sort of explaination, she pressed her green card into Pedro's hands and looked away, eyes on Guithe, only saying, "I'll talk to her 'big brother' tonight." There was certainly some contempt in the emphasis, and Xela showed her usual frustrated expression. "But I don't expect much from him. For someone in charge, he has the sense of responsibility of a... Well..." Metaphors. Apparently not her strongest suit. "Something that doesn't have any at all," she finished lamely, shrugging her shoulders.
Seeing how cheerfully Guithe worked together with Eva for her new pet, the power felt again that strange warm feeling which she hadn't a name for...
The most important thing was that Guithe went through no levels of security, unless Septa somehow had a hand in it. Otherwise, Xela would just be returning the kid to her tormentors. She definitely didn't intend to do that.
Grudgingly, the redhead added; "But at least then I'll know what's going on."


Vivian had clearly found the shocked look she received satisfactory, as she promptly plowed on, as cleanly as possible laying the facts bare. "This would encompass lessons on not only the usual sparring, but also commanding and participating in both small and large scale operations and defensive procedures, all possible administrative tasks, and social tutorials. Understand that this would mean I would be grooming you as my replacement. While First Assistant is a position with many privileges very few will ever experience, it is not compatible with the usual career path of Leadership. No further promotion will be available to you. It is, to put it bluntly, a dead end. However, while lacking the freedom to exercise one's own control over your men, you do have direct control over the Falchion's strongest troops. Not only that, but the level of respect gained... Think of it this way. Apart from perhaps Two, First's assistant is the person standing closest to One. Their left hand, so to speak. The person who recieves the orders from the highest authority of the Falchions, and personally ensures that they are carried out... Even if Two is officially your superior, there is only one person you need follow, unless their word says otherwise. So-"
So wrapped up was she in her compelling lecture, it wasn't until Lily actually spoke that Vivian realized the girl hadn't been looking at her, but just over her shoulder the entire time.
"Harry? What are you doing here?"
Inclined as the icy blonde always was to ignore such impertinent interruptions and simply bulldoze her way onwards in such a demanding manner that whoever it was had no choice but to listen- this time Gold was really interested in what could have distracted her little captive quite so completely. Her pale blue eyes thinned unpleasantly and she turned her head and upper body right around to just /glare/ at whatever it was.
And saw nothing. Because no matter where she looked behind her, there was nothing of interest to see. Just the normal array of First D kids milling around- with a single glance Gold could tell there was no one of strength to note. So how could anyone here, all being so far below herself, warrant such attention?
Well, there was only one person walking directly towards their table- that wasn't exactly hard to spot. Vivian supposed dryly that she'd know soon enough.
"Ba da da ba dum!" the guy said loudly and out of tune as he scrapped a chair over to their table to sit between the girls, planting his elbow on centre stage and leering at the blonde assistant. "Hey barbie. How you doin'."
Cringing appropriately, Lily leaned drastically to the side, both to put distance between herself and the intruder, and to glance a little desperately at her superior- who as it happened, was looking like she'd been stunned into stone. Seeing no immediate assistance was forthcoming, Lily was forced to face the guy and say, "Excuse me, that wasn't an invitation- was that supposed to be the McDonald's theme?" she realized suddenly, crashing off her thought rails.
"Yup," he said, fishing his sandwich from his paper bag and taking a big munch out of it. "I suppose this'll do. But isn't this supposed to be First's cafeteria? How hard is it really to get a cheap, greasy burger," he complained, pausing to swallow the now mushed contents of his mouth.
"Exactly," Lily hissed, struggling to avoid looking at his face in horror of his bad table manners. "So what are you doing here!"
"Hey, you called me over," he shrugged, continuing to eat his breakfast and put the blonde off hers.
"Yes, because- because," she spluttered.
A genuine look of concern crossed his face. "Hey, don't push yourself so hard, barbs. Me and my muscles can't always be around to carry you to the infirmary," he sighed.
"I'm assistant to third!" Lily burst out furiously. "I don't need your help!" He was just some mid-ranked Ninth worker, for pity's sake!
"Yeah," he said, as if the fact still surprised him. "It's such a big role for a little girl. If you ever need anything, you just say the word barbie."
She was rendered so incredulous by this that she didn't think, just exlaimed loudly; "Your boss is a little girl!"
"Yeah," Ford repeated, looking increasingly confused. "But she's not, you know, like a /girly/ girl. She's like a man with them muscles," he smirked, flexing his own. "Really, not so little, she's like taller than me."
Shooting yet another pleading stare at Vivian, Lily couldn't help but notice the even higher density of muscles belonging to the girl opposite her. Sh*t. So, not the best example. "Seven and One," she began-
Of course that was when Vivian interfered. "Was there anything else," she said sharply, and before he knew it Ford had jumped to his feet, breakfast forgotten. It seemed he hadn't taken any notice of her at all before now. "Uhhh no sir," he mouthed, wide eyes and feet backing away.
"Are you certain?" Vivian inquired suspiciously.
Ford squeezed his eyes tight, blinked and remembered. "Oh yeah. Barbie, Nine wants to see you. You should, like, go see her... And uh, so should I."
Satisfied, Vivian handed him his lunch bag and he hurried away.
After the tide of frustration welling in Lily had slowly ebbed away, she turned to Gold and asked, "Were you testing me?"
"Yes, I was. It was interesting to see how you tried to deal with that attitude."
Rather slyly Lily added, "But you were also just a bit surprised by what an incredible as*hole he is."
"... Perhaps just a bit," Vivian allowed, still looking after the guy in disgust. "About my offer," she reminded. "I have only the time One allows, so the sooner I can arrange space with them the better."
This quickly brought the Third assistant up to her feet. "I- I'll think about it," she told her, then gestured awkwardly in the direction Ford had took off. "But right now I should, you know."
"Very well," Vivian said, and watched yet another person scuttle away from her in fear. Slowly, she took out her own breakfast and ate efficiently, all the while her characteristic expression warding off any unwelcome guests.
Instead of her second-old promise, as she walked, Lily thought about how that jerk Ford could have gotten in. For a message as lame as that, he shouldn't have been allowed inside- and definitely not have gotten his hands on a nice, nutritious First division meal. What was Nine thinking? That was the kind of thing her assistant was for- who was, incidentally, a MUCH nicer guy. Anyway, Karen seemed to want to talk, so Lily guessed she'd find out.
Dam*it. She'd forgotten her sandwich.

demon • 12 March 2015 at 3:15 PM

"Fine," Raven said coldly. "You wait here then."
Without waiting for his agreement she left promptly, almost eager for the task that gave her a moment's respite from the guy. The excess walking, however, only made her resentment burn stronger and Raven was soon dutifullly searching around her for tell-tale signs of an office block. In a dusty maze of shabby tents, assorted clothing items hanging out like thirsty tongues from their open flaps; with no sign posts, not even for the bathrooms to be seen, it didn't seem like an easy task. Talking to someone seemed like the easy solution, but executing that was a little more difficult. Everyone looked so busy, and she ended up hesitating just a bit too long to actually interrupt them.
All the while she thought about what Zach had said.
She wasn't worried about him- she wasn't. She wasn't scared at all of him and she certainly didn't, to any degree whatsoever, care about him. Not one bit. She was just... Going to do her job. And try her best to be at least a passable excuse for a decent human being, like Riley, and not get everyone she knew killed. Excluding Zach of course.
It was then that Raven abruptly felt something shift behind her, and her tired body whirled around, a cry half-swallowed in her throat.
A mass of dreadlocks stood there, reaching one long, skinny and unwashed tendril out towards her... No, it was a person, just a slip of one really, about to tap her on the shoulder and frozen in surprise from her sudden movement. So thin and flat was the person that with their face hidden by said hairstyle, Raven really couldn't tell what gender they were.
"Um... Hello," Raven tried, feeling a strange amount of shyness.
When the... Person just sort of shook their body, she got the idea that it had less to do with her and more to do with whatever it was that this person just emanated. Very contagious discomfort, perhaps.
Finally, they spoke. "You, your footsteps looked confused. Are you lost?"
"Er..." It was no good! Even though so many words had been said, and the voice had been clear and strong enough, Raven still hadn't a clue if it was a girl or a boy. Then she remembered that she had actually been asked a very good question. This was her chance! "I'm Five's assistant, could you direct me to the one in charge here? Also," she recalled her boss' tired sigh. "Maybe his new room? You should know he's taking command here," she clarified, unsure of exactly how much the lower class were informed of here.
The strange kid- or was it a young adult? Impossible to tell- darted their already partially extended arm out and snatched Raven's own.
"Hey-" Raven snapped, but all Dreadlocks (as she'd predictably dubbed them) was doing was staring at her numbers. She relaxed.
When Dreadlocks recited aloud not her current, three-digit First Division set, but her old erased Second D one, that's when she was startled. "How'd you do that? Can you see the past?"
"Naw," Dreadlocks shrugged, dropping her arm suddenly. "I got impressionism. Come, I will take you to the boss." He- for Raven had suddenly got a strong 'he' vibe as the hair flopped away from 'his face- turned and began leading her back (the way she'd come, to her annoyance).
"So... I'm guessing you didn't mean like the art?" she probed eventually, feeling the question itch at her skin.
"More like I can see the faintest impressions left in materials. Your skin, the ground here. But not in unforgiving things such as metal. Headquarters was terrible, barely even dust to read," Dreadlocks moped.
"Ah," Raven said, and couldn't help but feel lucky she'd gotten something as flashy and downright useful as shadow manipulation. Until, of course, she went and lost it.
The two both descended into a brooding silence as they navigated their way through the camp.

"So how much should I be trembling in my boots right now?" Raven wondered, watching as the scenery slowly transformed around the two of them. Her sharp eyes noticed first the warping of the structural support- it looked like some user with control of wood had come along at some point after the original construction and done a little strengthening and extending job. Then the tents disappeared to make way for the fully wooden interior of the burrow- no doubt the initial camp, when this place was just a small outpost instead of the major battlement it was today. It was actually near the outside, since the Falchions had dug increasingly further into the hill with their eventual need for space, but the sheer size and length of the camp washed away any embarrassment Raven may have felt on failing to locate it. Later, she would definitely have to spend some time pouring over a map of the place.
Looking across at her still-silent companion, Raven caught what she assumed was Dreadlocks' facial area angled down towards her feet...
The assistant frowned. "It's an expression. I'd just like to know a little about what to expect."
When Dreadlocks spoke, she thought she heard a bit of a smile in their- his- quiet tone. "I know, I was only thinking boots might have been a more sensible footing choice than stilts."
"Don't think I haven't realized that already," scowled Ravel, feeling the word 'stilts' ringing with a mocking tone in her head, and her regret rose with every echo. (They had only very small heels, really! Otherwise she'd never have made it here!)
Dreadlocks held the door open for her and Raven had to ask herself; how many guys did she know who actually did that? In a world populated with jerks like Five, was she sure she wasn't mistaken on this one's gender?
...No, wait, she knew Riley. She was pretty sure she'd actually seen that passive guy do that. He was so weird. Sometimes she thought he was kind of like a girl.
Raven was about 80% sure Dreadlocks was a guy.
"Some, ah, advice... You'd be better off seeing Viki in bare feet," he told her from behind his curtain of hair.
Still, examining the dust-laden wood, Raven didn't feel the urge to kick her shoes off in a hurry. Instead, she focused on; "Viki?"
"Yeah, that's the boss. The veteran, I think that's what they say back at Headquarters, right?"
Raven nodded.
"Well, you seem pretty well informed to me," Dreadlocks shrugged and came to a stop, pulling open the inconspicuous office door in front of them.
"What do you mean?" asked Raven, pausing before she entered.
"You said that thing about trembling," he pointed out.
"Yes?"
"Well, that's the sort of thing they all say," Dreadlocks replied simply, and the dark-haired assistant began to get an inkling about what she was in for...

TBC! O:

taffy789 • 27 March 2015 at 12:13 AM

Pedro paled when he realized there were TWO lines of numbers on the card Xela handed him. After reading it over again and making sure his eyes were working properly, he handed the card back to Xela, his mood grim. "Yes, ask about what is going on. This should not happen. She does not need to go the front lines."
 Growing even more serious, Pedro said, "Ask her big brother what is going on and if he caused /this/" -here he pointed to the summonings card "-then you punch him. Hard."
 To demonstrate for her, he punched the side of the cardboard box of pet supplies he was still holding. As an helpful afterthought, he added, "The nose hurts a lot and a kick to the below areas will too."
 His free hand moved to his cheek and he began to rub at his dark stubble with forceful, anxious motions.
 "I can not help you anymore because I have to leave, but if you ever need any help..." Pedro stared at Xela, trying to convey how important this information was through sheer force of expression, "then go to the mess hall and ask for Toni. When he comes then you should say that you know Pedro and Eva. He can be very helpful and he will help you."
 Glancing through the doorway at Guithe, Pedro watched the little girl help Eva in putting the finishing touches on the cage. He closed his eyes and let out a downcast sigh before looking back at Xela.
 "This is no place for a child, and I will not say that I am happy she is here, for whatever reason she is here. I pray to God that you can care for her," he told Xela with utter honesty, "because it is so hard to protect anything here.
But ," he continued, turning back towards the doorway, " you probably know this. Sorry."
With that, Pedro walked through the door, over to where the girls already sat, and then sat down himself, placing the box of pet supplies down near him.
 "The cage looks nice," he remarked casually to Guithe as he settled down on the floor, "Rambo will like the change of place, I think. Everyone needs change sometimes."
 Reaching out, Pedro opened the cage door, so the ferret to could freely come and go as it pleased.
"All the supplies and some papers that tell you how to care for Rambo are in the box," Pedro continued to explain, "so you can tell your big sister to read the hard instructions to you."
 Now, Pedro's hand moved to Rambo's head, and he gave the ferret a nice pat. "Guithe, I and Evinha have to go soon."
 "Yeah," Eva confirmed while her hands fixed a final latch on the cage, "we need to get going. Things to do and the such."


Ten minutes after Raven had left the side of her boss, a Falchion soldier stumbled upon a person he thought looked familiar.
 "Hey," the young soldier asked, shuffling up to the familiar person awkwardly, "Are you... the Fifth leader? Uh, sir."
 The question was met with a long, steely silence.
 The soldier felt the suspected leader's stare burrowing into him ,and suddenly he regretted starting the conversation.
 As the staring contest stretched further on, the soldier began to consider slipping away, but then the familiar person finally spoke up.
 "No."
 The soldier blinked. He'd stood around for a good minute to get a one syllable reply? Had it really taken the strange guy that long to decide if he was the Fifth leader or not..?
 "Uh," the soldier hesitated, unsure of what else to say to that, "okay, sure." After he said that, the other guy's dirty grimace only hardened, growing more ugly.
 Throughly freaked out, and even more confused, the soldier tried to think of a way out of this snowballing conversation.
"Uh," he coughed, "I... have to go... do things now. Sorry for mistaking you, I guess..?"
The other guy did not reply to the soldier; he instead turned wordlessly away.
The soldier, exasperated, had zero clue to what that reaction was supposed to mean.

asi • 6 April 2015 at 8:52 AM

There was no one in the office and Raven felt pretty dumb for ever expecting there to be. This veteran pretty much ran this whole front lines operation by themself, right? In many places Raven knew the leaders, sitting at their desks back at Headquarters, couldn't seem more distant to the warriors stuck out here and actually fighting. As the veteran had to seem like the sole authority for many, it had to be a busy job.
And this was a front line, after all. Raven had spotted enough kids grim-faced and fully armed to see what kind of no-fuss attitude survived here.
Dreadlocks sat down behind the desk labelled vaguely, "Management," and picked up the landline phone. Actually, that desk was the biggest in the room, so this was probably in fact the office of that managing assistant, and not the veteran.
"Wait, are you?" Raven eyed suspiciously how Dreadlocks half-heartedly picked at the hopeless mess of papers while apparently waiting patiently for the phone.
They- he, right? For sure- swept a hand across them and left it looking more dumpy than ever, if a little more artistically done. "Dreadlocks are a sign of rank 'round here," he said, winding a couple around the coiled phone cord and back.
Raven felt a chill seep into her bones as she contemplated the implications of such a thing.
He gave her what she thought was a stealthy sideways glance. "Is what Viki says to say every time someone questions my place."
"Oh. Right. Okay," she replied, immeasurably relieved. Er, dreadlocks looked fine on Dreadlocks and everything, but it wasn't a look everyone could pull of, you know?
The guy nodded slowly as if to say, uh huh, he knew. Then he grabbed a spoon and a peanut butter jar and started eating. Apparently the phone wasn't something you used in a hurry.
About three minutes later, when Raven had just gotten used to that spoon-sucking sound, Dreadlocks seemed to have judged her un-phased enough to graduate to using fingers, which, by the skill with which he wielded them, was clearly the norm.
"Um-" Raven started, unsure whether or not to settle in for a long wait.
"Shhh."
"Huh?"
"Shhhh. This is good song," he whispered to her, pressing the headset back to his ear, sucking idly on his buttery index finger.
Right...
"Ah. Hey you, it's me again." Raven perked up in hope, he was finally talking to someone. "Naw, it's not that. I got Five's pretty assistant here to go in. Eh? Well I don't know. Pretty. Yeah not really. Where's Viki at? Oh, okay. What, should you? Probably not. You can try. Is that very allowed though? Nah, but- don't do that. What?" Here he made a strange sneezing noise. "You've got issues girl. He said that? Well what were you even listening for... Whatever. I don't get it. Naw I got to keep this brief. That is not it. Just let me know when- okay. Alright. Get me the one about them halos. Yeah, that's the one. Haha very funny. What about you actually do some work? Mmhmm. Yeah okay. See you later." And that was all that came out of that conversation.
Once several more minutes passed by; "You can take a seat wherever," Dreadlocks told her, gesturing nowhere in particular.
"Thanks," Raven said, looking at the closest chairs, which were piled up with... Sweaters and dirty mugs and things... And the further stool things, that had been repurposed as filing cabinets.
Right...
It had been a while since Raven was at her orphanage, and longer still since she'd been a 'child' there, but this felt a lot like back then. Could she drudge deep enough into her soul to find the mindset which had got her through that world?
When she shoved a bunch of crap off the guy's desk and took a seat there, he gave her a thumbs up. So she guessed she still had it. Thank god for that because she ended up waiting like another ten minutes.

***

When Raven finally reappeared back where she'd left her leader all those minutes ago, she looked rather worse for wear. A bit like something had shook her really hard and then she'd fallen over and patiently gathered a layer of dust. Also she was carrying her shoes, one of which had its heel snapped clean off. Not that they'd been great quality, but-
"Well," she managed to say, when she wasn't preoccupied with swaying dizzily on her bare feet. "They know you're here. And I know where your room is. So, I guess..."
She and her newfound jelly-legs lead the way.


When she looked over at the two figures in the doorway, Xela was listening intently as Pedro talked, apparently with his hands as much as his mouth. Guithe watched them carefully, like a hawk, and each little expression they made was turned over in her brain like pancakes served by a master pancake chef until they were microanalysed for slightest meaning beyond doubt... And still her verdict did not change. it seemed like her Big Sister Xela... Actually liked her new Tio Dro! Guithe was so thrilled.
Then Eva moved something on the cage and brought Guithe's attention back to the mission at hand, and also the large ferret still resting heavily on her shoulder.
When Tio Dro came over, Guithe followed her big sister's example and paid good attention again.
"Okay," she chirped happily when he told her they were leaving. "Bye Tio Dro, bye Miss Evinha! I'll see you again soon!" she jumped up to walk them over to the door and stand by Xela while she waved them off.
Tugging at her big sister's sleeve, Guithe was sure to use her most innocent eyes as she said in her outdoor voice; "Xe-Xe, you like Tio Dro a lot, don't you?"
"Not at all!" Xela answered even louder.
"Then, do you think Tio Dro like-likes Miss Evinha a lot?" Guithe wondered.
"... Yes! That's definitely it," Xela was willing to say anything as long as it didn't involve her anymore.
"A threesome is something you can have, right?" the kid continued to question.
"What... NO," Xela gaped at Guithe. "No it's not."
"Really? Because Big Brother Lich-y said-" she tilted her head cutely.
"I'm afraid you're not going to have a big brother very much longer, Guithe..."


"-but this is important, so don't screw it up," Karen was saying, tone heavy with dismissal and very much sounding like just like she'd just finished a long tirade of instructions, Lily could tell.
The blonde stepped into the room in time to see that irritating mediocre fellow Ford accepting a pile of papers from her friend and turning to leave- in Lily's direction. He looked up as he approached her, and put on a dumb face as if he were about to start senselessly teasing her as always... But instead Ford glanced quickly down at his burden, like he was worried about dropping them, and hurried past. Without so much as a word.
Her stomach stewing with equal parts curiosity and annoyance, Lily greeted the ninth leader. "Karen, hi, I heard you wanted to talk to me."
She looked surprised, and something else, oddly hesitant. "Oh... Yes, it's not urgent though, I didn't expect you so soon. Ford told me you were talking to the first assistant. You shouldn't drop her to see me, I'm much less important."
Yes, Lily knew that, hadn't Vivian spent a good ten minutes bragging about her own importance right to Lily's face? "I know that," she said quietly. "But her... Issue, it wasn't urgent either."
Much to her impatience, Karen appeared only somewhat appeased by this. "Okay, but, what was it she wanted from you anyway?"
Lily also found the emphasis on 'from you' distasteful, but did her best to keep her rising annoyance in check. Now, it was very tempting to lie here, or merely avoid the question, but as soon as she thought that, a wave of guilt washed over her. Karen had already broke a number of strict rules telling Lily things she oughtn't, just because the two of them had promised way back in Super School not to keep secrets, along with the rest of their group. Of course, Alex had broken that long ago, but her, Karen, Danielle, Stella until she...
Nine would find out sooner or later anyway, so Lily just said it. "She was offering to train me as her successor."
"Seriously? Lily, that's great!" Karen was so rarely enthusiastic about things, the assistant found herself wishing she hadn't chosen now.
"Y-yeah, I know... But anyway... Anyway, what was Harry doing here, and there, in the first division, you know you're not supposed to send-"
Initially bewildered by the name choice, Karen still worked fast enough to interrupt her. "You mean Ford? He- he's my new assistant." Her face was as straight as a brand new nail as she spoke.
"Ford is a dumb name he uses because he thinks it sounds cool," Lily replied scornfully, before the second part of what her friend had said hit her. "What do you mean, assistant? He's not even highly ranked in your division, I mean no offense, but only the best get into First Division. You and I know how tough that is, no way could Ford make that," she laughed a little at the idea, Karen had to be having her on.
"No... I really made him my assistant," Nine tried to insist, alarmed by the way the blonde seemed to be having none of it.
"Honestly? I'm not buying this Karen, and YOUR assistant? Don't tell me you got rid of Tyler, I know how hard he works for you! Why would you do... Something... Like... That..." She trailed off as her eyes began to drink in how stony Karen's expression remained.
"He's dead. Danielle- no, Danielle's power k-killed him..." Even Nine's voice trembled on the d*miming word. And although her gaze had been firmly locked on to Lily's the whole time, she gave a long blink and when her eyelids lifted, the leader was actually avoiding the contact.
"... Dani's dead?" Lily asked, watching as her friend finally dared meet her eyes again. Stoic Karen looking so discomforted really was a strange sight...
Around them in the hall, Lily eventually noticed how the occasional worker continued to busy away, 'busily' not listening at all... Turning back to Karen, she suggested; "Let's go to a private room."
"Yes," Karen only agreed and trailed behind, looking uncommonly disconnected.

taffy789 • 9 April 2015 at 6:50 PM

Geraldo, Raquel, Esperanza, Gabriel.
 After they had taken their seats amongst the circle of people, Amy had pointed towards each head, naming each person so fast that Naji forgot who to call what and what to call who.
 He had never been good at remembering names but felt rather confident that Geraldo and Gabriel had to be the guys... which left the last two names for the girls. That gave him a fifty/fifty chance of getting each name right, and those odds lifted a small weight off Naji's troubled mind. As he continued to assure himself that he would most certainly- hopefully- maybe?- survive this conversation, one of the boys prompted him with a question.
 "So, Non He," the boy began, but he didn't get far as Amy quickly snapped back, "I said his name was NAJI!"
"SO NAJI," the boy started again, this time with a roll of his eyes followed by a pleased grin from Amy, "you're new here, to the Glaeroes and stuff?"
 Naji gave a small affirmative nod.
 "That's cool," the boy continued, "So, where were you before you came here? I was stationed at Espada myself."
 "Same with me," said one of the two girls.
 "Same," echoed Amy.
 Where was he before IOD? Naji remembered his nice, two story house in Maine all too clearly, but he had a feeling that wasn't what the boy was asking about. His memories switched to the strange school the government had forced him into... The hellish one he'd only stayed in for a month before the government again moved him, deciding his knack for healing would be better suited for the battle field. He recalled the fenced off grey building jutting up from a monotone plain in the middle of nowhere. It was a desolate school more likened to a penitentiary than an a proper place for education. 
What he couldn't remember, however, was what it was called. The students had only referred to it as the "school"- or in more hushed, quiet tones, the "prison". And although Naji knew school did have a unique name, he couldn't for the life of him remember what it was. Leeman's? Jackman's? Ackman's? Had it even ended with a "man" or was it a "son"? Apparently the group knew the exact name of whatever school they had gone to, so Naji felt out of the loop not caring enough to have committed his school name to memory. 
 Not wanting to not give the boy an answer, Naji did whatever any sensible person would do in his situation. He made stuff up.
 "I went to Jameson's," he replied with a shrug.
 The boy who'd asked the question furrowed his eyebrows. "Jameson's? I've never heard of that place before."
Naji began to sweat some, the word "crap" now echoing multiple times in his head.
 "The Glaeroes have training facilities all over the world," Amy answered for Naji, shaking her head at the other boy, "so of course there would be places you haven't heard of."
 "True," the boy admitted after a short period of silence.
Ironic, Naji thought as the group settled down around him, saved by the very person who had pulled him into this unpleasant situation to begin with.
 "So Naji," Amy said with a smile, turning towards him, "you DID come from a training facility? Not like, a place for research or anything, right?"
 "Yeah," Naji replied, remembering the training grounds at the school, with the yelling coaches and dangerous obstacle courses, "Yeah you could say that."
 Amy gave a victorious grin to the rest of the group.
 "Can I pick 'em or can I pick 'em guys? I told you guys he was just like us." The group shrugged their shoulders in reluctant agreement, with the exception of the one silent girl, who was too busy listening to the whispers of the second boy, the one who hadn't spoke yet.
Turning her grin towards Naji, Amy continued, voice growing both louder and more excited with every word that shot forth from her mouth, "Let me guess- you're new to the official Glaeroe army. You kinda had that lost puppy look that all of us had at one point or another, so I just knew you were just like us! I know that being here, on the Front Lines, can be a bit overwhelming and everything because you're finally expected to put all your training to use in real practice to defeat as many Falchiones as you can BUT-" a great gasp cut her endless string of words, and she refilled her lungs for the big finish- "BUT YOU'RE HERE WITH US NOW AND WE CAN HELP YOU!" 
Excitement overflowing, she threw her arms around Naji, crushing his frail frame in her mighty and powerful arms and accidentally knocking his wide-brimmed hat from his head.
 When he was finally released, Naji struggled to breath- gasping, sweating, fearing a rib bone had snapped off and stabbed a hole into his lungs. It soon became clear he wasn't marked for death, and he recovered slowly, trying to make heads or tails of Amy's waterfall of information and failing to understand any of it at all.
 So all he said was a wheezing "thank you" as he doubled over in pain.
 "Amy, I think you broke him, " spoke up the only other talkative girl.
 "I didn't!" Amy defended herself, but became doubtful after her eyes drifted to the hunched-over figure of Naji gasping next to her. As if trying to help him, she bent over, plucked Naji's hat from the sand, dusted it off, and plopped it back on to his head.
 Shaking his head, the boy who'd questioned Naji critiqued, "You're arms are too strong. I told you to stop working out your top so much and start concentrating more on your leg muscles. Or else things like this happen and then, next thing you know, you become top heavy and can't walk without tipping over."
 "Shut up Gabe!" Amy groaned. "There's no point in leg work-outs! My legs are too stocky to run fast anyway!" 
 While Amy elaborated on how she couldn't run due to awful genetics, Naji ignored the lingering vibrations of pain resonating over his entire body to make the mental note that Gaberiel was the incredibly short boy with sandy hair and a tendency to ask a lot of difficult questions. That made the other boy- a darker, more quiet type- Geraldo. With that done, he was left with only the girls to figure out, which shouldn't be THAT difficult. Maybe, Naji wondered, sitting himself up on his makeshift crate-for-a-seat, just maybe things would finally begin improving.


"Good," was that Zach said, leaving the confused soldier to follow Raven.
 As his assistant led the way through the turning and twisting of the camp, Zach soaked in the mob of faces around him and a twinge of disdain flew through him at the thought of all of those people coming to bother him.
...Well, coming to bother his assistant. Handling all the people with the really annoying questions would be another duty he would give to her, of course.
 Thinking of Raven further, he glanced at her again as they walked, and he watched at the swaying motion of her bare feet with silent interest.
  Obviously, something somewhere had gone wrong. After some consideration, he decided to nicely- tactfully- ask her what had happened.
 "God Shadow," he said, giving her another look over, "I told you go find the veteran not get mauled by a pack of rabid moose."


As they moved out of earshot, Pedro and Eva began a discussion in Spanish.*
 "According to the little green card," Pedro frowned, "both of them are going to the front lines."
 Surprised, Eva bit her bottom lip, and the two walked further down the hallway in silence as Eva began to think.
 Pedro knew better than to try to talk with his friend when she got into these kinds of moods, so he instead grabbed one of Eva's hands and began to absentmindedly play with her fingers while she drifted further into her land of deep thought.
 Finally, she came to a conclusion.
 "We have to fix this. We have to tell somebody."
 "Who would we tell?" Pedro questioned, as gentle with his words as somebody in the middle of calmly refusing a marriage proposal. He continued to trace his own fingers over the ones on Eva's hand, and he then said, "Septa's involved with those girls. We have no influence with him, and I think he's the only one who can do anything about it."
 "Of course I wasn't thinking about going to Septa about this," Eva stated rather matter-of-factly.
Understanding, Pedro dropped Eva's hand, grimacing. "Dia can't do crap about this."
 "Dro," Eva sighed, "She's the second highest in command. You underestimate her."
 "And you overestimate her," Pedro bit back.
 Eva closed her eyes and chewed at her bottom lip again before saying, "I'm still going to tell her. It's only right for us to do."
Begrudgingly, Pedro admitted, "I know that." After a short thought, he added, "But she's gone now anyway. And she can't come back to the base, so it's not like she can do anything about it now."
 Eva nodded. "She'll come to A-I soon enough. We can tell her then."
 "Sure," Pedro agreed, perhaps a bit half-heartedly, "sure."
 They walked barely a foot farther before he blurted out, "I still think that she won't be able to do crap, but yeah, sure."
It was then Eva's job to remind Pedro to be less pessimistic about his superiors.

((*As in, the entire following conversation would most accurately be translated into Spanish, but will not be because:
 1. Eggcave says to use mostly English and
 2. This author is too lazy to translate it all even though she probably could if she wanted make the other author annoyed/show off.))

asi • 24 April 2015 at 1:43 AM

Time passed particularly slowly for Xela once their two visitors had left. While Guithe grew quickly absorbed in watching Rambo assess his hot new crib, the power could scarcely concentrate on anything but that impertinent piece of green card. Such was her focus that she didn't notice what she was doing until the card started smoldering. Hurriedly she pushed her gaze elsewhere, roaming over the room without seeing anything as her foot tapped away the minutes.
"Xe-Xe, look, I drew him," the child held up her coloring book for her caretaker to see, showing how she had repurposed the sky as Rambo's cage.
Unknowingly echoing just about every parent ever, Xela replied inattentively, "That's nice."
"You didn't look," Guithe pouted.
"I'm looking," the power protested, now that she was actually doing so. "Nice. Well done. I like... His nose," she said randomly.
"Oh... I forgot that." The page was hastily lowered so Guithe could scribble it in. "Better?" she asked hopefully.
"Sure," Xela made an effort to sound positive this time.
"I'm going to give him a Glaeroes uniform, so he can look just like part of the team!"
Yeah, Xela wasn't going to try faking enthusiasm for that. She just sighed as the kid went back to drawing. Septa still wasn't there.
After a while, Guithe put down her pencils. "Xe-Xe, you seem really uncomfortable."
"It's nothing."
"Are you bored? You can color in too. I'll share my pencils if it's Big Sister Xe-Xe," the kid offered with only a hint of reluctance.
"I just want Septa to hurry up and get here!"
"Oh..." Guithe went back to drawing. Then, after a dozen more minutes had passed, approached Xela with a piece of paper.
"... What is this," the power asked eventually.
"It's Big Brother Lich-y."
Guithe really wasn't a very good drawer. Especially for her age.
"You keep it," Xela said, pushing it away as a feeling of nausea began to well up in her stomach just from looking at a childish depiction of the guy. On second thought, maybe Guithe wasn't such a bad artist- she seemed to have captured the essence of the subject.
"But I don't want Big Brother to get here too quickly..." At Xela's curious expression, she explained; "If he is in a hurry, how will he be able to bring me ice cream?"
Dryly the redhead couldn't help but counter, "Draw him with some ice cream then."
Guithe thought about it. "I'll do that if you help me give Rambo his outfit," she bartered.
Seeing how miserably far the Rambo doodles were from the rodent being successfully clothed, Xela finally surrendered. "Fine, fine." Alex had had at least a passable hand at drawing, right? Surely Xela could improve a little on THAT monstrosity before her...
"... Big Sister Xe-Xe, you're even worse at this than me."
Snap. Oh look, they now had an extra red pencil. "Do you want my help or not!"
"Okay, okay..."


It struck Karen as funny that just a few minutes ago (well, less than an hour at least), she'd been the interrogator, barking out questions like it was nobody's business except of course hers. But now it was her squirming under the spotlight- of another one of her best friends as it would happen- so it seemed the tables really had turned.
Lily closed the door behind them with the flat of her foot, causing Karen to notice how she clutched her bag with both hands, a number of documents poking out of the top- as well as, she recognized, the book she'd seen her reading that night in the library. Then she remembered to look back at Lily's face, and her stomach churned at how pale it looked. Of course the news had to be a big shock, but Karen had still hoped that she'd take it- well, as well as Lily could.
Karen inhaled deeply, and did her best to clear her conscience. "I did everything the same as I always did. Maybe if my judgement had been better, I would have waited longer before testing her, maybe the extra time would have allowed the real Dani to take over again, I don't know. But she seemed to be acting as normal as any of the others did, so I didn't. It was her power and when it attacked- well, I tried to paralyze her, but it must have remembered because it wouldn't let me get close, and once it was killing Tyler, the guards just struck her down... I don't think there was anything I couldn't done, save maybe filled the room with users with better power match-ups than my assistant and I... Even then, who knows when, or if, Dani would have recovered." It was the truth, so she said it. There was no place for sugary sweet nothings at IOD, and in any case Karen respected her friend too much to try and give her that crap. So if Lily chose to blame her for what had happened in that room, then at least she was doing so with full knowledge of Nine's position.
"I know it's not your fault, Karen..." Lily said almost immediately. "If anyone could have saved Danielle, you would have done it."
She looked at her friend with renewed hope.
The blonde was surprising calm as she reassured Karen. "It's not for me to judge your methods, okay? I don't know anything about this interrogation stuff."
And that was wrong. There was no way Karen could believe that THIS was the extent of the blonde's reaction at the new of Dani's death. It was almost more worrying that any other scenario that the leader had imagined. "Are... Are you really okay?"
The look in Lily's eyes was indeed sad as she replied; "Of course I had considered this outcome as soon as Dani was taken in... No, as soon as she turned Feral and attacked, it looked like her death was inevitable. What Two did was amazing, just stopping them all like that, but it always seemed to good to be true... Y-you can't just dash in and fix everything like some hero. There just aren't such things in a place like this," she said this with a strange kind of emphasis which definitely gave Karen pause. Then she added more softly; "Me, I'm just glad so many of them did recover."
After considering the girl before her and what she had just said for several moments, Karen finally said; "I don't know why people think I'm the cold one."
Lily seemed at a loss for a moment, before she finally gave a very small, timid smile. "You've never been the cold one. Stoic, yes, strong and silent, but not cold."
Nine didn't know what to say to that.
"Karen, I, I know what happened must have deeply upset you. Maybe you should take a break from work for a while," Lily suggested in her most gentle, concerned manner. "You're always working too hard, you can afford a rest. I can appoint someone to keep things running for now, so don't worry about it."
A memory flashed in Karen's mind, of Seven's face not so long ago. She had looked genuinely distressed by what had happened. And how inhuman Nine had felt, explaining matter-of-factly about how 'these things happened', and acting like nothing was wrong. And while things were certainly not /all right/, Karen was almost disturbed by how well she could continue doing her daily work as if nothing had happened. She felt alienated by her own relative lack of distress compared to that of Seven's! Now to hear this from her friend... "Lily. What are you talking about?"
"Well... You don't exactly seem to be in a state to be making important decisions right now," she said slowly.
Karen paused. "Is... Is this about my promotion of Ford?"
Although Lily appeared to find the question quite awkward, she still gave her a firm nod. "Y-yes, it is. Listen Karen, you, you weren't thinking straight. In a few days, you're going to regret-"
"Don't tell me I'm going to regret this!" Karen cried out without warning. "There's nothing WRONG with me! I might be a little upset, but that doesn't make me stupid Lily." There was a twinge of anger at the end of her words which she could not conceal. And of course this only served to solidify the other's beliefs.
"It's okay to not be okay, you know," said Lily in that suddenly infuriatingly understanding way.
"I am thinking perfectly straight," Karen forced her voice into deadpan, her eyes dull with furious annoyance.
Knowing how stubborn the girl could be, Lily realized that the only way to win would be with pure logic. So she said; "Fine, give me one good reason why you chose Ford to promote." If Karen was as fine as she claimed, then she ought to have more than several.
Pressing her lips tight together and leaning forward, Nine gave Lily her hardest stare before answering; "Because he wanted it."
"Because he wanted it?" The blonde practically choked, that was the last thing she had expected to hear.
"Not many kids are eager for the spotlight right now, not considering recent events- and future omens, if you're into those. I didn't want an assistant who thought the position a burden or a sentence to the gallows. I wanted someone who would value it and work hard from gratitude. True, Ford's personality may be less than ideal, but he can learn fill the empty shoes soon enough, and I must admit his power interests me," she finished with a strange, almost vengeful-feeling sense of satisfaction coiling around her stomach. It felt so nasty that Karen almost regretted proving her point at all.
Clearly surprised and impressed that Karen was able to pull her argument off, Lily's accusatory mode retreated quickly, "Fine, fine, if you really want to keep him, see if I care," she said lowly, staring at the ground. "There's more important things to worry about."
Karen nodded in agreement, but the next thing that came out of her friend's mouth was certainly not what she had been thinking of.
"Clay. Karen, we've got to stop him from going," Lily declared.

demon • 24 April 2015 at 1:52 AM

She halted a moment to steady herself and fix her leader with a proper glare. "I'm FINE. Just a little disorientated, thanks for the concern," she snarked, and started up the walking again.
"I'm sorry, I must have heard your orders wrong. In any case, be sure not to blame me in the future for not warning you if you find our veteran to be in any way comparable to pack of rabid moose," Raven ranted, then tacked quietly onto the end, just at audible volume; "Oh, this is going to be fun."
Very soon she came to a stop again, this time, outside a room that could easily and correctly be presumed to be Five's new room. It had the number on it after all. It looked like it had come off of a letterbox, but you couldn't win them all. "In the morning, the managing assistant here will come, wake you up and lead you to your workplace. I think they rise early here so you should definitely get some sleep now."
Duty fulfilled, Raven promptly turned to leave.


After a while, Xela stood up and slowly walked over to the door, while Guithe watched her curiously. "Xe-Xe? Where are you going?"
"Ah... I'm just stepping out for a moment, getting some fresher air, okay Guiffs?" the power smiled reassuringly down at her before pulling the door in and disappearing with just two steps.
What Xela couldn't have known was exactly how her smile looked on the outside. And that was thin, catlike, and unsettling. Because while Xela wasn't exactly a stranger to smiles- in fact, Guithe had observed that it was something she did often when she was relaxed, without even knowing it- they were small, natural, and soft. The look Xela had just shown; that couldn't have looked more different.

A certain leader was whistling his way down the corridor, turning the last corner in perfect timing to see the redhead shutting the door to her and the kid's room. Neither of them seemed the least surprised to meet the other in this way, in fact it was almost as if both had anticipated it.
"I got some news," Septa greeted her cheerfully.
"Good news, or bad news?" Xela asked frostily.
He paused, and for a moment, she could've sworn, gave her a strange, shocked and even frightened look, before he laughed and said, "I don't know, a bit of both? It's always better to know, I think. Heck, I'd go crazy if i didn't! In the end, it's good, I suppose."
She didn't rise to the bait ("You, go crazy?"), but cut straight to the point. "I got some news of my own while you were out." With a wave of her hand she brought to his attention the green card she still held.
"Oh! So you got a summoning already. That's okay, I can delay your departure for a while. I haven't even showed you around here yet, and there's someone you've got to meet. How about a week? That should do. That is, if you don't mind," he looked at her with what seemed to be the air of a child wanting to please, hesitating enthusiasm. It was really tough to be mad at that... Still let it not be said that Xela was one of few virtues.
"Then you're the one responsible for these on both Guithe and I," she bit out, showing him her numbered arm.
His expression said that he was a little more entertained than bemused. "Of course. How did you expect to hang around here without them? I had it done while you guys were asleep so you wouldn't feel anything. That needle can hurt like a b*tch, trust me," he waved his hands as if to say, 'think nothing of it'. "Did you only just notice that now?"
"Is there anything else you do while I'm sleeping I should know about?" she asked, disgusted.
It took him a few moments to understand her, then he recoiled as if stung. "What? No!"
"So you really are planning on sending Guithe and I out to the front lines..." She stepped forward and her arm hurtled past her, hurling her fist right at his nose per Pedro's advice.
"Ow!" the leader reeled back, one hand already testing the tender skin of his cheek where a bruise was already forming.
"Tch," Xela scowled with dissatisfaction at her balled hand, seeing how she had missed her target. This time the jerk wouldn't be so lucky, she thought as she struck out at the recommended 'certain place' with a sharp kick.
Well the leader was definitely in pain after that, stumbling back further and holding his... Calf. Meanwhile Xela was staring down and flexing her foot with an almost equally pained expression. D*mn it, her form had definitely been wrong there, she knew toes weren't supposed to be in the equation at all... She winced and hoped there wouldn't be much damage when she looked later. For now, she still had an infuriatingly slippery leader on her hands.
"That all you got?" he asked with even breathing again, drawing himself back up to his full height. "Not going to turn me to dust, Miss Lasers?"
She stood still for a minute. When she drew closer, the air seemed to simmer around her and through Lich's eyes, her aura could be seen slowly gathering heat and mass until it began blazing at the edges like a driftwood flame. Green and blue and smooth and destructive. Her form was now charged with energy and he could finally see how much of herself the power had been concealing- and still was, for this display, though impressive, was not of all she contained.
"And how exactly do you plan on dodging that?" Xela asked, tone heavy with the force that ran through her.
He smiled nervously at her. Personally, Xela was just impressed that he never tried to look away (and she didn't even know what he was seeing). "I wouldn't want to give it away now would I."
Xela did not seriously consider calling his bluff. It was still unfortunately the case that the absolute last thing she needed here was the ashy remains of a leader, especially the one that had invited them in and offered his alliance (such as it was). Gradually the power dulled herself down, allowing her aura to seep back into herself and the intensity of her glare to slacken.
Rubbing his previously attacked leg, that confusing smile still on his face, Septa said, "Really. Now will you tell me what all this fuss is about?"
Now she was really bewildered. "Why are you sending Guithe and I to the front lines?"
"Huh? Well it wasn't my decision."
"What?!"
"I just gave you the numbers. The system then selected where they'd be sent," he shrugged carelessly. "That sure ain't my job."
"Then- why did you-"
"You wanted to join the Glaeroes, right? I got you in. Isn't this what you two wanted?"
"You know what we want to do!" she said loudly, impatiently.
"Yeah, and joining was a necessary step, right? What, did you think there was a Glaeroes position I could give you where you stayed at base all day with nothing to do? Now that's my job!" Judging by his incredulous expression, Septa would defend that with all his might (whatever that may be).
"I just thought you were getting us IN! Into the base!"
This sunk in for a few moments, the guy just squinting at her, before; "Oh. OH. But that's stupid. Why would I have done that? I might as well invite the Falchions for a tea party while I'm at it. That's stupid."
Xela facepalmed.
He went on in his most genuinely convincing tone. "You're really 'in' the Glaeroes now. Isn't that better?" His eyebrows rose in apparent confusion to her reaction. "How's progress on that quest of yours going so far anyway?"
"How do you think," she answered stiffly, before bursting out with, "I've been shut inside all day because I thought it was too risky to go out!"
Septa just giggled at her. "Well, you can have a full week at the base, so let's not waste that time."
Slowly, Xela's face grew stony with her anger and frustration welling up again inside of her at that thought. "You idiot. You can't send Guithe and I to the front lines," all of a sudden quietly seething.
He blinked. "Huh? Why not?"

taffy789 • 3 May 2015 at 2:00 AM

Sleep was all Zach really cared to hear about, having ignored most of Raven's snark.
 He only shrugged and said a quick "okay" to all Raven had told him before disappearing inside his room. Despite his status of leader, the inside of the room was just as shabby as the rest of the camp. Aside from a desk, cot, and a few chairs, the room didn't have any furnishings. Looks didn't matter much to Zach, however, and the sight of the cot alone made his room the equivalent of a five star hotel room in his eyes.
 After setting his bags down in the far corner of the room, the fifth leader- not bothering to undress- collapsed on his cot and attempted to nap.


The rest of the group's conversation remained fixated on the topic of work-outs. Gabriel boasted about his routine and chided Amy for the faults in her training. Amy retaliated with well-aimed insults and by insisting Gabriel didn't train for half as long as she did. The other, chattier girl- she was either Esperanza or Raquel, as Naji figured- interrupted a few times but largely amused herself by listening to the pair fight. Even Geraldo eventually broke his silence to add in a caustic comment about how Gaberiel and Amy both "worked out about as hard as a couple of Falchiones", but he quickly returned to his furtive whispering to the last girl who still hadn't spoken up yet.
 Naji, for the most part, contented himself with just listening to the loud arguing of the wild group.
 A few times, he wondered if he should try to leave, but he kept deciding against it. The group, despite his initial reservations and panicked fears, wasn't THAT bad...
Sure, they were loud and annoying. Rather strange and almost suffocatingly boisterous. In fact, they'd completely ruined the peace and quiet he was trying to achieve after leaving the ruckus in his tent. But...
But...
 ...
 Naji tried to think of a good reason he stayed sitting with the group but failed.
 At least- Naji thought as Amy playfully pushed Gabriel, forgetting her own strength as she did so and thus accidentally shoving her friend onto the hard ground- at least the group sure was a good source of entertainment.
 "Naji," Gabriel suddenly said, picking himself off the ground, "back me up here. Isn't a balanced lower and upper body workout so much healthier and better than a focusing on one area and one area only?"
 Naji, who knew next to nothing about working out or fitness, replied with an eloquent and well-educated "Uhhh..."
Gabriel pushed harder, "Come on, what's your work-out routine?"
 "Uhhh, you know," Naji sweated, "Running. Push-ups. Jumping jacks... Cardio. Triceps, biceps all that... muscle-y building stuff..."
 Feeling like an idiot, he stopped his stammering to listen to the cold quiet that had slowly drifted over the rest of the group...
 Naji closed his eyes and imagined himself fading into the oblivion.
 "Well," came Gabriel's voice after a few seconds pause, "What I'd tell you Amy!? Cardio AND upper body! Naji even agrees with me!"
 It was at that moment Naji realized he was surrounded by idiots.
 Sure, all the signs had been there before, but now it was almost painfully obvious. He had to be the smartest- or at least the sanest- person sitting in the circle.
 As this realization dawned on him, Amy and Gabriel's argument reached a fever pitch, and Naji's attention snapped back to them the moment Amy declared World War III against Gabriel.
 ...If World World III was a foot race around camp, that is.
 What happened next was difficult for Naji to follow. As Amy and Gabriel stripped out of their socks and shoes, Geraldo was yanked from the side of the silent girl by the other girl who loudly expressed desire for wanting to watch the race.
Seeing as everyone was apparently too focused on the ensuing battle to care about him, Naji decided this was the perfect time to declare his exit. Before he could so much as mumble a quick "goodbye you insane asylum escapees", the race had started and the racers took off at full speed with Geraldo and one of the girls following closely behind. Which, of course, left Naji sitting alone with a strange quiet girl he hadn't yet spoken to and didn't know the name of.
 "Uh," Naji coughed awkwardly, "I guess they just took off, just like that, huh?"
 The girl stared back at him without speaking, her dark eyes peering out from beneath short bangs.
 "Uh," Naji said, feeling his mouth begin to dry out, "I guess I'm about to head off too, I guess?"
 More silence and staring.
 "I have," Naji stumbled, "other people- a group, or teammates I guess, to get back to... I guess..."
 Now the girl finally moved, only to turn her head away from Naji and start twisting her fingers into her small ponytail.
 "Okay then!" Naji quickly stood up while wanting to smack himself for being so foolish. There was only one reason this girl didn't want to talk to him... She had seen through all his obvious lies, hadn't she? And she'd been whispering to Geraldo the entire time, most likely calling his bluffs and waiting for him to leave so she could tell the rest of the group... Gosh! Naji could feel the red creeping up into his cheeks. He turned to leave, wondering how long he would be able to avoid the group before he met them again and had to come face-to-face with his own lies...
 Still, he didn't want to leave such a bad impression, so he decided to show off his politeness and say goodbye to the unresponsive girl before running away from his lies as fast as possible.
  "Well, goodbye then, uh," Naji paused, remembering that he did not know the girl's name. It was either Raquel or Esperanza, but which one was it?
 ... Well, he had a fifty-fifty shot, didn't he?"
 "Goodbye Raquel!" he nearly shouted at the girl, who finally showed some emotion as she her head swiveled back to Naji and as her distant stare quickly turned perplexed.
 Considering that very confused reaction, Naji knew he'd gotten the name wrong.
 To avoid any further embarrassment to himself, he chose that exact moment to do his entire "running away as fast as possible" thing.

asi • 16 May 2015 at 12:23 PM

"Because..." she strung out the last syllable, and swept her arm back in an exaggerated gesture towards the room with Guithe inside it. It occurred to the power how very Alex-esque these theatrics were, but from her earlier display, it also seemed apparent that this level of eccentricity, complete with ringing bells and flashing lights, was what was needed to get the weight of what she was saying through this guy's thick-as* skull. "She's a fu*king CHILD," Xela explained as loudly, clearly and matter-of-factly as her lungs and her temper would allow.
"... Oh," the leader said in apparent surprise, cocking an eyebrow and frowning in interest.
"Oh?" Xela echoed, hardly believing this. "Exactly which part of that is new to you? The one where the girl you bought a colouring book for isn't yet twelve, or basic fu*king human morals?"
"Pfffft," judging by the way he snickered, her seriousness still hadn't got through to him yet. "None of that. I just didn't think... Well, that the latter would apply to you," Septa explained with a conciliatory smile.
In a way that was fair enough- Xela wasn't human- but she still bristled. "I thought I had made it clear that I was different from those... Rebels."
"Uh uh, that ain't how I meant it." The leader gave his already messy-beyond-belief hair a pointless ruffle then stuck both his hands in his pockets.
"Then what did you mean?" Xela's eyes kept twitching with impatience.
He shrugged. "I didn't expect you to place so much importance on age. It's not very power-ly of you. Most wouldn't care more or less about a life if it were a baby or an old invalid."
"Most don't care about lives at all," she countered, crossing her arms.
"Aw, that's not true," he protested, wearing a sympathetic expression that rather caught her off guard. "You only meet those jerks 'cause they're the ones to take over their users. There are plenty of nice ones out there, they just stay down... Well, until they go feral," Septa admitted, scratching his cheek in thought. "That's the real trouble."
Okay, she had to give him that much. Honestly, Xela was just surprised to find a user willing to give powers any credit. "Fine, I'll bite," she said, now somewhat calmed and curious, but her tone still terse. "Why do you think all these nice powers wouldn't value children more than adults?"
He frowned at her as if the answer was obvious; it was certainly weird to be on the receiving end of that look from someone normally as airheaded as him. "Because nature. Think about it. It kills just as many babies born wrong or not at all with not even a chance at life as it does old invalids dying of too many wasted years. For all the variables that select against one age group, there are enough others to balance it out and target the rest," he explained like the most careless Biology teacher never hired by any half-decent institute of education. "Nature doesn't give a crap about how old you are," he yawned in agreement with the sentiment. "Powers are neutral forces by nature too, they don't normally care about such things as 'good' or 'evil'. So why take notice of something as trivial as age?"
She squinted at him, as if making his face go all blurry would make his words any clearer. Truth was, Xela's stomach wasn't the best equipped to digest all that philosophical stuff. Even though the way he explained it sounded simple enough, there was a lot more to it, right? ... Right?
If it was a human given this argument, what would they say? "Isn't it supposed to be about potential? Like humans need time to grow and learn so they can achieve stuff they couldn't because they were too little." Her mouth turned down in dissatisfaction at her own words, even as she said them it was clear to the power that she didn't really 'get' them.
"Heehee..." He laughed a little at her, not in a mean way but more a bemused one, sheepishly hiding it with a hand so as to not offend. "That's so human of you! Can you blame me for not expecting that?"
Xela said nothing to that, just watched the strange leader and waited. Sure enough he started up taking again.
"But you can know why powers would see it differently, don't you? After all, was there really a time where you felt you could do less than you can now? Weren't you always complete?"
Xela considered this slowly. It was true, powers didn't really have a childhood. Then, how on earth could they begin to understand what it was humans had? It was a thing they missed out on entirely, and Xela had never once realized this. She'd always just... Been. The only variance she'd had was how aware she was of that fact.
Meanwhile, Septa appeared to be weighing /her/ up. She didn't enjoy the scheming expression that crawled across his features and glinted in his dark eyes. It set her on edge. "If you really believe in kids' potentials making them more worth saving than adults, tell me this. Does this mean you believe Guithe is worth more than you?" This made Xela freeze. "Seeing as, you know, she saved your life back there, taking care of those dangerous rebels for you. If she's too young to be living up to her full potential, then isn't she going to be even stronger than you when she grows up? Do you then consider her your better?"
"No... Guithe is my equal," Xela replied with a frown, not liking at all what he was saying. She also couldn't imagine Guithe getting even stronger, how would that work? Guithe clearly achieved things just fine right now, she didn't need to get bigger.
"But you'd sacrifice your life to save hers?" he asked innocently, like a gambler passing her a die he knew full well was loaded.
"No!" she snapped. "Why should I?"
"Oh..." he said again, blinking and using the very same tone.
"You're right, I don't get the whole human thing, or why I should care about one life over another," Xela scowled. "All I know is what the humans would say. I don't know why, it's just part of their crazy value system, and if I don't repect theirs, how can I expect them to do the same for mine? I'm doing your human caretaking of the d*mm kid because none of you humans seem up to the job!"
He gave her a smug smile and thoroughly ignored all but her final admission of his correctness. "Well I knew that, didn't I? What, did you think I was only theory? You're far from the first power I've met. This just means there's one less exception."
"..." All that did was suddenly make Xela feel a lot less special.
"So you were just giving me the whole child argument to get yourself out of the front lines, weren't you?" Now Septa looked annoyed with her, and she suddenly also felt rather small.
"The truth is I reviewed your case very seriously, and when it comes down to it, you two are far more qualified than anyone else I could use. Tell me, Xela, what should I do? Have some other poor kids get sent out and killed while you two get to sit around and do as you like? Guithe will be fine," he said harshly. "After all, she's hardly the youngest kid IOD's seen."



Karen paused, struggling to understand the apparent jump in reasoning that had led to... This. They had to stop Clay going? "Why?" she asked with a frown.
"Because that idiot doesn't know what he's doing!" Lily answered immediately, looking uncharacteristically frustrated.
Honestly, having seen what she had of Seven, Karen wasn't surprised by that assessment, worrying though it was. She hadn't personally given much thought to the ex-leaders' mission since it had been announced. It wasn't her problem until it failed, after all, and even then she'd prefer to leave such problems to One's more qualified care. Karen hadn't even the least idea how to prepare for an Unnoen battle. This Mael character was the one controlling it, so investigating him- and investigating Two- was more than enough to keep her plate full. "Is it that you think he'll mess things up for Damon? I wouldn't worry. Despite the guy's normal facade, he would never have got so high in the ranks without a more sensible depth to him. I have confidence he can manage Clay," Karen carefully replied.
"No, I... He doesn't understand what's he's getting into," Lily said softly. "There isn't even a reason for him to go! It's not like he did anything wrong to lose his position..." She looked so worked up about it, fists clenched tight, wearing a desperate expression and a wet sheen appearing over her eyes, all of this gave the ninth leader pause.
"Why are you suddenly so concerned about Clay? I didn't think you were friends. In fact," Karen recalled. "You didn't seem particularly distraught when Four- of the time," she added hastily to prevent confusion- "when Col did what he did." Karen raised an eyebrow at her friend. "If I remember correctly, you were more upset about Col and Evie."
"Well- Clay did kill her..." Lily didn't look to be enjoying this conversation much, her mouth was turned down in the corners in distaste and her dark green eyes shifted uneasily around Nine's own.
Meaning Karen hadn't been mistaken; those two weren't close, so then... She allowed the fact the old Nine had already been dying, which Lily very well knew from her, to be ignored in favour of concentrating on her friend. "Then what's brought this on now?"
"The other night, he visited me," Lily admitted, and briefly confided in Karen the essence of what had been said between them.

demon • 16 May 2015 at 12:27 PM

"So now you feel guilty about not paying him more attention when he clearly considers you a friend, and you want to make yourself feel better about it," Karen concluded in a deadpan.
This made Lily give her a frustrated sort of look. "Sort of yeah, but in my head it's a little more about his life than it is about my feelings," she pointed out testily.
"Lily, listen," and girl dropped her hands dramatically to her sides to show that she was. "What's Clay ever done for you? Save for," Karen cut in quickly just as the other opened her mouth to speak, "Apparently offering his friendship. One chose him for this mission, evidently because she thinks he'll be more useful there. Therefore- you have no reason to 'save' him and keep him here. It's One's orders. It's better for us in the off-chance he helps Damon succeed. And from what you just told me, not only does he have a choice, but he WANTS to go."
"I k-know all that, but..." the blonde wavered, swayed yet still clinging to the idea that Clay could be saved.
Karen sighed. "You're trying to do what's best for him, I know. But have you ever thought that maybe this is it? You were the person he chose to visit before leaving- the only one, by the sound of it. And you don't really care about him, do you? It seems to me like Clay has nothing here. Maybe if he leaves, he'll have a chance of actually finding something for himself."
"Karen..." She said her name, looking up and holding her bag tight against her chest in a schoolgirl's habit. "Do you really think so? That something like this could be good for him?" she asked tremulously. It might be an idea that Lily found hard to believe, but it was also an idea that appealed to her greatly. She wasn't exactly a great one for standing up to authority- only when the case involved her friends did she work up the courage, and this case landed rather near the edge.
"I didn't pay a lot of attention to Clay while he was a leader here," Karen admitted, knocking her braid back over her shoulder and pursing her lips. "But from what I gather, he spent his time here hiding in his room, dodging missions, and trying to flirt with girls. I don't exactly see him developing if he remains," she said dryly. Oh, she was pretty sure she knew his type. They changed with difficulty, or not at all.
Lily was running her fingers along the pages of that journal of hers and certainly looking the harder read of the two.
Seeing this, Karen allowed her expression to soften, setting aside the strange and uncomfortable sense of liberation that came with it. "Do you feel better now?"
Lily looked up again and her expression cleared into her usual kind smile. "Oh... Yes, I do. Thanks, Kar, you always seem to know what to do."
The fact that it still felt weird to receive that kind of compliment just showed she'd spent way too much time around the former Nine. "... I just can't stand muddling through the grey like you do," Karen murmured under her breath. The leader was well-aware that morally, black and white vision was perhaps not the most just way of looking at things. But unlike others, she didn't think she could afford the alternative. That kind of thinking... For someone in her line of work, it would lead to dangerous questions. "Is that all we have to talk about here?" she turned back to Lily, who was waiting patiently, used to watching as Karen thought.
"Yeah, I think so," the girl agreed with a short bob of her head, and quickly latched her arm onto Karen's in her familiar fashion, chatting cheerfully as the two friends left the interrogation room behind.
"So when do you think you'll set your sessions with the first assistant for?" Karen asked relaxedly.
Lily's smile faltered. "I... I don't think... That I will."
Wait, what.
"Y-you see, I've just been too busy r-recently," Lily began, completely missing the very strained quality that had just appear in the leader's smile.
"You, busier than the first assistant? What, with your books?" she snarked, thoughtless of all the Falchions now around them, as they'd walked into the central room of Ninth.
To say Lily was taken aback at this reaction was an understatement. "W-well, y-y-yes," she stammered, much worse than usual.
Nine stared, incredulous. "But, but they're just STORIES," she spoke far louder than she realized, causing Lily to squeak and in a flustered movement drop the bag she had been carrying, its contents spilling out all over the floor.
She leaned down and snatched her things up, but not before Karen caught a glimpse of the book as it had fallen open, upon on a page chosen for the extra card that had been wedged in between. The card was a photograph, an old one by the looks of it, but rather than a faded memory to be soon forgot, this one seared itself into the leader's mind with all the strength of a lightning strike. The picture was sharp and fierce and bright, not with colours, for it lay there completely in grayscale, but with the look captured on each face frozen in time, all eight of them.
They were so hauntingly, painfully, crazily, thrillingly alive.
As Lily thrust the old thing into her bag, took one look at the audience all around and fled without even a backwards glance, Karen stood very still, not daring to move her stare least it chase the image out from her mind's eye.
Why it affected her so much, she didn't know. With her parents, Karen had been to many art galleries back in the safe days, before IOD. She'd seen plenty of displays showing pictures such as that one. That also meant Karen recognized a photograph from the 1930s or roundabouts when she saw it.
No matter how alive those strangers had seemed, there was no doubt that by now, every single one of them was dead.
In the present: crap, she'd somehow scared Lily so bad she'd ran away. And that was her best friend... Yeah, Karen needed to work on those social skills.


"Yeah yeah, good night sleep tight to you too," Raven mumbled as the door was closed sharply on her, if only for her own sake. Today's events had made it clear that a tired, unrested Zach was at least as miserable as every other kind of Zach there was, if not worse.
Luckily her new friend with the hair had given her a room nearby, so it was only a few dozen strides before she could drop down onto the hardy stool that sat by her new desk, toss away her now-useless shoes and brush down the dust from her feet and well everywhere else. Unfortunately, the girl was sitting at her desk rather than her bed because that nice considerate new friend with the hair had been thoughtful enough to hand her important papers regarding the layout and running of the operations here, which after her base-'sploring experience today, Raven knew ought to be looked over before tomorrow.
But when she took them out and looked at them, all the papers were blank save one with the phrase; "Get some rest blackbird, your gonna need it." Yes, spelled like that.
She groaned and threaded her hand- her good hand- through her hair. Apparently the management was already playing tricks on her, though whether this was meant in a friendly way or in a warning one, or both, she hadn't a clue.
All Raven could really do was go through the routine motions of undressing, tuck herself into her unpleasantly small cot with her bad arm resting across her stomach and mutter obscure threats to herself about trying to roll over in the night.
No, she wasn't about to do anything silly like hope for the best. She was going to curse and threaten for it. And if that didn't work, she was prepared to try beating the sh*t out of whatever it was in her way... Of following whatever sh*tty orders her sh*tty superiors gave her.
Raven pressed her eyes closed and tried to sleep.

taffy789 • 16 May 2015 at 10:48 PM

 By the time Naji slipped back into his tent, Jorge was taking a cat nap on his cot. Samuel sat close by, absentmindedly piling pillows on top of his sleeping friend's chest. He had put a finger to his lips when Naji had walked in, as if trying to say, "Ssssh, don't wake Jorge. You'll ruin my pillow pyramid".
 "Hey Naji, what you've been up to?" Samuel asked Naji, quietly, while adding the last pillow to the precarious structure. "Just taking a look around camp, or something?"
 Remembering the day's embarrassing events, Naji blushed, and then he lied. "Yeah, that's it. I just really wanted to, uh, see the sights and stuff."
 "The sights?" Samuel grinned, amused, "Here? What did you do? Go watch sand blow around for three hours?"
 "Uh, yeah," Naji hurriedly agreed, "that's all I did really. Just look at the sand. There's a bunch of sand- lots of it! Piles and, uh, dunes actually."
 Samuel gave Naji a weird look, and Naji stiffened, wondering if the guy was going to call him out on the pathetic bs-ing. Apparently, however, Samuel couldn't care less about Naji's lies, because he only gave a "meh"-like shrug in reply.
 "Okay, whatever," Samuel replied, and turned his attention to finding more junk to pile on top of the sleeping Jorge.
 After picking up a pair of shoes and beginning to stack them on Jorge's legs, Samuel suddenly said, "Oh, yeah. I forgot to mention something. The word around camp is that they're going to start the reconnaissance missions tomorrow."
 "Wait," Naji paled, "they're starting missions ALREADY?"
 "Yeah but it's no big deal," Samuel explained easily, "especially for us. Like, dude, I can assure you that there's no actual chance we will get sent out to fight tomorrow. Really, these types of things are just standard issue Glaeroe tactics."
 "What do you mean," Naji questioned, "how is this all standard issue?"
 "Well, you see, you obvious new guy," Samuel joked, "the front lines are very wishy-washy things. They're not set lines drawn in the ground with a stick or piece of chalk or anything- they change often, depending on who's more willing to push further into the enemy's territory, or better put, who's more willing to defend what territory.  Of course, we don't know if the Falchiones are ready to defend the land twenty miles from here or the land twenty yards away from here, so there's no telling just where the front lines lie right now, so to speak. 
Now, for whatever reason, our side has got in their minds that the first few battles help figure out where the front lines will form. Kind of sets the standard, right? So then the reconnaissance missions come into play, and they happen after every truce, on every battle front. The missions send a group to 'spy' on the enemy to see where the enemy is most willing to defend... usually by attracting the enemy to defend it.
That stated logic behind this all is 'if we start the fight here, away from us, then the rest of the battles will tend to happen there'.... Or that's what the lying higher ups tell us the reasoning is, at least."
 Thinking he was done explaining, Samuel went back to finding more items to stack on Jorge. He picked up an empty bag, laid it on Jorge's lap, looked up, saw the lingering confusion left on Naji's face, and blinked. 
 "So what's confusing you?"
 "How are these 'higher ups' lying?" Naji frowned. 
 "Besides the fact they gloss over the whole, 'spying by dying' thing?" Samuel said, and shrugged, "Well, a lot of people think the missions are used more for intimidation than anything else. Like, our side wants to get ahead of the Falchiones by throwing the first punch or whatever. So there's a lot of talk about how the reconnaissance missions are even more meaningless and petty than what the higher ups will say. It doesn't help that the most expendable group is sent on these things." Samuel paused, took in the aghast look on Naji's face, and then shrugged yet again. "Yeah, it's messed up dude, I know. Which is why these missions get so much bad gossip surrounding them. I mean, it's basically like the people who do these missions end up labeled as permanent cannon fodder. And even worse, the higher ups will probably say the missions are just for "locating the enemy" or spying or whatever, but everyone knows that they send the people least suited for spying for these things. Like, the poor saps who are sent are not only cannon fodder, but they're worms on a hook. Thankfully though, we're not those poor saps, I can assure you that."
 "So," Naji said, the horror in him abating while he- slowly but surely- began to fully understand, "they send a group on a 'spying' mission meant for failure? To go and purposely provoke the enemy into a fight? That just seems so..." he struggled to find the right word, "so... pointless? And this mission... it's just basically a death sentence, isn't it?"
 Samuel nodded, more preoccupied with Jorge the living mountain of junk than the conversation, "In a way. But like I said, it doesn't matter much to anyone. Almost always, these missions actually go to a group of willing volunteers anyway. Which is why, I suppose, nobody really cares about how superficial the point of the mission may be? I mean, when it's a mission you don't have to worry about being sent on, what's the point of complaining?"
 "I guess I can understand that... But..." Naji faltered, then asked, "Who would be idiotic enough to volunteer for such a clearly dangerous mission?"
"Well," Samuel laughed, "the simple answer? Idiots."
 It was then that Jorge yawned, turned over in his sleep, and sent the pillows and shoes and bag crashing to the ground of the tent with a heavy, definite "thud".

asi • 17 May 2015 at 4:30 AM

So that's why they were going, to save some other humans' lives. Although Xela didn't exactly like to agree with this, it was Septa's decision... And for a human, she supposed that was fair enough reasoning. After all, she wasn't truly afraid for Guithe or her own life. The two of them were pretty d*mn tough when it came down to it, that much was a given. She'd just have preferred to give the risk a miss if possible.
"Guithe, your big brother's back," the redhead called out tiredly, opening the door and standing aside. That way she could watch how the young man behind her reacted as a little girl looked up from the ferret in her arms (because apparently when placed on her own devices Guithe couldn't leave Rambo alone in his cage for a mere five minutes), gave a big smile and ran over to headbutt him in the stomach.
"Hey! You ladies sure are full of fight this evening," he laughed, wrapping an arm around Guithe's tiny shoulders and seeming to not notice at all the large rodent climbing up his t-shirt. "How's it going Guithe?" he asked nicely, almost like a real big brother.
Guithe frowned up at him. "You forgot to bring ice-cream," she accused.
"Ah... So I did," he pleaded guilty while flashing a smile. "But in my defense, if I had brought ice-cream, it would have melted from how steamy that corridor out there got."
Xela wanted to whack him. Instead, she tried to focus on what she'd meant to- the words he'd said just before she'd relented and let him in, what were they... Oh; 'hardly the youngest kid IOD's seen', that had been it.
Although it could have just as well been a statistical fact, Xela doubted it. Why? He'd sounded so impersonal when he said it. To her, that made it seem almost certain it WAS personal, very personal. Because she was beginning to believe Septa was a very, very good liar.
There wasn't anything to do with this speculation though. She wasn't about to ask the leader anything like, 'Does Guithe have any more siblings I should know about?' Somehow, Xela was pretty sure she didn't want to know.
"So, how does tomorrow night sound?" Septa was saying something to her.
Having not caught any of the context, Xela was forced to look across at him with only an unintelligent, "Huh?"
It also didn't help that she was very side-tracked by the sight of Rambo chomping down on one of the guy's gloved fingers. However, Lich didn't seem to react at all, just kept chattering on.
"I was going to suggest heading over tonight, then I remembered you're a girl and the clothes you have are not quite right," he contemplated upon her appearance for a few moments. "I can send someone over to help you with your wardrobe in the morning, and we can go tomorrow instead," Septa decided cheerfully.
Bouncing eagerly on the balls of her feet and tugging at the guy's shirt, Guithe asked cutely, "Can I come?"
"Um... Perhaps not." He was using his guilty, sheepish tone again, complete with that same d*mn smile.
"Whyy?" Guithe pouted.
"Because I'm too afraid of you being responsible," he answered easily, all the while patting her fondly on the back.
"..." The little girl gave a rather sulky look.
Okay what was this about seriously. Seeing Xela's expression, Septa seemed to understand her desperate need for elaboration. "Don't you remember, I promised we'd make the most of the next week, didn't I?"
Xela seemed to recall something to that effect... But hang on, hadn't that been about her and Guithe's quest? What had her clothing got to do that?
"We're going to the club, of course! Where else is there? Nowhere. Nowhere at all," the guy shivered as if in horror at his own isolation.
Needless to say, Xela dully repeated the words without comprehension. "The club...?"
"The book club, duh, what else could it be for," Lich grinned, and Xela had the sudden knowledge that books was definitely the LAST thing it was for.
"Why would I want to go-" she began, but he was already at the door.
"Okay, time to say nighty night! You might be let off the hook tonight Xe-Xe, but unfortunately the party don't start 'til I walk in... And if it doesn't start, everyone sure will be disappointed," he sounded almost uncomfortable, as if only just realizing he actually had some kind of responsibility here. Then he laughed. "So I'd better get moving, alright? See you tomorrow, kiddo... Guithe." Lich winked and then turned to go, sweeping the door shut neatly behind him.
It was a few minutes before it occurred to Xela what had just happened. "Guiffs... Did he just leave with Rambo?"
The girl looked back with dark blue eyes pulled wide open as it dawned upon her. "Oh no!" she gasped and flew right out the door after him.
Xela flopped down on her bed and pretended she wasn't relieved when Guithe returned in a few moments giggling breathlessly and plus one mildly disgruntled ferret.

taffy789 • 17 May 2015 at 5:41 PM

~~ The Next Morning ~~

 "So," one tired Glaeroe whispered to the girl standing next to him, "when's the teleporter going to get here?"
 "Heck if I know," she whispered back.
 "Weren't we supposed to leave thirty minutes ago?" another boy asked in a whisper while jumping into the conversation, "It's like, so late already..."
 "Hey," a fourth person whispered, "why are we all whispering?"
The first boy gestured to a young woman who was leaning against a wall, and the small group all understood and hushed upon gazing on the goddess.
 Cigar smoke drifted from a pair of dark red, aloof lips, and the smoke, as if aware from where it just passed, danced to the ceiling in a delighted daze. While the rest of her golden brown hair was put up in a messy yet perfect bun, the free strands hung curled and poised against rosy white cheeks. She was distracted, staring into the distance while not noticing all were staring at her. Soon, the original four Glaeroes plus thirteen others all were gazing at the beauty, and the whole group hushed in order to better fixate themselves on every small action the young woman took. Most of the girls of the group stared out of pure envy. Most of the boys stared for, well, less modest reasons. One poor, confused girl in the group looked on because of the strangest mixture of both reasons.
The young woman glanced at a pink watch on her wrist and twisted her dark red lips into the most disappointed frown. Sighing, the crowd collectively wondered who could possibly bear to disappoint this goddess by arriving late.
 Yes, she was certainly a goddess.
 Perhaps even, Aphrodite.
 And if she wasn't a god she had to be something equally unreal. A dream perhaps, or a person out of a dream, like a beautiful French movie star model who haunted the most inappropriate fantasies of the sweatiest, hormone-imbued teenage boy.
 Or maybe she was even... throwing down her cigar, stomping on it, and then walking to meet two people who'd just arrived.
 The two, another young woman and a man who was wearing an impressively dark pair on sunglasses while indoors, greeted the goddess with varying levels of enthusiasm. Which is to say, the young woman smiled and held up a hand to wave while the man merely muttered what could have either been a greeting or an insult under his breath.
 Greeting the man first, the goddess laid a quick kiss on his forehead, now making every boy watching feel extremely envious. When she turned and greeted the other woman the same way, the entire group now became highly confused, with the exception of the aforementioned poor, confused girl, who now had to suppress a cheer or joy.
 Smiling, the goddess turned her benevolent grace towards the man again, softly spoke a single word- "Pedro"- and then suddenly tore his glasses from his face.
 Pedro shouted something that would certainly make a Brazilian nun wash his mouth out with soap, and his hands flew up to block the light from blinding his eyes.
 "You're LATE," the goddess hissed, and held the sunglasses high above her head as Pedro struggled to reach out for them.
 "And you are a-" Pedro was cut off as Eva sighed and elbowed him to be quiet.
 Seeing Eva's tired expression, the goddess huffily handed the glasses back to Pedro, who took them and quickly returned them to his face.
 "You always think I am the late person," Pedro complained to the goddess, "but what if the reason is Evinha? She can be late too, right?"
 "No," the goddess snapped back, "the reason has never been Evita. In fact, the only times I've ever seen her be late is when she's trying to make sure your sorry butt actually arrives!" 
To the still staring group of Glaeroes, the goddess's Canadian accent was now audibly poking through her voice, ridding them of all preconceptions concerning a soft French tone. They still watched, transfixed, as the goddess flicked the man on his temple, sending him reeling backwards in pain.
 "That's for arriving thirty minutes late, for keeping me waiting, and most importantly for making Evita look bad," she stated as Pedro struggled to collect himself, "And don't think I don't know why you're wearing those glasses anyway. You put this upon yourself."
 Then, her rage melted as she turned happily to Eva. "So anyway, Evita, how are you today?"
 "I'm fine," Eva frowned, "but tired, because I woke up at four today... But still fine." She glanced over her friend, confused. "Why are you all dressed up..?"
 The goddess sighed, "Oh, you know how I'm all about making good first impressions. Especially for the area we're being shipped off to! Might as well try to get in good with the commanders in charge... But mostly, I prettified today in case I needed to convince that group staring at me over there to drag Dro out of his room so we could leave." She jabbed a thumb at the group of Glaeroes, who, upon being acknowledged, immediately panicked and broke their gazes away as if they'd been doing something other than staring at the young woman for the past five minutes. "Although," the young woman smiled, "I know that you can handle getting him up for the most part."
 "Yes, somebody needs to do it," Eva confirmed with a nod, "Because he'll never wake up unless somebody is there to threaten him."
 "I am better now," Pedro suddenly spoke up from a nearby wall where he leaned with a hand against his temple. "I think." He walked back to the duo and positioning himself behind Eva, as if she would shield him from his attacker, "So I think we can go now."
 "Thank the lord," the goddess said with a roll of her eyes, and she turned to address the large group. "Everyone, pick up your bags! Our teleporter is finally out of his stupor and is ready!"
 "Ugh, Pedro groaned, adjusting his backpack strap on his shoulder, "Stop that loud noise."
 "Well," she corrected, huffing in disappointment, "almost out of his stupor."
 She wedged herself between Pedro and Eva, taking their hands as a large human circle was formed in the room. 
 "Everybody be quiet," Pedro commanded grumpily, "I need silence, or I will teleport the talking people into the volcano!"
 After that, Pedro received all the silence he needed.
 "Ah, good," he smiled, and with a burst of light, the entire group disappeared.

asi • 6 June 2015 at 4:46 PM

A whisper. "If you'd just quit moving-"
"I'm not moving." Louder.
"Y-yes, well, you know very well what I mean," the very carefully hushed one again. "Now I don't suppose I should push my luck, but if you could somehow manage to also be quiet-"
"I can't help it, it's a natural reaction." The way the second voice rang out so clear, it was obvious that no attempt to cooperate was being made.
"I, I am asking you politely you know, it's the least you could-"
"It feels weird, why don't you fix it already?"
"I will! Just keep still and don't-"
The quiet one, too, cut off as Zan thoughtlessly flipped over on his hard bed, inadvertently landing with his eyes, which had been wide open the entire time, directed straight at the two on the other side of the room- who stared right back, their two pairs, blue and grey, glowing faintly in the dimness of the cave.
"-wake my roommate..." Bliss muttered the air of a dying man's last, wasted words.
Rats. Why'd he move? Now Zan couldn't pretend to sleep any longer.
He pushed himself up into a sitting position, scrubbing ruthlessly at his bed hair, all the while using the corners of his eyes to keep the others fixed in his icy-blue sights. "... Why is it always little boys with you?" he finally addressed his roommate.
"What." Bliss didn't seem to appreciate his humour, because he had that same flabbergasted/appalled expression he'd had when Zan had embarrassed himself with all those awkward, repeated slips... In the same vein, Zan probably wouldn't have said what he just did if he'd been fully awake and thinking straight.
"Is this how you treat your patients?" the boy, could only be about thirteen or fourteen at most, interrupted, and honestly Zan was only going to give his attempt at impatience an four for effort, because the kid clearly did not have it in him.
Zan focussed on him. "Aren't you the phaser? How did you even manage to get cut?" Normally his curiosity was harder to provoke than this, but honestly this was just plain stupid.
"I wanted to see what it felt like," answered the kid, with all the arrogance of someone who'd rehearsed the line several hundred times in their head and each time assured themselves of its coolness.
This was such bull-crap Zan just couldn't. He was going to lie right back down and pretend to sleep again. So he did, feeling Bliss looking over now and then with his face burdened with helpless guilt, especially when at one point Zan accidently muttered, "Effing healers" aloud.
When the little twerp finally left, Zan turned his head to the other and said; "Dude. You cannot keep letting them in. Just say you're tired for god's sake."
"I have plenty of energy," Bliss corrected him.
"But they're just using you so you won't have any left later to heal yourself," Zan pointed out snidely.
"... That's true," Bliss admitted. "But if I don't, they'll beat me up now."
After Inverse had come dragging some scary-looking kid and his very much dislocated arm along, it seemed the rebels had caught on to the 'value' of having a talented healer at hand. Because since then, the room began receiving a steady traffic of the 'injured'. And while it was true that a crowd of powers stuck together with very few energy outlets was a body that was constantly damaging itself, most generally weren't bothered about a few broken fingers. Zan had on numerous occasions seen powers, whose abilities were not to do with self-regeneration or durability mind you, pull small knives out of their chests and continue as if nothing had happened. Sometimes big knives too. While they felt pain, physical injuries tended not to bother powers to the same extent they did their users. Powers weren't used to bodies. They didn't have the same connections to them as users did.
Hence the reason Zan knew very well this strange new stream of patients was bull-crap. Just powers and their usual trolling bull.
He wanted so badly to go back to sleep. It was no good though. Blaine simply wasn't there.
He got up and went through the usual morning movements, seeing Bliss had already done so. Although normally he wouldn't care about being on time, Zan needed to show Bliss the way to the training hall today. And Inverse wouldn't be nice to those who showed up late. Not because she cared, either. More because she could. Already he was not enjoying the new leadership. Co-leadership, he reminded himself- because that was working out so well.
He wondered if Rai would demote him already.
"You ready?" he asked, standing by the door and waiting as Bliss fussed over something by his bed. They didn't even have much stuff to fuss over, but that guy managed it.
"Oh! Yes, quite," the doctor joined him in a few small, hurried steps.
"Good, then let's go." Zan replied not coldly, but with a tepid lukewarm quality that effectively sterillized any potential for further exchange they had this morning. The two set off at a brisk pace for the mess hall.


She'd been staring at the one nail only sloppily half-sunk into the board above her head for at least ten minutes when the caterwauling started. Caterwauling, as in a bunch of teens running past her door howling and shrieking like animals. Raven pushed herself up in her cot just as one of the creatures began pounding on her door, throwing its fists possibly along with its full body mass against the flimsy wood which actually bent under the weight. Just before she staggered over to chase them off, it stopped. Raven rested her sleep-foggy forehead against the door and listened to the sounds of the stampede receding down the corridor. Just when she thought they'd all gone, one last bang against her door sent Raven reeling backwards, head ringing as the culprit let out a loud cackle and sprinted off after its fellows.
"Effing kids," she swore, turning to the small, dirty looking glass the room offered and seeing the faint brown smudge of a bruise forming just above one eyebrow. At least there hadn't been loose nails sticking out of her door.
Seeing as she was yet to be supplied with new clothes to wear, Raven pulled on the spares she'd packed, grateful to her past self's foresight. Her dusty set from yesterday she hung of the edge of her cot, unsure of the cleaning process here. Hopefully they could be washed before being worn again, but based off her past experience at Falchion camps she knew she'd best keep them in reserve. Her hair suffered a rough brushing until it hung straight once more. Then Raven pronounced herself presentable and ventured out into the now-quiet corridor.
She wondered where they'd all run off to. Luckily, there was no need for her to be one of them, not when she was one of the nine assistants. That meant she had to figure out where to go for herself. To the management's office, the veteran's office, or her leader's room? Normally she'd guess the latter, but she knew Dreadlocks was picking Five up today, and if everyone else was up they probably were too, chances being she'd miss them. Not wanting to risk the veteran again so soon, Raven picked her way through the web of tunnels back to that place of indiscriminate hoarding and the smell of peanut butter.

Meanwhile... The room was dim and the air stuffy where as one dark-haired dark-tempered leader slept, a presence stole inside on the tippiest of tip-toes, soundless and ghostly. Although not a real ghost, and thus unable to phase though walls, pure skill had let them pass into the room without seeming to let in an iota of fresh air or light. They were just that good.
They approached the cot without trepidation, only smooth execution. Standing at its side now, they did hesitate, unsure of how best to politely proceed. Then their hair, melded together in the most dreaded of dreadlocks, dangled over the leader's face as the hair's owner leaned in and looked down curiously.
Maybe they'd just reach over and... Poke.

demon • 6 June 2015 at 4:48 PM

"That one's Nine's?"
Those words were what caused her to look up from her book and follow the jerk of a thumb, until her gaze came to a halt upon what was obviously the focus of the room.
The seat he had taken was at the most central table. From where she sat it looked like he wasn't doing anything but sitting, flapping his mouth and waving his hands around. But judging by the expressions of the first division kids around him, Ford was still managing to make himself a right nuisance, as usual.
Lily gave a low, frustrated growl at the sight, surprising her company not just with the reaction but also with how much the pretty blonde sounded like a bulldog.
This caused the asker to step back, look her up and down and wonder if that roughly translated into his cue to leave. At his movement though, the third assistant turned to him and said apologetically, "Oh, hi. Were you asking me something?"
Going by his bumblebee color scheme punk clothing, emo hair and the two fourth d-branded kids patiently waiting on him... Lily identified him as assistant to Four. He came by the First's lounge only rarely, and as of yet she (and most people in their circles, as far as she could tell) had had little to do with him, but remembered those encounters as being pleasantly productive.
Though the guy wasn't particularly intimidating as these things go, with his entourage Lily found it weird reminding herself she was his superior. In fact her own position often had her bewildered and staring into space thinking, 'How on earth did I get here?'
He repeated his question, complete with the gesture. "He Nine's?"
"Oh... Yeah," she nodded, wishing she didn't have to.
"Liked the old one better," he mumbled, and Lily agreed whole-heartedly with the sentiment.
They sat/stood there for a while, watching the scene and wishing equal measures for it to get worse so they could intervene as they did for it to get better so they wouldn't have to.
Unfortunately for them neither case happened; instead what followed was the punk assistant's leader walking into the room, requiring the guy at Lily's side to walk over and greet him. The blonde watched their brief interaction, interested to see whether Riley was making it with his new position, or if Black'N'Yellow could say the same thing about his boss as he did about Ford.

Riley was, admittedly, nervous. He didn't understand how Raven did it, she seemed to just put on her business attitude along with her skirt and heeled shoes. Unfortunately, being a guy, Riley couldn't very well try wearing those things to see if there was any magic to it.
The moment he stepped into the First's break room his underlings gravitated around him. It was unsettling to say the least, as he couldn't have recognized a single one of them save his assistant if they didn't just swarm him. Even then the guy's distinctive color scheme was entirely necessary.
(Riley probably would have felt better about this had he known that none of the subordinates could have identified him either without their assistant's guidance, who had really worked hard for a few hours with the leader's picture at hand.)
"Seen all the papers?" his assistant asked him, to which Riley just nodded. He'd been through all the important documents he'd had to last night, in order to be ready for leaving today. "I'm ready for my mission," he tried a slight smile, thinking at least it couldn't hurt, right? Smiling and showing confidence, that was how you were supposed to win followers over... That's what he thought, at least.
Riley wasn't exactly a stranger to leadership. After all, wasn't that what you'd call the position he and his friend had created for themselves back at school? But it was the other guy who'd been good with winning the kids over. That had all been on him.
That boy... Blond hair, grey eyes, fair skin, always smiling... Where was that guy now?
He'd have to answer Raven on that soon...
Unfortunately, his assistant was looking less than impressed. Pulling out a clipboard seemingly out of midair, he began listing the titles which Riley should have read... Feeling a little affronted by Bumblebee Stripe's lack of trust, but unable to conjure the words to express this, Riley was stuck just nodding along as the list seemed to grow longer and longer. It didn't though, not really, and came to an abrupt end when Stripes said the last item; "The records on your proposed new teammates?"
He was halfway through nodding already when he stopped.
Oh. So there had been something Riley had forgotten. He WAS getting new teammates, wasn't he? How could he have missed that?
Stripes looked up, saw the expression on his leader's face, and with a clearly judging one of his own, scribbled something down on his pad.
To Riley's relief, they were then joined by a friendly face- only she wasn't looking so friendly right now, uncharacteristically enough.
"Four. I heard you're leaving today," Lily said almost grimly by way of greeting. Then she seemed to remember to smile and sounded more like her usual self again. "I don't think I'll be free to see you off later, so I thought I'd better wish you good luck now. I'm sure you'll do a great job on whatever it is! My clearance isn't that high, so I don't know much... I-It's not too dangerous though, i-is it?" By the time her normal anxious expression showed itself on her face, Riley felt a lot less anxious himself.
"Thanks Lily," he smiled much wider and naturally now. "It shouldn't be too dangerous, and in any case I'm sure I've been given a great team," a glance at his assistant and Stripes seemed a little appeased at his words, that was a relief.
"It would have been You-Know-Who's Choice, right? Then you'll be just fine. They seem to really know what they're doing... With the big stuff at least," Lily added, as a certain memory surfaced and made her eye muscles twitch.
"Why, did she mess up on something small?" Riley wondered, busy recalling the girl who was, in his memory, so very charming and competent, and failing completely to catch on to the whole One's anonymity gig. But that was pretty much down the drain already, the whole base knew the new One was a strapping young girl at this point. And not exactly a subtle one.
Lily seemed to be struggling between frowning and smiling in amusement. "Apparently she was no help and maybe a bit of the opposite in the hospital wing, but you didn't hear that from me."
"Alright," he smiled in easy agreement. "Was that all?" he turned back to his assistant and asked, not wanting to keep the guy waiting.
Stripes nodded and left, and the second he was out of sight Lily pounced.
"Come on Riley, you've got to do better than that," she groaned, about to card her hands through her hair until she touched it and realized it was up in a ponytail today.
"Sorry?" Startled, he automatically apologized with no idea what he'd done wrong.
"Until I showed up, you were completely hopeless with him! You're a leader, right? You have to show some confidence, assert yourself, all right?" she explained, pressing a hand to her forehead and wishing this wasn't on her to say. "I shouldn't be one to talk, but I'm only an assistant, you know? Of course it's great that you're such a nice guy and everything, but you can't really be so shy and polite like that and still lead."
"Ah, crap," he looked embarrassed, knowing how bad he must have looked just now. "You're right, I'm no good at this... Honestly I don't know why I'm even in this position," Riley looked hopelessly lost all of a sudden.
That was not the kind of reaction the blonde had been going for, and she panicked a bit in her effort to reassure him. "No no, it's okay, you've only had it for a few days, so there's no way you could be perfect already. You've just got to try a little harder, okay? That's all I was trying to say, really..."
"Oh... Yeah, I know," he ruffled his russet-colored hair in embarrassment and tried to scrunch up his face to look harder and more serious.
This just made Lily feel like she was setting him up for failure. Why did she suck so badly at advice, oh god, why couldn't it be Karen here instead...
It was perhaps fortunate for the both of them when the disturbance the first division lounge had been waiting for finally broke through. But not from where it had been expected...

asi • 6 June 2015 at 4:54 PM

"Woman, you're off your rocker. You can't drag him over just to sign your dinky old bureaucratic scroll. He's what they call a homicidal maniac," the last part was whispered, albeit very loudly. "And you wanna bring him here?"
"UMMMM," the girl at the counter articulated with equal volume, staring incredulously at the person before her and looking very much like the next few words out of her mouth would be a call for security.
Meanwhile the other really had no reservations about getting in her face, with the whole; "My boss. He'll kill you. And I won't look good. This job is very important to me, you know? Great opportunity, life or death, that kind of thing."
As it so happened, the scene only got that far before interference marched over... The kind that was predictable and terrible. "Now what seems to be the matter here, ladies? There ain't anything for two pretty little honeybuns like you to get all worked up about- at least, not until you saw me there wasn't," Ford said, leaning against the desk and wiggling his eyebrows at the both of them.
Without sparing a glance his way once, the sweet-faced platinum blonde with the curly pigtails said, "Dearie, do tell her how I need those papers. It's urgent and for some reason my threats just aren't working right today."
"I CAN'T give you them," the girl stressed. "They're Two's! The only people I could hand them out to would be Two himself, or One's assistant! And I know you're not Gold," she waved a helpful finger at the other's far more silvery locks.
"What about Two's assistant," came the quiet reply.
"But Two doesn't have an assistant," countered the girl with some small knowing self-satisfaction. "He turned his nose up at everyone they suggested. The very best were worse than nothing to HIM, so forgive me if I doubt YOU."
And then the guy there caught on. "A tiny thing like you, Two's assistant?" Ford started laughing, and even the dismissive girl at the counter looked a bit p*ssed.
Before the other assistant in the room had even digested this mess enough to step in, someone else did.
"Uh, Telly, right? You're the teleporter Two just made his assistant?" Riley questioned, and everyone froze.
"Four?" Even the one in question raised an eyebrow, not sure why he would know. Two clearly hadn't taken it upon himself to inform anyone, so how would Four...
Then everyone in the room remembered, he was a mind reader, wasn't he?
"It's Teij now, but yes, I am," she declared, and then snapped back round to face her enemy. "So can I have my papers now? I'm already late as it is, who asked those healers to be so incompetent?"
Showing a sympathetic smile, Riley nodded. "Yes, you'd better hurry, Two doesn't take well to tardiness..."
With that, things in the first division's lounge began to move once again, those seated finally turning back to their peers and falteringly resuming their broken-off conversations.
"Thanks Four, man," muttered the curly-haired Finn as she snatched up what she needed. "I owe you one."
"Eh? No problem," he waved it off quickly, like credit was one of his allergies or something.
"Well in that case I'll keep it, I probably don't have too many favors to spare from here on out," Teij said wryly, then vanished from the room in a flash.
"Good luck!" Riley called after her rather redundantly. But that didn't matter to him, since the whole exchange had left a smile on his face. He was no longer surprised about Raven making friends with her; they had to make quite the pair! Some positive things did come about on IOD, he thought, as long as one could ignore the ever imminent threat of death hanging over them all, and also the ghastly responsibilities that kept getting pressed on him...
"Two using a poor little girl like that? What's this place coming to?" A certain jerk gave a sudden, tragic sigh.
"Who are you?" Riley looked at him blankly, not really understanding what the guy meant, but still not exactly liking what he heard.
"Nine's assistant!" Ford did not really take the question well. But it was Four, so what could he do?
"Oh..." Riley simply didn't have anything to say to that, and after a pause, decided to just awkwardly turn back to the rather more important one at his side.
Even Ford couldn't recover enough from that kind of dismissal, and could only fade helplessly into the background...
"Well, was that a little better?" Riley asked his friend a pinch nervously.
But Lily had been paying rather more attention to the big news than the leader's heroics... "Oh... Yeah," she said distractedly. "Good job on handling that jerk Harry. He can suck it!" she did find some enthusiasm for the last part though.
Riley gave a small chuckle before glancing sheepishly towards the door. "Right, well, thanks for the advice, and the luck..."
"Mm, yeah, bye Riley." She didn't bother to watch him leave.
No, she was too busy thinking about the spitfire blonde now sitting on the rung directly above her own rank. Hadn't the reason Vivian had approached her, and not anyone else about the training, hadn't that been because Lily was the highest assistant save the Golden Soldier herself? Didn't that now mean, the person Gold would want to train... Would be this 'Teij'?
Remembering Karen's reaction, Lily wasn't sure whether to be thrilled or horrified about the blow to her prospects.
But as she stared down at the book in her hands, it felt like along with guilt, the latter was winning.
She just had to keep reading, was that so wrong? She couldn't stop now, she was too far in.

eggcaveteam • 6 June 2015 at 5:25 PM

This is an official warning to all participants to keep your language site appropriate. This means no swearing, even if you * out some letters. If are unable to keep your language appropriate this topic will be closed.

taffy789 • 8 June 2015 at 5:57 PM

 Goosebumps like a rolling mountain range shivered on the eighth worker's right arm, and his teeth clattered together as a chilly wave of air breathed down his spine. Directly above him, the ceiling fans twirled on their "tornado" setting, circulating the cool air in the so-called "nursing home"- AKA the other, lesser known room at the back of the archive room that held the ancient, somehow historically important paperwork.
 Because the papers filed there were brown, flaky, and delicate, access to the room was restricted to a select few. And even with two new faces sitting under the careful watch of rows upon rows of filing cabinets, the room was still accustomed to quiet. The only present noise was the gentle hum of the AC blasting at sixty degrees, which worked to fill the void left by a died down conversation.
 The first eighth worker drew a sharp intake of breath and rubbed his right arm against his jeans in a vain attempt to warm it up. If it got any colder, he felt sure, then he would have to get it amputated for frostbite, and then where would that leave him?
 "Ugh, Mikey," he groaned to the second eighth worker, reviving their dead conversation with one simple statement, "it's way too cold in here."
 "Is stating the obvious your new hobby?" Mikey replied with a good-natured snort.
 "If I'm bored, sure," the eighth worker shrugged. "Because I'm freezing my butt off with this waiting and not talking isn't making time pass any faster. So I say we should start chatting again. What was that you'd been saying about Three..?"
 "Oh, that?" Mikey snorted a second time, "That's nothing but some gossip I heard a few eighth girls prattling on about."
 "You and I both know that the Eighth division has the best gossip because it's made of nothing but a bunch gossips and EVERYONE in our division is fated to become a gossip so," here the first eighth worker inhaled a breath, "so spill the gossip, you huge gossip."
 Mikey sighed. "It's nothing that exciting. Everyone knows Col's gone by now, and there's some rumor flying around he's a super dangerous feral running around IOD and One is going to send a team of assassins to go kill him or something. The eighth girls have been in a frenzy over this, acting all upset as if One themselves announced they would be personally crucifying the innocent Jesus Christ. It's some stupid, false rumor, and I think the girls are already planning a protest."
"I bet they are," the first eighth worker remarked, "I mean, it's no secret that a lot of those girls think Three is attractive."
 "Yeah," Mikey agreed, "but what does that have to do with anything?"
 "Everything actually!" the young man replied, "Think about it. We lost the new Six when the ferals attacked, right? But you don't hear nearly as much gossip or worry about him. Because none of those girls cared, because Six wasn't particularly attractive nor remarkable."
 "Or maybe it was just because Col is more well known, since he's an older leader...?" Mikey offered.
 "No," his co-worker retorted, "because when the old Six died nobody cared either, and the old Six didn't exactly have a fan club to his name. Same with the old Nine- how many mourned her? Very few, compared to how Damon was nearly canonized by his rabid followers... Face it, there are just some leaders that the people here couldn't care less about. Like all our new leaders- ESPECIALLY Five, that guy can go die in a hole- and basically every old leader too with maybe the exception of Three..."
 "Maybe," Mikey said quickly, his voice becoming a whisper, "you shouldn't say that so loudly."
 As if cued, both sets of eyes flickered to the top of the filing cabinet in front of them, the one tall enough to nearly reach the high ceiling but still short enough to leave a large rectangle of shadowed space between it and the metal paneling.
 The two couldn't see the top of the cabinet from their chairs on the ground, but they were both aware of a living, breathing presence lurking just above. They remembered they were being watched, listened to, and- for the same reason as before- their conversation died again.
 It could only be one person up there, and as both of the teens very well knew, that person had to be the eighth leader. She'd been missing for more than half a week now. When an eighth archivist reported seeing a person in the nursing home that she /positively/ did not remember giving permission to enter, Eight's assistant immediately put the area on lockdown and called for two powerful eighth workers to find and keep an eye on the girl to make sure she didn't disappear again. And thus the two boys now sat directly under the eighth leader, patiently awaiting the assistant's further instructions and hoping they would not become the victims of some cruel memory wipe.
 The cold settled around the boys again, and the eighth worker resumed rubbing his right arm against his leg to prevent hypothermia. Mikey, however, remained warm in a large jacket while his co-worker slowly froze to death. The eighth worker almost resented this, but reminded himself that him freezing was his own fault. Although he'd came to the nursing home prepared with a large, warm hoodie, he'd chosen to give it away- even if, technically, it didn't belong to him and it wasn't his to give away. In whatever case, the hoodie had long ago been thrown up to the girl hiding on top of the filing cabinets. God knows how many hours Eight had been locked in the room. Crazy or not, the eighth worker didn't think anyone deserved to turn into a popsicle.
 After shivering in silence for a few more minutes, Mikey spoke up, quietly, "now that I've thought more about it, I know quite a few people who really mourned the old Nine, her being thought attractive or not."
 "Like who?"
 "Like Tat. You know. The tattooer."
 "No," the eighth worker frowned, "if I remember the gossip I heard after the Truce correctly, Tat had a deep, unrequited love for the old Nine."
 "Unrequited?"
 "Well, at least unproclaimed."
 "He never said anything?" Mikey blinked. "Isn't that a shame."
 "Yep," the eighth worker nodded, "life's too short not to make how you feel about someone clear. Or, uh, that's at least how I've always gone about it."
 "As I or anyone who works shift with you has seen and heard," Mikey grunted.
 The door to the nursing home swung open as a red blush seeped into black cheeks of the eighth worker.
 "Quincy, Michael," Jane greeted the two workers as she appeared, struggling to pull along a step ladder with every step she took. Quincy quickly stood up to aid Eight's assistant with the ladder while Mikey stayed sitting and simply greeted the girl back.
 After the ladder was set down near the tall filing cabinet, Jane turned to the boys and asked, breathless, "Did everything go well? I apologize for my delay, something came up and-"
 "It's fine," Quincy interrupted, "she was no trouble." He paused, then adjusted the glasses sitting on his face as he apparently thought his words over. "... That kind of makes it sound like we were babysitting or something, doesn't it?"
 Surprisingly, Jane laughed, then quieted her voice to a near whisper in order to joke, "Now you have an idea of how working for Eight feels, twenty-four-seven. Oh, what wouldn't I give to work under any other leader... But at least I know what I couldn't give. My sanity. I think I've already lost that."
 "I believe that," Mikey nodded, "twenty minutes in this room with her and Quincy and I were already growing paranoid about the possibility of forgetting who we were. So, yeah, as boring as archivist work is you can keep your job Miss Jane. I've already lost too much"- here he patted the prosthetic which replaced his right leg- "to lose my sanity on top of that. I'm sure Quincy agrees."
 "Yep," Quincy said, motioning to his absentee left hand, "I'd like to very much keep my sanity, thank you."
 "There goes two of my replacement ideas," Jane joked, produced a pair of sunglasses from her pocket, and slid them on her face before finally scaling the ladder.
 "Eight?" Jane called as she moved upwards, "Eight, are you okay?"
 Silence.
 With a sigh, Jane continued to climb until she could peer over the top of the filing cabinet.
 "Eight, please answer m-" she cut herself off for a sharp intake of breath.
 More silence, a gulp, then,
 "Hey, are you okay?"
 There was no reply, and after a few seconds a cool, sudden wind blew past the boys still waiting on the ground for Jane's return. They both shivered and the air only grew colder when Jane scurried back down the ladder, looking shaken.
 "She's gone," the assistant exclaimed, pale and breathless.

awesomeness • 8 June 2015 at 6:10 PM

 "Eight?" Quincy asked, "How? We didn't see her. ...Unless..."
"Not Eight," Jane said, clearing away any thoughts of a memory-wipe assisted escape.
 "Then who..?" came Mikey, confused.
 "I'm not positive," Jane admitted, "but, nevertheless I'm going to go review the new Ninth Division's records. To see if there was an unaccounted for feral, or if there was somebody recently released who should've remained in observation for longer..."
  "You really think that person was a feral?" Mikey asked. "They didn't attack us this entire time or anything."
  Jane's hands moved towards her mouth, and she nibbled at her fingernails without thinking. "I don't know, I honestly do not know. But intuition tells me that that person, feral or not, needs an eye kept on them. With the recent rebel attack, none of us can afford to be careless."
 "So more feral trouble." Mikey softly kicked at a filing cabinet with his prosthetic. "Well, isn't that just great?"
 Quincy matched Mikey's groan. "Well, whoever the heck it was, they took the hoodie I gave them, didn't they?"
 "I didn't see an abandoned hoodie up there, no," Jane said with a shake of her head. 
 "Huh," Quincy scoffed, "that's a new excuse for the bae. 'Sorry I lost your jacket, babe, but a potentially dangerous feral ran off with it.' I wonder how that'll go."
 "Speaking of your, uh, "bae", Quincy," Jane began, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a red card for the boy, "I believe you may want to talk with him about something..."
 Both Mikey and Quincy paled at the sight of the threatening, familiar red card, but Jane quickly assured them that "it isn't what you think!" and handed the card to Quincy.
 "There are many perks to being the de facto Eighth Division leader," Jane explained while Quincy read, "one being that I receive first glance at nearly all planned field missions... It being in my power to do so, I recommended you for one I thought would be most appropriate for you, considering you have yet to serve your monthly deployment..."
  The color came back to Quincy's face after his eyes reached the bottom of the card, and he lifted his eyebrows in interest.
He then sent a smile in the assistant's direction. "This is actually really great, thank you Miss Jane."
 "It's Quincy's turn for the sympathy red card this time?" Mikey asked and tried to read the card from over his co-worker's shoulder, "What type of milk run did you get? Border patrol?"
"I don't have all the information yet," Quincy replied, folding the card in half and slipping it into his own pocket, "but for right now, let's just call it assassin duty."



The healer was working inside.
 From his spot pressed against the rock wall, Wither could feel the energy- the energy seeping from the phaser's arm, the energy radiating from the healer, the energy working to close the gaping, hungry wound...
Yes, the wound was hungry, and Wither knew he was too.
 It was hard to hurt the other powers though. It was hard and when he tried he always ended up getting hurt too. It was fun but also annoying, fighting was. Feeding was fun all the time but fighting was fun half the time. So Wither stopped fighting.
 He didn't need to cut and slice the other powers himself anyway. For some reason, they kept cutting and slicing and pouring out their precious energy everywhere all by themselves. And then they kept coming to the healer, so all Wither had to do was wait for them to pass by.
 He'd been sitting outside the healer's room for the greater part of five days.
 Sometimes he left. His human body needed to eat and do all sorts of more horrifying things, to much of his annoyance and disgust. If he sat too long then parts of his body began to vibrate and buzz and only after trial and error and one knife cut to the leg did Wither learn that getting up and walking through the caves got rid of the intense vibrating. Sometimes other powers arrived and barked at him in loud, horrible voices and dragged him along to stab fake wooden people or fight but not kill other powers. 'Training' they called it. Training for what? Wither didn't know. But he liked training. Powers always got wounded at training. When he was present, wounded powers always collapsed, pale and listless, at training.
 Wither stopped thinking about training when he heard movement in the room. The healer was finished. Wither stood up, and he waited.
 He liked the healer. There seemed to be a growing list of things he liked, a sibling to the long list of things he hated and wanted dead and gone.
 It pleased Wither to understand how he felt about different things- maybe, he thought, because then he knew what to kill and what to let live. For example, he hated loud noises and thought they should all die. But he liked when he got to feed at training. He hated that sweet food that found and ate that one time, whatever that horrible thing was. It was better off spat out and stomped into the dirty cave ground, like he had left it. But he did like bread. It was soft, and he'd taken two loaves from the mess hall. Although he liked the feeling of absorbing energy better, his human body grew angry, and didn't stop growling at him until he ate human food. Bread made his body stop acting angry, so Wither liked bread and allowed it to live. And Wither hated people breathing. That was loud, and annoying, and he wanted everyone to just STOP breathing; he wanted to MAKE everyone stop breathing.
 But he liked the healer.
  After that strange yet interesting power had dragged Wither to the healer's room, the healer had fixed his limp and dangling arm and made it work right again. But the healer was interesting, and he more things than just fixing lazy arms. He gave his energy, his life to other people, and he seemed to have so much of it. Wither liked what the healer did, and he also liked how the injured swarmed the healer regularly. Yes, he did want to keep the healer around.
 So when the healer and another power finally left the room, Wither wordlessly stared, his pale, jaunt face expressionless, at the healer as he moved past.
 Then, he followed the pair.
 This wasn't anything new. He'd also had been following the healer around for the greater part of five days.

taffy789 • 8 June 2015 at 6:15 PM

~~~
 The air is stale and stuffy, and you are hungry. Your stomach growls in annoyance as you lay on your cot, trying to sleep but failing.
 You shouldn't be this hungry. The scientists feed you- meager meals but they still feed you- and as long as you eat everything on your plate your stomach doesn't start trying to swallow itself.
 But you haven't been able to eat everything on your plate because of your big pig for a roommate.
 He always towers over you and threatens to crush your head in one of his meaty hands if you don't offer half of your meal to him. You do give him your food, partly because your power tells you that he'll make good of his threats, and partly because you know that this is how these things work. You've had other roommates before the pig, of course. And every roommate you've had has been aware of the unspoken rule that, if your roommate is big, tough, and could easily overpower you, then they were in charge and you were at their mercy.
 It wasn't as if you hadn't used this rule to your advantage yet either. You live in a dog eat dog world, and you knew you had to survive however it was possible and take advantage of any opportunity that came your way, no matter how many children smaller than you that you had to threaten.
 Although, you accepting life's hard truths still didn't make you happy giving away YOUR food...
 A door opening catches your attention and you tense, not moving from your position of feigned sleep. Guards push in the pig and then slam the door closed behind him. The pig staggers to his own cot and collapses, falling face first on his pillow. Minutes pass. The pig begins snoring, and you untense.
  There is a certain breed of angry, buff roommate that enjoys making their lives less miserable by making your life more miserable, and sadly, the pig is one of those roommates. A particularly tough time with the scientists for him never ceases to add another purple bruise on your arm or chest. Thankfully, today was not one of those days, and the pig was too worn out to yank you from your cot and send you scurrying to cower in a corner in a vain attempt to make yourself look too pitiful to harm. That strategy has yet to work for you.
 The pig begins snoring, and you begin turning in your cot, trying to get comfortable on an empty stomach.
 Time passes, and you can't drift off to sleep. Time passes, and the pig's snoring turns into wheezing. The wheezing turns into coughing, into choking.
 You tense again, but this time because your power tells you that something is wrong. What did the scientists give to the pig?
 He chokes and gags and gasps for air. You close your eyes, as if that could drown out the noise. The pig is dying, your power tells you that much. You doubt you could do much to help. Except, maybe, pound on the doors and try to call the guards for help...
 ...
 You remain on your cot, feigning sleep.
 After a few more minutes you hear the sound of heavy boots pounding down the hallway, boots most likely called by the ever-watching camera present in the corner of your room. The door is flung open and a crowd of people rush in dragging a white stretcher behind them and shouting orders at each other. As they push the pig onto the stretcher you slowly sit up, pretending you were just now awoken by the noise and chaos. The crowd takes no notice of you, and they exit just as swiftly as they entered. The door clicks shut behind them, and you know they were too late.
 "Good," you think to yourself before lying back down on your cot, though your heart is pounding so hard that there's no chance you'll be able to sleep tonight.

~~~

Before the crack of dawn, the memory had awoke Zach not with a jolt of fear, but with the creeping, crawling sensation of a cold hand sliding down his back. Was that just paranoia, or was it a skeleton better left in the closet creeping up on him?
 Zach turned in his cot, as if to check he was alone. At this hour in the day, way before wake up call, he was. He drew in a deep breath and then sat up.  He hadn't been resting for very long, as if one could even call being thrown into those nightmare memories "resting". No, the memories drained him more than staying up all night would have.
 Standing up, Zach stretched and groaned. If that memory reminded him of anything, it was how much he hated sharing a room with another person. No matter how many times his power assured him that a person wouldn't bring him harm, Zach never trusted any of his roommates. Which was probably why he slept with a knife under his pillow.
 That same knife, he remembered, was still tucked away with his swords, so since he was already awake, Zach decided to start unpacking. He started with his clothes first. The room, upon a closer glance around, did in fact have a worn dresser in which he proceeded stored his clothes. At the bottom of his duffle bag sat his work laptop and the magic paper which One gave him, and he placed both of those important things on the desk in the corner to think about messing with later.
 Next, he moved onto his sword case. He cracked it open and placed it on top of the dresser, so he could easily find and grab all his weapons, everything from his two swords to the knives coated in nerve-numbing poison that he kept for emergencies. For now, he just grabbed a normal, sheathed knife and returned to his cot. After slipping the knife underneath his pillow, Zach tried to return to a- hopefully peaceful- sleep.

...

He couldn't sleep.
 Thus, after hours had passed and his power sensed a lone person sneaking into his room, Zach wanted to snatch up the knife from under his pillow and toss it at the person's head. He didn't do that, however. He kept still up until the sneaking person poked his cheek, and then he suddenly flipped around, made a grab for the person's wrist, and let out a loud, angry bark of, "What do you want!?"

asi • 1 July 2015 at 4:53 PM

The cafeteria had its doors thrown wide open, like warm welcoming arms, promising a warm, not-repulsive-but-still-not-appetizing and just slightly on the meagre side sized helping to everyone and anyone, so long as they did not come during the five hours it closed in the night.
Four could not, of course, be called anyone. He was the fourth guy at the base in command and one of the perks of that was that when he wanted to hole up in his room and excavate mountains of pages for hints of elusive girls... Or whatever, he was could just tell someone to fetch him whatever he wanted, and it was there.
Why was he here then?
Riley preferred not to be alone.
He didn't eat in the First's cafeteria because he didn't like the atmosphere. It was a clique that had been formed purely based on physical skill. The people there could be rather... Intense. And he'd never belonged there either. Until making leader- or rather, until Two had dug him up- he'd eaten every meal here. At the same time, at the same table, like clockwork.
Thinking back to that time was strange. Without his memories, he hadn't been himself- in fact, he hadn't really been anyone. He had just sorted of existed, going about his tasks robotically- like he'd been incapable of doing anything purposeful or meaningful- like he couldn't form any new memories, for that matter. That time was now just an indistinct blur in his mind.
Yet sometimes, Riley felt a lot more like that person, the number, than the one he'd been before the... Accident.
He'd never had a particularly strong personality, he knew, not like his sister for example. But still, he'd never felt quite so- so- transparent, not until he'd felt what it was to be truly nobody.
It scared him a bit how much he defined himself by his memories, by the people in them. If he didn't have those who were important to him, would he go back to being that empty mannequin?
"Do you want this green thing, or not? We're supposed to give it to everyone, but you probably wanna run now..." A voice drifted across the counter and into Riley's thoughts.
He found himself already standing by the counter his tray in his hands and already half-filled. "Uhh, no thanks, not really hungry," he answered hurriedly, fumbling for the cutlery.
"Four?"
This time he looked up, only to see his server jerked away before he could get a proper glimpse. Riley paused in confusion, not sure what to think.
... It was Riley, so the pause was rather long. And in the kitchen, it sounded like some serious whispering had started. But Riley couldn't hear a thing.
Often, Riley had been embarrassed about his superpower being mental eavesdropping. There had been a lot of times where he'd felt invading someone's privacy like that, in their most secure of places, was seriously uncool. Sometimes it had been beyond useful, sometimes it had kept him up into the night on an overdose of WAY too much information.
Now that he didn't have it anymore, Riley was honestly delighted by how much he still could do. There was so much he could read in the mannerisms and the face and the tone and the words that sometimes it was like he'd never lost anything at all. It was like he'd had the cheat book taken away from him and found he had in the process actually learnt how to do maths.
But then there where times like this when he was absolutely clueless and it was killing him.
Seeing that the whispers had died down and no one was coming back, both mystery servers otherwise replaced, Riley realized it was time to move along, before the waiting line bludgeoned him to death with their breakfast trays.
He stalked away in frustration, dropping his meal down at an empty table and himself down in its seat. He felt utterly lost.


She tried the door. It was locked.
Letting out a big huff of air, Raven rested her back against the tunnel wall, and settled in for a wait. What else was she supposed to do?
Small clusters of kids passed her by, hardly sparing her a glance, but it didn't exactly make her feel at ease, being the only one standing there not either hurrying on their way or engaged in conversation. She wiped her hands on her pants and tried to look busy fiddling with the zipper to her bag, and had she ever felt this awkward back in high school? But of course, Raven had felt a lot better about being alone before she knew what it was like to have friends.
Also, though she called the guys here kids, it was by age only that she could. So many of them looked and serious and intimidating as heck. They couldn't be more different to those brats in high school... So-
Raven squinted at their faces, trying to imagine any one of them running down her hallway screaming like an idiot. How had that even happened here?
Oh. Oh no. Now she could see, and she wished she couldn't. She wished she were blind, and more importantly, deaf.
"Like, what are you doing there? Just like standing, there," the girl let out a laugh like a car screeching to a halt as she half fell onto her friends' shoulders for absolutely no conceivable reason except-
What on earth? Was she really pretending to be drunk? Oh no, Raven did not want to deal with this, not at all. Not today not ever.
"That wall's really really dirty. Your clothes are probably gross now, like really gross. Hey, are you new here? You are! I can totally smell the sweet, gentle smell of daisies and fabric softener just stinking up the room," the second girl spoke with an air as though she'd just recited a world-renowned poem and heard applause at every pause.
Honestly while Raven would have said anything not to have to hear another word from them, her mind was drawing a blank. What do you say when you're suddenly confronted like that with such utter stupidity?
"You should like, run back to your room and change quick-snaps, management won't let you in if you don't look preppy enough," the first girl now did the sound effect of the burning tires before stumbling away with her friends like twelve year old boys at a dance and only in possession of left feet.
After watching them leave with a completely appalled expression on her face, Raven just squeezed her eyes tight shut. Yeah that could have definitely gone better.


Although the person and their long dreadlocked hair jumped a bit in shock, they soon relaxed their extended limb, allowing it to grow limp in Zach's grasp.
After a moment of ogling the evidently very awake leader and seeing everything there was to see about him, the figure finally reclaimed their cool enough to answer Zach in their tone of characteristic softness; "To tell to you a good morning, naturally, Five."
They waited for their hand to be released so they could step back and let the guy get up and ready.

demon • 1 July 2015 at 6:00 PM

The dish of the day was cheese fondue. It didn't really matter what it was, Zan hated eating. In fact, he hated the whole human digestive process. He just found it all to be rather repulsive. So ruthlessly he skewered as much broccoli, their cheap albino impersonators, and whatever other assorted plant matter his ignorant brain couldn't name as could be fitted on his fork. He shovelled it into his mouth with all the spirit of an ancient grave-digger just waiting for the day when his bones gave out and he fell into his own hole and they just left him there so he wouldn't have to pay money he didn't have for the tiny plot of land to rest in. And he chewed it like baling press rubbish compactor, only because he wasn't entirely sure on the method of how to really do it.
Even so, Zan still had working sensory cells in his mouth. Even he couldn't fail to notice that someone had actually put some care into this meal. In this place, that was... That was definitely strange. And the stuff was still hot, so that meant 'that someone' had to be here, amongst the most wild group of anti-materialist delinquents, most of whom would be eating rocks if they weren't being told to eat this. It was not the first time Zan wondered who the cook here was. They were possibly crazier than Zan himself. And also, he wondered how on earth the rebels managed to keep a better menu than the Falchions. That just didn't seem right. The boss had to have some amazing supply system...
He watched the guy in the lab coat across the table twirl liquid cheese around his fork and make an unpleasant face.
"The consistency could be much
Improved on, you know," Bliss complained priggishly, shivering even though for once Zan wasn't doing a thing with the temperature, and weirdly glancing back over his shoulder every now and then? Ah, he was just anxious about all the powers in the room again. Bliss was always in a state of anxiety about something. He was the type with that kind of 'tapping my fingers' nervous energy that really set Zan on edge. How was he supposed to get his chill on when his sidekick heated up the room with his sweating and fidgeting? God he was annoying.
"Who cares? It's just crap you fill up your stomach with to stop its whining," Zan explained, grabbing his bowl of cheesy stuff and pouring it down his throat.
"That is really not how your supposed to eat that. And it's not good for your health to go so fast," Bliss looked on helplessly, then gave a strange little jump and checked his back yet again.
Ignoring his doctor, the power set his cheese bowl back down on the table, now relieved of its contents. "Right well, it's also not good for my health that you're so jumpy. If you keep looking at them, then those powers really will jump you- then I'll have to watch and I might like, I don't know, strain my eyesight too hard or something."
The guy was going to get beat up in a few minutes anyway, as soon as they hit the training room, but they might as well enjoy bruise-free skin as long as they could. Well, Bliss had bruise-free skin. Zan had a few strokes from the best friend splashed across his canvas. Honestly, when Zan had pulled up his shirt that morning he really wanted to just dash to the bathroom and barf. That ugly piece of work was a part of his body. It was hard enough having real fingers, let alone deformed ones... And Zan's 'deformed' was really just a little discoloured.
Bliss looked like he was about to say something, lips parted and the muscle in his jaw working, but Zan rose and slid off to put his plate in the surprisingly orderly kitchen and when he came back he didn't sit, just stood bored and waiting and the moment was gone.
As they arrived in the gym, Zan could only put the sparsity of disruption so far in his morning down to anticipation for this. Because it was chaos as usual in this room.

taffy789 • 6 July 2015 at 4:15 PM

 Naji woke up too early.
 Samuel and Jorge were still sleeping soundly in their respective cots, snoring away when Naji had sat up in bed, coated in sweat and smelling of fear. No, fear not only soaked under his pits and fumed forth from him but engulfed him as well. It held him like a terrified mouse in between the claws of some great, apathetic- yet mildly amused- cat. 
 Naji pulled himself up and out of his covers and tried to focus on something other than the source of his fears. Stale air was rotting in his mouth, for instance. It was probably best to find a sink to brush his teeth before a harmless breath blown towards some person turned into an unwitting murder weapon.
 Sadly, even while searching his backpack for his toothbrush and toothpaste, Naji couldn't shake his thoughts from the paranoia festering at the back of his mind, growing on his brain like a malignant fungus. He glanced over at the sleeping Samuel, the more-or-less father of his fears, and frowned. Following the discussion of missions the night before, Naji's dreams had been twisted up and gutted out and filled with all sorts of nerve-racking concepts. What should have been thoughts of gumdrops and sugarplum fairies were instead transfigured into corrupt, heartless higher-ups maliciously grinning, murderous Falchiones holding bloodied axes, and the disturbing image of his face, his terrified, hyperventilating face, superimposed on a small worm, wrapped around a small hook, and surrounded by hungry, starving fish. Only an idiot wouldn't see the common theme present in the nightmares, and hopefully because Naji wasn't that idiot, he wouldn't get sent on those god-forsaken reconnaissance missions.
 Jorge groaned in his sleep and turned over in his cot, awakening Naji from his own thoughts. He resumed the search for his toothbrush and found its bristles poking out of the front pocket of his bag. The toothpaste was more difficult to locate, but he eventually found it wrapped up in a pair of (clean, luckily) boxer shorts. Now all he needed was a water source.
 As he stood up to search for one, fearful thoughts caused his mind to again drift off. Because, although he wasn't an idiot, couldn't he be sent on that dressed-up, candy-coated suicide-mission-in-disguise simply because he was thought as expendable? Better to ask yet, because he WAS expendable?
The painfully obvious answer to that question loomed over his existence like a hungry vulture eyeing its next meal. Naji remembered the coach at that strange school he went to, the large woman with the large, angry eyes and the large, aggressive personality and the large, loud voice. "Useless, useless!" she had screamed at him, her largeness multiplied and expanding with every increase in decibels until she filled every corner of the training room and made Naji feel small, very, very, extremely, incredibly small. Useless was what he was when he couldn't heal a cut on some poor kid, some soldier-in-training. He couldn't close the wound, and the wound continued to bleed and even bled more. But how could he possibly close the wound when the coach was screaming at him and causing his heart to beat ten times in one second? In that same vein of thought, what use was a medic who couldn't heal while under any kind of stress? Naji knew the easy answer: No use at all.
 And it had to be only a matter of time before the higher-ups discovered just what breed of sorry healer he really was and sent him on those terrifyingly dangerous missions.
 It was that moment that Naji looked up and realized he'd been pacing around the tent for ten minutes while searching for a water source clearly not present anywhere nearby. He blinked, shook out his mind, and decided to get dressed for the day.
 After putting on some proper clothes, Naji started for the great outdoors, toothbrush and toothpaste in hand and ready to find some sort of water, be it sink or water bottle. He stepped outside, raised one toiletry-full hand to shield his eyes from the sun and groped for the zipper of the tent door flap with the empty other. Which is when his hand landed on a strange piece of paper taped to the door flap. Bringing the paper to his face, Naji read the curious card.

 "#2385694,
 You have been requested to report to duty at-"
 That's as far as Naji got before the card fell from his sweaty, shaking hands. The card landed in the sand, face down, and on the back there was the same message staring up at him in Spanish, 
 "#2385694,
 Ud. ha sido solicitado..."

 Naji closed his eyes, not wanting to see anymore. The card could only mean one thing, couldn't it?
 They found him out. They found him, the sorry excuse for a healer, out.
He could feel a heart attack coming on. He was going to be sent on a mission. They were going to send their most useless, most expendable Glaeroe on the suicide death mission, weren't they?
 Panicking, Naji ran back inside his tent, fleeing the bright glare of the accusing card and of the rising sun.

awesomeness • 6 July 2015 at 7:54 PM

Zach studied the individual throughly before releasing his grip and then throwing the covers off of himself. Since he'd fallen asleep in the clothes he'd worn the day before, he saw no reason to change. He simply grabbed his boots from the floor and began to slip them back onto his feet.
 "And who are you?" Zach asked while finishing lacing up his boots. He stood up, his clothing rumpled and everything about him messy from a fitful sleep, and he looked over the individual again. "And better yet," he snapped, "why are you really here? What do you need from me- some kind of leader thing?"



Walking fast, Gale glided through the hallways, on her way to some unknown destination. Her body, racked and wrecked by chills, was warmed some by the big gray hoodie that was... admittedly, not hers, and by what she'd heard that Quincy guy remark when he threw it up to her, not the gifter's either. She would give it back to it's original owner though, er, eventually. After she sorted herself out and whenever she was able to figure out who the real owner was. Which could take a while, as asking that Quincy guy was out of the question and the only clue to the owner's identity was the "Izzy's ❤️" written on the inside tag.
 With a sigh, Gale stopped her march through the base and paused to gather her bearings. A few seconds passed before she realized she had very little to gather.
Admittedly, she was currently a Huge Mess. 
A Capitalized For Emphasis sort of Huge Mess.
 At least, despite what that "Miss Jane" character thought, she knew she hadn't succumbed to feraldom yet.
 ...Or she sure hoped she hadn't.
 It... all was still kind of iffy.
 Right now, she was, for all intents and purposes, in complete control of herself. Which was good- great even! The catch was that, just a little earlier, she had been hiding in a restricted area because her power had slipped her under the door as a gust of wind and then had proceeded to fade away in a similar yet more metaphorical manner. This kind of situation, Gale knew, caused a girl to doubt the very ground she stood on.
 Her power... hadn't killed anyone this time around, despite Gale remembering passing many people as she moved as wind through the base. Did that mean, even after that horrible massacre before, her power was... nice? Not some crazy killer out for blood and fighting for dominance over their shared body?
 Gale remembered the violent, costly clash of their first meeting with a shutter. No, something inside her coupled with her memories told her not to accept that. She'd felt her power rage like a hurricane and could not believe it to be a simple breeze. And knowing this scared her.
 She resumed walking, and did so without aim, as she had walked that day during the rebel invasion to Six's room, looking for... Gale couldn't recall exactly. Help? Direction? A kind word and pat on the back? Probably she expected to find none of those things because she was looking for Six, and Six was a bit of a full of himself jerk, but yet at the same time she knew she was probably hoping- although not expecting- to find those things.
So where did she want to go now? Where did her feet want to take her, where she could again hope for the best but expect the least?
 ...
The feral Falchiones were due to die in the new Ninth Division soon, unless they were all suddenly and miraculously cured.
...
 That placed seemed good enough to Gale, so she continued walking but now in and with a new direction.

asi • 20 July 2015 at 5:23 PM

The walls were painted a clinical white.
It wasn't that the excessive cleanliness or the modernism were not to Nine's taste. Others might find that it reminded them of too many bad memories involving hospital rooms, but Karen was lucky enough to not have any particularly personal ones to bother her. In fact, the place rather held more likeness for her to a couple of the fancy art houses she recalled, and the connection there was comforting enough. So there was nothing particular about the décor she could name that put Karen on edge.
But. And there certainly was a but.
Something about her new workspace did make her feel less than comfortable, and she knew what it was. The place felt like him. It felt like Two.
Yes, Karen was very aware of her position here. She was, undeniably, with her acceptance of his role in the base, 'the new Two'. And she saw the comparison was more than just an occupational hazard, too. There were many similarities between herself and him, Karen wasn't going to ignore that. They were both logical, determined. Quietly ambitious. Cold-headed enough to calmly plan out acts of cruelty and execute them without a change of expression.
But Karen held tightly onto how she knew herself to be different. Her head may be cool, but her heart was warm. She placed the safety, needs and wishes of her friends and others far above those of her own. She was going to do what was right and just over any agenda of her own.
She was not going to be 'the new Two'. Not really.
Though she did wish she could live up to his reputation when it came to the crushing weight of administration and all its godforsaken paperwork. As Nine spent yet another day parked at her paper-laden desk crunching numbers, spewing out signatures and winding the muscles in her shoulders ever tighter, she felt a horrible thickness to the air, as if the room was still heavy with a presence, as if he was the one watching her, judging her, and not just the empty white walls.
Karen even started to regret sending Ford away to work somewhere else. Yes, his levels of obnoxicity (a cross between obnoxious and toxicity, making up words was Karen's secret guilty pleasure) were skyrocketing on her charts, and she needed to do something about that- but at least his distractions made the room feel a little more... Friendly.
"You've been working on that for a while, Nine, it would probably wait while you took a break."
It was one of Nine's current guard dogs... Actually, it was the girl from the Dani incident, carefully looking slightly away as she spoke, trying to avoid sparking Nine's full attention. "Would you like to redecorate?"
Karen's hand tightened around the pen in her grasp, adding a few awkward wobbles to an already inelegant signature. She found it funny that despite taking calligraphy classes, she could never get her own name to look good. Of course, what she put down was a little different ever since she made it here... "Being Nine does not mean I have a thing for interior design," she bit out, feeling near on offended by Nine's association with fashion and the fact that her workers clearly assumed it was something Karen wanted to do.
The girl and the boy she was with before exchanged a look.
"She didn't mean it like that," he said, tactful as ever. "It's just that Two did the same thing when he came into power here, I think it's a kind of tradition, kind of to make the place your own? And it would be a good way to stay productive while taking a breather from all..." He gestured at the miles and miles worth of silky white sheets piled high. "This." That was clearly not the way he'd felt like describing the stuff, but he'd thought better of it.
Two's smooth, soft voice seemed to echo far too easily off those clinical white walls, because as Karen tried to remember something he'd said, it came easy, she could practically hear him in her head. "But," she frowned. "Hadn't it been kind of necessary? I heard the old conditions were very impractical, allowing for the spread of diseases."
The girl blinked. "Where did you hear that?"
The boy shook his head. "I don't think so. I actually heard it was just a bit too light and... Dainty for Two. Unclean? We've got tubs of bleach from back then we're still working through."
"Dainty." The girl smiled.
"Shush," he shot back, though his expression was now no better.
That was weird. Two was so precise, but was 'dainty' really the same as 'unsanitary' for him? It was such a small thing for Nine to trouble her head about, but again, Two was so precise. Even a discrepancy like this could definitely be considered weird.
"Well, okay then," Karen rolled her cramped-up shoulders, stowing away the mystery of Two and the dainty prison bleach to humour another time. Grudgingly. She hated the idea that she needed a rest, particularly after Lily had tried to insist... But these were Two's men. Surely they wouldn't be in the habit of suggesting such a thing unless she really needed it. And Two, he was known for messing around with video games and such as much as he was for working harder than anyone else on base. So honestly, the guys who worked for him? Probably knew what they were doing. So she'd play along with this little scheme of theirs, regardless of whatever her own feelings on the work might be... Ah who was she kidding Karen was a sucker for a little redecorating.
"Let's do it over from scratch. What do you suggest?"


The swaying mass of dreadlocks beat a hasty retreat as soon as their pasty white limb was freed. While the leader laced his boots, their eyes wandered, sweeping over everything the room had to offer except the shoes themselves. Very carefully not on the shoes.
"Exactly so- a leader thing," they pounced on Five's guess the way a kitten would attack a new ball of string. "The veteran wants to know. She is very busy, you see. Will you do the leader things she has prepared for you, or see her now? Viki... Ah, she does not take well to being disrupted," they observed for Five, while rubbing at the skin just below one ear and making their piercings jangle lightly.
Then without waiting for an answer, spun around and headed out the door, eager to make new traces along the dusty passage. Five seemed alive enough to be able to keep up.