Legerman Academy - Red Skies

That eye.

Virgo had turned to meet Claire. He released his grip on Corrigan somewhat; enough for her to break free and run towards him, ready to send a pulse his way. As the invisible force moved toward him, he threw his right hand out and Corrigan felt the sheer force of the pulse being broken. Corrigan herself was then propelled backwards and hit the pavement, struggling to get up. Virgo then turned his scarlet eyes to Claire, eyeing her top to bottom. Her own eye repulsed him, and he even seemed to cringe at the sight of her. "Couldn't get a real military job, so you got stuck guarding a high school? Eh, Claire?" Virgo chuckled. The purple scar slithering from the corner of his mouth glimmered in the morning light. "Oh, now don't get all rallied up. I don't have time for your sh*t," he said, waving her down in dismissal and turning. A man in black stood at the side of the road, to whom Virgo gestured to take care of her.

The man ran up to Claire quickly, pulling out two long hands which quickly elongated into a pair of blue tendrils. Long, righteous needles wove themselves from the ends of the tentacles and the man began whipping them through the air. Their knife-like tips streaming towards Claire.

Virgo, meanwhile, took to Corrigan again. He made a back-handed motion, causing Corrigan to be shot across the road. But the blue-coated teacher stood. Blood began to seep through her coat on her left arm. She cupped the wounded area and gritted her teeth. "You bastard! What do you want?" she shouted, before throwing a pulse into Virgo that was filled with all the inner workings of her being. He was shot in the stomach by the invisible pulse and crashed against a hard wall, cracking it. Blood began to drizzle from his mouth and nose. His drawn-on eyebrows became angular and quivered with rage. Corrigan spread her hands out, aiming for his face as she sent out a mental attack. Virgo began screaming at the top of his lungs. A horrific shout as he cupped his hands over his ears.

The attack was suddenly halted as Corrigan was shoved, losing her focus. Instantly she picked herself off the ground and confronted Regina, standing before her. Regina but her lip angrily and wrinkled her face. She held up her hand and slipped one of her gloves off from it, revealing the fleshy palm beneath. Corrigan was ready to dodge whatever came at her, but what she didn't expect was for a slit to open in Regina's palm and release a hailstorm of bullets. Corrigan did not scream externally, but rather internally, as the bullets struck all around her like rain. She felt a hard pain in the back of her right shoulder and she fell to one knee. Her eyes followed a bullet as it struck the asphalt before her face. Oddly, mark of blood splattered from the road. No bullet. Only a small splash of blood. "You seem confused," Regina said, stretching her fingers. "You see, I can create bullets by solidifying my own blood and ejecting it through this little hole," she said, pointing to the slit in her hand. "Or better yet, make a new one!" she said. Quickly a slit opened in her chest and her face sprouted a smile of wickedness and sadism. Corrigan sprang to her feet as bullets showered the spot she previously stood. Tons of them raining from Regina's chest. Corrigan, with all her strength, thrust her hands towards Regina and watched the girl fly into the distance, yelling as she crashed through the window of a two-story building. Just in that time, she felt a hard fist knock her to the ground. Virgo stood, clenching his stomach as he continued to cough blood.

"Bitch," he said, pulling out a long-barreled black revolver from his fur coat. "You're making me mad." Corrigan kicked the gun from his hand and immediately made her exit, running behind the corner of a building and leaving dots of blood in her wake. "Get her! Get her now!" he shouted at the top of his lungs, pointing with the Red Hand. Several men ran down the street after her. In the meantime, Virgo stood, and heard the sounds of Claire and the man behind him. He turned, suddenly.

______________________________________________________________________________

Cassius

Cassius quickly led the students out of the auditorium. "Run! Spread out! But stay together!" he shouted, pointing to a building across the street that was being opened. It was tall and gray, and marked with tons of "emergency use only" signs. There were fallout evacuation symbols and tons of directions and labels on the front doors, which were huge. It was a large, short cylindrical building. There were tons of elevators within, ready to take students underground in masses. But suddenly, someone had other ideas.

A man dressed in a shimmering black tux walked out from behind the building. One of his eyes was missing and replaced by a simple scar. No. Not just a scar, but a mechanical opening. A circular cooking timer stuck out from his skull where his left eye should've been and it was counting down. The man was smiling, but fell on his knees in front of the evacuation center. Cassius stopped the line of students and approached the man, who was holding his hands together, much in a pleading-manner. As Cassius drew nearer, he saw quickly that the man's mouth was forced into a smile but a few screws and some wire holding his lips and his cheeks. He wordlessly pleaded and Cassius' heart began to thrust from his chest. "Oh god... No... Get back!" he shouted at the students, sending them running back towards the auditorium.

Immediately Cassius' body shifted. His clothes rippled with his body as he transformed into a large metallic structure curling over some of the nearest students. The man with the tick-tock eye was disintegrated with a single flash of light as the evacuation center was destroyed. The man had exploded, sending fires over the entrance to the evac center that were hotter than those from the belly of a mythical dragon.

When the explosion had mostly ended, Cassius' body began to fold back into its original state, morphing with each passing second. He was panicking. He couldn't think straight. Where was he going to take the students now? Where is the next shelter entrance... he thought, his body jumping out of itself. "Find a teacher and get to safety! All of you! Spread out!" he shouted. Each teacher that had been in the auditorium took to the front quickly to lead groups of students away.

"Do you really think that'll save them?" said a voice from behind Cassius. He turned, pulling out a pistol from his side and pointing it directly at the voice. It was to his great fear that a pile of ash was building up into the form of a person. Each tiny flake being pulled into a tall space, so that the man was reformed. His bones formed back from gravel and dust. And his blood filled back into him. It seemed he could explode and regenerate his body, but he'd die any other way. And now the same kitchen clock formed from melted metal, restoring itself on his pale face. "You can't save anyone. Those of you who don't die will be better off. He's going to Curse all of you..." the man said.

"Who the hell are you," Cassius said, pointing the gun at the man's head.

It was as though Riley felt the dome form before it was announced. A chill went down her spine, and in that time she did not need any power to tell her what happened. She knew. Time never slowed, but in the future during the times Riley would recall the calm before chaos, she would be able to remember every detail so vividly, the memory of the three short seconds would seem like the memory of an eternity. The sound of her own heartbeat pounding in her ears at it drowned out the external noises of the whispering students and the “Matilda Teacher” who was soon interrupted by another teacher, who revealed to the woman what had happened outside. The cloud of emotions that were arrayed in a rainbow of feelings, and how quickly she sensed so many of those emotions turn to panic and fear. Riley’s breath was caught in her throat during those few seconds, and only once the announcement was made for students to evacuate did she remember to breathe.

”Breathe, Riley, breathe.”

She thought those words in an attempt to take her mind off the expected disaster. She had told herself she was ready time and time again when preparing for this day. She even believed it. The idea of what was going to happen had been only a dream at the time, but now that the plan had taken physical form, it felt like a dream – no, a nightmare. Riley was worried about acting out her reaction to this “surprise” attack, but now those worries seemed stupid, as her face held a legitimate expression of panic. Her panic was short lived, however, as Thomas moving his hand in front of her momentarily directed her thoughts away from it. For a moment, Riley was her old self. What is he thinking, trying to protect her when even the teachers were having difficulties? Either he is really dense or - Riley avoided looking in Thomas’ eyes when he smiled back at her. Or he’s a lot better person than she could ever be.

Riley managed a small, empty smile. “I will, but don’t you think it may be better to follow the others? I-I mean, you don’t have to worry about me. I’ll be fine.” That statement wasn’t a lie, at least. Of course she would be fine if she knew the guys attacking. Besides, now that Thomas knew part of her power, he may figure out her emotion manipulation abilities and want her to help do something like calm students who are trying to fight back, and to help them out at a time like now would probably result in more harm for her than she planned or wanted. But then, the explosion happened - She forgot about that guy - and the chaos grew, making Riley stammer out a meek “Nevermind” regarding her statement towards Thomas.

__________________________________________________________________________

Dr. Richards’ conversation with Miss Easton was cut short by the announcement from Cassius. His first thoughts were towards the students and their welfare, so needless to say he quickly began working with directing the students towards the shelter, but not without some precautions.

Reaching into his suit pocket, Richards pulled out a small pocket dictionary. He didn’t require it for its more conventional use, of course, but rather, his abilities. Holding open the cheap, plastic covering of the book with his left hand, multiple pages came flying out. A soft fluttering sound, almost like a bird’s wings, was heard as the loose papers flapped around, each one forming into a small paper plane. If it weren’t for the aura of panic coming from the crowd and the chaos outside, the scene would have felt as though it were a child-like, mystifying spectacle. This small army of paper planes was made to dive towards anyone who tried to attack the students – Richards did not want any of his students getting hurt under his watch.  While paper planes don’t normally hurt people, these were different. They were Richards’ planes. He could control paper and make it change density, so that’s just want he did. Such thin paper that’s hardened to certain extents can cause more damage than it may seem.

Seeing Casssius guarding the front, Richards stayed near the end of the crowd, his eyes darting everywhere in search of anything preparing to attack. They just had to get the students to the shelter, and then they could fight these intruders without any restraints. It worked out in his head… until one of the intruding Changelings exploded and destroyed the closest shelter. Richards clicked his tongue in disappointment before pointing at a handful of students that were nearby. “You! Stay near me and be prepared. It would be quite unfortunate if anything happened to you on your first full day, hm?” His being facetious probably didn’t help the situation at all.

Honey


Just as they made their way to the entrance of the auditorium, moments before they walked out of the building, a blinding flash of light and a deafening roar of flames exploded from the nearest evacuation center. Honey, already knowing what this was, reached around and placed a hand on the shoulder of the bird-like changeling, who seemed to be faring far worse than the boy in grey—she hadn’t noticed the wings right away, strangely, perhaps because she hadn’t seen his back until now. At first, Honey had been wondering if the one in grey was disgusted with her, but then she realized, in addition to his monochrome dress, the stranger appeared to be unnerved by the indication of any touch at all; not just hers. While she avoided touching the one individual, she knew that the bird-changeling was on the verge of hysteria, and needed someone to ground him, before he lost all sense of reason.
 
“Well, there’s our answer, they know about the evacuation centers. I should have figured that it would be that way; too predictable that we’d go for the closest one…They know exactly what we’re liable to do next.” Honey said, ears pricking up as she heard shouting outside.
 
“…Scatter?” She said, repeating the words she heard, and her eyes narrowed, “If we scatter, we won’t be so easy to trap and mow down…but…if we get caught all by ourselves and we aren’t real fighters…”
 
Her grip tightened on the shoulder of the bird-changeling, not so much that it would hurt, but enough to indicate her concern. “Alright, we’ve done enough dawdling.” She concluded, and her hand went away.
 
She turned to both of the two she had just met, but kept her ears scanning the surroundings, vigilant for danger, “Listen, we’re going to split away from here, but the three of us should stay together. Only us and no one else. If another student appears near us, or seems to gravitate, even if you want to help, you have to run away from them if they are being chased. If you aren’t spotted and nobody goes after you, and you find someone who might still be able to make it and isn’t being chased, help them, if you want, but if they are injured, you will be risking your own life for theirs. The three of us should be able to easily reach each other at any time when we run, and we should also stay where we can speak without yelling too loudly.”
 
Honey’s hands clenched into fists, “When we do this, we must work together, understand? If your eyes can see danger, spot it and warn us. If you can sense people, tell us to move away from where they’re dropping off. I will listen for any indication of danger. If any one of us is chased and the attacker seems manageable, we take them on together. If you can fly, don’t fly, and if your powers are flashy, don’t use them. Don’t do anything to attract their attention.”
 
She turned around to look in the direction of one teacher, “All three of us, follow that teacher. We stay by the walls of the auditorium. Keep your heads low at all times, and when we get outside, start running. No screaming, don’t make a sound unless it’s necessary.” She said.
 
Without another word, she dropped to all four legs and began to move, keeping one ear pricked back, as if listening to ensure they were there.
 
 
Scylla
 
“Who is she? Why is she helping me? Is she trying to trick me? Does she seriously think this is going to work? No, no, you’re being ridiculous again. She’s trying to protect you and this bird guy. You don’t even know her name and she’s trying to keep you safe. Why is she doing this? Why does she care?”
 
Scylla, despite the millions of doubts in his head, found his feet moving to follow the cat-creature, anyway, and when she broke into a run on all fours, he found himself still trying to keep up with her. A part of him felt numb, now, having adjusted to the terrified screams and the sounds of gunfire, but something else inside of him felt like, for the first time in a long while, someone was genuinely concerned about him, not because of a talent or a power or even anxiety, but because they wanted him to live regardless of who he was. An actual person that cared, and not because they were trying to be some hero, but because they were doing what they knew they could and not risking everything for what couldn’t be helped. Scylla now realized that this stranger, this cat-person, might have been looking for someone she had only spoken to briefly, and had only given up because it would not do any good to search. She had given up on rescuing someone else to save who was there in front of her then.
 
Scylla, of course, knew that this couldn’t qualify as being ‘rescued’, it wasn’t even really that he felt any more secure knowing he had been unexpectedly placed into a ‘team’ with a bird-changeling and a cat-monster…but the fact that someone was retaining some sort of grasp on what was happening, and trying to at least do something, was enough for him to believe it was worth following her lead. Not only this…but…had she…known he hated being touched? She had deliberately avoided even brushing against him when she was trying to ground the bird changeling to keep him from dissolving into a panic. Was she being considerate of him, even in this complete mess?
 
…
 
No.
 
It wasn’t prior knowledge. She could read him. She had intuition, just like Scylla did, just like how Scylla was somehow rationally processing this, from the fact that he could tell she was reading his expression and his actions, to how he knew that he might have to swallow his fears of touching to ensure that his new avian companion stayed grounded, to brace his shoulders if he started to lose his nerve. Even in all of Scylla’s anxieties, she had ignored that, and was going to pick him over the others in the auditorium, anyway. Even now, her one ear was trained on them, watching to make sure they wouldn’t fall too far behind.
 
…
 
For a brief moment, he thought he could clearly, vividly sense her presence, separate from all of the rest.
 
…
 
Then, he felt as presences vanished.
 
…
 
They had to hurry, before everything was in vain.

The man in the tux with the ticking eye kept smiling at Cassius, though not by his own will. Some smoke still rolled off his shoulders. He had long, shaggy black hair and a huge scar over the left side of his face, ringing the cooking clock that replaced his left eye. His mouth, pinned in a smile by hooks and wire, was unnerving. And his remaining eye was a sharp, foggy dark green. "Well, friend, my name is Hadriel. But to you I'm Mister Suicide. Pleased to meet you!" he said, stretching his hand out to Cassius. He seemed like he was forcing enthusiasm. Like his joy was not sincere, but a thick layer of hate and anger rested under his happy guise. Cassius only glared at his hand for a single moment, keeping the gun held high. Hadriel gently lowered it, his cheeks sinking somewhat to indicate he was no longer truly smiling, and that the smile that was there now was purely forced.

"What's going on? Who are you people? What do you want?" Cassius yelled, trying with all his might not to pull the trigger just yet.

"Hmm, now that's a tough question. Lemme think on it for a second. I don't want to say anything that I'm not supposed to. I'll get in trouble," he said, shifting his weight to one leg and placing his hands on his hips, thinking for a moment. "Oh! Okay now I know what to say. Okay, so we're a gang! This campus is ours now!" Cassius fired his pistol immediately. It brushed over the man's shoulder as he ducked and jumped to Cassius' legs, knocking him down. Hadriel's eye began to crunch down on time. Cassius could see it and swiftly kicked him in the face, loosing a few of the screws and wires. Screaming, Hadriel's forced smile was undone, leaving only a horrid frown.

"Now look what you've done!" said Hadriel, stripping a long metal wire from his mouth and spitting out two screws. Cassius took off in another direction, gradually splitting his jacket as two fleshy wings struck from his back and began to produce feathers. He kicked off the earth and began gliding about, just above the street. Hadriel grumbled under his breath as Cassius got away and he took out a small mirror from his pocket and held it up to his face, eyeing the timer. "Oh shoot, only thirty seconds left! Better make myself useful..." He frantically looked around until he found a group of people making their way away from him. The first person he saw was Thomas, and so he began running straight toward him.

Boom.

Claire weaved between the two tendrils with an expert finesse. While it seemed as though she narrowly avoided contact with them, each movement was calculated and honed from years of experience. It only took her a second to get within her own arm's reach of the Changeling. She made a quick swinging motion with her enclosed fist towards the man's neck, as if intending to punch him.

However, when her motion finished, the man grasped desperately at his neck as blood sprayed violently forth from it, like the result of a constant wave of the ocean crashing upon a craggy shore. The fluid filled his lungs, beginning to choke him. Each gasp for air was met with nothing more than futile deprivation. The Changeling was confused, and his irises moved wildly before meeting the source of his suffering. Upon Claire's right wrist rested a glowing blade of purple, semi-translucent energy. Blood dripped down from its edge, splattering to the ground rapidly.

Claire lunged forth almost recklessly, knowing her opponent wouldn't react given his condition, and plunged her triangular, mounted sword into his chest. Blood soaked the clothes he wore on his back, the shining purple point jutting through. From that perspective, a trail of red continued upwards as Claire brutally sliced upwards, cutting easily through the flesh and bone of the Changeling's vertebrae. She pulled the blade out at the chin, then stepped deftly to the side as he fell forward, a massive splatter of blood appearing on the ground, comparable to an extremely simple Pollack painting. It was likely this thud that Virgo heard as he turned, and his eyes would have met a rather clean Claire considering the wrath she had just unleashed.

The mercenary pointed her blade at Virgo melodramatically, then grinned. "Show me what tricks you have up your sleeve this time, bitch." She growled. Claire wasn't sure if Virgo knew what her power was, but there were other ways to surprise her opponent. After all, she still had her other blade in the wings.

____________________________________________________________________

Much to the surprise of the students in the hallway, the thunder of the explosion were muffled, the reverberations seemingly confined. The smoke and debris billowed within a box of semi-opaque blue energy, the cloud of particles like a seething snake trying to escape from a cage. The explosion had been completely enclosed, almost all of its damage prevented.

Thomas held out his hand in the direction of the cage of energy, his fingers outstretched. He turned back to Riley, and in her own eyes, could see the glimmering cyan glow that his own gave off while he was using his powers. The adrenaline surging throughout his body seemed to strengthen the barriers he could create, as they still had not shattered even after withstanding such a powerful release of energy.

"I told you to trust me," He whispered with an uneasy smile. Remembering the current situation, he grabbed Riley's hand and began to run to the opposite end of the hallway. "Let's get out of here while we can!" He shouted, both to Riley and the nearby students. Simultaneously, he used his mind to move the barriers containing Suicide away from his peers (and with them their captive), to buy them time to escape.

Virgo turned fully and inspected Claire and the man she had just put down. That disgusting eye, he thought. Even more appalling than Hadriel's.... He couldn't help but grin, feeling the memories flood back into his black mind. "Been a busy girl, haven't you?" he said, stomping forward. He seemed to have recovered from the wounds Corrigan gave him with her telekinetic pulses. They were mere shoves to him now anyway. He chuckled as he slid his fur coat from his body and tossed it to the side, into Regina's arms. Beneath it Virgo had been wearing a sleek black combat shirt. He popped his neck, several eerie crackles sounding from it. His smile returned, vicious and thirsty for the sweet nectar of bloodshed and violence.

"How funny. It seems my biggest targets are coming to me all on their own today. Are all of you just that eager to die, or be maimed?" he chuckled. "Well, anyway. It's been a long time, sweetheart. How's that Mark working out for you?" he asked, a hoarse cackle growing in his neck. "You see, I'd love to let you live, just to continue watching you live with such a hideous face, such a wasted life, but my job here requires your disposal," he said. He raised his left hand and gently pointed it at Claire. An array of black hands and tendrils stretched from the environment behind him and shot towards Claire.

________________________________________

The smoke which was the afterbirth of the contained explosion began to mold back into the silhouette of a man, encrusted with debris. And suddenly, this mold transformed back into Hadriel, or Mister Suicide. His clock now reset and his fists clenched with anger. "What the hell was that! You little bitch! That was such a good spark I had going! Why you little..." he quickly reached into his coat and pulled out a small box of matches. Opening it, he angrily grabbed one from inside and lit it. With his free hand he put the box away. Hadriel's eyes narrowed with visceral lust as he watched the flame on the tip of the match. He quickly touched it to one of his hands and watched it ignite with fire. His hand and forearm were now engulfed in flame, yet he felt nothing.

"Come here, now!" he said, as the barriers had left him. He began running in Thomas' direction, his arm consumed in light. Suddenly he stopped in his tracks, his eye wide. "Oh damn it. I shouldn't have went after that group. I can't hurt that one..." he said to himself, getting an upset feeling in his stomach. "Ugh this sucks. Hmmph," he said, clinching tightly and watching the fire go out abruptly across his skin. "Well... I should stick to my job anyway. I'll have to find the next evac center."

He's running out of time - we have to move faster!

The thought echoed through Riley's mind as the confrontation took place between Cassius and Hadriel the Self-Destructive Maniac. Her feet moved instinctively, but it was too late. She saw that glance in their direction and realized what was coming next. For a split second, she felt anger. The idiot didn't notice her? She wasn't supposed to be killed!
It was then that her anger was replaced by fear with the realization of what those words really meant. She was going to die. The thought was taboo and held a surreal atmosphere about it, but its meaning bore a real weight that prompted her to at least try to move faster, even though common sense told her that she didn't stand a chance. Move faster!Faster!

Too late.

Riley's feet froze and she let out a scream, squeezing her eyes shut and covering her ears, shielding them from the sound of the deafening explosion. She stayed in that position and waited for the explosion... that never came. With shaking hands, she uncovered her ears and opened her eyes, her large brown orbs widening as she stared up at the box of blue energy before her. She could see Mr. Suicidal the Kitchen Timer's smoky form trying to escape. Considering the fact that he almost killed her, Riley would normally be rather pleased by this, but she was ironically too in shock from his almost killing her to care. Her eyes then traveled to Thomas, studying his cyan eyes. Just as before, her mouth felt as though it had cotton in it, and she struggled to form any words. He protected not just himself, but Riley along with a small handful of other students. If Riley wasn't sure before, she was now positive that he was far nicer to her than she could ever deserve. The thought made her ever-present feeling of guilt grow.

When Thomas spoke to Riley, it was the final blow of guilt to make the sick feeling return to her stomach. He wanted her to trust him, and he just proved that she could, but Riley knew that he should definitely no trust her. Either way, Riley managed to choke out an "okay" before Thomas grabbed her hand - much to her surprise - and began pulling her along as he ran. He really shouldn't be protecting her like this, and Riley fumbled for an excuse for him to leave her be.

"Thomas, I'll be fine. You're going to get yourself killed if you do this sort of stuff - d-don't worry about me, seriously. It's not like they can kill me or-" Riley internally facepalmed when she realized what she just said. That was too close to what was true with the group attacking and she knew it. Not to mention if she shrugged it off as a power, it would mean she would have to stay true to that statement for the rest of her time here. There's also the fact that the way she screamed earlier when approached by one of the attackers certainly made it look like she could be killed by them - which she could, but they just were not supposed to. She couldn't take back that statement, now, however, and the most she could do was lower her voice and hope Thomas thought nothing of what she just said as she whispered the rest of the sentence. "-anything." She just screwed up.

Honey


For once in her life, Honey found that, despite her appearance, she seemed to be a far lower-priority on the list of things to shoot at. Of course, when you compare a furry creature that is clearly more interested in hiding or running away to someone who is crackling with what could be a distance-related attack, one was immediately more dangerous than the other. Honey was not even sure if someone saw her; she might just be going under the assumption because, despite the fact that she was logically capable of comprehending the events around her, she was still running on adrenaline and obviously, she didn’t want to die here. She and many other students ran in zigzags, making a confusing path, but always, she was trying to tense her ears for the sound of the two individuals that she was going to try to work with. Suddenly, though, the sound of pleading from a familiar voice reached her.
 
“Ira,” she thought, “he’s alive, and they haven’t found him yet.”
 
A part of Honey still had hurt feelings, given that he had walked off without so much as a farewell, but either way, being rude did not warrant leaving him to die, if his injuries weren’t immediately lethal. She had a clear opening, and as of this moment, nobody seemed to have any interest in her or in the monochrome guy, who she could see in her peripheral vision. Dressed with only grey clothes, she could recognize him without looking at him directly, which might be better anyway, since it might hide that they were working together. If someone thought that a few of the students had begun forming teams, it would spur them to kill the individual members to keep the rest of the victims from doing the same. A student helping the injured was easy prey, but also, not a major threat; multiple able-bodied students cooperating had potential to cause harm to their attackers.
 
A small wave of nausea told Honey that she was disgusted by how carefully she was planning her movements; in a situation like this, the norm was to panic and lose your mind, so why of all people did a furry like her feel composed? She wanted to think deeply and reflect on this, but there was no time. She had to allocate all of her mental concentration towards what she was about to do. If she screwed up, she would probably get shot, and so would Ira, because she would be leading dangerous people right to him.  She took a brief scan of her surroundings: None of the blurs that resembled strange attackers looked as if they were facing in her direction, but she wasn’t entirely sure.
 
She twitched an ear, “The person I was looking for is over there, I can hear his voice, and I’m going to get him.” She said, raising her voice just enough so that the one sensory-class changeling could hear her, but not enough to draw more attention than those shrieking in fear. With this, she split away, charging towards the strange red light of the dome overhead, sending out clicks that were drowned out by the sound of gunfire.
 
Any shape other than the ones she was watching, Honey moved away, the sounds giving her all the answers her eyes refused to offer, all the way to the very edge of the barrier.
 
Honey skidded to a halt, now close enough to see why Ira was pleading for help. This…dome…thing…it seemed to be hurting him, the very top of his head was touching it, and he was clutching at his heart. Her ears could pick out the sound of it beating, soft, weak, and abnormal. He appeared to be praying, but in the end, divine power came in strange ways, didn’t it? Ira seemed to be on the verge of blacking out, perhaps death itself, and additionally, there was still the risk of Honey getting zapped through his body, if the dome was like electricity…but then again, changeling powers were not predictable, and the worst-case scenario, she jumps back because she can’t actually touch him, and then has no choice but to leave.
 
“If God is answering your prayers, you’d better be thanking Him when we’re safe, you ditcher.” Honey muttered, tapping one of his ankles, just to make sure she wouldn’t be electrocuted if her muscles decided to lock up from making contact.
 
Nothing happened.
 
Without any further hesitation, Honey seized Ira’s legs, and pulled him away from the energy dome, and out of the immediate danger of it killing him with its energy. “Now that I’ve done this, don’t you dare die on me,” As she said these things, her voice was perfectly even and calm, as her ears scanned for the sounds of the other two she was with. “Alright, judging by what I can tell, about…well, maybe only slightly heavier than me. I can manage.” She muttered. She placed one arm underneath Ira’s knees, and the other behind his upper back, and lifted him up with surprising ease. She was capable of lifting twice her weight, and this was without any sort of physical training. Ira wasn’t extremely light, but unlike if she had been a normal human, he wouldn’t slow her down except for the fact that he was very tall, and awkward to carry.
 
“Whenever you get strength back, I’ll move you onto my back, I can’t run very well like this. When your legs work again, you run, you understand?” She said, although this was more to stress her point than to actual ask if he could hear her.
 
With this new burden, and knowing full-well how dangerous carrying a person was, Honey set off, trying more than ever to keep up with everyone while at the same time avoiding dropping the person she had tried to save.
 
The monochrome-dressed changeling, who was now ahead of everyone else, but had slowed enough that she would catch up with him, looked back at her, and sent a fast thumb-up sign, before rapidly withdrawing it, afraid someone might see. As Honey had thought, her feeling of wanting to be around this individual had been a good one. He was trustworthy, and hadn’t been so ready to leave her behind. They were lucky that they were getting further away from the blasts of the one attacker, as well. The bombs were not planted, but it seemed a changeling was responsible.
 
Honey just hoped there was nobody with a gun anywhere nearby.
 
 
Where it sat on her shoulder, just faintly, although Honey herself couldn’t hear it, there came a whisper from her plant, the leaves rustling faintly, and so quiet that only Ira could have heard it:
 
“A r e  y o u  h a p p y  n o w ?”
 
The words came so slowly, it was almost impossible to make out what it had said, but surely….it had spoken, hadn’t it?
 
…
 
 
Scylla


Scylla was unable to believe the kind of nerve that the cat-monster changeling was displaying, given that he had already narrowly avoided detection twice. The longer they waited for her to rescue that…one person who had been by the barrier-thing, the closer those gunmen got. His fingers itched, and it was everything he could do not to grab his flute and use his full power to help, or at least, to run far away. When he used his powers, he was strong; touches didn’t hurt, his eyes didn’t drive him insane, and bright colors and crowds didn’t scare him.
 
When she had grabbed the person and finally began following again, he showed her a thumbs-up, just to make sure she knew he had been watching for her.
 
Then, something caught his attention. Out of the corner of his eye, someone with a gun taking aim. They hadn't seen him yet. His hands clenched into fists, and he found himself breaking into a cold sweat.
 
It was going to hurt. He was going to hate it.
 
Without thinking, Scylla lunged, slamming into the attacker at full force, and forcing the barrel of his weapon towards the ground. Accidentally, it went off, and Scylla felt a sting down the side of his leg, stronger than the burning of where he was making contact with the person. He’d been grazed by the bullet, but even so, the gunman let out a yell, stumbling back. The bullet had gone right down the side of Scylla’s leg and into a big toe on his foot. Unfortunately, this guy was well-trained.
 
The gunman reached for his weapon again, somehow ignoring his injury, and Scylla jumped again, this time, grabbing hold of the gunman’s helmet, and wedging himself so that his body blocked the enemy’s arms, preventing him from raising his weapon into a suitable firing position.
 
“Oh…goodness, goodness it burns, it hurts, it hurts!”
 
Scylla couldn’t tell if it was from the injury slicing down his leg, or from the fact that he was bringing himself into contact. Even so, it was this, him, or the cat-changeling and the guy she’d rescued. He couldn't afford to run away from this one person. Even if he hated it, he had to be strong or else someone would die.
 
Without thinking, Scylla forced the attacker’s head back, and delivered the strongest punch he could muster to his windpipe.
 
The attacker stumbled back, fell over, and lay still.
 
Scylla, looked back at where Honey was, and he quickly turned and broke into a run to follow her, clenching his hands into white-knuckled fists from the sheer stress of what was happening.
 
He didn’t know if the attacker was alive or not.

Joyce

Where is she where is she where -

A shot rang out, too loud.

Joy looked around. Yep, everything was still freakin all kinds of messed up. She'd been tailing the crowd of kids led by her boss, but just over there she could see the furry beast from earlier and a couple of others. It was carrying something.. Oh! Oh God, are those kids? Are they hurt...? Oh God...! Someone should do something, somebody should...

Geez, nobody else sees. Uhhhh. Okay, adulting time. Joy waved to her boss at the head of the line of kids - she didn't think he saw - and set off at a sprint.

The distance seemed to grow as she ran, and that freakish red dome loomed overhead. Suddenly Joy felt very alone, in the middle of some kinda hellish plain, running for her life...

Then the cat-monster and its friends came up before her, and she slowed to a panting halt.

"Hey!" Joy managed, trying to sound confident. "Hey, you! You three should follow... Uhh... Is he... Hurt?" She pointed at the one in the beast's arms - supposing, reasonably enough, that he was the one who'd been hit by that gunshot she'd heard, and not the meek little kid in the hoodie. Oh God, I don't remember anything from that CPR course...!

Scylla


Scylla winced, “He was touching that barrier-thing.” He responded to the strange woman who had stopped everyone, before hunching over and hugging himself, as if he couldn’t get warm. It wasn’t because he was severely injured; in truth, the gunshot he had suffered was more like a long cut, but in the end, the fact that Scylla had touched someone had left a lingering feeling of distress. Not only this, but the guy wasn’t moving when he ran off…oh…goodness, did he kill him? How did he even go that far, and why was he not having a meltdown? He felt like he’d been burned alive from performing the tackle, but even then, his eyes weren’t going blind, and he was maintaining far more composure than he should have. Right now, all Scylla felt like he wanted to do, even more so than panicking, was to find a safe, dark place to hide, and then curl up into a ball and cry until he had run out of tears. He could not remember the last time he had been so scared.
 
“I got shot.” Scylla’s hands clutched his sleeves tighter, and he looked down at where the outer part of his lower right leg was slowly turning red, the grey fabric of his sweatpants showing the wound’s outline. “The bullet isn’t lodged. He shot himself in the foot.” He then found his eyes tearing up, but he forced them to stop, and wiped them away from beneath his glasses, smudging the inner part of the lens slightly. He hated when his glasses were smudged, the whole world looked like frosted glass when it was like that, but at the moment, he was in too much distress to care. He choked down a sob, before containing the tears successfully, “I…I think I killed him….he….he wasn’t moving….”
 
The cat-creature turned to look at him abruptly with concern, “You were shot?” She then looked down at his leg, squinting, as if she could not see well, “Your leg...you’re bleeding a lot.” She said, her voice very even. Her claws tightened slightly on the fabric of the rescued boy’s clothes. She had excellent self-control, but even so, it was clear she was worried.
 
Scylla looked at her, “It…won’t kill me…” He said, fighting to keep himself from crying. He couldn’t lose his composure. “They were about to shoot you, and…I...” He stopped to swallow, as dry as his throat was, and then he continued. “I attacked them.” He then glanced down at his leg, “It’s big…but it’s not deep. It looks worse than it is….it’s not lethal….it just…” He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, before opening them again, “It hurts.”
 
Scylla knew that he could get away with his life with a wound like this, but in the end, he couldn’t keep running. For the time being, the blood would clot and he would be able to run, but eventually, he needed to get stitches, and avoid letting it reopen. Infection would be just as dangerous. The only thing he could hope was that nothing serious happened to make it worse. In truth, it would be ideal if he could get medical attention right away, but in the end, that wasn’t possible.
 
The cat-creature looked uneasy, “You…” She drifted off, and her ears lowered, as if she were upset, “If I had been paying more attention…”
 
“If you hadn’t risked it, I don’t think he would be alive right now.” Scylla nodded at the unconscious kid. He clenched the strap of his backpack with one hand, “Just…we need to get to a bunker, before they have a chance to destroy it…but...” His nose wrinkled at the prospect, “…if they know about them…what if they’re traps, and we get killed inside?”
 
The cat-creature shook her head, “I think…we’re out of options. We need to just find one that we can reach before they do.” Her ears pricked up, “You…you can see right? You can sense them?”
 
Scylla frowned, and then thought, “There…” He raised his hand, keeping it close to his body, and pointed after one specific location.
 
“What’s over there?” The creature asked.
 
“That’s where they’re coming from, the gunmen. The presences over there…” Scylla then gritted his teeth, and pulled his hood tighter over his head with one hand, “They’re….” He couldn’t bring himself to say it.
 
The cat-creature turned to the woman, “We stopped to rescue Ira, and I lost track of the teacher.” She said. "If he says the wound isn't lethal, I'll believe him, but I don't know what's wrong with Ira. I don't know what this...dome...thing...is." She ground her teeth, trying desperately to think of a solution, it seemed.

Joyce

Joy was breathing hard. "Ira... huh? That's Ira? And you... Good." Geez, what are these kids made of?

She turned to the smaller one, the one in the hoodie, and past him - there's a guy lying on the ground. It's too dark to see, but she doesn't think he's moving. Did he really - did this guy really kill him?

"Okay," says Joy, facing Scylla. "Okay, you, you did good, kid. I know it hurts. I know, but you're gonna be okay, so... Just... Can you, can you walk?"

She offers her hand. "Here... Take my arm, and, and we'll walk, we'll get to the building. Nobody has to, we uhh, we shouldn't get near that dome. But we're gonna be okay."

Joy tried a smile, but wasn't sure it worked. She was all sweaty and still felt so small - she didn't think she could face the implications of whether or not this kid had actually one-shot that dude, so... gonna deal with that later!

"I'm Joy. What're your names? Uhh, tell me as we walk. Can you, are you sure you can carry him, there, uhh, big guy?"

Claire didn’t respond to Virgo’s insults as he launched his assault, choosing instead to defend herself from the onslaught of shadows that approached. While she could easily dodge and outmaneuver many of the tendrils and grasping hand, some needed to be vanquished. In response, she rapidly slashed through the air with her psionic blade, a purple blur that effectively cut through the darkness that sought her blood. Claire didn’t know what happened to the shadows after she sliced through them. She didn’t care – she was focused purely on killing Virgo, no matter the obstacle. One may have found her determination to be incredible.

“I see you’re still an incitant prick. Some people never really change, eh?” Claire taunted, simultaneously deflecting a shadow with her blade. A wave of tendrils quickly shot at her, covering the entire area of her body from the midriff to her head. Claire ducked underneath them, and pivoted off of her toes to lunge forward towards Virgo. She quickly began to make a stabbing movement with her sword, moving her arm back before thrusting it forward with massive force. However, she suddenly changed paths, throwing her feet out to halt her momentum before carrying the force upwards with a massive swing at Virgo. If the attack missed, she hoped Virgo would be distracted enough by her fake out to not notice a following downward strike. But if it connected, there wouldn’t be much left for her to do.

______________________________________________________


”Wait, what did she just say?” Thomas asked himself as he continued to run, grasping Riley’s hand tightly as they rounded a corner of the hallway with a couple other students in an attempt to escape from Hadriel. Thomas couldn’t give Riley’s words much thought, given the pounding staccato of machine guns and horrendous screams in the distance. He quickly remembered her emotion sensing powers, and hypothesized that she may be able to manipulate those feelings as well. However, despite that being true, Thomas didn’t really know for sure, and it was a farfetched theory at best, in his mind. There were also many other reasons Riley could have said what she did, including the fact that she knew who was assaulting the school. He decided to bury the issue for the moment, but as soon as they got out of the predicament, he wanted to give it more thought. It was, after all, very strange to tell someone that their safety was ensured in a slaughter.

Thomas came to a slow at the sight of doors leading to the outside, where he knew that the majority of the attackers would be despite welcoming rays of sun shining through windows around him. “Do you think there are more students out there?” He thought aloud, though he knew the answer was certainly a yes. He didn’t care if Riley answered, anyways – No matter what, he was going to burst out those doors and protect the nearest student, simply because he had the ability to. Thomas didn’t consider himself a heroic man, but he did know that he couldn’t be idle and watch classmates and potential friends get massacred when he had a distinct power to prevent it. He did figure, however, that Riley’s potential emotion manipulation power could be helpful, and it was likely a good thing that she was by his side.

(Just a quick post bc I'm at my cousins' house and internet is limited, so I don't want to waste reloading a page as we have to go in about 10 minutes)

Riley winced slightly as Thomas tightly held onto her hand. The words she had just said continued to echo in her head as they ran, her thinking o the many ways the statement could be interpreted. The smell of smoke lingered in the air from the explosions as sounds of gunfire and screams of probably helpless students vibrated outside. it sounded like a war zone - no, it is a war zone. The thought from earlier added to her jumbled mind. You caused this.

The many worries that were swimming through her head made Riley's head spin, and she was grateful when Thomas broke her many trains of thought with a question. The way he asked it made her think it was more rhetorical, but even so, Riley answered in an attempt to keep her mind offf of all the thoughts that were just now reverberating through her mind.

"U-um, yeah - I'm pretty sure there are," she stammered out - with all the nerves, she had been stammering a lot lately. Riley steadied her voice as she continued speaking, "But, if we're going outside... just... try not to die, alright?" She wasn't going to try to think of an excuse to leave, anymore. It resulted in her revealing enough information, anyway, and judging by his most recent actions, Riley figured Thomas was going to go outside and try to help. He was impulsive and, in her opinion, a bit reckless, as a result of that trait. Even so, he was kind to her, and she already felt enough guilt over the situation. Him dying would only worsen the load. This being said, with the shelters being destroyed, maybe it would help at least decrease the possibility of him dying if she stayed with him? It might help some, and she would not get in trouble for "blending in" by simply staying with some other students. It wasn't like she was fighting the attackers, after all.

Honey


Honey started forward, carrying Ira, “I’m a girl, first of all,” She commented, wondering why people felt so embarrassed about asking her whether or not she was male or female, when ultimately, it was even more unpleasant when she had to correct them. “I wouldn’t carry someone if I thought I couldn’t; he’s about…one-forty? He’s taller than what’s easy for me to work with, but with lifting, I’ve got no trouble.” She shifted him slightly in her arms to adjust his center of gravity, so she could move a bit faster. “The name’s Simona, but call me Honey, everyone does.”
 
When Joy offered the monochrome boy her arm, he shrank back, and let out an alarmed, almost hysterical sort of giggle, “Hahahah nooooo…no touching….I can walk…I can still walk like this…perfectly fine…just...please…don’t….don’t make me do that again…it still burns….”
 
It was almost as though he were more frightened by the concept of physical contact than being unable to keep up with the group on his own. Even more unusual, the fact that out of everyone present, he had actually assaulted someone and that person had not even been targeting him, despite this apparent phobia. The fact that he could go from tackling and possibly even killing someone, to the state of someone who couldn’t bear the thought of even taking someone’s arm was, to say the least, alarming at worst, and extremely sad at best. In Honey’s mind, there was no doubt that this guy had haphephobia, and probably a few other issues, as well. She had suspected from the way he had seemed to flinch away from people, but his distressed reaction was the ultimate proof.
 
“It was pretty clear to me that you didn’t like making physical contact with people, but for the moment, you need to.” Honey told him, her voice firm, and her gaze having the same kind of weight as a parent who knew best.
 
This kind of person…something told her that he could be coaxed into doing it, but the situation was delicate. He would try on his own if he was given a gentle push that didn’t go too far past his comfort zone…but if she was not sympathetic on some level, and decided to approach him harshly, it might only reinforce his desire to reject help. Honey could read people, but something in the back of her mind told her this guy was the same way; no matter how helpless or naïve he might have seemed because of his fears, he was by no means ignorant: he would know if someone was trying to manipulate him.
 
“Come on, we don’t have time to wait for you to limp on your own, you have to get help. I’m not going to let you get yourself killed like this, you just saved my life.” Honey urged.
 
There as a brief moment of hesitation, before he timidly reached out, and finally took Joy’s arm, his face tensing up as if he’d been burned. His shoulders trembled slightly, “Come on…I….She’s right…I gotta do this…” He looked like he wanted to close his eyes, break down, and cry.
 
Somehow, he didn’t.
 
“Let’s go…let’s go…please?” The pleading in his voice was so pitiful. It was clear he was trying extremely hard to ignore what he was doing.
 
He looked away, “I’m….Scylla….n-nice to meet you….” He said, finally stating his name.
 
Honey sighed with something approaching relief, “Alright, nice to meet you, too. We can finish our greetings later, hopefully, whenever this madness is over.”
 
“-If it ever is.” She completed the thought in her head.

Ira

Ira felt the same pain radiating throughout his body. It had faded significantly since he first felt it, but the sting and the pain were still excruciating. As though electric had been embedded into his bloodstream. He grunted and wheezed as Honey carried him. He was still conscious, but confused as to what was going on. He still gripped his heart as though he'd been shot there. That horrid electric-like pain still soared from it. Like ice running through his whole body. His prayers continued silently in his head as he continued to grunt. "P-p-please," he started, "leave me."

Ira knew someone had taken him when he heard their voices. It was all a blur, and he couldn't tell who it was. But he certainly knew he had been moved. Has it happened yet? Has the... has the gates been taken down yet? Has it started? Is it over? What is going on.... With time, the blurriness faded and he could clearly decipher who was with him and hear them well enough. "Please," he wheezed. "Leave me."

"Whoa now," said another voice from behind the group of students. Ira's heart jumped even more when he heard the clicking of a gun being taken out of its holster. His eyes dropped to the side as he saw, with his disoriented vision, two black boots and black clothing. A sleek black jacket and a white tie. And the voice was chilling to him as he saw the gray metal eye, a cooking timer and the long black hair, which was now fixed up in a pony tail. It was Hadriel. "I think you may be wanting to drop that one!" he said, pointing the gun at Honey. "My name is Mister Suicide. I'm your new teacher. And today I'll be teaching you how to swallow the tough sh*t without regurgitating it all over this nice freshly-cut grass. It might be a particularly nasty pill to take down but swallow it, I have faith, that you will. So first thing's first. Drop the kiddo and I'll let you walk away from here without spitting bullets through your teeth! Doesn't that sound fun!"

______________________________________________

Virgo

Virgo managed to dodge Claire's first attack, but was not as fortunate with the second. He was thrown back with the smell of blood radiating from his body, but he hadn't suffered a particularly fatal blow. "I didn't think it was possible to become even more of a bitch," he said, popping his neck. "Come near me again and we'll see who's cut deeper," he said, holding up the Red Hand. He stretched it out before him and spread his palm out, facing the ground. The area suddenly grew more visceral as a sheet of sheer black spread from Virgo's form along the ground. It was as though someone covered the road in black tar, but without the stickiness. A screeching roar radiated from it as many skinny black arms burst from it, suddenly taking root of the ground as they pulled the rest of their bodies forth. Tall men made of solidified shadow. All that were visible of them were their mouths, huge and gnashing with teeth and a drooling pink tongue. They quickly surrounded Claire, twelve in total. The blackness upon the ground having faded.

Virgo's body itself melted again as a shadow upon the earth again and slithered its way behind Claire within a few moments. He then reached out with his hand, still seeping with rich shadow, and grabbed Claire by the leg, attempting to mess up her footing as the gnashing creatures ran toward her, screaming as loud as their lungs were capable. Only pure primal expressions of their longing for living flesh ever eject from their tongues. They were the scum of the earth. True nightmares in physical form.

Honey
 
Honey paused, and then slowly turned around, facing the stranger that was introducing himself as ‘Mister Suicide.’ Her heart was beating fast, but even so, she knew that right now, what happened would determine whether or not she and Ira survived. Not only that, but she was pretty positive that, despite her poor vision, that this was the specific changeling who had been destroying the bunkers, if the name wasn’t enough of a clue in itself. “I’m sorry,” Honey said in response, almost reflexively, as if this was something she did a great deal; it had no actual relevance, and everyone knew it. “He’s…dangerous?” She asked aloud, almost as though she thought maybe this attacker was warning her about some danger that might be more tragic than his own weapon. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know, he somehow touched that dome-thing and it was killing him.” Innocently, she’d just been trying to help him.
 
“Wait, if he can just explode and not die…why the gun? Unless…”
 
Ira had been touching the dome, but how did he get out there? He’d disappeared from the audience, long before the attack, hadn’t he? And just the top of his head, too, it was weird how he fell just in that fashion, like he’d been watching clouds.
 
She looked down at Ira, her ears pricked for danger. At a distance, it would look like she was just heavily considering complying with the demand, but in reality, she was doing this to make eye contact with the person she was holding. He was conscious, now, of where he was and who was with him. She was going to make sure she made her own thoughts clear before she acted. It was important to her, and it was also something that she felt she had to do. It was something she owed to herself, to Ira, and to everyone that she had decided to help and protect. “Are you going to hurt me if I keep carrying you?” She asked, her voice stupidly innocent, as if she had no idea what was happening, and thought maybe Mister Suicide had a sincere concern for her, when really, he might just shoot her anyway.
 
Unfortunately, Ira could now see just what kind of minefield he’d walked into by talking to someone, to her, specifically.
 
In Honey’s eyes was the purest form of condemnation that nonverbal expression could muster. The kind that said, ‘You are going to suffer terribly for this, and I am going to make you regret the day you appeared in that cradle.’ It was the gaze of someone who had figured out that he was somehow involved with these people, these murderers, and someone who had judged that, even if he hadn’t pulled a trigger or hurt anyone personally, blood was on his hands. Honey was letting him know with a single look, how much he had hurt her feelings, betrayed her trust, and how selfish he had been in trying to run away from this scene, this scene where everyone around him was dying. Ira, no matter how he was involved with these people, was responsible for these deaths, these murders, and if he couldn’t handle it, oh well; nobody else really wanted to see their friends die, either.
 
As for the answer to her question spoken aloud, if Ira hadn’t been contemplating it before, Honey figured, he might consider saying ‘Yes’ in response now. Not that it mattered, she had every intention of living today, and it didn’t really matter what happened to Ira, now. She had given him the evil eye, and even if it wasn’t a true curse, he’d feel like he’d been cursed, anyway. When Honey was angry, her glare was the kind that could haunt one’s dreams. She intended to let him know that she was holding him accountable for his actions, however he was involved, and why he was working with these people.
 
“Alright, no need to point a gun at me. I hear you, sir.” Honey said. “Please don’t shoot, because I really, really don’t want to die, and I don’t think Ira wants that, either.” She gritted her teeth, “I’m really, really sorry, Ira, but I need to protect these people, and if I don’t do something, all of us are going to get killed. Forgive me for this.”
 
With this, she slowly began to lower Ira to the ground—
 
--And then abruptly, she threw him as hard as she could, right at Mister Suicide. Her strength, which was easily enough to carry him, wasn’t enough to lift cars, but it was plenty sufficient to send a person flying the distance that divided Honey from the person who was trying to hold her at gunpoint.
 
The warning? It wasn’t really because Honey was concerned that she’d get hit; that was already something that concerned her, even before this guy showed up. If Mister Suicide pulled his trigger in response to this, he’d hit the person flying towards him. If he didn’t do anything, he’d get knocked down by the person she’d aimed at his upper body. If he didn’t want to get knocked down, he’d have to catch Ira, and that meant either dropping the gun, or holding it where it no longer posed a threat.
 
“Everyone, run!”
 
Honey shouted the cry, and without hesitation, dropped down to all fours, sprinting as fast as her legs could carry her.
 
The truth? Honey had been held at gunpoint before. It was a nasty, painful memory in the back of her mind, but in the end, this was still, somehow, easier than what happened last time. Last time, it had been a person that she had adored. He had been a really nice person, and she couldn’t bring herself to hurt him.
 
This time, the person was someone she had already decided was a wacko, and secondly, someone who seemed to want to intimidate his victims before he pulled the trigger. Honey got the sense that he had been wanting to watch her grovel before he killed her, and that was the ultimate reason for how she had created this opening now.
 
Monsters liked to play with their food, right? Because monsters are far more awful when they torture their victims first, and in a world of fantasy, being a depraved monster, the villain, can be fun.
 
In reality, that made no sense.
 
In the real world, the lion that chose to play around rather than immediately killing the zebra it was after got kicked in the face, had its jaw broken, and starved to death.
 
Honey was sweet, and she wasn’t meant to be a soldier.
 
Even so, she could fight really well.
 
 
Scylla
 
“What the heck? What kind of nerves does she have!? How!?”
 
Even as he began running in response to Honey’s yell, trying to tug Joy along, his mind struggled to process what had just happened. She had actually thrown Ira, and made an opening for everyone to get away. Why? Why had she just done that!? Wasn’t she trying to save Ira’s life?! What had just possessed her now, to willingly give up someone, and use them as a shield?
 
“What if she betrays me like that?”
 
…No, it wasn’t that, something she’d said before was strange. She’d been apologizing before she threw him, hadn’t she? She was doing it to protect herself and everyone else. Why wasn’t Ira included? Was she right? Had he actually…been dangerous somehow? Was he a threat and Honey had been looking at him and determined that? Was Ira going to die?
 
“I don’t understand, but why? Maybe I should do something? Should I attack him while he’s occupied? ...No…no…she told us to run! Oh…goodness, I’m touching someone, I’m grabbing Joy’s arm and my leg’s a mess, and why am I still worried about touching, isn’t everything else more dangerous? I miss Bast, I wish she could help me, but if I attract attention, I’m dead.”
 
Scylla was more than a sensory-class. He had a special flute in his backpack, and if he used it, Bast would come to fight. Bast was a part of his powers: A cat-like winged humanoid shadow with immense speed, strength, and a scythe-like arm that could cut with the speed of lightning. He had been able to summon her ever since he was little, and no matter how scared he was, she would protect him. She had always been there, and it had just been natural to give her the name. He wasn’t even sure if Bast was female, he didn’t think she had a gender, but she looked so much like a cat-headed woman, he had developed the habit of saying she was.
 
He didn’t know why he thought about her now, maybe because he really, really wanted someone to protect him. Having Honey there…she felt like someone who wanted to protect him, but could he really trust her, after she threw Ira? Would she betray him if something like that had happened, and someone wanted her to hand Scylla over?
 
“…No….”
 
The thought, on its own, appeared as if in answer.
 
“She had some reason. I just hope he’s okay…and…why…why do I have to grab Joy’s arm? I can run fine, really, I can run fine!”
 
Scylla was actually able to run at a decent pace. His leg was injured, but adrenaline made ignoring the pain possible, if it wasn’t numbed out entirely.
 
“Please, Lord…Please protect us. Please protect everyone. I know I have done bad things, but please, please, keep us safe.”
 
In the end, he found himself praying. He had nothing else to hold onto. His life might end today, and he had already seen people die; he could feel them dropping off as their lives ended even now.
 
“Mom…dad…if you’re watching…why did you send me here? Is Milo okay? Please tell me that all of the humans that are there…in your world…are they safe? Do you love them? Do you love me? Do all of our parents love us, even if they sent us here?”
 
Scylla, of course, found himself thinking about changelings, and how they had been born somewhere else, and had replaced human babies in the cradle. Where the changelings had appeared instead of humans…were the humans being raised where the changelings had come from? Why did the swap happen?
 
Of course, Milo…Milo was the boy that Scylla had replaced.
 
Scylla had always wondered, why were the changelings here, and also, if they were sent here, did their parents still love them, wherever they were. Did they love the humans that they had taken?
 
“My life is in danger, but somehow, I’m still thinking about all of this…Oh…goodness…it burns…I wish I could let go, but I can’t. I don’t want to die.”

Ira

"Wha--" Honey's questions confused him. Of course he wasn't dangerous! But he couldn't form his mouth to the words and his mind was buzzing with fear at the sight of Mister Suicide, Hadriel. The glare Honey have him made him feel helpless, and he knew what was coming. But he didn't care. How could he? I dare you, leave me, he thought. What if Ira died? Well, Ira didn't really care. His mind burned with rage as Honey lowered him, and suddenly, threw him.

Hadriel gave out a loud yell as he fell on his back, Ira at his chest and pushing him into the dirt. "Little prick!" he shouted loudly. He fumbled for his gun but found that it had dropped from his hands, and Ira was limp across him. Quickly, before someone could take the gun, Hadriel threw Ira's body off of him and grabbed it, quickly firing off three rounds in completely random directions to ward anyone off that was going for a surprise-attack. He then stuffed the gun into the back of his pants and picked himself up, gripping Ira by the shirt.

"What're you doing?!" Ira pleaded, looking into Hadriel's clock-eye and noticing it only had a few minutes left on it as it ticked down.

"How many minutes do I have?" Hadriel asked, calmly.

"Four," said Ira, loosing one arm from under him and reaching to Hadriel's face to twist the clock in the other direction, resetting it. "There," he said, "now tell me what's going on."

"I came looking for you. I wanted to make sure you were alright," said Hadriel. "In fact, big daddy V sent me," said Mister Suicide, pulling Ira into the darkness of the shadow of a building, in a small alley and behind a stack of old crates and boxes and a dumpster. "You seem to be suffering from Post-Convexum side effects. I thought you would, bleh," he said, biting his tongue and reaching into his coat again. "Let me see your Mark."

Ira weakly lifted up his shirt, still shaking from the electric pain in him. It had died out a bit, but it was still there. Upon his chest was a strange brand. It appeared as the symbol for Mercury, a circle with "horns" as it looked, and a plus sign extending from its bottom. The symbol was enveloped by a large circle. Blood seeped from it and dripped down Ira's chest and belly. Hadriel wiped the excess of it away with a handkerchief and then shook his head, pulling Ira's shirt back down. He took out from his jacket a large stick of what looked like chalk, but smelled more like chocolate. "Here, eat this. No worries, it's a special solution to get rid of that electric pain inside of you. What you're feeling is the after effects of having your own blood converted into psionic energy which is used to construct this dome. Only the sturdiest of Changelings can just walk away from it. So this isn't unnatural. You'll be fine, my man."

Ira took the strange chalk-medicine and began eating it, noticing that it tasted just like cotton candy. It wasn't long before he devoured the whole thing. "What was that even?" he asked, curious.

"We stole it from the last Primacy base we blew up," he giggled. "Such big infirmaries. So much medical supplies. We stole it all!" he said. Ira's face was response enough to show Mister Suicide that he didn't know what to think of that. Good or bad? He didn't know what to think anymore. Hadriel sighed as he forcefully rubbed some of the chalk-powder off the corner of Ira's mouth. "I don't give a damn if you don't approve of what's going on, Ira. And neither does anyone else. You're only alive today because of what he did for you. You owe him everything, and you'll do all you can for him. And what you'll do for him, you'll do twice as much for her. Understand?" said Hadriel.

"I understand. I'm sorry..." said Ira. "But... Hadriel, does it really have to be this way? Do they really all have to be murdered? When's it going to end? How many people are you going to kill?"

"I can't answer everything, kiddo. One question at a time. But then again, I can't really tell you everything we're doing anyway. All you need to know is that there's some deep sh!t going on right now and you'd better get your ass to safety. Now I'm going to have to go clean up a mess and kill that animal girl and her friends who found you," he said. "I'd either crawl in that dumpster or hide somewhere safer if I were you. We might not kill you but we won't hesitate to knock you out. You're in no shape to fight us, kid. After this, if you see me again, it'll be from a point-of-view on the ground, feeling the imprint of my fist still in your teeth. I'll be off now," he said, getting up and storming off, firing his gun again in random directions.

Joyce

"Oh, uh, sorry." Joy shuffled uncomfortably. "Honey, huh? Nice to, nice to meet you Honey. You too Scylla. Just call me, call me Joy."

After a moment's hesitation she gripped the kid's arm - delicately, as if she was handling a bomb, or a dead snake - and began to stumble away. She shot Honey a look, like, is everything okay with this dude? Is this really the same kid that maybe killed that dude back there?

Then everything happened in a blink, and Joy stood there blinking.

By the end of it Scylla was tugging her away, and she was still trying to piece together what had just happened. "Uhh... Honey, honey? You..." Did she just throw that kid? Should I... What should I... Wait, who's THAT?

"Honey, wait, could you help -" But the beast was already gone, sprinting away towards the nearest shelter. Joy blinked. She had to go back for that kid, but... she also had to make sure this guy got there safely.

Ok. Was it or was it not adulting time? That meant making tough decisions. Which meant making impulsive decisions and then riding out the consequences. Joy was a freaking master of that. She frowns. I'll see this Scylla guy to the compound, or at least to the nearest group of kids, and then...

"Hey! Kid," she shouts back, stumbling away after Scylla (how could such a little guy who got shot in the leg move so freakin fast?). "I'll come back for you! Just stay calm and don't, don't be afraid! You're gonna be fine!"

Then she and Scylla were hobbling as fast as they could towards the nearest shelter.

~~~

James

Jimmy was in a bad dream.

In the dream, a hellish inferno of gunfire and red skies had enveloped the immediate area, raining chaos and screams all around him. People died by chance after chance in the space of a moment; you could taste it in the air. The world had ended.

And in the dream, he was still a lousy stupid janitor.

Jimmy didn't know what to do, so he pushed his squeaky little cart across the quad, looking nervously from side to side. He wanted to help but there was too much happening.

Then - a flurry of gunshots. Geez, they just didn't stop! He made himself crazy looking around trying to find the source, but it wasn't until Jimmy felt something hop up and bite him in the side that he knew where to look.

He made a sound like "uuuaaah," and fumbled at his side with his free hand. I shoulda caught that. I shoulda caught that. Was he shot? Did something just shoot him? Yeah, yeah, he musta been shot. Was it bad? Jimmy didn't think so; he couldn't feel anything like a bullet wound (what does that even feel like?) under the folds of his onesie, but his hand came away wettish, like he'd been sweating hard. And boy it stung. Maybe I got lucky... Maybe it bit the ground and popped back up and straight into ol Jimmy...

Then Jimmy's eyes managed to focus, and he saw him - a guy walking slowly away, firing his gun seemingly at random, and in random directions. The janitor grimaced. He stuck a hand out in front of him, just in case, and - Wait, is that someone there on the ground?

"Hey," said Jimmy, quietly at first, "H-hey, HEY!" He forgot his cart and rustled away over the lawn towards the prone form of Ira, wincing whenever his left foot came down. "Kid! You okay there kid?"

Cassius

Cassius fell to the ground as his side seeped with blood. His wings, which had taken him far, were fading away into his back and leaving behind red-soaked feathers upon the black concrete. He gripped his leg where the bullet had struck him, just below his knee. He watched as high-heeled boots tapped against the concrete eagerly. And wearing them was a tall and curvy young lady. Regina, in her shimmering white jacket and black crop top. Her stiletto nails and hard makeup defined her look, as did the blood red highlights in her blond hair. Her black lips made a smirky smile as the punk toed forward, eyeing the palm from which the bullet had escaped her. "You're not as tough as Corrigan is," she said, smiling. "You're cuter though, I'll give you that."

"Shut the hell up," Cassius said, coming to a stand, trying to overcome the wound. He began to grit his teeth as his jacket dissipated, dissolving into his shirt and thinning out with the rest of his clothing. His hat began to steam just before it shrank, to the point it molded with his hair and was gone. His left arm plunged forward, skin hardening into sleek iron which threw a hard first forward. Regina instantly released a storm of bullets, only to watch Cassius swipe them away with this new hand. She screamed as he got too close for her comfort and she was forced to leap to the side as he came swinging such a strong fist. Bam. He backhanded her, watching her fall to the ground as blood erupted from her cheek and nose. He noticed how strange it was for blood to act that way, especially as it seeped from the skin of her cheek.

He watched as she wiped the blood from her face and clenched it in her hand. He was ready. She opened her hand again. Pop. Pop. Pop. Cassius had survived, feeling them hit his hand of titanium, or whatever it was. He knew it was strong enough to protect him, this strange metal he had formed. He didn't know what it was, but he was proud of it. Regina picked herself up immediately. "You're a real idiot!" she shouted, throwing both hands out and throwing her head back as red bullets rained from her palms at Cassius. He began running, the bullets following his heels as she steered her hands. He began deflecting them with his arm the best he could, but was finally hit in his left heel by one and fell, screaming. Regina stuck the fingers of her left hand into the palm of her right and gave out a long wheeze as she pulled what looked like a long red stick from it. She kept pulling and pulling until finally it detached from her hand. It was sharp on the end and appeared to be made entirely of solidified blood. A red spear. "You think you're so special cause you can make a shield? Don't think I'm limited to bullets, idiot. I can change the shape of any weapon my blood produces," she added, smiling.

______________________________________________

Ira

Ira looked up to see Jimmy, noticing first hand that he was some sort of custodian. Maybe... just maybe... he thought, letting his mind calculate events that could work out the way he wished. "I-I-I don't think so," Ira said, "One of them used a partial paralysis attack on me. I can barely walk. Please... get me to the teachers!" he said. "I just need to see a teacher, they'll know what to do. Please, do you know where one is?"

_________________________________________________

Muriel

"That's close enough," said Muriel, a tall man of a dark appearance. He had sharp, jagged brown hair which was dark enough to be mistaken for black. Some silver snaked about in it. His skin was fair and he had some soft wrinkles showing his age. His two eyes were odd. One was nearly neon blue and the other was oddly an amber-yellow color. He wore dressy black trench coat, obviously custom-created and with many straps and buttons. The coat itself was beautifully made with care and meant for an occasion like a campus opening. Too bad it would be ravaged by smoke and bullets today. He held in one hand a large pistol, aiming it straight for Hadriel's forehead. Behind him stood the next bunker entrance. "Please. Don't make me shoot you," he said, trying to hold his finger. "Walk away."

Hadriel smiled as he opened up his pocket-mirror, eyeing the timer in his face which was ticking down. "It seems you only got six minutes now hon. I'd be running off now if I were you. Or else you're gonna taste a fresh glass of hell," he said, laughing as he put the mirror back in his pocket. "Get out of my way." He quickly ducked to the side as Muriel began firing his gun. The sound seemed to echo through the area. Muriel tackled Hadriel to allow a crowd of students to run into the bunker quickly and shut the door. He pulled Hadriel's pony tail and the two of them rolled off their location and into a local patch of bushes. Finally, boom. a flash of light and fire spewed across the area. It only licked the outer wall of the bunker entrance and did not destroy it, but the surrounding area was ash. Hadriel, after regenerating, found himself standing amidst the blazing earth, dusting himself off and laughing at the teacher's vaporization. "Heh, stupid teacher. Always gotta be the hero."

He felt an electric pain course through his abdomen abruptly and fell to his knees. He turned, seeing Muriel over his shoulder. "Wha--how?!"

James

"Of c-course, kid." Poor thing... Jimmy rolled his cart over by Ira and stacked all the stuff on top of it down on the lower shelf. One big spray bottle wouldn't fit anywhere, so he just tossed it. "You just get up here and I'll g-give you a ride!"

With some effort, Jimmy and Ira were able to work together to get him flopped over the cart, belly-down, like a fish on its way to market. Jimmy was older than he used to be but he tried not to show how hard it was to push the thing. With a grunt and a shove, they were off across the field.

"So," the little man began, wincing as he stepped wrong and his side got a jab of pain, like someone just poked him with a needle. A few more gunshots rang out; he tried to ignore them. "You can call me Jimmy. What's y-your name, kid?" Just a few minutes, and they'd be at that shelter just over there - he even thought some of those shapes in the distance were other stragglers headed in the same direction.

Honey


“Too close for comfort, we almost ran right into him again and he nearly burned the leaves.”
 
If Honey had possessed the capacity to do so, she would have broken out into a cold sweat—except for the fact that she only sweat through the pads of skin on her hands and feet, and was otherwise reduced to opening her mouth to pant, something people liked to make fun of. In this circumstance, though, Honey was trying to conserve her energy and ensure that the few people she had found would safely get into the shelter; as for whatever had become of Ira after she threw him, he was in league with the attackers at this school, somehow.  Although actually, her anger was already gone, she still swallowed whatever concern she felt, because she had no choice, and secondly, it was in her own best interest and in the interests of the people she was trying to protect. Ira had seemed angry at her when she threw him, but really, he should have known better than to react that way, considering that it was his own fault he was being abandoned like that.
 
Had Ira not been connected to the attackers, she would have lunged for Mister Suicide’s throat before she let him have her friend. But in this case, Ira wasn’t the one whose life was at risk. Honey’s was, and while merely walking off in an assembly wasn’t going to warrant death, being in league with the person holding her at gunpoint was well-enough reason for her to let him experience the fear of being killed.
 
And if Honey was a monster for abandoning Ira, who was she to judge? It didn’t matter if people thought her measures were cruel; sometimes, people needed to get hurt to learn their lesson. Since he hadn’t shot Ira, Honey doubted Mister Suicide would go out of his way to kill him after catching him. If anything, he’d be going after Honey for managing to get away and making him look inept. She got the sense the bomb-changeling had the kind of ego to be offended that he’d been outsmarted in that case.
 
Those thoughts aside, Mister Suicide—it was nothing short of sheer luck that he hadn’t spotted everyone before the one male teacher tackled him. Everyone had just made it into the shelter before he went off, but the flames had licked into the entrance a bit. The tip of Honey’s tail got singed, and it almost touched her plant’s leaves; she could feel it wilting with despair, the fire having eaten up at the humidity in the air. The very thought of what would have happened if he had actually burned Honey’s special plant made her blood run cold. It was a weirder aspect of her power—and also, one of the most dangerous. People used to tell Honey that sometimes, the plant said things—malevolent, cruel things, but she could never hear anything.
 
The most Honey knew, was that regardless of whatever kind of sentience resided in her plant, whether it was evil or simply hated the people around it, it was dangerous to physically injure it. A single leaf or root wouldn’t hurt it, sometimes regular wear-and-tear happened, but in this case, absolute destruction was defined as more than two-thirds being damaged. When this happened, specifically for Honey’s plant, it would wither and crumble into dust instantly, signifying that it had died.
 
In the plant world, it was common for people to take leaves and root divisions and make new plants; Honey’s plant did not multiply through any means, but certain rules still applied. When growers took divisions from a specimen, they had to be careful about how much they severed from the original plant. When a plant had its roots disturbed, it would naturally enter a state of shock, but also, having large amounts of foliage removed could be harmful, too. In general, plants could handle a great deal of damage before it became lethal, but in almost every case, the absolute maximum that could be taken from a plant before the grower killed it was two-thirds. After this point, the needs of the plant—for water, energy—became impossible for it to sustain, as it had lost too many leaves or roots to support its entire body.
 
Honey had nearly watched her entire plant go up in flames, just now.
 
Shaken, but aware that everyone was now in the bunker, she ushered everyone to keep going, deeper inside, away from the violence outside.
 
“Ah….my tail….” She murmured. “I hope I don’t look like a muskrat, now…”
 
Burns hurt. A lot.
 

Scylla
 
As soon as they were inside the shelter, Scylla let go of Joy’s arm, allowing himself to take deep breaths to prevent himself from passing out from the sheer stress of the entire situation. Actually, he probably wouldn’t faint; he should actually be slowing down his breathing, shouldn’t he? If he breathed too much, he’d reduce the carbon dioxide in his blood by more than what was healthy, and he’d be getting the same negative effects as if he was holding his breath. Of course, he’d also been running, so really, he should be slowing down his heart rate, too.
 
Actually, scratch both ideas, they should go deeper into the bunker to make sure they weren’t in the fray of the fighting, before Mister Suicide came back and decided to destroy the entrance while they were still in it. That teacher….that guy was really brave, just tackling an explosive changeling like that, without any regard for whether or not he’d get blown up with him. He’d saved everyone’s life, just now.
 
Scylla wished he knew the guy’s name.
 
“No, no, we have to keep going.”
 
“Let’s get deeper in; if he’s outside, we need to make sure we’re out of this area before he detonates again. If the roof collapses on us, we won’t be able to get out.” He said.
 
“More importantly, you have a leg injury that needs to be stitched up.” Honey said, having dropped behind everyone back to the rear when everyone had gotten near the bunkers.
 
“Well, if your tail is burned, then you need something for that, too. I imagine you’re worried about whether or not the fur grows back.”
 
“Heh…yeah….actually, no. It just hurts. I’m more worried about everyone else out there. I’d like to go back and help but…I’m not a fighter, and if I got caught, I’d probably just get myself killed.”
 
“Not a fighter? Are you serious?”
 
“Huh?”
 
“You got away from a guy holding you at gunpoint.” Scylla pointed out.
 
Then he paused, “Actually, when we get down there, we need to talk about that…after….after I uh…wash my hands and get my leg treated….”
 
“I know what you’re thinking. Why’d I throw him?” Honey didn’t really need any sort of question to know that what she’d done bothered people.
 
“The answer…well…that guy can explode and kill everyone around him. If that’s the case, why’d he point the gun at me?”
 
Scylla’s eyes went wide as he began leading the way deeper into the bunker.
 
“…he wouldn’t….unless…..”
 
Honey didn’t complete the thought for him.
 
“…unless….he wanted that guy alive….”
 
“Yeah….don’t tell anyone, okay? If there’s others out there…like him….we might have enemies even in this bunker...I don't know....what's going on...but....if he comes back alive...don't trust him...something about...him...something is off...”
 
Scylla’s blood ran cold.

A pale, freckled hand reached forward, its owner trying to find room among the many frantic students that rushed by as their shoes padded against the ground.

Almost there. Just a few more feet to go.

There was another explosion, and Lexy found herself falling back. She shielded her face with her arms, feeling loose shards graze tem. She frantically looked around before scrambling back to her feet and getting back to running.

Breathless, she finally arrived at a safe shelter – safely. She glanced at her arms and bit her bottom lip nervously at the site of the cuts that now riddled it. None of them were that bad, but it still didn’t look pretty due to the quantity of punctures that had broken the skin, each drop of blood that came out from each wound combining with the others to create a thin trail of blood that branched out across her arms. She also noted that one of her knees was scraped up, but that looked fine, as well. There was more concern put towards keeping her blue jean shorts from getting any blood on them than worry for the bleeding knee. All of the wounds only looked worse than they were.

Lexy let out a shaky breath and closed her eyes, one hand playing with the zipper on her soft pink short-sleeved jacket, under which there was a white sleeveless top. She was in the shelter, now, so she was safe. No need to worry, right? Right. So maybe she just needed to get her mind off of everything… which is easy to do with someone to talk to. Her bright green eyes scanned the room, trying to find someone to speak to, before settling on a small group of Changelings. She noted one looked like a cat, another was a tall, dark-skinned woman (probably one of the faculty), and the third was a short, stocky boy who seemed more nervous than most anyone here. They also appeared wounded – more wounded than she. Lexy walked up to the small group, trying to think of something to say to them and ot reading the nervous atmosphere about them at all. She made sure to smile when she spoke.

“Are you all doing okay? Is there, like, any way that I can help? I can’t heal or anything, but… well, I don’t even know any way I can help, but if you know of any way that I can help, just tell me.” She sounded a bit like she was rambling, probably using the opportunity to speak to help her let off some of the adrenaline that had built up from the hectic situation.

Scylla


After they were safely in the depths of the bunker, Scylla had wound up staying close by Honey and everyone else, and finally, they had moved over to one wall where he had just sunk down onto the floor, curling up and hiding his face behind his arms. His leg was still a blood-caked mess, but the bleeding was slowing down and would probably completely stop soon as long as he made no more sudden movements. As of yet, there was no medical attention, since Scylla and Honey’s injuries were rather minor, compared to the few kids that were suffering life-threatening wounds. It wasn’t even clear if there was a real doctor anywhere and not just a bunch of changelings with healing powers trying to keep people from going towards the light at the end of the tunnel. Even then, anxiety and tension filled the room, and for every person screaming in pain, two more were crying, their faces a pitiful mess.
 
Scylla thought he had wanted to cry, but even though he was curled up like he was weeping, he found that the tears never came. Even so, his frame trembled, and a kind of distressed wailing, barely audible, came from his throat. It wasn’t even that he could control this; the sound escaped from him against his will. He could feel Honey sitting down next to him, her singed tail curling around in front of him, as if to keep people from coming too close. He could tell she wanted to help him, but there wasn’t anything she could do, and they both knew it.
 
They both sat there against the wall, side-by-side, safe from the horrific violence going on outside of the bunker, but still feeling trapped in that same, awful sense of helplessness. They didn’t even know each other, because the time that they’d met, they’d been trying to escape death. It didn’t matter who they were outside of that fighting, because now, either way, they’d been bonded by the shared trauma and fear of what had almost happened to them both. The thought of being separated felt like too much to bear, so they stayed together, anyway. They were an odd pair: the cat-monster with the mutant plant, and the grown man that acted more like a frightened child.
 
It was while they were in this state that a strange girl walked up to them and began asking questions, talking so fast that for a moment, Scylla couldn’t quite process what she was saying. He tensed up, somewhat, before forcing his head up to look at her. His hood was still pulled over his head, and his pupils, little white sparks, flickered dimly, the glow having stretched more over the yellow of his irises than normal. Even with his glasses, his vision was becoming so bright it was almost impossible to see, and there was no telling when the glow would break and he’d be blind again. Even so, the glow was visible from the shadowed, upper-part of his face.
 
“If I had a needle and thread…I could stitch my leg shut.” He said, his voice so quiet that someone would have to strain to hear it. He hid the lower half of his face behind his arms again, “The bleeding’s stopped…but if I move, it’ll open….” He hid his face again, “It’ll scar….but I don’t care…” He almost breathed out the final words, before falling silent again.
 
Scylla didn’t want to talk right now. He doubted that asking for something like needles and thread would actually mean he’d get those things. Not only that, but he wasn’t a doctor, and stitching shut the injury just meant he wouldn’t bleed: nothing could be said of bacteria getting in the wound, the necrosis that might set in, and the resulting scar because the stitches weren’t professionally-done. Either way, he was pretty sure he’d have a scar; the wound was too big not to leave one.  He was already in a state of shock without contemplating trying to stitch shut a gaping slash in his own leg.
 
 
Honey


Honey looked at Scylla, and sighed, looking up at the girl, “We’re fine…well, sort of….” She tilted her head in a kind of shrug, giving a close-mouthed, half-hearted kind of smile. There was no sense in pretending that she felt happy right now, or even acting like she really felt like making her expression seem inviting. After they had gotten to safety, she found that she just felt…tired. Honey felt more tired than she ever had in her entire life. Not only this, but, she had acted on impulse, and thrown an actual person at an attacker, without even first giving him a chance to explain himself, when it might not have been as bad as she had thought. Thinking over her own actions, Honey just found herself regretting that she was there, like maybe, she should have done more to help people. Maybe she should have tried to find a better way, than just throwing Ira, like she had.
 
In the end, though, there was no taking back what she’d already done, so Honey just let her entire body sag, like she wanted to melt into a puddle on the floor. Her heart felt heavy, and as a person, she felt…gross. She felt like there must have been something wrong with her, that she acted as calm and collected as she had. How was she able to function at all, when she couldn’t stand the thought of hurting people? What had possessed her then, to do so many crazy things outside of the bunker?
 
Was everyone right? Was she just some…monster? She no longer understood who she was, or why she was even here. She had tried so hard her entire life to do something good, but in the end, she always reflected back and thought she could have done better. She didn’t  even know if it was right to forgive herself, and she would probably spend the rest of her life, reminding herself of how much she’d failed to protect someone. Even then, everyone would probably look at her, and then they’d still just think about what she’d done, and wonder if she wouldn’t do the same thing to them.
 
For Honey, the guilt and the exhaustion took their toll, and it showed on her face, no matter how hard she was trying to hide it. “What about you?” Honey asked, feeling numb, not sure if she was asking out of real concern, or if it was because on some level, she just wanted to feel better about herself. Her eyes just registered a lot of red on this person, and an iron-rich smell came from all of that red, something any ordinary human could have picked up. “You look pretty banged up…you can sit by me if you want…I’m…not….dangerous…or anything….”
 
She then groaned and covered her face with one hand, “…Who am I kidding…? I…I just…left someone there….was I wrong? Am I just an idiot?” Her voice began to choke up.
 
“I…I didn’t even come here to fight…I just…wanted to protect all of those flowers…I was going to save species from extinction…” She was now dissolving into tears, her face contorting in a strange kind of weary agony, “But now….just…whenever I try to help someone….I just keep messing up…I feel like I’m never going to do enough…” She felt humiliated, just breaking down in front of some random stranger, but she couldn’t stop herself, now.
 
“Just…I’m sorry…I’m so sorry….Just…why did I do that…? I’m so sorry….”
 
Honey felt like everything inside of her was shattering into pieces. She curled up into a ball, trying to hold herself together, her body shaking with sobs. No matter how hard she tried to stay warm, she felt like an icy chill was creeping into her bones, into the very core of what she was. It became a nagging voice in the back of her mind, laughing at her for thinking she could ever make anything better. She felt sick to her stomach; she thought she might throw up. Even then, she knew, that thing making her feel so awful wasn’t her stomach…it was her heart, because she knew…she knew…she’d done something wrong.
 
“Please…please don’t cry….” Scylla’s head peeked up from where he’d been hiding his face, and he looked over at Honey, suddenly distressed.
 
“Hey...you…you don’t have to apologize...it….wasn’t supposed to be this way….” His fingers tensed…”Please don’t cry…you’re…gonna make me cry too….”

When the boy – now that she sees him up close, man – looked up, Lexy almost forgot she had just asked them a question. Wow, his eyes look amazing! Why do they glow? I bet it’s got something to do with his power. Wait a sec. Focus, Lexy, focus. Is he speaking?

Lexy tilted her head to the side, ducking it down in an attempt to hear the man better. Once she finally pieced together his whispered words, her eyes widened. “Oh my goodness! I-I don’t have that, sorry. I can go, um, get you some, though? Wait, do I need to find someone who knows how to do that sort of doctor stuff, too, or do you know how to?” Her head then turned to the cat-looking Changeling. They were sort of fine? Well, considering the circumstances, that could apply to most everyone here, so that’s good, right?

Then the same Changeling asked if she were okay and offered Lexy to sit down by… her? She was guessing they’re a female. “These scratches aren’t much – they only sting a bit, and they’re not as bad as they look, I promise you,” Lexy smiled a smile almost too genuine given the circumstances as she slid to the ground next to them. What the feline-like being said next, however, made the smile quickly fade. Obviously they were going through a lot worse than she was, and she wasn’t sure how to respond. What did she(?) mean about leaving someone? Did someone get left among all the chaos? She must be blaming herself, then? So how do I, um… make her feel better? Oh, no – she’s crying. She’s crying!

“Wait. No, no, no nonono. Don’t apologize. It’s good to share things on your mind. I mean, if I don’t say things on my mind, I feel very, like, full of energy and then it’s just stuck on my mind. It’s better to talk.” Lexy attempted a reassuring smile and awkwardly gave the cat changeling a pat on the back, not really thinking of how some – especially strangers – may not appreciate that. “And besides, I mess up, like, all the time. I mean, I once thought some soft butter at a buffet was pudding or ice cream or something, and I got a big scoop of it. I was wondering why people were looking at me weird until I tried a bite.” Not a big mistake, of course, but maybe something to somehow lighten the mood? Lexy continued, “And, like um…” she looked at the man, not knowing his name, “Your friend said, it wasn’t supposed to be this way.”

Thomas gave Riley a quick nod before shoving the doors forward and running out into the campus’ outdoors area. He had no doubts that he would be able to protect himself, given his already precise control over his abilities, and the strength of the barriers. He was slightly concerned with Riley, though he kept in mind what she had said earlier - something he would need to investigate later on.

Almost as soon as he and Riley made their way outside, Thomas spotted a figure out of the corner of his eye headed in their direction. In his peripheral, he could see a black blur being held by the man, and immediately held out his left hand, eyes burning cyan. A huge energy barrier materialized in front of the gunman. The pounding, visceral shooting was met with futility as the bullets only made ripples in the wall, before they bounced off, crushed. Thomas pivoted on his foot, beginning to run in the direction of the barrier as the wall of energy itself moved forward. It slammed into the shooter, knocking the rifle out of his hands. Thomas hastily grabbed the gun as it clattered to the ground, while the barrier shoved the man into one of the walls of the school’s buildings. As soon as he impacted, the barrier shattered into glass-like fragments, producing small lacerations across the shooter’s face. Before the dazed attacker could react to what was occurring, Thomas smashed the butt of the rifle into his face three times in succession, knocking the man out cold. He slumped limply against the wall.

Panting, Thomas looked down at the gun, and realized his hands were visibly shaking. All he had been trying to do was defend himself, and he ended up knocking someone out cold, potentially killing them, even. He had no idea he had it in himself to do something like that. It felt as if how he reacted was almost some kind of instinct, or perhaps a nurtured set of actions from movies and video games. He quickly held a hand over the man’s gaping mouth, and once he felt a breath upon his palm, quickly drew it away. At least he hadn’t become a murderer.

Thomas looked over at Riley, realizing that he still held the gun awkwardly, with one hand’s grip over the stock. He knew he had no idea how to operate such a weapon, and he didn’t plan on using it, but he didn’t want to leave it lying around for someone else to find. At least, a gun would be safe in hands more experienced than his. “Riley, do you know how to use a gun?” He asked with an almost awkward tone. “I don’t really want to leave this just lying around here, but I also don’t quite feel comfortable with it, seeing as I’ve never used a firearm in my life.”


__________________________________________________

Virgo’s grip caused Claire to lose balance as she prepared to pounce at one of the strange, animalistic creatures. She stumbled forward, missing her target with her blades in the process, but knocking it and another out of the way with her body. She felt as though, if they were tearing at her with their vicious teeth, they had barely missed, as she found herself no longer surrounded by them, and without a scratch. So, while Virgo’s little trick had worked in its actual function, it actually helped her in preventing her from being completely surrounded. Quickly assessing the situation, Claire gathered that the shadowy men would have similar weak spots to actual humans - the head and chest, namely. She would have to aim for those body parts. In addition, she knew that she would need to use both blades, as there were too many opponents for just one of her psionic weapons to deal with efficiently. Claire noted, however, that a trick in delaying the creation of the weapon like she had used on Virgo’s henchman would probably not work on these primal nightmares, due to being so savage.

The other blade taking form on her left wrist, she dashed into the cluster of darkness approaching her, a flurry of purple light surrounding her. It seemed like she was almost flailing her arms about, though it would have been easy to recognize that each strike had a certain, precise strength behind it. One of the creatures bit at her waist, the teeth sinking slightly into her flesh, to which she clenched her fist with pain and elbowed the shadowy thing off of her before impaling it through its mouth. In time, only three creatures remained, the ones positioned furthest from Claire. Rather than act aggressively again and risk Virgo trying to throw her off, she opted to wait and see what their primitive, aggressive urges would drive them to do.