The room was empty, lit only by a clean fluorescent glow that glanced off the marble tiles. A woman with copper hair stared at the flat screen of a computer on the surface of her desk, typing away. There wasn't a shadow in sight.
"I mean," Will laughed, "It's that huge waiting room. It just looks like it could take me."
Izzy tsked and swatted him, pushing open the doors, the others following behind here. She called out to the woman, but there was no response – just the click clack motion of plastic nails on glass. The blonde strode ahead with that perfect self-reliance that bred in her bones. She smiled wanly at the clearly hard-of-hearing human and batted her blue-green eyes. "Hey there," she said cheerily, "Sorry to interrupt. But…"
"Please give me your name and dorm number," the woman said in a charcoal tongue, not looking up.
"Ah…Izamina Tessman? I'm in dorm…" she trailed off as the nurse extended one rake-like hand, skinny and curved.
"Deposit your pokemon before continuing, if you please," metallic. She tasted like a broken bracelet.
"Actually… Ah, I…?" Izzy tried, but the claw in front of her face bounced in annoyance.
"Fine, if you don't want to, I won't make you," the smoke woman sighed impatiently, "Oh also I would recommend looking behind you," the nurse said, clicking her tongue as if they were all stupid. Izzy whipped around. They were surrounded by the mirror images of students. She choked back a scream.
Grace stared at the place where the nurse had been. She had disappeared.
xxxxxxxxx
"Look," Sage said over the noise of a linebacker and a quarterback tackling a horde of struggling bodies, "We don't mean anything by trespassing. Can't we all just get along?" He ducked as a beautiful white Energy Ball soared over his head and smashed into a clone creature's face. It burst in brilliant black. He sighed. "I guess not then."
He strode past where Jarel's Smeargle was slamming a burning fist into a stomach and slid up to where the girl was standing, her raspy breaths luring him to the center of the field.
"Who are you?" he asked, and she slid her night sky eyes to him. The answer was somewhere inside of him, but he couldn't reach it. Suddenly something clicked into place – he knew exactly who she was. He gasped and pulled back. "You?"
Something grabbed his ankle, and the next thing he knew, he had his face in the grass and blood in his eyes.
xxxxxxxxx
They were surrounded: everywhere was movement and noise. Already the four were being separated from each other in the chaos. Izzy choked back a scream as a grey-paper hand clutched desperately at her. She closed her eyes for a second and took a deep breath before calling, "Aster, Razor Wind around us. We've got to stay together."
The Shiftry grunted in response and lowered his center of balance before unleashing a green wall of sharp leaf blades. The four were momentarily within their own little dome of wind, and it gave them enough time to focus themselves. They had been forced into the middle of the room. "Ok, Grace," Izzy said, "You go and get to the desk. There'll be the reference data in there, and we can complete our mission using it. We probably will have to hack it, but it shouldn't take too long."
"Me?" Grace squeaked, "Why me?"
Izzy put her hands on her hips and rolled her eyes. The green dome was faltering. Aster was strong, but he couldn't hold a full-power attack for very long. "Look, I hate to be harsh, but we all know that Tabbot won't fight, and Fina on her own won't get very far. You're also the most nimble of us and whatever. As much as I hate to admit it, you're also our best fighter. So get to the desk. Will can help you when you get there. The rest of us will run damage control. Ready?" She glanced to her friends. For a second, just a second, they all looked like warriors. Nathan's glass eyes held hers and he nodded to her.
"Whenever you're ready," he said. He was so calm. She was envious of that cool demeanor. He was envious of the people who had fallen asleep. The entire thing was pretty much doomed to fail.
"Ok, then. After I give the signal, attack. Remember that we can't withdraw pokemon until we get the ok from Jarel and Orson." She drew a shaky breath and laughed. "And in case I die, tell David Tennant that I love him," she grinned. The others flashed her a smile, but she was only watching for Nathan's reaction. He snuck a hand over and took her fingers in his palm. She squared her shoulders. "On my mark: three…two…"
And then the dome fell to a mass of bodies and shriveled creatures. It was all noise again. "Make a path for Grace," Izzy screamed over the din, "Hold the circle and start moving towards the desk!" She cut herself off as something lunged for her face, but a slice of charcoal power forced it against the ground: Nathan's Murkrow. She sent him a thankful look, but he just tilted his head towards the howling mob as if to say, Whatcha gonna do?
She steadied herself and let her mind clear into a battle cleanliness. What looked like an embittered and disheveled version of Sage ordered forwards a tar-orange Gastly. She motioned to Galileo and he positioned himself to attack, his pink skin glossing over with the sheen of his Iron Tail. She watched the calculations in his eyes, the way he waited for exactly the right moment before whipping around and slamming into his opponent, the sound of metal on flesh lost in the constant wail of the tormented. Izzy congratulated her team's leader quietly and gritted her teeth. It was going to be a hard night.
Nathan was snarling in that way he had. Someone had gotten their fangs around him and he could feel blood slinking out of his shoulder. His Haunter worked perfectly in tandem with his Murkrow, but he was beginning to feel that that the odds were not in their favor. They were making slow process to the desk, but Grace still hadn't been able to slip into the crowd yet and fight her way over. He whistled sharply and Akira sang back before executing a perfect Wing Attack against a monster, her body a slick disaster. He peered at her an idea formed slowly. She knew Mist. If he could cover Grace, then the brunette could get to the desk and find the information they needed and open the door that led to the rest of the building. It had to work, but first he had to get Akira where he needed her, and from the way that things were swatting at her, he figured that it might take some time.
"Oh man oh man oh man oh man," Will panted. Lucario had sent a fierce Psychic towards his opponent, but it wasn't enough still. Plus he was going crazy trying to protect Grace while not making it obvious he was protecting her. Serafina was doing pretty well, he figured, but Grace's one pokemon just wasn't enough. If only, Will thought to Lucario, She was named Mary Sue. Then she'd have a shiny Eevee that was the most powerful pokemon, ever.
Will worries the amount unhealthy, Lucario laughed back, And Lucario must remind Will that not all persons are cousin belong Will. He paused and spun around, slamming his hard forearm into a body in a fantastic Drain Punch.
"Mary's a jerk but she's powerful," Will said aloud, and Grace shot him a look. Not being tapped into their private psychic network, she had heard none of the context. To her, he was spouting nonsense. He blushed and mumbled a Toxic attack for Slash before he could embarrass himself further.
At that point Nathan shouted his plan to Grace, leaving Will hating himself. He should have been the one to think of something like that. He was the photographer. Photographers beat writers every day. Well, he admitted to himself, not literally, but…
Akira keened joyously and dipped her wings before leaving the battlefield covered in a thick fog centered around the artist. For a moment there was only the sound of cries cut short and blows landings, and then the cloud cleared and Grace was standing behind the desk, her eyes wide and dark. "Oh man oh man oh man," she breathed, tapping the glass surface tentatively as if it was a beast she had to wake up. "What…um?"
The other three shifted so they were all back-to-back, fighting with everything they had. They beat back the darkness with flashes of light, already worried for the sake of their pokemon. Will's Scizor was a red blur as he glimmered with a Swords Dance before unleashing an X-Scissor and demolishing his opponent. Although he looked like he could stand to take a few more hits, he was panting. Will frowned at the state of Slash and called to Grace, "Do you see the folder on the desktop?"
"Uh…" Grace fidgeted, and then absently punched some kid out, "No. I…um…I don't know how to turn it…on?" The screen remained black, the reflections of her friend's attacks echoing in the glass. Serafina was holding a perimeter, but her movements were slowing. Tabbot just pressed himself against Grace's legs and snarled, his black lips pulling over long teeth, the rumble of his growl a deep thunder base.
Will sent the brunette an incredulous look. "You don't know how to turn it on?" he half-screeched. There was no way that any of the rest of them could get across the river of tormented bodies like she had. No one really matched her in gymnastic training, except for maybe Izzy, but it wasn't likely that the two boys would hold up against the rest of the shadows on their own. They were all struggling as it was. "You…ok." He sighed and watched as Lucario made a hole through someone's stomach with a powerful Aura Sphere. "Touch all four corners at once. If that doesn't work, just put both your palms on opposite sides. Tell me when you get that to work."
"Oh goodness," Grace panicked, "Fighting I can handle, but no, let's make me be the technology one," she mumbled. She tried the four-corner tactic and the screen flickered into life. She paled. "It's locked…with…a password." Serafina let out a frightened yip, rolling onto her back as something sank into her forepaw, her eyes rolling with pain. The Houndoom snapped back at the bleak Ninetails, successfully latching onto the back of the copy-creature's neck with a fierce Crunch. But the damage was already done: blood seeped from her leg. Grace made a noise of worry and fluttered her hands awkwardly over the computer. She had no idea what to do.
Lucario tumbled backwards in the force of a Solar Beam to his chest. Will caught the blue body and held it protectively, giving his partner moments to catch his breath. "Alright Grace, you've got to hurry up. We're dying out here. Look around. The password is probably written down somewhere, and if it isn't, try the obvious ones." He paused as she shot him a frightened look. He sighed. "You don't know how to type on those computers, do you?" She shook her curly hair furiously, ashamed. The blush that settled across her face made him forgive her instantly. Well. Mostly forgive her. "There should be a little keyboard icon at the bottom. Tap it and then type."
Izzy let out a whine as talons clawed into her face. She slapped a hand over the wound instinctively and swung her leg out to send the copy away. Aster was tiring quickly, and there was a long, bloody mark spreading over Galileo's back. Nathan beside her kept angling his body so that he would take the blows instead of Izzy, and it was showing. Akira, capable of staying out of the way, was doing pretty well, but Keno was trembling from the force of his effort. Keno had never been the fighter, he'd been the friend. He was largely untrained, and it was showing. Although he was able to evade most attacks because he was not corporeal, the bodies that lunged through him were slowly tearing him apart.
Grace made a small, desperate noise and followed the instructions. She searched her area while trying every password she could think of. It wasn't "Password" or "EvilDeanIsEvil" or "Nurse'sOffice," but she caught sight of a post-it note on the inside of a drawer that had the words "Daily Password" scrawled on it. She grinned in relief. Sure she still sucked at technology, but her ability to find things was up and running. She figured she would be a pretty terrible thief if she couldn't locate that which was supposed to be hidden. She carefully typed in the random set of numbers and letters and pulled back uncertainly as the desktop opened. She stared at the array of files and sang a few shaky notes of a lullaby.
"Look for a folder named something like 'Patients' or 'Students' or something," Will told her patiently as he supported Lucario. The blue fur was smearing with red, and the psychic web connection between them was flickering. It didn't look good. Lucario pulled a warm ball of energy out of nowhere and shot it towards an oncoming beast, but it missed and hit the ground. Will grimaced, but Akira swooped in with a thick purple Pursuit and tore out a throat. It didn't matter: where one had fallen, another stepped forwards. Grace had to hurry up or else there would be no hope at all.
"Oh dear oh goodness oh gracious," she stuttered, "I don't see…Oh! Oh, I think I found it, but I don't know. I just tap it?"
"Grace!" Nathan snarled, "Stop questioning what to do and just do it," he was holding his left arm, and from the way it was all akimbo, it was probably broken, but it had been the difference between having Izzy alive and having her funeral. The blonde was bleeding badly from her cheek, and she was surprised how light-headed she felt. Aster was pretty much down for the count, but he still pressed on. Galileo was down to relying on evasive tactics. Izzy was pretty sure she would have burst into tears if it hadn't been for the hard wall of Nathan's body beside her, warm and reassuring.
"No need to be rude," Grace muttered to herself, bouncing her finger against the screen, "It's not my fault the rest of you can't fight for anything...We can't all be tech-savvy nerds." She dragged up the keyboard and called over the din, "What am I looking for?"
Nathan closed his eyes impatiently. "Ike Rend, Grace, search for Ike Rend. Were you not listening at all to our instructions?" She sent him a dangerous look and just for a moment, standing there in blood and fire and chaos, he saw the girl he had fallen in love with so long ago: someone so filled with darkness and self-hatred and sheer hopelessness that she matched him in every way. But beside him moved a flower child of harmony and happiness, someone who would grant him salvation. He thought, idly, what a funny world this was. Everyone will fall for a demon when an angel is right beside them.
"Right. Oh-kay then. Select – no, not that – ah ha – keyboard – no, keyboard – search. Search. Search…I-K-E…R-E-N-D…and enter," she sang to herself, staring at the screen. "He was here three months ago," she read to her friends, "It says 'Transferred to C106' and then there's nothing after that." She stared at the incident report and made a sad noise. "They must have taken his pokemon and never given them back. That's not good."
"It's a place to start," Will panted. A cut had opened in his hairline and blood was sweeping down his face. He swiped at it in a vaguely annoyed manner. Grace pulled her eyes to the rest of the damaged team and pawed through the desk's drawers, hoping for at least some bandages. "Grace, open the door behind you and get us through. Don't bother about the pokemon. We wouldn't be able to get them out of their pokeballs anyway, not until Orson and Jarel get what they're doing done," the photographer ordered. She scurried to follow his instructions as he fired them at her, strangely submissive. The golden metal behind her cracked open.
"Tabbot," she begged, "One attack? For mommy?" she asked, but he just shuddered and pressed against her. She sighed and ran her hands through her hair. Serafina could blow a clear line through the crowd, but she would be out after that. Tabbot had some serious power in him, but he refused to use it. She wished for the first time in her life that she had a different lead.
"Alright, honey," Grace whispered, "We're in a hospital. No way that we won't find something to make you feel better after this," she said to Fina, who was limping and had her tail between her legs. "Sing for me, and then a full-power Flamethrower, on my mark." She called for her friends to cover their ears and signaled to her Houndoom.
Instantly a cry went up, a terrible twirl of feathered notes, music made from suffering and silence. It was a keen so tangible that it vibrated through bones. The pokemon who were out dropped down in pain, adding their cry to the noise. Serafina's terrible tune struck through their hearts, and she was about to do worse. She leveled herself and sucked in a large breath, lighting hatred in the back of her throat. Golden tumbling flame spiraled outwards, destroying a narrow path for the three children to make their way through, tugging along their immobilized pokemon. They vaulted the desk and slid inside the doors, slamming their hands against the screen to close them.
The metal clanged shut and their ears rang with the tremble of silence.
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"Ok so -" she looked up from her instructions and choked on her words, hissing and pulling one hand up to her eyes as if she was cringing from empty calories. "Wow, guys, sorry I interrupted your…sex. Or whatever that is," Mimi snarked, pursing her lips. They were in a small alcove, away from the snow but still outside. Tobi sent the girl in blue a helpless look. He waved his hands towards them, flopping his limbs desperately.
"I- but- the- t- they- I- I tried to stop them," he blurted. "But then that…that… that wench actually hit me." He knew Mimi from his Stats class, but he didn't really want her to meet his best friend like this.
"Slow down there, Superman. I don't think you really want to admit a girl took you down." She grinned lopsidedly, staring at where Talyn had pressed Davion up against a wall and was pretty much going down on him.
"She hit me," he repeated sharply, "I didn't even know people did that." He gestured some more and groaned. "I don't know how to make it stop," he whined.
Mimi's face cracked in a wonderful grin and she hitched her belt up. This, she could take, plus floundering boy was actually kind of cute. "Hey, Talyn," she sang sweetly, "You are aware that you look fat when you do that, right?"
Instantly the blonde killer sat straight up, gasping. "What?" she hissed, "Tobi, why didn't you tell me?"
"I-?"
"How long have you known and not said anything?" she demanded, but didn't wait for him to answer, pulling down her shirt fiercely. She flipped her hair, stomping her way across the snow. A shadow leapt out to challenge her and she punched it in the face, ranting something about fat.
"I'm Mimi. I was sent to help out your team, since I got none of my own," she offered, shaking hands with the slack-eyed Davion. Even covered in lipstick smears he looked relatively unaffected.
"This is Davion," Tobi said for his friend, "The only reason he made out with her is because she asked him to. He doesn't talk much. He's actually the spawn of a mime and a circus clown." At that, the model deadpanned a pretty good impression of holding a runaway kite, staggering towards Talyn's path.
"He says we should get going," Tobi monotone, "And possibly something about his six-pack."
"It is delicious," Mimi admitted thoughtfully, staring at his unbuttoned shirt, "But should he be worried about the cold?"
Davion just sneezed.
xxxxxxx
When he was younger, he stole into the kitchen late at night and quietly made himself a bowl of whipped cream. The shadows were dancing across the hardwood and he hadn't meant for it to happen, but there was no ice cream left and he needed something sweet to prove to himself that he wasn't afraid. He just sat there and slowly ate from the bowl with his cold silver spoon, staring at nothing.
His mother found him later, but instead of punishing him, she just took out her own bowl and set down to eat as if midnight snack runs were the most normal thing ever.
Then she turned to him and said, I'm dying.
xxxxxxx
They followed in the path that Talyn was making kind of happily. Mimi and Tobi got along pretty well, and Davion was too busy being hot to really cause a disruption. They were halfway across to where they were headed before she showed up.
She was wearing all white and had a breathing mask over her mouth. She was different than any clone they had encountered: something spoke from her eyes. But as soon as they saw her, something else walked through her – an aging woman in a nurse's outfit, her thick grey hair back in a braid.
"Hey, guys," she smiled, "The teachers sent me. They're out fighting their own fights, so they suggested I go and check up on you all. I'm Sandy," she grinned, "And I'm here to make sure you don't do anything stupid."
"Wonderful," Talyn snarked, "Like we couldn't have survived without you." She whipped around and slammed her fist into a shadow's stomach before slicing its head off with a spare blade. Talyn was actually just boss.
"Well," Sandy chuckled, "I know that if you're going to the cafeteria, it's a waste of your time. You're looking for the members of staff that were part of the resistance, right?" She waited until she got an affirmative nod before beckoning with her hand, her silver fingernails catching in the moonlight. "They're actually in the dorms, guys. You got bad information."
"Sweet," Tobi nodded, "Lead away."
She chatted to them as they trudged in their new direction. She was part of the staff that hadn't fallen into step with the Dean's plans. Some of the nurses, of course, were the first to change sides. They saw too many kids die to stand for it. After some discussion, it was muddled out that she was actually the one that had treated Grace, Will, and Mimi. She talked about her first years at Frost, before she discovered the corruption and the way the Dean controlled the upperclassmen. She spoke about staying just for the children, because she couldn't stand the idea that they were going without help.
"And then…" she laughed, finishing her story and pulling the door open for them to pass through, "He claimed to be a teapot!"
The teens laughed and shuffled into the wide foyer of the dorm room, chatting amongst themselves and sending grateful looks to Sandy. The dorms were warm, and after Tommi had knocked a hole in the wall, the cafeteria would be freezing.
"Stop!" someone screamed from behind them. She was panting and supporting herself on the doorframe. The boys gave her a look. Caen sucked down air and hissed, "She's a traitor. I know it."
Instantly Sandy's face turned to stone. "And how is that?" skin slipping over teeth, "Are you psychic?"
"No, but I knew someone who was," Caen replied, a smile chasing around her lips, "And if he was here, he'd have killed you by now."
"Seriously though," Tobi said slowly, confused, "What's the matter?"
"Her fingernails," Caen breathed, pointing, "Her fingernails are silver-blue."
"Oh that really matters," the woman spat, "You know how often nail polish determines a person's standings."
"Yes, as a matter of fact, I do," Caen bit back, "Because I used to be one of you."
"She's right," a soft voice, gentle, sweet. Avalon stepped from the shadows, but the shadows never left her eyes.
"Oh, so you're willing to admit you sided with the Dean, and yet you expect us to, what, instantly agree with you?" Sandy snarled. "Well, excuse me if I regretfully decline."
"She's better now," Avalon answered quietly, "I helped her get out."
"And who are you?" rage, fire, help-me desire.
"I'm just Avalon," she replied, and then closed her eyes before whispering, "They're coming. You called them and now they're coming."
The woman's entire façade dropped instantly. She just tilted her head until it cracked and then melted into the shadows. From where she had stood, as if by magic signal, the room flooded with bodies and boils. Avalon slipped her hands into her pockets and nodded to the door to the broom closet, the closest place to hide. "You guys get in there. Give me fifteen minutes and then come get me. I should have gotten us a way out by then." Despite their protests, she ushered them inside, the knob clicking with a sense of finality.
She whispered, "Take me, then," and then her screams echoed through the darkness.
Caen started to cry.
xxxxxxx
Once upon a time a little girl sat in bed and waited for her daddy to come in and tell her a story of a Once Upon A Time. She was in a white pretty nightdress and she had tucked herself against her great big green pillow and she was the most perfect angel in the entire world for her papa. Soon he showed up and said, Would you like to know something about yourself? And she didn't, but he looked like she needed to know. Why, honey, you're not really daddy's little girl. She didn't understand, because she had always been daddy's little girl. Daddy was hic-hic-hic and torture voices, he was bright cherry red with the color of a sun. No, Papa, she smiled, Don't be silly. He wasn't, because that dead look like a broken wall clock was in his eyes. He was her ending. You're the daughter of some other half-breed that your mama did, you aint no pride rock of mine.
Daddy, she pressed against the pillow, Daddy don't say those things.
He just laughed.
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The minutes – carefully timed on Caen's watch – dragged by in the sounds of horror, of beatings, of nothing. Then silence, terrible, endless, perfect. Nothing. Just nothing. Caen slowly opened the door, already sinking her teeth through her lip, frightened of what she would see.
It was just Avalon, standing in the middle of a mass of bodies, looking perfectly peaceful as she bounced something in her hand. Tobi sent her an awed look and wondered, "What are you?"
She smiled and dripped her weapon of choice from her palm: a single silver yoyo.
xxxxxxx
The funny part, he thought, was that it wasn't all that funny. They were beating back shadows with nothing but sticks. Sage was down for the count. They had to drag his body to the wall of the Dean's building, and his face was all scratched up. It turned out the combined efforts of two football talents could make a crowd part pretty easily, but now they were cornered. The doors weren't opening, and the circle of howling bodies didn't seem too much like they felt like throwing a tea party.
"Jenna," Jarel said softly to his Larvitar, "Please, if you feel up to it, Rockslide for us." The scaled creature shifted and grunted her agreement. The ground instantly trembled as her eyes lit golden with concentration. From the very bowels of the Earth, rocks tore their way out and up, pounding against the oncoming attackers relentlessly. Dust and debris filled the air, clouding them for a moment, letting them get their backs against the metal doors.
"Ursula's been Slashing at that door for five minutes without a scratch," Orson grumbled to his partner, "It doesn't look good. I suggest we try a window." His Teddiursa was already panting and she hadn't even fought yet.
"Guys?" Sage mumbled, "Is this the real life?"
The two football players cut their eyes to him. Maybe he'd banged his head too many times. It wasn't as if they had dragged him gently. "Yeah," Orson told him, "Don't mind us much though. We're just going to mosey along this wall until we get to a window, sir," he promised.
"It's ok," Sage murmured, "The girl told me it would be ok."
"I'll…I'll be sure to thank her then," Orson chuckled. He didn't know what else to do. "Bardo, start clearin' us a path. Energy Ball if you would."
A white beam of light.
X-X-X-X-X-X-X
Daddy didn't take to drinking too well, or at least that's what she promised herself. Daddy was just angry because mama did something real stupid when mama was younger and angry and now baby gots to pay for it like a big girl does. She don't know about that, about what her mama did, but she know it stings at her papa and that's why he hurts her. He is showing her what he feels by making her feel the inside of her cheek bleeding. She doesn't tell anyone at school because she's just a down-South hick girl and it's too much to really fit in as it is. She got them bruises by riding her bike like the big fool she is. She doesn't think that word is so bad any more, not since daddy came home that one night. He taught her lots of new words and all of them stung. She hated them then. Words only bit-bat-bite at you until all you could feel was the weight of tears in your chest. It don't take much to cry, it's the not crying that's the hard bit. It's the waiting for him to just off-the-roof explode.
She promised herself that Papa is the best daddy and it was her own fault for making him hurt so bad, and maybe she believed that until one day she was a teenager and Papa went out and left behind a friend of his that smelled like rubbing alcohol and plastic chords who said, Imma teach you what it means to be a woman.
So maybe that's what he did, she never knew. She just cried and cried and cried and when he left she cleaned up all the evidence and then threw up until her sides couldn't heave any more. She slunk down next to the white basin of the toilet, pressing her forehead against the wall and she sobbed until nothing was left in her at all, and she was so empty that she could feel how raw and filled with disgust she was. She showered and scrubbed at her skin until she bled and she couldn't stop feeling dirty and old and ugly, broken and such a terrible daughter, mind still whirling like she was stuck in a pane of glass.
She stared at the ceiling and thought, What have I done?
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"I'm glad we found some bandages," Grace murmured. They'd been patched up pretty well, considering, but they were still moving too slowly, too slowly. They were three floors up and padding down the hallway until the door read C106 in bronze letters. They pushed it open tentatively, expecting horror or evil or hatred. Instead they found nothing but an empty room with a steel door at the far wall, sulking across at them.
"Sorry, baby, but Hyper Beam," Izzy told Aster, who sent her a pained expression. He was already running on low, and a Hyper Beam wasn't exactly in his arsenal of perfected moves. He click-clicked in the back of her throat and took a long slow breath.
It shot carelessly out of his maw and blasted a significant amount of the door, missing some and singeing the wall instead. There was a large black hole where metal used to be. Izzy just smiled and rubbed Aster's ears, feeding him a treat. "Good boy," she complimented her partner. "Let's go."
"Don't you think it would have made more sense to see if the door was even locked before we pulled out the big move?" Will wondered, approaching it, slipping his sleeve over his hand so he could open it without it burning him. Izzy blushed and shrugged. Grace slid past her into a room she could never forget.
Rows and rows of golden liquid, bodies suspended like sunlight in the rye.
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"Look!" She smiled in that red-sinner kind of way, that real two-tone gaudiness that made his heart drop, "They're so cute," she cooed. She was wearing something real slutty, not even pretending she cared anymore. Whatever.
He was polishing a gun while picking his teeth. "Babe," he said, single-word love in a magic potion bottle. The leftovers from his meal were still out and spilling steam into the sky: real Charizard with just a nice fresh baste of Pikachu. Pricey but nice.
"Babe," she repeated back to him. "But soon they'll find out! And then they'll die."
"Try not to be disappointed."
She never was.
xxxxxxx
Ready or not, here I come, the words against her lips like butterscotch. She can't see but her brain is twisty like silk and all full of running. She was a lantern, a lighthouse, lots of different people. "Don't worry, babe," she whispered, "I've got you." Hello, voices, where have you been? I've been to the market to buy me a queen, Siroi Lily with pretty pink petals, I've been to the market and I bought myself a pair of eyes as dandy as the midnight skies. Tweet tweet tapping she can see the battle but it is fists that are flailing.
"Bell's out. Columbine trapped her in a closet," Cherry swings by to say, because she followed the rules one hundred percent, "Lantana's looking for you." And then her footsteps went away and it was empty again, heartbreaking, crystal mines, lines in nowhere, no, just what you're used to.
In her mind, there is a girl in the middle of an empty stage, facing an audience that doesn't exist. She is playing the cello in sweet white spotlight, coiling and swaying to music like it was keeping her alive. She plays a hymn and a battle cry. Only Lily could hear her so only Lily murmurs: "I know you," the words like resin in the sky.
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"I know you," Thompson snarled, standing up and facing the pair, "You killed Tarrow."
"I should imagine you had a part in Jason's death too," Felix growled, his arms across his chest and his eyes narrow.
"Actually," Eilsa drawled, "I haven't killed anyone in, like, forever." There were weapons strapped to her and a headphone in one of her ears like she couldn't be bothered to pay full attention. By her side, her Riachu's cheeks were sparking one-two blitz-blue. "So maybe, I don't know, lay off the attitude?" she grinned.
"You're looking for me," Jacob said darkly, "I killed your friend." But then, he'd killed himself, too, so it was getting hard to keep track. Beside him, Feather was licking his yellow paw nonchalantly as if he had no idea of the tension that was building. "And I'm about to kill you too."
"I mean, that's pretty much all we do, so," Eilsa shrugged. She was nodding her head in time to Serenade No. 11 In E-Flat Minor. Mozart made her happy. "We kill you guys and then we take whatever is in that safe. No worries."
Thompson was carefully edging himself against a wall for a better battle position, but he needed more time. "And why do you need that stuff?"
"Because I want to be prom queen," Jacob answered dryly, "Why do you think?"
Spiral danced between them and leaned into Felix's ear, whispering, If you look, he is like you and I, and the hair on the back of the magician's neck rose. But the black circles under Jacob's eyes were not the kind that Felix had: no, maybe, yes.
"You want it because...we want it?" Thompson guessed. He had his hand on a pokeball behind his back. All he could hope was that Jarel and Orson had completed their mission.
"Um…that would be a no," Eilsa snorted, "But enough with the chit-chat. Let's get to smackin'." She cracked her knuckles and rolled her shoulders. "Been a while since I've done this, I guess."
"Well, baby," Jacob smiled, "Best target practice in the world." The way he looked at her was like she was his whole life, but it only lasted for a moment. "Clones can't feel anything."
"Well, baby," Thompson echoed, "That's just offensive. I'm not a clone, thanks very much. I'm a Brit."
The two from the House froze and stared at the two boys. "What?" Eilsa hissed. "How is that possible?"
"He lied to us again," simple, easy, words like rips through canvas. Jacob looked like he was about to rend someone apart with his eyes. He shifted to the safe and swung it open, dragging out the large stack of papers inside. "He wants to mess with us? Fine. Let's mess with him."
"Wait," Felix interrupted, "Does this mean we're friends?"
"No," Eilsa bit back, but then something in her softened. "More like people with a common enemy."
"An enemy that's about to be destroyed," Jacob said through his teeth.
No one lied to a torturer. It just wasn't done.
xxxxxxxx
She was beautiful – the kind of abject, touch-me-please harrowing beauty that made people falling in love with a flick of her hair. She was also torn into shreds like a little glass aria. She had lost her best friend, maybe. He was standing in front of her, eating a piece of cheese, saying get back/get back/ rat-a-tat-tat. He wasn't speaking at all. She had just imagined that. No, she had never imagined anything, it was all about love for a child.
She was sitting on a black couch, her knees to her chest, watching Patches pace back and forth. Carmen had been there long enough, way too long. She was tired of being trapped, of being Treated. She would rather have drugs. At least drugs got you high.
Babysitter. She went from most popular girl ever to plain babysitter. And the brat was worse for it. Please. Carmen, normally sweet, understanding and evasive, was now a figment of a desire to snap.
"Hey guys, guess what?" bright bright bang, a child in a chair, "I want to sled in the sun-snow. Can we sled?"
"No." Crippled, sanguine, startled {Carmen}.
"I promise I won't be," disregard, revise, "They're flanking us. Bardo, get ready." She staticed out and the returned, "What will we use?"
"Literally," Carmen told the girl in the straightjacket, "I am going to kill you if you don't shut up." She had a headache. It was spreading.
Black eyes, "I know," she smiled, and they titled skywards. She switched voices again like flipping the dials on a radio – crzsh. "Find me a crowbar," zap, "Where? We're surrounded by snow." Sing, sing, lullaby, "I'm glad we found some bandages," a cello plays some notes that only she can hear. She twitches and whips her head to the door. "Does she miss me at all?" she wonders, sweet, sweet voice, pupils slowly contracting - couldn't have that, so Carmen sticks a needle into the neck of the twisted teenager. The girl got annoying, but it was boss's orders or something.
"I don't feel good," crazy dead-eyed girl pleaded.
"I know, Yuki, I know."
Static – station. "But what wh-w-w-w-"
xxxxxxxx
"But what will we use?" Jarel panted. Beside them were the bodies of several copies, stacked to make a ladder of sorts so that they could reach the window. Sage was propped against the wall, mumbling nonsense.
"Find me a crowbar?" Orson grinned hopefully, staring up at the panes of glace. They didn't want to kick it in, fearing the drop to the ground from the sill, and it didn't help that they didn't really know where they would be kicking into.
"Where? We're surrounded by snow," Jarel sniffed, staring upwards as well. They only had bodies and themselves. And…an idea lit in the back of Orson's head.
"Well," he purred, "We do have Sage," he allowed, stroking his chin while sizing up the skinny boy, "And he's kind of like a crowbar. Maybe if we pick him up…?"
"I'm a baby in the zoo!" Sage informed them gleefully, "I'm a genie in a bottle."
"Um…maybe we shouldn't get too close to his head though. That concussion seems bad enough," Orson chuckled, heaving the boy's torso upwards. In response ,the artist went completely limp.
"I'm a rag!" he claimed cheerfully, and then started to spell his name backwards. Jarel grumbled something and scooped up the boy's long legs, hefting them over one shoulder.
"No, Sage," Orson suggested sweetly, "You're…a…piece of rebar?"
Sage instantly flexed every muscle in his body. "I hold up buildings!" he sang.
"Or break into them," Jarel muttered, positioning the feet towards the window. "On my count…three…two…one –"
"Guys...? What are you…?" a voice said from behind them. Orson jumped and Sage thumped against the ground. His head made a sound like bread being kneaded, and everyone around him flinched.
"Oh man, guysh, I dunno that I feel sho good," Sage slurred, his eyes unfocused. He flopped a few inches away, slipping from Jarel's grasp. He inhaled like he forgot what air was.
"Guys, what did you do to him?" Kratch cried, slinging down from the back of the Arcanine. Mika was slower than her, a pinched look on his face, patting the Arcanine and letting it run back to its master. Kratch went to go to Sage, but her boyfriend caught her arm, frowning.
"I wouldn't, honey. People who have really bad concussions have a tendency to –"
Sage staggered to his feet, took a few steps, and proceeded to throw up over the snow. The others groaned and looked away as he struggled back to them, barely able to keep his balance.
"…Tendency to puke," Mika finished dryly. "I don't like the way that sounds. Whatever hit him in the head must have done it pretty hard. He should get help."
"I think it wash…a pretty lady," Sage managed. "Sh…She wash nice…"
"That's…that's great?" Kratch smiled at him, trying to make him feel better. He wasn't looking at her but instead at his hand like it was the first time he'd seen such a thing. "Uhm…anyway," she whispered, "We are your reinforcements. Rhyme's a few steps away, but he should be here soon."
Rhyme was indeed there pretty quickly, dragging his feet and swearing sullenly. He glanced up and saw the state of Sage and clicked his tongue. "Concussed?" he guessed, "Better get him some help. That doesn't look too good."
"Orson tastes like pie," Sage whispered loudly, "But I promised him that I would never kiss him again unless I was committed to a relationship."
"What?"
Orson just sighed and stared at the window. Oh, something had to give.
xxxxxxx
You think, What could make a child forget all that they are and then learn to kill at a single word?
Eilsa knows, she knows. When her Treatments are late and the sun isn't up yet and things are getting rough, she knows.
Daddy, take me for a walk, leave me, let me be, hold me, hug me, make me proud, say hello. Papa, tell me I'm pretty, that I'm worth keeping, that I'm fine, that wounds heal, that I'm not a whore. Father, hear my prayers and deliver me from that which has made my soul unclean, deliver me from the hatred in my heart and the burn under my skin. Dad, be there, be ok, be mine for just a moment.
Daddy daddy daddy [please please I've never wished for anything more in my entire life and I'll never wish for anything ever again] daddy please, tell me that you love me even after all that I've done.
But he got home and smacked her around for being a slut.
xxxxxxx
Mika flipped a knife around his fingers and whipped it through the glass. It sliced clean through, shattering the burned sand easily. In the path of the blade, a grappling hook swung easily enough upwards, catching the edge with a click. The others stared at him. He shrugged. "I didn't know what I would need, so I brought everything." With that, he helped his girlfriend up the rope as if nothing had happened.
"See," Sage babbled, "That guy is cool. Not like Orson."
"I like Orson," Rhyme answered calmly, and the football player sent him a long look. Rhyme, lanky and wonderful, batted his eyelashes playfully. Orson blushed.
"Awfully nice for you to say that," he murmured. Rhyme titled that bleach-blonde to the side, his dark-circle eyes wide.
"I could say something much nicer," he purred, stretching luxuriously.
"Oh Arceus, can we stop being gay for one moment?" Mika called, struggling to get the flailing Sage over the window sill. Jarel was already on the other side and had called an all-clear. The other two stepped in to help, and with a dull sound, Sage made it to the other side.
It was dark there, empty as Caen had promised it would be. The Sunflower Project had set up all sorts of diversions so that the copies were concentrated outside. It was working perfectly. Behind Jarel, Mika landed softly, followed by the whisking footsteps of Rhyme and finally the flat slap of Orson and the shift of the rope pulled inside. The five of them crept along quietly, dragging Sage in their wake. Mika had slapped duct tape over the artist's mouth, and he seemed content enough to just let them drag him as he chewed at it.
They made it to the desk and Rhyme carefully followed the instructions left to him by his peers, slowly unsetting the alarms and restarting the elevator. It gradually creaked open, bright white in the blackness. They shuffled in. It was promised that by then, they'd have been spotted. The elevator was the only way up to the top floor, and it had a camera in it for a reason.
"[S.e.l.e.c.t l.e.v.e.l]" the screen beeped patiently. Rhyme's fingers found "27" and pushed harder than was probably necessary, shaking in a small amount of panic for no reason he could think. "[S.c.a.n b.a.r.c.o.d.e]" the computer requested. Rhyme fumbled with the little metal cylinder as he pulled it across his neck. He was the only one with permission for the twenty-seventh floor, but he'd never used it. It was bad enough getting the money, watching it passed into the hands of evil was too much.
The cage click-whirred and started lifting upwards before the screen chirped, "[S.t.a.t.e y.o.u.r p.u.r.p.o.s.e]" and he leaned forwards uncertainly, clearing his throat.
"Umbrellas are the same thing as wings," a deep voice interrupted. Sage had finished eating the tape over his face. He looked perfectly happy, sitting on the floor and playing with his shoes. They all shot him a look. That concussion seriously needed to be checked out or something.
"{[Rhyme?]}" her voice over the intercom had an instant effect: a deep thud in their chests as if they were standing in the full force of a bass drum, as if they were on the sun, as if they were whole again. It was the sound of the universe starting and the end. Kratch started to cry and she didn't know why. "{[Rhyme, he's still in his office. Please hurry]}" she whispered, and the others in the room started to feel like crying too. Her voice was the noise impossible.
The elevator clicked to a halt and the doors slid open nonchalantly into the lit hallway. No fights, no battles, nothing awaited them. At the far end, she was pretending to write something. But it was moonrise – she had her voice back. No need for notes.
They dragged Sage to her, and worry filled those empty eyes. {[Oh, oh no.]} That was it. Only that. She didn't say anything else, and it was enough for them to stare at her, startled. She sounded like a river and a sunrise and hay and everything wonderful in life. She sent them a shy look. {[He'll be out in a minute, I'll just page him]} she said in that voice of hers. None of the students could move. Every time she opened her mouth, diamonds fell out. She was the pretty stepdaughter. She was perfection. She was the worst weapon anyone could wield. She clicked a button and a door opened.
The Dean sauntered out, a knife pressed deep against Tommi's throat.
"Hey guys," the boy wheezed, smiling, "Don't worry about me." Blood slowly dragged from the wound, and his face was swelling with the signs of a serious beating. "Just listening to country music. That's why I look like this."
The Dean hissed and put his back to the fountain on the wall. "Any of you make a single move, and I'll kill him," he smiled. He looked like black coffee but without the caffeine: just dangerous and sharp. He snapped those ice eyes towards the secretary and bared his teeth. "And if you make a single sound, I make a call and your son dies."
She just stared blankly at the ground. She was so broken, nothing could mend her. She sometimes didn't even know her name anymore {darkness, falling, Charlotte}. She slid, ashamed, into the background, letting the children handle it on their own. Her son was at risk.
The Dean saw and laughed. "See, though? See? You all think that you're strong and part of some big resistance project, like my bosses aren't waiting for you. But she knows. She's the smart one. She'll probably live through this. And what of you?"
"I don't know," Mika replied testily, surreptitiously sliding his hand around a kunai, "Probably if I die I'll get a really awesome headstone or something?"
The Dean didn't laugh. He just flicked his eyes in the direction of the boy and smiled with the force of a million suns. "You think you're special? You think you're funny?" The blade against Tommi's throat was the same color as the winter, so cold, so cold. Tommi was thinking of his kid sisters and their blue eyes. They were triplets and so perfect and so close to death if he just overstepped.
"Well," Mika purred, "I've certainly heard I could do worse." He was watching for weaknesses. He was a pretty good shot, but it came down to the timing: could he throw the kunai fast enough that the Dean would not be able to react? Would the force of the impact injure Tommi? Too many factors were swirling around his head.
"Oh little Mika Jones," the Dean spat, "Thinking that if he shuts down a device, all of his dream will come true. And who am I to stop you? After all, I don't know you at all, do I?"
"Regretfully," he answered, twisting his lips like he was apologetic. He was actually sizing his opponent up.
A grin. "Mika Jones is all of fifteen years old and already a killer. Mika Jones has a scar under his right eye because he got in a fight with a Zangoose and lost. Mika Jones struggles to write well, cannot cook without burning food, cannot underwater basket weave, is a tenor when he sings - which is rarely, is a terrible dancer but an amazing fighter. Mika Jones," blue eyes fire ice, "Has a secret artistic ability and sleeps with a stuffed Teddiursa. Do you want me to continue, sir?" A voice like caramel death. Mika was shaking. He didn't mean to be. Nothing ever phased him, nothing before. But this man with a knife against a friends throat and no weaknesses whatsoever, this man made him tremble and take a step backwards. "Mika, Mika, Mika. Called Mimsy by a bully in the third grade. Never got anything below a sixty on a test, and obsessed with textures. Mika once contemplated killing himself, but it didn't happen because he kissed a boy first. Will Rio, wasn't it?"
"How long?" deep, venomous, the kind of growl that comes from fear, "How long have you been stalking me?"
"Oh Mimsy, Meeks, Mishka. It's not just you. And it's not even that I'm stalking you. It's just that I know all of you, and it doesn't help. It never helps. I've read your file sixteen times and it still hasn't helped. Because Frost, the glory, Frost, the sun, Frost is inescapable." His eyes were dancing like leaves on the wind, breaking branches and burgundy and bourbon. He focused them on Orson and babbled, "Orson Leander, sixteen, six feet and four inches, Southern. Wants to work for social services when he is too old to play football. He hates to write papers, his favorite color is red, he loves The Association, his favorite television show is 'Whose Line is It Anyway,' he has broken three bones, loves the number four, and would eat pizza until he burst if someone let him. He is also not sure if he's gay or not, but does have a crush on Kratch and Rhyme at the same time."
Orson blushed and frowned deeply, staring at his feet. It was the only time anyone had seen that expression on him, one of self-hatred and helplessness.
The Dean pivoted towards Kratch, dragging Tommi along. He was advancing slowly, taking them down with words alone. "Kra-"Wham.
{[Bitch]} the secretary snarled, holding her chair over her head, {[That's for my son.]}
He made a sound in the back of his throat and tottered forwards before releasing Tommi and slipping to the ground, his temple connecting to the granite with a hard sick crack. Blood slowly trickled from his mouth, pooling in brownish red.
"He'll be fine," Sage declared, sauntering ahead, "Imma go shut down the disease and then we'll all be healed!"
"It's…a device, Sage," Kratch told him quietly, slinking behind him. The door in the wall was the difference between mystery and endings. It was dark in the room, and they all filed in silently. Something in the taste of the air was incredibly somber, filled with wreckful abandon. Tommi restlessly kicked over a chair, the one he had been trapped in so many times. If he looked, he could see the stains from nights where information hadn't been enough. They all knew what they were going to.
Rhyme felt along the Dean's desk until he caught the catch under it, flipping the switch so that a groan sounded and a door in the wall slid open. They stared at it, at the place where their greatest fear was held, where the answer to all of Frost was sitting and smiling and sunning themselves. One of them waved gleefully, hey there, we're behind it all.
"No," Kratch whispered, begging, helpless, daddy don't, "Not you. Please, anyone but you."
X-X
A.N: Oh my gosh the only reason this is up at all is because of Otter {Stolloss} who figured a work-around for the site glitch that was preventing me from updating.
See you in a week, thanks for your patience :)
Love you, reviewers, love you readers. It's been a long ride, huh?
Take care.