Pure Bloods (IC)

Mobley Eats

Consume. Smother your doubts. Be fulfilled.
Original poster
LURKER MEMBER
FOLKLORE MEMBER
Posting Speed
  1. 1-3 posts per day
  2. One post per day
  3. 1-3 posts per week
  4. One post per week
Writing Levels
  1. Intermediate
  2. Adept
  3. Advanced
Preferred Character Gender
  1. Male
  2. Female
  3. Transgender
  4. Primarily Prefer Female
  5. No Preferences
Genres
Modern, Romance, Fantasy, Scifi, Drama, Action.
Leviticus Recreational Center, Trent City
March 23rd, 2110
1:45 PM



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Unit 10 - 537 Clifford Ave, Black Van | Agent Higarashi, Agent Coleman, Agent Delgado | Outside of Leviticus Recreational Center

A burst of static. Crackling. Then a dull voice cut through the Master Station, reaching the ears of each operative scouring Leviticus grounds.

“This is Tech Higarashi, Coleman, and Delgado of Unit 10 cueing in to all operatives present.” Tadashi’s fingers flew across the keyboard, tired eyes taking in the full array of monitors presented before him. The feed from the building’s security cameras steadily rolled in. Well, most of it. He had left getting visual on the indoor playground, sports equipment room, and art gallery up to his fellow Techs.

Another wall of the same contraptions were installed behind him, where Agent Coleman manned her own station. Though her area was… overflowing with a whirlwind of her projects. The rest of the spacious van was reserved for Inez, who manned the wheel and also had her fair share of “big boom in the making” decorating the poor vehicle’s floor.

“Units 4, 7, and 8--do you have sufficient sighting of the Chairman and Chief Wilhem on stage? Y’all better have your shit togetha,” Tadashi said.

Z snap.

Not really. He was on the job.

However, Tadashi’s brow furrowed when a glitch flickered across his screens, dancing in front of Inez and Thea’s eyes as well. Weird. “Uh…” He spun in his chair to glance at the others. “Anybody wanna check that?” It was likely the monitors’ shitty condition kicking into high gear, which was just terrible timing.

He placed his attention back on the monitors, fingers resting on the keys and twitching ever so slightly with phantom ticks; all this typing was starting to mess with his nerves, he just knew it. A hint of annoyance toiled in his gut. Archery didn’t favor an unsteady hand--

Wait…

Catching something in his peripherals, he now shuffled towards the front of the van with Inez and pointed towards the entrance of Leviticus. Civilians had long since spilled into the building, leaving the premises and parking lot empty of life.

Except for one individual.

The gender was impossible to note through the thick overcoat and fedora, features hidden behind a flipped up collar. They came to a stop at the twin doors, refusing to go in and simply staring up at the structure.

“...Who the hell is that,” Tadashi muttered, his voice tight.



Unit 4 - Stage | Gymnasium | Agent Flores, Agent Roscoe, Agent Alvarado, Chairman Creed, Chief Wilhem


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A thick sea of bodies filled the gym from wall to wall. It was a miracle in itself that Chairman Creed and Chief Wilhem were capable of squeezing through the mass towards center stage; even with a handful of operatives guiding citizens aside to make room, it wasn’t much.

“Keep all hands to yourself, please,” one agent grumbled, his arm forming a bar against the excitable inhabitants of Trent City while his other hand hovered near the figureheads protectively. “Don’t make us repeat ourselves! Stand aside!”

Wilhem, who’d been dusting off his hat and popping it free of any pesky dents, placed it over his head. Brow pinched, he leaned over and whispered stealthily to Creed, “Are your men always this fatalistic? They’re people just like you and me.”

“...” At first, there was no response. The silence radiating from Creed posed as both empty and stifling all at once before, finally, he slowly pulled off his shades. Then stuffed them into his breast pocket. His gaze never once flickered in Wilhem’s direction. “With all due respect, Chief Wilhem, protocol and precaution exist for a reason. This isn’t a ‘rules are meant to be broken’ situation,” he drawled.

“We live to serve and protect, Mr. Creed.” Wilhem’s brow furrowed. “But I’m sure you’ll always keep that in mind.”

Not a suggestion, but an affirmation. Creed was far too familiar with this dance, but he wouldn’t pick now to start a petty squabble. Instead, a soft scoff rolled under his breath. As they reached a short staircase leading up to the stage, he stepped aside and swung his arm out politely.

“After you.”

A brief pause… Then Wilhem nodded and ascended with Creed following close behind. The moment their forms appeared on stage, the bustling whispers and chatter grew into a roaring cheer. News reporters flashed their cameras and started rolling the footage, zooming in on the stoic visages of Trent City’s protectors.

Slapping on a professional smile, Creed shot Wilhem a look from his peripherals before approaching the podium, his posture tall and proud. The smooth Irish gravel of his voice echoed throughout the whole of Leviticus.

“It is a proud and empowering day for the people of Trent City. As you all know, the safety of our citizens will forever be…” He glanced over his shoulder at Wilhem, who matched his gaze without falter. A slow smile graced the Chairman’s face and he directed attention to the crowd once more. “... Our top priority. And that priority, ladies and gentlemen, is why the Pure Bloods Agency and TCPD are officially joining forces.”

Meanwhile, a trio of agents stood a short ways towards the back of the stage, remaining vigilant. One of them, Agent Lucien Alvarado, was stationed next to Agent Flores. “I’ll keep visual on the east half of the crowd. You’ll take the west.”

Then he looked up, taking note of several more agents located a floor above and peering over the rails of the track. They seemed as alert as ever.

Agent Alvarado then glanced at Agent Roscoe standing to the opposite side of him. The hesitation was clear on his visage and rang through even further with his shift of tone. Something about the energetic redhead unsettled him, though it was not to say that Flores didn’t disturb him as well… Alright, a handful of his fellow Pure Bloods bothered him. On a spiritual level.

“I know this isn’t your primary category… but we need all the manpower we can handle when it comes to the Chairman’s safety.” Agent Alvarado failed to mention Chief Wilhem and made no attempt to correct his mistake. “Anything happens, you stick to what you know best--staying out of our way and dipping paper in Mutant piss.”

“I will promise you, people of Trent City!” It was slim, barely a tinge of change, but the resolution that coated Chairman Creed’s words threatened to steal the audience’s breath away. Fire danced in his eyes, fingers curling tightly around the edge of the podium. “No more--no more will Mutants pump fear into our hearts. No more will Mutants treat us like prey. No more will they roam our streets! They will be! No! More!”

A thunderous cheer.

Creed bestowed Wilhem with a triumphant smirk and all the decorated officer could do was harden his mouth into an unreadable, thin line.

An attention hog to the bitter end--

Pop!

A series of crackling and snaps. One by one, fluorescent lights exploded overhead, showering the screaming citizens in shards and sparks. Only the rays of outside filtered into the building, providing the bare minimum of vision as the crowd exploded into an uproar.

Instantly, they turned tail and stampeded the door, trapping operatives within a writhing ocean of bodies.

“What the shit,” Agent Alvarado growled under his breath. “Secure Creed!” However, as he reached for his Stinger at his hip, something ominous drew his attention.

They were spread out, almost impossible to initially notice in the chaos. Men of eerily similar visages remained stockstill in the crowd, before seizing up and twitching erratically in unison.

The sickening noise of snapping joints and shifting bone and squirming skin pierced the screams, until their torsos and necks bulged. Horrendous screeches and gurgles ripped from their throats before the growths did as well, pulling themselves free and hitting the floor with wet thuds. The pieces of flesh contorted into the shape of faceless, humanoid creatures but with limbs reminiscent of elongated four-pronged fingers.

Like bullets from a chamber, the little monsters skittered between the legs of terrified citizens and dashed directly towards the stage, while its hosts pounced on the nearest individual with their slobbering maws parted wide like a snake.

“Manus--It’s a Manus!” Alvarado yelled. He whipped out his Stinger and aimed at the first monster crawling on stage. Two rounds unloaded, low grade bursts of electricity spindling around the bullets.

However, the Mutant dodged the attacks deftly, swerved around smoking craters, and rocketed into the agent’s chest with enough force to throw him onto his back. Two more immediately swarmed and dragged him off backstage.

His pained hollers barely lasted a few seconds.

The rest then turned their sights on Agent Flores and Agent Roscoe, unleashing a gut-wrenching hiss.



Unit 8 - Main Lobby | Agent Queene, Agent Crowley


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“Read you loud and clear, Sugar Taddy. Stage is in view,” Lars said with a finger pressed to his Comm. His free hand rested on his hip, where a Stinger was holstered and fully loaded. Several Field Agents and police officers were dispersed throughout the massive crowd of civilians, their expressions hardened and senses on full alert. Today marked a historic event.

The joining of Pure Bloods with the Trent City Police Department.

Although whispers of the agreement had been floating about HQ from mouth to mouth and ear to ear, it was nothing more than speculation. Most operatives and mentors approved of this development, seeing the practical improvements and benefits it would grant, while a scant few held some doubt. Regardless, Chairman Creed had the final say and going against his calls was nothing short of stupidity on an operative’s part.

Lars let his shaded gaze roam the lobby. Eh… he doubted there would be much of an issue. Like, yeah, it was a huge gathering of people in one place, which posed as a buffet for most Mutants, but every exit, window, and several miles beyond the property were patented down with Scanners. Any Mutant who dared to step an inch past that barrier would be put down on the spot, whether it be via 1,000 volts of electricity frying them to a crisp, a sniper bullet between the eyes, or flash frozen into a popsicle.

Thus, Lars just enjoyed the smiling and excited faces spilling inside. The people were mostly composed of… the people. Families. Mothers and fathers and children with their siblings. Grandparents hobbling up to aunts and uncles. The whole shabang.

Lars was stationed at the entry into Unit 4’s territory, where the stage was already set up. From his vantage point, Lars had a decent view of Creed and Wilhem, though it could stand to be better. The same could be said for his partner, Agent Crowley.

But in all honesty… Lars just wanted some beer, man.

“Gooooootta get smashed after thiiiiis,” he sang under his voice, though he also shot a devious smile Crowley’s way. “You down for that? Cuz I am. Oh--you know what?” Lars tuned back into the Comms. “Hey, hey guys! How about after all this, we get a drink at Martin’s, yeah? Best damn bar around.” Only the best because he hadn’t been kicked out of that one--yet.


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All harmless jokes aside, Lars was getting pretty damn bored already, and the Conference just started. Yeesh--he would keel over and fall asleep on the tiles at this rate. Just as his foot started to tap out of habit, he cast another glance towards the lobby entrance.

A single person stood outside. From this distance, Lars couldn’t make out their face, but they were definitely looking at him and Crowley.

“Err…” Lars glanced at Crowley from his peripherals, then back to the mystery figure. “Think they’re lost or something--”

“Manus! Manus!!!”

“Aah!! Wha--whazzit?!” Lars’s natural reaction to a scream was to do the same immediately after, nearly jumping out of his own skin in the process. The lights above shattered and citizens started spilling out into the lobby like mad.

However, they couldn’t get far.

The stranger slowly extended both arms. Their palms shuddered and writhed, until their pores expanded and tore themselves free, allowing several more Manus to hit the floor and flood the double doors. The swarm continued to crawl forth from the Mutant’s hands, multiplying more and more by the second.

Lars gulped. “Oh… Oh dude, this fucking sucks!”



Unit 3 - Swimming Pool | Miscellaneous Agents


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Despite the swimming pool’s closed off space, operatives could still feel the floors shake with cheers before they actually heard it. They didn’t allow themselves to dawdle for long, however, and kept circling the massive pool.

A long row of windows lined the upper level of one wall, stretching from one end to the other, while the opposite wall only held a few that granted vision of the Conference occurring next door.

“Visual on Wilhem and Creed, confirmed,” One agent murmured into her Comms. At the rate things were going, the Pure Bloods expected a headache-free operation and drinking themselves senseless until dawn.

The lights shattered.

Then came the screams of horror.

At first, the agents fell still with shock, until a pair shook out of their reverie and started sprinting around the perimeter of the pool towards the door.

None of them were aware of the water’s surface rippling before it was too late. A formless blob emerged and towered over them like a rising tsunami, tendrils peeling from the sides to form fluid arms.

“Calling all units! We require back--Ah!”

Water wrapped around both of their heads and mouths like a slippery lasso, then violently yanked them back into the pool. They thrashed fruitlessly against the intangible hold.

“Jesus!” The lone agent who remained standing found himself between a rock and a hard place. His gaze switched back and forth between his drowning compatriots and Manus ransacking the gym full of innocent people.



Unit 1 & 2 - Indoor Playground | Agent Mortemer & Miscellaneous Agents


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Manus crawled into the Indoor Playground, hissing in glee as their absent gazes landed on their next meal. The children’s cries and sobs of horror echoed throughout the Nemo-themed space, before climbing the net to the top of the playplace. They huddled themselves flat against the back wall, shaking with terror.

Two other agents beside Agent Mortemer fired at the little monsters in a frenzy. One Manus managed to slip past an operative’s defenses and started its venture up the net, hungry for human flesh.

Another blast decimated it on the spot, nothing but ash left…

Then the tiniest flicker of a flame sprouted.

“Shit,” the agent cursed. Things just got a million times worse. He whipped around to face Agent Mortemer, “Handle the fire and keep an eye on the kids! We’ve got the Manus!” And yet, even as he said this, the numbers proved to be overwhelming.



Unit 5 & 7 - Art Gallery | Miscellaneous Agents


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The entry into the Art Gallery stood as a pair of steel doors auto-operated by a lock system adhering to the building’s open hours. With every arrival of an appreciator of the arts, the dial pad beside it emitted a confirmation beep and flashed green, then emitted a click every time it closed.

However, on this important day, only a handful of agents roamed the gallery. It was dimly lit, illuminated by a few tastefully placed neon lights hanging overhead. The area in itself was nothing short of a maze, a complex series of twists and turns that would unnerve any visitor. Fortunately, little signs with directions and arrows stood in some places, though they were nothing more than printed paper laminated and perched on poles--

The lights shattered, pitch darkness flooding the gallery.

Then screams shook the walls.

Immediately, the agents activated their Nightshades and made a mad dash for the double doors, but they refused to budge. The dial pad crackled once, twice, then shut down completely.

A low hiss slithered down the agents’ backs like tar.

Scratching and skitters echoed.



Unit 6 - Indeed Office Tower | Agent Hayes & Agent Agate

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“Just another day on the job…”

Oh yeah, for sure. Except for the fact that Agent Agate was stationed in some preppy office building. She couldn’t even begin to count how many times a starstruck intern had stuck their head into their scouting spot and--

“Uh, hey? Steve here. Hate to interrupt but--”

Agent Agate sighed. “If this is what popularity is all about, then thank God I was a geek in highschool.” Pulling back from the scope on her sniper rifle, she tossed a lazy look behind her.

Some fresh-faced intern stood at the door of an empty office, freckles as red hot as his short choppy hair decorating his visage. Wide glasses slid down his nose every five seconds.

“If you want an autograph, I sprained my hand last night. If you wanna chill with us, gimme like five minutes to make a Tik Tok account.” Ha--as if. “Anything else? Refer to my social buddy here. But we’re kinda on the clock here.”

She patted Agent Hayes on the shoulder, who was positioned near the window next to hers. Leviticus Recreational Center stood several blocks away from the Indeed Office Tower; the company was more than happy to let Sniper Operatives take up posts on several floors.

But apparently, management failed to fill in their newbies on, say, not harassing the operatives with their endless list of questions. Steve was definitely one of the uninformed. “H-ha. Heh. That’s funny,” he giggled, voice shaky with nerves and palms sweaty, “Just wondering… Do you guys really sit here for hours?”

“Yep.”

“And can do headshots like it’s nothing? Call of Duty style?”

“Sure.”

“A-and have bullets powerful enough to go through steel walls??”

“Don’t know; I just shoot and leave it up to God.” Whatever else Steve proceeded to babble about, Agent Agate tuned out the rest when she looked through the scope again, switching back to infrared settings. She highly doubt a Mutant signature would turn up, considering the scanners everywhere, but a little caution never hur--

… One… two… five, six, twelve, twenty. More and more filling the building. “Son… of a-Hayes! We gotta go. Now.” Sniping from here wouldn’t do any good; they were better off lending their man power closer to the premises. However, as she turned around, Steven was nowhere to be seen.

And the door was closed.

The floor underneath her feet rumbled, the dreadful sound of crumbling plaster and concrete hitting her ears. Was… Was that-- “Screaming,” she breathed, looking back at Hayes. There wasn’t a single Mutant in the codex that could dismantle buildings.

Not one.






OBJECTIVES




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Disaster has unfolded at Leviticus Recreational Center and the Indeed Office Tower. Act fast and act smart, as innocent lives are at stake. These are your following objectives:

Unit 10 || Identify what caused the building's power to cut off and rectify the issue as quickly as possible. Afterwards, acquire the security cameras of the rest of the building and give directions to the agents in most need. (Notes will be DMed to you shortly) @Collapse @WingWong

Unit 4 || Protect Chairman Creed, Chief Wilhem, and the citizens from the Manus. Then lend aid to another unit of your choice--just choose wisely. Locate and save Agent Alvarado. @Elle Joyner @KatSea

Unit 8 || Exterminate the Manus and its host. Protect the citizens in the lobby and rally them outside to safety. @KatSea

Units 1 & 2 || Exterminate all Manus, secure the children, and contain the fire before it spreads. @Elle Joyner

Unit 6 || Escape the locked room and exterminate the Unknown Mutant. Exit the crumbling Indeed Office Tower with citizens and reach Leviticus Recreational Center via company Buick. (Notes will be DMed to you shortly) @WingWong
 
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And All The People Said "Oh Heck" Starring - Agent Flores (@Elle Joyner ) Agent Avacado (Alavardo? - @Mobley Eats) and Agent Roscoe (Katsea)

"All due respect Avocado… You keep talkin' to our scout like that, I'm gonna knock those pretty teeth so far down your throat your next dental visit's gonna be at the proctologist…" Something about these events put Cece on edge in a way she had nearly no control over, and being partnered with a man who made her wish she could peel off her own skin wasn't exactly the definition of helpful.

Lucien was a good agent. And that was about where it ended. He was a cocky, rude little prick, and it took valiant effort on almost every occasion of interacting with the man not to headbutt him…

But a job was a job and despite the fact that she very much wanted to put her threat to action, her eyes had not shifted from their diligent focus on the crowd. Creed's speech bloomed to its apex and the crowd erupted in thundering applause, but it was another noise that followed in the din that set off a red flare of alarm in Cece's brain. The sharp pop, like the snapping of gum in a hollow room, sent glass raining into the sea of people and already moving her hand towards the weapon at her hip, Cece drew her Stinger.

“Can never just have a goddamn nice day, can we?” She growled. A disturbingly familiar sound crackled beneath the frantic screams of panic, and before Alvarado could get the words out, she was already moving, “On my six, Pop! Need to secure the chair--”

A scream resounded, too close for comfort, and skidding to a halt, Cece’s eyes narrowed as they bore through the waving ocean of terrified bystanders in time to see Alvarado take a hard hit to the chest, “Son of a b--” Twisting, she craned her neck back to the redhead, “Get to Creed and Wilhem! I’ll meet you there!”

Spotting the Manus headed in her direction, she leveled her gun and, waiting until they were but a few feet from pouncing distance, vaulted, feet-over-head, cartwheeling over the Adam’s Family prop-rejects, landing knee-bent on their flanks. Firing three consecutive shots, she was greeted by a satisfying squish that told her at least one of the suckers was out of commission. Spinning on her heels, she raced forward, towards the sound of the pained shrieks.

These handsy little fuckers just loved to gnaw, didn’t they? Their teeth were tiny, yet sharp enough to puncture the fabric of Agent Alvarado’s blazer and rip into his vest, tugging him along harshly like a dog on a leash. He couldn’t make heads or tails about which way the Mutants were dragging him, let alone get his footing together long enough to blast one of them with a Stinger…

He wanted a goddamn raise after this. Immediately.

“Ahh! Get off me! Get off me!” Agent Alvarado wasn’t a screamer. At least, he’d like to think he wasn’t, but the ever so slight trill to his growl spoke otherwise. As one Manus shifted its grasp to the cusp of his sleeve and the other maintained grip on his torso, a free arm retracted his Stinger. He rolled onto his stomach and brought down the butt of the gun like a hammer, hearing a crisp crunch. The Manus screeched furiously, twitching erratically like a roach slowly dying of bug spray, only to have it spared of further suffering with a pull of the trigger.

One lost.

Even two more swooped in.

“Oh--come on!” Three Manus pulled him closer and closer towards the room on the south end of the gymnasium.

Shhck

With a splatter, one of the Manus dragging the agent exploded in a disgusting blotch. Lining up another shot, Cece squeezed the trigger, as the corner of her lip twitched up, "You scream like a girl."

Agent Alvarado didn’t see Cece’s foot descending until it was too late. The Manus splattered under the stomp, it’s brittle rib cage flattening from the blow and stretching flesh until they were exposed like bloody shards. A small shower of Mutant blood sprinkled the side of Alvarado’s face…

He would not vomit on the job. He refused to vomit on the job.

Another Manus released Alvarado’s sleeve to turn its sights on Cece, the most significant threat out of the two. However, its stubby fingers for toes barely left the floor before a cauterized hole skewered it through the middle. It flopped pathetically. The final Manus continued munching away at the carbon fiber valiantly protecting Alvarado’s shoulder, ravenous snarls and chatters filling his ear.

“I had it--ow! Jesus fucking--!” Jaw clenched and eyes on fire, Alvarado seized the Manus’s head with a steel grip and bashed it into the floor. Again. And again. Several more times until bone cracked and its frantic flailing died from existence. The agent stood and adjusted his blazer, huffing as he shot a glare Cece’s way. “Like I was saying. I had it under control,” he grumbled.

"Fine…" Shuffling her boot to scrape the remnants of the creeper off her sole, she shrugged, "Next time I'll leave you to enjoy the handjob all on your own."

Turning, she gestured towards the stage, "Ready to get back to work or you need to fix your hair?"

“Fix your hair… fucking… bubblegum looking...” Alvarado muttered bitterly, opting to overlook the first jab in purchase of setting his sights on the stage… And briefly running a hand through his hair. It was just a physical tick, nothing else. Her words didn’t mean shit to him. He quickly switched out his Stinger for his Katanas, the blades instantly emitting a dull wave of heat that would sear off skin with the briefest touch. Oh yeah--this was more his speed.

A sharp pivot to the left and a Manus leaping through the air was sliced in two, its insides burning to a crisp before any blood could come jetting from the wound. He carried the momentum into a flourish of piping hot steel (yes, he flashed Cece the middle finger somewhere in between the maneuver, because why not) and jammed the other blade down, pinning another Manus in place and watching as its little body fried in an instant.

Alvarado had another insult teetering on the tip of his tongue until a shrill scream snagged his attention. It was some woman, perhaps middle aged or young, toppled over while holding back a Manus by its two front legs, trails of slobber thicker than molasses pooling across her face. “Shit… Shit!” He pointed back at Cece. “Go secure Creed! I’ll catch up!”

He bolted.

"Goddamned show off…" Cece called, though with little actual conviction. If a civilian life was saved, Alvarado could dance the hula behind tiki torches that spelled out his name for all she cared. Still, as she ran back towards the forestage, she flipped the bird right back at the man without hesitation.

Princess Bubblegum wannabe.

Alvarado would thoroughly shit talk her after this mayhem settled down. But, for now, he had a life to save… God, he sounded so corny. He hated it. His sprint didn’t slow nor falter as he came within reach, before cranking as much muscle as he could into his thigh--

Thwack!

He couldn’t help but admire his handy work, grinning smugly as the little monster went flying through the air and smacking into the wall. There was a solid yet sticky sound of impact, one that managed to achieve the impossible and reach his ears through the screams, and it merely widened his grin. That felt good. Damn good.

“Alright, alright. Scream your lungs out while you’re at it…” Rolling his eyes, he helped the woman onto her feet, then narrowed them when she stumbled a moment, her legs filled with jelly. The aura rolling off of him screamed: “Stand up straight, because I’m not catching you.” Even with the terror coursing through her veins, she read the message loud and clear.

“Thank you! Th-thank you!”

“Yeah yeah okay--Don’t touch the blazer just get out of here and stay low,” he hissed while batting off the woman’s touch. She barely paid his distaste any mind and made a mad scramble for the exit leading out to the lobby. Alvarado really hated people sometimes… yet he always kept them alive. Go figure. Double checking that his grip on the katanas were secure, the agent huffed and set off into a jog towards the stage--

A pair of arms wrapped around him from behind.

The rancid breath of a Manus host grazed Alvarado’s cheek and neck, sending waves of pure disgust through the agent’s gut. Oh no. Nu uh. Not today. However, just as Alvarado twirled his sword around and tried to stab backwards, another critter latched onto his wrist and bit down--hard. So much so that his grip on the blade vanished and it clanged to the floor. Another Manus did the same for his other wrist. A third to his left thigh. Fourth to his right ankle. The host’s jaw shifted and parted wide, salivating as Alvarado’s scent wafted tantalizingly into its nostrils…

Then it snapped its maw shut. Emitted a displeased growl. Then swiftly clamped a hand over Alvarado’s mouth, pulling him into the sports equipment room before anyone could blink. The door slammed shut.

The radiance that once captured Poppy’s features had fluttered away amidst the chaos. It wasn’t often the cheek-splitting grin slithered away from her lips, and it wasn’t often that amusement was absent from her expression. Dot would often refer to Poppy’s somber personality as a body-snatcher, the imposter that would steal her wife away and replace her until its job was done. The mental taglines that wished to flurry into existence were muted into static, a meaningless buzzing of noise inside the now empty dome of her skull. Facing one mutant was one thing, without fear of causality outside of her own. The imposter would fade soon enough, once the crowd was beyond the barrier and she had adrenaline coursing through her system, but for now, it would reign inside her body. She gave a nod to Cece, a slight sliver of dry humor pulling at the corner of her lips.

Poppy gripped the handle of her katana, unsheathing it from her side as she scrambled towards the stage. These little bastards were going to chip her new fucking manicure, she knew that for sure, but she figured she might as well use that rage to splinter their skulls wide open. Her eyes darted to the crowd in time to see one of the little bastards race towards her, maw slacked open with rows of tiny, vicious teeths gleaming with thick slobber. With the speed of a cracking whip, Poppy thrust her weapon down the damnable creature’s throat. Gurgles bubbled against the blade, the creature crisping from the inside out as she slammed the katana against the ground, pushing the now partially cooked creature towards the handle. “A one shot crispy kill~ Alright that’s twenty points…” Swiveling on her heel as another manus crawled towards her, racing to sink its teeth into her ankle, she slammed the same weapon through its stomach, cauterizing the wound before blood had a chance to stain her favorite weapon. “Heh, a manush-kabob.” God, it smelt fucking disgusting as the creature’s flesh continued to sizzle against the heat of the blade, a mixture of burnt flesh and...some variation of shit, she was sure. Tentatively, she used her heel to slide the bubbling corpses from her weapon, feeling the sharp puncture of teeth along her shoulder. Grimacing, she used her free hand to claw at the creature, ripping it from her vest and chucking it to the ground below, a satisfying crunch following soon after. Huh. She was wondering if this could work, wouldn’t hurt to try-

She slammed the heel of her boot against the creature’s skull, a satisfying splat and crunch beneath her feet. A dark crimson flooded to stain the sole of her boot. “God...I’m gonna be sick...those were fucking designer.”

Wait, there was something she had to be doing? Before then, she had sixty points on her kill-dar. She could do better. Her head whipped back to the stage where Creed and Wilhelm were...currently at odds against the hosts that had infiltrated the room and set their targets on them. Racing past the carnage, she jogged up to the stage and pulled herself on, surprised to find her lungs burned as oxygen struggled to creep in. Seriously? She could kill three demon ugly ass babies from satan’s ass crack, but she couldn’t climb up a flight of stairs?

“Get behind me-” She withheld a wheeze, attempting to sound as confident and as competent as she should have been. This would have been the part in a movie where Poppy slung her hair over her shoulder, sexily grabbing her pistol and shooting bad guy after bad guy, barely getting blood spatters against her much too tight tank top. There may have been a giant fan somewhere making sure she was consistently having a flowing mane of hair and being Marilyn Monroed on the constant.

Sucking in a big breath, her eyes darted back towards the crowd of panicked bodies and ugly ass ghouls. Pivoting her feet against the stage, she grounded herself into the reality that bleeded into her vision. Anomalies. Something that shouldn’t be there-

“There we go~” She cooed, hand plucking a dagger from her waist belt as her thumb caressed the edge of the handle. Slow motion camera….get the shot for a hundred awesome points and a chance at unlocking the “Pure Blood Deluxe” achievement. Giving the host a dirty eye worth the rage of several spilt coffees, Poppy raised her hand over her head, releasing her blade with what felt like several tons of force pushing at the back of her skull. A split second revealed her blade to have hit its target, sinking deeply into the creature’s eye socket, globs of blood splattering upon impact.

"Gross…" Cece remarked, as the host dropped onto its back with a sick thud, approaching the trio, her eyes flickered to the Chairman and chief, brow raised, "You two alright? We need to get then somewhere secure."

Turning to look back over her shoulder, Cece frowned lightly, "Alvarado ain't back yet?" Swearing, her eyes skimmed the crowd, "If I gotta rescue his arrogant ass twice in one day…"

Pulling a coil from her belt, Cece secured it around the neck of the host, eyes on Poppy, "Best bet's the gallery, till this mess dies down. You stay left with Creed and I'll go right with Wilhem. Once they're secure I'll head back for Agent Axespray. Ready?"

“Eh, you try cleaning up the sink after a big ass cockroach gets stuck in the garbage disposal, believe me, looks much more grizzly.” Poppy grimaced at the recollection. The memory was short lived once their commander in chief came into view, and with a more somber nod, Poppy complied and circled to be at Creed’s side. “Don’t be too worried about that grouch. He’s too spiteful to die.” Her fingers drummed anxiously at the handle of her katana, eyes flickering from the dying host to the carnage ahead of her. “Come along, sir.” Poppy directed, moving behind Creed and shuffling him forward.

In comparison to Wilhem’s immediate jump into the action, riddling Manus with bullet holes left and right, Creed remained calm. A handheld device was swiftly pulled from the confines of his blazer; at first glance, it seemed no different from an ordinary gun, but then an electric bullet fried one of the creatures more harshly than any Stinger could, leaving behind tiny piles of ash.

He cast a glance towards Poppy from his peripherals before offering a nod, though he kept a short distance between them. As he took off with the operatives, eradicating Manus one bullet at a time with frightening accuracy, Chief Wilhem stuck close to Cece’s side. Like Hell he would man the front; not only would it put him at a disadvantage, but he lacked the reflexes of Pure Bloods to react in the case of a Manus flying straight for his face. The officer preferred to stand side by side with his comrades and that was that.

Once the quartet squeezed through the throng of panicking citizens and the double doors came into view, Creed raised his gun without a word and fired. Sparks and scorch marks riddled the lock, tendrils of smoke curling in the air; however, the handle refused to budge, no matter how hard he pulled. “Shite,” he muttered under his breath before turning to Cece and Poppy. “Ladies? Time to utilize that training.”

“Well, gosh. Wish I hadn’t skipped out on ‘open the door’ 101.” Cece quipped with a small smirk, before eyeing the frame of the secured double-doors, “It’ll take too long to cut through the beam. Hinges are our best bet.” With a metallic hum, Cece swung her katana free, and curling it around in front of her, angled the sharpened curve towards the northwestern hinge. Smoke hissed from the steel as the plasma sliced cleaning through the screws and plate, hugging the door to its frame. Continuing downward, she repeated the process with the second and third hinge, “Bets I get a bill for this, Pop? Help me out… This’ll be a beast to open.” Gripping the bar holding the doors fast, she gave a heave, metal scraping metal as she hinges clattered to the floor with more noise than the pink haired woman preferred.

“Silly, that was day three hundred and forty three that we learned this. Elementary my dear Cece…” Getting a firm grip upon the handle of her katana, Poppy found purchase against a metallic hinge. She followed Cece’s suit, watching the heavy swing tear apart the pesky metal. In any other scenario, this would have been something Poppy would have gushed over, swinging her weapon wildly and experimenting with just how much she could break apart. But right now, her purpose was to calmly and safely give an escape to their higher ups. But goddamn it if Poppy didn’t have a grin on her face as the first hinge gave way. The second one gave way on her side, then the third...woooo...this was gonna be a friggin work out on her arms. Hey though, at least it would mean she’d be able to carry Dot a lot more often~

Where was she again? Oh, right. “Think we’ve got this bitch open Cece?”

Without a word, Creed rammed a boot into the door and watched as it slammed into the tiles with a withering groan. “...Aye, I’d say so.” His grip on the gun remained and only tightened as he stepped past the entrance, ignoring Wilhem’s judgemental stare. The police chief sighed and shook his head.

“Again--a show off… Nice work, ladies. I’ll man the rear,” he said, waiting for the pair to enter after Creed. Once they did, the quartet found themselves submerged in pitch black darkness, even with the small burst of light seeping in from the destroyed entrance. The convoluted maze of the art exhibit stole away the lingering strips of illuminance and filled their ears with the echoing screeches of something agonizing.

Pained gurgles. Scampering little feet. The sickening crunch of flesh and bone between teeth.

Slowly, Creed retracted his shades and activated the darkvision on them, the world reviving itself into a pulsating plane of greens and blues, ripples outlining the silhouettes of the walls. The further they moved, the closer the noise became, the tighter Creed’s features pinched with a frown. “Weapons at the ready, all of ye,” he whispered.

Pulling free her stinger, far more content with the notion of it in the smaller gallery, Cece switched on her shades and turned in the direction of the horrifying sounds. Giving a point to Poppy, she gestured first to herself, then Poppy again, her hand moving above her eyes before she raised three fingers. To Creed and Wilhem, she held up a hand, motioning for the men to stay put, before starting towards the sound.

“Whoa, that was badass.” Poppy breathed at Creeds wham bam thank you ma’am entrance. A show off, for sure. But a show off she could watch and admire? Fuck yeah. Right...what was she supposed to be doing? Right. Secure the room. She lowered her shades over her eyes as her compatriots did the same, activating the night vision without second thought. Then it came, the horrible goddamn noises. She grimaced, recognizing it as something munching on what used to be something living. Or, worse, still living.

It reminded her of her younger siblings, demon spawn, all of them.

Pushing the thought to the back of her head, she moved forward as Cece. She retrieved her stinger as Cece did, forcing herself to swallow the heart beat slamming against her throat. She didn’t believe in prayer; but she found herself praying that Dot would pray for her. Redundant, yeah. Effective? Well, she was about to find that out…

If it wasn’t for the fact that Creed had been working with Poppy for as long as he had, he would’ve shot her a withering look from his peripherals. However, he opted for overlooking her comment and followed the agents. Wilhem, on the other hand, didn’t fight the tiny smirk that split his lips, somewhat out of amusement at Agent Roscoe’s praise and somewhat out of satisfaction to see Creed’s silver tongue take a backseat for once.

At Cece’s signal, chairman and chief froze in place, though their actual veins filled with frost as the noise registered. Creed shot Wilhem a firm look, denying the man of any protests before he could think about them, then nodded at the agents. “Aye… move quick. We’ll be here,” he whispered.

As the agents moved on, they came upon an open area devoted to abstract statues. Formless blobs and shapes took root in several spots, dispersed throughout the museum and standing so tall that they nearly skimmed the ceiling. It was a majestic sight to behold, even with the lack of color filtering into their Nightshades.

However, attention was drawn elsewhere.

What was once a chilling echo now grated in their ears with startling clarity. Rounding around the center statue of an oblong X, a body laid on its back, supine and lifeless. A momentary glance confirmed the corpse to be a Pure Blood, a man who was recently initiated into the official register. His blazer and chest was ripped in two, gaping like the bloodied maws of a beast, and looming over it, still feasting greedily, was the hunched form of a Manus host.

It’s ears twitched, detecting the agents’ presence, and whirled around while baring crimson-stained teeth. It crouched and hissed menacingly, yet it refused to move a muscle.

Sims.

His name was Sims.

She hadn’t interacted with him often, but the few times had given enough of an impression. He was a good kid - a little green, but even a green Pure Blood was better than most… and he had a drive to him that she hadn’t seen in some agents who had been around twice as long. None of that mattered. He could’ve been a whiny princess like Alvarado and the same seething rage would’ve collected in her chest that pooled there, now. He was one of them, and that was all it took…

Stinger raised, she fired once, twice, three times… then with one hand holstering the weapon, the other pulled free the katana. One hand tossing it to the other, almost as if they were worked by two separate systems, Cece gave a small running start before catapulting forward onto her free hand, springing off the floor and weapon raised, coming down on the Manus with a growl of fury.

Poppy wasn’t sure what was more disgusting, the agent dead on the floor, flabs of skin flayed as the mutant gnawed on his ribs...or the hesitation she noted from the creature. No. Not hesitation. Caution. Mindfulness. Almost...no. Not consciousness. This thing was still the same soulless bastard that ate off other’s flesh. Then...what the hell was this small distinction? Perhaps it was an illusion in Poppy’s mind, but it sent her stomach spiraling into nausea.

That, and young Sims body still splayed out against the floor. Fresh kill. Her knuckles tightened around her weapon. Yet she felt frozen, as if poison was injected into her veins. She swallowed, unaware of the lump in her throat that tried to choke her.

The suffocation disappeared with Cece’s swift reaction, shooting the creature, over and over again before slicing her katana into the creature’s throat. Poppy had seen a lot of gross shit in her life. Jackie’s diapers...her wife’s cooking...bodies...Her brother’s face...her wife’s cooking…

Right. Dismantling a mutant’s body with blood spraying everywhere. Close enough. Racing towards the creature, her hands scrambling for the coil at her waist, she wrapped it around its neck, securing it firmly once Cece had lifted her blade. “S-shit-” She cursed, wiping the sweat from her brow as she stepped back from the creature. She noted the grotesque, thick liquid that coated her fingers. “Alright. The next mutant to ruin my manicure is getting a one way ticket to hell.”

The Manus stood no chance of dodging Cece’s assault. It shuddered and screeched in agony, twisting about unnaturally on the tiles until life drained from the gash in its neck. The moment the coil was clipped into place, frost sprouted from the device and coated it from head to toe, solidifying the mutant in place like an ice sculpture that belonged in the museum’s exhibit.

A deadly silence seized the gallery. All motion stopped. A disturbing emptiness filled the air.

Until there was crackling. From the agents’ Comms. A faintly familiar voice fought desperately through the discord and white noise, but only bits and pieces of the message came through.

“G-... o…!” Another burst of static, sending a sharp noise rippling through the agents’ ears. One last clip of feedback came through, “Get out!” Then communications fell off the grid.

Before either agents could react, twin arcs of electricity roasted the air and nailed their backs, sending a powerful jolt through their systems. Its origin was impossible to note--not initially. Seconds passed, before the lights overhead flickered in and out, stripping away shadows until a tiny cloaked figure crept out into the open. Bipedal, perhaps humanoid, but their features hidden. All except for the unnaturally pale hands peeking through sleeves, their fingertips charred and burned.

An upwards tilt of the chin allowed ringlets of gold to spill forth and revealed a pair of icy blue eyes. Dull, lifeless, completely unaware aside from the targets paralyzed before it.

She raised her hand.
 
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AGNES MORTEMER​

Very rarely in life did chaos ever descend with a calm grace in steady reliability. As their facility dissolved into madness, it took roughly eight or nine seconds for all literal hell to break loose and before Agnes could concentrate her thoughts there was fire and shrieking children and creepy crawlies all over the place… and she had already chipped her ladybug nail wrap.

There was no point in melting down, though she wanted very much to find a quiet corner to both cry and then politely vomit in. There was work to do and by golly, she was a Pure Blood, even if she was better served in areas that didn't involve the living ones…

Before orders were shouted her way, Agnes had already hoisted herself up the net ladder with some dignity in tact, (Bless whoever in her genetics made her a klutzy midget…) fairly certain she didn't need instructions to protect the frightened darlings, but grateful for the man's insistence. The fire, however, had escaped her attention and as she spun to see it spreading along the other net, her eyes briefly widened in shock.

A few seconds passed before, with disjointed thoughts colliding, she looked to the children pressed against the back wall and at the ?'m
same time jumped up to swipe one of the plastic stingrays hovering over her head. A swing over her head and down brought the flat winged fish over the leaping flames, the orange torrents struggling but for only a moment before the heavier material smothered them. Letting the slightly melted blue model drop to the floor, she turned then to the children, holding up her hands to ease their whimpers…

"Shh, shh… it's gonna be okay. We're… we're gonna be okay. Just have to stay real quiet, you understand. Sink low… really low.. And don't make a sound. We'll make a contest of it… Whoever stays most quiet and still wins, yeah?"

Then shifting back to the other Pure Bloods, she crouched down, "Just… maybe be quick, please, gentlemen!"

TAGS || @Mobley Eats
 
Collab Post: System Error | Interactions: Techies (Agent Higarashi, Agent Coleman @Collapse , Agent Delgado @WingWong ) | Location: Leviticus Recreational Center, Art Gallery

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All hell broke loose.

The moment the mystery individual’s hands came into view and started spilling Manus critters into the building, Tadashi’s heart leapt into the base of his throat. Then plummeted into the pit of his stomach. Not good. Not good, not good, not good…

“Visual on those other rooms--stat!” He shot a finger towards Inez while the other flew to his Comms. Just as he tried to tune into his fellow operatives, the monitor screens flickered again and his face dropped in tandem with several monitors expelling tiny sparks of electricity. Thin wisps of smoke plumed from his computers.

“...Shit.” Backup. Initiative. Or wait? Which move was the wisest for them? Time wasn’t on their side, especially not for the innocent citizens screaming from inside the building.

Jaw clenched tight, Tadashi stumbled over to Thea. His dull voice quivered with the onset of nerves. “We need a lock on where these electrical surges are coming from, Thea. Do you see anything?” As he spoke, he tried to tap into the Comms again, but the channels crackled and rumbled with white noise. Clarity wavered in and out, threatening to cut off completely at any second.

“Fuck,” was her first response she had for him, as she worked her hands into her hair. She didn’t have the heart to look up and watch the carnage that was unfolding, but hearing both the screaming and Tadashi’s quiet fraying of nerves was enough to send Thea herself into a messy downward spiral of stutters. “You remember that glitch, maybe 15 minutes before the show started? I was trying to follow it,” she babbled, “that could have been it - I’m pretty sure that was it. We had our hands all over the building, anyone could have just run in too, using our own set ups since we left the whole thing open.”

It shouldn’t have been possible, but Tadashi could’ve sworn his jaw clenched even harder. Sloppy. When had they become so sloppy and open like this? If his teeth weren’t trying to meld into one another, he would’ve grumbled under his breath. But those long string of expletives were usurped by a rushed murmur. “That’s the last time I ignore the bad bitch instincts… So where’s it coming from?”

Thea’s hands curled, pulling at her hairs harshly, “I thought it was just the nearby cell tower fucking with us, but that wasn’t it - our phones are still running five bars - so I followed that spike … tried to, I got caught trying to open up the gallery room when the power shorted,” she explained, erratically. But then realization dawned, it was likely that the second she had gotten into the art gallery that something snaked in and had shorted the entire building of power. Shit.

But then she stopped, stilled. Pulling up her smaller terminal, she was quick to read off some of the white numbers on the screen, before frantically meeting Tadashi’s eyes. “Who was in the art gallery? What was the unit number? Do you have a name - even just one name, I - every one out there has their shit tagged, you could at least-”

Tadashi raised a hand, as if he was trying to soothe the woman’s frantic nerves. Fruitless, especially for someone like him, and she continued to bulldoze on like a well-oiled frantic machine.

Breathing deeply, Thea began to scribble frantically onto a spare piece of paper, off the top of her head, she was able to match up several of the agents’ names and the I.P. of their gadgets - mainly their night visors. “With the power out, there’s no point in trying to remotely tap into anything in that building - we couldn’t even trigger the fire alarm from here. But we can at least see what the hell happened inside the gallery room, or at least wire our own comms on our own backups.”

Tadashi nodded and paled all at once. Thea was right--completely so--but that didn’t stop the dread from filling up his gut. He wasn’t a man trained in the field. Neither was she, but their contracts didn’t exactly mention “personal comfort” having priority over getting the job done.

God, if only he had a bow and some arrows.

“...Okay. We still need someone to keep eyes on everyone once the power is back. Inez? Stay here. The moment everything’s back on, get the rest of those cameras up and running again. Keep us updated when you can. Thea? You’re…” He hesitated, taking in her frazzled state. Bad idea, bad idea, bad idea… He huffed under his breath. “You’re going in with me. Through the back. I remember a few emergency exits there and one should take us straight into the gallery.”

“I’m what?!” She called after him, voice pitched with distress. In sheer disbelief, she remained rooted, unable to process for a few precious seconds.

As he spoke, Tadashi snagged up a Stinger and a pair of jumper cables, looping the thick cords around his shoulder. However, just as he turned to Thea and about to ask if she was ready to go, another burst of electricity burned the monitors. A scant few of Thea’s were thoroughly roasted now, while a single one flickered peevishly. The feed cut in and out, giving away a choppy playback of something going on in the gallery…

Recognition. He knew that pair all too well. Agent Flores and Agent Roscoe, taking out what appeared to be a Manus host. This could’ve been a relief, if it wasn’t for the ominous hooded figure prowling out of the shadows towards them.

“Shit. Shit.” Tadashi tuned into the Comms and yelled through the bursts of static. “Tech Higarashi to Flores and Roscoe! Do you read me! Get out of there, now! I repeat! Get out of--” The feed dropped. Not good. Tadashi was already scrambling for the van’s door. “We gotta move. Now.”

When Tadashi had seemingly lost every last bit of chill, Thea knew she had to move, double time even. Even if she didn’t want to. Even if she didn’t know how, exactly, to move around outside their safe little van. With her own terminals trashed, there was nothing here for her to salvage. But she was so dreadfully scared that there would be nothing left of herself to salvage if she crossed the threshold and out those doors.

And so with shaking, though well practiced, hands she tightened the straps of her vests, and holstered an unmodded Stinger. Somewhere at her feet, Thea picked up both the bulky iridium satellite phone, and the small terminal, tearing off the smaller cables it was fed into - it was probably the only thing left unfried that was compatible with most - if not all - their toys and gear.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, shit,” Thea prayed as she scrambled out of the van right after Tadashi, she was stiff, and it was so painfully evident, but with tight hands gripping the closed terminal, she began to think, so hard, so quickly, and so painfully. When she couldn’t keep quiet, she turned to Tadashi, “Holy shit, the back right? Not the front?” She breathed, faintly.

“Back. Not front.” Tadashi’s reply came swiftly, automatically, as this wasn’t the first time he dealt with Thea’s nerves. Besides, devoting some of his attention to the routine dynamic helped to distract him from his own anxiety. Even as they ran, he was forcefully reminded of just how unfit he was for this mission. Stamina? Hell no. His breathing was on the verge of turning shallow and heavy, and they were only halfway towards the back of the building.

If they survived this… No, once they survived this, he swore he would take up Lars’ offer to become his gym buddy. Maybe… Fine, that was still up for debate.

As the pair reached the back, Tadashi’s gaze zeroed in on two doors built several yards apart. At first, he wasn’t one hundred percent certain which one led into the art gallery and the background noise of Thea’s curses didn’t help. However, that question was solved quicker than it was posed, as he caught faint traces of scorch marks arcing around the framework of one of the doors.

“...The actual hell?” An explosion? No, there would’ve been more damage to the actual structure of it… So what in the world left behind these burns?

Though Tadashi spoke lightly, Thea flinched as if reprimanded, her curses falling quiet as they happened upon the suspicious sight. She immediately squinted at the compromised door, her fear laying wayside for curiosity, and then the frantic desire to understand what laid before them.

“Did it come from the inside? Could you tell?” She asked, stepping closer to their little mystery, probably ignoring several protocols on how she ought to have approached the situation as she laid a hand on the wall beside the damaged door. “... It’s still hot,” she drummed her fingernails on the wall before pausing.

“Cece and Poppy, they were in the back in the gallery, right?” She pondered, bringing the small terminal tablet out between them, “if it’s still hot … a bomb?” She had to wonder, bringing to words their shared assumption and fear.

Tadashi knelt next to her and also placed a hand on the metal. Definitely still hot. But still… “I don’t… think so? We’ve seen Inez’s bombs at work and this doesn’t quite match up.” Eyes narrowed, he momentarily fell silent with contemplation, then glanced unsurely at Thea.

“I think it’s from inside. Here,” he pointed at the bottom of the door, where a ring of burns seemed to form a jagged loop along the surface, starting from the gap underneath and crawling upwards. It didn’t answer what in the world caused it, but it was a start. “I don’t know if you saw it before we left the van, but some triflin’ hoe in a hood was inside the gallery. Unidentified. Might be the one who caused this.”

Thea shook her head, “nevermind her, for now anyway,” and nevermind whatever just dropped out from Tadashi’s mouth too. It was normal, normal was coming back, and damn if it wasn’t sorely welcome.

After glancing once again at the scorched marks on the ground, she exhaled, “if the … hoe caused this, then it’s likely she’s immune to the fire she caused herself. If we’re going in there, as long as she’s not there, we have a chance. If she didn’t burn down all the generators, we have a chance. Hell, even if she burned off all the generators, we still have a chance,” Thea rambled, in one breath. “As long as she isn’t there to welcome us.”

Thea definitely had a point. They were running on a serious time crunch and deliberating for too long over this equated to increasing the chances of their fellow agents falling into the clutches of something dangerous. Tadashi’s grip on the Stinger tightened and he nodded. “You’re right. Let’s just get in and worry about crossing those bridges when we get there.”

Standing once more, he backed away a few feet, eyeing the door up and down. If it was anything like the other doors dispersed throughout the building, it was damn difficult to budge. However, if that blast did indeed happen, then perhaps he could force his way in… Nevermind the noodle-like disposition of his muscles.

“I’m knocking it down, Thea. Stand aside.” There was a substantial negative fifty percent of confidence in his announcement, but that didn’t matter. Bracing himself and holding his breath, Tadashi sprinted forth and rammed all of his weight into his shoulder, smashing loudly into metal.

...The door flew open. Way too easily. As in it wasn’t locked.

A gasp followed.

Unfortunately for Tadashi, this resulted in his landing harshly on the tiled interior and the metal door thwacking violently against the wall. “...I didn’t dislocate it,” he muttered, still on the floor and biting back a groan.

Thea had been a little too scared to look into the open door even after Tadashi had broken it wide open - yeah, thankfully no one else was on their little excursion, she’d probably get flayed for not covering the potentially-hostile-room. Hearing his quip though, she gave herself three more seconds before peeking in. First, checking on Tadashi.

“Even if you didn’t, I’m still telling Lars you need a few kisses for your new boo-boos,” she remarked before her eyes began to sweep the rest of the room.

Evidently, it was never meant to host any persons in it. The walls had lacked any color, sporting only dents, and signs of mold and age. An abandoned room, likely. What seemed to belong was only a line of trash cans, bulky, thankfully only mildly odorous, and art supplies, used and unused. Aside from that, it didn’t seem as if any monstrous visitors had made their way in the little untouched sanctuary.

But following the miniscule trail of ruin and fire at their feet, she found a battered power box right in the wall. It was in poor shape, its lid dented, folding in on itself as if, “someone was here,” she noted aloud, peering at their treasure, watching as a flying spark arched weakly from it. Stepping over Tadashi, she clicked her tongue, seeing in full the damage the power box had suffered, for it was not only bent, but also rid of any of its original metal coating.

She ghosted her hands all over it, peering here and there trying to find somewhere for her fingers to pry into. “Got a hand?” She turned to Tadashi.

Tadashi shot a brief glare at Thea’s back, internally grimacing at the thought of Lars attacking him with “feel better” kisses… Touchy idiot. Regardless, he kept the annoyance to himself and struggled to his feet, rolling the shoulder around to make sure no lasting injury was left behind. He was minimal.

At Thea’s question, he glanced down at the good hand holding his Stinger, then resheathed it at his hip and approached. “Yeah. Sort of.” He also ran his fingers along the edges of the lid and, biting the inside of his cheek, he ignored the faint sting of dented metal digging into his skin as he forced his way into a gap. With Thea’s help, they pried the box open with a few tugs and he backed away to inspect properly, wiping off strips of blood onto his blazer.

Okay… This definitely explained the power outage. The damage had traveled its way inside. A handful of circuits were visibly fried and still emitting lingering wisps of steam. But it wasn’t impossible to work with.

Tadashi adjusted the cables on his shoulder. “Whatever that person did, they short circuited the hell out of it, but I think we can switch around a few plugs into another general circuit, but…” This time, hesitance touched his tone. “I doubt it’s got much juice left. Or… maybe it does. I’m not sure. Either way, we gotta get power traffic flowing again.” He gestured to the cables. “Got the highways right here… Very dangerous highways that could probably set my eyebrows on fire.”

“That’s why we’re both here. No more fires,” Thea grimanced, pulling on one end of the cables that he had wrapped around his neck. She clicked her tongue at the blood from his fingers, but they couldn’t stop now, not when time was still pressing down on them.



Meanwhile…

The moment the door burst open and smacked the walls, the noise echoed throughout the whole of the gallery. Arcs of electricity danced around the unidentified mutant’s fingertips, building more and more energy in preparation to fry Cece and Poppy alive.

But the noise froze the mutant. Its hand lowered and an airy hiss slipped through its teeth. Moving on featherlight ashen feet, it set off into a vicious sprint towards the source of noise.



Plucking off the phone that she brought with them, Thea began to tear it apart, tossing the casing aside as she fingered the wires attached to the battery. “This is … really small,” she winced, “want to switch? I might be able to re-wire it up so only some things come back on. I don’t think we’re going to be able to bring everything back up off this,” she dangled the satellite phone, “the buildings honestly way too big.”

There was a pause, and Thea hissed, “do not say what you’re about to say,” she glared, anticipating the awkward, though witty, quip.

Tadashi looked at Thea skeptically, then sighed and shook his head. “I’m not Lars… Sure, I’ll switch up on a bitch.” He accepted the blocky device and set to work disconnecting the wires from the batter, one of the jumper cables tucked under his bad arm. This was good. They were doing good. Succeeding. So far, the only injuries they had sustained was on Tadashi’s part--via bad luck and self infliction. He’d take that over getting eaten alive by a Mutant anyday. “As long as we power enough of this place to call in backup and get Inez visual, then we’ve accomplished what we came here… for…”

He stiffened, head snapping up to glare at another door leading out to the gallery. He could’ve sworn… “Thea,” he started, voice low, “Did you hear that?” Perhaps he was just suffering from hallucinations, but then again, he likely wasn’t. There was no way he had imagined that fleeting sound from beyond the door.

He has a concussion she immediately thought, recalling the heavy fall he had taken. She hadn’t watched him, nor had she thought to check up on him afterwards - foolish coward, she berated herself. But before she moved over to stress test her friend, she stiffened. Just as he had. Something cracked in the unclaimed space between them, and everything else in between. But it was quiet, a hiss, and maybe just something from their own stressful delusions.

And again, a snap, something beyond the next door that they hadn’t dared to wander closer towards. Thea kept both her fearful eyes on it. But it never came again. Whatever charged fear had been left didn’t settle. And when she gulped, she swore they both heard it crisply clear. Either way, the sound fell on deaf ears, as Tadashi’s racing heartbeat was wreaking havoc in his skull.

When she found courage again, she spoke quickly, “I’ll be fast … clip that last one into ... ah, the box has a giant hole there ... Do we just want lights? Cameras? I don’t think we can do both, maybe just a few rooms,” Thea murmured as she slipped thin wires from the tablet she brought along with her into the last of open ports from the damaged supply box. Directly in firmware, she could get to mixing some of the defaults even before the clips did their magic, but they would have to make some sacrifices.

Hands shaky and clammy with sweat, Tadashi tried to dry them against his already dirtied blazer and nodded in tandem with each of Thea’s questions. Nothing about this atmosphere boded well with him. Regardless, he followed her instructions and started clipping the cable through the gaping hole. It wasn awkward angle to work with, however. “Focus on cameras for now. We’ve all got Nightshades to help us see in the dark; I can’t say the same for Inez through the monitors but if push comes to shove… we’ll be her eyes. All of us. Somehow…” Shit. This was such a flaming hot mess. His visage screwed up in thought. “Maybe the gallery and indoor playground? They have less windows than other parts of the buil--!”

Crackling. Intense. Vicious. Violent. And far too sudden.

Electricity crawled around the hinges and gaps of the door, before expanding into a burst of fiery discord that rocketed the metal slab out of its frame. It flew back, hurtling straight for Thea and Tadashi.

Eyes wide, Tadashi lashed out and all but yanked Thea down to hit the floor with him. Blistering hot metal sailed mere inches over them and collided into the opposite wall with a thunderous crack. The scent of smoke and charred metal filled the room, crammed its way up the agents’ nostrils and watered their vision. Standing in the hole was the hooded figure, its golden curls standing on end as electricity coursed throughout its being.

Cold blue eyes locked onto them. Lips peeled to reveal a snarl. And it pounced on all fours, short nails scraping into tiles and grime.

Dazed, Thea coughed uncontrollably, the only thing she did right was in keeping her eyes closed as smoke and dust billowed around their bodies. Even then though, her hands groped around the fire and metal, hissing and coughing even more as she tried to reach for her tablet. Just when her hand found something, a heavy weight landed on her torso. It wasn’t gentle, and it didn’t care for what was definitely her now bruised ribs.

For someone who never actually used the guns the program provided them, Thea wasn’t exactly of the practiced nor right mind to flip the safety off and drill the goddamned thing with the stray Stinger she unknowingly picked up, but she was definitely flailing hard enough to bring the butt of it onto the body trying to claw and bite into her. In her panic, she didn’t really count just how many times she clubbed at the monstrosity, but when she heard something crack - heard it over the blood rushing in her ears - she paused, at last. And breathed.

Tadashi had been tossed aside when the Mutant landed on Thea. However, he recuperated quickly and whipped out his Stinger, hands shaking beyond his control. What happened to his steadiness? The tranquility and clear head that he prided himself for having?

...He knew where it went. Why it disappeared. He hated people and talking to them and interacting with them as a whole. But he hated seeing a friend in danger even more and it dismantled the foundations of his composure like a nuclear bomb.

Breathing rushed and stuttering, he pulled the trigger the moment the Mutant squealed and reeled back from the hit to its nose. An electric bullet loosed from the chamber and ripped through the meat of its shoulder, then a second left behind a gash in its side. The Mutant tumbled back from the blow, its small size incapable of recovering from impact, and hit the wall.

But it had the opposite effect he hoped for.

The energy coursing through the Mutant seemed to double in illuminance and the same light danced in its cobalt eyes, seemingly rejuvenated. Upon looking closer, Tadashi failed to spot any trails of blood oozing from its nose or bullet wounds. The fresh redness of flesh peeked through, but more so like packaged meat in a store or slaughterhouse.

Electricity formed in its charred fingers again, gaze trained on Tadashi.

“...Shit.”

It was like being able to breathe again for the first time in forever when the monster let up, and she could actually see again. Her relief was short-lived though, when she was nearly blinded by the sparks going off just to her side. No, there was someone else - Tadashi, she turned to him, and saw the smoking muzzle, as it were, still impeccably aimed at the horridly bright thing. Who was taking aim now.

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This was definitely something right out of her nightmares, every single one of them. But she was already battered, she was probably bleeding from somewhere, and she’s already sporting wounds she never thought she’d be wearing - so maybe plucking some of her stronger heartstrings for a bit of heroic courage wasn’t quite impossible.

Rolling over with a painful yelp, she found the other end of the cable that hadn’t quite made it to where they wanted it to go - good thing, too. Without so much as batting an eye, she heaved herself up with a rasping, rather savage, cry, bringing down all of her weight to jab the cable into the beefed up monster.

The Mutant lurched with a muted gasp, its back arching away from the invasion and wide eyes threatening to pop out of its skull. The electricity surrounding it like a second skin dissipated and began to funnel through the cables and into the power box. Life returned to the building with a few flickers at first, then doused every single sector with light.

Tadashi scrambled back the moment the Mutant slumped forward like a sack of potatoes onto its hands and knees, wheezes shaking its chest. Those same trembles invaded its limbs and as it looked up at Tadashi, the agent had lost all ability to breathe.

A child. She couldn’t have looked any older than a teenager, even with the busted nose and horrifically dry gashes. This wasn’t right. This felt too real. Too personal. Too human. Mutants couldn’t be human. They’d lost hold of that the moment Prodigium mutated their DNA as infants--

A soft thud.

Forcefully yanked back to reality, Tadashi rose slowly, taking in the unconscious Mutant for a moment to make sure it was down for good. Its back moved up and down, a sign of life still remaining, but incapacitated all the same. A living battery. He turned his attention to Thea and rushed over to her, taking in her beaten and bloodied form.

“Can you move?” he asked, hands hovering unsurely. He wasn’t much of a medic and the nerves of everything that just happened was still drowning his system.

Pressing a hand upon her stomach, Thea breathed in. Or well, she tried to, it hurt quite a bit though so she was quick to give up assessing herself. If it hurt, something was probably wrong anyway. “My white ass … not built for this kind of abuse,” she rasped pitifully though she did her best to try and sit up.

She squinted upwards, happy to be doused in artificial blessed light at last, though it only served to irritate her eyes, as they had been dusted and smoked a fair bit. She had wanted to know, for sure, that nothing else was to come from the monster but ... rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand, uncaring that skin was flaking, and cuts along her arm bled downwards, she got up to her feet instead, swaying, but doing so upon two feet planted on the floor.

She didn’t bother looking back at the defeated mutant, it sounded ugly and she knew it was going to look ugly as well. With a hunched back, and an arm, ugly and bearing the signs of the endured near-flaying, pressed to her stomach, she peered at Tadashi with worried eyes, “Are you alright? Did it do anything to you? I … I don’t even remember some of the details anymore … is that normal?” She coughed, eyes tearing up from irritation.

Tadashi couldn’t help but wince as he finally took in the full extent of Thea’s injuries. In comparison to her, he had gotten out of it fairly okay. There were some bruises and scratches from the exploding door and a thin gash over his bro, a result of a flying piece of shrapnel. Other than that, a majority of his wounds resided on an emotional scale… but his emotions didn’t matter. He was a Pure Blood and he had expectations to fulfill.

He shook his head. “I’ll live. It… She… didn’t hurt me any worse than Lars’ singing usually does.” However, a hint of concern toiled in his gut at her latter question and he cautiously seized her good arm, looping it around his shoulder to give her support. “Definitely. I’d much rather forget this shit show than remember it, but… well, keep in mind what our jobs are. None of us are normal to begin with.”

Thea hummed, but aren’t we only human she wanted to say, though she knew that perhaps it wouldn’t carry its intentions perfectly; there were too many flaws in that loaded statement alone, even if she wished to reassure them both that they were allowed to fear.

He risked glancing back at the fallen Mutant again and vaguely wondered if they should leave her like this or do something more. He could put a Coil on her neck and suspend her in frozen animation, but that would disrupt the flow of electricity into the power box. On the other hand, leaving her comatose form alone in this room didn’t sit well with him. For multiple reasons, though some of them he didn’t dare to acknowledge right now.

“...What should we do with her?” he asked, completely unaware of the fact that his senses were dead set on calling the mutant “her” rather than “it”.

We are only human she reminded herself, unsure as to why Tadashi had stuck to referring to the mutant with a dignified pronoun. Had he seen something that Thea failed to see? “Nothing,” she decided, “definitely nothing,” she repeated. “That’s an active circuit there … or something, we’re going to need to get special equipment to fix things up first, before trying to move or contain … her” she admitted. Peering at their feet, she clicked her tongue, “do you think the phone is still intact? Inez …” she let the thought wander off, struggling to recall their next objective after the harrowing encounter.

Something within Tadashi roared in protest, but it was smothered quickly by logic and sense of duty. Thea was right; they shouldn’t do anything with the Mutant. Not right now and not without backup. She would stay. However, he swallowed back a groan as he remembered the dismantled phone. “...Shit. Probably not… It’s okay, with the power back on, I’m sure she’ll have our Comms up and running soon. For now,” he sighed and he could’ve sworn a whopping seventy percent of his soul fled with it, “We should check on Cece and Poppy. Hopefully they can keep our noodle asses safe for the rest of… all this.”

“As a blonde white woman, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t jinx it for me,” Thea chuckled, leaning onto Tadashi as they shuffled their noodle-figured selves out the door they weren’t responsible for tearing down, and hopefully into some friendly company.

On their way out, Tadashi snagged up Thea’s terminal and rolled his eyes. The ghost of a smirk tugged at his busted lip. “No promises.” A pause of thought, then he added on lightly. “By the way? You were a bad bitch back there… Just don’t tell anyone I said that.”



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Crowley didn’t mind being partnered with Lars. It was better than finding a perch and positioning his weapon until his shoulder went sore. Still, any syllables that left Lars' lips, the constant stream of what Heidi used to call “word vomit”, entered through one ear and gladly departed through the other. While he wasn’t particularly well versed in social interaction, he did learn how to hold his own in a conversation he wasn’t even participating in. A series of nods and “mmhms” was enough to compensate. At least, he thought it was, he didn’t tend to listen in long enough to ensure he hadn’t been called out on. That didn’t matter. It wasn’t in his job description to fulfill and flesh out friendships with his fellow coworkers.

In retrospect, however, his method proved to be fatal as he nodded and claimed “Sure thing, man,” before realizing what he had agreed to. A night of drinking with Lars, the man who was...jovial enough sober, to put it kindly. Still, it was too late to back out of what he had just agreed to. He didn’t mind. He would just readjust his schedule and put an hour in for a moment of relaxation. It wasn’t ideal, but he didn’t mind unwinding with a beer or two. He would just monitor cautiously, mark off every purchase he made and how much time he spent on each one. He didn’t want to go home with his mind foggy. It would prove to be far more messy than he would have liked. Besides...his only friend used to insist he find new relationships outside of her. Still, that was a lot of work, and he wasn’t necessarily being paid in turn for whatever effort he made.

Humming patiently, he propped his stinger safely in his hands as he kept it aimed towards the ground. His thumb remained pressed against his weapon, close enough to the trigger just in case he needed to make a quick move. He didn’t want to accidentally take a firing shot towards his or Lars’ foot, a lesson he learned when he was a much younger cadet. He much preferred when he had the time to worry about such technical details, rather than moving quickly towards a dangerous situation. Not to say he didn’t enjoy such situations, it got his adrenaline pumping and always ended with a payoff that was worth the energy he put into it. Still, the idea of survival was always present in his head, and a moment of life and peace was...preferable.

His eyes traced from his shoes to the hall ahead of him, surprised that he registered Lars’ words in their entirety for the first time. Rather than answering, he inspected the single figure, raising his weapon and placing his finger on the trigger. The scream was enough to confirm his suspicions, keeping his calm once he locked onto the target.

“Go for the arms.” He requested, his voice soft. He aimed his weapon for the right hand of the Manus as creatures sprung forth and crawled into the lobby. He released two electrical shots, the first shot hitting one of the new creatures. He huffed, aiming again and slamming the shot into the creature’s palm. He patiently sheathed his weapon before retrieving his katana from his hip.

Due to Lars’ erratic heartbeat pounding up a storm in his ears and the citizens screaming bloody murder, he couldn’t make out Crowley’s words to save his life. Literally. His wide blue eyes switched back and forth between his partner and the unknown Mutant standing just beyond the doorway, then swept over the panicking crowd as a whole. Out of his peripherals, he could see a Manus creature scrambling up the body of another agent that he really couldn’t remember the name of right now.

“Uh… Uhhhh, yeah! Yep! Sounds like a--” Quickly, he unsheathed his Stinger and fired twice. The first bullet sailed wide and smacked into the wall, but the second found its home in the Manus’s side. It unleashed a disgusting squelch and squeal, falling off the relieved agent and twitching pathetically on the ground. “Plan, Chief Crowley!”

A subtle pause, this one filled by Lars’ increasingly dire need for a beer. “Wait, what’s the plan?!” He had no clue.

Meanwhile, the host barely flinched as Crowley’s shot nailed its palm. A delayed reaction, then the creature reproduction gave pause in that same hand so that the Mutant could stare at it. A gaping and scorched whole ripped through the webbing between it’s thumb and forefinger, revealing a suspiciously bloodless wound. Another moment, then it focused on the doors again, both hands raised once more to continue spilling Manus into the lobby. It took slow steps forward, intending to enter the building.

The sight of this frightened the crowd even further. Among the throng of agents fighting frantically to dwindle the Manus numbers and innocent bystanders being swarmed by the gnawing little monsters, general panic doubled. The lack of space for movement lessened even more and bodies collided into Crowley and Lars from all angles.

This was far from an optimal situation for them to work with.

Crowley felt his heart leap into his throat with the sudden chaos that erupted around him. This was not ideal. He didn’t have time to think or strategize. He sheathed his katana the moment he saw the herd of people rush towards him, wishing not to cause any injury as they rustled past. The shot to the hand hadn’t worked like he had hoped, but the pause the creature took did give Crowley an additional few seconds to gather his thoughts.

His eyes took a quick glance around the room. He identified all the items in the room he could register while the crowd threatened to stampede him. Tables. Chairs. A stairwell behind him. The front desk and the two televisions on either end of the lobby. He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. He looked up.

Crowley let himself smile.

“New plan Queene! Get onto one of those tables! Get the coil at the ready and keep your stinger on you, I have an idea. Cover me if this goes to shit?” He requested, although he didn’t take much time to let Lars reply. He took position at the table farthest from the main Manus. If agent Queene did this right and got closer to the Manus with the coil at the ready, this might be solved a lot quicker than Crowley initially thought. He wasn’t particularly superstitious. Still, his foot tapped lightly on the table below.

He raised his weapon. He needed to be patient. He needed to wait for an open shot and an opportunity that would ensure success. He breathed in, steadying himself. The screams and panic around him was deafening. He let it through one ear and out the other. Mindless white noise. He needed himself steady. Block it out. All he needed to focus on was himself and the main Manus. He needed to kill this thing. It was just him and it and the goal.

And of course there was Lars. Lars, who he prayed, would listen to him and help him kill the damn thing. He had Queene blood in him, after all. There was some faith to have in such a thing.

There. The Manus was moving into the building. Surrounded by the herd. Enough coverage was given by the smaller creatures, slowing it down. It was friction. Something Crowley had been told time and time again to be thrown out the window for being another variable that stood in the way of an easy solution.

Accuracy over simplicity.

He exhaled.

He fired off three shots towards the light overhead. It was...distracting, to say the least. There were several of them hanging over the ceiling, each of them several feet long and dense with what Crowley hoped was glass. If he was taking out this Manus, he would at least take several out with it.

The smile remained as his shots rang true, the electric bolts slamming into the metallic loop that kept it bound to the ceiling.

His foot tapped against the table again.

Okay, this time Lars heard Crowly loud and clear. Why didn’t he just scream earlier? Clearly, that was the trend going on here. Some of the tremors still lingered in Lars’ hands, though it was from a combination of adrenaline and shock at the sight of innocent people suffering, rather than fear itself. This was fun. Yep. Totally. So much fun.

But seriously no, he had to move. Now.

“Aye, aye!” With a quick salute, the agent slipped through the sea of bodies, knocking over a few fellow agents in the process (by accident, obviously) and leaping onto the table as Crowley instructed. Coil in one hand and pointing at the mystery Mutant with his Stinger in the other, his muscles tensed and eyebrows flew up with surprise as he watched Crowley sever the light from the ceiling.

Its metal loop shattered and he watched as the glass appliance plummeted straight for the Mutant. It fell fast. Dangerously so. And because of this, the creature could only glance up and come face to face with an impending impact. Manus ceased spilling from its hands. It crouched at last second with both arms barred over its head--

Crash!

“Oh… Oh shit! That worked!” Lars laughed in pure disbelief from his perch on the table. He almost fell in the process, but righted himself while trying to peer through the small cloud of debris. It was hard to discern anything, but he was one hundred percent sure that stupid Mutant had taken a direct hit. Which meant that all of their troubles with the little butthole spider things were an issue of the past.

...Except they weren’t.

The mass of vicious creatures were still on the prowl and wreaking havoc. Still alive and moving.

That wasn’t right.

It was then that the clouds finally began to thin out and Lars’ cheers came to an abrupt end.

Massive shards of glass protruded from a giant writhing mass of flesh and bone and twitching limbs, as if a large sum of the critters were melded together like hot steel. They protruded from the back of the Mutant’s now shredded jack and curled over it like a protective meat shield. A sickening tear and pop, the construct peeling away from its body completely, before falling still with lifelessness.

The Mutant emerged from its Manus tent and straightened, the last of its coat slipping free to reveal something… far more human than what was expected. A man. Short and messy dark hair, almond eyes lacking the light of life but shimmering all the same with awareness--intelligence. He looked directly at Crowley. Paused…

Then exploded into a sprint.

Despite the sweat pouring down his back, Lars immediately shot at the Mutant in an attempt to slow it down or veer away from Crowley. However, even with all three shots aimed perfectly, squirming blobs of Manus emerged from the skin of his back and took the brunt of impact, hitting the floor immediately after, fried and useless.

The Mutant’s attention was entirely locked onto Crowley.

Crowley was right.

Superstitions were bullshit.

For the brief moment of relief that rushed through his brains, nearly on serotonin overload...he felt like he was having fun. Not the giddy, external joy that would take a grip on others. Particularly those like Lars. No. It was the satisfaction that rolled in waves through his chest, granting him internal warmth and a desire to call it a good days worth.

The warm feeling was smothered the moment he saw the herd continue to race ahead into the building. He swallowed a lump of shame down his throat. “Shit-” He cursed, stinger at the ready once he witnessed the shell of such a creature peel from the true specimen inside. Human. Male. At least, looked to be. Perhaps early to mid twenties. Soft features. Yet...vacant, familiar eyes.

Crowley tossed aside any guilt he would have normally felt.

He was still a monster, plain and simple. The bulges of sentient skin were enough to confirm such a statement.

He raised his weapon, noting the anomalies in batches. He was quicker than a normal Manus specimen. Sturdier. Crowley’s teeth ground together. The creature was heading right towards him. Nothing Lars could do would slow him down.

His mouth went dry. Instinct took hold of him before a thought could intrude. He fired at the creature several times as it raced towards him. No damage. The little buggers would bubble against his skin and fall away with each shot. “Shit-” He cursed again, keeping his voice even despite the desperate tone that threatened to take hold. He slung the stinger into his holster before grasping his katana, easily thrusting it from its sheath. He held it in front of him defensively. He took up a blocking position, waiting for the creature to take the first swing. He was going to try and throw him off if he could, using his momentum against him to sling him off from the table.

Welp--his buddy Crowley was in trouble. Deep doo doo. And nothing about it sat well with Lars. What did self preservation feel like again? He’d honestly forgotten such a long time ago; security was switched out for thrill seeking and somewhere down the line, that led into popping just one more pill or taking a few more shots to keep that warmth going. Anything to have some fun and dodge all the stupid guilt that came with it.

Anyway, time to throw caution to the wind.

Taking off like a loaded spring, Lars hopped off the table and trampled his way through the crowd. A hailstorm of Manus critters launched his way. The first to reach him had its faceless visage and orifice sliced in two with a swing of the Katana, while the next was crudely knocked aside with a backhand swing. “No biting! Oi! This ain’t even the first date!” Whoa, wait--focus Lars. Focus.

A second table crossed his path and without breaking stride, he yanked up one of the chairs with him, using it to bulldoze his way even quicker through the throng of little monsters.

The Mutant also never broke stride. It swiftly leapt onto the same table as Crowley with startling ease and swung into the agent’s side, a decisively strong but precise attack aimed for the kidney. Trained. Lacking the abandoned grace of all Mutants that Pure Bloods have ever encountered.

“Weak-” Crowley commented quickly at Lars’ statement, unable to help himself. Perhaps it was the stress overload that influenced such a response, but he didn’t have much time to question it. Right now he was going to have a waltz. Just...instead of stepping on each other’s toes, it was more likely going to be eating out each other’s throats and stabbing each other in the abdomen. The only kind of dancing he liked, regardless.

The first strike from the creature, now seeing it face to face, was straight for the man’s kidney. Crowley quickly parried the hit using his katana, blocking the fist from striking into his skin. Sweat beaded down his forehead as he pushed the creature towards the edge of the table, lifting his leg to kick it in the abdomen to ensure there was decent distance between the two.

Did he have regrets?

Enough to count on one hand, at the very least.

He raised his katana, slashing it against the creature’s chest and attempting to dig deeply into the creature’s flesh. He noted quickly, however, that the little blobby Manuses had taken the damage for him, the skin plopping lifelessly to the floor below.

Focus. Focus. Right now all he could do was parry and slash. He needed time to think of a permanent solution. This thing didn’t seem to contain the same weaknesses as other Manuses and Crowley was going to have to improvise. But right now? He needed to keep himself alive in order for his brain to work.

Like a well-oiled machine, the Mutant blocked Crowley’s strikes with perfectly timed expansions of its body, allowing more and more Manus to take the brunt of the blow. Not a single muscle in its face reacted to the altercation and expressed a level of indifference that rang with an inhumane quality about it.

Another slash, but instead of blocking it like before, a stiff backhand to the inside of Crowley’s wrist redirected it, leaving him open for a front kick to the chest--

“Aussie, aussie, aussie!”

The metallic legs of a high chair smacked into the back of the Mutant’s leg, it’s only standing leg, forcing it to fly off its feet and fall backwards. Its lower back smashed into the edge of the table, spine bending painfully, before it stopped the rest of its fall with a fleshy clamp stretching from its hand and digging into the table.

Lars chucked the chair to Crowley. “Shield! Shitty shield--but shield!” he rushed out while fighting to right his grip on his own katana. It was time to pummel this little freak of nature from both sides.

Crowley didn’t expect to die today. The possibility was there of course, but it felt like such a distant premise that he didn’t let it waver in his head. But now? Staring at this man’s expression, knowing fully well this creature’s intention to slay him and gnaw on his flesh… He began to accept that the reality was growing more and more probable. Feeling the back hand against his wrist as he came down on his next slash, he felt bile pile up in the back of his throat.

“Oi?” Crowley responded weakly to the sudden call, almost unconsciously, before realizing the implications of what Lars did. His heart leapt in gratitude. He did nearly flinch as the chair threatened to collide with his body, but he swiftly swung his fingers around the back of it, catching it in mid air with his free hand. He readjusted, keeping the legs of the chair jutted outwards as a shield. He kept his katana ahead of him, giving Lars a grateful nod before attempting to slam his katana into the fallen form of the Manus, aiming for its ribcage.

“Oi, oi!” Lars shot back, his voice shaking with nerves and laughter. Fuck yeah--the bro pact was officially signed now. No escaping once someone was in. At least Crowley now had access to a lifetime of free Lars kisses and cuddles… Well, those were available before the pact was signed too but--details. Just as Crowley brought his katana down to skewer the Mutant’s chest, Lars swung at the same time as he did, intending to slice this monster’s head clean off its shoulders.

Stars.

Lars was pretty sure he saw stars, but he wasn’t all that much into stargazing and it was early afternoon. So what in the name of Sam Hell just happened?

The answer--like the strike of a viper, the first sign of emotion flickered in the Mutant’s eyes. Annoyance. Icy hot and tepid, yet promising a volcanic eruption. Just inches before the blades sliced into its skin, columns of Manus stacked and blended into one another jutted from his neck and torso, smashing into the agents with crushing force. At the same time, the rest of the mobile creatures in the lobby had fallen limp, inactive with confusion.

Lars flew back from the hit and smacked into a table, his bones and joints screaming in protest. Damn--he was having flashbacks to when he was a rookie freerunner. Good times. Good times… Okay no, not really. Everything hurt. A lot. “...Yep… y-yep, ow. Sugar Taddy owes me a massage after this,” he groaned while struggling to sit up, bleary vision trying to assess the situation.

The Mutant right itself and slipped off the table, huge chunks of useless Manus falling from its torso. A jerk of the head to the right and its neck snapped loudly, followed by a roll of the shoulders. It looked back and forth between Crowley and Lars, gaze growing colder and colder.

Now, it turned on Lars, and a shockingly normal baritone slipped through its teeth. “You.”

Lars’ eyes widened. “Uh… Me?”

The Mutant took off running again.

“Shit--shit! Me! Not me! Somebody else is cool too!” Lars shot to his feet, but his balance proved to be wobbly and he doubted he could properly wield his katana in time to properly protect himself.

Ow. Fuck. Crowley grimaced once his back collided with the floor beneath him, having slid from the table and crashed (unceremoniously). That was...unexpected. The manus. He must have created more and more to the point where they were forced off their balance. That must have been a shit ton of those little buggers, because good God that freaking hurt. He raised his head, eyes still blurry from impact. He squinted, trying to reclaim his balance. That is when he found some solace in the insanity, his lips twitching upwards as he saw some of the buggers wriggling and writhing in their confusion.

Raising himself back to his feet, he noted the creature going to tackle a disgruntled Lars. Crowley reached for his stinger, swiftly tugging it from his holster and shooting the creature in the back several times. “Aussie! You son of a bitch!” Reaching blindly for his chair shield, he grasped it, before slamming the legs of the chair into the small of the creature’s back, hoping to get its attention towards him rather than Lars.

He was gonna platonically marry Crowley after he figured out the ceremony situation with Tadashi, Lars swore on it. Gratitude crashed over him, beyond relieved when the Mutant gave pause and stumbled from the hit to his back. He stumbled a bit, grimaced, then glared back at Crowley…

Then froze.

Confusion washed over his features as he peered up, nose scrunched up in apparent concentration. The lights flickered one and off. A fraction of a moment, then the Mutant’s eyes widened ever so slightly. “...Synthia,” he whispered, teeth grinding so hard that his skull pounded. He barely took notice or care of the citizens fleeing the building and hopping over immobile Manus.

Confusion grew quickly on Crowley’s features. It was entirely possible that Crowley drove its confusion to another level, temporarily incapicitating it. Yet, there was doubt lingering at the back of his skull, his skin going completely cold at the name that escaped his mouth. Synthia? Goosebumps crawled up and down his arms. He was distracted. If now was any of a time to act...He counted each breath he took, retrieving the familiar coil from his waist belt.

He lunged towards the creature, swiftly slamming the coil around the creature’s neck...oh. “Oi?” He questioned, voice weak.

Before it could snap shut, the Mutant’s neck bulged outwards like a giant airbag, forcing the device out of Crowley’s hands and depositing the useless, frosty Manus onto the ground.

Lars gaped in disgust and horror and… a lot of confusion. But mostly horror. “Oh fuck, that’s nasty. Like a frog,” he muttered.

Ignoring the agents, the Mutant cast one last look upwards and frowned as power once again flooded the building and burned his eyes. Not good. Which only meant… It was time. Shooting off his heels like a bullet, he dashed for the west end of the lobby, where the upper half of the wall held a row of windows.

“Hey! Get your little froggy ass--! I-! WE’RE NOT DONE WHAT THE FUCK!” Hastily, Lars switched out his katana for the Stinger again and unloaded several rounds at the Mutant. Unfortunately, most of them exploded at his heels and he leapt, his front smacking into concrete, but cushioned by another writhing mass of Manus. Their spider-like limbs clung to the surface and rapidly transported him upwards towards the windows.

“Holy shit-” Crowley repeated, eyes widened at the display before him. That was...disgusting. He never thought he would see a, well...humanoid protrude their neck like that. Skin sacs. His stomach churned, watching the creature shake off the attack as if it were nothing. He raised his weapon in turn with Lars, shakily sending off several rounds towards the creature.

“He’s...it’s trying to get away.” Crowley claimed, almost confused. It hadn’t even tried to go after a civilian to eat. This was...a tactful and very frightening mutant. He slowly lowered his weapon, holding out his arm out to Lars. “I don’t think we can kill it. We need to inform the other agents about this though...I don’t think this is the only mutant that’s...well, like this.” Synthia...whatever, well...whoever it was, wasn’t good.

The last of the Mutant shoved the window pane free of the latch and crawled out, the sickening noise of clicking talons and squelching flesh lingering in the air. Crawling up and down Lars’ skin. Echoing throughout the interior of his aching skull…

Oh yeah, aching. Welp--everything hurt a lot more now that he wasn’t riding on adrenaline. Wincing, he started rummaging through his blazer pocket while blinking in surprise at their surroundings. The leftover Manus seized and quivered, then decayed on the spot, their bulbous bodies shriveling into bone and skin, before crumbling completely to ash.

“I can’t read a book to save my life,” Lars said, another laugh bubbling up his chest but anxious all the same. Christ, none of this was making sense to him. “Did any of the stuff in the academy tell us about super smart Manus that can kick our asses like it’s nothing?” He finally retracted what he needed from his pocket and popped open a tiny little container. It was plastic and blue in color, in an almost oval shape. He threw back two pills and swallowed them dry.

“They mentioned ass kicking mutants...just not highly intelligent ones with this type of modification.” He breathed, placing his hand to his chest, before he grimaced at the aches of pain that came with it. He was lucky the creature didn’t puncture him, but that last blow was...He was lucky his ribcage was still intact. “By the way, you alright?” He inquired, brow raised at the pill bottle that Lars plucked from his pocket. Upon further inspection, he couldn’t recognize the pills but they seemed, well, harmless. He knew the look of much different drugs, even if he couldn’t quite put the name to it.

“I...thank you. By the way. For having my back. I owe you a pint.” Crowley’s eyes darted to the auditorium. “We need to contact the other agents and make sure everything’s alright.”

Lars almost didn’t catch Crowley’s question and it hit him in delayed record time. It was only a few seconds into catching his breath that it registered. “Hm? Oh! Yeah, just gotta,” he shook the little packet in question before stowing it back into his pocket, “Pop those every now and then. God I’d kill for it to be some ecstasy though,” he laughed while pressing a hand to his stomach. In and out. Wheeeew… Damn. He was supposed to be in better shape than this. “And don’t mention it! We’re all brothers in arms and suits, yeah? You would’ve done the same for me.”

He punctuated this with a playful punch to Crowley’s shoulder, though he did add on quickly, “But I definitely won’t turn down a beer. Like ever.” Regardless, he nodded and sighed, resigned to his fate. The job was far from over, though a huge sum of the problem had been resolved. There were a bunch of loose ends left to tie up. “Okay. Okay. Right. We got this, augh! Game face!” A hearty few slaps to the face and he was ready to go. “Lead the way, brother.”
 
AGNES MORTEMER​

One of the scattered agents had just shaken off a Manus and roasted it alive when it happened.

Darkness.

The lights cut off with a series of bursts from overhead lights, little shards raining down over the agents and ravenous creatures. The latter only shivered and hissed at the shower, then continued their rave in a blind scramble. With their senses dulled by the shadows and the agents’ Nightshades whirring into action, picking them off one by one proved to be easier.

But only a little.

The children, who had yet to grow closer to Agnes, shrieked with renewed fear as the lights disappeared. They congregated around and bumped into one another blindly, their panic reaching new heights.

The shrieks cut through Agnes in a powerful way, and grimacing, she clapped her hands together in three sharp beats, “Hey now! You have to settle! It’s going to be alright, but… Ugh. This isn’t working.” Sidling closer, coming along the left side of the children, Agnes scooped her arms around them, shuffling the back to the wall again, and towards the right-most side of the playset, like a goose gathering her goslings, “Okay, okay, okay… We’re going to get out of here, now… But I need you to help me. I want you all to take the hand of the person next to you… Can you do that for me, little ones. Hold tight… And we’re gonna move quick and low. Quick and low. I’m gonna count to three, then we’re gonna go… Nod, if you understand...”

Sobs and snot continued to roll, but the whimpers had softened, if only a little at the woman’s reassurance. There was a clumsy rush of movement from the children. Hands locked, some fingers stubby and trembling, while a particularly small child chose to cling to Agnes’s pants leg. Even with the lights gone, they could hear the manic chatter of pointy little teeth and pronged legs skittering nearby, bolts ejecting from Stingers left and right.

A young boy, apparently the eldest of the batch, stood in front while trying to fight the trembling in his legs. It was no use. His steps wobbled something fierce, but his face, screwed up tight and slathered in freckles, radiated a boy who woke up every morning thinking he would be “the man of the house” someday. He followed Agnes’s lead while holding on tight to other kids next to him and began to descend as chaos erupted around them.

Their movements truncated by uneasy, shuffling feet, Agnes nevertheless led the small throng carefully along the edge of the wall, keeping her movements quick and tight as she waited between flashes of weapon fire to see the path. Looking beside her to the stalwart young boy, her heart gave a little at the grim but determined expression on his face and softly, she whispered, “What’s your name, buddy?

“W-Warren,” the boy forced out, before he nearly choked on his tongue when a skitter raced past him. He heard it rather than saw it, before a flash of light revealed to him the twitching corpse of a Manus, a seared hole in its center. He gulped past the wad of cotton in his throat and slammed his eyes shut.

“Warren. That is a very cool name. Listen, Warren. I am going to need you to be super brave for me, okay? We’re gonna get to that door, there, you see it?” And gesturing, her eyes never leaving the space the skittering creature had appeared from, she pointed to the emergency exit, “I’m going to need you… not yet… but when I tell you, I’m gonna need you to get these kiddos out through that door. You think you can do that for me, Warren?”

“It’s my grandpappy’s,” Warren wheezed, forcing his eyes open to seek out Agnes’s. It was way better than letting his wide gaze stray back to the where he knew that dead mutant laid. Still twitching. Still sizzling and stinking up the area like burnt rubber.

But he had to be brave; the woman asked him to, even more than that, he needed to. All men of the house were brave.

Following Agnes’s instructions, he tried to peer through the dimness at where the agent was pointing, before his vision adjusted enough to make out the frame of a big metal door. The emergency exit. Just then, the weight of everything crept up on him. His breathing sped up, made his little chest rise and fall rapidly. “I-I can’t do it,” he whimpered, “The door’s too heavy and there’re m-... m-mutants in the way and-!”

“Oh, Warren…” Her heart caved again, and reaching out, she ruffled his hair gently, “Has no one ever told you? Being brave doesn’t mean you aren’t scared, sweetie. Just means you gotta take all that… the fear in there, and you gotta use it for something so much more important. Now, you look at these little ones here. They’re scared, too. And you know what? So am I… But we’re gonna get through this. You know why? Cause that? That’s just a door… A regular old door and you? You’ve got the name of a real hero. And me? I’m gonna make real sure those nasty buggers don’t come anywhere near you. So you think you can do that for me, Warren? You think you can be really, really super brave?”

Warren’s eyes couldn’t have been wider, but they did just that when the woman admitted to feeling scared as well. Her? A Pure Blood? He heard all the stories from his classmates and saw how cool they were on the news, kicking mutant butts while in their awesome suits with amazing gear. They never looked scared. And now this agent said it was okay to feel fear, that it was the beginnings of bravery.

He looked at the other kids. They were still huddled tight against one another, behind him, in front of Agnes, but their wet gazes now entirely locked onto him. Warren felt like he was going to puke. Or faint.

Whichever one, he’d made sure to get through that stupid door first.

Warren nodded and slapped on his best courageous face, though the trembles took hold of him even worse than before. “Y-yes ma’am! I can!” His grip on the hands enclosing his tightened, gathered up even more sweat. He wasn’t letting go until they were out and safe. He’d be a hero just like his grandpappy.

Breathing in, nodding, she gingerly peeled the fingers off her leg and carefully wrapped the younger one’s hand into Warren’s other, before stepping forward, “Okay. I’m gonna count to three… And then you are gonna go. You’re gonna run and you’re not gonna look back. All of you, follow Warren, here and listen to everything he says to do. You follow and you don’t let go of each other until you are safe and sound, outside. You hear me? You stick together and you don’t let go. One…” Looking to Warren, she smiled, as she casually reached for the weapon on her hip, “Two…”

Gingerly, pulling it free, she turned from the children, and her free hand gripped the metal dodecahedron hanging from a chain around her neck, “Three.”

Without looking to see if the children ran, only listening for the sound of the door and gripping her stinger, mumbled something under her breath before she stepped closer to the fray near the playset. A flash lit up the room once more and catching sight of one of the hideous, skittering creatures, she pointed the weapon at it and fired.

Warren set off like the electric bullet that launched from Agnes’s Stinger. He made a mad scramble through the play area, wide eyes stuck on that door, that gateway to safety, and his heartbeat thundering loudly in his ears. The background noise of screeching monsters and sizzling and sobbing children became muted, as if he was underwater.

Keep running.

Keep running.

It’s okay to be scared. He was brave.

The Manus that had set its sights on Agnes parted its jagged maw to hiss, only for the ugly sound to get crammed down its throat with a bolt. He flailed back upon impact, sprawled on its back and the upper half of its body singed to oblivion. As it twitched towards death, two more Manus slipped through the feet of another agent and flanked Agnes on both sides.

“Okay, okay…” Sucking in a breath, heart hammering in her throat, she resisted the urge to look behind her and instead, turned the weapon on the closest of the two, firing again, before twisting her body entirely in the opposite direction and with what she hoped was all the grace, poise and ferocity of Xena, Warrior Princess (but probably more closely resembled Chris Farley), she stomped down hard on the other, “Anyone keeping count of these creepy little things!?” She called, hoping to God above someone answered…

“Hell if I know! They’re moving too damn fast to count!” One of the agents turned about, near frantic as he tried to assess the situation. A handful of Manus skittered and sprinted out the corner of his vision, refusing to stay in his line of vision for long. Almost… strategic with their movements? No. That couldn’t be right. Mutants weren’t intelligent enough to pull that off. It was just the panic and stress getting to him.

“I’ve counted five more!” Another agent, this one a woman, said just before setting another Manus ablaze like a miniature lightshow. “Make it four-” Then she noticed the mutant crushed under Agnes’s foot. It had flopped like a popped balloon, chunks of gore rolling out of its orifice. The other two she had fired laid prone and roasted nearby. “...Two. Two left.”

“Yeah?” Voice gruff with lingering annoyance, the male agent cocked his Stinger and leveled his aim with another critter creeping along the ceiling. Two bolts were fired. The first missed, but the second hit its mark. The mutant screeched and tried to cling to the surface, before its waning strength caved to the will of gravity. It plopped to the tiles with a sickening thud. “Make it one.”

Meanwhile, Warren could taste freedom. He all but barreled into the door, though the giant slab of metal didn’t budge. He slapped frantically at the surface, then switched to ramming into it with his little shoulder. For a scant moment, the door heaved a clipped groan and bounced ajar, only an inch, then slammed shut again.

He had to push harder.

However, as Warren braced both hands against the metal and tried to put his entire body into pushing, the bone-chilling chitter of a Manus fell over the children. And it sounded close. Heart stopping in his chest, only to rocket into millions of miles per hour at the burst of cries from children behind him, he slowly looked up.

The Manus loomed over the door frame like an oversized arachnid. Even in the lack of lighting, he could make out every gruesome detail of the little monster. Unleashing a hungry wail, it leapt off the frame, all six legs splayed open.

It was the sound of the door snipping closed again that drove her to turn and while she wasn’t entirely sure what to expect, what she saw was certainly not it. For a second, just a second she was almost sure she was dreaming… that this hellscape was some horrid nightmare her mind had created, but reality was very much a present factor and hesitation was going to get those beautiful children killed. Without thinking, because when did thinking and chaos ever go hand in hand, Agnes raised her gun at the same time as she called out, “Found it! THERE!” And finger clinging to the trigger like a long lost lover, she fired, once, twice, three times, maybe four… at the descending creature.

Warren wouldn’t know until much later that some pee had dribbled down his leg. However, nothing else aside from the mutant drawing closer registered in his brain. He could’ve screamed. He could’ve ran away. He could’ve closed his eyes. He could’ve done any of this and yet, pure, raw instinct willed his arms to spread wide and careened his body back, forming a shield over the younger kids behind him--

Splatters.

Four holes erupted along the Manus’s body and slammed into it like a speeding bulldozer. The little monster died before it could smack into the wall next to the door, where it remained plastered to the surface like a mutilated oil painting.

Time moved again.

Struggling to pull oxygen into his chest, Warren stared at the dead nightmare, then looked back at Agnes. Back at the monster, the door, to Agnes again. He couldn’t speak. The terror and adrenaline made him forget how to use his tongue. All he could do was flash her a look brimming with gratitude and tears.

Letting out the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding and finally lowering her arm only when she was sure the damned thing was dead, Agnes took a step towards the door and with a measure of gingerness, reached over Warren and the others, giving it a hearty shove (as much as her smaller frame could, at least). As it cracked, she looked to Warren and gave a firm nod, “Bravest among us. Come on. Let’s get you safe.”

Glancing over her shoulder, she squinted through the darkness, for the other two agents, “You got this?”

Not a moment after Agnes asked this, a flicker came from overhead. Two more, then lights. Power surged through the Leviticus Recreational Center once more and the field of dead Manus began to dissolve to ash.

“Thank. God,” the woman agent sighed while yanking the Nightshades from her face, tucking them into her breast pocket. “Yeah, we’ve got this covered Mortemer. There’s no telling if anymore of these little shits are hiding in a corner somewhere.”

“You just get the kids out of there,” the other agent suggested. Although he was trying to give out an order, seeing him collapse onto his haunches with relief didn’t sell the authority too well. God, he needed a drink.

Looking between the two, Agnes shook her head and leaned back against the door, pushing it further outward, “You got it, Sir…” And glancing down to Warren she gave a weary, but hopeful smile, “See that, Warren. Just like I said. Bravest one in among us. C’mon.” And waving an arm, she gestured the children out before following after them.


TAGS || COLLAB with @Mobley Eats
 
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Collab Post: Convergence
Location: Leviticus Recreational Center, Art Gallery
Loading In: Thea, Tadashi, Cece, Poppy ...




As Thea and Tadashi limped further into the maze of the art exhibit, the latter’s pace slowed before the former did, their gazes landing on the familiar forms of Agent Roscoe and Flores. A moment after, they recognized the frozen mutant, immobile next to the splayed open carcasses of…

Tadashi felt sick. The kind of sick that settled into bone marrow and lingered for months of sleep to come. Jaw clenched tight, he forced himself to look away and stand up straight, though he kept Thea’s balance in mind.

“The building’s power grid is secure.” Well… as secure as it could be while feeding off the energy of a deviant mutant, but those were unimportant details. Sort of. “Status report? Where’s…?” He looked about, but failed to spot-- “Chairman Creed? Is he safe with the chief?”

"The chairman and chief are both safe. Waiting by the entrance." Wiping her hands off on her pants, Cece looked up at the pair, "Alvarado got dragged off. Gotta find him… You seen any of the others like…" With a thumb, she gestured to the mutilated cadaver.

Whatever joy there was to be found in reuniting with the more talented and trained women was quick to fade - having accidentally laid her eyes on it once was more than enough. Tilting her head to avoid seeing the mess of gore and decaying flesh again, Thea gave a stiff shake of her head. “No, no. We just came in from the back - we didn’t see any other bodies.”

Her eyes drifted over their heads though, towards the direction of the entrance of the gallery. “Not that I don’t care about Alvarado, but shouldn’t we get the principals the hell out of dodge?” She asked tiredly, raising an eyebrow. Battered up as she was, the idea of a wild goose chase for the foul mouthed man wasn’t exactly the most appealing concept ever. Leave it to him to be the most aggravating, even if he wasn’t physically in the room.

But he wasn’t aggravating enough to just be left in some dark corner to quietly die, she sighed dramatically, “Tadashi? Are the comms back up yet? Maybe we could blow the whole system wide open, turn it all on and see if we can at least hear him screaming for help.”

“I know where he is.” Cece interjected, pulling her Stinger free again, she nodded to Thea, “If you feel like the chairman and chief are top priority, I’m not gonna argue. I can do this on my own, if I have to… and someone should make sure those two get somewhere safe.”

Tadashi hesitated at Thea’s question. Something in his gut told him that tuning into the Comms right now would result in his ears perpetually ringing and a sharp stab to his skull. They had been thoroughly scrambled by that deviant mutant’s interference and it would take some serious elbow grease, maybe even an intervention from Agent Delgado, to resituate communications.

Luckily, Agent Flores’s interjection spared him the delivering of bad news. For now. He nodded. “I’m a weak bitch, so it’d be best if I stick with Agent Coleman and check on the Chairman with her. As for Agent Roscoe,” he regarded her blankly, though the exhaustion radiated from him like a busted furnace, “I assume you guys took out the Manus there so… it’s better you two go find Alvarado.”

Only a smidgen of concern for the foul-mouthed, ill-tempered agent fluttered through Tadashi. Then it died quickly. That asshole was too stubborn to die, especially not from Manus critters. Now, if he ran out of hair gel? Yeah. Tadashi could see him keeling over in a matter of minutes, all the while denying it until his final breath.

Tadashi pulled in another breath. To steady himself. No--steel himself. He and Thea had only just now entered from the edge of chaos, and he could’ve sworn that deviant mutant would’ve put an end to their lives.

Ah… shit. Right.

“Don’t go in the gallery storage room,” Tadashi said. “There’s an… unusual specimen contained there. We’ll have Forensic and Scout operatives handle her later.”

Thea nodded grimly at that sage advice before raising her free arm, and giving the agents a thumbs up and wiry smile. “Good luck getting that loud son of a bitch back,” she huffed, and then groaned as she pulled away from Tadashi’s support. The Chairman and Chief certainly wouldn’t be impressed with her no matter what, no need to look especially ragged and thrown-around, she figured. “I’ll see if they’re ready to move,” she said, and was the first to leave the small group.

With everyone’s newest objectives set into place, the group split up. Tadashi trailed after Thea, only after casting one last weary glance back in the direction of the storage room. He still had plenty of questions left. Even more doubts than that. But for now, they had innocent civilians to protect and he could only do that from the safety of the tech van.

Agent Flores and Roscoe also exited the gallery, heading straight to where they’d last seen Agent Alvarado. The sports equipment room. It would be a routine rescue and retrieval.

Should be.



Turning a corner, Thea shuddered, after seeing the remains of body parts and fluids on the walls and even on the art itself. Grimly, she pauesd to wonder if the bits and pieces belonged to human, or manus, but shook her head free of such thoughts as she continued to make her way to where the men in charge were. She looked pathetic enough - all bruised, battered, and noticeably favoring her right leg - she didn't want to also end up emptying out her stomach like a FNG (Effing New Guy).

"Sirs?" Thea called out when she saw two long shadows stretching out from the 'round next corner. "The room has been secured, all hostiles put down, and power restored," she reported, and just as well, it served as an adequate friendly-incoming warning in case the two men were armed and ready for anything to turn around and meet them.

Behind her, she heard Tadashi pipe up and report the ongoing difficulties with the rest of their tech, and then the freshly hatched plans to retrieve one agent Alvarado. Thea wasn't particularly close with the Chairman, whose presence and influence was more strongly felt among field agents, but she liked to think that he, and the Chief, wouldn't raise a stink over them trying to save one of their own.

Picking up from where Tadashi left off, she continued with her optimistic projections, "once we get communications back on properly, you'll be able to mount an organized response to this shitshow," Thea paused before coughing out, "sirs."

Turning to Tadashi with a crinkle between her eyebrows, she pursued her lips, "uh ... which way is out, again?" She understood, more clearly than anyone else, why exactly the storage room wasn't going to be a possible way out - but was it really a terrible option when the only other one was through the front door, and possibly through active manus hostiles?



COLLAB: @Mobley Eats , @Elle Joyner , @KatSea
INTERACTING WITH: Tadashi (@Mobley Eats) + Chairman Creed + Chief Wilhem
 
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