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The Drow chuckled darkly as he watched his spell fulfill its intended purpose, stopping the fleeing girl in her tracks. Combustion was not a spell typically learned by mages of the more recent generation as it was not as destructive as one might wish... but it certainly had its uses. As the girl slammed face first into her own shield he actually had to wince a little in sympathetic pain, but he did not regret the action in the least. He had managed to stop her accessing the companies servers but if at all possible he still needed to bring her in for questioning... somehow. And he well knew that they were both surely becoming low on willpower. At the beginning of the battle Cail had been fresh while the girl had already tossed off several attacks on the mundanes she had encountered, and the fact that she had been forced to react to his attacks with defensive countermeasures even further than just her Aegis meant that she had drained herself even more... On the other hand Cail's spells had all been rather flashy and destructive, intentionally so in hopes of finishing the fight quickly, but with that also came the fact that they had all been rather draining when thrown out in such quick succession. He did not want to see whose reserve of willpower would fail first.

"Girl, I'll ask you this once. Surrender, tell us what this was all about, and you'll be treated fairly." As he spoke Cail tensed his muscles and prepared himself to sling out a spell at a moments notice, ready for any sudden attacks by this intruder. She was, in a way, cornered and in such a situation she would be even more dangerous. Hopefully she would just take his offer and leave it at that, but as a high level mage he doubted she would lower herself thus... He also doubted they would be able to keep her contained for very long anyways. It was still worth a try though.
 
Elle looked up at the man. He was just more than a head taller than she was, and physically seemed much bulkier in terms of sheer muscle, and him tensing up just made him all the more intimidating, combined with the harsh tone that only someone with experience in the military could replicate.
Okay. Calm down, she told herself. I'm Level 8. He's Level 7. I've got the advantage here.

Under no circumstances could she let him figure out why she was here. She absolutely couldn't. Thinking fast, she cast Lodestone Chain, using magnetism to grasp the metal behind her. Thank goodness she'd given it ferrous properties when designing the spell. Reassuring herself with her own magic, she couldn't help but smile a little. She took into account that her Willpower was probably not faring to well from casting again, but she had little choice.
"Surrender?" she echoed mockingly. "You know that never works, right?"
And then she lashed out, uprooting and flinging the 200-pound slab of ice blue metal at the Drow.
 
"I'd say our best bet is Redhead's magic. I know it's kinda rude to ask, but we don't have time for formalities. What's your Level?"

No. No, that was a very bad plan. One likely to wind up with all of them riddled with magical ailments, if not dead on the first go. There was panic rising up in his chest, sending a nervous giggle tumbling from his lips as he tried to force it down. "Level 0. Mundane. No magic." He answered, feeling irrationally guilty that he had to dash their hopes like that. Well, at least it was out in the open again.

"What?! You can't expect me to watch you literally put someone in convulsions, and then believe that you don't have some kind of magic."

"I don't know why that happened! I didn't do anything. Maybe it wasn't even me who did… whatever it was that happened." Sasson whirled on the escort, words babbling out with his nerves and desperation. "I don't have magic. I've never had magic. And if in some miraculous coincidence my magic has just been late to bloom, I am going to be so pissed off."
 
The Witch Hunter sighed in frustration. This was turning out to be one hell of a day. How could he be a mundane? She was absolutely certain that it was him that had fixed whatever was wrong with her. But then, his hair was auburn, and his eyes were green. Completely normal colours. If he had been an arcane, she noted, he would've had blue hair or something. But nothing. He appeared totally normal. The same went for his escort. Neither of them had anything like the pale greens she sported, and she was hardly even arcane herself, as a Witch Hunter.

"Well, you look mundane, I guess," she admitted. "But never mind that, you're going to have to try to do whatever you did to me to everyone else downstairs before some plane crashes in the city or one of the Level 9s gets curious or something."

That last thought made her shudder. If one of the Level 9s decided they wanted to come and see what was going on, that wouldn't bode well for anyone, and any odds of getting out alive would be instantly reduced to zero as soon as they decided to walk in the direction of the building.
 
Whelp. That didn't work out as I'd hoped. Not that he had actually expected her to surrender, but it would have been nice if she had come quietly rather than continue this battle. He didn't want to kill anyone, not again, but he sure as hell didn't want to die fighting this brat. Obviously he could have just let her go, but somewhere deep down his stubborn pride wouldn't let him, and so it was that her continued resistance and defiance didn't surprise him in the least, and as a giant slab of metal came hurtling towards him he barely even bothered to blink. Without the slightest bit of panic he weaved his signature magic once more combining air and chaos into a powerful sigil and then blasting the amethyst waves of that horrifying Banshee's Wail directly at the slab hurtling towards him. The ensuing sonic boom stopped the slab in its tracks, and even reversed its momentum, sending it back towards its original caster. A little off of its original path, but it might clip her if she didn't move fast enough. Either way it didn't really matter, she had made it quite clear that she was not going to give up and that she still had some fight left in her.

Cail could only hope that he had enough to match her blow for blow, and that the building wouldn't come down on top of them beforehand. Which, he noted, seemed to be a decent possibility. Banshee's Wail had never been a very delicate spell, and the collateral damage it caused was always rather severe. Only now did he think about the structural integrity of the building, or the increasing lack thereof. They really did need to finish this battle quickly or else risk the whole building coming down on their heads. Or at least a few floors worth of rubble. Either way would be rather unpleasant...
 
He could only imagine the destruction that would happen if a level 9 decided to join this little party, sharing in the Hunter's shudder. "Alright. I don't know what I'll be able to do, but I'll try all the same. But if I get shot or something equally ridiculous during this, I'm going to haunt you." The humour was more for his own benefit, covering up the panic that still sat heavy in his throat, tasting bitter on his tongue. This was insane. Absolutely insane. Turning, Sasson began heading down the stairs. "Let's try and fix your squad mates on the lower floors first, see if we can't get an evacuation started." Because it wasn't just them in danger now. The cut to the power had likely thrown the staff into a panic, and panicked people became desperate people, willing to risk a bullet to escape imminent danger. His footsteps were quick and quiet as he headed down into the thick black shadows.
 
Cail's estimation had been exactly right, demonstrated by Elle not moving fast enough. However, the fact that it had only clipped her didn't matter nearly as much as where it had clipped her, and what she had used as a shield not a moment before impacted her very hard in the face, with enough force to knock her over. Fortunately for her, Aegis prevented her from being actually knocked unconscious, which even as a Level 8 arcane, she probably could have been. In fact, had she been a mundane the blow would have almost definitely taken her head clean off.

None of that changed the fact that she was now lying flat on her back, looking up at her assailant. He seemed prepared for another attack, but in her position, unless she could do something highly acrobatic, there was no real way that immediately came to mind of getting up and running without him simply knocking her down again. If she planned to escape, she couldn't do it now, at least for a while. She couldn't really even launch another attack if he expected it. Especially after how well that had worked just a second ago. And besides, it wouldn't do her any good anyway. She couldn't run, and there really no other spell she could use without risking the whole building collapsing at this point. Being as high a Level as they were, the two could probably have survived it, but it might have attracted a small amount of attention, not to mention being buried in rubble would make running a nightmare.

Exhaling loudly, she folded her arms, resigned. "Fine," she muttered. "You win. Do what you want. But remember that if I don't like it, I reserve the right to impale you."



The Hunter was silent. The joke wasn't lost on her, but she was too deeply immersed in thought to laugh. What if there were other squads that this had happened to? Gabriel Branch? Azazel? Maybe even Abbadon? What kind of trouble would they be in then? What if the whole Witch Hunt had been affected by... whatever had come over her and her team? She shook the thought away. There was no time to worry about that yet. They had to keep moving before the whole building collapsed.

The Witch Hunter silently followed the redheaded mundane, gripping her gun tightly. But even on the stairs, she realised, there was very little chance that she'd be able to hit anyone who confronted the mundanes without blowing one of them to smithereens. "Hang on a second," she murmured. "I should probably go in front. I'm the one with the weapon, after all." But this caused another thought to surface, one that she could have done without.
If worst came to worst, could she really shoot her own partners? She pushed that aside too. Hopefully this mundane could do whatever he did to them before she had to try.
 
Actually, it would probably be best that the hunter headed down first, wouldn't it? Sasson stepped aside for her, the three heading further down. What exit were they closest to? Probably the front, seeing as that's where they'd been coming from. It was also where the most people were, including Witch Hunters. The thought made his stomach flip. The shouting was louder than ever now, terrified staff left in the dark, denied their rite to leave and feel safe. The light from the doors caused the crowd to look as though it were a mass of shadows, reaching for freedom, not giving the three a spare thought. With a deep breath to steady himself, Sasson pushed forward through the crowd of people. With the crowd this loud, he hoped the Witch Hunters would be distracted enough to not notice him. And if they did, he hoped they were slow to shoot.

He could see the front of the crowd, held back only by the raised weapons and the threat of violence. Great. He really hoped this worked. Moving quick as he could, Sasson grabbed the nearest Hunter by the arm, trying his best to keep the man between him and the other Hunter.
 
The Hunter, as soon as he realised he'd been grabbed, looked at Sasson with an expression of bewilderment.

He blinked once.

He blinked twice.

And then he broke down in some retching entanglement of his own limbs as he desperately clawed at his own face, which was enough to even silence the clamour of the room for a moment.

At least, until the Witch Hunter recognisable as the one who had threatened the woman before raised a gun at Sasson, but this was countered by the green-haired one aiming hers at the first Hunter's head, at which point the crowd began to back of with screams of terror rather than desperation.
"Trust me, Damien. You really don't want to move," she murmured to him.
"Sasha," he growled at the girl, seeming completely calm as usual, but it was obvious that he'd been caught off-guard. "What are you doing?"
"Let them all past," she ordered firmly, ignoring the question.
"As Cassiel-Alpha, I am the only one here that is allowed to make that decision."
"And as Cassiel-Omicron, I am the only one here who happens to be ready to blow your brains out at a moment's notice. What a coincidence, now open the damn door!"
She subtly nodded at Sasson, which "Damien" didn't seem to notice in the little peripheral vision he had, as if to give him some kind of cue.
Do your thing, Redhead.
 
Well, he supposed that settled the question on whether or not it was him who had sone whatever-was-done to the witch hunter, as her squad mate crumpled in on himself, tearing at his face much in the same way. He was both amazed and horrified at the agony the men seemed to be in. At least, until there was a gun pointed at him. Everything was brought to a stalemate as the first Hunter raised her weapon to the man's head. The crowd began to run, afraid of what was going to happen. The back and forth between the two of them was tense, full of veiled threats and the promise of violence. And then he realized what was going on. The hunter- er, Sasha, was keeping Damien talking, taking away his attention. The small nod was enough for him, springing forward and taking the man by the wrist, forcing his weapon to aim away from him and the other civilians, out the door. Just incase he pulled the trigger during his own freak out… If he freaked out.
 
Damien dropped his gun immediately, wrapping his arms around his forehead as his knees gave out, and he dropped to the floor.
Meanwhile, the other Witch Hunter appeared to recover from his fit, but pale and shaking. "W-what the hell is going on?! What's happening to us?!" He looked around, then thrust a trembling finger at Sasson, his face a picture of sheer terror. "It's him! He's using some magic or something!"
Sasha shook her head calmly. "No. I thought so too at first, and then I thought he helped me. I don't know what's up with him, or how he's fixing whatever's wrong with everyone, but he's definitely a mundane."
"Ha! Mundane!" The last word was spoken with a clear shade of disdain behind it, as if it were synonymous with 'plebeian' or some other such derogatory, condescending term. "As if he could be! He did something, he's taken it back off! Well, his mistake!" The Hunter scrabbled for his gun, pulling around to aim it before any reaction was even possible, but Sasha was either fast as lightning or very prepared, firing a shot that lit up the entire room with a blue-white light as it shattered the man's weapon into white-hot shards, its wielder pulling back his hand and cradling it in agony.
"Stop it, Ethan!" Sasha warned. "Calm down, now!" She apparently didn't seem to perceive the stress he was under, or that shouting at him didn't help the situation even a bit. Or perhaps she did, but was simply under too much stress herself to care. It was difficult to tell.
Nonetheless, she turned to the crowd. "Everyone, line up, double file! We're moving to the safe areas now!"
Her voice could even been heard through the commotion of the panicked room, killing off a lot of the noise with the sharpness of her tone. People began to do as ordered, forming two adjacent lines in the middle of the room.
 
Damien went into his own little fit, and Sasson let out a sigh of relief, leaving to man to fight through whatever was happening with him. Well, that hadn't been so hard. He gave Sasha a half smile, before the first Witch Hunter picked himself up, drawing away his attention. He looked far less grateful than she had been, panic and confusion clear in his face.

"W-what the hell is going on?! What's happening to us?!" He looked around, then thrust a trembling finger at Sasson, his face a picture of sheer terror. "It's him! He's using some magic or something!"

What? No. No no no! It wasn't him. Whatever had been done to the Witch Hunters, he had had nothing to do with it. Sasha came to his aid immediately, and he thought that would be that, but whatever had happened to the Hunter had him seriously spooked. Apparently not spooked enough to forget to insult most of the people in the building, but spooked enough to draw a gun on him. Sasson felt a spear of fear shoot down his spine, flinching as a shot was let off much to close to his ear. The Hunter's gun exploded, said man, Ethan, cradling a wounded hand for his efforts. Sasson started breathing again, leaning back against the wall heavily. Three times. That was three times he'd had a gun pointed at him in the last ten minutes. And considering there were still other Witch Hunters guarding different exits, it was quite likely it would happen again. Sasha commanded everyone into two lines, ushering them out of the building. The mundie pushed himself off the wall, coming to stand beside her.

"Please tell me not all of your squad it going to react this badly?"
 
Cail watched with a surprising amount of satisfaction as the girls missile sailed back towards her and clipped her across the head. The blow, while not exactly deadly, was obviously jarring as it knocked her to the ground and into a light daze. Still he stood prepared, just in case she still had enough fight in her to hop up and throw off another spike of metal or other such shenanigans... but none seemed forthcoming. All he received was a loud sigh before she finally said the words that he had never actually expected to hear. She was giving up. Her words shocked him such that her ending comment didn't register until a few moments later, at which point he began to chuckle, soon devolving into a fit of laughter. She most certainly was not a warrior, but he did like her snark.

"Were agreed then lass. Though its best to remember that if ye try to impale me again I reserve the right to blast you with another lightning bolt." A small grin spread across his face aas he reached down a hand to help the girl up. Really there was no point in being rough with her as he couldn't keep a reign on her if he tried and he had nothing capable of restraining her either. His only hope was that she would come along pleasantly and someone else along the way would have a means with which to detain her. A wave of his hand indicated that she should move along, and they headed back down the halls towards the stairwells.
 
I've just done a head-count. Already half of the characters are supplying humour through sarcasm. It's like Planet Snark or something in here.

Sasha shook her head. "I can't even begin to imagine." She glanced at the river of bobbing heads moving out of the door. All of them seemed to nervous, frightened. Of course they would be. Any mundane would be in a situation like this. She found herself wondering how this auburn-haired miracle worker was feeling himself. It couldn't be a great mood, that was for sure. And he hadn't even been allowed to stand back; she'd made him jump in and directly fix the problem himself. Feeling a tide of guilt wash over her, she gestured to the lines of people. "You've done enough, pal. You've opened up one of the exits. Get to the safe zones before this whole building comes down on your head."
She, Damien and Ethan could call in another team or something and take on the rest of the squad. After all, it was probably better to get some samples of Hunters still afflicted before trying to fix them. Maybe it was possible to trace what had happened.


Elle was amazed. He... was laughing. He was laughing at her joke. She hadn't even thought it was that funny, but from his reaction, she wasn't convinced he was sane after all. But then he offered to help her to her feet. Warily, she accepted his offer, pulling herself up, before he escorted her to stairwells. It was almost a little surprising, actually. She hadn't expected him to be nice about this, partly since she'd wrecked most of the basement and killed most of the guards.
It wasn't as if she was going to get off scot-free, though. She would probably be arrested for just being here. But luckily, if all went to plan, then only a bunch of thralls would turn up instead of anything serious. On the other hand, she could probably glean something from the interrogation that she was certain would come. And she was a whole Level more powerful than the drow besides her, so a well-placed surprise attack could easily incapacitate him if she needed to.

Nonetheless, she kept walking, even if only to prove a point.
{It's me.}
What is it now?
{We are definitely losing Hunters.}
That's fine. I can probably figure out how they're doing it.
{...You can?}
Trust me. This'll go fine.
{If you insist.}
... On a completely unrelated note, if someone happens to call a squad of Witch Hunters down to the building, can you make sure it's Abbadon?
{Oh, for gods' sakes.}[/hr]
 
Sasson was sorely tempted to take the escape, to leave this place and forget this horrible night hadn't happened. But there was that damn feeling of responsibility that he just couldn't seem to shake. There were still plenty of hunters in the building, and most, if not all, were likely under the same spell as whatever had had her. He gave the woman a half smile, shaking his head. "What, and leave the only thing close to law enforcement under some bewitching spell? Thank you, but I'll be fine. Besides, who knows what they'll do if they learn one of the exits have been compromised? There's a lot of risk to the people still trying to get out." The smile dropped from his lips, replaced with a small, dissatisfied frown, not entirely happy with this choice, but knowing it was the right one. "Come on, we should get to another exit."
 
Damien got to his feet, shaking whatever was left of the fog over his mind out of his head.
"Thank you," he bid Sasson. "But this situation may be far more serious than we thought."
"Serious?" frowned Sasha. "I don't like it when you say 'serious'."
Damien appeared to ignore her, instead shifting his attention over to one of his squadmates. "Ethan."
"What is it?" he replied vexedly, still propping up his wound.
"Phone," Damien replied, holding out his hand, apparently expecting him to throw it.
"EMP?" Sasha reminded him.
"No, mine has a surge protector installed," Ethan frowned, tossing his cell over. Sasha looked amazed.
"...How did...?"
Damien rolled his eyes as he scrolled through a multitude of menus. "He used to be Supply-Class. He knows how to do things like this. I'll call in another squad for backup. We're seriously going to need it."
"Why so badly?" asked Sasha, almost desperately.
"Magic doesn't do brainwashing or mind control," he replied. "That's just the way it is. Don't tell me you haven't thought of it already."

Sasha froze, her face reshaping into an expression of terror. "Oh, god... It can't... Can it...? We can't do anything if you're right!"
 
Sasson wasn't exactly sure how much more serious this situation could get, what with the building threatening to come down, the mage battle in the basement (which had gotten suddenly quiet, now that he thought about it…) and the integrity of the entire Witch Hunt brought into question. Seemed the stake were already pretty damn high. But something sure had the two hunters in a tizzy, Sasha looking as though she'd fly into a panic at any moment. Maybe there was something bigger going on that he didn't know about. Both filled with dread and burning with curiosity, Sasson turned back to face the Hunters. "Do I want to know what has you both so scared?" He asked tentatively, chewing on his lips in thought. Nothing really phased the Witch Hunt, not even particularly high level mages. Unless, of course, they were talking about a level 9. In which case, if confirmed, there was no way in hell he was sticking around, responsibility be damned.
 
"No," Sasha said hastily, "you really don't."
Damien frowned at his feet for some reason or another. "He's already seen the carnage being perpetuated."
The girl gave him a look of utter disbelief. "Hello? Highly classified?"
"This'll be highly classified too, if we make it out alive," he shrugged. "Might as well tell him what he's up against here."
Sasha sighed. "If we get suspended for this, I swear to God, I will deep-fry your goddamned kidneys." She turned to the mundane. "What Damien's trying to say is that we're pretty sure we're fighting off the spell called Soul Strings. It's called that because it latches onto the amitrons in an arcane's soul and builds pathways with them, forcing its victims to act in certain ways. Whatever you're doing, you've probably accidentally found some loophole in Soul Strings nobody knew about."
Amitrons are the particles that make up a "soul" in duality and dark matter theory. They are theorised to be either sentient, telepathic versions of photons that link planes of reality, or bizarrely behaving leptons that somehow convert dark matter into physical matter and vice-versa. Either way, arcanes somehow use them to think by building metaphysical networks with them, since their brain is dedicated to calculation. Please note that this does not necessarily apply to Witch Hunters. It's taught in schools that use the magic-based curriculum, and Sasson and Cail, in their positions, will probably both know about them. Kthxbye.
She seemed to consider a point for a moment. "Which is probably a good thing, since that makes you the contingency plan for Nu--"
"Too classified," Damien interrupted, stopping her dead. "To shorten a long story, you are welcome to help, but know that if you do, you are going to put yourself in more danger than you've ever been in in your life. I can guarantee you that." He stepped to the side, making a straight line between Sasson and the exit to make the point of his offer. "It's your choice."
 
Soul Strings sounded like a particularly dangerous magic, and one spell he had never heard of. Even after reading through most of the recorded history on the different spells that had been created throughout the ages, he'd never come across one that used Amitrons directly. Though, now that he was thinking on it, why hadn't he heard of anything like this happening before? Was it kept secret due to its obvious intentions for misuse? Or was it so advanced that most mages couldn't use it? That was an unnerving implication. Again, the offer to walk away from the danger was presented to him, Damien stepping aside to show the clear path to the exit. The smart thing to do would be to run and run and forget this night ever happened. Especially if there were plans to make him the cure all for Soul Strings, which may or may not have affected the entire Witch Hunt.

"Hey, someone's got to get rid of Soul Strings on your people, right? Might as well be someone who's already proven to be efficient at doing just that."

Apparently he was feeling suicidal today.

"Though, just one question about Soul Strings. Does whoever put it on you guy need to be nearby to use it again? Or is there a range on it?" Really, he was just worried about people he believed he could trust turning round and stabbing him in the back. Not of their own will, of course, but still.
 
As Elle walked in front of him Cail's smile faltered and fell. He may respect her snark and her skill overall, but she had still slaughtered mundie's and two witch hunters to get here. That was not something he would forgive lightly, and as they continued to walk he saw the faces of the men he had seen as he rushed down here to defend... or destroy, the servers. Each of them seared their way across the back of his vision, in a headlong rush to imprint themselves on his mind just like the hundreds upon hundreds that he himself had killed during the last two wars. These were not kills of his own, and yet he felt he would need to carry the burden of their deaths all the same. This girl obviously hadn't been sensitized to death the way Cail had, considering the ease with which she had killed when, with her power, she could have easily incapacitated the whole lot of soldiers and left them alive. The drow sighed sadly, knowing full well that it was his years of war that gave him this bothersome tie to the dead. A man so long at war either looses himself in blood, or he begins to feel the pain of every death caused by him throughout his long career...

As they approached the hallway that led to the stairs he called Elle to a halt, and merely took a moment to survey the carnage that she had wreaked upon these mundane guards. After the betrayal of Ruin against Cail's entire race the man had yet to find a faith to which he could honestly allow himself to believe in, but these men had been brave to stand against an arcane and deserved some sort of recognition. At the very least he could respect them in their final moments and close their horrified eyes... he walked between the different guards and where a head was still in tact, closed the man or woman's eyes. Each face he memorized, vowing to himself that he would meet these individuals families and offer what apology and gratitude he could. When, at last, he turned back to Elle his face had lost all of the mirth that it had ever possessed and his eyes were sad. Filled with pity, both for the dead and for this girl that thought nothing of killing...
 
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