Lulu arrived in the teleport bay with Kora in tow just minutes after making the call, and was pleased to find that at least a portion of her requested team had managed to report: Chandler was in, as well as the two teleporters, Schmidt and Quirk, and (obviously) Norrevinter had all gathered in a timely fashion.

“No mistake, Cadriel,” she said into her earpiece, not nothing to mask her irritation at the time-wasting question, “You should be here.”

She glanced around those gathered, and the severity of her expression possibly added a good five inches to her height. “Knights,” she addressed them, and then turned to a blank wall. A flick across the clear glass of her tablet cast her screen against it, displaying a video feed of Ronin on one side, and an aerial map on the other. “Your prompt response is as appreciated as well as it is necessary— we face a crisis on our hands. You all represent— and I do mean you all, including those of you who have somehow managed to not yet drag yourselves in to be briefed as of yet, — a first line of defense for the people of the West District.”



A few more gestures of her lacquered nails directed the satellite image to zoom in, and a building plan of the library was superimposed over its image on the map. “This is where Ronin is located, currently,” she explained, motioning toward a blue dot on the plan, “on the first floor. There are two floors, and a considerable civilian populace at risk. The building has three emergency exits, highlighted in red, here… And two fire alarm pull stations, one on each floor.

“Norrevinter, you’re on the north exit. Cadriel will take the west; Rousimoff is on the South. Quirk will drop you off at a corner block away from Ronin’s view, here. I will also be dropped at this point.”

Lulu paused for a moment, circling the point with a winding motion of her finger and checking to see that Quirk understood.

When Quirk gave a nod, she proceeded.

“Schmidt, you will deposit Chandler and Saika, wherever the hell the latter is, though presumably it is on his way on two opposing roofs, here, and here. They are to load immobilizing rounds— non lethal. There’s no room for error with this many civvies around. If Ronin makes it out the door, you shoot him. And you don’t stop shooting until you are out of ammunition. I hope you read that, Saika.” 



She flicked back to the satellite camera, offering a clearer view of just how many people were around. Families crossed the street from one corner to another, and children played in a park a few blocks off. The stakes were obvious, and the margin for error was non-existent.



“When everyone is in place, I will enter the building, locate Ronin and send signal to Norrevinter. Norrevinter, you will light a smoke bomb and roll it through the door to trigger a fire alarm. With any luck, the smell of smoke will be enough to convince everyone it isn’t a drill, and make sure that Ronin doesn’t suspect he’s been caught.



“Meanwhile, I will do my best to create a decoy for Ronin while people evacuate. I won’t engage him with civilians present, if it can be avoided. If I should fail in this, it’s the job of everyone at the exits to push him back in should he try to flee, and alert everyone on their com lines to engage. If he tries to smash out a window, Chandler and Saika— shoot him.



“With any luck, though, I will be able to hold him in the building. When it is empty, snipers are to maintain their posts while the rest of out team convenes on my location to provide backup while I engage him. You are all to take any action necessary, including lethal force, to preserve civilian life and ensure Ronin is contained, in that order.” 



With the briefing complete, Commander Botrelle pivoted on her heel to face her assembled unit. 

“Are you all clear on the plan?” she asked, the steel in her voice obviously not looking for any answer other than “yes.”

Almost as an after though, she touched her earpiece, “Everyone else, do you read?”

They all said day drinking was a problem. A day drunk, Erubescian sniper was a liability, and that anything ANYTHING could happen. Anything, to Makorai, was the countless ring of endless problems that those much more responsible, and paranoid than he, worried about. Nothing really worried him, so Anything worrying him would be a bit redundant in his eyes. So Makorai, armed with the mental safety of Nothing against the Neurotic Anything had decided to start drinking at roughly nine'o'clock sharp. The first sip promised him a healthy buzz by Nine Thirty, and a comfortable drunk by quarter to eleven.

Makorai's usual eleven'o'cock spot was the canteen, he was much more an extrovert then introvert, and the joys and misery of daily life, in his opinion at least, was best spent with people you probably couldn't stand having a conversation with sober. Lately however, he had found himself in Cadriel's maintenance closet. Well, 'Found himself' probably wasn't as appropriate as 'Cadriel found him passed out on top of her cleaning supplies', but that first meeting had sparked a conversation that turned into what Makorai would consider a friendship.

So, from time to time he'd skip out on the canteen to express his disillusionment with their mutual employers, and listen to her woes with a drunken ear that was reserved for people he enjoyed. Unfortunately, it seemed the main ingredient in his mid morning cocktail, was missing, and something, or someone was holding Caddie up.

Makorai was not a completely even person sober, and much less so after having a few bumpers in his system. Their previous conversations had given him context to her daily routine, and he swore to the spirits around him if someone was spouting vitriol in her direction he'd give them the firmest part of his dissatisfaction.

"Yo!...." His face grew more contemplative, the first of the mass message had been sent to his communicator.

No way.

Fucking /Rick/

He laughed. There in the hallway, not the bitter laugh he laughed for his fallen comrades, and not the jovial laugh that expressed his happiness. He just laughed the the absurdity of what he was hearing. Rick. In the Citadel. What the fuck.

He was laughing as he fell into the wall and slid to the armoury, to promptly slide back out when he remembered he had been given clearance to store his weapon and it's attachments in his room.

Then he slid back when he realized that privileged had been revoked.

"Jeff."

The quartermasters name was not Jeff, or ever Jeff.

"Jeff..it's important. Commander /Botrelle/, yep, yep."

With a name that demanded respect, Jeff had no choice but to accept Jeff as his name, and wait for the moment he could wipe that smug look off of Makorai's face the next time he predictably lost pieces of his gear and came crawling back ten minutes before morning bugle.


He was assembling his rig with a level of affinity that transcended the mental state he was in. A dual mounted scope to brag about the peculiar, but efficient way his eyes processed stimuli. The bolt action didn't exist only to load larger caliber rounds in the chamber, but to signify that he only needed a single shot to accomplish what most did in a handful. It was a collar flair around the coat of skill he wore proudly with his swaggering walk.

"Loud and clear Commander."

He walked to the teleportation area, sniper in its case and threw up a hasty salute.

"Night Makorai reporting for duty."

Did he catch his slur? Sure a shit hoped so.

GRrrWllll!

Rick’s stomach growled earning it another swift punch. A young lady nearby noticed the commotion and spectacle but stayed quiet. Rick noticed her but didn’t pay her much mind. He looked back at the laptop in front of him, black and slender. The machine was closed much like all the other ones that weren’t in use. The ones that were in use were open.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw a blue screen, Rick turned toward it seeing the open laptop of a young man getting ready to play some internet games. Rick looked back at the machine before him then back at the young man’s machine. He looked at the young lady’s machine as well before looking back at his again. He lifted the front to an upright position revealing the true nature of the machine to him.

‘It’s a computer, a smaller version of those large desktop computers back at the gifted boarding school,’ he thought to himself. Rick’s memory of sitting inside the boarding school’s computer lab learning how to write a term paper cracked, splintering into many fragments. That memory was replaced by a different memory, one where he saw Erubesco scientists typing away on nearby computers while other scientists stuck needles of experimental liquid into him. That memory was replaced by one of him standing outside an electronics store. Rick was looking through the window to see one of the store employees demonstrating how a computer works to a customer.

The splintered memories caused pain to swell up in his head; Rick winced and shut his eyes as he tried to push all three memories to the back of his mind. When his eyes opened moments later his hands were on his face and his breathing was erratic. He dropped his hands to his lap revealing the young lady staring at him with a concerned yet puzzled look. Rick looked away from her deciding to focus on the open computer in front of him.

‘Which memories are real and which are fake?’ he asked himself. Rick sighed knowing that there was no real way to know.

His breathing returned to normal and he turned on the computer, it took a few minutes for the screen to completely load and it took another few minutes for Rick to remember which icon on the desktop accesses the internet. With that taken care of Rick got started on his first inquiry.

/What is electricity?/ He typed into the search engine. A dozen websites popped up offering to lower his electricity bill. Rick scrolled down to a simple dictionary definition that basically described electricity as energy that specifically comes from charged particles.

As Rick continued his research he learned about the building blocks of atoms and how atoms become positively and negatively charged. He learned how electrical currents work and how static electricity works. He also learned how draining it is to learn something new after nearly starving to death.

His brain started shutting down, his eyelids weakened, his upper body slumped but his hunger pains kept him awake. Clutching one hand on his stomach, Rick used his free hand to pantomime what he was learning while mouthing what was written on the computer. Rick has an unorthodox way of learning. Every once in awhile he tried to keep himself from wincing in pain.

“Excuse me, are you okay?” a gentle feminine voice asked Rick.

Rick looked up to see the young lady who was just across from him, is now standing right next to him.

“I’m fine,” Rick assured her.

“Are you sure? Because I couldn’t help but notice how much pain you’re in and the odd hand waving. Honestly I’m worried about you.” She held firm to her suspicion.

“I’M-” Rick cut himself off after seeing the genuine concern in her eyes. Rick’s voice softened as he continued, “I’m…just…really hungry. That’s all. Thank you for your concern.” Rick went back to staring at his computer while the lady hurried back to her seat. He thought that was the end of it but she returned not a minute later with her backpack in hand. The pack was opened with one of her hands rifling through it.

“I don’t have much to offer but I should still have ah ha! Do you like nuts?” she asked Rick.

An unnecessary question for Rick, as a person who ate anything to survive the taste of food was a luxury he couldn’t afford.

“Food is food,” he responded.

“Great. I have cashews, peanuts, a partially smashed nutria grain bar, a granola bar, and some jerky I hope this okay.” The lady placed each item of food on the table by Rick’s left hand. Before Rick could answer the young man who was playing internet games was suddenly next to him speaking.

“Seriously dude, take my peanut butter and jelly sandwich and this orange, oh and you nearly passed out several times so you’ll need this energy drink if you’re going to finish studying.” Now there was a pile of food by Rick’s right hand.

The young man continued speaking but this time to the young lady, “I’m glad you spoke up, I was too embarrassed to ask if he was alright.”

“I’m glad too, I almost didn’t but-”

Rick didn’t hear the rest of the conversation; he was engrossed by the display of kindness surrounding his hands. In the background, the young man’s game ended due to his lack of playing. Rick picked up the jerky, opened it, and started devouring it. All the while he ate with his eyes watering.

“Dude, are you crying?”

Rick put his hand to his face feeling for tears. “I guess not,” he said simply already finished the jerky and now working on the cashews.

“What’s wrong? Did we say something to upset you?” the lady asked.

“No. I’m sorry…I just…I’m not used to being treated…with such kindness, especially for no reason…thank you both so much,” Rick thanked them now tearing into the peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

Both the guy and girl smiled brightly. “No problem dude,” he said. “Of course, take care of yourself okay?” she implored.

Rick nodded and the two headed back to their seats. Rick took a deep cleansing breath regaining his composure.

“Ah man, oh well, I guess I have to start over,” the young man said restarting his game.

As Rick ate, his stomach calmed and the pain subsided. His energy was returning and he no longer felt sleepy.

‘Everyone in this town has been so nice to me. Even that lady behind the counter at the store was nice to me until I stole that food. The guy I knocked over wasn’t nice to me but at least he was standing up for that woman and the store in general. I can’t believe how wonderful these people are and they live under the Erubescan rule,’ he thought to himself.

Rick changed topics to lightning while he continued to eat the remaining food and drink the energy drink. He was awake thanks to the food and amped up thanks to the energy drink. Rick was going through information at twice the pace as before.

‘Okay, if I understand this correctly, lightning forms in cumulous clouds. When rain, snow, or ice particles bounce off each other enough to cause an imbalance in positive or negative charges inside the cloud, then nature will try to correct itself by using lightning,’ he thought to himself paraphrasing what he learned.

He continued to think, ‘Each lightning strike is different and has several different ways it can work but a common way lightning will strike is through the cloud to ground method. In that method the clouds get overly negatively charged and the ground gets overly positively charged. The air between the clouds and the ground create a buffer that keeps the charges from reaching each other. But eventually the pressure between the charges becomes too much and the charges link up to create the electricity known as lightning. Now what allows the charges to link up?’

Rick reread a specific part of the internet article again. ‘In the cloud to ground lightning strike something called a stepped latter, no, a stepped leader forms from the clouds and goes down to the ground. The ground creates a streamer…a streamer is the same thing as a stepped leader…what’s the difference? Oh, okay. So leaders go down from the clouds looking for positive charges while streamers start from the ground and go up looking for negative charges. So they are doing similar things but going in opposite directions and they are searching for the opposite charges. Got it, but I still feel like I’m missing something. Channels, they mention channels a few times, what are channels? Channels are holes in the air that allows either the stepped leaders to transport negative charges down or streamers to transport positive charges up. When stepped leaders and streamers meet the result is lightning. Lighting neutralizes the extra charges until it builds up again starting the process over. Cool, I think I got it. Wait what’s this? St. Elmo’s fire? Apparently that’s a bluish or greenish glow that forms around things coming out of the ground, which is caused by the buildup of positive charges. If something has St. Elmo’s Fire wouldn’t it be struck by lightning since stepped leaders are searching for positive charges? Oh, it says that if you see St. Elmo’s Fire then lightning will probably strike soon.’

Rick closed out of the internet and shut down the computer. ‘I don’t think my brain can take anymore research for today. But this was a good first step, I have a lot to think about,’ he thought to himself. He got up and threw away the trash from the devoured food and stuffed the nutria grain bar and the granola bar in his pockets for later, the rest was eaten. He headed for the door but stopped by the glass door. There was a lady outside talking on a cell phone, Rick got the feeling that she was stressed about something but he dismissed it as his imagination. He looked back at the two people at the computers.

“Thanks again you two, I really appreciate what you did for me. You have no idea how much you helped me.”

The two gave a generic response. Rick’s eyes caught the other machines with goggle like items attached to metal boxes.

‘I wish I knew what those were.’ He then remembered that business guy named Andrew and the lesson he taught him.

“Hey, how do those things work?” he asked less awkwardly than he expected. The young man launched into an overly complicated explanation of the science behind the virtual reality machine all of which went completely over Rick’s head.

“Can you explain it simpler than that?”

The lady answered this time, “Basically just put the visor around your head and over your eyes. Then think about the topic you want to learn about and the machine does the rest.”

“Really? That’s awesome.”

The lady smiled, “Yes, I guess it is…you’re not from around here are you?”

“No, not at all.”

"I'm afraid to tell you I do not do that, Heather." Alexander muttered, too tired to look unfazed by the remark. "I believe I've explained that before, though." He redirected his attention to the profiles Faye brought. Despite his lack of complete focus, he did his best to scan through the important details.

"Are you looking to acquire them?" Selene asked after reading them. "If we planned it out, I would say it would be very feasible to obtain them." She looked up as Mithera entered, and she smiled politely. "Good morning, Councilor Mithera." She replied, lightly nudging Alex's arm. "Like Heather said, we are discussing future matters for when we bring in the terrorists."

Alex looked up upon feeling Selene's nudge, but he had no interest in Mithera's "friendliness". "Yes, good morning, Mithera." He added. "I assume your morning has been well so far?"

As Commander Botrelle's briefing rang out in the teleportation bay and through the communicators of those absent, Lindsey's lithe figure was dashing down a hall. A string of curses was rapidly coming out of her mouth as she ran quickly to the bay. As she practically flew, she managed to avoid hitting people carrying paperwork or hot coffee. "I shouldn't be late! I am such an idiot!!" She thought angrily to herself as she reached the room. She hurried inside and quickly got into line with her comrades. "Yes, ma'am." She answered quickly, hearing her question.

~

Nathan looked to the door as Lindsey entered hastily. He held back a sigh and simply looked to the ceiling for a moment before nodding to Botrelle. "Yes ma'am." He responded calmly. His attention was since again redirected as Makorai entered the room. He watched the fellow sniper with narrowed eyes, catching his drunken slur. Hiding his disdain, he prayed that this wouldn't be a problem for their mission.

"Right. Yeah." Kayla murmured to Mina and Toby. She mentally kicked herself for acting so cautious about Mina's actions, as well as the actions of the others. This was something to definitely be careful about. She kept quiet for the rest of the way until they ran into Talin, Sera, Gale, and the newcomer. "Ah, hello." She said awkwardly as Sera greeted them.

Her eyes rested on the boy observantly as Sera spoke to him. He seemed harmless enough, but she stayed alert. The others could probably pick up more than she could. "Any immediate danger,
Dawn...?" She asked curiously.

Jack was standing there with the serfs when he heard a series of loud beeps in his ear. It startled him and jumped back, quickly covering his ears with his hands. This only made the sound louder as it echoed in his hands now. "Oh." Still jumpy, he realized it must of been from that ear piece he forgot about. He lowered his hands and laughed softly at his mistake. What could it be for? Was it for breaking the wall? Did they really know about it already? It wouldn't surprise Jack if someone higher up had seen the whole thing. He stood still and listened to what it could of been. This is Commander Botrelle, Uh oh. It very well could of been for breaking the wall. If you are reading this message, you have been drafted as part of an immediate emergency response team. Terrorist Rick Ronin has been spotted in the West District. You are to rendezvous at the teleport bay in five minutes. Civilian attire. This is not optional. It wasn't for the wall, but something much worse. A terrorist? Immediate emergency response team? Jack felt a sliver of pride. They wanted him? Someone wanted him to be with them? It also saddened him. It wasn't for the skills he favored, but for his more harmful ones. He would have to fight people, possibly kill. He didn't want to do that, but Erubesco, his home, was being attacked. Jack had a job to do, and civilians depending on him being there.

Civilian attire? Jack was good in that concern. Five minutes? That was more a problem. How would he get there quickly? And from where he was? Jack started to quickly walk to where he needed to be, but soon enough he heard another buzz over his ear piece about not being there still. Jack started to panic. Still startled by the initial beeps, and now being rushed, he became desperate. He didn't want to disappoint, or to let any civilian lives be in danger. He figured he had already broken one wall, so why not break another? Turning to the direction of the teleporter, he ran straight towards the wall, smashing into it with his shoulder. The same crashing sound heard not too earlier was now repeated, but louder than before. Instead of a small hole, it was a giant gash. After he broke through that wall, a second wall was soon in front of him. He punched his hand through and pulled part of it out, soon smashing through that wall as well. He kept running, pushing debris behind him as he kept running.

Bits and pieces of wood, drywall, and some split electrical wire were scattered on the ground. There he stood in front of the teleporter, ready to go. His hair ruffled, his clothes dusty. A trail of holes behind him. He stood with the others hoping not to be late. It never occurred to him that he might be doing more damage to Erubesco than he might prevent. "Everyone else, do you read?" Jack smiled. "Loud and clear."

Nightingale and Cadriel were late, which was quite enough to set Commander Botrelle’s nerves on end: Lives were on the line, and this operation needed to run like a well-oiled machine. A hint of irritation flashed across her features as both came in a minute or two behind the start of her briefing, but she took no further action to call them out or draw attention. Minor mistakes were expected.

And then Makorai Goddamn Saika had the nerve to be late and drunk.

Her lips folded in on themselves and her irises locked onto the ceiling to avoid looking at him.

This was not a time to let her temper get the best of her.

“Knight Saika, what, might I ask, are you-“

Crash.

A chunk of wall was demolished directly where the Commander had been projecting the map, the teleport bay’s security alarm blared to life, and a puff of sealant foam sprayed out from the wall’s broken points to close up the gap, spraying both the opening and the backside of the man who had smashed it with a pale yellow snowfall that expanded on contact. Rubble and dust were cast up into a cloud, and nearly all of the teleport bay workers turned to stare in silence.

Now, some Supervising Officers would have been fuming at this development, but “fuming” was not something that Botrelle was known to do.

She was known to tap a sharp-heeled stiletto, or drum her nearly manicured nails, or perhaps draw her rosy lips into a disappointed purse.

But she did none of these.

Her posture was rigid, and she did not so much as turn to look at Rousimoff’s graceless form. The rise and fall of her chest ceased, and she was frozen so stock still that, were it not for an incredulous blink, there were about five seconds in which it looked possible that she had literally died from disappointment at the team that had gathered.

She touched her earpiece. “Knight Kollert, I need a soldering job on the north wall of the teleport bay. Gather a prompt reconstruction team. Please.” A quick flick of her finger across her tablet surface shut down the screaming alarm.

Lulu was going to kill them.

If a vein did not burst in her brain from trying to comprehend the level of unbridled incompetency in the room, she was going to fucking kill them.

She took a slow, deliberate breath— The kind so deep that it strained against the buttons of her button-up blouse as she held it before letting it go into a sigh.

“Twenty-two thousand, four hundred, and thirty-eight,” she said softly, her tone devoid of compassion or fury. There was an edge in its quietness, the kind that seemed to lower the ambient volume of the room with its demand to be heard.

“That is the number of civilian lives immediately at risk in the West District. That many men, women, and children are depending on nine upstanding military troops of the Kingdom they have pledged their allegiance to to keep them alive. They are counting on nine punctual, sober troops ,who are capable of following basic orders without causing major structural damage to sensitive, secure areas for no justifiable reason.”

Her pale green glare was fixed on the back wall, staring directly between the torsos of Nightingale and Chandler without actually looking at either of them.

“If you are not capable of fulfilling these requirements, or understanding the weight of these stakes, you will excuse yourself immediately.”She paused, letting the silence linger in the area for a moment, and then nodded to Quirk.

“Put our snipers in position,” she ordered, and with a nod Quirk moved first to Chandler and then to Saika. “Nightingale, you’re with Cadriel at the West entrance. Schmidt, move everyone. And stand by near the drop point for the withdrawal operation.”

Schmidt gave an apprehensive nod and began working around the circle, vanishing each member of the team off to the corner, ending with Commander Botrelle.

Beads of sweat had started to fall an hour ago- maybe more, maybe less, Seth wasn’t paying attention exactly. They slid down his face, warming the already flushed skin before coming to pool at his collar. He had been sent moving about for most of that time, as well, only stopping to listen to Montana’s instruction when it came. His muscles were sore, and there was a bit of that familiar queasiness that came with frequent teleportation, but Seth considered that a good thing. It meant progress. Improvement.

Now, rocking back and forth on his heels, he listened once more to his teacher, green eyes obedient and intrigued. Seth was almost puppylike in his fascination- although that could be said about the boy no matter the situation. Even now, with the indentations of muscle visible beneath his shirt and on bare arms, and with the deadly gleam of hatchets in hand, he seemed more like a schoolboy than anything.

The effect was distorted, somewhat, by the light frown that touched his lips at Montana’s advice. It wasn’t one of disapproval, or of any sort of upset- it was thoughtful. Quiet. His eyes didn’t leave the other through this change, and as direction was given, Seth gave a brief nod to show his understanding. He had never attempted to use his teleportation in such a way- why bother, when you were so used to using it in the typical manner?- but it would be interesting. Fun. Helpful. Absently, he ran his arm across his mouth, hands tightening around the handles of his axes with the comfort of a hitter with a bat.

Within moments of Montana’s signal, Seth was gone- off to the land only others of his Gift seemed to know. He drew himself out just as fast, appearing at the side of the first target. With a swipe of his arm, the linen that made up the bag split, vomiting sand across the tiled floor. He didn’t stay to watch his efforts, instead moving to the next to repeat the process. And the next. And those after.

It was at the seventh that he slipped up. Rather than burying deep into the “torso” of the target, it instead nicked its side, leaving a shallow cut instead of anything particularly noteworthy. Granted, on a living person, there would be a chance of it eventually becoming lethal.

But “eventually” was not what he had been aiming for. Jaw clenching, Seth spun on his heel, surveying the damage for a slow moment. Not good. While he could still simply redo his attack and continue down the line, there was little margin for error now. And with the time wasted now with indecision…

He made his choice swiftly, and with little hesitation after that. Willing himself out of existence, he teleported to the dummy before Montana, planted his hand firmly upon it, and brought it several feet away again before disappearing once more.

When he reappeared, it was behind his tutor, arm lifted to swing at Montana’s back.

Mel could hear his own blood throbbing against his eardrum, washing out the back half of what Coleman had to say. To say that it bothered him would have been an understatement, but it was not a tragedy he had any right to claim.

His right hand crossed his body to rub at the jagged scar on the opposite palm, the only physical trace left by the bullet that had shot his gun out of reach. Comparatively speaking, it was a very, very small price to have paid, given what had befallen the rest of his comrades.

“Doesn’t bother me,” he said as he picked up a cafeteria tray, putting on the practiced smile he had learned to use in front of his case counselor. “It’s in the past, anyhow. And there’s nothing that’s going to—“

Transmission from Knight Saffir Fisher

His hand flew to his earpiece, upon hearing the computerized butchering of Saff’s name, pressing the gadget in so that he could hear the transmission clearly.

“Hey, Saff. What’s—“

His face went pale.

The plastic tray clattered from his hands to drop against the cobbles, and Mel’s boots squeaked against the floor as he turned and pounded toward the doors. A waxy pallor blanched over his skin, standing out against the ring of cold sweat seeping through his shirt collar.

“I’m coming, Saff. Hold on. Are you sheltering?” Of course she was hiding. Stupid, stupid Mel. His raced down a stairwell taking the steps two at a time. He nearly took out a pair of Knight Squires on their way to training, but he paid them no heed as their shoulders clipped against his.

“What’s your 20? I- I’m going to the station now, okay? I’m going to grab the subtrain over—“

No. If Ronin were in the West District, incoming public transit would surely be closed, or rerouted.

“I’m coming, okay? I’ll grab a lift and be over there as soon as I can. Citadel response will be there before I am. You’re gonna be okay—“ His knees were shaking as he ran through the Citadel’s front entrance and over the wide wooden bridge across into the city.

The last time he had promised Knight Fisher that she would be alright, there was a case of lockers on top of her, and her blood was pooling in a slick puddle on the ground, which his boots slipped in when he tried to push the shelf up to free her. The ground had been wet from a burst pipe in the wall, and less than five yards away the bodies of Zhao and Lowy lay still with death. There was someone else coming down the hatch to the shelter, with quick steps and laughing conversation and—

He shook his head and began holding out his hand to flag a driver. “I’m on my way, Saffir. You’re alright,”

If Coleman or anyone else had followed his frantic flight from the building, he had not paid them any heed.

Kora, for her part, simply stood with her arms folded, regarding this arrival rather skeptically, before looking over to Lulu in a manner that asked 'Is this really what you've chosen for a squad?'

"We've got a door you know." she remarked drily, somewhat pleased, considering her current situation, that she was looking the best out of all of them. She was on time, sober, and hadn't broken any Erubescan property...well not recently anyway. And nothing as extensive as breaking through walls.

And it wasn't by lack of capability.

Kora was only down by about a foot in height on the other knight, and she had long been quite famous (or infamous) for destructive capacity.

At least at this rate she was not in danger of any of the team making her look bad.

Her skepticism was only reinforced upon seeing the small figure of Serf Caddie stepped through the enormous gap in the wall, with a look of exasperated resignation on er face at the destruction.

Caddie had arrived in time to catch most of the Commander's lecture, and was almost certain she was not exactly in favour either.. but in all fairness it was hard to be prompt when you'd neither had any civilian clothes, nor had any real means to purchase them, for years. She didn't get out much. Well, she didn't get out at all. Generally speaking the height of Caddie's social life was talking with Saika whilst she tried to get to the drain cleaner he was lying on top of.

Her current outfit had been stolen rather hastily out of a cart of laundry, and some things left in a locker room by the teleport bay, so consisted of a slightly faded mauve sun dress, a hoodie at least two sizes too large for her tiny frame, and a pair of sneakers.
The lack of uniform didn't seem to diminish the strangeness of her appearance. If anything it worked completely the other way with more grubby bandages left on show.

But it was the best she could do in a hurry.
Plus it was not like she really cared that much for Lulu's approval.
She wasn't even sure why she was here.
Why send a janitor to do a Knight's job?
Still, if her work told her anything it was not to bother asking why.
Hopefully she could just get this over with and not end up vapourized.

“Where are you from?” the young lady asked Rick with genuine interest. She has never ventured out of the town but has a healthy curiosity about life beyond these boarders.

Rick just shook his slowly, “Nowhere.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to pry into your life, I understand if you don’t want to tell me,” she added with disappointment in her voice.

“You miss understood me,” he said calmly. “I’m from nowhere. I’ve spent my whole life looking for a home and a family but I never found either. I thought I had gotten one once but…it didn’t work out. I just live where I live until I live somewhere else, so I pretty much live nowhere,” Rick explained.

“Really? That’s so sad.”

“Dude, that’s harsh,” the young man said agreeing with the young lady.

“It’s fine.” Rick fell into silent contemplation. He wondered why he was telling these strangers any of this, it was completely unlike him. He hasn’t really felt like himself for awhile now. His whole life has become a mystery to himself leaving him with just the terrible feelings from that life, a life that he may never have had.

‘These are good people and I don’t feel bad telling them things about me so why not tell them?’ he questioned himself.

He continued, “It’s difficult to find purpose living the way I do. It can be scary because there is a real possibility that I’ll never find my purpose…I may never be able to do anything good for this world…” Rick fell silent once again.

Before the other two people responded they considered what to say. The silence became extremely awkward. Neither one of them knew what to say. If they knew anything about Rick and/or were friends with him then maybe they’d be able to quickly come up with a reassuring response, maybe. Knowing Rick could also make that task even harder. There is a reason why Erubesco and Liberty consider Rick to be a terrorist.

The lady came up with something to say but didn’t get the chance to say it for Rick was reaching over to the virtual reality visor.

“I have to try this before I go,” Rick said abruptly stopping the lady from speaking.

He slipped the visor over his head to his eyes. The cushion framing his eyes were comfortable yet awkward and scratchy to Rick.

‘Probably something that you get used to over time,’ he thought. He remembered what the lady said about how to use the machine.

‘Show me…martial arts wisdom.’ Instantly a life like image of an older gentleman dressed in a traditional martial arts garment, the style and name of the garment Rick didn’t know. The gentleman was standing on one of the many rolling hills full of lush green grass. The sky was a bright light blue with wispy white puffy clouds gently floating by. A cool breeze took the edge off the heat from the sun.

The young man and lady chuckled as Rick visibly jumped from his initial reaction to the world he was seeing. It was always entertaining to watch someone use those machines for the first time.

Rick couldn’t believe how real this virtual world was. He could feel the heat from the sun, the chill from the wind, the delicate points from the bending grass against his bare feet.

‘Why aren’t I wearing shoes?’ he wondered. To his surprise his thoughts came out as words.

“Because one does not wear shoes in the Holy Hills of Meditation,” said the gentleman.

‘Wow, this so cool. I can’t believe I’m talking to you right now.’

“Cool indeed. I am happy to speak with you as well.”


The visor for the virtual reality does several things for the wearer. For one, it detects the wearer’s brain function, determining which part of the brain is being used. Thanks to extensive research on brain mapping and functionality, the visor is able to predict, with sixty percent accuracy, what the wearer is thinking. The visor then sends that information through the tube to the metal box that it’s connected to. Each metal box houses a direct and personal link to the internet. The box locates an internet video that best matches the wearer’s mental request. The box then sends the video back up to the visor which plays the video. Finally the visor implants subliminal messages to the wearer via tiny speakers, located throughout the band, which whisper soft spoken messages that are supposed to enhance the video.

The messages are barely heard but describe what the wearer should be feeling, smelling, and hearing tricking the wearer’s brain into thinking that he/she is fully experiencing the other senses. The subliminal messages work about seventy percent of the time. When the virtual reality machine miss interprets the wearer’s thoughts, the wearer always has the option to activate a virtual keypad so one could more accurately interact with the machine. When everything is working properly, the wearer’s conversation with the virtual world doesn’t need to be spoken out loud and therefore unheard by the nearby people in reality. Also, the wearer doesn’t need to move to interact with the virtual world under that principle unless, of course, the wearer wants to or needs to.
Since Rick is completely unaware of how this machine works, his brain is easier to trick believing the virtual world is more than just a video. Other users who are more familiar with the machine often notice the subliminal messages and ruin its effectiveness.


“You seek martial arts wisdom?” the gentleman asked.

‘Yes. I am seeking strength. You see I lost my super strength and I need it back. Is there a way martial arts can help?’ Rick answered before inquiring for more information.

“You do not need martial arts to find what is not missing,” the man replied.

‘Oh it’s missing, it’s completely gone.’

“One’s true strength comes from within, seek anywhere else and you’ll always be without.”

‘Okay... are you talking about metaphorical strength like will power? Because it doesn’t seem like that can really apply to actual physical strength, especially not super strength,’ Rick challenged.

“All strength starts from within especially super strength, how do you expect to do super feats without first being super?”

‘I can’t tell if you are being stupid or being really wise, but maybe I’m just having a hard time processing this. I’m still mentally fried from all things I’ve learned about lightning and electricity. I think I should switch gears…how do I go to the next…thing?’

Being unfamiliar with the workings of this new device, Rick found it difficult to navigate to a new scene. As he attempted, the man stayed offering Rick more advice that made no sense for what Rick was thinking.

Eventually Rick thought, ‘I just want some kick boxing instructions!’ to which the image shifted to a dojo scene.

The virtual instructors in the new video, showed Rick the basics, to remind him how everything is supposed to look. Rick then realized just how crappy his techniques have been while he relied on his super strength during fist fights. Everything he did was riddled with imperfections. Yet they worked on his opponents.

Next they taught him subtle differences in stance, footwork, and body position to maximize his speed, power, and effectiveness. Rick relearned blocks and counters that he stopped using years ago when he realized that most people couldn’t hurt him because his super strength.

Realization struck him. He wasn’t winning fights because of his martial art skills but because his strength made up for his lack of form.

‘Which is why Neutralize was always so hard to knock out. He’d neutralize my powers leaving me too weak and too unpolished to do any real damage to him,’ he figured out.

Rick then practiced his slips, bob-n-weaves, and evasive foot movements. Rick practiced those moves in the real world as he was doing them in the virtual world. He went over a couple of power techniques and a couple speed techniques. He was about to start the sparing portion of the training when Rick felt something was wrong in his gut.

Rick took off the virtual visor dropping on the desk in front of him. His critical gaze searched the room. He ignored the laughing townsfolk whom fed him earlier. Rick didn’t know what he was looking for but it would be something dangerous. Rick had learned to listen to his gut when it spoke, for it was usually accurate at alerting him when he was in danger. It had saved his life more than once.

There was nothing out of the ordinary in that room. The people were still joking about the spectacle that Rick made while using the virtual reality equipment. Rick ignored it as he tried to focus on the meaning of the feeling in his gut. It was a familiar feeling, one that he felt not too long ago and yet he couldn’t quiet place it.

‘What happened the last time I felt this?’ he mentally wondered. ‘I was with the Wanderers, I got this feeling and then…Neutralize hit me with his powers and then…a bullet hit me in the head.’ Rick’s eyes widened as he immediately dropped to the ground and rolled away from the windows under a desk.

There was no gunshot, no broken glass, and no screams of terror just surprised gasps and snorts from the other people in the room. Rick touched his body searching for blood but found nothing.

‘Shit,’ he thought realizing that nothing attacked him.

‘I still have to figure out what the fuck is going on, trying to find the danger is just as likely to get me killed.’ Rick knew he couldn’t afford to lament about the situation, so he started to army crawl through the table legs and chair legs toward the windows, his eyes were laser focused on the surrounding area outside the library.

“Dude what are you doing?” The young man asked.

“GET AWAY FROM ME! STAY AWAY FROM THE WINDOWS!” Rick roared freezing both the young man and the young lady in their seats.

Rick reached the last desk, his final piece of concealment until he reached the wall nearest to the windows. ‘One, two, three!’ Rick hopped to his knees and dashed to the wall. Rick lay flat against the bottom of the wall making him as small a target as possible.

Still no bullets. Rick shifted himself to the farthest corner of the building. His heart was racing as he prepared for the riskiest maneuver yet. Rick stood up, exposing himself to would be snipers before wedging his back deep into the corner. Visibility of his body was greatly decreased while wedged in that corner. Hopefully it would be enough to keep him safe. He was positioned so that he could dive further into the library at the first sign of danger but still be able to look out the window to search for snipers or other Erubesco soldiers. He leaned his head back slightly to get a better look out the window, he first checked up at the roofs of the nearby buildings.

Nothing.

Rick’s eyes swept the streets finding regular townsfolk going about their day like everything was normal. Rick checked the roofs again then the streets again. Nothing dangerous or even suspicious. This made him a little paranoid. His gut is rarely wrong, but rarely didn’t mean never. Rick frowned. One last check of the roofs and street, he then remembered the windows of the other buildings and checked them quickly but carefully. Again there was nothing.

He sprinted to the center of the room and looked around for the undetected danger he was sure he felt. Rick’s heart slowed to a normal pace when his search came up empty again.

‘I guess there is nothing to worry about,’ he thought relaxing a bit. ‘Maybe my lack of powers in enemy territory has started to get me on edge,’ he continued to think.

“Sorry about that you two, I thought something was…wrong. But everything is fine, you can move again.” Explaining himself felt as funny as it must’ve sounded.

‘I should leave, even if nothing is wrong,’ he thought to himself. ‘It’s probably the best move.’ He was completely unaware that in less than a minute an Erubesco team was about to converge on his position.

Gale beamed again- the pearly white, saccharine grin of a “do no evil” schoolboy- and pressed the lollipop deep into the corners of his mouth. “It would depend on what you consider ‘under control’ to be in this case…” His fingers folded at his chest, eyes widening in realization. “I don’t believe we’ve gotten your name yet. A bit rude, I’d think, given the fact that we’ve already introduced ourselves.”

Lips curled. “It’s quite surprising, actually. I would have expected better manners from someone so...mature.” The words were left hanging in the air, the implication in them thick, but Gale did not pursue the topic further. Instead, he gave a decisive suck of the candy’s stem, gave a pause of thought, then lowered his gaze to lock eyes with the stranger. “Just passing through.” A statement. “Well, if that’s all it is, then I’m sure my friends and I would be more than glad to escort you out.” The word “glad” fell thickly from his tongue, rolling as smoothly as syrup.

As yet another round of footsteps sounded out nearby, the blond glanced up, the picture of innocence.

Although, given the child giving off said effect, it didn’t exactly stand for much. It was the same expression he gave when caught with his new pet of the day, or when trailing several of the group members with his gaze- a little “i wasn’t doing anything” sort of look. Once it had been fully established, he looked from Toby, then Mina, Dawn, and Kayla. The last of the bunch would find herself at the end of a particularly pleasant beaming before Gale turned his attention to the group as a whole.

“Nice to see you all again,” he said. “We’re simply greeting a new friend, that’s all.”

It was the word friend that received special attention this time around.

Mina approached with the little party wearing her usual hospitable smile, honey brown eyes giving away little of the survey she was taking of the newcomer: She waited for the moments his gaze was on one or all of the others to take careful inventory of the weight of his pockets and the lay of his clothing.

Not that being armed was exactly a crime in the Wastes.

Moreover, it was good to see that the young Mr. Eden had not been granted the chance to inflict any injury.

“Mornin’,” she responded to the general greetings being exchanged, offering no names just as none were given. “Ain’t a bad day for passing through,” the doctor added, taking the opportunity to glance out past the gates for any further backup or secrets the boy could have been hiding, “Nicer than some we’ve had out this way.”

Her stance was open and relaxed, with her arms at her sides and her weight shifted onto one hip in a relaxed posture. Neither the slow, calm gestures that punctuated her words nor the easy drawl with which she spoke betrayed how acutely aware she was of her own weapon. It was a half-second from her reach, to be precise, with one more second needed to flick the chamber closed and ready the first shot.

“Sorry to say that there ain’t a helluva lot left in here to ‘pass through,’ though. Not that we’d mind escorting you, though. Ain’t any one of us can take a quarrel with someone for being an Asher, and it ain’t a problem to keep some company for a short meeting, Mr….?”

She certainly did not want to escort him through the city, but it beat the alternative of letting him wander past unchecked. Their numbers may have been enough to provide confidence and deter most, but the newcomer seemed unfazed by the small party that had converged.

It was disconcerting at best.

Colt watched Samon prepare, keeping one hand hovering over the boy’s hands to check that his wrist would not fly up from the recoil too harshly.

The trainee’s inability to look straight down the weapon’s sight was immediately obvious, but Colt did not say anything on the matter. The boy was holding steady, and there was no need for a sight from a man who could not see.

At least, previous vision impaired trainees had not needed to use them.

The bang sounded, and the new motion of Samon’s wrist, as predicted, bumped Colt’s right hand as the weapon lurched back and up. Less predictably, a shell of hot brass flew out toward Colt’s face.

He dodged the shell without moving his gaze from Samon’s target.

“You are in orange,” he said, tone more approving than it had been during the rest of the lesson, “On silhouette, ornage is center mass. Is very good shot. Motion is better.”

He then plucked the gun from Samon’s hands, and lifted it up straight out of his grip. “Is a big kick for small weapon, but you are managing well, Trainee Cauldier.”

He tucked the revolver back into its home at his gun belt, and then reached to take hold of Samon’s wrist.

Despite the side of his hands, his touch was gentle as he gingerly cradled the boy’s injured limb. He carefully flexed the fingers, and rotated his hand with the same care one could expect from a practiced medic.

“Wrist is being the gunner’s most vital asset,” he said, releasing him. “You are to going home, and putting on ice. Ten minutes on, twenty off. Two anti-inflammatory tabs are to being sent to your home- You are taking them before bed, and before lesson tomorrow.”

He took a step back, posture back at attention.

“You are being dismissed, Trainee Cauldier. Reporting tomorrow for further instruction.”

“Agent Mimic!” Beretta greeted, turning to face the woman with a wide smile. The corrected pronunciation was quick to darken her mood, however, and a double crease appeared on her forehead as she furrowed her brows.

“Pi…” Her head cocked to the side, like a dog unable to locate the source of a sound as the new word rolled about in her mind. She moved her lips without speaking, and crinkled her nose as she tried to shift the shape of her mouth to imitate the sound.

“…Pinot Nwah?” Her cheekbones scrunched, leaving her expression somewhere between bemusement and intrigue.

“Is not sounding how is spelled,” she remarked, and the friendly grin she had previously worn returned. “The Erubesco is very strange with their— Ooh!”

Beretta jumped back in case of danger, hand flying to the place on her waist where her holster usually rested as the other Agent began shaking the bottle. Was it some kind of fuel? Or was this a test? Or…

“Ooh!”

The trainee was drawn back in as quickly as she had been startled, placing her hands on the counter and bending down to sit on her haunches so that her face was at level with the bottle. Her lips parted slightly, betraying a moment of awe at the spectacle: Violet irises followed violet swirls in a moment of stunned silence, watching the viscous liquid dance about in glimmering ribbons. Something as ephemeral and ungraspable as the patterns that formed inside the wine bottle tugged at the edges of Beretta’s consciousness, refusing to reveal itself in any comprehensible manner.

“Zvyozdochka,” she muttered, losing the train of thought even as the word passed over her lips.

She straightened up from the table, her eyes dazed for a moment, looking at the wall as she tried to bring it back.

And then a quick blink as she flicked the errant thought away entirely. “Is very pretty, though. But… is not bad for them? To drinking glitter?”

(So, post may need editing later. I wasn't sure who to tag and not tag so I tried to just add anyone who I knew (due to direct conversation) was there)

Jake didn't make any signs or appearances of tensing up, maintaining his calm demeanor. Anyone experienced enough at reading body language might see some hints he was on alert if they looked hard enough, but it might also then surprise them just how much control he had over his body language. That wasn't part of his gift, but something else about his past he tried to put far behind him.

"Hello everyone" he replied. As they spoke, he picked up clues here and there. He couldn't confirm much on any one individual yet, but he got some things already. The first is that they all knew each other, though that was obvious. However, they weren't people with bad intentions most likely. Given he was alone, this boy, Gale, was probably extremely tough and strong, just like Jake, so the fact they had a group here and didn't attack him yet probably meant they didn't mean him harm. They were also intelligent, as he caught one glancing at him through the corner of his eye when ever he looked away, probably accessing weapons. Of course, neither could necessarily be true, cause they could just be suspecting he was a scout for a larger group and didn't make a move yet out of caution. However, they mentioned some small details, including that they were in conflict with a faction recently, as well as an offer of escort. The fact they were open about that, while not revealing too much, made him doubt they suspected he was part of a group, since whether they were weakened or recovering, or at full strength, no one would risk saying that in front of a stranger the suspected of being a part of a large group in case they were hostile and decided to take advantage and attack. Could there simply be details he doesn't have yet, sure, but that was his theory based on information gathered so far.

He went on to answer the other's questions. "Well, mostly passing through, but I will probably pick up any good salvage along the way. Anyways, thanks for the offer, I am sure there is more then enough room for everyone while I am here. Also, have I not yet? Sorry, I guess I got distracted by all the glaring...from the sun, you know?" Jake had meant every glare but the sun, and the others likely knew it. That one girl (Mina) probably already noticed he had some weapons on him from the way she had been looking at him, as well as a variety of other things.

This is probably getting just a little bit silly... "Anyways, my name is Jake. Jake Vale. And I gotta say...." Jake told them calmly, before smiling. "...its bad for your health to be tense when you don't need to be. Right, Gale?"

If this tension went on any further, he might just start being blunt just to relieve it all.

Where sand spilled from the belly of the bag, Montana saw intestines threading through fingers as their owners tried desperately to hold in what nature had coiled with its evolutionary touch. Fruitlessly. Those were all killing blows, requiring nothing less then healer, as a surgeon would still have a large margin of death to avoid. Speed was a key factor here, as any trained or experienced adversary would notice after their comrade was sliced open by a teleporter. This is where Seth's prior training and natural athletic talent shone through. With the eye of an appraiser keen gaze followed the younger males progress, quite pleased that the last hadn't been cut as deeply as the others.

This meant Seth had to make a decision.

A moment later his choice was made, and Montana's attack never found it's mark. Seth had opted to save his comrade, rather then risk landing another killing blow.

Seth choosing to finish his initial assault would have by no means indicated that the young man's choice during battle would be carnage in the moment over the safety of a Wanderer. Montana understood the stark difference between training and application. However it did probe the sections of the brain that dealt with reaction based decision making. If Montana could, he'd put a Zhuge Liang in everyone's five seconds.

Or aim as close to that as he possibly could.

Seth disappeared again, vanishing from sight, the phantom pain tingled far before the blade would taste his flesh, and Montana turned, drawing his blade and aiming to block the young man's hatchet hilt with the flat of his weapon.

Now the only thing left was seeing if he had guessed correctly on the arced angle of Seth's attack.

If not, he'd need to compensate in a split second to avoid getting hit, and he'd count that in Seth's favour.

"Anticipating I'd anticipate a fake. Interesting choice young Seth."

His second hand had already grabbed for the second weapon strapped to his thigh. Instead of bringing it forward to aid the first, he held it by his hip, in a defensive posture.

“Hi, guys.” Arms swaying at her side in a non-threatening manner, Dawn met the eyes of her fellow wanderers with a quiet smile. “It’s good to see that, um. There’s no trouble out here. Like they just said...it’s been a busy week.” She laughed, then, sheepish, before lowering herself some to better meet the stranger’s eyes. One hand rested against her bent knee, while the other remained comfortably in her pocket.

“It is nice to meet you, Jake, but it’s...ah. It’s just kind of hard not to be tense in a time like this, you know?” Her smile widened somewhat, turning into something more open. Welcoming. Even her voice had softened some, taking on the gentler inflections of a person meaning no harm.

As Dawn rose back to her feet, she quickly slipped back into the heads of her companions, fluttering about briefly as she relayed the information stolen from the stranger. Well, it does seem like he’s telling the truth about just wanting to “pass through”, she began. From what I got, I think he’s alone, too- but, well. I was also right about him being like Montana. A rumbling chuckle came through the stream, but was cut short not long after. He figured out that we think he’s alone, or a scout, too. Loaded to the teeth with weapons, and trying to get to…somewhere.

There was a slight lapse in the flow of thought as she tried to pry just a bit further, to scrape a little further into Jake’s mind without alerting the boy, but it took only a few moments before picking up again. That’s all I got so far, she admitted. But he’s being honest, I think.

During her little mental exchange with her party, Dawn had glanced back at the others, as if silently asking for further opinion before turning back to Jake. “A lot of the buildings around here have been picked clean,” she said apologetically, “and, um. You’re welcome to look, but I...I think we’d be all more comfortable if we had someone tag along ‘til you left. Sorry.” She gave a swing of her arms, hands rubbing together when they met. A look of shy guilt.

Of course, the action would be unnecessary in the long run- the intruder had been watched since he had first stepped into Helton’s boundary after all- but Jake most likely didn’t know that. And the less he did, the better, Dawn thought. He had already gathered too much about the group as it was.

Makorai Saika's belief in the divine was a convenient thing. Spirits inhabiting the bits and pieces of mortal life. It was a belief system void of restraint and greater moral struggles. It required little to no effort on his part, and also allowed him to humanize any inanimate object to the point on conversation when he was six cups over the legal limit. That being said, the convenient appearance of Jack, highlighting as what he was supposed to find atop the beanstalk, stole Commander Botrelle's attention like the marginally hotter guy at the bar.

Makorai nodded in Jack's direction. Thankful he was alive. Thankful he was a gifted being with such an immense drive to cause unneeded destruction that no one had time to check on the blood alcohol level coursing through his veins was Jack was on the move. 'Keep doing you man'. Makorai nodded encouragingly. Keep doing you man, keep doing you. This small bit of amusement now done, he took a moment to cast a sniper's eye to the motley crew assembled to safeguard ten thousand plus civilians in the face of this Wanderer epidemic. He expected Kora. If she hadn't been called officially he'd in the least expect her here arguing with the Knight Commander about going, all anger and swirls of red hair a second from becoming angry and sentient themselves. Cadriel was..a surprise, so much so that the genuine look of concern that inevitably formed on his face took a few beats to resettle into the RDF he wore so casually.

Next was Linsday, which sort of went without saying for him. Nathan however, bothered him for a multitude of reasons that he wasn't about to go over whilst he was in the middle of emptying his mind of all the background noise. Which, in itself wasn't a terribly impressive feat considering Saika usually didn't have much going on up there anyhow.

"Something heartwarming, something sarc-"

Teleportation took him and the, "astic" to his assigned building. It was athletically pleasing, and like most buildings in the city, took its cues from the old world artisans who's masonry had withstood the test of time long enough to be replicated in their modern era.

For Makorai, this meant he had cover, and a multitude of positions that left him largely invisible to the naked eye. Currently, he was sat behind a particularly skyward arch, attaching the three foot plus long barrel to a consol that switched between anti-personnel, and anti-material on the fly. Gravity stabilizers locked the mechanisms in place, and a series of scope glasses, akin to the pre war mechanisms used for judging ones eye strength, appeared in front of the scope.

Their application ranges from locating electromagnetic disturbances to thermal hear, even the absence of heat. A second scope, fitted with the same enhancements as the first was slid into its docking port.

It was a personal request, one that was useless on most sniper rigs, and probably more at home in a virtual game then a snatch and grab operation. Most was the key word here. Makorai wasn't 'most' snipers, and his ability to use both his right and left as master eyes, independent of the others, made this fantasy rig deadly in his hands.

More deadly then his companion sniper perhaps, has he'd strapped a series of lethal rounds to his inner thigh.

Dangerous thing to be shooting live rounds into a crowd, but in his mind? He was a bit separate from the rest.

Not cocky.

Confident.

"Arguably handsome reporting in, over."

Larke Sterling could count on one hand the number of times someone had called him “brave”: Once, when he was seven, and he offered to be the first to sing at the school talent show. The second was when he was thirteen, and squished a spider for his mother. The third occurred when he had promised to attend a rehabilitation group at twenty-four (though he never did).

The last had been a mere one day ago, when he had offered to take on the wounds of his friend to save the boy’s life.

As he shifted the pack full of medical supplies strapped snugly between his wings and bucked their straps onto his chest, however, the word “stupid” seemed more apt.

He shuffled from foot to foot against the floor of the South Teleport Zone, his hazel-green eyes unwilling to look directly into those of the Commander as he spoke. A golden-colored feather drifted lazily to the floor as Larke checked the support straps around his wings once more; though he was positive they were in place.

Any action to keep his mind from wandering.

The better part of Larke’s evening had been spent scouring over the details of the thick briefing document: It contained extensive reports on Helena’s condition, as well as in-depth profiles for a good number of the terrorists. He was unsure whether to be more concerned over the biographies that were present, or the small asterisk that said “and two to six possible others.”

The worse part of his night was spent trying to avoid an existential crisis in the face of possible suicide.

And also sweating.

Maybe a bit from his eyes.

“I’m prepared, sir,” Larke replied, and the confident baritone timbre gave away none of his internal dread. Perhaps someone would have believed he weren’t nervous, were it not for the incessant fiddling with every piece of equipment on his person.

Neither the firearm holstered at his waist nor the compound bow fastened across his shoulders helped to put his mind at ease.

“I- I’ll report in as soon as I’ve acquired the targets. Sir.”

He stepped back into the main bay, and did not look at the teleporter assigned to transport him to the designated drop point outside of Helton.

Looks of pity were not was his confidence needed at the moment.

He closed his eyes, offered the gesture of the Erubescan salute, and then—

“SHIT!”

A thousand feet or more above the ground, with the wind whistling against the thick leather of his jacket, screaming in his ears while biting his face with cold... Larke was hurtling toward the ground.

“ShitshitshitshitshitshitSHITshitSONOFA-“

He twisted. His body writhed in mid-air to try and make sense of the strange weight on his back and the disorientation of being poofed into a free-fall with no warning.

“SHIT!”

With a cracking whoosh, he unfurled his wings like tawny-feathered parachute, launching his body straight upwards on a gust. He grimaced at the unfamiliar yank against his pectoral muscles, and again at the unearthly feeling of the wind pressing up against his belly and legs as his wings generated lift.

“Holy shit,” he breathed, finally able to hear his own voice. The sickening spinning in his vision settled after a moment or two, and he beat his wings to keep up with the air current below him. He looked left, and then right, still somehow taken by the presence of the feathered appendages that extended almost four meters on either side of him.

And then he glanced around.

The ground that extended for miles in all directions was yellow-green with scrub brush, occasional crossed by a decaying strip of asphalt or a crumbling ruin. The air was as clear as could be expected in the Ash, and smelled vaguely of running water, and something acrid.

There was a fierce breeze that rolled over his body and tousled his sandy hair back from his eyes.

But he did not have the luxury of dwelling on the first free air he had felt in years; the tracker strapped to his ankle was more than enough reminder of that.

He reached up onto his forehead and pulled down the scoped goggles that were strapped there to cover his eyes, and took a more scrutinizing look around at his surroundings. According to the compass in the corner of his vision, he was heading Southeast at approximately thirty miles an hour.

On the horizon, he could make out (far more clearly than he was comfortable with,) the decimated city of Helton.

Several quick snaps of his wings lifted him higher into the atmosphere, hopefully enough that his shape as a person would be less easily deciphered as he made his approach.

“Theyr'e right. You won’t find much,” Toby said. None that didn't belong to the Wanderers, anyway. He might have felt more generous to share if this Jake was desperate, starving, or anything less than confident…bordering arrogant. “And I’m—Toby, by the way,” he added guardedly. But politely. There was no harm in that. But no full names. Not necessary. Besides, there was a moderate possibility of an Ashlander associating a very distinct reputation with ‘the Schippers brothers.’

Toby was about to volunteer to help show Jake around when his pupils constricted. His stomach lurched with vicarious alarm when Larke nearly fell. He felt someone who was afraid, dizzy, nervous, someone airborne. He recognized the person's Gift and emotions like a fingerprint, vaguely yet intimately. Toby pinpointed the memory. He had never met this person, yet he had felt this person’s immense pain, one of the voices in a chorus of screams that had almost broken him. Someone in the fire at Erubesco.

His strange relief that the individual was alive was soon overshadowed. An Erubescan. Since no natural flight Gift appeared in Larke, Toby naturally assumed that the intruder was on some kind of aircraft.

His hand shot to his sidearm and his look at Jake turned to a frown. Toby didn’t trust coincidences. “You sure you’re alone, there, Jake?”
/Dawn?/ he called mentally for confirmation before he said something to alarm the others.

Piper had no time to be confused by her lunch companion’s hasty exit, because she heard Commander Botrelle’s voice in her ear. “On it, Commander,” she said, one hand already starting the wheels of her chair away from the table and the other manipulating her tablet to contact the appropriate channels. The closest custodians and technicians pinged on the smooth interface.

“Chase Black, Edgar Gormly, Krystal Saturns, and Patricia Collin,” she said, practicing her best official-yet-cheerful-yet-no-nonsese voice, feeling very pleased and very official with her new rank to be organizing other people instead of being ordered, “please report to the teleport bay immediately. Gormly, bring soldering equipment and the Cabinet 3 reconstruction materials from the supply closet on your way. Thank you.”

She herself glided straight to the lift, and then to the site of the busted wall. She didn’t need any soldering equipment, herself. She was soldering equipment.
She could do this sort of thing. Battles and losing Knights on her watch, she wasn’t sure she was cut out for that. But emergency technical work? Cake.
Because she'd go real far in life on emergency tech work.
Yeah.
That'd make 'em all so proud and jealous.
Ugh.

---

Something was going on. There was some kind of emergency, probably. Everyone seemed to be involved. The tall guy went literally crashing away, and even Caddie received a summons. Even the other janitor's earpiece lit up. Skip waited for the a call in his ear that his help was needed, too.

He waited until he found himself alone, just standing. Just breathing in the corridor.

Skip was on probation.

Nobody needed him.

There were several certainties out in the waste.

There was, for instance, the certainty that the sun would set in the west. There was also a certainty that one needed water, food, and shelter to live, or that it was hot or if it was raining. A mind reader was allowed a few more certainties, however. Like being certain of when your travelling partners were worrying about supplies, or thinking of how easy it could be to slit your throat in your sleep.

Of course, there were many uncertainties to balance the truths out, but Dawn could allow herself to be sure of a few things, like how this child with the mind of a man had come to them alone. The sudden hint of a presence in the horizon, however, made her much more doubtful. Startled, she reached out to try and enter this new stranger’s mind, but it was still too far for her to properly get a read on. Jake’s mind, however, was much closer, and she quickly dove back in, picking at the cluster of thoughts to try and find anything she might have missed.

No, she thought back. It isn’t his partner or anything- I mean, I can’t find anything about a partner coming here with him… Dawn gave another pass of Jake’s mind, brushing through it with a fine toothed comb. I think he has just about as much idea of who this person is as we do. It might just be another stranger, but…

She drew back again, lips pursed in an effort to keep them from drawing into a proper frown. Another stranger just seemed a bit too coincidental, but unless Jake had a mental Gift, there was nothing…

Dawn suddenly paused, stiffening slightly. However, they had, admittedly, been getting an influx of unexpected guests lately. Her own thoughts returned to the train they had been on when the first visitor had arrived, and she cast a wary glance over to Toby.

Coincidences happened, but if Erubesco had been after them for this long, she highly doubted that they would just give up now.

Nevertheless, she quickly expanded the net of her broadcast once again, nestling back into the group’s heads. We have another problem, Dawn began. There’s someone else coming now- in the sky. I checked him, a mental indication towards Jake, again, and he doesn’t have anything about this, but there’s still someone else out there. I can’t get a read on them yet, but I should once they get close enough.

Before Mina could make out all that she thought of this Jake character, Dawn was in her head yet again.

With more bad news.

Mina was careful not to let her eyes wander immediately upwards; whether or not the newcomers were in league with one another, it would be easy for Jake to use the confusion caused by an additional variable to make a move. She leaned her chest forward to form an arc in her spine, and moved her left hand to the small of her back as if rubbing out a pinched muscle.

The backs of her fingers brushed over the grip of the pistol at her waist.

“Like the others said,” she stated, a grimacing smile gracing her features as she let her hand rest behind her, “I’m afraid there ain’t much left, save for stiff mattresses and bones.”

Her left hand came up to shield the light from her eyes as she spoke, and she moved with intention to watch the sky, checking the position of the sun, “And I’d say it’s still a mite early in the day for you to be looking for a night’s shelter. So, ain’t a whole lot of much for you here, save for an escort in one end of the premises and out the other.”

In the clouds. On my one. Coming right at us, she warned to the network.

There was the faint shape of a bird just a smudge too big, or perhaps to steady, or maybe even too high to be a bird. It was hard for Mina to take her eyes off of it, but she turned her attention back to Jake before she had lingered long enough to give away the check.

Whatever the thing was, it was moving toward Helton with a very deliberate purpose.

We gotta handle this kid before we’ve got bigger problems. Call the others to handle the flier.

Mina turned her back to Jake (again, against all instinct, and nodded forward for him to follow. “Come on, then. I’m happy to walk you along through. Ain’t got much to offer, neither, but I can fish you some ration packs out of my bag along the way.”