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The door was indeed still ajar. The room within, however, was not quite. Several filing cabinets were handing open, along the wall safe, all of them empty. But there were still some items held within those drawers and a laptop had been left on the floor.

The floor which sagged ominously under Lucky's feet.

Crystals grow with every piece of damage Abbi does to him, along her weapon and his wounds. Stephen should leave, he should leave he has the means he has the pendant and yet he doesn't. He's caught in the trap of power and need to hurt that which hurts him, to put the girl in her place and make her pay. A pound of flesh is only price worth asking for.

Even as the the toothy shaft hits his neck, Stephen ignores the danger to himself and slides the rapier into Abbi's side. Black tendrils crawl across his skin as blood drips from his nose.

She gestured toward where the infirmary once stood and wanted to say later, wanted to say, let me try just a little longer.

America was weak now, there was no way the girl would be anything other than another body needing assistance. Caly was still strong and if it got, harder and harder to move? It couldn't stop her, at least not yet. She could probably go for another hour. And then they'd need people to help clean up and repair and America, she wasn't gonna be able to do those things, not for a long while. Not for a really, really long while.

Caly could be useful. She could be good. She could make up the difference, given a chance and more time. She could be worth it.

Hope was really and truly, the cruelest piece of work she'd taken from America, because it came hand in hand with an unwillingness to lie, even to herself. Five minutes or five months, it wouldn't change the fact that she existed at the cost of someone else's life and nothing she did would make up for it.

It was another thing she shared with the other girl.

"Let's go find her," she offered Dawson a small, tight smile under the flickering runic lights.

Training Fields

Chel summoned Tenebrae, but it didn't feel right. With the attack on Jack, it did.

"Where is he?!" she screamed, pushing the clone back with the blade end of her bow. "Where's Chris?" It was futile to yell at him, she knew he wouldn't respond to her or her desires. It just felt good to have a purpose again.

HP: 60/60
DMG: 9
Charge: 1/3

She reached for the keypad, and pressed the numbers. Shu hope if she pressed wrong, a second chance would be given. There was another sound of explosion and some vibrations, she hoped the Life Assistant and the patients were still safe.

With some "you get the numbers girl" noise, the heavy door clicked opened.



She felt like a good girl helping her teacher to achieve something, more importantly, she felt useful.

Training Fields

Her bow was useless, but her protection was not. She ducked in front of Jack with gritted teeth and took what few punches she could. Bruises she could stand, her shield could hold.

"Why's it so important I leave?" Always questioning, always digging for more.

HP: 60/60
DMG: defending 6 for jack
Charge: 2/3

There were few times Lucky was thankful to be so short and nonthreateningly light. This was one of those times. On instinct, he summoned his weapon, the weak blue glow providing some light where the flickering fluorescent ones no longer reached. That, and the last few times he'd been caught without a shield up had taught him not to take chances where his fragile mortality was concerned.

Stepping very carefully, Lucky made an immediate zigzag of a beeline to the leftover laptop, shoving it haphazardly into his bag. The sight of the room almost completely ransacked was both a relief (that someone had already seen to it to get everything out) and a disappointment (since he would have liked to have a look at it all himself).

The floor was starting to sag disconcertingly. His eyes flickered over to the drawers that were still shut, then to the open and slanting door.

Back to the drawers.

Making a low sound of extreme frustration with himself all the while, Lucky scrambled along the wall, clinging to the handholds with hand and saw hooking into empty alcoves and open drawers. He was quick to pull the hidden ones open, hopeful that there was something worth staying here a few seconds too long for. He could never just leave well enough alone.

Training Fields

Jack managed to lift his blade up in time to avoid another jaw breaking incident, but the attack was still overwhelming and nearly knocked him off his feet again. It was unfortunate to agree even a little with it, but his barrier strength was starting to wane alarmingly fast, and Owain still didn't have a charge. If he could just get that, he could heal, he could delay it just a little more--

But for what? His strength wasn't nearly enough. In one or two more hits, he'd just get thrown down, and Chel would get taken. He wheezed as he recovered and grit his teeth, inner anger beginning to spill over. From the frying pan into the fire, always, always. He'd told her we, but how could it be if he couldn't match up? If when danger came, he didn't have the strength to stop it?

Useless.

< Dear one, please. > The dark thoughts were intruding again, and he was as helpless to it as his master was.

Chel moved before him, and he should have followed suit. But bracing another defense would do jack s**t in the end. He wanted to draw this thing's blood and make it an example. In an opening in her defense, he speared the blade forward, unable to stop himself from feeling pleasure in spiting the damn thing just a little more.

hp: 26
damage: 13
charge: 2/3