Welcome to Gaia! ::

Her arms transformed into a more savage shape of her Slaughterfists, Clarissa ran faster than she or the opponent thought she would and slammed into the woman with a slash. The woman screeched and moved out of the way, a triple gash bleeding on her stomach as she moaned.

"Keep it together!" the man barked at her, as his own arm turned into a Big Shield with a series of wicked-looking spikes on it. He raised it and charged them, and in the hallway they had almost no room to maneuver.

The woman leaned back with a pained smirk to avoid the strike, and Clarissa wished fiercely, her desire amplified by Hunger, that she had struck just a bit farther, had slashed right through the woman's throat.

Time stretched as she watched her claws move through the air. The woman's neck was only an inch away - so close! She wanted so badly to have killed her. She wanted her blood on her claws. Too bad - time was still so slow as her claws sliced the air -

And then she felt a small shift in her body. Just a tiny pop, a click that, while it didn't sure her Hunger or make her any happier about her situation with the Virus, made her feel just slightly better, intrinsically. Something small, and almost inconsequential, felt right.

And in that second, the tips of her claws exploded forward. Her flesh stretched and then solidified as her Slaughterfists lengthened a solid inch and a half. A relatively deep gouge tore itself through the woman's neck and she croak/gurgled in surprise and pain as Clarissa rebalanced herself.

The woman stumbled back. Clarissa pounced on the off-balance target and sank her teeth into the woman's throat. The woman screamed as Clarissa's Slaughterfists bit into her back. With a savage jerk, Clarissa tore into the woman's spine. With a spastic twitch, the woman ceased moving and fell to the ground. Clarissa let out an inhuman shriek and coughed purple goo all over the woman's face, permanently silencing her as the Consumption began.

The man stopped his charge, having bowled over Lance and Helena. "Y-you killed her," he said, his iron composure temporarily rattled. "You, the failures? You killed a Host-Agent!" He charged at Clarissa, knocking her off, but the Consumption was complete. Clarissa felt an intense burst of energy - her head was fuzzy and she was dizzy for a few seconds. Then she refocused, and realized that she was more powerful.

Growth Points gained: Isa-Sama

Clarissa was in a strange state of confusion. The human part of her was horrified at what she'd done. "W-what's this...?" The monster in her relished the murder she'd just done. It screamed for more. She licked the blood off her hands. "Tastes good."

Later. She would think about it all later. She could not handle a nervous breakdown at the moment. Later. After this. She raised her arms up and ran at the man with a mad grin on her face. The blood that ran down her shirt and arms made her look crazier and scarier than before. "Do I want more? I wouldn't mind more. Food is food after all," she giggled. She ran at the man and attacked him from the opposite side that Lance was going for. One of the two was bound to hit the stranger.

The human part of her cried at what she'd done - at what she was doing. But if she had stopped at that moment to mourn for the death of that woman (and possibly this man), then she'd be dead in an instant. No, she would let herself be taken over by this monster for a while. Later...later she could battle herself to keep her humanity (and sanity for that matter).

"Ah, son of a b***h," Lance intoned through his broken jaw, only able to speak for lack of caring about the pain. "Okay, uhm. Who's got the big punchy thing? Hit the lock. Or we could open it or something - pry it open, I mean, do we have a - I don't know what to do!" he concluded, frustrated with impotence. "Maybe we can knock the door off its hinges."

Well what a fine ******** introduction! Helena thought as she regained her composure. While she prepared to return the attack, all she could think was, This man would be perfect for a piece. And perhaps it was true. It would have to be a two-part work, though. One would display him as he was, a military man through and through: confident in his every thought and action and unwavering. The second, though, would be the destruction of his confidence- a sign of which had briefly presented itself when the woman died. This second piece would be a vision of him on the floor, grovelling in a pool of his own blood as it trickled from the corner of his mouth, his nose, and a myriad wounds. One hand would feebly and futilely attempt to keep the blood within his body cavity. His eyes would stare dumbfounded and fearful at his conquerors. A trio of satisfied and malevolent mutants staring him down would complete the background of the dank and hideous hallway.

And then the lights went out. It was terribly difficult to plan an attack, much less actually succeed, when one couldn't see the target. Whatever. There'd be time for Mr. Macho later. And, perhaps, some actual work. Y'know, something normal.

She had an idea. "It's just steel, right? Nothing a little science fiction voodoo can't demolish. Clarissa, if you can tear the jamb open some, Lance and I can hack off that deadbolt, one way or another." She gently patted Lance on the shoulder to initiate the mutation and attempted wedging a bladehand between door and wall to measure how much more space was needed.

She found that it was only a little bit. Clarissa only needed to pull it out a tiny bit.

Saieve winced, this was taking too long, more alarms were going off. He needed to do something now. He needed to break down this door.
Chances are, because hosts are inside, the door was probably made to hold in a host. But could it hold one out?

"Stand back!"

Saieve took a deep breath and summed up as much willpower as he could to activate his Slaughterfist without the need to touch another Host.

With a growl, Saieve slammed himself into the door in an attempt to break it down, doing whatever he could to break down the door, breaking hinges, tearing, ripping, whatever it took. Maybe even picking the lock with his claws.

*

Finnegan was inside the facility now, running as fast as he could through the mazes of hallways, avoiding guards and looking for any signs of the hosts and his brother. Eventually, running low on breath, he stumbled upon a group of Hosts.
He might not had recognized them, but he spotted Clarissa, her hands and chest covered in blood. He skidded to a halt and exhaled sharply.

Just stay calm, lad he thought to himself, Just..just trying to ignore the fact that she's covered in blood...maybe it's her own. Like that's any better! She looks like she ate someone, she does. That's the virus, not her. Right, right, but still! What did I get myself into? Just get it done, will, ya! They're still people, they don't deserve to be hunted like animals, besides, you're brother's with them.

After his internal argument, Finnegan sighed and cleared his throat, simultaneously raising his hands.

"Um, if you don't mind," his voice started shaky, but he took another deep breath and evened out his tone, "I'll be joining you lads, now. I mean, I would like to join you. I can't bring myself to agree with the Host-Agents, I can't, none of you deserve to be hunted like ye are."

He was silently praying, they had him outnumbered, but he could always run. He hoped he didn't have to.

Oh joy. This was great. Finnegan was there, and he was staring at her like she was a monster. Well, I am. No denying that. She hated this. Why? Why'd she have to be like this? The craving for food was slowly ebbing away, leaving her with self-loathing and remorse.

"U-um, if my opinion counts for anything," she mumbled to the others, "I don't think he means harm. And his brother is Sai. And he tried to help me control my Hunger," she stuttered. Yeah. And that failed if the bloodstained shirt didn't already scream of my failure.

Rather than continue talking, she started walking down the hall and found the room in her vision. Once entering, she saw the shocked scientists and felt anger course through her body. "We want answers. We want to know what happened to us and why we don't have any of our memories. I want to know about my past." She walked up to the Persian woman and growled, "Please tell us."