Welcome to Gaia! ::

Fiver the Second was exhausted from head to toe. He didn't know how much damage everyone else had but he was in rough shape. 'Three, huh? I'll stick with you... if that's OK. No one's going to touch you. OK? I'll make sure you're alright." He was clearly afraid of his new friend ending up like Fiver.

His shoulder and head fell against Three's leg heavily as though he couldn't support himself anymore. There was a dent in the back of his helmet. "... I hope it burns. I hope it just... burns in its own fire." He said, voice tired and strained from alternating between crying and yelling. "...then... I want to go home. Where ever that is..."

The moments after killing another human being are apparently very strange. Zeta Eleven remained sitting, watching the wisps of smoke curling from the barrel of his gun. They seemed laughably small compared to the great black clouds the smoldering patches of hell fire produced, and yet his gun had actually claimed a life. Take that, giant evil horse.

The same nauseating numbness that had accompanied the sight of Alpha Five’s lifeless body filled him as he watched Alpha Ten grow limp in Alpha Seven's arms. Eleven realized how ridiculous that all sounded, but that didn’t make him feel any less guilty. He finally let his arm drop, the slightest movement making his tender skin burn with fresh pain. He cringed, but nobody saw it. Nobody would care if they could. Alpha Ten would never cringe again, and that’s what everybody was all caught up with at the moment.

Eleven only noticed Zeta Eight when she was looming over him, grabbing him by the chest of his armor and pulling him in close for a heated whisper. Hand shot up to grab her wrist, but more for support than anything else. He certainly wasn’t fighting back.

As she spoke, his eyes moved past her to continue staring at Alpha Seven hunched over the corpse formerly known as Alpha Ten. Oh, right. Emotions. He always forgot something – the intangibles. He had deduced that killing Alpha Ten was their only viable option for further survival, but he had forgot to consider that severely pissing off their alliance’s largest, scariest hunk of man may have considerably shortened the length of his own survival.

“I’m sorry.” He was, though his tone failed to capture the subtleties of genuine regret. He sounded… not indifferent, but as if he had merely solved a problem, like fixing a misspelled word or straightening a crooked picture frame. “She was the closest to death. The monster demanded another sacrifice, and our initial failure to comply resulted in very painful fire. Mathematically, this was the right decision.” And if that didn’t convince them, well, he was plumb out of ideas.

A1 dropped his hand, and took his eyes off of A7 for one minute.

One second.

It was enough.

Two steps back, and four to the left. A7 was a dark, heaving shadow just behind Z8. If Z11 had never taken his eyes off the man, he would have seen it coming. That didn't matter.

Nothing mattered.

A7 lifted his arms around Z8 gently, wrapping them around her body until he was pressing his arms weight down on her own. This pinned her arms down, and released Z11.

"I'm sorry." A7 repeated, with a sickened voice. "Sorry isn't going to bring her back, scumbag." Without moving Z8, A7 had reached up with both hands and wrapped them around Z11's throat. He used this hold to raise the man up, dangling a foot from the ground.

"But maybe your blood will."

"A-SEVEN." A few fast steps, and A-One took hold of A-Seven's elbow, pulling his arm down. "You're not thinking straight. None of us are. It's what that ******** horse wants. Put. Him. Down."

... Flames and death ... and deus ex machina.

"What the ********," A-One said.

Zeta Six just stared.

Stopped and stared.

God this was some sort of sick humor, this. He was sure they were all about to die but then the sudden appearance and disappearance of the cloaked figure only reaffirmed his many thoughts on the matter. No one got the pendant. No one had a sure survival. And now two members of the Alpha Team lay slain.

He was curious to the figure's words of finding their friends and of survival only being a part of the big picture. What then were the other facets of the test if not just living? It was a puzzle. He cleared his throat with a "what now?" feel and looked to the rest of his team. He couldn't bear to speak now, not after feeling so defeated. He could only watch and listen as the rest of them decided on action, whether against each other or to anything else.

Someone else had died. Everyone would die here. They would never escape. This Nightmare would kill them all. Every last one, the meek and the brave alike.. Zeta 12 wobbled in place, holding onto Zeta 2's shoulder for balance. He was dizzy, nauseated, burnt all over. He could see the others fighting each other, squabbling. Their pain, he just wasn't able to empathize at that moment, so consumed in his own muddled state. It wasn't as if he knew any of these people, but to see anyone turn on one another was horrifying.

The events that unfolded afterward knocked 12 back into focus. The Death Pony left, leaving behind a hooded incarnation of death. It spoke, said more things he didn't care to interpret.

Leave. He was leaving.

He patted 2 on the shoulder, sweat dripping over his wounded flesh, burning to the touch. "Run.." He muttered, before bounding off into the distance. Everyone, he hoped, would do the same. Just run!

Anywhere. Anywhere but here!

{Z12 is exiting from boss fight, and his going into hiding}

Zeta One found her voice after a moment, though it was very soft. She looked around at Zeta Ten and Zeta Six and then at the rest of the group. She swallowed for a moment.

"We should go back to our camps and leave this place here. Mourn the dead, all that stuff..." she said softly, looking around at her team mates and the Alphas.