(M) SCAR: The Beginning The End(IC) (H)

[John]

A lot had changed in the seven months following the mission to Arkham. Claire had changed. Her powers had evolved, for lack of a better word. She was now able to pick up thoughts as emotional echoes. A handy ability, but one she was having trouble controlling at times. However, the other aspects of her ability had evolved as well. She found herself less likely to succumb to the emotions of others.

Claire had also fallen in love. At first, the idea of this frightened her immensely, but it didn’t change the feelings she had for Malcolm. She spent most of her free time with him and felt comfortable in his arms. There were days that she didn’t want to leave his side. But she did have a job to do and a friend to take care of.

Claire had spent a lot of time with Kristy, whom she considered to be her best friend. Even though she was in charge of Kristy’s training, it didn’t change the feelings Claire had. She was amazed at how far Kristy had progressed in the last seven months. In fact, Kristy had exceeded all expectations and was well on her way to becoming a fine operative. Claire was happy for the most part. It seemed like some things in her life were finally starting to go right.

But despite all the good, Claire still had an uneasy feeling. Six months ago, Homeland Security had created The Omega Sector and they were placed in charge of worldwide SCAR operations. This caused quite an uproar in England and they summarily withdrew from the SCAR treaty. In the months following the change of power, paranormal activity began to rise sharply and an unprecedented amount of operatives had been killed in action during missions. It was actually becoming commonplace for missions to fail. Something which had never happened before. And now there was a new mission, and Claire was to lead it.

Claire stood in front of the desk in the office of one of the higher ups, holding the mission briefing in her hands and glaring at the man behind the desk.

“I won’t do it Adam!!” Claire was shouting. “I won’t go anywhere with that insane little bastard!!” Claire slammed the file on the desk.

“Claire,” the spectral figure behind the desk spoke calmly. “I understand your reservations, but this order has come from the highest level.”

“I don’t give a fuck if these orders were handed down by God himself!!” Claire glared at Adam. “I refuse!!”

“Would you throw your life away so quickly,” Adam rose from the desk and floated over to Claire. “If you refuse you will spend the rest of your life in a very small cell. Things have changed. The Omega Sector runs things differently, you know that. Please Claire, don’t turn this into the biggest mistake of your life.”

“Fine,” Claire exhaled and a smile appeared on her face. “I will do it, but I want something.”

“Name it,” Adam appeared to be smiling, though it was hard to tell.

“As we are taking the Deathstrike, I want Kristy Masterson to be allowed to come on the mission.” Claire raised her eyebrows and stared.

“Out of the question,” Adam’s voice became more stern. “She hasn’t completed her training, and you know regulations.”

“She is more advanced than most of the active operatives we have,” Claire’s tone was clinical. “Not to mention that she knows the operation of the Deathstrike better than anyone else on the base. We can call it an advanced training op.” Claire looked down at the floor. “Please Adam.”

“Fine,” Adam’s voice sounded concerned. “Assemble your team Claire. But Kristy is your responsibility. If anything happens to her, it’s your ass on the line.”

“Thank you Adam,” Claire smiled, picked up the folder, and left the room.

Claire made her way down the long corridors of the base to briefing room three. Once there, she booted the computer and called up the mission briefing. Pressing a button on the microphone on the side of the computer, she began to speak as red lights came to life throughout the base.

“May I have your attention please. The following operatives are to proceed immediately to briefing room three in full battle gear: Veronica Valez, Aaron Young, Shannon Adaire, Chase Holdsfield, Lyrico, Ethan Blake, Samantha Bonachoi, Malcolm Maverick, Yakim Kozlof and Kristy Masterson. That is all.” Claire sat down and waited. She took a moment to look over the file again, paying special attention to the dossier of Samantha. Claire was quite interested in her. Healers were a rarity in SCAR, and due to the nature of their ability, were always good. There was no such thing as an evil healer. This thought gave Claire a small amount of comfort.

[StormWolf]

Chaplain Malcolm Maverick was sitting on his bed, his hands rubbing circles into his temples as he muttered a small prayer. Ever since he had been possessed by Sammael, his powers seemed to be more acute. He could sense evil from a further distance and he could Purge much stronger beings and not suffer temporary blindness or severe nosebleeds. It was like the Archangel left a fraction of a splinter of his power in Malcolm. The only downside was the migraines..... and Sammael's voice constantly in his head.

“May I have your attention please. The following operatives are to proceed immediately to briefing room three in full battle gear: Veronica Valez, Aaron Young, Shannon Adaire, Chase Holdsfield, Lyrico, Ethan Blake, Samantha Bonachoi, Maloclm Maverick, Yakim Kozlof and Kristy Masterson. That is all.”

Malcolm gave a small smile up at the loudspeakers for once, hearing that voice sweet as honey. He wasted no time in pulling out his duffle bag and loaded it with all of his gear, the newest addition being the sanctified Kukri that Claire's close friend in the Vatican gave him; the blade was made in the Vatican forge and was blessed by the Pope himself with holy water from the River Jordan. Carefully putting the blade in his duffle bag last, the Chaplain zipped it up and slung it over his shoulder. Malcolm wore his common garb when not in uniform or his chapel blacks: his "Marines" t-shirt, sturdy levi jeans, his combat boots, and his favorite leather jacket. His M4X combat knife was strapped to his hip and his beretta was slung covertly under his armpit just in case.

Walking out of his bunk, Malcolm made his way towards the briefing room. It was amusing how many people avoided the stone-faced Chaplain even though they knew he was on their side. Malcolm would not doubt that rumors about what he did got out, even if the higher-ups ordered it classified. Rumors where rumors.

Malcolm entered the briefing room and saluted Claire, thought he smiled at her and his eyes held that special spark that he only had when looking at her.

"Malcolm Maverick, reporting for duty, ma'am." he said with a smile.

[Security of Mem]

Lyrico spent his time getting ready. Others would just shove a shirt on and tried to look top grade military. But Lyrico had a process. Which generally took its time like Lyrico. He was straightening his hair. But as through the months he had felt quite unbalanced. Maybe it was the lost of Trish. Or maybe it was the lost of control he had over exerted. He placed the straightener on the little counter he had built. He liked doing this in his "room". It made it more comfortable and much more welcoming this way.

He began to comb his hair, but was feeling very angry as doing so. His combing strokes were becoming more and more harsh. Till he realized he as beginning to rip at his hair. He put the comb down at least he hadn't ripped so hard he'd be starting the day with no hair. He picked up the eyeliner to give him is iconic doodle. But that too he felt himself going to hard. All though he hadn't cut himself that would have been ridiculous he felt himself pressing to hard. He completed his look and stared at himself in the mirror for a moment.

He stroked his hands through his hair. And he took a moment to digest. He had been trying new ways and better ways to control his anger. Anger that exploded from nowhere. Anger that he couldn't seem to know the origins. Claire and Malcom's smore relationship pissed him off. And he hadn't known why. Because he was sure he had felt that some time ago. Some time long ago.

Elf

No response. Lyrico glared at his mirror for a moment.

Elf

I keep telling you I'm not an elf

You remind me of one, how you holding up?

Nice for you to ask, fine. I'm fine.

Good elf

You could clean your head a bit of organization.....

Shutting you off now

Lyrico made a deep sigh and almost had forgotten to unplug the straightener and he stared at it for a moment. He placed his finger on one of the hot sides to burn it. It hurt.

You really need some new hobbies

Shut up elf

“May I have your attention please. The following operatives are to proceed immediately to briefing room three in full battle gear: Veronica Valez, Aaron Young, Shannon Adaire, Chase Holdsfield, Lyrico, Ethan Blake, Samantha Bonachoi, Maloclm Maverick, Yakim Kozlof and Kristy Masterson. That is all.”

"Ehhhh fuck, a mission," Lyrico said, "All right let's head out."

As Lyrico walked out of the room he walked down the halls. People gave him looks of horror as if all that he had done had escaped their secret lips. They were either afraid or reverted their gaze from him. As if he were some secret. An impossible secret no one should speak of. As Lyrico walked where he needed to be he saw the first one there was Malcolm and Claire.

"Ehhhhh don't start doing it doggy style in front of me," Lyrico told them.

Lyrico saluted and took a moment.

You could be more respectful to your commanders

What do you do frolic around naked?

I uh...sometimes...

You're not a very good soldier yourself then

I at least...I was more respectful then you are right now

You're not my mom, shut up

Well I was simply stating...

Shut the fuck up elf

Lyrico gave a Claire a smile.

"I know Malcolm wants to touch your boobies right now," Lyrico said.

[Mysteria]

Shannon Adaire sat at her desk in half a daze. So much had changed in the past several months since her last mission. She'd been working hard to master her powers at scar headquarters. In that time she had gotten to know all of the other operatives from the Arkham mission, some better than others. She could be found talking to both Vee and Chase at any given time. While Shane had not worked with Aaron Young on the Arkham mission she had grown to know him on a more personal level than some of the others while working at headquarters on a day to day basis. The attraction that she had felt for him upon meeting him was immediate. The attraction must have been mutual because it hadn’t taken them long to begin dating and become close.

Through her friendship with Aaron he had helped her to work on her powers and she tried the best that she could to help him expand his own. Of course it was up to each operative to learn to control these things better, but it never hurt to have someone there to offer assistance while working on them and especially for Shane, because her power could be at times dangerous if she had tried to push it too far. Hopefully having the new operative Samantha on board in Scar would be a huge help to them all. Shane could only hope at this point that she’d be lucky enough to be sent on the new missions with her. Samantha definitely could be handy to have around, and she was nice enough. Shane had liked her upon meeting her.

Even though she had become friendly with all of the operatives and her past team mates, she'd not yet told anyone other than Aaron about the letter that she had received regarding her sister. Kara was all that she had left in this world and now she was ill. Shannon still couldn't believe the letter was true. She remembered receiving it and sinking down to her knees as she read it with tears streaming down her face. Shane wasn't normally one to cry easily but finding out that her sister was terminally ill had brought forth a flood of tears. Everyone that Shane had ever cared about or loved was dead or possibly dying. She had needed to tell someone and having arrived at Aaron’s door that night with tear stains streaking her face she had told him the entire story of her parents being taken from her and now how the thought of losing her sister was almost too much of a burden for her to bear. That night she had found solace in Aaron’s arms and it only drove them to becoming closer than they had already been getting.

The truth was that Shane would give anything to help her sister but there was little that she could do. The most that she could do was keep working hard to help pay for her sisters medical bills. She couldn’t even be there to console her.

With all of her powers, she still felt totally helpless.

Shane was awakened from her thoughts by the sound of hearing her name along with the other operatives being spoken by Claire over the intercom system. A mission. Now? Talk about shitty timing. The last thing that she needed was to be sent far away from Kari but it was her job and Shane had always prided herself on being good at her job. At least Shane could take some relief in knowing that Aaron too was being called for the mission.

Grabbing her leather coat and making sure her honeycomb was inside, Shane gathered the rest of her gear and made her way to the room where the others had already begun assembling. Shane acknowledged each one of the operatives before taking a seat to wait on the others to arrive.

[DB.]

Aaron lay on his cot, looking up at the roof. He was remembering what had happened in the last few months. Shane had arrived from her mission and by some stroke of luck talked to him, something he might not have had the guts to do, which sparked their relationship.

Back then he would have never thought he would be this close to her, never, but he was, and he was intoxicated with her.

He spent more time with her than anyone else in the compound. They even tried to helped each other control their powers, and it helped, immensely. Working with someone he trusted, someone he truly loved, was exhilarating.

But one thing that was still fresh in his mind was that night. The night Shannon had come into his room, tears streaming down her face. Breaking down in front of him, telling him all the sorrowful things from her past. He felt as if his heart broke, right then and there, feeling helpless, unable to do anything to do to comfort her, anything but hold her and listen and he still felt angry at himself for not being able to do more. He'd never felt the death of a loved one; never had a loved one truly hurt bad, not until that moment.

Then a voice sounded out, interrupting his thoughts.

“May I have your attention please. The following operatives are to proceed immediately to briefing room three in full battle gear: Veronica Valez, Aaron Young, Shannon Adaire, Chase Holdsfield, Lyrico, Ethan Blake, Samantha Bonachoi, Maloclm Maverick, Yakim Kozlof and Kristy Masterson. That is all.”

Aaron smiled and sat on his bed. It was going to be his first mission, and he was going on it with Shannon. Nothing could be better than that, or worse, considering all the recent death's in SCAR. He wouldn't bear to hear news of her death, let alone watch her die.

Reaching under his bed he pulled out his duffel bag, with all his equipment in it ready, well all of it except the most important piece of the equipment, his PDA. Aaron stood up, slung the bag over his shoulder and walked over to the desk, where he retrieved it after shuffling through the mess in his first drawer.

Walking out he stuffed it into his pocket and headed towards the briefing room; looking around to see if he would run into Shannon along the way. He didn't

As he reached the briefing room's door he stopped and, taking in a deep breath, stepped in. He saw Shannon already sitting down and smiled. He saluted and said, “Aaron Young, reporting for duty, ma'am.” and then proceeded to sit down, next to Shannon.

[Kirra]

Blood filled the room. Giant demons dropped to the ground. It was utter choas as the man stood before his blood soaked enemies. The blades of exile in his hands, their chains wrapped around his arms. And as the man was about to deliver the final blow, Chase paused the video game. "This is easy enough. I suppose I should play it on a harder level this time."

But instead, Chase simply laid on his bed. He picked up the case to his new game, God Of War 3. Doctor Crusher had picked it up at the midnight release for him. He had already beat the game on the three lower settings, even though he had only got it 12 hours ago. He found the senseless brutality of the game soothing, it kept his thoughts away from the thousands possible demons that could truly get to him.

Suddenly a knock came to the door. It was to early for the doctor. She had to be across town for a few hours. Chase had read her mind enough times to know exactly where she always was. So who could it be. His game had distracted him from hearing the person walk up. He sat up on his bed and grabbed the controller. "Come in." He called out the door and turned his game back on.

Vee cracked the door open and poked her head through, blinking at Chase curiously. Noting he was playing a video game, she jumped through the door and draped herself over his back.

"Hi. Whatca playing?"

Chase froze when Vee was on top of him. He saw every step she took, even at her increased speed. But he couldn't help but get nervous when she touched him. It had been a seven months since Chase had met Vee. And their mission together had brought them close. Well close by Chase's standards. He was still a little uncomfortable with the touching. But he didn't dislike it.

"It's umm... God of War 3. Doctor Crusher picked it up for me this morning. The savage carnage helps me drown out the reality of the world. Would you like to play?"

Vee leaned over Chase's shoulder, examining the controller curiously. She could feel his heart rate picking up beneath her chest and frowned lightly. She had a lot of trouble knowing what was okay touching and what wasn't.

" Um... I break controllers when I play... it's too slow..."

Chase tried to calm him self with little result. He knew the more they had contact, that the easier it would become. He just hopped it would become easier quickly. Chase always felt like he was pushing Vee away, and hated to see her upset by it. He tried to make her feel better but had no clue if he was successful.

"Well, I think... I think I have some board games in my closet. Do you want to play one of them." They had tried before, normally with Vee getting upset. It was hard to loose a game when you know every possible move anyone can make, and twenty ways to counter it.

Vee giggled, leaning her head on Chase's shoulder as she looked at the screen, frozen on a half naked man with crazy swords killing strange creatures.

Her giggle suddenly faded from lips as suddenly it wasn't pixels on a screen but Unnameables, slimy tentacles and guys all over her... Her breath hitched in her throat.

Chase spun around and placed his gloved hands on Vee's shoulders. He looked in her eyes. He turned back to the screen and then back to her.

"There is nothing there Vee. Umm... do you need to leave the room? Is my room bothering you?"

Vee blinked and smiled up at Chase.

" No, I'm okay. Just... haven't been sleeping..." Vee suddenly leaned forward, hanging off of Chase's shoulder. " Let's go outside though."

Chase froze slightly. What should he do. He didn't go outside. But he didn't want Vee to be away from him. Chase stewed over his thoughts for a few moments. "Outside." He wasn't sure what to say. Chase didn't even have a window in his room, by his choice. Outside was so, overwhelming.

"I... I guess that's ok. Um... how far outside?"

Vee lithely flipped herself over Chase's shoulder to curl up in his lap, frowning. She often forgot that Chase's power sometimes made things difficult for him. But she liked him. He didn't seem bothered by her inane babble and what others had called her idiocy, and he was the perfect height. Not too tall, just the right size for her to climb on and cuddle with.

She had missed having someone to cuddle with.

" Only as far as you wanna go." she said quietly, leaning her head back against his chest to look up at him.

Chase jumped up, bringing Vee to her feet with him. He loved being around her, but still had trouble being this close. He turned off his game and TV and walked to the door.

"Yeah... well yeah. Um... whenever you're ready, we can go."

Vee blinked, slightly confused to find herself on her feet. She hadn't bothered to stop him, because she figured it was just one of those things about personal bubbles and invasion. She never had understood those.

" Yeah okay." she said, taking the lead.

Vee led the way down the hall and into an elevator, where she spent the long ride up convincing herself why it was inappropriate to hang off Chase. But when the doors slid open and she could smell fresh air, she forgot all that and shot out of the elevator and through the door and into the sun with a gleeful grin.

It was difficult to follow the cheerful girl, but Chase refused to let her get away. He wasn't the running type, so he walked swiftly out of the elevator and through the door. The rays of the sun hit him with heat and light. It wasn't terrible, but he was excited about it either. Chase tried to tune out all the things that appeared around him. But it was impossible. He simply tried to focus his thoughts on Vee, so he wouldn't feel overwhelmed.

"The doctor is going to be surprised by this. She swears it would take an army to get me out." His voice was almost monotone. Only a sliver of his normal depression showed.

Vee took a quick sprint in a circle, stretching her muscles and grinning happily. She returned to chase after a moment, everything she'd been telling herself about personal space long gone, and leapt into his arms, kicking her feet happily as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

" I know, it's great, right?" she asked, grinning. " It's a beautiful day!"

Chase was unsure of what to do with his hands. Normally people would embrace each other in moments like this. But Chase didn't think they where that close, so his arms only hung there. His breath got a little heavy. He tried to calm him self again. He shook his head a bit.

"Yeah... I guess you're right. So um... what do we do out here? Is there something you like to do out here?" Chase tried to keep a level head about this. "We can do what ever you want."

Vee lowered herself to the ground slowly and grabbed his hand in hers, pulling him along for a few steps. " Let's just walk a bit."

Chase gladly followed his friend as she pulled him along. He scanned the area as the walked, noticing all the life that flowed through the area around Three Mile Island. In the months that have passed, many things had changed. Life had started to slow down and die off. The winter months where coming fast. The cool breeze crossing his face.

"I guess I can see the reason for your enjoyment of the outside. The changes are interesting."

Vee smiled, leaned her head back to feel the sun on her face. SCAR had it's perks but the underground base was not among them.

" When I was kid, my dad used to make big piles of leaves and I would jump at them." she smiled up at Chase. " Good times."

Chase smiled at Vee. He was truly joyed by her happiness. Chase looked around at the trees. The colors where spectacular. But it all had little avail for him. He would have much rather Googled leaf changing than see. But if Vee liked it, he would stay out.

"Jumping in leaves? Why?" It didn't makes sense. Why would your pile the leaves up just to jump in them?"

Vee stopped walking leaning her head back to look upward.

" Cause it's fun." she answered absently.

"Oh" Chase had no clue how to respond to that. He had fun with other things. God of War 3 being his current enjoyment. He looked over at a big tree with hundreds of colors on it. He gazed at it and saw death. He could only imagine what Vee saw.

Vee stood on her tip toes and reached upwards silently, then rolled back onto her heels with a frown. She hopped up, reaching upward still, and frowned at her empty hand.

Chase watched Vee with some confusion. He saw what she was grabbing at. A red leaf. There where hundred of them on the ground. Some that could be difficult do tell the differences even with his eyes. But she seemed to want that one. Chase walked over to the tree and reached up. He grabbed the leaf and held it out for her.

"Is this what you wanted?"

A smile blossomed on Vee's face as she took the leaf, grinning up at Chase.

" Thanks!" she chirped happily, leaning forward to touch her forehead to his chest... she never knew any other way to express affection but to touch.

Chase tried to keep him self calm as Vee's pressed against him. His heart felt as if it would leap from his chest. She was the only one who broke his bubble freely, and for some reason, he didn't mind that much.

"So you like red?"

Vee nodded against Chase's chest, watching his arms as they stayed motionless at his side. Finally, she smiled up at him and picked up his hands and placed them on her hips.

" This is okay, you know." she said quietly, still smiling at him.

Chase was almost frozen. Her skin that close to his was almost to much to handle. The thin fabric of his gloves and her pants was all that kept him from touching her. He had to take in a number of deep breaths before he could speak again.

"I... um... I um... ok. If it makes you comfortable." Chase held his hands on her hips for a moment before sliding his arms around her back and compressing her.

(Co-op with gypsy)

[The Gypsy Queen]

Vee shivered suddenly. It was chilly in November on Three Mile Island, and she hadn't brought a jacket, and her small frame provided little warmth. She didn't say anything, however... she was enjoying being close to Chase. She'd missed being close to someone.

Chase slid out of his jacket. The cold didn't really bother him. He wrapped it around his friend. He didn't like to see her upset, even if it was a slight chill.

" Is that better?"

Vee nodded a bit, snuggling close against Chase's chest.

" We should go in though." she added quietly. She didn't want it to end but she didn't want to push it either...

Her words where a releif to Chase. He had almost his limit with this outdoors stuff. The smells, the sights, the sounds. It was all a bit much. Even doing it for Vee was tough for him.

"So where shall we go?"

" Let's go back to your room. I wanna watch you play that game. It looked like fun." Vee said, pulling out of his arms reluctantly. She replaced the contact for holding his hand, pulling him gently along and back through the door. She breathed deeply, smelling machines and oil and sweat and the small strange scent of Chase from his jacket, hanging loosely from her small shoulders and nearly down to her knees.

Vee froze as a PA system clicked to life, and her happy smile soured to a scowl at the voice that resounded from it.

" May I have your attention please. The following operatives are to proceed immediately to briefing room three in full battle gear: Veronica Valez, Aaron Young, Shannon Adaire, Chase Holdsfield, Lyrico, Ethan Blake, Samantha Bonachoi, Maloclm Maverick, Yakim Kozlof and Kristy Masterson. That is all.”

Vee growled, scowling at the floor. She'd been having such a good day.

Chase smiled at Vee softly. It appeared their day was ending quickly. But they would still spend it together, and that made him happy. Chase placed her hand in his and started down to the elevator.

"I think we have a mission. Sorry our evening was cut short."

Vee sighed and shook her head. " It's okay. I just... haven't slept in a while and that bastard is gonna be there..." she paused to bite her lip. " Um... I guess if I try to kill him you should probably stop me..."

Chase knew instantly who she was talking about. Lyrico. Since the last mission, Vee had been out for his blood. And it wasn't like Chase disagreed with the idea. The man had killed children in cold blood. There were other ways to handle the situation, but he attacked without thinking. Chase disliked him as well, but didn't want his blood on Vee's hands.

"I will hold you back if it comes to that. And I will kill him first if I can't."

Vee kept gnawing on her lip, the adrenaline pumping hard in her veins preventing her from knowing she had drawn blood. As the elevator doors slid closed, encasing them in cold steel, she glanced up at Chase. She knew he'd seen her memories, and knew her for what she really was.

" I've done worse... than killing him..." she muttered quietly. " It doesn't matter if I do it again."

Unsure of really what to do, Chase wrapped his arms around her. He compressed her in his arms. He wanted her to smile, wanted her to be happy.

"I've seen things much worse than what you have done. Don't think anything you've done would upset me. But you wont have to spill more blood as long as I'm around."

Vee sighed, leaning her head against Chase's chest. His heart beat at a normal pace while hers pounded unsteadily in her ears. It was a bad time for a mission. She hadn't slept in too long. She was seeing things. She gnawed on her lip more, noticing belatedly that her blood was getting on Chase's shirt.

" I'm a soldier. Soldiers kill. It's my job. And yours." it was quiet, ugly truth.

Vee was right, and Chase knew it. They both would be forced to kill. It was the sad truth of the job. And it wasn't that killing bothered Chase. He found it to be a necasity of life. Some people had to die. If someone had killed the necromancer from all those months ago, the demon Yog-Sothoth wouldn't have had a chance to arise.

" But not here. Can we agree to that?" Chase listened to her heart, it was off. But he enjoyed it. " You won't kill him."

Vee leaned back to look up at him. Every instinct in her screamed to destroy that child-killing psychopath, and she wasn't entirely sure she could stop herself.

" I promise I'll try."

Chase knew that was the best he could get from her. "It's all I can ask." His voice was as calm as he could make it. He wanted to sooth her the best he could before letting her see that foolish creature. "Is there anything I can do to help you stay calm?"

Vee nuzzled her nose against Chase's chest, offering him a little smile. " I like it when you touch me." she purred.

It was almost to much to take. Vee was begging for Chase's touch. He wasn't completely sure how to react to this. "If it makes you happy." Chase wrapped his arms tightly around her.

The elevator doors slid open and Vee glared at them. Her room was on a different floor than Chase's, and the elevator had the worst timing. " Okay, I'll meet you in your room." she said, darting off the elevator and down the hall.

She spent thirty seconds in her room, grabbing her gear and putting it all on as she darted down the stairs. She was still pulling her shirt on as she jogged up to Chase's room, where he was just arriving.

Chase smiled as Vee arrived at his room. She was always quicker than anyone he had ever met. He opened his door and walked in. He waited for Vee to enter before moving from the door. "Let me gather my stuff and we will be on our way." Chase walked over to his closet and changed into his battle gear. He didn't even think about the fact she was probably watching as he changed. Chase grabbed his gear and walked back to Vee. "Ready."

Vee smiled in response, using her hand to hold her shirt tight over her breasts as she zipped up her combat vest. Finally, she tucked her bright red leaf into the vest so that it rested against her heart. " Okay then." A part of her wondered if he looked when she did that, but the rest of her was gearing up. " Let's go." she grabbed Chase's hand and held it for the entire walk to the briefing room, letting go only as they were about to enter.

She wasn't ashamed... it was just no one's business but her's and Chase's.

Her smile changed from cheerful to cold and plastic as she entered the room, saluting to Claire mostly from ingrained habit. She forcefully ignored the psychopath, but his mere presence agitated her. The whispers were starting, and she resisted the urge to bat at her ear. She blinked repeatedly, struggling to focus on anything but the hallucinations.

Chase squeezed Vee's hand was they passed by the others. He really felt no shame in the act, mainly because he knew the things the others had done. Things much worse than hold hands.

When the reached Claire, Chase nodded slightly to her after saluting. They still had their animosity towards eachother. But they where civil. He wondered if she had forgiven him for the past they had shared. For the one they had both lost. He wanted to touch her skin, just for an instant, just to know the answer.

Vee felt better with Chase's touch but she was still unnerved and agitated. It would be an interesting mission, she was sure.

" Vee Valez, reporting for duty."

"Chase Holdsfeild, um... reporting in." He glanced around the room noticing the firmilar faces. "Is this a reunion?"

Vee giggled a bit, then covered her mouth, wondering if he'd really said that or if she'd just been hearing things.

(co-op with Kirra)

[The Comedian]

Ethan replaced the dirty gauze surrounding his body with new, clean gauze. As he peeled it away, his skin seemed to stick to it; and bits would still come off every now and then. Ethan got a dirty look on his face, as he peeled his new skin off his chest.

After completely removing the bandages, he looked at his chest and arms in the mirror. Parts of his lower stomach still had alive skin. The doctors at SCAR were slowly progressing up Ethan's body, and he was supposed to be back to normal in a year. Maybe more.

He really was a lucky son of a bitch. Ethan thought back on his last mission; like he always did in his morning rituals. He should be dead, or he should have a face that wouldn't even look human. He should be burned to a crisp.

He didn't really know how he got out of the situation. All he remembers is waking up in a familiar place, with paramedics all around him. Eventually, someone told him they were saved by Malcolm, saved by an act of God. Ethan couldn't help but to believe, and his faith doubled the day he learned

Everyday, Ethan would throw some money into a jar. And, when it reached a certain point, he'd donate everything to any kind of burn charity, ward, research... Whatever it was. He did what he could to help people like him, but just more unlucky.

He wrapped his body, and felt back to normal. He was comfortable again. He knew he had a mission coming soon. Well, he didn't know it officially. It was more of a hunch, and he knew he was correct as soon as he heard his name called over speaker.

Ethan thought about all the names on the list, and had a serious moment of deja vu. It sounded like they were trying to get everyone from the last mission into the same room. Ethan mentally laughed, I bet they're gonna kill us all.

He laughed, and shook his head. He spoke aloud, "Here we go again."

Ethan threw on a shirt, then his lightweight metal armor. It was easy to put on, which Ethan liked. It was nice on the skin. As we walked to the door, he pulled a wadded up dollar bill from his pocket, and threw it in his Jar.

With one last look on his room, which was colored with the brightest colors possibly imaginable, he flicked the light off, and left. Ever since he could see like a normal person, Ethan could never get enough colors. He became obsessed, and watched television two weeks straight.

Eventually, Ethan came up to the door leading into the Briefing Room. He clicked it open, and walked through. He blew out smoke, as he looked around the room. It somewhat familiar.

He walked to the nearest table, and put out his cigar in an ash tray. He licked his lips, and said "Don't want to be rude. Claire, Malcolm, Lyrico... I hope you're all doing well?" Ethan sat down, but not right next to anyone. He smiled his white smile, and nodded to Vee, Chase, and Shane.

[Merry]

If you didn’t know any better, you would have thought the room was unoccupied. The only sound, the soft intake and exhale of breath coming from the lone figure seated in the center of the floor, cross legged, eyes closed, meditating. Dressed in comfortable clothing, a dark green t-shirt and faded jeans, a pair of black sneakers. Her long dark hair pulled back into a braid that reached down almost to the middle of her back. Her breathing so quiet in its perfectly timed rhythm. So soft as to go almost unnoticed in the stillness. Her only jewelry a small silver cross necklace on a long chain, midway to her chest. A bright contrast to the dark tattoo’s that covered the left side of her face and neck, continuing down onto her shoulder and arm.

The room was plain, barren almost. The walls, the same stark walls as a brand new room would have. Nothing had changed since she had arrived a few weeks ago. No paintings, no books, no pictures, no comforts of home. Nothing to indicate anyone even lived in the room. Her name on the door the only indication that she did in fact occupy this space.

Unpacking hadn’t been a chore, as there was really nothing to unpack. After receiving the news about her parents she had left pretty much everything at school in her dorm. Just throwing some clothes in a duffle bag and going home. As if there was a home to go to. Quickly coming to the realization that all she had left was herself and a large bank account in her name. Left by the research facility that her parents had worked for. Hush money to keep her from suing them over the disaster at their lab. She sold their home without even bothering to see it again, just instructing the lawyers to deposit the money with the rest. Just inform her when it was done. There were no memories there for her to collect.

The few things she did have, she just didn’t bother to unpack. During all the interviewing and testing she had been through in the past few weeks upon arrival at SCAR, she had been told that she would be in demand, and shortly. That suited her just fine. Seeing no reason not to believe the teams of people that had examined her, and questioned her, it seemed a waste of time to unpack anything at all. It was better this way. She was anxious to be moving and soon.

Coming back here had made her change, made her grow up as if overnight. She was a different person now. That girl that wanted to be a doctor was gone. Erased as if she never existed at all, or had been some innocent dream to look back on and wonder if it was even real. Besides she had the knowledge of how to fix skin, grow tissue, repair bones flowing inside her mind like lazy river, waiting to be needed. There would be need for some practical medicine to help it, but the skills to do more were inside her, waiting to be tested in a real way. Like a current winding its way throughout her thoughts that she just had to tap into, or focus on to see it, to use it. She was better than any surgeon, any doctor any one with medical knowledge already. It hadn’t been practical to test her skills, other than a few small situations. She was waiting until there was real need to see what she could actually do. She knew the ability was there, waiting. It would be interesting to see what she could do, and at what cost.

She felt no guilt about hiding her other “skill” from the SCAR management. Keeping the fact that she could speak to those that had passed on, hidden quite effectively. People didn’t usually believe her at first anyway. Not with any seriousness. She got the “oh, that’s nice smile” the slightly condescending looks and glances. It wasn’t usually until she proved her skill, showing them that it was real. It was factual that she could speak and hear and sometimes see the dead. That’s usually when the troubles would start. People would look at her strange, getting nervous, or start to wonder what she knew about them, through their deceased relatives or victims. Then they would want to say goodbye, or ask questions about money, or what it felt like to die.

The hardest to contend with was when she was asked to look for someone in specific. The dead didn’t like to be disturbed by the living, most preferred to just move on. The few times she had “looked” for someone, she was then subject to their anger and their emotional outrage for weeks afterwards. It was like once she found them, they wanted to stay with her, tell her things, horrible things, good things, all of it, and didn’t care if she didn’t want to listen anymore. She knew what it was like to be truly “haunted”. It was better to just let them be. Let them come to her if they had something to say. Opening herself up to find someone usually ended badly, for her. The ones she truly wanted to find, to talk to she just couldn't bring herself to do. Not yet, not now. It was still too raw, too painful.

Through meditation and focus she had learned that it was possible to block them, for awhile. It never stopped completely, but it would prevent them from harassing her on a constant basis. It had a calming, soothing effect of helping her keep them at bay, for a period of time. Giving her a sense of peace, even if it was short lived.

“May I have your attention please. The following operatives are to proceed immediately to briefing room three in full battle gear: Veronica Valez, Aaron Young, Shannon Adaire, Chase Holdsfield, Lyrico, Ethan Blake, Samantha Bonachoi, Malcolm Maverick, Yakim Kozlof and Kristy Masterson. That is all.”

Finishing her meditation at the announcement, she stood up slowly, and began to stretch her sluggish muscles. She was a little stiff at having been in one position for so long. The acceptance that she had been in that position for over three hours barely a passing thought. She grabbed her duffle bag from under the bed, closing the door softly as she left. Not bothering to check the bags contents confident that they were the same as when she had placed it there a few weeks ago.

She followed the signs to briefing room three. Opened the door and stepped inside. Giving a small wave to the group, as she slid into a vacant seat near the door “I’m Samantha, but I prefer to be called Baket, if you don’t mind.” she looked at them each in turn, her gaze settling on the woman sitting at the end of the room, having noticed that as she had introduced herself that most of the other occupants in the room had cast a glance at her, a clear indication that she was the one that had called them here. She must be in charge. Baket settled her emerald green eyes on her and waited.

[Cookies Ahoy]

Kristy was still in bed trying to sleep. She had been up very late the night prior, and Claire had given her permission to start her daily routine late. She rolled in her covers, trying to go back to sleep. Something was bothering her though, and she couldn't quite put her finger on it. She rolled again, this time feeling the sensation of her body leaving the bed. Kristy hit the ground with a thud and let out a grunt, but didn't get up. She stayed on the floor in her covers for a few more minutes, too lazy to get up. She noticed what was bothering her, she'd left her laptop on the ground, and she had just smashed it. Kristy drew out a long sigh, then began to dress for the gym.

Kristy put on some grey sweatpants and a black t-shirt. She walked out of her quarters, carrying a small duffel bag over her shoulder. She wasn't very excited for the exercises she was supposed to do that day. She entered the gym quietly, the person she was supposed to spar with waved at her. She sighed, she wasn't extremely good at Krav Maga, the martial arts style that Claire had suggested to Kristy. The intercom came to life, the sound echoing throughout the facility. She was putting her bag down when she jumped up in surprise.

“May I have your attention please. The following operatives are to proceed immediately to briefing room three in full battle gear: Veronica Valez, Aaron Young, Shannon Adaire, Chase Holdsfield, Lyrico, Ethan Blake, Samantha Bonachoi, Malcolm Maverick, Yakim Kozlof and Kristy Masterson. That is all.”

"Did she just say Kristy Masterson?" Kristy said outloud.

She didn't need an answer, but someone next to her said, "Yes."

Kristy shook her head, she was too tired for sarcasm. She packed up her bag that she had just unpacked, and left the gym. She needed to get her field gear which was back in her quarters. She made her way back to her room, noticing that she had indeed broken her laptop. It lay in two pieces on the floor. She would have to fill out a requisition form later. Now she needed to get to the briefing room. She lifted the heavier field bag over her shoulder, struggling to carry it. She pushed with her mind to lift the bag, lifting the weight off her shoulders.

Kristy entered the briefing room. It was obvious she was one of the last ones into the room. She took a seat quietly and waited for the briefing, she began to drum her fingers on the desk and spinning the pen in front of her telekinetically.

[John]

Claire glared at Lyrico as the other operatives made their way in to the briefing, Yakim being the last to arrive. She silently hoped that this wouldn’t be a long mission. Claire cringed when Vee and Chase saluted her and couldn’t help but wonder if they were going to be a problem. She still hat a lot of unresolved issues with Chase, and she had to keep Vee from killing Lyrico; something which Claire already wanted to do herself. As she considered the people being sent on the mission, Claire couldn’t help but wonder if SCAR really knew what they were doing.

“Okay everybody,” Claire began. “I’m going to make this as brief as possible. Today, we picked up a spectral anomaly emanating from Cold Oaks, South Dakota. Cold Oaks is a ghost town and is rumoured to be the most haunted place in America. A rumour previously debunked by SCAR.” Claire paused to take a sip of water.

“There has never been any evidence of paranormal activity there before today.” Claire’s face became far more serious. “The readings we are getting are off the scale. The town seems to be the center of a paranormal event, and it’s spreading. In the last two hours, the radius of the event has doubled in size.” Claire took another sip of water and placed the glass on the table.

“We are to go in and determine the cause of this event and stop it.” Claire touched a button on the computer. “The readings suggest that we will be encountering ghosts, so normal ammo is optional.” Claire glanced around the room before hitting another button. When she did, panels on the table in front of each of the operatives slid open revealing what looked to be an Iphone.

“These phones are linked,” Claire read from the screen. “Not only to each other, but SCAR HQ as well. They can also act as a Geiger counter, EM detector, and GPS.” Claire paused and hit another button on the keyboard.

“Now….any questions?”

[Merry]

Baket listened as Claire gave them the information about the mission. Started to wonder if she should be taking notes of some kind, until she heard the part about tracking ghosts. She couldn’t keep the disappointment from showing on her face so she reached out and grabbed the phone in front of her as a distraction. Spinning it lightly on the desk, with a little frustration. Watching as the phone turned and turned on the table, the screen lighting up briefly from being moved about, then flashing back out again as it went back into sleep mode. Stopping it in mid spin.

“Excuse me” she began looking at Claire “I’m not really sure why I’m here for this briefing. It seems to me that my skill set won’t be much help to you or your team. I’m a healer. What exactly do you expect me to do?”

“According to your file,” Claire looked at Baket and smiled. “You have the ability cure terminal wounding, if I’m reading this right. So I think you will be quite valuable to the mission. I know you’re new, but on missions like this, people tend to get hurt.”

"I really don't understand" Baket continued her gaze not wavering from Claire's "You distinctly said, ghosts" her voice flat and emotionless. "How can a ghost cause injury? They aren't poltergeists or demons. I'm not trying to be rude, but I really don't care to be dragged for nothing. I know I'm a new team member but if you're just bringing me along for the ride.... " she trailed off.

“Actually,” Claire tilted her head sideways. “They can. And I have a feeling it’s because of how they attack that you are being sent on this mission. Ghosts will blend with a target and basically shred the victim’s soul. Because of the basis for your ability, you can most likely counter this effect.”

Baket wasn't sure liked the tone of that, leaning forward in concern "shred the victim's soul" she repeated back slowly. "I'm not sure that my skills lie in that area, I haven't really been able to test my ability in an actual situation. Other than a few scrapes and bruises." she finished realizing she had just blurted out to perfect strangers that she wasn't qualified to be here. Sitting back into her chair slowly, folding her fingers in her lap, keeping her eyes firmly on Claire's, refusing to look at anyone else in fear of what she would see in their eyes.

“I’ve read your file,” Claire smiled. “It says that the time of day affects the strength of your power. And someone thinks you can be of assistance. As do I.” Claire paused for a moment to take a breath.

“Fortunately we have Ethan,” Claire glanced at him. “He can see ghosts, which is handy because they only turn visible when they are about to attack. So I don’t think much is going to be able to sneak up on us.”

Baket's eyes automatically flicked in the direction of Ethan, before she could stop them "Well, I guess I am honored to be chosen to be on the team, and will certainly do my best." putting on her bright, harmless smile, still really not sure what they would expect of her.

The sudden realization hitting her like a bucket of ice water that they would be going someplace haunted. Haunted. Haunted as in ghosts, lots of ghosts. How could she have been so blind. She was so worried that she wouldn't be able to use her healing ability, it hadn't occurred to her that this was going to be excruciating. There was a reason she avoided cemetery's and morgues. oh gran.. you're going to have to help me with this. How am I going to keep them out? suddenly wishing to be anywhere but here.

“Don’t worry,” Claire looked at Baket reassuringly. “I’m sure everything will be fine. Given what we faced on our last mission, a bunch of ghosts should be a walk in the park.” Claire knew it wouldn’t be that easy. It wasn’t the ghosts she was worried about, she had dealt with ghosts before. Her worry lay in whatever was causing the disturbance.

(co-op merry & the amazing Naz)

[Mysteria]

Shannon smiled when Aaron entered the room and sat down beside her. She opened up her notebook and laid the pen down beside it in case there was anything important she needed to write down. She subconsciously watched the remaining operatives walk into the room while her other hand moved under the table and gave Aarons hand a quick squeeze before allowing her hand to come to rest upon his thigh.

Aaron almost jumped out of his seat, being surprised that Shannon's hand touched his thigh. He wasn't expecting that, at all. As he quickly settled down he reached towards her hand, caressing it lightly with his fingers, slowly and softly moving it across her arm, yet still out of sight.

It was a comfort to Shane to know that Aaron would be going on this mission with her. There was a part of her that was concerned for him because she knew that his powers weren’t physical like hers was but they had been working together for some time now and he had become rather efficient with weapons.

She relished the feeling of his hand upon hers but when Claire began to speak she became all business. One thing about Shane that held true under any circumstance was that she was highly focused when on task. Moving both hands to the top of the table she picked up a pen in one hand in case she needed to write. As much as she would rather have been alone with Aaron in his room right now, she found herself listening intently to every word that Claire was saying.

Aaron was trying to contain his smile, trying not to show it to the other operatives in the room. It was harder than he thought though. But when Claire started to speak, Shane let go, listening intently on what she had to say.

Aaron smiled but quickly caught himself as he glanced at Shannon. He turned towards Claire, also listening on what she had to say. After all, this was his first mission, and he couldn't afford to make any mistakes.

Shane listened quietly as Claire continued. Shane raised her hand and when Claire nodded at her asked the question "What mode of transportation will we be using for this mission. I'm ready to get this thing started."

“We will be taking the Deathstrike,” Claire smiled. “The Deathstrike is a prototype jet helicopter hybrid. The techs here at SCAR are very proud of it and we get the pleasure of taking it out on its first official mission. But if you are anxious to get going, and have no other questions, feel free to make your way to the hangar now. And that goes for everyone else as well.”


Finally they could get moving. Shane shut her notebook quickly tossing it and her pen back into the duffle bag. With a nod of her head she beckoned Aaron to follow her into the hallway. If anyone else had questions they could go ahead and ask. As for Shane, she wanted a moment alone with Aaron.

Aaron stood up, seeing that Shane was beckoning him over to her, and he didn't have any questions anyway. Throwing the phone in his pocket and picking up his duffel bag Aaron walked over to where Shannon was.

The minute that Aaron stepped out of the briefing room Shane dropped her bag and wrapped her arms around his neck as her lips brushed gently against his before delving into his mouth and allowing their tongues to dance slowly. This being their first mission together made her slightly nervous. Pressing her forehead to his and looking into those deep brown eyes that always managed to mesmerize her she whispered “Are you ready for this babe?”

Aaron whispered back, "We've been training together for months. This is part of what the training was for. So, yeah, I'm ready." Aaron slowly moved his hand up and softly brushed Shane's hair, "Just, be careful." He wasn't sure if he should say what he was thinking, he wasn't even sure if he ever had said it. Taking a deep breath, tightening his fist, and closing his eyes he said, "I love you."

Aaron’s eyes spoke the truth. Shannon nuzzled her lips against his neck holding him tight “I love you too.” She blinked back a tear before raising her head to look at him. “You’re right, we’re ready. We’ve both improved. You’re at the top of your game. Just remember your powers aren’t physical like mine, so stay close to me whenever you can and be prepared….” Shane’s voice waivered slightly at the thought “Be prepared for whatever might happen, you know what is possible if I have to push my powers.” Her eyes sought his. She knew that he knew what she was talking about and the truth was that sometimes her power scared even her.

"Don't worry about that, it won’t come to it," Aaron said. He was being optimistic, considering the situation all of SCAR was in; the increase in paranormal activity, deaths piling up, more and more failed missions, but he hoped he could at least try to comfort Shannon, even if he wasn't that good at it.

Aaron opened his eyes, looking around. "I, I think we'll have to go soon, so," He pulled in closer, his arms around Shane's waist, and kissed her again.

Aaron had become a huge comfort to Shane since he’d arrived at SCAR. She didn’t know why they had hit it off so well she could only be grateful that they had. The life of a scar operative was never easy and each operative seemed to have found their own way to cope with it. It was easier having at least one person to lean on at all times.

Shane savored that last kiss knowing full well it might be awhile before that opportunity presented itself again. None of the other operatives had moved into the hallway yet and Shane lingered in that moment for as long as she could allowing her tongue to curl around his as she explored every inch of his mouth pressing her lithe form against him tightly. If it were up to her that kiss would never end but even she knew that it had to.


Aaron slowly pulled back, smiling and relishing the moment. "We have to go," he said sighing as he took Shane's hand. He slowly started walking towards the helicopter, letting go of her as they passed the briefing room.

{co with DB Wolf, Naz and Mysti}

[StormWolf]

Malcolm sighed and rubbed his temples in his seat. The newer individuals were a headache all on their own, the constant whispering of Sammael in his head along with the rest of the heavenly host was not helping in the slightens. His perpetual frown was deeper, nearly a glower. The Chaplian couldn't help but sigh in minor frustration at the majority of the people in the room. Holding hands and staring at one another doe-eyed? This wasn't a fucking highschool.

"Captain, are there any records of notable individuals in the town? Rapists, murderers, psychopaths and the like?" Malcolm listened to the answer intently, he stared ice-cold daggers at everyone in the room, so his star avoided Claire completely.

“It has been looked into,” Claire kept her professional tone. “We have found nothing that could be considered out of the ordinary.”

"What about shadows? Any signs of them?" he followed up after Claire's answer. If no one was going to get down to business, he would. One lesson he would drill into the heads of the others was how to keep things professional, no matter who you were in a room with.

“We have picked up no clear indications of any,” Claire responded, “But usually, where there are ghosts, there are shadows. So I would say chances are pretty good.” After getting his answer, Malcolm took a deep breath, running his hand through his hair.

"What about any omens? Any demon activity?"

"No," Claire responded. Nothing at all." With the answer given, Malcolm stood, not having anything else he needed to know. Giving a sharp salute, Malcolm departed, back straight and shoulders square.

His frist stop was at the quarter-master to get a new toy they had for ghost-hunting. The Chaplain gave his credentials and his requisition order to the quarter-master. With a look over and a nod, the quarter-master brought out an AA-12 (http://c0388982.cdn.cloudfiles.rackspacecloud.com/aa-12-combat-shotgun-frag-12-automatic-0.jpg) assault shotgun and four 35 round clips. Three were filled with rocksalt rounds while the fourth was filled with the prototype silver plated frag round. Dis-assembling the gun, Malcolm loaded it into his dufflebag. He was really glad that the weapon was light.

Malcolm walked to the hanger slowly. He caught a glimpse of Claire, walking after her for a moment, but she vanished in a throng of operatives, leaving Malcolm standing there. With a growl and a sigh, he turned and headed to the hangar, his frown a full-on scowl when he arrived. His demeanor boiling with anger.

[The Comedian]

Ethan stood up, as Malcolm asked all of his questions. He shrugged, and pulled a cigar from a pouch on the side of his leg. He pulled a lighter from no where, sparked it, and lit his cigar. He took a deep inhale, then exhaled with a puff of smoke in the opposite direction of everyone else. He grabbed the cigar, and pulled it from his mouth.

"No questions for me. All I know is that when we get there, I'm gonna kick some paranormal ass. Or should it be punch?" Ethan cracked his knuckles. "Don't mean to be cocky, of course. But if any of you didn't already know, I don't need silver to cause some damage."

With that, Ethan left the room before anyone had something to say back; if they did, anyways. He made his way back to his room, and hit the switch that slid the door open. He flicked on the light, and smirked at the bright colors.

He closed his eyes for a good two seconds, then opened them again; now they were a bright blue color with an ominous blue glow. The Hydrogen symbol appeared at the other side of his room. He walked up to it, then pushed his finger against it like it was a small button.

The small part of the wall went in, and a small chamber opened up. It was completely lit with fluorescent lighting. In the center of the room was a small armor rack that was completely empty; Ethan already had it out, and was currently wearing the armor.

To the left, there were two silver guns in a glass case. Both Ethan removed, and holstered at his sides. To the right of the room was his personal favorite gun: The FN F2000. Next to the gun were two Semtex grenades.

Finally, in the back of the room, Ethan's Flyssa was being held for display. Ethan opened it's glass case, and strapped the sheath to his back, with the blade still inside. He turned back, and walked out the room. The hidden door slowly shut as he left.

He didn't keep the chamber hidden from the big wigs of SCAR, or anything. He wasn't breaking any rules, or owning something he shouldn't. He just liked the secure thoughts of knowing all his gear was safe, and only he could find it. Or, only he could find it easily, anyways.

With that, Ethan made his way to the hangar. He stood outside of the bird, and waited for the rest of the members to come. He started to finish off his cigar.

[Security of Mem]

Lyrico listened to the briefing. It was pissing him off. The way Claire took charge. The way Claire behaved as if nothing was wrong. The way Claire looked. The way Claire stood. Just everything about her was pissing him really pissing him off. After her briefing the pent up emotions of anger escaped him. He began to moan very feminine like. And then he began to rub himself.

"Oh Malcolm it feels so good, yes Malcolm touch me there....MALCOLM....FUCK ME HARDER MALCOM!" Lyrico found himself saying.

You shouldn't have done that

shut up elf

but

I said shut up she pisses me off she pisses me off shes pissses me off.

Okay I'm going to go

good elf. Good.

"I heard you two last night squeeeeling in the closet. You got a loud voice Claire. Couldn't get much sleep," Lyrico said.

“Lyrico!!!,” Claire shouted, glaring at him. “Unless you have something constructive to contribute, I suggest you shut the fuck up!!”


Lyrico cackled. He gave her a smile. A smile that maybe showed someone who completely lost it.

"AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHA!" Lyrico said, "Two little piggies sitting a tree. One name Malcolm the other Claire. First came love and then they had sex. Next comes a piggy baby in a baby pen. ahahahahhaahhahaa."

“Listen you child killing piece of shit,” Claire placed her hands flat on the table and smiled at him, speaking calmly. “One more word about my personal life, or the personal lives of any of the operatives, and I will come over there, kick the shit out of you and then let Vee shoot you in the head. And no Lyrico, I’m not bluffing. Is that understood?”

Lyrico smiled a bit, feeling a little dangerous. "Try me," Lyrico said, "Go ahead and try me." Lryco got up from his chair to the end of the table. "The end of this table is Claire. And I'm malcolm over her butt. Last night in the closet he grabs her by the hips and starts humping her like a gorilla." Lyrico began to make "Oooo" "oo" noises like that of a gorilla. "Claire is in love with a Gorilla fucker ahahahhahaa,"

It was merely a thought a passing thought. And all he did was smile for a moment. And then he stared at Claire.

"Fine, but maybe the next advice you should get is not to hold to many grudges," Lyrico said, "Stupid bitch who knows no manners."

“Listen to me very closely,” Claire kept her tone calm, but the smile faded from her face. “I am in charge of this mission. And quite frankly, I don’t like you. You are not here by my choice Lyrico, so I suggest you step lightly.”

Suddenly one of the pens near Lyrico broke. It was probably the reaction that none would have expected from Lyrico, but he was crying. But he still held the most sadistic expression. They had never seen Lyrico cry. Nor had they ever seen he truly lose control. Where the obects around him cracked a bit.

"You hold these stupid little grudges," Lyrico said, "It isn't like I wanted to do it! It isn't like I didn't feel anything for it. I feel guilt to you know. I feel it. I feel it. And it haunts me. And I know what I did was wrong in so many worlds. But you DON'T HAVE TO ACCUS ME OF ANYTHING. YOU DON'T HAVE KEEP ON HATING ME OVER A GRUDGE! ITS MY PERSONAL NIGHTMARE! YOU NEVER ONCE ASKED ME HOW I WAS. OR HOW I WAS DOING. ALL YOU EVER DID WAS HIT ME AND HOLD A GRUDGE! Why? Why why why why why?! It pisses me off...it pisses me off!"

“Because Lyrico,” Claire rolled her eyes. “You obviously don’t have a concept of what appropriate behavior is. Learn that, and maybe I will back off. But keep going on the way you are, and we will continue to have problems.”

Lyrico felt anger flush through his body. Some memories flooded into his mind. One of cold hospitals. Blood pressures. One of food. And a psychologist always analyzing him. One of people treating him like a monster.

"Just because you may have had that opportunity, doesn't mean I did. To them I'm just a monster. To them I was always analyzed no one cared. No one truly cared they just wanted to melt me into the same society to be like everyone else," Lyrico said, "I struggle to know what it is good and bad. Because I don't know. I didn't have your little Mary lane figure out who you are. My head is confused and thoughts bubble inside. I can barely control whatever is in my head because I never learned how to properly. I know how to hide it under the rug. But it bubbles and comes up bigger bigger and bigger. So don't come in here telling me how to behave appropriately. Because you don't know how to either. And don't roll your eyes at me. You never took the chance. And you accuse me."

“Then fine,” Claire sighed. “When the mission is complete we will discuss this in private. But as for right now, this conversation is over. There are more pressing matters to worry about right now.”

Lyrico wiped his face and sneered at the rest who viewed the conversation. He bit his tongue and looked to the floor. He didn't want any of them coming to him because of this. And he didn't want any of them to think he was weak either. He scowled at the floor not sure what he was thinking of.

"Fine," he mumbled.

[The Gypsy Queen]

The cheek muscle below Vee's left eyes was jumping. The twitch was annoying to say the least, but it was nothing compared to that bastard.

His very existence was like nails down a chalkboard to her, even if she didn't listen to what he was saying. She scowled at the ground. Questioning a superior like that would have gotten her court marshaled. And making comments about a superior's sexual life would have landed her in the infirmary. She'd barely seen the shithead's power, she couldn't imagine it made him so special that he could run around doing anything he pleased, when she'd be staring at the ceiling of a ten-by-ten for a very long time for the same behavior.

She didn't even bother to look at Claire. She didn't care for the woman in the least, not since the incident, and she was learning to like her less and less. It wasn't fair, Vee had concluded. That bastard should have just gotten the beat down from security and been on his way to a nice gray cell with a big bunk mate named Bubba, and she lost more respect for her supposed leader every time it didn't happen.

She wondered, with a dry smirk, how many tantrums he'd have then.

Chase watched Lyrico's display with little more than grain of care. The man was fool to be sure, but Chase had no reason to hate or like him. Well almost none.

Chase squeezed Vee's hand in his. He wasn't sure if the girl had even remembered that he was there. Her expresison was rigid. It was obvious what she thought of the fools display. "Vee. Do you care if I remove my glove?" The reason for this act would be obvious to anyone who knew of his power.

" Huh? Yeah, it's fine." Vee muttered, distracted by trying to glare holes into the back of the bastard child-killer's head.

Unlocking fingers with Vee, Chase slid off his normal white glove. He then slid his hand back into hers. The instant their skin met, Chase was surged with flashes of things he was unsure if he should of saw. Chase tried to keep the blood from rushing to his face as he witnessed some of her more carnal fantasies that involved him. But he also saw her feelings towards Lyrico. It was odd to keep contact with someone while he didn't have a glove on. It was like her mind was linked with his.

It wasn't the first time Vee had felt another presence in her own head, and it wasn't even the first time it had been Chase. But it was still an odd feeling, different from anything else. The world, which always seemed to move so slowly in her eyes, was faster, bigger, and full of strange, overwhelming sensations through his. But the distraction sapped the frustration right out of her.

"Are you okay?" Chase whispered the words to his closest friend. He had to use every ounce of his strength not to freak out. Chase and Vee interlocked fingers as he tried to take all her anger.

Vee nodded, watching in awe as they breathed in unison. And suddenly her anger was gone, and happiness bubbled up from deep within her to replace it. Chase's power was a gift, and amazing gift. To share so intimate a union with someone was a privilege and a joy. She wondered if it was her power that made her able to ignore all the unnecessary input and zone in on him.

She wasn't paying the least attention to Claire or the bastard, in any case.

Chase watched as Vee's expression shifted from hatred to happiness. A warm feeling filled over him. Every thought that passed through her filled his mind the moment after it came to her. Almost like he had thought these things himself. A smile moved to one side of his face. He had diffused the situation, for now.

Vee smirked lightly at Chase as her mind almost instinctively turned to something a bit naughtier. She wondered, knowing he could hear her thoughts, what sex would be like.

She was purposely messing with him. Chase knew she actually wanted to do all these things that ran through her head. Some requiring very high levels of flexibility. But he also knew she directed her thoughts to this subject because Chase had a front row seat. And he had to admit. The images weren't bad ones.

But he had to think of what to do with Lyrico. The man seemed to be a thorn in everyone's side. And he didn't like the thoughts he caused in Vee. And it only became harder the longer they held hands. Chase knew she would not be satisfied with just his had on hers.

Reluctantly, Vee pulled her hand from Chase's. He was worried and the contact only made it worse, as much as she enjoyed it. She didn't care who saw and she certainly didn't care what they thought. She almost hoped the bastard would make a comment because she would relish the provocation. Instead, she leaded her head on Chase's shoulder.

" I'm okay now." she whispered to him, hoping he in turn would feel better.

Chase took a few deep breaths before his body completely calmed. He still had Vee close, but he wasn't in her head anymore. A place that he wouldn't mind seeing in again. But maybe in a less stressful environment. But he did not place his glove back on. If the need should arise, he wanted to instantly know what Vee was feeling if only to keep her from killing Lyrico.

"I'm glad." He smiled his nervous smile at Vee, hoping she really was okay.

Vee smiled back, standing and pulling Chase by his sleeve with her. She walked in step with him to the hangar, nodding to the others that had already arrived.

And she managed it all without shooting anything or anyone, talking to things that weren't there, or making faces at anyone. She was personally quite proud of herself. And thankful for Chase.

[John]

Claire looked over the operatives, taking note of the soothing effect Chase seemed to be having on Vee. It put Claire’s mind a little more at ease, as they could keep an eye on each other, and she could keep a closer eye on Lyrico. The thought had occurred to Claire to just read everyone, but they would be able to tell she was doing it due to her eyes turning black; and Claire didn’t feel this was the best way to earn their trust, if she hadn’t already

“Okay everyone, head out,” Claire glanced at the remaining operatives, her gaze falling on Kristy. “Except for you Kristy. We need to have a word.” Claire kept her professional tone, and once the operatives had left, she seemed to relax.

“Kristy,” Claire sounded concerned but she smiled at her friend. “Are you okay with this? If you’re not, you don’t have to go.”

Kristy stopped spinning the pen on the table, "Me? More than fine. Besides, I wouldn't be put on a mission that was too dangerous, right?" Kristy finished, trying to keep a positive tone. She had heard the reports of mission failures becoming more frequent.

“I’ve just got a bad feeling about this,” Claire looked at the floor. “I don’t know Kristy. There’s just too much that doesn’t make sense. Things have gotten so bad in the last six months and I don’t think it’s coincidence.” Claire looked into Kristy’s eyes.

“You should also know,” Claire tilted her head slightly. “You weren’t originally assigned to this mission. I requested you.”

Kristy cocked her head to the side, "Really?" she asked surprised.

Kristy wasn't surprised that she wasn't originally put on the mission. She was surprised that Claire thought she was ready. Kristy shifted in her chair slightly.

“Really,” Claire smiled. “I need people I can trust right now. Not to mention your training in the Deathstrike.” Claire moved forward and placed a hand on Kristy’s shoulder.

“And you’re ready,” Claire grinned. “I know you are. And I got your back.” Claire’s eyes lit up. “And your armour is ready. We have to go pick it up, along with some weapons for you.”

"Awesome!" Kristy said ecstatically, her real combat gear wasn't supposed to be ready for a few more months, "That means I don't have to use that stuff anymore," Kristy pointed to the field bag she had been given earlier in her training, old and used gear lay inside it. Kristy picked up the heavy bag and asked, "Would you like to lead the way captain?"

"Um Kristy?" Claire smiled. "I have something for you." Claire moved to the computer and pushed a button, opening another panel on the table. Inside lay two HK USP Compacts. Claire took them out and handed them to Kristy.

“These used to belong to my father,” They haven’t been used in a while, but I’d like you to have them.” Claire kept smiling. Her father had been gone for a while, and to Claire, Kristy was like family now.

Kristy picked up one of the handguns. It felt good in her hand, and the gift was very generous of Claire. Kristy tucked the two guns into her bag.

"Thank you, I'll make sure to use them well," Kristy said quietly.

“Come on then,” Claire was about to lead Kristy out of the room, when the computer started to make a beeping noise. Claire punched a button and read some information.

“It seems that we have another operative joining us. There is no name listed, only that I should meet with him at the armoury.” Claire took out her cell phone and dialled Malcolm. “Honey, I might be a little late. Could you get everyone on board the Deathstrike for me?” Claire listened to the answer and smiled. “Me too. Gracias amorcito.” Turning off the phone, she turned back to Kristy. “Okay, let’s go.”

Kristy followed Claire out of the briefing room. The two began to walk the route towards the armory. Kristy was excited to get her new field gear.

"So, Claire," Kristy paused, trying to find the right words to say, "What makes you think something is wrong with this op?"

“Well for starters,” Claire lowered her voice. “Since all this mission sounds like is a ghost hunt, there is no need for the team to be this big. Especially since we have Ethan. Normal procedure would be to send in a smaller recon team first to ascertain the problem. Instead we are going in heavy.” Claire paused for a moment as they passed a man in the hall and them turned a comer.

“And then there’s Lyrico. He shouldn’t be here,” Claire looked concerned. “There is no way he should be on a team where at least two of the operatives want him dead.”

"I'm not sure why they would bring Lyrico on board... But do you think that SCAR is hiding something?" Kristy asked, a small amount of silence passed, "Or do you think that they are sending out a bigger group to give a higher chance of success?"

Kristy understood Claire's reasoning, but she was trying to stay optimistic.

“There is more,” Claire glanced around as they arrived at the elevator, Claire pushed the button and the doors opened. Once the doors closed, she turned to Kristy.

With the new addition,” Claire’s expression changed to one of worry. “There are twelve operatives going on this mission. That represents half of the total remaining active operatives in the United States. The Russian branch of SCAR has also taken heavy casualties as well. We are becoming an endangered species. I’ve read the mission briefings. The deaths in a lot of cases aren’t plausible. I knew a lot of the deceased operatives. I really believe a lot of them should still be alive.”

"So you think that SCAR is..." Kristy looked around the elevator, unsure if they were being monitored, she mouthed to Claire, "Killing its own operatives?"

Just then the elevator dinged, and the doors slid open.

Claire immediately reached ot the panel and pushed the button to close then door, and then hit the stop button.

“Honestly,” Claire’s voice was hushed. “I don’t know what to think. But I do know that the most routine missions have turned into a disaster. Normal mission protocols are being ignored. Mission commanders aren’t even being given proper information anymore. You were a marine. What does that sound like to you?”

Kristy laughed at the response she had just barely held back, then stated simply, "I've been on missions that were started with knee jerk decisions or shifty info, but we usually had a lot of resources to use for those missions. To me, it just sounds like poor planning on SCAR's part, which seems strange for such a top secret organization."

“And there has always been on thing that has bothered me,” Claire’s tone was suspicious and her voice still hushed. “On the last mission. That cabin in the woods contained the dossier for every operative on the mission. When a commander is debriefed, it is done telepathically. Standard operatives do paperwork and are asked all kinds of questions. But not me. My mind was probed. So they know about the files, yet nothing was ever done about it. Even when I reported it in person to my superiors, I was told it was being looked into. As far as I can tell, it never has been looked into.”

Kristy looked at Claire with concern, "I think we'll need to keep a watchful eye out on this mission then. There might be more clues lying around. For now," Kristy walked into the armoury, "Let's get my new toys."

Claire led Kristy up to the counter and smiled at the man behind it.

“Kristy, I would like you to meet Charles,” Charles extended his hand towards Kristy. “Think of him like our version of Q from the James Bond movies.”

“Though I have much better toys. I was told you would be coming Kristy,” Charles smiled and shook Kristy’s hand. “Your armour is in the back room,” Charles motioned to a door behind him. “Just head on back and get changed. But before you do, tell me what you need for weapons and ammo, so I can get it together for you.”

(co op post with Cookies)

[StormWolf]

Malcolm's phone vibrated in his pocket as he stood idly by the Deathstrike, arms folded over his broad chest. Reaching into his jeans, Malcolm pulled out the phone. Seeing it was Claire, he made a small smile and answered.

"Hey Claire. Any problems?" he said in a warmer voice, though it was still professional, due to the other operatives around him.

“Honey, I might be a little late. Could you get everyone on board the Deathstrike for me?” her voice answered. With a smirk and a nod, Malcolm acknowledged.

"You bet your superbly formed buttocks. I'll have the thing ready to go before you get here..... God, I wish we were back in Rome. Things were less complicated there." he mused, saying a heartfelt goodbye.

“Me too. Gracias amorcito.” Claire replied, and with that they hung up their phones. Once his phone was back in his pocket, his cold and hard demeanor returned with a vengeance. Those eyes like chips of ice and that face all stony planes and angles.

"Alright maggots, asses on the Deathstrike, double time! Move! Get your behind inside that vehicle before I shoot you another asshole." Malcolm patted his hand on the pilot's side viewport.

"Prep the engines. We're Oscar-Mike as soon as Claire and Kristy are on board." Malcolm yelled through the bulletproof glass. The pilot nodded and gave a thumbs up, starting up the engines. The Chaplain stood on the threshold of the Deathstrike's doorway, waiting semi-impatiently for Claire and Kristy to show themselves.

You need to focus Malcolm. There's a storm coming. Sammael's voice whispered in the Chaplain's head. Malcolm rubbed his temples with his index and middle fingers, kneading circles into the sides of his skull.

The path you walk will only lead to betrayal.

Shut up, Sammael.

Betrayal....

Shut up, Sammael!

Betrayal.... betrayal.... betrayal....

"Shut up!" Malcolm yelled, not even seeming to realize he said what he was thinking aloud. He looked about the cabin at the others and frowned. He didn't care what they thought about him. They could not imagine the burden of being a vessel for the mightiest and most terrifying Archangel. They could not imagine seeing the true faces of demons. They could not fathom being able to hear all of the voices of Heaven. It was a wonder that Malcolm was not so far-gone as Lyrico. Maybe he was, and Heaven was keeping the madness at bay. Malcolm would not doubt it, He created everything, after all.

"C'mon Claire.... where are you?" he muttered under his breath as he awaited her arrival.

[The Gypsy Queen]

Vee made a "la la la I'm not listening to you" gesture at Malcolm as she stepped past him into the craft's cabin. She actually respected Malcolm to some degree, and he wasn't a bad looking guy either. Claire could have done worse. But on that note she definitely thought Malcolm could have done better.

But worrying about other people's relationships was tedious and dull, especially when she had her own budding relationship to think about. She could practically hear Chase's heart beating as she picked a pair of seats and sank into one, motioning for him to sit beside her. Once he was there, she leaned her head back onto his shoulder, twitching lightly.

She frowned down at her right hand as it jerked of its own accord. Her vision had become hazy and the whispers in her ear were loud and distracting. She hadn't slept in too long. But a flight seemed like as good a chance as any to catch some shut eye. She bit her lip, weighing her options. Slamming her head against something hard was the kind of behavior that might alarm Chase... she thought. It was hard to keep her thoughts straight. She didn't know if the first aid kit had enough morphine to knock her out and she wasn't supposed to take any downers without a doctor.

Her heart rate had quickened painfully and she squeezed her eyes shut, desperate to calm herself. In a panic she grabbed Chase's ungloved hand, and their sudden mental union instantly calmed her. In moments, exhaustion weighed on her shoulders, and her eyes fluttered closed as she drifted off to that elusive sanctuary of sleep...

...and seamlessly, she was walking through a forest, barefoot and wearing a white skirt and tank top. It was silent, a deep, resonating silence that echoed in her bones, making her ache from it's heavy weight and filling her with peace and serenity. She happened on a small clearing near a stream, water tumbling soundlessly over rocks. It was pretty place, pristine and untouched by human hands...

...hands. Hands reaching for her. Hands reaching from every direction, grasping at her skin, tearing her clothes, ripping her armor away from her to claw at her vulnerable flesh as the gun in her hand clicked uselessly. Hands... another other things...

... She screamed, the only noise in the forest, and her shriek ripped through the silence. She clutched her head in her hands and knelt near the stream, whimpering. Was there no peace? Was there no place in the world where those awful hands couldn't reach her? Was their no escape from the memories of the terrible things she'd witnessed? Was this the burden she bore for being different...

... different. The word echoed in her mind. Different. Not like the others. Something had been wrong all along. She'd known that from the time she was eight and tried out for elementary track. She hadn't belonged then, and she'd joined the Marines as an MP hoping she'd belong there instead. But she couldn't even manage that. The stares were the worst. The whispers were no better. Half the God-damned platoon had seen her literally step out of the way of a bullet the way a trained fighter stepped away from a drunken brawler's fist. Different. She'd always been different. On the outside. She blinked back furious tears as she was escorted by some suits away from the place she'd dreamed of belonging since she was a child playing with her father's medals. They'd told her she would be reassigned to a special organization. But special, she knew, was just another word for different...

... She blinked at her reflection in the stream, her red hair mused as always and her pale face creased with worry and fear. She sighed, dipping her hand into the cool water and splashing some on her face, hoping to wash away the taint that was forever on her, lurking behind her eyes...

And when she looked back into the water she stared into eyes that weren't her own, blue eyes on a familiar face that stared sadly up at her. Vee stared back, letting a slow breath out through her mouth.

" I'm sorry..." she whispered.

“ And so you should be,” a man’s voice sounded all around Vee. “ Look at what you’ve become.” There was some rustling in the trees and Vee’s father stepped out into the open with a perturbed look on his face. “ I was so proud of you that day you went into the military. And look at you now. Taking orders from some bitch who wouldn’t last five seconds in a real military organization.” Vee’s father shook his head. “ I’m so disappointed in you.”

Vee leapt to her feet and stumbled backwards, eyes wide in fear.

" No, Dad, I'm sorry... I didn't want to... I didn't mean to..." tears were forming in her eyes and pleaded with her.

“ And is that what a good soldier does,” his voice became harsher. “ How could you possibly follow someone who lets a child killer live? You are a disgrace to the military.”

" No! I tried! I tried to kill him! But that's not right..." Vee gripped her skull, trying to think clearly. " I filed the complaints, the system should've... he should've been..."

“ You’re no better than she is,” he hissed the words at her. “ I have no daughter.” And with that he turned and walked back into the trees.

" No, wait! Dad!" Vee broke into a sprint to chase after her father, but only got a few steps before she tripped and slammed into the ground. She groaned in pain, rolling to her back and covering her eyes. " I tried, Dad..."

“ Are you sad?” The little girl’s (http://www.lucidchan.org/ld/src/12787538992.jpg) voice came from behind Vee. “ Would you like to hold Mister Binky? That always helps me when I’m sad.”

Vee sat up and spun around, hurrying to her feet as she regarded the child. " Who are you?" she asked, wiping her eyes quickly.

“ My name is Lilith,” she smiled, holding out the teddy bear to Vee. “ Go on. Mister Binky likes to be hugged.”

Vee accepted the teddy bear, holding it in her hands and staring down at it, bewildered.

“ It will make you feel better,” Lilith looked at Vee. “ I promise.”

Vee shrugged and hugged the bear, mostly to oblige the little girl. She was surprised when she did indeed feel better.

“ May I ask you why you are crying,” Lilith’s tone was concerned.

Vee sat down on the forest floor to face the child, biting her lip. " My dad is... ashamed of me. I didn't do what I should've done." she muttered, clutching the bear.

“ But why can’t you do it now?” Lilith tilted her head sideways and eyed Vee curiously.

" Because of stupid things... like the good of the mission... and chaotic destabilization... and the court marshal." Vee said, gnawing on her lip harder.

“ That sounds really silly,” Lilith giggled. “ I would do anything to make my daddy proud.” Lilith looked down at the ground and stared for a moment. She then looked back into Vee’s eyes, grinning wickedly. “ I bet I could help you.”

" How?" Vee asked, tasting blood on her tongue.

“ What if I could make it so you could make your daddy proud, and not be any trouble for it?” Lilith knelt down next to Vee. “ If I could do that, would you play with me. I really like to play. I have some really good games.”

Vee smiled at the girl. She'd always liked children. Chase's face flashed through her mind, and the passing hope that maybe some day...

" That would be good." she said, mostly just playing along with the child.

“I mean if it makes your daddy proud, it must be a good thing,” Lilith pointed to the trees. “And besides, what would she want.” The figure of a little girl stepped out of the forest. She walked closer to Vee and had tears in her eyes. When she was a few feet away, she stopped.

“ Why didn’t anyone stop him?” The girl was sobbing and put her hands up to her face. “ If only someone had of stop stopped him, I wouldn’t look like this.” The girl took her hands away from her face and in an instant she was covered in blood. It dripped from the hole in her head and what was left of her mouth seemed to smile.

Vee stared, wide eyed, fighting the urge to shriek at the child.

" Oh god. Oh god." she whispered, bile rising in her throat. " I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I'll kill him. I'll put a bullet through his skull, just please... please..."

The little girl disappeared and Lilith started to speak. “ I will give you the opportunity to kill Lyrico,” Lilith smiled. “ You will get away with no repercussions and not only that, Claire will thank you for it. She will give you the respect you deserve. How does that sound?"

" Like a dream come true... what's the catch?" Vee asked, eying Lilith.

“ In exchange,” Lilith licked her lips. “ You will play a game with me. Not just yet mind you. When the time is right, I will call you to me. And when we play, I will give you the power to always make your daddy proud. I will make you unstoppable.”

Vee's eyes changed from a vibrant green to a cold, flat, dead green as the other part of her took over.

" You want me to kill for you." she said quietly.

“ I want you to make your daddy proud,” Lilith’s eyes seemed to light up. “ And I want you to help me make my daddy proud. But you can’t tell anyone. If you tell anyone I won’t wanna play with you anymore. And that would be bad.” Lilith’s expression became serious.

" I can be quiet." Vee said. " I'll do it. Make me strong enough."

“Excellent,” Lilith grinned evilly. “Then take my hand to seal the deal.”

Vee took the offered hand and immediately writhed in agony on the forest floor as what felt like molten lava shot up her arm. Her mouth gaped in a soundless scream as what seemed to be an eternity passed before she could snatch her hand away, immediately clutching her hand to her chest. She shot away from the girl, looking at her hand and the M that was now branded there. Her eyes flitted back to the girl, breathing shakily, questioning her silently.

“ Vee, you now work for me,” Lilith giggled. “ Ooh I made a rhyme.” Lilith paused and she smiled at Vee. “ I give you my word that Lyrico will die by your hand. In exchange, when the time comes, you will do what I tell you. Until then, no one will be able to read you telepathically or empathically. No one will ever know this happened except for you and I. Do you understand?”

" Not even Chase?" Vee asked.

“ Not even Chase,” Lilith whispered.

Vee blinked sadly. " Alright." she said. " I understand."

“Oh and one more thing,” Lilith’s voice had a playful tone to it. “If you even think of trying to fuck with me, I will let Mister Binky eat you.” Lilith disappeared and the teddy bear in Vee’s hands grew to over nine feet tall. The creature was muscular and had an elongated snout filled with rows of razor sharp teeth. It’s body was covered in scales and long bony fingers ended in sharp talons. It grabbed onto Vee and picked her up, moving her towards it’s gaping maw, bile running from the corners of it’s mouth.

Vee bolted awake with a gasp. The plane was flying. The forest was gone. It was a dream. She hurried to look at her hand and found it unmarred. The only thing left of the dream was the echo of agony up her arm and the quiet sadness for what she had unwittingly lost.

She didn't notice her other hand touching Chase's, because nothing happened when it did.

(co-op with Naz)

[Mysteria]

Shane was just about to step up into the Deathstrike when she heard Malcolm’s voice ringing out.

"Alright maggots, asses on the Deathstrike, double time! Move! Get your behind inside that vehicle before I shoot you another asshole."

Although Aaron was right behind her and urging her on Shane froze in her tracks. Maggots? Really? MAGGOTS?? No fucking way was she getting into that chopper without speaking her piece. They were all under a lot of stress but Malcolm had no right or reason to speak to them that way. She had ignored his sighing and glowering in the briefing room but he had just pushed the wrong damn button. Hers.

Shane spun around to face Malcolm. At least she was courteous enough to wait until he had done speaking to the pilot before having her say. Shane stepped up mere inches from his face. "Look here preacher" the emphasize on the word preacher had been unmistakable but Shane continued not really giving a damn if Malcolm got pissed off about it and whined to Claire or not. Claire was the leader of this mission, not Malcolm and if Claire had an issue with Shane then Shane would own up to her responsibility but until then, she would have her say. "You know preach, when you see any of us not doing our fucking jobs because of any relationship any one of us has then maybe you can open your mouth but until then I would suggest that you personally treat other people with the same respect that you would wish to be treated with if you expect people to have your back out in the field. This aint the army and you aint no fucking drill sergeant" Shane looked around at the others. Maybe no one else wanted to say it but most of them had at least thought it once or twice. Shane stared Malcolm steadily in the eyes as she went on "You claim to be a religious man, bowing to God while condemning others and passing judgment? If I am to be judged, let it be by my maker and not by someone like you who knows not the first thing about civility or teamwork. Like it or not we are a team here and there is no I in team and things in S.C.A.R are bad enough right now so I suggest you learn to deal with the fact that we all need each other in one way or another."

The preacher needed a lesson in humility.


Shane wanted to continue reaming him out but the truth was she didn't know if anything she was saying would get through that thick stubborn skull of his or not and she wasn't going to waste any more time on it. Purposely reaching down and taking Aarons hand in hers she turned and boarded the Deathstrike, leading them both back to take seats directly behind Vee and Chase.

If there were repercussions for her actions she'd deal with them when the time came but right now all she wanted to do was get to their destination and find out what the hell was going on before anyone else got hurt.

[Merry]

Baket was moving on complete auto-pilot. Functionality taking over. She gathered her things and headed out with the rest, not really paying much attention to the other operatives. She had noticed there seemed to be some relationships between some of the others in the group. Some of them, obviously not very good relationships. Unless you call wanting to kill someone with your eyes, a good relationship. There were daggers being thrown by many pairs of eyes, toward the one called Lyrico. It just reminded her that this was a harsh life these people led, and you tend to get closer to people when you have the potential to die each time you go out.

You also see a side of people, you probably wouldn’t have otherwise seen at all. Survival instinct seemed to be in full effect. The relationships and their factor in how she was going to work with these people pushed aside, for now. There would be time to analyze it, eventually. She was the new girl after all. Besides she had bigger fish to fry, didn’t she.

She had no real need to go back to her room, having brought anything she had real use for already. She headed toward the supply room, grabbing a new medical kit and shoving it in her bag. That’s what she was here for anyway, keep them patched up. Chances are it wouldn’t even get opened if what Claire had indicated was even remotely true. You never knew, and better to be safe than sorry. Her old medical kit she knew was a little depleted.

Arriving at the hanger in perfect time to see the exchange between Malcom and Shane. Seems not everyone is all so friendly after all she smirked, not getting involved in the rather loud discussion. Moving past them, she stepped aboard, finding a seat. Making a mental note of the hand holding of Chase and Vee on her way past the pair already aboard.

Storing her bag under her seat, and out of the way. She buckled her seatbelt. Tilting her head back in her seat, she closed her eyes, her hands resting in her lap. She concentrated on willing herself to relax. Starting with her toes and working her way up, one muscle group at a time. Determined on getting herself into a meditative state of calm. She knew she was going to need it.

The thoughts of ghosts that could kill foremost on her mind, with the added bonus of being able to hear them chatter in her head was almost enough to push her all her panic buttons. I will not panic. I will not fail these people. I need this, I need to know what I can do with my healing. I need something new to focus on. I don't know if I can do it. Either way, we're going to find out. Willing her mind to that calm safe place, letting all the negative go, for now, her features not betraying the inner turmoil raging inside her mind.

[Kirra]

Following directly behind Vee, Chase strode slowly towards the plane. He listened to Malcom's words, but he really didn't care. Malcom had no authority over Chase, so his words where superfluous. Chase wasn't the type to bother with idle threats. He had seen things much worse than this holy man could inflict. And it appeared that Vee was amused with herself to bother, so Chase had no need to defend her. He smiled lightly at her childish antics. She really did put him a good mood.

Chase followed Vee closely, his heart picking up a bit before sitting next to her. Even more so when she leaned her head on his shoulder. He had to calm himself. Chase took a deep breath in and slowed down. He could think again. He quickly glanced around the cabin of the aircraft. He knew it, every nut and bolt. He noticed where everyone was sitting. Then he noticed something that bothered him. Vee's hand started twitching. Several minuscule twitches, then her hand jerked noticeably more.

A million things ran through his head. But Chase would never be as fast as Vee. Before he could react, Vee grabbed his ungloved hand firmly. That connection instantly gave him his answer. He reached out to her mind, filling it with soothing images of his own past and his thoughts of her. He watched as her body calmed and her thoughts turned to happier things. He made a mental note to get some morphine from the doctor next time he was at base. He watched her small, short dreams as she slip further into sleep. Then when things went black, he knew she was out. But something felt off...

Chase waited as Vee slept. Thinking of his past, her past, and their future. She obviously wanted their future to be intertwined, and Chase wouldn't have any complaints about it. She made him feel normal. Chase couldn't help but think about how cute Vee was while she slept. And was amazed to see her slow down. Her breath was steady and calm; her body completely still. But he couldn't stop thinking about when she slipped past his mental reach.

Then she awoke. Chase saw her body jump up, but couldn't see her inside. It bothered him. Chase held her hand tightly as she came to. He started to see things again, but it was still off. Like a needle skipping on a record. Something was wrong. "Vee, are you ok?"

Vee sucked in a deep breath and nodded, forcing a smile for Chase's benefit. "I'm fine. Just a bad dream."

Chase hid his dislike of the answer, pretending to accept it as truth. Why would she lie to him? Maybe she wasn't, maybe she thought it was a dream. But whatever it was, Chase didn't like it. He would figure out what had happened. He wasn't about to let them be sent into a trap like all those years ago. But for now, Chase would keep and eye on the situation.

[The Comedian]

Ethan stared blankly forward, not paying attention to his surroundings. He never spaced out like he was, it was something strange in his book. And, if someone in SCAR thought something was strange, it truly, truly was.

His eyes started to glow blue, but not from his command. Ethan saw the inside of the vehicle as a pale blue, empty room. There were different symbols all glowing purple around the room. Purple was a new color in his way of vision.

He looked down, and saw white bandages and beat-up armor. All around his arms and body was clean gauze that glowed blue. He instantly recognized the body as his former self, in his last lifetime.

His sword was placed gently in his lap. It was a different one than what he had in his latest body. The sword shined a bright silver, and sparkled like something was angelic about it. At close inspection, Ethan could see the face from his old body in the blade.

It was hardly a face at all. There was just a hole where the nose was, no ears, no eyes, no lips. But the face started to shift. It turned in to what Ethan now looked like. Black hair, mustache, five o'clock shadow.

Ethan realized then, that he was the spitting image of his former self. The only difference being his "new" body wasn't burnt to a crisp like the old one. Ethan's chest was the only thing that could be compared to his former self.

"It's all so confusing..." Ethan thought out loud quietly, "One life is too much already."

Ethan's soul left the facility back with Claire. But his body stayed behind, and rotted away. The ghost didn't get inside of him, and tear his soul to pieces. Ethan's soul was absorbed into the blade, somehow. The rest is still a mystery. How did he find a way back to Earth? Did he destroy the life of another, so he could come back? Did he just appear one day, with a false memory of a former life?

He was back in the vehicle. The strange room turned back into the Deathstrike. He turned back into himself, but his whole skin burned slightly. He looked down at his sword, afraid to switch over to the other plane he viewed the world on.

Ethan didn't know if he wanted answers. He didn't know good would come from knowledge. He just didn't know.

[mere]

Yakim had paid almost no attention during the meeting, instead being constantly annoyed by Cyryll. The voice hounded him at every moment possible, comments ranging from insults to saying sorry. It was fucked up for sure and he hated it.

Who's the bitch talking?

Yakim sighed and continued to try to focus on Claire as she spoke of a new vehicle they would be using to arrive at their destination. He thought it was very interesting, and began wondering about it when Claire dismissed everyone. Yakim stood up from his chair, leaving the room and back to his room.

Heh, this should be very, very fun. Maybe you could mess with the controls of the thing and have it crash in the water. Everyone would drown and I'll keep you safe as you watch them die-

“Christ, would you shut up!” Yakim was becoming increasingly angry at Cyryll. He looked back at where he was going on noticed someone, most likely an assistant, slowly backing away from him. He growled slightly and pushed past the person, entering his room after entering his password on the door panel. He observed the medium sized room, seeing that it was nearly empty as usual. He didn't keep many belongings in plain sight, as that could seriously get him in trouble if someone unexpectedly dropped in. Not like anyone was going to, of course. Who would come visit him? Claire? To say what though? Fuck, thinking about this is unneeded. He walked over to his closet and moved a couple of small bags away from the wall and pulled up the carpet, revealing a small panel. He pressed a button on the panel and a piece of the wall slowly opened up, revealing a safe. He entered the combination and reached inside, pulling out a small steel container.

Nice, you actually remembered. Now close all that up and get your ass the the Death-shooter-transport-thing!

Yakim put everything back to how it was before, grabbed a small bag which he placed the container in, and left and locked his door. He walked down to the hanger, nearly forgetting about his weapon. He jogged down to the armory, not far from where he was. A scowl appeared across the man's mid-aged face as he looked at Yakim.

“Name?” The man spoke, sounding bored.

“Yakim Kozlov,” he answered.

Oh, and you've got to correct that bitch person about your name. It ends with a v sound, not an f sound!

Yakim sighed and collected his gear, walking out of the armory. He walked down to the hanger, noticing other operatives heading down to the hanger to. He had noticed that many of the operatives had seemed very interested each other, which disgusted him. This is work, not some fucking party. He walked into the hanger, noticing much activity floating around the place. Some operatives where already piling into the Deathstrike, and he followed them. He took a seat and put his head back, resting.

Nice place, pretty clean and highly awesome. This rocks, doesn't it Yakim.

“Just be fucking quiet for a couple minutes and I'll do something that will make you happy, alright?” Yakim said, annoyed and tired.

Oh, sure! I'll be as quiet as a mouse!

“Good.”

[Ryudo]

Flashes. Bright, fleeting interruptions followed by loud crashes. The world was dark, except for the flashes, like fireflies on a warm August eve. Amongst the flashes were screams and shouts. The illuminations, shrieks, and explosions melded together into an otherworldly symphony, and sitting center stage was a singular man, at one with cacophony of destruction. Suddenly, the flashes ceased, and once again the world was plunged into eternal darkness.

Marc Wright bolted out bed, he struggled to catch his breath as he felt sweat drip from his brow. He turned to look at the clock and saw that it had fallen off the bed side table. Marc stood and left the clock on the floor, it didn’t matter what time it actually was because Marc knew that he wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep again anyways.

Once inside the bathroom Marc flipped the lights on and went to the sink, he stared into the mirror for a few moments attempting to ascertain whether or not his lack of sleep was noticeable. Marc let out a sigh of relief, other then his eyes being a little bloodshot his face didn’t betray his sleep deprivation. Satisfied, Marc proceeded to get ready, and he was about to head out for another boring training session when his phone began ringing. Marc tried to guess which girl it was this time and when he picked up the phone he was surprised to see that headquarters, and not a woman, was calling him.


---------------------------------

Marc crammed the final UV magazine into his duffle bag with a smile, it seemed that SCAR had finally realized his undeniable talent and was going to utilize him for a real mission. Looking up he noticed two women walking towards him, one of which he recognized as his team leader, Claire Hannon. Marc didn‘t know who the other woman was but he knew that wouldn’t last long, she was attractive, young, and appeared to be full of fire. As the pair came closer Marc stood up straight and greeted his new leader,

“Good morning Sir, my name is Marc Wright and I have been assigned to your detail.” Marc held his hand out for the women to shake and they both accepted, however both shakes were not equal as Marc held onto the other woman’s hand a bit longer then Claire’s. After finishing the greeting Marc turned back to Claire,

“Here are my papers Sir,” Marc offered Claire his résumé, “It’s a pretty interesting read, the writing is dull but the subject matter is enthralling if I don’t say so myself.” Marc chuckled to himself, “Oh, and while were still in the introductory phase, do you mind if I drop the whole Sir thing? If you’re a stickler for the rules I’ll make do but I prefer to have my speech unfettered.”

“Actually,” Claire smiled. “I would prefer it if you never addressed me as sir again. Call me Claire.” Claire opened the file and began to peruse it, her eyes moving immediately to Marc’s ability. She then turned next to his medical report and started to look for any types of mental illness. She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw none. When she saw the details of his military career, she understood why he seemed so cocky. Closing the file, she looked back up at Marc.

“So have you been briefed on the mission yet?” Claire looked at him inquisitively.

“Yes I have, correct me if I am wrong but I believe it all boils down to taking the Mystery Mobile down to the middle of nowhere, investigating some spooky ghost town, icing a few ghosts, and making it home before the eleven o’clock news. Sound about right?” Marc smiled, this mission seemed like a cake walk and thus he needed to say so.

“That pretty much sums it up,” Claire smiled at Marc. “And when it’s all over, we will get you a Scooby Snack.. She snickered a little as she said it. Claire had to admit, Marc seemed alright. “We are expecting ghosts,” Claire’s tone became more professional. “But given that the area of the disturbance is expanding, we think there could be more to it.”

“So what you’re saying is that these aren’t random occurrences.” Marc paused and though about it for a moment, “Look, I know that I don’t have much experience with the paranormal ghosties and whatnot, but if you ask me I’d say there’s probably a ringleader behind it all.” He nodded his head to the other girl, Marc wanted to show her that he wasn’t just another Jarhead. Returning his attention to Claire Marc continued,

“So, am I ready to join the team Miss Hannon?”

"Well," Claire smiled. "You were already on the team, but all the same, welcome aboard." Claire's eyes showed sincerity. She was happy to have him on the team. He seemed normal enough, if not a little high on himself.

“Great, see you at the van.” Marc laughed, and then spoke to the other woman, “Oh, and I didn’t catch your name ma’am.” Smiling at learning Kristy’s name he turned around and began to sing loudly,

“When there’s something strange in your neighborhood, who you gonna call? Marc Wright!”

[Cookies Ahoy]

Kristy smiled when she heard her armor was done. She liked the way SCAR gave out equipment, it was almost like they were giving things away. Charles motioned for a door labeled 'Battle Dress'. Before Kristy left to change, Charles asked Kristy to tell him what she wanted equipment-wise. Kristy took a note and pen from his desk and wrote in a casual, messy handwriting.

The note read:
Kristy's Wish List

- Tar-21
-- Six 5.56 silver round magazines
-- Red dot sight

- Four silver .357 clips

- Field Knife

- Two frag grenades

- LED light

Kristy held the list to Charles with two fingers. Charles quickly swiped it from her grasp and went back into another room to retrieve the requested items. Kristy turned to the door that had her armor waiting for her. She was excited to say the least. The thought of having her own armor was like wearing a team jersey, it made a person look like they knew what they were doing. She was also excited to get rid of the older, bulkier armor she had been issued to train with. Kristy pushed against the door, swinging it swiftly and smoothly on its hinges. There was a mess of boxes and other miscellaneous things in the room, but Kristy spotted her armor easily. A paper with her name on it was taped to it, and it hung by itself on a clothing rack. She immediately pulled off her casual clothes and started to fit into her new battle dress. It fit snug, but comfortably. Kristy smiled as she looked at the leopard print that had been done on the left shoulder.

Kristy exited the room to find Claire still waiting. As Kristy approached the new operative appeared. Claire and Kristy approached him together, each exchanging a handshake. Kristy didn't pay much attention to him after that, Charles had emerged with a new, smaller bag that contained Kristy's things. She picked it up easily and slung it over her shoulder. Kristy then returned to Claire and Marc. The two were just finished their business when Marc asked for Kristy's name.

"Oh," Kristy replied a little surprised that he cared about a trainee's name, "Its Kristy Masterson."

Marc then left singing a tune, leaving Kristy and Claire in the armory.

"Shall we?" Kristy asked, motioning slightly with her arm towards the door.

“Absolutely.” Claire started to walk down the halls towards the hangar. “So what do you think of the new guy? Marc.”

"I dunno," Kristy paused, "I mean I've only said two things to him. What about you? You've looked at his file. Is he crazy?"

"Not from the looks of it," Claire smiled. "He seems to be a little high on himself, but that's not always a bad thing. And he seems to like you." Claire chuckled a little.

"Wonderful," Kristy said sarcastically, trying to mask her blushing.

Kristy wasn't sure what to make of it. She just wanted to worry about staying alive on this mission.

After a few moments the two arrived at the Deathstrike. Kristy tucked her belongings into a compartment on the ship. Then took her seat at the controls. She pulled an headset from the control panels and tapped onto the mic to test it.

Claire smiled at Malcolm as she got into the Deathstrike. She slid into the co pilot seat and put on her headset. Checking a few of the gauges, she programmed the coordinates for Cold Oaks. Turning to Kristy, she smiled.

“Take us out,” CLaire pushed a button on the control panel and the roof started to open.

Kristy nodded, then spoke into the headset, "Command, this is Deathstrike. Do we have authorization for lift off?"

"Affirmative Deathstrike, you have a green light," the headset cackled into Kristy's ear.

The blades of the ship began to whir about at a fast clip. The Deathstrike ascended evenly into the sky. The sound of the jet engines firing up could be heard and felt. The helicopter blades retracted into the wings abruptly, and the Deathstrike began to accelerate at an amazing speed. Kristy felt herself being pushed into her seat. The HUD began to come to life with various readings for fuel levels, coordinates, and other things. Kristy didn't bother reading them, she preferred to fly instead of read. Claire could take care of any problems within the ship. The Deathstrike climbed steadily in altitude, easily reaching over the clouds in a matter of minutes.



[Coop with Nazgully]

[John]

The flight to Cold Oaks was uneventful but Claire felt uneasy nonetheless. She kept her attention focused on the spectral readings for Cold Oaks the whole time. While the area of effect of the phenomenon was expanding, it was not gaining in intensity in anyway. The reading stayed constant at all times and Claire thought that the readings should have been getting stronger, or at least been fluctuating in some way. The flight itself only took about forty-five minutes and once they were close enough, Claire turned to Kristy.

“Take us in,” Claire spoke calmly. “Land us right on the edge of town. “

The Deathstrike began it’s descent and, once they were low enough, Claire’s eyes went black as she used her power to get an idea of what they were up against. She reached out to get a sense of the emotions in the town itself and her sense of worry deepened when she felt nothing. It actually confused her due to the fact that ghosts gave off very powerful emotions. There should have been a sense of rage or sorrow, the two most common emotions that a ghost would give off. But Claire could feel nothing other than the operatives inside the Deathstrike. Once they had touched down, Claire got up from her seat and turned to the operatives.

“Okay, everyone this is Marc,” Claire motioned at Marc, speaking in her professional tone. “Just in case he didn’t introduce himself. Now listen up. I’m not getting a sense of any emotions in the area. So for now, everyone stay together.” Claire took out her cell phone and turned it on. Clicking through the menu, she activated the EM detector and got a full readout on the spectral energy emanating form the town. Once she was ready, she opened the hatch of the Deathstrike and stepped outside.

The air in Cold Oaks was crisp. It was a nice autumn day and the sun was shining overhead. The town itself was quite rundown. Buildings looked decrepit and rundown. The paint was cracked and peeling and tumbleweeds blew across the dirt roads of the town. Claire still reached out trying to gain a sense of any emotions in the area. Still she felt nothing and her uneasy feeling grew.

“Lock and load.” Claire spoke and scanned the town with her eyes. “Marc, send one of your aspects down the road please. I want to see if anything attacks it. Samantha, sorry, Baket and Kristy, I want you both to stay close to me. Aaron and Yakim, set up your rifles and get on top of the Deathstrike. If anything moves out there, I want to know about it. Malcolm, Shane and Chase, you’re on point.” Claire paused for a moment and leaned in close ot Vee.

“Vee,” Claire whispered. “Keep an eye on Lyrico please. I don’t want him to wander off.” Claire then moved over to Ethan and smiled at him.

“Well, what do you see?

[StormWolf]

The Chaplain couldn't help but grin and make a cold, mirthless chuckle at Shane's spirit. In Malcolm's old Company in the Corps, she would have been severely chewed out and belted for that lip. Malcolm settled for a shake of his head and stepped into the Deathstrike after Claire, Kristy, and the new guy. The Chaplain took his seat across from Claire, casting glances at her every once and a while. There was no warmth going from either of them, not towards eachother; that saddened Malcolm a bit. There were the others, happy and not afraid to show their affection towards one another, while Malcolm and Claire were forced to do.... this.

His face twisted into a slight snarl as he assembled his AA12, the assault shotgun coming together quickly in his expert hands. The grip and UV combat light fixed onto the bottom of the gun, the red-dot sight at the top. Malcolm clipped on the sling and put it around his torso, resting the gun on his knees after sliding in one of the drum clips.

His M4X knife was on his right thigh, strapped with his DEagle and his ballistic knife on his left boot. Strapped to his back, beneath his jacket, was his Sancified Blade. Malcolm's trigger finger tapped the side of his shotgun, eyes closed, along with is mind. He was withdrawing himself to his mind for a meditational prayer.

When the Deathstrike lurched as it started it's decent, Malcolm's eyes shot open and his hands tightened around the grip of his gun. Those eyes like chips of ice as he exited the Deathstrike, his AA12 at his chest hanging on the sling, his DEagle in hand. When Claire told him to take point with Shane and Chase, he simply looked at her for a moment, briefly opened his mouth just a little, but shut it again and nodded. He then proceeded to fall in to formation. The town was quiet and dead, just as a Ghost Town aught to be, but there was something wrong. The Mark on his shoulder wasn't throbbing.

[Kirra]

The worry didn't leave him for a moment. Chase couldn't stop wondering what was going on with Vee. He decided that he would simply have to wait to find out. He knew it wouldn't ever leave his mind. But if he didn't focus on it, maybe he could try to figure it out once they were in a safer location. Chase squeezes her hand in his before getting to his feet. He then helped her to her feet and then walked out of the Deathstrike.

As they stepped forward, Chase did a 360 look around, taking in the decrepit town. He took in every shadow, every movement caused by the wind. He watched as some ruble feel from a building. But it was not major damage. Nothing seemed destroyed. It seemed, left alone. Like everyone just decided to move on. The basic American ghost town.

With his orders to take point with the holy man and Shane, Chase released Vee's hand and moved forward. As he made his way to the front of the group, he heard small wisps of noise. He took another look around, noticing Claire in Vee's ear. It bothered him more than it probably should, so he tried to ignore it and turn back forward. He hoped that Vee would come to him if something should happen.

Chase was starting to feel agitated by this place. It wasn't a place he liked to go to. The problem wasn't fear of what may be there, it was that there normally wasn't. But something calmed him. Small birds sing back and forth, a few flying overhead. He even saw a raccoon digging through a trashcan. Then he noticed the most calming thing. A deer was walking just beyond the treeline. It kept poking it's head through the trees.

"Most animals normally avoided demonic places." Chase had hoped his words would calm others. But more so, it would let them know what he's up against. "As long as you see something besides rats and crows. Sometimes wolves, they have no trouble walking in evil places. Look around for animals other than those."

Chase looked over the town. It didn't seem like there was any haunting. He had read the reports of the town of Cold Oaks. It had been reported to be the most haunted town in America, and one of the most haunted in the world. But this place didn't seem haunted at all. It just seemed empty. But could the ghost of just stopped? It didn't seem likely.

"Claire. Where are the dead ones? They aren't here. They aren't doing anything."

[Merry]

Baket sighed, rubbing her temples a little. All the concentrating in the world wasn't going to stop this headache. It was there, behind her eyes sharp little pins and needles poking and pushing into her thoughts. She needed to just let it go, and not worry about what was going to happen. Just deal with it as it happened.

Gripping the arm rests tightly during the landing, whispering little prayers under her breath for a safe landing. It was funny really, being afraid of flying, but it always bothered her to leave the ground and go careening at insane speeds through the air. The landing always being the worst. There was always that chance that the landing gear wouldn't work, or that they would come in too sharp, or too short. That's all it would take. Then with a last shuddering bounce, they were on the ground. "Whew" she said more to herself than anyone. Unbuckling her seat belt and grabbing her bag, she headed toward the door with the rest of the crew.

Squinting a little in the sunshine, shading her eyes with her free hand, she took it all in. The town looked like any town you might anywhere across middle America. Quiet little houses, with cute little shops. Flags fluttering in the lazy breeze of summer. Cars neatly parked in drive ways, and on the street corners. Everything looked picture perfect. Except there was nothing moving. Not any sounds of human life. No one was in the cars, or the windows or the street. The landing of their craft would surely bring the town on a run, wouldn't it?

Baket took a deep breath, and heard herself exhale slowly. Stepping down onto the pavement, her boots making contact with the ground seemed extremely loud. The sound of her bag rustling against her pants, everything was amplified for some reason. Almost like it had an odd empty echoing effect.

The silence was thick, almost palatable. The silence, that was it. She could hear everything else but what she usually heard. There was nothing, no one in her thoughts. No one at all. She was for the first time in her life, alone. There was no one but herself in her mind. Slowly dropping her bag, she stood there, stunned. Unable to hide the shock on her face. She felt naked and exposed, like she had been stripped of something important and had no idea why or how to even get it back.

Claire could feel the waves of shock emanating from Baket, not that the expression on her face wasn’t a dead give away. Moving a little closer, Claire placed a hand on Baket’s shoulder and sent a calm feeling over her.

“What’s wrong?” Claire’s voice sounded concerned. It would have been easy enough to read Baket’s mind to find out what she wanted to know. But as Claire was still having trouble controlling that and felt to do so would be inappropriate, she refrained.

"I can't...I don't... hear anything. The voices, are gone" she turned to look at Claire "There isn't anyone in my thoughts" she stared at the other woman knowing she would have to explain what she meant, but not even knowing where to start. Putting her hands up in defense "I'm not crazy, but I hear, voices. Ghosts. People, relatives. They talk to me, now and then since I've been a baby. I was a little worried about coming here, when I heard the mission was about ghosts" covering the thought quickly just how nervous and worried she had actually been "I thought it would be hard to block them out, but.. there is, there is...nothing here" she stammered looking at the other woman still stunned, dropping her hands back to her side, shaking her head a little, as if to clear the cobwebs that weren't there.

Taking Baket’s hands in her own, Claire stared at Baket and concentrated harder on trying to calm her down.

“Shhh, calm down” Claire spoke softly, a soothing quality to her voice. “I never said I don’t believe you. But this wasn’t in your file.” Claire tilted her head to the side and looked curiously at Baket. She was surprised that Baket had kept this a secret. “Why didn’t you tell anyone at SCAR about this?”

Pulling her hands free, she looked at Claire "Do you know how hard it is to go through your whole life with people thinking you are insane? Telling you how horrible it is to tell them things about people that are dead? To have them wonder if you know all their secrets?" her face hardened as the fear of what was happening made her defensive. She exhaled sharply, willing herself to calm down.

"Why would I sign up to be thought of as crazy, I have a handle on it and can deal with it. It doesn't change my ability as a healer, it's just part of who I am. I just... didn't expect the silence" she turned her face away, trying to compose herself further. "I don't mean to snap at you, I'm just a little shocked right now" crossing her arms across her chest as if there was chill in the sunny day. Her facial expressions visibly forced back to calm.

“It’s okay,” Claire smiled. “I actually kind of understand what you’re going through. This is something you’ve lived with all of your life and now it’s gone. I kind of had your problem in reverse. I was normal until I turned eighteen. Then all of a sudden I could feel everyone’s emotions. Pounding and hammering into me. Even controlling me. So I do understand what you are going through, in a way.” Claire smiled comfortingly.

“As for anyone at SCAR thinking that you are insane for that,” Claire looked at Baket reassuringly. “I assure you that wouldn’t have happened. Insane, after all, is what we do. So just try to relax a little.” Claire

Baket nodded in agreement. "I'll be fine, it's just a little adjustment is all, the silence. It's not what I expected." she glanced around at the other team members. Wondering what was here that could drive away even her own grandmother, the elder Baket from her thoughts. She reached down and grabbed her bag again, slung it over her shoulder, waiting, watching the area for any signs of, anything. The headache from the stress of flying earlier long forgotten.

co/op w/ snazzy nazzy & me

[The Comedian]

Ethan kept a firm grip on the handle of the Flyssa that was now strapped around his waist. His custom made pistols were both on his opposite leg; one at his waist, and the other right below the first. His F2000 was wrapped neatly around his neck and shoulder, and pushed over around his back. Ethan's gauze was still clean and new, but already started to feel uncomfortable on his skin. All he could think about in the brief time was how much he wanted out of that old, dead skin.

As Ethan jumped the last step down from the Deathstrike, all of his armor shook and clanged together, making a rather cliche sound. Of course, Ethan just imagined how awesome he looked while doing it. Some movies and video games he obsessed over those first weeks he could see normally came to mind. He let his mind kind of drift, because he knew some ghosts wouldn't be a threat at all, especially with his power.

Nothing could sneak up on the all powerful Ethan. And even if something did manage to pull it off, he wouldn't need silver it was a ghostly ghoul. When it came to hid powers, Ethan was kind of conceded. He didn't let anybody know it, though. It was all in his mind.

He watched Claire give out orders to everyone but himself. While she was busy, he took a quick survey of the area. He was surprised when he saw absolutely nothing out of the ordinary in the little town. There wasn't even weird weather, like one would normally find on a ghostly mission.

Claire came up to him and smiled. She asked what he saw. But before Ethan could give her an answer, she made her way over to Baket. Ethan listened attentively to their conversation, getting somewhat the same feeling as her. It was strange, not seeing anything out of place. Ethan was pretty sure he saw some wall-markings even in the SCAR Headquarters. But he always figured they were just related to the material used to make the building - whatever it was.

Ethan's eyes turned that familiar blue, as he took another look around town. Sometimes, when he looked through the Blue Eyes, he could find things even easier. For instance, when his pulsating "radar" moves through the ground, it will light up anything not human or animal a bright blue. Ethan didn't see anything out of the ordinary.

He tried to speak loud enough to regain Claire's attention. Frowning, he said, "Claire. I don't see anything here. Is SCAR playin' us?"

[DB.]

On the ride to Cold Oaks Aaron repeated the scene with Shane and Malcolm in his head. Although it was surprising-being that he'd never seen her like that-it was also amusing. Closing his eyes he chuckled as the scene ended, just in time for the landing.

Aaron jumped out of the chopper and looked at his surroundings. The town was Desolate, as if the whole thing was an old empty movie set or something. There was no one around and the buildings looked as if no one ever cleaned or painted them for awhile. The whole thing was weird, although it might have been normal for SCAR.

Shortly after exiting the chopper Claire ordered both him and Yakim to the top of the chopper to watch for any movement. Slinging his rifle behind him Aaron pulled himself up onto the side ladder and climbed up onto the roof.

He went into a prone position and set up his rifle looking out into the town. "In position," he said into his radio.

If this mission was primarily supposed to be about ghosts he didn't see the need for him to be up there. Then again, on account of all the operatives there, and how most of were already in a mission before this also raised some questions.

Sighing, Aaron looked back into his scope, surveying the area for any movement.

[Mysteria]

The ride to cold oaks was a fairly quiet one as everyone checked and double checked their weapons. At least thats what Shane was doing. It wasn't as if Shanes weapons weren't ready. They were always ready. It was merely a matter of something Shane always did. Check, check, and double check again. When it came to her job, Shane was as professional as any S.C.A.R member could be. She'd been that way with any job she'd ever had, in or outside of S.C.A.R. Professional as possible. It came from her military backround. It's what her father and mother had both taught her.

The DeathStrike touched down and as they deplaned Claire began giving out their orders.

"Malcolm, Shane and Chase, you’re on point.”

Shane threw her pack over her shoulder as she shouldered her rifle taking up point beside Malcolm and Chase. Shanes eyes were focused in front of her, her ears taking in every little sound.

The problem was, there was no movement, no sound. Something didn't sit right in the pit of her stomach. Shane shook her head at Claire, in neither a yes or no movement as her hair blew in the wind. It appeared that the wind was the only thing moving in this silent and still place. "Ethans right Claire. Somethings off here. It's quiet." Shane said her eyes catching them in her peripheral vision, her gaze never looking away from directly in front of her.

"It's too quiet."

[Ryudo]

As soon as Marc was inside the Deathstrike he began to assess his new companions, though he had been briefed on there abilities and the general strength of the group Marc was more interested in team dynamics and other things that a sheet of paper and a debriefing from the higher-ups couldn’t convey. Immediately he began to notice the closeness of certain team members; the techie and blonde cutie, a different pair of lovers practically laying on top of each other, and perhaps most obvious of all was the beast of a Chaplain shooting longing looks at Claire. After taking all this in Marc had to strongly resist the urge to throw up, was this a SCAR mission or an episode of fucking Love Boat? And as if all that wasn’t bad enough, it seemed that Kristy was the pilot and thus Marc was doomed to sit alone in the ‘tunnel of love‘. As Marc removed his headphones from his bag he tried to futilely estimate how long till his stint in his own personal Hell would be over.


--------------------------------

Marc was one of the last people to exit the Deathstrike, he stretched languidly and then jumped down onto the hard ground below. Looking around he couldn’t help but be under whelmed by his surroundings, so much for paranormal activity. Marc muttered ‘Honey I’m home’ as he approached Claire to receive his orders.

“Okay, everyone this is Marc,” Claire motioned at Marc, speaking in her professional tone. “Just in case he didn’t introduce himself.”

Marc gave a small nod of his head,

“Marc, send one of your aspects down the road please. I want to see if anything attacks it.”

After hearing this a small smile stretched across Marc‘s face, not even two minutes into the mission and his power was being utilized, of course that they already needed him didn’t surprise him. Stepping back from the group while the rest of the orders were given Marc centered himself. Taking a deep breath he extended his arm perpendicular to his body, and as he exhaled he felt his visage waver and then suddenly duplicate. In the next moment a mirror image of Marc Wright stepped from his body, identical in every detail and mannerism. Marc couldn’t help but comment on his newest creation,

“Who is that handsome devil?” The copy scratched his chin sarcastically and then began to walk in the direction Claire had indicated.

“Somethings off here. It's quiet." "It's too quiet."

Suddenly the copy halted and walked silently behind Shane, it then leaned towards her and spooked her with a loud ‘Boo!’ As Shane was distracted by the copy Marc snuck to her other side and spooked her in the same manner.

“Gotcha.” He chuckled as the copy continued on its intended course. Marc watched as he moved it ahead of the team down the street. The copy was truly indistinguishable from Marc, it even had Marc’s power walk down to a science. Turning to Claire, Marc voiced a question,

“So when do you want that attractive Marc Junior to stop?”

[John]

“Everybody hold up,” Claire shouted the command just as soon as Ethan had told her that he couldn’t see anything. She glared at Ethan with a concerned look on her face. This was wrong. This was all wrong. She became momentarily startled as Marc began his antics and she shot him a dissatisfied look.

“Time and a place Marc!” Claire began to press buttons on her cell phone. It was still showing the EM field as being all around them, but if she could just fine tune the signal, she could get a bead on exactly where it was coming from. It didn’t take long for her to get the reading and she began to walk in that direction.

“Vee you’re with me. The rest of you, stay here.” Claire took on her professional tone and looked over at Malcolm. “And that’s an order.” She had figured that Malcolm would object to her going off with just Vee. But she had a nagging feeling in the pit of her stomach. A feeling that told her was more here than met the eye. For the moment, Claire figured it was better to put as few lives at risk as possible. And should something attack, Vee’s reaction time would come in handy.

Claire started to walk down the road, following the signal on the cell phone. She wasn’t in the mood to talk, but she knew that her and Vee needed to have words. Once they were out of earshot of the operatives, Claire started to speak.

“You don’t like me much,” Claire spoke softly. “Do you Vee?”

Vee blinked, seeming quite distracted. " Never got to know you enough to not like you." she answered quietly, hands and eyes remarkably steady. " But it seems to me like you've got some mighty fucked up priorities."

“How do you mean?” Claire spoke and pointed to the left, following the reading on the phone.

Vee turned to survey the opposite direction, guns up and every sense trained on the job. " Is now really the time for this conversation, princess?" she asked.

The moment they were out of sight of the other operatives, Claire stopped and stared at Vee, her eyes returning to normal.

“Look,” Claire sounded annoyed. “I don’t know what I have done to wrong you. But right now I need you on my side. I can give you orders if I have to, but I prefer not to. I need people I can trust, not puppets on a string.”

" Look. I grew up military. This is my life. This is all I know. And maybe that makes me inferior somehow, I don't know, but the fact is this - soldiers don't need friends. Soldiers need leaders. Now how many times are you gonna let chromosomal fuck-ups like that-" she gestured at Lyrico. "-slide before you get that if you want respect, you earn it."

“Do you think that is my choice?” Claire moved forward and stood toe to toe with Vee. “Do you think I want that psychotic little fuckstick here with us? I protested Vee. I took his being sent on the mission to the highest possible level. I was basically told to accept orders or it would not only mean the end of my career, but the end of my life as well. Sure it would have been easier if Malcolm had of just allowed me to kill him back in Dunwich, but I wouldn’t be here right now.” Claire paused and looked down at the ground.

“You think you know me so well,” Claire’s voice took on a sad tone. “But you don’t Vee. And if you took even just one second to maybe consider that sometimes even I don’t have a choice, then maybe you would respect me. But it’s just so much easier to pass judgement then to find out the truth isn’t it?”

Vee's lips raised in a snarl. She was shorter than Claire, but the burning rage in her eyes was enough to make up for the difference.

" There is always a choice." she snapped. " We lead dangerous lives. Things happen on the battlefield." She clicked her safety audibly to emphasize her point. " Sad things, but things that at the end of the day are best for the team. And that's what a leader attends to. The best for the team." Vee narrowed her eyes. " And a leader should have the balls to do what's best for the team, even if it is ugly."

“You know Vee,” Claire had a look of defeat in her eyes. “You’re right. And believe me, when the telepaths probe my mind for the mission report, they will know it too. But regardless of everything, I have always had one priority above all others, to keep my team alive. And though I may not like it, I have to do it. I have lost so much because of SCAR but I’m not going to spend the rest of my days rotting in a five by five cell with no windows. Honestly, would you accept that option?”

" Honestly?" Vee smirked. " If I had done what he had done, I'd already be in a five by five."

Claire looked at Vee hoping she would understand the gravity of her own words. Claire couldn’t tell her how right she was and how wrong it was that Lyrico was even here. She only hoped that the pleading look that she gave to Vee would help her to realize what she had just said.

Vee shook her head and stepped back, her posture just barely submissive. " Far be it from me to question a superior's decision." she growled.

“I hope now you understand me a little better,” Claire’s eyes turned black again and she continued to scan the area for emotion. Looking at the phone for a moment, she pointed at one of the buildings. “In there.”

The building in question appeared to be a bar, or at least that’s what it used to be. The door was partially hanging off it’s hinges and it looked as though the building had not been disturbed in years. Pushing the door open, Claire drew one of her swords and stepped inside. The floors were covered with dust and the tables and chairs were broken and overturned. It appeared that no one had been in the building for years, except for the one item that didn’t belong. Sitting atop the bar was what appeared to be a small transmitter.

Claire felt a sinking feeling in her stomach and she thought she might throw up. She had seen this type of transmitter before. It was a type that was used in training ops for those still in the Program. Claire turned to Vee and said the only thing that she could think of.

“What the fuck?”

Vee's gun hung limply in her hand as she stared at the transmitter. Her eyes flashed to Claire's before her hand shot to her belt, scrambling to pull out her radio.

" Give the order to pull back, this has to be a trap!" she snapped at Claire.

At that moment, the transmitter started beeping. It was a steady sound that slowly increased in speed. Claire’s eyes went wide and she grabbed Vee, pushing her towards the door.

“Run!!!” Claire moved out the door and started to run. Her and Vee hadn’t made it very far when the transmitter exploded. The shockwave sent both Vee and Claire sprawling thorough the air, landing about twenty feet away from what remained of the bar.

Claire’s ears were ringing and she was in pain as bits of wood and metal showered down on her and Vee. It was hard for Claire to move and she could tell that at least two of her ribs had been fractured on hitting the ground. She groaned as she tried to push herself up and looked over at Vee.

“Vee! Are you alright?” Claire’s voice was strained as she fought against the pain.

Vee rolled to her belly, groaning in answer as she moved her arms from where they'd been covering her head.

" Ow." she muttered, then froze. " Ow." she repeated in a hushed tone. She immediately shook it off. " Told you so." she quipped.

Claire pushed herself to her feet, clutching her chest. She fumbled for her med kit and opened it to see that all the vials inside were smashed. Discarding it, Claire moved over to Vee, hunched over, her face showing the pain she was in.

“Can you walk?”

Vee bounced to her feet, swayed a bit, and stretched.

" Fuck that noise!" she chirped, wiping a trickle of blood off her face. " Running seems like a much better idea."

Claire smiled at Vee and knelt down to pick up her sword. Every move she made was agony and she wasn’t sure if she was going to be able to make it back to the Deathstrike. But still, she had to try. She had to radio the base. Pushing herself back up, she moved next to Vee, almost collapsing with every step she took.

“I need help,” Claire’s voice came as little more than whisper as her vision started to blur slightly. “Please.”

Vee grabbed Claire's arm and threw it over her shoulder, wrapping her own arm around Claire's waist.

" Just hurry the hell up." she muttered.

“Drag me if you have to,” Claire’s eyes started to close slightly as he started to move her feet. “Just get us back to the Deathstrike, I have to radio headquarters.”

Vee scowled and tightened her grip. " Better hang on then." And with no further warning, she broke into a dead sprint for the Deathstrike.

Though it only took a couple of minutes for the two of them to arrive back at the Deathstrike, given the pain Claire was in, it seemed like hours. Once they were there, Claire got Vee to help her into the chopper and she immediately put on the headset.

“Hannon one seven one to base. Come in base.” Claire heard nothing but static coming over the earphones. “Hannon one seven one to base, come in please.” There was still no response and Claire started to switch channels on the radio. Trying to reach headquarters by any means possible. Fiddling with the knobs on the radio, Claire switched to a civilian channel. Her thought was to bounce the signal through a backdoor which was created in case SCAR’s transmitters were down. The voice she could hear was giving a news broadcast, and tears started to stream down her face at what she could hear.

“Everybody listen to this,” Claire unplugged the headset and truned the volume up so all of them could hear the broadcast.

“…a sad day for the United States. For those of you just joining us, approximately one hour ago, a secret government facility at Three Mile Island was the target of a terrorist attack. A nuclear device was set off, levelling the facility. It is doubtful that there were any survivors though we can only hope. The president had this to say.”

“It is a dark day indeed for all Americans. I pledge to you now that the perpetrators of this act will be brought to justice. Retribution will be swift and harsh.”

The radio announcer came back on.

“This just in, it has just been announced that a Homeland Security operative by the name of Claire Hannon was responsible for the attack. Apparently disgruntled, Miss Hannon and other agents stole an experimental helicopter before levelling the base. As to who the other rogue agents are, reports are sketchy but this station will bring you more information as it becomes available.”

Claire started to sob. Everything and everyone she knew was gone. Her home, her friends, her life. Claire stood up and walked to the door of the plane, and as the pain overtook her, fell out of the door and hit the ground unconscious.

(co op wiht Gypsy)

[StormWolf]

Malcolm lead the delta formation through the quiet town. Shane and Chase not far from him. The eerie blue eyes of the Chaplain scanned the muted buildings carefully, searching each house floor by floor with the upmost caution. His EMF reader was whining in a constant monotone beep, but his Mark was not throbbing in the least. With the amount of paranormal activity displayed in the briefing, there should have been some mean motherfuckers lurking about. So far, the meanest thing Malcolm had seen was a rat the size of a football, and he stepped on it, crushing it by accident.

"Clear." he said into his throat mic when he cleared the last room on another house. "Point team, converge in the street." Malcolm ordered flatly, his deep voice calmer than a lake in the dawn. The Chaplain descent the old stairs with is AA12 still at the ready. He had been killed the first time be not being careful enough in a building. That kind of engrains paranoia into a person.

Malcolm converged with Shane and Chase, his face in it's usual all-business-no-bullshit frown. The EMF reader was still going nuts in his pocket.

"Oh, for the love of Pete...." he grumbled and turned off his phone. He didn't need the other operatives to say anything for him to understand the questions going through their heads; where are all the nasties? The Chaplain pressed his throat mic again. "Claire, this is Malcom with Point squad. Bingo hostiles. I repeat. Casper is not in. We're Oscar Mike back to the bird." Malcolm took his finger from his throat mic and looked at Shane and Chase. He inclined his head back towards the way we came. He was still frowning over Claire taking Vee for a "walk". He did not like being out of the loop, especially when the woman he loved was making that damned loop.

"Move out, but stay sharp." Malcolm said in that cold and commanding voice as he lead the others back towards the Deathstrike when, all of a sudden, Sammael got really pissed, filling Malcolm's head with a glass-shattering buzz that was the angel's raw voice.

Betrayal! Like Lucifer betrayed us, so have you been betrayed!

Malcolm fell to a knee and held is head in a hand, hissing through clenched teeth as he felt that fragment of Sammael's power sear Malcolm's soul. The Archangel's voice vanished just in time for a boom. With that explosion, Malcolm heard a brief howl of agony over the comm, that was Claire's voice!

Jumping to his feet the Chaplain slung his AA12 and pulled out his DEagle, sprinting towards the Deathstrike. "Deathstrike, this is Malcolm. What the fuck is going on! Report! ETA on your position; 2 minutes" Malcolm's vision tunneled as adrenaline burned through his veins. His powerful legs carried him through the twisted streets until the Deathstrike came into view. Claire and Vee were there, and they were alive.

"Claire, what in God's name..." his voice trailed off when he heard the broadcast and when he saw the silver trails of tears going down Claire's face. Malcolm had to act fast. The last time Claire cried around him, their plane almost crashed because the pilot started to feel her depression. Holstering his pistol, Malcolm climbed into the Deathstrike, dropping his AA12 on the ground before going over to Claire and turning her to face him. The Chaplain wrapped his thick arms around her, his face like stone and his eyes like ice. He held Claire close, his scarred hands rubbing her back gently. He had no words that could make this alright. They had just been hung out to dry by their own government. Malcolm just looked to the heavens and closed his eyes, lips moving silently in prayer. With an whispered "amen" he kissed Claire atop the head and continued to hold her.

[Merry]

Baket waited with the others when Claire and Vee set out to do a search. She began to slowly sift through her now eerily empty thoughts.

The place, it felt strange. Very, very strange. It was making her tense. She felt like she was stepping into a haunted house. You knew there was something there, waiting. Wanting you to drop your guard so it could pounce from the darkness. She could feel her shoulders bunched in anticipation waiting for whatever might reveal itself. A giant knot in the center of her back, between her shoulder blades.

She took a deep breath, and then pushed it forcefully out of her mouth with a large whooshing sound. Mentally shaking her thoughts free, she forced herself to breathe normally, willing herself to just calm down. It was silly to be so worked up. The team was ready. They could deal with whatever it was that was here, and they would. She had to squash her feelings of apprehension. It would just be a matter of time before they figured out what was going on. She forced herself to think positive thoughts. After all, her concern had been originally how she was going to be overwhelmed with too many thoughts, to suddenly not have any intrusions was strange, but soothing at the same time. Or at least it should be. Right? It brought a slight grin to her lips, the irony of the situation.

She was so wrapped up in her thoughts, sifting through the lack of noise, and what it could possibly mean, that the explosion took her completely by surprise. It knocked her slightly backward, causing her to trip over her bag on the ground. Landing with a sudden thump on her ass, momentarily shocked that she had actually been thrown down so easily. She really needed to pay better attention to her surroundings. She quickly scrambled up, dusting off the dirt and rubbing the back of her head that she had bounced a bit on the ground. She was a little angry with herself, feeling like she probably looked like a complete idiot in front of the team. She was doubtful that any of them had been so easily knocked down. Her anger was quickly replaced by shock and horror at the news coming in over the radio. How could they! That, that was impossible!? Gone? All of it, destroyed? How
could this have happened. Her mind was spinning at the ramifications of what this meant.

Rushing over toward Claire as she was caught by Malcom, who was obviously distraught. It was impossible to determine what was wrong with her, she just knew that Claire was out cold. She placed a hand on Malcom’s shoulder, to get his attention, he needed to let her see what was wrong. He needed to let her tend to Claire. She gently pulled his arm aside a little, “I need to see her, ok?” pulling a little more “I need to see how badly she’s hurt, to touch her and fix it, let’s put her down, gently and just see what’s going on."

She moved to put herself on the ground beside Claire, placing her hand on her upper chest, above her heart. Pushing with her mind, her hands getting that tingly warmth, that rush of power, she closed her eyes and began slowly moving them over Claire. Just shy of actually touching her, starting with her heart and in small slow movements, her fingers twitching slightly, tracing them over her chest area, her legs, her hips.

Concentrating on her ribs, the power in her coursing through her fingers, repairing bone and sinew and damaged muscle and tissues. Small beads of sweat gathering on the edge of her brow the only signs of the effort she was putting forth. Finally with a small gasp, she sat back, lifting her hands and putting them back in her lap. Suddenly a little dizzy and feeling very light headed. “She should be ok, there was nothing serious. Just a couple of ribs, and some bruises” she said aloud. “what about Vee” she looked for the girl, “Are you ok?” she asked, her mouth suddenly very dry.

[Mysteria]

Shane glared at Marc but stayed on point listening to Malcolm on the mic. He was right. There wasn't a damn thing going on. Even so, this Marc character would need to learn a hard lesson fast. When you were on task, you were on task. To be anything less would get people killed.

It was obvious to Shane that they had been betrayed as Malcolm saw red. Shane herself wasn't very happy about this. There was reprisal to be made and she would see it done. First they would need to figure out exactly what the hell was going on.

They made their way back to the deathstrike just in time to see Baket moving her hands over Claire. Shane rushed up to their leader and her own friend Claire. Of course Claire was the leader but that didn't prevent Shane from caring for her. Shanes eyes went from Malcolm to Claire. While Malcolm could be a prick at times, Shane had never doubted his love for Claire.

Shanes eyes drifted to Aaron before allowing them to lead her gaze back to Baket and Claire. Shane stepped up to Malcolm. Even if she had just chewed his ass out earlier her heart still went out to him. Laying her hand on his shoulder she merely said "It'll be ok Mal. We've been in worse situations than this. Claire will be fine."

Shane heard Baket speaking “She should be ok, there was nothing serious. Just a couple of ribs, and some bruises”

Shane moved away from Malcolm, saying her own prayer of thanks for allowing Baket to be there and heal Claire. Shane had felt Baket would come in handy out in the field. Her suspicions had just been confirmed.

Shane looked back at the new guy Marc. Another time and place she would have probably had something to say but now obviously wasn't the time.

[The Comedian]

That damn familiar sound was never good. The unforgiving boom. The gut wrenching bang. The sound of debris showering the ground. The explosion wasn't perfectly visible from where Ethan was standing, but he could see the smoke rise up in the air. But almost instantaneously, he lifted his rifle up, and look all around the area.

Shit was the only word that crossed his mind when he realized that Claire and Vee were almost definitely in the center of the explosion. The thought of their survival didn't come to Ethan, until he saw them running for dear life to the Deathstrike. A massive sigh of relief involuntarily shot from Ethan's mouth. He shook his head, and said to himself, "Only SCAR Operatives..."

As he watched Claire jump straight to the radio, Ethan felt like the grip on his rifle was too tight, and unnecessary. He let the gun hang around his neck and shoulder once again. He made his way to the rest of the group, that were only a few feet away, and listened to what was going on.

As the broadcast played, Ethan leaned up against the Deathstrike, and pulled out the Flyssa from it's sheath. He examined the blade, seeing it's strange glow that only he could see. Still listening, all he could think of was how they were going to get out of it.

He heard the presidents word, then scoffed at the thought of what he said. He spun the Flyssa in his right hand, and gripped it tightly. He watched as Claire fell to the ground, clearly unconscious. A few operatives rushed to her side, and then Ethan walked up next to the group.

Ethan couldn't help but to smile, "Now the government won't have underpaid Ghostbusters to destroy the things that go bump in the night. They've officially crossed the streams, and the outcome is us coming to end their world?"

He was pissed off. He didn't even know what he was saying. It was definitely something stupid, though.

"Please tell me I'm not the only one who wants payback?" He said out loud, looking at Claire, "Retribution will be swift, and it will be harsh. Justice? It's dead. But it's not gone. Justice is now just a filthy lie that spreads like wildfire."

Ethan pushed his back against he Deathstrike, then slid down it until he hit the ground. He brushed his hand through his hair, then grunted loudly. Shaking his head, Ethan said, "It's all fucking gone, isn't it?"

[DB.]

Aaron stared into his rifle's scope as both Claire and Vee walked ahead, aiming in the direction they were walking in until they were out of sight. He sighed, there was nothing there, the place was like a ghost town. Well, except the ghost part, but more or less the same. No movement, nothing at all.

Then an explosion sounded out; coming from the direction Claire and Vee went in. Tightening his grip on his rifle Aaron looked in every direction, not seeing anything, but soon both of the operatives were rounding the corner and heading straight for the Deathstrike.

When they reached there and turned on the radio broadcast the only thing Aaron yelled was, "Fuck!" He wasn't even sad, he was pissed. He still stayed on the roof of the helicopter, looking through the scope just in case., they could've sent someone to take them out or something.

Aaron glanced over at Shane. "Shit, why does she have to be in this too," he thought. None of the operatives did anything wrong there, but it seemed that even super secret super powered killing machines were expendable. Something they could use up and throw away; but they were going to make them pay, sweet sweet revenge.

[The Gypsy Queen]

Vee's ears were still ringing from the explosion and the familiar surge of adrenaline in her veins was no comfort. She waved away the healing hands of one of the newcomers and forced herself to stay standing, in spite of the throbbing in her head. She'd forgotten what real pain felt like, pain that hadn't been dulled by adrenaline and drugs.

But more than the pain was the sickening feeling of nausea creeping up her legs, that deep, sinking realization that this was real and she was not dreaming. She stumbled away from the group.

How many men and women were stationed at Three Mile Island? She'd been there only hours ago. It was the only home she had left, the last place where she felt safe... where she felt normal. Friends, comrades, coworkers... the last family she had. Gone. In the blink of an eye.

Her stomach lurched and she topple to her knees, head swimming in a sea of lead. She heard someone retching, and only realized it was her when she tasted the bile in her mouth. She felt hands on her back and knew they were Chase's, a small comfort in a world that had just become cold and dark.

Claire slowly rose to her feet, thanking Baket and kissing Malcolm on the cheek. Turning toward Vee, she could hear Lyrico’s voice coming from behind her.

“Heheheheheheheehe. What you gonna do Claire? You can’t tell me what to do anymore!” his voice had an evil sneer to it and Claire turned sharply and glared at him.

“Not now Lyrico,” Claire tried to keep her voice steady, not wanting to lash out at him. Turning away, she walked towards Vee. The moment she did, it felt as though two hands boxed her ears. She doubled over and felt Lyrico’s spectral hands around her throat. Claire was pulled sharply form the ground and she began to gasp for air.

“YES NOW!!!” Lyrico screamed at Claire and squeezed her throat harder.

Chase was the first to react, tossing one of his knives at Lyrico with lightning reflexes. What Chase couldn’t see was the invisible hand reaching for the knife. It grabbed it and threw it back at Chase, hitting him in the eye. The knife went deep and Chase fell backwards.

Before his body even hit the ground, Vee had pulled her gun and squeezed the trigger. And as he lay and began to twitch, she squeezed again, not even registering the Glock's bark as she stormed over to Lyrico, ignoring the gaping holes in his chest, steaming in the cool fall air. She grabbed him by the collar before he could fall and pressed the muzzle of her Glock to the side of his head, the hot metal sizzling against his skin. She pulled the trigger again, releasing his collar and letting him fall in a spray of blood, brain, and bone.

She turned and tore back to Chase, still twitching on the ground. The reaction had been immediate, trained, precise. She'd done it because it was what she was trained to do - eliminate the threat. It wasn't until she was back at Chase's side that the reality of what had just happened sank in, down through her neck and chest and stomach, down her legs and feet, pulling at her bones and tearing at her heart.

" No." she whispered, grasping at Chase's armor desperately, pulling at it. " No." she repeated, tears welling in her eyes as she reached for the knife in his head before recoiling in horror. " No. No no no. No..." she whined, shaking him. He didn't respond. Her hands curled into fists and she pressed them against his chest, pounding. " No don't do this please I don't want this this isn't what I wanted no please no..." she rambled desperately, thumping her fists against his chest, a low moan escaping her lips when nothing happened. " No, please, please! No! This is a dream!" She sat back, away from Chase, hands moving to slap her face, eyes squeezed shut. She stopped after a few slaps, opening her eyes again. She stayed like that for what felt like forever, staring at the stark and bloody reality laid before her.

It was only then that she screamed, a long, dry, horrified scream, and let herself fall, draping her own body over his and clinging to his armor, like a woman drowning.

(co-op with Naz)

[StormWolf]

That piece of trash Lyrico wasted no time in hounding the wounded group with his childishly cruel remarks. Malcolm was still in something of a daze, letting the reality of it all sink in. Sammael's screaming was not helping with the buzzing already going on in the world around them. The Chaplain was too slow. By the time he had realized what was going on, before he could instill some kind of order with his fists and his harsh voice, two operatives died.

Malcolm just stood there, face blank and emotionless, but his eyes were a visage of bottled madness, rage, and confusion. He just stared blankly at the body of Lyrico. Only one thought going through his head; Why didn't I pull that trigger?

The Chaplain barely even remembered the kiss on the cheek. The world was falling apart around them. There was no time to mourn, no time for pity. Not even time for love. Was there even time for Faith? Malcolm doubted it, and that made a ball of ice settle in the pit of his stomach.

"Be quiet Vee." Malcolm said in a voice that was deep and cold as he walked over to her. "Howling won't bring him back, no matter how much we wish it would." He put a hand on her shoulder, slowly pushing her aside so the Chaplain could remove the knife from Chase's eye socket. Malcolm closed his comrade's good eye and crossed Chase's hands over his cadaverous chest before yanking off Chase's dog tags and and stuffed them in a pocket.

Staying crouched at a knee, Malcolm muttered a prayer for Chase's soul, putting in a good word for him. Tracing a cross on his chest, Malcolm stood and went over to Lyrico, removing the psychopath's dog tags and stared at the plates of metal in his hands for a long while. With a small sneer, the Chaplain cast the tags into the mud, taking Lyrico by a handful of hair, whispering into the corpse's ear.

"You hear me, you son of a bitch. Burn. I hope Lucifer flays the very skin from your bones and lets all of his hounds rape your soul for all eternity. I condemn you to the deepest Ring of Hell. There will be no retribution for you, Lyrico. My greatest regret was that I could not Smite you myself. I'll see you in Hell." With that, Malcolm smashed what was left of Lyrico's head into the mud.

The Chaplain started to pace, his stomach filling with acid and his blood with liquid fire. Sammael's howling of betrayal was maddening. Vee's weeping was to Malcolm like rain over a boulder. Claire's stare even glanced off of Malcolm's steely hide.

"We need to get out of here...." Malcolm said in a deep croak of a voice. "There is nothing left for us to do here...." Malcolm looked Claire in the eyes, that softness he had when looking at her but hours ago was gone. Only that eerie hardness, that ironclad leadership and that merciless determination and will. "Claire, we need to get to the safe house."

[Ryudo]

Marc watched as his projection moved ahead unhindered, everyone was hard at work, and as much as he regretted admitting it that Shane girl was right, something definitely was out of place. There was a complete lack of unnatural monstrosities, which for any sane person would be a good thing, but not for S.C.A.R. agents, no a lack of things that can kill you in the blink of an eye is a bad thing.

Looking down the street again with even less interest then before Marc proceed to let out a belabored sigh, what I wouldn’t give for a little bit of action. He let his mind continue to wander as he kicked a rock that was near his foot, not so long ago he had been more popular then he could have imagined, the One Man Ar-

Marc froze in his tracks, his projection had just been hit with a massive force, suddenly Marc heard an enormous crack and he braced himself for impact. The advanced warning from his astral copy allowed Marc to remain on his feet, but the impact of the wave left Marc a bit disoriented. After a few seconds Marc was heading back to the Deathstrike, primarily out of instinct, when he saw that everyone was gathered listening to what he presumed was the radio. Drawing closer Marc listened to the entire report intently. When it finished he looked around at the group and saw there reactions; it looked like Claire was about ready to die on the spot, while others showed a variety of emotions ranging form rage to sadness.

Marc was perhaps the least affected of the group, and while he put on a show of being hurt, in reality his mind was merely mulling over the facts. To Marc his life had already come to a screeching halt when he had been abducted by S.C.A.R. and forced out of the lime light. In actuality, infamy wasn’t that different then being famous, would it have been so hard for them to mention the ‘other agents’ by name? Or even mention that one of the suspected perpetrators was the handsome One Man Army?

“Fucking journalists.” Marc muttered, a few nodded in agreement, though for much different reasons then Marc. He knew that everyone else was attached to Three Mile Island in some special way, for Marc, the only memory that Marc had of that damn place were of a few one night stands, and even those were fuzzy at best.

Marc waited a few more moments for everyone to mope, just as he was about to take charge himself he heard the little soldier speak. Marc didn’t listen very closely to what Lyrico was saying, he was a glorified child, and Marc didn’t like children. Marc was brought back to reality quite harshly when he heard the gunshots, the scene unfolded before Marc at lighting speed, when all was said and done Marc surveyed the scene; Chase appeared to be dead, Vee was shrieking, Lyrico’s limp corpse had been cast into the mud, and Claire appeared to be on the verge of shouting at Malcom, the world had just broken and Chaos had come forth.

Since Marc seemed to be the only person with his wits about him he walked over to Claire,

“Look, Malcom’s right, we need to get the fuck out of here now!” He paused, Claire continued to stare daggers at Malcom, “Look, there will be plenty of time for couples therapy later, right now we need to get out of here!”

"I would really suggest," Claire forced a smile, still glaring at Malcolm, her tone angered. "That you keep your comments to yourself Marc."

Marc nodded, “Duly noted,” Marc hid his own anger very carefully, as far as he was concerned Claire was still his leader, and he would follow her orders, even if they weren’t necessarily the best choices,

“So what’s the plan then?”

[John]

Claire was horrified. The events of the past few minutes were upsetting to say the least. Given that she had lost two of her team members she had reason to be upset. But her true revulsion came from Malcolm’s treatment of the situation. He had wanted her to find religion when they were in Rome. Claire regained her faith, but this wasn’t what it was supposed to be like. But the thing that bothered her most, was the way he treated Vee. Claire glared at Malcom as he spoke to her about the safe house. And now that Marc had finished, Claire had a friend to help.

“Fuck you,” Claire sneered at Malcolm and turned towards Vee, walking over to her cautiously.

“Vee, I’m so sorry,” Claire’s tone had a sadness to it. She truly did feel sorry for Vee’s loss. Vee had saved Claire’s life and was truly grateful, but perhaps, she thought, the cost had been too high. Claire didn’t hate Chase. She didn’t blame him anymore for what had happened to their mutual friend. It was just hard for Claire to be around him. And now she felt truly saddened.

Vee snapped away, her face twisted into something between revulsion and hate.

" Don't fucking touch me." she snarled, eyes wide and wild.

Claire put her hands up in a defensive stance, her eyes turning black. She didn’t try to calm Vee down. She was only wanting it in case Vee attacked. And given that Vee had been so abhorrently treated by Malcolm, there was every possibility she would.

“Vee, I’m sorry,” a tear rolled down Claire’s cheek. “Please calm down. I need you. Please don’t let this consume you.”

He'd taken the knife out. You weren't supposed to take the knife out. Had Malcolm killed Chase? And the dog tags. Chase needed those. Every soldier needed his dog tags. Who was he without his dog tags?

Vee’s muscles coiled as she prepared to attack, but a small part of her resisted, some tiny part that was still sane and rapidly losing ground.

Claire could sense Vee was preparing to attack. She could tell that Vee’s rage was directed at Maloclm, and rightfully so. He was lucky that Claire hadn’t broke his nose. Something that was only prevented by Marc’s sticking his nose in. But still, Claire knew that Malcolm wouldn’t stand a chance against Vee.

“Vee listen to me,” Claire pleaded with Vee. “Mal’s an insensitive prick who deserves every ounce of the ass kicking that you want to give him, but we can’t turn on each other now. So if you have to attack someone, attack me. Really everything that happened here is my fault anyway. So hit me Vee.” Claire stood perfectly still, waiting for the attack. She had no intention of letting Vee hit her. But maybe she could wear Vee out. Still, she was hoping it wouldn’t come to that.

Vee turned her gaze back on Claire and her rage suddenly boiled down to something cold and hard inside her, a small pinprick, sharper and more precise and more ferocious than anything she'd ever felt before. It was base, primal, purified rage.

" Give me his dog tags." she said, voice blank and eyes dead.

Claire walked over to Malcolm and reached into his pocket. Removing the dog tags, she slapped Malcolm in the face and then walked back over to Vee. Claire stood in front of Vee and handed the tags towards her.

“Anything you want Vee,” Claire’s voice was quiet.

Vee took the dog tags and walked back over to Chase's body. Once there, she sat next to him, silent and still. Finally she removed the five dog tags from her own neck, undid the chain's clasp, and added Chase's. She replaced the chain, Chase's name glistening prominently over her heart. Then, she stood, working her hands gently under Chase's shoulders. He was too big for her to carry, so she began to gently pull him back to the Deathstrike, moving slowly and methodically.

Claire moved quickly to Vee and placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Vee,” Claire kept her voice hushed and her eyes retuned to normal. “We can’t take the Deathstrike. It had a tracking device in it. As soon as we fire it up we’ll be easy to find. Let me help you bury him.”

" I am burying him." Vee said coldly.

Claire nodded her head and picked up Chase’s legs to help put his body on the Deathstrike. She knew what Vee must be thinking then. It was a logical conclusion after all. Claire was going to have to blow it up.

" Don't touch him." Vee's voice was cold and quiet, but the slight snarl that raised her lip was evidence to what she was feeling.

Without a word, Claire placed Chase’s legs gently on the ground. She understood how Vee was feeling right now. And Claire wanted to let Vee do things her own way regarding Chase. Claire moved away form the Chopper and closer ot the group. Reaching into her boot, she removed her cell phone, sighing with relief that it hadn’t been broken during the explosion. The padded case, along with Claire’s boot had protected it. Normally using a cell right now would be a bad idea. But this wasn’t the SCAR issue phone. This was Claire’s personal phone, and SCAR didn’t know about it. Turning it on, she scrolled through the menu, stopping at the name Charlie. She pressed the call button and held the phone to her ear.

“Hi this is Charlie,” it was a woman’s voice on the message. “I can’t take your call right now so leave a message.” The phone beeped and Claire started to talk.

“I don’t know if you have seen the news,” Claire’s tone was cold. “But I’m coming to Detroit. I really need your help.” Claire hung up the phone and then turned her attention to the group.

“Okay,” Claire tried to sound professional, but the sadness was evident in her voice. “As Malcolm said, there is a safe house in Detroit. Unfortunately, we can’t take the Deathstrike, so it means we are going to have to hike for a bit. The nearest town is thirty miles away.” Claire glanced around, noticing that it was nearing dusk. The sun would be setting in a couple of hours.

“None of you have to come with me,” Claire looked down at the ground. “But I really think this is our only option. I have a friend named Charlie, she can help us get out of the country. I need to radio England and see if The Campus is still standing. I’m hoping because they pulled out of the treaty, they won’t have been affected by this.” Claire paused for a moment to take a breath. She was about to start speaking when her phone rang. It made her jump, because she really wasn’t expecting Charlie to phone back, but more importantly, everyone who had this number other than Charlie and her brother, were dead. Claire looked at the name which read Karen and she clicked the button. Could it be possible that they weren’t the only operatives who survived? Claire held the phone up to her ear and spoke.

“Hello?”

(co op with Gypsy)

[Yoruyonaka]

Blood, blood, blood. Lots of it. A bomb. A man stood over a dead body. A gun shot, boom, down went another. Why was it them? Why did it have to be them? Again? Charlie's eyes shuddered awake. Her face was on the counter in the bar. This only happened when there was activity with demons. In this case, Charlie knew the worst. Her brown eyes glanced up to see a group of spectators murmuring. They appeared worried.

"Ah shit, Charlie!" A man yelled getting through the crowd in the bar. "You have a faint spell again?"

Charlie brought her gaze on one of her waiter. Her only waiter, Dean. His short spiky brown hair, gray blue eyes, and casually clothes. Plus is abnormal senses for when she blacked out. Although, it had only been lately that they have been more frequent. Dean knew about some things supernatural. Like vampires, werewolves, ghosts, and psychics, but, Charlie could never tell him about the more horrible things that made a bump in the night. Heck, if he knew that those comics he read were true, he'd probably piss himself. She also didn't want to put in danger the only friend she has. It would kill her.

"I'm fine, Dean," Charlie said rubbing her forehead. "I just took a shot of my own goods, you know, the good stuff from Scotland."

He understood well enough that is was a lie to get everyone to calm down and return to their drinks. "Jeez, calm down on the drinks," Dean laughed. "These guys might get pissed off if you have all your inventory of Scottish rum."

Some of the older guys playing pool laughed loudly. "Hey I promise I am only slightly buzzed," Charlie replied. "I don't want any of you to lose respect for me and not come back to buy more booze. The Avalon Pub would go out of business."

The whole bar shook with laughter then went to the normal routine. Loud conversation and a whole lot of liquor. The name of the bar. Oh how that name stung Charlie. Why she punished herself with the name? Well, it was to remind her that nothing will ever be safe. Ever. Even the bar she made, with help of Dean. Her new horrific vision was evidence of it.

"Claire," Charlie muttered quietly. "What the fuck did you get yourself into?"

So the night went as usual. Mint schnapps here, giant jugs of beer here. What more was there to a bar? Oh yeah, the only two things on the food menu. Charlie's famous bacon-mac n cheese and chocolate souffle. Everyone around Detroit loved it. Who cares if it was the only two things Charlie could cook well, they were absolutely to die for. Well, hopefully not to die for. So, from going to the bar, checking on the pot of pasta, and baking souffle, the night was calm. Of course, the only thing that could possibly disrupt the entire night would be the vision being utterly true and that this whole life of running and hiding would end. As closing time finally came, Dean locked the door and stood in front of Charlie at the bar counter.

"What was it Charlie?" Dean's eager stare made her sigh.

"Not tonight, I'd prefer we talk about this after I slept," Charlie said.

"But-"

"No!" Charlie yelled, but managed to lower her voice only to a command tone. "Just go to your apartment. Stay safe. You have the gun and silver bullets right?"

Dean nodded patting his jacket pocket. "Like always," Dean's face was filled with worry. "All right, I guess I will see you tomorrow. You be safe too. Though it might be easy seeing how we built the place."

With that, Dean left the bar. With that, night time lock down began. Running to the door she locked it and flipped the open sign to closed. The poster of of a man holding a jug of beer flipped over to show a Devil's Trap. Carved throughout the bar were sigils that prevented a demon's entry. Under the giant carpet circle Charlie had at the front door was a Devil's Trap carved in the wood floor. Not only that, but Charlie managed to make most things that were metal in the bar be actual silver. A little help with her ability did the trick. Not only that, but she had silver implanted around the entire bar like a circle. Basically ghost free. The windows were even made with holy water. Nothing could get in. And if it did, Charlie would have guns at the ready.

Giving a huge yawn, Charlie went to the door to her basement. The area that was the most difficult to break in for any supernatural thing. Down there were her weapons, first aid, armor against your typical werewolves or demons, and bunks for those who needed a place to stay. She checked the lock, then made her way to the door to the upstairs. Walking tiredly to the apartment above her bar, Charlie tried to block the thoughts of her vision. The stress of staying hidden alone was eating away at her each day. Flipping on the TV, some good movies might make the days horrors go away. Luckily for her, the news was the first bad news.

After the broadcast told of a Secret Government Facility being destroyed, Charlie's panic only began. Jumping from her couch, she ran to her bedroom. Going through one of her drawers, she pulled out three cell phones. One specifically as Dean's hot line, the second for those in need of safety, and three.....Claire's. She had given Charlie the cell phone the last time they saw each other. Charlie never forgot. The thing had Claire's special number and that alone. Turning it on, Charlie prayed and prayed she was wrong. That this was not involving what she knew it was......

One new voice message.

“I don’t know if you have seen the news,” Claire’s tone was cold. “But I’m coming to Detroit. I really need your help.”

Charlie could barely breath. The lack of oxygen was the least of her worries now. Claire and who group were in a shit load of hell. It was her sanctuary they needed. Clicking the send button on Claire's number, Charlie's heart beat at a humming bird's pace. The call immediately went to voice message though. Charlie sighed. Claire must have turned it off or was on the other line, so, Charlie would have to relay everything perfectly.

"Hey, Claire, its me...Charlie," She began. "I know what's going on. I will help, because I made that promise to you. I owe you. However, don't expect that I will keep you all safe if you don't listen to these instructions exactly. When you get to the nearest town, which is a long hike from where you are, I want you to go to a Grey Hound Bus station. Luckily there is one there. At a motel near the station, I will have a room for you, room 0421. I need you, Claire, to go with one male and pretend your me and my boyfriend Sam. It's code and they know it, but don't say anything else other than you need the room. In there will be citizen clothes. There will be a giant pile so don't worry about sizes. You can thank the nearest homeless shelter. Put on normal clothes and put all the armor and weapons in the suitcases available.

Next step is to go to the Grey Hound Station, there you will give me a call. I will buy you tickets to Detroit and then more directions to my safe house. The most important thing you need to know, if the police are after you and find you, things will get more difficult. Watch your back. If your caught, you may be out of luck. If you get this message you can call or text me that you understand. It's good to hear from you again, Claire. Stay safe."

Ending the message, Charlie took a deep breath. There would be no sleep for her tonight. Only the pressure that now formed on her chest. Her brown eyes glanced up at the ceiling, and she wondered...What the hell have I got myself thrown into?

[Cookies Ahoy]

Kristy was sitting against the Deathstrike's landing gear listening to the news. She'd been silently listening, others had something to say, but she didn't feel the need to speak. She pulled her phone out of her pocket and flipped through a few pages trying to find the television program. Once she found it she changed to the news channel where a picture displayed the ruins of Three Mile Island. A reporter began restating what she had already said earlier, obviously not much info was known about the incident so they could only reiterate their known information. A mug shot of Claire appeared in the corner of the screen. Some yelling was starting to build up away from the Deathstrike. Kristy figured there would be fighting after what had just happened, but when screams and shots were heard she immediately jumped to her feet, tucking the phone away.

Arguments were starting up, and things were falling apart it seemed like. Two operatives were dead. Claire was having words with Malcolm, and also trying to comfort Vee. Kristy watched the events unfold, a sick feeling in her stomach started to form. She looked up the ramp of the Deathstrike, Claire was going to destroy it, but there were somethings they could take from it. Kristy stepped inside finding the survival kit that was underneath one of the passenger seats, then she opened a small door labeled 'maintenance'. She pulled a small tank of priming fluid from the hatch.

With the tank of flammable liquid in hand she approached Lyrico's body. She started to pour the fluid on what remained of him. Kristy didn't care what the others thought. She felt that he still needed a burial. Kristy did the deed silently, not looking back to see if anybody cared to see what she was doing. With the tank empty, Kristy pulled a lighter from the survival bag, and lit the carcass. She didn't know what to say, or if she should say anything at all, after all, he had been the one that killed Chase. Kristy remembered reading from a book that Claire had given to her during her training. It was about people that possessed psychic abilities, there was a passage on people's minds actually driving them to madness. Kristy felt she had to give Lyrico the benefit of the doubt, it wasn't her job to pass judgment. She left without saying a word, only pausing to pick up the survival bag in case they ended needing anything from it, such as the first-aid kit.

[Mysteria]

Shit was falling apart and it was happening too damn fast. Even the operatives were losing control but Shane couldn't blame them. Shane herself was feeling a bit numb and even when Claire slapped Malcolm it hadn't phased her. Shane had felt that or at least something similar would have happened to Malcolm sooner or later, she just hadn't been certain that it would happen by Claires own hand.

“Look, Malcom’s right, we need to get the fuck out of here now! Look, there will be plenty of time for couples therapy later, right now we need to get out of here!” Marc had yet to impress Shane. He just didn't get it. And the fact was he had better learn to face and do it damn fast that he was one of them now, he was in Claires group and all of their asses were on the line, even if they hadn't asked for it. Shane walked by Marc as though he didn't exist the only indication that she even knew that he was there was the stoic look on her face as she passed by him, staring him directly into the eyes. If looks could kill he would have dropped on the spot.

Lyrico had deserved everything that he had gotten as far as Shane was concerned but Chase, that was a totally different matter. Chase had been her friend and now he was gone. Vee was her friend but at this moment in time Shane knew that there was nothing that she could say or do to help. All that she could do would be to wait for another time to talk to Vee. Instead Shane moved to the deathstrike to say her goodbyes to Chase in her own way.

Not wanting to upset Vee she simply laid her hand on her shoulder and said "When you need me I will be here, until then I need to say goodbye to Chase before you do what needs to be done." Shane offered a smile to Vee hoping that Vee would understand she simply wanted to say goodbye to Chase and that Vees own inner turmoil would allow her to not prevent Shane from saying goodbye.

Vee leaned her shoulder down, letting Shane's hand slide off, then stepped away, crossing her arms over her chest and staring at the Deathstrike. Her expression was blank, but she didn't try to stop Shane.

A moment of quiet understanding passed between the two women and Shane stepped up to Chase, and although she had never been able to touch Chase while he was alive Shane now rested her hand over his heart as a tear rolled down her cheek. Chase had been a special type of person albeit a bit different and he'd had Shane's respect and friendship in the short time that they had known each other.

Shane leaned down kissing him on his forehead and whispered "Vaya con Dios, mi Amigo. Some day we shall meet again." Shane turned and nodded to Vee then walked away passing Kristy and the burning body of Lyrico. Shane felt nothing for Lyrico's death. What he had done had been wrong and there was no arguing that point but Shane had always felt him to be mad to begin with. Why he was the way that he was wasn't for Shane to judge. It wasn't her job to judge him or anyone else. She remembered what her mother had taught her to never judge unless you yourself wished to be judged.

Shane moved over to where Aaron was standing her eyes catching his briefly. In that moment everything that she was thinking and feeling passed between them. Shane stood beside him saying nothing for the moment because she knew if she were to speak to him, if she even tried to utter one word to him she would end up in tears with her head on his shoulder. No matter how badly she needed him now, it wasn't the time or place for it. Instead she stared at the ground biting her lip loosing the battle against the tears that were trying to push themselves out of the corners of her eyes.

She could only hope that he wouldn't realize how close she was to loosing it.

{with input from mah beautiful queen}

[Auki]

She had heard the first broadcast just fifteen minutes ago. Now they were just repeating the same information for any that bothered to tune in.

“…For those of you just joining us, approximately one hour ago, a secret government facility at Three Mile Island was the target of a terrorist attack. A nuclear device was set off, levelling the facility. It is doubtful that there were any survivors though we can only hope. The president had this to say.”

Karen sat in the corner of the café, propped on one of its many plastic chairs, her legs crossed on the seat. Her arms were folded on the table before her. Hearing the news report, she allowed her head to land upon them, the smack of the impact resounding throughout the empty room. The staff had retreated to the kitchen behind the counter and having already served her, paid her no notice. They seemed almost excited by the news. She turned her face towards the wall, expressionless eyes following the cracks in the plaster, and attempted to block out their chatter.

She wasn’t necessarily upset – In truth, she wasn’t sure how to react. SCAR tended to keep her busy and she had never stopped to get close to anyone. A couple friends, here and there, but their deaths had yet to sink in. She hadn’t been particularly fond of the organisation but it had given her a home at the least, somewhere she didn’t have to hide from herself or her powers. It was difficult to process the reality of its destruction.

“This just in, it has just been announced that a Homeland Security operative by the name of Claire Hannon was responsible for the attack."

That was enough to make her head jerk up. She jumped into a crouching position on the chair, her hands slammed on the table. Her eyes darted around the room, coming to focus on the radio. She stared at the device intently without really seeing it. “Could she? No. No? Maybe? No.” Her mutterings remained low, unheard by those in the next room, “…Possibly? Fuck it, if this is her doing, I will be pissed off.” She leapt from the chair until the tiled floor before spinning round to study her half-eaten lunch, “Not hungry. Not now.” Exiting the building at a brisk pace, the café staff didn’t even notice her leave.

Karen wasn’t sure where she was heading, somewhere away from people preferably. Her eyes flickered between the strangers that lined the streets. Signs, animals, vehicles, even the dust in the air - All were subject to her gaze for a second before her attention was diverted. She had recovered from the shock of Three Mile Island already, acting more like her usual self, spurn into action by her urgent desire to phone Claire and find out the truth. She was not one to focus on things that had already happened, things outside her control. She just wanted to ensure such events didn’t continue to occur.

She ducked into an alley and pressed herself against the wall, falling into a crouch. She glanced both left and right and checked the sky for potential danger before she removed her personal phone from her pocket. She slid the screen up, causing it to come to life, before tapping on the keys, “Menu. Contacts. Claire. Call.” The beating of her heart grew more rapid as she listened to the buzzing, waiting for the SCAR Operative to pick up.

Click.

“Hello?” It had been a while since Karen had heard that voice.

“Claire… Claire? Claire! You heard? I’m sure you have. The radio. The news. Three Mile Island. Explosions – Nuclear. You have friends there. I know. I think? But you- Did you?… I mean… Why would you blow it up? Not saying you did. If you did. Not that you would. Fuck it. Shutting up.”

“Karen, thank God you’re alive.” Claire’s voice sounded relieved. “I didn’t know you weren’t at HQ. I thought for sure you were dead. Where are you?”

Karen blinked in surprise, “That’s not what’s important. At all. The news. Saying you blew up HQ. That’s important. That’s important. Fuck it, Claire. I mean. Glad you’re alive and all. If you’re innocent. If you’re innocent. Catch my drift? Sure you do. Mind you, if you’re trying to kill all us off - Us meaning SCAR operatives – There’s not much point me running. I mean I could. But I shouldn’t. It’s not like me. Kansas. Prairie Village. Kansas. Here I am. Hunting a necromancer. Or I’m supposed to be. No luck so far. Was being careful. All those failed missions. Me on my own. Getting nowhere I was. Don’t know if there’s even a fucking necromancer here. Hate fighting the guys anyway. Fuck knows why I was put on this job. SCAR knew I hated ‘em. They knew it. Still, here I am. Fuck it. If you’re not out murdering people, what are you doing?”

“Karen you need to calm down,” Claire’s voice had a soothing tone. “No, I didn’t do it. And you’re in Kansas? I think we need to meet up somewhere. I’m in Cold Oaks, South Dakota. My team and I were sent to investigate a disturbance. It was a trap. Karen, do you understand? We’ve been set up.”

“What? Calm? I am calm. I’m always calm. It’s been a little while since we’ve spoken, right? Right. Explains a lot. I am calm. Calm as ever. Talking fast is good though. Keeps things moving, sweetie. Gets more done. More is good. Dakota! You’re in Dakota. Disturbance. Trap. Trap? Trap by who? Can’t be good. Never good. Need to think about that. Think. Think. Not now. Later. Now? Now… Now what? Are you safe? Are you hurt? Who’s with you? I hear voices. What you going to do? People want you dead, sweetie. Lots of people. Lots and lots of people. I don’t. Not really. No reason to. So now what?” She paused for a moment before adding, “And stop with that tone. It’s patronising. Don’t patronise me. Asking if I understand. In that tone. Fucking hell. I’m not a kid, Claire.”

“I’m not patronising you,” Claire’s tone remained unchanged. “It’s just…it’s bad Karen. I’m losing my mind here. I’ve lost two team members. I’m trying to keep things together, but it’s hard.” Claire sighed.

“Listen,” Claire choked a little on her words. “We need to get to Detroit. If we can get to the safe house, we can call England and maybe get out of the country. They’ll be after you too Karen, and I need all the help I can get.”

“I see. I see.” Karen ran a hand through her hair and sighed, making an effort to slow her pace of talking, “You’re a great leader, sweetie. Everything – everywhere - is going wrong at the moment though. It’s all likely to go wrong again considering what’s happening – You’ve just got to keep it together to try and minimise the damage.” Speaking at a ‘normal’ pace was making her feel stupid – If they were going to plan something, there was no point talking so slowly, “Right! More important things, yeah? Yeah! Detroit? England? You’ve got it all planned out. Better than I have anyway. More than happy to follow you, sweetie. Just give me the orders.”

“Karen,” Claire sobbed. “SCAR is gone. I can only ask you to come. Not order you. But we need to meet somewhere. Do you have a vehicle?”

“Fuck that – I choose who I follow. I’m following you. No tears. No arguments. I’ve been trained to take orders from those who deserve to give them. My whole life. Since I was eighteen at least. I mean, sure. I’m coming as a friend. Of course. But if shit happens, don’t be afraid to take charge. A group still needs a fucking leader.” She glanced down the alley, onto the main street, “Vehicle? I came out here in my Ford Fiesta. Never was as fancy as the rest of you. With your sports cars. You and that fucking truck as well. At the least, the car isn’t from SCAR. And it’s a gorgeous pink. Just gorgeous. Still, not important now. Where am I driving to?”

“Get to Blunt, South Dakota,” Claire’s tone was calm. “It‘s thirty miles from our current location, and we have to hike it. The chopper has survival gear so, if we have to, we can camp for the night in the woods. When you get to Blunt, find a motel and get a room. I don’t know what else to do. Just so many things are going wrong right now. But I’m glad that you’re coming.” Claire paused for a moment. “And Karen? Thank you.”
“I’m on it, Claire. I’ll get there as quickly as I can,” She smiled warmly as she spoke, “Keep safe, sweetie.”

Saying her farewells, she hung up the phone, glancing around once more before exiting onto the street. South Dakota? How long would that take? Damn it. Still, she had promised Claire she would come. It wasn’t like she had much choice in the end. If someone had attacked Three Mile Island, there was a strong chance of them coming after the remaining SCAR Operatives.

She jogged back to her car, ignoring the looks she received from those around her. Her Ford Fiesta was parked just outside the café and she hopped inside eagerly, happy to be leaving the town. The citizens there excelled at making her feel isolated. She was desperate to meet with someone she knew.

Inserting the key, she twisted it, turning the car to life. S Club 7’s ‘Bring it all Back’ (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0PUI3TMFvNA) blasted from her radio, drawing more stares but she didn’t mind. Although admittedly tone deaf, Karen sang along to the song, attempting to enjoy the last few hours of peace she might have. She drove off without a backward glance, promising herself to never return.

[Co-Op between Me & Naz]

[StormWolf]

"Up against the wall soldier! Take your lashes like a man!" the Drill Sergeant barked at the younger, shaven-head Malcolm Maverick. Malcolm had beaten a fellow candidate half to death in the barracks. What started out a friendly banter ended up in Malcolm putting several fractures in the opposing candidates skull. It was a wrong place wrong time kind of thing. Malcolm had just learned of a death in the family and it was effecting him very badly. Family was everything to Malcolm...

He took his lashes across the back, each belting leaving welts that made a thousand promises of pain to come.

The Chaplain stood there like a stone wall, cold eyes watching the other operatives with that icy cold gaze of his. He could see the hate in Vee's eyes, the disgust in Claire's, and similar gazes all about. The side of his face tingled from the slap Claire planted on him, but it was just a shadow compared to the agony his dignaty was in.

Vee's mad stare hit Malcolm in the eyes, his hand resting casually on the grip of his DEagle, clicking off the safety and easing back the hammer. His face was flat as a hammer. The smell of Lyrico's burning flesh tingled his nostrils as he stared Vee down, only relaxing once Claire had averted Vee's gaze.

Malcolm stared into nothing after that, memories flashing through his head. His tours in the Middle East, the first time he died and his ressurection. His training in the SCAR Program and his first mission. The first time he saw Claire's face and the euphoria that he felt, the time they spent in Rome together, in and out of bed... it all ended with that "fuck you" and that slap over the face.

With a small sneer, Malcolm disassembled his AA12 and placed the weapon back in his duffle bag while Claire was on the phone with this Charlie individual. Whether it was actually someones name or a callsign, Malcolm didn't know, and he honestly didn't give a flying fuck.

He waited for Claire to get off the phone before walking up to her, back straight and his eyes boring into hers, "Are you good now, or is there anything else you need to get out of your system?" Malcolm made a passive gesticulation to the small red mark on his cheek from Claire's slap.

"I'm just a little confused... being repormanded for doing my job." The Chaplain's voice was steady and solid as a rock, deep as rolling thunder. "And you know we don't have time for a burial. You said it yourself; the Deathstrike has a tracking beacon in it. You know that a sweep team in on it's way to this becon as we speak. We need to burn Chase's body, blow the Deathstrike, and move."

“Doing your job?” Claire leered. “And just who do you work for? Hmmm? SCAR?” Claire’s tone became condescending. “Oh that’s right, SCAR’s gone. So then God? Is that who you work for? Well if your God would be happy with your display back there, then I want no part of him.”

Malcolm's face twisted in a restrained sneer as he closed the space between the two of them. "Lyrico got what was coming to him." Malcolm snarled, his eyes wild for a moment. "He... he was going to kill you... and I am only human. My forgiveness is finite. For trying to hurt you... I hope Lyrico rots. 'By the measure in which I judge others, so I will be judged'." Malcolm quoted from the Gospel of Matthew.

"I'm all right with that. I don't shoot children. As for Vee, this is a fucking mission, and we are being hunted. Now is not the time or place to demand a funeral. We need to keep our heads if we are going to survive, and seeing the looks in everyone's eyes, we will be lucky to survive the night unless you take charge.... Captain." Malcolm put his hands over Claire's, looking at their clasped hands,

"You already know I can't live without you, but neither can they. We need our leader."

“You insensitive prick!” The way you treated Vee was appalling. Vee suffered a huge loss. I think she is entitled to have feelings about it. Jesus fucking Christ Mal, show some respect.”

With a exhasperated growl, Malcom threw up his hands before the rested at his hips. "She has my deepest fucking condolinces, but in all honesty, I envy Chase. I have died twice, and never have I been allowed to enter Heaven. I burned in Hell for thirteen years in their plane. Forgive me if I am a little desensatised about death, Claire." Malcolm's movements became a but more uneasy, he looked like he was unsure what to do with his hands, his feet shuffling, carrying him in a shallow circut in front of Claire.

"What do you want me to do? Stop for a moment of silence and spend a day mouring his death? If we could, I would insist it, but we don't have that luxury. The entire fucking country is agaisnt us, Claire. The entire United States Armed Forces has a shoot-to-kill order on us and we stand here bickering like an old married couple..."

"Mal," Claire’s voice sounded strained, like she was holding back a scream. "Don't you find it funny that we are standing here right now having this conversation. It’s not like the government doesn’t know where we are. So either they want us to run, or they think the explosion did it’s job. Either way we have some time. So do you think you could show some fucking sympathy to Vee for just one moment?” Claire paused and shook her head.

“I don’t get it Mal,” Claire stared at him, her eyes reflecting sadness. “You were so wonderful. You actually had feelings. What if it had of been me that died Mal? And if it wasn’t for Vee, it would have been. How would you have felt?” Claire tilted her head to the side, but before Malcolm could respond, she placed a hand on his cheek.

“I’m sorry Mal.” Claire whispered the words and her eyes went black. She was able to sense the sadness emanating from Vee. What she had been showing, did not truly reflect the sorrow within. But Claire had felt it, and now Malcolm was feeling it too.

The emotions flooded into Malcolm, his iron-clad will crumbling under the wave of sadness and anger. He saw the scene unfold in his head, but it wasn't chase that got slain, it was Claire. The Chaplain balled his hands into fists, the knuckles popping under the pressure.

"Stop it, Claire..." he said in a croak, his voice shaky. The emotions kept flowing, making Malcolm's heart race and making his stomach lurch. "Stop it, Claire." he said, his voice struggling to remain firm. Inside Malcolm, that sorrow morphed into anger, into a flame of passionate rage. Tears fell down his cheeks, but he had had enough.

"I said stop!" he yelled, breaking away, raising a fist, ready to bring it down, and he did. Malcolm's fist smashing into one of the windows of the Deathstrike, cobwebbing the glass and splitting Malcolm's knuckles.

"Why do I bother.... you have made up something in your mind that I can't fix. I might as well try stopping a freight train with a fucking matchbox car. If you really believe that I am the emotionless piece of shit you say I am..." Malcolm drew his DEagle and slowly approached Claire, spinning the weapon in his hand, presenting her the grip,

"Two in the chest and one in the head. Either you do it now or someone else here will later... Or it'll be me..." Silent tears fell down Malcolm's face, his face very close to that of a cold-blooded killer on the job.

"If you think I'm such a God aweful monster, then follow the protocol and do it."

Claire’s eyes returned to normal and she stared at Malcolm, her face expressionless and her eyes cold. She looked at the gun for a moment before looking directly into his eyes.

“I was hoping,” Claire spoke softly. “That maybe if you could feel her pain, you would understand. Vee is not an abject Malcolm. She is a human being And the mission is over Mal. There is no more protocol or rank or anything anymore. I don’t need soldiers anymore. I never did.” Claire paused and a tear came to her eye. “If you can’t leave the soldier behind Mal, I don’t know if it’s going to work anymore.”

Malcolm's hand shook, the metal creaking it's protests over his grip on it. He holstered his gun with a sniff. Reaching into his shirt, Malcolm, pulled his Holy Charm necklace off of his neck and looked at it, the metal plates of his dog tags catching the sunlight faintly. He had been a soldier almost his entire life. How was he supposed to leave that all behind? What was worth more; his life or Claire's happiness. With another sniff, Malcolm cast his most prized possession into the mud. His Holy Charms and his dog tags becoming soiled in wet earth. Holstering his pistol, Malcolm turned from Claire and started walking. He chose her over his own livlihood. Hopefully she could see that, and hopefully, God willing, it would mean something to her.

No more rank. No more protocol... No more code of conduct... Malcolm said to himself in his head, images of Claire flashing across his mind, her smiles and her tears.

(co-op with naz)

[John]

Claire bent down and picked up Malcolm’s necklace. She knew that what she had just said to Mal wasn’t an easy thing for him to hear. But now she felt guilty for saying it.

“Malcolm, wait,” Claire jumped up and placed a hand on Malcolm’s shoulder, turning him to face her. “I don’t want you to give up being you. I just need the man I fell in love with right now. I need you to stop treating this like we’re still on a mission. Please?’ Claire’s tone was a little sad and she placed the necklace in Mal’s hand.

Malcolm turned and looked Claire in the eyes, his own bloodshot and his cheeks wet. He looked like a man dancing on the razors edge, a man losing his grip on a crumbling cliff. He closed his busted right hand over the soiled silver necklace and charms. He sniffed quietly, looking at the necklace.

"You wanted the soldier gone, Claire, so he is. You say the mission is over, fine, but for me, the objectives just changed... You are my objective. I have to keep you safe. If anything happened to you..." he took a shuddering breath and put the necklace back on, lip trembling. "You are the one thing keeping me going, Claire..."

“Malcolm, there are a lot of good people here. They all have feelings. You need to try to respect their feelings and show some compassion. I know you have it in you. I have seen so much of it. That’s the Mal I need right now.” Claire smiled a little. “And for the record, I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself. But right now I need help from people I trust. And there isn‘t a person here that I don‘t trust.”

Malcolm sighed, his broad shoulders heaving, his hands balling at his sides, no matter how much it hurt his right hand. He just wanted to scream, to howl and curse. He wanted Sammael to descent into him and make the world go away, to hide behind the Archangel's truly indomitable will. He even called out the Angel for strength, but Sammael was silent, all of Heaven was.

"Claire..." he started, taking her hands in his, "I... I pity them, I really do. My heart bleeds for them... but mission or no, we are still a unit, and we are all weak right now. I am just trying to be strong, for all of us. It is my job now, my burden as a shepherd to take the aches and pains of the flock upon myself. To be their Atlas." he took a breath, wiping his face on his sleeve. "I am trying to keep us from falling apart, Claire. If that happens, God forbid it does, that trust of yours will be tried."

“Then do it nicely,” Claire looked a little irritated again. “Cause right now Mal, you’re pushing everyone away. And if I trust them, why can’t you?” Claire had no reason not to trust any of them now. Least of all Vee. If she had of followed proper procedure, they would all be dead, buried in the wreckage of the building. But no one could have predicted that Claire and Vee would go alone. Vee had also saved her life. And this was something that Claire didn’t think she could ever repay.

The Chaplain saw that look in Claire's eye and was considering just walking again. There was no winning with her, was there. Malcolm just took a breath and scratched his chin. "I'll be more touchey feeley next time." Did he want to tell her why he didn't trust people? In all honesty, he has seen people much more noble than Vee or Shane or some of the others rot away and succumb to the darkness in their hearts.

"The road to Hell is paved with good intentions..." he muttered. "Humans... are a species I find the hardest to trust, Claire." he brought his hands up and cupped her soft face in his hands, "But I take the good with the bad... and then there are the great things that come out of humanity... like you." Malcolm's thumbs brushed Claire's face, his eyes soft, showing the wild conflict going on within, showing just how deeply he cared for her.

"We should get everyone moving. We have a lot of ground to cover..." he planted a small kiss on Claire's lips, then another on her brow, before letting his hands return to his sides.

Claire didn’t kiss Malcolm back. Instead her expression remained unchanged and she just stood there.

“I hope so Mal,” Claire had a very serious look on her face. “For both our sakes. I believe you want to. But I want you to do it for yourself and not just me. Just…” Claire turned her head away slightly. “I know who you are Malcolm, let them see it too.” Claire tried to unsuccessfully force a smile. The fact was, that she was still pissed at Malcolm and he was going to have to prove himself.

“I will be over in a minute,” Claire pulled out her phone, which had been buzzing the entire time. “Just relax until I get there.. Claire looked at the phone and saw the notice for the voicemail form Charlie. She listened to it in full and then returned the call. As soon as the phone picked up, Claire immediately chimed in.

“I got your message,” Claire sounded calm. “And thank you, I know I’m asking a lot, especially since I haven’t been in touch for a long time.”

Charlie was shocked she replied so soon, but then calmed down enough to speak. "It has been a while, hasn't it?" Charlie replied. "Claire, if I can help you out, I am fine with it."

“Thanks hun,” Claire’s tone became apologetic. “But I do feel like a bit of a bitch. I was in Detroit six months ago. I’m sorry I didn’t contact you. I couldn’t. I hope you understand.”

"Understand," Charlie began, "I am not one to feel upset about those things. The past is the past, now lets deal with the present. Can you manage to do what I said?"

“Some of it,” Claire exhaled. “Things are a little bit on the complicated side. I’ve got nine people with me, and one more meeting us in Blunt.” Claire paused for a moment. What she was about to ask was hard for her, but right now, she had no choice.

“Charlie, I need money.”

Charlie couldn't help but give a huge sigh. They needed more money then she thought. Nine fucking people?! And another one was coming? Shit! This was risking a lot, but...she couldn't just say forget it. That wasn't her way. Not to a friend in need.

"All right," Charlie said. "I have a bank account that I keep on such occasions. This is money I have saved up for emergencies only, so don't worry that I wont have enough to survive or something. I always have back up plans. Get a paper and pen, I am going to give you the bank name and my account number. The password too."

"No, wire it to me." Claire sounded a little nervous. "Send it to Serafina Chavez. You will have to use a security question with it as I don’t have any usable ID. Can you do that for me?”

"Claire," Charlie said frustrated. "I will try. This is becoming more and more difficult, you need to give me a break."

"I know," Claire sighed. "But right now you're all I’ve got. Believe me I feel bad asking for this, but I promise I will make it up to you when I arrive in Detroit.” Claire paused for a moment and smiled to herself.

“The reason I was in Detroit six months ago was to set up a safe house with some other operatives. I need to go there first and make a phone call. Once I’m done I will come and see you. And I swear, I will pay you back with interest.” Claire’s tone was serious. It wouldn’t be a problem to give Charlie money, if that’s what she wanted. But Claire had a feeling it might take a little more than that.

"It's not the money thing at all," Charlie quickly mentioned. "I am just wondering what the hell I am getting myself into. Anyways, I wired the money to you. Yeah, I multi-task. My computer was right there, so its done. Too bad that I have to get a new internet company now, but its fine. Don't be shocked with how much I gave you, lets just say my last parents left me with a lot when they died."

"Thanks Charlie," Claire breathed a sigh of relief. "I will tell you everything when I come to see you. For now, just keep off the radar,” Claire snickered. “Which shouldn’t be too hard for you. Bye hun” Claire turned off the phone and immediately sent Karen a a text message, telling her which motel to go to, and what room Claire would be in should Karen arrive before them. Once she was done, she put the phone away and walked back towards the group.

Claire first entered the Deathstrike, taking special care not to disturb Chase’s body. She rooted around in the back for a few moments, retrieving a large black duffle bag. She walked towards the door of the chopper and knelt down next to Chase.

“I’m so sorry,” Claire’s voice was hushed. “I know it wasn’t your fault. It was just so hard to be around you. I was wrong and I’m sorry. Be at rest. And I hope that you and her are together now.” Claire made the sign of the cross, and then grabbed the remote detonator for the chopper before exiting.

Claire walked overt to the group and dropped the bag on the ground. Looking up at each of the former operatives, she exhaled deeply.

“Listen,” Claire’s tone was passive. “I have managed to find us some help. But we need to get out of here. We are going to head through the woods to the town of Blunt. Another operative is going to meet us there, don’t worry, she’s a friend. There will be clothes and cash waiting for us in Blunt and then we can head to the safe house in Detroit. I also have a friend in Detroit with some connections as well.” Claire paused and looked down at the ground.

“Look none of you have to follow me. But I assure you, I will do everything I can to get all of us out of the country. You have my word.” There was nothing else to say. Claire picked up the duffel bag and, slinking it over her shoulder, started walking in the direction of Blunt.


(co op with Storm and Yoru)

[Merry]

Baket dug around in her bag till she found some water, her hands a little shaky at the recent events. it’s all gone? really gone? The whole thing, wiped out? How could that have happened? It had to have come from inside, right? To destroy all those people, all that work. Who could do that, ruin all of that in one quick minute. The whole situation was quickly spinning into the land of insanity. Finding a large bottle of water and pulling it out of the bag. Taking small sips contemplating what it meant to her. Frankly, it didn’t really matter much at all. She tried hard to find some feelings for something, or someone back at the SCAR headquarters, but other than the people here, she didn’t really have an attachment to anything back there. This was all still too new for her to have connected to anything, or anyone.

Still feeling a little disoriented from expelling so much energy to help Claire, she sat quietly off to the side and watched as the rest of the group tried to come to grips with what had happened to all their friends and family, that were now gone. It was a little disheartening to see the group cracking. The attack on the two members, was down right frightening to watch. Thinking of the insanity of SCAR headquarters being destroyed, reminded her of the one called Lyrico, now dead and gone, thanks to the others in the group. There was no doubt in her mind that the losing of him was something none of them would lose any sleep over. He was gone, and it was probably a good thing. One less person to worry about in her mind.

The other member however, Chase, that would remain to be seen. She could see that the girl Vee was very distraught about it. Her mind flashed to the memory of them holding hands, and snuggling on the flight in to this mission. Then Claire and Malcom seemed to be on the brink of killing each other. Didn’t she know how much he cared for her? Shaking her head, she finished her water, tossing the empty bottle back into the bag. Seeing as she did the bright new phone she had received at the beginning of the mission. The phone Claire had given them all during the briefing, this morning. Had it only been since this morning? It seemed like a life time away from this moment. So much had happened. Taking the phone out of the bag, she held it in her hand, wondering what she should do with it. It wasn’t going to be of any help to them now was it. Who were they going to call with it?

Standing there holding the phone, made her think a little. Who could they trust? She certainly didn’t feel as though she could trust any of the people she was with, not completely. They were all SCAR operatives, what if they were somehow involved in the destruction of headquarters? Suddenly what seemed like a simple scary mission, had turned into a much larger monster in the closet than any of them had even considered. For all she knew, the person or persons responsible for destroying SCAR could be right in this group. Hiding out, till they could effectively pick off the rest of them. How to clean up the last of them? Why put your self right in the middle with them, that’s how. It was quite the sobering thought.

Coming back to the present, she heard Claire on her phone, working some things out to get them moving. She couldn’t agree more that they should get away from this place as fast as possible. Not only was something seriously wrong here, but whomever had destroyed SCAR headquarters would probably know they were here and could be here any minute to clean up the rest of the operatives. Who they were, and why they had destroyed SCAR in the first place was a thought to be worked out later. When they were someplace safer than here. If there was such a thing anymore.

The phone in her hand suddenly coming to life with a soft beep reminding her that she still had it in her hand. Flipping it open to see what had activated it. The screen showing one new text message. She pushed the button to show the message. Her mouth suddenly going dry again and as a distinct chill ran down her spine
I can C U

She quickly snapped the phone shut, ignoring the message, and focused on what Claire was saying as she spoke to the group. Telling them she would get them out of here. Out of the country. Baket could do nothing but wonder who was sick enough to taunt them with the message.

Scrambling to her feet, she grabbed her bag and started walking, falling in behind Claire. “Not a moment too soon, in my opinion” not knowing what else to tell the woman. Tossing the phone toward the now abandoned aircraft on her way by. can’t see me anymore, now, can you? Stepping quickly to catch up to Claire. Debating if she should mention the text message, or just let it go.

[Ryudo]

Marc nodded in agreement to what Claire had to say, it made sense to leave the country, and Europe sounded like as good a place as any. Now that they were considered terrorists he didn’t much care where they went as long as it was far away, and on top of that Marc had a thing for European women so that was just a bonus.

Watching as everyone began to mobilize Marc looked at the young man who lay in the Deathstrike, Marc didn’t know him at all but he had to admit that it was a shameful death, better you than me. Turning around his eyes rested on Vee, and he realized that she had to be feeling very alone…and vulnerable. And before Marc even knew it his instincts had taken over and he was heading towards the downed young woman.

Marc had to hide his emotions carefully, if anyone knew what he was thinking as he walked over to Vee he was sure that they would never think of him the same way. And here comes #57 Marc Wright with the rebound, he shoots…

Standing beside Vee Marc extended his hand to her, he noticed that she seemed to be staring holes into the Deathstrike and so he moved his hand a bit closer to her.

Vee's eyes were blank and emotionless as they rested on Marc's hand. She glanced up him, her gaze a void of coldness, before looking back to the Deathstrike.

Marc nodded his head but refused to remove his hand,

“Look Vee, I know you have no idea who I am, and you probably want me to just leave you alone, but I can’t do that.”

Vee raised her eyes to look at Marc, a flicker of some emotion lighting her dead eyes for a brief second before fading into blankness again. She didn't respond. In response to Vee’s distancing herself from him Marc straightened his back and let out a sigh,

“Look Vee, you sit here as long as you want, I wont bother you. But I wont leave you either, I’ll wait here till you’re ready.”

Vee blinked slowly. As she did, a watery film of tears filled her eyes. She looked back at the Deathstrike, face contorting in pain.

" He never touched anyone. Not at all. He couldn't. He didn't know how good it could be. I wanted to show him..." her voice cracked. Silent tears streamed over her cheeks and she wiped them away in a hurry.

Marc looked down at her as he saw the tears streak her face,

“Vee…I didn’t really get to know him that well, but, I could tell he was a good man. And I know he didn’t deserve to go this way. Now I have no business telling you what to do, and like I said I wont bother you.”

Vee sat quietly, gaze still on the Deathstrike, waiting for him to continue.

“So if what I am about to say offends you in any way just say so and I will back off. But I don’t think this is the way that you will want to remember saying goodbye to Chase.” Marc paused, he waited to see whether or not he had crossed the line. He certainly hoped he hadn’t, perhaps it was because for once in a very long time he was actually being sincere.

" You have any other suggestions?" she asked, her voice blank again. Whatever emotion she had shown had retreated back within her.

Marc noticed that she had pulled away from him and he understood, he had hoped for better but it could have been worse. He smiled at no one in particular,

“You know what, I guess I don’t…You knew him better than anyone else here, so I guess I’ll just shut my big mouth like I said I would in the first place.”

Vee huffed a breath through her nose sharply. It might have been a chuckle if her expression wasn't so dead.

" I'm a girl of small arms, Marc, and guys Ch-" her voice seized as though she had choked on her lover's name. "-his size are a bit much for me." She sucked in a breath. " I can't bury him here. And if I somehow got him to a town, to a funeral home, they'd ask questions." She glanced up at Marc. " He'd have hated going into the ground anyway."

Marc extended his hand to her once more, “So what are you going to do then?”

She took the offered hand slowly, gripping his wrist and letting him grip hers. It was less intimate, but more trusting. She moved slowly to her feet, as though moving through molten lead.

As she reached her feet she pulled a grenade off her belt and held it up for Marc to see.

" A blaze of glory."

Marc smiled, this time at her,

“I think he’d like that.”

She nodded, fingering the grenade thoughtfully. Her gaze fell on the charred remains of Lyrico's body, still empty but somehow thoughtful. Finally she looked up at Marc and back at the Deathstrike.

" So why can't I just make myself do it?"

“Vee,” Marc looked down, “you need to let go. Let him go.” He nodded towards the deathstrike. I know you can do it.”

She sighed, shoulders shaking just slightly as she did. Finally, she knelt down, picked up her Glock from where it had fallen, and holstered it again. She walked quickly to the Deathstrike and leaned it, placing a gentle kiss against Chase's forehead. She paused there for a long moment, half expecting the euphoric rush of his mind filling hers. Nothing happened.

She stood straight again, set the timer on the grenade for an hour, and motioned to Marc to follow her as she strode off after Claire.

As they walked Marc couldn’t help but feel good, and for once not for himself but for someone else.

(Co-op with the amazing Gypsy)

[The Comedian]

"Ethan. Are you coming?"

"Yeah, I'm coming." He said, as he started to catch up with Claire and the others following her. A few steps towards the group, Ethan heard someone talk again.

"Ethan. You're going the wrong way."

He turned around, looking at those behind him. None of them were looking at Ethan, none of them said a word. A flash of light shot across Ethan's face, making him squint. It disappeared, and Ethan looked in the background. Something shiny and silver was reflecting light.

A white figure held the sword. It looked like a mummy; freshly wrapped.

Ethan's heart dropped, and he unclipped the leather strap over the handle of his .45. Walking opposite of the group, not being noticed like a ghost, he walked closer to the mummified man standing with a sword. The man was entirely covered, and was small and weak looking.

He lifted his arm, and motioned for Ethan to follow him deeper into the woods. Ethan felt obliged to listen, and followed without even looking back to his squad. Further into the trees, out of sight from everyone and everything, the man stood waiting for Ethan.

Ethan stood close, clenching his fists. Waiting for something bad to happen. The man just spoke two words. Two raspy words. His voice sounded like he smoked 6 packs of cigarettes a day for twelve years.

"I'm back." He said, reaching for Ethan.

His covered fingertips touched Ethan's forehead. Ethan's skin started to fall off, blacked underneath. Flake by flake, and very quickly, Ethan's skin flew off of him like a wind blew through a bowl of ash. The bandages on Ethan's chest unraveled, and formed a perfect circle around him.

Ethan blinked, and everything was back to normal. The white figure was gone. He hurried to get back into sight of the others, and catch up with Claire. He hoped not too much time had passed. Looking around, Ethan came to a terrible realization.

Where. The Hell. Was town?

Left. Take a left. Walk until you find your comrades. Out comrades. Ethan heard the words in his own head. He looked around, and saw nothing but green. He walked, until he finally came to a clearing. He saw his friends.

"Don't leave me behind." Ethan chuckled, catching another glance of his Mummified Friend in the woods behind him.

It was comforting, to know that Ethan was his own Guardian Angel. Two different memories. Two different bodies. Two different histories. One same person.

[Auki]

“I was beat. Incomplete,”

The radio blasted out the lyrics at a volume that would distract most people – Karen was not like most people, however.

“I’d been had. I was sad and blue,”

She shifted the steering wheel to the left, pulling off of the motorway, her fingers drumming a beat upon its surface.

“But you made me feel…Yeah, you made me feel,”

Driving was one of the only things in life she tended not to over-think, although why remained unknown to her. She did not feel in danger whilst inside her car, despite all the potential hazards that surrounded her.

“Shiny and new.”

Her logic had always been slightly flawed. She did not feel she needed a reason for thinking as she did however – It had saved her life a few times. However, it had almost got her killed on a far larger number of occasions. Still, life was nothing without a bit of risk involved.

“Like a virg-…”

A yawn interrupted her singing, a relief to nearby drivers she was sure. If only she had been born with the natural ability to perform such songs, she might have snatched up a guy by now - That was how it seemed to work in the movies anyway. Her talent was only hindered by her prominent British accent, something that did not seem to compliment her voice. She had hoped to blend in with the other Americans upon moving here but some things still seemed to set her apart. Casually, she switched off her radio, no longer in the mood to draw attention to herself.

Turning right at the next junction, she scanned the new horizon. Headlights illuminated the road in front of her, void of other vehicles as far as she could tell. Darkness cloaked the landscape; the air was still and crisp. It was the kind of atmosphere that put her on edge. Part of her yearned to turn around and continue down a different route but…It was getting late, just past midnight, and she wouldn’t risk crashing due to exhaustion. Her Sat-Nav indicated that this was the quickest path to the nearest hotel.

Just because her whole life had been blown apart. Just because a close friend was being accused of it all. Just because she was getting involved as she always did, without no thought of the consequences.

None of those were reasons to be on edge surely. She must have been in worst situations before – None that she could think of now she tried but she was sure there had been…

Her whole body jerked in surprise as the flash of police sirens lit up her rear mirror. Her heart pounded violently. Trembling hands shifted the wheel as she hesitantly pulled over. Did he want to pass? Was she doing something wrong? Her fingers moved to clasp her skirt as she attempted to calm herself down – Nothing bad had come of her unassertiveness; not this time. She needed to get a grip.

The police car came to a halt behind her, the crunch of gravel echoing throughout the silence.

The officer walked to the driver’s side of Karen’s car, shining a flashlight inside. After a moment of looking around, and shining it into Karen’s face, he lowered it slightly.

“License and registration please.” the officer’s tone was professional if not a little cautious.

Karen blinked in the sudden light, squinting to see the face of whomever she was speaking to, “I hope there’s a damn good reason for this. A damn good one. Yes? Yes. Not meaning to be rude, officer. Just in a rush. I’m eager to get to my hotel room. Don’t have the time for pointless things. Indeed I don’t.” She stretched over to the glove compartment on the opposite side of the car, one hand tugging down the back of her skirt to a decent length. “I have lots of fun planned for tonight. Lots of fun. Need to de-stress a little. Plenty ideas on how to do that.” She obtained the needed documents and returned to the driver’s seat, waving them in the officer’s face. A small smile flickered across her face for a moment as her mind divulged into what those plans might entail, “Anything else you want?”

The officer took the documents, inspecting them with the flashlight. Backing away form the door, he shone the light back into Karen’s face.

“Step out of the car please.”

Drawing herself from her thoughts, if reluctantly, she shot a quizzical glance at the man, continuing to squint in the bright light. She didn’t like this – She wanted to be able to read his face. Either this was dangerous or…well, she’d never fooled around with a cop. The chance was worth the risk. Unlocking the door, she swung her legs out and stood up, straightening her clothing as she did. A gun and two grenades slowly levitated themselves behind her…just in case. She positioned herself so the weapons remained out of his sight, all the while smiling innocently. Either way this will be fun…

He shone the light back into Karen’s eyes and seemed to be examining her a little more closely.

“Talking a little fast tonight. Are you on drugs?”

“Wait, what? No. Like I said. I’m in a rush. Hotel. Fun. Remember? I have needs that want attending to. You’re holding me up. Unless you plan to make this worth my while, please leave me in peace.” She disliked being interrogated. This man was too serious for her liking anyway. That and…Well, she had worked in SCAR long enough to notice that which was trying to be hidden.

“And how exactly am I going to make it worth your while Miss Ancheta,” he kept the light shining in Karen’s eyes. “You’re in a lot of trouble you know.”

“Well, can’t say I have anything against the bad cop routine…” She murmured, giving up on seeing his face and allowing her gaze to wander down his body, “Thing is…One. Whatever charges you have against me I’m sure are bullshit. Two. If you know about me, then you know I’m more powerful than the average human and…there’s only one of you. Three. There are better uses for those handcuffs than arresting me and I’d advise you take advantage of that.

Otherwise, give me back my documents and leave. Your choice.”

“Oh I assure you Miss Ancheta,” he lowered the flashlight. “The charges against you are not bullshit. But maybe we could come to some kind of understanding. I know a lot of uses for handcuffs. Why don’t you show me some of yours.” The officer took the handcuffs off his belt and placed them on the rood of the car. The flashlight beam reflected off of one of the car windows, lighting up the officer’s face slightly. Making the grin he had quite visible, but still concealing his eyes.

Her expression had grown darker the more he spoke, cold pricks running up her spine at his voice. “I’m more than happy to play games, officer. Don’t forget I’m a dangerous woman though.” With the atmosphere of their conversation, her speed of talking had slowed, showing her caution. The handcuffs lifted from their position, twirling through the air, hovering above her wrists, crossed behind her back. “I’m not stupid, sweetie. I’m just as deadly tied-up as I am free. Ex-partners have had been in worst situations then this one.” She twisted round to face the car, the handcuffs moving to circle around her wrists, still undone.

The officer moved forward, grabbing Karen by the wrists and closing the cuffs. He pushed her into the car rather forcefully.

“That’s a neat trick Miss Ancheta,” he whispered in Karen’s ear, flicking his tongue against it. “Do you know any other tricks?" His tone was playful, but had a hint of something malicious behind it.

The impact of her front hitting the car caused her to gasp, a noise that quickly turned into a soft moan. Finally, he was playing along. Caution buzzed around her head, flashing warning lights, but it just made her senses all the more alert, her skin all the more sensitive. In their current position, she still couldn’t see his face – He seemed to enjoy it that way. A distant thought tried to remind her why. She muffled it. There was nothing wrong with a little risk-taking after all. “I don’t intend to ruin anything I have planned. You’ll just have to wait and see.”

She attempted to turn her head but he forced her to keep it forward. Her body was pressed roughly against the car, the chill of its surface seeping through her thin clothing. He pushed against her and she found her hands wandering freely. Her voice was a mere murmur, “I can tell you have a few surprises in store however.”

“Oh do I,” the cop grabbed Karen and spun her around, crushing his lips against hers. The kiss seemed more violent than passionate. He bit at Karen’s lips before pulling away slightly.

“In fact, here’s one now,” The officer smiled and in a single motion, grabbed Karen around the throat with one hand, lifting her into the air. He squeezed tight, staring up at her. Karen could now see his eyes which were black, and the demon grinned at her.

“You know Karen. Can I call you Karen?” the demon took on a mocking tone. “I have to admit, I’m really looking forward to tasting you.” The demon bought Karen down and slammed her into the ground, applying more pressure to her throat.

“But before I show you what your insides look like and suck on your intestines, tell me. Have you spoken to Claire Hannon, or is she dead?” The demon leered at Karen and opened its mouth, it’s teeth becoming elongated and pointed.

“I see…” Karen murmured, “That was a pretty pathetic surprise. I’d been in SCAR – What? How many years? – And you think I’d be in shock over a demon trying to kill me. You’re not the first I’ve tried this with. Won’t be the last if I have my way.” The pressure on her throat was painful, but not enough that she couldn’t speak, “I think I mentioned that I’m not stupid. Just curious. You see all that weird erotica about demons and humans, don’t you? I mean, I personally haven’t divulged in it but… Well, I know it’s there. I’ve always wondered if they’re all fictional stories. Obviously the softcore ones are all bullshit. Actually, considering what I’ve found, I’m pretty sure they’re all bullshit. But then, I could be the first to find out…y’know, if you guys stopped trying to kill me every time I suggested it.”

She gave a small pause, trying to catch her breath considering the constriction of her throat, “I’ve lived long. Seen a lot. Lost touch with myself…My own species has no interest in me. You can hardly blame me for trying. Boredom and curiosity seem to be my main motivations lately.

And why’s Claire so important? Should I have spoken to her? Should she be dead?”

“We know that you are acquaintances,” the demon grinned and its tongue snaked out of its mouth, growing in length.

“And I will be more than happy to satisfy your curiosity,” the demon’s tongue stretched and ran up the side of Karen’s face, saliva dripping from it.

“I’ll make you scream,” the demon laughed and it’s tongue snaked into Karen’s ear.

The feeling that followed for Karen was like a red-hot poker being shoved inside her skull, a burning so intense that choked screams began to form in her throat against her will. She gasped for air, as the tongue coated the inside of her ear with saliva, worming deeper and deeper. She could taste bile in her mouth and yet…a part of her felt like she deserved the torture. Her body jerked involuntarily beneath his weight, her head attempted to pull away from his mouth.

The demon’s tongue left Karen’s ear and it grinned at her. Bile dripped from the corner of it’s mouth and it tightened it’s grip around Karen’s throat.

“Is it good for you,” the demon whispered. “Where’s Claire?”

She gave a strained smile, “Whether I tell you what I know or not, the outcome will be the same for me.” She gave the same reply to all interrogators she didn’t want to answer. This time, it was the honest truth. He…was strong… Perhaps this would be the last risk she took.

The demon stood, picking up Karen as he did. A look of rage was on his face.

“Why do all of you,” the demon slammed Karen’s head into the car, “have to make this,” Karen’s head was slammed into the car a second time, “so fucking difficult,” Karen’s head connected with the car a third time and the demon dropped her to the ground. It leered at Karen and kicked her hard in the stomach.

“Where is she!?!”

The sharp taste of blood joined that of the bile in her mouth, metallic; making her want to gag. The world spun, her head throbbed. Nausea flooded her body. She lay limply at his feet, hugging her stomach where his foot had hit. Breathing suddenly required a lot more effort to achieve, burning her lungs. Her thoughts came slowly, most dissipating before she could make sense of them. Was she doing this out of loyalty? Out of stubbornness? What if the demon abused Claire in the same way…throwing her around like a rag-doll…getting pleasure out the sound of her scream…? Karen deserved it; Claire didn’t. Even with that fresh in her mind, she was desperate to escape.

This would only be worth it if she survived to tell the tale.

“Humans all want something,” she muttered. That was the simple truth, wasn’t it? No one was selfless. Everyone acted for personal gain.
“We don’t give without expecting something in return. Recognition, money, sex, love.” She gazed up at the demon, its black eyes running over her bruised body. Physically, she might be damaged but her spirit wasn’t broken. Not yet. “If I die now, protecting my ‘acquaintances’, I can just hope one day they’ll find out. How I played games with a demon and stood my ground…well, ‘stood’ is probably not the best word…” She coughed a little, blood trickling from between her lips, “It all sounds rather glamorous and cliché, I know, but down to the point, I’m just saying ‘Bite me. I ain’t going to give you fuck all if you’re just killing me in the end.’”

“Mmmm,” the demon smiled. “Tastes like chicken. Now listen to me very closely you pus filled sack of shit,” the demon punched Karen hard in the face. “I am going to kill you, but the speed of your departure is up to you. I can make this quick for you,” the demon struck Karen again. “All you have to do is answer two simple questions for me. But if you would rather play games…” the demon held up a finger in front of Karen’s face and it’s nail grew into a talon. The demon jabbed the talon into Karen’s shoulder and started to dig and twist it.

“Tell me what I want to know!!!” The demon screeched at Karen, digging the talon deeper into her shoulder.

She grimaced, trying to hold back a scream. The handcuffs dug into the small of her back as she tried to shift away. Her vision trembled with every movement, the urge to vomit growing ever stronger.
“Fuck…You!” She panted, growling slightly as the talon dug deeper, “Threats…won’t work…on me.” Her words ended with a whimper as the pain in her shoulder peaked.

The demon pulled his nail out. Bringing it up to his lips, he licked off the blood. He grinned malevolently at Karen, licking his lips.

“Well,” the demon sighed, standing up. I just don’t know,” the demon kicked Karen hard in the stomach, “what I’m going to do with you.” The demon lifted his foot and brought the heel of his boot down hard onto Karen’s ear.

“Well, you did say you’re pretty powerful,” The demon sneered at her. “And you were even nice enough to show me what you can do.” The demon kicked Karen in the back. “So I think it’s only fair that I return the favour.” The demon dropped to his knees and placed his fingertips against Karen’s chest.

She gave a small smile at his comment that quickly disappeared at his kick, “People have a habit of underestimating me. I’m the one who ended up surviving though. I can just see more than other people do.”

As he touched her, she froze in anticipation. At first, nothing happened. Then she felt it – The sense as though someone was choking her heart, squeezing it harder with every passing second. She swallowed and gave a nervous laugh – feigned but highly believable considering the situation, “That’s a pretty trick there.”
It was easy to act being afraid, far too easy for her liking. The constriction in her chest sent her body into a panic but the more anxious it got, the faster her heart pumped and the worse the pain she received. She praised the day she learnt to fake crying as she forced tears to roll down her face. At least, she wanted to believe it was her controlling them.

“Fuck. Fuck…you. Fuck!” The tone of her voice verged upon hysterical, “Okay! Holy fuck okay! Stop that. Stop. Stop. Please. Fuck. Stop.” Her hands clenched into fists, “Fuck. She told me to meet her. South Dakota. Onida. Please. Please stop now. Oh god, please.”

“Thank you Karen,” the demon spoke softly and stood up. He waved his hand and Karen’s body lifted off the ground and flew up into the air, about twenty feet in front of the demon.

“Now Karen, I told you I would kill you quickly if you answered my questions. And lucky you, I only have one left. About six months ago, several SCAR operatives all took a leave of absence. I’m wondering where you all went? Tell me, or I will rip your arms off.” The demon smiled and licked his lips.

Despite the threats, her hysterical crying was replaced by a sudden silence as she was lifted into the air. Karen’s head twisted to look at the ground, the remnants of tears running off her cheeks. “Really now?” She murmured softly, breathing in deeply; enjoying the freedom to do so. She faced the demon, meeting his eyes with a firm gaze, “Maybe… But you don’t know me. I talk fast but only because I want to. I can speak normally when I need to…like now. Just my thoughts…my damn thoughts…they never slow down. They recalculate the situation every second of every minute. They are sure that an impossible problem might be solvable in a few moments.” She flexed her fingers, absentmindedly staring at the monster’s face, “Guess they were right this time.”

Karen was no longer playing games. She gave no warning. Three concussion grenades had been floating silently through the air, painted black and invisible in the night’s cover, stalking the demon as he had moved, waiting for an opportune moment. With herself removed from such a close proximity, she figured this was her best chance. The pins had already been removed by the time they were pressing against the demon’s form.
She grinned, blood running from the sides of her mouth, “So yeah. Fuck. You.”

The force of the explosion flung Karen through the air, hurdling off the road and towards the ground. Instinct kicked in before she could make contact, gravity’s effect on her cancelled out. Noise seemed to be dulled, a muted buzz. Her vision flickered black. When she managed to steady herself, perhaps minutes later, she found herself dangling upside-down inches from the earth’s surface. Her body ached, her wounds stung, her head felt swollen. The handcuffs had been damaged enough that they simply slipped off her wrists. Nevertheless, she deemed herself in a fairly good condition considering the previous events. She had ensured the detonation’s radius had been relatively small whilst still powerful at the centre of the explosion. She twirled herself up right, slowly moving herself towards the car and observing the empty road. Her efforts seemed to have rid her of the monster at least…hopefully, permanently.

She wiped her mouth with a grimace, scowling at the blood that coated her tongue. He had battered her body but adrenaline was still pumping through her. As much as it ached to move, she was not about to stop over a little pain – There was even more of an urgency to reach Claire now. Even if the bruises she could feel forming did appear tomorrow, she would have to keep fighting on. Her lifestyle had never given her much choice in that respect.

Hovering outside the driver’s side of the car, she allowed herself to drop, wincing and grabbing the car for support at the increase in force upon her shoulders. She was trained – carrying herself was supposed to be simple now – but her body was in no mood for any extra strain. When gravity returned to normal, she couldn’t help but sigh in relief before she got in the vehicle.

Her first action was to grab her personal phone, opening up the ‘Create New Message’ screen and addressing it to Claire:

Just encountered a demon. He was looking for you. Tried to torture me. Wanted your current position. Yet another one who underestimated me. Ended up having to kill him. Was a good kisser though ;) x
Thought you should know about him. He was powerful. Might not be working alone? Be careful. Couldn’t stand if anything happened to you. Don’t take risks. I’ll be there as soon as I can. TTFN sweetie :D

She hoped the more carefree her text sounded, the less her friend would worry. Clicking send, she lay back in her chair, a pained expression forming as she attempted to move her pierced shoulder. She didn’t carry a First-Aid kit – She’d never needed to before. Still, she wasn’t going to bleed out before she reached them. She spent little time using her ugliest scarf to dab at the wound, keeping the garment within arm’s length in case the bleeding grew worse. She allowed herself ten minutes to recuperate both mentally and emotionally, before pulling off. The radio remained silent – an irregular occurrence in her car – but the silence matched her mood.

[Written by Me & Naz~]

[mere]

Yakim skimmed over what had happened. A nuclear explosion destroyed SCAR Headquarters, and it was blamed on Claire and the rest of the team. Just great. Oh, and not to mention the two dead operatives.

Where did you get a freakin' nuke?

“This isn't the time. And It's not our fault. We're being framed.”

You know what I'm thinking? I'm thinking that you stole a nuke, smuggled it into SCAR and set it to go off once you got to creepy town.

“And ya know what I'm thinking? I'm thinking that you better stop making stupid assumptions and think before you say anything.”

Yakim was becoming bored watching over the events from the top of the Deathstrike and climbed back in. He quickly checked his M4 and walked out, peering out of his helmet as he walked towards a desolate building. He was sick of the drama happening back at the Deathstrike and needed something to occupy his mind.

The building was three floors high, a small office building maybe. Shutters blocked anyone's view into the building, so Yakim knew his night vision was essential. He hit a button on the side of his helmet after flipping open a panel that concealed the button. The world immediately became green and extremely bright. He quickly tried opening the door to prevent the glare from blinding him anymore but found it stuck.

“Fucking...”

Yakim rammed into the door using his shoulder, tumbling into the doorway and catching himself on one knee. He quickly looked back at the door and found a small desk smashed against the wall. Wondering why the door had been barricaded, he proceeded through the first floor, only noticing more desks and multiple computers collecting large amounts of dust. Nothing special presented itself to Yakim, and he climbed up the thin staircase to the next floor. It looked like an exact replica of the first floor, and a quick glance noticed nothing special about this floor. Yakim jogged up the next flight of stairs and halted at the top due to another door. Testing the doorknob, he realized that this door was simply locked and not barricaded like the first door. The door was made out of cheap wood, and after knocking on it, was very thin. Yakim used the butt of his rifle to demolish a part of the door, and then reached his hand inside, unlocking the door.

Hm, wonder what's inside. Maybe money. Or maybe a bunch of dead guys.

Yakim pushed the door open and stepped inside. In front of him was a large wood desk, a couple cabinets and another computer. He walked behind the desk, where a medium sized leather chair had been placed. Nothing interesting. Just an average, boring office building.

Ha. Ha ha! You stupid fool! Ha! I've trapped you! Now you die!

Yakim waited a moment, and then responded. “Nothing's happening.”

I guess I have less power then I thought. This place is not normal, however. I sense an oddity here. I would be extra, extra careful here.

“Sure.”

Yakim walked over to one of the shuttered windows and busted it open with the butt of his M4. He poked his head out to show anyone that had seen the movement not to shoot. He looked over the abandoned town and sighed. Recent events showed that the team was falling apart and needed guidance. Yakim, however, could not help them. As he was about to leave the window, a chill went through his right shoulder and he felt a slight amount of pressure there. He quickly swiveled round and began to sweat.

“Who's out there? I'm not playing hide and seek with you, whoever the hell is out there”

After calling out, Yakim could have sworn he heard laughter. A child's laughter. The noise came up from the stairwell. Yakim nervously moved towards the sound, and walked slowly down the stairs, onto the second level. Three children where playing with a ball, throwing and catching it. Two boys and a young girl, all aged perhaps six or seven played happily with each other. They looked sweet together, but Yakim wasted no time wondering what was going on. Before he could saw a word however, two armed soldiers ran passed him, into the the group of children.

“Dzieci! Plecami o ścianę!”

Yakim's mind raced. That was Polish. What the hell was going on?

The children backed up against the wall, scared. Their eyes grew large and tears began to form in the corner of their small eyes.

“Ale, ale zrobiliśmy nic złego, Szanowni Państwo. Proszę nie boli nas.

Th two soldiers looked at each other for a moment, grinned, and pressed the triggers on their automatic rifles, sending a hail of bullets into the children.

Yakim froze. The limp body of the children, covered in blood and bits of gore, lay completely still.

“No! You sons of bitches! I'll kill you!

Yakim repeatedly pressed the trigger on his rifle, sending bullets flying into the soldiers midsection's. Their bodies crumpled to the ground and vanished, as if they weren't there a moment ago. The bodies of the children had also disappeared. Black ooze formed where the bodies once lay, and formed into the terrible monsters they had seen on the last mission. Yakim watched in horror as they slowly advanced towards him. He turned to run down the stairs and saw more creatures move the stairs, much faster then usual.

“Shit, wa-”

Wake up! Come on! Christ, wake up!

Yakim opened his eyes, staring at the ceiling of the building. He groaned and sat up, looking back at the window. The shutters where partially closed.

Man, those shutters nailed you hard. You went flying back. Oh, and you talk in your unconscious state.

Yakim stood up, and hurried out of the building, not wanting to encounter what he had seen in his nightmare. He switched off his night vision and ran back towards the Deathstrike. Claire was walking off, and Yakim didn't feel like being left behind here. He jogged up to her position and walked closely behind her, a little to the right.

[Cookies Ahoy]

Kristy listened to Claire speak. The next step was obvious. Follow Claire. They were all labeled as terrorists, or most wanted, it didn't make much sense to sit around any longer, and do nothing. They had to find safety and find people they could trust. Kristy huffed, then slung her weapon over her shoulder and made sure her two pistols were still holstered at her thighs.

"So how far of a walk is Blunt?" Kristy asked casually.

“Thirty miles,” Claire’s tone was sad. “I’m hoping we can get there without stopping, but…I just feel so tired right now. Too much has happened too fast.”

"I wouldn't worry about the walk so much. You'll end up falling into a rhythm soon enough, then time goes by pretty easily," Kristy said reassuringly.

Kristy walked beside Claire for a few silent minutes. She observed the trees and vegetation they passed, the landscape was rather quaint. Then another question that rolled into her wandering thoughts.

"Do you think that anybody is tracking us?" Kristy asked with a slightly serious tone, "I mean, like, do these suits or any of our equipment have a tracking beacon on them?"

“Oh shit,” Claire stopped dead in her tracks. “The cell phones.” It had completely slipped her mind, especially since her SCAR issue phone had been destroyed. But the others still had theirs.

“All of you,” Claire hollered at the group. “Dump your phones. They have a locator chip in them, and I don’t think we want whoever is responsible for this tracking us.” Claire turned and continued walking.

Kristy fumbled into her pockets trying to remember where she had stuffed her phone. It took her three annoying seconds to find the thing.

“And it has nothing to do with rhythm,” Claire kept walking, staring at the ground. Her voice just loud enough for Kristy to hear. “I feel so fucking empty. First SCAR and then Mal. I just feel like my world is falling apart.”

"I'll tell you one thing you still got Claire..." Kristy started, but stopped in midsentence. Her phone gently vibrated in her hand.

She stopped and looked at the screen.

1 new message

Kristy looked at the device curiously, while she listened to Claire, wondering who would send her a text. She hadn't given her number out to many people, and the name simply read 'unknown'. The message read, "You can't hide." Kristy let out a small shriek, then instinctively flung the phone as hard and fast as she could with her mind, it smashed into a tree making a definite shattering sound.

“What’s wrong?” Claire turned to Kristy, a look of concern on her face. “Are you okay?”

"What? Oh." Kristy drew in a short breath of air, trying to regain her calm, "My phone, it just had an... error or something. I just wasn't expecting it, that's all," Kristy lied, she didn't want to give Claire another thing to worry about.

“Okay,” Claire eyed Kristy suspiciously. Claire found it a little hard to believe that something like an error message could cause Kristy to behave so. But they were all on edge, so anything was possible.

“Kristy,” Claire continued walking, keeping her voice low. “What am I going to do?”

"About what?" Kristy asked quietly, still a little scatterbrained.

“About everything.” Claire sighed. “I’m sorry. I should be keeping my mind on the task at hand, We need to get out of the country, but I don’t even know if there is a point to any of this anymore. SCAR’s gone. I can’t go home and my life is in ruins as well as all of your lives. It just seems like everything I touch turns to shit.” Claire had tears running down her face. “I don’t think I want this life anymore. But I don’t know what else to do.”

"Look Claire," Kristy said before stopping in her tracks, she could feel Claire's emotions trickling into her head. Kristy tried her hardest to keep the invading emotions away, "You have all of us," Kristy's eyes started to well up with tears as Claire's sadness seeped into her mind, "Right now we all need to support each other," Kristy swallowed hard, wiping away her tears, "Don't beat yourself up. Its not worth it."

Claire looked at Kristy and immediately started to turn off her emotions, which given the circumstances was quite hard to do. She could tell that Kristy was feeling the effects of her ability and Claire didn’t want that happen.

“You’re right of course,” Claire sniffed. But in all truth, I was never cut out for any of this.” Claire turned and started walking again.

“I’m no soldier,” Claire’s tone was cold. “It seems like every choice I have ever made for this team has turned things form bad to worse. I just…” Claire trailed off, staring at the ground as she walked

Kristy smiled a little saying, "No you're not a soldier. I think that's a good thing though, soldiers are stupid, that's why we get guns," Kristy paused for a moment, collecting her thoughts, "I wouldn't want to be under another captain. You haven't done anything wrong yet Claire, you've followed your orders to a T. You got screwed, we all got screwed, it happens, and the only thing we can do now is get out of dodge and find the person who is really responsible for this mess."

“I have a good idea who’s responsible for this,” Claire sighed. “And I really don’t think we have a hope in hell of taking on the Omega Sector. We need to get out of the country. I don’t want to lose anymore friends today.” Claire’s voice had lowered to a whisper and she glanced at Kristy.

“Did I ever tell you,” Claire motioned at the thirteen scar shaped red bands running down her arm. “What these represent?”

Kristy let out a small sigh, she wasn't going to argue with Claire about Omega Sector, but she still had hope, and hope could be a powerful thing.

"No, I don't think you have," Kristy said quietly.

“They are a reminder,” Claire’s voice went cold. “Of why I shouldn’t be leading missions. There is one for every person who has died on a mission with me. I remember all of their names and how each of them died. And in some ways, I am responsible for each of those deaths.”

"Who is this?" Kristy asked quickly, pointing to the fifth stripe in, not waiting for a reply Kristy started again, "And who is this?" She pointed to the first stripe, and then repeated the process pointing at the tenth stripe.

Claire watched as Kristy pointed at each of the stripes on her arm. Claire couldn’t understand why Kristy wanted to know this.

“Ann Kidd, Jian Yao and Claude Reynolds,” Claire sighed “Why do you ask?”

Kristy stared at Claire's eyes with as much intensity as she could muster, then spoke evenly, "Then you owe it to them, and the other ten stripes you got, to see this mission through, Claire."

“There is no mission anymore Kristy,” Claire sounded. “All I can do is try to get to Detroit and hopefully I can get all of you there as well. Frankly,” Claire smiled slightly. “If it wasn’t for Charlie, we’d all be fucked. As it is, we’re only screwed, so maybe there’s a chance.”

"Yeah, sure," Kristy muttered simply.

Kristy was getting frustrated with Claire. Her defeated attitude was stubborn, and every attempt Kristy made to uplift her failed. She slowed her walking down, drifting quietly away from Claire, until she was in the back of the group. Kristy thought it would be best to get some distance from Claire, she didn't want to explode at anyone.



[Coop with shNaz]

[StormWolf]

The Chaplain did his best to wait for everyone to collect themselves, but the clock was ticking, and every second wasted here was another second the Omega Sector would have on catching. If the Omega Sector was anything like the CIA or NSA, they wasted no time in getting their targets into Guantanamo for a nice round of electrical chairs.

Malcolm scanned the squad once more time, measuring each individual with those icy blues. The greatest concerns were Claire and Vee, though she had gone a weepy mess to perma-bitch rather quick. Malcolm preferred perma-bitch, at least the bitch was quiet. Claire was in a risky state of negative emotion. It was too much to ask anyone to look on the bright side of life after they got boned by their own country as hard as Claire and the rest of the squad has. Still, Claire was an Empath, and it was a matter of time, a matter of those emotions festering, to make them powerful enough to seep into the rest of the squad. Malcolm was secure against Claire's projected emotions unless she was deliberately trying to impose emotions on him, even then, the reaction was rarely what was expected. Sadness turned to anger, depression turned to aggression, anger to rage. The only time Claire's emotional projection really worked on Malcolm was when they were in a shared apartment in Rome, when the two of them were bare as could be, sweaty, panting, and joined at the hips in a sinfully pleasurable rhythm; in moments like that, Malcolm and Claire fueled each other with their emotions to turn a great pleasure into ecstasy. Whether Malcolm's resistance to Claire's ability came from his connection to the Heavenly Host, Sammael, or his iron-clad will, no one really knew, the Chaplain stopped asking those kinds of questions a while ago.

Finishing his scan of the squad, Malcolm shot a brief stare-of-daggers at Marcus, who was wasting no time in being a vulture on Vee's already sensitive state. Even to Malcolm, that was low. With a silent shake of his head, the Chaplain turned on his heel and took point, looking at his compass to get his bearings as to where Blunt was, then advancing at a comfortable, but far from leisurely, pace.

“Dump your phones. They have a locator chip in them, and I don’t think we want whoever is responsible for this tracking us.” Malcolm heard Claire yell to the squad. He smiled. 'Mission Over' my ass. Look who is still active Captain. Malcolm thought with a smirk, his heart and mind thawing as he thought about Claire more. It was a solid plan; ditch the phones and fly under the radar. The Chaplain pulled his phone out of his pants pocket, ready to snap the thing in two, but he ended up patting the phone against his palm. The tracking beacon on this over-priced phone could come in handy. Looking over his shoulder, Malcolm slipped the phone back into his jeans pocket.

What are you planning, child? the frigid voice of Sammael whispered through Malcolm's mind, sending a chill down the Chaplain's spine, making his hairs stand on end.

I plan to give this phone back to Omega... with about three pounds of explosives to go with. Malcolm said back, his mind's voice as serious and gravelly as if he had actually spoken.

A trap... Sammael said, as if the idea of one was somewhat sickening to the Archangel.

Yeah. You know, Sammael, you could make this a lot easier for everyone here if you just drove me for a little while to take us to Blunt, I mean, that can't be too taxing for the Lord of the Fifth Heaven, right? Malcolm inquired, his voice heavy with attitude.

I can handle such a task without blinking, my child. It is you who would not be able to take it. Sammael responded mechanically as always.

What do you mean, "I wouldn't be able to take it?" Malcolm physically frowned, his tone with Sammael harsh.

My possession of you in Arkham should have destroyed you, but the fact that you were already destroyed allowed you to be reconstructed in the proper physical, mental, and spiritual shape I needed you to be. Sammael stated matter-of-factly, like Malcolm was the only person in the universe that did not know this information.

So that is why my powers became stronger? Because you rebuilt me to be your personal Howitzer? Malcolm yelled in his mind.

Howitzer is the wrong metaphor. Abrams Tank is more like it. With that, Sammael removed himself from Malcom's mind, leaving the Chaplain with a faint ringing in his ears.

[John]

Claire continued walking, not needing to use her powers to feel the state of mind of the rest of the group. They were angry and disheartened and depressed. But given the circumstances, who could blame them? Everything had gone wrong form the moment they were assigned the mission to Cold Oaks, and Claire was blaming herself.

After about an hour of walking, the sound of the Deathstrike exploding echoed throughout the trees. Claire stopped for a moment and said a silent prayer for Chase and also for Lyrico. Even though she hated the little bastard he still was one of god’s creations, and suddenly Claire found herself questioning her faith again. How could god let that child in Dunwich die? How could a benevolent god allow Lyrico to go on? Claire found herself wondering if god even cared about any of them. And not to mention how Mal had been acting, Claire was starting to wonder if she had been right all along to turn her back on god.

Claire continued walking, leading the group, though she didn’t feel like much of a leader anymore. After about another hour the group entered a clearing and Claire dropped the bag on the ground. Opening it, he removed a flare from it and gathered up some sticks and brush. Once she had a good amount, Claire lit the flare and started a small campfire. It lit up the area, which was quite dark except for the flashlights each of them carried, and the fire not only would provide warmth but allow them to get a little better look at their surroundings.

“I need to stop for a few minutes,” Claire looked at Mal and walked a little ways away from the fire until she found a rock to sit on.

Once there, Claire tried to think of what they were going to do next. There were still a lot of problems with her plan. Not the least of which was the problem of how exactly they would be getting to Detroit. Sure, Karen had a car, but there was no way all of them could fit into it. Claire didn’t want to have to steal a car, but given that she was a wanted fugitive, she had no doubt that she would have a hard time using public transportation.

There was also the problem of Malcolm. Claire was deeply in love with him and was now starting to doubt that as well. She missed the man she had gotten to know in Rome. How she longed to be there now. Sitting on the beach in his arms. She found herself wondering what happened to the man she fell in love with. He seemed to have been replaced by someone else, someone harder and colder. Claire sighed, bringing her knees up to her chest and hugging them tightly. She sat in silence , wishing and hoping that one day she could have a normal life.

[Yoruyonaka]

At about 9: 30 in the evening, Charlie was sipping a coke and watching some TV to calm her senses when her phone buzzed. It was a text from Claire. Charlie became alert quickly and opened the text.

Charlie, I need you to go to the warehouse at 7633 Cash Place. Once there, punch in the code 703281456 into the keypad. Go inside to the elevator and take it down one level. Once you exit the elevator, you will find yourself standing in a very small room with a computer terminal and a retina scanner. Whatever you do, DO NOT look in the scanner. Type in CHAH179debug51 into the keyboard and select the override option. The password for the override is the name of your bar. Wait for us there, and help yourself to whatever is in the fridge.

Charlie read the message over and over to make herself clear and started down the stares to the main area of her bar. She walked to the basement door and unlocked it with a key she wore around her neck. Locking the door behind her, she walked down into the stronghold of her bar. No demon, ghost, or any supernatural creature could come near it. On the far wall was all the guns and ammo Charlie needed. She pulled on her gun holster and which had her own unique gun with holy water bullets. Her demon knife went on her left side. She grabbed another gun with silver bullets. In a back pack she tossed extra ammo, a bottle of holy water, first aide, and a folded devil's trap she drew herself.

After locking the bar up tight, Charlie found her car, a pretty nice silver Camaro. Hell, why should she be discreet when it came to cars? She drove into the industrial section of town and came to a stop to look at her GPS. So I have to take a right here, then a left, Charlie thought.

The man looked haggard. He was walking hunched over and was staggering slightly. The coughing noise he made was only slightly less disgusting than the scent of vomit that accompanied him. His jacket was long and brown, though a section of the back was missing. He had a scraggly beard and his hair was unkempt. Walking into the road, he fell against the front of the car. He propped himself up with one arm and started to vomit loudly.

A gasp let out from Charlie. Her brown eyes widened as homeless-looking man started to vomit all over her nice car.

"Fuck!" She yelled. "Are you okay?"

Even though she wanted to curse the guy out, she wanted to know if the guy was okay. However....she got a dreading feeling. She frowned at him. Charlie wasn't leaving the car.

The man continued to vomit for a few minutes before stooping and looking through the windshield at Charlie. His eyes were half closed and his stagger seemed to have gotten worse.

“Yesh ma’am. I jusht needs to shleep,” He leaned over the car and rested his head on the hood.

"Hell no," Charlie whispered to herself. "Sir? Do I need to call an ambulance? I have an emergency to go to, but I cant just leave you if you need help."

She eyed the man. The feeling she was having grew stronger, but she wouldn't budge. Charlie would let him make the first move.

“No…no…It’sh fine. I….jusht…need…a…” The man trailed off, closing his eyes. He brought up his arm and rested his head on it, sound asleep.

"You've got to be kidding me," Charlie squeezed the steering wheel. "Okay mother fucker! I know what you are so you can cut the act!"

She had it with the mind games. She stepped out of the car closing the door and smirked at the homeless man. She stood near the door, her arm reaching towards her right side which held her gun.

The baseball bat swung from underneath the car, hitting Charlie hard in the backs of her legs. She fell backwards, hitting the ground as the man rolled out form under the car and on top of her. He smiled at Charlie, revealing his sharp fangs and punching her hard in the jaw.

“Hi Charlie,” the vampire punched Charlie in the jaw a second time. “Where ya going?”

The sharp pain in her legs made Charlie gasp. A vampire. Charlie glared at the monster staring back at her. He punched her in the face. She didn't give him the pleasure of wincing.

"So, dead thing," Charlie mocked. "Under the car were you? I knew something smelled disgusting."

While he had her pinned, Charlie grabbed some gravel and covered it so he wouldn't see her manipulate it into silver. With that she gave the vamp a nice headbutt, knocking him back. She flung the silver into his face as his eyes glanced up at her. She yanked the gun with silver bullets out its holster.

The moment the gun appeared in Charlie’s hand, what appeared to be a long pink tongue coiled around her wrist, yanking her arm back. The tongue pulled her forcefully, twisting her around to see the creature from which it came. It was hunched down on all fours, with long claws protruding form it’s feet and hands. It had no skin, instead, it’s muscles were visible and it’s brain was on the outside of it’s head and covered the eyes. The tongue, of course, protruded from it’s mouth which was lined with razor sharp teeth. The creature stared at Charlie and squeezed her wrist tight with it’s tongue. It was then that Charlie could hear the audible sound of a round being chambered.

“Fucking bitch!!” The vampire jammed his pistol into the side of Charlie’s head. “If you try one more fucking thing I will blow your head off! Now tell me where you were going!!"

Charlie rolled her eyes. "Tell you, or not tell you...hmmmm," She muttered in a childish manner. "How about I do nothing, and we cut to you blowing my head off? Seems like you kill me, you get no information and me living you get no information. What are you going to do about it?"

“That’s a pretty good offer,” the vampire smiled. “But perhaps you would like to hear my counter offer.” the vampire shifted his eyes to the creature which immediately leaped into the air, crashing into Charlie and pinning her to the ground. It’s hands pinned her arms and the tongue uncoiled from her wrist and moved around her neck.

“Lovely creature the licker,” the vampire crouched down and placed his gun against Charlie’s temple. “Completely mindless. A creature of pure rage. And so easy to control for those who possess the right abilities.” the vampire smiled evilly before continuing.

“Did you know that the tongue of a licker can apply pressure of over one thousand pounds per square inch?” the vampire’s tone became a little condescending. “But don’t take my word for it.” As soon as the vampire finished speaking, the licker’s tongue started to apply pressure, slowly cutting off Charlie’s air.

“Tell me what I want to know.”

Charlie gasped at the sudden immense pressure on her chest. She felt pain in her ribs that only meant some would start to crack. She coughed and choked for air. Her brought her gaze on the creature pinning her. A disgusting thing for sure.

"How about you tell me who you are, before anything further," sweat rolled down her face from the pressure on her chest. The pain was beginning to be excruciating.

“Who I am is unimportant,” the vampire spoke calmly and the licker released it’s grip on Charlie’s throat, keeping the tongue wrapped around but allowing her to breathe.

“But if you must know, my name is Justin Hendrick. Now tell me where you were going.” Justin’s voice became stern again.

The air flooded in giving Charlie a somewhat sigh of relief. She glared her brown eyes at the vampire Justin.

"Why so nice all of a sudden, Vamp?" Charlie said calculating her thoughts. Who is this bastard? How did he find me? Who's the fucking Hobo? Why does this guy have a Licker?! "How did you find me? I mean, what have I really done to you supernatural bastards? Huh?" She eyed the homeless guy again. "What's with him? Possessed? Or some other monster freak?"

“Supernatural?” Justin laughed. “Now that’s the pot calling the kettle black isn’t it Charlie? Oh yes, I know a great deal about you. I didn’t have to find you. I was told where you were. You’re never alone Charlie.” Justin paused and looked over at the bum sleeping on the hood of the car.

“I almost forgot about him,” Justin smiled, looking back down at Charlie. “No, not possessed. You see, I am a telepath. Just a little mind control. Call it a distraction.”

Usually she didn't let her emotions get a hold of her. This time, things were different. Charlie has been running for so long that she never thought anyone one would find out about her. This vamp knew. He said she wasn't alone...never.

"H-how do you know my name..?"Charlie's voice cracked a little, but she kept it strong.

“I told you,” Justin sneered. “I know a great deal about you. You see I know a guy who knows a guy who needed some help. Normally I wouldn’t get mixed up in a family affair, but what can I say, the price was right.”

"Family?" Her eyes widened, but she laughed out. "What the hell are you talking about! I have no family!"

"I'm talking about daddy you stupid bitch," Justin chuckled and pointed the gun at the bum. "Now tell me what I want to know or I will kill the human."

Daddy? Charlie's whole body froze. Daddy? Images of her past flashed her eyes. The kind that weren't to pretty. Some she didn't even know or remembered. Her body began to convulse on the spot. Uncontrollable feelings and memories surged through Charlie. Daddy?! A fog seemed to flood the road from no where. The fog shifted itself slightly. Forming creatures and faces. They faded and appeared ever so slightly.

“What the fuck?!?” Justin snarled as he say the smoky figures appear around him. He was startled by it and turned his gun on one of the figures. Firing at it, he watched as the bullets sailed harmlessly through it. Justin had no clue what was going on and felt his life was in danger. He pushed at the figure with his mind in an attempt to control it. It seemed to be completely insubstantial and Justin started to feel panic. And for just a moment, he forgot about the licker.

The licker made a noise somewhere between a hiss and a scream as it reared up on it’s hind legs. It’s tongue lashed, gripping Charlie tightly around the throat. Charlie was picked up form the ground and thrown through the air, landing with a thud, skidding across the pavement about twenty feet away. The licker leapt at Justin and sank it’s teeth into his head, it’s tongue coiling around his arm and ripping it out of the socket.

Charlie rolled a few feet after being thrown. The shock of being thrown by the neck brought her back from her convulsions. She gripped her neck which hurt like hell. The fog around them slashed at the ground, buildings, and cars. It faded though and Charlie brought her attention to the Licker who has now ripped the head off its master.

"Shit!" She stood bringing out her silver bullet gun. "You fucking monster! I needed him!" She aimed the gun at its head and fired a bullet. The creature jolted to the side and fell over. Blood splattered the ground everywhere. Charlie was breathing heavy still and kicked the side of her car. That wasn't such a good idea. Her ribs screamed pain. She fell to her knees and hugged her sides.

"Shit, shit, shit, shit!" Charlie gasped at the pain. She felt her side wincing. Five ribs at the most were broken. The Licker made sure of that. Taking a deep breath, she got up and walked to her car. The hobo was moaning and slid off the car. Guess he was all right, Charlie thought, but what about me? She slumped into the Camaro and shut the door. Looking at the GPS she laughed. The idiot Vampire didn't think to check her car GPS. Things were now getting interesting.

(Co-Op with Naz)

[Mysteria]

Shane walked along beside Aaron in half a daze. She didn't hold his hand but simply trudged along behind Claire simply going through the motions, every now and then looking at Aaron and forcing a smile.

Things had taken a turn for the worse quick and a feeling of helplessness seemed to be settling over the group. No one was speaking and the tension was so thick you could have cut through it with a knife. Shane couldn't blame everyone though. The hand they had just been dealt was a hard one work with and it wasn't going to be easy for them.

Shane had already had enough on her plate after having learned the news of her sisters illness but this was almost too much to bear. Had Shane's fortitude and tenacity been any less she may have broken down right then and there on the spot but something inside of her refused to let her fall to pieces in the face of the situation.

Shane worried for all of the operatives now and although Claire had officially said she wasn't their leader anymore, Shane still felt as though she were. She hadn't led Shane astray yet and right now, they all needed to remain allies to one another. Even if some of the other operatives felt that Claire had made some bad decisions the truth of the matter was that until they were in Claires shoes, not one of them could say what they would have done had they been in that position.

Shane was grateful when Claire stopped to take a breather. Shane sat down against a tree beside Aaron, laying her hand on his arm and closing her eyes. Just feeling his presence near her was a huge help in keeping her calm. Until they sat down Shane hadn't actually realized how tired she was. Within what seemed like mere moments Shane had drifted off into a sleep like state.

She was back in the fields of Pennsylvania again with her sister Kara. They were both younger in her dream and they were walking through a field of purple wildflowers laughing and talking. They had stopped to look at a group of deer across the field and Shane had turned to get a better view of them. "Kara, just look at them, aren't they beautiful?"

Hearing no reply to her question Shane turned back around to find Kara wasn't there. "Kara!" Shane called out to her sister and a few moments later heard Kara a few feet from her laying on the ground. Shanes body jerked as she dreamed. Rushing over the Kara Shane's breath drew sharp. Kara wasn't young anymore, she was much older and sickly looking. "Kara, are you alright?" Shane reached for her sister and watched in horror as she turned to ash and blew away in the wind.

Falling to her knees Shane began to weep.

“What’s wrong?” The soothing voice of a little girl whispered in Shane’s ear. A pale hand appeared on her shoulder, giving off a feeling of comfort and sympathy as it touched her.

Shane jumped at the sound of a small childs voice and the feeling of a hand on her shoulder. She had been alone only a moment ago and now here was this young girl standing beside her comforting her. With tear stained eyes Shane looked at the young girl not sure how to answer. What she had just saw couldn't be real, it just couldn't be. Kara couldn't be dead. Was this a premonition of things to come. "I..I'm sorry, I didn't see you there. I think I must have been dreaming because my sister is alive but a moment ago..." Shane shuddered then continued speaking "My sister, she is very ill." Suddenly Shane stopped talking and focused on the child in front of her. "Who are you anyhow? How did you get here?" Even in Shane's current state of sleep she was still asking questions and using caution.

“My name is Lilith,” Lilith smiled at Shane. “And this is Mister Binky.” Lilith held out the teddy bear and moved it’s arm as though it was waving hello.

“What’s wrong with your sister?” Lilith had a look of concern. “Can’t the doctor’s help her?”

Shane looked at the girl at first with suspicion and then when she held the bear up to her she relaxed a little bit. After all, it was just a child standing in front of her. Shane shook her head slowly "I'm not sure, I mean the doctors don't know what is wrong with her. She's sick and slowly dying. They don't know how to treat her because they haven't been able to figure out what is wrong with her yet."


Shane's voice slipped into a whisper "Each day she gets worse and I feel like she is slipping further and further away." A tear rolled down Shane's cheek. "She's all that I have left in this world."

“Then why aren’t you with her?” Lilith looked at Shane curiously, the smile gone from her face.

Shane looked at the young girl, a look of disbelief on her face. "You are an inquisitive little thing aren't you?" Shane snapped at the girl and immediately felt bad for it. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to yell at you it's just that my job has kept me busy and I have to work in order to help pay her medical bills. If I were with her, I couldn't be helping her. This is the best way that I can help her right now. She can't work, she is too sick. I have to do it." Those tears began to flow freely once more. "I want to be with her but I can't be. I have to take care of her. I'm all that she has, someone has to do it. It has to be me."

“I don’t understand,” Lilith shook her head. “If it was my sister, I would be with her. Or trying to find a way to help her. Not trudging through the woods.” The smile returned to Lilith’s face.

“Maybe I can help.” Lilith turned and skipped a few feet away form Shane before turning back. “Follow me. Come see.”

"No, no. You don't understand!" Shane cried out loud, yelling at the girl while subconsciously shifting in her sleep against Aaron. "She was just her a minute ago. Do you know where she went?" Shane's curiosity got the best of her and finally she got to her feet and followed the girl.

Lilith led Shane through the field and stopped in front of a large white coffin resting on a table. Looking inside, she hugged Mister Binky tight before turning back to Shane, a look of sadness on her face. “You should look.”

Shane didn't want to step up to the coffin. Everything in her mind was screaming at her not to. A foreboding feeling came over her. She looked at Lilith was urging her to look, her face filled with sadness. Shane stepped up to the coffin fearing what she would see.

Taking a few steps back quickly Shane fell to her knees. "No, NO, it can't be. It isn't true. She was alive just yesterday, this can't be right." Shane hung her head overcome by tears "Why God, why? They said there was still hope. They said if they could figure out what was wrong with her she would live." Shane's sobs overtook her as her body became even more restless beside Aaron. Shane looked at Lilith "It's not real!" She said defiantly. "It can't be..it just can't."

“Why can’t it be real? You’re sister will die alone and in agony. No one to comfort her or care for her. I can help you know,” Lilith wrapped an arm around Shane. “It’s what your sister would want.” Lilith pointed at the coffin and Kara sat up in it, looking directly at Shane.

“Please sister,” Kara’s voice sounded as though she was feeling a great pain and tears streamed down her face. “Please help me.”

Shane listened to the words that Lilith was saying and when Kara sat up in the coffin begging her to help Shane screamed out loud. She wanted to reach for her but was afraid. Kara was in such pain. Shane took Kara's hand. It was cold. With tears streaming down her face Shane replied to her sister "Kara, I would do anything for you."

As Shane said the words Karas hand slipped from hers and the casket faded into a shadow and then the shadow was gone. Shane turned back to Lilith, tears still streaming down her face.

"I would do anything to save my sister." Shane said as she drew closer to Lilith. "You said that you can help. You are just a child though. If you know something, if you can help somehow, tell me now!"

“Oh I can help,” Lilith smiled malevolently. “But you would have to do something for me. I really like to play games you see, and I need some playmates. I have created a most wonderful game to play. It will be a lot of fun. If you will help me play my game, I will save your sister.”

Games? Lilith wanted to play games while her sister was dying? Shane wanted to wring her neck but instead just fell to her knees looking at the little girl.

Little girl. Shane had to remind herself that this was still a child she was dealing with who couldn't comprehend the full impact of what death meant. Instead Shane attempted a smile. "Sure Lilith, if you can really help my sister then I will play your games."

“Then take my hand,” Lilith held her hand out to Shane. “And your sister will be saved.” As Lilith spoke, Kara’s voice could be heard echoing on the breeze.

“Please Shane. Help me. So much pain.” Kara’s voice was full of sadness and agony.

Lilith extended her hand to Shane, telling her to take it and Kara would be saved. The sound of Kara's voice lingered "Please Shane. Help me." There was so much pain in Kara's voice that Shane immediately took Lilith's hand not even thinking twice. The minute her hand touched Liliths Shane's body was wracked with an intense pain the likes of what Shane had never felt before. Shane doubled over, the pain was so bad she thought her insides were being torn out. Slowly the pain subsided and Shane could look up again. When she did she saw Lilith standing there. It seemed like there was a smirk on the child's face as Shane noticed the N that had been emblazoned upon her right hand.

Shane looked at Lilith, no longer using the tone that she had before. She was done being nice. She wanted to know what in the hell was going on and she wanted to know now. "What was that, why was I in pain and what in the hell does this N on my hand mean." Shane glared at the girl. "What have you done?"

"You are now bound to me," Lilith smiled. "In time I will call you to play my game. For now, your sister has been saved. There is not trace of the illness that was ravaging her body." Kara pointed to her left and Kara walked into view, smiling at Shane.

"Thank you Shane. I love you so much." Kara hugged Shane tightly before turning to Lilith. Lilith handed her the teddy bear and Kara smiled, hugging it.

"Now Shane," Lilith spoke. "You can't tell anyone about what has been done here. If you do, well...that would be bad. For you as well as your sister. Is that understood?`

Shane barely heard Lilith's words as she hugged Kara. Kara looked so radiant and healthy. "I love you too Kara." Shane said as Kara took the bear and hugged it.

"Yes Lilith I understand. I will tell no one. As long as Kara is okay, that's all that matters."

“Excellent,” Lilith turned and began to walk away. “And one more thing, do not think of even trying to change your mind. If you do, Mister Binky will be very upset.” The moment Lilith finished speaking, she disappeared. The teddy bear in Kara’s arms immediately transformed into the demon it was and began to tear Kara apart. She screamed as the demon sank it’s claws and teeth into her, her warm blood spraying over Shane. It tore at her flesh, her organs spilling onto the ground with a sickening squishing noise.

“And one more thing, do not think of even trying to change your mind. If you do, Mister Binky will be very upset.”

The words had no sooner come out of Lilith's mouth than the adorable teddy bear turned into a demon and tore Kara to pieces. Shane screamed as her body convulsed beside Aaron against the tree. Shane awoke with a startle, sweat dripping from her forehead. Had she really screamed out loud? Had the others heard her? Shane looked at her hand. The mark wasn't there. Shane trembled as she leaned her head against Aaron. It was a dream. It had only been a dream. It hadn't happened, or had it?

Shane leaned against the tree, breathing hard hoping that no one else noticed.

{co with the incredible Naz}

[Ryudo]

Marc trudged on at the rear of the group, they had been walking for a good half hour, but to Marc that half hour seemed to be transpiring at a rate much slower than normal. He wasn’t tired physically, however his mental state wasn’t as well off. In the past year Marc had been ripped from his celebrity status and forced into secrecy, but in the most serene and idyllic bitch slap from Heaven it seemed that Marc was destined to be uprooted from another life. To Marc life in SCAR didn’t seem more preferable then a life as a fugitive, they both had there ups and downs. Thus what truly frustrated Marc was not the shift from anonymity to infamy but the shift itself, it seemed that just as Marc was getting used to his new set of circumstances they were ripped away from him. [I]Sinners in the hands of angry God[I], he chuckled bitterly to himself, and as he marched along Marc wanted nothing more then to leave those angry hands and control his own destiny.

Looking down his mind drifted to his small pack that he took from the Deathstrike before they turned it into a smoldering ash heap. Inside were stored what Marc considered the bare essentials for surviving any disaster scenario, with his mind now set on utilizing some of his provisions he eagerly agreed to Claire’s notion of settling down for the night. They marched for a good deal longer, until it seemed that no one had the strength to continue, and they marched some more. Finally Claire decided to call it an evening and she dropped her gear and set out to create a fire.

Marc understood that fire would be a comfort, but he couldn’t help but worry that it might also draw unwanted attention. Before he could raise any sort of objection though Claire was gone, and the rest of the group set about their own business. As everyone drifted off into sleep or their own thoughts Marc moved to the perimeter of the camp and set his pack down. Opening the sack he withdrew from it two bottles, examining them both he decided to return the bottle of Gin and keep the bottle of Whiskey. Unscrewing the top Marc proceeded to take a swig, and as he did so his mind was flooded with memories of wild parties, alcohol, women, and fame.

Before Marc decided to turn in for the night he made one round of the camp, as he walked he heard a scream and rushed to find the source of the commotion. As he came closer he found Shane sitting up right with Aaron. He knew that most of the consoling and comforting lay in Aaron’s court, but Marc did what he could by offering Shane a bit of the whiskey. He held the bottle out to her, there weren’t any strings attached, Marc was just trying to reach out in his own way to a team member.

After the situation with Shane was dealt with Marc returned to his own little corner. Using the duffle bag as a pillow Marc let his mind wander once again on the cusp of sleep.

[StormWolf]

The rag-tag squad had stopped for the night, at last. Malcolm could see the look on all their faces, they were tired and defeated, even if they didn't want to admit it. Everyone started to branch off to make an unofficial perimeter around the minuscule fire that Claire started. Though it was small and relatively insignificant, it still gave off light and warmth, something that everyone needed at this point.

The Chaplain stood close to the fire, warming his busted hand before sitting back on his heels. Malcolm met Claire's gaze before she vanished in the looming darkness of the forest. He could feel his core tug as she left his view, like his heart was trying to break free of its cage and crawl after its true master. The pulling became stronger, almost painful. He winced, placing a hand on his chest and taking a sharp breath.

With a grunt, Malcolm stood and followed after Claire. The closer he got, the tugging in his chest got weaker. Then he found her, sitting on a boulder. Malcolm apporached cautiously, he knew the saying about a woman scorned, and it was true. He had seen Hell, and the Circle Malolm had been in was nothing compared to Claire when she was angry.

He went to a knee before her, looking Claire in her beautiful eyes, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"Claire... I'm sorry. What I said.... it was wrong of me... it was cold. I just... I know what happens to a unit when this happens, and God help me, I don't want that trouble. I am scared too... I just don't know how to deal with it."

“Malcolm I….” tears started to stream down Claire’s face and she wrapped her arms around Malcolm, burying her face in his shoulder. She made no sound, keeping her face there, crying.

Malcolm closed his eyes and wrapped his muscular arms around Claire, stroking her back gently as she cried in to his cannonball-like shoulder, her tears making a spreading dark spot on Malcolm's leather jacket. His mind darted back to their airplane ride to Rome, when she did basically the same thing, and he reacted just the same.

"I love you Claire..." he whispered in to her ear, a few silent tears crawling their way down his stony face, "more than anything." he pulled her face from his shoulder, wiping her cheeks with his thumbs and looking her in the eyes, "I hope you know that."

“Mal,” Claire pulled away and looked into his eyes. “I know that you love me. And I love you too.” Claire brought her hand to her face and wiped away the tears.

“Right now I just need the man I love.” Claire’s voice was calm. “Not the soldier I commanded. But I do owe you an apology. I know the way you’ve been acting isn’t entirely your fault. It’s that thing inside you.” Claire’s voice changed to a sneer when she said the word thing.

The Chaplain sighed, taking Claire's hand and kissing her knuckles, sniffing back his own tears. "The man you love is here, Claire..." he sighed. He knew what she meant. That shard of Sammael's power that had melded in to the Chaplain's soul.

"Sammael can't take all the blame, Claire. I still chose to react the way I did... I just don't want you to get hurt. I know you can take care of yourself, but I don't want you to have to."

“Mal,” Claire sighed. “You have to let me live. I don’t want a protector. I want you. Not a father or a bodyguard. But the man I love. And I can’t believe if it wasn’t for the stress that your so called angel gives you that you would have really acted that way. I refuse to believe that was you. I know you better than that. And that wasn’t the man I fell in love with.”

Malcolm nodded, giving Claire a light kiss on the lips to offer her some kind of reassurance. He was about to say something when he felt his pocket vibrate. Reaching in to his jeans, he pulled out his phone and looked at the screen.

1 new text message

The Chaplain opened the message, reading the text; You can't protect her. You will all die. Malcolm frowned at the phone, his busted knuckles seeping fresh blood as he squeesed the device, the screen cracking under the pressure. The display flickered and went black as Malcolm crushed the phone around the SM card. He finished by dashing the phone against the boulder, sending splinters every which way.

"Never liked the damned thing anyways." he muttered, rubbing his busted right hand, the knuckles throbbing.

Claire watched silently as Malcolm busted the phone. The look of concern was evident on her face. Once he had finished Claire looked directly into his eyes.

“Before we head out,” Claire’s tone reflected the concern on her face. “I want you to get Baket to fix your hand. I also want to know why you did that just now."

Malcolm looked at his hand, wiping his knuckles on his pants. "My hand is fine. Nothing some gauze won't fix. I've had much worse... I've been blown up, you know." he smiled grimly, wondering just how much longer he would be able to dodge death clinging on to the ankles of an Archangel.

"Why I did what?" he quirked an eyebrow, looking at the ravaged remains of what used to be his cell phone. "Oh, that." he cleared his throat, "Someone sent me a text. A number I didn't recognize, and I don't like getting threats from people I don't know... I don't like getting threats period."

“What do you mean?” Claire sounded a little perturbed. “What did it say?”

"It said... 'You can't protect her. You will all die'." Malcolm said quietly with a sneer and a defensive tone in his voice. He still held on to Claire's hand, like it was the only thing keeping him from being dragged away by some invisible force.

"I won't lose you, Claire. I'll fight Satan himself if I have to. I won't lose you, not to anyone, not to anything."

“Malcolm,” Claire’s eyes went wide. “Everyone who had that number is either dead or here with us. I have a very bad feeling about this.” Claire thought back to Kristy smashing her phone. The text message that Malcolm had received certainly gave a hint to what really happened. But she couldn’t understand why Kristy had lied to her.

“And Malcolm,” Claire’s look became a little playful as she kissed him on the cheek. “Since you can’t even kick my ass, I’m wondering what chance you would have against Satan.” Claire was trying to make light of the whole situation. She hated the fact the Malcolm was hell bent on protecting her, but at least it took the focus off the real problem right now. Who had texted Malcolm?

Maloclm gave a mocking look of hurt to Claire. She was at least acting more liker her old self. "There's a big difference between 'can't' and 'won't', Claire." he chuckled, kissing her once more.

"Now, would you care to join the rest of us by the fire or do you want to sit out here and wait for your panties to get all soggy and frozen?"

“I think we should get moving,” Claire’s expression became serious. “I really don’t think that you’re the only one that got a text message.

"Yes ma'am, as you command, ma'am." Malcolm saluted, but he had a smile on his face. He never smiled when he was serious about soldiering. Holding out a hand for her, he gave Claire the most supportive look he could muster. "Everything is going to be fine, Claire. As long as we all stick together and work together, everything will be fine. Okay?"

"I hope you're right Mal," Claire forced a smile taking Malcolm's hand. "I have a bad feeling about all this."

Malcolm sighed and nodded as he pulled Claire up from the boulder, still holding her hand. "I know what you mean. The boys upstairs have been chattering like fucking mother hens, and Sammael has been the worst of them all." he rubbed his eyes with his free hand.

"It's like a jackhammer against the inside of my skull every time he utters a syllable..." the Chaplain took a deep breath and started walking back to the temporary camp with Claire in hand.

"Still, caution is the best course of action. We aren't out of the woods yet," he looked around with a scoff, "so to speak."

(co with Naz the Great)

[Cookies Ahoy]

Kristy was resting at the base of a small tree. Sleep only came in short winks, and those were far and few between. She was just about to slip into another one of her drowsy spells when she felt her Tar21 fall onto her lap. Kristy opened her eyes, the sleepiness now gone, she eyed the weapon angrily. It had fallen from its resting place against the tree. Another hassle to add to the list for the day.

Shoulda left you in the dirt, Kristy thought as she slid the gun across the ground a few inches from her.

Kristy rested her head against the tree again, urging another spell of sleep to come over her. The day had brought too much stress, and Kristy didn't deal with stress as well as others.

When Claire returned to the campsite, she let go of Malcolm’s hand and immediately walked over to where Kristy was resting against a tree.

“We need to talk,” Claire’s tone came coldly and her expression was serious.

Kristy opened her eyes slowly, eying Claire lazily. She could see that Claire wasn't happy, but Kristy wasn't sure why. Habit told Kristy to be respectful to her ex-trainer.

"What about?" Kristy asked innocently as she stretched her legs.

“You lied to me,” Claire glared at Kristy. The anger was evident in her tone. She couldn’t believe that Kristy would lie to her about anything. It was something that was making Claire quite upset.

Kristy got to her feet, Claire sounded as if she was going to pummel her. She put her hands on her hips, recalling the message that had come through on her phone only seconds before she destroyed it.

"When?" Kristy asked, now beating around the bush.

“Why did you trash your phone?” Claire kept eye contact with Kristy. “And why did you lie to me about it?”

Kristy cocked her head slightly, "You told me to dump my phone, remember? I just did as I was told, like a good little soldier. How could I lie to you about something like that?"

Kristy walked a half circle around Claire, leaving her Tar21 near the tree she had been resting at. Kristy looked at Claire's eyes that were still glowing with anger, then started walking into the forest. She half hoped that Claire wouldn't follow her, but Kristy knew Claire better than that.

“Kristy,” Claire followed after, her voice becoming calmer. “I love you like a sister, but if you can’t be honest, I will read you. I don’t like being lied to.”

"Look," Kristy started, the frustration evident in her voice, "I told you what you needed to hear at the time."

“And how was that what I needed to hear?” Claire was forcing herself not to yell.

Kristy let out a small laugh, "Do you really need to ask that question Claire?" Kristy paused, "You were so defeated at the time. Claire, I couldn't have put a positive thought in your head if I had a sledge hammer."

"I still am," Claire sighed. "My life...all our lives are gone. And all of you are looking to me for answers and I don''t have them. I had a feeling something was goign to happen, but not like this. And now to find out that you and Malcolm have received text messages when that shouldn't be possible." Claire's voice started to take on a tone of sadness.

"It's just all becoming too much for me to handle and I feel like I'm losing everyone I have left. I'm not giving up Kristy." Claire looked into the face fo her fiend and tried to force a smile. "I meant what I said. I'm going to try to get everyone safe. But you need to cut me a little slack too. I've lost pretty well everyone I was ever close to in a single day, and I can't keep up the strong confident facade anymore. I feel like I'm losing my mind Kristy." Tears began to well up in Claire's eyes.

Kristy shook her head, "You still don't get it. There is no 'I' in team. We're a team, all of us," Kristy motioned back to the camp, "I don't know what crap SCAR teaches its squad leaders, but in the Marines a leader is told to utilize each of their squad members. You're not doing that, we can all help you, but we can't read minds like you. You need to tell us what to do."

"You would actually be surprised at the way we are...were trained for leadership," Claire looked at the ground. "We use a lot of the same techniques as the military. But I never should have been chosen for leadership. I'm not a soldier. And my emotions get in the way of so much. And that's not my fault." Claire looked back into Kristy's eyes.

"I've never been able to have the objectivity that I am supposed to," Claire's tone sounded calmer yet still had a slight tone of sadness. "I'm supposed to be able to use you all in any way possible to achieve a mission without regard for your lives. The mission was always supposed to be the most important thing. But instead, I willingly broke protocol and threw myself into the line of fire, putting my own life at risk instead of doing my job." Claire paused and glanced back to where the firelight was emanating from. It had almost burned down to embers.

"I can't tell any of you what to do anymore," the sadness seemed to fade from Claire's voice. "All I can do is help the best that I can and hope all of you come with me. And then maybe I can get all of you safe. But I can't help if you keep things from me. I don't want to be your commander anymore, just your friend."

Kristy stared at the ground for a while, then into the dark forest. Her silence was the easiest form of understanding she could display at the moment. Claire would get it.

"And after that?" Kristy questioned curiously, "What happens once we get out of the country?"

"I don't know," Claire cringed as she said the words. "When we get to Detroit, I need to radio The Campus and see if they will take us in. If they do, at least we will have somewhere safe to go." Claire's expression became a little more serious.

"But I need to know what was on your phone." Claire paused and her voice became softer. "Please."

Kristy looked uneasily at her dark surroundings, "You can't hide," she delivered the three words as smoothly as she could, but even still, her voice quivered slightly. I'm sorry for lying, she added in her head.

"Then I don't know about you," Claire's tone became concerned. "But I think we have lingered here long enough. Maybe we should get moving?"

Kristy gave a sharp nod of approval and started back to the rest of the team. A small amount of silence passed before Kristy spoke again, this time casually, "It makes you wonder though. Whoever sent that message, could they have a connection to whoever set us up?"

"It seems logical," Claire started walking with Kristy. "How else could they have gotten the numbers to send the message in the first place? Whoever they are though, I don't think I like the idea of them knowing where we are. Let's get the hell out of here."

"You don't have to tell me twice," Kristy said, as she approached her Tar21 she had left on the ground. Slinging it over her shoulder she told Claire, "I'll take point if you don't mind."

"Whatever you would think is..." Claire trailed off as her thoughts drifted to the last mission. She remembered the werewolves and how badly that had gone. The ones on point got it the worst.

"On second thought Kristy," Claire spoke softly. "Why don't we all just stick together."

"Right, whatever you say," Kristy said, then smiled and added, "Ma'am."



[Coop'd with Naz]

[Merry]

Baket was grateful they were finally stopping for the night. A warm fire and some sleep would be in order for sure. She wasn’t used to all this hiking and marching. She felt as though she was in shape, but it had just been too much of a strange journey already. She wanted to just stop, rest and recharge a bit. She needed time to think and process what had happened so far.

Watching as Marc dropped his stuff, before making another round about the make shift camp, she dropped her bag over by his stuff. Rubbing her shoulder from the strap on the bag. She knew she didn’t have much in there, but the length of carrying it for a few miles was getting to her. Actually, what was really bothering her was that text message. She had heard Claire tell everyone to toss them out. It was still weighing on her mind though, who had sent the text? Who was watching them, and of course, who had destroyed headquarters. Settling down, as comfortable as was possible on the ground, she lay there thinking. Deliberately ignoring the hard ground under her back.

Rolling to her side she saw Marc come back, and noticed the bottle he had stashed. “Hey” she whispered quietly toward him “Mind if I have some of that?” she motioned toward his bottle of gin, hoping to catch his eye before he dozed off.

Marc smiled at the woman, Baker? Baaker? Baket! Right He thought as he sat next to her, though they had not spoken before he was already beginning to like her, and though he was ready for a bit of shut-eye he had to admire her choice in drinks,

"Sure, always nice to have a drink with someone," Reaching into his bag he produced the bottle of gin, "Are you sure you can handle this though?"

Grinning over at him, she grabbed the bottle, unscrewed the cap "Let's find out shall we" taking a huge drink. "I'm really needing to take the edge off" gasping a little as the liquor hit her throat, burning its way down her throat to her stomach. Closing her eyes, wincing a bit. Coughing, then taking another big drink. Passing the bottle back. "That was good" wheezing a bit.

"So, what's your deal" she whispered "What do you make of all this?"

“All of what? You mean the whole, go on a mission, get double-crossed, become America's Most wanted?" He looked at her seriously for a moment, then took a drink from the bottle. Lowering the bottle from his lips he revealed a grin,

"I love it." He laughed a bit, "Seriously though I feel terrible for the people who were killed in the explosion, I really do. But the way I see it is that I am still on my feet and that's something. Do you know what I mean?"

"I suppose" taking the bottle back, taking another large sip from the bottle. Her face already starting to warm from the alcohol. "You do have a point, I guess I'm still trying to figure this out." she sighed "Don't get me wrong, I feel badly, but I really didn't know anyone? It's hard to really feel for complete strangers I guess. I know that sounds horrible, but I'm just happy to be alive? or as you said….still on my feet" taking another sip "This is pretty strong stuff" she grinned back at him definitely feeling warmer.

"Who would do this to SCAR, to us? I mean, it's not like I have anything to go back to, so I'll stick it out. See what happens, but what about the rest" sipping once more from the bottle before passing it back, leaning back against her bag. "Do you really trust any of them?" she said softly wondering if she could even trust him, glancing over at him. Studying his face in the darkness.

"Trust them?" He asked as he stretched a bit, "I haven't shared a drink with any of them yet so I wouldn't exactly know what to say to that. Although Claire seems pretty deserving of our trust; she has handled this whole thing pretty well so far."

"So you've never been in a fight before? A real life or death situation?"

Giggling a little, the effects of the liquors really taking hold of her. "Not really. I'm here because of my ability to heal people" she said with a wave of her arms. "not that I can even be sure of that" laughing again. "I get this weird feeling, and can "fix" you from the inside out. Maybe.... I think... it's not something I can really test" almost completely dissolving into giggles. It seemed incredibly silly to here that this was her function here and it wasn’t even something that she could test.

"But I've never really seen, combat" sipping again, softer, more subdued. Taking the bottle back, sipping again, almost emptying it. Grinning widely "You're almost out" shaking the bottle in his direction "and for the record…. you're really kinda cute"

Marc laughed, "Really kinda cute huh?" He knew that Baket had drunk nearly the whole bottle of gin and it was obvious from the way she had begun acting. He might have taken the bottle away from her and saved her some embarrassment but he himself had begun to feel the affects of the gin. So instead he lifted up his bottle saying,

"A toast, to your first time," at this he snorted, then regained his composure, "in a real life battle situation." He took another drink, "And may I also add that should anything bad happen to me I wouldn't mind you putting your hands on me.

Laughing back at him “Well, it does work best if I can touch you with my hands” she said huskily, “skin on skin contact does seem to work the best” sliding a little closer. Suddenly being in the dark on the ground, wasn’t such a big deal. “You can be sure, that I would do my best to make sure you were fixed up proper” smiling at him in the darkness.” Nodding her head in an exaggerated yes in his direction.

With a seductive languidness, Marc leaned forward so that they were only a few inches away. The notion of skin to skin contact had made his heart beat a bit faster, and even with the alcohol running through his veins he knew exactly what he was doing,

"Oh, of that I am sure." And with that his lips met hers, only for an instant, as if to test the water. Drawing back only an inch, he followed the kiss with a light whisper, "I feel better already."

Smiling in the darkness at his whisper, her lips still tingling from the soft brush of his "I'm sure you do feel better" she teased, brushing her lips against his as she spoke. Even in her slightly inebriated state she knew this was hardly the time or place to pursue anything. They were outside, with the other crew members a mere few feet away. The chances of them all being asleep and ignoring what was going on was highly unlikely.

"I can think of lots more ways, for us both to feel a whole lot better" she whispered back again brushing his lips gently as she spoke, "ways that involve a lot less clothing" turning her head a little sweeping her lips lightly against his jaw line. "too bad we're not in a more private place?" she said breathily, feeling flush from the effects of the alcohol and from the proximity of him. A little twinge of sadness that they weren't alone.

She brought her hand up to gently touch his face. "Could be a bit of problem with the rest of the crew if we were to wake them with the noise we would make" bringing her lips back to his, kissing him softly. "besides, you don't seem the type to take advantage of a girl because she's a little tipsy" placing her finger against his lips, finding his eyes with hers, so he would clearly see he would not be taking advantage of anything, she was more than willing given the proper place and time.

Marc nodded in agreement,

"I'd never dream of taking advantage of anyone Baket. However, when things settle down and we aren't so...exposed, I'd love to continue this 'conversation'." And with that he returned to his own bag, sat down, and rested for the remainder of the break.

Baket rolled back away as well. A little sad that it had ended so quickly. Sighing she closed her eyes and waited for the break to be finished.

co/posty w/ smexy Ryu & me!

[Auki]

The shallow wounds dotted around her body had begun to clot – A thankful advancement to her condition. Although her manoeuvrability was not seriously affected, nor her cognitive ability, the pain was significantly dampening her mood. The car was still silent except from the gentle rumbling of the engine. Even so, she was trying to avoid getting too involved in her thoughts. The need to be alert was strong – She did not have the luxury of dwelling on trivial matters.

She had resolved the situation as much as was in her power – Even going as far as to rip the police car’s camera from the dashboard…just in case – Still, her mind wondered if there was anything she might possibly have missed. She had no idea who might be stalking her but it seemed likely that someone was. She was not naïve. She kept a realistic approach to life. By the end of this, she would likely be dead. They probably all would be.

Normally such a prospect wouldn’t bring her down; she wasn’t one to worry about the future. However, the feeling of nausea and depression had been haunting her ever since the demon encounter. Hopefully, it was just due to exhaustion.

About five minutes later, a sign for services flashed at the side of the motorway and she steered off reluctantly. There was no use her reaching Claire in the state she was in anyway. She needed some coffee – Some really strong coffee. Perhaps a short nap in the back of the car. Anything that might perk her spirits. Far too many people in SCAR had been too serious for Karen’s liking – Claire would not need another such person on the team. Considering all that had happened, she probably just needed some emotional support.

It had been a long time since Karen and Claire had been friends admittedly but that did not stop Karen caring deeply about the other’s well-being. She would never let anyone know though - Just the thought sounded pathetic. Even her husband rarely got a glimpse of Karen’s affection.

A string of well-chosen swear words sounded throughout the car. How could she forget to relay her plans to her own husband? The answer was not one she wanted to think about – In recent months, contact had become far less frequent between the two of them. She had thought the distance had grown because of SCAR’s increased assertiveness concerning her personal life; the details of her marriage were kept secret from them for a variety of reasons. With the organisation gone, would things improve? Most looked upon her relationship with a skeptical eye – He fooled around with other girls whilst she was away and she had had dealings with many a man upon her adventures. Working away as she did, she wasn’t there to satisfy all his needs but, well…If he loved her and she loved him, that was all that mattered. The fairy-tale endings that accompanied each Disney film just didn’t apply to real life. As great as her happiness was, there was always a catch.

She came to a halt in the bay at the corner of the car park, unfastening her seat belt and jumping into the back of the car. Curling into a comfortable position on the rear seats, she slid her phone from her pocket, blinking in surprise at the sight of three missed calls from her husband, before dialling his number. It had been…what? Two weeks? Her stomach clenched at each tone. She hadn’t considered he might not pick up.

Click.

“Hello? Is that you, Karen?” His voice was slow and monotonic, irritating to most but strangely soothing to her. The contrast between them had often got them odd looks but it only made them laugh. Today, he sounded different though – Tense, panicked.
“Mark? What’s wrong?” Her stomach still felt knotted as she spoke to him but a strange warmth accompanied it; relief for the most part.
“What’s wrong?! It’s all over the news. SCAR blew up and I haven’t been able to get a hold of you!”
“I’m fine though.”
“You’re positive?”
“Of course. Wasn’t anywhere near base at the time of attack. So yeah.”
“Well, that’s all the matters then. I was glad to hear the organisation go to hell but…well, not if it meant losing you.”
“My safety is more important than yours?”
An indignant snort echoed down the phone, “SCAR was never a threat to me.”
“I was.”
“You still are. Heck, I always told myself I’d never get serious with a person.”
“Then you met me?”
“Then I met you.” A small smile flickered across her face but he soon moved on to more serious matters. “What’s your plan of action now…if you can tell me that is? I thought you might come back here now it’s gone.”
“You thought or you hoped? Still, got plenty of business to sort out here. I’m meeting up with a team. We’re going to decide what to do from there. Hopefully.”
“Team? You know these people then, I assume.”
“Well, used to be on close terms with the leader. Ain’t really met the rest of them. Hoping for some cute guys. Been a while since I’ve seen you after all.”
“You know the rules, sweetheart.”
“Of course…”
“If you hate ‘em, you can fuck ‘em. If you like ‘em…”
“…Stay well clear. Things just get complicated otherwise. I know. I know. How are things going for you? In that area, I mean.”
“Sex-wise? Almost had my way with this blonde last night but she got so drunk, she passed out halfway home and y’know, even I have standards. Just left her there in a pile of her own vomit. Wasn’t worth buying a hotel room for an unconscious slut and I know how much you’d hate it if she stayed over in our house... See, I do consider your feelings sometimes.”
“Yeah… I know.” She paused for a moment, “Was she prettier than me?”
A laugh crackled from the phone speaker, “That’s an odd question coming from your mouth. Everything okay? Your voice does sound a bit strained.”
“I’m bleeding ‘tis all.”
“Bleeding? You mean-…”
“Bloody hell, not that kind of bleeding, no. Proper bleeding… from a wound. Just had some demon try to proper fuck me up.”
“You kissed him, didn’t you?”
“Well, I tried.”
“And?”
“Didn’t go as well as planned. Trying to work out if I have concussion or not. My shoulder’s pretty bad.”
“Was it just a one-off encounter or…was he specifically after you?”
“After a friend of mine - You've met her. From SCAR. Claire.”
“I don’t think she likes me much…”
“Can you blame her? Still, I killed the demon. Everything should be fine.”
There was a silence. When he spoke again, his tone had changed, softened, “If someone’s after you…If you’re actually in danger, I can help, you know. I can protect you.” If she didn’t know better, she’d say he was worried for her safety.
“I don’t think the others would approve. They are all…better people than I am. I can look after myself anyway. Always have. Will be good for me. As long as I don’t die in the end.”
“Whatever keeps you happy, sweetheart…”
She gave a cynical grunt, “This lifestyle is hardly an easy one. There’s always someone out there to ruin my day. Still, I should be getting to Claire. Making sure she’s safe.”
“Keep in contact. It’s been too long since we’ve seen each other already.”
“Of course… I’ll phone you tonight, yeah? Speak to you later.”

They made their goodbyes quickly, aware that now was not the time for romantic farewells. A fifteen-minute nap, followed by a coffee, and she was back on the road. Once she’d reached the rest of the group, she would be far less vulnerable. The prospect was what kept her driving through the night.

[The Gypsy Queen]

Vee stared out into the darkness. Her thighs and calves ached from the long walk, and her chest still shook and heaved with every breath from sobbing. She sat quietly, staring and keeping her expression as blank as she could.

She was mildly annoyed by the sounds of the others. Giggles and words of love and adoration. She would have glared but she didn't want to give away any more emotion than she already had. She was still appalled at her earlier fit. Thinking about that, however, drew her mind back to what had caused the fit...

The glint of metal in the air, the dead thunk as the knife buried itself in his skull, the light dimming in his expressive eyes...

Tears welled up and she swallowed, fighting to quell the agony that rose in her chest with the bile in her throat. The night was cold. She was alone. The arms that had soothed her through the hallucinations, the nightmares, and the memories were gone. The voice that had calmed her fevered mind and coaxed her to elusive sleep was silenced. He was gone. He would never come back. He had been unique and wonderful, and there would never be another like him.

And she was left behind, without him. Alone. Unwanted and unloved.

Alone.

Again.

She bit back the whimper of a sob that was in her throat and stated icily into the night. She was a soldier. Soldiers didn't sob in the face of adversity like little skinny-armed, broken-hearted, lonely girls. She glowered at Malcolm and Claire's whispered affections, each tender word and caress like a hard knife in her stomach, twisting and burning. Even Shane sleeping on Aaron's shoulder was like a kidney shot.

Something in her pocket buzzed and she pulled out her cell phone, the same as the other former operatives had, and read that she had a new message. She opened the message to read.

A friend in the fire will join you soon.

She growled. The sender was unknown. She smashed the cell phone against the tree she was leaning on loudly, and threw the shattered remains away into the woods. Her hand was bloody and raw from where the sharp phone pieces and tree bark had torn her skin but the pain was a welcome distraction.

A few moments later Shane awoke with a scream. Vee ignored her, drawing her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around herself. Her hand throbbed painfully and she got blood on her fatigues, but she didn't care.

It was cold. And she was alone.

[John]

Claire felt a little better after her talk with Kristy and Malcolm. Kristy had done wonders to help strengthen Claire’s resolve and be able to push away the loss and sadness for a time. Malcolm’s demeanour had seemed to improve as well which made her feel a lot better. Claire had lost so much already and didn’t need to lose what she had left. She juts hoped that Malcolm could be the man she loved and needed.

Despite all this, she was still unnerved by the whole situation. The messages on the phones proved that someone knew where they were and it cause Claire’s mind to race in all sorts of different directions. Who had sent the messages? Was it the same person who was setting them up. If yes, why hadn’t hey been captured yet? And if not, what was on the new player’s agenda? There were too many variables to consider. It was moments like theses that she wished Patrick was around. He world have been able to come up with an answer. But his fate was unkind as he had disappeared after a portal closed during the last mission. But without him, Claire could only do what she thought was best.

Claire took a moment to send a message to Charlie, instructing her to get to the safe house and how to get inside. Claire was concerned for her safety and was starting to feel bad for dragging her into all this. If Charlie could just get to the safe house, she would be out of harm’s way and Claire would feel more at ease.

After sending the text Charlie, Claire put her phone away and jumped at the sound of a scream coming form near the fire. Without hesitation, Claire drew one of her swords and rushed over only to find out that Shane had had a bad dream of some kind. Claire sheathed her sword and started to kick dirt on the fire to put it out.

“Guys,” Claire’s tone was concentred. “I think we need to get moving. It looks like someone knows where we are. I really think we should go.” Claire picked up the duffel bag and walked over to where Marc was, taking the bottle form his hand. Claire took a long swig on it, draining about a quarter of it. Handing it back to Marc, she wiped her mouth and continued to walk in the direction of Blunt. Claire was unsure if anyone would talk to her during the remainder of the walk. She definitely needed time to talk to Ethan about things, and she hoped Yakim would start to open up a little more now. But one thing was for sure, they needed to get to safety and meet up with Karen. They couldn’t afford to waste anymore time.

It took about another two and a half hours for the group to arrive at the edge of the forest which opened into the town of Blunt. The cam e to the edge right in fornt of the motel that Charlie had told them abut. This would make things a lot easier, cause a group of heavily armed individuals walking through a small town in middle America wearing battle armour would definitely draw some attention. Claire looked around the area, noticing it was quiet and also taking notice of the sign in the window of the bus terminal which said “Western Union,“ as well as the words “Hablamos Espanol.”

Claire took a moment to empty the survival gear out fo the duffel bag and placed all of her weapons inside. She removed the jacket of her armour to reveal the white undershirt underneath and placed that on to of the bag, before turning to the group.

“Okay. I’m going to get us some money and check us into the motel. Just give me a couple of minutes.” Claire smile and walked into the bus terminal.

She quickly located the Western Union desk, and after a lengthy exchange with the attendant, who’s Spanish was less than fluent, Claire got the money left for her by Charlie. Charlie had sent her twenty five thousand dollars, which would be more than enough to get them to Detroit. Claire had the money put on a prepaid credit card, using the alias which she had given to Charlie and headed out of the terminal and to the hotel.

On the way to the hotel, Claire received a text from Karen explaining of a demon attack. Taking a moment, she sent a reply.

“So glad you’re okay. We just arrived. I hope you get here soon.”

Claire wanted to say more. A lot more. But she couldn’t be sure that anyone else was listening now. And with a demon attacking Karen that gave Claire even more to question. But first, she had to get the room at the motel.

Claire entered the office, following Charlie’s instructions, changing one detail. She told the clerk that her and her boyfriend had run into some friends on the way and needed more rooms. Using the credit card, Claire paid for the rooms and took the keys, before heading to the room that Charlie had somehow managed to get the clothes into. Obviously she had contacts here as well. Who they were, Claire didn‘t know. But she knew better than to bring up any kind of details. Especially given the unique set of circumstances which had brought them all here.. She retrieved the over sized duffel bag and returned to the group. Once there, she held out the keys and placed the bag on the ground.

“Should probably throw your weapons and some of your armour into the bag.,” Claire spoke softly. “We’ve got some clothes for us in room three. And I managed to get six rooms in total. So some of you will have to bunk together. It’s only going to be for the night. Once Karen gets here, we’ll figure out how we are getting to Detroit.” Claire smiled and turned heading to the room.

[Mysteria]

Aaron had taken Shane's hand in his and leaned close when she screamed "Shane, wake up. Are you okay? Was it a bad dream?" Shane smiled weakly at Aaron and nodded. She didn't want to worry him so she said nothing, instead she just squeezed his hand back as she tried to remember the dream that she'd just had.

The new operative Marc arrived within seconds of her screaming which only went to prove that she had screamed out loud. No one else in the group approached Shane and Shane knew it wasn't for lack of compassion but rather they all knew each one of them had their own demons to face so to speak and there was really nothing any of them could do about them.

Shane wasn't an operative anymore. The truth was that none of them were and it was still an idea that Shane was getting accustomed to but since she was officially not on the job anymore, that drink sounded damn good to her at the moment. Taking the flask that Marc offered her she took a long drink of the whiskey swallowing slowly and allowing herself to enjoy the burn of it so that her mind might temporarily be taken off of the passing dream.

Shane smiled as she handed the flask back to Marc "Thanks, I appreciate that." Not long after that Claire returned and it was decided they should probably get on the move again. Shane was grateful since sleep was now the last thing on her mind.
When the finally reached the motel Shane was more than ready to be off of her feet for a bit.

“Should probably throw your weapons and some of your armour into the bag.,” Claire was speaking quietly and Shane could sense the toll this entire situation was taking on their ex, no STILL leader. “We’ve got some clothes for us in room three. And I managed to get six rooms in total. So some of you will have to bunk together. It’s only going to be for the night. Once Karen gets here, we’ll figure out how we are getting to Detroit.”

Shane made sure her gun was unloaded before putting it into the bag. Her armor was built into her jacket and her jacket went where she did as did the HoneyComb tucked inside of it. Six rooms and bunking together sounded just about perfect to Shane as she took one of the keys from Claire and waited for Aaron to unload some of his stuff. Having six rooms should work out relatively well for everyone and even if Aaron and her had to share a room with someone else Shane was at the point she didn't really care.

It would just be good to finally be able to talk to him for a few minutes and rest semi comfortably. The only thing that worried Shane was that she knew that when Aaron got her alone he would question her about the dream and she wasn't quite sure how to answer him. Hopefully he'd forgotten all about it by now.

[StormWolf]

Malcolm voiced no complaint when Claire told everyone to pack up and move out to Blunt. He preferred a lumpy mattress to lumpy ground any day of the week anyways. For the remainder of the trek to Blunt, Malcolm remained withdrawn inside himself. He kept himself near Claire, walking to her right and slightly behind her. This way, no one could assume that Malcolm was trying to usurp some kind of command over the downtrodden group or undermine Claire's authority. Besides, from where he walked, he could get a great view at the hypnotic way Claire's behind moved when she walked.

Malcolm's vision flashed for a moment, and he was in a different place and time. In the city of Rome, only a couple handfuls of weeks behind them, and it felt like a distant memory. Malcolm remembered seeing Claire in that beautiful silk dress she bought and how it hugged her succulent curves. When Claire bought and tailored Malcolm a stunning tuxedo, and how they spent a night taking those clothes off of each other. God, how he loved her.... How could he even begin to explain to her and not drive her away?

The Chaplain's vision flashed again, and Claire was no longer wearing a dress, but her combat armor and fatigues. Malcolm grumbled gruffly to himself for a moment and rubbed his eyes. What the Hell was happening to him? Maybe Claire was right, maybe what was happening to him was Sammael's fault.

The remainder of the walk proceeded, for Malcolm, in a kind of twilight zone. The lights were on, but not everyone was home, not for him. Suddenly, Malcolm found the group walking down the streets of the town of Blunt. He rubbed his eyes again, sighing once more. Malcolm quickly removed his Desert Eagle and the holster from his thigh and stuffed them in to his jacket. They were supposed to be civilians, and no law abiding citizen would be packing that kind of heat.

After Claire stopped by the band to get the cash that was wired to her by this Charlie contact of hers, she lead the group to a motel. It was nothing spectacular, but it beat the cold, hard ground, or a cot in Guantanamo Bay. However, Malcolm had a feeling that if they got caught, the group would never make it to Guantanamo unless they were spread out in dozens and dozens of small metal boxes.

Claire returned in a short while with room keys and a oversized duffle bag. Malcolm quickly put his Desert Eagle and the rest of his larger guns and armor into the large duffle before taking the key to Room Three from Claire and unlocked the room. Once the door swung open, the first smell to fill Malcolm's nostrils was the musty scent of mold and the sickly-sweet smell of decay. It wasn't human flesh, he had smelt enough of that to know. This was an animal, probably a rat that died in the walls back when Elvis was popular. The room was run down and filthy, stains marked the walls in all colors of the rainbow. Parts of the drywall looked fresher than the rest though.

Malcolm went over to one of these new-looking patched of wall and tapped on it. The wall was hollower than it should have been. Malcolm punched a hole in the wall, using his knife to cut away the rest, finding vaccum sealed bags holding clothes, medical supplies, salt, holy water and other small armaments that could turn that shitty room in to a fortress against the supernatural.

Malcolm opened up easily half a dozen holes in the walls to reveal a great deal of clothing as well as the clothes and defenses the were also under the bed, in the closet and in the mattress. Malcolm found himself a grey-green turtleneck sweater, grey cargo pants, fresh socks, fresh underwear, and a pair of special forces athletic shoes, meant to keep one running quiet and running fast for long periods of time while still giving them good traction and enough stopping power to put a man down with a kick to the head. If things kept going the way they were going, Malcolm would need those shoes.

A sharp stinging in his hand reminded Malcolm of his busted knuckles on his right hand. He also helped himself to one of the self contained medical packs that were stashed inside the walls. It was a civilian medical kit, but it would do. Malcolm just took three ibuprofen with a glass of tap water and wrapped his knuckles in gauze.

Malcolm looked at his face in the bathroom mirror after fixing up his hand, running his calloused fingers through his black locks. He would need a haircut, anything to help keep him and the other operatives under the radar. The Chaplain scratched at his chin, the sandpapery scuffing of stubble on fingernails sounded out from his chin. It had been a few hours since he had shaved, and his face was darkening again. Malcolm figured he could let that grow out as well.

How the hell did he get himself in to this mess? More importantly, how was he going to get Claire and the others out of it?

[Yoruyonaka]

Darkness. Utter and indefinite. Pain. A lot of pain. Wake up, wake up! Charlie's eyes fluttered open. She was still sitting in her car and must of passed out from the pain. Shifting her body slightly, Charlie winced as she reached in the back for her first aid. She had a cut on her left arm which she bandaged. She had a bottle of vicodin also and decided to take two. Any more than that might be risky with her ability. Eying her surroundings, she noticed that she was out for a few hours. Charlie let out a curse. She could have been captured or even killed after fainting, but had pure luck after the fight.

The GPS still had the address on it and pointed the way. With a deep breath, Charlie drove on to her destination. It was clear that there was a lot more going on than she knew. A lot more. She also knew why some Supernaturals had an interest in her. Demon spawns are very rare. Only the strongest of the demons could cause a pregnancy and only the strongest can keep control as a new living being formed in the possessed. Returning her thoughts to the GPS, she started the car and drove on.

A fog had rolled in while she drove forward. Her eye sight was a little foggy from the pain and due to her need for sleep. Charlie had to keep moving, who knows what could come after her next. She made it all the way to her destination. The warehouse appeared like any other, but she knew better. Parking her car between the two warehouses, Charlie grabbed her bag and gently got herself out. She made her way to the front of the warehouse. It was very quiet.

"This is becoming more than an errand," Charlie murmured to herself. "God, Claire you owe me one, big time."

She entered the code that Claire texted her and entered the warehouse door. It was plain as any warehouse, but this one had an elevator which Charlie limped to. Just as Claire instructed, Charlie went down only one level. As she did, she sent Claire a quick text telling her about the Vampire and Licker attack and that she was pretty banged up. She felt it important to clarify she broke some ribs for Claire to be more informed. With that, the door to the elevator opened.

Just as Claire described, the room was small and walled with what appeared to be concrete. The computer terminal and retina scanner was on the other side along with the door. Wincing as she walked forward, she avoided the scanner and typed CHAH179debug51 into the computer then clicked the override option. It asked for a password. Sighing, Charlie typed in Avalon. Sometimes Claire knew exactly how to get on Charlie's nerves even after such a long time seeing her. The sound of mechanical clicking told her that the door was opening.

The wall in front of Charlie made a grinding noise and slid into the floor. Stepping through the opening, she entered into a large room which was rather luxuriously decorated. There were several couches and chairs, a large screen television mounted into one wall. There was a large fireplace on another wall with a painting of Dali’s Persistence of memory above it. Facing the fire place was a long desk with three computers on it. The moment Charlie stepped into the room, a loud buzzing greeted her ears followed by Claire’s voice.

“DNA scan not recognized. Please state your name for voiceprint verification.”

Gasping from the alert and wincing as her sides made her convulse, Charlie glared. "Avalon Charles!" She yelled. "Now shut the fuck up!"

“Now is that any way to greet a friend?” Claire’s voice sounded throughout the room with a happy tone. “It’s good that you’re here.”

Charlie nearly had a heart attack. There was no way Claire could be here, she was still miles away. Charlie spun around the room looking for the source of the voice.

"What the hell," She said. "Are you really here?"

“If you are asking if Claire is really here,” Claire’s voice was calm. “Then the answer is no. I am a computer program that has been programmed in the eventuality that certain people not form SCAR find their way here. I have been programmed with different personality profiles to use depending on who the person is.”

"Okay..." Charlie stepped forward and gently laid herself down on a couch. "Does SCAR have anything they haven't created already?"

“Well we haven’t found a way to cure you of your sarcasm,” the voice giggled. “But you are reading as injured,” one of the doors in the room opened and the voice took on a concerned tone. “Down the hall are two doors. One leads to an infirmary. It’s not very big but you should be able to patch yourself up. The other door leads to a kitchen. Help yourself.”

"Thanks...I guess," Charlie replied carefully getting up and walking to the open doors. Walking down the hall, she came to the door that read infirmary. When she walked in, she felt like walking into a mini-hospital. Everything was labeled which made things simpler. Charlie eyed the cabinet that read Morphine. She took out a bottle and pulled a needle out of a drawer below it. A sign in the cabinet told her specific doses based on pain levels. She disinfected her left arm and injected the pain killer.

Walking back into the room of couches at the rec room, Charlie slipped onto a couch again. Her eyes fluttered and she passed out.

[Co-op with Snazzy Nazy]

[Ryudo]

Marc hated Blunt, he hadn’t even seen the city yet and he knew he hated it. From the name of the town he had already surmised every single fact he needed to know about the undoubtedly hellish local. Blunt, he nearly laughed out loud, the perfect name for some middle of nowhere town, where the biggest attraction was the Applebee‘s. Marc hated Middle America, hated small towns, and hated Applebee’s, and as he walked these thoughts marinated.

When the group crested the last hill and Blunt finally came into few Marc nearly cursed out loud, it turned out that Blunt was even smaller and more depressing than he had imagined. As they settled to be briefed Marc realized that Blunt was even smaller than Applebee’s small, kill me now.


-------------------------------------

Dropping his M16 into the duffle bag with a sarcastic whisper of farewell Marc then stashed his machete under his shirt. As he reached for a key his eyes met Baket’s and he gave her a small wink and showed her the room number in an attempt to convey his thoughts. Marc hoped she understood what he was implying as he headed towards the Motel.

Marc entered the room as Malcom exited, as he stepped inside it became very evident that Malcom had just been inside. The walls were torn up, clothing was strewn everywhere, and room smelled of something awful. It also became apparent that whoever had chosen the clothing had no knowledge of men’s style, sure that might have been the last thing on peoples mind right now, but this was not the case for Marc. Sure, the situation may be life or death, but that still was not excuse to dress poorly. Rummaging through the drab clothing Marc finally settled on a pair of somewhat tight jeans, a dark T-shirt, and a collared shirt that he wore messily over the top. It’ll have to do for now.

Marc finished the look with some old sneakers than headed two rooms down, with a flip of the light switch the meager room was revealed to him. Setting his own duffel down on the bed Marc removed a tooth brush and went to the bathroom, while there he also ran his hands through his hair to recreate the ‘just got out of bed look’. Returning to the room Marc opened the mini-fridge and removed from it the two beers. After setting them both on the table he sat down in one of the chairs and waited for Baket.

[The Gypsy Queen]

Vee tailed behind the other operatives for most of the walk, keeping herself in sight but out of earshot. She didn't want to hear the small talk and comforting words, and she didn't want them to hear her intermittent sobs.

It had been hours since it had actually happen, but her mind kept stumbling over the memory, as though shocked to find that it was still there... that it hadn't all been some sick nightmare... that she hadn't woken up next to him back at the base, warm, happy, and safe, to be reassured that all was well. That gentle hands and a soft voice hadn't roused her from her bad dream.

She wished someone would wake her up.

Or shoot her.

Whatever made the pain stop. She had stopped caring how.

She was the last to arrive to where Claire had the duffel bag, but she didn't bother really listening. She stripped her Glocks and combat knife off, her motions robotic and halting. She dropped her Glocks into the bag without pause but as she moved to do the same with her knife, she stopped, staring at it for a long moment.

He'd died by a knife. A knife through the eye. Her mind stumbled again, and her chest seized, but she forced herself to look at it, to look at the knife and recognize that it was similar to the weapon that had killed him. That if she were to drive the knife into her own eye she would die similarly.

Something deep inside her mind clicked into place and began whirl.

She had to force herself to drop the knife into the bag. Once she had, walking to the hotel was easy. It was a sleazy dive of a place, and Malcolm had torn one of them apart. She understood there were clothes there. She did not see a need for any of them.

There were bloodstains on her skin. She had shot the child-killer at point blank range. It stood to reason that his blood had splattered on her. But it was her duty to wade through the filthy blood of murderers and monsters, and it was not that thought that bothered her. It was that some of the blood, smeared down the side of her neck and front, had to belong to him.

She was stained with the blood of her lover.

She'd made a deal with the devil and her lover had died.

She felt dirtier than she'd ever felt.

She took a key card and strode purposefully to the room with the corresponding number, tore the door open, and began to strip. The door hung ajar behind her and she didn't give a rat's ass.

She left a trail of combat clothes and undergarments leading to the bathroom. She didn't bother to close that door either. She just cranked the water on at full blast, as hot as she could get it without busting into the wall to find the water heater. There was a little bar of awful smelling soap and a rough wash cloth. It would do.

She started to scrub.

[Merry]

Baket started to smirk in Marc's direction at his not so subtle hint with the key. It was pretty obvious he was taking her up on her offer from earlier. It was a tempting offer, she thought, feeling her smile getting a little wider. Her thoughts quickly turning to what it would be like to be with him, in private. Feeling her cheeks redden a bit, she was about to nod in his direction when Vee walked, or rather stalked by, breaking her out of her thoughts of Marc.

She was obviously in shock. It jolted her back to the reality of what had happened in the short time she had met these people. She couldn't leave the girl in pain, alone like that. It wasn't too long ago that she herself was left with no one. It sucked more than she cared to remember right now. With a wistful glance at Marc as he strode away, hoping he would understand, she quickly dropped her bag beside the rest of the items, and quickly went after Vee. Not saying a word, just watching as the girl stripped and headed to the shower. She softly closed the door and then began to quietly collecting the clothing the woman had dropped. She stuffed it into a trash bag she rescued from the small barrel under the side desk. No doubt Claire would want these destroyed at some point. Erase the evidence, so to speak.

Listening to the shower still running, she headed to room 3. Picking through the clothing that was strewn about the bed. She grabbed a pair of jeans for herself, and a pair for Vee, guessing at the other woman's size. A black tee shirt, and a red pull over v-neck sweater. She figured Vee for the black shirt, again guessing at something that looked like it would fit. A pair of flat sandals, and a pair of hiking style boots. She would leave it up to her to decide footwear, either was fine with Baket. A pair of socks, and undergarments completed the clothing requirements.

She slipped back into the room, still hearing the water running in the shower. She dropped the clothing on the bed. Arranging the outfits as she had selected them. She gently tapped on the door to the bathroom. "Hey... Vee. I brought you some clean clothing, hope it fits ok" she sat in the sad little brown chair beside the bed, wondering how long she should wait before checking on Vee.

[mere]

“Make me happy.”

Yakim hated his world. His world was this heavy armor and helmet that enclosed any trace of human. He was a robot with an insane mind. Once his armor came off, he wasn't much different. An android is what he was when his skin was exposed.

Yakim didn't just realize this, it had just become steadily the reality of his life. Actually, a “term” is a better word for Yakim.

“I don't need this shit. Just make me happy.”

Yakim once again left the annoying bastard to talk to himself. Would a bullet work? Maybe if Yakim discharged the rifle at his head, it would kill the voice and leave Yakim unharmed.

“Do that and you will kill us both. Besides, committing suicide is for cowards.”

The voice did make sense, at least a small amount. Yakim wouldn't be sure how much he would be missed by his comrades, but suicide wouldn't work. What if he went to Hell with the voice? Yakim sighed and kept moving, keeping his place a couple feet behind Claire. Once they arrived at the place they where going to rest, Claire went inside and returned a couple moments later with a duffel bag and news that some are going to have to share a room together. Yakim frowned, and placed his weapon inside the bag, along with his helmet and body armor. Android time. Walking into a public are with heavy SCAR armor on probable wouldn't be a great idea.

“So, Claire, since I haven't paying any attention since, well, ever, fill me in while the bastard is too tired to talk.”

“I have a friend coming to help.” Claire smiled pleasantly at Yakim. “And I might be able to help you keep your friend quiet. If you will let me try.”

Yakim thought about getting rid of the voice. It certainly would make life much more easier to live, and enjoy.

"Alright, what are you thinking about."

“With the new aspect of my ability,” Claire spoke calmly, trying not to think of the pain that she would bring on herself. “I can actually read thoughts to a point. It’s very hard to control, but I may be able to suppress whatever part of your mind ids causing it. Maybe even give you control of it. But I have to warn you, it will be dangerous….for both of us. Once you get changed, I’m willing to try if you are.

Was she trying to put guilt on him? Or was she concerned more about Yakim's state? Balanced?

"I'll do it. Just try not to cause any permanent damage to yourself, or me."

“Of course not,” Claire smiled placing a reassuring hand on Yakim’s shoulder. “And don’t worry, everything will be fine.” Claire hoped that it would. So many things could go wrong, but Claire had to try. “Just lay down whenever you’re ready.”

Yakim nodded, then laid down on the slightly uncomfortable bed. A quick thought zipped through his mind, telling him that this isn't the best of ideas, but Yakim pushed it aside.

"Alright, I'm ready."

Claire’s eyes went black and she pushed out with her emotions, wrapping them around Yakim. It was jarring at first as his thoughts flooded into her. She could instantly feel and hear his apprehension at this idea. She could also sense Yakim’s friend, just beneath the surface.

“Wake him up Yakim,” Claire’s voice sounded clinical as blood started to trickle from her nose.

Yakim closed his eyes and concentrated on getting the voice up and active.

Hey, hey, remember how you wanted me to make you happy? Well I'm about to make you the happiest you will ever be.

"Why the sudden change in feeling, Yakim? Did you finally realize that I won't keep silent?"

Actually, no. I just needed to make you talk. Thanks.

"You are insane. I knew it."

"Claire, I've got it!

Claire could hear the voice echoing in her mind. Instantly she pushed harder with her emotions trying to hold it in place. She knew it was risky and the moment she caught on to this portion of Yakim’s psyche, it would link them, but it would also cause both pain, Pain which felt like a hot poker jabbing into Claire’s eye. She could only wonder what Yakim was feeling.

“Listen to me Yakim,” Claire pushed as hard as she could, the pain evident in her voice, and the blood began to stream from her nose and over her lips. “Fight him. You are stronger.” At least Claire hoped he was. She knew that she couldn’t remove the voice inside his mind, but she could give him the strength he needed to suppress it. She pushed at him, sending a powerful wave of resolve at Yakim, she only hoped that the voice couldn’t get into her head.

Yakim not a terrible amount of pain surge through his head, but large amounts of anger, split evenly between the voice and Clair. The voice, of course, for making him endure this pain to feel less stressed and tad bit more normal. And Claire, well Claire for actually inflicting the pain on Yakim. He nearly couldn't bear it anymore, but this was his chance, and he was going to try his best not to mess it up. Even in Yakim's thoughts there was pain.

You... you can't keep... doing this to me. This is my head, my brain, my thoughts. I will not let... you do anything to interfere.

You sound pathetic. What are you, a ten year old? Whining to his mom about a little headache.

Good, you can take it. Now... you crazy bastard, I want you out of my fucking head! Get out, and make yourself turn into a form so I can personally kill you!

Threats? Really? I'm not taking shit seriously from you.

With that, Yakim was completely pissed. He concentrated the hatred toward Clair and put it on the voice. He mentally pushed it back as far as he could, which made him feel lightheaded.

Nice... Job. But I'm not gone.... for good. You cannot... push me back like this...

"Claire! Stop! I've, ugh, gotten it. It stopped, I think. I'm not entirely... sure."

Claire could hear Yakim battling with the voice in his head, and it seemed like he had won. Not a full victory, not that Claire expected one. But now, Yakim should be able to suppress it for a time when he needed to. But there was on other thing she could do.

“Listen to me,” Claire’s voice echoed inside of Yakim’s head as she spoke with her mind. But she wasn’t speaking to Yakim, instead, she was speaking to the voice. “I know you can hear me, and you will stay down if you know what’s good for you. And Yakim…I am so sorry.” As Claire finished speaking she sent a wave of emotion into Yakim’s mind. It would hurt him, but the voice would be able to feel it as well. The downside was is that it would create a feedback loop for both Claire and Yakim. One which was quite painful from the sound of Claire’s screams. After a moment, her eyes returned to normal and she collapsed to the floor, her face now caked with blood.

Yakim heard a thump beside the bed and he tried to look over and see what happened. Yakim was suffering from immense amounts of pain everywhere in his body, and the horrid sound in his ears did not help him.

"Claire!" His voice came out weak and cracked. He pushed himself off of the bed and onto the floor, dragging him self over to where Claire had fallen. Yakim could not let Claire die, especially if she was trying to help him. Fix him.

"Claire!"He tried again.

"Someone, help!"

He doubt anyone could hear him, but Yakim was slowly watching items become blurry and fade out. He had to save Claire, as she was the one who knew everything about what we were doing.

"Claire..." His voice had nearly given out and he felt defeated. He roughly shook Claire with his remaining strength and put his back up against the bed, exhausted.

“I’m….fine,” Claire croaked the words as she pushed herself up slowly into a sitting position. Every joint in her body screamed at her and it felt like a freight train was running through her head.

“What about you? Are you okay?” Claire was able to manage little more than a whisper as she began to wipe the blood from her face with her sleeve.

"I'm fine." Yakim responded.

Yakim used the bed to put himself in a standing position and helped Claire up after he could walk steadily and without falling.

"Thank you, Claire."

Claire nodded and after most of the blood had been wiped from her face, left the room.

With nothing to disturb him, Yakim relaxed on the bed for a moment. Most of the pain had gone away, along with the noise he had heard before. A clean mind was welcomed by Yakim, and he could now feel complete peace.

"Hm, I think I'll sleep easy tonight."

(Co-op with Naz)

[John]

Maybe it was the cool night air. Or maybe it was the fact that Claire felt genuinely good for helping Yakim. Whatever it was, Claire’s headache had pretty much gone by the time she returned to what would serve as her and Malcolm’s room. She did take notice of the trail of clothes on the ground left by Vee. Her first instinct was to go in and try to talk to Vee, but Claire knew better than that. There was no doubt in her mind that Vee would not want to talk to Claire about anything in the foreseeable future.

Claire entered the ramshackle room where Malcolm was waiting and immediately walked over to him, wrapping her arms around him and resting her head on his chest. The others had gone to their own rooms and Claire was happy to be alone with him. She was so happy at seeing him; she momentarily forgot how ghastly she looked with the blood caked one her face. Still it was good to hold hm.

“Are you okay?” Claire spoke softly, holding him tight. Claire spoke softly, holding him tight. Malcolm was taken off guard, seeing as how he was one piece of clothing away from being naked when Claire walked in and hugged him tighter than she ever had before. He noticed the blood caked on her face and it made his pulse rise. Was he okay? What about her? Was she delirious or did she just not give a flying fuck that her face was covered in blood?

"I-I'm fine, Claire." he said calmly and cooly as he hugged her back. "What about you? This day just keeps getting more and more clusterfucked, doesn't it?" he smiled down at her, seeing past the blood on her face, seeing the beauty that he knew she possessed. Without a word, Malcolm picked his old shirt up from the bed, dabbed it on his tongue, and started wiped the dry blood off of her face.

"I'm just glad those of us who made it did... you most of all.... if anything happened to you.... I would just die..."

“Things will be okay,” Claire smiled up at him, tasting the blood on her lips. “I really need to clean up.” Claire moved quickly into the bathroom and grabbed the only towel in the entire room. It wasn’t very large and used to be white, though had greyed from use and the fact that it wasn’t completely clean at the moment. Running it under the water, she soaked it and began to wipe the blood off her face while moving back into the main room.

“That’s not entirely what I meant,” Claire looked at him curiously. “I was thinking more about Karen. Are you okay with her coming here?”

Malcolm's eyebrows furrowed as he folded his thick arms over his bare chest, drumming his fingers on his biceps as the thought it over. He simply shrugged those muscular shoulders of his.

"I'm fine with it, but what I am okay with is irrelevant. Desperate times call for desperate measures." he said flatly as he removed his grey military briefs and tossed them on the bed. He walked up to Claire, putting an arm around her and planting a passion-filled kiss on her lips before slipping past her and headed in to the bathroom.

"I'm going to wash up, darling. Join me if you'd like." He looked over his shoulder with a sly smirk. Malcolm closed the door slightly behind him, turning on the sink and wetting his hair before he grabbed his knife from the sink and started cutting the raven locks away with the edge.

Claire felt happy with the way Malcolm was acting. He knew that she still had feelings for Karen, strong ones. And in Claire’s mind a lesser man would have gotten jealous, even thrown a bit of a fit. It’s not every man that wants to be in the same room, let alone state, with their girlfriend’s ex-lover. She rose from the bed and walked into the bathroom, wrapping her arms around Malcolm’s waist.

“You do know this won’t be easy for me?” Claire spoke softly. “I still have feelings for her. I just hope you understand that I am with you now. And I have no intention of changing that. But I’m still worried that something could happen. Between me and Karen I mean. You know how I am.”

"Uh-huh..." Malcolm muttered as he cut away another thick lock of oil-black hair, letting it fall in to the bowl of the sink. He was silent for a while, just continuing to cut his hair until he deemed himself done. He looked at himself in the mirror, and then turned to look Claire in the eyes. His hair was much shorter than it had been. It made his face look more chiselled and it made his already sharp eyes pop, sharpening their icy hue even more.

"If something happens, it happens. Part of being a good Christian is forgiving those you love, no matter what. Should you find Karen to be a more compatible partner than me, I won't stop you. Yes, it will hurt more than all the tortures I suffered in Hell... but you will be happy, so nothing else really matters." his voice was relatively calm and cold as he spoke. No nonsense could be heard, and none could be seen on his face or in those eyes. Malcolm's hands fell from Claire's hips and he just stood there, pressing his brow to hers, breathing deeply. His heart was pounding hard and fast. The mere thought of Claire leaving made him want to bust a hole in the wall. He would likely lose it, go off the rails and abandon sanity. He was downplaying it completely for her comfort and benefit. Would she feel safe around him if she knew that he was a ticking time bomb?

With a sigh, Malcolm planted another kiss on Claire's brow before turning on the shower and stepping under the perforated stream of hot water, letting the warmth cleanse him deeply. Dirt and grime he didn't even know he rolled around in washed off of his skin and circled the drain. Blood from his busted hand trickled down in diluted rivulets. The water followed the distinct paths of Malcolm's musculature and vascularity. The Chaplain breathed deeply, and then exhaled. Repeating this practice, the thickening steam soothed Malcolm and helped expel his own personal demons for the time being.

Claire bit her lip as she viewed Malcolm in the shower. The thoughts she had of climbing in there definitely appealed to her right now and she felt her emotions start to rise. Still, she didn’t feel it was the right time or place. Any of the others could come in at any moment and no doubt Karen would be arriving soon. And in the case of Karen, there would be no knock at the door. No for now, it was better to wait. Quickly as she could, Claire exited the bathroom and went to sit on the bed, and contemplate their next move.

(co op with Storm)

[Auki]

Karen had been mulling over her situation for the last hour, finally deciding that her survival was a thing of celebration rather than despair. Sure, she had just pissed off a demon, which had more than enough power to eventually kill her, but she did not expect it to attack her again before she had the chance to meet up with Claire. She hoped it didn’t at least – Her shoulder was beginning to burn, her head ached and her ear felt sore. She was used to bumps and bruises thanks to her interest in detonations but even she had limits. A warm bath and a comfy bed to sleep in would have felt like heaven at that point.
Although she regretted turning down Mark’s offer of help, she knew it for the best. His ‘skills’ would have proved invaluable but Karen knew there would be disagreements within the group. Her husband did not like SCAR or its operatives. He trusted Claire and respected her abilities but even their ‘friendship’ was strained at best.

Nevertheless, there was really no reason to worry at present. With that conclusion, she allowed herself to turn the car radio back on, the connected iPod – hot pink to match the car – springing to life as she skipped to a random song. Music echoed throughout the vehicle, blasting full volume. Within moments, she was singing. If one wanted to be happy, one started by forcing themselves to be.

“So, so what? I’m still a rock star!
I got my rock moves and I don’t need you!”

Just a couple more songs and she would have reached Claire, along with the rest of the team.

---

She had to send a multitude of texts to her friend, querying the team’s position but eventually she found herself in front of a run-down motel, exhausted beyond belief. It was tempting to sneak in, book a room and get some rest but she suspected that Claire was waiting for her.

Asking the motel assistant for directions, Karen wandered upstairs, coming to a halt outside a door that looked as worn down as the rest of the building. She hesitated. Although her hair had been brushed and her make-up reapplied, her clothes were dishevelled and blood-stained. Dirt coated her fingers and the various wounds across her body did nothing to add to her appearance. She was not looking her best.

Why does that matter?

She asked herself the question numerous times as she stood silently outside the room. In short, she concluded that it just seemed…rude to meet an old friend in such a state. However, such unimportant things would not usually bother Karen – She wondered if she was more upset than she would like to admit.

Moments passed and she could hear the creaking of movement around her, the floorboards echoing the actions of the motel’s inhabitants. It was getting late. She couldn’t keep stalling for long. The metal of the door handle felt cool against her palm. She didn’t knock – She never did – walking in without so much as an announcement of her arrival.

The moment the door opened, Claire jumped up from the bed where she was sitting and raced to Karen. Wrapping her arms around her friend and kissing her on the cheek, Claire spoke softly.

“I was so worried when I got your text,” Claire’s voice was full of relief. “Are you okay? Do you need anything?”

Karen hadn’t expected such a warm welcome – She didn’t know what she had expected. All she knew was that she was relieved and comforted, hugging Claire back as tightly as her damaged shoulder would allow, “Come on, kissing demons. You couldn’t have expected anything less from me, could ya?”

She couldn’t help but laugh slightly at the statement; almost instantly, her mood had elevated. “And you’re the medic. You should be telling me what I need. No serious damage anyway. Blew the fucker to hell, didn’t I?”
Claire pulled away from Karen and turned to Mal, smiling. Karen continued to ignore his presence.

“Could you be a dear and give us a little time? I need to talk to Karen alone for a minute. See if you can find Baket…if she’s not too busy.” Claire watched as Mal left the room and she motioned for Karen to sit on the bed. The smile faded from her face as she retrieved her med kit.

“We don’t have much time,” Claire moved close and started to examine Karen’s shoulder, using her scissors to cut away the bloodied shirt.

Karen snorted as Claire looked over her wound, “Why so serious? I’ve had worse.”

“Have you spoken to Mark?”

A pause in the conversation followed as she mulled over the question. Her voice faded to a murmur and she absently fingered with the edge of her skirt, “We…spoke. I phoned him an hour or two ago. He thought I was dead.”

She flinched as Claire hands ran over a particularly sore area on her shoulder, “I’ve never heard him so worried. And well…I know you don’t trust him or nothing. I understand that. Really. But I couldn’t leave him worrying about what I was doing. Didn’t tell him where I was but I told him I was with you. He…offered to help.”

“Ask him to see if he can find anything out.” Claire looked at Karen expectantly. “But be careful hun. I don’t know if I trust him so much right now. I’m sorry for saying it, but there are too many things that don’t add up right now.” Claire didn’t want to suspect Mark. Even though she didn’t approve of what Mark did, he wasn’t a bad guy. And that Karen loved him made Claire want think well of him. But Claire also felt it was too coincidental that Karen was still alive given who he was.

Karen frowned, shrugging off the other woman’s hand, “What are you trying to say? Mark’s a good man, damn it. No, marriage isn’t perfect. Tell me if you find someone who says it is but I’m happy. He’s happy. He fucking loves me. He fu-…He fucking…loves me. He wouldn’t do this. He wouldn’t.” Her vision seemed to blur and it took a few moments to realise her eyes were watering. Karen didn’t cry, not normally, and she wouldn’t in front of Claire, “Damn you.” She muttered the words as she attempted to dry her eyes, “You know I fucking love you but sometimes…just… damn you.” She tried to breathe deeply, blushing a little in the embarrassment of showing such pathetic emotions, “I think I might phone him tonight. I’m sure he’d be happy to help if it ensured our safety.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Claire looked remorseful. “It’s just… fuck it. I don’t understand why you are alive. I’m happy that you are. I just don’t get it.” Claire sat down on the bed next to Karen and removed a syringe as well as vial of morphine.

“You are so important to me cariña and when I thought that you were dead,” a tear rolled down Claire’s cheek. “It was a horrible feeling for me. I still have strong feelings for you.” Claire smiled slightly and put a small dose of morphine in the syringe.

“Just a little to take the edge off,” Claire held up the needle. “Hopefully Mal won’t be long getting Baket. But in the meantime, this will help.”

Karen gently wiped the tear from Claire’s cheek with a grin, “I’m invincible, remember? No one expects a good grenade. And anyway, I tried to kiss the idiot - it’s not like he was taking me seriously. He just wanted information on you.”

The last bit seemed like it might turn to a sensitive subject and she didn’t want Claire worrying any more than she had to, “So what was that Malcolm doing in here? I saw the way he looked at you. Tell me about that.” She held out her arm for the injection, waiting expectantly for a reply. In truth, Karen had failed to address the middle part of Claire’s speech. Cariña? It had been a long time since she had been called that.

“He’s a good man,” Claire nodded her head smiling and using some gauze to apply some rubbing alcohol to Karen’s arm. Injecting her with the morphine, Claire pulled out the needle and held the gauze in place.

“I know you don’t think much of him, but I love him,” Claire smiled. “After Detroit, we went to Rome together. He really makes me so happy. I just hope you can be happy for me.”

Karen glanced at Claire, “I’m not not happy for you. I’m just…a bit confused.” Her voice dropped to a whisper, “The way he works out and…y’know, love his muscles…” She shrugged, “I always assumed he was in denial. So far in the closet he’s wandering round Narnia. That and he’s a macho soldier man.”

She gave a small grin, “I can imagine you now – ‘Stand to attention, solider’ ‘Yes ma’am!’ ‘Fuck me hard’ ‘Yes ma’am!’” She put on a serious expression, “Claire, you can tell me the truth. I’m better in bed than him, aren’t I?”

“That’s not fair,” Claire frowned. “I was willing to be with you forever cariña. But you chose to stay married. And now that I have a chance to be happy. Really really happy. To maybe have someone in my life that I can love as much as you love Mark, you can’t even share some of that with me.” Claire looked down at the floor, still holding the gauze in place. She felt saddened by what Karen had just said to her, and hoped it was either the morphine or exhaustion talking.

“I have lost just about everyone in my life I have loved or cared about,” Claire looked into Karen’s eyes. “I don’t want to lose you too.”

Karen stayed silent for a while, looking back at Claire. The other woman excelled at showing her emotion but for Karen, it was more difficult. Sometimes you just have to make yourself vulnerable for those you care about… She mused.

Moving into a more stable position on the bed, Karen pulled Claire towards her, against her good shoulder, wrapping her arms around her. They had been in this position many times before and yet… It was strange how something could feel so natural and so alien at the same time.

“I’m sorry… I love you, you know that, and it’s hard to find out you’re with someone else… That’s all. Selfish, I know. I’m married so I shouldn’t care. But…if Mark had just been my boyfriend back then, I would have left him for you – I told you that.
Just to me, wedding vows are meant to mean something. I couldn’t just ignore them.”

She lifted Claire’s head so that their noses were touching. Karen was tired, upset and angry with Malcolm but none of that was Claire’s fault. Karen had been the one to walk away in the end. Even as they were, she wouldn’t kiss Claire. It was tempting but both of them would regret it. So…she moved away, keeping a hand on Claire’s leg for comfort.

“If Malcolm loves you as much as I do, you’re going to do just fine, sweetie. He’s a decent guy in the end – Big heart and all that. And I’m happy if you’re happy…”

Speeches like that were difficult for Karen and Claire knew it.

Claire kept her eyes closed and listened to Karen, feeling comfort in her arms. Memories of the past rushed back to Claire as Karen pulled away. She started to tremble at the touch of Karen’s hand on her leg. Claire kept her eyes focused down. She couldn’t look at Karen now. All the thoughts, all the memories were starting to overwhelm Claire and feelings she had buried deep came rushing to the surface as her eyes turned black. Her breathing became shallow and deeper as she finally looked up at Karen, staring at her through two blackened orbs, fighting to stay in control.

“Karen…I… I,” Claire was trying to hold on to control. She loved Malcolm dearly but that didn’t change the fact that she still had intense feelings for Karen.

“I never stopped loving you,” Claire placed her hands on Karen’s cheeks and pulled her close, pressing her lips hard against Karen’s. Claire was shaking, still fighting to keep from being unfaithful to Mal. Pulling back from the kiss, she stared at Karen, slowly losing control.

“Hit me,” the words purred for Karen’s lips as she started to climb on the bed, slowly wrapping her arms around Karen.

Karen’s mind had frozen, unable to comprehend the situation she was in. She barely heard Claire’s words. Her hands, however, moved on their own accord, one sliding up Claire’s leg whilst the other moved to support her. Moments later and they were kissing, passionately with no inhibitions. The memories flooded back to her – The love and lust overshadowing the hurt she had felt upon leaving.

She wanted to believe her emotions were natural, that they were real, but she was not naïve enough to ignore the change in colour of Claire’s eyes. Her feelings were being manipulated. This was dangerous. It was wrong. She told herself that, the thought repeating through her head, but it made no difference. As much as she willed her body to stop, it wouldn’t.

A part of her mind murmured about marriage.
She told it that she had already started. She had already condemned herself. Why stop now?
A part of her mind reminded her of Mark, her husband.
She told it of how he was also sleeping with other women at this point – Of how he could go about the deed guiltlessly whilst she constantly struggled to detach her emotions. How was that fair?
A part of her mind talked of how she had agreed to those rules upon leaving England.
She had no reply, just a deep sense of regret. Why had she agreed to put up with this? If he couldn’t be apart without cheating, why did he deserve her? Why did he deserve her when there were others who were willing to give her so much more?

She broke away from Claire’s lips, kissing down the neck to the collarbone and pausing.

“I know you don’t want this.”

Although she regretted dragging herself from the moment, once the words had escaped her mouth, she felt relief. At least she had given Claire a chance before things got too far out of hand. A chance to let them both free of her intoxicating power.

“Can’t...control...it,” Claire’s body quivered at the touch of Karen’s lips. Claire’s emotions had completely taken hold of her and were affecting Karen as well. Claire was not only reading projecting her emotions onto Karen, but reading Karen’s as well. Essentially, creating a feedback loop which would consume them both and neither would have any control left.

There was also the problem that Malcolm would be returning anytime. Malcolm knew about Claire’s past with Karen and explaining things about this to him would be much easier if he didn’t walk into the room with Claire and Karen naked and floating on the ceiling. Claire started to run her hands up Karen’s shirt, running her nails softly along Karen’s skin.

“Hit...me...please,” Claire gasped between each word and bit down on her bottom lip. As her hands reached Karen’s breasts, the emotions finally consumed her.

Every part of Karen’s body ached with the urge to continue – It had been a long time since she had felt this alive. Her emotions coursed through her body like fire, burning brighter with every second. Her heart raced, her breath quickened. She was trembling. Claire had already been taken by her power. In just moments, Karen would follow.

Whether this is love or whether it is lust, is this really how you want things to go?

The thought haunted her for a second, helping her to see the situation she was in. For whatever reason they were doing this, whether the emotions were genuine or fake, was this really the right way? Karen didn’t want to hurt anyone; least of all, Mark.

She had just seconds before she would be consumed so she acted on instinct, without time for tact. Her fist contacted with the other woman’s cheek, the dull thud of impact echoing throughout the quiet building, propelling Claire away from her. Karen gasped for air as she felt the emotions drain from her. The reality of the situation dawned upon her – How they had so easily fallen prey to the trap that was Claire’s power. Tears rolled freely down her face but she didn’t care.

“You bitch!” She shouted, although the words came out in sobs, “You don’t love me! Why would you try and ruin everything when you don’t even love me?”

The only way to describe the feeling Claire felt at this moment was to say it was like having her soul ripped from her. It wasn’t that she felt any physical pain, other than that from Karen’s punch, but for a moment, she felt dead as all emotion quickly left her. Bringing a hand to her cheek, she looked at Karen.

“I never stopped loving you,” Claire’s voice was cold. “If I had it wouldn’t have got as far as it did. It’s the love I feel for you that caused me to lose control. I...I’m sorry cariña. But is this how you really wanted me?”

Anger boiled inside of Karen, directed at both Claire and herself, “Don’t even say that. You love Malcolm. You love Malcolm so much more than you love me so why toy with my emotions? I don’t care if it was your stupid fucking power or not but right then, I was considering leaving my husband for you. But no, you don’t want me – You just can’t control yourself, can you? Fucking hell, Claire, you can’t even imagine how I’m feeling right now.”

“That’s not fair,” a hint of sorrow accompanied Claire’s words and her eyes started to well up. “Do you have any idea what it did to me when you chose Mark? I fell completely in love with you and I had to walk away because of your husband.” Claire moved a little closer to Karen and tears started to roll down her cheeks.

“I will always love you,” Claire spoke softly, taking Karen’s hand in her own. “But you won’t leave Mark, and deep down, you don’t want to. I felt that when we connected. It was hard enough to have to leave you once. Please don’t ask me to do it again.”

“Don’t you start pulling that crap where you tell me how I feel,” Karen growled. Despite her tone, she held on to Claire’s hand with a soft grip. “You don’t understand our relationship so you can’t interpret anything from what you felt.” She wiped her cheeks with shaking hands, “I don’t like change so yeah, leaving him would have been difficult. It would have made me vulnerable which isn’t something I like either.”

She couldn’t even look at Claire, “What the fuck’s the point of having emotions if you don’t act on them? Just admit that Malcolm means more to you. Whatever happens…I’m phoning Mark tonight and telling him I’m not happy.” She kicked the edge of the bed, “Nothing ever fucking turns out like it does in the fucking movies.”

“Do you even want me to understand?” Claire tilted her head to the side. “I didn’t understand before. But I can now if you’ll let me. But really think Karen, do you really want me? Would you give up Mark and spend the rest of your life with me?” Claire sighed, feeling she knew the answer even without reading Karen’s mind. If that was how Karen really felt about her, they would be together now.

“I will always be your friend,’ Claire forced a smile and squeezed Karen’s hand tighter. “And I will always love you, but I need someone to be with me. Just me. Is that what you really want?”

Karen was quiet for a few moments, running her thumb over each of Claire’s fingers, caressing the skin with a gentle touch, “Sometimes I sit and wonder why I didn’t end up with you but back then, I didn’t even understand myself. A pathetic excuse, I know. I hurt you. I got lost and took the easy option.”

She sighed, “We both love two people and we’re both in relationships. I wouldn’t want to take you now and have you constantly wondering what you and Malcolm could have achieved together. Am I making sense? While we can be best friends if we stayed with our partners, Mark and Malcolm wouldn’t want to stay close to us if we chose each other.”

Another tear rolled down her cheek, “You have no idea how hard it is it say this. No idea. Not even with your stupid fucking powers, you don’t. But if we’re going to do this, we’re going to do this right with no regrets.”

“I am going to talk to Mark tonight and tell him I’m not happy. You’re going to continue on with Malcolm and decide whether you want to stay with him or not. I don’t want us getting together on some impulse decision or because your powers happen to get in the way.”

She kissed Claire lightly on the forehead, “If in two weeks, we still feel the same way, both you and I will know this is the right decision.”

“I really wish this could be simpler Karen,” Claire looked back down at the floor as the tears started to flow. “I wish I never had this power. It’s caused me so much pain and now it’s bringing you pain as well.” Claire paused for a moment and thought of all the bad things that had happened to her because of her power. The end result was that she didn’t truly know how to deal with any kind of feeling and tended to become over emotional.

“It’s all my fault.”

Karen sighed, wiping the last of her tears – If Claire was going to get upset, she needed to be strong for her. She wanted to hug the other woman but was wary of what that had caused last time. She was not one for just giving advice however,

“Good things have come from your power as well as bad. You’re just still trying to figure things out. We’re all learning. Constantly.” She held Claire’s hand firmly and gave her a grin, “Remember that time in that hotel? I was using my power to levitate us so we could do it against the ceiling. Then, you did…that thing and I…well, I lost concentration. We almost went smack straight into the floor. Could have hurt both you and me.

So…when I had a chance, I tried to work on them flaws. Can’t say I’ve improved much but I’m not going to let it get me down. Your power is a part of who you are. It’s not going to disappear no matter how much you want it to… I would have never come here tonight if I thought it was going to hurt you.” She hated seeing Claire cry but she wasn’t entirely sure what more she could say.

“Of course I remember,” Claire spoke and her smile faded. “I also remember almost killing Mark for kissing you because I couldn’t handle my jealousy. You know, sometimes I just wish I could be normal. Then maybe I could fuck whomever I want and not have it turn into some overly emotional experience. But yeah cariña, let’s see how we feel in two weeks. Besides, doesn’t Mark have a rule that you can’t fuck someone you don’t hate?” Claire smiled slyly.

“And if I’m not mistaken, didn’t he come up with that because of me?”

Karen snorted, “I guess you could say that…” Absently, she began to straighten her clothes from where Claire had half-attempted to remove them, “And there’s nothing wrong with attaching emotions to sex. As women, it’s kind of normal. Makes you look like a lot better person than someone like me as well.” She sighed, “Look at me, a married woman getting with a demon and my ex-lover on the same day.”

She gave a small shrug, almost talking to herself now, “I guess it’s only really bad if I’d slept with both of you.”

“I can’t really remember what my point was… Just don’t change. You don’t have to. So don’t. We love you just the way you are.” Karen directed a smile in Claire’s direction as she smoothed down her skirt. Truth was, she didn’t know what the outcome of those next two weeks would hold – She just hoped things would be a lot clearer by the end of it. Hopefully, the decision would be made for her.

“I’m sure everything will work out as it’s supposed to,” Claire smiled, giving Karen a kiss on the forehead. “And you know, I always thought your taste in lovers left something to be desired...but a demon?” Claire giggled as she spoke. She was still a little upset by everything and felt a need to try and make light of the situation.

“Now let’s get you properly looked at,” Claire picked up the med kit and started to examine Karen. “And I wonder what’s taking Mal so long.” Mind you, Claire was happy he hadn’t come back with Baket yet. Despite the fact that Claire was going to tell Mal what had just happened, she was relieved that he didn’t walk in the middle of it.

Karen gave a small shrug to her last question before allowed Claire to look her over more thoroughly, “You’ve got to live a little while you can, don’t you? I’m always willing to try something once – This demon was the first to actually give me a taste of what it’d be like to fuck him.” She resisted the urge to touch her wounded shoulder, although the pain seemed to have been subdued for now. She gave a grin, “He slid his tongue inside me earlier.” She waited a few moments before specifying the place of insertion had been her ear.

“I wouldn’t recommend it; feels like a hot poker. Inside your skull. They don’t play nice either. What can I say though? It makes an interesting story.”

“Something to tell you grandkids about I’m sure,” Claire laughed and examined Karen’s injuries. Things could have been much worse, all things considered.

Grandkids? Karen pondered the idea for the first time in years. It would mean having children of her own – A discussion her and Mark had been avoiding since the beginning of marriage. It was also something Malcolm could give Claire that Karen couldn’t. Not properly at least.

“You want to have children someday…?” Karen asked quietly, but before Claire could answer, the room door opened.

[Co-Op with Naz~]

[StormWolf]

When Malcolm stepped out of the shower and started to towel himself dry, he could hear voices in the main room of the apartment. Look like Karen made it after all. Malcolm made no expression, nor did he feel anything. He had no emotional attachment to Karen, but Claire did, and that was enough for him... as long as Claire didn't get "carried away". The mere thought made Malcolm's pulse quicken and made his skin crawl. Shaking it off, he finished drying himself and pulled on some fresh underwear before heading out to the main room to put on the rest of his clothes.

Malcolm let the girls talk and remained silent as he pulled on the dark grey cargo pants and a fresh tank top undershirt. He only had enough time to strap his watch on to his right wrist when Claire dismissed him from the room. At least she did it with affection, and at least he was to do something productive with his dismissal.

"Yes ma'am..." me said flatly, stepping in to his shoes and walking out of the room without another word. Who did that Karen think she was? Showing up willy-nilly, then getting Claire to kick him out of his own fucking room? Malcolm closed his eyes and shook his head, sighing in a frustrated anger. He needed to calm down. Claire was a grown-up, she had self control, there was no way she would just start making out with this Karen, it just wasn't Claire's style. She was with him now. She wouldn't betray his trust and start getting all steamy behind his back. She probably just wanted some time to catch up with an old friend. Yeah, that was it!

Malcolm half-believed himself, but that anger did not fade away. If anything, it was just buried under his willpower and self control, left there to fester and ferment. I need something to take this edge off... he thought. He looked across the street, seeing a 24 hour liqueur store. The Chaplain descended the stairs and made his way across the street.

When inside the cramped little store, Malcolm had no problem finding exactly what he was looking for. He yanked a big bottle of No.5 Jack Daniel's from one of the racks as well as a packet of beef jerky. When he got to the cashier, he also asked for a pack of cigarettes and slapped one of the shitty plastic zippo lighters with the rest of his purchases. The cashier, a weathered old man whose face looked like an elephant's ass crack, quirked an eyebrow at Malcolm as he rang the large man up,

"Tough day, huh?" the cashier asked as he grabbed a pack of cigarettes from behind the counter. Malcolm looked at the man with a slight frown, no humor in his voice, eyes, or face.

"Oh, you haven't the faintest idea..." Malcolm said flatly, though his voice held a little bit of the venom that was anger.

"You get fired?" the old man asked again. Malcolm couldn't blame the old fart for trying to make conversation, by the way Blunt looked, the town was dreadfully boring. Malcolm twisted off the cap to the bottle of Jack and took a heavy swig,

"Yeah, I guess you could say that." The Chaplain said in the same tone, pulling out his wallet and giving the old man what was due. He did not stay for the change, he just capped his bottle of Jack's and stuffed the rest of his purchases in his pockets. The Chaplain made his way back to the motel, remembering that Claire told him to get Backet, which in his anger and frustration, he forgot. With a growl, Malcolm made his way to Backet's room. All he had to do was follow the trail of clothes that Vee left behind. Fucking genius woman, if the government sends its hounds this way, which he knew they will, they will always follow an obvious trail. Emotional trauma was not an excuse for carelessness and recklessness.

Malcolm found the room and knocked, more like pounded, on the door. "Backet, it's Malcolm.

Baket bounced out of the chair at the loud knock on the door to the room. Instantly alert, and focused. A knock, it had been a knock. Thats all, she breathed a small sigh of relief. She had been daydreaming, a little, might have even dozed off in the chair waiting on Vee to come out of the shower. "Yeah, come in, it's open." she called out, bringing her voice to a normal level, wondering what he wanted, moving across the small room towards the bathroom door.

"Vee" she said louder, pushing the door open a little, knocking on it a bit louder this time. The steam escaping the small room room in a large cloud. You could barely see into the small bathroom for all the moisture that was collecting.

"Hey, you ok in here?" she called out through the fog. "You've been in there awhile" she cajoled, I think so anyway she thought. Trying to figure out how long Vee had actually been in there, and if she had fallen asleep in the chair or not. Judging by the amount of steam escaping into the to the room, it appeared that a large amount of time had passed.

Maintaining her stance by the light weight door, she turned to the sudden guest entering the room, "What can I do for you, Malcolm? Don't tell me we have to leave already?" she finished, the thought bringing a twinge of concern to her features. "I'm not quite ready to go yet." looking down at her dusty unchanged clothing.

Malcolm walked into the apartment once Baket invited him in. He did not make himself at home, nor did he make himself comfortable. He was visually preoccupied, with what, he wouldn't share with anyone. He just took another swig from his bottle of Jack Daniels before speaking.

"No, we're not leaving just yet, but Claire needs your talents..." he took another hearty drought from the bottle, "Well, actually, her friend Karen needs your talents. Demon chewed her up pretty damned good." After one more drink, Malcolm capped the bottle. He could feel the burn of his anger still, but it was dulled now. He decided to stop before her got more than buzzed. Malcolm was not a fun drunk to be around. Tempers flared easily for Malcolm when he was drunk.

"I'll take you up to the room when you are ready, but sooner would be better. How is Vee holding up, by the way?" he asked, leaning on the wall. Baket being slightly distracted by Vee still in the shower, turned her gaze toward him at his mention of needing her services.

"I haven't heard from her since she went into the shower." she paused, doing a little bit of a double take "You cut your hair!?" she exclaimed, looking at his strong features in the weak lighting of the room. "Sorry" she mumbled a bit embarrassed by her little outburst. "How bad is her friend hurt?" she continued on, in an attempt to change the subject. "I'm a little worried to just leave her" she jerked her thumb toward the bathroom door. "I was about a second away of just going in there, to check on her before you knocked" she fibbed a little, it was on her mind, she just hadn't gotten there yet.

"She's obviously in shock, I was hoping that she'll come out and get some rest" looking at him, taking note of the bottle in his hand. "Of course I'll look at Claires friend, soon as I know she's ok."

Malcolm scrubbed a hand at his still-wet hair unconsciously. He still could not believe that he allowed himself to let his hair grow that long. In the military, he would have gotten chewed out to the ends of the earth for having hair as long as it was. He waited and waited for Vee to come out.

"By God in Heaven, what is she doing in there? Vee, you okay? Come back to the land of the living, darlin'." Malcolm called out to Vee through the door. He was running low on patience. Claire had sent him to do something, and he was already running late. He had to get back to check on them. Of course they wouldn't be doing anything, no intimate touching or passionate kissing, no. No, Claire only kissed him like that. She said that she was with him now, and she meant it. She wouldn't leave him for someone else.... would she?

Malcolm closed his eyes as his pulse rose, his heart pounding hard against his ribs as more of that anger flooded his veins like black ink. He could feel it coat his bones and taint his blood. He could feel it surrounding his core, that source of his power. Malcolm frowned to the point of near-wincing and buried that anger deep with the rest from before, washing it down with another swig of whisky.

"Vee!" Malcolm barked. His patience was running thinner by the minute. He had one nerve left, and so many things were on it at the moment. Claire needed Karen, Karen needed Backet, Backet needed Vee, and Malcolm needed to get Backet to Karen so he could be with Claire, because Malcolm needed Claire. "We are not on vacation. Someone upstairs needs medical help, but our medic won't leave until we know you are okay."
___________

Vee was not okay.

She had come to the stomach-sinking realization that she would never be okay. Than no matter how hard she tried, she would never be able to scrub the stain of blood from her skin, even when her skin cracked and tore with her efforts. The stain never lifted, the stench never lessened. Death hung over her like a shroud, and now she knew she'd carry it to her grave.

Nothing was okay and it never would be okay ever again.

She was laying in the bottom of the shower, curled into the fetal position, skin pink and bleeding from her scrubbing and the searing water. The cuts on her hand from where she had shattered her cell phone were swollen and raw, and stung in the water... she had long since run out of soap and shampoo.

She'd heard people talking, even address her a few times, but she hadn't bothered to respond. It had been a while since she'd last been able to muster the motivation to move. She could only stair at the disassembled pieces of a disposable razor, which had floated down to the drain... the blade still lay within arm's reach.

Malcolm's voice was insistent.

" I'm fine." she tried to make her voice sound normal, maybe annoyed. But it cracked and wavered, belying every inch of weakness quivering behind it. " Just leave me alone.

Shaking her head at the tone she heard in Vee's voice, "why don't you see if you can get her out of the shower and I'll go take care of Claire's friend? Alright?" suddenly annoyed with the other woman, not really waiting for a reply, Baket headed toward the door of the room. "Eventually, I'll get cleaned up" she muttered under her breath. "What room is she in" she paused halfway out the door, realizing she wasn't sure where she was going.

Malcolm sighed and set his bottle of liqueur on the cheap table nearby, making his way to the door of the bathroom. Here he was, playing psychiatrist again, military style. More patience going down the drain, more anger and frustration taking its place, only to be internalized and buried with the rest of those dark feelings. It was starting to feel very cluttered inside Malcolm's chest, like that anger was a physical cancer that was filling up his chest cavity, constricting his heart and stomach.

"Room 13. Up the stairs and down two doors" Malcolm snipped back, not really wanting to deal with anyone or anything at the moment, but here he was. When Backet left the room, Malcolm leaned on the door to the bathroom, taking deep, calming breaths.

"Vee, I am not going to dick around here. Wrap a towel around yourself and open this door, or I am going to come in there and stop you before you use up all of our fucking hot water." Malcolm spoke in a voice laced with frustration and tension. He was a certified Chaplain, not a Dr. Feel-good.

"One... two... Don't make me do this, Vee..." Malcolm said in his same frustrated tone, stepping back from the door, getting ready to kick the flimsy thing to splinters.

[The Gypsy Queen]

Just before Malcolm could burst through the bathroom door, Vee opened it. Her eyes were swollen and red, and rivulets of blood ran down her skin. The only thing she wore was a vague look of annoyance, but she stood otherwise naked as the day she was born, dripping wet.

She had never been the prettiest girl - her shoulders and hips were bony and angular and she had no real curves to speak of. She had always been almost too thin, and even now her ribs were pronounced. She was flat chested but even what little she had on her had earned her ridicule in military training.

She looked like death warmed over and she knew it, her eyes dead and cold and her skin pale and lifeless. She felt like she was already dead, and was walking around on borrowed time now, simply waiting for the killing blow that would end the pain and suffering.

She had lost her reasons to fight, and with them had gone her will to live.

" I said, leave me alone." she tried to snarl, but her voice was wavering. Malcolm stood there before her and folded his thick arms over his broad chest, looking down at Vee, shaking his head slightly.

"Vee..." Malcolm started with a soft tone of voice, almost sad, but definately pitiful. Then he reached out and grabbed her by the arm, it seemed so small in his hand. Malcolm squeezed and scowled as his tone became scolding, but calm.

"What the fuck are you trying to accomplish? This," he shook her arm, pointing at the blood and at her wounds, "accomplishes nothing. We're here to help you, you stupid girl!" Malcolm pulled her closer, looking her right in the eyes, his heart pounding in a powerful rhythm.

"You need to get your head straight. You are part of my team, part of my flock, and I'll be damned if I let any of you be led astray! If you need to cut something, Im right here. Know that what you are doing endangers all of us."

Something snapped on behind Vee's eyes as her lips raised in a real snarl. Her face came alive in unbridled rage and she fastened her free hand on Malcolm's wrist, twisting it as she stepped behind him. Her bare ankle hooked around his shin and jerked his foot out from under him, and she used the leverage she had on his wrist to slam him to the ground forcefully. She then yanked his twisted arm up and pulled his other hand behind his back - if he'd had his arms he could easily have thrown her weight off. Finally she knelt hard on her knees on the small of his back, one knee on his hand to keep it in place, and kept pushing his twisted arm upward to keep the threat of breaking his wrist very real.

She leaned forward from her position to place her lips next to his ear, where she took a second to inhale and exhale. It had taken ages to her, but for him it would have been roughly two seconds. He smelled like soap.

" You do not get to talk to me like I am a fucking child." she spat in his ear, voice low, pronouncing every syllable clearly. " You do not get to yank me around like you fucking own me. Do not even touch me. If I wanted to hurt you, I could have done it in ten different ways by now. I just watched you yank a fucking knife out of my dead lover's eye. You will fucking respect that. And the next time you get it into your fucking head to do otherwise, imagine it was Claire."

She leaned up again, releasing Malcolm's arm and slid off his back, getting to her feet with a slowness that belied what she had just done. Malcolm stood and cracked his thick neck. His vision was vibrating, like someone was rattling his cage. It was not from being taken off his feet, he knew that feeling very well, and this was nothing like it. What he was feeling bordered on that sensation of going insane, that desire to just snap like a twig and turn the thing in front of you in to an indistinguishable paste.

The Chaplain licked his lip, tasting copper. His lip must have split when his face hit the ground. No matter, he had had worse, Malcolm had been blown to pieces before.

"I did what I had to do. It is not proper to bury a fellow soldier with the thing that killed him still in his body." he wiped his lip on his wrist, staring daggers at Vee, those icy cold eyes filled with nothing but anger. Had Malcolm been a lesser man, he would have reunited Vee with her late lover right then and there, but he would give her the hard goodbye... Malcolm shook his head faintly, discarding such thoughts as quickly as he could.

"And talk is big, my child. Yes, you could have hurt me, but I have ripped apart and repackaged much bigger game than you in my time. I talk to people like children when they act like children. What you need to get through your head, is that we are soldiers. Death is part of the workplace. It could have been any one of us who punched their ticket today, but it so happened to be your sweet little bumpkin. Don't expect sympathy from me." Malcolm's voice started to rise in volume. He balled his hands in to fists, making his knuckles crack, the shakiness of his vision increased and started to have a tunnel effect as he focused on Vee. All that rage boiling inside him, tongues of spiritual hellfire that burned his soul.

"He had a good death. He didn't feel a thing. Be glad that it wasn't a stomach wound, or a ruptured liver, or a severed spine, or burns. Be thankful that you still draw breath. Be thankful of every fucking second you live, because it is a gift from God, a gift that you soil with your childish notion of cutting on yourself! Everyone dies, Vee! Some of us die more than once." Malcolm's vision returned to normal, his muscles beginning to relax, he felt sick to his stomach.

"If you really think life is so unbearable now, go to town on yourself. I'm not going to wast time trying to pull you out of a hole you keep digging deeper for yourself." Malcolm crossed his arms over his chest, staring Vee right in the eyes. "You have all it takes to make your pain go away. No one else can do it for you. You either conquer your sadness, or get consumed by it."

Vee scowled back at Malcolm, the vacant deadness returning to her eyes. The rage that had driven her had drained away, leaving behind the empty shell.

" It was my cell phone." She said matter-of-factly, pulling a pair of boxers on from the bed and then a black shirt. " I cut my hand smashing it." she continued, standing half dressed in front of the chaplain. " It was an accident. And please don't talk to me like I haven't seen death before. I was eighteen for my first kill. I've been at this game almost as long as you.

" And you can talk to me like I'm being some kind of angsty drama queen until you're blue in the face, the fact is the same; the only person I've ever known who could chase away my nightmares and hallucinations, who made me feel normal and loved and important, is dead. Died a good death. Defending your lover, as I recall. Not even twelve fucking hours ago. So forgive me if I know better than to get behind a goddamned gun in this state of mind. And maybe you can wrap your head around the concept of grief. And maybe you might figure I want to crawl in a hole and pretend to die right now.

" So do me a fucking favor. Go find your woman. Fuck her brains out. Make her feel like a goddess, like you'll never lover anyone or anything as much or as well as you love her. Adore her for the rest of your life, however brief it may be. And while you do, remember what that luxury cost. Remember what I lost so that you could have that happiness. Remember my lover died so that yours could live.

" If you can manage that, we'll call it even." Malcolm just shook his head at Vee. Why did he bother? The woman never liked him, he never liked her. What would he care if she died? He should just do the little bitch a favor and give her two in the chest and on in the head. The Chaplain walked off without a word, grabbing his bottle of whisky, twisting off the cap and drinking heavily as he made his way back up to his room. The liqueur stung the split in his lip, but he didn't care. This anger, it needed to be surpressed.

Vee watched Malcolm go. She didn't think he'd gotten it. She barely got it herself.

She felt tired. She felt old. She felt heavy. She crawled into the bed, pulling the blankets over herself in a vain attempt to shield herself from a world that had become impossibly cold and empty. She did not sleep. She only lay still, letting the grief wash over her in waves, letting it happen to her, letting herself feel it, understand it, and learn to live with it. Nothing was okay, and it would never be okay. But she had to learn to live with not okay.

[Merry]

Baket had to force herself to not slam the door on the way out of the room. Fine.. stay in there.. don't bother coming out, I don't need a shower, I can just stay in these dirty clothes. she pushed the door closed, feeling a little satisfied that it did close louder than it should have. Slowly stomping up the stairs to the next floor of the motel. she has some nerve, I mean, I follow her, I pick up her nasty clothes, get her NEW clothes, even picking out things I think she would like.. and what do I get? mindlessly reading the room numbers as she walked along, 11, 12.. 13. I get, nothing.. I get, leave me alone, well.. fine, then. Let Malcolm help you.

She stopped in front of Claire's door. ok.. calm, down.. just calm down she took a deep breath, wiling her emotions to stop. Willing the ranting about Vee to stop. It was doing no good, she knew she was getting tired, she just wanted a shower and a place to sleep for awhile. She knew she was just getting frustrated at the whole situation she suddenly found herself in. She didn't even want to think about the fact that Marc had invited her to come and join him, and she had chosen to help Vee instead. Shaking her head sadly at the thought.

Before her mind could launch into a new tirade about what Marc must be thinking, she pulled the door open. "Claire... you need me?"

“Thanks for coming,” Claire smiled. “Baket, this is Karen. Her shoulder’s in pretty bad shape, I was wondering if you could do something for her.” Claire moved over to the door and closed it slowly, poking her head outside to see if Malcolm there. When she realized he wasn’t, Claire became concerned.

“Baket…Where’s Malcolm?”

"Hello Karen, nice to meet you" she said as she moved into the room, looking at the new arrival to the group.

"He's in the room I took with Vee. She was in the shower, and he was going to check on her. I don't think she should be alone right now, I've seen people in shock before, and she's gonna crash soon." Baket said as she stepped up to Karen, not really focused on Claire, but her eyes taking in Karen and the marks on her, the blood. "Let me have a look, ok?" she said holding her hands up as if to say, no weapons. "I'm going to have to touch you, to help you." waiting for signs of acceptance from the woman before proceeding.

Karen arched an eyebrow, “Lovely to meet you too, Baket. Just dandy. Really.” She pointed at Baket’s raised hands, “Although, I’m not stupid, y’know.” Exhaustion, drugs, emotional turmoil – Karen was going through it all and it was making the gesture appear more condescending than friendly. She resisted the urge to snap at the other woman however, instead rubbing her eyes in an attempt to keep herself awake. “I trust Claire’s judgment that you won’t do me harm. Honestly, I’m too damn tired to be suspicious.”

She still had a long night ahead of her however. She needed to phone Mark and she wanted a chance to talk to Malcolm before the morning. For now, she needed to make a decent impression on this Baket woman, or at least try to. As confident as she was around Claire, meeting new people was not her forte. Perhaps because she made no effort in pretending to be someone she was not – People either liked her how she was or never spoke to her again.
Although saying that, her current state was managing to control her normally erratic behavior.

“I really appreciate you coming to help. I know it’s late and well… Just go ahead.” She attempted a smile at the woman and although it came out friendly, there was no joy behind it. Her eyes flickered towards Claire, Just because he’s in the shower with another woman isn’t reason to worry now, is it? Of course, she didn’t speak her thoughts, simply saying, “Come on, Claire, he’s a decent guy – He’ll be up as soon as he’s able to. You don’t need to hover by the doorway waiting for him.” There was no malice in her tone, nor was there jealousy. With a sigh, she relaxed her stance, allowing Baket to begin her examination.

Being a little taken back by her initial greeting, she stepped forward feeling the annoyance factor ratchet up a little. This was the last thing she felt like doing as well. Then just as quickly she forced it to fade away. She realized the woman was just as frustrated about things going on as the rest. Not to mention she was hurt, that would have been enough to put anyone on edge.

"I didn't mean anything by holding my hands out" she said softly as she started to run her hands over the woman's shoulder, "Some people just seem to be freaked out by a healer touching them, I just wanted you to know that up front is all" gently moving her fingers, closing her eyes and pushing outward with her gift. Her fingers getting warmer against the other woman's skin.

"You have some muscle damage, which I can help with" she murmured, focusing on the inner workings of the muscles in her arm and shoulder, gently repairing them, seeing it in her mind knit back together. New muscle tissues forming from the, regrowing, expanding, covering the damage. "It will be sore, but will be much more bearable than before." she finished opening her eyes, tiny little beads of sweat just starting to form on her hairline. "Is there anything else you need me to work on?"

Karen could not claim the process had been comfortable. The whole thing had felt completely unnatural. She did not want to seem unappreciative however. “Thank you. Didn’t mean to offend you. Exhausted is all.” She tested the shoulder muscle ever so gently, keeping the movement minimal, “It seems much better now. Everything else will heal by itself without trouble. Scratches and the like.”

Her head hurt but Karen assumed that would go with a little sleep, “Sorry if you had more…important things to attend to.” The woman looked downtrodden and weary, causing guilt to squirm in Karen’s stomach. She had only been there for a couple hours and already she had become a burden. The situation was beginning to mimic the kind of tale that haunted her nightmares.

With a small sigh, Baket stepped back. "Not more important, just a shower really, maybe some clean clothes?" she grinned, trying to make it come off light but not quite pulling it off. "Let me know if you still have any pain tomorrow, after you get a chance to rest. Since you didn't do any serious damage, you should be fine. If it doesn't feel better, I can help you again."

She turned toward the door "If you don't need me anymore Claire...." she paused looking down at her dusty travel beaten clothes. "I really need a shower."

"Thanks Baket," Claire smiled. "If you don't mind, I think I will walk down with you and check on Mal." Claire continued to smile but the truth was she was worried. It wasn't that she didn't trust Malcolm, she was just worried that he may say the wrong thing to Vee and all hell would break loose.

"Karen, I will be back shortly."

"Take care Karen, I'll see you again, I'm sure." Baket smiled as she headed toward the door with Claire. Finally, I can get cleaned up, I hope there's hot water left

co/post with the amazing Auki and Snazzy Nazzy

[Ryudo]

It began to don on Marc, as he sat dreadfully alone in that worn down hotel room, that Baket would not be visiting him during the night. In fact, he could have sworn he heard her walk up and down the hall without pausing to stop and ponder her decision. Was he surprised, perhaps, but was he depressed? Of course not, if Marc wasn’t able to handle rejection well then he would be standing where he was today. So no, Marc’s entire world wasn’t rocked by this development, in some ways he actually preferred it this way, not the being alone part but the chase aspect of it all. Baket very well could be playing hard to get, and Marc new that in time she might change her mind.

Nevertheless Marc was not content to spend the night talking to himself, and so he removed himself from the uncomfortable chair and stepped out into the hallway. The trail of clothing was very enticing, but the slamming of feet from Malcom’s exit was all Marc needed to head in that direction. He waited for the chaplain to be out of earshot before he knocked on the door and to his surprise it gently swung open. Most would take the opportunity to call out from the hallway, but Marc decided that he might as well just go in the room, taking the half shut door as an invitation of sorts.

Stepping into the room Marc noticed that Vee was laying in her bed, he could tell that she was deep in thought. He stepped closer to the bed,

“Hey Vee, it’s Marc,” He paused for a moment waiting for a brief response of some sort, when none came he spoke again, “mind if I take a seat?”

Vee didn't move or make any sign that she'd even heard Marc for a long moment, before finally grunting lightly in assent.

Marc nodded and pulled over a chair, he sat down and thought for a moment. He knew that Vee must have already been bombarded by other members of the team with their own personal advice and adages, and because of this he figured the last thing she would want to here from him was more of the same,

“Look Vee, I am not here to preach, I’m sure you’ve heard enough of that for a lifetime. I just came because I didn’t want you to be alone. I’m here for you Vee, so you can say whatever you want to me. Don’t be afraid to say nothing, I wont mind, but don’t be afraid to open up either. Ok?”

And that was all it took for Vee to crack like so much fragile glass, every ounce of tough facade she'd had up collapsing in to reveal a little girl who just wanted to cry and wanted more than anything to not have to be alone.

She didn't speak, only sobbed quietly.

Marc sat and listen respectfully for a long while, he knew that this was the first time Vee had truly stopped and opened up to the emotions that were trying to drown her. Marc pulled his chair closer to the bed and put his hand on her shoulder, a small gesture to let her know that he hadn’t left. Amidst the soft sobs Marc whispered to her,

“I’m here for you Vee, let it out.”

Vee rolled to her other side, facing Marc, and clung to his hand, weeping openly. She managed to choke out a few nonsensical words before finally dissolving into gibberish for a long moment.

" Don't leave me alone." she finally managed to say, face streaked with tears, nose running, eyes swollen and red.
Marc held her hand tight, her silent sobs had now transformed into full blown tears. He held her hand as firmly as he could, an attempt to show her that he would be strong for her now while she dealt with her own feelings.

“I wont leave you,” he said, his face a mix of understanding and determination, “I promise.”

(Co-op with the incredible Gypsy!)

[Auki]

"If you don't mind, I think I will walk down with you and check on Mal. Karen, I will be back shortly."

They left with barely a glance back in her direction, abandoning her in a silent room without a thought for her well being. Baket’s exit, she could understand – The woman had looked a mess, exhausted and dust-covered. That Claire would walk off because she was panicking about her man being away for half an hour made Karen roll her eyes.

There she was; exhausted and injured with morphine pumping through her blood. Falling back on the bed, she stared blankly at the ceiling, her eyes darting over its featureless surface. Who was she trying to kid? Her black hair fanned out over the covers, her olive skin glimmering in the dim light. She was completely alone. Not just in the room, but in the world. There did not seem to be one person who wasn’t happy to fuck her over in some way.

She was scared to close her eyes, wary that sleep may pursue her if she did. Thoughts buzzed around in her head but they were simply postponing her from the inevitable. With the free time she had gained herself now, it made sense to tick something off her to-do list. Clumsily, she explored her pockets, eyes still fixed above until she was able to locate and withdraw her phone. She didn’t look at the device, shifting it between her fingers absently.

She almost wanted to pretend she didn’t know what she was about to do; a few fleeting moments to believe her life was perfect.

Her body jerked as if attempting to shake off her rage and hurt, the movements threatening to turn into sobs but Karen didn’t want to cry. She simply rolled onto her side and curled into a ball, her arms covering her face from the outside world. Her body convulsed again and she began to tremble uncontrollably. She felt an emptiness but had no idea how to fill it. She felt lost but had no idea which way to turn. The phone remained clenched in her hand. She wanted to scream and shout. She wanted to cry and yet the sound of her tears in a silent room would break her. Her chest ached, a nagging she had been ignoring since the realisation of her unhappiness, a sharp contrast to the numbness that plagued the rest of her body. They had left her there alone. She felt helpless.

Why couldn’t she see a way out?

It felt like she had been fighting through the pain, nursing a broken heart for months, keeping it a secret even from herself. Now she was aware and she was at the crossroads, crushed by her own indecision. She had felt heartache before. She had forgotten the pain. Worst of all, he had no idea she was feeling like this.

The phone came to life in her hands as she slid the screen up, slowly, deliberately, punching in her husband’s number with quivering fingers. She pressed the green button before she had a chance to think. She could hear it ringing, every tone causing her stomach to clench. She felt nauseous. Vulnerable as it dialled. Wanting to cancel the call but knowing it would achieve nothing.

Click.

“Hello?”

The stabbing pain in her stomach peaked, her frantic breaths echoed throughout the room, her hand trembling as she placed the device to her ear. She wasn’t even sure what to say.

“Karen? Is that you?”

She wanted to hang up, throw the phone across the room and hide under the covers like she would have in her teenage years.

“…Karen?”
“I’m here.”

Her voice was shaky, the words a mere mumble, incomprehensible to anyone who didn’t know her. Mark was very familiar with her ways however.

“Normally when you phone someone, it’s to have a conversation with them. Whether you’re there or not, just sitting in silence defeats the object of a phone call.”
“I guess.”
“Come on, sweetie, I’m meant to be going out soon. If you’re not going to talk, why phone?”
“Well, where are you going?”
“Pub with a couple of my single friends.
“To get laid, I presume.”
“Why would that matter?”

A silence followed. Every part of Karen’s body shook; she tried to subdue it but her limbs would twitch and her stomach would cramp. The pressure on her chest refused to lift.

“Karen? I was only aski-…”
“Well, why the fuck wouldn’t it matter? I’m your wife for fuck’s sake.”

The words left her mouth before she could stop them, filled with the venom and rage she had been suppressing all those years. She could feel the blood pounding in her ears as her emotions began to break through the numbness, flooding her, overwhelming her.

“Karen, what th-…”

She couldn’t even bare to hear him talking anymore. Why didn’t he understand? Why had he done this to her? Why couldn’t they have a traditional, faithful marriage? Was it all too much to ask?

“Don’t. Just don’t. No fucking ‘Karen, what are you talking about?’. No fucking ‘Well, Karen, you agreed to this.’. No fucking bullshit because you can’t fucking understand how I fucking feel.”

“Ka-…”

“No, Mark! Shut the fuck up! You’ve said it all before and I’m fucking tired of it. Guess what? I almost fucked Claire a couple minutes ago. I didn’t but now I’m thinking, why the fuck not, right? How come you get what you want and I have to give up what I want. I chose you all those years ago because of some fucking vows that you don’t even take fucking seriously.”

The volume of her voice had risen, hatred coating every word. She was not angry with him per se, but more at the situation she had allowed herself to settle into.

“I don’t want a husband who sticks his dick inside anything with a pretty face. We’ve been apart for two years now. Two years without seeing each other. What the fuck is the point of us being married anymore?”

“What did you do with Clair-…?”

She wanted to scream. Why couldn’t he understand? Wasn’t it all so simple?

“We fucking kissed. That’s it. And it doesn’t matter, right? Because I think I’ve pretty much missed my chance with her. She’s got some new fucking boyfriend and I’m fucking stuck with you. She’s got love and what did I get? You. Fucking you.

I put so much at risk marrying you. My job, my friends, my morals. Everything. For you. She doesn’t love me. Well, neither do you, do you? Do you even fucking love me, Mark? Do you-…”

Click.

…
…
…

The other person has cleared… The other person has-

Karen clicked the red button gently, frozen as she registered the last few moments. Without warning, she sat up and threw the phone across the floor, watching it bounce across the carpet and thudding against the opposite wall. It didn’t make her feel any better.

He had hung up on her, given up on the conversation without a word. She was struggling to grasp the reality of that. She crossed her legs and sat silently, staring at the ground. She couldn’t even bring herself to cry – What would be the point? Her stomach still hurt and her chest still felt heavy.

…What had she done?

She shook her head and tried to block out the question; there were more important things to deal with right now. There was nothing she could do about Mark now. She would just have to wait and see if he ever got back in contact. Otherwise…she’d have to work on moving on…

With the thought of Claire and Malcolm’s likely return, she busied herself by straightening her clothes and running trembling fingers through her hair in an attempt to improve her appearance. Exhausted as she was – There was no way she would sleep anytime soon. It would be better to keep her mind busy until her body finally crashed.

[John]

Claire stepped out of the room with Baket, closing the door behind her and could already see Malcolm making his way up the stairs. She couldn’t help but notice the bottle of booze in his hand and Claire sighed.

“Thanks Baket. See you in the morning.” Claire smiled and took out her cell phone. She had felt it buzz earlier but had been too preoccupied with other matters to worry about it then, knowing what it would be. Checking the message, she read that Charlie was safe; the message having been sent by the computer in the safe house. Quickly, Claire sent a message to Charlie’s phone.

“Glad you’re safe. We will arrive sometime tomorrow evening. If you need anything, let me know.” About the time Claire had finished the message, Malcolm made it to where she was.

“Does that help?” Claire looked at him curiously, pointing at the bottle.

"I guess..." Malcolm muttered, looking Claire in the eyes. His heart started to beat faster when he looked at her. "It helps take the edge off." he held out the bottle, offering it to Claire. Malcolm could still feel that anger constricting him, strangling his psyche. The Chaplain's skin tingled with it.

"How is Karen holding up?"

Claire took the bottle and took a swig before passing it back to Malcolm.

“She’s fine,” Claire looked directly into Mal’s eyes. “Listen, I have to tell you that something happened between me and Karen. It didn’t get out of control, but I thought you should know anyway. I need you to trust me. And this is exactly the type of thing I told you about. It’s not like I can just stop loving her Mal. Just like I could never stop loving you,” Claire was babbling. She wanted to be honest with him. She needed him to understand that it was out of her control. She was becoming emotional and her eyes changed as she spoke.

“I love you so much, and no matter what happens,” Claire smiled and a tear rolled down her cheek. “I always will. And understand, I want to be with you. I really do. I just hope you can let go of the jealousy and anger you carry.”

There was a weak, muffled creaking noise that rose from Malcolm's right hand, or more precisely, the neck of the whisky bottle being strangled. Cobweb shapes shot across the glass as Malcolm tightened his grip. He quickly took a swig.

"I love you too, Claire..." he said as calmly as he could manage, and for someone boiling with enough rage to go on and mash a human to a pulp with his bare hands, he appeared only slightly agitated on the surface. "It is just... hard for me to grasp this whole situation. I feel like I am balancing on a fucking knife's edge. Not just with you, but with damn near everyone. I mean, if I so much as twitch the wrong way, I feel like Karen will snatch you away!" Malcolm's voice started to rise. This was not the kind of soldierly yell he would use in the field, or even the tone he used on Vee. This was a volatile cocktail of passion, frustration, and anger running through Malcolm's veins like gasoline, and his heart was acting as the piston; each beat setting his blood on fire. The lights outside of the apartments flickered a couple times while Malcolm spoke.

"So... go ahead and tell me whatever it is you wanted to tell me... I trust you with my life and more, Claire. You know that more than anyone" Malcolm's tone was calmer now, his free hand reaching out and wiping the tear from her face before pulling her in to a loving embrace.

“Mal, I…’ Claire trailed off as she felt the emotions hitting her. The feelings of anger coming from Mal, and the sorrow coming form Karen. Normally, she wouldn’t have been able to feel Karen without trying to, given that she was still in the room. But Claire felt love for Karen, and as such, she could sense it as clearly as if she were standing right next to her.

“I kissed Karen,” Claire sighed, trying to hold back the waves washing over her. “You have to understand Mal. Even though we were lovers, she is also my friend. And I haven’t seen her for a while. I just kind of got swept away.” Claire’s eyes started to well up form her own feelings of guilt and the sorrow coming form Karen. A part of her wanted to run to Karen and hold her. There was also a part which wanted to use her ability on Malcolm. Claire had gotten pretty good at controlling her own emotional output and for the moment, Mal wouldn’t be affected by it. But Claire felt an urge, one which she suppressed, to use her power to keep Malcolm calm.

There was the shrill, sharp sound of glass shattering as Malcolm fist finally crushed the neck of the bottle. The rest of the whisky went down to the floor and bled out of the jagged wound in the top of the bottle. Blood joined the expanding pool of alcohol as Mal's fist refused to unclench, driving the glass in deep. Waves of all kinds of emotions expanded from Malcolm like he was a boulder tossed in to a pond. None of the emotions were pretty, yet Malcolm's face was calm and as stony as ever. Anger, hate, sorrow, jealousy, wrath, love, passion; all of these emotions and feelings roaring inside the Chaplain. One of the lights next to Malcolm's head flickered violently before it suddenly burnt itself out. The window the Chaplain stood next to started to crack. Though Malcolm's face was calm, his eyes were nearly aflame. The Chaplain took a series of deep, calming breaths, though they did nothing for the man's temper, it helped remind him not to shout at Claire.

"I understand completely... You obviously love Karen very much... that is completely normal..." Malcolm slowly opened his hand and picked out the slivers of glass protruding from his palm. Luckily he already had gauze on that hand, so no cuts were too deep, but it bled pretty good. More bandages, that was all that was needed.

"In fact, I see your attachment to her a good thing. It means we can trust her. If she loves you as much as you love her, she would never think of betraying us." Malcolm wiped his hand on his undershirt, leaving bloody smears on the fabric. The fact that he did all this with a near-emotionless face while all that darkness boiled inside him unsettled him, it even make Sammael stir in discomfort.

"Still, I want to talk to her about a few things. Catch her up on squad status and what not.... so she doesn't go barking up the wrong tree..." he licked the split in his lip that he had gotten when Vee smacked him in to the floor, "Like little Vee... for example."

Claire couldn't be sure what had triggered it. It could have been the sorrow coming from Karen or the feelings which Mal was trying to bury deep. It might have even been the mention of Vee which did it, but a small stream of blood started to flow form Claire's nose. She didn't notice it at first, only hearing the noise in her head as the jumbled thoughts of Malcolm and Karen poured in. It was only when the blood touched her lips that she became completely aware of everything which was going on.

“Mal, be honest please,” Claire’s eyes closed as the headache started to kick in. Even without my ability, I cant tell you’re not happy.” Claire took Malcolm’s hand in hers and kissed it.

“I love what you are trying to do but with this and everything with Vee and now Karen I don’tknowhowmuchmoreIcanhandlethisMal-” Claire gasped, wrapping her arms tightly around Malcolm, trying to keep from collapsing to the floor. Her eyes opened and she appeared to be glaring at Malcolm as she gritted her teeth and started to convulse. After a moment, she fell to the ground. When Claire stopped convulsing and her eyes opened agin. This time they were completely white and when she spoke, the voice cam as a whisper which was not her own.

“She is going to die chaplain,” Claire’s lips curled into a maniacal grin. “And nothing you or your god can do will help. Pfft…god. He doesn’t love you chaplain. And both you, and this sack of vomit will die screaming.” Claire blew a kiss at Malcolm and her eyes closed and Claire started convulsing, choking on her tongue.

(co op with Storm)

[Merry]

Baket jogged down the stairs back toward her room. Well, the room with her clothing anyway. She nodded to Malcolm on her way by. Her body was weary and quickly reaching a point well past exhaustion. Between all the walking, the lack of any real sleep, and now the healing of Karen. She had reached the point of both mentally and physically of just shutting down. Like a light switch in the off position. shower, sleep, shower, sleep she murmured to herself. A shower would help and some sleep would be wonderful.

At this point, if Vee wasn’t done in there, Baket was going in regardless. It brought a smirk to her lips imagining the reaction if she just jumped in on Vee and shoved her out of the shower stall. She could picture Vee throwing an enormous fit, while she would just continue to wash her hair, and ignore her. She couldn’t help the giggles forming, her lips twitching to let them burst forth. The giggles a sure sign that she was beyond coherent adult thoughts, and headed for insanity on the quick train.

Shaking her head feverishly as she stopped in front of their room. She thought about knocking, and realized Vee was probably asleep, since Malcolm had left. She took a deep breath to quiet down her silly thoughts and pushed the door open stepping inside.

The smile and the leftover giggle that had been forming, quickly fading at the site that greeted her eyes when she stepped into the room. She couldn’t stop the shock that hit her at seeing Vee wrapped up in Marc’s arms. She was immediately embarrassed and uncomfortable. It felt like she had just jumped into an ocean of ice cold water. The bone weariness and silliness doused, completely for the moment.

“Oh…I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude” she blurted out unable to meet Marc’s eyes. “I’m just… gonna grab my stuff…..uh….shower now” she mumbled, grabbing the clothing she had chosen and headed to the bath room, shutting the door quickly behind her. It had taken all of ten seconds, and felt like an eternity till she could close that door.

Leaning her back against the door frame, trying to process what was going on without much success. Her exhausted mind couldn’t analyze what she had seen. Why was Marc there? When? Did they have a “thing” and here she is flirting with him, What the hell! Her mind screamed at her. Suddenly feeling a whole new level of awful, and extremely stupid about everything.

She leaned into the tub, turned the water on full force. God damn, but there better be hot water left, her mind snarled. She started peeling off clothing, dropping it on the floor. Stepping in, and not really caring that the water was cold as it hit her skin. She placed her face directly in the jet, closing her eyes and stopped thinking about anything, but the water, for now.

[Mysteria]

Sleep and a hot bath. Thats all Shane wanted right now. Her mind was to spent to think of Khara, Aaron or anything else. She just wanted to get cleaned up and get some sleep. Real sleep. Not a ten minute nap but rather a lay down in the bed and crash for hours kind of sleep.

Taking the clothes she had gathered to change into Shane went into the room and shut the door behind her, not locking it. She was certain that Aaron would be along soon, she wasn't sure what the hold up was and at this point she didn't even care. She just wanted to feel hot water surrounding her and washing away the days stress. She began peeling clothes the minute the door shut behind her, leaving a trail the entire way across the room leading into the bathroom.

Shane filled the tub while she finished undressing and ran her comb through her hair then stepped into the tub sinking down deep into the hot water and closing her eyes. God, it felt so good to get a bath again. It felt like it had been days and after all of the walking they had just done this was the perfect way to unwind. Well almost perfect. The truth was that being in Aarons arms would have been more perfect but she couldn't think about that now. She had to focus on her and on her sister. What had the dream meant? Was it even really real? Shane sub-conscientiously rubbed her hand where the mark had been emblazoned into the skin.

After having scrubbed herself clean and having washed her hair she sunk back down into the water, allowing it to rinse away the shampoo and soap, along with the tension of the day. Memories flashed through her mind as she did so. Thoughts spun in a whirlwind. Chase, Vee, Lyrico, Malcolm, Marc, Backet, and Aaron. Aaron! Where in the hell was he anyhow? He should have been here by now but she hadn't heard him come in yet. He had gotten so quiet since Chase's death and had barely spoken since. Shane grew worried. Aaron had always been the strong quiet type but this went far beyond quiet. She didn't want to intrude on his time but sooner or later they needed to talk. She needed to know what was going on with him, what he was thinking and...if he was okay. SCAR was never an easy life for any of them and with Aaron still being relatively new and having just really learned how to control his powers, it left a lot of room for Shane's concern to grow even deeper.

A sigh escaped her, the bubbles in front of her blowing across the tub. If he wasn't here by the time she was done with her bath she would have to go looking for him but for now she just needed a few moments more. Just a few moments to relax.

Just a few moments to think. Where the hell was he, anyhow?

[Cookies Ahoy]

The local drugstore was bigger than it looked on the outside. Kristy slowly walked down the aisles, lightly twirling the credit card across her fingers as she scanned the rows for necessities on the shopping list she had in her mind. At some point in time amidst the confusion of getting situated in Blunt, Claire had given Kristy her pre-paid credit card and told her to get food and some other things for the team. Kristy didn't bother to object to more walking and taking a later shower, though she wanted to. At the least she was happy to dump her gear, except she kept one of her HK USP pistols tucked neatly under her clothes.

When Kristy stopped in the room to get new clothes earlier that night she had apparently timed it just right that no one saw her go in or out. It was definitely an odd occurrence that she spared a small amount of time thinking about. She hadn't spent much time looking through the clothes, but was able to pick a few decent articles. She'd found some comfortable white slip-on shoes that were in decent shape, some dark jeans that only had a few tears in them, and simple navy blue. She wasn't sure where the clothes had come from, but Kristy could tell they had been used before. She wasn't going to complain though, it was better than waltzing through Blunt in her SCAR uniform. That would raise more than a few questions, even in a small town. She'd also picked out a black jacket to help conceal her handgun while she walked through town.

"Shoot I'm gonna need a cart for all of this crap," Kristy muttered under her breath.

Kristy saw a lone cart at the other end of the aisle. Tired of walking, she used her telekinetic power to bring the cart to her. It rolled steadily towards her like a ghost was bringing it right to her. She wasn't worried about being spot as it was so late the drug store was practically empty.

With the cart now in her grasp, Kristy began tossing in foods that would stay fresh without much worry. Bread, crackers, dried fruits, and bottles of water were among a few of the things she bought. Next on the list was hair dyes, Claire wanted it to help mask the operatives identities. Kristy found the small hair products row and began to shovel in whatever colors she could get her hands on. While Kristy was hurriedly tossing in some scissors and brushes a lady stopped her. She looked like she'd worked on a ranch her whole life.

"Excuse me, darling," the lady spoke kindly, "What are you doing?"

Kristy looked up, startled that someone was even talking to her, "Umm... Well. I'm jus-just shopping for my family, we're just passing through here. I just saw how cheap the hair dyes were here and thought I would, you know, take advantage of the savings."

"That's nice and all, darling, but did you ever think that other people would want to buy some too?" the lady questioned a little annoyed.

"I'm sorry, ma'am," Kristy lied, "Go ahead and take what you need."

The lady obviously didn't believe Kristy was sorry, but she went ahead and took what she wanted from Kristy's cart.

I'm a terrible liar, Kristy thought to herself.

Kristy passed by a small section of sunglasses and tossed a couple pairs into her cart before she turned into the only open register. A wiry young looking kid was sitting at the register chewing some beef jerky. The man started to scan and bag the things in her cart, but stopped for a moment to ask a question.

"You got enough food to feed an army, plus half our store in your cart, you having a party or something?" he asked, scratching the small amount of black stubble on his cheek.

"Uhm... No, my boyfriend kinda pissed me off tonight. So I figured I'd extract some revenge by letting him chase me across the country side while I drained his bank account," Kristy said, laughing at the stupidity of her lie.

The boy bought the joke though. He was obviously immature enough not to object to her spending, and even laughed a bit himself. He continued bagging the rest of the cart's items.

"Well if he stops by I'll tell him I haven't seen you," The boy said smiling, "And your total comes to..."

"I don't need to know the cost," Kristy interrupted giving another fake laugh as she handed the clerk Claire's card, "And if he does stop by, why don't you tell him I'm headed up to Canada?"

The boy laughed again, obviously appalled that someone would actually steal someone's credit card and run around the country.

Kristy pushed the cart that was now full of bagged items and her receipt out the door, not noticing that the woman that had confronted her earlier had been standing in line behind her. Kristy looked at her receipt as she walked through the parking lot. She gawked at how much money she had spent for a moment, then promptly ripped the paper into tiny shreds to be blown away into the wind.

When Kristy arrived back at the hotels she looked down at the cart again, she hadn't realized that she was still pushing it. Not wanting to be labeled as a thief, Kristy put the groceries on the ground, then using her power once again quietly wheeled the cart down the street and into the drug store parking lot. She was even considerate enough to leave it close to the entrance.

[Auki]

[Co-Op Between me and Storm~]

Malcolm watched in helpless horror as Claire fell at his feet, her eyes rolling up in her head as she appeared to be temporarily possessed by something terribly powerful. His entire body throbbed at the presence of whatever it was that had Claire in its grasp. Malcolm tried to reach for his power to Purge, that blinding Holy Light that he had used on Claire before when she was possessed... she still bore that scar on her back.

That Holy power was so close, but every time Malcolm tried to grasp it, he couldn't quite make it. He tried again and again. He could feel the power there, but he wasn't able to wield it. What was going on!? Malcolm did not have long to think before Claire started choking on her own tongue.

That Chaplain fell to his knees and held Claire close. He had no tool with which he could pull her tongue out of her throat, so that meant one thing. He would have to put his fingers at risk. Malcolm pried Claire's mouth open, putting his left hand in-between her top and bottom jaw so that he could snake his index and middle finger in to her mouth. It was a reach and her seizure was making her bite down hard on his hand. He felt his skin break and blood start to flow.

Almost there...

Malcolm was finally able to grip her tongue with his fingers and pull the tip of it out of her throat. He held here there, waiting for her fit to pass over before he dared let her go. Claire's thrashing sure caused a racket, though.

At least, enough of a racket to draw Karen from her numb stupor. The unsteady thumping against the wall was enough to pique her interest, and her concern. Dragging herself off the bed and checking she was decent, she trotted to the door and exited into the hallway.

Her eyes were instantly drawn to the crimson of blood, lacing across Claire’s face and dripping from Malcolm’s hand…into Claire’s mouth. She was struggling to grasp the situation, as strange and as shocking as it was. Her emotions, repressed and hidden, began to spike. Now was not the time to think.

“What the…fuck are you doing, you flaming cunt?”

Her voice was a yell, although hopefully the thin walls muffled her words to those around. Karen found herself sprinting to Claire’s side.

“You’re making her choke, you fucking idiot. You fucking, fucking idiot.”

“Let go.” She ordered, slapping his hand away. Claire’s tongue threatened to fall back into her mouth but drawing upon her power, Karen kept it suspended. There was little she could do without hurting Claire but it was better to hurt her than to watch her die. She did not know much about medicine, nor was she claiming to now, but even she had enough common sense to see what was wrong with the situation. Claire was on her back, choking, having a seizure – The blood streaming from both her nose and Malcolm’s hand was likely sitting at the back of her throat, blocking her already-restricted airway.

“Oh holy mother-fucking Christ, Mal, do something! Roll her on her side or something. I can’t. I’m injured. You’re the guy. Fucking help her.” Malcolm's blood boiled as he was berated by nothing but insults and demands. He was not one for pride, but respect was very important. Malcolm said nothing. Like a good Christian, he turned the other cheek. He rolled Claire over on her side, letting the blood trickle out of her mouth. He held her close, muttering a prayer until the seizure stopped. It seemed dreadfully quiet after Claire laid still in a quiet slumber.

Malcolm refused to acknowledge that Karen existed at the moment. He pined over Claire, checking her for any serious injuries. Some minor bruises from the thrashing, but after checking her eyes, he could breath easy knowing she had not suffered any damaging head trauma. The Chaplain picked her up in his arms and shouldered his way past Karen like she was just part of the building.

He tucked Claire in to bed, just as he did when she had a seizure in Rome. He moved with tenderness that belied his strong frame. Malcolm planted a tender kiss on Claire's rosy lips, saying a silent prayer for her to recover.

Then the Chaplain stood and turned, heading back outside to see Karen. That rage burned in him so terribly strong it felt like his heart would burn away in to dust.

"So Karen, do you kiss your mother with that foul mouth of yours?"

Karen was in a malicious mood and felt certain smugness from the way Malcolm rushed past her. Her insults had been meaningless words at the time – a projection of her worry and concern for Claire – but he had seemed to take them to heart. Alongside the previous events of the night, it was easy to see the cracks in his tough exterior become apparent.

She didn’t help him carry in Claire. There was no need. The woman had appeared to calm down, safe for the moment at least. Karen would not like to leave her alone for the night but Malcolm would probably have it no different. He was far too aggressive, too jealous, for someone like Claire. If he didn’t even realise that, Karen was not worried that she would have the upper hand come two weeks time.

Although, was that what she wanted? Her perfect marriage had just faded before her eyes – Was it right to destroy the dreams of someone else just because she was feeling hurt? Perhaps she was being unfair on Malcolm… Sure, he was handling it the wrong way but the basis of his emotions were justified… Right?

She could almost regret the way she had spoken until he appeared from the room with an even fouler attitude.

“My mother? Nah, sorry sweetheart. Just your girlfriend.” Her smile was sweet, as was her tone, but pure anger boiled beneath it, mixed with an extraordinary amount of spite. After all, she hadn’t done a thing wrong. Not one damn thing.

“The woman seemed fucking eager to get with me. Guess ya ain’t been satisfying her as much as I used to.” Malcolm visibly twitched at Karen's last words. His heart rate rose dramatically his blood roaring as it rushed through is veins, carrying darkness, rage, and hate through his heart. His vision started to shake, like it did when he was confronting Vee. The only difference this time was that Malcolm was not trying to push that anger away. He could hear the shattering of glass in his head, whether that was his sanity or his mental shield against all of the suppressed emotions, he did not know.

The lights around them started to flicker violently, some overloading and sending a shower of sparks to the ground. Malcolm turned to face Karen; the whites of his eyes were heavily bloodshot and his pupils were not pits of black, but glowing red. He approached closed the already-small distance between himself and Karen slowly, his breathing deep and heavy.

"Karen... I have shown you nothing but good manners since you got here. I wish you extended me the same courtesy... and if you don't start showing some respect, soon you will be wishing too. That I promise you." Malcolm growled as he looked down at Karen. He was done playing games. He had tolerated shit from the entire squad ever since the mission got the green light. No longer would he tolerate it, least of all from some boot-lick like her.

In the blink of an eye, Malcolm's hand shot to the back of Karen's head, grabbing a fist-full of hair and pulling back, making her back bow. He stared Karen in the eyes with noting but burning contempt and anger. "I'm not going to tolerate this kind of bullshit from you, or anyone. I love Claire more than God and life itself, and you are trying to impose on that. If you take her away from me, I'll kill you. Do you understand me? I. Will. Kill. You!”

“We’re both SCAR operatives, sweetheart. We both know how to play dirty,” Karen growled, pushing the barrel of her Desert Eagle deeper against his crotch, drawing attention to its presence. She had been in the organisation long enough to know that, when men got angry, it was better to prepare yourself early. If she could have had her way, it would be pointing against his chest, or better still his head, but her reactions had not been that fast. She’d have to settle for shooting him in the dick.

She was hurt. She was injured. She was angrier than she had ever been. On top of that, she had been kicked when she was down for no good reason.

But at the end of the day, Karen was not evil.

“Now, Malcolm, I think it’s best you listen to me very closely.” Her words were gentle. Not for her own sake – She was not scared by his display – but for the sake of Claire. She loved Malcolm after all. Why, Karen did not know, but she did. Whatever happened now, the blood would stain their hands forever – Once Claire had learnt of the events, the memory, nor the pain, would never fade. Karen did not like diplomacy. She did not like talking when there was a chance for action. But for Claire, she allowed it a chance. Just one.

“I have been hurting for years - Right now, you have no idea what that feels like. Yesterday, the entire of SCAR blew up. Shoves a whole load of emotions on top of my problems. I came here to be Claire’s friend, to offer her support when she was close to tears.

Then guess what? She starts kissing me. She starts using her damn power on me. What do I do? I stop it. Phone my husband and pretty much find out my marriage is over. Minutes later, I come outside and you’re fucking killing Claire - whether you want to admit it or not. Choking the damn woman on your blood. I save her fucking life and you get pissed. You come outside. Swear at me. Shout at me. Have the fucking nerve to try and tell me what to fucking do.”

She looked him in the eyes, her stomach twisting at the sight of them. The emotion in his eyes was not rage nor was it insanity – It was something past that. And if rational negotiation wasn’t going to work? Well, she might as well enjoy the fight.

“I am a better person than you will ever fucking be! Claire does not deserve a man who’s so stupid as to threaten her best friend right after that friend just saved her fucking life. Heck, you think I’m the problem? Claire’s an emotional wreck right now and look what the fuck you’re doing!”

She dug the barrel of the gun in deeper, using her power to levitate the other from its holster, “If you’re gonna throw the first punch, be my guest. I ain’t no pussy woman who will get on her knees at the click of a man’s fingers. If you want a fight, I’ll give you a fucking fight, sweetheart.”

Malcolm was silent, seething anger and hatred burning in those eyes hot iron-red pupils of his. The roar of rushing blood dulled all else, it was like an out of body experience. More lights started to burst, sending showers of glass and sparks shooting outward. Malcolm could feel that power in his core throbbing, pulsing like a second heart. It was so much stronger than before. It was absorbing his anger, feeding off of it. Was this why his rage was effecting the material plane? Just as that thought flickered through Malcolm's head, the handrail he had previously been resting on twisted and warped. The Chaplain seemed unfazed by the fact that a hand-cannon was pressed tightly against his groin.

"You don't know a damned thing about me, Karen. Don't you dare throw judgement at me and expect the words of a worm like yourself to make me change who I am." Malcolm growled, pulling her head back further.

"But judging by the lovely acts of hospitality and kindness on your behalf, I find it no surprise that your husband left you."

"Also know that I have been to Hell and back. I have suffered tortures your mind cannot begin to comprehend at the hands of Satan himself. Divine Power pulled me out and put me back on this earth! I hear the Voice of God and his Angels! I see demons in their true form! I exist to suffer these burdens because I have been designed to bear such heavy duties! What the fuck have you done besides make people miserable! I won't expect you to get on your knees, but I know I can put you on them and have you repenting for the rest of you unnatural life!"

Karen laughed, “Oh hell, Malcolm, how does anyone take you seriously? Your God should have left you down in that pit where you belong. Threatening a woman who has done nothing wrong? I mean, how long is it going to take you to see that? You’re pushing Claire away bit by bit, unable to hold onto her, so you blame others. You’re full of lust and rage and frankly, I’ve seen you sin one heck of a lot tonight.

You know the great thing? You’re ignorant as fuck and you don’t even realise it. It’s flaming hilarious, love.”

She didn’t let her guard down, not in the slightest, but she felt not the least bit threatened by his words. He was an idiot. His religious rantings were full of hypocrisy, his threats exaggerated by an ego too big for his abilities. Did he think she hadn’t seen horrors? The man didn’t know half of what she’d witnessed. He was even too blind to see that he was pushing away the one person who seemed to put up with him.

“All I’ve done tonight is convince Claire to give you a chance and save her life. That’s all. You tell me I’ve caused misery and that I’m a lesser person than you? Maybe if you actually started thinking straight, you’d see the bullshit you’re spitting out. Heck, if you’re the kind of people God loves, I’m more than happy to side with the Devil.” Malcolm glowered at Karen, more than anything he wanted to fry her soul. He wanted to turn her in to a lifeless husk and he didn't even know why anymore. His hand let go of her hair and he gave her a light shove to push her back.

"I'll be more than happy to send you to your dark lord, if that is the case. My original stance has not changed. If you take Claire from me, I'll kill you, and the goodbye will be slow...." Slowly, Malcolm's eyes returned to normal as he reached in to his pocket. His eyes went from fire to ice, though they still looked harsh, but they also held what looked like sadness, or something akin to it.

"Claire is the first person I have ever loved. She is the first person I have shared my body with...." he pulled his hand out of his pocket, twirling a heavy gold band in-between his fingers, "She is also my intended. If you even think of sullying that future, I'll make the Hell I send you too seem like Heaven when I am done with you. I'm only a good Christian when I choose to be, Karen. Other times I can be all fire and brimstone."

“And I’m not here to try and stop that. That’s not why I came.”

She wanted Claire to try her best with Malcolm, otherwise there would always be regrets. Karen didn’t want to be fighting over the woman with him in five years time after all. She had been Claire’s best friend longer than she had been her lover. Honestly, Karen would have liked to laugh in his face…or punch some sense into him - To berate him for being a bastard without reason. She could keep control of her emotions however, unlike some, repressing them until the time was right – She always could. It was both a gift and a curse, making her feel numb inside. Her mind was in denial over the potential destruction of her marriage, enabling her to think selflessly about the relationship between Malcolm and Claire.

“Didn’t think Christianity was ever a day-by-day choice. Always got told it was a lifestyle.” She spoke as though they had not just been at each other’s throats, holstering her guns absently. “Parents brought me up. Took me to church. I was always a believer. I assumed you had to be or God would punish you." She brushed her hair from her face, “Turns out bad things happen even if you have faith. My religion was rocky throughout my teenage years. Finally collapsed upon marrying my husband. He doesn’t worship a God and my faith was redundant by that point. I’ve always wished to have a way to start believing again. Faith is a hard thing to try and discover on your own though.” Religion probably wasn’t as important to her as it was to Malcolm, but she wanted to draw the conversation to some common ground before they left. After all, she wanted to show him she was a human, and not a monster.

She approached Malcolm slowly, her hands kept far away from her weapons, before putting her arms around him. She had always been taught that hugs solved even the direst issues. SCAR had done more than enough to prove that statement false, but she didn’t know how else to act in the situation. She was not intentionally trying to be awkward, but the anger she felt towards Malcolm had changed to pity. She just didn’t have the energy to be pissed off anymore. She seemed to be acting like her childhood self more than anything, with fluctuating emotions and irrational beliefs.

“I swear I’ll do my best to keep Claire with you if you promise to keep her happy. All this anger and rage will just push her away. I’m telling you that to try and help you. Nothing more.”

Of all the things Malcolm had been expecting, a hug was not anywhere on his list. Why was it he always got taken off-guard by women? Claire always did the unexpected... perhaps they rubbed off on one another more than he thought. Malcolm quickly cleared his head of that thought process, seeing as how it made him think of things a priest shouldn't.

"I.... uh.... thank you..." he hesitantly returned the hug to Karen. What had happened to him? He was usually an emotional rock, and he rarely lashed out. And what the hell happened to the world around him, he thought as he saw the busted lights, windows, and handrails.

Karen was busy attempting to ignore their warped environment. In one way, she was fascinated. In another, she was wary. Considering the height difference between her and Malcolm, she was able to block out the sight by pressing against his chest, the hug lasting for a few more moments before she stepped back. She ran her fingers through her hair, trying to untangle the knots that had formed, and quickly brushed down her clothes. She wasn’t even sure what she was doing anymore. The night seemed to be passing in a blur.

“Not a problem.” She indicated to the door, “Claire might be awake by now. I think you should go in first, y’know. So you can be there for her…and all that.”

[John]

Claire walked slowly through the impenetrable gloom, lost in an inescapable dream. She could still feel the rage that burned within Malcolm, stabbing at her chest and mind. She could also feel the sorrow and anger coming form Karen. The mixture of the emotions, especially coming form two people that Claire loved, cause her great pain and fatigue. Every breath felt as though she was inhaling fire. Every joint of her body ached, and it felt as though someone were shoving hot pokers into her eyes. The emotions of Karen and Malcolm slammed into her and Claire dropped to the ground.

She lay there for what seemed like an eternity, able to hear the words of Mal and Karen floating on the breeze. A part of her wanted to cry while another part wanted to die. She loved them both and couldn’t go on like this. She did want to be with Malcolm, and would do most anything for him. But Karen was not only an ex lover, but a dear friend, and Claire needed Karen to be a part of her life.

Without warning, Claire’s body arched with pain as she could feel her hair being pulled. She tried to pull away but she felt as though she were falling, the ground beneath her temporarily disappearing. She it back down with a dull thud and started to cry. After a few moments, she could hear a familiar voice calling out to her.

“Claire….it’s okay.” Claire immediately recognized the voice as the one that told her to go through the portal back in the coastal grotto while she and her team were trying to get away from Wilbur Whately’s goons. “Don’t cry.”

Claire pushed herself into a sitting position and a light appeared in front of her. It grew brighter, piercing through the darkness that surrounded her and within moments the silhouette of a man appeared.

“Who are you?” Claire croaked the words, fighting to find the strength to get to her feet.

“I’ve missed you,” the voice seemed to sound different as the man came into view. It was a voice she hadn’t heard in years. The face of the man was instantly recognizable to her and she rushed to him, wrapping her arms around him, hugging him.

“Papi!!” Claire hugged her father tightly, for a few minutes, sobbing into this shoulder. Once she felt calmer, she pulled back, tears still streaming down her face. She really didn’t feel like crying anymore, the pain being gone and the happiness of seeing her father. Despite that, her tears continued to flow.

“This is a dream isn’t it?” Claire whispered the words and her father smiled.

“You’re unconscious little girl,” his voice was soothing. “But I am here.”

“Then I don’t want to wake up.” Claire looked at him, almost pleading with her eyes.

“No Claire,” he shook his head. “You have to wake up soon.”

“I’m done papi,” Claire looked into his eyes. “I don’t want this power anymore. I can’t have a life. I can’t be around the ones I love.”

“Claire,” her father sighed. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you when your ability manifested. I wish I had of. It may have made things easier for you. But I can promise you, it will get better. And I never broke a promise to you before.” He brought a hand up to her cheek smiling.

“Remember when you were ten and you wanted to go skydiving?” Claire’s father chuckled. “I promised that if you got perfect on a test at school, I would take you?”

“I also remember,” Claire giggled. “That mom was really pissed after you did,” Claire sighed. She titelted her head, pressing her cheek against her father’s and and would have look contended if not for the tears still running down her face.

“Can I stay a little longer?” Claire looked up at him.

“Claire, there’s someone at the door.” Claire’s eyes shot open to the sound of someone knocking on the door of the motel room.

Claire could see that Mal and Karen were moving quickly towards her as if to help her. Claire sat up and put her hands out, as if telling the two of them to stop. Karen came to a swift, albeit confused, halt – A thousand questions spun round her mind but she kept them to herself. She looked at Claire’s face with an expression of fear and concern. Malcolm looked like he was about to say something but Claire glared at him.

“Not…one…word.” The look on Claire’s face was one that indicated she was either about to burst into tears or explode with anger. Either way, it was something that Malcolm didn’t want to see. Claire pushed herself up, walking silently to the door, still not aware of the blood on her face that had been coming from her eyes. But she had a clear memory of the dream and what had happened between Karen and Mal. Claire opened the door to see Kristy standing there.

“What’s up hun?” Claire forced a smile, not realizing how ghastly she looked at the moment.

"I got the things you wanted me to get from the..." Kristy began to motion to the stack of groceries that sat at her side when she gasped, "What happened to you Claire?!"

"What are you talking about?" Claire touched her face and then looked at the blood on her fingers. Looking over at the mirror, she saw how she looked, the streaks of blood down her face appearing to have come form her eyes, and immediately tuned and went for one of the shirts left by Charlie’s friends.

“Just give me a minute okay?” Claire rushed into the bathroom, soaking the shirt and quickly scrubbed away the blood, Looking in the mirror, she thought she still looked like shit, and a tad pale.

“Sorry,” Claire smiled a little, a sad look in her eyes. “Listen, Claire lowered her voice.’ Can I stay with you, I just need to get out of this room.” Claire’s eyes pleaded with Kristy.

Kristy could tell Claire obviously wasn't feeling well. She wasn't sure if Claire would bother to tell her what had happened, but Kristy would be there for her.

"Yeah, sure thing. I think there's still one empty room, we can go in there if you would like," Kristy replied with a small reassuring smile on her face as she picked up some of the grocery bags. The bags Kristy couldn't pick up by hand she picked up with her mind.

“Thanks,” Claire smiled, turning to Karen, and grabbed a one of Mal’s bottles of booze. “You coming?” Karen nodded but gave a reassuring smile to Malcolm, an attempt at showing she was only going for his sake, picking up her phone as she went to leave. Claire walked out the door of the room and headed down the stairs towards the other room. Karen and Kristy walking with her. Once she got down the first flight of stairs. She stopped turning to both of them

“Listen,” Claire spoke softly trying unsuccessfully to hide all emotion. “I have to phone Charlie. I’ll catch up in a minute. Claire tossed the key to Kristy and watched and she and Karen walked off. She took out the phone, taking a long haul from the bottle. Dialling Charlie, she held the phone to her ear and waited.

Charlie's phone rang several times before she woke from her drugged comatose. Seeing it was Claire, she answered it after a few seconds trying to look for the button. Her thoughts were all jumbled from the morphine.

"Claire?" She asked with a tired voice. "Hey you get my text earlier? Been...been..ahem...been wondering when you guys would get here. I got all messed up, and something..."

“Charlie,” Claire sounded concerned. “Are you high?” Claire had administered enough drugs in her life to know the difference between someone who was just sleepy and someone who was stoned.

Charlie lifted the phone away from her to glare it then brought it back to her ear.

"I am not high," She muttered. "Just gave myself some morphine after being attacked by a fucking vampire and licker...but..yeah no I am not high...I don't think...any ways, you don't sound too peachy yourself"

“Just don’t take too much,” Claire didn’t care so much that Charlie was doing the drug. She understood why and frankly would have given it to Charlie herself had she been there. But Charlie didn’t have a broad range of medical knowledge and didn’t do drugs. And it would be very easy for her to take too much. And given the state of things, Claire didn’t want to lose anymore friends.

“And me? Just fucking ducky,” Claire choked back the rising sob in her throat. “My life is falling apart. My best friend and my boyfriend hate each other. Things couldn’t be better.” Claire’s tone was more than a little sarcastic. Pausing, she sighed.

Look, I’m sorry I don’t mean to take it out on you,” a tar came to Claire’s eye. “I just…I was so hoping to one day be Mrs. Claire Maverick. And now I don’t know if it’s possible anymore. But really, you don’t need to listen to me prattle on. I need you to do me a favour.” Claire had decided she wanted this over as quickly as possible. As such she needed to make a phone call and needed Charlie’s help to do it.

Now, Charlie didn't get want it meant to have a full time boyfriend, but she did feel for Claire. If no one else would listen, Charlie hoped a drugged up friend would be sufficient. It's when she mentioned the name Maverick that things went awry.

"What!" Charlie yelled out. "Did you just say Maverick?!"

“Yeah,” Claire pulled the phone away from her ear, an annoyed look on her face. “What of it?”

The memories flashed back. Of the time Charlie was at her adoptive parents home. Happy. Innocent. The world soon came tumbling down after meeting her first demon. The demon that killed them. The demon she sent back to hell out of pure rage. It was not before he told her she had a brother, a half brother that is. Memories from her real mother then flooded. Things she couldn't put together, but only one thing. A name.

"Malcolm Maverick," Charlie whispered.

“Um…yeah?,” Claire tried to think if she had mentioned his name to Charlie. Once she was sure she hadn’t, Claire continued speaking.

“Why, do you know him?” Claire couldn’t see how that was even possible, but Claire often found the impossible happening on a daily basis.

"No...no...this is what he was saying...no!" Charlie was panicking, and that was definitely not good in her state. "It cant be true, he cant have Maverick as his last name, because...because.....my last name is Maverick."

“How much morphine did you take?” Claire chuckled. “Your last name is Charles. Now could you get your head together and do me a favour?”

At this moment, Claire didn’t think there was anything that could surprise her. At this moment, she was wrong. And somehow, more than ever, she felt like her life was a soap opera.

“So that makes Mal your?” Claire’s tone was curious.

"How the fuck should I know?!" Charlie was out of her mind her, from the morphine, the broken ribs, and now the drama her brain was about to explode. "All I know is, when I was a little kid, a demon barged in my home, killed the parents who adopted me, then before I...that is...before he disappeared he told me I had a brother. Coming back to thinking about it, a name popped in my head out of no where, and it was your Malcolm."

“Um…okay,” Claire had no idea what to say. “So what do you want me to do? Do you want to get out of there. I will understand if you do.”

"That all you want to tell me?" Charlie said angrily. "You find out the guy your so madly in love with has a sister and you tell her to go up and leave? The fact that if I do, demons and who knows what the fuck else will find me and rip me to shreds for a way to find you guys. And...and..."

She nearly choked on her own breath, her mind was flying from the past events. Struggling to understand what to really do next.

"I am sorry for freaking out on you," Charlie said with a sigh, trying to calm herself down. "I bet things haven't been easy for you either, but the fact I might have family....a family...even if it's one person I don't even know, it means something to me..."

“That wasn’t what I meant,” Claire sounded remorseful. “I know this can’t be easy for you. I really wish I could be there for you right now. Soon though. I promise. And now I feel really bad for asking, but I need you to do something for me. Please. It’s important.”

Charlie muttered a line of curses before replying, "What is it?"

“Again I’m sorry, I promise we will figure it all out when we get there,” Claire spoke softly. “But right now, in the main room is a desk with three computers on it. I need you to plug your cell phone into the middle one and ask the AI to run command three… please.” Claire really felt bad for asking, but she had to do this now. Too many things were spiralling out of control, she needed more help.

"Let me first try to get off the couch without puking," Charlie replied wincing as she got up. "Did I forget to mention I have a bunch of ribs broken and who knows what else?"

She limped towards the desk that held the computers and did exactly what Claire said. She told the AI to begin command three and put the phone to her ear again.

"Now what Claire?"

“Hang on,” Claire began to type a message into the phone.

“AC1131ENGCAM. Advise. Help requested. Asylum?” She sent the message and got a reply almost immediately.

“Denied. Do not contact.” Claire frowned, typing.

“Omegas responsible. More going on than we thought. You were right.” Claire waited for the response. This time it took a couple of minutes.

“Be advised. Have contact stateside. Will send to Madison Wisconsin in accordance to your loaction.” Claire stared at the screen confused for a moment. Why did The Campus have an operative in the US?

“Contact here. Do not understand.” Claire waited and the response came just moments later.

“Will take you into custody. Call again when in the safe house. What’s your ETA for contact?” Claire looked at the time on the phone and typed in the answer.

“ETA 5:00 PM local.” Claire waited and frowned again when she saw the word “disconnected” appear on the screen. Putting the phone back to her ear, she started speaking again.

“Thanks Charlie,” Claire spoke softly. “Is there anything you need?”

"Probably an explanation for everything," Charlie said tiredly. "Hell, you probably need a big one from me. For now, I expect hard cold liquor. Maybe some good Scottish whiskey. Sounds about right."

Claire saw Ethan, presumably walking to his room. As she listened on the phone, she waved for him to come over, motioning at him with the bottle of booze.

“Okay. We’ll be there late tomorrow. Gotta go Get some rest and go easy on the morphine. We‘ll get you patched up as soon as we get there.” Claire turned off the phone and put it in her pocket, looking to Ethan. Finally Claire was going to get the chance to find out just who he was. And maybe, from that, she could learn a little more about what was going on.


(co op with Auki Cookies and Yoru)

[Cookies Ahoy]

Acting indifferently to the situation held no benefit to Karen so she allowed the concern to appear on her face. Things were happening too quickly for her liking and with not enough explanation behind them. Heck, she still didn’t know why Claire had been knocked unconscious with Malcolm standing there – She assumed it was the same reason as always; the empath couldn’t keep control of her own power and ended up blacking out. She just hoped it wasn’t for another reason. Malcolm’s previous aggression and rage left a lot of worrying thoughts in her mind.

Sighing, she turned around and began to walk down the corridor, following the direction of the other woman. “I don’t think I caught your name,” Karen mentioned, having to pause to crack a yawn, “I’m Karen. Ancheta. SCAR Operative. Anti-gravity powers. Married. No kids. Feeling older than I am. Exhausted. Was in pain. Baket sorted me out. Wounded by a demon – On my way here. ” She didn’t know if the woman was used to people talking as she did but Karen made no effort to slow her speech down, despite how exhausted she was. “Just got caught in all that drama. In case you need an explanation. Although your name would still be nice.”

Kristy waited for Karen's machine gun fire of words to end before speaking, "Uh," Kristy slid the key into the door lock, "I'm Kristy Masterson, I do telekinetics," Kristy said still focusing on the bags she was suspending in the air.

Kristy walked into the room and set the bags down in under a table, then asked Karen casually, "Do you mind if I take a shower? Claire asked me to make a grocery run which, unfortunately, didn't leave me anytime to shower. We can still talk if you'd like."

Karen gave her a blank look before replying, “Of course. Everyone else seems to be taking a shower. I’m trying to get everything sorted first. Heavens be praised when I get to wash – No joke. I’ve been in some dust-filled village for the last two weeks, attacked by a demon, had Claire throw herself at me and Malcolm want to kill me. Be damned if anyone thinks I want a shower.” She waved at Kirsty to go into the bathroom, “Not a personal attack that. I’m just tired and there’s still a lot to do. I’ll stand by the door so we can talk. Claire will be back soon so if you want to ask any questions, I’d get them over with now. Explaining things again will send the woman down another emotional roller coaster so it might be better if you just know what happened first.”

"Well you can shower with me if it would make you feel better," Kristy said sarcastically as she turned on the water and began to strip down, taking a more concerned tone Kristy asked, "But really, Karen, can you tell me what happened to Claire tonight?"

Karen gave an awkward laugh at the woman’s first comment and was more than glad when the conversation quickly advanced. The new subject matter still made her sigh,

“A lot of things and you know how she is. All I know if what I’ve seen and I haven’t seen everything – Just a lot of it, starting from my arrival.” She wasn’t sure how much Kristy knew about Claire, or her past, but it wasn’t a time to be delicate. The two seemed close enough anyway. A small stab of jealousy rose but died within moments at the thought. “Last time I really saw Claire, things ended badly. I broke her heart I guess. Got in over my head. Had to make a choice. Led her on and shot her down. I never really thought I’d see her again. Then I saw the news yesterday. I phoned her. She told me to come to you guys.” Karen paused for breath before continuing at the same pace, wanting to fit as much detail as she could in the short time they might have, “I arrived like…an hour ago. Or something like that - Whenever. Went to Claire’s room. We were talking. Then we spoke of love.”

“I was willing to be with you forever cariña.”
She sounded sad – If not for the hand on her arm, Karen would have felt isolated from the woman. The word ‘forever’ used to be said with hope, a distant fantasy of a fairy-tale ending they were both hoping for. Now, it felt like a curse, a memory still haunting the present for reasons neither of them knew. Guilt flooded her body, emotions she thought she had dealt with long ago rising upward, threatening to cause the smile on her face to fade. They succeeded. Her hands twitched on the covers as her heart plummeted and remorse became apparent in her expression.

“We hugged and things got out of control. She couldn’t control herself. She loved Malcolm but she couldn’t help it.”

The lips of a female were so much softer than that of a man, even more so because it was her. She trembled; her emotions conflicting. Karen couldn’t think; she couldn’t react. She didn’t know what she wanted but she didn’t want it to end. She could feel her pulse rising with each moment of lust and love. The fact that she was breaking the rules made her want to continue – For the thrill and for the excitement. Her hands moved on their own, echoing the most private of her thoughts. Luckily, her morals and her head began to kick in but he emotion that accompanied their actions mimicked that of disappointment.

“I stopped her and we talked. Baket came to look at my shoulder. Shortly after, Claire went to speak to Malcolm. A few minutes of shouting and then I heard a thud – I went outside to find Claire unconscious and blood over her face. I assumed she blacked out because of her power but I don’t…really know the actual reason.

All I know is that I saved her life and Malcolm made sure she was safe on the bed before…Well, he lost his sanity and threatened to kill me. Caught him in a stalemate and tried to talk sense into him but it wasn’t particularly successful. I think…Claire knows about it all somehow. Considering what she can do, I wouldn’t be surprised. Just the way she looked at Malcolm when we entered that room, it was like she knew exactly what he’d done.”

Her throat was beginning to grow hoarse from talking for so long, “I think I pretty much summed that up. Any questions?”

Kristy digested the truck load of information Karen had just presented. It was a lot to swallow, but it all made sense. She remembered seeing a picture of Karen in Claire's apartment, confirming the fact that Karen and Claire had known each other earlier. The busted railing and other damage outside also confirmed the confrontation between Malcolm and Karen. Karen appeared to be a person that said things how they were, and simply that.

"I don't think so," Kristy said slightly absentmindedly as she rinsed her hair.

She turned the water off a few moments later. As she dressed and began drying her hair Kristy mulled through Karen's story one more time.

"Wait, Karen, are you suggesting that Malcolm might have beat Claire?" Kristy asked concerned.

“I don’t suggest things, sweetie. I’m just telling you what I saw.” Karen explained, “I was in the room. Heard this irregular thumping sound. Went outside. Claire was unconscious. Blood coming from her nose. She was having a seizure... I think. Malcolm was kneeling beside her. Blood on his fist. I won’t be assuming anything until Claire gets back. Give the wrong accusation, after all, and well…She probably won’t deal with it too well.”

"You're right. Shouldn't assume things. Silly me," Kristy said lowly, "Claire is like my sister though and if anything were to happen to her..." Kristy trailed off for a moment, then asked with a little frustration, "Am I going crazy?"

Karen gave a short laugh, “Not crazy, just human. Not that that’s much better in some cases. But don’t worry. I love Claire. If it turns out Malcolm did anything to hurt her, me and you can go deal with him together. I don’t intend to be nice either. The man just tried to beat me up. I can deal with that somewhat. But if he lays a finger on someone else in the group without a damn good reason, I’m shooting his dick off.”

Kristy smiled and gave Karen a nod. She liked Karen, her personality was a bit overwhelming, but she was all right in Kristy's book. Kristy caught a glimpse of Claire as she walked past the room's window. Without much effort Kristy opened the door with her telekinesis.


[Coop between Cookies and Auki/Kailya]

[Stream]

Fall's bringing of red and orange leaves and eerie ambience of peace was a far cry from the conflict Bear was used to. Harrisburg had been his home for all of his life. The bleakness that came with the late months paralleled the gray color of nearly everything in that place; the walls, his sheets, and even the tessellating tiles were white and gray. It was a never ending rut. With the hatred he felt for his line of work, he'd never known anything else. It was merely acceptance and condition; consenting enslavement. It'd been three long decades last month since his enslavement began. He stared into the dark still waters of Lake Mendota in quiet contemplation. He hadn't felt that same pit in his heart, that feeling of being so nervous, the feeling of having a thousand eyes on him for as long as he could remember. A special guest was coming to see him. It was a stupid why the Campus would send him of all people to help Claire Hannon. Then again, he'd never been vocal about what happened. It was easier to play dumb and hurt; too depressed to recall or talk about it. He picked up his glass and lifted it slowly to his lips, the cracks already visible with his light grasp. The shattered pieces exploded in a foamy golden mess onto the concrete. Memorial Union was mostly empty at this time. Bear had been the only patron at der Rathskeller.

He wiped the beer from the gym bag at his feet the best he could. His pants leg was soaked and staining his white tennis shoes. The gray Marines sweatshirt he was wearing reaffirmed his usual alibi for his prosthetics. He looked like a veteran suffering from PTSD anyways. The black and unshaven gruff on his face and neck and hair enriching closer to his shoulders spelled despair at first glance, usually leaving too many shy to ask about him as if he were some sort of urban legend. He grunted as he lifted his bag over his shoulder, grabbing at his back. Every year closer to 40 made his bones closer to glass. He looked down at the shards on the ground and smiled grimly at the irony.

It was time ot get in character again as he approached the bar's door. He breathed deeply and closed his eyes, subconsciously breathing out all of his faults. He walked in looking as calm as possible, though his eyes narrowed and darted around the room. A new crowd had gathered inside of the Rathskeller crowded around a circular table. Only one bartender and server seemed to be working.

"I broke your glass. I can pay for it." He reached into his pocket and began to pull out his wallet.

The bartender raised his hand and shook it. "Vets drink free."

Bear gave him a puzzled look before he remembered. "Sure? That's a nice gesture." Good cover.

The bartender gave him a thumbs up. Bear returned it, his black metal thumb sticking out like a sore toe. It was too late before he realized this time.

"What's with the hand, man?" he asked quickly. Even quicker he seemed to want to take the question back. Bear laughed.

"It's fine. I get it all the time." He stretched his arms to the sides to brandish the lettering on his sweatshirt. "I'm a vet, remember?"

The man let out a stale and forced laugh. "Right…"

Bear awkwardly looked away to the server. She'd been staring at him. He looked back at the now silent group of students at the circle table. They'd been staring too. He shifted his gaze towards the exit and waved goodbye before slowly walking out. He felt nervous again, but not because of the staring. His phone was ringing, which could only mean more news from the Campus. he flipped open his phone and read the text.

Call contact immediately. Number attached. Delete message.

Fuck off.

He shut his phone and sighed. Nicotine was needed to soothe his pounding heart. Claire hadn't talked to him in two years. She probably didn't even think he was alive. No one was ever told anything in SCAR. He inhaled the smoke slowly and let it set in his lungs for a moment. The phone flipped back open and dialed Claire.

Claire felt the vibration of the phone in her pocket and immediately took it out. The number on the display showed as unknown and it peaked her curiosity. Partially due to the effects of the alcohol, but also because of the messages sent over the phones earlier. Pressing the button, Claire held the phone up to her ear. Her voice came coldly when she spoke.

“Hello?”

Bear sighed and took a quick drag from his cigarette. "This is... your contact from the Campus. I'm... currently in Madison."

Would she recognize his voice? Why did she sound irritated? Had someone already told her who was arriving? He took another hit from his cigarette and breathed deeply.

Claire fidgeted slightly with the phone. This was definitely not normal procedure, especially given that right now, she was America’s most wanted criminal. Still, given that the line was secure when she sent the message, it had to be her contact from the campus. Which actually surprised Claire as the person on the phone was definitely American. Claire also thought his voice seemed familiar in some way, though given that she used to work for SCAR, it was possible she had heard it before. Karen glanced her way, trying to read the expression on her face.

“Um…okay,” Claire took a swig from the bottle, finishing it off. “Why are you calling? Isn’t this against protocol? And why aren’t you English?” The last part was the alcohol talking. But Claire was curious as to why an American operative was working for the Campus.

Bear rubbed his face into his hand as Claire spoke. He had overlooked his accent. He hadn't heard her this agitated since the last time she and Andrew had fought.

"You can call me a special operative." He lifted the phone slightly from his ear and sighed. "Drinking, are we? Your voice is a bit more slurred than usually."

“Alright, who the hell is th-” Claire began to yell and then it hit her. The way he spoke, the tone. Claire knew the voice and she opened her hand dropping the phone to the floor. She stared at it stunned for a moment, before picking it up, trembling as she did.

“Bear?” Claire whispered.

"Oh god." He groaned. Maybe it was a little too soon to start insulting her or giving away who he was. It would probably just be best for him to hang up the phone and wait for the entire team to show up. Surely she wouldn't snap in front of the entire…

No. Claire's an emotional woman.

"Didn't really mean to pull an Andrew Hannon on you for two years. It wasn't my choice."

Upon hearing his name, Karen had moved to Claire’s side in an instant, admittedly a little unsteady from alcohol and no food. She didn’t hug her but she made sure she would be able to in a moment’s notice. Karen was in disbelief – Of all the things that could be added to the evening, now this? She couldn’t even summon the energy to be caught off guard by the event.
“But… but…” Claire was in shock and her eyes went wide. “I saw you die.” Claire’s tone was cold as she unwillingly pictured what had happened in the Facility in her mind. She watched as Bear was torn limb for limb. Even now, she could still fell the spray of his blood on her face.

The pit in his stomach was widening and the lump in his throat was growing. There were too many medications to count that he took to help forget his time in that place. He finished his cigarette and stamped it out. "I hear you're a team leader. How'd you manage to retain that?"

Claire wasn’t really sure what to say to that at first. She couldn’t understand why Bear would say something like that given that SCAR had been blown off the map. Also the way he had said it bothered Claire as well. It came almost matter of factly, and also implied that she shouldn’t be a team leader. Of course given that she was drunk, she may have been reading too much into it. Still, she was starting to become a little agitated.

“Two years Bear,” Claire spoke lowly almost hissing the words. “You couldn’t have called me once in two years?”

"It's a long fucking story Claire. I'm not your brother, don't bitch at me. You know just as well as I do that SCAR's very protective and observant of me and what I do. Right now, all I want to know is when and how you plan on-- wait, are you whispering?"

"I know what?" Claire raised her voice and Karen put a comforting, albeit wary, hand on her shoulder. "Fuck Bear, I didn't even know you were alive!!" Claire shouted the words, but not in anger. She just couldn't take anymore. Claire dropped the phone to her side and burst into tears.

“Damn it,” Karen spoke up for the first time since the beginning of the phone call, finding the motivation to get involved at the sight of Claire’s despair. She picked up the phone from the floor, her tone aggressive, “Oi, you. Bear? Bear. What the fuck do you think you’re doing? The woman’s been through more than enough tonight, y’know. Considering the…situation…” – Jealousy spiked for a second as she said it; Due to his apparent ‘death’ at the time, Claire had been able to tell her the details of their past without worry of envy. If not for the fact that Claire was an empath, she wouldn’t have tried to keep such control of her emotions. Still, the repressed anger would still be obvious to Claire; thankfully, Karen had a reason for it. If you wanted to butt back into someone’s life, you did your best to make sure they didn’t burst into tears – “…I can understand her being upset. I fail to believe that you couldn’t have been the slightest - Just the fucking slightest - bit more tactful when dealing with this though.”

"I'm sorry, when the fuck did Claire get a British accent? Who am I talking to? Why the hell do I need to explain myself to you!" he yelled into the phone. "You don't have any idea what I've been through for the past two fucking years, or anything about what I can and cannot do." He laughed. "Let me guess, she's done that stupid emotion stuff with you, too? You're supposed to care all of a sudden, right? Vindicate someone you've never met?"

“Stop with that self-pitying bullshit, you insensitive cunt. So you’ve been through a bit of a tough time? Ain’t we fucking all.” Karen’s night at the hotel seemed to be filled with people screaming at her and people who thought that a raised voice would make her meek. “You ain’t had any idea what I’ve been through, ya hypocritical bastard. With your accusations and your self-righteous attitude. I don’t care if Claire fucked you over a couple years ago. Y’know, ‘cause considering all this shit it can’t have been a fucking recent thing. No, she’s the team leader and we all need her at the moment. The rest of the team is depressed and lost and the only thing keeping them moving right now is Claire. So half for the sake of the woman I love and half for the sake of a team full of decent people, I’m politely telling you to shut the fuck up with your bullshit.”

"Oh, so you mean her entire team's morale is shot while she's bawling her fucking eyes out because she has to talk to one of her fucking friends. Same typical bullshit that Claire pulls." He paused and closed his eyes to calm himself. "Listen, I'm sorry. You're not her, and I don't even know you. We shouldn't be yelling at each other like this. My name's Bear. I've been a friend of Claire's since basically she was born. I was on that mission in New Mexico with her."

When he began to calm his tone, Karen forced herself to be less defensive – They were meant to be professionals, weren’t they? They were up in the middle of the night, screaming at each other. Any remnants of civility in SCAR seemed to have been blown up along with most the organisation. It was nice to be able to calm her tone, the alcohol seemed to encourage it, just as it had flared her anger just moments ago.

“I’m Karen – I’ve known Claire since I pretty much joined SCAR and she’s saved my life a few times. Tried to kill me a couple too but that’s bridge under the water for now. I should apologise for the raised tone but more than enough has kicked off tonight. No joke, you should see it – If I wasn’t involved with half the crap, I might even be able to find the drama amusing.” She glanced down at Claire on the floor, unsure whether a reassuring smile might seem sarcastic at this point, “I know somewhat of what happened there but I’m sure my sources were…bias, in your opinion. I think it can be agreed that things were real bad though. From what I know, I’m surprised to be having this conversation with you. I’m surprised you still have a mouth to talk with actually.”

Bear examined his arms and rand his hand across his chest, feeling the bolts jutting from his skin. "Right. My mouth…"

"I don't really happen to know you. Karen doesn't ring a bell as a friend of Claire's. Sounds like you guys have had your fair share of ups and down these past few years. Must be really good friends for her to have saved your life multiple times…" He brushed his hair back and squinted his eyes, trying to think. "Is she still crying? I don't think it's going to be a good thing when I have to be stuck in a vehicle with her. She might still love me, or something. I doubt someone as emotional as her could've moved on so quickly."

“Ah, she fell in love with me after you so I’m not surprised you don’t know me. You make a fair point however.” Karen paused, glancing down at Claire, “And yes, she’s stopped crying.” She felt rather rude for speaking like the woman wasn’t there but it couldn’t be helped, “That would make three of us who she apparently loves. All in a car. Although I don’t think you can call any of it love if it’s that many.” She frowned and sighed, “Still, don’t know if she’ll cope.”

"Wait, you mean she's been in two fucking relationships since my little dirt nap? You've got to be fucking kidding me." He shook his head. "Listen, tell her I'll be at Memorial Union in Madison. Hurry up, it's cold out."

With that he closed the phone and placed it back into his pocket. It was getting darker out.

[Stream + Auki + Naz]

[John]

“I’m sorry for all this,” Claire took a swig of the bottle and offered it to Ethan.

Ethan held out his hand, and shook it back and forth, "No thanks, I'm off the bottle." He followed with a chuckle.

"You're sorry for what? For this whole problem with SCAR? I can't say I saw it coming. But I can't say I'm surprised." Ethan sighed, then shook his head. "But thanks. I'm sorry too."

"You have nothing to be sorry about," Claire took another swig. "I'm also sorry that I haven't been able to speak to you before now. It seemed like SCAR was trying to keep us apart." Claire sighed.

"I need to know something," Claire looked into Ethan’s eyes. "Who are you, really? I read emotions from you on the last mission. You were having memory flashes. And the emotions behind them were familiar to me.”

"I'm uh, well it's hard to say," Ethan said, while looking down to his feet, "Unfortunately I'm not one-hundred percent sure just yet." Ethan shook his head, and crinkled his nose.

"Those memories? They weren't exactly mine. I know that much." Ethan hesitated, "I was there in that facility. Well, technically. My body stayed there, but the rest of me left with you."

“So then you do remember what happened,” Claire placed a hand on Ethan’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry Ethan. If I had of known, I would have done more than I did.

"Don't be sorry. You've got no reason to," Ethan replied, "At least, from what I saw, I died on my own terms." Ethan frowned, "Er... Ethan died on his own terms," He turned the frown into a kind smile.

Ethan held out his hand, "Now all this talk has gotten me depressed. I think I changed my mind on that booze offer." Ethan chuckled.

Claire held out the bottle to him, half forcing a smile. She felt good that Ethan felt no ill will. But that could have been more because of the fact that this wasn’t entirely the same Ethan. Still, she had other reasons for feeling bad.

“I just wish we could have talked between missions,” Claire’s eyes showed sadness. “Ever since that mission, things have kept going wrong. And once the Omega Sector took over, it was like we became an endangered species. I just feel like there is something important about you. I know that sounds silly, but I Just know there is more to this. Maybe later, when there’s time, I can help you remember more. I would now but… I’m not really myself at the moment.” Claire wasn’t sure if she could help Ethan in that way. But she wasn’t sure with Yakim either. Still, she was more than willing to try.

Ethan grabbed the bottle from Claire's hand, and eyed it. "There's something important about all us here. Especially since we're becoming so rare. We'll be hated by most, loved by some - whatever." Ethan sighed, and took a swig from the bottle, "I don't mean to sound dramatic, of course." He laughed.

"I'm not quite sure there's much more I need to remember. But, it'd be nice to see the kind of person I was. Whether or not I was the same, or completely different." Ethan let out a long sigh, "I hope we both live long enough to talk about it."

“I will see what I can do for you,” Claire forced a smile, taking the bottle back from him. “Goodnight Ethan. I’m glad we had a chance to talk.” With that, Claire turned and headed off in the direction of the room Karen and Kristy went to.

Claire entered the room and walked immediately to one of the beds. She felt even worse after her talk with Ethan, as what she had guessed about him was confirmed. Sitting on the bed, she took a long haul from the bottle before turning to Kristy.

“Did you get any ice cream?” Claire looked at her expectantly.

Kristy looked at Claire with an awkward stare, "Ice cream? No," she paused for a moment, "I thought you told me to get food that would last us a while."

“But it’s what you’re supposed to do isn’t it?” Claire tilted her head to the side. “When your relationship goes to shit, indulge on crappy food right?” The truth was Claire hated junk food. And her inexperience with relationships made it hard for her to handle the whole situation right now. That compounded with Charlie’s revelation was giving Claire a headache, or it could have been the alcohol she thought as she took another long haul off the bottle.

"Well," Kristy started, caught off guard by Claire's mood, "There's some granola bars if you really want them. Um... Maybe you could just talk to us about it, that might make you feel better."

Claire started at Kristy for a moment before silently nodding her head. She took a long drink form the bottle, which was now less than half full, and then handed it to Karen.

“Am I selfish?” the words had a bit of a croaking quality to them, reflecting the sadness Claire felt. “Is it wrong that I want Mal to be the man I fell for instead of this fountain of rage he has turned into?”

Karen was considering ignoring the bottle in her hands but upon hearing Claire’s statement, decided to gulp down a fair amount. Hell, the world was expecting too much of her. Sure, she had made a promise to Malcolm but…really? The bullshit you had to wade through sometimes – If she was just an ounce more selfish, she would have left the room then. Instead, she inserted her opinion into the conversation,

“You’re actually think you’re in the wrong for doubting your judgement of a man who just threatened to kill your friend. I mean… really, sweetie? We’re all entitled to have a decent enough guy in our lives. Right now, someone needs to save Malcolm before he goes too far or something. And if he can’t change, no-one’s going to think you’re selfish if you walk away.”

“I could feel it you know,” Claire looked down at the floor. “When he pulled your hair. I don’t know who he is anymore. I can’t just live a life of seclusion out of fear that he is going to hurt the people I care about. I just don’t know what to do anymore.”

Karen gave an indignant snort, “You make it sound like I couldn’t have stopped in. The idiot has no sense of subtlety.” A small sigh escaped her lips, “His pupils went red. The environment warped. It was all fucked up. But when it stopped, he seemed almost normal again… I don’t really know what happened. That didn’t seem to be all Malcolm.”

“I felt it Cariña,” Claire sighed. “The over protective rage he keeps bottled up. Like he can own me and keep me all to himself. I need my friends too. All he‘s doing is pushing everyone away”

"I don't know the whole story Claire, but I think if things get worse, you may need to create some distance between Malcolm. If he's threatening and hurting people for no reason it would be in your best interest to cut your losses," Kristy paused for a moment then quietly asked, "He hasn't hurt you has he?"

“Not physically if that’s what you mean,” Claire looked up at Kristy with sad eyes. “But I was aware of almost everything that happened. It was like a dream. I saw….my father.”

Kristy gave a sigh of relief knowing that Claire hadn't been physically abused, then questioned, "What do you mean you saw you're father?"

“I was unconscious,” Claire spoke softly. “I could hear what was going on between Mal and Karen, but I couldn’t see it. I was lost in darkness and my father came. I know you’re going to think it was a dream, but he was there. It was really him,” Claire looked between the two of them, an urgent tone in her voice.

"I don't doubt it, Claire. I just don't understand it," Kristy said reassuringly. Karen kept her expression blank and avoided speaking - She was not one to believe in such things but she didn't want to destroy Claire's hope.

“I know you think it’s nuts Kristy,” Claire looked into her eyes, “But I know it was real. And I heard his voice before. In the cave after you freed us form Whately. He told me to go into the portal. I didn’t recognize the voice at the time. But it was him.” Claire sighed. It did sound ludicrous. Even she had a hard time believing it. Or maybe she was finally losing her mind. Claire looked back at the floor, a single tear rolling down her cheek.

“Cariña,” Claire whispered. “Tell me I haven’t lost my mind.”

“Sweetie, we live in a world where we get chased by werewolves and attacked by ghosts. You can read my emotions and I could slam you against the ceiling.” Karen gave half a smile, trying to keep her words gentle, “I mean, I’m not going to say it’s impossible. Anything can happen in the lives we lead just…Claire, I don’t want to see you get your hopes up and face disappointment. I don’t know if I could watch you deal with that.”

Kristy leaned against the wall and blew some hair out of her face, "Yeah, you aren't crazy, Claire. Its been a stressful day, and after getting that creepy text earlier today I'm ready to believe just about anything is possible."

Karen nodded her head in agreement, her mind storing away the query of what ‘creepy text’s had been getting sent out – A question for another time though. “Keep an open mind. We’re all here for you no matter what happens.”

Claire sighed, about to answer when the phone rang. She couldn’t believe her ears when she realized it was Bear. Eventually she broke into tears and that was when Karen took the phone from her and started arguing with Bear. Claire turned and wrapped her arms around Kristy, hugging her tight. She looked into Kristy’s eyes and her voice came as a whisper.

“Why me?” It wasn’t bad enough that Karen and Mal had ended up talking in less than cordial terms, but now another one of her ex lovers had shown up, one whom Claire thought was dead.

Kristy gasped in surprise as Claire squeezed the air from her lungs, "It... Its... You'll be okay," Kristy began to pat Claire on the back. She'd never had to comfort someone like this, and she was unsure of what to do to say the least.

“Just once,” Claire whispered, releasing Kristy. “I’d like to have a normal day.” Claire was trying not to listen to what Karen was telling Bear, though she couldn’t help but hear what Karen had to say. And quite frankly, Claire liked that Karen was defending her.

She stayed silent for the rest of the conversation between Karen and Bear. Right now, Claire’s heart was breaking. To hear Karen say how she felt about her made her think that maybe two weeks was too long. She needed to make a decision sooner than that. The problem was, someone was going to get hurt in the process, and Claire didn’t want to hurt the ones she loved.

As Karen finished up on the phone with Bear, Claire hugged her gently before laying on the bed next to her. She snuggled close to her, and slowly, faded off to sleep.

(co op with Comedian, Kailya and Cookies)

[StormWolf]

What the fuck is happening? What is going on?! Malcolm thought as he paced back and forth in his empty and desolate room, his head pounding like the worst hangover in the history of the cosmos. What was happening to him. Yes, he was human, anger was natural, but having a literally destructive anger that can destroy the world around him? That is only in movies.... Oh, for fuck's sake, you are an angelic vessel and you kill the stuff of nightmares for a living! he chided himself.

I grow strong upon you, Malcolm...

The Chaplain stopped in his tracks and turned on his heel, snatching his gun off of the drawers nearby. He scanned the room with is pistol, icy blues eyes darting across the room. He recognized that voice, but is sounded too... dark.

"Who's there?" Malcolm called out. His heart pounded in his chest when he saw embers start to appear in the air, falling from the ceiling like snow.

My time is coming, as was prophesied...

Malcolm started to cough on the thick smoke that started to rise from the burning ground, the embers burning his skin as it fell. "Sammael, is that you?" Malcolm called out, almost pleadingly. His Holy Charm necklace burned around his neck like it had just been pulled from a furnace.

"Answer me! What is happening to me!" Malcolm yelled with frustration, anger, and fear. The Chaplain turned about to see a black cloaked figure towering over him, face obscured by a hood of shadow. Pale, death-like hands emerged from the wide, singed sleeves of the robe and great blood-red wings emerged from its back.

"Behold, vessel..." Sammael gripped Malcolm by the throat, lifting him three feet over Malcolm's height. The Chaplain's skin turned pale and deathly, his eyes fogging over as he started to take on the appearance of a cadaver.

"Can you feel it? Your rage feeds our power. But this should not be the case, Malcolm! Your anger makes me this way!" The Archangel cast its vessel in to a wall, smashing the burning dry-wall. The building started to be sucked away in to a black-clouded sky, raining blood.

"A vessel of your stature is a wildcard, as are all of God's children. But you, the Immaculate Father has plans for you, Malcolm. Come." Sammael lifted Malcolm from the ground and soared in to the bleeding skies, showing the Chaplain lakes of fire and forests of tormented souls, screaming in eternal agony. The great shadow of The Beast loomed on the horizon.

"Hell..." Malcolm wheezed through the stink of sulfur, smoke, and burning flesh, "I have been here before, Sammael. I know what awaits for the wicked down there." Sammael roared in frustration and shook Malcolm like an infant.

"Insolent child! This is not Hell! Where is the River Styx? Where is King Minos? This... is your world, Malcolm. The Chaplain's heart sank slightly, but he did not show it.

"Revelations... the battle for all of our souls. The Earth is burned and rebuilt, so it is written, Sammael." Malcolm said confidently, only to be shaken again.

"Dull, pointless, useless maggot! Nothing is certain when Lucifer's hand is at play! It is the final battle of all the souls that are and will be, not a rigged wrestling match! If you continue down this path of anger and condemnation of all things, you will fall from Grace, and I with you, meaning that Lucifer can utilize us!" Sammael looked at Malcolm, seeing no change in body language, but the Archangel could feel the man's fear, his anger still bubbling in his blood.

"If this cannot change your mind and attitude, than I know what will. Come And See. Sammael swooped down over the land, perishing souls crumbling to embers at the Archangel's pure visage. Even demons that walked the earth gazed upon the Angel of Death and were obliterated in the same fashion. The Archangel landed in a clearing, a circle devoid of the crucified and impaled bodies of the damned for one hundred yards all around. In the center of the circle was a crucifix upside down. Sammael silently pointed to the cross, giving Malcolm a push to get him started towards it.

Malcolm walked cautiously, trying not to look at the grotesque ground, which was comprised of the burnt remains of what must have been hundreds of thousands of people. When Malcolm approached the crucifix, he howled in such a pained tone, it was like his heart was torn from his very chest by the icy cold hands of Lucifer himself. A burnt piece of parchment was nailed at the top of the cross, just above the toes of the person nailed to the black wood as well. It read: Damno Diligo; The Damned Lovers. Malcolm fell to his knees, reaching out to the two twisted bodies that were nailed to the inverted cross.

It was Claire and Karen, both naked as could be, their bodies intwined as if in the throes of lustful ecstasy. Their faces were a mix of pleasure and agony. Their chests still rose and fell, still breathing and still alive by how their breasts moved, but they were barely living.

"Sammael! Why have you shown me this! Why!" Malcolm wept, the tears making pristinely clean streaks down his ash-smeared face. The Archangel was silent as death, watching its vessel break down in to a pile of sorrow and worthlessness before its very eyes.

"I showed you what you needed to see." Sammael said coldly, his voice returning to normal with his body as Malcolm's anger dwindled and turned in to despair. The Chaplain beat the charred faces on the ground, turning them in to puffs of black dust that got carried away in the wind.

"Why did I need to see this?!" Malcolm wailed, his chest rising and falling as he sobbed, staring at the tangled bodies of his Claire and her lover. "What relevance does this have to anything?!" He looked to Sammael, who was now dressed in more pristine black robes with armor made of light, a hood still obscuring his face, but glowing red eyes and long blonde hair was visible past the red hood that matched his wings.

"I had to show you this, Malcolm... because you did this. Malcolm's eyes went wide with horror and disbelief. How could he have ever done this to anyone? Least of all to Claire!

"That's not true! That's impossible!" He turned to see the Archangel towering over him. Those eyes boring holes in to Malcolm's very soul. Blood rained from the sky, lightning struck with the sound of a thousand souls perishing. Demons flew wide circles in the sky like carrion eaters.

"This is the future I have seen if you do not change your ways. You drive everyone you care for away, and you descent in to madness. In that state, you get completely consumed by your Rage, and your strong will turns me in to a Fallen once again. You break the Seals. You go to your knees and swear fealty to Lucifer. You do this to Claire and Karen. All the souls you have seen perishing today are the souls you condemned in your Rage. Malcolm shook his head in utter disbelief, rising to his feet like a man who doubted ever fiber of his being. Malcolm falling from Grace and serving the Enemy?

"I would never turn my back on God. I would never swear myself to Satan. I would never do... this!" Malcolm's voice cracked with desperation and terrible fear and doubt as be tried to keep himself steadfast before Sammael.

"When Claire left you, you felt as though God turned his back on you. Your madness only assisted that because Father cannot speak healing to a dark soul who is unwilling to listen... Sammael thrust his hand in to Malcolm's chest, gripping the man's heart in that ice cold vice. The Chaplain gasped for air as he felt the mighty hand seize him.

"That is why I came to you, to force you to listen. I can help you control your rage, help you channel it and expel it from your body as a means to punish the wicked... But I can only do this with your consent. Will you have the power of Wrath? Malcolm was struggling to breath, but every word of the Archangel his him like a sledgehammer to the head. He nodded, with all of his being, he consented to taking the power Sammael offered. If it meant that this future could be avoided, he would do anything.

Malcolm hollered as he felt the white hot power of Sammael's Wrath seep in to his body, coating every bone, muscle, fiber, and even his soul. That core of energy throbbed and grew in size. Sammael dropped his vessel to the ground.

"Remember Malcolm, you are human, therefore you are flawed, but you are also capable of great things if you stay on the Righteous Path... I bid thee awake. With a snap of the Archangel's fingers, Malcolm was back in his room, lying on the floor, the gun inches away from his hand. His head was no longer throbbing, and no longer did he feel the flames of bitterness in his heart. Anger was there, but it was just part of being a human.

The Chaplain pulled himself to his feet and knelt at the foot of his bed, knitting his hands together, he pressed his knuckles to his brow and closed his eyes,

"Hail Mary, full of grace.
Our Lord is with you.
Blessed are you among women,
and blessed is the fruit of your womb,
Jesus.
Holy Mary, Mother of God,
pray for us sinners,
now and at the hour of our death.
Amen." in the back of Malcolm's mind, he could hear the voice of Sammael praying along with him. Tears burned his eyes and cheeks as they fell down his face, all stony planes and angles. He felt helpless, lost, and alone. Unlike Claire, Malcolm had no friends in which he could confide in. All of the people he called his friends were long dead.

[Auki]

Karen was exhausted. It only took a few minutes of lying down with Claire for her to doze off.

It was strange to open your eyes and feel completely at peace with the sudden change in surrounding. That was how it was in a dream, however. Karen twisted in her new environment without questioning her reason for being there. People she had met in what now were just memories flickered on the edge of her vision. She would observe them and then, once her attention diverted, they were gone.

Although her movements felt normal, a part of her mind was aware she was walking sluggishly as she made her way across the room, eyes darting to take in every detail. The room hosted a bar as well as a colour scheme of white and ceil blue, giving it a cool yet sleek appearance. Bottles stacked in glass cabinets tempted her but the urge died within moments. She did not feel thirst or the desire to get drunk. She didn’t feel anything and that was oddly calming.

A battered radio looked out of place on the counter, like something her dad would have collected from a boot sale when she was a child. It was silent but she knew the song (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uiv4qxGLEgg&feature=related) that was playing. The lyrics resounded in her head wordlessly, pounding at her conscience. Her heart felt heavy.

The room had been the stage to Claire and Karen’s first kiss all those years ago – The situation seemed childish now she looked back on it. Like teenagers, giving in to emotions, forgetting the consequences and riding on the fantasy that true love was possible. How she had fallen…

Perhaps there had been some sense in Malcolm’s speech. Perhaps she had caused pain without even knowing that she was doing it. Since she had arrived, she had managed to get in countless fights – Had she simply returned to England, could all of that have been avoided? Claire would be happily with Malcolm. Mark and her would manage to figure something out – They never argued face-to-face after all. It was just over the phone that they seemed to have trouble communicating. In the end, she could phone up and apologise. Or she could be selfish and steal from Malcolm the only woman that would ever look at him.

The sound of small feet running echoed throughout the bar and the unheard music died. After a moment, a small boy with dark hair entered. He appeared to be about nine or ten years old and had a smile on his face. He stared a Karen for a moment and giggled.

"I don't like her. She's weird." The moment the child finished speaking, he ran off down the hallway.

Mentally, Karen started in shock, although her body didn’t move. It was strange – Normally even strangers felt familiar. The boy felt out of place, however, like he didn’t belong. What would a child be doing in a bar anyway? He spoke and she felt a stab of pain. You weren’t mean to feel pain in a dream, even emotionally. Why would he have said that? What had she done wrong?

She felt a sudden spike of nerves and a peak in hurt curiosity. Cautiously, she trailed down the hallway, “I’m…not weird.”

The boy rounded a corner and ran to a group of children, who were shouting at a little girl. The girl had dark hair and blue eyes. She would have been quite pretty if not for the tears running down her face brought on by the taunts and insults of the children.

"You're ugly and weird and I don't wanna play with you. Why don't you leave?" And shouts of, "I wish you would die," filled the air. Some of the children were pushing and hitting the little girl.

Karen was not particularly fond of children but anger welled up inside of her as she listened to their words – Since when did the young start wishing for other people to die? It was making her feel sick; Half of them had no idea the seriousness of what they were saying. The environment shifted naturally, flickering to a scene similar to a playground as her mind tried to rationalise the situation.

“Oi, kids. Leave that little girl alone, all right? Didn’t your parents ever teach you to play nice?”

The children ran off, leaving the little girl, still crying. She picked up a white teddy bear off a bench and looked up at Karen.

"Thank you," the girl sobbed. "They don't like me cause I'm different." the girl sniffed and sat down on the ground, hugging the bear tight.

"I just want them to like me," she cried, using the bear to wipe away her tears. "I don't want to be different."

The predicament was making Karen feel uncomfortable but she squatted in front of the girl regardless. Children weren’t her speciality but she couldn’t just ignore one that was crying. “It’s not a problem. No need to cry. I faced the same thing when I was younger. One day, you’ll reach an age where people like you to be different. It’s just a shame these kids can’t see how special you are.”

"I'm not special," the girl frowned. "I don't know anyone here. My family just moved here and no one likes me."

A small frown appeared on Karen’s face and she looked at the girl more closely. She had never met the child before and yet the situation felt familiar. She remembered saying those words all those years ago when she was younger. Her stomach twisted for a moment, “They just need to get to know you. Things will get better.” She wanted to reach out and pat the child on the shoulder but couldn’t bring herself to do it.

"How do you know?" the girl looked at Karen inquisitively as the sound of something rustling in the bushes could be heard coming from behind Karen.

“They have to get better at some point.” She wasn’t sure if the comment was directed at herself or at the girl and she wasn’t allowed much time to dwell on the thought. She flinched at the noise behind, turning her head around awkwardly. Her body tensed but she willed it to feel at ease.

"No one could ever like me. Not really," the girl sighed and the sound of rustling could be heard coming form a different direction.

"They would probably just pretend to like me," the girl stopped crying. "Just like your friends."

Karen’s attention was instantly drawn from the rustling. Such malicious words from a child’s mouth were putting her on edge, more than she already was.

“Sweetie, you don’t know my friends. People don’t save your life for the hell of it.”

"No, they do it cause it's their job," the girl spoke softly. The sound of rustling could be heard again, and now seemed to be moving.

“I wouldn’t. And even if that’s true, at least someone’s watching my back for whatever reason. That’s more than a lot of people can ask for.”

"Even if they lie to you?" the girl tilted her head to the side and the sound of footsteps approaching Karen from behind could be heard.

Karen stood up sharply, turning her body so her side was facing the girl – An evil child if ever there was one. If she was the mother, Karen would have washed her mouth out with soap plenty a time. Not that she ever planned to be a parent. Not that she was likely to have the chance anymore. Her peripheral vision attempted to take in any details behind her but there was nothing odd about the blurs of green; no movement and no unusual objects that she could make out.

She itched to turn around fully but the girl was irritating her as much as the unseen stalker. Potential dangers in both directions were never good for her - She felt anxiety and anger dwelling inside of her, a defence mechanism for her long-hidden phobia. Aggression was easier for her to deal with than fear.

“If people lie and I find out, I shoot them in the di-… damn, you’re a child. I can’t speak like that, can I?” Nevertheless, she’d just referred to the girl as a danger and she didn’t think God could hate her much more than he already did. Why was she worried? Still, perhaps it was best to use some tact. “Sweetie, I shoot them where it hurts. Let’s just say that.”

"I'm sorry," the girl arched back, her eyes growing wide with fear. "I don't want you to kill anyone. I won't tell you what she said." At that moment Karen felt something tap her on the shoulder.

Karen spun around, grenades flying from her belt, thankful that she had dreamt of herself in her old SCAR uniform. There was nothing there. Was her fear finally eating at her sanity? She rubbed her temples and glared at the surroundings before turning back towards Lilith. The grenades hovered in the air behind her – At least, if it was something physical, it would kill them both before it had a chance to reach her. She would rather be the one to initiate her death than to wait for something to catch her.

“Why fear something just because you don’t know if it’s there? I’ve seen you battle ghosts without being able to see them – Surely this is just like that? You keep your attention focused everywhere and don’t allow yourself to be distracted by something small.”

Those were the words of her husband, a man who struggled to appreciate the phobia that haunted his wife. He tried to be sympathetic but he was a more practical man than an emotional one. He figured that by giving her advice, he was doing more help than by giving her a shoulder to cry on. In some ways, he was right.

Karen turned back to the girl with a bitter expression, her eyes focused on the child yet wandering everywhere, “Y’know, when I was a little kid, I lied a lot. People picked on me for who I was. I fabricated a whole life to explain myself in a way they could understand. Heck, I was hormonal for a month and my best friend got angry at it. So I told her, I’d been sexually abused and that’s why I was down. Complete bullshit story…at the time at least. Still, I was praised for being so strong. I was rewarded for deceit.

Children aren’t really aware of the consequences when lying. They shift between truth and fact for so many different reasons. But go on, ya little bitch, who said what now?"

"I don't lie!" the girl half shouted and burst into tears. "It's not my fault that I'm different, that I can see things." The girl started to back away from Karen, hugging the bear tighter.

"See? You are just like them. You want to kill me too," her voice started to sound hysterical as the tears streamed down her face.

"But you won't be like them will you," her voice changed to a more hushed tone as she sobbed. "You won't give me chance. You'll use your bombs and hide far away so you don't have to hear me scream,” as the girl stopped talking Karen could hear the sound of children screaming echoing in her ears. They clawed at her mind,

“Someone help us! Please! Please will you help us?”

They were screaming, desperate, and then suddenly silent. Karen’s anger was muted by a deep sense of guilt,

“I…I didn’t have time. The zombies. There were too many. Blowing up that school saved all the other thousands in the town. I did the right thing, damn it. I had to. I wasn’t…I didn’t…” She trailed off helplessly before her rage spiked again, “Fuck it. I don’t have to explain myself to a brat like you.”

"I'm not a brat," the girl shouted, still crying. "I'm Lilith. And I see things." Lilith sobbed the words as her tone grew softer.

“You’re obviously obsessed with being different, aren’t you?” Karen growled, “Go on. What do you see that’s so damn special?”

"I...I...see the past," Lilith spoke softly, cowering from Karen. "And I can let others see it too. You know, almost like playing a movie. I can see...things Claire said. Things you wouldn't like." Lilith whispered, shaking her head slightly.

“Okay, sweetie. Let’s hear it.” Karen grinned, “Or see it is that’s how you roll.”

Fine," Lilith hugged the bear tighter and she stopped crying. "But you won't believe me. Nobody ever believes me. My daddy always taught me to tell the truth so I do. Honesty is the best policy he said. But you don't believe that do you?" Lilith tilted her head to the side, eyeing Karen cautiously.

"You lie, so you think I lie too," Lilith stood up and stared at Karen. "No. You think I'm going to lie. I'm not going to show you. Not unless you hug Mister Binky," Lilith slowly held the bear out to Karen who snorted, her gaze turning darker, “I don’t want your bear. Grow up. I’ll believe what I believe.” She glanced behind her before returning her attention to the girl, “And I don’t lie. I matured past that.”

"Nobody ever believes me," Lilith frowned. As she did, a breeze blew though the playground. Whispers of "Karen" accompanied it, and when the breeze subsided, something tapped Karen on the shoulder again.

She spun around, the grenades peacefully floating just centimetres in front of her. She flinched at the voices brushing against her ear, calling her name. Karen gave a small growl, “If you’re not planning to help me, I’m leaving here.” The setting faded and warped into a graveyard, a place where Claire had once tried to kill her, long ago now. The girl, Lilith, stayed where she was and the voices didn’t leave. As the environment settled, Karen glanced longingly down a side road – It lead to her home in England. In the real world, it housed her husband. She felt so close to him, standing there, yet knew she was just as distant as ever.

"An interesting setting," Lilith sighed and rose to her feet. As she did, a chill seemed to settle in the air.

"And if you are going to be like that," Lilith was making a pouty face. "Then I will show you what I saw." Lilith walked over to Karen and took her by the hand.

At that moment an image appeared in Karen's mind. She could see Claire. She was standing a little distance from a helicopter and Mal was not far off, looking unhappy.

“Get to Blunt, South Dakota,” Claire’s tone was calm as she spoke into the phone. “It‘s thirty miles from our current location, and we have to hike it. The chopper has survival gear so, if we have to, we can camp for the night in the woods. When you get to Blunt, find a motel and get a room. I don’t know what else to do. Just so many things are going wrong right now. But I’m glad that you’re coming.” Claire paused for a moment. “And Karen? Thank you.”

“I’m on it, Claire. I’ll get there as quickly as I can,” Karen's voice was warm, “Keep safe, sweetie.” Claire hung up the phone and walked towards Malcolm, who had started moving toward her almost immediately.

"I'm just a little confused... being reprimanded for doing my job." The Chaplain's voice was steady. "And who was that you were talking to?

"Karen. You met her in Detroit," Claire sounded worried. "Listen Mal, I think we have a problem. Karen's husband is a necromancer. I have a feeling that he might be involved. When Karen meets us, don't say a word to her about it. I'm going to contact the Campus and have him taken as soon as I can." As soon as Claire finished speaking, the image faded from Karen's mind.

The view of the graveyard met her eyes again and she stood silently, tapping her foot, ignoring the girl. The grenades still floating in the air began to make slow circles around the woman, gradually getting faster as they built momentum. She yanked her hand away from Lilth and looked at her with a dark gaze.

“I don’t make assumptions,” she murmured absently, “You’re asking me to make assumptions. Many, many assumptions. I mean, what if your power is to show a parallel time-line. Or…you can manipulate memories. Or you can just read minds and translate back your own imagination.”

Karen had been in SCAR a long time; she was used to children with powers beyond her dreams. But what motives could a little girl have to show her such an image? That was the question she pondered thoughtfully. A child worked on very basic emotions and often selfishly.

“My husband has been avoiding the organisation for years now. He’s more than capable of surviving or at least putting them off for a few weeks. And if Claire has betrayed me, I kill her and leave the group. But…I’m not going to make assumptions. Based on my previous argument. You’re just a little brat after all.”

"See? You do think I'm lying, " Lilith frowned. "I don't want to do bad things. I just want to help. I don't think it's fair, that someone who says they love you would kill your husband." Lilith took hold of Karen's hand again and a new image appeared.

This time it was inside of Karen and Mark's apartment. Operatives from the Campus were shooting. A few zombies were lumbering towards them, but they were quickly taken down.

"Hold your fire," the voice came over one of the radios and had an English accent. "Target has been taken down." The operatives moved through the apartment till they came to a room with two more and Mark's body laying on the ground. His head had rolled into the corner. The image faded and voices started whispering in Karen's ear, saying her name and the rustling noise returned.

The sight of her husband’s corpse set Karen on edge, the grenades flying around them so fast they could hear the sound of them slicing the air as they rose to the height of the treetops. Her eyes flickered across the soil rapidly and she muttered a string of incoherent words to herself. She didn’t even hear the rustling or her name on the wind.

“You don’t know fuck all,” The words came out as a vehement snarl, rage coating every syllable, “You lying little bitch, you don’t know shit.”

Lilith opened her mouth to say something but Karen yanked her gun from its holster before she could speak. The barrel aimed at the ground between them and two shots fired into the ground, “Don’t you dare speak. Don’t you dare fucking speak to me. A few zombies? Are you serious? He can summon demons from the depths of Hell. He could kill those SCAR operatives within minutes. Yet, you…mock me with that bullshit.”

“Lying bitches get punished,” She growled, aiming the gun at the girl’s foot and pulling the trigger.

Lilith screamed as the bullet entered her foot. The sound was blood curdling to say the least.

"I doooon't liiiiieeee," Lilith wailed, grabbing Karen's hand again. This time, the image only lasted for a couple of seconds, but Karen could clearly see Malcolm shoot her in the head. Lilith then released Karen's hand and held her wounded foot, continuing to cry.

"I thought you were a good person," Lilith screamed. "I just wanted to help you. I know you didn't mean to kill those children. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sooooooooory."

Karen was twitching by this point, the grenades spinning so fast they appeared to make a continuous loop. At least, they did to her eye – Whether that was the dream manipulating her perception she wasn’t sure. Her mind faltered. Dream? Was this a dream? It felt real – The splitting pain in her head couldn’t be fake.

The girl’s cries were causing her agony to spike.

She kicked out angrily at the child’s body, her foot contacting the girl’s shoulder, “Shut up, damn it! Shut up! I’m a good person. I don’t want to hurt anyone for fuck’s sake.”

Lilith made a whispering noise when Karen kicked her and continued to cry.

"Why? Why? Why? Why?" Lilith continued to bawl and reached out for Karen's leg, grabbing on. Images began to flash in Karen's mind.

“You have. No. Fucking idea. How hard this is.”
Karen watched herself shouting, a flashback to a memory she would rather forget. Her old self had tear-stained cheeks, mascara smeared around her eyes from where she had rubbed them. Claire stood before her, still crying, her mouth opening like she wanted to speak but everything had already been said. Karen watched her own expression change to one of heartbreak. She had been so sure she knew what she was doing. Positive that she had been making the right decision. Old insecurities had destroyed her passion and stoked her fear and doubt. With her cowardice, she had crushed Claire’s hope of love and ripped apart the promises she had once whispered in the night.

Flash.

She stood in her apartment, small details different from those in her memories. Pictures moved slightly to the side. The rug not parallel to the drawer. Two half-filled wineglasses abandoned on the coffee table. Two – The number stung at her heart. Behind her, she could hear shouting and the sound of hastened footsteps. From the door in front, Mark stumbled out. It was ajar long enough for Karen to catch sight of a woman’s corpse. Her husband looked pale, disorientated. He muttered to himself, even in his state keeping the same monotonic way of speaking, although he drawled his words more than usual. “You should never trust a bitch in a tight, black dress. You should never let that bitch pour you your wine. You should never forget that there are people who want you dead and who will flash their breasts in the middle of a bar if only for the sake of getting close enough to spike your drink.” Karen’s chest hurt as she watched him fall to the floor with more frenzied mumblings. She wanted to move, to help him, but she was trapped. He withdrew a stick of charcoal and began to scribble upon the floor - In his confused state, it would be certain to kill him if he attempted to summon demons without the aid of chants and symbols. His hand moved with a speed and confidence that came with practice but trembled violently as the drugs worked their way through his body. The enemy didn’t give him a chance to prepare. SCAR operatives bashed down the door and pointed their guns at his head.

Flash.

She stood still as her old self watched the school building explode. Once the dust had settled, there was silence. Her expression had been emotionless but her eyes were lined with tears.

Flash.

Karen had never seen the room before but she knew where she was. The classroom was decorated with projects on jungle animals and weather, suited for someone still learning how to read. The desks had been pushed against the doors in an unorganised pile. The room was empty except from a huddling group of students and teachers, attempting to hide in the corner. Karen counted seventeen children not yet past the age of ten. Her hands began to shake. Slam. The barricade of furniture began to tremble as something pounded against the door. Zombies – A plagued infestation that had not yet spread past the school grounds. The people inside began to cry, some screaming, some silently sobbing. Slam. A couple of the desks were thrown back, skittering across the carpeted floor. Screams turned to shrieks, piecing at her ears. They said the death cry of a child was traumatising to hear, that it could never be forgotten. The sound burned itself into Karen’s memories, made worse simply because she knew what was coming next. The world was engulfed in white and fire. The building collapsed in on itself. And once the dust had settled, there was silence.

Flash.

Once freed from her mind, Karen picked up Lilith and held her at arm’s length. It felt like days had passed in the space of mere moments. Her voice was void of feeling. “Why?”

"Because I want to help," Lilith was still crying, but the flow of blood from her foot appeared to have stopped; though pain was still evident on her face and in her tone.

"I want to save your husband."

Karen’s voice faltered but she shook her head and placed the girl on the ground, “No. I don’t know what bullshit you’re trying to pull. Claire needs me and Mark doesn’t want me. I have…I have to get back to Claire.” As child-like as it sounded, she wanted to be held so that all the memories now fresh in her mind might fade away, “I need my phone. He’s not going to die. He wouldn’t die.”

"I told you, I see the past," Lilith sniffed and slowly stopped crying. "It already happened because of Claire. But I can change it." She had stopped crying now and her face became devoid of expression.

“I don’t believe Claire would do that to me. I don’t. The guilt would kill her… or something.” Karen argued with the beaten determination of a veteran soldier who had run out of bullets.

"Then don't believe me," Lilith’s voice sounded hollow, as though all the life had been sucked out of it. "Be forever burdened by all you have done and the fact that you could have saved Mark. Whether you want to stay with him or not, do you really want him to die? But do you want to leave him for the one who gave him up?"

“Claire wouldn’t do that. She wouldn’t.” There were ways to prove Claire’s innocence – her phone, for example – but they could equally prove her guilt. Was Karen ready to know? “Leave me alone, Lilith. I won’t make assumptions. Not yet.”

"You shot me in the foot," Lilith sneered. "I still, despite that, offered to help you and still you won't believe me. I will waste no more time with you." Lilith brought up her hand and snapped her finger and Karen woke up. Slowly, the SCAR operative opened her eyes, flinching as her muscles struggled to reawaken themselves. Claire was still wrapped around her.

No time like the present, Karen’s thoughts whispered, temptation snaking through her other emotions, as her hand slid into the other woman’s pocket. The mobile was light in her hand and as she idly pressed at the buttons, it came to life.

Menu. Messages. Message log. They read backwards from most recent, depicting a conversation between Claire and a ‘AC1131ENGCAM’.

ETA 5:00 PM local

Will take you into custody. Call again when in the safe house. What’s your ETA for contact?

Contact here. Do not understand.

Be advised. Have contact stateside. Will send to Madison Wisconsin in accordance to your location.

Omegas responsible. More going on than we thought. You were right.

Denied. Do not contact.

AC1131ENGCAM. Advise. Help requested. Asylum?

Understood, team being dispatched.

Possible necromancer involvement. Mark Ancheta. Formerly Mark Donald. 23 Castle Row, Canterbury, Kent.

Her breath seemed to catch in her throat. The small glimmer of faith she had in her friends was extinguished. It felt like she had been punched in the stomach. She returned the phone to Claire’s pocket before pulling out her own, trying to keep silent. She scrolled down to her husband’s name and clicked the green button.

Heck, they might be arguing but some things were more important even than marriage. Even if he wasn’t hers, she wanted him alive – If only so she could slap some sense in him for giving up on them so quickly and with so little feeling.

The phone did not even dial, cutting straight to voicemail.

She felt beyond numb. She threw the mobile to the floor, hearing the screen crack. No movement. Just slow, paced breaths as the nausea rose. Her fingers slid down her leg, removing the gun strapped beneath her skirt. It twisted in her hands, glinting in the light.

A part of her wanted to place the barrel in her mouth, aim upwards, and pull the trigger. Hell would probably be waiting for her though. After all, there was no way someone like her was getting into Heaven.

[Ryudo]

The stoic face of Marc Wright masterfully hid an entirely different world as he held Vee’s hand. His demeanor was a clever tool that Marc hoped Vee would latch onto; he would be strong for her, and perhaps she would utilize his strength as a means to weather the proverbial storm. And after that Marc imagined that she would be very grateful.

These thoughts were present in Marc’s mind but they were not the sole things that occupied it. In fact, Marc had long since focused most of his energy to the task of removing Simon and Garfunkle’s “Mrs. Robinson” from his head. Marc squeezed Vee’s hand out of anguish which immediately brought him back to the task at hand, but before Vee could even perceive his conflicting emotions Marc managed to convert the expression of displeasure into one of compassion,

“I won’t leave you,” he echoed his previous words, this time in a whisper full of passion, “I’ll stand by you for as long as you need. Perhaps even longer.”

Vee was quick to dry her tears, her momentary outburst quickly buried behind years of bravado and reminders of "soldiers don't cry" in her father's voice.

For now, she drew comfort in a warm hand gripping hers. It was not the right hand - it was the wrong shape and the wrong size, but, for a moment, it was enough that it was a hand, and it belonged to someone living who gave a shit whether she drowned herself in the shower or not. And for a moment, she was just tired. She wanted nothing more than to sleep deeply, not smell the blood and death that hung around her like a shroud. For a moment, she didn't feel like a walking corpse waiting for her body to realize the inevitable. She only felt like an exhausted young woman, ready to cling to the first strong capable person who could keep her safe for the night.

Marc reached down and brushed some of Vee’s hair out of her face, and then, deciding to complete one of the oldest clichés in the book, he proceeded to wipe a stray tear from her face. In all honesty Marc had to resist the urge to pat himself on the back, he wasn’t used to dealing with crying women. That’s not to say that Marc hadn’t made countless women cry, he had. However ninety per cent of the time he wasn't around to see it, since it was caused by his absence, having left before they woke up.

Marc kept one hand holding Vee’s while the other remained touching her face, a strong gesture mixed with a kind one.

Every instinct in Vee screamed at her to pull away. Chase's memory was not even twenty-four hours old and this strangers was touch her face. But she couldn't make herself do it. Instead, she held still and shivered, small and quiet, prepared to accept whatever comfort was offered.

She felt weak and alone and she just wanted it to stop.

Marc figured that he had Vee in the palm of his hand, but he wanted to guarantee it. Marc released Vee's hand and looked at her,

"You probably want some time alone, I understand." He stood from her bedside, "If you need anything Vee don't hesitate to ask ok." He began to turn around, hoping that she'd bite the bait and validate his belief in reverse psychology.

Although Marc made to pull away, Vee did not let go of his hand.

" I don't want to be alone." She whispered

That was all Marc needed to hear, he turned around to face her once again, and this time leaned in close kissing her lightly, a final test. When Vee did not pull away he kissed her with a wave of passion flowing through him.

Vee leaned back, letting Marc follow her. Something inside her was dead. She felt no emotion, no grief, no joy. There was pleasure but it felt empty. She didn't try to stop him though, or help him. She just let him move, let herself get lost in pleasure, and imagined he was someone else.


-----------------------------------------

A little over an hour later Marc Wright quietly left Vee's room feeling rejuvenated and ready for whatever the next day was going to throw at him. He closed the door lightly, and when it was shut he headed back to his own room, and as he sauntered over Marc couldn't stop himself from whistling a few bars of "Mrs. Robinson".

(Co-op with the incredibly talented Gypsy!)

[John]

Perhaps it was the pounding in her head, or even the wave of nausea that swept over her. Whatever it was, Claire was awake as well as extremely hung over. She stretched on the bed, slowly opening her eyes. She didn’t move for a moment, instead, staring at the wall. She had barely enough time to look at her watch, noting it was five AM, when the grenade fluted passed her, a second one following close by.

Claire rolled over slowly, not wanting to sit up for fear of the grenades. She knew something was instantly wrong. She knew Karen well enough and knew that right now, she was distressed about something. Claire just had to find out what. But the moment Claire saw Karen, sitting on the bed, pointing the gun at herself, Claire’s heart began to race out of fear.

Her first instinct was to use her power Against Karen. It definitely would be the easiest approach. But once Karen came back to reality, she would most likely despise Claire for doing such a thing. For now, the best approach was to simply try to talk to her calmly.

“Cariña?” Claire spoke softly and started to inch her hand towards Karen. “What’s wrong?”

A grenade sliced the air in-between them to stop her from reaching Karen, who’s eyes remained fix upon the end of the gun’s barrel. Although she wasn’t an empath, she could sense that Claire was nervous. “They are under control,” Karen lied, her hand shifting to indicate the air around them, “I wouldn’t put us in danger.” She did not attempt to make her tone convincing; it was void of anything, emotionless.

That was until she tried to speak again.

“I trusted you, y’know.” Her voice cracked mid-sentence but she recovered without a flicker of change in her stony expression, “I never wanted to doubt you.”

“And you never have to,” Claire stopped moving, her tone still calm, yet it was easy to hear that Claire did not feel well. “Please tell me what’s wrong. And please put the grenades down.” Of course Claire knew Karen well enough to know she was in a state where at any moment her, Karen and Kristy would become nothing more than stains on the wall. Claire only hoped she could find out what’s wrong, or that Kristy would wake up.

Karen gave a bitter laugh, “You don’t trust me with these. Don’t. trust.” She tapped the gun against her bottom lip. How long had she been waiting for Claire to wake up? It must have been hours at the least. She had dragged over the conversation they would have in her mind a thousand times but…now the moment had come, her mouth felt dry, her stomach clenched and her mind went blank. Part of her wanted to hide in denial but the other part did not want to look naïve. The grenades did not slow; if anything they sped up, closing in on the bed and each other.

“I-…I always knew you didn’t like him.”

Claire was feeling a great deal of concern right now for Karen,. She really had no idea what was going on. But whatever it was, it seemed to be Claire's fault. And with Claire not feeling too well at the moment, her patience was wearing thin.

“Karen,” Claire’s tone came sternly, yet still weak given her present condition. “I have never lied to you nor would I ever. You know me better than anyone else on the planet. Now would you please explain to me what you are talking about?” Claire held her breath, hoping it wouldn’t be her last.

“Never mentioned anything about lying. Nothing. Lying. Nothing. No? No.” A grenade dipped particularly close to the floor before slowing to a gradual halt in the middle of the room. The others flew past it, almost making contact before Karen shifted them slightly off course. The gun dropped from Karen’s hands as she used them to cover her face, “Too many thoughts, Claire. Too many. I shot her in the foot. Deserved it. Stupid kid. Should I feel guilt? No? No… No.”

Claire pushed her self into a sitting position, tears starting to well up in her eyes. She still had no idea what was going on. Though hearing the mention of children made Claire feel uneasy. She knew what Karen had been through.

“Cariña.” Claire spoke softly again, holding a hand to her temple. “You didn’t shoot any children okay? You told me what happened. And you didn’t do that. You’re not that person anymore.” A part of Claire felt like she was experiencing déjà vu at what she was saying. She could remember a similar conversation with Karen. The other part of Claire wanted to vomit and tears started to roll down her cheeks.

“Please tell me what I did to hurt you.” Claire whispered and stared at Karen.

“Not then. Not then, damn it. Tonight. In the dream. Dream of reality. Must have been real. Lilith.”

The name seemed to burn Karen’s throat, “She said Mark’s dead. You gave the orders. The orders, the orders. The damn, fucking orders. I checked your phone. You sold us out.” Her hands lowered and her eyes were wide, “What do I do, Claire? This is why you shouldn’t love.”

Claire stayed silent and removed the phone form her pocket. She brought up the text she had sent to the campus. There was nothing out of the ordinary about it. The only thing Claire could conclude was that Karen must have dreamed the whole thing. Claire quickly brought up the directory and dialled a number. The phone rang four times before it was answered. The moment she heard the voice on the other end, she breathed a sigh of relief.

“I’m sorry to bother you, but your wife needs to talk to you.” Claire sounded concerned and she handed the phone to Karen, who stared at it blankly for a few moments before placing it to her ear.

“…Mark.”
“…Karen.”
It was surreal. Was she still dreaming?
“I… I mean, I…”
An overwhelming sense of relief flooded her as she heard his voice but as that began to sink in, she could sense her other emotions were in turmoil.
“I’m not ready, sweetie.”
“For?”
“This.”
“What?”
“…This.”
“…What?”
“Apologising.”
“…What?”
“What?”
“I thought…you were dead.”
“Okay, seriously…what?”She wanted to explain - she knew how stupid she had sounded – but no matter how she tried, she couldn’t prevent the sobs from racking her body. So much for being a strong woman; she was as pathetic as the rest of her gender. No tears fell. Her mind was in shock, her emotions erratic, and the numbness still haunted her in the back of her mind. The visions she had seen whilst she dreamt flashed through her head.
“I know you must hate me right now but…maybe we should talk another time? You should sleep.”
“Then I’ll see the girl again.”
“The girl?”
“The girl. But she’s not a girl. She’s something and she feels real.”
She could almost picture the frown he had forming upon his face as he spoke, a concerned drawl but not condescending, “You’ll need to tell me more when you know more. It…reminds me of something. Tread lightly for now.”
She wanted to push further but couldn’t bring herself to do it.
“Claire can look after you until I get back.” The fact that he didn’t sound jealous or protective in the slightest irked her, making her want to lash out again until he finished with, “Just…don’t, y’know.”She was quiet and she could feel him growing awkward on the other end of the line, “Good morning though. We’ll speak again soon.”

He hung up hastily but she barely cared. She had wanted him to be alive but now all her problems were back again. Scrubbing at her head, she threw the phone back at Claire with a murmured apology. The grenades had floated gently to the floor.

Claire sat quietly listening to the conversation. Most people would have thought it was all some dream, but she was starting to have doubts. Karen, while at times a little flighty, was not insane. If she was this upset, Claire couldn’t help but feel there was more going on. Slowly, she placed the phone back in her pocket and sighed. Moving to Karen, she wrapped her arms around her and hugged her tightly.

“Cariña,” Claire whispered. “Everything is alright now. See it was all just a dream.” Claire tried to sound convincing, but it was hard given her own doubts.

“I would never turn Mark in,” Claire kissed Karen on the forehead. “I didn’t even tell Mal about him and I certainly wouldn’t tell the Campus. No matter what, I am now and will always be your friend. Now what do you say we get moving and get to safety?”

Karen shifted and kissed Claire briefly on the lips before standing up and stretching, “Anything to take my mind off things. Let’s get to it.”

“Okay then,” Claire felt her stomach starting to churn. “Get Kristy up I-” Claire never finished the sentence and rushed to the bathroom to throw up.

(co op with Kailya)

[Merry]

She stayed in the shower until her fingers were so pruned they didn’t resemble flesh any more. Their texture soft and wrinkled beyond recognition, pale to the point of translucent.

She had washed her hair, twice. Conditioned it, twice, and just waited. She tried to wash her thoughts away with the soap and travel grime from the past few days, without much success. Standing in the shower for what seemed like an eternity, just watching the water drain down the spout in the tub.

The water having long gone cold, it didn’t matter. Finally accepting that she couldn’t hide in the water anymore, it wasn’t going to change anything, she sighed and shut it off.

She stood still, for a few more minutes, listening. Hearing only the drops from the remnants in the pipe hitting the bottom of the tub. She grabbed a towel, dried off, her ears still straining to hear any sound from the outer room. Nothing, no voices, no sounds, nothing.

She quickly dressed, pulling on everything but the shoes. She yanked her fingers through her wet hair, smoothing it as best she could without a comb or brush, and twisted it into a quick braid, wet against her back. It would have to do.

Slowly opening the door to the outer room, ready to snap it shut in a moment, so as to not disturb anyone out there. The room was silent. She could just make out the soft sounds of Vee sleeping. Peering and seeing only one person in the bed, with a soft sigh of relief she slipped into the room, and made her way quietly to the bed on the far side, lay on the top of the covers, waiting to fall asleep.

[DB.]

Aaron quickly moved his fingers across the keyboard. The sound of tapping filled the dark room. The motel’s owner had kindly let Aaron use his computer for something "urgent", as long as he didn't take too long.

It wasn’t much, an old model probably at least ten years old, but he already had his PDA hooked up and was running a basic defense grid simulation. Nothing too hard, he just needed to take his mind off things, he needed to get lost in the computer code, finding weaknesses, security defects, something to get through to the information.

It definitely wasn't working, he kept getting distracted, and he was barely even paying attention to the screen in front of him. His mind was wandering back to all the events that had transpired that night, the destruction of SCAR, the death of Lyrico and Chase, but it especially kept going back to Shane. What had happened when she was sleeping? Was it just a bad dream or something more? If it was anything like the rest of the night then it could’ve been anything. Hell, was keeping quiet about it the right thing?

A bright flash of red letters popped up on the screen, making him Aaron focus back on the computer "You have been detected by the security measures, guards has been dispatched to your location. Mission Failed" Aaron just ran his hand through his hair and sighed. While unhooking his PDA he tuned off the computer, it didn't really matter right now anyway.

Aaron slid back on the small wooden chair and groggily stood up, the lack of sleep finally getting to him. Shaking his head a few times he headed out the door and up to his room.

Fighting to keep his eyes awake he opened the door to the room and peered inside, Shane was nowhere to be found.

Aaron decided to lie on the bed and wait for her, not much of a good idea but he was tired, and eventually he was slowly falling asleep.

[mere]

At the moment, Yakim felt like he wanted the voice to come back. Unfortunately, the hotel was small and the walls were thin. He needed something calling him an ass or annoying him to no end. Yakim rose from his bed and stumbled over to his door, pulling on a pair of socks and slipping into his shoes, not bothering to tie them. He opened his door and walked over to the stairwell, yawning. Getting a break from watching the other operatives drama and sexual encounters would be pleasant. Sure, someone else with his power might like to watch the operatives as if that someone was watching a porno, but Yakim just felt disgusted. Though, it did teach Yakim about his teammates. Like, that Claire and Vee are both complete whores, and Malcolm is a fucked-up psycho. Though he was unsure of her name, the woman that had gotten in between Claire and Malcolm relationship was also completely fucking everything up and was completely worthless to the squad. Hell, the only person who wasn't insane here was Basket, or whatever her name was.

Yakim felt a bit shocked once he opened the doors. Fresh air and a slight breeze welcomed him to the outside world. A small smile spread across his face as he walked away from the dusty hotel and walked into the small town. Yakim looked ahead of him for a gas station or small market. He hasn't eaten in a while and didn't have the cash to get actual food. The outdoors was a great relief from being trapped a musty old hotel. The dirt below him flattened beneath his shoes, puffs of it escaping from all around his shoe. Footsteps forced him to look back up and he saw a woman walk into the diner to his left. Thankfully the small town awoke early and shops were slowly starting to open up. The smell of food made Yakim nearly walk inside, but he didn't have any money. However, after looking across the street he noticed a small convenience store where a couple of cars were parked.

“Perfect.”

Yakim strolled into the store, giving a slight wave to the cashier. He went to the back of the store, out of the cashier's view and snagged a couple of candy bars, only slightly checking what the labels said. Not wanting to look suspicious, he walked up to the counter and asked to look at a map of the town. Yakim slowly looked over it, looking as if he actually was trying to look for something. He thanked the guy behind the counter and left the store, walking a ways before pulling a candy bar out of his pocket. Sure, he could have asked Claire or anyone else for money, if they had any of course, but Yakim didn't feel like disturbing what could possibly be going on with her at the moment. A threesome with Malcolm and the other woman sounded possible. Bitch. I'll call her Bitch. He tore open the wrapper for the Mounds bar and placed the first piece in his mouth, enjoying the taste of coconut. He walked slower then before, taking his time to return to the hotel. He began to eat the other piece, throwing the wrapper to the ground. Hundred dollar fine my ass. The cops probably come her twice a year. Yakim stopped after the thought, staring at the ground. Broken glass lay before him, blood stained.

“Hmph. Fucking idiot.”

Yakim picked up one of the larger ones, and immediately a figure appeared in his mind to his right. He threw the glass as hard as he could towards the figure, only after that did he look at who he threw it at. No one.

“Fuck.”

He turned back to the direction of the hotel and another figure appeared in his mind, only to disappear half a second later. Yakim sighed and walked back to the motel and up to his room, all the way his mind making up a figure that wasn't real.

“If this is some way of some way of saying that you're pissed off at me, you can keep it up all you want.”

Yakim knew he was still there and that he wasn't happy. Any chance for him to fuck with Yakim would be taken. He took the candy and placed it on the flimsy desk.

“I love how undramatic my life is compared to everyone else.”

[StormWolf]

After Sammael's apparition, the weary Malcolm Maverick no longer felt tired. On the contrary; he felt restless. His mind raced to places that could only exist in the presence of paranoia. The Chaplain took to pacing, the rubber soles on his shoes leaving a dark depression in the cheap carpet after a time.

Malcolm looked at the mark he left in the carpet, it looked like a motorcycle had left a giant skid mark just before peeling out of the room. With a distressed sigh, the Chaplain sat down. He started to feel tired again, after hours of staring at his own eyes in a mirror across the room, but he just could not manage to grasp sleep. Silently, he pulled out a cigarette from the pack he bought earlier, lighting it with the plastic zippo. The bitter and metallic taste filled his mouth and lungs.

He lost count of how many he smoked to their very end, but the room became thick with the cobalt grey smoke. The red, digital numbers on the clock next to the bed slowly changed from late night to early morning. Either Claire was in a very complicated and thorough brief with Karen, or they were busy being complicated and thorough with each other. Oddly enough, Malcolm found himself almost not caring. What Claire did with her life was her business. Whether or not Malcolm believed his own bullshit, he was not entirely sure.

The Chaplain reached in to his pocket, bringing that shimmering golden band out of the darkness and in to the light, glinting in the growing brilliance of the rising sun. Would he even be able to use this? Would Claire, in her fickle emotionality, even hear his proposal with her head locked between Karen's legs? Would she even accept it if he did offer it, or would she cast it back in his face. Malcolm felt the ring get hot in his hand. He closed his eyes and forced the anger away in to the blackness, remembering what Sammael said.

He stood silent as death, rising from the bed with little more than the rustle of the covers beneath him. Then, Malcolm proceeded to strap on his most concealable weapons: his ballistic knife and his beretta. Once loaded, the Chaplain exited his room, tossing the smoldering butt of his last cigarette over the balcony. His stubble was obviously thicker this morning, and he had dark circles around his eyes; the result of not sleeping for around three days.

Malcolm stopped in front of Kirsty's room and paused there for a moment with his hands on his hips. He took a deep breath before rapping roughly on the door three times.

"You always said I should try knocking first..." he called through to door. If Claire was in there, she would remember the situation they had in Rome, and know it was him. He was groggy and his voice was much raspier than usual.

Claire exited the bathroom looking pale as a ghost. She felt like shit and looked worse, the makeup running in streams from her eyes. She was a little pissed that she didn't have time to wash her face, but at least she had brushed her teeth. She walked to the door of the room and opened it.

"Good morning," Claire's face was expressionless. "Are the others up yet?" Malcolm resisted the affectionate instinct to wipe the smeared make up from Claire's face, but the tone in her voice all but stapled his hands to his sides. He smiles slightly without mirth; it was all he could manage at the moment. He then shook his head gently,

"I didn't see anyone on my way here, but we should rouse the troops and but some distance between us and this town before Omega can catch up." he waited for a reply, the silence insufferable,

"Can... I come in? Am I welcome?"

Claire nodded her head, pushing the door a little wider. Before she turned to walk in the room, something strange happened. Claire had no knowledge that it had happened, and Malcolm was the only one who could see it. But for a few seconds, Claire's eyes turned white.

"Have you eaten yet?" Claire sounded somewhat sad, but Malcolm could hear an evil whisper in the air echoing her words. The Chaplain's eyes shot wide open, his hair standing on end as his heart raced. The very smell of evil wafting from Claire was so strong, it almost made the man wretch. He pursued Claire, drawing his beretta in a quick, fluid hand motion. His powerful hand gripped the back of her neck and threw her to the ground.

"You leave her the hell alone, you understand me?!" Malcolm yelled at Claire's back as she started to get up. He kicked her over on her back and straddled her with his knees on her shoulders, the barrel of his gun in her face and his hand at her throat.

"You get the fuck out of her, or I throw you out! You know damn well what I can do!"

Claire was surprised to say the least, not to mention that she was still incredibly hungover. Otherwise, she could have reacted in time to prevent herself from being in the position she was now in.

"Mal," Claire spoke softly, her eyes appearing normal. "As much as I do like it rough at times, would you kindly get the fuck off of me? And I'm not going to ask you a second time." Claire's eye turned black and she glared at Mal. He pressed more weight on his choking hand, his lips pulling back in a snarl.

"Don't you dare use her voice... Leave her alone..." he muttered and growled, his snarl quickly trembling and becoming the face of a man ready to break. "Take me instead. Please... don't make me... hurt her... please." he tightened his grip on his pistol, trying to steady the trembling.

"Mal," Claire's voice was strained as she tried to breathe. "Get the fuck off of me. NOW!" Claire pushed out with her power, sending a wave of fear and sadness over Mal. As she used her power on Mal, she felt despair. A feeling that she had lost Mal as he appeared to have finally lost his mind. The wave hit Malcolm hard, causing him to drop his gun and scamper off of Claire with tears streaming down his face.

"Please... I already exorcised her once... don't make me do it again... " the Chaplain gave over to weeping as the wave continued to assault his already weakened and crumbling psyche. His tears felt cold as they ran down his face. His hands quickly became tangled in his short hair.

"H-hail M-Mary... full of Grace..."

Claire quickly retreated back into the room, retrieving her med kit while keeping Mal under the weight of her emotions. Once she got back to him, she opened it and removed her penlight, releasing Mal from the sadness.

"Listen to me Mal," Claire's tone was calm and soothing. "I'm not possessed. I think you're hallucinating. I'm going to look you over. I'm also going to release you. Please don't make any sudden moves. I don't want to have to do something we'll both regret." Malcolm remained sitting on the floor, pushing himself slowly back in to a corner until he could go no further.

"I love her too much. Leave her alone, please. Don't torture us like this...." he mumbled helplessly. He reached in to his pocket, grabbing the golden ring and holding it tight, hoping that it could bring him some kind of security.

Claire released Mal from the fear, but her eyes remained black. She wasn't sure what was going on, but she intended to find out. Crouching beside him, she held the light up to his eyes and looked into them.

"Any headaches," Claire's tone was clinical. "Did you get any sleep last night?" Malcolm took series of deep breaths after the fear, sorrow, and despair suffocating his senses was lifted. When asked the questions, he shook his head to them both at first.

"No sleep. Not a wink. Now that you mention it, yeah, I have a bit of a headache. Like a really bad hangover." he squinted as he looked in to the flashlight Claire was waving in his face.

Between what Mal told her, and what she could see in his eyes, there could only be one explanation for what happened.

"You're suffering from exhaustion," Claire smiled a little. "You need to get some sleep. Or at least some coffee. Now if it's alright with you. I want to get cleaned up and ready to go." Claire stood up and Mal could see her eyes turn white again, before Claire winked and then turned towards the room.

Malcolm watched Claire go with extreme caution before standing up and grabbing his gun, flicking the safety back on before holstering the weapon again. The exhausted Chaplain made his way to the cheap drawer set that had the coffee machine on top of it. He fixed himself the strongest cup of joe he could find, flavored it with the whisky Claire took, and started sipping. His head started to clear as the hot coffe burned his throat on the way down with the bite of alcohol. If Claire had really been possessed, he would have felt the Mark on his arm throb like mad. He really was tired. He really should sleep, but he just couldn't seem to wrap his head around it.

He emptied the entire cup of coffee by the time Claire came back out. He wanted to apologize to her, but he didn't even know where to start, and if he knew anything about Karen, she would probably laugh at him or make him look like an ass. It was like being back in high school all over again. All the drama and emotion and snide trickery. He really hated humanity, as a whole. That was part of his respect for God; how something so benevolent and devine could love a race so rotten unconditionally. Malcolm found himself fiddling with the golden ring in his hand. He frowned at his hand and stuffed the ring back in his pocket. He could feel the indent the ring left in his hand from squeezing it so hard earlier.

[John]

Claire took her time getting cleaned up. Taking the time to brush her teeth and tie her hair back in a bun. She didn’t do her make up and still appeared rather pale but at least she felt well enough to get moving. She was still a little unnerved by Mal’s attack. A part of her was thinking that Mal might be losing his mind. Yeas he was exhausted, but Claire knew Mal was also under a lot of stress given everything that was happening.

Claire’s first order of business would be to procure a means of transportation as there was no way they were going to fit everyone into Karen’s Ford Fiesta. Claire snickered as she thought of what it would be like for Mal if were forced to sit in the back seat of the hot pink car while Karen and Claire belted out the Spice Girls. As amusing as it would be, she didn’t really think it would be for the best.

It was about the time she left the bathroom that Vee entered the room. Vee looked haggard and worn. Her eyes seemed empty and devoid of all emotion. It was as if she had stopped living and now was just existing. Claire wanted to hug her, to try and offer some comfort. But she knew better. Vee didn’t like Claire much as it was, and would probably try to hurt her, or worse if Claire so much as touched her.

For just a moment, Claire felt her stomach churn. She also felt a small relief that Karen wasn’t in the room when the incident with Mal happened, having left to go wait in her car, wanting to be alone. Still, the thought of Mal and Vee together in a room was not a pleasant one for her. She walked over to Kristy, smiling weakly and then leaned in to whisper in her ear.

“Please don’t let them kill each other.” Claire turned and walked over to Mal and Vee. She still had the smile and spoke to both of them.

“I’m gonna go get us a ride.” Claire’s tone was pleasant. “Meet me downstairs in twenty minutes.” She had thought of going first to wake the others. But she knew all of them would be already awake or just waking up. Part of their old lives was waking up in the wee hours of the morning, or not sleeping at all; and old habits die hard.

Claire exited the room and headed down the stairs towards the office of the motel. She crossed her fingers as she walked, hoping that something she had seen was still there in the parking lot from the night before. As she rounded a corner, she saw the white van which was parked next to the office. It was in poor shape and parts of it were worn with rust. She hoped that it would be enough to get them to where they were going. She also hoped that she was right about it belonging to the person working behind the counter in the office.

Claire put on her sunglasses and entered the office. She approached the counter, the man behind it looking up form the small TV as she entered. Claire smiled and her eyes turned black, concealed by the glasses, She pushed a feeling of trust and happiness to the man and began to speak.

“I was looking at the van parked outside,” Claire’s voice was cheery. “I was wondering if it’s yours.”

“Yep,” he smiled. “Why do you ask? What, you wanna buy it or something?”

“Actually yeah,” Claire grinned. “How much do you want for it?”

“It’s not for sale,” he said shaking his head. “Just put a new engine in it. Sure the body will probably fall off of it in a couple of weeks but it’s get me where I’m going. Besides, I couldn’t get enough to buy something better anyway.”

“Well,” Claire leaned in closer and pushed at him harder with her emotions.. “I could give you ten grand for it as is. But I would want the plates as well.”

“Jesus lady,” the man stood up smiling “I mean, it’s a piece of shit. Are you serious? I would feel so bad doing that to you.”

“No joke,” Claire pulled out the credit card and slid it across the counter. “Can you take it off this.”

“Yeah I can,” he grabbed the card and started typing into the computer behind the counter. “My brother owns the motel so it won’t be a problem.” He swiped the card and after a few moments, handed it to Claire along with the keys.

“I got some stuff in the back,” he walked out from behind the counter and towards the door, holding it open for Claire. “Let me get that out and it’s all yours.

“Thanks a lot,” Claire smiled and walked out the door.

It only took about ten minutes for the back of the van to be cleaned out. Once it had, Claire got in and took a look. There were no seats in the back, which meant some of them would have to sit on the floor for the next twelve hours of their lives. And considering the look of the van, she figured the ride would not be very smooth for them. But it was better than nothing and should get them where they were going.

She pulled the vehicle around to where the rooms were and sat quietly for a moment. She still hadn’t told Mal about Bear, and frankly, she didn’t want to. It was just one more thing to shovel on to the great big pile of shit which had become her life. The dream of something normal seemed to be drifting further and further out of reach.

Claire got out and leaned against the side of the van and waited for everyone to arrive. Once they had she leaned close to Mal and spoke so only he could hear.

“We need to stop in Madison, Wisconsin to pick up an operative from the Campus.” Claire frowned. “It’s Bear. He’s alive.” Claire could tell that Mal wanted to say something, but she brought a finger up to Mal’s lips and pressed it against them.

“I don’t want to talk about this now.” Claire gave him a pleading look. “Once we get to Detroit, then we will talk about everything. I love you Mal.” Claire stared into his eyes for a moment.

“I want you to drive the van,” Claire looked into is eyes. “I’m going to ride with Karen. There’s something going on with her, and I need to find out what.” Claire smiled, and as she did, Malcolm could see her eyes turn white and this time, her smile widened into a sadistic grin, her teeth becoming sharp and jagged.

“There’s two more seats in the car,” Claire spoke to everyone. I got shotgun.” Claire walked off towards the car, turning to walk a short distance away. With her back to the group, she pulled out her phone and dialled Karen’s husband. The moment she heard the phone pick up, she began to speak.

“Mark, it’s Claire,” Claire’s tone was calm. “I need some help.”

Mark blinked at her abruptness for a few moments before pulling himself together. He had been preparing himself for Karen's voice. "You obviously don't have the time to be polite. Considering last time you tried to kill me, you would think you could spare a few moments to ask how I was doing." He sipped casually at the coffee in his hands, "But sure, what can I do for you?"

“Look, I’m sorry,” Claire sighed, her tone almost pleading. “Things are really fucked up here. I’m asking. Please help me.”

Mark couldn't help but feel a stab of concern, "I guessed that. No offence to you but you sound exhausted. And...I just said, what can I do for you? I can't offer you help unless I know what the problem is."

“I need you to find out what a demon is up to.” Claire paused for a moment. It made sense to her. Given what Karen had described to her, coupled with the fact that she didn’t know of any players with the name, there could be only one answer.

“I need you to see what you can find out about Lilith.” Claire held her breath. If the lore was true, this was a tall order.

"Oh fucking..." He slammed his coffee mug down on the side, "You know, I knew something was up. This is to do with Karen, isn't it? She's not the kind of person to get spooked by a dream. What did she tell you that she didn't tell me? It has something to do with that girl, doesn't it?"

“Look, I’m sorry. But I don’t have time to talk right now,” Claire hushed her voice even though no one else could hear her. “I will call you when we get to Detroit and tell you everything. I give you my word.”

"You SCAR operatives and your secrets..." He muttered, "I just hope you have some understanding of how dangerous this is for me. I mean, I know I'm powerful but I'm not stupid." He scrubbed a hand through his hair and sighed, "Life's been pretty dull without Karen though; it might be nice to spice things up a bit. I'll help you out but you better keep your promise and catch me up on everything."

“Thank you Mark. I will tell you everything soon.” Claire’s tone was friendly. “We should be in Detroit in about thirteen hours, give or take. And be careful Mark. She needs you.” Claire hung up the phone and quickly sent a text to Bear, requesting he meet them at Capital Square and went off to the car

She got in the passenger side and didn’t speak a word, instead going for Karen’s CD case and rifling through it. She wondered for a moment who else would ride in the car, but she did feel that in the end it didn’t matter. A part of her figured most wouldn’t feel like engaging in small talk. Still conversation would make for a nice distraction from the things weighting heavily on her mind.

About six and half hours later, they arrived at their destination. Claire could see Bear sitting on a bench, waiting for them. She felt like she had butterflies in her stomach and a wave of nausea crept over her. It would have been so much better if they hadn’t had to meet under these circumstances. There was also the problem of Mal and how he was going to react. Granted Claire still had feelings for Bear, but they never got to have a real relationship apart from him being a close friend. If things had of gone differently, they might have ended up together.

Claire took a breath to steady herself, opened the car door and started to slowly walk towards Bear.

(with help from Kailya)

[Stream]

Matter of self-fucking-preservation. Who could blame her after all? Saving your own skin, that's built in. Women, especially. The deceptive nature to use someone under a veil of sympathy and forget about them, a quintessential stereotype of divorced men all over the world. Sad, poor bastards loathing as a shell of their former selves. You trust these women, after all. And time and time again, they end up a depressed and lonely mess in the wake of rampant alcoholism and the solace of nicotine.

He took a sip of cheap malt swill. Fuck, couldn't even call it a "drink". Just cheap. The kind of thing you buy when life tastes like shit. The cigarette dulled the taste, at least.

"I thought you were going to quit smoking," Claire's tone was calm, yet she seemed a little nervous. "Hello Bear. It's been a long time." Claire really didn't know what to say. How do you welcome a dead person back into your life?

He looked up at her with weary eyes and a bleak expression, the blank look that one would see on old war photos of young soldiers tormented by the realities of war. An icy look that was so simple yet conveyed so many words. He slowly lifted his cigarette to his lips and took another drag.

"I never did smoke, they never let me smoke indoors."

With him was a gym bag, filled with the only possessions he had in his new life, the wrinkled clothes that reeked of cigarette smoke and a single handgun wrapped in a sweat cover hoodie. He stood up and slung the bag over his shoulder, looking like a drifter, cheap malt liquor in hand and a cigarette planted in his mouth.

"That your team?" he asked.

"Yeah," Claire looked directly into his eyes. "Bear I..." there was so much she wanted to say, but the words wouldn't come to her.

"I missed you," a small smile formed on Claire's lips but the words had an awkward tone.

"A hot pink Ford and a van that's seen its share of child molesting," he said, hanging his head. The bitter smoke twirled right back into his nostrils, but he didn't care.

"Who've you got?"

"Ethan's here," the smile faded and Claire stared at Bear with solemnly.

"You guys together now? I figured he'd have bailed by now."

"Do you have a problem with me Bear?" Claire sounded annoyed. "Is there something you want to say to me? Then go ahead. Do it." She crossed her arms in front of her and glared at him.

"No. There's not a single thing I want to say to you. I want to leave." He threw his cigarette at his feet and brushed past Claire without so much as a glance. "Which one can I sleep in?"

"Fine," Claire sighed, feeling her emotions beginning to rise. "Have it your way. This is all obviously my fault somehow. So do whatever you want. Ride in the van. Walk for all I care." Claire turned, her eyes turning black behind her sunglasses and a tear came to her eye.

"A nice cramped van with no windows. I can tell you care so much. Just like you to prod for sympathy." His tone was uncaring without the slightest bit of empathy for Claire. He buried the emotion he felt for her; not the long dead love or concern, just the bitter hate that would kill her. And he buried it good.

"Anyone of note I should know about?"

"No Bear," Claire turned back. "I don't want your sympathy. I just want to know why you're being like this? Fuck Bear, you were like a brother to me for the longest time. In some ways more than Andrew, because you were there for me when he wasn't." Claire's tone changed and became more heated.

"And now," she put her hands on her hips. "After two years of me thinking you were dead, you won't even speak to me now. Just tell me why. I think I deserve that much." Claire steadied herself, working to keep her emotions at bay and trying to shut out Bear, somehting that wasn't as hard as it normally would be. But it was still difficult nonetheless.

"You deserve a lot of things. The slightest bit of understanding from me isn't one of them." With that he opened the back doors of the van and climbed inside, met with several sets of tired eyes, most hunched down like rats looking as if they had just woken up or were in dire need of sleep. Immediately he hopped back out.

"No. I'm not riding in that. I'm taking your seat."

Malcolm turned about in his driver's seat, glaring over his shoulder at the new arrival. He had seen the man's face in the SCAR files, and Claire had talked about him enough. This was the famous Bear. Definately the kind of bear that Malcolm would enjoy putting a bullet in to and turning in to a rug. Malcolm definately looked one of the most rugged; with the thick stubble, bruises, busted hand, and split lip as well as tired-looking eyes.

"Hey, asshole. This isn't a pleasure cruise. You're making the mistake that you actually have a fucking choice in the matter." Malcolm's voice was harsh and gruff and gravelly, "Now get your whiney and inconsiderate ass in here before I put so many holes in it, you won't know where to shit from."

"Mal!" Claire snapped at him, glaring for a moment before turning back to Bear. In that moment, her guard went down and all the emotions hammered into her. She could feel the loathing for her that Bear felt, the rage from Mal, the despair from Vee. Reaching out, she clutched the door of the van and steeled herself against it.

"Bear?" Claire was breathing heavy and slowly looked up at him, gritting her teeth. "If you can't even take a moment to tell me what your fucking problem is, ride in the van. Or like I said, walk." She pushed off from the door and started heading for the car. At this moment, Claire felt like the emotions were going to explode within her.

"Latin temper! I like it. I'll give you twenty fucking seconds after we leave this park until you're bawling your eyes out, because obviously there's so many difficulties you've been facing right?" he asked, turning his head away from her. It was impossible to look at her without wanting to unleash a tsunami of anger. He opened the doors to the van again and tossed his bag inside, glowering at the driver. His chest was getting warm and his teeth were glued together, but putting a bullet into a driver's head on an interstate would mean the death of everyone.

"And Claire…" he said, with a marionette smile, "We both know there's not a thing from me you'd like to hear about." The doors slammed as he finished and a fresh cigarette was placed between his lips.

Claire walked back to the car, silent and feeling as though she were going to explode. She wanted to unleash the anger that had started to build inside her, especially given that she was pretty sure she knew now why Bear hated her. She got back into the car without a word.

[Ace of Hearts™]

Adrian awoke in his room, sweating like he just ran miles. He had a nightmare. He was back in his old house, burnt out and crumbling. He felt a strong, unbreakable urge to go to the basement. It was pitch black, except for a small torch lit in the middle. As he got closer, the torch got brighter. It became so bright, he could now see the mangled and mauled bodies, of his Father and his acolytes, nailed to the wall. All of the sudden, their eyelids bursted open, and they stared at him. They began to cry blood out of their eyes, and chanted that strange language from that night. Soon, he couldn't move, and a strange black mass moved toward him. In enveloped him, and the last thing he heard before awaking is 'soon enough' in a deep, demonic voice.

His room was just as black as that thing that consumed him, minus the the beeping of his alarm clock. 5:47. He was late. He was heading to the secret safehouse in Detroit. He was just on the outskirts, inside some shitty motel. He was out on one of his own missions. He had a reputation for going out alone and coming back alive. He was a decorated soldier, even if he didn't like to admit it. He was a quiet type anyway, he never complained, never denied a job or order. But after the news of this...nuke, and a SCAR team missing, made him fear the worse. He couldn't think that they could be traitors, could they? These were people he semi-knew, one at least.

Claire Hannon. They met for only a short time, during the construction of the safehouse. She seemed the loyal sort, why would she nuke the Base? He debated in his head as he readied his gear. If he encountered her there, he have to be on his tows, just in case. Adrian usually didn't trust many people, so this could be easy to do.

He went into the lobby, in full combat gear and helmet. The people shot him strange looks, like there seeing a robot or something. It was better than seeing his face, that give 'em fucking nightmares. He gave the clerk a 20 and went out the door. He walked towards a shitty rental car he picked up on his way here. He open the rusted trunk and threw his baggage in. He hopped in the drivers seat and took off his helmet. He caught a glimpse of his face in the mirror. Fresh as the day he got it, red as sin and burned like hell, but the wind felt good on it.

driving and sleeping and generally staying out of the public were the only way to live with such a curse. He fired up the engine and sped off. He hadn't been there since it was built, and all he had were some shitty scrawled map from somewhere with a barely legible password. He'd go back and ask for better directions, but he'd be talking to radioactive dust.

Take a left, keeping going, stop, take a right, left, straight, left. It was endless. With Adrian, unless it was killing things, it was unnatural to him. He'd dedicated his life to SCAR and what it did for him. And now, it was gone. Possibly by traitors. It didn't look good for Claire. Adrian read the directions to long and crashed his car slightly. The man looked pissed as all hell and came lumbering out of his car, shouting obscenities.

"Hey you fucking dumbass, the fuck you doin', texting? Get the fuck out here!"

Adrian knew if he got out, the man could easily be frightened into submission, Adrian was strong that most, and not to mention his face.

"Okay, sir." He said as he opened the door. He shot outward, and looked the man square in the eye. His mouth dropped and his face cringed.

"Holy shit, get away from me you freak!" He said, running back to his car. He sped off and the squealing of tires lessened block by block. Adrian got back into the rental, eye the map again. He was fairly close, or so the map said. He reached the sarehouse. Just an ordinary looking warehouse, he thought. He couldn't remember what the end product was when it was built. But, a shitty map was batter than nothing. He grabbed his bag out of the trunk and went to the door. He entered the code that was on the napkin that had the map on it, wrong password. that 1 was a 7, he guessed. Access granted.

The door screeched open. He went towards the elevator and pressed the call button. When he had to wait for it to come up made his suspicious. Someone was here. He stepped in to the elevator music. He just stood there, in silence, other than the Chuck Mangione. He stepped into the small room with the large opening in it. As he was about to walk in, he heard a voice.

“DNA scan not recognized. Please state your name for voiceprint verification.”

He looked around, eying the the walls for cameras. Finally, after some hesitation he said his name, "Adrian Delacroix"

"Ah yes, Mr. Delacroix. Nice of you to drop by so often."

"I didn't realize they programed robots to be sarcastic. Who's here, why is that wall open?" He question, while simultaneously annoyed at the voice.

"One Avalon Charles. Came by a few hours ago."

Adrian only nodded as he went in. It was a helluva nice place. He only scoped out the chair closest to the woman. When she woke, they'd have one nice chat.

[Yoruyonaka]

Rather than the pain hurting, it was annoying. It was good Charlie was unconscious, but also still not good she was slightly feverish. Strange things seemed to happen without her power to control it. Especially with what was happening, things weren't going to be good. Charlie was struggling through images of her past and some that she didn't remember. A darkened figure soon took the stand in a shadowy vortex. She could see it had to be a man, but not who it was.

"Who the hell are you?" Charlie plainly asked a little pissed off. "I don't need some fucking specter messing with my mind."

Two white eyes glimmered from the dark. Not only that, but the whitest smile crept across his face. The image was disturbing enough when he began to laugh.

"Avaaaaloooon...." A voice murmured. "My chiiiild."

Charlie was now afraid. Which didn't happen too often. Then another voice could be heard other than the creepy one. Suddenly she felt reality coming to hit her square in the face. She woke up with a yell, gasping for air. A man was sitting near her now which caused her for more surprise. She began to reach for her gun at her side immediately even through her startle haze.

Before she put her hand on the weapon though, the man stood up and had his rifle pointed at her.

"Please, I do not wish for any bloodshed. I need to know who you are and what you're doing here." He motioned his head for her to take her hand off the gun, while he lowered his. He sat back down, with his hand still upon his rifle.

"I'll assume you're SCAR, so I need to know who you're under and when, if they do, get here." He said, his voice had a static tone, due to the helmet comms unit.

Charlie sat up more and eyed the man more carefully. He wore a helmet and was dressed ready for combat.

She smirked at him. "Why don't you take off your helmet before I tell you who I am?" She said breathing deeply. "For all I know your some fin faced merman."

He looked around, nervous, obviously. Underneath his helmet, he was sweating. He didn't know how serious she might be.

"I...I don't think that would be the best...You say merman, I say Angler Fish. You already seemed to have strange dreams, you don't need any more. But...if you insist." He said, his voice cracking slightly. He'd never, under any circumstance, remove his helmet to a complete stranger. But he needed information.

He placed his hands upon the back end of his helmet, clicking the unlock mechanism. He raised the helmet up and out slowly. He could feel the air hit his face. He glanced at the women, she seemed giddy as a schoolgirl. His helmet was now completely off. He put out his hand, as a sign of good faith.

"Adrian, Adrian Delacroix. Now please, who are you and who do you work for?" He said, trying to smile through the fresh looking burns on the side of his face.

Charlie frowned. The poor guy was scarred on most of his face, so that must be why he covered. He also appeared to be slightly put off about showing his true self. Like she think he was a monster or something.

Putting her hand out to his she said,"You can call me Charlie, nothing less. And trust me, I've seen worse." Which was true. Imagining her adoptive parents deaths always got rid of any fear or disgust. "Me? Work for SCAR? Please, I am only a friend of someone who 'used' to work for SCAR. Didn't I hear your poor little base exploded? Too bad, so sad. Anyways, if you know about Claire Hannon, that's who's coming here with a bunch of her pals. Got into some crazy shit because of her. She owes me an explanation and that's what I am waiting for."

Adrian looked away and walked around the safe house. His hands were balled behind his back and he studied the rooms decor.

"You know, I help build this place, though I forgot about." He said, eying some painting. He went back and sat back down.

"You know, its strange that a non-SCAR member would have access to a secret safe house. Which either means you lied and are a member. Claire owes me more of an explanation than you. SCAR was my life, and now, in one fell swoop, its gone." Adrian said, looking down. He could never fit back in normal society. He was a walking electrical time bomb, who had the face of 80's horror icons.

He looked back up at Charlie. She was also sitting, eye-to-eye.

"When should she be here, I need the truth." He said, in a deep, commanding voice.

Charlie leaned back on the couch. This guy was getting on her nerves. Why the hell would she lie about not being a SCAR dog? She rubbed off the sweat of her brow. Her vision was getting fuzzy again. God, she thought, I never thought breaking ribs would make this happen...

"First off smart ass, I am not a SCAR member nor do I give a shit about any of your damn cry baby problems," Charlie replied angrily. "Second, I have no fucking clue where Claire and when she will be getting here. Finally...do you get fevers from broken ribs?"

Adrian stood up. He was a tall and threatening looking man. He stared down at Charlie, who had just gotten done belittling him. He took one step forward. She knew nothing of him, or him her. A terrible start between two people. He felt the slight tingle in his hands, as he began to get agitated. He took a step back, he didn't want to destroy half a city block...again.

"Finally...do you get fevers from broken ribs?"

What the fuck was she doing, asking for help, or at least a question after that. He wasn't really angry at her, just the situation. He wiped the scowl of hos face, she was obviously in pain.

"Not usually, you may be bleeding internally, in which case, we need to get you to a infirmary. Their should be one in here, somewhere. Come on." He said, motioning with two fingers out the door.

Brown eyes glared through Charlie's feverish state. "I don't need your help." She leaned back on the couch fading suddenly fast. "I...just need sleep...besides, I already took a shot of morphine...."

She felt suddenly tired. Really tired. Though she had no desire to fall asleep. The ridiculous fear of a shadowy man came to the brink of her mind. Though...she was....really tired...with that, Charlie fell to her side on the couch.

Adrian saw her slump on the coach, knocked out. He also got this idea. He put his helmet back and sat down in the same chair he'd been in. He drifted off into his nightmares...

(Co-op with Shadow~)

[The Gypsy Queen]

Vee had felt Marc leave her bed. He must have thought she was asleep when he did it, because he tiptoed around like he was sneaking out of a one night stands bedroom and didn't want a fuss.

Which was exactly what he was doing.

Vee had never really been very uptight about her sexuality. She was raised in a primarily male environment, and athleticism had given her a comfort with her own body that many other women her age lacked. She'd had her fair share of lovers. Some of them she'd shared an emotional bond with, and others she had not. Some she'd never seen again. That Marc had left didn't bother her so much as the loneliness that enveloped her after he shut the door.

She could have told herself he'd taken advantage of her grief, and that was true, but it was also true that she had taken advantage of him, used him just as much as he used her. The pleasure he'd given her had released her for a few precious hours from the agony that was her life now, allowed her to escape to a sweet fantasy and imagine that he was someone else entirely.

She fell asleep thinking that the smell had been all wrong.

She didn't sleep long, and if she dreamed, she didn't recall it. She awoke to the sinking realization that the last twenty-four hours had really happened and weren't a terrible nightmare. She stood from her bed, feeling nauseous. She spent a few moments on her knees in front of the toilet, whimpering through dry heaves because her stomach had nothing to surrender.

When she stood, she paused to consider her reflection. She was naked, her eyes as red as her hair, and puffy from crying. Her nose was red and running. Her body felt heavy and tired, and she could see herself trembling like a leaf in the mirror. The cuts on her hand had swollen to an angry red and the skin on her arms pink and dry from the scrubbing she'd done last night. She rubbed some lotion provided by the motel on them, biting her lip at the antibacterial sting that resulted. She then washed her face thoroughly, using only water as she'd destroyed all the soap in her fit the night before. The cool water reduced some of the puffiness and she took some relief from the fact that she no longer looked like she was having a bad allergic reaction.

After wrapping herself in a scratchy white robe, she called the front desk to ask for a first aid kit, and thanked the harried looking young man who brought it to her and was careful not to try to look down her robe. She doctored her lacerated right hand then, hissing quietly with every sting as she worked clumsily with her left hand by the light of a single bedside lamp.

Satisfied that she still knew her field dressing, she put a pot of coffee on the brew and made herself a big cup of coffee that mostly "French Vanilla" creamer. She pulled the crappy red arm chair that had occupied the corner of the room to the sliding glass doors opposite the room's entrance and opened the heavy dark curtains. Pink was just tinting the eastern sky and she angled her chair towards the growing light before curling into the chair like a cat, coffee mug in both hands while she watched the sun come up and remembered that there was still beauty in the world.

She thought about the last twenty-four hours, and every minute of it stung like the peroxide she'd used on her cuts. She understood now the gravity of the deal she'd made with the little girl in her dream. She'd thought it was just a dream and didn't matter - she'd been having strange dreams and hallucinations for years. But she could feel it burning and twisting inside her, a malignant cancer growing under her heart, determined to devour everything that was still good in her.

She'd lost Chase. She couldn't lose herself.

When the sun was almost above the horizon she rose from her chair and dressed herself. The jeans and tee-shirt Baket had so thoughtfully brought were all too big and she used the belt from her fatigues to keep her pants up. She had no underwear though, so she walked to a nearby twenty-four hour store and bought a few pairs, along with some sports bra and a pack of Blacks cigarettes. She went back to her room to finish dressing, and smoked one to calm her nerves.

She brushed her teeth to kill the smell of the cigarette and then tried to tame her unruly hair, but gave up. Finally satisfied that she could do nothing more, she made her way down the hall to the room Claire was supposed to be sharing with Malcolm.

She hated them both so much it hurt.

She blamed Claire for Chase's death almost more than she blamed Lyrico. And she couldn't forget the way Malcolm had treated her the night before. But if anyone could help her now, it had to be him. He was a Chaplain. He had to be able to drive the malignancy from her. He had to.

She entered the room just as an exhausted Claire was leaving. She gave the other woman a cold, emotionless expression, knowing from her reflection that her eyes were cold, dead and flat. Claire left some woman named Kristy in the room. If Vee had been introduced to her, she didn't remember it, so she ignored the girl, and turned to Malcolm.

He looked like an utter wreck, and considering she'd seen a mirror recently, that was something.

She didn't know what to say to him for a long time, just stared at him blankly, unable to think of how to help him see that she needed his help.

" I'm sorry I threw you to the floor last night." was all the she could manage to make pop out of her mouth. He was still sporting a bruise on his face from that very encounter.

Malcolm looked up from his cup of coffee. Claire had made her way out of the apartment for a while, so it was just himself and Karen in the room. When he saw Vee enter, he actually managed a smile. He would much rather have Vee keep kicking him in the face and ribs than converse with that harlot.

"There is no need to apologize to me, Vee. Compared to all the other shit I have been through in the past few hours, that little squabble was trivial.

Vee blinked slowly but didn't ask him to elaborate. She remembered what she had told him the night before, and wondered if she'd foretold his undoing. Instead she stared at him again, face and eyes emotionless.

She couldn't make herself tell him that something evil had burrowed into her and she could feel it twisting, contorting who she was. She had hoped he might see it in her, sense it somehow, but she was beginning to abandon that hope.

She hated him but she longed to scream at him "Help me, for the love of God, save me. I made a mistake, please help me!" but her jaw was wired shut and she could not will herself to say it.

" Is this really happening?" she asked instead, willing him to look at her, to really look at her, to see it in her eyes. Malcolm chuckled mirthlessly as he studied his shoes intently. He shook his head and scratched his stubbly chin.

"I know, I hate this entire mess just as much as the next, but..." he looked up at Vee, seeing through the flat emotionless and coldness, and seeing a plea for help. He stood up from his leaning position on the counter and walked over to Vee, leaving his coffee cup behind.

"Vee..." he put a hand on her shoulder, his grip was gentle and reassuring, "when was the last time you have been to confession?" his look was serious, those blue eyes cutting as a knife.

Vee couldn't stop herself from physically flinching away from Malcolm's large hand, even though her face betrayed no anxiety. On the inside, though, she felt like something evil was trying to claw it's way out of her belly.

" Never. I'm not Catholic." she said quietly, her green eyes dropping from his, unable to take the intensity of his stare. Malcolm turned Vee around and walked her to what was his room. It still stank of cigarette smoke, but it was private.

"Well, there is a first time for everything." he said in a light tone as he sat her down on the edge of the bed. He took a chair from the dining table and brought it closer to the bed.

"Vee... I am the one who should apologize. I was less-than-kind with my words, and I know the pain you are going through." He reached in to his sweater and pulled out his charm necklace, twining the silver chain in his hand.

"Now, it is obvious that something has you very distressed. Tell me what it is. Perhaps I can give you peace."

She didn't like him. He was one more thing in a world of little reminders that tore at her heart, him and the memory of his hand pulling the knife that had stolen everything from her out of Chase's eyes, burned into her brain. She'd respected him, when she'd met him. Thought him attractive, although his obvious love of Claire had squashed any thought of romance. But she couldn't forget Chase's blood on his hands, the way he'd treated her, and her anger was seething and boiling inside her.

But when he said the word peace, it resonated in the pit of her stomach like someone had struck a massive bell nearby. And she wanted that, and every inch of salvation he could offer her, wanted it bad enough that she would happily swallow her hurt and her pride. But the malignancy inside her welled up and and her jaw locked. She couldn't tell him. She just couldn't. She could not make the words form. She watched him, silent and despairing. He hadn't understood when she could speak, and now she couldn't tell him the one thing she needed to say the most.

So she settled for the other thing that burned in her chest, aching to be said.

" I never told him." she whispered. Malcolm's eyebrows drew back, giving his face a saddened look. There was more to what was going on, but she did not want to share it. Oh well. Perhaps he could coax it out.

"Chase?" it was the only logical answer. "Vee, Chase was a good man. Pure of heart and mind and soul. Though he had his flaws and quirks, as we all do, he now resides in paradise. He is in a good place, Vee. I know my words will not bring him back, but... I could get your words to him."

" He never knew... I never told him... I thought there was time." Vee whispered, fighting to keep from whimpering like a child. This was not what she wanted to say but now that she had started, she couldn't stop. " I didn't tell him how I felt, that I wanted to show him how good it could be..."

Malcolm felt sympathy for the poor woman, for once. He placed his hands on her shoulders with great precaution. She was like a startled mare. One wayward twitch and Malcolm's face would have more than scrapes and bruises, if he had a face left.

"You are not to blame for his untimely demise, Vee. Nor am I, and neither is Claire. It was all Lyrico's doing. Also know that Chase can feel the love you have for him still. Let him have that love. Don't keep it bottled with with rage, regret, and remourse. Let it free, and you will be freed as well."

If only it was so easy, she thought, raising her gaze, eyes miraculously dry. She wondered if it was the evil in her that was making her so cold, or if it was just a self-defense thing.

Malcolm's hand was too hot on her skin, and her muscles were tight and twitching with the need to pull away, but she resisted it. Instead she held still and forced herself to look him in the eye, begging him to see what she couldn't make herself say.

"Vee... did you make any deals lately?" he prodded cautiously, his palms feeling the sudden heat against her skin. His eyes narrowed, peering in to her dark eyes. There was something sinister in her, he could feel it.

"Vee, just nod or shake your head: do you want me to do my thing?" he assumed she knew what he meant. Pulling the darkness out of her, banish it with light. That is assuming there is some supernatural darkness consuming her, and not her own.

She couldn't move. She couldn't breathe. Her entire body locked into place, her face expressionless. Her lungs were burning and the malignancy was raging inside her, and if she could have moved she'd have cried at the pain it caused.

Yes! Yes! Do that! she screamed at him in her mind. Malcolm closed his eyes, placing his hand on her head. He found the all-consuming darkness within her, and tried attacking it. The Chaplain's eyes twitched as he flinched. This was something much stronger than him. He pressed on, trying to push it away, but it was stuck there. At most, Malcolm was pushing it back, burying it deep, out of sight and out of mind, at least for a little while.

"There..." he panted, sweat making his face glisten in the early morning light. "It's gone..."

The pressure had eased. She could move and breathe again. She thought she could still feel it, threading it's cancerous tendrils into her very bones, but she wanted to believe him... she was desperate to believe him. She only looked up at him, small and so broken she was afraid to hope.

He left her with a pat on the shoulder and she stayed behind for a long moment, staring at the floor, waiting for some shining realization or sense of well-being that never came.

[StormWolf]

Malcolm sighed and grumbled in a gravelly voice as he moved away from the room he just left. He should not have lied to Vee, but what else could he have done? She needed something to put her mind at rest and clear her head. The last thing she needed was him telling her that she had some indomitable darkness festering in the deepest part of her soul.

The Chaplain looked down at the parking lot, seeing Claire bring up a beat up white van. It looked like it was high time to get the fuck out of dodge. Malcolm knew the drill; he had been in the military after all, and he knew how to rouse the troops when it was time to get asses in gear. Walking by the rooms that housed his comrades, Malcolm balled his right hand in to a fist and rapped his hand against the cheap doors three times each. He only moved on when he heard the tell-tale shuffling and groaning of someone who just suffered a very rude awakening.

Once the troops were roused, Malcolm grabbed the massive duffle bag full of their weapons and armor and threw it in the back of the large white truck. First, Malcolm fished his .50 caliber Desert Eagle out of the bag and placed it inside the glove box in the large van.

***

Malcolm rubbed his eyes as he sat behind the wheel of the van. That cup of coffee hadn’t done all that it should have, but the adrenaline helped. His eyes were stained red from exhaustion and dark circles surrounded his eyeballs. Sure, he looked like he was about to fall over dead, and he felt like shit both inside and out, but he still refused to let himself get so shaken he could not perform in the line of duty. He has seen Claire and Vee start to crumble. With them slowly falling apart, the rest would follow suit eventually. Malcolm found himself being shaken to the core at times. The times were hard for them all; life as they knew it was over. Some had lost those they loved while others resented being human. The Chaplain felt his nerves wearing thin, especially with Bear now casting his fat ass shadow over everything. How many lovers of Claire’s were going to show up? How many of them did she still love? Where did Malcolm stand compared to the rest? He shook his head and rubbed his eyes, he wasn’t about to let Bear’s black mood infect him… but still, how much was enough? Should Malcolm just retreat? Would the emptiness be better than the pain? The Chaplain grumbled,

“Come on, people! We don’t have all day!”

[Mysteria]

As Claire made her way to the car, she watched as the operatives made their way to the van. She quietly hoped that there would be no problems during the trip. Too much had already gone wrong and Claire had enough problems already. Glancing around, she saw Shane exiting her room…alone. Claire quickly altered her route and made her way to Shane.

“Where’s Aaron?” Claire spoke softly and a look of concern was evident on her face.

The look on Shanes face must have been more than obvious because Shane had no sooner exited the room than Claire approached her. Usually Shane would have been the perfect picture of calm cool and collected but so much shit had happened so quickly that try as she might, Shane was having a hard time keeping it pulled together. Putting on the bravest face that she could for Claire's sake Shane squared off her jaw and replied "I'm not sure Claire.." Suddenly Shanes voice trailed off as she swallowed hard to fight back the tears that were trying to force their way out of the corner of her eyes. She didn't like the idea of Claire or any of the other operatives seeing her in this weakened state. So far only Aaron had ever seen her at her worst, she had always managed to remain collected around the other SCAR members. "I was taking a bath and heard Aaron out in the bedroom so I finished as quickly as I could because we haven't had any time to talk since all hell broke loose, but until I got into the bedroom he was gone."

Shane stopped for a moment to take a long drawn out deep breath in order to give herself time to recompose herself before she continued speaking. She looked Claire directly in the eyes hoping that Claire wouldn't see through her facade of a hardened exterior. "Claire listen, I know that Aaron is the new guy here but he wouldn't have just skipped out when the going got tough. Granted some really weird shit has been happening here but..." Shane stopped and debated for a second about whether or not to tell Claire about her dream, and that she was afraid that maybe somehow Lilith had gotten to Aaron too, that maybe she had somehow threatened someone Aaron loved. Steadying her voice she skipped the details of her dream and finished. "I helped him train, he was..." Shane's voice wavered slightly "he was ready for this. He wouldn't have abandoned us." Although Shanes voice was solid and not filled with a shred of doubt, a single tear trickled from the corner of her eye as she finished her statement "He would not have willingly abandoned me."

Shane moved her hand to brush away the tear as she looked into Claires eyes. "I realize that the rest of you don't know Aaron like I did Claire, but I know him. He wouldn't have left of his own free will...I.. I just don't know what happened to him."

Claire wondered if she should tell Shane about the possibility of Lilith being involved. She stayed silent, thinking it better to wait until she knew more. And that was provided Karen's husband could find anything out. Instead, she hugged Shane and spoke softly.

"We'll find him Shane," Claire embraced her for a moment before releasing her and looking into her eyes.

"He didn't leave a note or anything?" Claire looked at her curiously.

Claires hug almost sent Shane into a fit of tears but Shane refused to break. After returning Claires hug Shane took a few steps back, her calm demeanor returning quickly. "No, there was no note, nothing. One minute I heard him and thought he had fallen asleep because I could hear him breathing steadily like he was in a deep slumber when suddenly it sounded like he was having bad dreams. I rushed...I was going to wake him but like I said, by the time I got there, he was gone." Shane shook her head. It just didn't make any sense to Shane and she was certain Lilith had to be at the bottom of it. Still reluctant to say too much about dreams or the possibility of Lilith being involved Shane added only "But we can't focus on that now Claire, we have to keep moving or we risk putting the entire team in danger and we can't not even for Aarons sake...." Again tears threatened to erupt but Shane refused to let them get the better of her. "We have to keep moving, at least for now Claire." As much as Shane hated saying the words she said had spit them out. Her brown eyes darkened as she added "But if it's the last thing I do, I will find Aaron and I will figure out what the hell these dreams..." Realizing she had almost said to much Shane grew quiet for a second before saying abruptly "We should go now."

As Claire listened to Shane, her first impulse was to use her power and take the sadness away. She felt it was something she had no right to do and doubted she would want that if their situations were reversed. But Claire felt her heart sink in her chest when Shane mentioned dreams.

"No wait," Claire spoke through gritted teeth, staring at Shane intently. "What dreams?"

Shane was taken aback by Claires words. She couldn't possibly tell Claire about the dream without risking Kara's life. There were too many variables, there was too much of a chance that Lilith could actually harm Kara. Shane lowered her eyes as she spoke not wanting Claire to be able to see her white lie, or her pain "It's nothing Claire, it's just a dream I had when we were resting back in the woods earlier and I screamed." Shane bit her lip, up until now no one had known about Kara's illness but Aaron. Shane spoke softly "It was nothing, it's just that my sister has been very ill and I had a dream....it scared me but it was nothing. Kara will be fine, I'll make sure she is."

"Are you sure?" Claire asked, trying not to sound suspicious.

Shane attempted a smile towards Claire. She wanted to tell her, she wanted to trust her but as she started with the words "It's really nothing there was just this strange kid" Shanes words were cut short by the sharp breath that she drew when the sudden pain ripped through her chest at the mention of the word kid. Shanes breath caught in her throat as she realized that it really had been more than just a dream and that Lilith was making good on her promise to cause her and her sister pain and harm. She just couldn't take the risk.

Looking up at Claire she stated matter of factually "I'm not feeling so well Claire, I think it's best if we just get moving." The back of her hand stung and her chest felt tight. Shane just wanted to sit down. "I think we should join the others now, I just need to sit down and think."

Claire's hand shot to Shane's shoulder. Even someone without her training would be able to see she was in pain. Pain which seemed to pass as quickly as it came.

"Okay Shane," Claire nodded. "Come on then. Ride in the car with Karen and I." Claire smiled, wondering what Shane wasn't telling her. She felt an overwhelming urge to read Shane's mind, but quickly suppressed it.

Shane smiled weakly at Claire and was thankful that Claire hadn't pushed it any further. Shane knew full well that had Claire wanted too that she could have gotten her to tell what was on her mind or that Claire had her ways of knowing what was going through her mind, what she didn't know was why Claire hadn't pushed her. At that moment though, Shane didn't want to discuss it any further or question it for fear that Claire would go ahead and push for more information. Instead, Shane reached her hand out and lay it on Claires shoulder thanking her and accepting the invitation to go with Claire and Karen. "Sure Claire, thanks. I'm just feeling...overwhelmed I guess." Shane said, still rubbing her hand which by this time felt like it was on fire. At least she was finally able to catch her breath as she slowly followed Claire towards the car. "Are you sure Karen won't mind?"

"I doubt she will," Claire smiled coyly. "I just hope you don't mind our taste in music."

For the first time it what felt like ages, Shane laughed a small laugh "Anything will be fine, I just really think I need to sit down." With that Claire helped Shane to steady herself as they walked to the car. Shane crawled into the back seat and looked out the window, submerged in her own thoughts as Claire took a seat up front. She was barely aware of the others speaking after that.

(co with the snazzy naz man himself)

[Cookies Ahoy]

Kristy sat in the passenger seat of the old van, drumming her fingers lightly on the armrest. She wasn't excited about the twelve hour drive to Detroit. She had been a driver for the Marines for a time, but she never did drives that lasted half a day. The nice thing was that she had an actual seat to sit in, at least for some of the drive. Kristy drifted off to sleep for a time, and when she woke up she was greeted with the same boring landscape she had seen before she had fallen asleep. She began to massage her head, stroking her now brown hair. She'd spent the better half of the night dying it.

Eventually she looked at the driver and spoke curiously, "We have a long drive don't we? You wanna tell me a little about yourself Malcolm?"

The Chaplain raised his head from his hand and quirked a dark eyebrow at Kristy. He didn't rightly know what to think of her. Claire trusted Kirsty with her life, but then again, Claire's character choices always were... different. Still, Kristy made it so the squad could escape in the last assignment, so that bought her at least a pleasant attitude from Malcolm.

"What is there to tell? I was born in to a strict Catholic family as an only child. I entered the Clergy as soon as I could, and I served overseas as a Chaplain. Joining the Marines made my parents all but hate my guts. I died in the sand over there, only to come back with all of this supernatural shit in my system. Two days later SCAR picks me up."

Kristy blinked twice, then asked curiously, "Died? Forgive my ignorance, but I thought once you were dead, you were, well... Dead." Malcolm chuckled at the thought. How many times had he died now? Twice? Malcolm would not stop for death, and unlike that horrible poet, Death would not stop for him. The Angels kept scaring the bastard off.

"You are surprised? Don't you remember Arkham? I really don't know myself, but all I can assume is that God has plans for me, so his Angels won't let me die..." he grumbled, rubbing his aching eyes. He was so tired. "It's a pain in the ass..." He sniffed irritably, he obviously was frustrated with the fact that he was brought back twice.

"It is one giant irony... I'm a priest whome God won't let me in to Heaven because He fucking needs me to do his dirty work..."

Kristy turned her eyes towards the passing landscaping, a traffic sign dashed by too quickly to read. She wasn't sure she believed in a God. Whenever the subject was brought up, Kristy usually veered away from it. She didn't have much choice being in a rickety, old van doing seventy-five miles per hour.

"So you really think there is someone up there?" Kristy asked bluntly.

She braced herself mentally as best as she could, in case Malcolm went drill sergeant on her. Malcolm could only smirk mirthlessly, barely a upward turn on the corner of his lip. He kept his eyes on the road as he shook his head "no".

"I don't think He is up there. I know he is up there... I have knelt before him and sworn my service. That is why I am still alive. Just as I know Lucifer exists because I suffered his cruelty." The Chaplain gave Kristy a no-nonsense look for a moment before his eyes returned to the road.

"That is the most difficult burden of all. Not being able to believe." he said in a sad and darkened tone. A priest that couldn't believe, but knew, of the Lord in Heaven and his angelic host.

"He exists, Kristy, so does Satan, and so do Angels and Demons. Try believing. It is a gift many have forsaken, and it makes life a lot easier."

"How can I, Malcolm? My family situation sucks, this ability of mine ruined my future, I lost friends over in The Sandbox, and now I'm stuck in this situation," Kristy paused, trying to hold back the tears that were beginning to well up, she put her head in her hands, "Its not fair Malcolm, isn't God supposed to watch out for his people?" The Chaplain simply chuckled dryly, shaking his head.

"God is there to listen to our prayers and sometimes answer them. All the evil that has happened to you has happened at the hands of humanity. The burden of Man is free will. God cannot intervene and impose his Will on anyone. Me, I serve him because I want to. Because I gave my word and swore on my soul." Malcolm checked the rear view mirrors for a moment, then his eyes darted back to the road. He still checked the rear view mirror several times, keeping his eye on Bear. Malcolm snarled as the mere sight of him. Something about that big, dumb oaf did not sit well with Malcolm at all. He would keep his aim on Bear, just in case. Sure, personal vendetta came in to the factor. Yes, that was unprofessional, but having your office blown up counts as being unemployed, so he could do whatever the fuck he wanted, according to Claire and company.

"Humans are capable of great and terrible things, Kristy. We can be nurturing and kind," he cast his cutting blue eyes to the mirror, looking at Bear with a grin that bordered on sadistic, "or we can be murderous psychopaths. It is our choice, and that is how God made it."

Kristy wanted to object, wanted to say something to oppose Malcolm, but he was right. She was silent for a few moments as she wiped her eyes and regained her composure. Her gaze was still fixed outside the moving landscape.

"I guess so..." Kristy muttered with a sigh. Looking over to her, Malcolm mustered up as reassuring a smile he could manage and he patted her on the knee, tying to give her some kind of comfort.

"That's good enough for me." he said flatly as his smile melted away. There was some serious shit going down in the world. Malcolm figured everyone needed something to hold on to. If "I guess so" is how they are holding on, Malcolm won't push them.

Kristy silently mouthed, "Thanks," at her teammate. She felt better letting things out. Malcolm wasn't as bad as Karen had made him out to be.



----


Coop'd with StormWolf

[Ryudo]

Just as Marc was about to shut his eyes he heard the summons to leave the hotel, though he had previously felt unstoppable, the rigors of the previous hours had begun to take its toll. Marc rolled out of bed with a groan and whispered curse, he’d been through worse, but still it undoubtedly wasn’t a walk in the park.

Marc looked rounded up his few belongings and got dressed, he rolled up one of his jean legs and strapped his machete, the only weapon that he had on him currently. It served a dual purpose strapped their on his leg, on one hand it could come in handy during an emergency, but on the other it served more of a comforting role then a protective one. Some people carried blankets, Marc carried a machete...and booze when he had room.

Stepping out into the cool breeze he noticed two cars idling, well, to be more accurate a Van and a pink thing. While Marc did notice that the majority of the women were heading towards the pink Fiesta, Marc opted for the Van this time around, there was a better chance for him to get a couple of winks in the Van instead of the estrogen mobile.

Climbing into the van Marc gave a small nod to Kristy as he climbed into the back, once he arrived at his destination he made himself comfortable and rested his eyes. All things considered, today wasn’t that bad of a day at all. And with that thought Marc felt his eyelids grow heavy, he leaned against the interior of the van and felt the world slip away slowly into darkness.


--------------------------------------------------

Marc sat right up, instantly his hands reached for his machete, but when his fingers came into contact with his jeans he felt something quite different. Marc looked down to find that he was wearing his favorite cashmere suit. It had been painstakingly tailored in England, whereupon it was inspected to the ninth degree, each button was seamlessly attached, and it had been fitted to his exact specifications. The black suit was perfectly complimented by an expertly made purple striped black tie, perched atop his suit in a flawless full windsor.

Marc stood up and cracked his neck, trying to figure out where exactly it was that he had woken up. He appeared to be standing on coarse sand, the wind was whipping it up this way and that, causing Marc to cover his eyes with one hand. Suddenly, out of the sand a man came running towards him, instantly Marc recognized the man’s face, he was one of his captors back in during his Seals days. The man ran straight towards him with reckless abandon, until he simply fell to the ground dead. Behind him stood another Marc Wright, dressed in full Army gear. Another Marc appeared, and then another, and then another. They were all dressed differently, some in fatigues, some in civilian clothes. They encircled him and began to close in, their hands reaching for his neck, Marc simply looked down.

Nothing.

When Marc finally looked up all the forms were gone, and now he was somewhere else completely. He rubbed his eyes in disbelief as he discovered that he was now in a great hall, replete with vases, chandeliers, velvet couches, and unfathomably beautiful women. He approached one of them, a red head, who laughed playfully and handed him a cigar and a glass of brandy,

“Thank you gorgeous,” he said as he gladly took the offerings from the young lady, “now this...this is the life.”

"Why are you wasting time with him?" An incredibly beautiful blond in a string bikini, which left very little to the imagination, asked.

"He's no one special," Her tone was sarcastic. "Well...not anymore. Come on girls, we can do better than this has been." She turned to leave the room and the other women quickly followed suit, leaving Marc alone in the room.

“Wait! What the fuck?” Marc yelled across the large foyer, his voice echoed loudly with anger, “Not anymore? Don’t you know who I...” He paused, his voice trembling, “I am the best there fucking is!”

The reverberations from Marc's voice faded and there was nothing but silence. After just a few moments, by the sound of a young girl singing and Lilith skipped into the room. She skipped right passed Marc and then stopped. She brought her hand up to her temple as if thinking really hard about something and then turned to look at Marc.

"Didn't you used to be famous?" Lilith held the the teddy bear at her side and was smiling brightly.

"I think my daddy used to talk about you," Lilith's head tilted to the side and she hugged the bear.

Marc forced himself to calm down as he looked at the little girl, he had to admit that she looked very out of place for this party. Listening to her speak he couldn’t help but smile a bit, it wasn’t exactly the person he wanted the recognition from, but still it was a start.

“Really? Your dad huh?” Marc bent one knee so that she didn’t feel so awkward, “What did he say?”

"I don't really remember," Lilith smiled. "Something about you being a hero and then you just disappeared. He said people used to talk about you a lot. No one does anymore. Is that true?"

Marc smiled a bit bigger, but now a small amount of disappointment shone in his eyes, “Your daddy sounds like a real smart guy, and it’s true what he said, I used to be on every news station, newspaper, and talk show.” He let his voice trail off.

"Wow, does it make you sad that you're just like everybody else?" Lilith stepped closer to Marc. "I mean, You used to be famous and now you don't exist, that must be hard for you.

Marc opened his mouth to give a response thick with sarcasm, but he bit his tongue, “Well, I try not to think about it too much, you know, think no evil.” He laughed a bit, trying to down play his true emotions.

"I know it would make me sad if no one noticed me anymore or knew who I was," Lilith frowned slightly. At this Marc let out a small sigh, he had once had everything, forget oysters, the world was his one night stand. Unfortunately that euphemism was more true than Marc would ever admit, his night was over and the two participants had departed, never to speak again, “Well, your right, it would be quite sad.”

"So you're happy then?" Lilith looked at him curiously.

At this Marc took a large drink of the brandy he had received from the redhead earlier,

“Happy is a bit subjective isn’t...” he looked at the girl and became aware of who he was talking to, after all, who was he trying to fool, a 10 year old?

“Not as happy as I used to be, I guess.”

"Would you like to hold Mister Binky?" Lilith held the bear out to Marc. "That always makes me feel better when I'm sad."

Marc pulled a lighter from his jacket pocket and lit the cigar,

“Thanks for the offer sweetheart, but I have two of my favorite comfort objects right here,” he raised the cigar and brandy a bit, “that’s a cute name for a bear though.”

"It's good that you've found somehting to substitute for the adoration of others," Lilith beamed. "I don't have to tell you how to become famous again. It was nice meeting you. Bye." Lilith shrugged her shoulders and turned skipping towards the door.

Lilith stopped and turned, looking at him curiously.

"But you're not sad," Lilith sounded confused. "What do you need with any of that? People knowing you're name and giving you the respect you're due. Women screaming and fainting at the sight of you. You have you're comfort's there," she motioned at the brandy. "What do you need fame for?"

“What do I need fame for? Because deep down thats all I ever wanted to be, and for a month I had it! Then I got dealt a shit run of luck and because of it I became a nobody! So I drink and I smoke and I make love to every attractive female that breathes because it makes me feel famous!” Marc threw the brandy to the ground, it crashed loudly, “I need fame because being famous is all that defined me. The torture in that camp was ten times better than the torture of being like everyone else!”

"Well I could help," Lilith eyed him suspiciously. "But you would have to play a game with me. I like games and I have a really good one I want to play. Will you play with me?”

Marc clenched his fists as tight as he could, the released them, every muscle ached as he tried to alleviate some of his tension,

“A good game huh? And if I play it, somehow, you’ll help make me famous again?”

Marc looked at the ground, the shattered glass was surely a metaphor for something but he at this point he didn’t give a fuck,

“Sure, I’ll play your game.”

"Oh goody," Lilith squealed. "Just take my hand. I will make you famous again, and you will play my game," Lilith grinned

"You just have to play my game silly," Lilith giggled. "And follow the rules. My daddy says the rules are very important for this game. My daddy made it and I've always wanted to play it, but it's so hard to find the right people to play with. And I get to give yo a gift. Something that will make you stronger," Lilith smiled innocently.

“Make me stronger? Well tell your dad I said thanks, course I already am pretty strong.” He couldn’t help but laugh as he took her hand in his, for a moment the notion of innumerable fame filled Marc’s mind, but suddenly it was replaced by a burning sensation so intense it knocked Marc to his knees. It felt as if Marc’s soul was the kindling for some unholy blaze, he doubled over in agony and slammed the ground. Suddenly, amidst all the torment and writhing pain, Marc witnessed a burning E become emblazoned on back of his left hand. He looked up at the girl in pain, and choked out a few words

“What the hell have you done to me?”

"We have made a deal," Lilith grinned. "One that neither of us can go back on. I'm sorry for the pain. You should hold Mister Binky." Lilith offered the bear to Marc once again.

“I don’t want your fucking bear you little bitch!” Marc stammered as the pain nearly brought him to a prone position.

"Then suffer," Lilith glared at Marc. "And I shall tell you the rules." Lilith moved and knelt down next to Marc, placing the bear on the floor next to him.

"First," Lilith's tone and expression became far more serious. "You are not to speak of this to anyone. I will protect you from having your thoughts and emotions read. When the time comes, I will call you and you will come. And then, you will do what I say. And if you break any of these rules, Mister Binky will fuck your rotting dead carcass after the skin has been flayed from your bones." Lilith grinned evilly and the bear transformed into the abomination that was Mister Binky.

It towered over the now prone Marc, and long bony fingers ending in razor sharp talons, grabbed Marc and began to dismember him.


--------------------------------------------------

When Marc awoke he realized two things, one that he was sweating profusely, and two the Van had come to a stop. He reasoned that they must have reached Detroit, Marc took a deep breath and then a wave of awarness washed over him regarding the dream he had just experienced. Marc wasn’t sure which was scarier, the dream or Detroit.

[Merry]

Baket slowly rolled over with a small groan hearing the banging at the door from Malcolm’s loud wake up call. She lifted her head up with a small groan, to see that Vee was already gone from the dingy little motel room. Her head was splitting, probably from lack of sleep, definitely from using her “gift” without anything to refill her energy levels. That would have to be rectified sooner than later. She lay back for a minute, staring at the gray ceiling, forcing herself to come fully awake. Gray? Who the hell paints their ceilings gray, she idly wondered. Moving a little slowly, she sat up wondering what time it even was, but then not really caring either. It was obviously time to go, did it matter what time it was?

She headed to the bathroom, threw some water on her face, not looking too closely at her reflection in the mirror. Knowing it would only reveal back at her how exhausted she would look. Indifferently running fingers through her curly locks, pulling it back into a quick tight ponytail. It would have to suffice.

She mechanically pulled on clothing that was selected the night before and she left the room without another glance. There was nothing left in there that she needed, or wanted. The realization hitting her, as she headed down the stairs, that she was probably one of the last people out, her room having been at the end of the row of rooms. She quickened her steps seeing people already inside the vehicles, ready to go. Chicago was what she had heard, not really caring right now. Just needing more sleep and food, her body was definitely running on empty right now.

Noting that Marc headed to the van, she turned and headed for the car with Claire, Karen, and Shane. Best to avoid that, for now. “morning” she mumbled climbing into the car, closing the door laying her head back against the seat, closing her eyes, hoping the headache would pass soon, it was going to be an awfully long ride if it didn't.

[Auki]

Her car stood out in the dusty car park, easy to spot amongst the worn-down vehicles that surrounded it. Karen paced restlessly around it, unable to stay still, her mind refusing to settle. The boot of her Fiesta was opened and every few minutes she would rifle through it, hoping to find something that would calm her nerves. She was not your typical person – She did not rely on cigarettes or alcohol to control her mood like most others she saw. The Vodka bottle stuffed beneath one of the back seats didn’t even tempt her – The smell of Claire beside her all night had put her off any alcohol for the near future. The cans of Pepsi were much more appealing although their tumbling in the back of her car did cause them to spray foam over the car park ground before they settled. She sipped through three, attempting to clear her head but still finding her body twitching at every moment.

The empty cans were discarded using her power, dragged around the car park a couple times until she built up the momentum to propel them far over the rooftops. She couldn’t even bring herself to care if they might hurt someone before she was searching through the back of her car again. A battered Gameboy caught her interest, an old model her husband had claimed at a boot sale, but she doubted there was time to lose herself in the world of Mario and angry-looking mushrooms. There was a pack of cigars tucked in the corner but whose they were she had no idea.

In a futile last attempt, she scratched her keys along the back of her trembling hands, finding an instant relief that lasted only moments before she was shaking again. Kicking the wheel of her car in frustration, she wondered if she would ever be allowed to find peace. Women usually cried at this point but she considered herself a stronger person than that. Instead she resorted to stamping her feet on the ground like a ten-year-old child and cursing in every language she knew how to. She quickly discovered that she knew very little in the way of foreign swear words.

Her lack of knowledge dumb-founded her momentarily as she stood still to ponder her ignorance but soon, the events of the night caught up on her and she found herself pacing around her vehicle again. She didn’t even notice that the entire time she had been obsessively checking her surroundings, precisely every thirty seconds. It seemed as natural as breathing but that was her mind denying the anxiety she felt.

At the least, it helped her notice the other team members trickling from the hotel to congregate in the car park. She refused to move her Fiesta closer to the group but she had enough manners to approach them herself. She chuckled to herself in amusement as she saw the van the others would be forced to ride in although, upon hearing Claire offer up the remaining seats in her car without asking for permission, her chuckle died to a growled muttering. She didn’t wait to hear the ending of the speech, mentally flipping off their team leader for her lack of consideration before returning to her car. The boot was slammed close with a little too much force.

Sitting down in the driver’s seat impatiently, she checked the car was out of gear six times before she was able to still her hands. She hoped that driving would focus her mind. It was either that or the adventure would come to a quick close for the four of them. If it wasn’t bad enough that Claire entered the car silently, her other two passengers did the same, curling up on the back seat with barely a word.

She left the silence to linger for a moment before pulling off, cocking a quizzical eyebrow at the haunted expression on Malcolm’s face as she passed by the van. Was the whole team in a state of depression? She was actually longing to feel that apathetic – Restlessness and exhaustion did not mix well it seemed. At least she was allowed to lead the way.

The more Claire failed to find a suitable CD, the more irked Karen became – She wanted to snap at the woman but was reluctant to make such a bad impression on those in the back. However, without music or conversation, she knew the trip would drive her insane. A thousand unsuitable opening lines flashed through her head but she resisted the urge to anger everyone in the car even further. The two in the back seemed to be content sleeping and staring out the window regardless.

Karen attempted a smile, “I’ve rearranged the CDs since you’ve last been in here. Kept them organised chronologically by artist name for ten years and then one day, just…yeah, thought I’d change it. It goes by song name now – A to Z – if you’re looking for anything particular.” She realised how pathetic she sounded but she hoped it might spark something of a conversation. She disliked seeing Claire so absorbed in her thoughts but she couldn’t think of anything to comfort her, “There’s that CD we played on the way to Las Vegas down the bottom somewhere. I remember you saying you liked that one… I think.”

"Thanks," Claire smiled and took the CD out of the case. She held it in her hand for a moment, staring at it as the memories of the trip to Vegas entered her mind. The smile widened a little and she inserted the disc into the player.

The moment the music started, Claire cranked the volume to maximum and they started belting out the tune in unison with the singer.

"Tell me what you want what you really really want."

[John]

For the entire ride, Claire wished she was alone with Karen in the car. It would have given Claire the time she needed to talk with her. As it was, they had company, so instead, she spent the majority of the ride singing loudly, and badly, along with Karen to the music blasting out of the car stereo. The music consisted mostly of cheesy 80’s and 90’s pop. Bands like the Spice girls, S Club 7, the Go-Go’s and Take That reverberated throughout the car.

Once they had arrived in Detroit, Claire switched over to the radio, dropping the volume considerably. Taking a few moments, Claire scanned through the stations to one which was playing the news and listened intently, She wanted to hear if anything more had been said about the terrorist attack she was supposedly responsible for. It didn’t take long for her to find out and her jaw dropped and her eyes bugged out of her head at what she heard. As the car came to a halt.

“Fuck!” Claire hissed at the radio, and opened the car door moving immediately for the van. She opened the door and climbed in, moving straight for the radio. Turning it on, she found the station which was playing the story and turned it up loud.

“Once again, our top story. It has now been confirmed that one of the terrorists working with Claire Hannon is decorated war hero Marc Wright. Originally gaining notoriety on the Arabian coast, the once dubbed “one man army” appears to have turned against America and is now considered to be armed and extremely dangerous. For a picture of Marc, go to our website at w w w . wxplnews . com (http://blogs.babble.com/famecrawler/wp-content/uploads/2009/07/jude-law-picture-1.jpg). Now with the weather, we turn you over to-” Claire immediately shut the radio off and stepped back out of the van.

“Come on guys,” Claire spoke softly,. “Let’s get inside. Some of us don’t want to be seen right now.” Claire gave a serious look towards Marc and headed towards the door of the old warehouse.

Despite now being safe, Claire’s emotions were reeling. She was indeed happy that she had managed to get the others here safely. But there was still that gnawing in her gut which told her they were still going to have major problems. Right now, she was also hoping that Karen’s husband would find out something useful about Lilith.

She glanced over at Mal as she led the group down the hall and to the elevator. This was something else she didn’t want to face. She knew Mal wanted to talk to her and had a good feeling of what most of it was going to consist of. She couldn’t help wondering if it was all her fault. She tried to convince herself that it was her powers getting the better of her, but more and more, Claire blamed herself. She was falling back into the way she used to think of herself and her power. About how she was weak for not being able to control it despite her best efforts. And for the first time in a while, Claire suddenly felt very alone in the world.

They took the elevator down and Claire entered her password into the computer, which informed her that Charlie and Adrian were both here as well. That there was another surviving member of SCAR gave her a good feeling. The walls of the small room opened into the main room and Claire immediately walked straight for Charlie, hugging her for a moment.

“It’s good to see you,” Claire pulled back and looked Charlie up and down for a moment then smiled. “We’re going to have to get you fixed up properly.” Turning away, Claire smiled Adrian.

“ Been while Adrian, “Claire smiled. She then turned to the group. “Computer, open all doors.” Some clicking noises echoed through the room and Claire spoke again.

“Everybody, this is Charlie and Adrian. All of you make yourselves at home. Rooms are through that door,” Claire pointed. “Kitchen’s down there. Med bay there, and armoury’s down that hallway.” Claire then turned and headed to the computer, and began typing.

[Ace of Hearts™]

Adrian had drifted of to sleep, with Charlie parallel to him, on one of the many couches. He was dreaming of Marie, as he always does. He was just about to hug her in a field of flowers when he was awoken by the sound of doors opening and people speaking. He stood up to see Claire, and few other he didn't know.

Claire made a B-line, straight to Charlie, giving her a hug and exchanging short pleasantries. She then looked over, very nonchalantly, and told him that it's been a while. She then explained the layout of the safe-house to everyone, and went to a computer to start typing.

Adrian walked slowly over to her, as everyone else was conversing. He stepped behind her, tapped on her shoulder, and through his helmet static stated the important elephant in the room.

"Claire, I need answers."

Claire sighed. She had expected this of course, but didn't know how much use she could really be. Swiveling the chair, She looked up at Adrian.

I suppose you do," Claire spoke calmly. "But I don't have a lot for you. I don't know what happened, not really. I only know that my team was set up. But by who, or why, I don't know."

"What was going on at the time it happened? What was the currant mission?"

Adrian asked. He still didn't know what to believe. It was all so crazy. He didn't like the idea of betrayal, but who else could get their hands on a damned nuke?

"As of now, I still have to suspect you of doing it. I hope you understand."

I don't mind Adrian," Claire smiled slightly. "If our situations were reversed, I would do the same." The computer beeped and Claire turned to type something in before directing her attention back to Adrian.

"HQ had picked up large amounts of spectral energy coming from Cold Oaks South Dakota, we were sent in to investigate. When we got there, the readings were coming form a device that turned out to be a bomb. No one was hurt in the explosion but there were..." Claire glanced at Vee and frowned. "...casualties."

Adrian pulled over a nearby chair and sat down. He heard of the casualties, and made his retort.

"Such as the entire base?" He said, the static in his voice hiding the darkness in his voice.

"So, the bomb was in Cold Oaks, but the base was also destroyed? And if no one was hurt, who died?"

Adrian was slowly getting impatient. Surely it was hard to explain, but certain things just didn't click with him.

"Two of my team members," Claire spoke softly. "One saved me from the other. Look Adrian, I know this is all hard to believe. I was there and I have a hard time believing it. But why would I blow up SCAR?"

"That's what I'm tumbling around in my head." Adrian said somberly. He sat up from his chair and held out his hand for a shake.

"I'm sorry for the loss of them, by the way." He said, with true remorse in his voice.

"I still don't know what to believe, but for now, I'm with all of you." He said, a little more cheerfully.

"Glad to here it, Claire started to smile, but it quickly faded as she looked at Adrian. "We have to get England Adrian. I'm making fake passports for everyone," Claire motioned at the screen. "But we need to do something about your face, you kind of stand out with the bandages.

Adrian tilted his head forward. His face. He hadn't even thought of it in a while. Surely getting on a plane in full combat armor wasn't the best way to stay incognito.

"I don't see what you'd like me to do, I don't wear bandages ever, and walking on board naturally would scare the masses."

"Well," Claire pondered as she spoke. "I might be able to synthesize something with the help of the computer. Would at least work temporarily. Barring that, we may need to find somehting a little more underground."

"Underground? I don't understand." Adrian questioned. Maybe he could wear a mask, or some kind of hat.

"You say you can make me a face? Like in Darkman?Adrian exclaimed.

"Darkman?" Claire looked at him curiously. Claire assumed it must be a movie or TV show, as they were two things she didn't engage in; though she would watch TV for the news.

"And no, I can't make you a face. I don't have the equipment necessary to create artificial skin, nor the time to graft it to your face. This will be more like a mask, but it will look like skin, unless someone were to look closely. But it should be good enough to at least get you through customs. Our gear will be another story."

"Well, then, I've hidden my face plenty of times." Adrian said. It was true, he's been hiding most of his life. He guessed that the best thing to hide it with was a another face.

"Well, if we're going to the HQ, you'd think that they would have gear there for us. I mean, does anyone one here need any special apparatus?" Adrian asked.

"Well I can't speak for anyone else," Claire's expression became serious. "But there is no way I'm leaving my swords behind. Plus, as we are going to be taken prisoner the moment we touch down, I have something I want to bring that may help to smooth things over with our English counterparts."

Adrian looked over to the swords. They were good, indeed. He didn't know what could smooth over the British members. Unless...

"Maybe I can speak on you behalf? I wasn't with you all when it happened. You think that they might accept that?"

"Guilt by association. The first question they'll ask if you weren't with us, was why didn't you go the DOD or CIA to report us?" Claire smiled. "But I'm glad you didn't." Claire swiveled back to the computer and began typing again. After a few moments, she turned back to Adrian.

"We don't really have anything to worry about," Claire smiled. "I don't think they will lock us in a cell or anything like that."

"Well, you're right Claire, they won't lock you up in a cell, they'll execute you on the spot. I'll get the nice jail cell. If I were to tell them that I had no prior contact with you all, and by coincidence that I happened upon you all...No, that won't work."

Adrian tried to reason. This was ridiculous. They have to give a fair trial. Possibly, if...

"What if I simply took a different plane, and arrived earlier or later? Could that work?" He questioned some more. He was getting heavy-eyed now, he only had two or so hours of sleep before they got there.

"I think it best we go together," a look of concern came over Claire's face. "Why don't you get some sleep. Going to take a little while to make the passports and arrange everything."

With those words, Adrian was off. He walked down a dull hallway and found one of the rooms. He took his helmet off and the rest of his armor. He climbed in and rested the side of his face that was still a face on the side of the pillow, thinking over the day. Did Claire do it? Who did? Why? Too many question without any definite answers.

He closed his eyes, wanting to be taken from this madness. To be taken, to his love...

(Co-Op with Nazzypoo.)

[Auki]

It was blissful; to forget every other part of her life and absorb her attention in the lyrics blasting from the radio. She couldn’t imagine she’d get much of a chance to listen to her music over the next couple weeks so she cherished the moment for as long as she could. Flashes of past memories sparked through her mind whenever she glanced at Claire, reminding her of the life she could feel slipping away. Her voice would tremble on occasion as reality threatened to crush her but her voice was terrible enough that it would have been impossible to notice. Her heart was torn; her emotions in turmoil behind her feigned gaiety. But hell, even if it was fake, it was the most free she had felt in weeks. Her pseudo-happiness lasted until the final lyrics of S Club’s ‘Two in a Million’ died, Claire flipping to the news station shortly after.

Karen didn’t mind the sudden change; they had already reached their destination. She pulled into the most inconspicuous place she could find, hidden from the eye of anyone who might happen to travel that way. After all, no matter what she did, the sight of a pink Ford Fiesta in pristine condition near a broken-down warehouse would be something to stick in the average person’s mind. With her concentration focused on driving, the meaning behind the news reporter’s words failed to sink in until Claire swore so vehemently. The story didn’t faze Karen; She had more important things on her mind and she had never even spoken to this ‘Marc’ kid. If anything she was prejudiced towards him for having the same name as her husband, the last person she wanted to think about now.

She scooped an assortment of her belongings from the trunk of her car and stumbled into the warehouse after Claire, shaking her head as if to force the persisting exhaustion from her mind. When their team leader had finished her verbal tour of their accommodation, Karen approached. She kept her head low, convinced that she could feel the bags underneath her eyes darkening as thoughts of sleep stalked her. “Not in the mood for socialising. Don’t have the energy,” she murmured, aware from Claire’s expression that the woman obviously wanted to say something. “Whatever it is. It can wait. ‘Til morning at least. Shouldn’t take me too long to find my room again.”

She had already begun to turn away mid-sentence, her words growing softer as she searched for the door that led to the bedrooms. Just half a year back and she could have walked those halls blindfolded without collision but her mind was growing old in its constant fatigue. Too many people and too much drama – Her hands fumbled with the door handle to the room she had claimed all those months back. Stepping in, she flicked the light switch and watched dully as the room illuminated in a cream electric glow.

Her eyes instantly locked onto the desk in the corner. “Moved… An inch. Away from the wall,” she muttered quietly, throwing the items in her arms upon the bed and blinking thrice at the piece of furniture, blankly attempting to comprehend the alteration to its placement. “That’s not… No, that’s not going to work…” She shuffled towards it, her feet scraping on the floor where she had lost the energy to lift them, before she forced the desk back to its original position. She couldn’t work out why someone would be so inconsiderate as to have shifted it; didn’t they realise how stressful her life was right now? She almost wanted to lean down and rest her head upon its glossy wooden surface; it looked so smooth, so appealing, the perfect place to take a nap. But…

…No. No, she couldn’t.

She had to keep herself awake. The task was harder than she’d imagined.

She staggered back to her bed, practically falling on top of it, each blink requiring more and more effort to reopen her eyes afterwards. She needed to focus her mind but her room was bare except for the items she had dragged in herself. Clothes, make-up, moisturiser, books… She snorted half a laugh as she picked up the closest one, running her fingers over the rough hard-back cover. She didn’t buy books for herself – The only ones she owned were gifts from those who didn’t know her too well. She only kept the damn things to fool people into thinking so was more intellectual than she actually was. Subjects like maths or science had never been an issue to her, although admittedly they were not exactly her forte. English had always been a nightmare. Her mind worked too quickly, skipping words and jumbling sentences without her noticing. Writing followed a similar pattern and as such she avoided the activity, barely ever composing more than short letters or filling in simple applications. She twisted the book over in her hands, applying all the concentration she had left into keeping the words in order. It had been a present from a secondary school boyfriend who had thought himself rather romantic; a compilation of poetry about grief and love. Lying down onto her stomach, she flicked to the middle, a futile attempt in occupying her mind. For once, her words came out slowly as she tried to make sense of the prose before her, exhaustion further dulling her mind.

“When we two pat-…parted in silence and tears… Half he-…broke-…broken-hearted to sever for years.”
It was useless. Her eyelids drooped and she found herself skipping several lines, “It felt like the warning, thy-…no, of what I feel now.”
Her vision trembled before her eyes, the words quivering in their places on the page. Her voice was an absent whisper, “In secret we met and…in silence I grieve. That thy heart could for- …for…get…”
As her eyelids closed, she realised she would not be able to open them again. The world was swallowed in darkness as she lost consciousness, her head falling upon the duvet as she fell prey to the world of dreams and nightmares.

"Oh look who's back," Lilith looked up from the park bench. Her face was beaming and she held Mister Binky in her arms. The sun was shining and children were playing on the swings and slides that were just a little ways away from where Karen and Lilith were.

"So do you feel better now?" Lilith asked Karen, before making kissy faces at the teddy bear. Karen simply glared at her wordlessly.

[Cookies Ahoy]

The bed was almost drawing Kristy in, beckoning, “Lie down for just a bit. I’m comfortable!”

Truthfully, Kristy was tired, but she wouldn’t admit it. She was annoyed at the fact that she hadn’t done anything all day but sit in an old van. If she had done some running or something that was even slightly physically taxing, then Kristy would have been okay admitting she was tired.

Instead of going to the bed, Kristy went to the computer that was sitting on the desk. It booted up quickly -good thing too, if it had taken too long she probably would have lost focus and fallen asleep- Kristy opened up an Internet browser. She didn’t really know what she was going to do, besides waste some time. Kristy wanted to say she had at least done something besides sit all day.

Kristy stared at the screen for a few silent seconds. She thought about checking her email, but quickly shot down the idea. Her email and other methods of contact were most likely being watched.

CNN was her next choice. There were headlines about the assumed terrorist attack on Three Mile Island. Kristy began to read the main article, but when she read her name as one of the suspects, her curiosity got the best of her. She typed her name into the search bar. The first link brought her back to the article she was at earlier, but further down the page was a video that caught Kristy’s eye.

“Mother Speaks Concerning Terrorist Daughter...” Kristy read the title, “What do you have to say, Elise.”

Kristy hit play. The video had been shot in the living room of her mom’s house. Her mother looked distressed, the news must have been hard on her. The reporter sitting in the chair opposite from her was asking questions about Kristy, her daughter.

“Elise, can you remember any point in Kristy’s life that would contribute to her actions she has taken?” the reporter asked in a rehearsed voice.

“There was my divorce, but...” Elise paused, shaking her head, “No, that’s not my daughter. My Kristy was a Marine helicopter pilot. She loved her country. My daughter wouldn’t do something like that. There’s obviously been some mistake.”

The two minute video consisted of the same thing. The reporter continued to badger Kristy’s mom until he decided he wasn't gaining any ground. Kristy felt tears well up in her eyes. Rage and sadness filled her at the same time. How could the people not believe her mother, and what right did they have to question her like that? Kristy’s anger soon manifested in the form of her telekinesis. The computer tower was violently burst in two in a shower of metal scraps and sparks. Kristy turned to the bed and buried her face into the pillow until she quietly sobbed herself to sleep.

[StormWolf]

After his conversation with Kristy was over, the rest of the ride went along rather silently and rather slowly. It was quiet, almost eerily so, but that quiet gave Malcolm time to think and try and relax as best he could under the current circumstances.

When the convoy arrived at the address Malcolm had memorized after he helped set the place up, he backed the van up to the warehouse door to make it look like nothing more than a utility drop-off. The Chaplain reached over Kristy and pulled his Desert Eagle from the glove compartment and stuffed it in the hem of his pants, the grip resting at the small of his back.

Malcolm said nothing to Kristy, Karen, Bear, or anyone, he just headed towards the elevator and kept himself bottled up an quiet. He was in no mood to talk to anyone, really. He wanted to talk to Claire, but he was not looking forward to the subject matter of the conversation.

The elevator ride was quiet and stuffy with all of the bodies in it. It was a relief to get in to the safe house. While introduction went underway, Malcolm headed to the armory to set down the heavy duffle bag full of everyone's gear. He whipped out his M4 short commando and started to perform maintenance on the weapon, making sure the sights were calibrated and there was no sediment in the chamber. He needed to be away from Karen and Bear. Sadly, Malcolm was always very mechanical with his weapons, and the cleaning was done quicker than he anticipated. With a grumble, he headed back to the main room. People had made themselves at home and there were murmurs of nervous conversation. There was one woman who Malcolm swore looked like his mother. It made him stop in his tracks and stare at her for a moment. He shook his head and rubbed his eyes. He was seeing things. He hadn't slept in days, that was all there was to it.

"Claire." he said quietly, yet with a firm tone. He walked briskly to where she stood, working at a computer console, "Who is that woman? The one with dark hair; Who is she?"

Claire looked up at Malcolm, and then passed hi to where Charlie was standing. She gave her a defeated kind of look before gazing into Mal's eyes.

"Her name's Charlie," Claire spoke calmly. She wanted to tell Mal who she was, but had given her word to Charlie.

"She's the one who sent the money and the clothes," Claire smiled. "You should talk to her. I think you'll like her." Malcolm looked over his shoulder at Charlie, squinting his bloodshot eyes, trying to convince himself that he was hallucinating. He had heard of dopplegangers and shape shifters, but he couldn't believe that someone was here who looked so much like his mom when she was young.

"Claire, have you gone through the steps with her? I don't care if she cured cancer, this woman looks like my mother... I mean... this isn't right..."

"I've known her for years Mal," Claire brought up a hand and rested it lightly against Mal's cheek. "Just go talk to her." His skin tingled at her soft touch. Malcolm placed his hand over hers, closing his eyes and taking a breath. Claire's smell filled his nose for a moment, taking him back to when he was happier, back to Rome. Those memories faded once Claire's scent did. With a sigh, he walked towards Charlie, flexing his right hand, keeping it ready to draw his pistol at the drop of a hat.

"Charlie." said flatly, saluting her in a very soldierly fashion, "Master Sergeant Malcolm Maverick. Pleasure to meet you." he kept his voice tight and firm, refusing to let his guard down.

The sight of Malcolm shocked Charlie. She winced as her ribs ached with pain and backed away slightly. She could tell right away her appearance was familiar to him. That he was afraid of her image.

"Sergeant huh?" Charlie said with a surprised stare. "Must be a really tough guy huh?" Malcolm allowed a small smile to crack his face of stone, but he still remained poised and ready,

"Well, I've been killed twice, and I'm still here."

Charlie's dark eyes stared at him. Claire promised not to tell him about who she was and she was very glad about that. If he knew, god...who knows what hell would break lose.

Charlie grinned at his comment. "Twice? Well I suppose that is pretty tough. I haven't been killed, more like beaten the hell up for sure." Her eyes felt worry as memories shown from her mothers eyes. Of her smiling in the mirror. Charlie looked the same as her mother when she smiled.

Seeing Charlie smile, he tensed, his eyes widening slightly as his fists clenched. Why did she look so much like his mother? Who was this woman? She wasn't some manner of shifter or demon, he would have sensed something by now. Either this was a legitimate doppleganger phenomenon, or Malcolm's powers weren't working properly. He wasn't sure which was worse.

"I... I just remembered that I have things to do. Nice chatting with you." Malcolm stepped away quickly, removing himself to a corner of the room and tried to occupy himself with the security footage consoles, trying to distract him, somehow.

Charlie's dark eyes fell to the floor as she watched Mal leave. Unable to stop and find a way to tell him the truth. The fact that he meant something to her because they were family. The only family left. She didn't have the words to say it. She slumped in a chair and put her head in her hands.

Claire tried to focus on the work in front of her, when she glanced up at Charlie. Sighing, Claire got up and walked over to her, kneeling in front of her.

"Charlie," Claire's voice was soft and she took Charlie's hands in her own. "You have to tell him."

Looking up with tired eyes, Charlie felt unsure of her next step.

"I guess I should do it and get it over with," She looked at Claire then let out a feeble laugh. "Not sure how well he will take it though. Especially with the circumstances. Anyways, why don't you go to him then, seeing as he needs a good hug with that puppy dog eyes he keeps aiming at you? I am going to catch up on some thoughts of mine."

With that, Charlie walked out of the room to the kitchen because her empty stomach catching up to her too.

Claire sighed, glancing over at the computer where she had been working. There was still much she needed to do, but she had to get this sorted out as well. Still, Claire was worried that Mal would want to deal with their problem as well. And in Claire's mind, this wasn't the right time. Getting up, Claire walked over to Mal and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"You okay?" Claire's voice was soft and soothing. Malcolm flinched slightly at the touch of Claire on his shoulder. He was a complete mess, looking grimmer than death from the tribulations of the bast 48 hours. Upon close inspection, one would see that is hands were trembling. He looked strung out, overburdened, paranoid, and downtrodden. He tried being the shepherd, and it was killing him.

"Claire... I..." he said in a shaky voice as his hand searched out hers, clamping down on her hand as if he was dangling for his life over a chasm. "Claire... am I insane?" he asked with uncertainty heavy in his voice.

"Every time I look at Charlie, I see my mother..." he took a shuddering breath as he glanced over at Charlie, then he looked up at Claire, looking her in the eyes. He could get lost in her eyes, let them stare in to his soul and burn away the sickness in it. Cauterize his imperfections and make him what she wanted him to be.

"When I look at you... I fell... lost. I have so many things I have to say to you, but I don't know how. I'm afraid that if I say what is on my mind, you'll run off with Karen or... or Bear." Malcolm's thoughts went to the heavy gold band that was resting in his pocket that very moment. He wanted to collapse to his knees and ask her right then and there, but how would she react? What if she really did spook and run off with Karen in a care-free relationship? What would Malcolm do then? Would he fall like Sammael said he would? No. Never. Never that far.

"Everything I owned was at Three Mile Island, Claire. Everything that meant anything to me. In all honesty, you are the only thing I have left to cherish... You are all the good in me. You keep me human." his face was like stone, completely serious.

"No Mal," Claire smiled. "You keep you human. It's Sammael that makes it so you aren't." No one but Malcolm could see Claire's face distort and the long snakelike tongue protrude form her mouth as blood streamed from her eyes.

"And you're not insane Mal," Claire giggled, though to Malcolm it sounded like a deep guttural growling. "Well, no more than the rest of us. It's this life that fucks us up. But sometimes, some good can come out of it, even when we least expect it" Claire smiled, looking of in the direction Charlie went; Malcolm seeing blood and bile drip from the corners of Claire's mouth.

Malcolm's face went paler and his knees became weak. It was not fear, but helplessness. When he saw the twisted face of Claire, for the second time in twenty-four hours, he couldn't hold himself up anymore. He was tired, and he just wanted to rest. Malcolm fell to his knees, his hands trembling harder as he saw the bile and blood pouring down Claire's chin. Was this real? What could he do? What if he really was insane and he just ended up hurting her? Malcolm's thoughts became frantic, and with it, his breathing. His world trembled as paranoia started to settle in. His chest felt tight as panic tried to crush the life out of him. He felt like he was trapped in the world's smallest cell, and everything he loved, hated, and feared was just beyond the bars, trying to reach in. Malcolm clasped his hands tight together, his fingers interlacing as he pressed his knuckles to his brow, and started to pray desperately.

"Please, God... make it stop. Make it stop, God. Please." he whispered in to his clenched hands.

Instantly, Claire wrapped her arms around Malcolm and pushed his head onto her shoulder. She ran her nails though his hair and held him tight with her other arm.

"Shhhh," she whispered in his ear. "It'll be okay. We'll get through this Mal. I'm here." Malcolm remained tight, as if he was trying to retreat within himself and escape. Still, Claire sounded normal again. The feel of her nails scratching his scalp helped him relax a little. He wrapped his arms around Claire, holding her like she was the only thing keeping him from being swept away in a powerful gale. His strength was sapped and his will exhausted. He was tired of being the bedrock, tired of being the Atlas who was not allowed to put down his burden. Malcolm's voice was quiet and hoards, but he spoke softly in to Claire's ear,

"I love you, Claire... Know that. No matter what happens...."

"I love you too Mal," Claire smiled. "Now come with me. There's somehting you need to hear." Claire kissed him on the cheek and then headed off in the same direction as Charlie. Malcolm wobbled to his feet, his knees still feeling uneasy and his legs still feeling hollow. He followed Claire to wherever she was leading him. Malcolm had to learn to trust people... if he didn't trust Claire, what hope would they have as a couple? He had to trust her. She had never lead him astray... on purpose, anyway.

"What do I need to hear, Claire? More 'good news' from the world outside?" Malcolm mused with a healthy dose of sarcasm in his voice.

"Something like that," Claire took Mal by the hand and led him to to the Kitchen. The moment they arrived, she let go of Mal and walked right over to Charlie.

"Do not tell him about your father," Claire whispered into Charlie's ear. "Not yet." Claire pulled back and smiled at Charlie.

"It''ll be okay," Claire's tone was soothing. "Now tell him."

Charlie glared at Claire as Mal walked in front of them looking confused. Rubbing the sweat from her face, Charlie peered at him, seeing the features in is face that looked different yet similar to hers. She decided to ignore the pain in her sides and tell him. She had to.

"Malcolm...this may be hard to handle after everything you guys have been through," Charlie began as she brought her brown eyes to his," but you need to know that I-"

Suddenly all the pain in her sides became tenfold. Everything was was losing color, but red. Then Charlie blacked out.

(thanks to Yoru and Naz for all the help)

[Auki]

It was quiet. Even though Karen’s mind told her the children nearby were laughing, the only sound to actually reach her ears was the hushed breathing of Lilith and the occasional giggle as she played with her bear. They sat at opposite ends of the bench, Karen’s legs having grown weary as, what had felt like hours in the dream, dragged by. Although she wanted to avoid the child, it was obvious that wherever she ran, she would be followed.

It seemed she was fighting a losing battle, a futile attempt of hers to escape the jaws of her predator. Nevertheless, even as that feeling of helplessness sunk in, she refused to give up – She would not let the code by which she lived waver simply because she was in the presence of something so haunting… something that could reach inside her head and effortlessly warp her dreams.

Her words were lifeless and she rubbed her eyes wearily. It was strange to feel tired in her own dream; surreal. Her tone showed she was in no mood for games, “Normal children annoy me. You annoy me even more. I really do wish you’d just… fuck off right now.”

"Why?" Lilith looked at Karen curiously. "Why can't you accept what you are? You never should have been with them. They don't really understand you. But I do," Lilith grinned, turning back to the bear. She made more kissy faces, stroking the top of it's head. An audible purring noise could be heard coming from the bear.

“More bullshit. Always more,” Karen muttered, rolling her eyes. Attempting to relax her body, she leant back and casually folded her arms, “The person who most understands me is a neutral party. The second person to most understand me would probably be Claire - Y’know, that power of hers helps a lot in that aspect. Hell, she knows I could never physically betray and… kill a team-mate.”

"Of course you couldn't," Lilith chuckled still playing with the bear. "You just take the lives of the innocent." Lilith's face moved closer to the bear and she rubbed noses with it. "Oh yes she does Mister Binky. Yes she does."

Karen grunted, “Sometimes you have to take a life to save a thousand. I don’t do it for no reason – I’m better than that.”

"How ever you need to justify it," Lilith smiled, staring at Karen. "It still doesn't change what you are. A monster."

She twitched ever-so slightly at the insult but, after a moments consideration, shook her head, “A monster kills anything and everything whether he has a reason or not. I have set rules on who I’ll kill and who I won’t; overall, the benefits of their death have to out-way the risk of them living. It sounds harsh but someone has to do it. That’s how I’ve always thought – It’s the only thing that stops me hating myself.”

"Ah," Lilith grinned. "The military monster, but a monster nonetheless. And if you were to accept that, you would be so much happier."

“There is no good or evil, only a grey area. You can’t just label people like that.” Karen’s voice was growing thin of patience, “Only idiots think everyone can be defined as good or bad. As long as I keep to my morals and don’t go against them purely on a whim then… I am happy with myself – You’ll never be able to change that, sweetheart.”

"You're wrong Karen," Lilith hissed. "There is evil. You've seen it with your own eyes Karen. What do you suppose evil sees when it looks at you?"

“Hey, I was only talking about the human species – I’m not going to say that there aren’t bad creatures out there.” She met Lilith’s eyes with a cold stare, “However, anything like that, I kill. Simple. It’s my job after all. I don’t give evil a chance to take a good look at me before I blow it the fuck up.” Her fingers tapped irritably against her arm, “We can have these pointless conversations all night but it won’t do you any good.”

"But I like talking to you," Lilith chimed. "And Mister Binky likes you too; don't you Mister Binky." Lilith made more kissy faces at the bear and a low guttural growling could be heard coming from it.

"So for you," Lilith looked back up at Karen. "Shooting a defenseless child is a moral act?"

“In a dream, morals don’t count. And hell, if shooting a girl saved the lives of a thousand other children, then I probably would. That’s just how it works.”

Ah," Lilith smiled. "So you think this isn't real. In some ways the dream is more real. And you shot me, for no other reason than anger. Kind of monstrous don't you think Karen?" Lilith turned back to the bear. "Oh yes she is, she's a monster."

Karen sighed, resting her head in her hands, “If this isn’t a real dream then logic dictates you’re not a normal girl. So shooting you isn't the same as shooting a child and all that. Hell, I told you you’d annoy me. Explaining my thought process aloud is just…tedious.”

"For me as well," Lilith giggled. "People never have what it takes to truly expand their minds. So what shall we talk about then?" Lilith's eyes lit up and she beamed at Karen.

Karen did little more than grunt a reply, letting the silence drag by as she covered her eyes with her palms, her fingers massaging her scalp with more vigour than was necessary. She wanted to be able to rest properly again – She slept badly enough at night without a girl haunting her nightmares. “Can you not just give in?” She growled, “I have established my role in this world and I can’t just change that. It’s completely beyond my nature to do so. Please just let me be.”

"It's your dream Karen," Lilith spoke cheerfully. "If you want me gone all you have to do is tap you heels together three times and say there's no place like home" Lilith giggled and then went back to kissing the bear.

Karen was sick of the girl laughing; whether it be at her or that damn teddy, it was making her irritable, “I swear if you don’t stop being a stupid brat, I’m going to rip that bear’s head off.” Her voice had become an anxious snarl, on edge. The child’s smile grew slightly and the last of Karen’s patience snapped. “Damn it. Damn it! I hate you! Why can’t you just leave me the fuck alo-”

A scream pierced through the playground, shattering the illusion of the dream. The sound sent shivers down Karen’s spine and silenced her mid-sentence. It reverberated through the fabricated park, the image ripped from her mind as she was awoken. Conscious, the agonised shriek that filled the room tore at her heart even more.

It took a few moments for Karen to get her bearings. The first thing she noticed was that she was not lying down; she was on her knees, the mattress beneath her. It threw her off and in those seconds, she felt lost. Her vision, blurred from her sleep, began to focus as she cleared her mind, desperate to regain herself so as to identify the source of the scream, to help whoever was in distress.

As her sight cleared, that thought soon faded.

She was so near to him that their noses brushed together every time she breathed. His eyes were still closed from where he had been sleeping. She was mounted on top of him – Bear, a man who looked a lot more peaceful without his cigarettes and constant vexed expression. Her hands twitched against the cool material of her Desert Eagle’s grip and her gaze unwillingly travelled downward.

The once cream pillowcases were now soaked in a crimson liquid amongst other things Karen didn’t dare distinguish for risk she might vomit. She had seen and performed some direly sickening acts in her time in SCAR but never had a scene disturbed her as much as this one did. She could hear her pulse pounding in her ears, black spots dancing in her vision as nausea swept over her. She wanted desperately to look away but her body remained frozen in place.

That was when it hit her. She recognised the person who had screamed, could almost feel their presence behind her. Claire… She couldn’t bring herself to turn around; even if she had wanted to, her muscles were fixed. Her eyes refused to remove themselves from where they were locked onto Bear’s face.

[John]

Claire was hoping that this would be good for Mal. She was so worried about him at the moment and thought that being able to reconnect with long lost family might help him in a way she couldn’t. She just hoped that Mal didn’t find out about the other half of Charlie’s parentage. Right now, that would be bad. They were all on edge, and it seemed that the edge was slowly slicing into Mal, the slightest thing possibly able to set him off. And as Charlie crumpled to the floor, Claire dropped to her knees, silently praying that Mal wouldn’t lose it now.

The first thing Claire did was to check that Charlie was still breathing, which thankfully, she was. She was about to turn to Mal and ask him to bring her a med kit when the sound of a gunshot echoing thorugh the halls of the safe house reached her ears.

“Mal, stay here with Charlie,” Claire stood up and headed quickly toward the door. “Keep her head elevated. I’ll only be a moment.” Normally Claire would have stayed and sent Mal to check. But Charlie’s breathing was steady and she felt it was okay to step out for a moment. Besides, she wanted to know who had fired the gun.

As Claire made her way to the section where the rooms are, stopping by the med bay to pick up a kit along the way, she thought it must be a misfire and hoped none of the team had started to fire on each other. He first thought was of Vee as she headed towards the open door. She was the most high strung of the lot, but the two people she would be most likely to shoot weren’t with her at the moment.

Claire entered the room, and her mouth opened as the med kit dropped to the floor. She could plainly see Karen on the bed with Bear beneath her, the top of his head now decorating the wall by the bed. Claire blinked once, hoping she was hallucinating. When the scene didn’t change, Claire started to scream. Tears streamed down her cheeks and she stared at Karen, dropping to her knees.

“Why? Why? Why?” Claire sobbed and her eyes turned black as the emotions started to take hold of her.

“Claire…” The answering voice moaned, mimicking that of a child not getting what it wanted The pace of her speech remained the same but with the added fluctuations in pitch, it seemed to verge on a frenzied state. “Claire, it won’t…it won’t stop, Claire.”

The more Karen woke up, the more she reacted to the situation. Blood leaked from the gaping hole in Bear’s neck and she regarded it with wide eyes. At first, she hit at the wound, like someone bashing a television in the hope of it fixing itself. The result was less than desirable, her hands swiftly becoming smeared with the liquid. With another moan, she pressed her palms against it, her arms trembling violently as she did so. “Make it stop, Claire. Please.”

Claire felt as though the emotions were going to explode from her. It was taking everything she had to remain in control as the blood started to stream from her nose. She felt an urge to attack Karen, not noticing a glass on the dresser explode as she got to her feet. Walking quickly to Karen, she grabbed her, pulling her in close and wrapping her arms around her.

Claire sobbed as she held Karen, running her fingers through her hair and burying Karen's face in her chest so that she didn't have to see the body anymore. There was no reason for what Karen had done. Claire became worried that Karen had finally snapped, and now Claire felt like she was losing her own grip on reality as she stared at Bear's corpse laying on the bed.

(co op with Auki)

[Merry]

Baket felt like crap. Her entire body ached, and was sore. "my own damn fault for sleeping in a moving car" she muttered as they arrived at their destination, the new safe house. She almost laughed, would they ever be safe? She was having a hard time believing it would ever happen.

Stretching as she stepped out of the car, she watched as everyone headed into the building, to find something to do while they waited. Listening as Claire gave them a quick outline of the building, she distinctly heard Kitchen and headed that way. The rumbling in her stomach was soon to be put to rest.

Flipping the lights on, she found a large kitchen, gleaming steel refrigerators, two large stoves and counters all around. It was the type of kitchen that could easily accommodate cooking for a small restaurant or in this case, a band of on the run operatives in need of food. It had the appearance of just waiting for someone to come and run it.

Opening the cabinets, she found the shelves well stocked. All sorts of dry goods, soups, pasta, all sorts of non-perishables. Cabinets below held all sizes of pots and pans, dishes, silverware and more. Everything need to cook for one, or cook for fifty.

Heading to the fridge she wasn't as hopeful that there would be things usable. Who knew how long it had been since this place had been utilized before. Opening the enormous fridge, she saw that there were some items on the shelves.

Sadly most had spoiled, and the odor with the door open, made her empty stomach lurch in disgust. Quickly shutting the door, she went back and pulled out a few large pans. "Pasta it is" she said to no one in particular, her voice echoing in the empty room.

A few minutes later, watching the water begin to boil, she poured in a large container of thin spaghetti, mentally counting off the people in the building. Not really knowing if anyone was going to eat, but knowing that she would most certainly be. It felt comfortable to cook, again. To do something she had done so many times before. It almost made things seem "normal".

The serenity was just as quickly shattered by the gunshots, and subsequent screams immediately following, coming from the end of the hall. Without a moments hesitation, she dropped everything and bolted out of the room at a dead run.

Quickly reaching Claire and Karen, crying in each others arms. "What happened?" she asked, "Who's been shot?!"

[Mysteria]

The ride to base had left Shane with too much time to think, not just about the fact that the group had been set up, but also about Aaron and Kara. And then, there was the strange dream with Lilith that kept returning to haunt her. Shane's thoughts drifted back and forth between the three of them until finally the pinto arrived at their destination.

Shane couldn't tell anyone where they were if she'd have been asked to be honest. She hadn't even payed attention to where they were going, or even which way they had headed. She unloaded herself from the car in an almost mechanical motion. In a half daze she followed the others inside and then after having received some brief instructions from Claire she exited the room and made her way down the corridor in search of some place where she could sit down and shut her eyes for just a few moments.

It seemed to Shane that the others all had an exact idea of what they wanted to do, while Shane herself ended up wondering aimlessly around the halls peeking in one door after another and not really finding anything that looked comfortable enough for her to rest in. The truth was, she knew that rest would not come no matter how comfortable of a bed she might find.

Rest. It had become ever so elusive to Shane since the dream about Kara and Lilith had come. Try as she might, Shane couldn't rid her thoughts of the sinisterly Lilith who continued to invade her mind. Images of Kara dying in front of her flashed before her and stopped Shane in her tracks. Leaning against the wall Shane covered her face with her palms as every fiber of her being was silently screaming inside for it to all just stop.

Shane just wanted it to stop.

At that moment, a gun shout rang out to which Shane immediately began shaking her head back and forth as she felt herself sliding down the wall in a sinking motion, uttering to herself and burying her head into her knees.

"No..no....no..." Shane whispered to herself over and over repeatedly as she sat there on the cold floor, feeling herself slipping back into the darkness that had visited her on so many prior occasions, the same darkness that she swore she would never find herself lost in again, and now without Aaron there to help her, to hold her hand, to be there for her...

Shane sat, immobilized, not even attempting to find out what had just happened, not even at that very moment, giving a damn.

She just wanted it all to stop.

[mere]

Jesus Christ SCAR was messed up. When Yakim joined, he didn’t expect sex and drama every second of his service. His ability made him see everything he didn’t want to be seeing, and as he could now view scenes more clearly, everything just kept getting worse.

Yakim had remained silent for most of the journey to the safe house, as he really didn’t have any close friends in SCAR, or a fuck-buddy. He could hardley tell who was in love or just fucking each other for fun. Hell, this operation would go better with a bunch of rocks as squadmates. At least rocks won't go off somewhere in the middle of battle and start having sex. They could used as throwing projectiles, also. Though, he thought Basket might still be clean, so she could stay.

Once Yakim had entered the Safehouse, he had zoned out of Claire’s guiding and focused more on the shadows behind objects and on the other side of the room no one else could see. By the time the tour was over, Yakim knew Clair’s “Treatment” had not worked as well as they thought it would. He was simply going to have to face this Thing and see what it wants.

Yakim quickly proceeded to his room after the tour and placed his belongings next to his bed. The Thing didn’t waste anytime with trying to fuck with him. As Yakim looked up at the wall on the other side of the room, he saw a circular shape beside his. A head, and it was attached to a body.

Slowly turning his head, Yakim was not scared, and he barley felt anything. When his eyes met the other side of the bed, he discovered that nothing was their. Well, at least nothing was there with Yakim simply looking with his normal eyesight. After viewing the same area with his ability, there was a figure sitting beside him. A figure he knew all too well.

“I don’t understand” Yakim stammered.

“It’s actually very simple,” the figure said, “You steal and take over my life, and I do the same to you. You’ve had this coming ever for a while now, and you should have prepared.”

“I’ve done nothing wrong! It was at your fault that the event at the cliffs happened that day!” Yakim could not bear to speak what had happened on that day.

“You took everything from me, just with a simple push. You took it too far, and this is what has become of me. I deserve a new home.”

Yakim had become increasingly angry, “You’re the one that could have stopped it! You knew I couldn’t have stopped myself, and you let it happen anyway.”

The figure, still keeping his head down, thought for a moment. “I wish you would have thrown off the cliffs instead of what you did, and now you must pay.”

The figure rapidly stood and turned towards Yakim, grinning and laying a hand on Yakim’s neck.

“I’m not sorry, old friend.”

With that, the figure was placed inside Yakim’s body and was in total control.

Yakim opened his eyes and smiled.

I can tell my time here will be an enjoyable one.

[Auki]

Karen's throat was dry; she kept dedicating herself to that thought. She opened her mouth slightly - an attempt to excuse herself to the kitchen, a glass of water her greatest desire at that moment - but with each try, she was cut off by Claire's sobs. Her own cheeks were dry, no tears marring her olive skin, as apathy fogged her mind. Emotions flashed through - hate, anger, confusion - but by the time she reached out to catch them, they had slipped through her fingers. It wasn't that she didn't care - She wanted to be able to comfort the crying woman in her arms – but her heart was dead inside her chest and all logical thoughts were hiding out of reach in the depths of her head.

The situation was hilarious in some sense, reminding her of the bad plot twists that frequented old action movies. She barked a frantic laugh and grinned at Claire, hoping she could see the humour in the situation – Best friends were always on the same wavelength over these kinds of events, weren’t they? They always had been before… excepting the incidence of her marriage but that was just Claire being ignorant to the benefits of a necromancing husband. Another chuckle escaped her lips as she wondered who would be forced to clean up the mess. Karen was adamant that it wouldn’t be her; she had never partaken in cleaning before and she refused to begin now. She was oblivious to Baket’s arrival, musing over the irony of it all, each thought punctuated by a manic giggle.

“Hey C-Cla-Claire,” she chuckled, her sudden difficulty with speech almost sending her into hysterics, “At least h-he c-c-can’t upset, I mean – He w-won’t and – He’s dead, he’s dead, like now s-so – The bastard c-can’t make you cr-cry! H-Hooray, hooray!”

The sorrow which Claire was feeling started to fade at Karen's words and was slowly being replaced by a new feeling, rage. It was something that Claire didn't feel very often and she always tried to fight it when it came on. But Claire's will to fight was gone. She was losing the people she loved most in this world and she couldn't help feeling that she was losing her mind.

Looking down at the floor, Claire giggled a little when she saw the drops of blood hit the floor as her nose started to bleed, Her eyes went black and she looked up, staring at Karen and speaking through gritted teeth.

"Why Karen?" Claire forced the words, trying hard to stay in control. "What would make you think I would want this?"

“W-What? Me?” Karen retorted, an expression of genuine surprise flickering across her face. “You di-di-did it! You! Clai- You!” She shuffled backwards on her knees, stumbling over Bear’s lifeless body, the gun falling from her hands onto the covers, “H-He started it- No, you!”

Claire's breathing became heavier as she listened to Karen speak. Her words only served to increase the feeling of rage which was now threatening to explode from Claire at any moment. She felt the tears return, not knowing that the once clear streams which would flow from her emerald eyes had turned to streams of blood now pouring from the black orbs.

"Karen," Claire's voice sounded strained, as though she were forcing herself to not scream at Karen. "We need to get you home, " Claire started to move slowly towards Karen, holding out her hands, which were shaking as she tried to contain the waves of emotion inside her.

Karen’s entire body trembled violently the closer Claire got, her head shaking in vehement protest to the decreasing distance between them. She could barely breathe, her eyes opening wide in terror, her breathing uneven. “Not there, Claire. They’re mean there.” Her voice was an almost inaudible whisper at his point, hushed so that the shadows couldn’t eavesdrop on their conversation. That’s what SCAR had taught her; no one was safe, everyone was against you. They were always listening.

SCAR; an explosion of remorse and pain exploded through her mind, an agonising scream being ripped from her lips in retaliation.

“No!”

She launched herself from the bed, upwards, her power enabling her to defy the laws that physicists had been laying down for years before her. The ceiling cracked against her head, causing black dots to dance through her vision, but she barely noticed. The agony was numb compared to the hurt raging through her body as she was hit with every heart-breaking memory she had ever encountered in her service. The last thought to hit her was the vivid image of Bear’s face, pale and bloodstained, and she could feel her shriek growing in both pitch and fever.

“I didn’t do it!”

Her cries were sure to be heard throughout the warehouse but she had stopped caring. Nearby objects were levitated and thrown at random, Bear’s possessions flung against the walls and smashing against the floor.

[Cookies Ahoy]

Kristy was going through cycles of sleeping and sobbing throughout the night. While she was crying into her already soaking pillow she heard the sharp crack of a handgun resonate throughout the halls. Kristy snapped upright with a gasp.

Thankfully for Kristy, the mysterious gunshot had taken her mind off her mom. She pulled on her shirt and pants and left the room, her bare feet quietly padding down the hallway floor. Her walk turned into a jog, and then into a full sprint as she heard screams and crashes of things being thrown. It was coming from Bear’s room. At first, Kristy thought it was him and Claire getting into it; they hadn’t seemed to get along well ever since Bear was picked up. Upon entering the room, Kristy’s theory was shot down like a goose on the season opener of a hunt.

“What’s going o-” Kristy started but was quickly cut off as she had to dodge a lamp that flew at her head.

Figuring words weren’t going to do much right now, Kristy began trying to counteract Karen’s ability. She used her telekinesis to pull the objects back to the ground. The effort became taxing very quickly though; Kristy’s power was no match for Karen’s honed ability. Still, Kristy began pulling away at one object at a time, trying to limit the chance of anyone getting hurt.

[Ryudo]

Marc looked up and saw Claire storming towards the van, he couldn’t figure out why, but he hazarded a guess that it had to do with the fact that the team was now in Detroit. Claire unceremoniously entered the van and turned on the radio, Marc barely listened, it sound like white noise until he heard his own name, this caused a sizable grin to form on Marc’s hardened yet handsome face.

...decorated war hero Marc Wright. Originally gaining notoriety on the Arabian coast, the once dubbed “one man army” appears to have turned against America and is now considered to be armed and extremely dangerous. For a picture of Marc, go to our website at w w w . wxplnews . com (http://blogs.babble.com/famecrawler/wp-content/uploads/2009/07/jude-law-picture-1.jpg)

Marc’s smile faded almost as fast as it had arrived; sure, he liked the armed and extremely dangerous part but the turning against America was not at all what he wanted to hear. Of course ladies loved a little danger in their man, but the line of acceptable bad-boyness stopped way before terrorist. Shit.

As they walked to the safe house Marc’s mind was racing, he hadn’t realized how tired, fatigued, and perhaps even hungover he was until a few moments ago. The entire United States of America was out for his ass now, and not in the kinky way.

If Marc had found it difficult to focus before he now discovered that adding the crushing weight of being the most hated man in America was nearly impossible. Claire said some words and gave him a grave look, but these merely bounced off of him as he mired in his new infamy. Marc’s mind drifted back to the dream he had only a dew short hours ago, could this have possible been what that little girl had promised? Marc pushed these thoughts out of his mind as he meandered into the complex, he stood the appropriate amount of time to hear Claire’s speech and then he found himself an uninhabited room towards the back of the safe house and unwound.

Marc quickly shut the door and locked it behind him, he didn’t want any intruders for now. Angrily he kicked off his shoes and surveyed the room, his first impression was that it was a dump, but this boiled away as he calmed down a bit. The room was quaint, with a queen sized bed and a desk with a laptop perched precariously on top of it. Marc’s attention suddenly was caught by an idea, he sat down at the desk and entered the website he had heard over the radio, w w w . wxplnews . com (http://blogs.babble.com/famecrawler/wp-content/uploads/2009/07/jude-law-picture-1.jpg). Immediately the site loaded and Marc was staring at a gruff picture of himself, one he recognized from a few weeks before he had been swept up by SCAR and his fame had ended. Marc stared at the picture for a good while, it wasn’t the most flattering, being snapped late one night after a four day party. Even so, it wasn’t terrible either, he liked the way the camera had caught his eyes, and he had a gruff ‘don’t fuck with me look, unless your an attractive lady’ that Marc so often displayed. The photo was from a different time, a better time, a time when Marc was on the top of the world, not stuck in the bottom of shit city surrounded by accusations of terrorism.

Marc shut the computer and walked to a large standup mirror fastened to one of the walls, he examined himself intently for a few seconds. As Marc stared at his reflection he carefully arranged himself, straightening out his shirt, fluffing his hair gently, until he was satisfied with the look he had once again meticulously created. Marc looked himself up and down, he was satisfied with the way he looked, his handsome frame now had an edge of gruffness to it that Marc didn’t mind, in fact, he sort of preferred it. His attractive facial features now were framed by stubble that made him look a bit older and wiser, his eyes had an understanding that in turn made them even deeper, his clothes were shabby but they didn’t draw away from him but rather stood as a testament to his strength and the trials he had overcome. Marc had been reborn, he cursed the fact that nearly the entire world despised him, but in turn it dawned on him that he was surrounded by a group that completely believed in him, they trusted him, and he was pretty sure he could even get sympathy from them. The ladies he was with were young, attractive, vulnerable, and...had he mentioned attractive? They each flashed before his eyes, vulnerable Vee and beautiful Baket, sultry Shane and kind Kristy, compelling Claire and kissable Karen and even that new girl, cute Charlie, Marc thought of each and realized that everything wasn’t so bad.

Suddenly another woman he had met flashed before his eyes, that little girl Marc had seen in the dream, loathsome Lilith. He almost felt stupid thinking about her, she was, after all, simply a figment of his imagination. Yet for some reason Marc couldn’t push his thoughts away from her, ordinarily, when Marc dreamed of a girl, she was gone from his thoughts minutes after waking, but for some reason Lilith refused to fall away. In fact, Marc remembered the dream quite clearly, much to his dismay. Could she possibly be responsible for the news rep.. Marc cut himself off, it sounded ridiculous, even when he thought it.

Stepping out of the room Marc decided to forget that terrible dream the easiest way he knew, by replacing it with thoughts of another lady. Marc quickly surveyed the main room he had just entered. Someone was hard at work in the kitchen and just as he was about to head that way he noticed that Shane was there too. Lonely, sexy Shane. Marc headed towards her, moments away from making his move, a simple tap on the shoulder followed with a disinterested yet seductive ‘hey’, when the room briefly burst with the sounds of violence.

Marc paused, his lips halted during the formation of that one syllable, he looked around, hoping that none of the lovely ladies had been hurt. It was almost as if he was frozen in time, everyone was rushing around him, sobbing, helping, hurting. Marc stumbled over in time to see Bear’s lifeless corpse on the ground, Karen in tears, and Claire levitated with what he could only guess was pure rage. Marc caught a floating alarm clock and set it on the ground, he had a strong feeling that things were about to get ugly. He noticed that Kristy was in the middle of the fray and he hoped she knew what she was doing, if things got worse Marc was prepared to step in as well.

[Merry]

Baket raced down the hall, to slide to a stop in what appeared to be utter chaos. She knew the people from S.C.A.R were "special", but she hadn't really thought about how that might actually be possible, what that could probably mean. This was one of those moments.

The scene that greeted her when she turned the corner was something out of a small horrific nightmare. First of all, there were random objects flying about the hallway smashing into walls, the floor and anyone in the way. The lights flickering with some surge of power, from someone, somewhere. Then there was the blood, which appeared to be everywhere.

Funny how her mind didn't really register that it was blood, not right away. Her attention drawn instead to the the crashing and breaking of things with force into the walls, and onto the floor. The debris strewn across the area. Her immediate focus being to dodge these flying objects, in order to reach the people in screaming and crying in the hallway.

"What the hell happened" she burst out, slightly panicked, as her mind started to actually process what she was seeing, trying to categorize it into something she could grasp. That’s when she registered the blood. The hallway was covered in it. Blood, brilliant, shiny, and splattered across the walls, blood. “What the hell is going on?” She bellowed, trying quickly to shut it down, the images, the smell, feeling her stomach turn in disgust. Then her eyes caught site of the body prone on the floor.

“Claire” she grabbed her by the shoulder and spun her around to see her.

Claire stared at Baket , blood running from her eyes and down her cheeks. Her grip on reality was loosening and she didn't know how much longer she could hang on.

"Help him," Claire spoke the words though gritted teeth, motioning at Bear's corpse.

Baket felt her face freeze at the sight of Claire. Trying desperately to hide the horror at the blood covering her, pouring out of her, as best she could. You didn't have to be a doctor to realize that Claire was dangerously close to collapsing. No one could lose that much blood and be ok for long. Nodding her head, "I'll try... you need to go lay down" she said softly. "I'll do what I can and then help you" hoping her face didn't betray the flat out lie she had just spoke.

From that initial glance at the body when she had arrived a few moments ago, she wasn't even sure who was laying on the floor just yet, but she did know that there was no one on this earth that was going to save that person. There is only so much damage a person of her ability could repair. With pieces of your skull against the wall, and floor, it was pretty much hopeless.

"Go,.....Claire.. I'll see what I can do" she said again, turning the woman gently toward the closest room.

"No," Claire whispered. "I have to help Karen." The expression on Claire's face was one of extreme pain, but then it did feel like a hammer was pounding inside her head.

Baket moved to firmly steer Claire toward the closest room, without trying too appear to rough, "Claire" she said firmly, making the other woman look at her "Karen will be fine, I'll make sure she's ok. You need to go lay down, before you fall down" her voice tinged with concern, trying to get her to move, but knowing she would force her if she had to.

co/post w/ snazzy nazzy

[John]

Claire would never be sure what finally caused the rising emotions to take hold of her. Although she was sure that the blood and the corpse of her friend had a lot to do with it. But it seemed that the more people that entered the room, the more she was unable to control it.

It felt as though the emotions she were trying to control were becoming an uncontrollable wave, crashing through every fibre of her being. With the wave came an overwhelming sense of pain. As if her entire body was about to be ripped apart. And as the blood streamed from Claire’s eyes and nose, she let out a blood curdling scream.

When Claire screamed, an invisible wave left her body, travelling outward in all direction. The floor was torn apart in it’s wake and it slammed into the people in the area; knocking the back into the walls with the force of a Mack truck and rendering them unconscious. The furniture in the room was sent flying as the wave dissipated and Claire crumpled to the floor, quickly losing consciousness.

[Auki]

“Burn in hell, damn you! All your fault!”

Karen cries had turned to high-pitched shrieks, her words barely distinguishable between low wails of anguish. She wanted peace but there was so much pain inside of her, unleashed turmoil with no sane master to rein it in. Her chest felt tight, constricted by an unseen pressure, and she wondered if she would ever breathe again. Did she even deserve to?

“It wasn’t me. I swear!”

No tears came to her eyes even as she sobbed. Remorse had no place in her heart, overcome by hatred and rage. She clawed at her scalp, digging bloody grooves across her skin, chunks of hair tangling between her fingers – yank – then falling to the floor. Her face fell prey to her nails shortly after, deep scratches rent down her olive cheeks.

“Don’t want to see. Stop!”

Memories she never hoped to remember were stained across her vision, inescapable. Mutilated bodies strewn over one another, muscle ripped from bone, splattered across the floor, a shower of blood in its wake. If the faces had shown pain, no one would know – They lay in a thousand pieces, blasted mercilessly from the skulls of her victims. They were not just those of men, but of women and children too.

“No!”

Was this what she had become? She would go where they pointed without question, mission upon mission. Detonation – her finger would pull the trigger – but any casualties would not be her problem. When had they blinded her? When had she stopped caring? Memories danced their haunt before her and, no matter how she closed her eyes, they remained.

“Leave. Me. Alone!”

She blinked.
Who was she speaking to?

The playground was empty.

Karen perched upon the swing, idly rocking back and forth. The seat was charred and battered, dingy, its vibrant paint of red and blue slowly peeling away with age. A teddy bear hung in the crook of her elbow, cuddled affectionately against her breast. Together, they swayed – legs out, legs in – building momentum as they climbed higher and higher. The few clumps of silky-black hair that still clung to her head billowed behind her as she pitched forward; it felt like she was flying. The blood was cool against her face, almost soothing. There was no pain. “Isn’t this fun, Mister Binky?” She murmured to the bear. She spoke slowly, at what most might consider a normal pace, her body relaxing in to the seat as the swing gently rocked her into a lull.

"Welcome back Karen," Lilith's voice seemed to carry on the slight breeze in the playground; though she was nowhere to be seen.

"I was wondering when you'd return," her voice seemed to sound older. More like it was being spoken by a teenager and not the little girl Lilith normally appeared as.

"Is there something you'd like? Or did you just want to play with Mister Binky? He really likes swings you know." The sound of purring could be heard coming form the Teddy bear as Karen moved back and forth on the swing.

“I want Mister Binky to like me,” the older woman mumbled. She paused for a few seconds, a flicker of pain reappearing upon her face. It was crushed by a feeling of unnatural bliss, as though despair was being forced away. Her complacent tone caused her words to seem out of place, “I’m scared. I want my friends back.”

"Then wake up Karen," Lilith's voice seemed to age again giving the impression that a woman in her thirties was speaking.

"Wake up and you can be with your friends. I have no doubt that they'll find a nice padded room for you to spend the rest of your life.

“No!”

The playground flickered into the scene of a room. Tattered paper, pinned haphazardly to the walls, depicted various animals with implausible anatomy scribbled in the rich hues of Crayola. The white they had been scrawled upon had yellowed with age. A small girl flashed in the middle of the room, hands over her ears in protest, olive cheeks streaked with tears. A man sat behind a desk looked her up and down before shaking his head sadly. The girl was a lost cause. Within a blink, she was gone – Karen did not notice her or the change in environment.

The scene shifted back to the playground, the grown woman still innocently rocking on the children’s apparatus. Her heart was dead except for unrivalled contentment.

“Maybe…” She murmured, “…Maybe I need new friends.”

"I can be your friend," Lilith's spoke calmly, her voice sounding like that of a mature woman.

"I will show you such wondrous things Karen," Lilith whispered into Karen's ear, though she was still nowhere to be seen.

Although her entire body trembled vehemently in refusal, the older woman found herself nodding her head in an eerie calm, “That would be… nice.”

"Then take my hand," Lilith spoke softly, her voice barely audible over the purring sound coming from Mister Binky. Materializing in front of Karen, Lilith held out her hand, smiling and staring into Karen's eyes.

Soothed, the woman began to reach out.

“No… No!” She whimpered, sharply withdrawing her outstretched arm, “I can’t.”

“Mark! Help me. Please!”

She shook violently, terrified, but then, as though someone had switched her mind off yet again, she relaxed back into a peaceful stupor. Without hesitation, she extended her hand and grasped onto Lilith’s. As soon as their fingers met, the playground shattered.

Burning. Searing.

Her entire body wracked with pain. She gagged as air refused to enter her lungs. Convulsing from agony, she tried to let go but found herself unable. She was trapped; the underlying fear manifesting inside her began to scream as it realised what had happened. Blaze torched her bones, boiled her blood, and the contentment was ripped from her mind and memory, replaced my terror.

Lilith’s voice whispered through the torture, “The deal has been made. Soon, it’ll be time to play.”

The last thing Karen saw was a ‘D’ emblazoned on the back of her right hand, the skin singed and black where the letter drew.

Then, she collapsed into darkness.

[Cookies Ahoy]

For a moment Kristy thought she might be able to handle the whirlwind of floating objects Karen had started, but just when she was getting comfortable, a sick howl came from Claire. Kristy’s concentration broke immediately, and then she was quick hurled at a wall where she passed out.


Upon waking up, Kristy assessed the damage caused; both to her and the room. She felt like she’d been run over, and any movement made her body ache. If the room were a living thing, Kristy imagined it would feel the same way, with its torn floors, cracked walls, and its furniture strewn about like a bomb had gone off. Grunting as she got up, Kristy made her way to the kitchen.

Its important to take care of number one first, so you can take care of number two. That was Kristy’s theory as she threw a couple pain killer pills in her mouth. She took a few minutes to rest against the cabinets and the floor, then told herself that she was feeling better, despite what her body was saying. She returned to the room with the bottle of pills and a tall glass of water, which she set on the table. It looked like people were starting to stir, but Kristy wasn’t really sure what she should do; instead, she went outside to get some air and see if anybody was going to investigate the ruckus that someone may have heard. Kristy doubted anyone would come, but it wasn’t a bad thing to be cautious -the fresh air was a nice escape from the stale air of the safe house too.

[Merry]

Baket knew she was on the floor, surrounded by debris and bodies. Alive or dead, she wasn’t sure, yet, just that they were there, somewhere. That thought was a little comforting. The next thing she realized was that she hurt, all over. It felt like she had been hit by a brick wall, repeatedly. Even the smallest movement sent little sharp shock waves of pain through her back and neck. Her arm was underneath her back and twisted in a position that it shouldn’t be. Turning her head slightly to the side, made her gasp in pain, so she stopped. Slowly sliding her arm out from under her, she was glad to realize it was asleep, and not broken as she thought. She wriggled her fingers slowly, getting the circulation back. From the feeling of it, she had been out awhile.

She heard someone moving off, slowly, painfully. At least she wasn’t the only one alive.
She closed her eyes again, since they didn’t want to quite focus yet anyway and tried to remember what happened. She had been running down the hall, trying to talk to Claire and Karen, Claire was hurt and worried about Karen…. and then, WHAM! Nap time. Something had smashed into her and knocked her down. Her fingers slipped up and found a good bruise on the edge of her eye brow, almost at her temple.

Slowly turning her head, again, she noted the pain wasn’t as bad as before. More like a pulled muscle in her shoulder or something along those lines. She cautiously edged her way up to a sitting position, blinking the dust out of her eyes, she looked around to see if anyone else was alive, wondering how long they had been out.

[StormWolf]

Malcolm was so numbed by the events of the past forty-eight hours, he was not even startled by the loud bang of the gunshot or the body of Bear slumping to the ground, nor Clair's eruption, or the screaming that ensued. Malcolm was deaf to it all, his bandaged right hand held over his mouth as he just stared at the dark pool slowly expanding from Bear's lifeless form. He was not even phased when Claire's shockwave knocked him from his chair like he had just be hit by a speeding humvee - he felt the physical pain, but nothing else. Malcolm took a few slow, deep breaths, fearing that if he stood too fast he might vomit. It was not the blood or the gore he had seen in the past two days that upset his stomach, it was the tension on Malcolm's nerves that sent him in to a state of nausea.

Once standing on his own two feet, Malcolm slowly approached Bear's corpse, kneeling beside the large man to close his eyes and remove his dog tags. It was Malcolm's solemn duty as a Chaplain. "Our Father in Heaven, watch over your child, Bear. I hereby absolve him of all his past sins and I beseech you to accept his solemn soul in to your Light. In your name, amen." Malcolm muttered over Bear's corpse, adding his tags to the slowly growing collection around Malcolm's neck. At the rate SCAR operatives were dying and going insane, it would be a God damned miracle if they all made it through the week. Standing once more, Malcolm stepped behind Bear, grabbing the large man under the armpits and dragging his limp body to the infirmary, leaving a crimson smear along the floor.

Malcom stepped out of the infirmary minutes later wiping blood from his hands with a once-white cotton towel. With Bear taken care of and the others beginning to self-medicate themselves, Malcolm moved over to Claire, scooping her up in his arms and taking her to a couch she had over-turned with her mind. He uprighted the piece of furniture with a kick and set Claire down on the cushions, getting a cold, wet towel and placing it on her brow. There was no medical way to cure unconsciousness brought upon by psychic exhaustion. It was up to Claire's mind to wake itself up. All Malcolm could do was make her comfortable. Whether it was shock or adrenaline or just simple numbness, it started to fade, leaving Malcolm to deal with an aching.... everything. He felt a sticky warmth on the side of his head that trickled down his face. Malcolm touched it with a finger, seeing red on his fingertip. His scalp was split, which was no big surprise given the force of Claire's little tantrum. He had suffered far, far worse, and contented himself with two tablets of painkillers and a hearty scrubbing from a disinfecting pad.

[John]

Had Claire been awake at the time, she would have been really annoyed by the sound which emanated throughout the safe house. The computer's voice spoke the words, “perimeter alert,” and all the lights within the house had changed to a blinking red light. Perhaps the only thing that would have annoyed Claire more than the voice of the computer, would have been the loud beeping noise which served as the alarm. And had she been able to see the computer screen, she would have known the reason for it.

It all happened the moment Kristy stepped outside. There was the audible noise of guns being locked and loaded as a few dozen police officers and SWAT team members aimed their weapons at Kristy from behind whatever they had decided to use as cover.

“Place your hands on your head and face the wall,” one of the officers shouted at Kristy in a commanding voice, his weapon pointed at her head.

As the events unfolded outside, Claire started to stir. As of yet, she wasn't aware of the alarm sounding in the safe house. Nor was she even aware that Karen was no longer in the room. For Claire, it was as if she was swimming in the darkness of her mind, trying to regain consciousness.

[Mysteria]

A loud scream coupled with intense pain awoke Shane from her resting spot on the floor. Had she really fallen asleep finally? Shaking her head groggily Shane tried to remember the last few hours. What was the pain she felt, she wondered as she began pushing debris off of her.

It all began coming back to her as she regained her senses. Aaron had disapeared, they had come here in hopes of...Shane didn't really no why they had come here but she trusted Claire to lead them in the right direction. Claire! It was Claire who had caused the shock wave that had knocked her out, it was Claire that had screamed...

FUCK. Bear was dead.

Shane remembered it all as she tried to stand, the ringing of the alarms causing her head to pound even harder than it had been before she was knocked out. As she took in the scene around her the only thing that came to mind was total devestation. The floors and walls had literally been ripped to pieces, she could not see half of her team members anywhere and most of the ones she could see were in just as bad of shape, if not worse than Shane herself was. Shane needed to find a way to silence the alarms or at least make the ringing in her ears stop so she could think. That's when she saw Kristy moving towards the door and within seconds Shane stood up, trying to feel her legs under her again. Step by painful step she followed Kristy's footsteps towards the door that would lead outside, away from the wreckage and into fresh air. Then suddenly Shane froze in her tracks.

They were wanted which meant the alarms probably were indicating to them that the perimeter had been breached. Just as Shane was about to scream to Kristy to stop, Kristy swung the door open and stepped outside, the sound of guns along with the brightness of day flickering through the doorway and temporarily stunning Shane all over again.


“Place your hands on your head and face the wall,”

Shane shook her head hard, focusing...guns..locked and loaded and Kristy was outside by herself. Think Shane, think, the words went over in her mind and a split second later Shane knew what she had to do.

And she knew it could well cost her her own life but the sacrifice of one was nothing compared to all of her friends possibly dying now. Shane walked towards the door, her hands stretched out in front of her, her only thought being that she hoped and prayed Bakets healing powers were enough to at least keep her alive even if she couldn't reverse the damage she knew would happen to her person. The closer that she got to the door the more intense the searing pain in her hands became but Shane pressed forward as she yelled over her shoulder, hoping that everyone left alive would or could even focus enough to realize what was about to happen "It's now or never, do or die we go, NOW!"

With that a blast of fire flew from Shane's fingertips, engulfing the surrounding police officers and SWAT team in a circle of flame. Shane pushed forward, the fire moving further up her hands and onto her body until Shane almost looked liked a fiery phoenix once again risen from the ash. The searing heat was so intense Shane felt her strength along with her resolve beginning to crumble. "Hurry!" Shane screamed, as she began to topple backwards, then regained her footing "Go, get out of here GO!"

A few seconds later the cruisers and SWAT truck burst into flames allowing the group the break they needed to get the hell out of there.

Shane was now engulfed in her own flames, her body severely burned and almost collapsing to the ground as the flames began to die down, Shane moaning out in pain "Go...leave me, save yourselves. GO!"

[Cookies Ahoy]

One moment Kristy found herself thinking she was being too cautious, the next she found herself wishing she had been more cautious. She had hardly been outside for more than a few seconds when a SWAT team and several police officers had their weapons leveled at her. Kristy stood frozen on the spot.

Kristy couldn’t recall who barked the order or what it was, but she found herself instinctively doing as she was told. Once she had put her hands on the wall, she felt a large temperature change streak past her, then a series of explosions followed. Kristy turned and saw a burning silhouette that was Shane wreaking carnage on the police force. A few of the SWAT members were turning to fire at Shane; Kristy quickly pulled their weapons away towards her with her telekinesis. Catching one MP5, Kristy began to run in the direction Shane went.

Before she got too far though, Kristy stopped and turned around. The police and SWAT officers were in danger, and even though they considered Kristy and the rest of the team terrorists, she still felt it was her duty to help them. She looked around at what resources she had available, there wasn’t much time before they were cooked alive. Kristy found what she needed to save their attackers, and slow them down from pursuing the SCAR team. Focusing her powers on a old water tank above the safehouse, she opened the valve and pulled at the supports. The gushing water extinguished the flames around the law enforcement unit, and the supports and debris washed up against the trucks and cars that they had arrived in, effectively corralling most of them in one place.

Taking in a deep breath, Kristy began to run with the rest of the escaping team. Her efforts wouldn’t hold the police and SWAT off for too long.

[DB.]

How long had it been, how long had he been walking? How did he even get there? Aaron was struggling to remember; the damned, hellish, heat kept him from concentrating on anything but moving forward, not to the mention the thirst. Oh god, the thirst, it was unbearable, impossible to get out of his mind.

The desert appeared to drag on for miles on end. The dunes, each one the twin of the other, were endless, never-ending. Any thoughts of returning to Shane seemed even more impossible the more he dragged on.

Aaron noticed a small number of ripples appearing right under the horizon, seeming like a puddle of water. Even though it was obviously his mind playing a sick trick on him Aaron's mouth suddenly felt like it would completely crumble and turn to into dust. As the sun wore him down, and the need for water began to grow, the mirages had become more and more frequent.

The sun singed his skin, turning it leathery and cracked. Any trace of moisture had long left his skin. His breathing had become labored and abnormal.

It was obvious that in this state he wouldn't last much longer. He was already reduced to crawling on his hands and knees, but no matter how hopeless it seemed, he couldn't give up. He couldn't do that to Shane, he had to at least try and stay alive. But what if he did give up, what then? No, he couldn't think of that, he was going to make it, no matter what.

He struggled to stand up, and his knees began wobbling causing him to fall face first into the windward side of a sand dune. He was slowly losing consciousness and was trying to force himself to stay awake.

Three days, it had been three days.

"Well there you are," Lilith's sounded as though she were a child about to burst from just receiving a puppy as a gift.

"And you look like shit. Doesn't he Mister Binky?" Lilith made kissy faces at the teddy bear she was holding and walked over to look down on Aaron.

"Wow, It's really hot," Lilith held out her hand a bottle of water appeared. Immediately, Lilith took a long, satisfying drink, draining about half the bottle. After taking a moment to wipe her mouth on her sleeve, she turned back to Aaron.

"So are you going to lie there all day or shall we go?" She observed him curiously for a moment as the smile widened on her lips. "I want to play."

Aaron struggled to keep his head up; the unlikeliness of a little girl was standing in the middle of the desert didn't seem to register in his mind. “W-w-ater,” he said, the words coming out choppy, his voice raspy. “P-please, I need some water.”

It didn't take too long for Aaron to realize the insanity of what he was seeing. He eyed the bottle of water cautiously, trying to ignore the fact that it appeared to come out of nowhere. Mirage, he told himself, she's just a mirage.

Lilith stared at Aaron, her eyes widening with glee. After a moment, she stepped a little closer and poured some of the water on his face.

“You need to get up silly,” Lilith grinned. “We have to go. There's a lot to do and Mister Binky needs a bath.” Lilith looked down at the bear and made a kissy face. “Oh yes you do Mister Binky. You needs a bath.” As Lilith spoke, the sound of purring could be heard coming from the bear.

Aaron reveled in the cool and refreshing feel of the water on his face. It had to be real, or at least it felt as real as anything else did at that point.

He started to speak, “W-w-hat do you,” before he started violently coughing and wheezing. It took him a couple of seconds to regain his composure before he could speak again, “What do you mean we have to go,” he asked. “What I need to do is get to the others, I need to get to Shane.”

"Well I would have thought that you might need some help," Lilith spoke curtly. "But if you don't need my help, I'll just take my bear and go home!" Lilith stuck her tongue out at Aaron and then turned around and started walking away

The little girl could be his only way out, but for some reason he had to pause for a second to think about the situation before yelling out to her, "Wait, wait!” and then in a calmer tone of voice, “What do you want me to do?"

"Nothing now," Lilith looked as though she were pouting. "If you don't want to play with me, I'll just take my water and go find someone else. Besides, you probably aren't strong enough to help Shane anyway. I do hope she survives. Mister Binky really likes Shane," Lilith's lips curled into a smile.

“I already said alright!” Aaron yelled, somewhat annoyed. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes “I'll play with you, what kind of game do you want to play,” he asked, trying to be as patient as possible.

"It's quite simple really," Lilith said walking towards him. As she did, she waved her hand and a bottle of water appeared in the sand next to Aaron.

"I have a game I want to play. And when the time comes, you'll help me and do whatever I ask," the smile faded from Lilith's face. "In exchange, I will save your sorry ass and reunite you with Shane. And I should mention she's in a bit of a pickle at the moment. But please, take a drink. You must be parched."

Aaron quickly picked the water up from the sand and began gulping it down as fast as he could. He threw the bottle over to the side and wiped his mouth.

The little girl was really starting to piss him off. “Alright, I'll play your game,” he began to say before fully realizing what Lilith had said. “What do you mean she's in a bit of a pickle? What's going on?”

"It seems one of my...employees," Lilith's face was showing irritation. "Has decided to try and move up the corporate ladder so to speak. So now the police and a couple of SWAT teams have shown up at the safe house. And there's a good chance none of them will make it out. And I would have gone to help, but I had to come and find you. I like you Aaron. So does Mister Binky." Smiling, Lilith sat the bear on the ground which promptly got up and walked over to Aaron and hugged him.

Aaron jumped back a couple of inches in complete shock. The thing was much more creepy than it was cute, and it appalled him. Regaining his composure, he cautiously pet the bear and held it out to Lilith.

“Look, I'll do what you want, just please get me there,” Aaron told Lilith. “I have to help them.”

"Oh we have time," Lilith beamed. "It moves slower here. And I have to tell you the rules. Daddy always said, "every good game has rules." Lilith winked at the bear which then clung to Aaron.

"So would you like to hear the rules, as well as what my little game will entail?" Lilith grinned malevolently.

Aaron panicked and tried to pull the bear off of him as soon as it clung to him, but the damn thing was stuck. No matter how much he tried it didn't seem to be loosening at all. “Um, you know, Lilith, I think this be- I mean Mr. Binky,” Aaron sighed to calm himself down, he didn't have time for this. Wait , time? he thought. “What do you mean time moves slower here,” Aaron asked Lilith with a look of bewilderment, and then he realized something even bigger. “Where exactly are we Lilith?”

"You are on a created plane of existence outside reality as you know it." Lilith spoke casually and started to twiddle her thumbs. "As a result, time moves at a different pace than in your world." Lilith let out a yawn.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean,” Aaron bellowed, “how'd I get here!” It didn't take too long for him to feel a tinge of regret for yelling at the girl, and above all he didn't want to anger his only ticket out. “Sorry 'bout that, I'm just confused is all. Who exactly are you anyway? What do you mean my world?”

"My name is Lilith," she spoke calmly. "And by "your world" I mean Earth. so did you have any other questions, or shall we get on with this? I have much to do."

Aaron did have more questions, but he wasn't too keen on wasting any more precious time, even if it did supposedly move slower here . If what Lilith said was true, then he need to get the heck out of wherever he was as soon as possible.

"Alright, lets do it then, whatever this is," he said. "Just tell me the rules"

"Excellent," Lilith grinned from ear to ear. " So the rules are pretty simple," Lilith spoke as she approached Aaron. "First, you can not tell anyone where you've been or what has happened or anything about me...except for Shane When we're done here, you will find you have more in common with her than you think. " Lilith giggled.

"When the time comes, I will call you and we'll play. I will also give you a present. You need to be stronger Aaron. And you will be," Lilith licked her lips.

"All you have to do Aaron is take my hand," Lilith held out her hand.

Aaron carefully took Lilth's hand in his own and almost instantly he felt a fiery, burning, sensation on his hand. At first almost as if he was being branded with a hot iron dipped in molten lava, but it spread, underneath his skin, coursing through his veins, spreading pain through his body. He let out a bloodcurdling scream and began shaking vigorously while tightening his grip on Lilith's hand.

The pain lasted for what seemed like minutes before gradually subsiding and Aaron was left panting, sweat dripping from his forehead. He glanced up and noticed a mark on his hand, one that was already beginning to slowly fade away. It was an O, as bright and fiery as the sensation that had overcome him a few seconds ago.

"Now listen closely Aaron," Lilith smiled evilly. "As I'm only going to say this once. Do not fuck with me. You will follow the rules and do as you're told otherwise, I'll make you watch while I skip rope with Shane's intestines then Mister Binky will eat you. And he'll start at your toes and work his way up" The moment Lilith finished speaking, the teddy bear which was clinging to Aaron transformed into the abomination it really was. Saliva and ooze dripped form it's mouth and it roared into Aaron's face. Picking Aaron up, Mister Binky stretched out his arms and slowly started to lower Aaron feet first into his mouth.

Arron struggled to get free from the monster's grip as best he could by kicking and thrashing as he was stuffed into it's throat, but it was already much too late. The reptilian like demon dropped him into it's mouth and swallowed.

------

Aaron awoke on a street corner about a block away from the safe house, with all of his lost equipment back on him. He patted himself down to see if everything was where it was supposed to be and then took a deep breath. The damn girl Lilith had pulled through. There was no time to question how it happened though; the sky around the safe house was a bright orange. Shane, Aaron thought, it has to be Shane! Aaron quickly took off towards the safe house. What if Lilith was right? What if they were in danger? What if he didn't get there in time?

As Aaron neared the safe house he spotted dozens of police and SWAT vehicles around the front. Most of them charred husks of what they once were. The officers were on the ground, writhing in pain after suffering various degrees of burns from a fire that was luckily put out by a nearby collapsed water tower, but the other operatives were nowhere to be seen. And then as he was surveying the area he spotted her, Shane, lying on the ground, burned just as bad-if not worse-as the other officers.

“No, no, no,” Aaron muttered, a rising concern in his voice. He sprinted to her, trying to get to her as fast as he could. It was all his fault, somehow it was all his fault. If he had only been there, maybe he would have been able to change things.

When he reached Shane, Aaron knelt down beside her and let out a deep sigh in relief. She was still breathing, her chest quickly rising and falling. He closed his eyes and whispered to her, “Shane, Shane, I need to get you out of here. I'm-I'm so sorry I was gone, I'm sorry.” Tears were beginning to form in his eyes, but he held them back; now wasn't the time to cry, not yet. “I don't know if you can hear me Shane,” he said, “but I just want you to know that I love you. I don't think I've said that enough times.” He paused for a second and then reached under Shane's neck with one arm, and her legs with the other. “I'm sorry, but this is going to hurt. We need to get out of here.”

(Co-op with Naz)

[Merry]

Kristy's quick observation that Shane was quickly losing control not only prevented Shane from hurting the SWAT team and police forces that were present, but also kept Shane from doing irreversible damage to herself. Shane collapsed on the ground, barely remaining conscience as the pain became overwhelming.

Somewhere in her mind she heard Aaron's voice. Sweet Aaron, her Aaron. Shane shook her head, trying to focus. No, it wasn't Aaron, it couldn't be. He'd left her, he'd abandoned her. She felt herself being lifted, carefully, tenderly and although she heard the words "I love you." she was certain that she was delusional. "Aaron?" Shane mumbled. "I'm sorry, this is going to hurt. We need to get out of here." Her mind refused to believe that it could be Aaron and try as she might to open her eyes the pain was too intense. The thought kept rolling over in her mind. Aaron, it couldn't be him. He was gone, he'd disappeared.

It must have been Malcom who had picked her up. The kind priest, the crazy priest. Shane left her head lean against her rescuers shoulder "Mal..thank you.." Shane felt herself slipping, everything around her began to fade into darkness. With the last of her strength she managed to get out the words "Baket..I need...Baket."

Baket had almost gotten to a standing position when all hell appeared to break loose, again. The pounding in her head already felt as if it would split open, and the sirens going off were not helping the situation what so ever. The surge of adrenaline was actually a welcome addition, when she realized what those sirens must mean. It pushed the thoughts of the aches and pains she was feeling to the background, she had to move and move now. Some thing was drastically wrong. Knowing that there would be time later to deal with her bumps and bruises, or at least she hoped there would be. Either way, one thing she was certain of, she couldn't stay here on the floor.

She shuffled as quickly as she was able to the door to see what had set off the alarms, only to see Shane on the ground with someone hovering over her. It caused her to do a double take when she realized who was there. The shock evident on her face.

“Shane, it's me, Aaron. Shane!” Aaron struggled to hold his tears back. This was all his fault, all of it. He was the one who abandoned her. Now he just wanted her to open her eyes, he wanted to see her smile and be happy again. He wanted it to be like it was before all this, before they became fugitives. He couldn't bear see her like this, he just couldn't. He felt like holding her tightly against him, to try and comfort her, and by extension, him. But he had to force himself not to do it, he couldn't, not without hurting her. She was right, he needed to find Baket.

He frantically looked around the charred landscape, screaming, “Baket! Baket, I need you, please!” And there she was, frozen in the doorway with a bewildered look on her face. “What the hell are you doing, she needs help!” Aaron yelled out to her. And then in a more quiet tone, “please.”

Baket snapped back, to the hear and now, pushing all the questions aside. There would be time, later to figure it all out. At least that’s what she told herself. She could see, even from the distance between herself and Shane that this was bad. Very bad. Moving as quickly as she could she reached the couple, focusing her energy to her hands before she even knelt down. Her fingers on her left hand were still tingling from the arm being pinned earlier. As the energy raced through her veins, her own fingers were flush with power, which she shoved directly into Shane.

Generally she didn’t touch the people she healed, it wasn’t necessary. Just close enough proximity was required. Then again, she had never really been around someone this seriously hurt. This felt different. Bigger. Her fingers were just about itching with their need to touch her, feel her charred skin. It was like there was a neon sign in her mind that said Direct Contact, it would not be refused. It had never been a need before.

She didn’t question it, she laid her fingertips as gently as she could on the other woman and pushed her gift, out, closing her eyes in concentration, knowing that this was going to hurt no matter how hard she willed for it not to.

Shane couldn't focus, the voices around her seeming to be mere whispers in comparison to the pain that she felt wracking her body. The whispers taunted her. Shane couldn't distinguish a voice, she barely could hear the words and in her current state of confusion she was certain that she had become delirious. Aaron...Baket...help...

Then Shane heard the word...please.... Had she said it? She was so weak, the lines of reality blurred behind her eyelids. No sooner than the word had been said than Shane felt something being pressed against her skin.

Shane screamed.

"No God no, make it stop!" Whatever had touched her skin had sent what Shane could have only described as being a surge of energy that felt like a fire coursing through her veins. Whatever had come in contact with her skin was still there though, still pressing against her causing the pain to intensify. As the phenomenon wended and winded it's way through her body like a fire raging through the forest Shane's insides were wracked with pain then almost as quickly was followed by a cooling sensation, and along with it she slowly began to regain her senses.

The fire...the pain..the whispers..healing..Baket! It had to be Baket. But Shane could still feel her hands on her, could still feel her energy flowing through her. She had to stop her before she grew too weak. "Baket." Shane said through parched lips "Baket..stop..please, you have to stop."

Trying to open her eyes Shane quickly shut them tightly, realizing that even though Baket had saved her, there would probably still be burns, scars. She didn't care, she was alive thanks to Baket. Slowly, Shane opened her eyes, squinting until things began to come into focus.

The first thing she saw was that of Baket, beside her. Shane tried to smile as she closed her eyes again and whispered to the woman who had just saved her life "Baket..thank you.."

It was then that Shane realized that she was still being held. It was an all to familiar feeling to her, one that spoke of comfort, but it couldn't be...
Was this another of Lilith's cruel jokes? Had it all been a dream, another nightmare? Slowly turning her head, Shane forced her eyes open, afraid of what she might see. A tear slid from the corner of her eye, stinging the burns on her face. It wasn't a dream.

"Aaron" Shane swallowed hard. She felt like she could have drank the Atlantic Ocean and still not have quenched her thirst. "What happened..how did you..." Shane stopped then, looking at his tear stained face "Aaron, where were you?"

Aaron looked at Shane and smiled. She was going to be alright, She was going to be alright! “I... I don't know where I was, there was-” Aaron paused, glancing over at Baket and remembering what Lilith had said, "First, you cannot tell anyone where you've been or what has happened or anything about me...except for Shane. When we're done here, you will find you have more in common with her than you think." Aaron sighed and whispered, “It doesn't matter right now, we need to get out of here but,” Aaron smiled, “we'll talk later.”

Aaron spoke louder, this time looking at Baket, “Thank you so much! Thank you, thank you, thank you!” He felt like he couldn't say that phrase enough times and still show what he meant. He didn't even know of any way he could express how grateful he felt.

Baket opened her eyes, when she heard Shane tell her to stop. Lifting her hands off the other woman and then slowing the healing power pouring from her fingertips. She brought the image of a large water faucet to her mind, and her hands slowly turning the handle to the off position. Turn, after turn, slower and slower until it was done. Closed and put away again, for now.

Feeling a little more than shaky, she just smiled at Aaron when he thanked her, and nodded slowly. “It’s why I’m here” she said in barely a whisper, her voice feeling rusty and unused. “She’s still going to need care, but it will be ok now to move her with minimal pain” her voice a little stronger. “We really need to go” she said looking around, wanting nothing more than to just lay down right on the charred earth. Her energy levels dangerously close to being completely depleted. Knowing it wasn’t possible yet, not if she didn’t want to end up in the hands of the authorities.

joint collaboration by Mysti, DB Wolf, Merry

[John]

Once again, Claire found herself floating in darkness. It had been a while since she found herself here, trapped in the recesses of her mind. It was something she didn't welcome. After a few moments, she could hear a voice in the blackness.

“Why are you here Claire?” Of course Claire couldn't see the source of the voice but she recognized it. After all, it wasn't the first time her father had spoken to her since he died.

“I can't do it anymore papi.” Claire was teary eyed. “I can't live like this. My power is making everything worse. I wish I couldn't feel. I wish I didn't care.”

“Your power's not the problem Claire,” her father's voicing had a soothing quality, not unlike that which Claire sometimes used. She couldn't help but notice that Karen was right before. It did sound a little condescending.. “It's you. You used to be able to control your emotions, and your power because of it.

“But I had no choice. It would have killed me.” Claire spoke, a little angrier now. “I can't go back to that. I want to be able to feel and not just live alone. I want more than that.

“And you can have it Claire” came the reply. “You need to control it at the right time. You need to use the emotions you have. Not try and lock them up for fear of what they might do. The only reason the emotions still overwhelm you is because you're afraid of them.”

“But I don't want to hurt anyone.” Claire whispered.

“You don't have a choice anymore.” Claire felt hands on her shoulders, though she couldn't see them. "You have to be what you were meant to be. And more importantly, if you don't do the things you have to, both you and all those you love will die. You can't give up now. You can do this.”

“I'm scared papi,” Claire's voice was meek.

“I'd be worried if you weren't.” Claire felt a hand on her cheek. “But you are your mother's daughter. You'll be fine but you have to do this. I won't be able to help you anymore but you're not alone. There are people who can help you. You just need to have faith in yourself.”

“I will papi,” Claire nodded a little as a single tear rolled down her cheek “I miss you.”

Claire's eyes opened. She looked up at Malcolm before noticing that Karen wasn't in the room. For the moment, she could only assume Karen was outside with the others. Getting up and walking over to the elevator, which would take her to the first level of the warehouse, where shit was hitting the fan outside. Somewhere in the back of Claire's mind, she could hear herself saying, “There's got to be a better way.” However, given what she could see on the screen as she passed, she would likely have no choice but to hurt innocent people.

Though she would have normally been moving faster, her pace was methodical as she retrieved her swords and rested them on her shoulders, stepping onto the platform. As it rose, she could feel the slight tingle of tears beginning to well up in her eyes. She pushed them away, forcing herself to be more determined. To be strong. To be everything she hadn't been before finding the experimental drug in the facility which kept her emotions from overwhelming her.

Once Claire reached the door to the outside, she exhaled deeply, attempting to focus and once again shut out her own emotions. She could hear the sounds of the gunshots emanating through the walls of the warehouse and couldn't help but feel a little apprehensive. After all, the police which had been assembled to take them in were only doing their jobs. She didn't want to have to kill any of them but, at this point, that might have been a foregone conclusion.

The door opened, the light blinding Claire for a moment as she stepped out of the warehouse. It was only a moment before she heard the police yelling at her to drop her weapons and lay down on the ground. Threats of “or I'll shoot” accompanying them from some of the police who had recovered from Shane's attack. There was now a helicopter hovering overhead as well and Claire could plainly see the sniper inside who was aiming directly at her

Even without her power active, she could feel the emotions of the officers bleeding through. They were spooked. And why shouldn't they be? To their knowledge, Claire was a terrorist. Not to mention that Shane had just given them an unnatural pyrotechnics display. It appeared Kristy had been at work as well, what with all the cars moved out of the way. But even with that apprehension, she could also feel that more than one of them wanted to simply put a bullet in her head and end this now. That was all Claire needed for her emotions to be fuelled.

The thought of them wanting to kill her outright sent a feeling of rage through her and Claire's eyes turned black. Her head tilting sharply upwards as she felt the emotion coursing through her. Pain accompanied the feeling and blood started to run from her eyes. Gasps could be heard from the policemen along with a shot ringing out as Claire’s head snapped back.

In that moment, the emotions released from Claire and an unseen wave was sent straight out from her. It hit the bullet, sending it spiralling off to some unknown location. Then, it reached the line of police.

The gasps quickly turned to cries of fear and pain as they were sent hurtling through the air. As the policemen met the ground, Claire was thrown backwards, shot in the shoulder by a sniper's bullet. The pain was overwhelming and Claire screamed, flying backwards. As she hit the ground, another wave exploded from her and crashed into the helicopter. It was pushed backwards, turned upside down in midair and slammed into a nearby building, exploding on impact.

As Claire lay on the ground, bits of debris and ash raining down around her, she felt something very curious It felt as though the back of her neck was tingling and she could feel the hairs rise.

Someone was using magic.

[Auki]

Hands in pockets. Shallow breaths – In and out.

It was difficult to act casual; so much about the situation was unnatural. There were people in the streets, clueless, drearily making their way to work under the eye of the morning sun. He wove between them, barely even glancing toward them as he walked past. There was only one person on his mind and time… Time was running out. His footsteps seemed to echo on the pavement, even under the gentle murmuring of those awake. A guilty conscience made the noise reach his ears in amplified volume, pounding against his skull in relentless reminder.

The man had been vile, scum beyond that of nightmares. Files recorded his multiple attacks; all victims, ten years or younger. He had needed to be locked in a personal cell, away from other inmates, for the sake of his safety. That’s what had made him an easy target; isolation and a bastard enough that Mark could justify his ruthless death.

Hollow sockets, bloody holes, eyes torn by sheer force. Ears and mouth streamed with the same red liquid, brains and bone accompanying the gore. The face was concave, whatever structure it once had crushed by the brutality of a demon-led sacrifice. Twitch; the body convulsed erratically, still in shock over the pain that had surged through it. No human was supposed to experience such an ordeal. Then again, no human worth a damn would commit the crimes he had. His jaw still jerked open and closed from where he had tried to beg forgiveness just minutes ago.

The memory was burned within Mark’s mind. Without the heat of rage filling him, the consequences of his actions began to weigh down. There was no regret, just a nagging concern that someone, somewhere, knew what he had done.

He strode, head held high and carefree expression, in direct denial of such inner turmoil. The death had been needed. It would protect far more important lives today.

The sky above his destination tinted orange for a few seconds and he couldn’t stop from hurrying his pace. He was working off the logic that they could handle themselves, no matter the danger. He had seen a few police cars overtake him further back but had not even considered them a threat. He was only a few minutes away; he caught the faint sound of a scream before an explosion blinded his ears. Before he knew it, he was running. Was she okay? Had they hurt her?

The suit he wore grew hot; it clung to him and slowed him down. He could only sprint so fast and he panicked that it would not be enough.

Four military helicopters buzzed above him, blades slicing the air and powering them towards what Karen had once described as a ‘safe house’. Such name seemed ironic now; every gun in the city lay locked onto its location. It was in his sight for a few seconds before helicopter missiles blasted into the building, scattering rubble into the area around.

His fingers began to tingle, intensity increasing to the point of burning, the spell readying in his hands. He cast his arms out behind, urgency diminishing all desire to aim. A wave of pain flooded through him as the spell released but he didn’t break stride. He had known it would come; the magic was meant for demons, not human form.

The helicopters were lining themselves up for their next shot and there he was, running directly into their aim. What a fool he was. The thought did not stop him.

He caught sight of three people; one male, two female. SCAR Operatives were easy to pick out when one expected their presence. They had a hardened look, ready for combat at a moment’s notice. Although he longed to continue past them, he paused by them momentarily. It was true, they had reason to trust a stranger but he prayed for their sake that fear of death would push them into accepting his aid.

“There.” He pointed towards the street behind. It was difficult to see; they were made for subtlety, only large enough for two people walking abreast. Its only indication was a shimmer in the air - He could see the road and buildings behind but their shape was warped and all colour had been drained from their appearance. “Run through the portal.” He didn’t have time for anything less than orders, “I-… I need to find Karen. And Claire.”

The second was an afterthought but the woman was a friend no matter how strained the relationship. He had fought operatives before and killed a few but they were not made to be slaughtered like lambs. He did not want any more dead females upon his conscience, not when he had a chance to save them.

He did not wait for the group to reply before he sprinted away again, heading towards the building in direct defiance of the anxiety clawing his stomach.

[Yoruyonaka]

"Twinkle, twinkle little star..."

Charlie was falling in darkness.

"...how I wonder...what you are..."

She was hearing a child's voice. She sounded familiar.

"...up above the world so high..."

It sound....like her voice....when she was younger...

"...like a diamond....in the sky..."


***

Once Charlie fell, Malcolm forgot about what she was going to tell him and caught her head before her skull smacked against the unforgivingly hard floor. Thanks to his experiences with Claire, Malcolm had learned how to properly deal with someone having a seizure. Mal made sure Charlie didn't bang herself up too bad while she convulsed, but scrapes and bruises were unavoidable.

Once Charlie had fought through the worst of her convulsions, he ran over to check on Claire in her unconscious state, placing a hand on her cheek, trying to rouse her back to the world of the living. Slowly, Claire returned to him, and he let himself breathe again. Claire got to her feet and grabbed her weapons - she was fine.

Charlie's body convulsed on the floor. It was only a few minutes after Clair left, its like Charlie was having a seizure, but we all know that during these times it was definitely supernatural. The room shook as a darkness began to focus towards her. Her eyes fluttered and then glued shut. And then she screamed. Unlike any scream she ever produced. The cry was like a banshee calling out. Then...she stopped. Then....she began to cackle.

Once he heard her cackle, Malcolm gently set her down, his hand wanting to reach for his pistol when the laugh escaped her lips. The poor man was strung out and frayed enough as it was, and this was disturbing the last bit of calm he had left.

"Poor little Mal," Charlie spoke in voice which clearly was not her own. It was much like the sound of nails being raked over a chalkboard. Yet it seemed to contain an air of an ancient evil.

"Forsaken by a god who doesn't care for him and in love with a woman he can't keep. You should have stayed with me in hell. I would have made sure you were warm." Charlie's eyes opened, appearing as two black orbs which seemed to stare off into space.

"And before you get the idea of using your ability to banish me back to the pit. Don't bother. I only seek to deliver a message and then I will depart. Plus, if you were to use your ability on Charlie, it could have some very adverse side effects considering our shared blood." Charlie's mouth curled into a wicked smile.

"Anyway, the time for pleasantries is over. I only wish to tell you to be careful of Claire. She is not the innocent you believe her to be. In fact, without her, all of our plans will fail. Be careful who you stay close to Mal. Nothing is as it seems. And if you are hoping your god will save you. Well let's just say you and I will be together again soon enough." And with that Charlie's eyes returned to normal.

Malcolm's hands shook, one trapping a knotted bunch of Charlie's hair in a trembling fist while he held a knife under her chin with the other. It took all of Malcolm's strength not to drain her dry of blood. She was possessed by a demon, but the demon did not attack, it was more sinister breed that sows seeds of doubt and despair. Shared Blood? With a demon? With....

Malcolm dropped Charlie like she was scorching his flesh and he moved to the other side of the room as quickly as possible, dropping his knife with a clatter of metal on linoleum. Mal shook his head in silent disbelief and denial. Were the demons right? Had God forsaken Mal after all?

Charlie awoke from a darkened dream as though her throat were tied shut. She coughed out for air as everything seemed blurred and shadowy. A knife was held to her throat and her hair felt like it would be torn from the roots. She looked up at Mal, tears falling down her face. It wasn't like her at all, but she was really freaked. Worried too, that her only family member would kill her, right there.

"W-what happened," she stuttered at him. "What! What the hell happened to me?!" Malcolm's breath was shuttering briskly as he watched Charlie helplessly. He could feel the demonic presence leaving her, but the words she, or the demon said, still echoed in his head, scratching at the inside of his skull like a thousand claws of a thousand rats.

"Later, Charlie!" Malcolm muttered, his voice cold and shaky, going over to her and grabbing her hard by the arm, drawing his Desert Eagle with is free hand, firing the man-stopping .44 rounds with laser-point precision in-between the eyes of two advancing SWAT officers. A portal opened on the other side of the room, and Malcolm was too tired and desperate to look a gift horse in the mouth. Running still, Mal fired his gun behind him until the hammer clicked without result. He lead Charlie outside, seeing the work that Claire had done. Policemen started to re-steady their weapons and take aim. Malcolm could feel that seething anger he felt earlier that day welling up from the deep, dark corners of his heart. The gravity of Charlie's situation breaking through his mental fortifications, making him even angrier. Lights flickered and overcharged in a shower of sparks and glass. Focusing on the sniper in the helicopter, Malcolm glared and held out his hand, eyes glowing a vivid red as the sniper was burnt to cinders, his blackened skeleton falling from the chopper and shattering upon the hood of a police scar. Men screamed in horror, blind to the fragmentation grenades being tossed in to thick of their ranks. Contented with his work, Malcolm quickly dragged Charlie to the portal, gave a quick explanation of it, then threw her in. Satisfied, he shrugged off the news that raked his mind, and ran to help Claire.

((co-op with StormWolf and Nazgul!!))

[DB.]

Aaron looked at Shane, there in his arms, and he could tell she'd been through all kinds of hell. “Are you alright,” Aaron asked without even thinking. “Oh come on you idiot, is that all you can say? After all that, after all of what you said before, the only thing you can think about saying now is if she's okay? Well obviously she's not fucking okay! You probably don't even know half of what she went through! She only got hurt as bad as she did because of you! If you'd been there, she'd have been okay! She thought you'd abandoned her, imagine what you put her through! She probably doesn't even want to speak to you ever again you idiot! Stupid, stupid, stupid!”

Shane looked up into Aaron's face. It really truly was him. She raised a weak hand to his face as he held her "I'm fine Aaron." Shane said the words through her teeth. She had never lied to him before. The truth was, she wasn't fine. Baket had made the pain stop, she had saved Shane and although Shane knew that she would pull through, she was positive the burns would scar her for life.*

And then Aaron wouldn't want her anymore. Shane buried her face against his shoulder. At least the action didn't hurt her and she realized, it didn't hurt to have Aaron holding her now either. He had to be tired though, and she had to find her own strength again. Shane's fingers traced his face as she looked up at him "Aaron, where did you go, I mean, why did you leaves me?"*

Then Shane became aware of the others around them, heard the voice.*“Run through the portal.”*Portal? What portal. Her gaze followed the voice but at the same time she realized Malcolm and Charlie were already moving, and there were choppers.*

It was never fucking ending, it was a nightmare. One she couldn't escape but yet it seemed real. The screams were real, the burns were real. "Aaron, put me down." Her voice was weak and despite how weak she was she knew she had to try to buy the others more time somehow. Shane stood, supported by Aaron as she tried to call on her powers. Sparks barely bounced at her fingertips. Refusing to give up she whispered to Aaron, "Don't let me fall, Aaron."

Shane knew that at that moment there was little Aaron could do to help without his proper equipment. All he could do was hold her up while she tried again. Focusing her thoughts to her hands, she successfully managed to make a small ball of fire appear, throwing it towards the helicopter but managing to miss by several feet as she collapsed into Aaron's arms, almost at the same time as Malcolm had imposed his own powers onto the sniper inside of the chopper.

"I'm sorry." Shane croaked out, feeling helpless to try to help the remaining SCAR members that had not yet entered the portal. She felt Aaron's arms cradling her once more. "Aaron..we have to get out of here."

Aaron slowly lifted her off the ground, preparing to make a run for the portal that someone had mentioned. Seeing Shane's weakened state Aaron regretted letting her try to use her powers. She obviously couldn't take much more. He was surprised she was even awake after all that she had been through.

Making sure that they weren’t being targeted by the helicopters, Aaron ran towards the portal, hoping that they would make it before they were spotted. “We're almost there Shane, almost there,” he whispered.

"We'll talk about everything later, just get us out of here, Aaron. We'll find the others, everything will be okay." Shane allowed her head to rest against Aaron's shoulder, her voice barely audible. "Just get us there." Aaron pushed harder, he needed to make it into the portal, to safety.

Aaron could fully see the portal now. It was there, within reach. “We're almost there Shane, we're gonna make it,” Aaron said softly. The portal got closer and closer until he stood face to face with it. Holding his breath, and closing his eyes, he stepped through.

Co-op with Mysti

[Merry]

Baket was dizzy and nauseous. The headache that had been fading, now back in full force. Her powers came at a cost to herself each time she used them, and she knew she was close to completely depleted. As she watched Shane and Aaron tune out everything for a few moments and focus on each other her lips curled into a small wistful smile. Someday, she thought. That would be her, and she wanted that day more than anything. Some one that she knew would be there to care for her, with out reservation or hesitation. That special someone that would cross the world for just her, if need be. Someone she would do the same for.

Chiding herself quietly, she knew it was silly to be thinking these thoughts, especially here, right now. It would do no good to contemplate the endless supply of what if’s. Instinctively she knew that the thoughts had only come because she was utterly worn out. She crouched down, and closed her eyes for a moment. Just a minute to catch my breath, she told herself. That’s when hell really broke loose.

Abruptly the air was filled with explosions and pandemonium. A helicopter almost directly overhead swiftly exploded, debris cascading down in small balls of flames all around her. Pieces of the chopper crashing into the ground with force. Smoke and fire, everywhere all at once. The screams of people in pain filled the air and gunshots ripped through everything. The noise level was deafening. Instinctively crouching down and attempting to cover her head, she scuttled as quickly as she was able across the semi open area she was in, beside some hedges. She scanned for a sight of Shane and Aaron but they were impossible to locate through the smoke.

She wondered what the hell had happened to them, when the thought crept in that maybe when she had closed her eyes for what felt like only a moment, it had been in fact longer. Was she that drained that she had dozed off for a few minutes? Anything was possible. She was still injured from earlier, and then the healing of Shane had knocked her even lower. Regardless she was awake now, and in the middle of a war zone. Adrenaline was kicking in, in a major way. The threat of death apparently was the ultimate motivator.

Ducking as best she could beside the small vegetation she saw the portal off to the side and watched as SCAR members headed toward the wavering light. Of course… she wondered who had opened it, then realized that it didn’t matter, not really anyway. As long as they could use it to escape this nightmare. She noticed that the military and police, what was left of them, was starting to advance. Anyone not through the portal quickly wouldn’t be going at all. With bullets screaming all around her, she knew it was now or never. Keeping as low to the ground as she could manage, she moved as fast as her battered body would allow. Just a few more feet and she would be safe she thought.

Maybe it was this thought that caused her to let down her guard, coming up from her short crouch just a little more than she had to. Maybe it was just luck, or worse, fate. Either way, at the exact moment that her right foot entered the portal she heard this roaring sound in her ears, and a sharp pain struck her up high in the back. The pain so intense she was pushed forward from the impact.

The bullet hit her almost directly between her shoulder blades. Her body was frozen in pain but in motion at the same time. The sting of the shot so searing that she screamed out, louder than she had ever screamed in her life. Every muscle in her back contracted into one massive heap of flesh. As the wind rushed out of her lungs with one large gasp as she fell forward from the impact, half into the portal and half out.

She tried to crawl through, but her fingers could find nothing to grip. It was as if she was stuck hanging between two places. She was unable to go back, but powerless to find a way to move forward. When she stretched her arms out, reaching into thin air she was hit with another wave of excruciating pain. She screamed out again, and then everything went black, and the pain was no more.

[John]

Co op with Auki

Claire stood and stared at the destruction before her, the sound of the approaching helicopters reaching her ears. As it grew louder, she steeled herself for the next attack. A part of her was praying that she hadn't hurt anyone with her outburst but deep down she knew the truth. Unfortunately, now wasn't the time for sorrow; especially for people she didn't know. As the helicopters came into view, Claire thought she could hear someone calling her name.

----

“Claire!”

Mark ducked behind a car as someone approached from behind, slightly surprised to see a man sprinting past through the middle of the action. The SCAR Operative searched the rumble for the woman as though his very life depended on it. Eyes shone a maddened red and policemen fell, charcoal black, on either side of the road. A helicopter tumbled from the air, machinegun silenced, as the burnt corpse of its pilot fell limp. The power behind each attack was fascinating - It was almost a shame when a bullet took to the man’s temple. Mark made no move to help; he could see the operative convulsing and knew him to be in the throes of death. Time could not be wasted on hopeless causes.

Pushing himself from behind the car, the necromancer sprinted forward, keeping behind cover as much as he was able. He had no gun; he was as vulnerable as a lamb on slaughter’s day. A knife whipped into his hand and he hastily slit into his thumb, urging the red that pooled from the wound. Pulling up his sleeve, he ran the blood down his skin, ancient symbols forming in a crimson array. It was the least he could do – Even with the helicopters buzzing ahead, the policemen on the ground remained a threat. Whether from the air or below, a bullet to the right spot could kill instantly. Mark muttered a few words, still running forth.

Reactions were delayed. It was a few moments before they truly noticed their slaughtered comrades picking themselves up from the ground. Confused cries followed by pained screams; half their guns were forced to turn within their ranks, fending off the zombies that stumbled within arm’s reach of their prey. Time was slipping by fast – Where the hell was this woman?

“Claire!” He took up the call of the fallen operative before, dodging through the wreckage.

“Karen! Claire!”

The latter came into view, bloody faced and dazed. He pelted towards her – He knew his question was rude, his tone demanding, but he had to ease the worry from his mind, “Where’s Karen?”

"I... I... " Claire stuttered, the distress clear on her face at having felt Malcolm's death. It was only her confusion at seeing Mark that kept her from completely losing it, though she was quickly becoming less than coherent.

"Mark? What... how?" Claire stared blankly, though her wavering voice clearly denoted the confusion she was feeling. All it did was frustrate him,
“We’re running out of time, Claire! Where is Karen?”

"I don't know," Claire spoke softly. " Gone." Claire winced as bullets started to fill the air. Apparently the newly arrived officers' confusion at the zombies had passed. It also served to jar Claire back into reality a little.

"What have you done?"

The gun noises grew more intense as the seconds ticked by. Claire’s question went ignored, “What do you mean gone? Where has she gone!?”

"I don't know," Claire replied. "I passed out. She was gone when I came to," Claire paused for a moment to stare at Mark.

"How did you get here?" Claire glanced around, as if looking for some form of transportation which might have brought Mark to the scene. "And what's with all these fucking zombies?" Claire sounded clearly annoyed as she spoke the last part. Of course she would be. She had always had some annoyingly bias sense of justice that Mark still failed to grasp. He had no idea what to make of Karen – He could only assume that she was somewhere else and capable of looking after herself. Claire, on the other hand, needed his present attention – Should anything happen to her, his wife would never be quiet.

“Most soldiers commend using the enemy’s resources against them. Don’t lecture me.” He failed to mention that she should be grateful; at the least, he had avoided using operatives in his endeavours.
“How I came here doesn’t matter. We’re leaving by a portal – It’s nearby, down the road. It will take us somewhere safe.” He spoke in his usual monotone manner but hastened his pace of voice.

"We have to find the others first," Claire spoke, choosing to ignore the condescending attitude of Mark. At the moment she had asked, she didn't really think that Mark had summoned them. And once she knew the truth, she found she didn't care. "My team. I'm not leaving without them."

“For hell’s sake, woman, I’ve already sent them through. You’re the last one to go.”

"Lead the way," Claire breathed a sigh of relief. He blinked in surprise as she accepted his words and prayed that all her team really had gone through. At least it had subdued her anxiety. He took hold of her wrist and pulled her into a run back the way he had come. Adrenaline was kicking in; he could feel the blood pounding in his head as their footsteps pounded against the street.

As they rounded a corner Claire caught sight of two things which unnerved her. The first was the portal. Now Claire had seen magical portals before, and this appeared different. The air seemed to shimmer, and if not for that, Claire might not have even known it was there.

"Mark, how did you..." Claire trailed off as she caught sight of Kristy. This was the second thing that made Claire uncomfortable as Mark had said her team had gone through the portal already. And it didn't help that Claire could sense that someone had Kristy in their sights.

"Kristy! Run!" As Claire screamed, Kristy turned and then hit the ground as a bullet went through her chest. Claire screamed and then a bullet caught her in the shoulder, causing her to be thrown backwards to the ground. Mark, still holding onto her, was pulled off balance by the jerk. He cursed as his shoulder smashed into the floor, pushing his weight off it to aid the retaliation of pain.

This wasn’t the time to stop. “Shit, Claire. I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” He pushed himself onto his feet, stumbling, grabbing onto Claire and hoisting her up with him. There was a level of guilt but it was crushed by the urge to concentrate on what he could do; not on what was beyond his reach. Utilising his strength, he began to drag the woman towards the portal.

Claire was still clutching her swords, attempting to struggle against Mark. Though the struggle was short lived due to every movement causing her intense pain from the bullet in her shoulder.

"Please," Claire was barely audible through the sound of gunfire. "We have to help."

“She’s gone.” He tried to say it gently but the words were released through gritted teeth as she fought against him. It was a blessing that she was weakened; time was not a luxury in their possession. Closer and closer, inch by inch, for what felt like a lifetime. Helicopters roared, bullets filled the air and the girl now lay still on the ground, blood dribbling from the mouth.

She would hate him. The portal drew near and with a last push of strength, he sent her through.

Claire landed on the soft grass, disoriented and in agonizing pain. Finally she let the swords go and then took a moment to glance around. The field she was laying in was not what she had expected at all. She had figured Mark's portal would drop them in a house, or at least, somewhere not so out in the open.

As one of the cows in the field mooed, Mark stepped through, the portal closing behind him. Claire tried to push herself to her feet, but found she was unable due to the pain, which was growing in intensity.

Claire glanced around again and became even more alarmed when she realized apart from herself, only Charlie and Mark were in the field. The others had apparently disappeared.

"Mark, Claire spoke.Her tone sluggish and her eyes starting to close as the dizziness overtook her. "Where are the-" And with that, Claire lost consciousness.


To Be Continued