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China

When she's sick, they're not afraid to touch her. They toss her runic bandages and clap the shoulderblades on her back. One even ruffles her hair and wishes her to "get better~."

So many hands are touching her and so many friendly gestures widen her smile.

Apparently a braceleted traitor isn't so scary when she's come down with a cold.

China

Every part of her was sore as she threw herself onto her flat sleeping bag. It was no different than any of the other nights, because she's sore every night. Certainly she's in shape (she's in ridiculous shape- hunter abs are no joke) but when you spend all hours of the day doing extreme zumba on a ghost's body it tends to take it's toll.

But it's been a good day so she doesn't complain.

Earlier that day Chel led the investigation on the western front while the squad leader shot straight for the center with her group- the hope is that Chel's group acts as a distraction. It's unclear whether Chel was put in charge for her actual seniority/leadership or if the squad leader just wants her at the front of the suicide mission.

But she's determined not to let anyone die, and at the rate they're going it's unlikely. Her little group is compromised of three hunters total, and Chel's perfectly happy with that size. Easy to defend, but enough to cover her a** when the daggers prove less than useful. Less fun is the fact that it's the girl that hates her (the one that hasn't said a word since the bracelet incident) and a guy she hasn't had duty with. He's quiet, like he's calculating something in his head at all times. Chel likes him well enough because he reminds her of Tenebrae.

"I ain't gonna give orders or nothin'," she tells the other two as they walk along the rickety boards of the abandoned walkway. It runs right against one of the cliffsides. Chel would be more afraid if she actually feared the consequences of falling down. She walks in the front of the group so the other two don't have to. "'Cause y'all are smart enough to figure s**t out. Just holler if you see the-"

A scream breaks her train of thought. It fills the canyon and bounces off the rock; only barely covered by the roar of the river beside them.

"Well I spoke too soon. Can y'all get a shot from here?" There is a strange calm that comes from her voice as the other two tremble around their guns.

How could she blame them? Standing in front of them is a hideously deformed ghost. Somewhere between a horseman and a demon (if Chel had to guess she would judge it as a demon- it's got big long horns and a snapping thin tail). Long black hair trails over the wooden pathway, her claws scraping into the wood and creating splinters out of the material. She's naked and Chel isn't above looking, but it's a sore disappointment as her skin is cracked, ants and sand pouring out of it. The oddest part is she's very faint, almost as though she's disappearing from this world. Chel supposed this was what the ghost of a demon looked like. It's all sand when it speak it sounds like it's taking the very water from their blood.

"Come with me," she calls to them, like a strange siren that's undergone desertification.

Chel takes a step forward, testing the boards. "Lady we ain't goin' anywhere with your pasty a**." The trainees behind her make more assured steps.

"But it's so hot out~" the demon tempts again. It's true too- it's been freezing winter cold all morning, but the temperature has spiked and Chel can feel the sweat running down her back.

Chel's eyes flick downwards, only for a moment. She puts a hand behind her back, gesturing for the two trainees to hold.

Its sickening watching the woman twist and curl over the boards like some sort of disgustingly real grudge knock off. Her hair's getting tangled in the boards, but it just falls out and turns to more dust in the wind. Chel can feel her throat going dry and she's sure the same for the trainees.

Three figures appear behind the woman. One is definitely a strange, zombified version of the hunter that had gone missing recently. The other two are an elderly couple, long since decayed into bones and meat. "Found our-" A cough. "Missin' friend."

She hears the boots behind her stop walking. That's fine- she can understand why they're afraid. They aren't used to death, they've never seen a friend morphed and twisted under Halloween's disgusting grip. Chel's the leader. She intends to be one.

"Lady, you gotta stop doin' this," Chel tells her. She tries to reason with the creature, becaues Chel's a bleeding heart. In this woman she sees Shun and Mitsu's wedding.

"I have water~. It's so hot ..."

"Y'already said that dipshit." Chel understands that the woman's too far gone. Fine, fine. She gives the hand signal for "shoot when I say." There's a strange tension between the two parties, but ultimately the girl she hates is holding up her gun and taking aim.

"We can't shoot-" the boy trainee shouts, "You'll shoot through-"

"Then I guess I can't stick around," Chel says with a cocksure grin. She looks down one more time, and then vaults forward. The force of her boots is breaking through the wood, but she doesn't fault once. The demon hisses, but it's too late. Chel's daggers are planted in the demon's back, and she's cracked straight through the wood. The demon's going down with her.

Bullets spray above her and she has a momentary thought about how proud she is of that girl trainee for taking the shot. The three figures from earlier slump against the wood planks and dissipate almost immediately.

But she doesn't have a lot of time to be proud, because now she's falling with a demon in toe. The demon's claws rake into her arms, trying to force her down. So even a ghost demon had half a brain to hijack her plan. Chel doesn't let the ghost stay on top of her for long. There's a scuffle, but ultimately when they hit the ground there's blueish blood on Chel's boots.

Even hunterdom can't save her from the pain of the impact, but the squishy body below her certainly helped. Once again she's flat on her back and forced to look up at the sky. She can see the platform from where she fell, a big old hole in it. The girl trainee's looking through the hole while the guy is leaning over the edge trying to get a peak without grossing himself out from the height.

Yes, even in her tent with a thousand bruises and twenty runic bandaids, she can't help but think it was a good day.

China

It's been a week or two and the dead demon ghost is the most they have to show for it. Everyone's tired.

But they're also better friends now. Not due in short to Chel insisting they dunk Jerome (Chel learned Broad Shoulder's name) into the river for laughs.

The ghost soldiers that greeted them at the riverside weren't as fun.

They dunked Jerome afterwards anyways.

Jack breathed in the crisp China air and sighed out almost blissfully. It was frigid. Thank God; it was a wonderful change from the island's mild and usually humid weather. Even if the report hadn't mentioned a distortion portal to be dealt with (an anomaly he had been curious about ever since he first heard of them from Chel and her promotion mission), the excuse for a change of scenery was welcomed with one open arm; the other had been busy holding his mug as he finished his coffee.

Now he had a few barrier daggers instead to handle, as did the other Lifer who was assigned with him. It was just the pair of them, seeing as there was already a modest group at the campsite waiting, and the distortion portal wasn't more than a tear that required a few stitches in terms of danger. Granted, his partner—average height, average weight, dark skin, darker hair, darkest eyes, whitest goddamn teeth—was an actual hunter. Yet again he felt a little like he was being babysat somehow.

Jack briefly considered engaging in the prerequisite small talk as they picked their way up the rocky path, but Wren was practically exuding a not in the mood wall around herself (he knew that feeling too well after all). So after their introductions and briefing at the lighthouse, not another word was spoken between them. It was better that way: Jack had spent a lot of time in solitude these days, and it was comforting to know he didn't have to disrupt that feeling for another ten minutes of uneven terrain.

Against his better judgement, he kept sneaking glances beyond the scope of his sunglasses, and he had moments of increasing uneasiness the higher they got up the cliff. They were supposed to meet the group stationed there about halfway to their destination, but even so it was still so high. After a while, Jack had to force himself to move closer to the wall, a hand out to lightly graze the rock with his fingers.

Wren passed him a look (he couldn't quite tell what it was, but he imagined it was quiet exasperation), but she never broke their pace or their silence.

Owain tried to distract him as they walked. Unfortunately most of his comments ended up having to do with tallness and extra tallness, as the giant personally enjoyed the view that the mountain path gave them, though he did genuinely try to soothe his partner when he wasn't poking fun.

Do you still feel a little green? he asked with great relish at his own comedic genius.

Shut the ******** up.

Relieved they'd made it to camp with relatively little incident—aside from around twenty different projections of himself falling over the cliff—Jack tugged his scarf tighter around his neck and followed his partner to go find Jordan and the rest.

"For a pretty shitty mission with pretty shitty progress," Wren countered without missing a beat. "You have how many people working this portal again?"

"Six others, the dossier said," Jack supplied, either missing or ignoring the rhetorical nature of that question. He made a cursory glance over those gathered so far, taking inventory; not being the senior there, he decided to fall into place behind Wren's command for the moment.

"And you've been here, what, almost two weeks now?" Wren raised her brows then sighed through her nose. They looked beaten enough without a lecture, and she felt for them in spite of her originally foul mood. "Nevermind, let's just n** this in the bud. Yeah, it's just us two; we were meant to have three, but Maya got reassigned to a red eye outpost last minute and management doesn't believe this is a critical level mission. I've done this a hundred times by now," she assured them, patting a dagger at her hip. "Now, which one've you is Jordan, and where's the rest of your crew?"

Arrival

There was a very mild pause as the two considered their apparent mission leader. Wren recovered faster as they shook hands, offering a little smile as she introduced herself; Jack tacked his name on at the end, vaguely unimpressed with how Jordan presented herself but polite.

"We can go set our gear up while we wait for them," Wren said as she adjusted one of her pack straps. "Debrief us while we unpack?"

Arrival

As Jordan caught them up, Jack paced before their tents, half to generate some heat in his limbs and half because it oddly helped him focus as he made notes. At the collapsible table, Wren fiddled with what looked like a mix between a motherboard and a remote control with runic writing along the edges. The two prompted Jordan at different intervals for more information or clarification. Jack was interested in particular about the drought demon and its implications as to the creation of the legend (or perhaps history as it was now). He was in his tent studying his traveller's book to find the lore about the Battle of Zhuolu, journal off to the side, when the trio returned; and he would have happily continued to read if he hadn't heard that voice.

After a moment of surprise, Jack peeked out from the tent flaps, sunglasses on his head, and called back, "Drive them off, obviously!" like they were talking about obnoxious pigeons swarming the area.

"Great timing," Wren said cheerfully as she snapped something into place on the device and stood up. "This ought to help. I think. I modified it a bit, but it should work. Where's west again?"